Imaginary brother (part 2) by strictsir

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Before reading the continuation of my story, I recommend reading the first part under the title: Imaginary Brother
I was 13.5 years old when I had my hair short for the first time at the Stanley barbershop. My father liked my new haircut, with the fact that he had even shorter hair as a boy.
Father works shifts in an underground mine. He said it was hard and dirty work, so he went to his barber for a relatively short haircut before going on tour.
My father came back from another tour and my hair gradually grew. It was Friday evening. Father will be leaving on Sunday for another shift. It was Friday night and my dad told me I could go with him to his barber on Saturday morning to get my new haircut. It's only been 7 weeks since I've been at Stanley barber shop and my hair has grown over 2 inches and it's barely touching my ears, the longest hair on the top of my head was about 6 inches.
I could not sleep properly during the night and I thought about my father's suggestion to go with him to his barber. My father had short hair, so I knew it wouldn't be a modern barbershop, on the contrary, probably something old like the Stanley barbershop.
After breakfast, my father ordered me: Dario, meet me at the car in 10 minutes. I timidly asked if we were going to the barber. The father replied: Yes, we are both going to get our hair cut today.
I was shaking all over. My father has never forced me to go with him to the barber. On the way in the car, I learned that his barber is in a neighboring town where there is also a military garrison. His barber is an ex-sergeant and exacts strict discipline on the boys and soldiers below him. You will call him Mr. or Mr. Sergeant. Before you sit in the barber's chair, stand at attention and say: Sir, I'm asking you for a haircut. When you get a haircut, you stand to attention again and say: Sergeant, thank you for the haircut. Then you take a broom and sweep your hair.
After 40 minutes we stopped in the parking lot and I saw a sign on a low building: Sergeant Nicholas Barbershop. I was terrified of this barbershop and was afraid to enter.
My father pushed me into the barber shop. We greeted each other. My eyes fell on the barber, who was about 45 years old, a slim tall man in a white long coat and a short military haircut. A 15-year-old boy, whose hair was already short, sat in his chair. He had about 16 millimeters of hair on the top of his head and only about 9 millimeters on the sides and back of his head. A 12-year-old boy with a very short haircut, the likes of which I have probably never seen before at school, was sitting on the waiting chairs. A young soldier sat next to the boy, I assumed it was their older brother, who had a very short haircut, probably already cut. He had 6 millimeters of hair on the top of his head and about 3 millimeters on the sides of his head and the nape of his neck.
I felt a shiver all over my body. There was absolute silence in the barber shop. Only the sound of the electric cutting stand could be heard. It wasn't long before the boy in the chair had the same hairstyle as his younger brother. The boy stood up, stood at attention and thanked him for the haircut. When he paid he took a broom and quickly swept his short cut hair on the ground. A soldier was standing at attention by the right side of the barber's chair. He asked the sergeant for a haircut. When the fight was cut and thanked for the haircut, he paid and swept what was left of his stubble on the ground.
My father grabbed my hand and ordered me to stand on the right side of the chair. I waited at attention: When Sergeant Nicholas stood in front of me with a trembling voice I said: Sir, I'm asking you for a haircut. The sergeant ordered me to jump into the chair. He raised the chair to the required height with the foot lever. He wrapped me in a sheet. I expected him to ask me or my father what kind of haircut he should give me, but instead he bent my head sharply forward, his chin touching my chest. I felt the cold metal teeth of the clipper cutting the back of my neck. As Sergeant Nicholas tilted my head to the right side until my ear was touching my shoulder, he cut off all the hair on the left side of my head. He did the same later on the right side of the head. Sergeant Nicholas replaced the clipper, tilted my head and I saw the light on the ceiling. I felt him cut the hair on the top of my head. When I could stretch myself, I couldn't believe my eyes when I looked in the mirror. My haircut will probably be exactly the same as the brothers he cut before me. The barber wet my sides and back of my neck and applied white foam, which he carefully but fairly quickly scraped off. He wiped the rest of the foam with a towel. When the barber freed me from under the sheet, he slapped me hard on the neck and the back of the head with the words: you can leave the chair. I stood at attention with the words: Sergeant, thank you for the haircut. I took a broom and swept my hair. I looked in the mirror and was sure that my haircut was identical to what the boys got. I had 6 millimeters of hair on the top of my head and the rest of my head was clean shaven.
In about 10 minutes, my father also had his hair cut. My father called to me: Dario, sweep that hair. When paying, the barber asked my father if I would come in 3 or even 4 weeks. My father replied that he would bring me in 6 weeks when he was home from the tour. The barber said it was too late. Then we said goodbye.
I rubbed the shaved part of my head the whole way. It was exciting but also incredibly humiliating. When I got home, I ran to the bathroom mirror and scrubbed my whole head. I suddenly felt a great excitement in my penis and then something warm in my crotch.
At school I had the shortest hair in my class and they made fun of me for joining the war.


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Just as my father promised the barber, when he came from the next shift, he told me that on Saturday morning we would go to Sergeant Nicholas Barber Shop together. After all, my hair was only 2.5 centimeters on the crown and about 19 millimeters on the rest. I asked my father, I went with him only when he returns from the next tour, when my hair grows back more.
On Saturday morning, we went to Sergeant Nicholas Barber Shop together. My head was cut the same way other boys were cut. Later I learned that they are most often the sons of soldiers and officers from the nearby garrison.
While paying, the barber told my father that in 6 weeks my hair will be too long and I should come in 3 weeks. Father looked at me. I felt red in the face. I slightly shook my head to disagree. At that, Sergeant Nicholas looked at me and said in a stern voice: Boy, you're going to sit in this chair for 3 weeks, you know it boy! I started stuttering. I said: Yes sir. What yes sir? Sergeant Nicholas snapped. Slowly with tears I said, Sir, in 3 weeks I will be sitting in this chair of yours, sir. I was very afraid of Sergeant Nicholas. I did not dare to contradict him. I looked at the people in the waiting chairs. Everyone had a smile on their face.
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I looked for a bus for Saturday morning and in 3 weeks I traveled to Seržanta Nicholas Barber Shop. My hair was short like all the boys waiting for a new haircut from the sergeant. About 16 millimeters of hair on the top of the head and only 9 millimeters on the sides. There were 3 boys and 1 smaller boy with his father and 5 young soldiers on the waiting chairs. When the barber was cutting another boy's hair, a senior officer entered the barber shop. The soldiers immediately stood at attention. After the barber cut the boy's hair, he invited the officer into his chair. He was very respectful to him.
Finally it was my turn and I stood to the right of the chair to ask Sergeant Nicholas for a haircut. After leaving the barbershop, I had enough time for the bus that would take me home. In the city, I met several boys who go to Sergeant Nicholas Barber Shop. But there were many who had long hair. A boy asked me if I was new in town and what my father's position was in the barracks. He was disappointed when I said that my father works in a mine and I live in a neighboring town.
I was very excited about my regular haircuts at the Seržanta Nicholas Barbershop and I got used to the fact that my hair would not grow any more and after 3 weeks I would have a new haircut. My friends and classmates slowly got used to my hair. But I was no longer Dario for them, but I got a new nickname: Recruit.

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