Whitewalled and Spiky by Bob

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Note: If you are looking for something true or remotely realistic, I'm afraid you've clicked on the wrong story. There was a story that I clicked on ("Robotic Discipline") that I liked, but I was annoyed when it was kind of science fiction without warning. This is also going to be somewhat like that. It was part of the inspiration in making this. Okay, with that out of the way, we can began the tale.

For high school, I went to an all-boys private school. Me and my brother lived single in dorms they had along with other people from across the country. Our parents sent us money for groceries and necessities. Each dorm was a single room. They had rules and regulations on a most everything. There were rules like no hair below the collar or over ears. Hair had to be combed, but that really wasn't enforced to a certain extent. There was a strict dress code of tie, button down, and long pants. All of the rules you'd expect. Teachers weren't really required to follow this, but most of the male ones did anyway.

In ninth grade, I had one teacher named Mr. McAllen. He was a small man with a big body like a football player (about 5'6"). He was a former member of the Air Force. He had spiky, gelled up hair with shaved sides. At longest, it was an inch. He was blue eyed with (slightly graying) brown hair. He was strict and a boring teacher. I was attracted only to his hair though. I had a hair fetish. I fantasized him gelling his hair with insane hold hair gel and all that. He had narrow eyes and a square head. I never had the nerve to get my hair like that. This teacher was my eighth period teacher, so I always had him last.

In school, I had four friends that I'd always hang out with who just happened to be in my lunch. First was jake, a blue eyed brunette who wore his hair long with bangs around his eyebrow and just shy of the rule limit. Every day, he wore the same pullover jacket with the school's logo (you could only where hoodless coats, jackets, or pull overs if they had the school's logo on it). At the time he was slightly taller than Mr. McAllen. He was on the rugby team and had practice every day. I had almost every class with him other than third period. Next, there was Colby. Colby was odd to say the least. He had come with us to boarding school. He was 5'10" (one inch taller than me at the time). He had brown eyes and blonde hair with backs and sides an inch long. He kept his hair the same way since second grade. The top was messy, but somehow always roughly the shape of a quiff. He was not active at all, but he stayed thin and was quite handsome. He always stayed in his room on his Xbox. He was hilarious spouting out funny jokes at random times. There was Dexter, a red head who was sometimes there and sometimes not. We never knew where he was, but whenever we looked away, he was back. Dexter's hair was red and curly; if it had been straight, his hair would be a bowl cut, but it was a short afro. He was lanky and about six feet Lastly there was my twin Chad. We were fraternal but we had the same blonde hair and blue eyes. We both had the same haircut: a #5 on sides and four inches parted at top. We were roughly the same heigh (5'9"), and we looked similar enough to be brothers, but not enough to be indiscernible from each other. We made sure to have a different schedule, and he didn't have Mr. McAllen.

One day, Jake sat down at our table with whitewalled sides and the top gelled firmly to the middle. Chad said, "What's with the sudden change, Jake?"
Jake replied, "I thought I might try something different. I got a lot of criticism from the team. I don't think it's bad. I actually think it looks amazing. You should try it."
I said, "No thanks. It looks too much like Mr. McAllen." I was lying. I'd love to have that haircut.
Colby randomly shouts, "YOU LOOK LIKE A DWEEB!"
Not paying attention, Jake says, "Not really, I think it looks vintage."'
Dexter who had not been there a minute ago said, "Whatever, it doesn't really matter."
We move on and get into a different conversation. I was really focused on Jake's new hair. It was so slick, so cool, and so short.

Nothing strange happened until about a week later. Colby walked in on Monday with a new haircut just like Jake's: whitewalled and spiky. Jake went out of town and left school early.
Chad said, "Woah, Colby, I hardly recognized you. You've had that same cut since like second grade."
"This? I think it looks good..."
Chad replied, "I never said it didn't, but what's with the change. I thought you said it looks like a dweeb."
Colby snapped (uncharacteristically), "I said no such thing. I have always thought the white walled look was cool."
Dexter replied, "Yes you did."
I said, "Dexter never lies."
Colby rebuttals sharply, "Well maybe you should try it. I know how to give you one."
"Why are you so angry?" asked a sheepish Dexter
"I'm not."

These outbursts became more normal for Colby as time went on. His hair started darkening slightly, but I was the only one to notice. Jake had always been a little strict and cold, but I had never seen Colby this angry. I just assumed that teen angst had developed in him.

I was always a perfect honor student. I turned things in on time, I always got A's, and I studied hard. No one ever really turned things in late. That's why it was a shock when I of all people turned in three different things late to Mr. McAllen. He told me to wait behind after school one day.
He told me to sit down in the arm chair he pulled up in front of his desk.
He said with cold eyes, "Chris, I am disappointed. Recently you have not been turning things in on time. That is unacceptable especially for an honor's student. I had a few people like this earlier, but they reverted to what they were after talking to me." I feel someone tightening zip-ties around my arms and legs, but by the time I resist it is too late. I look to my sides to see Jake on one and Colby silent and stern. "I have decided to take it into my own hands." He goes behind me and I hear the sound of clippers turning on. Mr. McAllen puts a cape around me. "I'm sorry it's come to this, but you need to learn to be more responsible like me. In the Marines, I cut people's hair to acceptable length" The cold metal touches my head and vibrates. I hear a sharp buzz and hair comes off. My heart is racing and my penis is throbbing under the cape. I don't know what is going on, but he repeats the motion around the sides of my head, until it becomes stubble. He wets the my head with a bottle of water and puts shaving cream around the sides of my head. He pushes a cold razor with the grain all around or against the grain. I could not see how this would be called punishment other than the aftershave. Mr. McAllen gets scissors and reduces my hair to a half an inch except for the front which is a little longer. He gets out a tube of something and squirts out about the size of a dollar coin. He rubs it in his hands and pushes the back toward the front. He spikes the front up just like his. This had been my fantasy, so why was I so nervous? It felt cool and tingly. At the end, he cut the zip-ties and handed me a mirror, and it didn't look amazing with my face, but I was still excited and hard. My hair looked wet, but when I put my hand on it, each strand felt hard. He gave me a tube of the stuff without a label and clippers.
He had a grin on his face and said, "Come back when you run out of hair gel and learn from Jake here how to style it.
Unable to ask anything, I say a soldier-like "Sir, yes, sir!" and leave with Jake and Colby a new man.

I ask them, "It looks and feels good, but what was the point of it?"
Jake replies, "Welcome to a new whitewall and spiky hair life. You now are just like us. The hair gel and style makes us be more like Mr. McAllen in that we are more respectful and obedient. You'll find that anything he tells us to do, you will no questions asked."
Colby adds, "It sounds scary, but it feels and looks good. We cut our hair every week. The gel and clippers change our genetics to make us more obedient, but it changes our face and body. It's not a huge deal."
I become scared but it feels so surreal and erotic that I don't complain nor ask more questions.

My brother's reaction was the same as the past two time, and he said no to my suggestion of me cutting his hair like mine. Everyday, I unconsciously woke up and styled my hair with the gel. I noticed it looking better each day. Maybe it was because my round face suddenly developed edges and my wide eyes narrowed. One day, I realized I was shorter than my brother. I was more respectful even if quieter.
Each week Colby, Jake, and I shaved the sides of our head and cut the top like Mr. McAllen's. We each were beginning to look like him. I ran out of gel and he gave me more of it. I started masturbating to my hair rather than others'.
For some reason, I started running and lifting weights every day. My shoulders broadened to look like a football player's. Even though he was taller, my brother was so weak and his hair unfashionable. I needed to help him.

Colby, Jake, and I snuck into his room and turned him into one of us. He started looking like Mr. McAllen too. Of our group, I was the most like Mr. McAllen. My hair was fully brown, my face was square and chisseled. I was about 5'6" and looked like a football player. After highschool, I joined the Air Force with my friends and brother, and we still cut our hair once a week. Upon graduating, he gave each of us his hair gel. Everyonelooks like Mr. McAllen but has retained some facial feature and different height. I have not, I am basically his twin and am proud of it. You should cut your hair whitewalled and spiky.

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