"It totally baffles me, Lad! Despite havin' had no formal training, ye'd been a paragon of shearing efficiency! Thet performance couldn't-o taken more then a dozen passes at most!"

"Only a measly 11, Captn'!", Mos exclaimed. "Thet's a sector record!"

"Focking amazing! I'll say this, Lad", the Captain opined, "natural talent notwithstanding, ye must-o had some other motivation as well! The resoluteness with which ye acted, not ta mention yer snarlin' expression, had been too cranked ta think otherwise. Am I wrong?"

No reply.

"Errr,... Lad? I asked ye a question?"

Still no reply.

"Yoo hoo! Lad?"

Still nothing.

"Lad!?"

"What?", I blurted, breaking my fixation on Justine's scalp, which I'd been working over with a straight-razor!

"What's the skinny on yer motivation, Lad?"

"Huh?"

"Ye'd worked them shears like Bubba did a crowd! Fast and oh-so convincingly! With sizzle and punch! What was yer incentive?"

"N-Nothing special", I fibbed, not wanting to let on that I simply couldn't wait to see the girl shaved bald! The whole idea simply made me giddy. Who the fuck knows why?

"Whimper! Sob! Whinny! Snort!"

I razored like a Maestro conducts --- swiping arrogantly --- with brusque, flagrant strokes --- removing not just Justine's hair, but any remnant of individuality to boot! A shiny scalp would forever stamp her as a Hauler --- just as plainly as the mark on her ass, and between her boobs ( Oops! That's slated for a future story! )!

Elbow grease gushed.

So did consternation on the receiving end.

"Boo! Hoo! Hoo! Glub! Na-a-a-ag--g-gg--gah-pzft!" Snort! Whinny! Pant! Pant!"

"Pt-t-t-t-t-th-h-t-t-t-t-t-t-hpft! Drool! Sob! Glub! Glub! Drool! Whinny!"

But it wasn't my fault! Heck! Blame it on hormones!

"Don't let yerselves be taken in by the sobbin' and sniveling, Boys!", the Captain eloquently harped. "A barber's task is to make ponygirl-life easier --- whether a mare likes it or not! And conciderin' all the toil and burden a Hauler faces, hairlessness is next ta Bubba-ness! Wait and see, this filly will be thankin' us in spades!!"

"There!", I exclaimed, stepping back to admire my handiwork. "Finished!"

My cohorts seemed delighted.

"Now thet's what I call ballin' the Jack!", Mos lauded. "Congratulations, Lad! I've seen senior-thesis' not as impressive!

"Ah-hyulk! Mighty slick, Partner! No pun intended. Ah-hyulk!"

"Bald at last! Bald at last! Thank Bubba almighty, she's bald at last!", added the Captain. "And may I say, Lad, thet was a gilt-edged exhibition!"

Justine softly wept as we huddled around --- inspecting up close --- touching --- tweaking --- groping everything --- her big-toe jewelry --- tattooed soles --- flinching haunches --- scourged bum --- hairless labia --- bejeweled clitoris --- ringed belly-button --- heaving ribcage --- jutted A-cups --- bullet-nipples --- whorish sleighbells --- criss-crossed arms --- wincing shoulders --- graceful neck --- door-knocker nose-ring --- exposed ears --- and, of course, utterly bald scalp!

The air was dewy with an explicit female odor. A stew of glandular out-pouring --- saliva, tears, sweat, girl-musk, even a couple of squirts of,... oh heck,... you get the picture! It all rained down!

And remember those floor drains?

My dick had become a Louisville Slugger; nuts were hardballs! Inexplicably, Justine looked ten times more alluring to me with a shaved head! I was cranked to the max! Or at least I thought I was! Then the Captain uttered his next proclamation --- which caused my dick to lurch so violently, it nearly threw by back out!

"Nyuk! Nyuk! "Don't ferget about them eyebrows", he chortled. "Then we'll get her buffed and harnessed!

That's when it hit me! We'd only just scratched this fetish's surface! I was on the threshold of a mystery tour, and the Captain just bum-rushed me past Go! ( and I'd didn't even get the $200! )

"D-Did you s-say,... harnessed?"

"Yah indeedy", the Captain nonchalantly replied. "Jimmy, go pick out a nice one, will ye?"

"Ah-hyulk! Yah, Sir!"

"W-Wha-dah-yah mean, h-h-harnessed?", I persisted. "And, for t-that matter, did you s-say s-something about her eyebrows?"

"Well,... errr,... harnessed means,... errr,... harnessed! And I meant,... ye should go ahead and shave-off her eyebrows. Capish?"

"I can d-do t-that?", my voice jumped two octaves.

"Are ye joking with us, Lad?", the Captain quizzed back.

Mos stepped up, studying my befuddled expression.

"I don't fathom he is, Captn'! Not a fockin' bit! We've gotta remember, despite actin' like graduate-student, the Lad's still a fockin' freshman!"

"Bubba, Monica, and Joseph! Thet's right! Where's me fockin' brains? Ye've got me heartfelt apology, Lad! As a teacher, I'm one sorry-fock!"

"Look here, Lad", Mos said, palming Justine's bare scalp; tilting her head backward. "See the flush rising-up from them pointy nipples, spreadin' across her mug?"

"Errr,... yah."

"And the way her nostrils dilate when she snorts, momentarily foggin' thet bull-ring with every breath?"

"Errr,... now that you mention it,... yah."

"And how her pupils have become tiny pinpoints, and sweat is beading on her forehead like a princess's tiara?"

"Errr,... yah!"

"And eyebrows have assumed such penitent configurations?"

"I especially see t-t-that! Yah!"

"Do ye realize what it all means?"

"Errr,... ahhh,... no."

"I think she likes ye, Lad?"

"What? You've gotta be kidding?"

"No really! I fathom ye've made quite an impression on this filly!"

"Mos has a point, Lad", the Captain agreed. "Thet explains the girl-musk odor percolatin' away!"

"Get out of town!", I yelped. "Look, guys,... I haven't exactly been behaving like Mr. Right --- lashing Justine's big ass till her eyes crossed --- then laying pipe till mine did --- generating so much steam and bombast, I don't even remember where I'd blown my wad!"

"Ah-hyulk! It had been pretty ballsy-o yo, Partner!", Jimmy guffawed. "Right after tellin' Cmdr. Goodenough to go fuck himself, yo spun around,... Ah-hyulk!,... lookin' incredibly delirious,... Ah-hyulk!,... and blown directly in..."

"Never mind!", I shouted. "I don't wanna know!"

"What's yer point, Lad?", the Captain asked.

"The point is,... after whipping and boinking her,... then I'd really gotten contemptible,... shaving her shiny bald; relishing every second of it! Why the heck would she like me?"

"Well, fock! Why don't we ask her?", the Captain replied. "Mos, would ye translate?"

"Fock, yah!"

What followed was something I'll never forget --- Justine confessing she dug me --- all in ponyspeak --- while hovering in mid-air --- knees bent --- thighs straddled --- arms tethered behind --- totally nude --- utterly bald ( except for brows and eyelashes ) --- panting and drooling like a lap-dog --- sleighbells jingling --- muscles flinching --- wiggly parts wiggling --- all decorum vanished!

The details of how she communicated the sentiment, however, is beyond the scope of SJP ( check out toiletbabes.com if you haven't a clue; also noimaginationwhatsoever.com ).

Suffice to say,... thank goodness for those floor-drains!

Not to mention the automatic hose-down and disinfectant system!

And when she'd finished fessing-up,... I'd wasted no time.

Grabbing a blade with one hand; Justine's chin with the other, I swiped off both of her eyebrows as clean as a whistle.

"So ye understand now, Lad", the Captain chuckled, "thet sometimes it's not desirable fer a pony to be capable of such fervent expressiveness!"

"Yah!", I hissed, opening the jar Mos had handed me. It was permanent hair-remover gel. I made damn sure Justine could see the label; understand it's implications.

Then, as her adorable pout redoubled, I donned a pair of rubber gloves.

Justine looked a hoot as the hair-remover percolated --- eyeballs rolling --- nostrils snorting --- lips curled --- tongue wagging --- veins distended on either side of her bald head --- nipples and clitoris bloated --- jitterbugging like a vamp --- sleighbells whirling nonstop!

The girl just wouldn't stop titillating! Go figure?

Ten minutes was all it took. Then we wiped the gunk off; slopped on some polish; buffed away! Our effort was exhaustive. I knew I'd be searching for the Ben-Gay tomorrow, but,... hey,... I didn't care!

We'd made her scalp absolutely glimmer, nearly as reflective as a mirror. The blade and gel had plundered all traces of eyebrows and coiffure. Nary a shadow remained. Not a speck! Nohl! Just her eyelashes, which in contrast, now appeared seductively long; ball-breakingly flirtatious when batted. Especially in embarrassment.

Like now, as a we all gawked unabashedly. Poking and prodding to our ball's content.

"Now thet's what I call a shine!", the Captain proclaimed. "No doubt she'll draw gawkers galore while on display!"

"Yah! Tha-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-t-s,... Quack!,... nic-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-e-e-e-e-e-e!", I stammered, not realizing that V.B.M. had set in, or that I'd started to hop-about, rather then just stagger. And heck,... I'd certainly not clued-in on the Captain's comment about Justine being put on display! Evidently that 'Restorsin' drug I'd been given earlier, was affecting cognition too. Or maybe,... I was just...

And,... hey! Why wouldn't I be?

Wouldn't any totally-nude, revealingly-bound, shaved-bald woman be an attention-grabber?

"She's a Hauler! No doubt about it!. Mos lauded."

"Ah-hyulk! Almost looks like she needs a slippery-when-wet sign! Ah-hyulk!"

Jimmy then produced an odd looking doohickey. And if I hadn't yet suspected a shaved-head fetish was lurking, this sure-as-shit was the wake-up call!

"Wow! Lookie w-what he's,... Quack!,... d-doing! That makes h-her l-look,... Quack!,... bo-o,... Quack!,... boda ...... "

"Bodacious? Is thet the word ye're searchin' fer, Lad?", Mos inquired.

"Yah", I blurted.

Jimmy was harnessing Jus's head with a snazzy contraption --- leather-straps and chrome D-rings --- all oiled and gleaming --- festooned with bells and tiny brass padlocks. A bald-headed female swathed in ebony. The contrast was stark to say the least.

And curiously,... at least for me,... spellbinding!

"Can ye fathom, Lad, maybe a pithier testament to what ye see?", Mos smirked.

Jimmy had braced a boot between Jus's shoulder blades, cinching like mad; extracting every last iota of slack. Girl-flesh bulged between the tightening lattice, especially at jaws, forehead, and bald scalp! By the time the final padlock snapped shut, her eyeballs looked ready to pop out!

And, coincidentally, mine too!

"Ya-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-b-b-a-a-a-a-a-a!", I hissed, pivoting on heels; hopping rear-ward; eager for a 360 view.

"Wherever are ye going, Lad?", the Captain queried.

"T-Taking t-the,... Quack!,... round t-trip t-tour!"

"Well, fer Bubba's sake, why don't ye wait till we're finished harnessin' her?"

"Huh? You m-mean we're,... Quack!,... n-not done yet?"

"Fock no! Not by a long shot!", the Captain replied.

"Say, Partner, can yo give me a hand?"

I swiveled toward Jimmy, who was holding another gizmo --- this time familiar --- a double-pronged pelvic harness --- like Spin and Dry had worn. ( leather gusset, crotch cable; two humongous dongs. see chpt. six ).

"Ah-hyulk! I'd be much obliged, Partner, if yo'd spread-open her fat labia. And after that,... Ah-hyulk!,... them big-ole bottom cheeks!"

"Sur-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-e-e-e-e-e!", I squealed.

"Goop her first, Jimmy", the Captain ordered. "Full strength, of course!"

"Ah-hyulk! Oh yah! Darn near forgot!"

A jar of greenish gunk was opened. Jimmy scooped three fingers worth; glopped it up Jus's pussy, which I'd been lewdly stretching open, employing her labial-rings as grippers.

The process was repeated on her nipples, turning them bright magenta; grotesquely bloated. Just like her clit.

Then it was bung-hole time. I pried; Jimmy gooped!

"Thet's what I call teamwork, Lads!", Mos lauded.

Justine reacted viscerally. Mewing! Flinching! Jingling! Twisting up a storm! Her eyes rolled completely backward --- showing only the whites --- then jerked forward, fully out of synch --- then backward again. Then the process repeated --- over and over and over.

"What's,... Quack!,... h-happening to h-her", I shouted.

"She's jest reactin' ta the goop", the Captain explained. "Gettin' a tad overheated. It's perfectly natural."

Jimmy lassoed Jus's waist with the gusset; cinched it so tiny, her oh-so whipable bottom was rendered even more so!

Next, we plunged both dongs to the hilt, one up her pussy; one up her pooper.

The securing-cable was fitted between pussy and ass crack; centered in the girlway. We furiously wrenched upward, Jimmy in front, me in back, both of us on tippytoes; hauling with all our might; burying things as deeply as possible! Then pad-locking away.

Justine's reaction didn't disappoint.

"Snort! Whinny! Whinny! Sputter! Drool! Snort! Whinny! Whinny! Whinny!"

"Lookie her nipples!", I blurted. "They look hard enough,... Quack!,... to chisel granite! And, wow, is she ever antsy!"

"Nyuk! Nyuk! Ain't it sublime", chuckled the Captain. "The last time I saw gyrations like thet, was at the Intergalactic Watuzi championship! But don't ye fret one iota, Lad, if she gets too frisky, the strop will settle her down!"

"Huh? Did you say,... Quack!,... the strop? I figured we were d-done with t-that?"

"Har! Har! Har! Hoo! Hee!"

"Ah-hyulk! Ah-hyulk! Ah-hyulk!

Mos and Jimmy found the query amusing.

"Errr,... not exactly, Lad", the Captain answered. "When the occasion arises, we'll certainly lash 'er big bottom again! Capish?"

"Y-You m-mean,... Quack!,... if the occasion arises? If she's bad or something? D-Don't you, Captain?"

"Har! Har! Har! Hoo! Hee!"

"Nyuk! Nyuk! Nyuk! Ho! Ho! Ho!"

"Ah-hyulk! Ah-hyulk! Ah-hyulk! That's another good one, Partner! Ah-hyulk!"

"What's so,... Quack!,... funny?"

"Fergive us, Lad", Mos said, "but yer naivete is a bit of a chuckle. Hoo! Hee! Ye see, as barbers, we only employ the lash as it relates to the groomin' process! And, ye see, it takes a more then a single session ta style a Hauler!"

"Huh? You mean,... Quack!,... Justine will need m-more barbering? Heck,... she's already balder then a cue ball! Isn't that enough?"

"Wish it were, Lad", the Captain sighed. "She's smoother-n-glass. No doubt about it. But there's always some re-growth the first couple-o weeks. Jest peach-fuzz, mind ye, but a nuisance nonetheless. And something this Barber College won't sign-off on!"

"Multiple razorin' and goopin' sessions!, Mos announced. "Thet's what it takes! Three or four or sometimes even five!"

"Gulp! Five?"

"And, of course, each begins with a preemptive bottom stroppin'", the Captain added. "Ta curb any friskiness in the bud!"

"E-Each,... Quack!,... session?"

"Oh heavens, Yah!", yelped the Captain.

Mos was fiddling with the magneto-dynamism controller, transforming Justine's position --- from straddled and hovering --- to standing at attention on tippy-toes --- with bare heels quivering --- knees rotated inward --- girl-muscle wincing --- head tipped back --- bells softly jingling.

He pointed to her fabulous ass like a teacher would a blackboard.

"Ye won't find more cheekiness at a Don Rickles revival! Thet derriere, Lad, will tolerate all the fluidian a bloke can muster! So ye needn't concern yerself with permanently harmin' anything!"

"Ah-hyulk! Don't forget about them haunches! Ah-hyulk!"

"Oh yah indeedy", Mos agreed. "Good point, Jimmy! After lashin' a Hauler's big bare bottom, Lad, nothing's more effective then aiming lower; paintin' stripe after glowing stripe on her luscious hams. Before ye know it, she'll be grovelin' on 'er knees, doin' some mighty jaded things ta convince ye she's gonna hold still!"

"I don't think the Lad needs ta be reminded-o that", the Captain cut in. "Heck, remember his turn wielding the strop? Thet's exactly what he'd done! Utterly on instinct!"

"Fock! Ye're right!", Mos acknowledged. "And all in the throes of total delirium! Where's me fockin' brains? It's like I'm advisin' Bubba how ta fib!"

"We must apologize to ye, Lad", the Captain said, "fer boring ye with such parochial details. Fock! Why should a Star-pilot cadet give a fock about the vicissitudes of barberin' anyway? Suffice to say, Justine will certainly be stropped again! In fact, quite a lot before her groomin's complete. Jest like the rest-o the Haulers in her team!"

"Huh? O-Others? Gulp! In her t-team? You mean,... Quack!,...there're more ,... errr,... ponies,... with her?"

"Oh yah! Haulers are always sent to us in teams", Mos explained. "And we've gotten so many lately, it's been a bit of a drag! Work! Work! Work! Thet's all it's been around here!"

"But thet's a barber's province at Holothon time", the Captain shrugged. "All ye can do is keep on shearin' and stroppin'! Hope ye get the job done before exhaustion prevails!"

"Jimmy's been handling things up until now" Mos said, "but he's startin' ta fall behind. And fock, we're due to receive another team next week! We was hopin' a new recruit would've helped us out, but of course, thet's now out-o the question! We wouldn't dream of imposin' our problems on a Star-pilot cadet!

"Well,... errr,... Quack!,... it r-really wouldn't,... errr,... be that much of an impos...."

"I won't fockin' hear of it!", the Captain bellowed. "Besides, Lad, ye're gonna need all the rest ye can get! Fightin' the Nunworldoans ain't no picnic! Ye jest soak up the R&R, and let the barbers handle the mundane stuff! We'll get it done somehow! Jimmy won't mind puttin' in some overtime!"

"Ah-hyulk! Not at all, Sir!"

"Besides", the Captain added,"in a worst-case-scenario, we can always rev-up one of the Groom-a-trons! I'll admit it'd be like Michelangelo wielding a spraygun. But fock it! Anything would be preferable to an unhappy Pony-Baron!"

Jimmy was pasting more sensors on Justine. Forehead, occiput, tits, belly-button, labia, womanly hips, inner thighs, bare heels, and just above her terrifically jutted fanny! Was he bummed about the overtime? I couldn't tell!

And, oh yes, there was something else I couldn't do.

"Yah!", Mos agreed, oiling up a fluidian strop; swishing it for emphasis. "We'll dispose of the humdrum one way or the other! Won't we Jimmy?"

"Ah-hyulk! Yah, Sir!"

"W-What do you m-mean,... Quack!,... h-humdrum?", I struggled to articulate.

"Oh,... stroppin' and shearin' and razorin' and goopin'", Mos answered. "Pedestrian tasks like thet. Certainly nothin' as sexy as ye'll be up ta,... Mr. Star-pilot!"

"Yah! Thet's fer fockin' sure!", the Captain seconded.

"Ah-hyulk! She's reading a 2.1 and rising", Jimmy interrupted, reading from a Y-gauge. "She's-a gettin' ready to blow! The stuff's working perfectly! Ah-hyulk!"

"W-What,... stuff?"

"Ah-hyulk! The junk we gooped her with, Partner! Ah-hyulk!"

"Wow!", I blurted, taking note of Jus's boiled-over countenance ( not realizing that my face was looking similar ). "When y-you guys discipline a p-pony,... Quack!,... you don't f-fool around!"

"Who said anything about discipline?", the Captain cut in. "Thet goopin' was a reward!"

"Yah!", Mos said. "Like givin' a pony a sugar cube! Capish?"

"Only instead of a sweet-tooth,... Nyuk!,... Nyuk!,... it satisfies a different kind-o cavity! Nyuk! Nyuk!"

"Mgf-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-s--f-g--h--s-s-s-s-s-pft! Sputter! Snort! Whinny! Whinny! Whinny! Whinny!"

Justine reared her head back, A-cups forward, whinnying up a storm. Girl-juice gushed, baptizing her muscular thighs and calves; drip-dropping from flinching heels. Goose bumps danced everywhere. She was obviously over-the-top!

"Yikes!", I stammered. "Look at h-her go! That goopy stuff's astonishing! W-What's it,... Quack!,... called?"

"Restorsin!", the Captain answered, flashing his trademark smile.

"Huh? B-But,...t-that's the,... Quack!,... same stuff,... Quack!,.... Reeve jammed up,... Quack!,... my ass!"

"Well,... errr,... yah! Thet's quite true. Although in yer case, Lad, I believe the Doctor used a special time-release preparation --- with subtle effects initially --- then goin' off like a firecracker --- all at once!"

"Gulp! Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack! W-When?",... I nervously queried."

The Captain glanced at his watch.

"Oh,... I'd fathom,... right about now!"

"Ar-r-r-r-rgah-gajt-gasptph-a-s-s-s-s-s-s-grt-grt-grt-gr-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-rarghs-spft! Pant! Pant! Sputter!"

My boner lurched so violently, I nearly did a back-flip; vision went altogether dark; voicebox totally seized-up. My jaws felt sealed with glue. Knees and hips too. I could hear, but not talk!

The chamber door slid open. Reeve sauntered in.

"Well, I see things are right on schedule", she chuckled.

"Doctor, are ye certain the Lad really needs another round-o testin'?", the Captain inquired. "To tell ye the truth, he seemed fine to me, before ye started treatin' 'em!"

"Yah! Me too", Mos added.

"Yah! Ah-hyulk! Me three!"

"Well now", Reeve smiled, as she cinched a dog-collar around my neck, "Which of you Boys went to Medical School?"

"Errr,... not I."

"Ah-hyulk! Not me."

"Nichts!"

"That's what I thought", she huffed. "Look,... I'll be done with Boy-wonder by tomorrow evening, Captain. If he checks out, you can have him back then. Now,... if you'll excuse us.

With that Reeve marched out, with me in tow, pulling on the leash attached to my collar. I hopped behind her like a jack-rabbit. My legs wouldn't work any other way. And I could only utter one sound.

"Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack! Qua-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-c-k!"

The last thing I heard, before the door shut, was the Captain conversing with Mos.

"Ye know, I'm beginnin' ta suspect Dr. Lois has developed some sort of infatuation with the Lad, and might be usin' him fer her own devices."

"Yah! I've wondered about thet too", Mos agreed. "Ye think we should put 'em under surveillance?"

The Captain pondered for a second.

"Naw-w-w-w-w! Fock it! It's probably jest me imagination,... runnin' away with me. Capish?"

"Yah. Mine too."

"What say we go have ourselves a steam, eh?"

"Good idea, Captn'! Bloody fockin' good! Are ye with us, Jimmy?"

"Ah-hyulk! Yah, sir."