Fetish Dare 2 by Vincent

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Well, my hair kept growing. I didn't let my dad near my precious hair after that last cut, rape, theft!
Mind you, I often had my hand down between my legs recalling the shearing and the tears. By now the
pain had mostly left and the sexual excitement kept growing as I imagined other longhaired dudes
being forced to cut off their long locks that held all their sexual prowess and studliness.

Speaking of my legs, they were a sight to behold in my jeans that continued to get tighter as I got
older. I made sure of it. My jeans were another bone of contention with my father, but who the hell
cared. I was almost sixteen now, and my blond locks were almost touching my shoulders. In fact, they
went a little past my shoulders when they were wet. Because my hair had a lot of wave and even some
curl starting to form near the ends, it didn't look as long when it was dry.
I knew I would get my hair much longer in the coming years, however.
Along with my new look that kept changing ever better, so did my attitude. I was the sullen, moody, mysterious
teen figure. I was ultra-cool. Well, most of the time. I did have trouble holding on to the act at times - but
I knew I would perfect it too. Most of the time I slouched around and showed off my COOL.

I spent a lot of time on my hair. It was my pride and joy (still is), and I fondled with it incessantly.
I especially liked to play with my hair when my father was looking. It pissed him off, I could tell.
I would smirk behind a smile and give him my most innocent look.
Any mention of barbers or haircuts would get me going - especially if it was from him.
I think he must have known it although I the time I didn't think he did. He would say things deliberately
to make me blush and reach for my crotch. For example, he'd ask me to bring him the scissors.

"Vince, bring me the scissors." I was almost frothing at the mouth from fear and sexual excitement and my eyes would
grow huge. "I have to cut the tags of these new boots," he laughed at my discomfort. I did as I was told
but handed him the scissors while standing well back of his reach. Again he laughed at me.
I knew he knew my fear - but the other?

The bangs were still fairly straight, but they were starting to get a little curl as they got longer.
I couldn't successfully swing or flip them out of the way to well now. I usually pushed them aside
from time to time with my fingers, but I liked them down over my eyes anyway. It made me look
even more mysterious, cool, and sexy.

Around Christmas time, the family had gathered as usual. I was being my little punk moody self as usual.
But, I was happy actually. My mother had bought me a pair of jeans - brand name for a change - and
she didn't f*** up - or had she? I wasn't sure if she forgot my age and size or what, but these jeans
were so f***ing tight it was unbelievable. When I first slouched into the living room, my father said,
"Jesus Christ!"
I thought he was being a little generous, though I did look fantastic in these super tight jeans on me like
a second skin.
I smiled at him from under my long wavy bangs and swung my hair.
My mother said, "Oh, I should take those back and get you a size or two bigger, sweetie."

"No way, these are perfect," I replied grinning. I turned around so that everyone could see my tight
little ass clad in these perfect jeans.

True, I did have to squat and make adjustments throughout the day, they were so f***ing tight - but
I loved them. The fact that I had to put one ball on one side and the other on the other side of the
crotch made them even more special.

To give some relief, I was lying on the floor after eating and just relaxing. One of my younger cousin,
just a kid, was playing with a new battery operated truck he got for Christmas.
He kept running the thing into me and laughing. I was laughing, too. It was just silly.
I spread my legs hoping he'd run the thing up between them, but he never did. Lying there spread
eagled, I could imagine how cool I looked with my super skintight jeans clinging like clear wrap and my
tight white t-shirt with my hair flared out around me. I pulled it out behind me so that it would look
like a blond mass behind and around my head. My bangs were still over my face and nose poking out
through the slight wave of the massive mane.

I smirked at the thought of myself and I could feel a familiar tug at my jeans. Whoah, I thought - not
sure I could stand a hot rod in these particular jeans.
Most people stepped over me. One of my older cousin pretended he was going to step on my chest
and then he didn't. On his way back to the kitchen, he pretended he was going to step on my crotch -
but he didn't.
I did lose a little of my cool, though and raised my hands.

"Don't worry, f***wit," he whispered. "I won't hurt you." He tried to look into my eyes but, of course,
they were behind my curtain of hair. I glared up at his very short flattop that stood erect on his head.
He straddled me for a moment.

"You should get your hair cut like your cousin," Dad says aloud to everyone's laughter. I can't take my
eyes off the dude's hair as he bends over me and rubs his fingers through the stiff strands that stand on
his head like good little soldiers doing as they're told.
I almost gagged, but I tried to laugh - it came out all wrong though.

My younger cousin aimed his truck to run over my hair. The thing went over it and he ran to turn
it back and run over my long mop again.
He was having fun and giggling.

I was getting even more excited. Then someone said the ultimate words that made my hot rod
pop. "Be careful, you don't want your truck to get trapped in all that hair."

I could not believe the imagination of that happening. My super tight jeans became tighter and
tighter so fast I hardly had time to sit myself up and rescue any part of my ego. I could feel
my face turning red, but I did manage to extract myself from the floor and sneer at the speaker
and others.
Of course, it was my father. He thought he was so funny.

Later, alone in my bedroom, I was replaying that scene in my head, but now I could reach
between my legs and enjoy the role play. I could imagine my beautiful blond strands getting
caught up in the wheels of that stupid toy and my hair being endangered. The threat made me
so excited that all the blood rushed to my groin. I was unable to control myself and threw
myself onto my wanking pillow with my wank rag - actually a pair of shorts I'd been using.
I was already wet in my super skintight jeans and they were starting to show a patch, so
I pulled them down.
I came very close to climax, but something stopped me.
I thought about what could be stopping me from finishing the job. I was hot enough.

Then I realized that it would be even more exciting if I could use the truck in my role play.
I found the truck easily enough. As with all young kids, they lose interest fairly quickly.
I took the truck to my room and played with it a moment to see how I could do this. The risk
to my hair, I thought, was pretty minimal. The truck never actually got caught in my hair on the
floor, so I would be fine.
I convinced myself and then lay back down on the bed and my pillow.

I began to hump the pillow, looking up at my strategically placed mirror, so I could see my hair.
The blond bangs hung down seductively over my face and the more wavy, curly strands were
nearing my shoulders. I could see my jeans pulled down and stretched tight beyond believe
between my legs now.
I smiled.
With my other hand, I picked up the truck and turned it on. I nearly arched my back right then,
but I held on like the stud I am.
I brought the truck closer and closer to my beautiful long hair, my pride and joy.
I did this a couple of times and was almost ready to explode.
Once more try, I imagined all the horror of losing my stud's long hair. I brought the wheels of
the truck into my hair once more. I turned the truck sideways because I needed to adjust
my cock, and then I heard a kind of grinding sound and the sound of the truck changed, too.
I realized that the wheels were getting entangled.
My slender back arched.
My long lean legs still clad in the strangling jeans kicked in ecstatic release. My long blond bangs
fluttered with excitement.
I wanted to pull the truck out of my hair, but I was too preoccupied with cumming all over my
wanking shorts.
I moaned quietly.
Then I realized that the sound of the truck had stopped. I reached for the switch and turned it off.
Then I smirked with pride.
When I pulled the truck away from my head, it would not move. It was stuck!
F***!
I said to myself. I tried to stay calm, but I had trouble doing that.
I pulled at the truck again, but it would barely move no matter what I did. The wheels and axles
were completely entwined in my precious long blond hair.

A cold chill ran down my spine as I realized that the truck was totally trapped in my long hair.
Strike that. My long hair was totally trapped in the truck!
I had not felt such an icy cold chill since the haircuts in the old days.
HAIRCUT!
No f***ing way.
I had to get this truck out - but there was no way.
I managed to move off my pillow and throw the now plastered - yet again - shorts under the
bed for now.
I was about to go to the mirror when my older cousin came into my room without knocking
as usual. Wanking with the door unlocked was more exciting but it came with risks.
"What are you doing little f***wit?"

"Shut up," I snapped back without thinking. My hand was still on the truck holding it so it
didn't yank at my long blond tresses. I couldn't believe I'd been caught with my hand in the cookie
jar - or rather my hand in my trapped hair.

"You need a little help there?" He laughed at me.

"No," I snapped.

"You might want to put that little monster away," he smiled. "It looks like its chilly."

I realized that my skintight jeans were still straddled between my legs and my hot-rod was not so
hot at the moment.

"A little trapped are you, f***wit?"

"F*** you."

"I'll go get your dad to help you."

"NO - no! Wait."

"Yes."

"Don't get him. You can help me."

"Why not get your dad to help you?" he smirked.

"He'll f***ing shear me bald again!" I almost cried.

"Well, well, well, the mouthy, insolent strutting longhaired punk needs some help and doesn't want
daddy to come."

"Shut up."

"I'll go get him for you."

"No. Please. Help me." I couldn't believe I sounded like a little f***ing kid asking for help, but there
was no way I could let dad see this.

He marched over to assess the damage.

"Haven't you got yourself into a fix, little punk boy. This hair is so entangled, dude."

I was trying to pull my tight jeans over my ass and cock. With one hand and the super slender jeans it
was impossible.
He reached down and unceremoniously yanked up the jeans enough to hide my embarrassment somewhat.

"You know, Vince, you are a pretty smart dude when you aren't wanking your six incher - not bad by the way -
or stroking your long fancy-boy hair. Mind you, I can see that stroking one is pretty much the same as
stroking the other, isn't it? That's why you don't want your daddy stripping you of your precious long hair."

"Please," I felt like I was going to cry.

"Take it easy, f***wit." He went over to my dresser and looked in the drawers, finding a pair of scissors I kept
there. I had used the scissors many times while looking into the mirror at my awesome long locks. I would tease
myself with the scissors and make up stories about how some dude would come in and take my sexy hair
from me against my will.
It gave me a lot of satisfaction, and my shorts now lurking under the bed a lot of added crunch.

My heart was pounding as he came toward me with the scissors. My eyes grew wide and my nostrils flared
in fear.

"Please, don't." I begged. Where was my cool self now?

"Don't worry, stud," he laughed. "I'm not cutting all your precious long hair. I just need to snip a few strands to
get started, then you will be free to play with yourself again."

I didn't even have the strength to complain. I just kneeled on the bed with my skintight jeans kind of up and
my long hair skewed about from wanking and from entanglement.

His strong fingers pulled at the truck and I heard the scissors enter the hair. The sound of each hair strand
crunching under the scissors sounded like screams of terror for me.

TWANG TWANG TWANG

He handed me a few of the stunningly blond and massively long blond strands. I took them automatically
in my shaking hand. Why would he do that?
"Don't do that," I almost blubbered.

He pulled at the truck again, and I could feel his fingers now working around the wheels and my hair. He was
extracting some of the long strands from the axles and the mechanisms of the toy truck.

I couldn't believe that here I was with my older nerd flattopped cousin messing in my long hair - my pride
and joy being assaulted by a flattop!

I felt my hot-rod growing again despite my fear and anguish. The dude's strong fingers in my long hair was
getting me boned and maybe the fear, too.

"Just a little more," he said and smiled down at me. He tilted his head and I could see his scalp through the
flattop haircut he had. I could see his ears poking out from the high baldness around his ears.
Tears flowed freely now from my eyes and dripped off the tip of my nose.
He must have seen, but he took pity on me and didn't mention it.

I heard a few more twangs - at least in my mind - as he snipped more long stud's hair off - though I was feeling
more like the little kid who had his long bangs sheared so long ago to his scalp.

Finally, he pulled the truck free of my long blond locks. I breathed a sigh of relief, but I was still panicking that
my hair was ruined.

"There you go, f***wit," he said not unkindly. "Your long hair is free. You might want to tame that little monster
down again. I didn't know my hands were so strong."

I was so embarrassed that I didn't have a comeback. He had noticed but then how could you not with these jeans.

I saw the strands of hair that he had cut off my head. There weren't an awful lot although for me it looked terrible.
Still, I was grateful that he had saved most of the tangled bits that were now standing in total disarray on the side
of my blond head.
I looked in the mirror and touched where the truck had been, pulling at my long waves and curls that bounded back
fairly well. The "haircut" was not going to be too noticeable once I got my other long locks in order.

"Don't worry, you look adorable, f***wit." He was working out the long strands that remained in the truck wheels
so that he could give the toy back to my younger cousin.

"Make sure you get it all out," I suddenly said as the thought of someone finding even one of my long strands in the
truck and the trouble that could cause.
Dad had already threatened my mop whenever he found a loose strand around the house.

"Stop being a pussy," he laughed and continued to work out the hair.

"I'm not a f***ing pussy," I retorted though I didn't feel too strong yet despite my hardening bone.

"I can see that," he smiled and pointed to my crotch and my pillow. "Like looking at yourself do you, stud?" He pointed
now to the strategically placed mirror.
My face burned red.

"You better clean up all these loose strands of hair from your bed and floor," he told me. "Also, you might want
to hide those sweet smelling spunk shorts under your bed, stud, or your mommy might wash them.
Imagine what she will think if she
finds them. She might take your crotch hugging jeans away from you after all."

He left my room with the truck.

All in all, he had not treated me too bad. I was lucky. I thought his flattop would control him and make him cut
my long hair like his.
Thank god, I still had most of my long blond hair.
I admired myself some more, but then did as he said - cleaning up my loose hair and hiding my shorts in their usual
hiding spot.

I sat at my dresser mirror and fixed my long blond hair. I was slowly breathing more normally although I was afraid
still that someone else would find out. What if my cousin told? I didn't think he would. He had been kind of good about it
all. Still.
Then I heard my cousins in the other room.

"Here's your truck."

"Thanks. Where was it? Hey! What's this?"

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