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School Blues - Throwback to the 50s by Boi
Stories inspired by a version written by Fringer, story idea is credited to him.
Ever since I was young, I was attracted by the long forelocks falling over the face, like those in the movies. Especially with the new trend of long slicked back pompadours of the 50s, I was always so excited for the moment in action scenes where the hero has his hair messed up during fights, struggling with his hair beating his face.
Every time I see a guy with hair slicked back over his head, be it in school or in the public, I would wonder how long his hair was when combed down and longed to pull the fringe down and play with it.
Coming out of the 50s, more and more guys in my country started growing their hair, especially on top and front, often combing it in heavy greased pompadours as inspired in the movies. Unfortunately for me, my father put me in a strict all boys Catholic school where such hairstyles weren’t allowed. The school didn’t allow hair to be touching the ears or back, and no fringe touching the eyebrow. I was forced by my father to keep a classic haircut since I was young, with short sides and back tapered with the top parted to the left. He used to drag me to the barber to get scalped along with him, but since I’ve joined secondary school and was finally a teenager, he allowed me to go for my own haircuts. However, he still demanded my hair remain the same, neat and tidy, like a "proper" boy.
With the new freedom, whenever I went for a haircut, I was finally able to give the barber instructions without my dad interfering. Going to a new modern barbershop, I knew in order to be able to grow my top, I had to compromise. I told the barber, "Keep the sides and back short and tapered, but don’t touch the top and fringe. And no thinning". That haircut was much shorter than usual, with a cleanup on the sides and back only, while keeping the top short. The barber explained that he gave me an undercut, where the sides and back are cut short while the top remained long. After the cut, my new barber even greased my hair back for me, making it appear short. I watched the way he styled it intently, ready to replicate it at home. When I reached home, my father glanced at my hair, gave an approving nod, and continued reading his newspaper. Yes! Success. Taking a shower and admiring my hair in the mirror, my fringe was finally at my eyebrows for the first time ever!
In the following months, I continued with the same instructions. After 3 months, my bangs were reaching my nose! I had never had hair this long before. Every day, after school ended, when I shower, I would spend a long time in the bathroom playing with my hair, with my fringe in my eyes, flipping my fringe back and forth, to the side and back in my eyes again. One time, when I was playing this "game", I forgot to lock the door, and my dad opened it. Luckily, I dodged into the shower and pulled the curtain, only receiving a scolding from my father for not locking the door.
However, it was more difficult in school. As I mentioned earlier, the rules were very strict. In fact, the school would occasionally conduct hair inspections and those with long hair would be pulled out. Luckily for me, with my maintained short sides and back, I was not called up. They would hire a barber to come to the school to sort out those boys with longer hair, and were given severe short sides and back, the point we called him The Butcher. During my breaks, I would watch the boys being sheared from the second floor. I was turned on watching the haircuts, especially when the top was thinned out and the moment where the bang was snipped close to the hairline. Because of this, barely any students had hair as long as mine, and those that had hid it well.
When I was playing football in school, despite the grease I use, my fringe would occasionally fall on my face, so I had to rush to pull it back up. I would feel embarrassed whenever my coach said it was time for a haircut, but luckily he never followed up. As time went on, my classmates also noticed it and started making fun of me. I was embarrassed, but at the same time, gaining attention from my fringe turned me on too.
With summer approaching, everyone started becoming more lax with their hair since holidays are approaching and the heat was starting to affect the grease’s effectiveness. Out of nowhere, in the last week of school, they conducted a hair check. I was quite lucky as I just had my regular haircut the day before, and with my sides short and neat compared to my fellow classmates, whose sides were starting to get overgrown, I should be safe. As the teacher was checking, a few classmates started talking among themselves, before one out of nowhere, messed up my hair, pulling down my fringe. It was almost at my lip. My classmates started jeering as I turned red, quickly rushing to fix it up again. The commotion caught the attention of the teacher, and I managed to fix it just before she arrived. When asking what the noise was about, that classmate, Chad, shouted out, "His hair is too long, bring him to The Butcher!" At that moment, I paled with nervousness, but was strangely aroused too.
"Nonsense. Look at his short sides and back. As for you, young man, your hair is the unacceptable one. Come with me!" I breathed a sigh of relief while she dragged Chad away, with him glaring daggers in my direction. Narrowly escaped again.
During my break, I was doing my normal observations at the haircuts when I saw something amazing. One of the seniors was dragged to The Butcher by the principal himself. His hair was amazing. It was obvious the grease wore off, and his fringe was flopping in his face, easily reaching his nose. The Butcher, seeing him, decided to make an example for the students. He was moved to the front of the queue. Watching him caped up, he immediately seemed less intimidating despite being a senior. In fact, he looks like a small boy being surrounded by that cape, trapped. The Butcher sprayed his hair down to break up the grease, leaving the fringe in his face, covering his eyes. Taking the guard off the clipped, he places it at the side, before running it up the sides, causing a gasp from the students. With scary efficiency, he peeled the hair at the sides and the back in less than a minute. I couldn’t see his face, but I could see him shaking in fear. Pulling up the top of his hair at the back, he measured up less than an inch, before slicing it off, pushing it to the cape, causing the senior to shake badly. He slowly moved his way forward, creating a bigger and bigger pile on the cape. Finally, reaching the fringe. I already had a boner from the hair on top being cut off, and held my breath while The Butcher went in for the kill. Sliding the scissors under his fringe, he placed it at his hairline and in one cut, his magnificent fringe fell onto the cape, with the crowd surprisingly silent for a boys school. At that moment, I’m ashamed to say I nutted in my pants, and quickly rushed off to the toilet to change. I would never forget that moment.
During summer break. I spent it with my uncle in the countryside. My uncle is not as strict as his brother, and it was evident with my cousin, Ted. He was your typical rough country boy, with longish dirty blond hair. He usually wore a cap, but when it was off, his bangs were down to his nose. Free from my father and school, I continued growing it freely, no longer needing to grease it constantly. I enjoyed going swimming with my cousins, where both our hair ended up sopping wet. At this point, my fringe was at my lips, and my cousin had a massive mop in the water. On top of that, I loved play-wrestling with my cousin, watching half his face being covered by his heavy locks, allowing me to play with his hair without any suspicions from him, feeling my hand run through his long thick hair was so sensual and arousing, and I took every instance to touch it and feel it. I could also feel my hair on my face flop around freely, reminding me of the movies that inspired me when I was younger. When I was alone, I would continue playing with it, surprised by the feeling of it on my lip, and started sucking on it as a habit.
With the 3 month break coming to an end, I decided to get a haircut on the way home. I did not have a haircut during the 3 months, and my sides and back were looking long for the first time ever. My hair at the back was touching my collar and half my ear was covered with hair. As for my fringe, it was touching my fringe. I was in love with it, playing with it whenever I was alone. After alighting from the train, I saw a barbershop at the station which I had not been to before. It seems rather old, but there was no queue, so I decided to give it a shot.
Opening the door, there was a ring, alerting the barber. I kind of regretted it the moment I saw him, because he seemed like an old traditional barber. He sneered when he saw me, for I had not greased it as per normal, but nevertheless welcomed me in. It was too late for me to back out, so I left my luggage at the waiting area and took a seat. With surprising efficiency for his age, he quickly wrapped the neck tissue around my neck, followed by the cape. With my hair in my face, and being under the cape, it brought back memories of my senior before his hair got cut. I turned slightly red while thinking about it. "Boy, how do you want me to cut it. Surely it’s time for a shearing, especially with school reopening soon." Slightly nervous with that memory fresh on my head, I gathered my wits and replied, "An undercut, short sides and back, low taper at the back. Do NOT touch the top and fringe" He seemed rather content with my initial response, but upon hearing my instructions for the top and front, he scowled. Even so, he did not say anything. Before he started, some people entered. A father and his two sons, wearing my school uniform. They both had slightly overgrown sides and back but otherwise short. Before starting on my sides and back, he made a point to comb my fringe straight down, all the way to my chin, before parting the sides and clipping the top to separate. Through the thick veil of hair, I could see the boys were amazed by my hair, while the dad was frowning.
As he was cleaning up my sides and back, the father started making small talk with the barber. As he was cleaning up my left side after clearing the sides and back of my summer growth, the topic turned to me. "My my, boys these days don’t know how to act like men. Such a disgusting haircut. I assume you’re going to clear him of that disgusting fringe." Hearing that, my heart started beating faster, and I started shaking a bit. At the same time, I could feel my pants getting tighter. "Stop shaking kid. Well, what do you think, time to remove that hideous mess? I can make you look like a proper man."
"No...no. Don’t touch the top". Hearing that, both the barber and the father scrowled. Finishing, he did not bother to fix the top, leaving it in my face, and removed the cape while looking rather unhappy. While I was paying him, the father turned to his boys and mocked my hair, calling me a sissy, only stopping when the barber asked him to. While opening the door to leave, the barber said, "I expect to see you soon", sending chills down my back. I ran off to the toilet to fix my hair. While doing so, I realised I had to use almost twice the amount I normally used. Greasing my hair helped calm me down, and when I was satisfied with how neat it looked, I made my way home.
Reaching home, my dad seemed to look at me while I was heading up my room. He kept staring at my hair while talking to me, causing me to start freaking out on the inside. Before I went up, he remarked, "I'm happy you kept your hair short. Ted always looked homeless and I was worried you would be negatively influenced by your uncle. Good that you maintained a proper haircut." I was so excited when taking a shower later, with my fringe free for grease. I can’t believe it worked!
That night, after my parents had gone to sleep, I took another shower, freeing my hair of its grease once more. Lying in bed, with my fringe on my face all over my face, it just felt amazing. It was like this everyday at my uncle’s place, but being able to do so at home just felt different. At the same time, I was starting to feel anxious about school tomorrow, thinking about hair checks, what Chad did, and about The Butcher and that senior. My new habit of chewing on my hair helps to calm me down, and it worked. In fact, I formulated a plan to be safe tomorrow
Waking up earlier than my dad, I quickly changed to my uniform and ran to the toilet, remembering to lock the door behind me. Taking a generous amount of grease and my comb, I carefully parted my hair, slicking back my massive forelock, returning to a "proper" schoolboy. I had carefully made sure the previous high fade on my back was brought down, so my beautiful fringe will not overlap at the back, giving it away. After a quick breakfast, I went off to school.
Making it just in time, I joined my class at the parade square, trying to blend in, chatting with my classmates.Everyone else had clean haircuts, and mine seemed to blend in, considering no one said anything. The main difference? Chad. He had a short buzz cut, with the sides shorn down to the skin. And he was glaring at me, but remained silent. Nervously, I just continued chatting with my friends.
5 minutes to assembly. My form teacher had arrived. Running up to him, I acted urgent, saying I needed to go to the toilet. He looked me up and down, before nodding his head, asking me to hurry up and try to be back before assembly was over. I bowed, thanking him, adding that I’ll try my best, but it was a bad stomach ache. Running off to the toilet nearest my classroom to avoid potentially running into others, I was so excited. In my sprint, My fringe flopped over my entire face, obscuring my vision. Thankfully I was already quite fast away from the crowd, and no one saw it. Smoothening it out, I continued to toilet, heart beating fast. I can’t believe it worked!!!
Looking at myself in the mirror, I was so happy, However, with its length, it was starting to get messy again. Taking out my jar of grease, I was preparing to redo it, not before indulging in my habit of sucking on the tip.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone approaching. Quickly, I pushed it back up, only for it to fall straight down on my face, obscuring my vision. Quicking pushing it up and holding it up with my hand, I looked at who the intruder was. Oh s**t. It was Chad. And he looked pissed.
I tried sprinting to the exit, but Chad was physically bigger and faster than me. Before I could take 3 steps, he grabbed on to my hand with an iron grip. Desperate, I was about to scream for help, only for him to grab on to my fringe and yank it hand, throwing my off balance and on to the floor.
"That hair is disgusting. Just like you. Let me help liberate you from it." Stuffing my mouth with my fringe and covering it with his hand, he dragged me to a toilet bowl, before dunking my head into it. The water blocked out all noise, I was stuck. And all I could see was my hair. As I was about to lose consciousness, he yanked me out. Gasping for air, the next thing I knew, he took out a sock and stuffed it in my mouth.
"Shut up, you are making this worse for yourself. Even if you scream, there is no one here. They are all at assembly. And you should know, first day assemblies are at long. You have 2 options: Follow me properly like the sissy you are with your disgusting hair, or resist, and I will make you follow me." As in on cue, the school bell rang, sealing my fate. I was not going to let him win, and tried to punch him, only to miss horribly with hair blocking my eyesight. In retaliation, he yanked my fringe down hard again, before grappling me and restraining me with one arm, while using my fringe like a leash, leading my head and body in the direction he wanted. I was freaking out, heart beating like crazy, yet at the same time, with every yank, I could feel my pants getting tighter.
By the time we reached the basketball locker room, with Chad having the keys as the school basketball captain, the bulge in my pants was impossible to hide. Opening the doors, he threw me in, before locking it behind him, sealing my fate. Holding my fringe again, he dragged me by my fringe, forcing me to crawl along the floor. He forced me onto a chair, before finding skipping rope and tying me up. As much as I tried, he was easily twice as strong as me despite being the same age. After being satisfied with arms tied behind me back, torso and legs bound to the chair, he removed his sock. By then, the bulge in my pants became painfully obvious to him.
"Dude, please, I’m begging you. Please let me go. I’ll do anything."
Gesturing to my pants, all he said was, "Disgusting, I will make you regret your disgusting hair." With that, he pulled my hair down, stuffing as much as he could in my mouth. It was not only painfully obvious, but painful to control my boner as with every touch of my fringe it got closer to release.
He walked towards one of the lockers, unlocking it, pulling it open to reveal a mirror in the interior. Reaching for the back of the locker, his hand returned holding one thing. Scissors.
"Disgusting. You are a sissy. I will free you. You ruined my hair, and now I will make it fair. You will thank me." Annoyed by my begging, he took his sock and stuffed it in my mouth again. Holding me in a chokehold to stop me from struggling against my bonds, he brought the scissors near my fringe. At this point, I couldn’t stop shaking uncontrollably.
Randomly picking a chunk of hair at eye level, he slid the scissors underneath and closed it. Just like that, 6 inches of hair dropped on the floor, lifeless. I could clearly see my hair through an eye, causing me to break down even more. To rub it in, he picked it up by the clump, and stuffed it in my mouth. Chunk by chunk, haphazardly, he cut off bits of my fringe, slowly widening my vision. All I could do was cry, as he continued stuffing hair into my mouth. After 5 or so chops, and a sliver of fringe left at original length, he decided he had enough fun, placing the scissors at my hairline. With one chop, whatever fringe I had left fell onto the floor.
Just when I thought it was over, he pulled out clippers from the locker. He took the guard off. Placed it in the middle of the forehead. Less than a second later, all that was left was a whtie stripe down the middle. I had run out of tears by then, completely subdued and exhausted. In less than a minute, all my hair was gone, on the floor.
Satisfied, he pulled out the sock, causing me to cough out the hairball in my mouth. Seeing all my hair on the floor, and clumped together caused me to break down even more. Picking up my shorts that were covered in hair, he threw in my hands, before untying me, grabbing me and throwing me out the locker room. Lying on the floor, I felt utterly defeated. Just then, the school bell rang, signalling the end of assembly. I quickly ran to a nearby toilet cubicle and rushed to put on my pants, in the process knocking a ton of hair out the pants. Holding whatever little hair that was left in my hands, I tried not to cry. Before I could process what just happened, I could hear students moving around the corridor. Reluctantly, I opened the cubicle door to exit, only to be met with my hairless reflection. I could only imagine my fringe still there, but doing my normal motions of styling it up just had my hand brushing against nothing. Holding back tears, I ran back to class, for fear of getting in trouble.
My form teacher narrowed his eyes when I arrived to class late, but made no comment on my hair and just asked me to hurry up to my seat. Chad was already in class, and with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen him with. Some of my classmates seemed confused, but said nothing. Sitting down, all I could think about was my fringe, and the day passed by just like that. The moment school ended, I ran to the bus stop, heading home.
Opening the door, I saw the one person I didn’t want to see. My father. He narrowed his eyes at my hair, and then he smiled. "Finally, you have become a man. I’m so proud of you. I’ll bring you to my barber weekly to maintain it. You look so much better." I just ran to my room at that moment, being unable to contain myself much longer. Back in the toilet, I took out something from my pocket. I managed to save a piece of my fringe. Staring at that piece and my then at the mirror at my buzzed head, I couldn’t help by cry.