Officer Tom - Part 3 by Vince

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To say Mike was pissed off when he discovered his new haircut is to make the biggest understatement ever! 
He was freaking.  He was practically frothing at the mouth with anger, embarrassment, and despair over the 
loss of his long hair - his emo bangs gone. 
 
He was not sure whether to scream, swear, cry, kill, run, like I said, he was frothing literally.  His eyes grew 
huge looking at himself in the mirror - the first time in years that he could clearly see his face and eyes without
sheaths of long hair covering them. 
F***! he finally shrieked.  His voice cracking and coming out too high pitched. 
 
He strutted - aka waddled in his sagging jeans still stained and looking awesome in his mind to the kitchen
where Officer Tom was having his coffee.  
"Look what that f***er did to my hair!" he screamed again, a little more successfully.  "Look at my hair!" 
 
Officer Tom did, and smiled.  "I like it." 
 
Mike's face burned even redder with rage.  "This is f***ing crazy.  You said my hair was the winner.  He can't
do this and get away with it.  You have to do something." 
 
"Well, I can't very well glue your hair back on, can I," Tom said calmly.  "You look good.  At least I can see you
now.  As for your hair being the winner, I will have to reconsider that now.  Those long bangs were a big part
of that as you know." 
 
"F***, f***, f***," Mikey stomped out of the kitchen grabbing on the the crotch of his jeans to keep them from
hitting the floor completely, and he picked at his ass to get the undies out of his crack again. Officer Tom 
shook his head and smiled.  He was pleased to see the slouching, brooding young man with his mouthy 
and cocksure attitude getting brought down a peg or two.  
His studly swagger was suffering quite a bit. 
The long hair wars was really on and getting very entertaining. 
He wondered if he should put a stop to it, but why should he.  The boys would soon take care of their own 
long hair so he would not have to be the bad guy. 
 
Timmy was guarded because he knew his brother would be after him.  Mike glowered at the young man, 
"You will get yours, asshole.  If you think you've won, you got another thing coming." 
 
"It looks good, bro," Timmy tried but obviously got too much satisfaction out of it. 
 
"F*** you to hell," Mike turned to gaze at himself in the mirror and try to do something with what was left of 
his bangs, which wasn't much.  At least he still had the massive black strands down past his shoulder blades
and the tail past his ass.  He thought that the little faggot didn't have the nerve to cut that off. 
 
As the next few days passed, Mike had been to a salon to "fix" the front of his hair as much as possible.  
He vowed to grow the bangs back and to make them even more awesome than before.  
He has tripped Timmy a couple of times and punched him in passing many times.  The kid took most of it
but yelped a few times which made Mike feel like the man again. 
 
Sitting in the bedroom, Mike sneered at Timmy, "You should pay for this," he pointed to his mutilated bangs. 
 
"Maybe I should tell Uncle Tom about your little nighttime activity that you had that night with my leg.  He'd 
be thrilled to hear that story." 
 
"F*** you," Mike's face blushed both with embarrassment and with desire.  
 
"How many times have you come in those saggy baggies since then, dude?"  Timmy sneered back. 
 
"More than you f***ing have in your lame entire life," Mike spurted back without thinking.  He was proud of
his hardened pouch. These were punk pants - so f*** it. 
 
Timmy laughed at him.  Mike's fists clenched, but he had a plan - well, he was formulating a plan.  No need to
jump to it quite yet. 
 
The next day, Mike took off early and wore shorts because it was going to be a hot day.  The shorts were huge
and hung well off his ass, too, but his giant spunk-filled proud trousers were lying on the floor where he dropped
them in the bedroom. 
 
Uncle Tom came into the room and saw Timmy sitting at his dresser sprucing up his gigantic Afro for the day. 
He smiled at the boy's complete idiocy to have hair that ridiculous. 
Tom walked around the room picking up discarded clothes for the laundry.  
 
"Your hair is looking amazing," Officer Tom said.  
 
"Thanks, dude," Timmy glowed.  Maybe he was winning.  
 
"Looks like you are having a bit of trouble reaching the heights of it, though." 
 
Did Tim recognize a scoff?  He thought not on second thought.  "Yeah, it is huge.  Sometimes I can convince Mikey to 
help be, but....well, you know." 
 
The older man laughed and said, "Yes, I know."  He walked up behind Timmy and reached for the hair pick.  "Here, 
let me help you." 
 
"Seriously," Timmy asked.  
 
"Sure, why not?"  The boy handed the pick to Officer Tom almost without thinking. He loved someone to help with
his massive mane.  The man was gentle and picked the hair out and up, creating an enormous bulb of curls that 
was astounding to witness. 
Tim was thrilled to have his hair so well tended to. In fact, he was a little too thrilled and got the usual tingling 
down below in his super tight skinny jeans sagging with the round of his butt in bright yellow undies hanging off the 
stool. 
Officer Tom smiled down at the boy's idiotic hair and fashion.  He would be patient. 
"This is beautiful hair," he said, "and lots of it." 
 
"Yeah," Timmy's face beamed with pride.  "It is the best hair, EVER!"  
 
"Maybe," Tom replied and Timmy nearly came right there. 
 
Once finished, Uncle Tom reached for the pile of laundry at at the last moment noticed the massive punk jeans on
the floor.  He bent to pick them up.  
Timmy saw and risked it all by getting up off the stool and reaching for his brother's proud jeans. 
 
"Not, those," he said and took them from Uncle Tom.  "Mikey doesn't want them washed." He felt the enormous
weight of the jeans and easily picked up the familiar scent of them.  Proud stud jeans indeed. 
Uncle Tom had noticed both as well, but was not about to admit it. 
 
"They look like they could use a wash."  Officer Tom thinks about the number of times he has seen the young 
man sulking and drooping these very drawers around the house like some hormone driven slacker. 
 
"Yeah, maybe, but he doesn't want them washed I know."  Timmy held his punk brother's jeans in front of him to
conceal his own activities.  Uncle Tom smiled to hide a smirk as he had already noticed the young lad's reaction 
to his strong police officers hands in his long hair - his massive Afro. 
The little boys just don't have control, yet - despite their thinking they own the world. 
 
"Okay," he left the room and the boy to his pleasures.  Would he use his own skinny jeans for that or his 
brother's stupid saggers?  It didn't matter.  
 
That night, Timmy had meant to mention to his brother that he had saved his proud punk jeans from a washing 
that would have spoiled months of effort, but he had fallen asleep before Mike got in. 
It was, in fact, part of Mike's plan to have little brother fall into his usual deep sleep so that he could initiate his
genius plan.
 
Mike was a slouching, moody, arrogant, narcissistic punk, but he was also a fairly decent artist.  He seemed to
be able to create art out of almost anything he touched. 
When he came into the bedroom, he walked over to Timmy to ensure that the little brat was dead asleep. 
He was. 
Mike took out his tools.  He was ready to try. 
Then he noticed his colossal punk jeans on the floor.  He noticed other clothes missing from the room and then
saw the neatly piled clothes on the chair - clean laundry.  How the f*** did he miss these, he wondered but 
was greatly relieved.  F***, that was close! 
He switched into his huge jeans because he knew this next few moments was going to be very exciting - a 
chance to contribute more to his collection. The jeans would soon be able to stand up on their own, he thought
and smirked.  Truthfully, the jeans could barely stand up even when he was wearing them without a low cinched
belt and constant crotch grabbing. 
 
The bulbous hair awaited.  It looked so impressive on the kid, but it had to go. 
 
With his tiny scissors in hand, he went to work.  The curls were tight and formed into the perfect bulb.  Mike
wondered how the kid had managed to get it so high today. 
With exert care the small but long bladed scissors did their job almost silently.  The fluffy hair fell like snow, and
Mike smiled.  He could hardly control himself as his plan began to come into fruition. 
 
The giant Afro was the perfect blank slate to create a topiary style that he'd seen people do on trees and bushes. 
Well, this was a bush of a sort! 
 
The scissors clacked quietly as the hair rolled like tumbleweeds down Timmy's head to the pillow and bed. 
Mikey reached for the low slung crotch several times to keep his drawers from falling as he sculpted the hair into
form. 
 
The extra long hair was astounding, he thought.  The kid truly did have some amazing hair that might actually be
at least as long as his if it wasn't caught up in so many tight curls. 
Well, did have, he thought. 
 
He felt the softness of the proud dude's hair as he moved it gently to ensure that he was artistically getting the 
shape he needed.  The long hair was cooperating like a good little boy.
Mike sneered. 
I have control now, little brat.  Your massive hair ain't no challenge to these scissors and me! 
 
Expertly the punk artist kept trimming the gigantic Afro into something a little different.  
 
He stood back and admired his handiwork.  He carefully grasped huge tufts of the boy's fluffy curls and tossed them to 
the floor.  Mike looked at the mountain of hair on the floor and giggled.  
That's what you get asshole for going after my long hair.  
You think your hair is so f***ing special, brat, you will see just how special it really is. My f***ing hair beats your hair
any day of the week. 
A few more snips of the hair and he was satisfied - well almost.
He reached for his low slung jeans. 
 
He stood back to admire his handiwork. Should he take all the hair?  He wondered and the testosterone surging through
his body nearly forced him to, but he knew this would be more delicious when the stupid little f***ing brat saw himself
in the mirror - and when Uncle Tom got a look at the brat. 
 
Mike almost laughed aloud as he imagined the look on Timmy's face.  Well, he had been called a penis-head before - well 
mostly only by Mike - but now he truly was. 
Fortunately, the hair was huge enough that the cuts could be deep enough that the kid would never be able to extract the
idea of a penis out of his hair. 
Mike has successfully sculpted the giant Afro into a giant penis with a nice curved shaft, corona, and glans that looked 
almost exactly like a penis! 
 
He was proud as noted by his gargantuan jeans being held up by his own shaft now. Little Timmy was wearing his on his 
head now. 
Wonder how proud the brat will be now?  Mike smirked and waddled toward his own bed for a little comfort and 
satisfaction. 

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