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Fraternal Initiation by Ares
“C’mon, bitchboys. It’s time for your second initiation task," called Brent Stevens, or, as you had to call him, Sir Stevens. Brent is a sophomore at the state university you were enrolled in this semester, a member of the university’s championship winning wrestling team, and, most importantly, a high ranking member of the fraternity that had put in a bid for you. “I know you all can’t wait for this one after what we all did a couple days ago."
Memories of the mud run, or maybe mud hunt would be a better way to say it, flashed through your head. Brent himself had been the one to catch you, and you still had his initials spray painted on your chest to prove it. “You’d better not wash this paint off for a week or two, or else you’re out, s**thead!" he had said before pushing you down into the mud and dunking your whole head into the sludge. It took you hours that night to clean all of the dried mud off of yourself, and out of your hair.
Your hair is just above shoulder length, and you put careful care into your appearance every morning to ensure you were more than presentable. Many of your fellow pledges that surrounded you had longer hairstyles, in contrast to the elder members of the frat, who all wore tight fades or even full buzzes on a few of them. This included Brent, whose naturally blonde hair is cut into a plush flattop that left a tuft of hair poking through his backwards frat-branded trucker cap he seemed to wear religiously.
“HEY!" Brent is pointing straight at you. “You need to learn to pay attention to your superior brothers! Do you understand, f***face?" He directed his questioning quite loudly at you.
“Yes, of course, Sir Stevens, my superior brother. I am thoroughly apologetic for my transgressions and will nevermore fail the brotherhood. I will accept my punishment posthaste, Sir," you repeat as fast as humanly possible like a broken record. All of the pledges had been made, no, reprogrammed, to show proper respect through recited responses to their superiors.
Brent smirks at your perfect recitation. “Well, thank you, dumbass, for volunteering to be the first to go through our next ritual. Since you so graciously volunteered before I could explain, I’ll wait until after you are done to tell all your fellow pledges what is happening. I’ll give you the first opportunity to draw from the hat." He held out a trucker hat identical to the one he was wearing, filled with about 25 folded index cards.
“Don’t be shy! You’re gonna have to pick one anyways, unless you want to quit here." His taunt gets to you. You draw a card and unfold it to reveal… the name Brent?
“What does it say, dickhoover?"
“I-it says your name, Sir Stevens."
He pauses, and looks quizzically at you. “Well," he mutters under his breath, “aren’t you a lucky little pledge." He hands the hat full of slips to another brother and puts his hand on the back of your neck. “I am officially your permanent mentor in this Brotherhood, pledge." He turns to the roomful of other pledges and calls out, “You prickticklers better behave while I’m gone! Otherwise, its a punishment for all of you!"
He leads- no, pulls you beside him by your nape and begins walking down a hallway through the frat house. You hadn’t before noticed how much larger he was than you, standing a good four inches above you and having a more muscular build than you, though he had about the same body fat. “I suppose I can grant you some explanation," he begins," as a mercy before you become my pledge. That hat had every member’s name in it. You were lucky enough to draw my name. That means I get to decide your life for the next month. Where you go, what you do, how you dress. Basic things."
You gulp at the prospect of handing such control over to a stranger. “This ritual here is our first step in that." He gestures to a door that is approaching quite quickly down the hallway. “In there, you will begin to hand over something that’s been bothering me since I first laid eyes on you." He lets go of your neck and grabs a handful of your hair, and pulls it, almost lifting you off the ground. You whine from the pain. “Shut the f*** up pledge." Brent is now pulling you by the hair as he turns into the room while opening the door.
You weren’t sure what you were expecting when you stepped in, but a barber’s chair seemed to make sense after what had just happened. Curiously, there wasn’t a mirror in there. Theo Williams, another brother with a clean shaven scalp and thick but neatly groomed facial hair, was dressed in a barber’s coat. He said “Hey, Brent! You’re the first one, huh?"
“Yeah, wasn’t expecting that, especially since this one volunteered himself over before I could even explain what was going to happen to him."
“Ah. Well, isn’t he in for a treat! What’ll you be getting?"
“I was thinking a classic shoe would suit me this semester, don’t you think?"
“Hmm… I think it would too! And it would be a good change for him as well."
“Sounds like a plan then," replies Brent, as he begins taking his hat, then his almost too small white t-shirt off, revealing his chest. His jeans stay on, then he glares at you.
“Strip, pisschugger, before I have to cut you out of those rags." You begin to pull off your shirt, and he sees his initials in bright red on your chest. “Oh yeah! I guess I was the one who got you the other day!"
Theo interrupts. “Hey, BS! Maybe we should just call you bulls**t!"
Brent chuckles. “Yeah! Thats a good idea!" He looks at you expectantly as you stand there shirtless and confused. “Are you going to get in the chair or not, bulls**t?"
You hesitantly move towards the chair, and the moment you sit in it, Theo quickly wraps a belt around you, holding your arms at your side and keeping your back stuck against the leather barber’s chair. Brent quickly swoops in and pulls straps you hadn’t seen before out from the armrests, and binds your arms to them, taking away your way to resist.
Theo grabs the hair at the top of your head and pulls up, forcing your head to look straight forwards. You hear the clippers humming as he brings them around the side of your head. Without even giving you a chance to see then, he plunges them straight into the front of your forehead, and forces them straight through your crown.
After the initial shock is gone, reality is beginning to set in. You’re going to be bald! Or, what was it Sir Stevens said? A “classic shoe?" Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be much at all.
Theo is running the clippers all over his pledge’s head, trimming everything down to a uniform length before he works on sculpting a perfect horseshoe flattop on you, the freshman. Once he has everything down to a number 4 guard, he takes off the guard, perplexing you. You hadn’t seen it before, and knowing you had something left up there was relieving.
Theo begins skinning the sides of your head, revealing skin that you know hasn’t been exposed for all of the 18 years you could walk. Brent pipes up, “Damn, Theo. Was I that pale for my initiation?"
Theo says, “Just about, yeah! You were almost exactly like bulls**t here when you were put in my chair." He finishes peeling your sides, and starts on the top.
He lowers himself so that his eyes are perfectly level with the top of your head, before he turns the chair around and centers the clippers on the back of your skull. Slowly, he pushes it up and through the middle of your scalp, stopping what feels like just shy of your hairline. He then begins freehand trimming all of the hair from up there, slowly but surely making a flat surface perfectly level with your scalp.
This is all quite a strange feeling for you, since, with the room lacking any mirrors, you have no clue what is going on. Theo is beginning to put on the finishing touches of his masterwork when Brent comments “You’re doing a damn fine job! On mine, I want the strip shaved with the sides though."
“Hell, I’ll do that for him!" says Theo, who presses a button on what looks to you like a kitchen appliance. Theo begins to build a lather in a shaving mug, and begins spreading it all over the sides of your head with what feels like a wide paintbrush. Then, in what is possibly the strangest thing you’ve ever felt, he spreads some over the top of your head. Out of the machine, he procures a hot towel and begins to wrap it around your whole head. You feel for the first time how exposed your skin is. He waits for about a minute, then he pulls out a straight razor, and you feel it scrape against the grain over your landing strip. He continues to scrape off all the hair on the sides of your head in what you find to be the most mesmerizing experience you have ever felt. As you begin to relax your body, you feel the belts that have bound you being undone.
“Like clockwork," says Theo. “This is always the point that you kids give in to the inevitable, and I can’t blame you."
Seconds feel like hours while your superior swiftly yet carefully removes any trace of hair from below your temples. You awaken from your trance only when you hear Brent ask, “Now what does a good pledge say?"
“Thank you, Sir Williams."
“Nonsense, you’re almost fully initiated, bulls**t. Just Sir Theo will do from now on. And Sir Brent for me."
“Thank you, Sir Theo," you say, like the good pledge you are, as you get up for Brent to take your place in the chair.
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