Lustrous Locks

I’m a guy who has always wanted to have long hair. I think it’s so hot on guys but the thought of having long hair on me makes me even hornier. Could you help me out?

Story Request by @c99boq

The soft tinkle of a bell snaps you out of your reverie. You blink your eyes and shake your head. You didn’t even realize that you’d zoned out, and try as you might you can’t remember what you were doing before you had. The sound of the door swinging shut behind you startles you and for the first time you take stock of your situation.

It appears that you’ve found yourself at a sex shop that is not at all familiar to you. In fact, it doesn’t seem like any place you would willingly go to. But you don’t have any memories of a struggle. You don’t even remember how you got here to begin with.

You turn around to try and leave when you notice that it’s raining outside. Well, raining may be a bit of an understatement. It’s almost as though the very floodgates of heaven had been blasted open. Rain pelts the front glass panes of the forward display cases with such force that you can hear the pitter-patter even from inside the store. Somehow not a hair on your body is wet, and yet it’s clear that you came in from that deluge.

A man standing at the counter clears his throat, interrupting your thoughts. "Hello. You’re the one with the hair appointment, right?" he says, with a small smile. You’re pretty sure that he wasn’t there a moment ago, but who are you to argue with this weird-as-fuck place.

You don’t know where you are. You don’t know who this is. And apparently you don’t have your phone with you so you can pretend to be talking to someone while trying to figure out an escape plan so you figure that it’s probably best to just play along. "Uhh, yeah," you say, shrugging. You don’t even pay attention to what he just said, but when it dawns on you that he has you booked for a hair appointment, you realize that he might actually be right.

It doesn’t explain why you remember nothing about how you got here, but you figure you can just chalk it up to stress. One of your friends probably dropped you off, and the rain must have come down as soon as you got indoors. Yeah. That is a reasonable explanation that your mind can accept. So you go with it. "I mean, yeah, I… uh… I wanted to get my hair done," you mutter, under your breath.

"Good, good," says the man behind the counter. "Well, right this way, sir." For the first time since you’ve come in, you take a really good look at the person who had been behind the counter. He’s actually somewhat cute. Platinum blond. Looks younger than he probably is. Wearing nothing but a pink leather harness, a pink jockstrap, and a pair of pink leather ass-less chaps.

He takes you around to the back of the shop where there’s one of those hair-washing stations and a stylist’s station. You’re a bit suspicious that there’s only one space here, but you go with the flow anyway and sit down at the hair-washing station just like you’re told. As you’re leaning back to place your head in the basin, you notice a picture of a twink wearing pretty much the same outfit as the cashier guy minus the chaps and plus a backwards snapback. "That your boyfriend?" you ask, trying to make small talk.

The cashier blinks and looks at where you’re looking. He laughs and shakes his head. "No, no," he says. "That’s the owner, if you could believe it. Anyway, it’s okay if you get an erection during the next part. It happens to everyone."

(Source: queermenow.com)

You’re pretty sure that it’s masseuses who should say that, not stylists, but you chalk it up to the general weirdness of this place. You settle in, letting your body go limp as you feel the trickle of warm water on your scalp. It’s so soothing. You can’t help but shiver at the sensation as the water flows over your ears.

"That’s right, just relax and let it all flow through you…" says the shopkeeper. The feeling of his fingers lathering shampoo into your hair feels so good that you don’t notice the way that your mind goes all fuzzy and foggy. You moan quietly as you shift on the seat, your cock twitching in your pants. It feels so good, it’s almost like getting a blowjob.

You bask in the pleasure, letting it flow through you just as the shopkeeper said. You feel your mind getting foggier and foggier, your thoughts getting slower and simpler, but you don’t care. You can’t seem to care. Even though you know that it should be cause for alarm. You just feel so good. So relaxed. You can’t be fucked to be scared or angry.

You sigh, your eyes rolling up into your head as the clothes melt away from you, disappearing thread by thread, exposing your throbbing cock and hard nipples to the cold air. You shiver. You feel so sensitive all over. Like the slightest touch to your skin would set you off.

At the same time you feel something warm and tingly in your scalp. Your head feels heavier, too. Almost like your hair is growing out as the shopkeeper kneads your scalp with the shampoo.

Your mouth drops open involuntarily as you sigh with pleasure. Your cock twitches and leaks between your legs. A trickle of drool dribbles from the corner of your mouth down your chest. Your thoughts, memories, personality, it all fades away, popping like delicate soap bubbles as the shopkeeper lathers the shampoo into your head. Almost like the shampoo is leaching your melted brains out of your head.

And then the water comes on and you can’t help but giggle as you feel it all, smarts, memories, self-determination, getting washed down the drain. Your cock twitches and starts spurting hot cum all over your chest and face. You’re dazed, blissfully blank and mindless, when the shopkeeper gets you onto your feet and sits you down in front of the mirror.

He towels off your hair. It’s long. It hangs to your shoulders. It’s so pretty. And it frames your new, handsome face perfectly. Drool dribbles from your open mouth onto your chiseled abs and firm pecs as you mindlessly watch the shopkeeper dry your hair off with a blow-drier that makes you cum all over again, removing the final dregs of your old self.

Then, he scoops up your cum and kneads it into your hair, giving it a healthy luster. You giggle, feeling so mindless and dumb and slutty as thoughts of cock and cum dominate your empty head, almost like your cum is seeping into your brain through your scalp, filling you with a desperate hunger for cock.


And then it’s over. Just like that. With the snap of someone’s fingers, you’re transported out of the salon chair. Before you can figure out where you’ve landed, not that you could have with your new limited IQ, you feel fingers tangled in your delicate locks. You moan as your hair is pulled back, your back arching into the thrusts of the thick cock currently pummeling your boypussy.

You moan, screaming in ecstasy as the memory of the strange shop, where you’d lost everything to gain the one thing you’d always wished for, is obliterated. Not that you would want to reverse anything. Not that you are capable of understanding what you’ve lost. The only thing that’s really left to you now is to enjoy the pounding because this is your life from now on.

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