stubblybuck99

[stubblybuck99]

Looking sharp!

MPB BY CHOICE & ENJOY.

[stubblybuck99]

Wish this guy showed up in my neighborhood pub

MPB BY CHOICE & AFTER-WORK BEER.

[stubblybuck99]

Not sure why he looks so grumpy... should be grinning ear to ear after that experience.

[stubblybuck99]

Dreams coming true

TIME GOES BY.

[stubblybuck99]

Cute. Fly me to the moon whenever you'd like

[stubblybuck99]

[stubblybuck99]

Nice one

A real leather man is shiny from head to toe

[stubblybuck99]

hubba hubba

MPB BC BUSINESS.

[stubblybuck99]

Bald man in crisp shirt and tie, oh my!

[stubblybuck99]

Great bald head!

[stubblybuck99]

Bald headed perfection

[stubblybuck99]

Time for a ranch vacation...

Joe’s First Week on the Ranch

Joe had only been on the ranch for five days, but he already knew: this was it.

The dust, the cattle, the rough-hewn fences, the mornings that started before sunrise and the ache in his arms at sunset—he loved all of it. Fresh out of grad school with a Master’s in Agricultural Science, he had come here to apply what he’d learned. Regenerative grazing, rotational feed systems, soil quality assessments—he could talk about them for hours.

But the real reason he was still smiling after shoveling stalls for three hours?

Ralph.

The owner of the ranch. Late thirties, ex-rodeo rider turned reluctant cattle baron. Gruff voice, hands like old leather, and a quiet intensity that made Joe's stomach turn every time Ralph said his name.

Joe had done his best to play it cool. Polite. Helpful. Just another bright-eyed kid eager to prove himself. But Ralph wasn’t stupid. Joe had caught him watching once—just once—while he was fixing the corral shirtless under the midday sun.

They hadn’t spoken about it. Not yet.

But today… maybe today, Joe thought, leaning on the gate, pretending not to glance toward the barn.

Ralph was there. And he was walking this way.

Ralph stepped out from the shadow of the barn, boots heavy on the dirt, cigarette hanging loose from the corner of his mouth. Joe turned the second he heard him, grinning before he could stop himself.

"Thought you were still out in the north field," Joe said, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them from fidgeting.

Ralph looked him over—his uncombed hair, that crooked smile—and gave a slow nod.

"Finished early. Figured I’d come see how the new kid’s holding up."

Joe laughed, a little too quickly. "New kid’s doing just fine, Boss."

Ralph arched an eyebrow. "Yeah? You look like you're still trying to impress someone."

Joe tilted his head, eyes locking with Ralph’s. "Maybe I am."

The cigarette twitched between Ralph’s lips.

"You don’t gotta try so hard, Joe."

Joe blinked. "No?"

Ralph stepped closer. "You already did."

Ralph leans in with a grin, plants a kiss on Joe’s cheek, and rumbles, “I’m gonna turn you into a real ranch guy, kid. Boots, dirt, calluses and all.”

Joe freezes for a second, wide-eyed and beaming, then breaks into laughter. He’s not sure what hit him harder— the kiss, or the promise.

Either way, his answer’s written all over his face. He’s in.

The transformation has begun.

Ralph’s kiss isn’t just affection—it’s initiation. The startled look in Joe’s eyes says it all: he didn’t expect it, but something inside him stirs— a spark of change, like a switch flipped.

The city boy in pressed jeans and wide eyes has just taken his first real step into the world of sweat, saddle-leather, and something deeper.

A different kind of life. A different kind of man. And Ralph? He’s gonna make damn sure Joe feels every inch of it.

Rugged denim. Strong hands. A silent promise pressed to the cheek.

Joe’s eyes may be wide— but that jaw is set, that flannel tight across broadening shoulders.

Masculinity here isn’t posturing. It’s touch. It’s care. It’s being held and remade without a single word spoken.

Ralph isn’t just kissing a man. He’s sealing a bond.

Cowboy to cowboy. Heart to heart. Boot to dirt.

The clippers buzz to life. Ralph grins like a rancher on branding day.

“Let’s remove that wool you call hair.”

Joe doesn’t flinch. Not because he’s ready— but because he knows: real cowboys don’t need a mane to ride tall in the saddle.

This is the final rite. The haircut. The rebirth.

Soon, the wind will touch skin that’s never known it before. And Joe— he’ll ride out of the barn not as a boy from town, but as a man of the land.

The first sandpaper rub. Joe laughs — surprised by the rawness, by how different his head feels under his own hand. Smooth. Warm. New.

Ralph stands behind him, grinning like a devil and proud like a dad. “You’re one of us now.”

The barns. The saddle. The dust. It all feels different— like it belongs to him, and he to it.

Joe doesn’t just look the part. He is the part. No hat needed to prove it. Just skin, sweat, and a smile that says: He’s home.

The cigarette dangles from Joe’s lips like it was always meant to be there. His hand rests proudly on the scalp he used to hide — and now loves.

Behind him, Ralph beams like a craftsman admiring his finest work. No more boy with a degree. No more city dreams. Just a man of grit and sweat, all flannel, leather, and fire.

Joe's smile says it all: he doesn't want to go back. Not to school, not to softness. This is him now.

Ranch-hardened. Bold. Bald. Home.

[stubblybuck99]

Preach it, brother

Alright, listen up, prospective member! My club boasts an even higher level of exclusivity! We don't just embrace the lack of hair; we choose it! Think about the power in that decision. We're not victims of genetics; we're architects of our own scalps.

You see, by joining our select group of "MPB by choice," you're not just joining the liberation from the tyranny of combs and shampoo (though we share that with the wider club). You're joining a bold declaration of intentionality. It's saying: "This is me, without unnecessary frills, because I've decided it."

Imagine the conversation: "Male pattern baldness? Yeah, but by design." It's a fascinating opener, wouldn't you say? It sparks curiosity, demonstrates a sense of humor, and, let's be honest, it sets you apart from the crowd!

Furthermore, consider the commitment involved. It's not a passive acceptance of the inevitable, but a deliberate action. It's taking the reins of your image and saying, "This is what I want to project."

And while we share the comfort of the breeze on the scalp and the savings on hair products, our club has that extra touch of rebelliousness. It's like saying, "Society dictates one thing, but I choose another."

So, my friend, if you're looking for more than just accepting baldness; if you crave a statement of intent, a touch of audacity, and the exclusivity of a club forged by personal choice, then I cordially invite you to join us. Let your scalp shine with the light of your decision!

[stubblybuck99]

The stuff of my dreams

ME & SUIT

[stubblybuck99]

I wish

[stubblybuck99]

Always love a good bald head reveal.

A.I. - Actors if they were bald

[stubblybuck99]