A Haircut's Not so Bad - Part 2 by kevinD

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I hope this part isn't too long for you all. Enjoy.


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I practically ran for the 7/11, my stomach attempting to punch its way out of my gut to beat me there. We had been driving through this middle of nowhere wasteland for eternity, and Gavin’s whining was starting to burn a hole through my skull. I was really happy to be on this trip with him, but sometimes I wished he’d just shut it and turn his brain off. I know I could use a bit of a reset.

I grabbed barbecue chips, Twizzlers, those really trashy glazed donut holes, and a six pack of blue powerade for us to share, the only good kind. Walking towards the counter I passed a bathroom essentials aisle, and a large see through package caught my eye. It was a pair of electric hair clippers, a poorly made name brand no one had heard of, but they looked menacing. I shuddered at the thought of those chewing through my dirty blonde shag. I finally had perfected my own haircut, and all I needed was a pair of scissors and my bathroom. No one had any say in my hair, except me. It had taken several years, but I found the perfect balance between that kind of no effort surfer look and an intentionally cut shag. It stuck out in several directions and often looked too messy for any professional setting, but I made it work, and people liked it.

Presumably watching me lost in thought, staring at the clippers, the store clerk prompted me, "Thinking of a summer cut?".

"Oh, what, me?". I turned with a surprise, wondering if the clerk was speaking to some other invisible customer.

"Yeah, you, you’ve got a lot of hair for this weather, it really needs a good chop". The clerk had a very short buzzcut, with what looked like a number 2 guard on top and a 1 on the back and sides. He was only a little older than me, and I was surprised he was stuck here working at this junkyard strip mall.

"Um, short cuts aren’t really my thing. I keep it this way year round, no summer cut for me". The clerk looked amused and ran a hand slowly across the top of his head, letting it linger at his nape, fingers scratching lightly at the near skin.

"Not your thing, huh? Well the heat will disagree, you need clippers this time of year". I shrugged his comment off, he was being a little pushy, how did he know what was good for me? I placed my items on the counter and he rang me up. After giving me my bag he told me to wait a second as he walked in the back and came back with a small cardboard box.

"Would you do me a favor? My friend, the barber just down the block, his shipment came in and he needs it ASAP. I gotta stay here and watch the store, would you mind bringing it to him? It’ll take five minutes". He looked desperate, and despite his rudeness earlier he had asked quite nicely, so I figured I’d cut him some slack. It was odd, and a little on the nose that his friend was the barber, but the golden rule compelled me.

"Yeah, sure man, no problem". I took the box from him and my bag of snacks in the other, and headed for the door.

"Oh, by the way! Let him know that Jay sent you, he’ll wanna know". I nodded and headed for the barbershop just a few stores down. I could see Gavin going inside the Five Below across the parking lot, must’ve gotten bored waiting for me. I noted to myself to make it quick, and came to a stop in front of the barbershop. It looked pretty old fashioned, and it still had one of those rotating barber poles hung up in front. The red, blue, and white spun fervently fast, drawing my gaze to it. I’d seen hundreds of these in TV and movies, but none quite this captivating. I practically burned a hole in it from staring, the colors going up, up, up until eventually I had been standing in front of the door for a few minutes, completely losing track of time. Jesus, I must be exhausted.

Just as I snapped out of it and turned to knock on the door, it swung wide open, barely grazing my face. I stumbled back in a daze as a very tall, handsome man appeared on the other side of the doorway. I drew in a deep breath, taken aback by the color of his eyes. They were a warm ,electric amber, almost appearing to shift and spin in the light. It was as if I could make out my own reflection in them, gazing and unmoving, entirely entranced by this stranger.

"Something you need, boy?". I hesitated hearing the sound of his voice call me that name, I wasn’t a boy, but it felt wrong to resist. I clambered with the box in my hand, raising it up to him like a child presenting their drawing to be put on the fridge. "Ahhhh my razor blades, thank you boy, I’ve been waiting for these". I awkwardly stepped backwards but continued to stare and made no indication that I was ready to leave. Those eyes, I was too stuck in them, like quicksand, to pull away and leave. "Cat got your tongue? What’s wrong? ". His eyes seemed to flare, as if the flame that gave them their color was feeding on fresh timber. My mouth opened before I even knew what I was about to say.

"J-Jay told me to tell you, that, um, h-he sent me". I blushed instantly, I could barely get my words out.

"Mmmm, Jay did? I see. Well then," he reached forward and placed a hand on my shoulder, firmly squeezing and beginning to massage it slowly, "how’d you like his haircut?". His haircut? Why did he wanna know what I thought of his hair? I had barely thought of it, but I suppose it looked alright on the guy. It was probably a nice haircut to have, nothing warming your scalp or dripping onto your brow, and the fade had looked great.

"Well, it was, um, good. It looked really good. On him. He looked good in it, I guess".

"Hm, yes he did, didn’t he? Most boys look very nice with a good short haircut, they just need the right barber to do it for them". I felt myself agreeing with him somewhere farther back in my mind. Perhaps he was right, boys have short hair normally because that’s what they look good in, don’t they? Most guys he knew did have short hair, and they all looked great, and did less work to get it too.
"Yeah…boys look great with short hair". I nodded along lazily, barely realizing what I was doing until I felt a wide grin form on my face, irresistible pleasure creeping up my toes and radiating from behind my eyes. The barber's amber eyes now pulsed with a rhythm and appeared to spin at a rate so fast it was dizzying. I trembled with relief, I had been so tense that whole car ride, and this kind and handsome man had made me feel so much better.

"That’s right. Well then why are you carrying around that mop with you, boy?".

"Mop? It…it barely covers my ears". I blushed deeply, how embarrassing, he thought I was shaggy.

"Ah-ah," he tilted my head up with his other hand directly into his gaze again, flaring his eyes and sending another wave of heat through me, "that is far too much hair on your head young man, isn’t that right?". I instantly felt very ashamed of my hair. He was right, my hair was messy and too long, I looked quite jarring compared to that neat store clerk with the buzzcut. Maybe I did need to think about a short cut.

"How about you come inside and I see to that embarrassing mop of yours, I’ve got a very comfortable chair and a TV for you to watch while I give this a good shearing", he dug his hand into my hair, ruffling it around like a plaything, giving a gentle scratch to my sensitive scalp. I shivered, and gave in to the undeniable pleasure and temptation. The barber would take very good care of me, and I could relax. A haircut wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe the barber was right, he needed a good shearing. Suddenly I was looking up at him eagerly, nodding in approval to his offer.

"Attaboy, follow me inside and take a seat". He turned towards the shop and stomped over to his counter to look over and prepare his tools for my shearing. I stumbled inside after him, taking in the sight before me of a barbershop stuck in time, sporting all the old-school flourishes one could imagine. There was a sickly sweet scent in the air, gushing in waves from the vents that flooded my nostrils and added even more weight to my increasingly ragdoll-ish stature. I felt as if I was slowing down, and I cared less and less about any responsibilities calling me from the outside, I needed a haircut first, and the barber would take care of me. His eyes said so! His beautiful eyes, that now turned to me to guide me back on course to his chair awaiting my arrival.

I dropped down into the plush leather chair, laying back and letting my tight feet unwind on the footrest. The barber took a deep maroon colored cape from the cupboard to the right of the mirror and flicked it open in front of me, letting it graze my nose and blow the husk of the barber's aftershave against my face. I breathed in his sharp and manly scent as he came behind me, securing the cape with a small tape strip underneath it round my neck very tightly. Tight enough to notice through my haze of pleasure cancelling out any stress or discomfort of the situation.

"Now boy, listen to me when I say this," he grabbed me by my chin and directed my gaze once more into his, "I can tell you are quite enjoying feeling this relaxed and under my care, aren’t you?". I lazily nodded my head, fighting to gain enough strength to do so. "That’s good, but if you’d like it to stay that way, you best behave and obey like a good young man should always do for his barber". His words were so gentle and disarming to my ears that I began to instantly agree to his terms in my head, I simply wanted to hear him talk and begin my haircut.

"Good boy, now you just relax while I get you properly sheared". My scalp was practically itching with anticipation. I wanted to be rid of my endlessly demanding shag, I wanted to be sheared like a good young man, I wanted to do just as my barber said.

The barber went to collect his mightiest pair of Oster 77 clippers, a matching shade of maroon to my cape, and bring them over to my trembling form. His large palm clamped down onto my crown and pushed until my chin was firmly planted into my sternum, bowed in submission to the barber's unrelenting force. I felt electric, splayed out in such naked vulnerability for this ruthless shaving device to groom me like livestock. Even when the anxiety crept in the corners of my mind, doubting my sanity for submitting to such a brutal barber, the insistent pulse of pleasure clouded my brain. The fog reminded me of my place in submission to the barber, and how excited I was to be sheared.

Just before the clippers were to be turned on, unleashed upon my disobedient locks, a pound on the door interrupted their progress. Instinctively I became angry at whatever presence had the audacity to disrupt my haircut, then suddenly shaken and alert at the thought that someone might be there to stop the barber. Someone to snap me out of whatever irresistible trance I had been trapped in.

I craned my neck to see who might’ve been the culprit, but the barber came quickly over to me and commanded my gaze once more, yanking my head away from the door. "Listen to me boy," his eyes flared strongly again, the warmth flooding me before I had a chance to try and stop it, "you wait here patiently and don’t listen to a word that is said between my and our guest, understand?". I slowly allowed the warmth from his trance to seep back into my mind and agree to his terms. Maybe this was just someone looking to stop me from relaxing, from feeling good.

Another pound at the door, and the barber loosened his vice grip and marched over to speak to whoever was intruding. My gaze fell back to the mirror, admiring my caped form, grinning like an idiot thinking about how nice I would look clipped to the wood on both sides, far up the back and perhaps even a little on top. I didn’t hear or care to notice any of the interaction going on behind me, happy to entertain myself daydreaming of my haircut to come.

Eventually, I heard the barber's footsteps coming towards me once more, but found another set of feet following him. Before I could see who it was, the barber, using his eyes, commanded me to behave. I suddenly gained a clarity, the haze clearing, but the immense instinct that I was under the barbers control remained. I derived pleasure from the idea that I was allowing myself to submit to the barbers mysteriously compelling influence. Being out of control, for once, felt remarkably pleasant and thrilling. The barber would take care of me, I just had to do as he said.

"Well, Jake, look who it is". I turned to my left to see none other than Gavin standing before me, looking nervous as all hell to be inside the lion's den, his even longer middle part not having been graced the presence of a barber's care for who knows how long. Inexplicably compelled to speak, I warmly greeted my friend, not acknowledging that anything was out of the ordinary.

"Gavin! Hey, man, I’m so glad to see you," my smile formed against my resistance, "I was just about to get a much needed haircut, w-what are you doing here?". I stumbled on my last words, trying to reconcile his presence with my embarrassingly pleasurable situation.

"He was just here to do the same as you, he asked me for a haircut after noticing that you were having all the fun without him". Gavin looked confused at that statement.

"Um, I didn’t, I was just-", the barber cut him off with a clap of his hands.

"Well! Gavin, we really must get started, so if you could just take a seat right there next Jake in that chair, and just relax". Gavin walked stiffly to the chair, placing himself down in it slowly, as if cautious that it would reach out and hold him down. He looked over to me, sweating visibly and bewildered at my seemingly autonomous decision to get a haircut in this remote time capsule of a barbershop.

"Uh, Jake, are you sure you need a haircut? You always cut it yourself, and we really gotta get going". I sensed the part of me that knew Gavin was right and was crying out to be pulled out of here, but I let it be pushed down firmly by the strong grip of the barber's hand shoving my head back into the clipper ready position.

"Yeah man, it’ll only take a minute, trust me, I’m gonna look so much better, it’ll be great". I faintly mumbled into the cape, feeling like I was being knocked out with anesthetics. The moment I was finally waiting for began, and the mechanical buzz of the engine powering the hair clippers burst to life, erupting outwards and flooding my ears, signaling my descent into a deep trance, and complete submission to the shearing.

I quickly forgot all about Gavin and what he might be thinking, not able to discern the space around me, forgetting he was there entirely. I surrendered to sensation as the clippers came flush to my nape, their heat warming my skin like another body, ready to take what it wishes from me. Still holding my crown, the barber drove the teeth slowly up the back of my head, the vibration radiating across my head and feeling so good that it squeezed out any thoughts attempting to form inside my now empty and mushy brain. I was far too out of it to have noticed what kind of blade or guard the barber had placed on the clippers, if any, but the metal felt close and cold against my scalp.

A lightness and a coolness greeted my newly exposed scalp hand in hand, instilling another intensely pleasurable layer of sensation. More thoughts gone, more resistance banished. Sentences or words began to become impossible to form in my mind, replaced instead by quick affirmations of "I will feel so much better clipped tight", and "I feel so much better already, what had I been thinking?".

The clippers had now reaped the entire back of my head, and the barber turned his clippers off momentarily to appraise his work so far. "My, my, Jake. You are looking so much neater already, you must feel great". He ran two fingers length wise up the back of my head from nape to crown, going back and forth to savor the feel of the freshly cropped bristles that remained. It felt absolutely euphoric to have him stroke me there, I was biting at the bit for the sides of my head to be next. And so they did. The barber resumed the onslaught of noise as the clippers whirred back to action, shearing off the nasty carpet of hair to reveal the soft stubble beneath.

"How are you feeling, Jake, enjoying your grooming?". I nearly moaned in response, but a meager grunt came out, signaling my inability to produce any coherent sentences. "That’s great buddy, we’re getting to the best part now". The clippers were taken over to the counter to be swapped out for what seemingly was a larger blade, but the barber hesitated. He placed the guard back down, choosing instead to take the top of my hair down to the same length all over. A solid butch. The clippers buzzed, and came in to seal the deal. Chewing efficiently through all the spiky and mussed up shag, leaving behind that shockingly close bristle that even the barber couldn’t resist gawking at. I was being shaved, and very, very short. The full buzz was completed remarkably fast, and I was left buzzed nearly to the scalp, just the thin ⅛ inch layer left to give me the spitting image of an Aggie cadet.

The barber gave me a firm noogie on my fresh cut, and I felt like I had been washed clean of all weight, stress, or worries of the day. I was a clean slate, and I was excited and thrilled by what I saw in the mirror now that my head had been lifted back to its resting position. I had been such a good boy for the barber, and he made me look very neat and clipped, I loved it. I loved having short hair! "Oh, sir, I love it". I rubbed it myself and groaned out loud, my noises of appreciation devolving into giggles of disbelief. I felt incredible and it was hard to feel anything but that. There was a part of my brain now, farther and distant than it was before, that was blocked off by a large and impenetrable wall. I was alarmed by its presence, but an equally large and warm, comforting presence assuaged any of my doubts. I had made the right decision, and I was much better for letting the barber shear me.

Both the barber and I turned our attention now to Gavin, sitting in disbelief at the intense shearing he had just witnessed. Not knowing what to say, he gawked at the two of them. I knew that he was afraid, but soon he would feel so, so good.

I flashed my blissed out smile and rubbed my super tight buzz, "Your turn, Gavin".

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