Swim Trunks Summer (Ken's House, pt. 2) by InnocentKink

---

What had I done? I had a shadow of hair across my whole scalp. For all intents and purposes, I was bald. Yes, Ken is absolutely stunning, especially in his swim trunks, and the afternoon was truly a dream come true, but was it worth my wavy locks? I look like a convict or a new army recruit. I can’t believe I have to go out in the world like this, no wonder Ken wears a hat most of the time. I have summer school starting in a couple of weeks, I hope my hair gets better by then.

Ken told me that it would grow back in a month. It has been three days since he buzzed me down to a number one all over, and it still is very short. I did some research online and it appears it may take at least six months for my wavy side part cut to return to its full lustre. I can’t believe I let him do this to me, what was I thinking? The feeling of having Ken’s approval for being a cool guy that would get buzzed in a backyard has worn off, now I just feel humiliated.

I did, however, enjoy the scent I came home with. The mixture of suntan lotion, chlorine, and Ken’s aftershave was intoxicating. Every summer should smell that good. Next time I go to the drug store, I will have to pick up some Brut, a true manly scent, although I am anything but.

Showering with this little hair has its benefits for sure. For starters, I have no need for shampoo. The feeling of the warm shower water directly permeating my scalp is deeply soothing. Afterwards, the little nubs I have practically dry themselves. I also sleep much more cooler at night.

A couple of days later, I unexpectedly ran into Ken at the grocery store. He greeted me by saying, "Hey Buzz, how are you? I bet you love your new hairstyle, I know I do." I somewhat sheepishly replied "yeah, it’s cool", as I was far too timid to tell him that I regretted it. "Of course it is; cool in every possible way." was his response. He then briefly removed his baseball cap to show me his short buzzcut. It looked so much cooler, much more manlier than mine.

He then invited me over once again to swim, watch the baseball game, and get our buzzcuts tuned up. What was I to do? The idea of spending more time with him, in our swim trunks, and continued bonding over the baseball game was a gift and something nearly impossible for me to refuse, but going back to square one on getting my hair back is a hefty price to pay.

I told Ken that I’d love to come over and spend an afternoon with him. He said that would be perfect and it was a joy having me around. Since his three sons are grown, he misses the kind of company that I provided. He also reminded me that he knows my summer classes are starting very soon, and that I should give a good impression by keeping my hair tight. I was doomed. I obviously cannot say no to this man.

He said goodbye to me by saying "See you Sunday, stud!". I felt all warm and fuzzy being called a stud by a true stud, although I was anything but. Ken, and his clean, all white, New Balance shoes, magenta microfiber polo shirt, tucked into crisp, pleated, tan, golf shorts, all covering his solid but soft, muscular and tanned body. His salt and pepper buzzcut suited him perfectly, and was like the candle on top of a birthday cake. I, on the other hand, was a wiry computer geek who hadn’t lifted a weight in my life.

Although I thoroughly enjoy spending time and bonding with him, I’m scared that I would lose his approval if I didn’t go through with another buzzcut. When I first visited his house, we mostly took to smalltalk and swam our laps, but once the clippers came out, I felt we became much closer and open with each other. In a sense, the shared experience of buzzing each other to a number one had bonded us.

A few more days had passed. My hair was still way too short. I resembled a fuzzball. Showering and drying it was still a breeze, and it was definitely more comfortable in the stifling Arizona heat. Maybe having a head of stubble and fuzz isn’t so bad. On the other hand, I really don’t want to start college with no hair. What are the chances that Ken will understand?

Sunday had come and I was full of fear and trepidation. My hair was only vaguely returning, it has been less than two weeks since Ken initially buzzed me. I packed my swim trunks and towel, and headed over to Ken’s house, the Diamondbacks game was starting shortly. Although he only lives across the street, the walk seems like it took an eternity.

To my surprise, Ken once again answered the door wearing only his swim trunks. I thought we might watch the game first, but perhaps he has other plans? As always, Ken’s body and buzzcut were hypnotic. His tattoos cemented his status as the ultimate man. I had become so preoccupied with being buzzed, I forgot how we had discussed me receiving some ink. His tattoos complemented his body perfectly, and I certainly wanted to emulate him.

"Welcome, buzz", he says. "Feel free to get comfortable while we watch the game, my wife is out with her sister, and will likely be gone all afternoon. If it were up to me, every day would be swim trunks summer, but the ball and chain hates me being shirtless on our furniture. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her is what I say." I tend to agree, now I get to decide whether to watch the game or Ken’s half-naked body. I head to the restroom to change into my trunks. He shouts "We’ve got buffalo wings for lunch!" I’m feeling so much more comfortable. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

I come out of the bathroom and join Ken on his brown leather couch. The mixture of the pumping air conditioning and cool leather on my body and scalp feel like heaven. We chow down on buffalo wings out of a shared bowl. He’s obviously wearing aftershave that smells incredible. He grabs my head and rubs my scalp against his bare chest, and calls me a fuzzball as he runs his hand through my hair and vigorously gives me a noogie. I wish I had the courage to do the same to him.

We chatted intermittently through the game. The topic of backyard haircuts came up. Ken told me that he had second thoughts on getting a buzzcut that day. He was in hot water with his wife over getting a number one last time, and didn’t have much hair for any other cut at the time. She didn’t like having a skinhead for a husband. If it was up to him, his hair would be short, shorter, or shortest (his words). The firm he worked for was very conservative, he couldn’t show skin at work, so the only opportunities he had for buzzcuts were on vacation.

"At least you’re young and single; you can go for the gusto" he tells me. "I’ll mow you down, then we’ll hit the pool, sound good?". My own reservations come front and center as I realize I’ll be the only one leaving with less hair. I mention that maybe we just go swimming, and maybe next time we can buzz each other, I hate for him to have to get everything out just for me. He insists that its not a problem, and he would be happy to do it. "We need to keep you looking sharp for college" is how he put it.

The game is in the eighth inning. I’m running out of time. Ken doesn’t seem to be backing down on giving me a fresh buzzcut. Once the game gets to the ninth, he is up and fumbling around, likely getting out his clippers. Before I know it, the game is over.

"Come", Ken yells. "The sooner we get you buzzed, the sooner I can jump in the pool. It is still far too hot." How will I get myself out of this one? Maybe I should just let him do it, it’s not like I have any hair as it is.

TO BE CONTINUED...

---