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Billy by Deke Cutter


This recovered story is by Ron

I'd been married to Billy for about two years. My family wasn't a great fan of my choice, but I loved him. He was different from my family, and this caused some friction over the years. I had known him for about four years previous to marrying him. We went to highschool together. Billy had always loved to take care of his hair. And he had lots of it to take care of. He was handsome and had the longest blonde hair I've ever seen on a guy. This was what attracted me to him at first because it was very different from my family of brothers who all kept their hair cut short to their scalp. My father was strict about haircuts, but my brothers never seemed to want longer hair anyway. So I was a little surprised by my family's reaction to Billy. They HATED his long locks of blond hair and wondered what I could see in the boy.
Early in our dating I mentioned that my brothers and dad didn't really like his long hair very much. His face turned red and he lowered his head, letting lots of long tresses fall over his face. He grinned a funny grin and didn't say anything. I mentioned a haircut and he looked very, very uncomfortable and turned away from me. He didn't say anything, so I wasn't sure what he was thinking, but it was obvious that he wasn't going for a haircut. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his favourite long handled comb and began stroking it through the extra-long blond hair, fanning it out and admiring his own locks. I smiled at him. He was right. How could anyone want to cut such beautiful hair. We were just kids and wasn't that the time to experiment and have outlandish costumes and hairstyles? I reached over and stroked his shoulder, feeling a few of the hairs myself.

We continued to date. I fielded questions about his long hair at home, and I didn't bring him home too often because I knew he felt uncomfortable around my brothers who were sports dudes and kept their hair shorn. As the years wore on, Billy buffed up quite a bit, but he wasn't very big. He wore totally torn, tight jeans and muscle shirts to show off his muscular arms. He wore "cowboy boots” which weren't really cowboy boots but city-boy versions of them with heels and metal chains and toes. He thought they were really cool, and he liked that they made him look taller since he was only about 5'4” without them.

Still, I loved him and thought it was cute the way he fondled and pampered his long hair. One day in the summer, I wandered over to his house to surprise him. I knocked on the door, but nobody came. I could hear the hairblower going and figured he just couldn't hear me. The car was gone, so his family must have been away, but the main door was open, so I let myself in through the screen door. I hollered "Hello!” but he couldn't hear me over the hairblower. He wasn't in the bathroom but just outside where there was another sink and a mirror. I walked around the corner and saw his back. He was leaning over drying the underside of his massive head of long blond hair. It just kept growing. I figured it must take him a long time to fix his hair everyday, but he still seemed to enjoy it. I stood there looking admiring him as he caressed his long tresses and made them beautiful. He was all man, but his hair was lovely. From the back it looked like a girl's long lovely hair. Still he had no shirt on, and his muscles were showing. He had on a pair of slinky, shiny track pants that just hung low on his hips. It didn't look like there was much holding them up. After quite a few moments working on his hair upside down, he swung the hair up and over his back, turning toward the mirror. He reached down to his track pants for a moment, and I thought it was kind of cute, watching this young man take care of himself. He ran his fingers through the long locks several time, pushing the hair into place on either side of his face, drawing it back from his blue eyes. He was acting awfully touchy-feely to his hair even for him. I didn't want to embarrass him too much, so I cleared my throat to let him know I was there. He swung toward me with his hairblower in one hand and his comb in the other. He has no way of concealing the front of his track pants. I could see he was VERY effected by the stroking and pampering of his long hair. These shiny pants hung loosely and revealed ALL.

I was embarrassed for him and looked down, smiling but turned away too (after I had a good look). His face was beet red and he shut of the hairblower, quickly running into the bathroom. "What the f***! What the F***!,” he kept saying as if this would make the incident go away. I didn't really know what the problem was. Afterall, he was my boyfriend and I wasn't entirely naive about boys and their reactions. Of course, now I knew just how much he cared about his awesome long locks of blond hair. It was a bit of a surprise.

For a long time, we kind of ignored what had happened, and he went on taking care of his long tresses of gorgeous hair. He was more careful in future about doing his hair. As he got older, thought, he got a little more mouthy. He figured he was pretty buff and cool with his tight jeans, leather boots and amazingly long hair. He told my brothers they looked like Nazis with their shorn hair. They laughed it off, but I wasn't too happy with his comments and told him not to do that. He chuckled and said they were big boys and could take a little joking. We were married. He hadn't had a haircut like my parents wanted (and his, too, I learned later). He did go to a hairstylist and let them trim the splitends (very few he had) and sculpture his hair into an astounding blond halo of dude's hair (as he called it). I have to admit, the long blond strands with their bit of curl did look absolutely fantastic on his black suit. His mother forced him to put the long hair into a ponytail for the actual ceremony. I heard that he put up quite a fuss and wasn't too happy when she finally managed to get his long, long locks tucked into a tail. He preferred to have his hair flowing and loose - showing off his long mane as no other. Before we even got out of the church, he removed the ponytail holder, leaned over toward the congregation, and swung the long, long, extra-long blond hair up over his head and over the back of his black suit jacket. The bright blond hair cascaded down over his shoulders, between his shoulder blades, and, in the middle down 3/4 the way down his back. Against the black background even I was shocked at the ridiculous length of his waves and curls. A few of the congregation laughed and pointed, a few looked appalled an not very happy about him. I took his hand and we marched out of the church together. Me and my longhaired boyfriend - Oops - husband now! I was married to a man with hair longer and prettier than mine. I loved him though, and I accepted him hair and all.

Now we've been married almost two years. Billy still has his hair, and it is longer. The hair is wonderful, but it is also a hassle. It takes him forever to get ready to go anywhere because he won't just throw his hair under a cap or anything. It always has to be perfectly styled. He often gets mistaken for a woman from behind. On several occasions when we were shopping together, the clerk would come up and ask if he could help us "ladies.” Billy would always blush and swing his hair back so that they could see his finely manicured sideburns. Yes, this was an added bonus in the last couple of years he began growing sideburns trained down his jawline. He used special clippers to keep them perfectly trimmed and styled in thin strips. They, along with his long hair, were his pride and joy. He spent hours on his hair and burns. The clerks would always apologise, but behind our backs we often heard snickers as we left. Billy seemed to like the attention. He was a lot more vocal about other guys with short hair, too. I guess he figured he was the man now and could say what he liked. He often commented rudely about my brothers' short, short hair. He didn't always do it directly, but if we were all watching TV and some guy with short hair was on, he would say things like, "Look at that pinhead dude. Where does he get his hair butchered. What a f***ing dufus. Why doesn't he grow his hair.” My brothers were patient souls and they rarely ever challenged Billy about his long locks of pretty blond hair. They had lots of opportunity as he seemed to be challenging them all the time by swinging and brushing out his lock locks in front of them whenever he had a chance. I began to think that maybe he wanted a short haircut but didn't know how to go about it after all these years of long hair. I didn't like his comments about my brothers' short hair and I told him to stop it. He just laughed at me and said, "What are you gonna do about it little lady,” and slapped my behind. I didn't think it was funny.

My brothers had this little game they played. They'd done it since they were teenagers. In the basement of our house we had a pool room. My father had put a barberchair in the room, too, and this is where all three of my brothers and dad had their hair shorn. They cut each other's hair to save money. Billy hadn't spent much time in this room even though he considered himself a pool pro and bragged about it quite a lot. My brothers used to bet on the pool games with each other and give the loser some sort of penalty drawn from a deck of cards. The penalties were silly things like doing a bunch of pushups or drinking a beer from a glass that one of them spit in - stupid boy's crap. My husband had never played with my brothers. I decided it was time that he did. I went and talked to my brothers about my plan. At first, they weren't so sure. I figured it was because my husband was a guy and guys stuck together even if one of them looked more like a girl from behind. As I explained everything to them, I began to realise just how much I resented his long, long blond hair. His pride and joy had taken up too much time and attention, and his comments against my brothers were too much. I told them some of the things he had said when we weren't there about their short haircuts, and they began to get the picture. I also convinced them that he was begging for attention and needed their help to take away all those years of long hair. He didn't have the strength to ask anyone or do it himself, so he was "acting out” waiting for someone to take control. They finally agreed to let him in on a revised game. I made up some of the cards they would be using for him.

To my surprise, Billy was all for the game. He'd been waiting to be invited into this circle of guy stuff, and he wanted to show off how good he was at playing pool. He was good, but my brothers were also very good. They poured some drinks and began. Billy did quite well at first and one or another of my brothers had to do some stupid guy trick, and they continued. As Billy had his third beer, his game seemed to suffer a lot more than my brothers. He wasn't drunk, but he didn't play as well. He lost. The first few times he lost, the tricks were very much like my brothers. He had to do some pushups, he had to eat a worm from the tequila bottle, etc. As the games progressed and he was getting comfortably warmed by the beer but his game suffered, the penalties changed. Bob was announcing the penalties. "Billy, my main man. Here is your penalty. You must sit in the barber chair and have 1 inch of your hair cut from the back.” Billy flinched at the idea. "What!” "Get up their dude,” my brothers were laughing and joking around, helping him over to the chair. His fancy bootheels clanked across the floor as they pushed him gently toward IT - the CHAIR ! "No f***ing way,” he laughed and tried to escape, but there was no escape. They jostled him up into the chair. He was totally uncomfortable but figured, what the f***, it is only one inch. Bob pulled out his long, long hair over the back of the big red chair and applied the scissors, making sure he heard the crunching sound ..........

Shnnnnnnnnnnnip ...............crunch, crunch, crunch...............Shnnnnnnnnnnip.

One inch straight across his lovely locks of golden blond hair. I thought Billy might faint, but he managed to hold on and get out of the chair as soon as it was over.

After a few more games, he lost again. The penalty this time was to have his hair that hung in waves over his eyes and nose trimmed to just above his eyebrows. He declined. "No f***ing way. NO!”

Again my brothers playfully pulled and pushed him toward the CHAIR. He resisted but his city-boy bootheels slid along the floor, no use to him here. His muscled arms were not contest against the real men. Still, he wasn't going to let this happen. He was a man. "No, I said I'm not cutting my hair any more,” he squealed and sounded a little girlish. "Not my long hair, dudes.”

"What's the matter, little boy don't want no little haircut,” they teased and pushed his hair away from his blue eyes that were glistening with fear and excitement at the same time. The thought of these guys manhandling his long hair was exciting and moved him. But he didn't really want to cut any more of his long, lucious hair. "Get off me, dudes. I'm not cutting my long hair.”

"No, we are,” they laughed. One of my brothers grabbed at Billy's butt to lift him into the chair. As usual, Billy was wearing totally torn and threadbare jeans that clung like a second skin to his body. When my brother tried to lift him the threads broke away and a big hole appeared just under his left butt, baring skin and embarrassing him more. Bob slapped Billy's skin-tight jeaned ass and said, "Cute butt girly boy. When are you going to become a man, shrimp.”

Billy got up into the chair in part to hide the hole in his jeans. He wasn't sure just how big it was and would have to check it out. Once in the chair, he knew there was no turning back. He would have to let them trim his hair in front of his face. The scissors were like torture devices to him as he watched them slice through the long blond fine strands of wavy blond hair. The waves fell to his lap and on to the floor. The dude hair was weak beneath these scissors and fell lamely to the floor. He hated this and vowed to get back at them somehow. He couldn't believe that they had swatted his behind as if he were a little kid or a woman and manhandled him into the chair. Cutting his hair was unbelievable.

Still, he had a buzz on from the beer and he was "bonding” with these guys, so he took it more or less like a man. After a few more games, he lost one more time. My brothers were getting tired of these games and were ready to end it. So the next card was my favourite - finally. The way the card was written was a riddle to my husband. He knew nothing about barbers, clippers, or haircuts.

Bob read aloud, "Billy boy, here is your punishment. You must sit in the barber chair again and have an Oster #1 haircut, 1/8 inch level and burns north.”

Billy thought this was not too bad. He had already lost some of his pride and joy, but 1/8 inch was not enough to worry about, and it was the last game. He gladly let himself be jostled into the chair this time. He was a little drunk and feeling all warm and excited about these dudes cutting a tiny bit of his long, long, extra-long dude's blond hair. He ran his fingers through his awesome long hair once more, letting them pull the incredible hair out over his shoulders and down his back, admiring the length and the beauty of these famous long locks. My brothers laughed and said, "Good idea. Enjoy it now.”

Little did Billy know what was coming. He sat back and closed his eyes. Big mistake! Bob grabbed the big clippers and attached a #1 comb. He leaned over my husband and looked at the long hair cascading down the back of the chair, his head tilted back, his eyes closed. Bob smiled and placed the clippers on Billy's forehead. Billy thought it was awfully cold for a comb, but figured they needed to comb his hair before trimming 1/8 inch which wasn't much. He didn't open his eyes. Bob turned on the Osters and ran them the length of my husbands head over the top. Long hair flew down the back and landed in a "wumph” on the floor. Billy opened his eyes quickly and pushed Bob back, reaching for his head. First he felt long locks and felt relief, but then as he moved his hand to the middle of his parted long gorgeous blond hair, he felt stubble. STUBBLE ! This was impossible. Nobody but NOBODY cut his long precious hair. His pride and joy was his forever he always said. "What the fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck !” he screamed. He couldn't believe what had been done to him. They swung the chair to the mirror. My brothers were practically peeing their pants with laughter as they realised he hadn't understood what an Oster # 1 haircut really was. Billy couldn't believe his eyes. There was a gigantic swath of hair missing from the top of his head. The part was gone as the long locks of hair were split down the middle of his head. He still had loads of beautiful long hair, but there was no way of hiding this path of stubble. He knew he had no choice but to have the years and years of hair shorn. He sat back in disbelief as Bob continued to cut his proud hair off his head. As the hair fell, he began to tear up. He couldn't believe he was losing all this long, long hair. His pride and joy was falling to the floor, his attitude and dude style was being eliminated with each stroke of the clippers. When he saw himself in the mirror, his bottom lip stuck out and he began to cry. He couldn't believe that he was crying, but he couldn't believe they would cut all his awesome long hair like this. The tears rolled down his nose and over his chin. His head looked small and insignificant without all his long tresses of blond hair. He began to look like a very little boy indeed. He wasn't very big and now his head was practically bald. He couldn't believe they were laughing at him. Then he realised that a lot of people would be laughing at him. All the dudes and people he had teased about short hair or taunted with his long locks would be after him to tease him and laugh and ridicule his shorn head. Another pair of clippers approached and he realised what was happening too late again. The long, thin, perfectly manicured sideburn on his left side was shorn to smooth skin from the jawline right up past his ear. Once one proud sideburn was gone, the other must go, too. His amazing burns were SHORN! GONE! He had no hair at all hardly. The top was flat and revealed his pink scalp. The blond hair made him look bald - his greatest fear and nightmare. He blubbered like a baby. He knew he deserved this haircut, but did it have to be so short. The CHAIR and his arrogance finally got him




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