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Jimmy Becomes im, part 5 by Alex
This is part 5 of the story. Thanks for the comments.
The three of us played football, until, covered with sand, we headed back to the barbershop at dusk. Seb took off, leaving Curt and I to walk into the darkened, silent barber shop.
The shades were drawn. It was hard to see, and Curt bumped into me from behind. The contact with his body was electric; it made me hard. I didn't move. I didn't dare. I could still hear the waves on the beach.
Then I felt Curt's hand on my bare shoulder.
"Jim," he half-whispered.
"Yes sir," I said.
"I had fun today," he said, stroking my bare shoulder.
"Me too, sir," I said.
I felt his hand rub up from my shoulder, across my neck, and then up the back of my shorn head.
"I'd like to continue to spend time with you, Jim. Would you like that, too?"
"Very much so, sir," I whispered, turning around to face him. I felt his lips almost on mine. I felt his hands caress the top of my scalp.
"Then it's time, Jim," he said. "Go take a seat on the barber's chair. We need to give you a proper haircut."
A thrill ran through my body. I already had the shortest haircut I've ever had. How much more could I even lose?
Curt switched on a light. I took a seat in the barber's chair, as he quickly caped me up.
He ran his hand across my almost bare scalp again. It felt so good.
"Jim, it's time I give you a proper haircut," he whispered. "I've been waiting a long time for this. I'm gonna bald you up." It wasn't a question; it was a statement. What could I even say?
I wasn't certain I was ready. "Sir, I..."
He put his finger to my lips.
"Shhhh. No excuses, Jim. No arguing. This is going to happen. You need this."
Then my barber took out the guardless Oster clippers, switching them on.
"Do you trust me, Jim?"
I hesitated. What if I didn't look good? What would people say? But one look at Curt, at his handsome, stern face above me, and I melted. I nodded. "I trust you, sir."
I felt him place the vibrating clippers at the front of my head, pause, and then slowly push them back across the top of my head. He peeled away what little remained of my hair. Stroke after stroke, he removed what little hair I had left, which was only on the top.
"How's that feel, Jim?" he asked.
"It... it feels good, sir," I admitted. Under the cape, I was hard as a rock.
He repeated the process, removing every hair. Over and over, he peeled away everything.
When I was left with nothing but stubble, he took out a bottle of shaving cream and a razor. Then he sprayed it straight onto my head, covering my whole scalp. His hands felt like magic as they massaged in the shaving cream.
"Oh, sir..." I moaned.
"Time to clean this up," he whispered.
He took the razor and then dragged it straight over my head, leaving no hair behind. I felt him strip away even the stubble. When he was done I was left with nothing. At last he stopped.
Then he swiveled the chair and I saw myself, bald, in the mirror, for the first time.
It was shocking. I was slick bald... but I looked okay. Maybe even good. It would take a while to get used to, though.
"You're look clean-cut, Jim," he said. "Like a man's man."
"Thank you, sir. It looks really good."
As I rose from the chair, he kissed me, his hands running up the back of my bald head.