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Dude's Crash Part 3 by The Hair King
Doctor Shear was back at home enjoying a nice beverage, looking out from his den to the kitchen.
His son, was propped up on a stool at the counter staring at his cell phone as usual. The massive dollop of blond hair
that fell over the kid's face was even longer than he'd noticed before. He tried not to look at the length of his son's hair too much as it made him angry.
Now, he could see the huge swath of hair as it swung forward, the phone held underneath the umbrella
of blond tresses so the boy could see the images.
The doctor shook his head.
He looked now at the rest of Johnny's hair as it tumbled - literally f***ing tumbled down over the thin shoulders
and down his shoulder blades ending in a collection of looped waves just past the bony shoulder blades. His leaning
forward now meant that those thick ropes of hair would come to nearly three quarters the way down his slender back. Johnny
was wearing a black armless t-shirt at the moment so the blondness of the massive mane was startling.
How can he walk around like that, the doctor wondered. He should have more pride than that.
He smiled though at that thought. The boy was super proud of his long hair. He spend hours upon hours staring
into mirrors and fondling that impressive garden of long blond follicles. Yes, he was proud alright - and vain - his vanity
knew no bounds and a lot of it was wrapped up in those extra-long strands of ridiculous blond hair.
No mirror or reflective surface ever escaped the kid's stare, his lean fingers gently pampering the locks and waves ensuring
that they looked their very best. He had to admit that the boy took good care of his hair - no doubt about that.
The doctor nearly burst out laughing as he thought of his teenaged son's love of mirrors and plate glass windows when the lad
began primping his hair while still looking at his phone. He was obviously looking at himself using his cell phone. Well, it was
the boy's favourite image - particularly the long pretty hair.
Goldilocks has nothing on this boy, doctor thought.
That hair has to come off. There is no two ways about it. But how?
His son would hold on to that long hair with his life. He was all about style.
Suddenly, Doctor Shear pretended to be looking at a file on his desk as the young man swung his legs and stood up coming toward the den.
He came to the door and swung his head at least three times waving the huge dollop of blong bangs away and back into his face. He smiled
at his dad and asked, "Do you think I should get a trim, dad?"
The little arrogant brat actually smirked from under the enormous weight of shiny blond long hair. Had he noticed him watching, the
doctor wondered. The little smartass.
Johnny pulled his longest bangs with his fingers, revealing the length of hair. The doctor noticed another new ring on the boys hand as it flashed.
The lad stood with his legs spread a little and his super tight light blue dress jeans that didn't even cover his naked ankles. He had on a
pair of his favourite fancy dress shoes with the super pointy toes - ridiculous.
"It woudn't hurt," dad said.
"Well, just a little bit, don't you think?" the kid smirked even more - almost a sneer. Dad was sure that son was taunting.
"Maybe a few inches."
"Whoah!" the smartmouthed teenager squealed. Did his tight jeaned legs spread more? "I said a little bit, dad. Like not even an inch probably."
Doctor Shear smiled patiently, but he was roiling inside.
"Well, you know best, son. It is your hair. I could do it for you."
Now it was Johnny's turn for his face to change colour. Dad noticed that the self described stud shifted his crotch a little -
trying to do it sureptitiously. "No way, dude. I ain't letting you get your hands into my long hair, dad."
Dad was getting tired of his young man's taunting and decided to end this little charade.
"A good haircut would be best, I think, if you want to know the truth."
Johnny let go of his long blond strands and let his hand rest in front of his stretched pants, his cell phone creating
one bulge in his drawers, the other caused by his own game, dad believed. And how often had he told the boy not to keep
his phone so close to his balls? Well, the boy doesn't listen.
Dad was right though. Johnny knew he had to leave now. He had business to take care of - and mirrors to accost. As he turned
to leave, Doctor Shear could see even more how tight these light blue jeans were clinging to the lad's wee ass. My god, that
is one spankable ass if I do say so myself. What does a boy good? A spanking and a haircut.
He chuckled to himself and got excited thinking about how much fun it would be to turn that little punk's ass over his knee
and slap him silly until he cried like the baby he really was and then plop him in a chair with a towel around his skinny
shoulders that he showed off as if he was a muscled dude and shear that preposterous long blond hair off the pompous narcissistic delinquent.
Doctor Shear sat back pleased with the comforting thought of taking away that absurd mop on the kid's head. He could picture
the blond locks falling as the tears and sniffling began. Yes, he knew he would make his son cry but then he would look more
like a decent young man instead of a young punk or pretty boy - whatever the kid was going after with that pride and joy long hair.
The lad would be blubbering like the idiot he was when his long soft strands bounced off his shoulders and shoulder blades
for the last time - this time falling into his crotch and down to the floor. He could see the tight light blue pants stretched
beyond belief as the boy's initial excitement and hormone driven stick always eager when taunting dad suddenly realize that
the taunting had ended in disaster. A hair cut! No! No! No! The wee lad would be yelling and snivelling like the little brat
he was. He could see it all even more clearly after having shorn the long locks off that asinine punk at the hospital - Ronny.
What a little mutant he was with all that hair and his stupid sagging jeans. The doctor smiled at remembering poor Ronny and attaching
his own son's long hair into his imagination.
How easily all that blond mess came off the wee skater boy - just like any young buck. I bet he was surprised when he saw the mess
for the first time. All those years of strength tied up in those long glorious locks of hair that snipped off so easily - just like a wee church boy.
He pictured his own son's brilliantly shining blond hair as the clippers mowed up the back leaving a strip of naked scalp - naked as a baby's ass,
glowing out at the world. The teenaged angst and petulance reduced to little boy pleading to not cut all his precious long hair off. Another
strip comes off in a few moments of slow but steady cropping of the long hair.
He saw the young Ronny one more time when he came in to have his stitches out and to be checked over. The nurses did the job, but he saw the
young lad in the room. His head was now shorn to the bone - no need for that, so somebody got his revenge on the kid. He had almost no hair
at all. He still had his senseless baggy drawers on - or half on - but he did not look like a happy camper. The nurses were trying to
convince him that his haircut was cute, but he would have none of it. The doctor deliberately went into the next room so he could hear
the conversation. He caught Ronny saying he was growing his hair back as soon as possible. His brother Robert who was with him said, "Well, we will see.
Dad kind of likes it this way, and it's better for you to get a job."
Doctor Shear smiled. It might not be so easy for cocky Ronny to get his hair back again.
The doctor finished his beverage and sat back to relax. He closed his eyes and imagined his own son with his pretty blond hair being shorn.
Yes, he knew what the young stud was up to in his bedroom right now after having teased his father. The little bugger will be manhandling
his other pride and joy. The foolish boy actually thought that his dad did not know what he was up to with all his taunting and that long hair.
Won't he be embarrassed when he is in the chair with the towel around him and his pelt wafting down around him including over his shaft now
pointing up in those outlandishly tight pants and pointy shoes.