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Fetish Dare 1 (True Story) by Vincent

Fetish Dare 1 (True Story)

In the beginning, I was a boy, and my father thought I should look like one - apparently.
He believed that meant short hair - very short hair.
For the first twelve years of my life, he keep my blond hair shorn close to my scalp.
He criticized any boy or man with long hair, calling them faggots.

For me, it was a nightmare - well, after the first few years at least. By the time I was
twelve, I was getting pissed off at having my hair shorn to nothing.

I finally got the balls to say, "NO!" to haircuts. It didn't go too well for the first few
times, but eventually, the old man got tired of physically dragging me to the chair and
forcing the hair off me. Each time, I managed to get my hair longer and longer before
the inevitable shearing.

The last straw was when I was almost fourteen. I had been growing my blond locks for
longer than usual - avoiding my dad's clippers for longer than usual. I managed to get my
silky blond hair down over my eyes.
I was very proud of the fact that blinking made my hair move! It was an incredible feeling.
Plus my blond feathers were well over my collar and tickling even the lower parts of my slender
My hair was turning into a marvel.

Then the day.

"Get your little ass into that chair, Vincent," he demanded.


"What was that, young man?"

"NO! I'm not getting a haircut."

The fight went on for some time. I literally was evading him. I was skinny and small by comparison
so I could out manoeuvre him for a long time.
I kept flicking my hair out of my eyes to keep him in sight.
That enraged him more.

Finally, my mother came to the rescue. She suggested that I get my hair cut but that my bangs stay.
I was not thrilled with the idea.
Dad was not thrilled with the idea.

Still, as the fight went on, I began to realize that I would never be able to keep this up forever.
Dad probably thought the same thing about himself. He was getting tired of chasing me and yelling.

I finally yelled, "I want to keep my bangs!" I flicked them in a show of power.

"They look ridiculous," he yelled but less loud. "You look like an idiot. You look like some of
those faggots at your school with long sissy hair."

"No I don't," I said sullenly.

The old man stopped and stood by the chair. "Fine. You get the rest of your hair cut and I leave the bangs."

"You don't touch my bangs at all," I demanded.

"Maybe just a little trim, Vince," my mother tried.

"NO! I don't want him to touch my bangs at all. That's the best part of my hair!"

My father glowered at me and I could tell he was not at all pleased with this turn of events.

"Fine. I won't touch them."

He motioned to the chair. I slowly walked over to the chair and sat down. I felt vulnerable, but we had made
a deal. I flicked my bangs out of my eyes about three times as he wrapped a towel around my neck and
pulled the hair out over my collar.

His face was red from yelling. My face was red from teenaged anger.

He took a comb and ran it through my hair, but it was blond and fine at that time, so no tangles to speak of.
The silken blond strands flowed through the comb and wafted over the towel in back. Then he combed my
bangs down over my face.
He saw me tense up.
"Just coming it out of the way of the clippers," he said almost calmly.

What could I say to that?

My bangs sailed down in smooth, gleaming wafts over my long eyelashes to the bridge of my nose.
I could feel the ends as they touched my nose.
I blinked several times and the hair jumped with my eyelashes. I smiled a little.

He shook his head.
At the same time, I felt like a kid because I was still afraid - but I also felt like a man because I had
made a good deal to keep my long bangs. Also, I felt a familiar stirring in my groin as I admired my
own long hair. Somehow his strong hands in my long hair made it even more intense.

The clippers started up behind me.
I jumped a little, and I think I heard him chuckle.

True to his word, he began to shear the back of my head. Then I felt the clippers coming up to the top of
my head, and I tensed - my fists clenched.
I wanted to flick my head to get my bangs to sweep to the right like they should, but I didn't dare with the
clippers working.
He stopped and moved back down to the bottom of my neck again.
After several strokes up to the top of my head from the bottom of my neck, he changed direction.

This made me more nervous, but I could feel the blades as the entered behind my bangs and went back
toward my neck and down the back of my head.
The glorious long blond bangs hung like a sexy curtain over my face.

I began to relax a little more as I realized that he was being careful to only come as far as the bangs and
then move back.
When I say relax, I mean that in relative terms. I was very excited now.
I am not ashamed to say that I had we dreams about the next haircut - but once satisfied, I would always
vow never to allow that to happen again. The idea of some dude "like" me getting his long hair stripped
from him gave me a lot of excitement. In fact, I had imagined some of my classmates with hair even
longer than mine - one much longer - getting his hair taken. Sometimes, I even imagined (while my
hand was busy below) him getting his hair sheared by my very father if I brought him home as a guest
and he misbehaved.

In this case, although I didn't want to lose any of my long hair, it was kind of the best of both worlds.
I was going to keep my awesome long bangs and still get the rush of having my hair cut against my will.
The wetdreams in the coming days would be explosive.
I smiled at the thought and at the thought that this stupid old man did not know that he was giving me
such a thrill for later.
He was so dumb I thought. He hated my bright colored tight jeans and pretty much all my style actually - but
really hated my hair and now he had to abide.

I spread my skinny legs and relaxed some more.
The buzzing should soon be over and I can go to my room and play.

He bent one of my ears over and clippered around it. I did not like the thought of how short the hair would be
around my ears. He tipped my other ear over and went around it as well.
Still, my super bangs were gleaming down over my eyes.

Without turning the clippers off, he removed the #1 guard and proceeded to trim the base of my neck and then
around my ears again, bending them over and shearing as close as possible around them.
I hated that. Why did it have to be skin over the ears.

I held on though because my pride and joy long bangs were still intact. When I went back to school, the kids
would still marvel at my long hair.

I would be looking out for any of the longer haired students who had been forced into a short haircut at the end
of summer. I didn't like getting my head shorn, but I got very excited to see some other longhair or long hair
wannabe get his hair stolen.

I could flick my hair at them and smirk.

I smirked now.

Mistake number one.

Dad turned off the clippers. I breathed a sigh. He ran a rough hand over the stubble on the top of my head.
I hated that.
Yuck. His hand in my precious hair and showing off that he stole it!
Still, he didn't touch my bangs - well not with his hand anyway.

He took the comb again and slid it through the long smooth strands down over my eyes to the bridge of my nose.
I realized that he wasn't using the same comb. He had taken my comb out of my back pocket - the one with the long
pink handle.
He hated it.
Now he was using it on my long hair. I couldn't believe it. How stupid was he! Didn't he realize that he was just
giving me even more wanking material? Dumb old man.

"It isn't even," Dad commented.

"It's fine," I said and flicked my head so the bangs would sweep across. "You just didn't comb them right."

Mistake number two.

"I see," he said. "The question is, can you see?"

"Of course, I can see," I said petulantly and swung the hair several more times. I went to get up from the chair.
The massive blond swath of hair with my head tilted was like a bullfighter's red cape.

Mistake number three.

His big hand rested on my shoulder - heavy.

"Hold on," he laughed. "With these bangs, I had trouble getting an even cut across the top. I need to even it out a
bit. Won't be much longer."

I thought I was a smart kid, but not smart enough to catch the double entendre.

The clippers started up again and entered just behind where the roots of my bangs were. He did shear straight back.
I wanted to go but calmed myself. I had flicked him off several times with my long hair, so I was satisfied for now.

Before I knew it, the clippers were spun around, still entered behind my bangs but this time moving FORWARD!

I froze like a deer in the headlights.

The fall of blond tresses was shocking. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. My throat constricted.
The clippers moved up another time and the huge swath was widened beyond hiding.

My beautiful long blond bangs were being decimated!

My bottom lip trembled. Where was my wanking punk self now! I couldn't help it.

I began to cry like a five year old getting his first haircut. My awesome blond curtain of hair no longer concealed my eyes -
or any part of my face.
There was no mirror, but I knew what was happening.
Then it suddenly dawned on me that I didn't know right away what was happening - but I remembered now.
The guard had been removed from the clippers.
This would not even be a number 1.

I was basically being balded! My blond hair was so blond and so fine that my scalp would be visible for all to see
and laugh at.

When he shut the clippers off, I flicked my head.

"No need to do that anymore, son," he said and laughed.

I cried my eyes out and he scoffed at my tears. "You lied!" finally managed to sniffle out.

"Nope, I said I wouldn't touch your bangs and I didn't. The comb did, and the clippers, but I didn't." He laughed again.
"Oh, by the way, I guess you won't be needing this gay comb for a long time." He threw my long handled pink comb
in the trash can.

I vowed once again to never EVER let him touch my hair.
Here I was, formally long blond bangs sweeping across my eyes and forehead - gleaming and softly concealing with a flick,
flick, flick.
Now a BALDY!
It would be days before I could cum to myself again. And months before my hair even resembled something decent.

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