Unexpected Haircut pt. 2 (Patreon)

I'm a swirl of mixed emotions, and I'm taking the long way home to clear my mind. I came to his apartment with a black band t-shirt and hair down to my jaw. I'm leaving completely bald, in white shorts with a black stripe down the side, and a tight white adidas top. The reflections in the windows of the parked cars I walk by isn't of me. Ever so often I have to touch my head again to check this is really real. Every time my dick makes a little twitch in its cage to remind me that this is really hot to me, but also that I'm locked up. Well, zip-tied up, but locked enough that it matters. I clearly enjoy this, but there is the real life to consider too. How would everyone around me react? What will Rob, my housemate say? I hope he won’t be in, then I can hide in my room, and at least change back to my normal clothes.

No such luck. He sees me from the kitchen as I'm trying to stealth into my room. "Aah! What the fuck?!" he screams.

"I was at the gym," I say, immediately realizing how daft it sounds. I could at least have tried to come up with a plausible explanation on the way home, but then I was too preoccupied.

"You shaved your head," he says, stating the obvious while brushing his brown curly hair out of his eyes. “I thought you were a burglar!”

"Yeah, that too," I say, continuing into my room to avoid any more scrutiny. I need more time alone to process this. I'm excited, anxious, horny, but most of all I realize I feel drained. I need to lie down for a bit before dinner.

I wake up in a sudden jerk. The lights are on in the room, but it's dark outside the window. The clock says 5:08, almost an hour until the alarm goes off. The sensation when I move my head is strange, sensual, and puzzling. Then I remember the afternoon, the meeting, the shaving, the cock cage, the clothes. I must have been mentally exhausted and fallen to sleep in my clothes. The clothes. They aren't mine.

The rest of the apartment is dark as I move to the bathroom. I'm again shocked to see myself in the bathroom mirror. I look brutal with my shaved head and delinquent sports attire. The head doesn't look quite as polished as yesterday, but just as bald. I can only imagine how greasy my pillow is. Shit, there was bronzer too he said. I feel my scalp with my hand and there’s already some very short stubble. It somehow feels sexy.

I lower the shorts and jock, and fish out the zip-tied device, and aim it at the toilet bowl. It's a bit messier than normal to piss with it on, but not a big deal. I don't know how to dry it though, so I put it over the edge of the sink and splash it with water. Do I really want to keep this on? It's only until the end of the week though, so I guess I can manage. I look up into the mirror again. I can't look like this for a week though, I decide.

I go back into my room and put on my normal clothes for work, check shirt and black vest. I put on a uniform at work, but the lack of hair is big enough of a change to have to explain without adding more things into the mix to warrant a drug test or something. My normal clothes look kind of out of place with my shaved head though. I search in the cupboard for a black beanie, so my head won't feel as naked when I'm outside.

No one really gives a shit as I walk to work, and the guys are surprised but cool with my sudden baldness. My boss is bald too, but not by choice, and says as much. No, what really causes a problem is the dick cage. That damn piece of chastity plastic keeps moving into uncomfortable positions. I kind of wish I had kept the jockstrap on. Peeing is still somewhat of an issue, but goes much better at work than it had at home. Overall the universe doesn't care about me and my changes, but I still have a lot of apprehension going to band practice.

“Show us your haircut,” says the lead singer, who has black hair down to his shoulders.

I grit my teeth and take off my beanie. His eyes widen. “Woah, that is bald, dude!” He reaches out and touches my head. The feel of his hand on my naked scalp makes me horny again, and the dick uncomfortably tests the bounds of its cage. "I didn't expect that from, you. Looks cool though."

The next morning I decide to attempt a shave. I don't know what cancerogenic tanning shit he used, but even after a good shower my head looks as if it has always been shaved clean. If I have to come shaved to him on Friday I better practice now. I wet the skin with warm water, lather up my head with shaving cream, and pull the razor across the skin of my head. There's a shudder of pleasure. Again and again I move the razor and expose more and more freshly shaved skin. I realize I'm leaking pre-cum. What the fuck is wrong with me?

The rest of the day is like every other day, though this time I wear the jockstrap. Everyone at work is already over my shaved head, and to and from work I wear the beanie. Just as I'm heading home I get a text message from Him. "If you want to submit tomorrow, bring all your clothes. My place at six. I will decide what you wear from now on."

Even though I don't have that many clothes, it is still a hefty plastic bin bag to carry over to his place. I had bagged most of the stuff that Thursday evening, except for the band T-shirts and what I was going to wear going to work Friday. Next morning I had again shaved my head, but left work early to shave a second time just before leaving. I took a shower, douched, shaved, and even applied a bit of vaseline on the scalp and buffed it shiny as he had. Looking in the mirror I both liked and didn't like what I saw. It was weird. I was totally turned on, but it was like I knew this wasn't good for me. Like a bad purchase or a second cookie.

I already had the clothes he'd sent me home in laid out on the bed, white and glossy. I really hesitated before dropping the clothes I had just worn into the bag, as if I was throwing them away. I put on the hat though, grabbed the bag, and took a bus over to his place. It felt like everyone was looking and judging me on the ride there.

I struggle up the stairs to his front door and ring the bell. It only takes a few seconds for him to open the door, as if he had been sitting around waiting. "Hey!" he says and grabs my hat from my head. "Looking real good, baldie. Are these all your clothes?" he asks and gestures toward the bin bag by my feet. "I think that's everything," I say as he steps away from the doorway and gestures me to get in. I follow him into the large living room again.

I drop the plastic bag on the floor, happy to get rid of the weight, but already dreading having to carry back whatever he deemed OK. He grabs the bag, still holding my beanie in the other. "No more hats," he says and chucks it into the bag. "You need to show off that beautiful bald head of yours."

He then gestures towards a backpack and piles of clothes, mostly white and light grey, on the dinner table. "I want to show you your new clothes." My mind did a flip as I suddenly realize what he means. I wasn't going to get any of my clothes back. I look at what is on the table. There's a lot of stuff, expensive stuff. There's trainers, a padded jacket, a couple packs of underwear, socks, T-shirts, workout clothes.

"I only want you to wear white underwear and training socks. There’s a pair for each day of the week."

"You got a lot!" I say, thinking how much he must've spent.

"It wouldn't be fair to not fully replace what you give up. Pick something to wear. We're heading out to eat first."

They're all things that I would never ever wear. There’s a shiny adidas tracksuit, a grey Nike tracksuit, polo shirts, a couple of sports tops with stripes on the sleeves. I choose the grey tracksuit. I undress and put it on in front of him, while he keeps a close watch. I keep the jockstrap, the noname training socks and the tight-fitting white adidas T-shirt I came with. Both the grey sweatshirt and sweatpants have a red Nike logo with a white swoosh under it. He looks approvingly. He picks up my black Vans from the floor and adds that to the bin bag and points to the box on the table. "I checked your size last time you were here, but try them on before we get rid of your old ones." I open the box and pull out a pair of white Nike Air Max TN sneakers with ice blue details. The mirror isn't in the room this time, but just looking down I can tell what my overall look is like. Somehow the cliché is hot to me, and the dick cage makes itself known again.

He on the other hand is wearing semi-formal clothes. White shirt and a pinstripe dark suit that must be tailored to his muscular frame, or at least fitted. He's just lacking a tie. We must look like a weird clash of socioeconomic ends of the spectra out for a walk. We are chatting along the way from his place to wherever we are going to eat.

"How do you like your haircut really?" He asks.

"There’s something I like about the touch. But I don’t feel like myself with it."

"You’ll get used to it. All my subs do. I had this one sub who had black emo hair till I shaved him. Now he can’t even deal with having a bit of stubble. He shaves it every day without me asking."

"Really?" I say, wondering if I want to get so used to it.

I am too distracted from our conversation to notice what restaurant we enter, but immediately inside I regret it. It's a proper restaurant, with a waiter seating us both at a small table with white tablecloths. I feel underdressed even for McDonald's. He sees my hesitation, or he has done this before.

"You wonder why we went to such a nice place? I want you to embrace who you are, what you are, what you look like. Look around. No one is paying attention. Yeah, perhaps they looked disapprovingly when we walked in. Fuck them. We're paying customers. They don't know us, we don't know them, and you'll never see them again in your life. Now, have you decided?"

"Decided what?" I ask, wondering if I've missed something.
"What you are having for dinner. Want to share a bottle of red?"
"Please."

We continue to talk all through the Ribeye and Shiraz. As the waiter clears the table he blurts out "I can’t wait to tie you up and fuck you, when we get back." I don't know if my face visibly blushes, but my dick certainly gets more blood. "I've been waiting all week," I tell him. He reaches into his inner pocket and pulls out a small flat box and a chain. It looks like a silver curb chain, not too thin, not too heavy.

"It looks a bit empty around your neck. Here, this shows everyone you are mine," and he hands over the chain. It's warm after having spent the evening in his pocket. I hold it in my hand for a second. "Thank you!" I'm a bit overcome by emotion I realize. Is this going too fast? I don't even really know this guy. Somehow that is part of what's so hot. He's manipulating me, of course. This is all part of his plan to make me his bottom, but isn't that what I signed up to? He is after all stunning. I clasp the chain around my neck and let it hang on the outside, over my Nike sweatshirt.

"And then there is this to show to yourself you are mine," and he slid over the small box. "Even more gifts?" Intrigued I open it and inside are two items. One small side cutter and one small padlock. It takes me a second to understand what they are for. The cutter to cut open the zip tie, and the padlock to replace it. I begin to raise from the chair to head to the restroom when he interrupts me. "No, do it here."

I bit my lip and look around. No one is taking any notice of us. I pull open my joggers and jock with one hand, and put the side cutter to the zip tie with the other and make the cut. I pull out the broken zip tie with one hand, coax the padlock in place and click it shut. The deal is sealed. Why does this make me so horny? He pockets the cutter and we are getting out of here. Walking back to his apartment I can't think of anything but him fucking me. Whatever we are chit-chatting about goes straight through my mind.

I can tell he is in a hurry as well, because we are just inside of his door, in his front lounge, when he kisses me on the mouth and together we take all my clothes off, except for the silver chain. He tells me to kneel on the floor and he unbuttons his shirt. His abs, defined as a front-page model, are covered in a thin layer of hair. He rubs his thick cock against my head and face, then pushes it into my mouth. It fills my mouth up, I want to give him a really good blow job. I rub his glans with my lips, then taking it deep into my throat. It's really thick and I choke on it. He lets me keep sucking it for a long time, occasionally using my shaved head to push it deep into my throat. He touching me shoots sparkles down my spine into my dick.

"This is the only bad thing about a bald head," he says. "Nothing to grab onto."

While I’m sucking his cock, he takes my hand and puts a leather cuff on it. He must have had them within reach. He cuffs it to my other hand behind my back. Then he pulls out, lifts me up, and arranges me bent forwards over a table. He gets lube and puts a finger in my ass, then two, then three. I let out a whimper as he starts to push his thick cock in and fuck me. He steadies his hand on my back, my front and face against the table as he moves his cock faster and deeper in and out of my ass. The pain subsides, and he fucks me harder, his cock filling me up, touching all the right places.

I come first. Half a week of constant low-level hornyness and teasing, and his expert use of his dick has me dribbling cum on the floor, despite being caged. It does nothing to my horniness though, and his pounding just becomes a bliss that washes over me. When he finally does come he keep pulling me closer to him, getting as deep as he can.

He pulls out, grabs a towel, and wipes his dick. His naked upper body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He looks better than ever throughout the evening. He leaves the room and I stand up from leaning against the table. I suddenly feel awkward standing there naked, sweaty, hands locked behind my back and cum up my bum. Most of all I want to take the towel and get rid of the splatter of cum on the floor below me. I look around and realize the window out to the street just behind me. Anyone walking by on the street would see me standing there, or being fucked by him if they passed earlier.

My thoughts are interrupted as he enters again, with a key in his hand. He quickly removes my cuffs, almost like he's forgotten about them, and tells me to put on the socks and the T-shirt again. Once on me, he unlocks the padlock and removes the different pieces of the chastity cage. Despite just having drooled on the floor my dick immediately hardens up again. "I want to watch you cum" he says into my ear and guides me towards the hall mirror..

It's still a shock and unreal to see myself in the mirror. How I look in my mind and in reality are far apart. Gone is the shaggy hair and black hoodie, and instead a shiny head, white, tight T-shirt, raging hardon and a pair of thick, white gym socks. Standing just behind me, slightly taller is a gorgeous magazine cover come to life, jet black hair, one arm around me on one side and a firm pec and hard abs looking out from behind on the other. As if I'm an idiot and doesn't know what to do on my own, he reaches down, grabs my dick and starts to pump it. "What did you lie about?" he says softly in my ear.

"What?" I say, suddenly feeling a chill up my spine. He continues to slowly rub my dick.

"You said you thought you brought all your clothes to me, but that wasn't true, was it? What did  you keep?"

"I... The band I play... I kept some band T-shirts."

"They were all size small?"

"Yeah? Maybe some medium."

He is jacking me off quite forcefully now. "Take over." I grab my dick and continue.

"I fucking love how you look, don't you?" he rubs his hands over my bald head and a tingle spreads through my body. "You can keep the T-shirts. I said I would make you my next muscle bottom project, so if any of those T-shirts still fit come summer, that's on me. At some point I will have to come up with a punishment though. You can say no, but don't ever lie to me." I feel relief washing over me. "We need to do something about this body though." He has his arm around me again, gently rubbing my flat abs and pecs through the T-shirt. "We'll start your training Monday. I'll swing by your place, then we go to Chris' Crossfit. It's the gym of mine closest to you." Perhaps I am still lightheaded from everything going on, but the gears are slowly turning in my head. "Your name is Chris?" I ask him. "Yeah, I don't use my real name for online hookups." I realize I know nothing about the man who is controlling me. I explode with cum on his hall mirror.