Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

By Doug Kent

I was an accountant, now I can't count, intellectually I now have the mental age of about 10 when I am in company (when alone, as I am now, I remember everything and know what has happened to me, though I can't and don't want do anything about it). I was a rabid anti-smoker, now I chain-smoke plain cigarettes and my fingers are stained so much that I look as if I am turning black. My teeth, of which I was once so proud and on which I spent a fortune in caps, are now broken and nicotine stained and the front teeth, both upper and lower, are missing from when I gave a bad blow-job. I was 6ft of tightly drawn muscle, now I am a tub of lard and with a beer gut that hangs down hiding my one proud 7 1/2 incher, which is now less than 3 inches and is pierced so much that I can't play with it at all any more. Even without the 15mm PA permanently connected to my quiche I can never get erect anyway as I have been castrated to help me with my weight gain. My testicles have been replaced with large and very heavy stainless steel eggs, which stretch my sac and eventually will make it droop down between my legs with the help of weights, which are added from time to time. I was 205 pounds with nicely defined pecs, now I'm 395 pounds with enormous man boobs each with a 12mm thick ring permanently fixed through the nipple and often holding a weight. I had been relatively tee-total, now I drink at least a pint of Jack Daniels a day, and about 6 or seven pints of Extra Strong lager and several pints of Guinness to keep my weight gain steady, I don't know if I can be classed as an alcoholic, but if I don't drink I get the sweats badly, but that seldom happens as there is always plenty of booze available. I had a full head of dark brown hair now I have extreme male pattern baldness, grey frizzy muttonchop sideburns and handlebar moustache, a black dyed mongol knot and braid and a massive black dyed beard that has never been trimmed, combed or washed. I was 27 years old and now a year later I look about 50 or 60. My preppy good looks have been replaced with a broken nose, eyebrow piercings (12 in each), an errol, septum with a 15mm ring, labret and tragus piercings, a flesh tunnel in the centre of each cheek (more about them later), my ears have more rings than I can count, my lobes have 30mm flesh tunnels and my lips often feel as if they are more metal than flesh. My name was Christopher, now my forehead bears my new name of "SCUM" in 2 inch Old English tattooed lettering though most people refer to me as "the retard". Above this tattoo are a row of 4 stainless spikes an inch wide at the base which taper to a point 4 inches above my scalp, fitted into my skull which go from my name to my new hairline. The rest of my body is a riot of tattoo flash, celtic, tribal, skin, you name it and somewhere on my body you will find it.

I suppose you would like to know how it happened, that's simple to tell - I went for a haircut.

I had been seeing a client in an area of town I didn't know, the meeting went on longer than I was expecting and as I had arranged to meet my girlfriend and her family I wanted to get a haircut before I arrived at the restaurant. I didn't have enough time to get to usual hairdresser and then get back across town, so I stopped at the first barbers I saw. It was certainly not the sort of place that I normally frequented, it was a dirty dive of a place sandwiched between a Pool Hall and a Sex Shop. It had a matching barber, but any port in a storm and it was getting late.

The barber looked freakish to say the least, a big guy, 6ft, shaven headed, arms covered in tattoos, a body bursting out of a wife-beater and a face full of metal, though thinking back he was smaller than I am now and with less tattoos and piercings. He motioned me to a chair, and rather dubiously and cautiously I sat. He asked me what I wanted and I said a light trim. He asked if I would like something more radical and I replied, "No Way, I don't want to look like a freak". He looked a bit pissed with my answer, but started to trim my hair and as he was working on it I felt a slight prick in my neck, I asked if he had caught me with the scissors, he replied with a smirk that he definitely had not caught me with his "scissors" and he emphasised that word but at the time I did not realise the significance.

Shortly after that, I started to feel a bit "floaty", he continued to talk to me the way barbers do, and I paid as much notice to the waffling as most people do in a barbers. I seemed to hear him talking to me "in the background", but I couldn't focus in on what he was saying and felt as if I was in another world, but a nice, warm, comfortable one. Pictures danced through my mind, pictures of a bigger bulkier me, with tats, drinking, smoking cigarettes, swearing like a loudmouth goon, with seriously radical hair. Then he started talking directly to me, "You want to try something different, don't you"? "Yes" I replied," but not too radical, I work in an office and with the public" "No, I will just take a bit off the sides, that's what you want, isn't it"? "Yeah, fucking - A" I looked in the mirror and saw that he had taken the sides down to about 1/4 of an inch but left the back long. "You like that look, don't you"? He said. "Fuck Yes", I answered. "You want to start growing out a mullet, don't you"? "Yes, I want a fucking mullet". He cleaned me up; I paid and headed towards the door. "You're coming back in the same time tomorrow, aren't you"? He asked. "Too fucking right", I answered, though I didn't remember making any arrangement to do that.

I headed off, met up with my girlfriend and her parents, she and they didn't seem to appreciate my re-style and we ended up with a bit of a heated argument, during which we all said things that we shouldn't have and I also found that they made me so angry I started swearing and this started the rows up again and I found myself telling my girlfriend that I thought we had reached the end of the relationship, she agreed and we parted.

At work the next day a lot of the staff commented on my use of bad language, though to be truthful I didn't think I was any worse than usual.

That evening I went back to the barbers for a trim again.

I was ushered in and the barber shut up so he could work undisturbed. He asked me was sort of cut I wanted, I said that he was the expert and he should decide. He lit up a cigarette and offered me one and as we smoked and swigged from a bottle of Jack Daniels he took a bit more off the sides and some off the top but left the back alone. He also noticed that my hairline needed correction and he started working with an electrolysis needle to sort the problem. Before I left he suggested that I would look good with a ring in each ear and did it for me straight away. At the same time he pierced my septum and put in a keeper with the arms turned up so it couldn't be seen at work. I really liked being pierced, I found that I had the hardest erection I had had in years, but fortunately the barber never noticed. As I was walking out the door, he handed me a packet of cigarettes as he had noticed that I didn't have any. "Here you are", he said, "You don't want to go without a fag, do you"? "Fuck No", was my reply, I certainly didn't want to find I had run out and couldn't get a smoke.

The guys at work the next day commented on the rings and also about my smoking, why I don't know as I was sure that I had smoked for years but for some reason they seemed to think that it was new and that I had never smoked before.

That evening I called in at the liquor store for a pint of Jack on the way to see Rab at MPB Barbers, as we drank and smoked he put a stretcher in my septum and in each lobe and then he continued with the correction to my hairline, The stretchers gave me the same response as the piercing had done the night before. Rab asked if I wanted my nipples done too so I readily agreed, if the stretchers felt that good what would piercings in my nipples be like. I can tell you what they were like, "fucking fantastic"!!!

At work the next day, I got comments about starting to lose my hair and was asked several times to moderate my language. The boss also called me in to his office to ask if there was a problem as he thought my work was deteriorating over the last few days and he had noticed alcohol on my breath. I said no but he said that if I didn't shape up he would have to let me go.

I told Rab about that when I visited that night, he thought it ridiculous that a guy couldn't have a glug at work and to make the point we cracked open a bottle there and then. I felt good after he put the stretchers back in and this time he put some in my nipples too. He carried on with sorting my hairline and also noticed how erect I was and said he could help there. So he took my cock out and started to relieve me. I was surprised at first because I had never let any man touch me there. It felt so good that I just went with it and when I came it was the best orgasm that I had ever had. I felt I had to reciprocate, which I did and Rab suggested that I eat the result, I thought I would gag but instead I lapped it up and enjoyed it so much that I came again myself and swallowed that too. To celebrate Rab put a few more rings around my ears and we finished another bottle of Jack.

I hadn't been at work for more than an hour the next day, when I was called into the bossís office and he told me to clear my desk. I was going to say something, but I was feeling mellow from the couple of glasses of Jack Daniels I had had for breakfast and just thought, "fuck it" so instead of telling the bastard what I fucking thought of him, I cleared my desk and headed to Rab's. He of course knew just what to do, he gave me a fag, offered me a drink, sat me down and stretched my septum, lobes and nipples up for me, then gave me a load more rings in my ears. He also told me to clear out my flat, sell anything I didn't need and move into his spare room above the shop.

It took two days to get clear my apartment ready for sale, Rab knew a lawyer that would sort everything for me, so was able to move in straight away. I was glad about the lawyer as I was having difficulty thinking and also with making people understand me. Fortunately Rab took charge and his customers always asked him when they wanted me to do something, I found that people had started to treat me as if I were a retard. But what the hell, it saved me having to make decisions; I didn't like doing that because it was hard to think all the time and Rab was much better at it than me.

Now I had more time to get on with the important things like getting my hairline properly corrected.

After a few weeks Rab had me move into his room and his bed, I didn't need to look for a job, as my main task now was to look after him, keep the shop looking good and to satisfy his needs in bed and elsewhere.

Rab continued to work on me, my hairline needed a lot of correction, he took it back just past the crown of my head. The horseshoe of hair that remained grew quickly and he trimmed the horseshoe back to about 1/2 inch, leaving the mullet to grow and thicken. He bleached and dyed this hair, it now looks frizzy and is grey so that I look like a real geezer and can pass for about 45 or 50. At the back of my head I now have my black dyed Mongol knot and braid which matches my black dyed beard. My eyebrows are full of barbells and they look great and Rab used to add another piercing nearly every day, when my ears, eyebrows and lips were filled, he started on my ball sac, now there is little space left so I only get a new piercing occasionally, but Rab keeps stretching the ones that need it. Eventually the flesh tunnels in my nipples will be about 20mm and the weights I wear in them now are working and they are stretching very quickly. Rab says that with my weight gain, the hair, the tats and the piercings, I am beginning to look a proper goon. Whenever I walk down the street, people stare, Rab says that is because they want to be a freakish skin just like me and that is why he gets me to dress like a skin, and he says that that gear really suits me.

My grey geezer moustache is getting that nice yellowed colour as my smoking increases, and Rab says that he wants me smoking at least 60 a day. I am also to get my figure the way it should be, Rab has had me castrated which he says should help a lot and he says it will make me even more docile, but he still wants to see me snacking all the time and to help me even more he is going to start pumping me full of steroids. He says that now I have some meat on my ass, I am becoming a fucking good shag and when I get bigger I should be an even better one.

Oh! I meant to tell you about the flesh tunnels in my cheeks, Rab had tubes made, to fit in them, that lead to cigarette holders so I can smoke while I am giving blow jobs, I service so many of his customers during the day that I was getting nicotine withdrawal symptoms. The customers say that it is a turn on to get a blow job and to watch smoke pouring from their crotch seem to like it too, they enjoy seeing my head in a cloud of smoke as I blow them to get the cum I need. Rab is so good to me; I bet everyone wishes they had a Master like mine. •

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