Title: Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow
Author: bobwhite
Summary: When a popular girl rejects the son of the gym teacher,
heads will... get shaved.
Keywords: MC FF FD

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow
by bobwhite

                          * * * * * * * * * *

*Fucking Tom Peterson.*  That's all I could think.  *Fucking Tom
Peterson.*  Julie and Heather would never let me live this down, not
that I was to blame.  So, he'd asked me out.  The dorky kid who took
more science per year than I took math all through high school didn't
have a chance, and it's not like it's never happened before.  You
expect this when you're a cheerleader, especially if the sock dance
is next weekend and you've let it be known that you don't have a date
yet.

It's not that he looks bad or anything--he's cute enough, in a nerdy
way.  No muscles, though--he's skinny, *too* skinny if you ask me. 
Well, if you ask me an anyone else.  And, there's the fact that he's
the gym coach's son.  Nobody knows who his dad is, not even him--
Coach Peterson is the type of lady who likes her 1 inch long hair
bleached blonde and done up in those short little spikes that
screams, "I am a dyke!"

Nobody dates the kids of teachers here.  Especially a kid whose mom
is probably a lesbian and who doesn't have a dad, a nice car, or
muscles.  Who wants emotional baggage from a guy when there's none of
that nice eye candy to make it worth the time?  Sure, I've done what
Heather did and wore my cheerleading outfit to Tom's house so he
could help me with Algebra II.  But other than that, the guy is
pretty much out of his league with most of the chicks here.

I had to deal with Julie and Heather between classes all day.  And
when they told the others on the squad, the teasing got worse.  Well,
I've done it to them when they've been asked out by geeks before, and
I knew the only way to make it end.  So, with a few of my fellow
uniformed gals by my side (basketball game tonight, and the Dance is
on Saturday night), we found him.  I can't remember what I said to
him, but my friends laughed and he almost cried.

At least his friends were there to console him.  He'd get over it,
but he'd probably never help me with homework again.

Last period was gym for all of the cheerleaders and a few of the
jocks.  They got the better of it--about seven guys were in the class
compared to fourteen of us girls, and we didn't have ugly
cheerleaders.  Things started going wrong in gym, though.  For one
thing, Coach Trimple was out.  We'd seen her earlier, but she went
home sick, according to Coach Peterson.

"Well, Coach Eckhouse can run PE," Heather said when Coach Peterson
broke the news.  "But, he can't run cheerleading practice, and that's
right after school.  Is there practice today?"

"I can manage that," the mannish woman told us.  "I'll even go easy
on you so you'll be ready for the dance tomorrow.  I'm sure you all
want to have a good time."

The rest of PE went pretty much normally.  Mom must have used some
new detergent when she washed my gym clothes, though--I'd brought a
clean outfit to practice in and whatever the bra was washed in was
making my nips itch a little.  But, maybe it was something else--I
looked around, and a bunch of the other girls were rubbing their tits
when they thought nobody was looking.  *I'll definitely have to take
a shower after practice*, I thought.  *Damn... oh well, maybe one of
the girls can help me do my hair... I didn't bring anything but a
brush.*

I normally shower when I get home, but my tits were driving me
crazy.  My nips were really hard and poking through my shirt--
thankfully by the time that started, PE had ended and the boys had
showered and gone home.  Practice is always right after school, so we
usually stay out and keep going.  Coach Peterson pretty much stayed
out of the way, opting to watch us and let the squad leader
(Veronica) run us through the routines.

When the sweating started, I thought I might be sick.  I mean, I
always sweat, but I was soaking my shirt and shorts through.  I was
going to take a seat, but all the other girls were sweating, too.  *I
guess it's just hot... oh well.  More reason to take a shower.*

Practice went on for two hours, and by the end, we were all really
sweaty.  My hair was a wreck, even though I'd tied it in a ponytail
like everybody else did.  Hell, *everybody's* hair looked like shit,
and we were all soaked with sweat.  I noticed that everybody's
nipples were perked up nicely, and I again caught some of the girls
reaching up discreetly rubbing their nips when they didn't know I was
looking.  I'm sure they caught me doing the same, my nips were almost
on fire with the strange itching-tingling and it probably wouldn't go
away till I was nice and clean.

At the end of practice, Coach Peterson didn't let us go to the
showers.  Instead, she told us to go to our lockers and get our cell
phones, but we were to come right back to the gym.  It was a strange
thing to ask, but we all did it--no need to make a coach mad,
especially when your normal coach is sick and could be out for a week
or so, like she was last time she left early.

Once we got back to the gym, the coach wasn't there.  But, for some
reason, most of the girls (the ones with dates) called up their
boyfriends and told them that they weren't going to go with them to
the dance.  They did that all at the same time, breaking the hearts
of  a dozen guys who had been put through the paces of dating a
cheerleader.  Once the calls were over, though, the phones were
turned off and we all just stood around in the gym, talking about why
it had been so important that we all go to the dance together--and
dateless.

At some point, Coach Peterson came back in.  She must have overheard
us, because she said, "Oh, you're not going dateless.  Bitches, line
up."

We did.  I wanted to protest her calling us "bitches," but I found
it impossible to do anything other than stand in line with my
thirteen fellow cheerleaders.  The itching in my nips became
unbearable, but suddenly I was unable to rub the sensation away.

"So," the coach began, "you all suddenly find yourselves dateless
for the sock dance.  I think I can help you out, so this is your
lucky day.  Jennifer, be a dear and run to the supply room.  Here's
the key.  Go in, and bring out the bar stool that's in there. 
There's also a long extension cord and a brown box marked
"Wrestling."  Bring it out.  You might have to make a few trips, so
please hurry."

Jennifer ran like hell out of the gym, in the direction of the huge
storage room used by the coaches at the school.  Then, Veronica and
Kim walked forward a few steps and turned around, facing the rest of
us.

"OK, girls.  Veronica and Kim here are going to pick teams.  This is
the last thing we're doing in practice today, so pick wisely," Coach
Peterson said.  Her tone of voice made me wonder if she was pissed
off about something.  One by one, we were picked... well, by *we*, I
mean, everybody but me.  I was the odd one out, since Jennifer was
still gone.  When the picking was done, she had retrieved the stool
and box, but she had to find a janitor because the extension cord was
gone.

"Alright.  Sheila, you come over here," the coach told me.  I went
over and stood by her.  "Heather, give these instructions to Jennifer
when she gets back.  She'll be in charge until I come back out;
Sheila and I have to talk in private.  But first... bitches, form a
single file line behind the cunt who picked you for her team."

Now, the looks on the faces of the girls I saw were priceless.  I
could almost hear their thoughts, as I'm sure we were thinking the
same thing: *Did she just call us the c-word?*  We call each other
bitches sometimes, in fun, but never the c-word.

"Now, bitches, turn and face the other team."  Like they had done
with every other order Coach Peterson barked out since practice was
supposed to have ended, they all did exactly as told.

"Dress right," was the next order.

Hands reached out, and soon the girls were spread out fairly evenly
in two lines, and facing each other.  Right then, Jennifer came in. 
Heather looked like she was trying to move, but her feet didn't
budge.  The coach laughed a little--and there was no humor in that
laugh--and she motioned for Jennifer to go talk to Heather.

"OK, you girls are now looking at your partners in this last
exercise.  Jenny will fill you in on the details," Coach Peterson
said.  Jennifer was reading the note with a shocked look on her face.
The last thing I saw before I found myself following the coach into
the office in the locker room was a tear running down her eye as she
unrolled the long extension cord and walked over to where there was
an outlet.

Once in the office, Coach Peterson took a seat behind the desk.  I
was going to sit in the chair in front of the desk, but I found
myself unable to move.  I was going to ask why everything was so
weird today--this wasn't how practice usually ended--but I couldn't
talk.

"So, Sheila.  You are probably wondering why you're here, standing,
unable to sit, speak, or calm the intense arousal focused on your
cute titties.  Please, make yourself more comfortable."

At that, I took my shirt, bra, shorts, and panties off.  My shoes
stayed on, though.  Still, I couldn't talk.  All I could do was rub
my nipples and think, *What the hell is happening!  This can't be
happening!  Why can't I stop pinching my nipples... shit, why can't I
cover up!  Ooooooh, at least this tingling is going away....*

"You know, I had a talk with Tommy, my son.  You've met him, you've
teased him, and all he ever wanted was to take a cute girl to a dance
just once in his high school life.  It's not been easy for him, you
know.  Years ago, I wanted a kid.  Being a dyke makes that kind of
hard, but I have other talents, as you are going to realize."

"What... mmmm, do you mean?" I said.  *Shit, how long have I been
able to talk?*

"Well, I found a nice guy who had a bunch of kids with his wife. 
Five kids, I think.  So, I figured that he wasn't shooting blanks.  I
can play with anybody just as easily as I'm playing with you
cheerleaders right now, so it was no problem to make him fuck me
until I was pregnant.  It took a few weeks.  Thankfully, his wife was
pretty.  I don't normally go for the femme look, but with her in the
bedroom, it was easier to let that man put his filthy thing in me.

"Sex with a man is cheaper than *in vitro*, but still too
distasteful *unless *you have a pretty pussy to lick.  Hell, they
were such great sports that I even let him keep her.  And, unlike
you, she escaped with her sexuality intact.  She only ended up
getting a haircut."

"What do you mean?  Why can't I just walk out of here?" I asked.

"You can.  Tell ya what:  go to the locker room over there, and go
to the mirror.  I'll be right behind you."  As she said that, she
dipped her finger in a jar of petroleum jelly and got up from her
chair.  Before I could move, I felt her slide up behind me... then I
felt her finger go down my back, leaving a greasy trail straight down
to my ass... and then I felt it find, and penetrate slightly, my anus.

*Holy shit!  What the... mmmmm, OK, it's not as bad as I thought,
but dammit, she can't do this!*

"I *can *do this, cunt.  You love it, in fact.  I bet you're
wondering why you ever went out with guys in the first place," Coach
Peterson said.  Soon, we were standing in front of the long mirror
that was mounted above the line of sinks.  Each sink had a shelf and
an electrical outlet--clearly, it was designed with hair dryers in
mind.  But on the shelf in front of the sink we stood at, there was
only a pair of hair clippers.  The comb had a marking--3/4 Inch--and
I was instantly worried.

"What are you going to do with those clippers?" I asked.  My hair is
black and it flows in carefully applied (and paid for) waves down to
the middle of my back.  My hair is my best feature, seeing as how I'm
not big on top.  Come to think of it, nobody who was picked for Kim's
team had a big chest--when we pick teams, it usually ends up as tits
vs. mosquito bites--and I wondered suddenly what was in the box
marked "Wrestling."

"I'm not going to do anything with them," the coach said, moving up
behind me and wrapping her arms around my waist.  Her hands came up
and started playing with my small breasts.  As much as it should have
disgusted me, though, I felt my skin anticipating her touch with
little goosebumps.  And as she felt me up, I felt my pussy get wet. 
Gingerly, I reached for the clippers and plugged them in.  I hit the
"On" button--they were already adjusted and there was no loud buzz. 
Just a soft, vibrating hum.

"Hmmmmm, this'll never do, Sheila.  Let me take this ponytail down
for you... there.  Now, you know what to do.  Jennifer needs a date
for the dance, but you can't go looking like this.

"No!  No, I don't go with girls!" I screamed, but that had no effect
on my hands or arms.  With a strange hum, I erased one stripe of hair
from my scalp, leaving only very short hair (a little longer than
fuzz) behind.

*(Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!)*

"Look at how nice you're looking.  No longer timid or docile,
doesn't this just make you look... assertive?  Aggressive?  Powerful?"

*(Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!)*

I looked as I shook out the hair in the comb.  It did look
interesting, and I imagined that people wouldn't treat me like a ditz
if my hair were all that short.  Nobody treated Coach Peterson like a
stupid girl.  Willingly, I took off another two stripes of hair. 
Coach had stepped back and grabbed a towel, she was using it to sweep
my long hair off my back.

*I wish she could do that with her finger in my ass.  Or, my
pussy... but I'd rather have a cock in my pussy... wouldn't I?*

*(Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!)*

*(Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!)*

*No... no, a cock isn't right for my ass, and it's too big for my
pussy... no, I need to have a woman's slender, knowing fingers on my
sex... in my sex... my ass, hell all over my body... girls know
girls' bodies, it's only natural....*

*(Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!)*

*(Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!)*

*Well, maybe fingers aren't enough... but dildos don't ever go soft,
you can go all night with one... I could go all night with
Jennifer... yeah, she'd look good on her knees....*

*(Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!)*

*(Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!)*

*(Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!)*

*Missed some on the sides... there... oh yes, little Jenny on her
knees, my hands gripping her hair... stupid bitch keeps long hair,
and that's just asking for someone to grab a fistful... yeah, that
hair is like a handle on her head, and I can rub her face into my
pussy till my arms are tired...*

*(Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!)*

*(Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!)*

*Yeah, nobody can grab my hair, so it's easy to know who'll be in
charge... something's missing....*

"Uhm... Coach Peterson?" I asked, turning around.  By now, she was
as naked as I was.  Jennifer was between her legs, and the coach was
using her long, red hair as a convenient handle with which to grind
the kneeling cheerleader's face into her shaved pussy.  *I didn't
know Coach shaved... I'll have to do that....*

"Yes, Sheila?  Oh, hope you don't mind me using your girl's face. 
Just giving her a little training; you'll thank me."

"No problem," I said, although there was no way Jennifer was going
to go unpunished for cheating on me--even if she didn't have a
choice.  But that was for later.  "I wanted to know... your hair...
how do you get it spiky?"

"*Ungh!*  Damn, Jenny, you're a quick learner... oh, Sheila....
yeah, I just use gel.  There's some over there on the bench.  Go take
a shower with the rest of the girls who got their hair cut.  I'll
show you all how to do it, it's pretty easy.  Oh Jenny?  Go out and
sweep the floor, and put everything up.  You and the other subs don't
get to shower until your Mistresses tell you to do so."

I walked to the shower with the coach, and found six of the girls--
all of them from Kim's team, in fact.  We quickly washed the hair off
our bodies, and it's nice how little shampoo it takes to clean hair
that's only an inch or so in length.  We'd all have to get together
before the dance and do some final trimming, but I have to say, we
looked *hot*.  Before we got out of the shower, we had our hands all
over each other's heads, tits, asses... and pussies.  But, Coach
didn't let us play for too long.

"OK, dykes.  Out of the shower, I have one final thing to teach you
all before you go home.  And I expect you to practice every chance
you get.  Come on."

When we got out of the shower, three benches had been taken from in
front of the lockers and lined up in rows.  On two benches, three
girls--still in possession of their long hair and girly makeup, which
I knew I'd never wear again--lay on their backs, naked, looking
straight up.  Some were playing with themselves, but they stopped
when they were aware of us looking them over.  On the bench closest
to us dykes, though, Jenny lay back alone. I saw that her pussy was
wet, and I couldn't wait to taste it.

"Now, dykes, find your partners from before.  Straddle the bench
right above your partner's head.  You too, Sheila."

We obeyed... which was an odd feeling.  I somehow felt that *I* was
the one who should be obeyed... but looking down at Jenny's
frightened face, I knew that there would be plenty of time for that.

"OK... good.  Listen up, bitches on the benches.  You're looking up
at the thing that controls you from now on--your Mistress's cunt.  It
is your love, your life, your passion.  You will do anything the
woman attached to that cunt tells you, because when you obey your
Mistress, her cunt tingles.  And when it tingles enough, you'll be
allowed to lick it, finger it, fist it, or whatever else your
Mistress wants you to do to it.  And when you make her cum, maybe
she'll return the favor."

Without further command, I--and my fellow dykes--found ourselves
lowering our burning slits to our slave's mouths.  Most of the girls
didn't do anything, and a few begged their friends to get off of them
and let them leave.  But it was Carrie who first shouted, "You know
what to do, slut!  Eat me out while I grind on your face!"

Obedience was immediate.  And as soon as Rachel, Carrie's slut-
slave, obeyed, the rest of us who were squatting over our partner's
faces shouted similar commands.  I came almost instantly, and by the
second orgasm, Jennifer was reaching up and playing with my small
tits.  I turned around so I could slap her tits, and after awhile, I
even fingered her to a quick orgasm.

I guess Coach Peterson left me in charge, because it was me who told
everybody to shower (again, for some of us) and go home.  Everybody
listened and obeyed.  After the showers, though, the coach was
nowhere to be seen--but we all had a card in our lockers.  The same
message was written on each one:  "Remember, cunts, you're now in a
lifelong relationship that you'll enjoy.  And every morning, when you
wake up, you'll repeat this phrase to remind you of how this all
happened:  If Tom's not good enough for me, no man is."

When I woke up Saturday morning, I said that phrase before I could
say anything else.  I am pretty sure all of the cheerleaders did the
same thing.  It was nice to wear jeans to the dance, but Jennifer
wore a nice dress.  I even had her put her hair in pigtails, which
she hated but which I saw as a great way to tug her around.

I was going to apologize to Tom when I saw him, but from what I
heard, he was here with two girls--Valerie (from the volleyball team
that his mom coached), a cute Hispanic girl with curves, black hair,
and dark eyes; and Sandy, from the track team, a petite blonde.  A
scan of the dance floor confirmed this--I was surprised the chaperons
were allowing them to rub on each other like they were and call it a
dance, but I was going to get lucky tonight, so what did I care if
Tom did too?

Maybe I owed him an apology.  No, I did owe him an apology.  Perhaps
I'd offer him dibs at Jenny tonight to get him ready for what
promised to be a hot night for him.  I could always ride Jenny's face
later.

"That sounds like a good idea--you're so considerate now that your
hair's not clouding your thoughts with girlishness," Coach Peterson
said from behind me.

*Heh... so she's the chaperone... hell, I'm surprised she's not
letting her boy fuck those two sluts right on the dance floor....*

"That's not a bad idea either, Sheila... tell ya what, forget about
loaning out Jenny.  My boy deserves some pussy, but so does your
girlfriend.  Why don't you go out there and have Jenny teach him how
to eat pussy?  She can do you, and he can watch and learn how to go
down on a woman.  Nothing sucks more than someone who can't eat
pussy, and dammit, my boy's going to put lesbians to shame if I have
anything to say about it."

"Right here on the dance floor?" I asked.

The crowd parted, and Tom's dates started stripping.  Jenny walked
over to the mostly empty part of the dance floor, taking off her
clothes as she went, and knelt, apparently waiting for me.  Nobody
else seemed to notice.  When I found myself going to her, and taking
off my shirt in the process, I had my answer.

"Hey Tom, listen.  Sorry about embarrassing you the other day.  But,
I'll make up for it.  Jenny here is a pretty good pussy licker--she's
a natural.  I want you to pay attention," I told him, finally getting
my pants and panties off and kicking them aside.  "You can practice
on your dates, they'll let you know how you're doing."

He was silent, and he sunk to his knees to watch what Jenny was
starting to do to me.  Soon, though, I was on my back, and he was
studying Jenny's actions like he probably studied science.  And
judging by Valerie's moans, he was a quick study.

Too bad he's a guy.  I bet he's going to be really good with that
tongue.

                          * * * * * * * * * *

(c) 2006, bobwhite.  All rights reserved.  All wrongs also reserved.
