Mother In Command. by manualclippers

---

MOTHER IN COMMAND. Part 1.

The cowshed was dimly lit, the only light coming from the single bulb hanging over the old rickety wooden stool. The air was thick and humid amplifying the tension in the small space. I sat rigid, trembling slightly on the stool. My naked shoulders and knees exposed beneath the light brown grimy plastic cape the clung to my skin in the heat. Tiny beads of sweat gathered at my temples, mingling with the fine clippings of my dark brown hair that stuck stubbornly to my cheeks.
My aunt Monica, stood behind me, holding the handclippers in one hand and a comb in the other. Her hands were steady, but her expression was firm and unyelding. My mother standing to the side, watched with a mix of determination and satisfaction. " It`s for the wedding." She said, as though that explained everything. " You need to look your best and a no nonsense clippercut suits you very well, and i know Fiona, your fiance will appreciate it.
My throat tightenedm but i didn`t argue. I had tried earlier, pleading for a less severe shearing, but her response was final !" As a married man your hair must be kept neat and tidy at all times !" The words twisting in my stomach like a knot.
The harsh clicking of the clippers broke the humid silence. I flinched as the cold metal blades touched the nape of my neck.The sharp blades biting brutally close to my skin. I`m beeing clipped to the bone again i thought. With every squeeze of the handles another clump of hair fell away, drifting lazily to the concrete floor, where it stuck between my naked toes. The clippers were not fast like the electric ones, they worked with a slow deliberate rhythm, each stroke scraping away more and more of my thick hair. My nape, once soft and covered with dark long locks, now felt exposed and vulnerable under the warm sticky air. With a firm grip of my head my aunt worked the silver instrument high up on my head, the blades crunching as they stripped the strands, guiding my head to the left, right and forward.The clippers were unrelenting, climbing aggressively above my ears and temples, leaving my scalp raw and starkly white. A couple of times they tugged behind my ears and i started to fidget." ouuch", i said with wimper.But she didn`t seem to notice. After the nape area she continued around my head from ear to ear. Leaving just the top hair long enough to comb to one side.
My humiliation deepened as the tiny clippings stuck to my cheek, my neck and under the cape collar, itching incessantly. I could feel the weight of mothers gaze, her approval, and the oppressive silence made it impossible for me to protest. My aunt stepped back, laid the clippers in my lap, surveying her handiwork. " Well it`s clean and tidy. " She said to my mom, wiping tiny hairclippings from her hands and apron. Mom nodded in agreement." perfect for the upcoming holidays and wedding. This way you won`t have to worry about it getting messy.
My eyes brimmed but didn`t fall. Crying would only make it worse. Instead i bit my lip and stared at the far corner of the cowshed and focused on the cobwebs, and trying to ignore the burning humiliation. Fiona, my fiance flashed in my mind and i wondered how she would react.Would she even notice my shame? Or would she just see a brutally shorn guy ?
When my aunt removed the cape from my shoulders, clippings scattered , sticking to my bare shoulders and sliding down my damp skin . She brushed them off quickly,but the itch lingered between my toes, on my neck, cheeks and soul. My mom smirked as she commented." See, you`ll thank me later.
My aunt tucked away her clippers and scissors in her plastic bag before she nodded to me, Fiona told me to keep you sheared like this from now on! I`ll be back in a month !!"

---