Routine by Snifffffff

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Content Warning: Discussion of erections and the like.
It’s just a regular touch up. My brown hair is just a little too long. Messy almost even though it still barely moves. Stagnant bristles that cover no scalp, only there for show. No function but for amusement.
I peer into the mirror at my own image. Somehow it feels wrong. How much hair I have is too much, even though it still isn’t much.
A pang of displeasure rings through my body as I run my hands through my hair and are met not by the prickly softness I seek, but by disappointing overgrowth. I’ve been busy and it shows in a way I wish it didn’t.
But I can fix this. My hands move to the drawer below my sink and pull. Inside is the tool integral to my solution: clippers. Their sleek silver shines under the white lights as I bring them out with a black cord trailing behind. Further in the drawer are things I don’t need anymore. Guards. I stopped using them a while ago. And more laughably, scissors. Haven’t needed those in a while.
I plug the clippers into the wall. I weigh them in my hands and position them correctly. My thumb reaches over and clicks the lever. And with that, they clatter to life. The blades hum almost viciously, metal sliding back in forth to create a loud, chattering machine that leaves nothing in its wake. The hum vibrates my hand, almost numbing it to the bone, but not enough to cause pain or discomfort.
I raise them to my forehead and bow my head. I stare into my own brown eyes and take a deep breath. I close my eyes and let another breath flow through me, listening to the air flow just beneath the sound of the clippers.
And go.
I push the clippers backward and hear their drone interrupted for a moment. They chew through the obstacle as I push backward, and clear up quickly, going back to their usual tune. I open my eyes and my mouth forms a smile with me barely realizing it. I watch the clumped up hairs roll down my head like a deformed snowball and into the sink. A shorn path has been formed. One where a pale scalp shines under the light between the valleys of still overgrown hair. I put the clippers to rest for a moment and reach for the newly cut hair. It rasps back almost like skin as I put my hand to it. The hair is rigid and almost sandpapery, so it should sting. But it doesn’t. It feels amazing. Like a thick coat of velvet laid on my head.
My grin doesn’t subside after I lift my hand away. I don’t want to, but I have to finish the haircut. I turn the clippers on again and they resume their metallic song. My hands move almost automatically to do the rest. They see a hair out of place and move the clippers to take it away. They want uniformity. For my whole head to be the thick, rigid, velvet. A more pleasurable emulation of sandpaper is my skull’s wonderful fate.
My brain drifts away as I continue to work at my hair, only thinking of the result as the clippers move. Slowly, I become aware of the thick rod in my pants. There’s nothing I can do about it, but feel it throb gently with each swipe of the clippers.
Finally, after I’ve twisted and contorted my arms, it’s even. But now I’m covered in hair and horny. Rubbing my head brings pleasure, but doesn’t satisfy, only increasing the hunger for the bristles. But I look… right, now. Correct. The peeling of the excess hair fixed how I look. Like I should have my scalp poking through, and my brown hair should be so minimal, it might as well be black. It feels natural to me. On me. More than with more hair. But it still feels a bit off.
My cock switches slightly as I spot the shaving cream.I could take off more. Go shorter. My body nags me for more. My heart starts to beat faster. A more pleasurable feeling, a more brutal cut is within my reach.
I give in. I reach for the can and pour a healthy helping into my hand. I begin to spread it across my velvet and my body becomes torn over what to find nice. The gel shocks me at first, almost cool like mint as it graces my scalp. Then the shock becomes relaxing as the cold settles in. The strange weight of the mixture relaxing me and the wonderful feeling of rubbing the bristles on my head excites me. So I’m torn. Torn in the best way possible.
I get the gel as even as possible and go for the razor. It’s the same process. Bow my head. Deep breath in. Close my eyes. Another breath. Go. I pull back with the razor and it glides over my head, leaving even less in its path, peeling away both gel and hair. It rasps ever so slightly as I shave it, like velcro but a softer noise as it cuts the hair away from my head. I put a finger on it and feel it again. It’s almost like smooth leather. A grip remains but finds no purchase as my fingers glide over the bald patch. I sigh with relief at it. That’s what I want. No hair, just skin. So, I go into autopilot again. Continue to remove hair and feel my lust intensify as I get closer to my goal. One I didn’t even know I had when I started. But now I do.
I feel complete as I scrape off the last bit of shaving cream. Perfection. I gasp and sigh as I run my hand across my head. My cock twitches.
But there’s one last problem. The mess I’ve made. Is it worth it ? For the brown hair littering the floor and the sink? I rub my head again and the answer comes to me. Plain and simple. One worded. YES.

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