Justin's ginger braid by Manny

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Justin’s Ginger Braid

The soccer match had been exciting and close. But, Justin’s heroic leap to head the ball into the goal during the final minute came at a horrible price. As he scored the winning point, with his long ginger braid flying through the air like the tail of a kite, Justin crashed directly into the goal post. Only the roar of the crowd drowned out the awful sound of the bone in his forearm snapping in two. A clean break.

Justin was carted off the field in glory and agony. His iconic chord of hair that dangled from the stretcher was dragged through patches of mud and puddles. In one last painful mishap, a paramedic stepped on the braid, causing a painful yank that made Justin’s head spin and ache all the more.

"OUCH! Watch the hair!!" Justin bleated.

The apologetic culprit picked up the massive plait and slung it onto Justin’s chest.

"Keep your arm still," he hissed, as if to divert attention from the less serious accident involving the ginger braid.

Later that evening, I heard Justin was back from the hospital. I decided to pay him a little visit and cheer him up with his favorite Chick-fil-a sandwich.

He was slouched in an easy chair, in high spirits on account of the opioids.

To my surprise, Justin was still in his muddy soccer jersey. The long braid that hung down the back of the chair was equally caked with filth.

After wolfing down the sandwich, Justin asked if I could help him bathe and get some clean lounge clothes on.

"Just cut this jersey off of me. Carefully!" he cautioned. "There’s a pair of heavy duty scissors in my desk drawer."

As I cut off the ragged shirt, the sturdy silver blades flashed very near the base of his massive braid. Oh, to whack it off!! That would be a dream come true. I pictured myself holding the plait up like a hunting trophy. ‘No more tail for you, Justin!’ I would smirk as three feet for fiery red hair dangled from my grasp like a game hunter’s trophy.

We carefully wrapped his broken arm in a plastic bag and I put a chair in the shower.

"I’m going to need help getting my pants, socks and cleats off too," he said apologetically.

"I’m like the Earl of Grantham’s valet," I laughed as I began to undress Justin.

"Oh, totally!" he chuckled. "But we never saw that swarthy Thomas sucking dear Matthew Crawley’s throbbing dick."

As I pulled off Justin’s undies, there was no denying his own cock was hardening fast. It was encased in a flaming bush of wild, coppery-colored pubic hair

"I’m going to have to put this frisky thing in a cage if you’re going to require daily help in the shower," I laughed, batting his penis and then yanking his pubic nest playfully.

"Aw! Give me a break. I’ve gone through enough today. A broken arm and a caged cock?! That’s too cruel," he joked.

As Justin eased into the shower chair, I pulled the braided tail out and started rinsing off the caked mud in the stream of warm water.

"Wouldn’t it be easier to just chop this thing off?" I asked with a tone of levity. "Where are those scissors?"

"Leave my tail alone!" Justin snapped in a jovial tone. "It’s been my constant companion for over ten years."

"I suppose you want your hair washed," I replied, beginning to unfasten the braid.

"You’re a true friend," Justin said in a more serious tone.

The unfastened mane of ginger hair was thick and lush and LONG! I continued rinsing the long tresses which were now the color of burnished bronze.

"Oh, that feels wonderful," Justin murmured as I began lathering in the shampoo.

"Such beautiful hair," I said in a distracted tone. "Get many compliments on it?"

"All the time. But more than a few rude comments too. Like at the game today, one of the players on the opposing team who sported a flattop hissed, ‘Get a haircut, Ginger girl!’ the first time I headed the ball and my braid flew into his face," Justin explained.

"But surely, as much as you like it long, you must be tempted from time-to-time to whack it off, send all this hair to the floor of a barber shop," I speculated.

"Hasn’t happened yet," Justin insisted, beginning to tap his foot nervously.

Then he changed the subject abruptly, "Hey, can you lather it up twice and then work in some crème rinse? That way it’ll stay clean for at least 4-5 days."

"Sure, but let me soap up the rest of your body first," I said, suddenly grabbing his dick and stroking it vigorously with my hands and the bar of soap. "You like the way I’m making sure bath time is fun, don’t you!"

"What one has to put up with when his arm is in a cast…." Justin joked, gazing down at the bat in his lap.

I labored so long in getting his waist-length hair clean that my hands actually began to hurt. Finally I turned off the water and began towel-drying Justin’s abundant mane.

I had him stand and combed through his long wet locks with a wide-tooth comb. The unplaited hair hung below the cheeks of his buttocks.

"It’s very irregular in the back, and a bit damaged looking," I said. "Let me trim off a few inches. Just keep standing there."

I didn’t wait for a response.

In a flash, I was back snapping the huge desk shears open and shut.

"I would like to have been a barber," I said, motioning for him to turn around and face away from me.

"Not too much off," Justin whined with a bit of a pout.

I looked at the flow of burnished bronze. I knew my definition of "a few inches" would be very different than Justin’s.

Quickly, I began slicing through the dangling hair at mid-back! Twenty inches of wet locks fell with a thud to bathroom floor.

"OMG!" Justin shrieked. "What?!!!"

I was undeterred.

WHACK, WHACK, WHACK!!!

Long locks of cut hair piled up at his feet. He stared helplessly at the growing pile of cut hair that surrounded his feet.

"This looks so much better, much healthier, in back," I said firmly.

I gave a few more little snips to even things out.

"STOP CUTTING!" Justin finally shouted.

"Done!" I announced and then began to braid it very, very tightly.

Instead of reaching the middle of his butt, the tail now was a much more manageable twelve inches in length from the nape to just below his shoulder blades.

"There, you still have a tail, but not that monstrous thing, Justin," I explained in rationale manner.

He pulled it around to the front and whimpered, "It’s so short….."

"Nonsense! What did that other player call you? A Ginger Girly-boy?" I laughed.

Then, I continued, "Really, Justin, you should donate that tail to a sweet little girl who has cancer and longs for a pretty ginger wig to cover her unsightly bald dome. Now, that would be a noble gesture."

Justin clutched his truncated tail possessively.

"I’ve heard that suggestion many times before," he said in a sour tone.

"I could cut it off and mail it in for you today," I urged.

Justin looked in the mirror and then at the bathroom floor.

"So much has already come off," he sniffled.

I reached for the scissors.

"NO!" he said quickly.

Then, he got a gleam in his eye.

"Maybe, when I get my next dose of painkillers and drift into la-la land, you can do the deed…." Justin suggested.

I couldn’t tell if he was joking or serious.

"By the time you wake up, should your precious tail be in route to wigs-for-kids?" I probed with a question.

"I’m feeling tired now," he said.

Then he looked at his watch.

"Oh, yes, time for the Oxycodone!" he chirped gleefully. "It will put me out of my misery."

I watched him slurp it down and then helped him get into his pajamas. He slumped into the easy chair, reclined it and was asleep within minutes.

I rewound the conversation in my mind and quickly concluded there had been enough of his consent to cut the tail off while he snoozed. I rushed to my room to get the cape and clippers. Justin was going to wake up looking VERY different!

Justin was deep in sleep when I returned with my barber kit. I draped the cape about him and then plugged in my set of Oster’s. There was no chance the low hum of the machine would disturb his slumber.

I seized the tail and grasped it possessively. How Justin would be transformed! His tail taken and mailed off!! I was almost giddy at the thought.

I snapped the machine on and felt the power of its chattering teeth as my eager hand brought it nearer and nearer to the doomed tail of braided hair.

Instantly, I thrust the teeth into the tail’s base, forcing the unrelenting teeth into the strands of fine copper that were hopelessly resisting the assault of the Osters. Slowly, the tail gave way….and then, it was OFF!! I held up my trophy and giggled with joy.

Without the tail holding Justin’s hair in place, the clean, wavy copper locks spread about like a disbursing wildfire. And, I was a bold firefighter, ready to extinguish the blaze!!

I brought the clippers straight to Justin’s forehead and pushed the naked teeth down the top of his head. Hair fell in every direction, leaving a swath of white scalp. Justin would awake to find himself totally BALD! I continued shaving off the flaming locks. How wonderful they looked on the cape and floor. With his broken arm, there was no way Justin could give me a good thrashing. And, somehow, I felt he would be happy with the big change.

I manipulated his head around as I finished clipping it clean. Nothing was left but a faint glow of orange stubble.

As I snapped off the machine, Justin said in a near whisper, "Is it over? Am I bald?"

"What?!" I stammered. "You’re awake?!"

He broke into a huge smile and popped his eyes open. "I’ve been awake the whole time! You creeping about, sabotaging my precious hair…."

Justin gathered a wad of cut hair from the cape and tossed it playfully at me.

"Okay, enough suspense. I want to see it!" Justin exclaimed eagerly.

I undraped the cape. Hair went everywhere!

"I hope you’re going to sweep all that up!" Justin said.

I led him slowly into the bathroom.

He broke out into peals of laughter as he saw himself with a bald head for the first time. He touch the stubble.

"Well, what do you think?" Justin asked me.

"I think you’re the best friend one could ever have!" I exclaimed.

"Okay, go get the clippers. There are going to be two new bald heads on campus!" Justin said.

I looked at the huge collection of black curls I was so fond of. I knew I had no choice….

I sauntered back in with the machine.

"How short is this blade?" Justin asked, plugging in the Oster’s.

"The shortest possible. A #0000 length," I whimpered.

He shoved my head down. "NO more Curly Sue for YOU!" Justin laugh as the machine began slicing off my loopy locks.

I watched them tumbling into the sink and collecting in a huge pile. I just hoped I would be as positive about my new look as Justin was.

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