Barber Bud Transforms Rex by Manny

---

As Corey waited for the Rev. Battersea to finish greeting his congregants, a young fellow still in his choir robe approached him.

"Welcome," he said with a grin that showed off a perfect set of straight, dazzling white teeth. "So, you’re our minister’s barber! And what a job you did on his mane! He’s a professional barber himself, you know -- works several days a week at Al’s Barber Shop with his pal, Rev. Brown. Those two seem to be inseparable, especially when they’re ‘checking the supply stock’ in the back room of the shop! I shouldn’t gossip, but…."

Corey grinned, unsure of where the conversation might go.

"I’m Rex," he continued. "So, tell me, what was it like to mow off Bill Battersea’s pampered locks? That glossy mane, getting stripped off, right at the scalp…such a pity. He looks so pathetic now, down to the wood!"

"I’ve shaved so many heads," Corey murmured. "Not a favorite part of my job. It’s always a sad event at the hospital -- people are in crisis."

"Certainly, Rev. Battersea wasn’t in crisis," Rex noted. "I still can’t believe he did that! That bald head looks awful on him."

Rex smoothed his elegantly groomed coif, savoring the feel of the plush, wavy mane of golden locks.

"I wouldn’t give up my hair just to make someone else feel better," he continued.

Corey surmised Rex was a jerk -- a self-confident, charismatic and handsome jerk.

"No, looking at you, I imagine that’s not the sort of thing you’d do," Corey deadpanned. "Pretty boys tend to put themselves first, not others."

"That’s so unfair!" Rex protested.

"Were you listening at all to the sermon?" Corey asked.

Rex’s cheeks reddened. "Uh, I was taking care of a bit of business on my phone during that part of the service. Sermons are so long and boring. I’m really here to make the choir sound respectable. Do you sing?"

"I enjoy singing, if that’s what you’re asking," Corey replied. "The choir sounded great!"

"Next Sunday, I have a solo during the offertory piece," Rex said. "I’m the only tenor who can hit those high notes and maintain a pleasing, melodious sound. All the other tenors sound like screech owls at the highest range. We’re always looking for other men to join."

Corey shuffled on his feet. The truth was, he might be interested. But Sunday was his time for golfing…and Rex was a bit grating. Handsome, talented, even charming…but so stuck on himself. Perhaps that was part of his charm…?

As Corey was giving the handsome Rex a discreet once-over, Rev. Battersea joined them.

"Ah, you two have met," he noted with satisfaction.

"Not only met, but Corey said he’s interested in joining our choir," Rex announced.

Corey was taken aback by the assertion; Rex had put him on the spot!

So, without missing a beat, he reciprocated with a fanciful declaration of his own.

"And Rex was telling me he’s planning to pop by the barber shop this week for a flattop," Corey declared with a wide grin.

"Really?" Rev. Battersea sputtered, staring at Rex’s carefully styled coif. "That would be a nice change! For a flattop, Bud’s your barber. I’m still trying to get the hang of cutting flattops, and wavy hair is especially tricky. Bud will take you flat with professional precision."

"I’m not interested in a flattop," Rex said tersely. "Why Corey thought that escapes me."

Corey’s eyes twinkled at the mischief he’d caused.

"I am interested in the choir…uh, kind of," Corey admitted. "What sort of commitment is it?"

"I consider the choral pieces part of the worship, not merely a performance by talented musicians," Rev. Battersea said gently. "Maybe you should attend for a while and then think about the choir, Corey."

"Well, I can tell you one thing," Rex interjected. "This fellow was definitely listening to your sermon today, Rev."

Corey smiled shyly.

"I was interested; you made a lot of good points," Corey admitted softly.

"Why don’t the two of you come by the barber shop together this week," Rev. Battersea suggested. "Tuesday? We close at 6 pm. Come near the end of the day. Bud will take care of your flattop, and I can tidy up Corey’s butch. Then, it’ll be pizza at the parsonage, courtesy of yours truly."

"Tuesday works for me!" Corey piped up cheerfully, imaging a brutal end to Rex’s plush executive coif.

Rex was in a bind. Of course, he knew the minister wanted to draw Corey into the congregation…but how he’d gotten roped into a flattop…he’d been caught off guard!

Rex concluded that Corey was a tricky little pistol, perhaps one who needed a bit of discipline. He wouldn’t mind reining the young buck in! For sure, Corey was no eye candy. But there was something about his feisty nature that challenged Rex, and intrigued him.

"Sure," Rex answered the minister, albeit with a tone of hesitation. "Something shorter, but not a flattop."

Rev. Battersea grinned. He knew Bud would not hesitate thrusting the clippers into Rex’s coif and peeling it off. In fact, he was anxious to watch it happen!

"Shorter?" Rev. Battersea asked. "How about a chromedome, like mine?!"

"I can take care of that," Corey laughed, suddenly feeling an urge to tussled Rex’s tidy locks.

As his fingers fulfilled that desire, Corey felt an attraction to Rex. OMG! He was getting hard! And, he sensed that Rex was reciprocating those feelings!

While a congregant engaged Rev. Battersea in some chatter, Rex and Corey exchanged contact information.

"You little devil! Roping me into a barbershop haircut!" Rex exclaimed in a low voice, brimming with excitement. "If I end up with a flattop, there’s going to be hell to pay!"

"I’d pay money to see it happen!" Corey laughed. "Your perfect little coif sent to the barber shop floor! Someone needs to teach you a lesson!"

Rex grabbed Corey by the hand.

"Come, I’ve got to get this robe put away. The choir loft is a private area, right under the big rose window. It’s a neat place," Rex said as he led Corey out of the narthex.

"But, Rev. Battersea…he’ll…" Corey protested.

"He’s got to get out of his robe too," Rex said as led Corey into a dark, cramped staircase that gave access to the choir loft.

In the privacy of the staircase, the two shared their first kiss.

Corey plunged his fingers into Rex’s silken waves. So soft…! Rex’s fingers were somewhere else, stimulating Corey’s excitement.

"I can’t wait to see you caped up in Bud’s barber chair," Corey whispered. "His clippers mowing off this elegant coif…shorter and shorter, flatter and flatter!"

"Should I do it? Really?!" Rex asked, suddenly feeling quite open to the idea of getting a flattop.

"Yes, oh, please!" Corey replied.

"OMG! I’m going to go flat!" Rex laughed. "Flat for YOU, Corey."

The two resumed their make out session again.

At the end of it, Rex asked, "And, what are you going to do for me?"

"Anything!" Corey exclaimed.

"I hope you enjoy the bottom," Rex quipped. "Submissive and responsive…!"

It would be a new role for Corey, but he found himself curious, interested. He also felt himself in falling in love with Rex!

Tuesday came so quickly.

As Rex and Corey walked down the sidewalk toward Al’s Barber Shop, now staffed by the town’s two ministers, tension and excitement were riding high.

Rex occasionally caught a glimpse of his plush, wavy blond mane in the reflection of a shop window. What was he doing, going to a barber shop, he asked himself repeatedly?! The elegant executive sweep that he’d perfected over years made him feel assured and confident. What would it be like to lose it, in one sitting? Rex knew his hair was a badge of pride that made him feel superior to people like Corey with their grim buzzcuts or wispy, thinning hair.

Corey walked beside him with a barely contained brightness, the kind that made Rex nervous. Though Rex had agreed to "shorter," he had drawn the line firmly -- no flattop! Still, Corey’s excitement suggested he believed the line was negotiable.

The barber shop’s door jingled as they stepped inside.

Bud looked up from the newspaper he was reading. The town’s premier flattop specialist had the posture of a man who’d enjoyed sculpting heads into geometric perfection.

As the two young men entered the modest shop, Bud’s eyes riveted on Rex’s hair -- he was going to still those waves! He was going to take that coif down!

Bill, sweeping up near the second chair, paused to welcome them warmly. He knew with an excited certainty that the end of Rex’s coif was nigh -- he had prepped Bud regarding Rex and Corey's expected visit.

Rex’s immaculate executive style always seemed to glow like a beacon in the middle of the robed choir. Bill had long suspected Rex took a little too much pride in that golden pomp. Today, he thought, the Lord might work via Bud’s clippers to bring down the haughty Rex and transform him outwardly and inwardly into a humble Christian who put others first!

Corey gave Bill a subtle nod. Bill gave Bud a knowing look. Rex felt both and didn’t like either.

Bud patted the big chair. "I hear you’re here for a real haircut, Rex. Have a seat."

Rex hesitated. His hand rose instinctively to his hair, smoothing the waves and hoping the softness soothed his nerves.

He whispered to Corey in a low but urgent tone, "Shorter. Not a flattop. That’s what I agree to, remember!"

Corey only smiled, the kind of smile that suggested he already knew how the story ended.

Rex sat in the big throne of a chair. The cape was fastened securely around his neck with a finality that made his stomach tighten.

Bud lifted Rex’s forelock with a comb, testing the weight, the spring, the potential, and let out a low whistle. He was going to have fun with that showy forelock!

Bill took a seat in his barber throne and prepared to watch the makeover. There was an eager expectant look on his face, like that of a church enthusiast waiting for a sermon to begin.

Bud murmured, almost reverently, "Shame to waste hair like this on anything less than a masterpiece, Rex."

The tone conveyed a warning that something dramatic was about to transpire.

Rex’s eyes widened.

He waited for Bud to ask him how he wanted his hair cut, but that question never came.

Bud brought his huge set of Oster clippers to life. The shop felt charged like the moment before a storm breaks, when everyone knows something is about to change.

He placed one broad hand on top of Rex’s head, guiding it gently but firmly forward.

Rex stiffened, but Bud overpowered the resistance. His reflection in the mirror tilted downward, his golden waves falling like a curtain around his face. For the first time, he couldn’t see himself. That alone made his pulse jump.

The old trusty Osters had shorn hundreds, maybe even thousands of men; the low hum was like the crescendo of timpani that announced Rex’s transition to a flattop was imminent.

The nervous man’s fingers twitched beneath the cape.

As the metal teeth hit the sensitive nape, Rex managed to mumble, "Not too…."

But the shriek that emerged from the clippers plowing into the plush coif drowned out Rex’s futile plea.

"Let’s open this up," Bud chirped cheerfully as he drove the clippers straight up the back of Rex’s head.

Rex inhaled sharply.

The trip up the back of his head was forceful, startling, and intimate.

From that first swipe, Rex knew that he would leave the barber shop with a flattop. The decision had been pre-ordained. Why had he ever imagined that the result could be anything else?!

Corey gasped and Bill chuckled as they watched a thick, warm sheet of golden hair slid down the cape, and land in a small island of gloss at Bud’s feet.

"That’s awfully short," Bill chuckled.

Bud made a second pass, higher this time, the clippers carving a clean, decisive path through the dense waves. More blond locks tumbled away in the wake of Bud's clippers.

Rex’s shoulders tightened under the cape; he tried to lift his head, but Bud’s steady hand kept him angled forward.

Another pass. Another cascade of hair. Another swath of Rex’s pompous identity fell away.

Bud stepped back for a moment, admiring the exposed shape of the back of Rex’s head.

Then, he continued working, turning towards the side of Rex’s head.

This time, the beautiful waves of gold fell to the cape and slid into Rex’s lap.

Bud didn’t just shorten the sides, he stripped them bare.

The moment the clippers bit into the plush waves above Rex’s ear, the sound changed. It went from a steady hum to a hungry buzz, the tone a barber hears when thick hair gives way to bare scalp. Bud angled the clippers tight, almost flush, and carved a clean, ruthless path upward.

A stripe of pale skin appeared instantly, shockingly stark against the golden mass that had been there seconds before.

Bill murmured in awe -- "Oh, that’s clean!" -- like he’d been waiting years to see Rex’s virgin scalp.

Bud didn’t pause. He pressed the clippers in again, shearing another strip right up the side of Rex’s head. The plush blond waves that had once curled neatly over his ear were gone -- completely gone -- leaving the ear awfully exposed, sticking out in a way Rex could not remember seeing before. Without the cushioning volume, it looked almost too bare, too vulnerable, like a part of him that had never been meant to see daylight.

Rex’s ears, normally half-hidden under that elegant sweep of the coif, now jutted out awkwardly as the sides were reduced to a near skin buzz. He could feel the cool air on them, feel the vibration of the clippers echoing through the cartilage. His cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment.

And the hair! God, the hair! It wasn’t just falling -- it was collecting in large pools on the white cape. The cut hair was mere waste to be tossed in the trashcan.

As Bud reduced the other side, thick blond waves continued to slide down the cape in heavy clumps, piling into Rex’s lap. The sheer amount was overwhelming. It looked like enough hair for two haircuts, maybe three. Some strands still held their executive-style bend, their perfect wave, even as they lay lifeless against the cape's cotton fabric.

Bud kept working until both sides of Rex's head were starkly devoid of hair. The blond stubble that remained was almost invisible.

Bud glanced at Bill and gave his partner a wink.

"Time to address this frisky forelock," he laughed.

Rex’s heart thudded as the barber snagged his prime lock -- the longest and most important lock on his head -- with a comb.

Corey’s eyes were shining brightly, eagerly anticipating the brutal and definitive end to the coif.

The assault happened quickly.

Lift and BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

Right across the teeth of the comb. The whole forelock fell, almost intact into Rex’s lap!

Simultaneously, his astonished mouth fell open.

"Now we’re gettin’ somewhere," Bud declared. "You all right, Rexy? Looks like you saw a ghost!"

Playfully, Bud snatched the severed forelock from the cape and held it up.

"You’re not missing this already, I hope!" Bud laughed and drop the exhibited lock to his feet.

Then, he turned off the clippers and set them down momentarily. But, Bud was already eyeing Rex’s remaining bulk like a craftsman preparing to reveal the grain beneath the wood.

Even with the forelock gone, the rest of Rex’s top remained thick, wavy, and proud. It rose and curled with that natural plush density that had always made people stare. Now it looked almost defiant, as if refusing to accept what the sides and back had already surrendered.

Bud combed through the remaining thatch. The waves unfurled like silk ribbons between the teeth of the plastic comb.

Rex examined his newly bare ears which stuck out on either side, pink and awkward, making him feel strangely unbalanced.

Bud swapped his clippers, snapped them on and brought the screening machine back into the fray.

"Time to take this down! Time these waves were stilled!" he exclaimed.

Then he drove the clippers through the mass of blond, about an inch above the scalp, clearing away the overgrowth.

The first pass was brutal. A thick sheet of blond waves peeled away, rolling over the comb and tumbling down the cape. It landed in Rex’s lap with a soft, heavy thud, joining the mound of curls and waves that already looked like someone had sheared a shaggy sheep of its winter coat.

Rex gasped.

Bill whispered, "Mercy," though he didn’t mean it.

Bud made another pass -- shorter this time. The clippers continued to carve a path through the remaining bulk, leaving the top noticeably tighter and somewhat flatter. More hair slid down, some strands still holding their elegant executive bend even as they fell lifeless into the piles on the cape.

Rex could feel and see the remaining hair getting shorter and shorter with each maneuver, the bulk and weight disappearing. A cool breeze from the barber shop's air conditioner was beginning to touch parts of his scalp it had never before been so exposed.

Bud adjusted his angle and went even shorter.

This time, the clippers grazed the top of Rex’s head -- just barely, but unmistakably. The vibration traveled straight through his skull, a startling, electric sensation that made him gasp for a quick breath.

A faint strip of pale scalp appeared in the middle of the crown. It was the beginning of something unmistakable, a decent landing strip!

Bud didn’t comment. He simply kept working, shortening the top with methodical precision, each pass closer than the last.

Rex continued to stare in disbelief at the image in the mirror, stunned by the awkwardness of his ears that stuck out. Aghast that the sides had been stripped so decidedly and that his forelock had been harvested so efficiently. And now the top -- his pride, his signature -- was succumbing to Bud's initiative. It was being carved into something severe and to martial regulations.

Bud stepped back, clippers still humming, admiring the new, brutally short shape.

"There we go," he said. "Now it’s starting to breathe."

Rex didn’t explode so much as come apart -- all at once, in front of the trio, with no warning.

Rex sucked in a breath and then gave expression to the anxiety that had been accumulating all day.

"I can’t pretend this doesn’t terrify me," he said, voice trembling. "I know it’s just hair, but…."

His eyes welled; he was unmistakably overwhelmed.

As Rex struggled to express himself, he stared mournfully at the mound in his lap, the thick, wavy, golden locks that had been a part of him for so long.

Bud rested a steady hand on Rex’s shoulder -- a firm, caring touch.

"Son, I think you look great! Tough, manly, authentic," the barber said.

Rex blinked hard, breath shaking.

Bill added, "Son, sometimes pride hides the parts of us that are most worth seeing. Give yourself time to adapt to the new look. I’m sure there will be many that compliment you on the big change."

Rex swallowed, throat tight.

"What about you, Corey?" Rex asked.

Corey felt guilty about seeing Rex looking so miserable, knowing he was responsible for the makeover.

"You’re the most handsome man I know, and a beautiful person -- inside and out," Corey said softly.

Rex blinked his eyes and allowed a wave of relief to engulf him.

His hand emerged from beneath the cape and flashed Corey a thumbs up.

"Okay," Rex said. "Finish it, Bud."

Bud lifted the clippers again, and tidied the landing strip with a few final touches.

Within a couple of minutes, the haircut was over! Rex’s transition from power helmet hair to stark flattop was complete.

The cape came off in a dramatic sweep, sending a shower of blond clippings to the floor and widening the spread of scattered silk.

Rex gathered his strength and resolve as he unfolded from the chair -- slowly, shakily, trying to gain footing with his new image.

Bud stepped back, aware that Rex was still struggling to accept his new haircut. Bill watched quietly, and Corey held his breath.

Rex lifted his head toward the mirror and leaned closer toward it. He tilted his head and looked again, finally cracking a feeble smile.

Corey stepped behind him, hands resting lightly on Rex’s shoulders and murmured, "I like the new Rex even more than I liked the old Rex."

Rex touched his shorn scalp for the first time -- a confirmation that his precious coif was indeed gone -- and forced a grin.

"And, I miss the old Rex," he whimpered.

Bud decided to shake up the tentative mood in the barber shop.

He pointed at Bill.

"You! It’s your turn!" Bud exclaimed as he patted his chair.

"But, I’m already bald," Bill stammered, running his hand over his cueball.

"Get over here!" Bud snapped playfully. "You’re getting lather shaved! I’m going to keep that noggin of yours as smooth as silk…for a WHOLE YEAR!"

"Oh, Bud," Bill stammered, "Mrs. Gibson is praying for my hair to grow out quickly. She wants to see her pastor with a standard, short back ‘n sides -- the length she feels are appropriate for ministers like us."

"And, I want my partner BALD as a baby’s butt!" Bud laughed. "My CHAIR! NOW!!"

That forcefulness in their relationship was what Bill loved most about Bud...his assertive dominance. Bill relished placing himself in Bud's care and being submissive to his buddy's desires.

Corey and Rex were right onto the task, playfully dragging Bill over to Bud’s chair.

"BALD!" Corey exclaimed.

"Shave him clean!" Rex piled on.

As the cape sailed through the air, Bill quipped cheerfully, "I’m all yours, Bud! Make me stay smooth and keep me clean for as long as you like."

Then, Rex, gripped his pal Corey and announced, "And, this fellow is next! I want him scraped clean, as well!"

Bud beamed broadly, "Excellent idea! And, I'll show you how to do it, Rex, so you can keep him smooth for as long as you like."

---