Final Tally: Butch Cuts, 6 by Manny

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Beginning of the day tally:
- Businesscuts, 2
- Executive coifs, 1
- Retro-shag, 1
- Beatle moptops, 2
- Butch cuts, 0

End of day tally:
- Businesscuts, 0
- Executive coifs, 0
- Retro-shag, 0
- Beatle moptops, 0
- Butch cuts, 6

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I was doing some yard work when a van pulled into the driveway of my neighbor Bob. It was his brother Eric and his three nephews (Kyle, Ed and Ted). The twins looked to be about 14, and their older brother about 17. There was a lot of excited chatter as the lads exited the van.

"You’re first!" one of the twins exclaimed, pointing at his older brother.

"No, YOU are," the teen snapped back.

In the midst of the bickering, I heard Bob call out from the garage, "Send the first one in, Eric!"

"YOU!" the father barked, pointing at the eldest and shaggiest of the trio.

The teen pawed at his glossy mane momentarily and then whirled away with a grimace of resignation on his face.

"You’ll be glad to be rid of that mop, Kyle," the father said, striking a more conciliatory tone. "Better to say good-bye to it now, in the privacy of your uncle’s garage, than to be publicly shorn at the military academy camp next week."

The hip hairstyle with the retro-center part, feathered sides and wavy mullet in back was headed toward the chopping block!

Kyle slunk into his uncle’s makeshift garage barber shop, still grousing about having to go first.

The twins grabbed a basketball and started playing in the driveway. The curls of their matching Beatle moptops flailed about as they dribbled, shot and rebounded.

One of the lads missed a fairly easy shot.

"You’ll be able to see the basket much more clearly with your summer butch cut, Ted" the father joked.

"Get one too, Dad. That way, we can all have matching haircuts!" the other twin urged.

"Your uncle would love to run his clippers right through this, I’m sure," the dad laughed, smoothing his plush professional hairstyle with its rather ostentatious curly quiff into place. "He was always an eager barber, even when we were your age!"

I pictured the handsome man sitting on a stool in Bob’s garage, submissive to his brother’s clippers, while chattering teeth mowed off his attractive sandy-brown hair. One minute he'd be looking like a successful businessman and the next like a freshly shorn schoolboy, ready for hot summer temps.

Then, my mental image morphed. Instead of the boys’ father on the stool with his head bowed, it was ME! My groin surged at the thought of being subjected to an amateur butch cut by my neighbor! What would it be like to witness my pampered executive coif being brutally dispatched to the garage floor by barber Bob?! Clump after clump of my hair falling away and piling up around the stool....

I had always been quite proud of my thick hair, which I wore swept straight back. At the salon, I never failed to preemptively warn the stylist "just a trim" or "don’t take too much off, just shape it up a bit." The idea of letting Bob take his clippers to it and have it all mowed off in mere minutes was alarmingly exciting. I got lost in the curious fantasy of submitting to a dramatic transformation just steps away from where I was gardening.

A few minutes later, Kyle stumbled out of the garage feeling the clipped pelt of his new butch. He had a sheepish look on his face.

The twins pointed and roared with laughter!

"Hey there, BALDY!" they squealed.

"No more channeling that cool look from the 1970s!" Ted taunted.

"That’s enough, boys!" their father snapped. "Ed, it’s your turn. Uncle Bob is waiting in the garage to take you down to the wood."

Ed’s full mane of soft curls and shiny waves of blond was not long for this world. He shook his locks defiantly.

"I’m looking forward to the butch!" Ed exclaimed.

In a flash, he dashed into the garage with his curls bouncing about.

"Dad’s considering getting a butch too," Ted told his older brother with a mischievous look on his face.

"I am NOT!" the father snapped, nipping that idea quickly in the bud.

"Do it, Dad!" Kyle exclaimed.

Then, I spontaneously joined the discussion.

"Yes, do it, Eric!" I called out from my yard, adding my voice to the chorus.

Eric turned around and flashed a nervous grin.

"You think I should, Vince?" he stammered, amused by my opinion.

He pawed at his hair nervously, then continued, "I’m not sure how a butch would go over in the office."

I explained, "Where I work, we have a relaxed summer dress code. It starts Monday. No more business suits and ties. Lots of guys get shorter haircuts, as well. Chinos and polo shirts for most, with more than a few sporting fresh buzzcuts."

"So, will you be one of them? I’m sure my brother would love to take his Oster’s to your thatch," Eric noted cheerfully.

I winced and replied, "I didn’t realize Bob was a frustrated barber."

I ran my fingers back through my thick, dark hair. It was almost six inches on top but trimmed in a tidy way around the ears and at the nape. To have it all mowed off by Bob...to submit to an amateur butch cut...it was a thrilling proposition!

"You know, Eric," I said with some nervous excitement, "I’m sort of considering a butch myself. Suppose Bob could squeeze me in today?"

Just then Ed came blasting out of the garage with his fresh butch.

"Send the last victim in," Bob bellowed from inside.

"Ted’s on his way!" Eric called back. "But, he won’t be the last one under the cape today. Your neighbor Vince wants a butch too!"

"Really?! That’s GREAT news!" Bob called out. "He’ll look much better without all that hair."

Then, Bob added, "I want to show you something, Eric."

The amateur barber ambled out of the garage sporting a butch cut of his own!

"So? What do you think?!" Bob asked, running his hands all over his clipped pelt. "Thought I’d give myself one to practice a bit before the boys arrived."

"OMG!" Eric stammered. "You buzzed your own head!"

"It was fun, actually, albeit a bit nerve-wracking," Bob confessed. "I stood, poised with the clippers in hand for a few minutes, trying to work up the courage to do it. I almost chickened out, but finally got the balls to thrust them into the businesscut. Right in front, to do the most damage...and then the hair started falling. No turning back...and, as you can see, I clipped it all off. Pretty good job, eh?"

Bob turned around to model his new butch cut.

"It’s a #2 all over, just like the boys," he explained. "I love the way it feels! No more worrying about hair out of place. And, it makes me look younger too, don’t you think?"

Without waiting for any response, Bob turned and pointed to me, "Okay, Vince, I’ll take you next! Ted won’t mind waiting. Can't risk you getting cold feet or the like."

But that was exactly what was happening.

"Your brother was teasing you," I stammered, desperately trying to escape from my previous enthusiasm. "He’s the one that’s going for a butch. Just ask your nephews."

The trio of lads cheered.

"Really, Eric, a butch cut?! I’m surprised," Bob laughed. "He’s always been so resistant to having his precious hair mowed off. That showy quiff he sports...he's so protective of it. But, not to worry, it doesn’t have to be one or the other of you two. Both businessmen will be shedding their tidy coifs, just like I did."

Eric pawed at this hair nervously.

Then, he looked at me and finally stuck out his hand for a shake, "How about it? Both of us on Bob’s stool! Head bowed before his clippers? Imagining the worst, but excited about the big change."

I squirmed on my feet, mulling over the way he described it -- imaging the worst, but excited about the transformation. Those were my precise feelings. I decided to go for it. Why not?! A summer butch! It would be my first as an adult.

I felt exhilarated, taking Eric’s hand into a tight shake and proclaiming, "DEAL! Butch cuts for both of us!"

"Let’s flip for who’s first on the stool," Eric suggested. "I call tails."

"And, heads it is! Imagine George Washington with a buzzcut," I laughed, staring at the quarter in my hand. "It’s my lucky day -- to the front of the line in Bob’s barber shop. I’m ready to shed the coif!"

Bob put his arm around my shoulder and led me authoritatively into the garage. He was not going to let me weasel out of the amateur haircut! The others were on our heels, excited to watch my transformation.

The first three butch cuts of the day had already resulted in a fairly large covering of cut hair around the stool. Ed’s soft curls were on top of Kyle’s silken shag. And, at the base lay Bob’s businesscut. My thick mane would soon be joining the forlorn piles of shorn locks.

"Hop up here, pretty boy," Bob joked. "My clippers are eager to mow you down to a much more practical length. A #2 all over!"

The stool felt a bit shaky; I grinned nervously as Bob fastened the cape around my neck.

"How long is a #2?" I asked.

"A mere quarter inch!" Bob replied enthusiastically. "SHORT! Very SHORT, pretty boy."

"Maybe I might prefer something longer, perhaps a half inch," I stammered.

"Nonsense! You are getting a #2 butch, and so is Eric!" Bob said as he adjusted the cape so that all my clothes were covered by a field of white cotton with pinstripes.

Bob turned his attention to my executive coif.

"Look at all this hair on top!!" he exclaimed as he examined the forelock which was swept straight back, off my face..

Bob took a brush and gave my coif one last careful styling, all the while taunting me about the impending buzzcut.

"Ready, neighbor?" he asked rhetorically.

Then, he snapped on the Oster’s and thrust them quickly into my mane, right at the hairline. The metal teeth hitting my forelock sent a jolt of excitement and nerves through my body. Bob continued driving the clippers slowly, but firmly, straight down the top of my head, toward my cowlick.

I shivered with excitement as mounds of long, dark locks cascaded down in all directions. Some piled up on the cape, but most wafted down to the floor.

"One more butch cut coming up," Bob howled with mirth. "Pretty boy is getting a baldy cut!"

"OMG!" Eric fretted. "That’s so short. So SHORT! And, I’m next!"

"How’s it looking, guys?" I asked nervously.

"It’s a good look for you. Simple, tidy, practical, a bit boyish, perhaps," Eric replied with a mischievous smirk.

"No one is going to believe this. I used to make fun of all the guys at the office who got summer butch cuts. And, now, I’m getting one myself," I murmured.

I fondled a cut lock that lay in my lap.

"Don’t hang on to your hairy past, pretty boy. Kiss that glossy lock good-bye!" Bob teased.

I tossed it to the floor.

"There’s no use crying over cut hair, Vince" Eric mocked as he piled on with more taunts.

After several drives of the clippers on top, Bob thrust my head forward, facing down into my lap.

"Now it’s time to clear off the thatch in back," Bob announced.

His grip was firm and it kept my head immobilized.

"I think I’m going to regret this," I said with a quaver in my voice.

"Oh, I have no doubt about that. You had such amazing hair," Eric teased. "Perhaps the regret has already set in. Is your stomach churning anxiously?"

"It is," I croaked despondently.

"Just wait till you see your baldy cut!" Eric laughed. "Most of that sophisticated executive coiffure is now in random clumps around Bob’s barber stool."

Then, Eric added, "Maybe Vince should get a #1 butch, Bob."

"Maybe you both should get taken down to the wood," Bob replied quickly.

"No, the deal was for a #2 and that’s what I want," I said meekly.

"Glad to hear it, because that’s what you want because that's what you’re getting," Bob retorted, as he moved to clear the hair off the sides of my head.

As my haircut was coming to an end, Ed began to tease his twin, Ted.

"Curls are for girls!" he squealed as he batted at his brother’s moptop. "Butch cuts are for boys!"

Then, Ed asked, "Uncle Bob, will you let me give Ted his butch?"

"Sure! This family needs a back-up barber. If you’re good enough, you could tidy up your father’s butch, as needed, especially if I'm not available," Bob chirped.

Eric fondled his fussy businesscut protectively.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, bro," Bob smirked.

Then, to me, the amateur barber said, "You’re almost finished, neighbor."

He stroked my clipped pelt. I liked the way it felt as he ran his hand against the grain.

Finally, Bob began unfastening the cape.

"You’re a new man," he commented as he shook the cape and sent the remnants of my executive coif to the garage floor.

I couldn’t wait to explore my new butch cut with both hands.

"Oh, that feels amazing!" I exclaimed.

Then, locking my stare on Eric, I announced, "I’d like to be your brother’s barber, Bob. What do you say? Can I wield the clippers against that showy quiff? Send his tidy professional look to that pile of hair around the stool?"

"Wait, we’re next," Ted protested. "These curls are on my nerves! I want them off!"

Before Bob could answer, Ted had climbed up onto the stool. His uncle showed Ed how to fasten the cape securely with the big metal clip.

"Okay, Ed, lesson #1. A butch requires little to no skill. You can’t go wrong. Just don’t slice off his ear!" Bob joked. "Let me do a little prep work first, and then your brother is all yours."

He grabbed a pair of shears and whacked off the bulky forelock with its mass of golden curls.

Ted giggled as he watched his uncle dramatically drop the shorn lock into his lap.

"Now, Ed, the clippers are all yours. Remember, you can’t go wrong," Bob said. "Drive them straight back, down the top of his head."

The sound of the Oster’s filled the garage.

As the clippers sailed down the top of Ted’s head, I turned to Eric and said, "I can’t wait to do that to you."

"Uh, I’ve got cold feet," Eric murmured.

"Tough! You’re getting a butch!" I laughed. "Between Bob, your sons and me, we have enough muscle power to ensure that your tidy businesscut joins the mounds of cut hair on the garage floor."

Spontaneously, I reached over and tussled his hair, putting an end to the groomed look.

"Hey!" Eric protested in a joking tone, like he really minded.

Then, he locked me in a tight grip and gave me a fairly forceful Dutch rub. His muscular arms kept me immobilized as he ran his knuckles over my clipped pelt. Over and over and over.

"Like the way that feels?" Eric asked playfully.

I felt a bit ashamed to answer truthfully, that I did, so I opted to reply, "Let me go!"

Before complying, he gave me another fairly extensive and humiliating Dutch rub. I drank in the moment of superior male bonding with the handsome Eric.

"You enjoyed that, didn’t you?" he asked with a cryptic wink.

I didn’t react. Then, we watched Ed clip Ted quite skillfully.

"You were born to barber, Eddy!" his uncle remarked.

"How am I looking?" Ted asked the onlookers.

"Just like your twin," Bob replied. "Great! They’ll call you the butch-cut-brothers at school this fall."

"You mean, this length won’t just be for summer?" Ted asked, a bit nervously.

"Nope, for all six of us, it’ll be butch cuts year-around," Bob replied. "What do you say, men?"

"Uh, I, um," I stammered. "The office...."

"Screw the office and what people think!" Bob snapped. "I’m keeping you butched, neighbor! You look a whole lot better without that girly-boy hair swept back with too much blow-dryer action and expensive product, a la Governor Gavin!"

"Why not set up a fixed rotation. Once a week, the three of us get together for beer and butch cuts in the garage?" Eric suggested. "I clip Bob. Bob clips Vince. And, Vince clips me."

"I’d like that," I blurted out, still studying Eric’s nicely groomed wavy quiff that was calling out for the clippers to reduce it to piles of cut hair on the garage floor.

Ed started taking the cape off Ted.

"I like barbering. Maybe that’s what I’ll be when I grow up," Ed said.

He turned to his clipped twin and stuck out his hand, "That’ll be $20, please."

I pulled $20 out of my wallet and handed it to Ed.

"Good boy, Ed! You gave your brother a perfect haircut. And, now it’s my turn to clip your father down. Come on, Eric. Stool time for you! No squirming or sulking. Understood?" I said in an authoritative tone.

Eric moved to the stool reluctantly.

"I’m going to miss this," he said wistfully, fondling his ostentatious quiff.

"I’m not!" laughed Bob. "You were always Momma’s golden boy with your pretty, blond curls."

It was fun casting the cape and pulling it snuggly around Eric’s neck.

"Maybe Ed and I will go to barber college together. I’m enjoying this," I readily confessed.

Then, I fondled my victim’s nice hair, smoothing the curled quiff into place one last time.

"So pretty, these curls. Oh, and this quiff! So showy! But it’s all coming off, this sexy hair of yours, Eric," I laughed.

Bob handed me the clippers. I snapped them on and sensed the power of the vibrating hum. It was as if the Oster’s were yearning to be unleashed so that they could aggressively mow off Eric’s groomed look.

"Here’s a brush. Secure that forelock and thrust the clippers straight into that dense quiff," Bob instructed.

I followed his instructions.

As the clippers hit Eric’s hair, the caped man jolted on the stool. He could not conceal his misery.

"Ughhh," he gasped. "Go easy on me, Vince."

I drove the clippers down the top of his head.

As the blond curls and waves fell away, I was left aghast! Instead of a tidy pelt like the rest of us had, Eric only had stubble! I panicked and looked at Bob.

He was struggling to contain an outburst of laughter.

I saw the number on the clipper blade as I lifted the Oster's off his head to begin a second drive. A #1!!

Bob put his index finger to his lips to signal that I should keep silent about my discovery. Eric was getting a #1 butch cut, compliments of his brother Bob's treachery!

As I finished clipping the top of Eric's head, one of the twins commented, "Dad looks like granddad with like that!"

"He certainly does! And one day I predict he’ll have a natural MPB dome," Bob said, still on the verge of giggles.

"You’ve got to be kidding," Eric sulked. "My hair isn't thinning...."

Bob started preparing Eric for what was to come.

"You know, lighter, blondish hair like yours looks shorter than darker hair like Vince and I have," he noted.

I resisted looking at Bob for fear we’d both break out into laughter.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Eric asked in an irritated tone.

"Oh, nothing," replied Bob.

"Dad’s hair is looking VERY short," Ed noted.

"What’s going on?!" Eric demanded.

"Sit still!" I ordered my caped client. "Sit still, or I might take off your ear."

Then, I shoved his head forward so that he was staring into his lap.

I brought the #1 blade straight up the back and peeled off a wad of soft, sandy-brown hair.

"Dad’s starting to look bald," Kyle smirked.

"All this talk is making me nervous," Eric muttered.

"Oh, you’ll get used to your new look," I said dismissively. "I already am. Feels great not to have a big wool-like hat on in this blazing heat."

"Easy around the ears," Bob warned. "That’s the trickiest part of the butch. But, I see you also are a quick learner, Vince, just like Ed."

"Are you finished?" Eric asked impatiently, sensing his haircut was coming to an end.

"Yep, just a few more touch-up drives on top to make sure everything is uniformly SHORT and it’ll be time to take off the cape," I replied.

Eric yanked the cloth away and sprang from the stool before the cape was fully off.

"Let me see! Where’s a mirror?" he demanded, touching the stubbled butch.

"You know where the bathroom is," Bob replied, somewhat subdued.

A few moments later Eric stormed back into the garage.

"This is SHORT! Definitely shorter than the rest of you!" he howled.

He grabbed the clippers, took one look, and shouted, "VINCE!"

"Hey, hey," I stammered. "It was…."

"Me, Eric," Bob confessed. "I’m responsible. I rigged the shorter blade. Vince had no part in the plan. Settle down, bro! I was just having a little fun."

"At my expense!" Eric snapped, beginning to settle down.

"It looks tidy; I like that length," I said, hoping my affirmative words would comfort the distraught Eric.

"Okay, then, Vince. Back on the stool! We’ll see how much you like the length when you’re also sporting a #1 butch," Eric demanded.

My mouth dropped open. A #1 butch for me? I was already struggling to accept the #2.

"You can clip us both down to #1’s, bro," Bob offered. "Thanks for being a good sport."

Eric pointed at me. "Sure, but Vince goes first."

His eyes blazed with determination. I was firmly in his radar scope. I felt my groin bulge. It would be exciting to have the handsome Eric barber me....

As I approached the stool, Eric grabbed me again with that tight grip of his muscular arms and gave me another impromptu Dutch rub. I felt my body pressed tightly up against his and my cock started to swell. I submissively accepted my humiliation in front of the group.

"I should turn you over my knee and give you a proper spanking for what you did. Instead, it’ll have to be another session on the stool!" Eric said as he released his grip.

I clambered up with a sheepish grin, eager for Eric to begin barbering me. He looked ultra-manly with his closely clipped head.

Eric fastened the cape suffocatingly tight around my neck. Then he fondled my plush pelt tenderly, almost like a caress.

"It’s a shame," Eric murmured. "I thought this length was very nice on you. Tidy, but still professional. The #1 stubble will be a big surprise in the office on Monday, I’m sure. All the employees snickering when the big boss walks in virtually BALD!"

He stroked my pelt a bit more and then asked me if I wanted a reprieve from the #1 butch.

"I guess you weren’t responsible for it. Bob’s to blame, like usual," Eric explained in a conciliatory tone. "Let’s take the cape off you and get the real culprit up on the stool."

As Eric started unfastening the big metal clip, I blurted out, "No! Give me a #1, just like yours. We’re in this together, Eric!"

Eric beamed broadly as he snapped on the Oster’s. He seemed pleased that we were would be bonded through #1 butch cuts.

"You’re a real pal, a real friend," Eric gushed openly as he began taking my butch down from a #2 to a #1.

Eric was quite handsy as a barber, and he shifted between firm grips and gentle nudges. All the while, he stroked and caressed my clipped head. I was like putty in his hands.

"You’re a very cooperative client, Vince," Eric said as he passed the Oster’s all over my head a final time. "Let me get a good look at you before the cape comes off."

He took my face with his hand and made me stare directly at him. He smiled approvingly. I marveled at his straight, pearly white teeth.

"Very nice, very uniform, very handsome," he said, examining my head. "I’m quite pleased with my work."

When the cape came off, I was quick to explore the shorter length. It was so prickly! I missed the feel of the soft, silken pelt of the #2.

"Okay, Bobby! Your turn!" Eric announced with glee.

I went to check out my new look in the bathroom while Bob got his butch taken down to a #1.

I was not prepared for the drastic change as I flipped on the light.

The BALD head! I was unrecognizable. My knees almost buckled on me. I thought I felt a lump in my throat. No more executive coif! And now I was locked into a butch...would it be a #1 butch for life!? I felt the sharp stubble. Yes, the new look would send shockwaves through the office on Monday.

Stumbling back into the garage in a daze, my eyes locked on the mounds of cut hair around the stool. I identified my large contribution: thick, lustrous locks -- copious clumps of silken mahogany.

"Why don’t you guys come over to my place for a few beers now that the haircuts are over?" I asked Bob and Eric.

Eric asked if I had any sodas for the boys who were playing ball in the driveway.

"You two go knock down a few beers," Bob suggested. "I promised the boys I’d play a game of two-on-two with them after the haircuts."

As Eric and I walked over to my place, I told him I had a confession to make.

"You know, when you gave me the Dutch rub and had me in your grip? I acted like I didn’t enjoy that...but, I did," I explained, awkwardly and really unnecessarily.

"I know. That’s why I gave you another punishing rub right before I took you down to a #1," Eric replied.

Then, without warning, I was locked in his grip again, and on the receiving end of another vigorous Dutch rub.

"You don't mind being manhandled by a dominant, aggressive type, it seems," Eric laughed.

"Maybe we can have dinner together Monday evening after work and compare stories about the reactions to our haircuts in the office," I suggested. "My treat."

Eric grinned widely, "I'd like that, Vince. But, no tale of woe is going to change your new look. I’m keeping you clipped, pal! Get used to your butch!"

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