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New impulses by Dave
I was distracted, I knew I was. I couldn't hear even a single word James said about his progress tackling trichophilia. I could not listen to one more word about his extreme hair fantasies, how was I going to help him!
He was very muscular. Blond hairs just over the ears, grown for the sole purpose of getting cut. He says I cannot imagine the struggle he has to undergo every morning, to resist the temptation to cut them all.
All that nasty business with Ian's hair yesterday, oh my poor child, why would anyone in their right mindset want to put that glob of chewing gum in his silky hair! It was stuck very near to the scalp, I had to buzz his head to a uniform #3 all over. He liked playing with his bangs a lot. He cried a lot. But not more than my wife. I rather enjoyed cutting his hair and then felt embarrassed. I wanted to go shorter, but my wife was getting hysterical.
"Oh, what an ordeal my 9-year boy has to endure today in his school with his hair buzzed down." cried his mother. Her morning talk with his teacher was vitriolic. She left for her office in that irritated mood.
"James, could we please reschedule this session for tomorrow? I'm bit tired and unresponsive today. I'm afraid we might not be productive."
James would agree. He has progressed much in the recent months. He has been embracing his hair fetishism and at the same time controlling his urges to not do something irresponsible. It was a difficult journey for him to open up and follow a path to guilt-free living. It was difficult for me too, listening to all his fetishes with excruciating details. At times, in my dreams, I was the one getting aroused and impulsively sliding the humming balding-clipper in my hand slowly. first, from the nape towards the crown, and then all over while the gagged and strapped victim watched his shoulder-length blond hair get reduced to stubble in front of the full-length wall mirror. That dream was so vivid, I still remember the sensation I felt rubbing my hand against his stubble. Every time I watch a boy with long blond hair, the imagery returns. At times, I unconsciously carry scissors in my left pocket. Clippers would be very visible.
"Of course, why not. Um, same time tomorrow?"
"Absolutely, James. Thank you for understanding."
I would die for a cup of chamomile tea and a good nap to ease my headache. And before I could ask my receptionist to order it and clear the schedule, my bloody mobile rings.
"Um, hello. Sorry to disturb you sir, but your wife was unavailable, so I called you. Its Ian’s bus conductor here, Jenna"
"Ya, his father speaking. What’s the matter?"
"Sorry, sir, it looks like Ian is having a nervous breakdown. He’s been crying all the way and has not yet spoken even a word. Just crying with his hands over his head, trying to grasp his non-existent hairs. Should we drop him at your office today? I wouldn’t suggest leaving him home alone."
"Fine, I’ll be waiting outside."
My whole world is spinning around just hairs now. First, weird hair cutting fantasies in the therapy sessions, then in my dreams and now at my home too!
"Tracy, clear my schedule, lock the office and have the day off. I’m leaving early today."
As I headed for the doors. Ian’s bus was just around the corner.
I am done with the nonsense! There will be no more commotion regarding hairs today. Ian has to grow up and stop being so attached to his hairs. I had buzz cut till I graduated. I hope Ian develops a liking for short hairs too. Anyways, they are going to grow again. He just needs patience. And I need a good nap.
There, I can hear him sobbing without even getting inside the bus!
"Sir, he is not willing to move. Would you please?"
"Come on Ian, don’t make me come till the back to get you." Boy, he needs a lesson in discipline.
Just three steps inside and turning towards the back, I stopped dead in my tracks. A boy of Ian’s height and slightly muscular physique with blond hair just touching the shoulder was whispering in his ears. Probably mocking his buzzed head. Was he the one who put the gum in his head without Ian noticing? Maybe. Anger was bubbling up inside me. My head already throbbing, now irrelevant thought about cutting that luscious hair flooded me. A concoction of curiosity, lust and sensual pleasure swirled inside me. In fear and trepidation, I moved towards the back. He was still whispering in Ian’s ears. I was still eyeing his blond hair. I was not in control of myself. I was palpitating with terror about what my hands were going to do. It was happening so fast, yet I could hear my heart beats distinctly. As I was in close proximity to that boy, I took out the scissors from my left pocket and grabbed all his hair from the nape in my left hand. He was transfixed with his eyes looking towards me in astonishment. My hands were trembling and my stomach was queasy. In the deafening silence that followed, I could not hear the gasps and the conductor screaming no from the door post. The world around me faded into oblivion. I could only hear my heart beating and the snipping sound as my scissors cut the grabbed hair from close to the nape as possible. The waves of pleasure swept through me and over my body. All I could think was bringing a balding clipper next to his scalp. Tomorrow when James comes back for the session, he’ll have a new partner to help him in fulfilling his hair fetishes.
Suddenly Ian stopped sobbing.
Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes as he touched the back of his head to notice 5-6 cms of hair snipped off.
"I hope that’ll teach you your lesson, boy. Stop tormenting people around you."
I knew I went too far. I did not have any right to cut his hair even if he was teasing Ian. I was driven by my new-found impulses.
"Oh, no, Sir, what have you done!" cried Jenna.
"Just teaching this bully here a lesson. A rather small one, I regret."
"No, Sir. He was just trying to cheer Ian up. He underwent a similar situation a year ago. After I called you, Nathaniel here went back to comfort Ian."
What have I done!
Tears were rolling down Nathaniel’s cheeks and he was still gazing longingly at the bunch of 6 cm long crisp blond hairs in my left hand.
They felt soft. I felt more joy than embarrassment. My heart ached for more. My hands wanted the balding clippers instead. Other's opinion doesn't matter to me now. Nothing mattered anymore. Just tomorrow's session with James. And how it turns out.