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Pete grows a pair by Manny


This is a prequel, by request, to "My First Butch Pays a Bonanza"

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Pete caught me during a moment of reflection, staring into a beer on my back deck. He’d come to borrow a shovel, but made the mistake of asking me if anything was the matter.

I took a deep breath. Did he really want to know, or was the question pro-forma? Pete was a nice guy, and a good friend.

"I’m tired of the rat race, Pete. That’s what the matter is," I stammered. "I’m tired of playing the corporate game. Putting on airs, sucking up to the boss, blowing my own horn, looking the part I’m angling for. I’m quite successful at it, but it leaves me empty. I wanted to be true to myself. I want to be myself! Not some corporate-created automaton!"

"Whoa!" Pete exclaimed. "That all sounds very philosophical, even meta-physical! What’s keeping you from making the changes you want?"

He pulled up a chair, knowing that this would be a long discussion.

"Fear?" I replied frankly, but nuancing it in a question form. In my heart, I knew that was the answer. Fear, plain and simple.

"Fear of….?" Pete inquired.

"Getting shut out? Ostracized? Laughed at? Let go…." I murmured.

"So, you’re good at what you do but are tired of playing by their rules. That’s what I hear you saying. I think you need swallow your fear and assert yourself. Show them who you are. Change your tone, your attitude….even your look! But, keep delivering the goods -- what you were hired to do, what you are being paid to do," Pete urged. "Don’t be servile. Command the situation. March into your boss’ office and lay your cards on the table. Demand a raise!"

"Hell, I deserve one! I’m working long hours and keeping the company together. I’m the go to guy " solving problems and mapping our strategies to boost profits."
"Make a new start tomorrow. And, create a stir from the moment you walk in!" Pete exclaimed.

He paused and looked at me with a bit of a grin, "Remember once you toyed with the idea of buzzing off that nice executive style " you said you’d do it if you didn’t have an image to maintain?" Pete asked.

"Sure do! You were giving your son a ‘welcome to summer’ buzzcut in the garage, just like I used to get when I was his age," I replied.

"What if, tomorrow morning you were to walk into your office sporting a butch?!" Pete exclaimed. "Create a stir?"

I ran my fingers through my plush executive mane nervously. It was like a security blanket. And, suddenly, I felt bold. Like I wanted to strip it off and cast it away forever….

"A butch," I stammered nervously.

"Yep, down to the wood!" Pete laugh. "A baldy cut! That’ll shake things up at the office!"

I sat there squirming nervously in the chair. In my heart, I knew that I liked the plan. But I couldn’t force the words out. Pete's idea seemed so radical.

Pete leaned forward and touched my knee gently, "Would it help you if we gave each other baldy cuts?"

"Oh, Pete! That’s not necessary…." I said.

Pete flicked back his gorgeous, near shoulder-length mane. He was a free-lance photographer. He ran his fingers through his blond locks, in a playful, giddy manner.

"I’ve been wanting to do it for a while. Shave this all off! Watch it fall to the floor and then rub my hand over the stubble. And, you know what? Even if you don’t opt for the baldy tonight, I’m gonna get one. How about it? Are you game to play amateur barber? I’d ask Joan, but she’d talk me out of it. My wife absolutely loves these locks!" Pete said flaunting his princess tresses.

"I don’t want to stir up any marital strife…" I replied coyly.

"If I tell her I did it to help you address the issue that was getting to you, she’d be understanding, maybe even proud of me," Pete purred back unfazed.

"I’m game! Baldy cuts for both of us! In my kitchen, so Joan doesn’t try to derail our transformations!" I exclaimed.

Within minutes Pete was back holding a small box in his hand with a cape draped over his arm. I looked at his amazing hair. I was going to have fun shaving off his mane of glossy hair….

"Who’s going to be the first victim?" I asked.

"Me! No chance for cold feet," replied Pete quickly. "Long hair has been part of me for years."

"For as long as I’ve lived here," I said.

Pete pushed my kitchen door open and quickly set up a makeshift barbershop. "Here’s the cape and clip to fasten it. I’ll hold up my hair back while you get me caped up tight."

I fumbled with the cape, but felt energized. I stood there looking at Pete’s hair and the clippers that were plugged in and ready to go. Then I touched his silken hair, gently stroking it at first and then taking a big shank of it into my hand. I loved the feel of it and having control over it. Pete instinctively cowered in response to my forceful approach to his locks.

"Bald you said?" I asked rhetorically.

"To the wood! I’ve got a #1 blade on the Oster’s and it’s going to be awfully short!" Pete replied. There was a tinge of nervousness in his voice for the first time since he started talking haircuts.

I snapped on the electric hair clippers and held the chattering teeth in front of his face for a bit, hoping to conjure up a bit more fear and dread.

"Petey, you have such nice hair," I purred. I tucked the thick lock behind his rather large ear. Then I nudged his head forward.

A muffled voice came from below, "I, uh, maybe, um. Joan is going to be awfully…" he stammered.

There would be no backing out now!

In a flash I brought the clippers to his nape and thrust them into the heavy mane of silken hair. A shriek went up from the clippers and I could feel Pete trying to stifle his involuntary reaction. I felt my cock stir as I pushed the machine up into his shimmering locks.

Then, I pulled the first glorious mass of hair away and held it up to the neon light of the kitchen. It glowed like a display of fireworks as I dropped the cut hair to the cape and into Pete’s lap. "No backing out now, pretty boy," I gloated.

Pete looked up at me with an expression of shear excitement. "I want it all shaved off," he said, almost panting. "Take every bit of it off. I’ve dreamed about this day for years!"

Just then, Joan’s voice was heard in the yard. "Peter, are you over here? I need to tell you something."

"Yes, Joan, he’s in here with me," I said in a calm, steady voice. I moved the clippers up the back of his head for a second time.

The screen door squeaked open and Joan stepped into the kitchen, just as I was driving the clippers up through the crown at the back of Pete’s head. She watched in astonishment as the mass of long, blond hair fell to my kitchen floor.

"Pete!" she shrieked.

"I’m getting a haircut," he said, flushed with embarrassment.

"I can see that! But, what possessed you?! I mean, you’ve always been so protective of your hair!" Joan exclaimed.

I jumped into explain. "I hope you’re not too upset, Joan. Pete’s actually making a sacrifice to help me out. It’s a bit of a long story, but I can explain."

"Oh, there’s no need to explain!" she gushed. "The shorter it’s cut, the more I’m going to like it. When I met Pete, I never had the heart to tell him I thought men with long hair were well…sissified. My father and brothers mocked him so much behind his back!"

"What?" stammered Pete. "I thought you loved my long hair!"

"Well, I acted like I did to disguise my feelings. I didn’t want to hurt you or drive you away. Guys with buzzcuts are sexy, I think," laughed Joan. "I hope that’s where this haircut is going. Shave off all that sissy hair he slaves over each morning like a little girl."

"Want to take over the barbering?" I asked, holding the clippers out toward her.

"Sure! I’d love to clip my hubby down to the wood! Put an end to this princess look once and for all!" Joan said, reaching for the Oster’s.

"Ah, a #1," Joan noted, looking at the Oster blade. "It’s the length my Dad used on my brothers when they were young! I loved giving them ‘Dutch rubs’ after their haircuts."

Pete sat in stunned, submissive silence while Joan expertly peeled away the long locks, starting with the forelock and driving the clippers straight down the top of Pete’s head. Her cowed husband fondled the cut hair on his lap nervously. To think of all those years he yearned to shave it off, but didn’t do so, fearing her reaction.

Finally, when all that was left was stubble, Joan snapped off the machine. "I think, after the birth of our son, this is the best day of my married life! I have a manly looking man, at last!" She took his clipped head in her hands and planted a long, emphatic kiss on his lips. "I’m going to tighten up your butch every Saturday, understood?"

"Yes, my dear," Pete murmured submissively. "What did you come over here to tell me?"

"A business trip came up, and I need to leave for the airport early tomorrow morning - before you wake up. I’ve left a list of projects that I want completed before I return. It’s on the kitchen table. That leaky faucet in the laundry room is your first priority. Understood?"

"But, Joan, I have a big wedding shoot. It’s going to be hard…." Pete stammered.

"Leave the faucet to me, Pete. It’s the least I can do for someone who’s a real pal. Plus, my father was a plumber, so I know more than a bit about leaky faucets. Have a good trip, Joan. Now, if you don’t mind, Pete needs to put an end to my business coif!"

Joan assured us she was going straight to bed. I ushered her to the door and made sure it was locked after she’d been dispatched.

I looked at his clipped head and all the hair on my kitchen floor. I hardly recognized my neighbor. "Pete, like you suggested, I’m going to be more assertive at work. But let me give you some advice about your relationship! You need to practice what you preach and assert yourself. Show Joan who you are. Change your tone and your attitude now that you’ve ditched that girlish look! Don’t be servile. Women don’t respect henpecked husbands. Command the relationship. Grow some balls! Wear the pants in the relationship, for Heaven’s sake."

Pete rubbed his stubbled head and smiled shyly. "How about you and I go out to a bar tomorrow night and watch the big game. I’m going to shred the ‘honey do’ list!"

He stood up straight and tall. "Now, Mr. Prissy Executive. Take a seat. You’re NEXT!"

Pete snapped the barber cape open with authority. The remnants of his silken locks scattered about the kitchen floor.

"Give me a butch!" I commanded.

Then the cape was fastened in a suffocating, tight manner around my neck.

"Oh, look at this nice style," Pete mocked. He pushed his fingers through the thick mane that crowned my head and spilled full over my collar in back. "How much do you pay your stylist each time she tidies this coif up?"

I fantasized about Pete taking my head in his hands and planting a long, emphatic kiss on my lips.

Instead, he reached for the clippers. "I liked Joan’s approach. Right down the middle of the top. The longest, most prominent and pampered hair off first!"

I swooned as the clippers hit my executive coif with full force and fury. Instantly hair fell down past my frightened gaze. Terror struck my heart. Tomorrow I would walk into the office without my power helmet, without my security blanket! I’d feel naked and very, very vulnerable. But there was no turning back. I submitted to Pete and his clippers.

"Oh, my! You have rather large ears," Pete snickered.

I felt a bulge in my groin.

Pete continued, "Now that I look like a real macho man, I’m going to act like one, Baldy!" He shoved my head down forcefully and brought the clippers up through my nape. "Maybe after I finish taking all this pretty boy hair off, I should practice a bit on that advice you gave me. Command this relationship. Grow some balls!"

I could not keep my cock contained.

Pete wrenched my ear. "Naughty boy! Don’t think you’re too old for a spanking, mister!"




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