Locs & Stocs

[Author's note - this is part two of a story that's pretty much 100% men's haircut fetish. There's not much in the way of explicit content but if you're into the kink there's probably something here you'll enjoy - HF]

III - Noli Me Tangere

The atmosphere in the theater was electric following Ethan's shearing. No-one present had ever seen anything like it.

A noisy clamor swelled in the auditorium as people discussed the dramatic haircut they'd just witnessed. 'Haircut'...hardly. Ethan's handsome hair had been stripped off without even the slightest semblance of mercy!

I turned to Devin.

"Well that's the end of our fun," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you see anyone else wanting to volunteer after that??" I asked, gesturing towards the stage where Ethan's long, brown locks still littered the floor.

"Uh...maybe not...," he admitted.

But I was wrong. Not five minutes later an increase in the noise level indicated that we had another volunteer.

Admittedly, this second guy only had hair that was a couple of inches long but it was fun seeing him in the pillory anyway, the Gaoler looming over him, ominously running a big-knuckled hand over the dude's soft, furry head as he attempted to solve the riddles.

But the shears never came out. The volunteer answered two of the Monk's three riddles correctly and left the pillory one thousand bucks richer. He went back to his seat punching the air in delight.

The man's success seemed to motivate the audience.

The Monk waved another wad of five dollar bills in the air:

"One thousand dollars!... One thousand dollars in new five dollar bills!"

And almost immediately another volunteer stood up.

I looked over my shoulder. The guy was only a few rows away so I got a fairly decent look at him.

He looked about twenty five years old, a similar height to Ethan but a little more muscular. He wore a red sleeveless tank top with a big number '6' on it and faded blue jeans.

What was most striking though was the woman trying to pull the man back down into his seat by tugging on his arm. She must've been a similar age and I guessed she was his girl.

"Hux! Please, don't...," she said, in a whisper that was so loud half the audience heard.

"Let him go!" shouted a voice from the back of the theater, to much hilarity. But the girl kept yanking on the guy's arm, pleading with him to reconsider.

By now the Gaoler was edging his way in between rows, determined to snag the new volunteer before he could change his mind, or have it changed for him. Just as it looked as though the dude was going to sit back down, the Gaoler seized the man's arm and started hauling him towards the stage.

Almost the entire theater was by now applauding and cheering.

Just for a moment there was a brief tug-of-war between the thickset Gaoler and the diminutive blonde who was trying to save her boyfriend from a potentially catastrophic makeover, but it was no competition.

The girl let out a strangled squawk as she lost her grip on her boyfriend's arm and could only watch in dismay as he was escorted to the pillory.

Once he was directly under the studio lights, I came understand why the dude's girl was so desperate for him to change his mind.

He was very handsome, yes, incredibly so, but he also had some of the most beautiful shoulder-length hair I'd ever seen on a man.

It really was the color of dark chocolate. Any darker and it would've been almost black. God only knows what he used on it but each hair seemed to reflect the spotlights like the softest of silk. I could only imagine how it would've felt between my thumb and fingers. Like warm water maybe. And the weight of it...

He wore it parted in the center of his head from where the heavy locks fell in the slightest of waves to rest gently upon his broad, muscular shoulders, the very long bangs framing his attractive face, his upper lip and chin peppered with the dark stubble of his beard.

His hair radiated a halo of pure perfection that should've made any attempt to tamper with it a criminal offence. Noli me tangere, indeed. It was just beautiful, a genetic gift from the gods, and he must've been nurturing it for years. It was like being in the presence of some rare and exotic animal. Everyone in the auditorium knew it was something special.

I glanced across at the Gaoler, at his utility belt full of shears and clippers... Jesus, surely he wouldn't dare...

Things were about to get interesting.

The Gaoler half-pushed the guy behind the waiting pillory and padlocked him into it. A feeling of finality swept over the auditorium as the heavy lock clicked into place.

Well that's that, I thought. Either two riddles were answered correctly or someone was going to receive the most astonishing makeover of his life.

You know that moment at the fairground, when you're queuing up for the rollercoaster, shuffling forward in a line, and you can see the cars on the tracks, the safety bars raised, waiting; and then you clamber inside and the bars come down, pinning you into the seat, and your stomach let's you know that this is *not* a good idea but you have no choice, and anyway, it's too late to back out now.

That's what it felt like.

"Name!" demanded the Monk.

"Uh...Hux," said Hux.

The Gaoler silently walked back around to the front of the pillory and pulled Hux's hair out from where it had become trapped between his neck and the oak planking as the mechanism was closed.

Hux looked almost straight down at the floor, his hair hanging freely from his head in two glossy, dark-brown sheets. It really was astonishing. Some of the individual strands must've been ten inches long, at least.

Secured at the neck, with his head bowed and his hands immobile, Hux's hair looked incredibly vulnerable. It swayed slightly as he struggled to get into a more comfortable position.

With his wrists up by his head and wearing the red tank top, I had flashes of his hairy pits sprouting dark fur that shared the same coloring with the hair on his head. And then, like a true pervert, my mind went to his pubes and I wondered if they too shared that same intense dark brown color.

"David's father has three sons: Snap, Crackle, and?"

Oh man. The contest had started and Hux had two minutes to answer.

An expectant hush descended on the theater. The stakes couldn't be higher. If Hux got two riddles correct he'd be $1000 richer and we'd all breathe again. If he didn't... well we could all be witnesses to something truly memorable.

Hux angled his head up and looked out into the audience.

I could see from his expression that he was over-thinking this one. It was easy! Any child knew the answer.

What felt like just seconds later, the tolling bell announced the end of the two minutes.

"Uh...Pop?" answered Hux, without the least confidence.

Someone in the audience actually laughed out loud.

"No, Hux," said the Monk in a withering tone. "The answer is David."

Hux groaned softly to himself and closed his eyes. God, he was beautiful.

The Monk recited the second riddle:

"I start with the letter E. I end with the letter E. I contain only one letter. Yet I am not the letter E. What am I?"

If Hux didn't get this one right then I felt sure the Gaoler was going to take the greatest pleasure in utterly obliterating every trace of those handsome locks.

"I know this one," whispered Devin next to me.

"So do I," I replied. "But does Hux?"

About thirty seconds later, even before the two-minute bell had sounded, Hux offered up an answer.

"Envelope?"

"Correct!" confirmed the Monk.

Hux sighed deeply. One riddle left. Everything was riding on him getting it right.

The Monk recited the last riddle:

"I drive men mad, for love of me. Easily beaten, never free."

I could see Hux's handsome dark eyebrows knit together as he frowned with concentration.

You could've cut the atmosphere inside the Blue Dragon with a knife as everyone held their breath to see if Hux would answer correctly.

"Uh...," said Hux, shuffling from one foot to another.

I knew the eyes of every person in the theater were fixed intently on Hux's glorious mane of silky dark hair.

"Um...," said Hux, staring down to look his feet.

We were all acutely aware that time was running out. My heart was in my mouth.

"Oh my god," whispered Devin. "He doesn't know the answer."

It was true. He didn't know.

The seconds ticked by.

"A mermaid!" shouted Hux, out of pure desperation as the bell signaled that the two minutes were up.

The silence that followed Hux's answer seemed to stretch on forever.

"The correct answer was 'gold', Hux," intoned the Monk.

Poor Hux had lost. Now his handsome hair would pay the price.

IV - The Quality of Mercy

Hux's head dropped as the full enormity of what he'd done started to sink in.

The Gaoler went and stood directly behind Hux at the back of the pillory. The muscle-bound giant seemed to be standing so close that the two guys must've been almost touching.

Given his height advantage, it was easy for the Gaoler to bend forwards, over Hux's back. and place both of his huge hands on top of Hux's pretty head, palms flat against the other man's skull,

Hux let out an audible groan as the Gaoler dove his fingers deep into the other man's thick hair. The Gaoler then raised his hands, dragging two fistfuls of Hux's hair up and away from his scalp before he released it, letting the soft strands fall gently back into place.

The Gaoler repeated the move again and again, rhythmically, almost like he was kneading dough as Hux's increasingly loud moaning and groaning filled the theater.

In any other circumstances it would've felt relaxing, sensual, erotic even, but I could only guess what was running through Hux's mind as he experienced his spectacular head of hair being so intimately played with for the last time.

And then you could've heard a pin drop as the Gaoler gathered up a single fistful of Hux's ten-inch-long bangs with one hand while reaching down to his utility belt with the other to retrieve a pair of the gigantic shears.

"Oh my god," whispered an awe-struck Devin, "he's actually going to do it."

The entire auditorium was spellbound. The Gaoler tugged roughly on Hux's forelock until Hux lifted his head and looked straight ahead in the audience.

Devin and I were practically staring the guy in the face he was so close. I could've almost reached out and touched his hair myself!

The Gaoler brandished the shears in the air and then, in an electrifying moment of theater, he inserted the thick forelock grasped in his fist between the two sharp blades and slid the shears all the way down the hair shafts until they were pressed firmly against Hux's scalp.

And there they waited.

Hux's prized hair was now literally one squeeze of the hand away from being irreversibly ruined!

No-one moved. No-one even breathed!

The Gaoler looked around the room and then he flexed his hand and...

"Mercy!"

A shrill, timid voice broke the silence.

Everyone craned their necks to see who had spoken.

The cry came again!

"Mercy!!"

It was Hux's girl! She was now stood up, looking imploringly at the Gaoler even as he had a fat hank of her boyfriend's hair securely wrapped around his gigantic paw.

"Please!" she said, for a third time. "Mercy!"

Then suddenly another voice called out: "Mercy!", and then another and another, until soon the auditorium was filled with loud calls for clemency.

"Mercy!"

The people wanted to see Hux's radiant, magnificent hair spared the same terrible fate that had befallen Ethan's.

"Mercy!"

Devin and I were obviously more than happy to see Hux's extreme transformation carried out to the maximum extent. Yes, it would be a shame to see something so beautiful get completely wrecked but it would be an unforgettable ride, and it would grow back, eventually. However we seemed to be in the minority.

"Mercy!! Mercy!!"

More cries of mercy emanated from almost every throat!

"Mercy!!!"

Time stood still as we waited for the Gaoler to respond. And then his huge arm slowly relaxed a little and his grip on Hux's hair appeared to loosen.

I felt the auditorium collectively exhale in relief.

So, we would have mercy after all.

And then all hell broke loose.

I think even up to that last moment many of us in the theater still expected the Gaoler to show some leniency and at least spare Hux's glorious hair the worst of the mauling. Maybe he could've just received the lightest trim to remove any split ends. Even taking off several inches would've left the bulk of it intact.

But we were very, very wrong.

With an almost lascivious grin, and while looking directly at Hux's girl, the Gaoler slowly squeezed the sharp blades of the shears together.

There was a very audible gasp of shock as the blades sliced through the dense strands, repeatedly, opening and closing, severing Hux's gorgeous, fat, long, dark brown forelock almost at the roots, and then, once it had been separated from Hux's scalp the Gaoler held it up, high above his head, like a spoil of war!

And suddenly the audience was very angry.

Some of them were screaming so loudly you'd think their own hair had just been chopped. I guessed one of them was Hux's girl.

"You bastard!" I heard someone squeal from near the back of the theater. "Oh, you absolute bastard!"

The Gaoler roared in response and hurled the huge handful of Hux's cut fringe into the audience. It all separated in mid-flight and rained down upon everyone sat in the middle of the first few rows.

There were shrieks of shock and outrage. The audience had expected leniency, they'd demanded it, and now they were literally getting Hux's stunning hair thrown back in their faces!

Some of the more vocal audience members were actually stood up, shouting, gesticulating wildly at the Gaoler who responded by hacking off another huge wad of Hux's priceless hair and hurling it out with a loud snarl of contempt.

And then it was utter pandemonium as the auditorium descended into chaos. More and more of Hux's luxurious hair came flying through the air, more people cried out in anger and Hux just stood in the pillory, head bowed, as his once-magnificent locks were trashed without mercy.

Even now some people were calling out "Oh, mercy! For pity's sake, mercy!!"

I had no idea why they were bothering. The first cut of the scissors had already put Hux's immaculate locks far beyond salvation. Once that forelock was gone there would be no other option but to take the rest of it off, down to the skin. Hux was going fully bald whether he liked it or not.

Throughout the carnage the Monk just stood behind the pulpit, head down, hands clasped together, not saying a single word.

I glanced over at Devin. He was covered in dozens of ten-inch long strands of Hux's dark chocolate-colored hair, much of it sticking to the greasy pomade we both used to style our own haircuts. I guessed my own head must've been similarly sprinkled with it, as were all the spectators sat in our vicinity. It was on our shoulders, in our laps, on the floor. We were covered in him.

I looked back at the stage. By now the top of Hux's head had been almost completely denuded, the long locks replaced with the shortest, hacked stubble. There wasn't even the slightest trace left of that lovely center parting. The Gaoler had placed the shears flat to Hux's scalp and simply obliterated it.

With an almost crazed single-mindedness, the Gaoler then started on the shoulder-length hair hanging off the sides of Hux's head, grabbing hold of great hanks of the stuff and chopping it through at the roots.

Oh god, and then he was crossing over to the very edge of the stage and bellowing, actually bellowing at the top of his lungs, as huge clumps of Hux's remarkable hair were propelled across the auditorium.

It really was the most astonishing spectacle that Devin and I had ever seen.

Within what seemed like seconds, Hux's ears were exposed to view for what was probably almost the first time in his life. Head down, eyes squeezed shut, Hux's groans of humiliation were audible even over the shrieks of rage coming from the audience.

As large sections of the crowd continued to howl in fury, the Gaoler slapped Hux hard on the backside with one of his meaty paws and walked around to the front of the stage.

Jesus, I thought, it's not even over.

The gaoler put the shears back into the utility belt and withdrew a pair of the hair clippers which he held high in the air before clicking them on. I recognized them as balding clippers and they were going to cut the hair very, very short.

"Mercy!" someone valiantly cried out.

Hux strained to look up at the source of the loud buzzing, his forehead furrowed, his thick brows forming two dark, raised arches above his wide eyes.

The Gaoler then grabbed the long hair that was still attached to the back of Hux's head and casually mowed it off with the clippers, the sharp, chattering teeth severing the silky strands like a hot knife passing through butter.

Another fistful of hair just peeled away from the poor guy's scalp and the Gaoler catapulted it into the crowd, except this time he wasn't roaring or bellowing, he was laughing!

In a final act of violation, the Gaoler drove the balding clippers up the back of Hux's head and straight over the crown and through the remnants of his hairline as the audience looked on with dismay.

Hux was indeed practically bald, although *actually* bald might've been preferable. His beautiful shoulder-length mane looked as though it had been gnawed off by a deranged goat.

Hux's head was now a ball of the shortest dark brown stubble interspersed with stripes of white skin where the blades of the shears had been pressed flat against his head. Bisecting his scalp into two even halves, a clownish, ridiculous version of his old center parting, was that solitary path of clipper-shaved baldness.

And then it happened.

I don't know who threw it, maybe it was Hux's girl, but out from the crowd sailed a plastic cup that someone had brought into the auditorium from the bar.

It wasn't a large cup and it didn't have anything in it, but it struck the Gaoler on the top of his buzzed head and bounced off towards the back of the stage.

Silence gradually descended on the theater as the Gaoler glared out into the gloom.

Nobody spoke and nobody moved.

Then the Gaoler slowly turned, reached down and grabbed Hux's chin, squishing the guy's mouth together with his fingers, puckering up his lips.

Lifting Hux's head up a little, the Gaoler looked back at the audience and flicked on the clippers.

And then I knew. I clutched Devin's arm.

"Oh fuck," I muttered in disbelief, "he's actually going to shave the dude's eyebrows off."

There was an audible inhalation of disbelief from the audience as the Gaoler placed the balding clippers next to Hux's handsome right eyebrow. He paused for a few seconds and then, slowly, he buzzed it off, a shower of the finest black hairs spraying up into the air before delicately floating to the floor.

Hux emitted a deep groan as he felt his eyebrow getting stripped away. Now matter how degrading the public ruination of his hair had been, it was nothing compared with the wave of embarrassment that swept over him now as he stood there in the pillory as another man eradicated his eyebrows.

The second thick eyebrow went the same way as the first, and the Gaoler roughly brushed his thick fingers over Hux's face to remove any of the severed hairs. He then stood back to admire his work.

Both Devin and I had undertaken some extreme transformations on 'Dare Your Hair?', and we'd both removed a number of guys' eyebrows, whether razored, waxed or zapped with an electrolysis machine, but even so, the transformation in Hux's appearance was truly remarkable. With his shoulder-length locks and dark eyebrows reduced to stubble, he was truly unrecognizable.