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My Queer Barber by TeddyBear94


So I'm a little fruity-looking, don't get me wrong. It's hard to exist in straight spaces when I'm clocked before I even open my mouth. I'm 5 foot 7, and it's hard for me to pass as a man sometimes, nevermind a STRAIGHT man.

For this reason, I try to stay away from...should we say "Visibly Gay Hairstyles." And you know what I mean: any format of the modern mullet, anything with detached sideburns, anything with more than two colors in it. I love those styles on other people so much, and I wish I could get one, but I'm so nervous to be clocked as gay in public that it's been hard to make the jump. As of late I've been exploring the wonderful world of 'using summer as an excuse to shave your head.' I had a little bit of a quiff with a short back and sides going into the summer but here we were in August, my tan scalp just barely visible through my #4 buzz with a bald fade. I was slowly warming up to the idea of a more extreme hairstyle but I wasn't quite ready to venture out of the ordinary.

Two things however happened that changed my whole world (and head):
1 - My parents were coming to visit
2 - My regular barber was going out of town for 6 weeks

So my parents were coming to visit - I moved across the country 1 year ago and I haven't seen them since then. We don't exactly see eye to eye on everything and they're very judgmental. For this reason I was planning on letting my hair grow out as much as possible for when they came, trying to keep a vaguely bland and straight cut to avoid conflict with them. It had been itching at me not to go to the barber and get a fresh cut - it eases my anxiety so much to participate in such a heartily masculine ritual and I was dying without it, so I made a decision. Once my parents left, I would reward myself with a super visibly-gay haircut, as I wouldn't have to see them again for quite a while.

I already go to a pretty queer barbershop so it wouldn't be a problem asking for an extreme cut, most of the barbers are known for that sort of thing. My barber, however, was out of town doing a guest spot at another salon after my parents were safely on the plane back home. That was gonna be a problem. I had never seen any other barber at this shop, and they were all a little scary in comparison to my kind, she/her lesbian barber. The other chairs in the shop were operated by two queer dudes with a penchant for leather and high-shaved sides. They were definitely hot but I was definitely scared to let their hands on my head.

However, when I got the call that my regular barberette was going to be out, they had already scheduled me for an appointment with one of the most extreme barbers in the salon. Great. I was shaking in my boots by the time I got to the salon for my cut. I had to remind myself, I wanted this so bad. This experience is a reward for dealing with my parents, and I should embrace it. I decided to walk in head-high, ready for anything. I only wavered a little when I saw who would have his hands on my hair.

His name was Python (I freakin' know, right?) and he had glasses and suspenders and quite visibly-gay hair himself. He was jacked to heck and covered in tattoos, even on the bare sides of his head. I felt my gut stir just at the sight of him and had to rush to the chair and sit down, hoping he hurried the cape over my shoulders to hide the semi I was already getting. So I have a bit of a thing for built dudes - it's not a frickin' crime to be a bottom.

He was so beautiful that I barely registered him talking to me. Wait - what did he say?

"I said, what are you thinking of doing with your hair today?" He asked, deep timbre of his voice making my stomach churn.

"Oh!" I replied. "Well, um, I'd like something that's like, pretty gay. I mean, I've been waiting until I can't, I mean I havem't, I mean I've been waiting to get a Big Gay Haircut until my parents came to visit and they just left so here I am." I said, panicking and talking in circles around my point.

Python put one of his big hands on my shoulder over the crepey cape. His rings glinted in the salon lighting.

"Alright buddy, I totally get what you mean. Excited to help you out. How short are you comfortable going?" He asked, switching gears so fast I almost didn't have an answer ready for him.

"Well, um, I dunno. Doesn't matter to me. You're the expert here." Nice, good work. Very solid answer. I thought back on his portfolio of queer hairstyles on Instagram, thinking about the crazy asymmetrical hairstyles and intricate patterns shaved into people's heads, and decided I was letting Jesus take the wheel on this one.

"Do whatever you want, whatever you think would look good. I don't care about the length." I said, shrugging my shoulders with a feigned air of casualness. I saw a glint in Python's eyes and he thought about something, before deciding to ask anyway.

"Would you be okay with...going bald?" He asked, reaching up to touch my hair.

"...How bald are we talking?" I asked, curious but not offput by the idea of just having my buzz cut down close. Python snorted, excited by my interest in his suggestion, and reached into a drawer on his station. He pulled out two items and held them behind his back. He moved over so he was standing in front of me, able to place the items on the ledge in front of the chair, in my field of vision.

Python held out a classic, red-white-and-blue can of Barbasol shaving cream, and a nice head-shaving disposable razor. My manhood twitched in my pants under the cape just thinking of how people would stop and stare at me in public if I was shaved down to the bone with the tools Python was holding in front of me. Once I caught a whiff of the Barbasol, though, it was all over. Nothing could stop me from going bald as soon as the sharp, masculine scent of the cream entered my nostrils. It felt like a pheromone, winding me up like nobody's business.

I realized Python was waiting for an answer, and as cool as I could I shrugged and nodded.

"Sure! I'm down for that." I said, carefully non-committal. His grin grew wider, and I began to get more nervous. "Ahh, quick! Start before I chicken out." I said, only partially joking. Python laughed too but nodded still, holding up his hands as if to say, "Say no more." and picking up a pair of clippers that were hanging off his stand.

I felt like a sheep getting shorn when the clippers chewed through the already fuzzy fluff of my #4, making quick work of mowing it down to a #1. As my hair became much shorter all over and I watched in the mirror, I began to feel the pit in my stomach grow. I thought having my summer buzzcut had given my scalp a chance to tan, but the shorter length revealed new, pale skin to the light. I realized with a bit of a thrill and a bit of a scare that I would be a cue-ball once all my hair was gone, and there's nothing I could do to change that. Pale skin exposed to the world, like a f***ing light beacon saying, "Look at me!! Look at my head and my clothes and tell me I'm not gay. I just went bald by choice, slick and smooth and down to the quick - I gotta be somebody's little bottom boy, right?" I had a flash of a vision of myself completely bald, just a mustache and aviator sunglasses and maybe a spiked collar and had to blink out of it.

Python sensed my anxiety about my scalp and turned my chair away from the mirror so I couldn't see myself. I caught one last pained glance at my pale head as it spun out of view.

"You'll get to see...and to touch...once I'm done." He said, running his own hand over my head. I could already feel the difference in texture from my #4, the #1 rubbing up against Python's big hand like velvet. I was suddenly excited for him to continue, and he didn't disappoint. I settled into the chair as he took even smaller clippers and started to go over my head again. It felt more...scrapey, and I could only imagine what it looked like.

Once he went over my whole head, he put the clippers down. Rubbing over my head with his hands as he checked for spots he missed, the feeling was unlike anything I knew. It felt like my hair was the texture of sandpaper, short and prickly. Then again, I couldn't see it so I didn't know.

"Alright, this is a double-zero shave. Next step is the razor, you still down for that?" He was giving me an out, but the more I thought about my head shiny and bald, the more I wanted it. I nodded fiercely, and made eye contact with Python.

"F*ck it. I wanna be really bald, let's do this." I said, despite the butterflies in my stomach. Python clapped once and grinned at me, stepping around to get the shaving cream again. I heard the signature sound of the foam coming out of the can. Sh*t was getting real fast as I felt him start rubbing the cream on my sandpapery head.

Positioning the razor at the center of my forehead, Python checked with me one last time. "Smooth?" He asked, and I confirmed. "Smooth." I felt him pull the razor backwards against my head, taking the short hairs with it. I got lost in the feeling and rhythmic movement of the razor, accompanied by the scratch-scratch-scratching sound right by my ears. When I zoned back in, Python was almost done.

He finished up around the back of my head and looked around it for any missing spots. He took my bare, smooth head in his hands and turned it side to side, assessing his own work. It was strange to feel someone touch my actual head. My hands itched to touch it myself, I could already feel a breeze on it - or was that my imagination?

Python turned me around and I got the first look at myself. Just like I thought, I was bald as a cue-ball and shiny as one too. Tilting my head from side to side wordlessly, I saw the bright fluorescent lights of the salon reflected in my bare head. It was so strange to see myself without any hair at all, but it was growing on me (haha) the more I looked at it.

"Do you wanna touch it?" Python asked as I admired the cut. I nodded repeatedly and wrestled my hands out from under the cape. The first thing I did was slap one palm down onto the top of my head. It made a clapping sound of skin on skin, not dampened by any hair at all. That was crazy. Rubbing over my head it felt slick, smooth, and clean and I was immediately obsessed with it.

I obviously thanked my temporary barber profusely for my new favorite haircut, and I paid and tipped him handsomely. Getting in my car, it was difficult to make it the whole ride home without getting distracted by my head. I kept catching glimpses at it in the rearview mirror; my clean, smooth new dome. Running my hands over it in traffic, I almost merged onto the wrong exit ramp (no baldies were harmed in the writing of this story). If I went right home and jerked it to the whole afternoon, that was my business and no one else's. However, I will tell you that I plan on keeping up with the shaves - My first outing with my new look was a trip to Target where I bought my own can of Barbasol and good head-shaving razors. I was struggling not to get hard while trying to keep my blush contained in the self-checkout, thinking about how everyone could see me buying materials to keep up with my fetish-y Queer skinhead haircut. Y'know what, good. Let them look, if they look hard enough maybe they'll see themselves reflected in my shiny head, haha.





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