Unexpected Haircut pt. 3 (Patreon)

I slowly drift out of sleep. Everything is just too nice to give up. It feels like my body is glowing. My soft, smooth skin is gliding beneath the soft, smooth sheets. I just lie there squirming and feeling myself in the dark when I realize my dick is straining against the cage. My hand immediately goes to check for the plastic that is locked around my dick, on top of my smooth, shaved balls. I open my eyes, but it's just as dark. I clumsily feel for the switch of the small lamp I recall standing to the side of the bed when I instead bump into my phone on the nightstand. I grab it and turn on the screen. In blinding white text the clock on the lock screen screams 03:08 at me. My heart skips a beat when I realize how much time I've missed, though I'm not sure exactly how much. When did we get back? Was it three in the afternoon? How long did the massage take?

I'm feeling myself again, this time a bit more purposefully and awake. I'm completely smooth. The skin is sensitive but dry, so the oil must have been wiped off or absorbed or something. Somehow I feel naked. Well, I am naked, besides the cock cage, but I feel more naked than ever. As I feel my smooth armpits, chest, and groin I realize I'm wearing socks again. I briefly consider kicking them off but quickly decide to just feel myself up some more and squirm under the sheet. Sheets of way higher thread count than anything I have at home.

"Hey there sleepy, time to get up," Chris says loudly from the door. "Get ready and come down for breakfast. I put out toiletries in the guest bathroom. Pack your stuff before you head down."

The room is bathing in light filtering in through the drawn but thin curtains. I feel both disoriented from being rudely awakened from deep sleep, but well rested. I fumble with my phone again. 7:26. Early for a Sunday, but close to when I usually go up. I step out of bed, again feeling the silky smooth skin against the sheet. In a big pile on the floor are all my clothes, save for uniforms. I make an audible laugh when I think about the absurdity of it all. I pick some things from the top, briefs, and a T-shirt, and head into the guest bathroom adjacent to my room. It's weird to think this is the morning of my second night here and I still haven't been in there.

The small guest bathroom is almost blindingly lit with white tiles all over and the morning sun shining right through the frosted window by the shower. Besides the toilet and sink and other fixed items the room is almost bare. A big, white towel hangs on a hanger, and on top of the sink is a bottle of shaving cream and a disposable razor. It's obvious what he wants.

I look in the mirror over the sink and I still can't quite get over how different I look. It isn't jarring anymore, but still somehow unexpected to see the smooth head. I touch the skin and can feel the faintest of hair that had grown during my sleep. Not wanting to let him wait any longer than needed I got on with it and applied shaving foam. As soon as the razor touches the skin and starts to do its thing I can feel a bit of a tremor in my dick cage. How the fuck had he managed to make me physically horny for shaving my head in just two days? I finish quickly, rinse, and dry off with the towel. I look the same in the mirror, but feeling the scalp with my hand it was now completely smooth.

I put on the tracksuit from yesterday and then hastily fill the backpack with clothes from the floor. I don't bother folding anything properly, so it fills up quickly. I can't help noticing how I somehow feel what I'm wearing more, like my skin is somehow more sensitive. Or it's just in my head to think about clothes as I'm shoveling clothes. I just stuff the remaining clothes into a plastic Tesco bag and head down to Chris in the kitchen with the backpack and the bag. They contain all the clothes I own save for a band T-shirt, which is weird to think about. The setup in the kitchen is the same as yesterday with the same breakfast bowls, fruit, and yogurt.
"Morning"
"Morning"
"I'm sorry, but I have to kick you out soon. I need to get some work done before Monday."
"Yeah, no problem."
"I'll have a lot to catch up with, so I can't see you again until Tuesday. Are you free to get me to show you the way around the gym in the afternoon?"
"No, I'm... Yes, that's fine. I'm free" I got butterflies in my guts just thinking about working out together with Chris. I knew there was a price I was paying, but it was all worth it.
"I'll come by your apartment at five then. Let's have a morning run today before you leave."
"Sure"

I'm not very enthusiastic about that after how yesterday's run had gone. But declining somehow doesn't feel like the smart option. One last push before having all of Sunday to catch my breath. Thankfully the run is at a more leisurely pace than yesterday.

"Tell me about this weekend."
"It's been great! Interesting."
"No, more details. Tell me what we've done."
I start to retelling him getting to his place, my surprise over all the clothes, how I felt embarrassed at the dinner, how much I loved getting fucked in all his rooms.
"Hold up," he says, interrupting me and starts checking my pulse again.
"Are you just testing me?" I ask once he lets go of my wrist.
"Kind of. You get the best cardio if your pace is low enough that you can talk normally, but only just."

He keeps asking me questions all the way back to his place. It is clear from the questions and his follow-ups that he has paid close attention to everything I've told him over the weekend, and I feel both flattered and uneasy about how well he knows me. Everything he does is part of some plan it feels like.

"I have a shopping list for you, and some recommendations for what to eat," he says as we enter his hallway again. I'm about to answer him when he suddenly grabs me and kisses me on the mouth. "Are you up for a quick one as parting gift before I get in?" he asks. I'm still flush from the jog and surprised by the kiss, and above all I have his front cover model face just inches from mine, so I give a light-headed but definite consent.

He kisses me again, turns me around, and pushes me against one of the walls. He's hugging me with one arm while the other is pulling down my joggers and briefs in one motion. I can feel him grinding against me as I brace against the wall. His hugging arm keep exploring my front while the other is squeezing my butt. Again I get that feeling as if my body isn't quite mine anymore, or perhaps rather that it has been augmented. I can feel the fabric dancing over my shaved skin and his hands moving all over it. I just close my eyes and try to feel all of it. I can feel him finally getting his big dick into me. My heart rate and breathing must be at least what it was on our jog. His hands switch places, the one he touched my butt with is now embracing me while the other one is running over the skin of my scalp. It feels both slow and deliberate what he is doing, while at the same time it is over quickly. He squeezes me tighter and he is shooting his load as deep as he can.

Then he just stops and we are just standing there embracing me from behind, with my heavy breathing the only sound. "I'll go and get my notes for you," he says after some seconds, "but I want you to keep all my cum inside. Think of it like a kegel exercise. Just keep flexing that muscle and think of me. Ready?" I told him yes and he withdrew and left for the kitchen.

Immediately I tried to do what I think he wanted me to do and squeezed my ass muscles. I pulled up the briefs and joggers, and hoped I was doing the right thing. That nothing would leak out.

Only a few minutes later I was out on the street, wearing a backpack and holding a bag of clothes. My backpack and my clothes. "Just keep flexing that muscle and think of me" echoed in my mind as I carefully walked down the street. If I thought I had been in for a ride the first time I walked home from him, this time had been infinitely more impactful. I see myself reflected in the windows I pass, just like last time, and though I look the same save for the grey Nike sweater and joggers, it feels like I've changed more than when I just had my head shaved.

I get to the bus stop just in time to get on my preferred route back home. As I sit down I can feel my butt cheeks spread and instantly I get flashes of Chris in his hallway kissing me, fucking me. I squeeze all I can to make sure nothing leaks. I spend the bus ride going in a mental loop between thinking what I was doing with Chris was rash and dangerous, thinking it was the best thing I've ever done, and thinking about just flexing that muscle.

"Aaa! Fuck! Stop doing that to me."
"Doing what?" I asked my housemate who had screamed at me from the living room as I entered the door.
"I'm sorry. I'm just not used to seeing you like that."
"Like what? Shaved."
"Yeah, and looking like an ASBO punk. Thought you were robbing me." He gestures vaguely at me from top to bottom. "Why are you doing it anyway? All this just to suck some guy's dick?"

I drop the bag and the backpack just inside the door and walk over to him where he is standing next to the couch and throw myself backwards into it like I often did. The very moment I land in the soft pillows I panic, realizing I landed with spread legs. I immediately think of Chris and what he had said and clench my ass cheeks. I'm fairly sure the worst danger is over by now so I carefully relax while simultaneously try to notice any seeping and look as if everything was cool.

"No, it's past that." I'm being turned into someone else's fantasy, a bald, fit chav, if he has been truthful, and I'm letting him do it. "I'm kind of enjoying it. It's kind of like an art project, you know," I try to rationalize.

"Sounds a bit crazy to me. Well, just be careful."

"I’ll show you a picture of him." I scroll through my WhatsApp chat for some pictures of Chris and hand over my phone.

"Shit! He looks like a model! I didn’t know that was your type.” My housemate gives me this look like maybe he would shave his head bald as well to get fucked by this guy.