The Voyeur by Ratt (recovered)

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The Voyeur

By Ratt

Karen and her husband Tom were a perfect match. As a haircut fetishist, what Karen wanted first and foremost was a guy who enjoyed having his hair cut as much as she enjoyed cutting it. In Tom, she found this. When they first met, she thought he was gorgeous, but something had to be done about his shoulder length hair. So she invited him back to her barbershop for a trim, and he kept coming back again and again and having his hair cut shorter and shorter. For the past three years, though, he'd kept the same cut: a tight horseshoe flattop with skinned back and sides. This was the cut he and Karen both thought he looked best in.

Admittedly, when they first started dating, there was something else that intrigued Karen as well - the thought of making love on the back bench seat of Tom's powder-blue, '58 Edsel Ranger. She loved the way he looked behind the wheel of that big boat of a car. Especially with that haircut, he looked like he could have driven it straight out of 1958.

Karen ran a barbershop with her good friend Gina, whom she had known since high school. Although she did mostly salon-type stuff and left most of the guys' haircuts to Karen, she was also fond of men with extremely short hair. In fact, she even got a little jealous whenever Karen's gorgeous husband would come visit her at work. Sometimes on his days off, he'd even stick around and help out at the front counter if it was busy.

One Saturday, when business was slow, he showed up and brought the girls lunch from a take-out place. Karen always got very excited when she saw his big blue car come wafting up to the shop and squeeze itself into one of the metered spaces out front. She ran and greeted him at the door, throwing her arms around him and rubbing his handsome buzzed head.

He laughed. "Hi honey. Careful, don't make me spill the drinks."

"Hi Tom," said Gina. "Oh, you brought food - thanks! I'm famished."

"You know he's here again," Tom said.

"Ugh, that little worm," said Karen. "I've got half a mind to go out there and spray him with Nair." "Who?" said Gina.

"Haven't you seen him? He sits there at the Starbucks for hours on end. A couple times I've had people tell me he's made comments to them, but they just think he's a crazy guy."

The guy they were talking about came and sat at one of the outdoor tables at the neighboring Starbucks nearly every day. The table was the furthest one from the door of the coffee shop and actually protruded into the view of the barbershop window, though a big plant in a cement planter stood between them.

He was a little short skinny guy, about 19-20 years old, with a feminine face and very long, wavy hair that reached almost to his waist. Usually he wore a skintight white undershirt and tight jeans that showed the top of his briefs, like he was trying to present himself as sexy, though most everyone just thought he was pathetic. Every day as he sat at that table, he'd turn around and peek through the foliage through the barbershop window, then whip around quickly as soon as anybody came near. It was Karen's opinion that what he really wanted was to come in and get all that girly hair cut off. "He hasn't said anything to you lately, has he?" she asked Tom. She was quite protective of her husband.

"Oh no, not since the last time."

Once before, he'd teased Tom about his flattop haircut, saying he looked like a military drone with no individuality. Tom didn't take kindly to this. He grabbed the boy by the neck of his skimpy shirt, nearly ripping it, and held him up against the wall. "If you ever say anything like that to me again," he'd said, "I'll personally rip every last one of those mangy hairs out of your little pin head. Got that?"

And he didn't come back for several days. Today, however, it looked as though he really needed his barbershop fix, consequences be damned.

Gina hadn't heard this story before, but she was amused by it. "Yeah, he says you have no individuality, but how many other guys do you know with flattops? And how many do you know with long hair? Exactly."

"Well I feel sorry for the poor bastard," Karen said. "It seems like he's got this warped idea that getting a haircut will make him less of a man or less popular with the ladies or something…even though I doubt he's been laid in a very long time, if ever."

"One of us should just drag him in here and do the deed and get it over with," Gina said.

"Nah, we ought to leave him alone unless he starts bothering customers again," Karen said. "Or unless he says anything else to my man about his haircut."

"Yeah, let the sick little son of a bitch get his kicks by staring in our window. He's not hurting anybody," Tom agreed. "And don't you worry about me, Karen. Next time I'll just make good on my threat!"

They had a good laugh, but not much was said about the barbershop voyeur for several weeks. He still came, though, and sat there diligently watching in the window whenever he had a free hour or two to kill.

Then, one Saturday Tom came out of the shop after having lunch with Karen and Gina and having his hair cut. He couldn't believe what he found: someone had keyed his Edsel! They hadn't written anything on it, just made several lines running down the length of the car. He turned around, shaking with rage, and fixed his gaze on the little long-haired guy who sat staring in through the barbershop window.

"You!" he snarled. "Let me see your keys!"

"What?" said the little man, startled. "Um…okay," he said, fishing in his pocket. He had a hard time retrieving his keys since his pants were so tight. Tom snatched them out of his hand and examined them for traces of blue paint. He found nothing.

"Hmm," he said. "Well, I still know you did it."

With that, he grabbed a handful of the guy's long hair and yanked him up out of his chair.

"Hey! Ow!" the guy protested. "What the…? Oh no, you're not taking me in there!"

"Just watch me," Tom said through clenched teeth.

Karen and Gina were quite surprised to see him re-enter the shop, dragging the little guy by his hair.

"What are you doing?" Karen gasped. "Did he insult you again??"

"Worse," Tom said. "He keyed the car."

The guy was cursing and sputtering and trying to bite Tom's hand. "I didn't do it, man! Why the hell would I touch your gay ass car?"

"You tell us why you did it," said Karen. "It's bad enough you call my husband names, but leave our car out of this!" She quickly pulled down the blinds and put the Closed sign in the window, thus making sure nobody would disturb their session.

Tom said, "Here, help me get him in the chair."

With a lot of struggling, she and Tom managed to hoist the guy up into their barber chair. Tom held his hands behind the chair and Karen got his legs, while Gina grabbed a roll of duct tape. He kept squirming, but found himself less and less mobile as his wrists and ankles were bound tightly. Gina also wrapped tape around his shoulders, anchoring him in place.

"Should I do his mouth, too?" she asked.

"Only if he's a screamer," Karen said. "We'll soon find out."

The guy was still trying hopelessly to wriggle out of his bondage. His face was bright red and he'd worked up quite a sweat during this struggle.

"F*** you!" he spat. "F*** you all! Don't turn me into a faggot like him!"

Tom smirked. He bent down so his eyes were level with his captive's, and stared him right in the face. "Let's get something straight," he said. "We're just going to do what needed to be done a long time ago. You have two choices. You can take it like a man, or we use more tape. Either way, we get what we want. The only difference is how much you suffer. Okay?"

The man in the chair , despite being understandably angry and frightened, also felt a strange mix of other emotions. For one thing, when Tom was bent down talking to him, he felt the strongest urge to touch his haircut. It looked like it felt so nice, he just wanted to run his hands over that soft, sumptuous velvet... For another, he felt an erection coming on, and his tight pants did little to disguise it.

"Well that's more like it!" said Gina, pointing at his crotch. "I knew he'd enjoy it."

Karen grinned, clasping her hands together, and said "Look at him! He's a blank canvas, full of possibilities. Think of all the different ways we could destroy this…" - she combed her fingers through the length of his hair - "…this pretty hair!" She began separating out his long golden-brown locks so they draped over his shoulders and down the back of the chair.

"Look how lovely it is!" she exclaimed sarcastically. "Why, it's kind of like yours was, isn't it Tom?"

"Yeah," Tom said. "Before you cut it all off."

They both laughed.

"Well," Karen said to her fellow barber, "what shall we do? Should we do the deed now and get it over with, or shall we play around with him a little while longer?"

"I think you know the answer to that," Gina replied. Now it was her turn to get in his face. She grabbed his chin so he couldn't look away, and leaned in very close. "Since he wants to look like a girl so bad," she said, "let's let him, before we make him look like a man, that is."

She went over to her work station and grabbed an armful of products. Then she sat down on the captive's lap and began looking through them, deciding what to do with his hair. "Let's see what we've got…silk protein, softens and fortifies…no, I don't think so…" She set that on the floor. "...leave-in conditioner, strengthens and repairs…nope…ah! Here we go! Chemical perm. Hmm, it says leave in for twenty to thirty minutes. Do you think an hour will be enough time for his pretty hair to get all nice and fried?"

"No!" he cried. "Anything but that."

"Hey, we just want you to be pretty," Gina said. "That's what you want, isn't it?"

"You people are f***ing crazy! This is manly hair! Women love my mane. This is what a real man looks like, not like that…that jarhead son of a bitch over there!"

Tom had heard quite enough. He grabbed the roll of duct tape and said, "All right, we gave you a chance, and you blew it." He placed a piece of tape squarely on the captive's mouth, then pressed it firmly in place so it would really hurt when they ripped it off. "Much better," he commented. Again, when Tom was bent down over the captive, the boy felt the strong desire to touch his hair. It went against all his principles, but he was secretly hoping they'd give him the same haircut. Meanwhile Gina was running a soft-bristled brush through the length of the boy's hair, muttering things like "It's so soft and silky…and with all that natural wave…ah, but soon it will all be gone." She put on a pair of latex gloves and squirted some of the chemical perm solution into her palm. It smelled dreadful, and burned like fire when it touched the boy's scalp. She worked it through the length of his hair until all of it was saturated and dripping with the foul-smelling liquid. Then she twisted his hair into a knot and pinned it in place.

"I'm supposed to leave it for ten minutes…we'll make it twenty, just for fun…and then blow dry it for ten more…again, another twenty. By then he should have some lovely curls." She and Karen snickered. Twenty minutes later and the boy's long hair was already beginning to frizz up. Gina untwisted it and combed it out with her fingers, the wet, stringy locks sticking together and having to be pulled apart. She got her blow-dryer, set it on "hot", and began blow-drying his hair with a brush in the other hand.

Karen was especially intrigued by the process. She had been trained as a barber, not a stylist, and had no idea how to style long hair, other than what she'd watched Gina do. Aftera few minutes of watching, she said, "Can I try? That looks like fun."

Gina gave her a pair of gloves and instructed her not to let the dryer get too hot or his scalp might get burnt - because, after all, if his scalp was going to be showing, it needed to look as healthy and smooth as possible. The boy felt like he was going to throw up as he heard them talking so casually about taking off all his hair. He could see in the mirror that his long hair was already ruined, but at least it was still attached, which was all that mattered to him at the moment.

Karen was a lot rougher with him than Gina had been. She raked her fingers through his tangled locks, pulling hard and causing him to let out a muffled yelp through the duct tape. With every pull, several strands of hair broke off in her hand. "Oops," she said mockingly, tossing the broken pieces to the floor.

Within another ten minutes, the boy's hair was completely frizzed and felt crispy to the touch. Gina and Karen spun the chair around and took a good look at their handiwork. They could see that tears were pouring from the boy's eyes and running down his beet-red face, over the duct tape and down onto his shirt. They had not bothered to cape him.

"He's lovely!" Karen exclaimed. "Or, should I say, she's lovely. Tom, what do you think?" "Heck, I'd date her," he said approvingly.

"But he's missing something," said Gina. "Here, I've got just the thing."

She went and fished in her purse and pulled out a handful of clips and barrettes that she carried in case she needed to put her own hair up. With her comb, she sorted his fried hair into individual curls, then pinned them with the barrettes. Then she grabbed his chin again and examined him further. "There, perfect," she said. "He's so pretty." She patted him on the head.

He looked like a little girl who'd just been through a slumber-party beauty session. His mass of horribly damaged curls was made even more ridiculous by the addition of the barettes.

"Hold on, I'll take a Polaroid," said Karen, running to fetch the camera. "We don't want to forget how nice our beauty queen looked."

She snapped a few photos of the ludicrous hairdo, then said, "All right, enough of that, let's sort this mess out and begin the sex-change operation."

Gina giggled. "Yeah, time to turn our girl into a boy."

She took out the barrettes and began combing through his hair. At this point, large chunks were breaking off in the comb, leaving jagged ends. Some pieces even came off at the scalp.

"Hey, don't pull all of it out, leave me something to cut," Karen protested. So Gina handed her the comb and let her take over. After a few more passes with the comb, she picked up her clippers and said "Now for the really fun part!" She turned to her husband. "Tom, sweetie, since it was your car that got keyed, you get to pick what kind of haircut he gets."

Tom grinned broadly and came and looked the boy in the face again. The boy, having seen how much hair pulled out in the comb, had given up wanting a haircut like Tom's. Tom's hair was much thicker and fuller than his own now was.

"Let's give him a real 'jarhead' haircut," Tom said. "Take it real short, shorter than mine. So he'll have something to think about before he starts calling people names next time."

"Okay," said Karen, "but I don't know if I can. He may end up totally bald."

"That's fine, then," said Tom. "Anything would be an improvement."

The clippers, fitted with their closest blade, sprang to life. The sight of his wife wielding that wonderful machine was enough to make Tom quite aroused, even though he'd just had a haircut less than an hour ago. Karen ran the blade up the middle of the back of the boy's head, clipping it to the scalp. She stopped to examine the buzzed patch.

"Well, I think we could get away with a buzzcut, but it still feels pretty brittle. I don't know. I'll have clip the rest before I can say for sure."

The boy sniffled. His face and the front of his shirt were totally soaked with his tears, but he'd stopped crying momentarily. His erection pressed hard against the zipper of his tight jeans. All the talk about giving him a haircut had been arousing, but now that the clippers were actually on his head, stripping away all that hair, he didn't know if he could contain himself.

"Aw, how precious," Gina said. "He's got himself a boner. We ought to photograph that." She laughed. After Karen had run her clippers over the boy's sore scalp, she rubbed his head and said, "I'm afraid we're going to have to take the rest off. It's just too damaged, even when it's this short." She was lying, of course. The buzzcut looked and felt fine, but she'd intended all along to shave him bald. Despite being a sadist, Karen was a good barber, and she wanted to give the boy the same treatment she gave all her customers when she did head shaves. So she soaked a towel in hot water and wrapped it around his scalp, gently massaging his head through the towel. The warmth of the steaming towel on the boy's head was too much, and he exploded in his pants. Fortunately, if the two barbers noticed, they kept silent about it.

Karen took the hot towel off the boy's head and tossed it back in the sink. Then she put some shaving gel on her palms and lathered it in her hands, then rubbed it all over his head. It was a wonderful, tingling feeling, certainly much better than that awful perm stuff.

"Tom, can you hand me my straight razor?" she asked her husband. He gave it to her, and she flipped it open and carefully began scraping away the coating of lather that covered the boy's head. His scalp was quite pink underneath, but otherwise didn't look damaged or irritated. With each stroke of the razor, she massaged the freshly shaved area with her other hand, allowing the boy to savor the sensation of her hand on his newly bald scalp. She could feel him shiver and knew he was enjoying the process.

Tom was also enjoying it. He subconsciously rubbed the silky-smooth skin on the back of his head. Once she'd shaved his entire head once, she toweled off the excess lather and said, "I'm almost done. Look at what a handsome young man this boy has turned out to be. What an improvement over all that s**t he had on his head when he came in here."

Then her hands were on his scalp again, spreading a second coating of lather. She shaved his head a second time, this time against the direction of the hair growth. This was not quite as smooth a process, as the razor tugged on his rough scalp, making a sound like velcro being ripped apart. The second shave took longer, since Karen made sure to scrape every rough spot two or three times until it was completely smooth when rubbed in all directions.

At last his head was bare enough for her liking, and she squirted some lotion into her palms and massaged it thoroughly into his scalp. He was soothed by her touch and by the coolness of the lotion on his very warm head. She then rinsed her towel in cold water and used it to wipe away the excess lotion.

"Oh, wow, come feel this, it's wonderful," she said, stroking his glossy scalp. His head was as smooth as marble. Gina and Tom both came over and gave the man's head a gentle rub, marvelling over its smoothness. Then Gina bent down and kissed him softly on his bald head.

"There, that's what a real man looks like," she said. She picked up the wet towel and lightly dabbed away the dried tears on his face. "What a beautiful head he has, too bad it was kept hidden for all that time."

"Well, if the lotion works its magic, his scalp won't even feel rough for another week or two," Karen said. "It's got a powerful depilatory agent in it."

Gina laughed. "Good thinking. All right, do you think we should take the gag off him now?"

"Sure," said Tom. "I'll do it." He reached over and ripped the duct tape off the young man's mouth with one violent motion.

"What did you do to me?" he cried.

"Like I said, something that needed to have been done a long time ago," said Tom. "We're gonna let you go in a minute. But first, you gotta repeat after me - 'Hair is for girls!'"

"H-hair is for girls," he muttered.

"Good," said Karen. "Now how about apologizing to my husband for all those mean names you called him?"

"I'm s-sorry I called you a jarhead and a military drone. I'm sorry. You're not any of those things."

Tom smiled. "I think the boy's learned his lesson. Cut him loose."

Karen took her straight razor and very carefully cut through the duct-tape ligatures that held their captive in place. He sprang up out of the chair and bolted toward the door. The three of them stood in the doorway and watched as he took off down the street, not looking back.

"I'll bet you money he'll be back," said Gina.

"Oh, I know he will," said Karen. "But I don't think he'll just be sitting outside anymore."

As they stood there, Tom noticed something fluttering on the windshield of his car. Someone had slid a note under the windshield wiper:

"Dear sir," it read, "My young son keyed your car as we were walking past. You can be assured that he will be punished at home. Please contact me at the number below and I will pay for the damage."

- Two months passed with no sign of the barbershop voyeur. Tom, Karen and Gina joked about him privately, but didn't make their exploits known to anybody. Then, about nine weeks after the incident, the young man approached the shop again. He stood at the door with his hand on the handle for several minutes, his heart pounding in his ears.

Karen came and opened the door for him. "Hi there," she said in her sweetest voice. "Can I help you with something?"

The man was relieved. He'd expected the barber to mock and humiliate him again, but she simply ushered him in and invited him to sit in her chair. Her husband was there, sitting at the front counter. He glanced up from his magazine and gave an approving nod.

Karen put the cape over the young man's shoulders and began gingerly combing through his unkempt, inch-long hair. He was quite surprised at her gentleness - this was very different from the woman who had forcibly stripped him of his long hair.

"What can I do for you today?" she asked him as she ran her fingers through his soft golden-brown hair. It had grown back quite thick and healthy despite the damage they'd done.

"Um…" the young man choked. "I'd like…I'd like it like his," he said, pointing over at Tom.

"Hey, good choice, man," Tom said, smiling. He ran his hand over his head.

"That's a nice cut," Karen said, "but of course I'm biased." She laughed. She switched on her clippers and began shearing the back of the young man's head. He didn't seem afraid anymore.


The End

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