FSE

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Life By the Mane Written by Leo_Todrius and Starwing Commissioned by Beardbear

The inner city was a land of light and shadow, the two interplaying between the skyscrapers. The lazy afternoon light came down, glinting off of the cars and the street signs, and disappeared behind the looming busses and dark alleyways. It wasn't the sort of thing that most of the citizens thought about going through their daily life, but for Harper the kaleidoscope of luminance was a source of pleasant distraction.

The young man moved down the weathered and cracked sidewalk, his shiny black shoes scuffed on the toes. His black pants had a few tiny pin-prick holes from wear and tear, and his turquoise button up shirt was as bright as he could manage to find. Between that and his black and white checkerboard watch band, it was the closest he could get to breaking the dress code at work - without actually breaking it.

Harper stopped at the street corner, reaching up to run his fingers through his wavy light brown hair, daring to catch a glimpse of himself in the reflection of one of the store fronts. He felt decidedly vague, unnoticably generic, and painfully plain. He had been trying to tell himself that in the long run that was good. If he had kept up with the wild aspirations of his youth he could have landed a girl for sure, but if he wanted a long and stable relationship it would have to be a woman that liked him for him, not for the mask he put on... and on that front he at least had a few things going for him.

With almost three years under his belt at OpenCore information systems, he had a stable income, a nice apartment and benefits. It wasn't an achievement to shake a fist at, though he had done just that many times. The relentless schedules, the tedium of office life, and an overly strict dress code felt suffocating. Harper couldn't stand another visit to Super Cuts yet again. He had to try something new, to break out of the monotony.

The street light changed and Harper crossed the street, moving around a car or two that had eagerly pushed too far forward. It was interesting how little things like that annoyed him when he was tired. If it had been any other Thursday he would have gone home, unwound and gone to bed before heading into work again, but something inside him was craving release. Harper stepped up onto the other curb just before the light changed again and traffic sped along its way.

The general feel of the city changed abruptly here; from the stark lines and order of the business world, to the vibrant displays of a shopping district. Stores with their signs meant to attract customers in for sales, clearances or discounts lined the street. The light also seemed to illuminate this side a little differently. Perhaps planned so the shops could catch more of the afternoon light for their displays, or maybe Harper just found the freeform hustle and bustle a little more appealing.

As he passed by the shops, casually looking in to see various styles of clothing, he found himself passively imaging himself in some of them. In clothing not so tight and restrictive as his suit. Of course, that was the goal of the mannequins posed in the windows, posed just right so you could position yourself to reflect in the window like you were wearing the outfits arranged on them. The shops seemed arranged in alternating pattern of clothing, food, accessories and various supply shops. The dancing tube sock outside the framing shop seemed to wave at him, almost striking him as he passed by it. Not that it would have hurt but the sudden motion caused him to bend backwards quickly to avoid it.

When he stood back upright he noticed another shop just ahead. Slightly different from the others as it didn't have the usual signage, instead a stylized barber's pole spinning lazily overtop the alcove to the recessed door. The stripes were the standard red and white, but with confetti of various hues swirling around in the clear fluid inside the glass frame. Upon closer inspection the stripes themselves were grooved to help churn the fluid, and glowed ever so slightly from the hidden black-lights nestled up into the antique frame. Engraved onto the metal support was the word Styles. Painted on the large windows to the shop were simple black letters spelling out Salon, but the inside wasn't so simple.

A mix of antique brass and futuristic chrome supports held up stained wooden tables, the grains clearly visible behind the reddish brown. The floor was covered in a mosaic of tiles in a chevron pattern, white and black to match the clean back leather chairs all lined up in front of the mirrors on one side of the area. On the other were a half dozen leather sitting chairs with wooden tables between. Several stations set up with various combs, brushes, clippers and bottles of product. The somewhat high ceiling providing light with track lighting modeled into something almost steam punk. And there in the middle of the shop, casually sweeping up some hair from his last patron, was the only person to be seen.

Standing just below six foot and thin of frame, the man who appeared to be in his late twenties wore his own hair in a mix of long on the top, braided into tight lines on one side, and shaved down to almost nothing on the other. Lines of blue, green and violet fell from the length currently sitting over the braided side. His outfit was simple, a close fitting white polo, some beige capri's and a thick black apron. Adorning his otherwise thin face was a thick though closely trimmed beard, two braided lengths hanging off his chin with metal beads woven into them. He seemed to be humming along to whatever music the salon was currently playing and not paying attention to the world outside the window.

Harper was simply awe struck. The style, the detail, the atmosphere... All of it was superb. Something about it shook Harper out of the doldrums he had felt trapped in. There was almost a spring in his step as the youth opened the door, heading the jangle of an old metal bell as he crossed the threshold. A clean, strong scent hit his nose like an unfamiliar men's cologne, both spicy and musky as well as crisp. Harper looked up at the stylist with intrigue at his most unique of styles.

Hearing the bell the stylist turned looking almost surprised there was a customer. He quickly smiled and swept the last of the hair into the long handled dustpan he was holding. "Hey there! Wasn't expecting anyone for a bit. What can I do for ya?"

He tipped the dustpan into a bin and set it and the broom between the stations. Walking over to a counter where a tablet was set-up to function as a register, picking up the registry book with it's pen attached by a beaded chain. "I currently have a special going on, a full treatment package for the cost of a regular styling. Comes with wash, hot towel and scalp massage. And new customers all get a free shave."

It seemed like a bit much to Harper, but on the other hand he'd been starting to indulge here and there. His income was finally surpassing his expenses. He could treat himself, and after most of a hard week at work he felt like getting a treat.

"That sounds perfect! Give me the works." Harper replied earnestly.

"Alright, just sign your name here and sit in the third chair. Lemme go grab some things and I'll meet you there." He jotted down some quick scribbles next to a blank name column then handed the book over before heading back behind a silky curtain. Emerging seconds later with a small wooden tub that was gently steaming. He set it next on the table next to the chair and then went about collecting various combs and implements while he waited for Harper to get comfy.

Harper had seen how the old time shops worked in movies and things, but it was his first time. He got settled in the chair and leaned back, eyes looking up at the ceiling. Even the molding up there was intricate. He smiled a bit, settling down and making himself at home.

Once the young man was seated, the stylist draped a black cape over his front with a theatrical flourish and neatly clasped it behind his neck. He then adjusted the height of the seat and began to flit his fingers through Harpers hair, getting a feel for it's thickness and the way it lay. "So, we looking for something specific, trying something new, or we just cleaning up what we got here?"

"I have to tow the line at work... 'Our employees are the face of the company, so we must strive to represent the clean cut ideals of our corporation.' Strict dress code..." Harper replied mournfully.

The stylist looked down at his customer, a quizzical look on his face. He tousled the hair a bit more then slowly spun the chair around, lifting a section of the station's table to reveal a basin underneath. Which he carefully leaned Harper back into. "Okay, but that doesn't sound like what you really want. Mind if I ask what you would actually like? Just curious is all."

He wedged a towel under Harper's neck and began to rinse his hair, watching the young man's face carefully as he did so. Harper chuckled.

"If I didn't have work getting in the way? I don't know where I'd start... Something really wild, something out of the box... I'd want to be myself, not some carbon copy corporate doll. A real man." Harper said wistfully.

"I see. Well, you're not alone in that. A lot of people who find their way in here want the same thing. Not that it's a bad thing of course. Quite the opposite. Close your eyes gonna put the towel on while I wash." He gently placed the towel over Harper's face, carefully laying it so that the young man's eyes were covered yet still leaving him able to talk and full access to his hair. Once the hair was thoroughly soaked he applied some product that smelled of honey, oats and a hint of mint. While he worked it in he continued. "Some people like the mask, some don't. Most folks like yourself just need the right way to let themselves out. And in my honest opinion, a fresh haircut is a great way to do just that!"

He wrung the hair through his fingers, working the strands and gently pulling on them, feeling them lengthen ever so slightly. He grinned as he saw the color shift from it's natural light brown to something slightly darker, with vibrant highlights of an auburn hue mixed in. The follicles themselves thickened, giving it more volume even wet as it was. When it reached a point he was happy with he rinsed the suds off and began to massage the scalp beneath. Years of tension beneath the skin being pulled out and washed down the drain.

"Wow, you're really good at what you do..." Harper murmured, feeling his muscles relaxing on the spot, "How can people get by without doing this? It's extravagant..." he added. His shoulders had been tight and his back had been compressed tight. The stress of work had taken its toll, but little by little it was working loose.

"I guess you could say it's a gift. Now let's get you up and dried off." Wringing the majority of the water out the stylist then wrapped a dry towel around his patron's head, rubbing vigorously but gently. After he was satisfied he pulled the now not as hot towel off Harper's face and sat him upright, unable to suppress a grin at the days of stubble that had grown up over his jawline. Spinning the chair around after closing the basin, he grabbed a comb and a pair of scissors before taking his place behind the young man. He began to sift through it, pretending to scope it out while he carefully watched the mirror, looking to see if there was any unwanted reaction.

It took a few moments for the euphoria to wear off of Harper's face, though his brow quirked a bit. Something seemed off... He'd come in for a haircut and a shave, hadn't he? He knew the barber worked on him, in fact he felt spectacular... and he looked spectacular. The light stubble complimented his longer hair. No longer was it short around the ears and the nape of the neck, it fell just a bit longer in soft, wavy locks. It was as if reality wasn't quite fitting with Harper's sensations, but a grin flashed across his lips.

"Thanks, that's much better." Harper replied, unaware of just how true that was.

"Good to hear. Lemme just finish evening this out and we'll get that shave out of the way. If you'd still like it of course. I think it looks great how it is. Though... "He tilted Harper's head back a touch, lining up his comb with the jawline presented. "I might trim it up on the neck. Make it look intentional."

He pulled some of the strands that had grown longer than the rest and carefully trimmed them off. These strands had mostly maintained their old color, and as they were snipped off some of the threads holding Harper back were snipped as well. Gently and with almost surgical precision the stylist trimmed the strands, watching as his customer let his shoulders relax, and spread his legs under the smock for comfort. When he finished the length looked to have grown again, now almost double what the young man had come in with. He smiled as he brushed off the trimmings from his shoulders, brushing away insecurities along with them.

After dropping his comb and scissors he picked up a brush and small dish, from which a strong scent of jasmine wafted. The gel inside was brushed over Harper's neck, a cool soothing sensation sinking into the skin where the skin darkened, gaining color as if he had been tanned for weeks. The color spread up and down the patrons skin, giving him a healthy glow instead of the pale look that came from being in an office. "You have some really nice definition here. Do you work out?"

"Well, you know, here and there... Not as much as I should, but..." Harper chuckled gently, blushing. It felt a bit odd given that he had always been attracted to girls, but a compliment was a compliment no matter who it came from.

"Whatever routine you're doing, it's working. What gym do you go to again?" The stylist knew he was being bold with this push, but he felt it needed to happen before he was done. So he carefully scraped his straight razor against the customer's skin, watching the muscles underneath firm and tighten just enough to be noticeable. From his position he could see the muscles underneath the smock firm up ever so slightly as well. He took off the stubble and left a immaculate line running down the young man's jaw, framing his face and accentuating the shape of his cheekbones. It almost made it look... fuller.

"Oh, King's gym on Savannah street..." Harper replied, feeling almost like he was floating above his body.

"Oh yeah, that's a nice place. Plenty of meat on display there." He said with a chuckle as he toweled off the remaining gel. The stylist pulled the cape gently to shake off the last of the trimming then moved out of the way so Harper could get a good look at himself. "Whatcha think? Pretty good if I may." Pleased with his work the stylist unclasped the smock and slid it off, giving an appreciative glance at the tight fitting clothes almost struggling to contain the flesh behind them. It wasn't that big a change, but still enough to notice. His own figure also seemed fuller, though his clothing still seemed to accommodate him.

"Yeah, much better... Really seems to fit..." Harper said, feeling as though he had forgotten something very important. All he did know was that he looked damn fine. He stood up and opened his wallet, pulling out the price plus a rather handsome tip for the stylist, "Thanks man, it really made my day."

"Oh it was my pleasure! Don't be a stranger and come back sometime." He took the money and added it to the till underneath the tablet, handing over a receipt and smiling cheerfully as he watch Harper collect his things. He waved as the young man walked through the door in almost a happy daze, a satisfied smile crossing his face that he had found another customer.

****

A soft chime sounded as the doors of the elevator rumbled open, letting a wash of very dry but very clean air spill in. Harper stepped out of the lift and followed his usual path to his cubicle, passing the watercooler. Two of his co-workers glanced up with a bit of surprise at how different the young man looked. His hair reached past the collar of his shirt, and his face was covered with well kept, short stubble. The crispness of his peach button up shirt contrasted his dark pants, making it look like an early sunrise on the prairie. Harper moved into his personal space and sat down, the clatter of fingers on keys starting to spill out of the confined area.

One of them, Alex, leaned back in his chair to look around the divide at his co-worker with an eyebrow raised. His eyes scanned the young man who he was certain didn't look like this yesterday. The difference wasn't just in appearance, though that alone was striking, but in his demeanor. The man in the cubicle next to him just seemed to move and stand differently today. "Um, hey Harper. New look?"

"What?" Harper asked, glancing up before cracking a remarkably vivid grin, "Oh yeah, got a haircut at a new place yesterday. Went pretty well."

"I can see that. You certainly look happy with it." Alex gave a forced grin, unsure about what to say. The look was clearly outside of regulation, but he really didn't want to ruin Harper's good mood. He hadn't seen him this peppy in a while. "So, uh, how do you think you'll get away with it? I mean, it looks good, but you might be in for a few words from the higher ups."

"You think so? It really looks good? I mean, I thought so too, but..." Harper trailed off, "Maybe there's a way to show my worth, maybe that my looks aren't going to be a distraction?" he said, though he already knew that was failing given their conversation.

"You look great, but.." The man rubbed his hand over his neck, brushing against the clean cut line of hair a few inches above his collar. A line he meticulously maintained along with the clean shave on his face, and even shaped eyebrows. "I dunno, it just might not be worth the risk. Sorry." Alex gave one last weak smile and turned back to his own station, very quickly getting back to typing up his report.

Harper resumed his typing as well, letting out a huff. He'd left work the day before feeling stifled and restrained. He got a haircut and it still wasn't enough. It was a constant battle, but now there was a new weight in his heart. Maybe he had gone too far, maybe he had been too lax. He'd have to go back and try to conform a bit more. At least haircuts were pleasurable at the salon, and with it being his weekend he could really take his time.

A soft smile crept across Harper's lips as he worked, tapping his foot. The idea of going back was exciting to say the least, but something inside him had changed as well. His spirit was freer, and it was ready to soar.

****

The shop looked the same as it did yesterday, though the music had changed to an upbeat violinist softly playing something cheerful and energetic. The stylist was sitting in one of the chairs with the registry on one arm, scribbling notes while he spoke into a phone. He saw Harper walk in, smiled in amusement and motioned that he'd be a sec. Harper sighed with a bit of relief, being back in the eclectic settings. He pulled off his tie and stuffed it in his pockets, stretching out his shoulders a bit. The work week had ended, the weekend was stretching out before him, and the possibilities were endless.

After confirming an appointment the Stylist ended the call and slid the phone into his pocket, standing up and walking the book over to the table. "Well, I did say to come back, but wasn't expecting to see you so soon. Did you decide you didn't like the cut?"

"I think it was perfect, but work life disagreed... I guess I have to ask you to take things a little further, be a little more ruthless." Harper said, "Though it is nice to be able to come back so soon."

"Ruthless huh? Well, I do have a policy that says I'll fix anything you're not happy with... or that interferes with work. So go ahead and sit down. I'm free for a bit, we can work on it now." He motioned to the chair from yesterday and made a quick notation in the registry before moving to pull out a clean cape. Once Harper was properly seated and had the cape around his neck the stylist pulled his fingers through his hair again. "And I'm happy you're back, even if circumstances aren't the best. I have a feeling you're gonna be one of my favorites. Now, what do we want to do exactly? Pull it back? Tighten the lines or did you have something specific you needed?"

Harper considered for a moment, leaning back in the chair, his eyes shut. He thought about the generic look of his co-workers, of how painful it was to be so bland. He sighed softly, still unable to grasp just how he looked at present.

"I guess... I want that look where I can just roll out of bed and get going, something that I don't have to worry about..." he said, unaware how vague and open to interpretation his statement was.

One corner of the stylist's lips turned up into a grin. He pulled out his comb and picked up a small spray bottle. "I think I know exactly what you need. Something easy, something full, and something you can take a little... pride in. Sound about right?" He spritzed a small about of water on Harper's hair as he spoke, combing it through to straighten out the hair and get it ready. The damp strands being pulled out with each stroke of the black plastic, gaining both length and thickness. Once it was all evenly saturated, the water having a slight fragrance to it, like saffron, the stylist brought his scissors out and began snipping away at the length. Where the comb had added millimeters of length, the scissors added inches. All the while the fingers working them would occasionally run over the scalp, a rubbing and teasing that brought with it a sense of calm.

Harper's smile was almost predatory in the chair. He was relaxed, sedate, content to leave his hair and head in the hands of such a capable individual. The weight of the added hair only seemed to add an odd pride and confidence that had been lacking before. The up tight, arm crossed holding pattern that Harper had always relied on before was shattered.

The stylist watched the young man relax below him, smiling at the hands unfolding and resting on the arms of the chair. He moved to the side and began to work on the sideburns that had just minutes ago grown in. With the comb and scissors he coaxed them further out and down, the stubble thickening into several days worth of growth. A subtle brush of his fingers to remove a cut lock of hair from his patrons ear left it pointed ever so slightly, the hair above it creeping ever so closer. Switching sides he repeated the process, humming a bit in amusement.

Once he was satisfied with the hair, now a few inches long and styled to flow back from his face and to the sides, thick enough that it almost stood up on it's own, the stylist pulled out the shaving cream again, applying it carefully over the growth that had worked its way down Harper's cheeks. The brush was angled so to get the cream in past the hair, and to coat every strand. When it foamed up, it made his skin tingle slightly but not unpleasantly. It made his jaw feel firmer, the muscles under the skin more powerful, and the tingling wasn't confined to his face. Spreading down his neck and under the cape the muscles below swelled noticeably. The stylist couldn't help but grin openly at this point, revealing teeth a tad too sharp. Almost fang like.

There was movement beneath the cape, unintentional and indirect. Harper's hand slid down from the safe position on his navel to rest over his groin. At first the weight was enough, but ever so slowly the fingers started to grasp, clamping down. Harper murmured more, his whole face tingling. The foam seemed almost comical the way it clung to the curls and rough hairs of his thick sideburns, illustrating their presence even more.

Harper's body was at the stylist's mercy, like clay beneath a sculptor's hands. It was no doubt intoxicating, even euphoric. Harper was still unaware, his mind clinging to a reality that conformed more with the normal, but there was no going back. One could not put the genie back in the bottle.

Pretending not to notice his client's actions, the stylist pulled out the razor and began to pull it down over the foam, but like with the scissors it didn't just remove the hair, but left more in its place. Coarse and thick strands that may at one point looked out of place now adorned the face of a man who seemed born to bear them. A glance into Harper's eyes saw not only the iris pulling slightly to give the pupil an almost cat-like quality, but saw less restraint, less stress, and more contentment with himself. And maybe just a small touch of arousal.

Still managing to clean up the slight growth below the jawline, they stylist was almost amused to see a few stray hairs curling up over the collar of the cap. Meaning that they had quite a few friends underneath his clients shirt. He took a warm towel and wiped up the remaining foam, enjoying the sight of his work. He moved to the side to give the young man a full view of what had been done.

"There we go. Cleaned up enough for ya? I left the beard trimmed just how you wanted, though I really think you should let it grow out more, but I might be a tad biased in that department." He chuckled as he stroked the braids on the sides of his chin. "However I think the length on top should be satisfactory, though I think a bit of some of my product would help keep it under control. Still, the free look does turn heads."

"Oh wow..." Harper murmured, sighing wistfully, "It'd be amazing to just let it go wild, but as long as I have to be restrained, this is the way to be. Plus, I got a bit of extra spending money on hand. How much does your product cost? Maybe I could get two or three bottles?" He asked, looking up at the stylist. He wasn't sure if it was just because the stylist had been so kind, but he felt a connection to this man that felt like it was missing in his life. He'd pursued girls, he'd worked in offices, but he'd never had a real connection. It felt like something he needed to fix.

"Well I usually sell them for three dollars a bottle, but I'll tell you what. If you get one bottle and agree to come have a drink with me later, I'll throw in an extra just cause." The stylist winked as he undid the cape and carefully pulled it clear, though the hair that had fallen before had vanished.

"A drink? Sure, that sounds great! Here, or... some actual place?" Harper chuckled. Even his laugh seemed darker, deeper, and a bit rougher than before. He was truly something special now with his luxurious locks, his thick, well kept beard and his faintly feline attributes starting to creep through.

Smiling and turning away to strut over to a shelf of bottles of various sizes and colors, the stylist straightened out his shirt and pulled down a couple of tannish glass product bottles. "Well, if you're up to it, there is this fun little karaoke bar that I like to frequent on the weekends. Ever hear of the Tin Roof?"

"Just the play, that one with the cat." Harper smirked, "Sounds fun though. What time?"

"Hmmm..." He sauntered over to the tablet by the stations, flipped a few switches on the wall which caused the lights and music to turn off, and turned to look at Harper with a cheshire smile. "Right now work for you?"

****

There was a distinct atmosphere to karaoke bars that other establishments never seemed to have. They were a bit cleaner, a bit brighter. The music was a little over the top and the PA was turned up a bit too high to accommodate the singers, both good and bad, and yet it felt lighter. People were there to have a good time and there wasn't as much focus on misery or procreation that other bars had. Harper opened the door for his compatriot, waiting for him to move through before he reached up and brushed his luxurious blondish hair back over his shoulder. A faint grin crossed his mustached lips, his eyes gleaming with an animal intensity.

The stylist slid in through the door, brushing up against Harper in a playful way before taking a step forward and making a sweeping gesture towards the bar's interior. "Well, what do you think? Look like someplace you can have fun? Unwind a bit?" He stole a glance over to the bar and made a gesture with two fingers, which the Barkeep nodded to and started filling two glasses to hand to a waiter.

"Oh yeah... These places used to intimidate me, but they don't seem that bad. Seems like it could be a fun, especially with you-" Harper froze for a moment, "I never... I never got your name. I'm so sorry." He muttered in embarrassment.

The man laughed and pulled Harper by the arm towards a table near the stage. "I was wondering when you'd get around to asking that. Little caught up in it all weren't you? Well most people call me Chez, though the name's Charlie. You can pick which you like." The stylist grinned as he slid into his seat just in time to be handed a glass of a pale amber liquid. "You got to try this, best cider in the city."

"Well Chez, after your kind gesture, how could I turn anything away?" Harper replied, settling down. He lifted the mug to his lips and tipped it back, a bit of the cider soaking into his mustache. While Harper's personal reality had been warped, he hadn't yet adjusted subconsciously to having such a masculine body.

Chez chuckled and took a long drink of his, mindful of his own facial hair. Letting out a sigh of enjoyment afterwards he looked directly into Harper's eyes, a playful smile about his face. "So tell me, if you didn't like places like this, where did you go out on the weekends?"

"I didn't do much, really. Recovered from work, went to movies alone. Quiet life. What about you? Come here often?" Harper smirked.

"Enough that I know the general flow of things. I like to get up and sing occasionally, and being seen in places like this is good for business. You can get a lot of the cool cats by knowing where they loiter." He took a look around the place, from the people hanging off the bar, to the guy on stage with dreadlocks trying his best to sing Born this way. "Some of the people here are regulars at my salon." He nodded to the bartender, a larger guy who was currently mixing up a cocktail, his long brown hair tied back into a tight ponytail but feathered in the back. "Such as Tommy there, loves to get the curl in his hair flattened out for big events. Says the tight look gets him better tips. I personally think it's the biceps he's barely concealing there. What you think?"

Harper was silent for a moment, looking around the room. It was hard to put his finger on at first. The bar was distinctly male centric, though there were a few women around... But there was something about all that masculinity on display; the muscles, the shoulders, the asses, and especially the long hair. Harper felt a bit hot and bothered, and before long the blunt head of his cock was straining against his pants, bumping the underside of the table. Harper coughed a little and sipped his cider again.

"Good business plan, getting to know your customers... I bet he gets a lot of tips." Harper muttered.

Chez's grin widened, and his foot found its way under the table to brush against Harper's thigh. He had recognised the slight blush on his companion's face and, with a quick glance to the side at one of the tables next to them, leaned in close to whisper. "You know, this isn't just a karaoke bar."

"What? What do you mean?" Harper said, his feline eyes looking less fuzzy and a bit more focused at the proposed mystery. He reached up, brushing his golden locks out of his face again, revealing the pointed tip of his ear.

"Well, it's also one of the districts most pronounced... " His foot traced a line up Harper's leg, and the stylist was very careful not to break eye contact as he watched tiny follicles of hair move out from the man's hairline. Spreading south less than an inch over his forehead and temples, and up over his ears. "Gay bars."

"You mean all these guys here... like guys? Like me?" he asked, though the question twisted in his mind. His desire to be liked was tangling with his view of others, and the men with their sexy hair and bodies were most appealing in ways he had never before considered.

"Yup." Chez pointedly looked to the side, where a two men were kissing at their table in almost a lewd fashion. His eyes snapped back when he heard the faintest of ripping sounds and looked to see that Harper's arms had grown. The stitches around the cuffs of his shirt had strained and split as his biceps and triceps expanded.

Harper was breathing harder, hot breath passing over pert lips, his jaw hanging slightly ajar. It was easy for Chez to see that his canine teeth had elongated and sharpened. Harper looked at the men kissing, the way their lips locked. His skin flushed and his chest heaved and slowly he lifted his own hips, mashing his erection into the underside of the table for the stimulation of pressure it provided.

Chez's foot found its way to Harper's groin, the soft leather of his designer shoes pressing into the orbs of flesh contained underneath. He could feel not only the desire coming off the man in front of him, but his perception altering. The men beside them standing up, both with bulging groins, and headed back towards the rear of the bar. The stylist laid his hand on Harper's, his claws playing over the fuzz they found peeking out from the cuffs. "I hope I'm not being too forward bringing you here so soon. But you were just so... hot. I had to try."

Harper gazed into Chez' eyes as his hand lifted up, fingers curling around one of the long beaded braids of beard dangling from the stylist's chin. He slowly started to stroke the growth before he leaned in and planted a soft, lingering kiss on the man's lips. There was a shock of electricity, a wave of heat and a gentle tingle before he broke the exchange.

"So soon? I like the sound of that, like you had plans for me." He murmured.

Chez breathed out, almost a purr, as he recovered from the kiss. His dark lips parting under his mustache to reveal a very feline grin. "Perhaps I did. Would you say no if I asked for something a little more... intimate?"

"Right here, or did you have somewhere else in mind?" Harper growled. His old self had shattered, forgotten in the dust. He wasn't longing, forlorn in search for a girl. He was a gay man in heat, ready to fuck.

"Oh I like how you think. But I'm sure Tommy wouldn't like us making a mess of his clean floor. Come on." Grabbing Harper by the arm, he pulled him back towards the door the other couple had gone through. Chez's ears twitching in excitement, and some of the guys they passed giving knowing smiles and a couple cat calls. A furry arm even tried reaching out to feel Harper up but was batted away. The door was thick and heavy, with more than a couple claw marks around the handle, and when it was pulled open there was a dimly lit room beyond that smelled very strongly of masculine entanglement.

"Oh fuck, I've never done anything like this before..." Harper panted, looking at Chez, unaware at just how much his life had changed. He leaned in, nuzzling the Stylist's oddly soft neck, practically vibrating with excitement. His pants were straining with need, the groin starting to wet down with the leaking pre coming from Harper's shaft.

"Well I'm more than pleased to be your first then." He pulled the taller man further into the room then pushed him onto a low sitting leather couch. In a similar looking chair next to it were the two from earlier, already sucking face with unbuckled belts and open flies, other than that the room was empty. Chez straddled Harper and leaned over him, smiling like the cat who caught the canary. Quickly licking his nose lightly he sat up and gave a slow grind against the member desperately trying to get out. "You sure you want this? This really is the point of no return."

"I don't want to come back from this..." Harper panted, grinding against Chez, "I want to dive all the way into the deep end. This is the best I-" Harper panted, eyes widening, "The best I've ever felt in my life..."

"In that case." Chez reached down and pulled down the zipper barely containing the meat behind it, then putting a claw underneath the shaft and pulling upwards to tear a hole with which the pole sprang forth, a short spurt of fluid showing how happy it was to be free. He then stood up and slowly unbuckled his own belt, lowered his fly and almost at a snail's pace began to lower his pants. Underneath and behind his tucked in shirt, was a bright purple thong, bulging with his own turgid meat and a thick treasure trail leading up his stomach. His shoes flopped to the floor and he left the pants fall on their own, gracefully stepping out of them. Chez again took his position atop Harper and ground their groins together while going in for another heavy kiss. Grinding his hips further and further up until the shaft rubbing against him flipped underneath and between his legs. His squeezed his thighs around it before suddenly jumping up and getting on the floor to drive his face into the balls underneath. Pulling the shreds of fabric away with his teeth Chez began to liberally apply his tongue to both orbs. Feeling the skin containing each thicken and grow fuzzy. Moving northwards he looked up at Harper as he trailed up the underside of the shaft.

Harper was moaning and growling, writhing and panting in the thrall of such exquisite passion. He arched his back, flexed his fingers and basked in the general warmth. He pulled at Chez, fingers digging into his back, trying to pull them together to grind and hump and fuck. His life had changed in an instant, and one thing had remained constant; Harper never wanted it to go back to the way it had been before.

Taking the shaft into his mouth very rapidly and roughly, Chez bobbed on it a few times, wrapping his tongue around it and adding his own saliva to the now very heavy stream of pre flowing out of his. Breaking off of it with a loud pop he gasped and grinned in a predatory fashion as he made his way back up to straddle Harper for the third time. This time however, he placed the lubed shaft at the cleft of his firm rear and rubbed it a bit, it's entranced blocked by the thong still. "Show me how much you want it."

"What do I have to do? I want it. Oh god, I want it bad!" Harper panted, reaching down, his fingers tugging and pushing at the purple thong, trying to get it to budge or move. Harper was panting, practically drooling into his blondish beard. His cock was throbbing after the oral attention and the young man had only one destination in mind.

Laughing softly, Chez took Harper's hands and hooked the fingers into the thong. Then braced his own hands on Harper's chest and gave a meaningful grind against the pillar demanding entry. "Show me the beast."

Harper let out a growing roar of pleasure and passion and heat, digging in deeper until his fingernails seemed to snag the sheer material. In moments he punctured through and the band snapped, flinging the garment away, releasing the stylist's body for Harper to see in its full glory.

A shaft just a little above average sprang forth, a heavy foreskin that almost pulled back further upon it's release, leaking it's own steady stream of fluid. Chez arched his back when the fabric snapped, pushing himself back onto Harper with a growl. Sinking down to the hilt in one fluid motion. His walnut sized balls sitting upon harper's abs, the soft fuzz covering them mixing in with the growing treasure trail making it ways to the larger man's navel. After they had sat like that for a moment, Chez began to lift himself up, the mix of pre and spit giving it just enough lubrication to move freely, but still giving just the right amount of friction. When the shaft threatened to pop out he swiftly lowered himself back onto it, gasping out and snarling in pleasure. "Hope this feels as good for you as it does for me."

Harper was unable to respond audibly, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as his fingers dug into Chez' hips and he started to fuck up into the tight ass, working faster and harder, trying to build the pressure and the friction both. It was beyond words, beyond anything he had ever experienced... and the hunger was only growing.

Chez braced himself by grabbing his partners shoulders, keeping his ass stationery by putting a foot on the couch, moaning loudly as the man beneath him thrust and pounded into him. His shaft leaking heavily onto the shirt still straining to keep it's growing occupant contained. He saw the stains forming and chuckled, almost breathlessly he said "Hope that shirt wasn't expensive."

"Fuck it. You're the only thing that matters." Harper growled, leaning to nip and suck at Chez' neck as he fucked him, moving to kiss and nuzzle the dangling braids of beard beneath his well groomed chin.

"Oh, well in that case!" Chez reached down and ripped the shirt open, revealing the firm and defined chest underneath, the hair thickening over it to the point you could nearly call it fur. He then pushed Harper back against the couch and bent over with amazing flexibility to latch onto one of the man's nipples. Rubbing his hands over Harper's abs he found several sensitive points that could almost be called the same. Almost, but not quite yet. The stylist knew there were still a few events that needed to happen before his prize was won, and one of them was moments from happening. He could feel the man tensing below him, the friction, pressure, and scent of it all finally tipping him over the edge.

Chez quickly felt himself climb that plateau at the knowledge and gave a loud snarl with a full body spasm as he shot first over the man's abs, then up to his neck and then even higher. The shots were thick and erupted with enough force to make audible splattering noises as the pearlescent strings landed across Harper's golden beard, webbing across curls and strands of the bristled hair. It was the finest compliment of soft and firm. Yet still he ground back into the thrusts, even as his body shuddered from his orgasm, he was determined to make Harper's the best he'd ever had.

Harper tried to hold on, to last longer, but the smell of the heady, masculine cum was too much to resist. He threw his head back and let out a resounding roar that startled the room's other occupants as his cock erupted with an intense flood of man spunk, pouring deep into Chez' hungry hole.

The two men jumped a bit, one wincing immediately afterwards as he had been bouncing on his partners cock, facing away from him to watch the show beside them. Chez clenched his eyes shut at the flood of hot fluid rushing into him, almost knocking him into a second orgasm. His body still twitching from his first. When the spurts died down he opened his eyes and leaned down to lick some of his own from Harper's beard, then laid down over top of him. Grinning as he felt the ragged breaths of his companion. Idly twirling his fingers through the longer beard, he nuzzled into the neck behind it and whispered. "I knew you'd be fun."

****

With a chime the elevator doors opened, rumbling out of the way, but the occupant inside wasn't quite ready to step out. Harper had sprawled against the back of the lift, rolling the pressure from one of his broad shoulders to the other. His weekend had come and gone, but his confidence had remained. His larger body had required a new wardrobe, and what he found was form fitting and showing off his impressive muscles. His tawny golden hair cascaded down across his shoulder blades and part way down his back while his rich, full golden beard was bushy and luxuriously long.

The man that had once been run down by life, feeling inconsequential had been reborn. He stepped through the elevator doors, finding them almost too small to accommodate his large frame. He strode with purpose, a single stride taking him several previous paces. His hair swung as he moved, catching the brilliant light of day as he moved toward his old cubicle.

Many of his co-workers turned to look at him, some in awe, many in almost fright at the man striding through their office. More than a few did double takes as it took them a minute to recognise the man underneath it all. No one said a word however as he strode past, the majority too shocked to do so. Once he had passed through, a storm of whispers erupted. About his appearance, about his hair, about his nerve and even about how good he looked. Only one had something to say to him directly, and it was the someone no one wanted to talk to.

Standing just over the dividers was a balding head that was currently red with fury, gazing daggers at the man passing through the aisles only a few from where he stood. The head immediately turned and started to follow Harper, calling out his name in a voice full of anger and played up authority. Harper slowed to a stop, a playful grin on his lips before predatory eyes turned back. He pivoted slowly on his heels, having already pictured this moment in his head a thousand times.

After catching up to him, and slightly out of breath for having pointedly stomped his way over, the middle-aged man glared up at the monolith before him, pretending to be unfazed by the height difference. "Harper, explain yourself!"

"Explain myself?" Harper parroted back, looking up at the ceiling in thought which only showed his beard off in its full, lengthy glory, "I am a man... A man with needs, with desires. I am not a cog in a machine. I am a predator looking out across the savannah, ready to hunt, to breed, to prowl. I have no problem working with others, but I will not be shoe horned into being a paper doll cutout strung together with corporate red tape." Harper replied, his voice deep and resounding, "Is that a good enough explanation?" he asked, looking down at the balding man.

The corner of the man's mouth pulled up in a mix of confusion and disgust, clearly he hadn't understood half of what Harper had been trying to say. Instead he just shook his head then pointed a finger threateningly up at the man towering over him. "Now you look here, I have warned you before about this blatant disregard of the dress policy." He wasn't actually sure if he had or not, he often made a point to get on people's cases about the smallest of infractions to prove his authority, but he never cared to remember any instance. "And if you don't march down right now and clean up that mess you're calling your head, then you can count yourself lucky if a demotion to the mail-room is ALL you get."

"There's only one mess I have to clean up. The mess that I once considered a life." Harper said, taking one step over to his cubicle. He took hold of one of the panels covering it and gave it a good tear, sending all the documentations and certifications skidding to the floor. With a turn he did the same to the other side, sending it all clattering down. From the cascade of chaos, he reached down and picked up one tiny four by four inch picture. It had been one of the only personal items he'd been allowed to keep. While one side was rather non-descript, the other had shown a picture of himself at a younger age before he had been repressed. Now the difference was even more striking between punk kid and behemoth of a man. Harper turned, moving back toward the elevator.

"Oh, and Philbert, you can use my vacation time as my two weeks notice." Harper grinned, stepping into the elevator as another occupant squeezed out of it.

****

Harper stood outside on the street corner, feeling the wind whip through his long, beautiful hair and beard. His shirt was hugging his pecs and his abs, his jeans sloped around his muscular ass cheeks. He'd seen guys and girls taking photos of him as if he was some sort of poster boy, but his eyes were locked on the metal and glass door that partitioned off the shop from the rest of reality. His job had ended, his life was in question. Why was it that he had come to a barber shop? Maybe it offered some semblance of peace and safety? He reached out and opened the door, moving in out of the noisy street and into the safe space that he had come to know so well.

The music today was a sprightly gaelic tune played on some form of pipe, bringing a lively energy to the salon that Chez was currently taking advantage of. A comb in his mouth he was carefully braiding another clients beard, weaving some carved wooden beads in. The man looked up at the door opening and adopted an expression of genuine surprize. He pinched the strands in one of the hands, one of them wrapped around a claw, then removed the comb to wave it and smile. "Hey there! Wasn't expecting ya. Especially so early. Just finishing up, be with you in a second." He motioned to the chairs along the far side of the wall, and turned back to the project at hand to finish up the late inch. At a station a few down from Chez another stylist was at work, currently trimming the hair covering another client's ears, occasionally telling the man to stop flicking them unless he wants them trimmed as well.

Somewhere in the back of Harper's mind, he could feel that something was different, that something was wrong - but not wrong, so much as unexpected. He closed his eyes and leaned back on one of the smaller waiting room chairs. It wasn't wrong, it felt comfortable. Everything about Chez and his place, the other patrons, it all fit perfectly. He was at home. When Harper's feline eyes opened again and he looked from client to client, he wondered if there was any chance he might be good at cutting hair, working on styles and helping men feel good about themselves. It was almost too good to ask for after giving up his own job, but at least the fantasy helped to ease the stress for a moment.

The second stylist stole an occasional glance back at Harper, chuckling and mouthing words to Chez, who would shush him in a fashion similar to a gossiping school girl. It was only a minute or two before the man was finished and Chez went through the ceremony of revealing the work, asking questions about how it looked, then removing the cape. It wasn't long before he had paid and was leaving, letting Harper see that even the tuft on his tail has been braided. Before he could contemplate this however his view was blocked by the slim fitted kilt that Chez had decided to wear that day, as the man leaned down to rest his hands on the chairs rests. "So handsome, what brings you in today?" Harper slowly tilted his hips, trying to bring his own groin to brush against Chez' kilt, blushing beneath the fuzz on his cheeks.

"I quit my job... I'm a wild man, a crazy man, but despite all that chaos I had to come see you." Harper murmured. The stylist's expression dropped, and he tenderly caressed Harper's cheek.

"Oh honey I'm so sorry about your job." His fingers dug into the man's beard, finding the jawline underneath and cupping it. He used the grip to guide Harper close, letting their lips meet for a gentle kiss then looked into his eyes. "But being wild and crazy isn't a bad thing, I certainly enjoy it."

"Fuck... I love being wild for you... You drive me crazy, and I love it. You're electric." Harper panted, "Any chance you need help around the shop here?" he smirked.

Once again the stylist's face adopted his grin as he gripped Harper's beard and pulled him up out of the chair. "There is certainly something I need help with at the moment, and I have no doubt that you are more than qualified to fill the position." Maintaining his grip he began walking towards the curtain that blocked off the door to the back, casually glancing over at the other stylist. "I'll be in the back if you need me."

The other stylist gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes but tried to hide the bulge in his pants by pressing in the back of the chair where his client was unabashedly watching the two walk past, the smock showing a large tent in his lap. Harper followed, having eyes only for Chez. He liked being led around by the beard, feeling those fingers in that thick manly hair. Soon he was practically chuffing, his hips swaying a little bit in satisfaction as he looked around at what had been hidden at the back of the shop.

For the most part it was the same as any store room for a business; shelves filled with boxes of supplies and products, a sink for cleaning tools and a small washing machine for the towels and capes. A small section was also arranged to be an effective break room, with a couple chairs and a short table. It was towards the table that Harper was pulled, Chez leaning back against it before wrapping his free arm around his captive's shoulder and dragging him close for a deep kiss. The man's tongue wrestled with Harper's, pulling it further and further out to grapple in a space that got larger as his face pushed out in a feline muzzle.

The kiss got more dangerous and far more feral as Harper's teeth stretched into fangs, growing taller and wider, taking up more jaw space... but that wasn't an issue as the human's jaw elongated and widened. The beard that had been so thick and full started to generalize outward, blending up around his eyes and down his throat. The fuzz on his ears grew down and around the side of his neck, and his entire body started to tingle.

Harper let out grunts and chuffs as he kissed his lover, feeling his heart racing wildly. He was so turned on that he felt like heaven itself. The hand that had been gripping his beard slipped out to work it's way down to unbutton his shirt, playing with the increasingly thick coat of fur underneath. Once undone the shirt was pulled aside and Chez wrapped his arms around Harpers waist to pull him tightly in, grinding his groin against the larger mans, both of their arousals present behind their cloth prisons. Though not for long as with a deft motion the belt holding the kilt up comes undone and Chez leans back against the table again, panting slightly but looking down pointedly at his groin for a moment before staring up into Harper's eyes.

"I could have just slapped our cocks together beneath your kilt." Harper smirked, though his voice was far deeper than before. The sly grin he wore looked more menacing on the leonine muzzle that had pushed out, causing his eyes to take on a more exotic twist to the ducts as well. He licked his lips slowly, looking at Chez like he was some piece of Filet Mignon.

"And stain the fabric? Not happening!" Chez laughed as he pulled it out from underneath him, tossing it into a chair. He grabbed hold of Harper's head and pulled him in, guiding his muzzle under his furry sack. The stylist's hands gripped and rubbed just behind the man's ears as they migrated further north on his head, losing the many folds and curls to become larger triangular shaped nearly hidden his in mane. The member that filled Harper's eyes stood tall and erect outside it's sheath, standing pink with several nubs around the head and leaking heavily.

A sandpapery feline tongue began lapping at the thick shaft, contending with the barbs and the flesh and the pre in one painful, pleasurable, addictive soup. Before long Harper took the shaft in deep and began bobbing his longer muzzle, letting the shaft glide over his sharp fangs in an intimate and dangerous embrace.

"Oh goodness you are good at that!" Chez purred as he leaned forward, his hips jerking slightly. He released his grip on the man's head to reach down and coax him to take off his shirt completely, mimicking the action himself. Once fully bare he slid further up on the table and guided Harper's face further down, enticing him to use his tongue. The smaller man's legs spread and he wrapped them over his lover's shoulders, enjoying the sensation of their fur rubbing up against each other.

Harper lapped and suckled on the lionine cock, his muzzle milking the shaft for all it was worth. His hand traced up and down on Chez' stomach. As he did, his fingernails darkened and stretched out, growing darker and darker as they curved into claws. The golden fur on his arms spread out across the back of his hands, wrapping around the fingers.

The stylist groaned and writhed on the table, not concerned with the noise he was making, nor the fact that they were only about twenty feet from the other two in the building. As he felt himself getting close he pushed Harper off his cock and pulled him up for a kiss, one hand firmly gripping the mane hanging hanging of his chin, the other reaching down to undo his belt and fly. The claws nearly ripping through the cloth when they met resistance, but finally able to fish out the prize underneath.

The action of pushing the garment further down in front was mirrored in the back as a new limb began to push it's way out of Harper's spine. Thick and sinewy, the tail lengthened until it brushed the floor than pulled up, as long as the man's leg and covered in the supple fur that had completely shrouded his upper torso. The phallus in Chez' hand gained a touch more girth before darkening to a deep red color. The skin at the base folding in on itself to become a sheath that most likely wouldn't be used for a while, and the sack beneath sprouting it's own coat of soft tawny fur.

Harper continued to suckle and slurp, bobbing his head as his growing tail whipped around behind him. His body was finally coming into its own as his fur covered every last stretch of flesh. His pointed ears flattened against his head, his changing shaft pulsed and his heart raced inside his chest. Chez growled in pleasure, arching his back and roughing pulling back. He spun around and slipped off the table, bending over it and lifting his tail up and to the side. His playful, taunting smile was betrayed by the look of need in his eyes, and of the twitching of the ring of muscle beneath his tail.

With Chez bent over like that, looking so inviting, Harper let out a deep, resounding growl. Every synapse in his male dominated mind told him he had but one choice. He sprung forward, plunging his newly minted lion cock into the pulsating ring and thrust deep. He lingered only a moment before he pulled back and started thrusting again, ramming in time after time in the depths of his apparent boyfriend. Clawed paws roamed all over Chez' back and sides, feeling every inch of him.

The stylist gasped at the sudden and forceful intrusion, but groaned in bliss as he rocked back to meet the thrusts, his tail wrapping around to twist around Harper's. He moaned and gripped the table tight enough to dig his claws into the wood, but in a voice barely above a whisper he breathed "Yeah... harder..." all the while pushing back roughly against the male pounding him. He clenched his muscles tightly, squeezing and attempting to milk the member as much as he could.

Harper's eyes squeezed shut as he kept thrusting, moving faster and harder, leaning over his lover's back. Harper finally felt like he was wanted, needed, like he was part of something. He started thrusting with more effort until soon the entire table was lurching under the impact of their powerful, fuzzy bodies. Even Harper's toes were curling and uncurling from the lustful pleasure, his shoes starting to strain and struggle to contain the growing flesh inside. The seams started to pop and tear before fuzzy toes burst forth.

Chez barely registered the sounds of the shoes erupting, far more concerned with the buggering he was getting. The buggering he had worked so hard to arrange, had waited for just the right guy to come along to give him. His eyes were rolling up into his head as his prostate was assaulted again and again. The pressure was building, the crescendo of all his work and the pleasure his lover was giving him. A faint whine began in the back of his throat, growing into quick shouts of pleasure as his body began to spasm. He felt the dams break, both the final strand that connected Harper to his old life, as well as the floodgate of his orgasm which rocketed out of his member to paint the table beneath them white. He roughly arched his back and pressed his head against Harper's as he gave a loud roar of pleasure, gripping the larger lion's arm tightly.

Feeling Chez' muscles quiver and pulse around his cock, it was the last straw. Harper threw his head back and let out a lion's roar that rattled the windows and the jars of scissors throughout the entire shop. His newly changed shaft let loose thick, musky lion cum, splashing and spraying it deep into Chez' depths in pump after pump of manly power. Harper took one last big thrust into his stylist's ass, grinding deep as he held himself there.

The two of them stayed like that for several minutes, each breathing heavily as the rush of endorphins slowly died down. Every twitch and shake sent a pulse of pleasure through them and it wasn't until Chez' arms became tired of holding his position that they moved. Standing up straight and slowly pulling himself off Harper, the shorter male turned and nuzzled up into him, guiding the man into a chair to catch his breath. The stylist tenderly sat in his lap and leaned on his shoulder, smiling coyly up at him. "Mmm, that was fun, but shouldn't you be getting to class? That license isn't going to earn itself you know. And if you wanna do more than sweep the floors and balance the books you're going to have to get it. Though... " He crawled up to straddle Harper, snuffling around his beard. "I wouldn't mind having you here just for this!"

"But school's important, even if everyone keeps oggling me." Harper muttered softly. The words had come easier than the thought, but after a slight moment it seemed right again, as if it was the way it was meant to be. His terrible job was long behind him and a new life of training to be a stylist unfurled before him. He was thankful that he could visit his boyfriend between classes and that they could share a good fuck session so close to campus.

"Well that's just cause you sport one of my amazing stylings!" Chez ruffles Harper's mane teasingly. "As well as being such a studmuffin. Now come on, let's get cleaned up before Felix finished up with his appointment and decides he wants to join us." He stood up, giggling a bit as his legs wobbled underneath him, and grabbed some wipes to clean up the table while tossing a towel to Harper. When the table had been wiped, extra attention applied to the numerous claw marks in the wood, the stylist slipped his kilt back on and straightened his shirt. While making sure his paw-wraps were firmly tied he watched Harper dress himself and couldn't help but playfully tug on his tail. Harper smirked at that, bearing his fangs in a playful manner, completely content to life life one day at a time and to take pride in everything he did, especially Chez.