Billy and the Goon - 23. Chapter 23

Billy was in the drug store. This was one of those small, old fashioned, family-owned drug stores, really just a storefront in the downtown area. He could have used the pharmacy at the hospital, but this was usually faster. Besides, his family knew the owners so had been coming here for years.

He was waiting by the pharmacy desk to pick up a prescription, when a voice said, “I think you want to go through that doorway and up those stairs.”

Billy didn’t turn around. He knew the prescription wouldn’t be ready for a while, so he could play.

He also knew there were offices upstairs and a storeroom. There was another storeroom in the basement. Over the years, employees had told him, “Let me run upstairs and see what we have,” or “Let me go downstairs and get that for you.” But he’d never been in either place.

Now, he was stretched naked, face-up, on the floor and blindfolded with his tie. One of his wrists was tied to a desk leg – he could feel the square shape, and the other was fastened on a cord to some place unknown. His ankles were free, but the goon was planted between his legs, so Billy couldn’t bring them together.

And it seemed the goon had picked up some supplies along the way: he soon covered Billy with shaving cream from his neck to his nuts.

They’d really never discussed body hair, other than the goon liked it.

“Makes some guys a guy.”

Billy had some, not heavy, but he also liked it. It made his body smooth. Occasionally, he’d trim back a bit of it. But he’d never thought of taking it all off.

One of his friends once said, “I really want to shave your pubes and balls.”

“You really want to take off my balls,” Billy had replied, laughing. “Pop psychology. You always complain that I’m in charge.”

He wasn’t talking sexually. This was a friend he’d known from grade school, and Billy was their natural leader.

“Nah. I just hate getting your damn curlies in my teeth.”

Billy had laughed again. He knew what his friend meant. And one of the pleasures of their long relationship had been the discovery they each lusted for each other – which had been easily fixed.

Still, he’d never let even this close a friend shave him, but now it seemed he had no choice.

The goon wasn’t overly hairy, either. Except for the height, their bodies were pretty interchangeable. And Billy liked sliding over that hair – it was a natural lubricant. Smooth was great, too, but not stubbly. And shaving required constant attention.

“Oh, well,” he thought. “It’ll grow back.” And he remembered one of his grandfather’s old jokes.

“What’s the difference between a good haircut and a bad one?”

“What?” young Billy had asked.

“Three days.”

And they’d laughed together, though Billy hadn’t really understood

As expected, the goon was quickly done. And after Billy’s chest, pubes, and balls, he went on to everything else below his neck. There was barely any hair on his arms anyway, and none on his ass or back. Then he wiped Billy down with a warm cloth – there must have been a sink somewhere, poked Billy perfunctorily with a shaving cream lubed thumb, tweaked his nipples – maybe for luck – untied Billy’s wrists, seemingly stood, called “Next,” and left. Billy could hear steps.

When he took his blindfold off, he wasn’t surprised to find himself in the dark. That was the goon’s usual trick. He moved slowly in the unfamiliar room but had felt where the desk was and worked his way to a lamp. In that light, he saw a wall and a nearby wall switch, and he turned on the overheads.

He was almost afraid to look down. He’d be back in pre-teenage city. No body hair? Twelve? Younger? The big difference now was he was worked out.

“It’ll grow back,” he repeated – aloud – in reassurance. Then he simply sighed and looked.

The big surprise was he was intact. Every hair was shiny but in place. The goon had shaved without a blade.