Maintenance Man and Demolition by Manny

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"Thanks for letting me use your shower," Jack said, mopping his thick brown hair back away from his blue eyes. "Oh, and I used your hair dryer too. Hope you don't mind."

"Of course not!" I replied, admiring the silken cascade that covered his ears and most of his shoulders. The battle to keep his hair away from his face was largely a losing one. "You look totally transformed since emerging from that nasty crawl space; you were covered in mold, rat dung and all sorts of other disgusting gunk! Here's your $500, in cash as you requested, for the job -- and thanks for the emergency house call on such short notice!"

Jack separated out $10 and pocketed the rest. He held up the bill and commented, "And, now, on to the barber shop to have all this mowed off." He grasped his silken locks to emphasize his intention. "I found this place that has a special on butch cuts -- just $10. Nothing fancy. In and out of the chair in mere minutes. Walk in looking like a hippy and out like a soldier."

"Really, you're going to get a butch?! But you have such great hair," I said, my mind already racing towards a plan to alter his next steps.

"That's what I'm told," Jack replied, "but it's a liability in my line of work -- maintenance and construction. I've been itching to send it all to the floor and walk out of the shop with stubble. Hell, I might go all the way -- bald! A zero blade all over."

"If that's what you want, I can save you the $10 dollars. I've got a set of clippers. Take off your shirt. I'll go get them," I said, trying not to sound excited.

Jack broke into a huge smile. "Really?! That would be great!" He immediately started unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a well chiseled, furry chest.

When I came back in the kitchen with my barbering kit, Jack was already seated. His head was leaning back and the whole glorious mane of hair hung, flowing freely, in a shaft of sunlight, shimmering like a sequenced gown. He ran his fingers thru his locks as if taking stock of the amount of hair that would be coming off shortly. Down to the wood, was his intention! That meant over twelve inches in some parts.

"So, you have real barber stuff like electric clippers -- a whole kit to cut hair," Jack noticed as I laid out the implements. "Are you a professional barber?"

"No, but I have lots of amateur experience -- my buddies, a few neighbors, my sons when they were kids. I started back in college as a way to save money," I replied as I plugged the clippers in. "Mind if I just brush through your hair a bit to ensure clipping it off goes smoothly?"

His hair felt glorious as I handled it. Jack seemed to enjoy having it manipulated. The brush intensified the shimmer. The weight of his hair was amazing. No wonder he was looking forward to shedding it. I had to make myself stop the prep phase and get on to the next....the shearing...watching the locks fall to my feet.

"Do you do this often, have it all shaved off?" I asked.

"My hair grows fast -- about once a year, I'd say. But I haven't had a buzzcut since before COVID. Had this girlfriend for a while that was turned on by longhaired men," Jack said.

I imagined her playing with his soft, shiny hair much the way I was.

"So, down to zero? I can take it shorter, you know," I said as I held up the #0000 blade. "This will leave your locks shorter than a very fine sandpaper."

"Whoa! I true baldy!" Jack exclaimed. "DO IT!"

I snapped on the blade, fired up the clippers, and held the chattering machine momentarily in front of his eyes. He was undeterred in his resolve to see all his hair dispatched to my kitchen floor.

Then, I grasped the forelock and drew back the curtain of hair. I thrust the teeth quickly into the hairline. A muffled shriek rang out as the carnage began. I pressed the blade tightly against the scalp and drove it deeper and deeper into the abundant locks.

Suddenly, the first shank of glossy brown hair gave way and fell very dramatically onto Jack's furry chest.

"Timber," Jack announced as the grin broadened. "I love it when the first lock falls like that!"

"No turning back," I added.

"Wouldn't want to," Jack said. "I love the transformation from long flowing hair to a crewcut! A true metamorphosis. Makes me feel refreshed and renewed."

The first swath of lily-white scalp lay fully exposed down the center of Jack's head. The amount of hair in Jack's lap was impressive.

"I might become your regular barber," I casually said, as I began stripping off a second shank of hair.

Jack's hand caught some of the falling hair as it came off. "And keep me clipped bald?" he asked.

"I do longer cuts, too. Love military lengths -- flattops, crewcuts, tight ivies, the likes," I said.

I began clipping the shag off the side of Jack's head. For the first time the cut locks began piling up at my feet. He shiny brown cut hair looked so dazzling on the linoleum floor.

Jack was very cooperative as I manipulated his head about to shave off the remnants of hair. His scalp was almost completely white, save a very faint hint of stubble.

Jack looked down at the cut hair that covered the floor around my feet. "I cleaned up your crawl space, but now I've caused a mess in your kitchen. How many dustpans full of hair to you reckon is down there?"

"A good three or four," I replied. "Here, feel up on top. It's all gone! You've got nothing left up here to bother you."

Jack reached up and ran his hand about the whole clipped head. "Love it!" He smiled broadly.

Then his eyes locked on my fussy little business cut -- my precious chestnut-colored locks with fiery auburn highlights that were brushed to the side, every hair in place.

He did not have to state what he was thinking!

"Oh, no thank you!" I stammered. "I'm not into the baldy look."

I helped Jack dust the chunks of cut hair that clung to his furry chest.

"Since you've come this far," I said as I examined his egg head, "how about I finish it off with lather and a razor. Leave here totally smooth?"

"All the way to the skin?" Jack said, with a bit of hesitation.

I turned on the hot water in the sink.

"I'll soften up the stubble with a warm, moist towel....massage in the shaving cream....and then off comes the stubble, thanks to a sharp flat razor!" I exclaimed.

"Why not?!" Jack said, suddenly seized with the idea. "Bald to the bone!"

I submerged a clean hand towel in the hot water, rang it out, and then wrapped it about Jack's head.

"Whoa! That feels heavenly!" Jack chirped.

"Be right back with the cream and razor," I said.

Jack closed his eyes and enjoyed the prolong session of massaging his scalp with the white foam. Then I began scraping away the remnant of his shoulder-length locks -- little flecks of stubble amid the white foam.

Jack groaned with delight as I pulled the razor down the top of his head. "Oh, this feels wonderful!"

"First time?" I asked.

"Yes, but certainly not the last," Jack murmured, his eyes still closed as he relished the sensation of being lather shaved. "You enjoy playing barber?"

"Love it!" I replied.

"Mind if I bring my new side-kick here this afternoon? Sam is his name -- nice kid, but too much hair. He needs this treatment too," Jack said.

"Sure thing! Bring me Sam and he'll also leave here clean as a whistle," I replied as I began to wipe the bits of foam and shaved stubble from Jack's head with the newly re-moistened, warm towel.

Finally, Jack was able to feel his satin-smooth scalp for the first time. He could not keep his hands from exploring the whole of his hairless head. "Can I check this out with a mirror?" he asked.

A few seconds later I heard a yelp from the powder room. "Whoa! I'm totally hairless! And the scalp is so white. A big contrast to my tanned face."

I emerged in the door of the bathroom smiling at the bald head I'd been responsible for. "Glad you like it!"

"I'm just sorry you can't be talked into the same," Jack answered with a glimmer in his eye.

In a flash he clapped a bear hug on me and quickly subdued me with his strength. He dragged me to the mirror. Then he started toying with my fussy businesscut as he left my head still immobilized in a lock grip.

"Let's shave all this off," he said playfully as he grasped and tussled my tidy coif. My groin surged at the thought.

"Please, Jack, I'm an office manager. I can't go into work bald!" I stammered.

"So, you like playing barber, but not barbershop client!" he laughed. He toyed around with me a bit more, pretending his fingers were clippers mowing off all my hair. Just as I was about to explode, he released me.

I quickly smoothed my hair into place.

"What time will you bring Sam by?" I asked.

"Around 4 pm?" he asked.

"I won't sweep up the kitchen until after his haircut," I remarked, gazing down at Jack's lovely tresses scattered on the kitchen linoleum.

"Good! Because Sam's hair and your hair have yet to fall. There's nothing that says an office manager can sport a chromedome. I heard the excitement in your voice when I proposed we take the clippers to that carefully combed coif," Jack said. "Your lips told me 'no, no' but there definitely was 'yes, yes' in your eyes, to quote an old song!"

Jack grabbed the clippers and snapped them on.

"In fact, let's take care of it right now! Off with your shirt and onto the chair!" he laughed, taking delight in his taunts.

Oh, how tempted I felt! But, Jack didn't need any encouragement. I was determined to keep my fussy style in place.

He snapped off the machine, jokingly defeated, and I ushered him to the door.

"See you around 4!" I called as he walked to his car feeling his snowy white scalp.

I had several hours to imagine how Sam's date with my clippers would transpire. Hopefully, he would be as upbeat and enthused about the change as Jack had been. I picked up a lock of Jack's hair from the floor. So silken! So long! So dense! But now he was bald to the bone. I would have paid $500 to do the service for him, but instead I got a clean crawl space out of the payment, plus his head shave....and then the Sam bonus.

When I saw Sam emerge from the car a few hours later, my heart skipped a beat. He was a committed longhair with a massive blond tail reaching all the way to his rear-end! There was a fraught look on his face. Baldheaded Jack was virtually driving him towards my kitchen door. Oh, to seize his tail and take it off! My juices were flowing.

I toned down my excitement as best as I could, "Come on in, fellows."

Sam was definitely recalcitrant. Jack whispered in his ear, "You won't be my business partner until this tail is history. I love my bald head! You will too."

"So, you're Sam," I said, stating the obvious.

"And he's here for a haircut," Jack added, stating the less obvious.

"Haircut, not head shave," Sam said, drawing a line in the sand.

"Hair is BS -- we don't need it in our line of work," Jack snapped.

I was desperate to seize the tail and take it off. "Take your shirt off, Sam, so we can get started on your makeover. The barber chair is that one -- in the middle of all of Jack's hair."

"I figured," Sam dead panned. He reluctantly took off his shirt and plopped down.

Then, I took the massive tail in my hand for the first time. It was as thick and heavy and long as a softball bat. Oh, how wonderful it felt. I pulled it through my eager fingers a bit. "So, you're anxious to have me take this off?"

"Not!" Sam replied defiantly.

"Right to the base of the tail?" I asked placing my fingers right around the copious start of the appendage. There was no way shears could saw through Sam's tail easily. I picked up the clippers and snapped them. "Will you be saving the tail once it's off?"

"Nope! Just let it fall to the floor and sweep it up with the rest of the trash," Jack laughed.

Almost three feet of hair would come off! Lovely, golden hair with a bit of body in it.

"Sit up straight, Sam!" I ordered.

Sam complied. His body felt taut and bristling with nerves.

"Relax," I cooed in his ear. "This won't hurt."

Then I brought the teeth of the clipper to the base of his tail and began the process of removal. Sam flinched as he felt the first contact between the machine and his beloved tresses. An amputation without any sort of painkiller! I could tell from how well-tended his locks were that Sam had been quite devoted to his long hair. I pushed the teeth farther into the mass of hair -- about halfway through the tail, Sam heaved a sigh of anxiety. Then I finished the job off. The last strands were severed and I pulled the massive tail away from his nape.

"The tail is OFF!" Jack cheered.

I brought the long chord of hair to the front and held it up like a trophy for poor Sam to see. He instinctively felt the nape where it had once hung. "Oh," he whimpered in distress fondling the stubs behind.

"This might be worth some money," I opined as I made it sway a bit from side to side."

Jack grabbed it from my hand and cast it to the floor disdainfully. "That's trash -- and it belongs in the trashcan. Now, give him a 0000 all over. Down to the bone! Don't stop clipping until he's bald!"

"I don't want bald," Sam whimpered. "I agreed to shed the tail, but I'm not ready for bald."

I caressed them amazing mane a bit. "So, what's next? I asked, perplexed about who to listen to. "How about a butch, a #2 all over?"

"Okay, but not bald," Sam said firmly, trying to retain some control over his locks.

"Lean your head back, recruit!" I chuckled.

The shower of golden hair was amazing. As all the length was methodically removed, Sam gritted his teeth. All I could think was that he must have been pretty desperate for the job with Jack.

"Short hair will be so much easier to care for and not a safety risk on the job," I said to lift his spirit.

"I know," Sam admitted in a resigned tone.

The combo of Sam's cut blond hair on top of Jack's lustrous mahogany locks was a real work of ark. To my surprise, a third hue began to appear....my own unique chestnut-color with fiery auburn highlights. My groin surged at the thought. The fantasy seemed so real.

As I put the finishing touches on Sam's buzzcut, I felt Jack up very close behind me. He whispered in my ear, "Do you need help taking off your shirt?" His arms reached around me and I stood still while he began to unbutton my shirt.

Then I felt him gently helping me out of it, pulling the shirt off from behind.

"Were you thinking a buzzcut like Sam's or bald-to-the bone look like yours?" I asked, afraid of the second but rather hoping for it.

"Cueball," he whispered firmly.

I melted into the chair, awaiting my fate. "Let me change the blade for you -- bring me the 0000 length from over there on the counter and the clippers."

Jack's face looked so joyful as he handed me the clippers and blade. "We might make this a regular thing," he said, fondling my fussy businesscut playfully.

"Yes, we might," I replied as the clippers sprang to life.

Jack grasped my forelock and held it out of the way. Then the clippers made a direct hit on the hairline and he began to forcefully thrust them down the middle of my head. In instants, the businesscut was history. I was in the quick lane to cueball.

"You know, being a barber is very much like what I do in the maintenance business -- clean up messes, fix problems, renovate areas. But, rather more like demolition than construction!" Jack quipped.

There was no doubt my staid side part and carefully brushed quiff was a thing of the past. I was glad I had left the razor and shaving cream in the kitchen. I eagerly awaited the final phase of my transformation.

"Sam, make yourself useful and run some hot water. Then bring me that hand towel there warm and wet. And you, sir, get ready for your final divestiture!" Jack chirped.

I couldn't wait! Then I glanced down and so a wonderful work of art on the floor -- my locks were the final adornments. It's really where they belonged.

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