Andrew Submits To His Mother by Ashton

---

This part two of the story: "Michael’s mother knows best." Feel free to provide prompts and request future stories.

Andrew refused to submit to the pressure our mother’s strong, yet well-taken care of hands against his shoulders. He continued to jolt left and right at random intervals, as if he thought mother would give up him he just fought hard enough. To his dismay, she continued holding him down, entirely un-phased by the strength of her ten-year old.

He began to scream, tears slowly pouring out of his eyes. "I know what you did to Michael, mom" he told the world, his words periodically interrupted by sobs. "You cut all his hair off for no reason. And now, you’re going to cut mine off too."

Mother stood for a moment, contemplating, and then slowly moved her left hand onto Andrew’s chin, pulling his head up so he’d look her in the eyes.

"Andrew, would you like to know why I’m cutting your hair?" She asked softly, looking at Andrew fondly.

"Because you want us to look stupid?" He asked, his sobs becoming more frequent.

"No, Andrew," she began, pulling out a white-rimmed photo from her pocket. It was was a graining Polaroid, depicting two boys around eight and ten years old and a man in his forties. They were standing on a beach, smiling gleefully, their collars tight on their necks. What shocked Andrew, though, was their hair, or lack thereof. Each had a shiny, freshly-shaven head, which reflected the sun’s rays. I couldn’t see anything else from the distance, but Andrew certainly could. He stared, his tears ceasing as he tried to make out the boy’s faces.

"That one looks a lot like Michael," he said, pointing to the taller boy.

Mom chuckled. "Oh, Michael looks a lot more like this boy now than he did last time you say him." She paused quickly, before continuing, "this is your uncle and his boys. They’re around you and Tommy’s age."

Andrew gasped in disbelief, and stuttered out, "I didn’t know you had a brother?"

"He’s a diplomat, like me," mom explained. "His boys travel around the world with him, and since they travel so much, he keeps them clean by shaving their heads and dressing them nicely."

She took her hand off Andrew’s shoulder, looking away wistfully as she continued. "I wanted to wait until you boys were a little older to take you with me. But looking at you three and your father, I’m sure you’re ready to come along. All you four need is a little cleaning up before we go. You men need to be able to handle the unexpected, and live without your precious locks."

As our mother spoke, Andrew’s sobs ceased, and a smile became abundant. He reached up his shoulder length hair, and slid his hand down a strand, feeling the length and curl. He did so again, and immediately ran into a knot, scowling in pain as he untangled it.

"Mom," he asked, pushing his hair out of his face. "Will you shave my head so that my hair doesn’t get tangled? I don’t want it to hurt while we’re travelling."

Mom grinned more widely than I’d ever seen her do so before, her eyes shining with pride as she replied, "yes, I will."

Stepping back, she brushed herself off, and then smoothed out and re-clipped Andrew’s black cape, which had gotten wound up in a ball while Andrew was flailing.

"Would you like to watch, Michael?" She called to me, and I obliged, walking out from behind the shed.

Andrew’s eyes grew wide, and he shouted, "Michael, you look just like that kid in the photo!"

So I did. It was all beginning to make sense.

Mom, after brushing residual hair off the clippers, flicked the clippers on. They began to buzz quickly, humming in a manner that was now familiar to me, but new to Andrew, who looked on wide-eyed.

"Let’s get rid of this hair, buddy," she said, and she pushed back Andrew’s shoulder-length bangs and ran the guard-less clippers through them. A white stripe slowly emerged as the hair tumbled onto his lap. He shifted slightly, and the hair fell onto the ground, directly on top of the pile of my hair.

Andrew was relaxed, sitting up straight and still as mother shook the clippers and started another white stripe parallel to the first. Andrew’s brown locks tumbled down - some onto his lap, others into the massive pile that spread in a ring around the chair - as she continued pushing the clippers down his forehead, careful not to leave a single strand of hair. Satisfied, she held his left sideburn and slowly shaved it away, leaving the faintest stubble. It was a zero guard, and a very close one at that. Soon, the clippers were being plunged into Andrew’s right sideburn.

Andrew, although still, was giddy with delight, his pupils moving quickly as he watched the hair fall onto his lap.

"Get that hair off, mom!" He shouted, and we all chuckled.

Then, she tackled the back, pushing Andrew’s head against his chest and running the clippers up the back of his head. It was obvious Andrew was enjoying this. The hair kept tumbling down, landing around Andrew as the clippers vibrated, almost as if they were as delighted as Andrew was.

When mom took off the last chunk, Andrew asked, "could you run them over one more time?"

Mom laughed heartily. "You really like this sensation, don’t you? Don’t worry. You’ll can be shaved as often as you like."

She did as Andrew requested, pressing with more force and increasing the impact of the vibration. She ran the clippers against almost bare skin, and once she arrived at the forehead, ran them straight into Andrew’s eyebrows. "Don’t need these. Do we?"

Once mom flipped the off-switch, Andrew seemed disappointed, his eyes sagging.

"There’s more coming." I reassured him, as mom sprayed a squirt of shaving cream into her hands. She began to massage it onto Andrew’s slightly-stubbled scalp, covering his entire head thickly. Then, she pulled out the razed and began rhythmically, pulling it down the back of his head, cleaning it off, and staring again somewhere else. She repeated the entire process twice, lathering Andrew’s head a second time. Andrew leaned back slightly - as far as he could without falling over - and savoured the experience.

I looked on with pride, watching my brother experience and enjoy what I had half an hour previous.

When she was done, mom rubbed a down against Andrew’s scalp, and smiled down at his. "Feel it, buddy."

He did, and wouldn’t stop rubbing his head. He slid his hairs up and down, back and forth.

Mom uncapped Andrew, and, after brushing all the hair onto the ground, asked, "where is Thomas."

Andrew and I looked at each other mischievously. I seemed that there was more to come.

---