Like Father, Like Son by Manny

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I hadn’t realized how much I would enjoy camping with the Helm family when they first invited me to go with them over the Easter break. Derek and I were classmates and friends, but not super close. He was a bit childish for a14-year old - quite the opposite of his older brother Blake, who was 16 going on 22.

Mr. and Mrs. Helm were very unlike my own parents. Both seemed unruffled by anything and had a quiet, interesting sense of humor. They were an attractive couple, with youthful looks and quite athletic. The talk between them was interesting, and I like to listen in. In the evenings, Mrs. Helm would tidy up our campsite and Mr. Helm would smoke a pipe. The boys would play a game or watch something on their phones.

On our last evening, Mr. Helm discovered his lighter was spent as he struggled to light his pipe.

"Could one of you boys run to the car for me? There’s a spare in the glove box," he said.

Derek and Blake gave him a blank stare, meaning ‘get it yourself.’

I felt compelled to repay Mr. Helm’s kindness for having invited me to come camping with them. "Sure, I can get it."

Mr. Helm smiled broadly, showing his dazzling straight teeth, undimmed by the pipe tobacco.

As I handed him the lighter, he asked me if I’d like to try smoking the pipe.

It took me aback! My parents would never have suggested something like that! The idea of doing something prohibited excited me.

"Well?" Mr. Helm asked, looking up at me with his large hazel eyes that matched his thick, lustrous chestnut hair.

Mr. Helm’s hair was swept back into a full executive coif with a rather ostentatious pomp that complemented his unique and intriguing persona. It was amazing that he could maintain it so perfectly even on a camping trip! To add to the look, he sported two very full sideburns that extended down to the tip of his earlobe in a sexy sort of way. He definitely stood out from the other fathers, including my own, who sported traditional business cuts or tidy ‘short back and sides.’

"Sure," I replied eagerly, curious about the pipe.

My first attempt went horribly wrong and I started coughing uncontrollably. All the Helms got a good laugh out of that.

"Try again," Mr. Helm urged, consoling me with a quick tussle to my floppy curtain-style hair.

I saved face the second time around and blew out a wonderful cloud of sweet-smelling smoke. Mr. Helm beamed with approval.

"Who wants to go skinny dipping with me?" Blake suddenly asked.

"Not me," said Derek. "This movie still has 45 minutes to go."

"You, then, Kyle," he said, pointing to me.

Sure, I was game. Skinny dipping also sounded a bit naughty. The Helm family lived on the edge, it seemed.

We ran through the woods to the swimming hole under the falls. A full moon made the place seem as bright as day.

Blake began stripping. It was obvious he spent time at the gym!

"What are you gawking at?" he asked. "My macho physique?"

I blushed, because he was exactly right!

"Or is it this lush hair you can’t keep your eyes off?" Blake teased.

He tossed his thick mane of hair about. It was much like his father’s, except a lot longer. Then he threw his head back so his hair dangled in the moonlight down his back. Blake was a modern Adam in the Garden of Eden!

"So, what were you staring at?" Blake insisted, standing nude in the moonlight, totally uninhibited.

I thought it best to admit to the hair instead of the body.

"I knew it!" Blake exclaimed. "People just can’t keep their eyes off this sexy flow!"

Then he got a mischievous look in his face. "Well, get a good look at it now, Kyle, because I’m shaving it all off soon!"

"What?!" I stammered.

"Ha! You won’t recognize me bald!!" Blake laughed. "Down to the wood, as they say. Nothing but stubble left up here."

"Why?!" I asked, still horrified by the thought.

"Just because I want to! I want to hear people lamenting, ‘oh, but you had such beautiful hair.’ My mother will be the mourner-in-chief. She likes men with long hair," he noted.

Then Blake grabbed me and dragged me forcefully into the water. His muscles bulged as he thrust me under. I felt myself getting visibly excited. We frolicked around having lots of fun. I couldn’t help but wondering if he was serious about shaving

The following day, on our drive back to town, Mrs. Helm said to her husband, "Honey, let’s pick up that light fixture at Lowe’s. We’ll drive right past the plaza, and it’s the last day of the Easter Sale. I wouldn’t mind looking around a bit either, if the boys are okay with that."

Pulling into the plaza, Mr. Helm told his wife, "While you’re in Lowe’s, I’m going to pop into the barber shop over there for my spring shearing. We have our company retreat next week and the tidy look impresses the brass."

"Not too short, please," Mrs. Helm implored.

"Can’t promise that, honey," Mr. Helm replied with a slight tone of excitement in his voice.

I thought (and hoped!) Blake would suggest he get his head shaved at the same time, but he was quiet as a clam.

Mr. Helm dropped his wife off at Lowe’s and then parked near the barber shop.

"You boys can stay in the car or come inside with me. The barber shop is air conditioned, and you might prefer that," Mr. Helm added.

The three of us trooped in behind Mr. Helm. The shop was devoid of people, except the barber. He was a cheerful-looking man in his late 50s whose own hairline had gone far beyond the ‘receding’ description and was in full blown MPB. Dressed in a simple white jacket that zipped up the front, the barber greeted us cordially.

The shop matched the barber’s traditional appearance with all the essentials - three throne-like barber chairs upholstered in maroon vinyl on the left and a long pew-like bench to the right for those waiting. On the walls were vintage barbershop signs like "Flattop Specialist" and "Ask for Wildroot." The only atypical décor was a collection of vintage mug shots - front and side views. Had he been a prison barber in his past?!

"Who’s first?" the barber asked, surveying the small group.

His eyes locked on Blake’s mane!

I fantasized about Blake being stripped off his pretty locks by a grumpy, aggressive barber during in-processing to the juvenile penitentiary system. Emerging with a bald head and sporting a fluorescent orange jump suit…. It would be his punishment for taking advantage of me while skinny dipping (not that I had minded it too much).

"I am," Mr. Helm said.

Mr. Helm had a spring to his step as he moved to and mounted the big chair’s foot rest. He seemed extra-upbeat and chatty with the barber, telling him all about the camping site and the fun his family had during the Easter break.

The barber cast a huge white cape that completely covered not just Mr. Helm, but almost the whole chair, approaching the floor. I had never seen such a voluminous cape.

Atop a mountain of white cotton was Mr. Helm’s lustrous mane of coiffed chestnut hair. It shimmered in the glow of neon.

"So, what will it be?" the barber asked. "Tidy you up a bit?"

"No, actually, I’m here for something shorter. No trim today," Mr. Helm said, in a forced-casual tone.

He shifted a bit in the chair and continued, "I want it tapered short around the ears and up the back. And several inches off the top."

The barber hesitated, "That will be quite a change, sir."

Mr. Helm let out a bit of a nervous laugh. "Yes, um, in fact, that’s exactly what I want â€" quite a change, as you put it, a good spring shearing."

"And the clipper blade, any specific number? Perhaps, leave a little volume on the sides with a #3….or do you want it tapered down to a #0?" the barber asked.

Mr. Helm thought momentarily, and then replied, "Tapered to zero, but with some length near the crown."

"And cropped short on top. I’ll take off four or five inches â€" there’s a tremendous amount of hair up here," the barber noted. "An ivy, would suit you."

Mr. Helm squirmed beneath the big cape. Five inches sounded like an awful lot of length to take off! He swallowed and then gave a non-committal nod.

When he’d first engaged with Mr. Helm about the haircut, the barber had seemed hesitant. But, as the spring crop was about to being, he was coming across as quite eager and aggressive to put an end to the executive look.

As the barber reached for a huge set of Oster’s, Mr. Helm bowed his head voluntarily, waiting with expectation for the carnage of his coif to begin. His thick forelock shifted a bit, and the ostentatious pomp sagged down over his forehead, a bit, but did not dangle freely.

A dull hum filled the barbershop. Mr. Helm kept his head bowed while the barber secured it in place with the other hand.

Suddenly, the clippers plowed right up the back of Mr. Helm’s head. A shriek went out in the shop when the metal teeth his the lush nape. For the first third of the way up, the unforgiving clippers stripped the mane to stubble. Then, the barber eased up, still shearing off a massive amount of hair as the chattering teeth emerged through the dense mane near the crown.

I stared in wonder as the large clump of Mr. Helm’s shiny hair fell quickly to the barber shop floor! This was going to be a huge transformation! It was a good thing he hadn’t promised his wife ‘not too short’ because she was going to be fairly shocked to see the new him.

"Big change," the barber murmured as he began the second drive with the clippers.

I was mesmerized, watching lustrous sheaves of Mr. Helm’s shiny hair fall in the wake of the clippers.

"Yep, I like to shake things up from time to time. An annual spring cleaning, if you will," Mr. Helm said with a tone of mirth and encouragement in his voice.

"What about these sideburns?" the barber asked.

"Take them off!" Mr. Helm instructed.

The barber folded down his ear and brought the clippers through the full sides that had been worn swept back. The first huge clump of cut hair fell to the cape where Mr. Helm could see.

His eyes bulged wide with alarm…and then morphed into a sort of excitement.

"Wow, that’s short," Mr. Helm stammered as he watched the barber clip off the sideburn and take the clippers up through the temple.

"It’s what you asked you, right?" the barber replied, a bit defensively.

"Of course, short is good," Mr. Helm murmured, still a bit concerned about the very short length.

To strike while the iron was hot, and to ensure a drastic transformation, the barber snagged the pomp with a comb and brought the clippers to it.

The glistening mass was captive. Mr. Helm shifted nervously beneath the large cotton cape. Once the forelock had come off, he would look like a completely different man. He had an urge to appeal for a stay of execution, but no words would come out of his dry mouth.

The barber was quick with the clippers. In a flash, the exquisite pomp was off!

The massive collection of pampered hair fell almost intact to the cape!

Mr. Helm sat frozen in the chair as he surveyed his prize in his lap.

The barber smiled. "You won’t miss that one bit."

Mr. Helm felt his cock stir and grow hard.

Then, he looked up to see the damage in the mirror. Just a short fringe of jagged hair at the top of his forehead remained. There would be no more styling sessions with the brush and blow dryer in the morning as he readied himself for the office.

Mr. Helm looked down in his lap again. Seeing the massive shorn lock resting in his lap left him ambivalent.

"I may not miss it, but my wife will…." he said quietly.

The barber continued tackling Mr. Helm’s lush top using clipper over comb, taking the length off in quick, effective thrusts of the Oster’s. Mr. Helm’s glossy hair was sent in every direction, raining down alternately in snippets and torrents.

Lift and clip, lift and clip, lift and clip. The sound of the metal teeth of the clippers running down the plastic teeth of the comb made quite a clatter.

His shoulders piled high with cut hair, and his lap accumulated a cauldron of cut hair.

"Let’s make this a tight ivy," the barber said with an air of finality, as if the decision had already been made. "I think you’ll like the big change. Best look for a family man your age."

The clipping all over continued. The amount of hair on the cape and the floor continued to increase relentlessly.

Finally, Mr. Helm’s head had been shorn into a fresh, military-length crop.

Only a bit of a fringe remained - an inch or two.

The barber combed the remnant a bit. The truncated fringe was so short, it would hardly remain pushed to the side.

"What do you say?" the barber asked, bringing the clippers up close. "Leave it or take it off?"

"Take it off. Why not?" Mr. Helm replied. He had come this far…

A few quick thrusts and the short fringe was history.

"Let’s even this all up on top. Say, a #2?" the barber asked rhetorically as he began to run the clippers straight down the top of Mr. Helm’s head.

Mr. Helm looked on in stunned silence. He’d never had the clippers taken to the top of his head. But he like the vibrating feel plenty.

Snippets of cut hair fluttered down in every direction.

The barber smiled broadly as his handiwork. All that long, styled hair….gone!

"This crewcut looks mighty fine on you," the barber said, snapping off the Oster’s and admiring his work.

The barber held up a mirror for Mr. Helm to see the back.

"Nice, I like it," Mr. Helm said, staggered by how much white skin showed on his neck.

The barber took the duster all over Mr. Helm’s face, ears and neck. He carefully pulled off the cape and shook it so that all the cut hair piled on the floor.

Mr. Helm could not stop looking at himself in the mirror and exploring his short haircut.

"I’ve never had my hair cut this short before," he murmured. "This spring crop sure looks like a practical length."

"Maybe it won’t be just for spring," the barber quipped with a smile.

Mr. Helm stumbled toward the waiting area.

"Okay, who’s next?" the barber asked, looking at us on the pew.

"How about you?" he continued, pointing at Blake.

Blake sat up, and then, stood up!

He looked at me and smiled, flicking his thick locks about.

"Yep, it’s makeover time for me too," Blake said, moving to the chair his father had occupied.

As I watched Blake climb into the chair and get caped up, I noticed the same exciting spring to his step.

Mr. Helm sat next to me and began chatting.

"So, what do you think, Kyle? My haircut - it’s so short! I can’t believe I got a crewcut. I hadn’t planned to go so short," he exclaimed, feeling the stubble at the nape for the umpteenth time.

"Yes, it’s a huge change, sir," I noted.

"I’m not sure how it ended up this short," he said, sort of aimlessly. "There will be a hundred questions, taunts and laughs at work. They call me ‘pretty boy’ in the office behind my back."

"Now they’ll call you GI Helm, sir," I laughed.

Just then we heard Blake tell the barber, "I want it all shaved off. Induction length!"

"OMG!" his father exclaimed. "His mother is going to kill us both. She loves his long hair. As for me, though, I can’t wait to watch Blake’s transformation. He’s been threatening to get a butch for a while, but I never thought he’d actually go through with it."

The barber was delighted to push the #0000 blade right down the top of Blake’s head. His hair fell in sheaves.

"Last night, when we were skinny dipping, Blake told me his was going to shave off all his hair. Like you, sir, I didn’t really believe him. He has such great hair - all the girls and boys at school admire it. He said he would enjoy the disapproving reactions of others to his makeover," I said.

I saw a faint blush cross Mr. Helm’s face.

"Like father, like son?" I asked.

"Having nice, thick hair can be a burden sometimes," Mr. Helm admitted. "See the barber’s hair. Sometime I wish I was MPB like him. Brittle little wisps of hair clinging to the sparse sides of my head….not a thick, glistening mane that oozes vitality and projects a male model image."

"I liked your hair the way it was, especially that pomp on top and those sideburns," I admitted.

Mr. Helm got silent and introspective. I had triggered a regret phase, undoubtedly.

"Oh, no, there’s my wife outside the shop, pacing around," Mr. Helm said in a panicked tone. "I’d better go out there and get the inevitable scolding over with."

There was a predictable squabble outside of the shop with Mrs. Helm pointing at Blake in the chair, who by then was almost completely bald. You could tell Mr. Helm was doing everything to try to appease her.

After the barber pulled Blake’s cape off with a flourish and sent vast quantities of cut hair to the floor, Mr. Helm stepped back inside the shop to pay.

"Sorry if either of you two wanted haircuts this evening," Mr. Helm said looking at Derek and me. "Mrs. Helm is anxious to get home. No more haircuts this evening."

He cast an eye on the floor of the barbershop. His hair and Blake’s! It was piled in mounds.

"What do you think of my new baldy look?" Blake asked me.

I rubbed the stubble.

"How long will this take to grow out?" I asked.

"Too long," murmured Blake as we all left the shop.

"And to think, you had such great hair," I noted.

"I feel naked now. Everyone is going to laugh at me," Blake whimpered.

Blake glanced back into the shop and saw the barber taking a large dustpan full of cut hair toward the barbershop trash can. He sighed, "Well, it was something I always wanted to do…and I did it!"

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