All for Nona - Chapter 2

All for Nona

2. Suck or Blow

Porter was surprised when he landed on what he thought was a pile of feathers. He half expected to break both legs after dropping into the black, bottomless hole. Instead, it seemed like he only fell a few feet and now sat on a soft mound that smelled vaguely of shampoo. He stood up and brushed himself off. Looking down, he saw he had landed in a hill of hair. Brown strands, blond curls, black locks and red tufts were piled waist high beneath him. Porter shrugged.

“I’ll take that over broken legs,” he said.

The buff young man looked around his new surroundings as he waded out of the hair mound. He was in a big, brightly lit room with a tiled floor. Mirrors, cabinets, and empty barber chairs lined the side walls. At the far end he could see a door, but no windows. The smell of hair care products filled the air. Looking up he saw the hole that he fell through. It was much higher than he expected.

“Hey! Asshole!” he yelled up to the hole. “I’m fine. Looks like Nona went downstairs to get a haircut!”

“Can I help you?” said a curt voice.

Porter jumped and then looked down at the source of the question. A stout little woman wearing pointed glasses smiled up at him. She wore a polka-dot dress that barely contained her ample bosom, and her hair was made up into a pink beehive that reached more than a foot over her head.

“Oh, uh, sure,” said Porter. “Did you see a girl fall out of that hole?”

“I saw you fall,” the woman said. “You don’t look like a girl to me. Did you want to change that?”

“What? No!” said Porter. “I’m looking for a girl. She lives upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” the woman asked, eyebrows raised high. “This studio is only one level. There is no upstairs.”

“Well, what about that hole?” Porter pointed upwards.

“What hole?” the woman asked.

Porter looked at the ceiling and saw only a hanging fan gently spinning. His jaw hung loose.

“Why don’t you have a seat, dear? You may have bumped your head when you fell. Just sit here and I’ll make sure everything comes out fine.”

Porter allowed himself to be guided to the nearest barber chair and sat down. He kept glancing back at the ceiling, hoping to find the missing hole. Dumbfounded, he pulled out his cell phone.

“This is too weird,” he said. “I’m just gonna call her. If she’s trying to get rid of me she ought to just say so.”

After a few rings his call was put into voicemail.

“Nona? It’s Porter,” he said. “Look, I’m downstairs in the beauty parlor that I didn’t know your building has. Just give me a call, okay?”

The little woman stood next to Porter with a curious expression.

“Nona?” she asked. “I had no idea you were friends!”

“What, you know her?!”

“Of course!” the woman clapped. “I’m sure she’d love me to give you a little trim!”

“Huh?”

“Why, just sit back, dear,” the woman said. “I’ll make sure you look perfect for Miss Nona! On the house, of course!”

Porter shrugged and leaned back.

“What the hell,” he said as an apron was tossed over his lap.

Jaylen gasped as he splashed into a pool of cold liquid. Caught completely by surprise, he flailed underwater for several seconds before swimming to the surface. He choked and spat out the oily liquid that he inadvertently swallowed while keeping himself afloat. Through teary eyes he spotted the edge of the pool and slowly stroked his way there.

“Gah! What is that stuff?!” he coughed and sputtered once he was back on dry land. He continued gagging for a few minute before he felt under control again.

Trying to wipe the slick liquid off his face by hand did not work, so Jaylen tried his sleeve, but it was equally slippery. He sniffed his fingers.

“Is that…no, why would her neighbors have a pool of sex lubricant?”

He tried to stand, but he slipped several times on his goo-covered shoes. Finally, with knees wobbling on the floor and his hands splayed in front of him, Jaylen panted in defeat.

“This is ridiculous,” he said. “Right, well, I’m not finding Nona like this.”

Jaylen carefully sat down and, after several slips, managed to pull off his oily shoes and socks. Satisfied that he could stand, he looked around. He was in a large, elaborate bathroom suite, tiled with elegant rosy marble. Now that he looked back at the pool, he realized it was only an in-ground Jacuzzi.

“Huh? No way was that thing big enough for me to swim in,” he said.

He tried to walk back to inspect the Jacuzzi, but his first foot flew forward, causing him to land on his ass with an “Oomph!”

“Grr. This gunk’s dripping all over the place,” said Jaylen.

It was true. The oily liquid seemed to permeate every fiber of his clothes. It dripped freely down his arms and legs, forming slippery little puddles wherever he went.

“I don’t have time for this,” he told himself. “But I’m not going anywhere covered in lubricant, either.”

With difficulty Jaylen removed his clothes. When he got to his boxers he paused.

“Ugh. Well, there’s a shower right here, soo…”

He took off his underwear and slowly shuffled to a glass enclosed shower, careful not to slip again. The water quickly warmed up, and he closed his eyes under the steamy spray. First he scrubbed his hair with a bubbling green gel of what smelled like ladies’ shampoo. Next, he found a bar of purple soap and lathered up everywhere else. His skin tingled as the oily liquid slowly washed away. As he cleaned the water got hotter and the stall grew steamy. Looking down through the warm cloud he noticed some goo still coated his privates.

“Gotta wash off down there, too, I guess,” he said.

With soapy hands he gently washed his sack, then began stroking the slick liquid off his dangling member. His flaccid, seven inch cock immediately began to respond to the attention. Tired from a long night of partying, and relaxed by the hot, flowing water, Jaylen began to enter a dreamy state. His mind wandered, and it found images of sexy women lying all around his subconscious. In no time at all his cock grew to its full ten inches. He began stroking in earnest. It was too heavy to stand up straight on its own, so he used both hands to lift it and tug at the same time. A few minutes into his personal massage his wandering mind stumbled over some pictures of Nona and suddenly he remembered she was missing. Too far along to stop, he began pumping faster with both hands and within seconds he was gushing his own thick white goo all over the shower wall.

Still tired, but far less distracted, Jaylen was ready to get back to his quest. He quickly rinsed off again and once he was satisfied, he left the shower to do the same to his oily clothes. He collected the slimy articles and plopped them into a sink. Steam partly clouded the vanity mirror in front of him, leaving only his eyes reflecting back at him. Jaylen took up his wet shirt and gave it a thorough twist to squeeze out as much water as he could. Then, to his shock and surprise, he watched as the fabric first ripped, then disintegrated in his hands.

“Huh?!” Jaylen gasped while staring at his now empty hands.

He picked up his pants and they stretched apart like melted taffy until they, too disappeared. Without so much as a touch, the rest of his clothes vanished the same way.

“What the heck was in that tub?!” said Jaylen.

Then a frightening thought occurred to him. He quickly checked his arms and chest to make sure the strange liquid did not begin eating at his skin. He sighed as he found no sign of rash or damage. Then another fright entered his mind. He looked at his groin.

“Pfew!” he sighed again, “everything looks okay down there, too.”

But as he finished those words he realized that something did, indeed, look different.

“My pubes!” he gasped. “And my legs!”

In fact, it affected all of his body. From toe to neck, Jaylen’s body was as smooth and hairless as a baby’s bottom. Raising an eyebrow, he quickly rubbed away the steam from the mirror. He frowned at what he saw.

“Oh, man!” he groaned, “Not the goatee! That’ll take months to grow back right!”

Jaylen did a double take in the mirror, and realized that his eyebrows were much thinner than normal. He felt around his head, but fortunately his hair there seemed unchanged.

“Okay, enough of this,” he said to his reflection.  “Time to find Nona.”

A warm, wet towel covered Porter’s face. Delicate, yet strong fingers massaged his scalp. He felt totally at ease. Slowly he awoke from a pleasant dream into a world of complete relaxation.

“Awake, dear?” his stylist asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I am,” said Porter followed by a yawn. “How much longer, do you think?”

“Oh, we’re almost done. I was just putting some product in your hair and now I’ll give you one last blow.”

The sound of a hairdryer ignited. Hot air blasted Porter’s hair and neck. Then, the little woman unsnapped his smock and blew the dryer up and down his arms, across his chest, and all the way down his legs. Porter had to admit it felt nice, even if it was a little strange. Next, the stylist twirled the warm towel off Porter’s face with a flourish. At last, she tilted the barber chair forward so he could see himself in the mirror.

“What do you think?” she asked.

It took Porter a moment to realize that he was looking at his own reflection. When it finally dawned on him, his eyes rolled and he fixed the beehived stylist with an angry stare.

“What the fuck is this?!” he said.

“Well, there’s no need for profanity,” she responded with a huff. “It’s the best I could do with what I had. Besides the product I rubbed in takes a little while to work.”

“The wha?” Porter said. “Lady, I look like a girl!”

Of course, that was not true, but the little hair stylist did her best not to point that out. The truth was, Porter now had a lovely head of platinum blond, curly hair that reached down to his shoulders, with thick bangs hanging just over his eyes. The bangs hid his now delicately plucked eyebrows, which on their own had little effect, but thanks to a modest application of eyeshadow and a little foundation, Porter’s face did look slightly softer.

Porter stood up and his hand instinctively scratched his crotch. Suddenly, a new look of disgust twisted his face.

“Did you shave my balls?!”

“Of course not!” the stylist cried out.

Porter raised an eyebrow.

“That was what the blow dryer was for,” she continued. “And the facial cream. Really, sir, it’s like you’ve never been to our salon!”

“I, I, aagh!” Porter wished the stylist was a man. Then he might have someone to punch. As it was, he never hit women. He might choke them sometimes, but only when they asked and never for more than a couple of seconds. Right now he was so frustrated he could choke himself.

Porter stormed out of the salon without another word, leaving the stylist angrily watching as he went.

“How rude!” she exclaimed. “He really should learn some manners! I can’t imagine how he and Ms. Nona could be friends.  I think I’ll give Ms. Royal a call, just to be sure!”

Jaylen exited the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. He found himself in a wide, many-doored hallway, whose walls were decorated with huge, garishly framed paintings. And every one featured large penises (and sometimes the men they were attached to). Jaylen wrinkled his nose at the sight and tip-toed away. The hall opened to an open living space, with a lavish dining area, state-of-the-art kitchen, and sunken, hi-tect entertainment room. More paintings hung everywhere, all with the same theme as the others. Phallic sculptures also sat on end tables and less artistic (but festively colored) dildos adorned shelves in the dining room. In fact, the more Jaylen looked around the more penises he saw in every detail of the expensive décor, from upholstery designs to wine glasses.

“Wow, they are really committed to their theme!” he whispered to himself.

Jaylen felt like an intruder. It did not help that entering a stranger’s home, stealing their towel and gawking at all their stuff was exactly the kind of thing an intruder might do. Just the same, he had every intention of returning the towel (anonymously) once this night was over. Then, as he neared the front door, he spotted something that made him stop in awe. Beside the door, on an antic mahogany table, in a Tiffany glass bowl, was a generous pile of blow pops.

Jaylen pulled a lollipop out of the bowl to examine it.

“Well, what do you know?” he whispered. “A normal, penis-less pop.”

Then a sound from the hall nearly made his heart stop. A door clicked open. Footsteps clomping down the hall came next. Jaylen ducked down. Without something nearby to hide behind the ducking was purely symbolic, but he was not accustomed to sneaking in other people’s homes. When he heard what sounded like the bathroom door shut he felt his heart beating again. He remained still. Then a loud blast of gas echoed from the bathroom. Jaylen took that as a sign that the occupant would be busy for a while and exited the apartment.

When he shut the door behind him he realized three things. First, he was still holding the lollipop. Second, his towel slipped off when he was inside the apartment. And third, he was not in Nona’s apartment building any longer.