The Head-Shaving Gang: 3 Unlucky punks by Hamed Bezani

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On the outskirts of a busy, rough-edged settlement, crime and all kinds of s**trobbery, rape, drug dealing, and the likehad gotten out of hand. The locals were sick and tired of the thugs who mostly came from other areas and only passed through or stayed temporarily.
So a bunch of locals, supposedly to clean up the neighborhood and get rid of criminals, punks, and annoying drifters, formed a gang called the Head Shavers. They focused on young punks who caused trouble for other people. More than anything, they went after young thugs and rapists. They'd catch them off guard when the opportunity was right, hunt them down, and shave their heads down to a zero with electric clippers. Then they'd kick them in the ass and dump them somewhere isolatedlike an abandoned ruinas a warning to the rest of the scumbags.
For the Head Shavers, a victim's haircut and the style of his pants were inseparable signs of the same thing their bizarre sensitivity to both was part of the gang's obsession, so a young thug with an unconventional hairstyle was far more likely to become a target if he was also wearing tight, low-rise or otherwise attention-grabbing pants.
The young punks who fell victim to this gang usually had weird-ass hairstyles and unconventional pants that showed off the outline of their junk. At first, nobody really knew about the gang's work. But two years later, business had gotten so damn good that almost anyone who passed through that area with an unusual hairstyleand especially anyone wearing tight, low-rise pantswould enter the neighborhood with hair and leave it with a shaved head!
Here are the stories of three unlucky punks who crossed their path

Story 1 Taghi
Taghi was a skinny, fairly tall thug who both worked and lived at a roadside machine shop about twenty kilometers from the area.
All the hair on the back and sides of his head was shaved, leaving only about four or five centimeters of hair from the front of his forehead to the middle of his head. His tight, faded blue low-rise jeans hugged his skinny legs and flat ass like a second skin. He was one of those punks whose bulge would draw attention whenever he walked around. He'd also gotten pretty good at petty crime.
One afternoon, the shop owner sent him into the territory of the Head-Shaving Gang to pick up a piece of equipment from a colleague.
Completely unaware of what was waiting for him, Taghi hopped onto his cheap black motorcycle and took off with a loud BRRRRRR! BRRRRRR!
When he reached the place, he thought, I'll wander around the flea market for a bit.
He parked his bike somewhere and headed toward the busier part of the neighborhood and its flea market.
He caused a few minor disturbances, which caught the attention of some gang members. They started following him.
Eventually, Taghi headed back toward his motorcycle through a quiet spot so he could finish his errand and get back. One of the gang members saw him with that hairstyle and outfit.
He got pissed off, called his buddies, and they caught unlucky Taghi just as he was starting his motorcycle. "What the f*** are you doing here? And what's with that haircut? You a criminal?" The bulge in the front of Taghi's jeans pissed them off even more.
Several of them jumped him, ran electric clippers over his head, opening a strip right through his hair, and then left. Taghi, completely blindsided and s**t out of luck, went back toward the same crowded area where he'd been causing trouble an hour earlier and explained what had happened to a filthy local barber.
The barber smirked, looked Taghi up and down, and said "Anyone who comes into this neighborhood looking like that leaves f***ing bald." Then he looked at Taghi's head. "Jesus Christ, they f***ed you up bad. I gotta take it all the way down with a zero." Taghi sat down.
The barber started shaving from the sides, then worked his way across the middle and finally toward the front until Taghi was completely bald. To make sure the remaining rough, half-millimeter stubble was even, the barber kept rotating the clippers over his head.
The young punk muttered "Seriously? Anyone who dresses like this around here gets their f***ing head shaved?" When the job was finished, Taghi paid the barber and headed toward his motorcycle with his bald head and f***ed-up expression.
He got on, finished the errand he'd come for, and went back to the machine shop. His boss, who was shocked by what had happened to Taghi, suddenly said "Oh, s**t. I forgot to warn you about that Head-Shaving Gang in that area." Then he shrugged. "Anyway, who gives a s**t? What the hell do you need hair for?!"

Story 2 Hamed
Hamed lived near that area. He had an old computer in a tiny room where he spent most of his free time. He dressed in a lightweight punk style, and he was skinny and fairly tall too. He had a mohawk and liked showing it off to everyone.He wore a cheap leather vest covered with studs, with a scary face emblem on the back. But more than anything, he wore cheap, tight, low-rise leather pants that clung to his flat ass and skinny legs and left practically nothing to the imagination. There was also an electric guitar in the room.
He used the computer to duplicate and sell illegal movies, especially porn. His friends were criminals too, and they often came over. While watching porn, they would act like f***ing Satanists, doing all kinds of weird and nasty s**t.
Hamed loved his own style. Seeing his stiff mohawk and his whole punk look in the mirror turned him on. He'd pull his dick out through the front opening of his leather pants and jerk off in front of the mirror.
This unlucky asshole had no idea what was coming when he entered the forbidden neighborhood to visit an old friend. People in the area looked him over. Near his friend's house, a blue pickup truck pulled up in front of him.
Several short, stocky men grabbed him by the arms and legs despite all his shouting and acting like a tough guy, and hauled him into the truck's cab.
The sound of industrial clippers suddenly roared ZZZZZZZZZZ! And Hamed got shaved bald too.
Poor Hamed went to a local barber to have his head shaved down to a zero once again, just to make the baldness nice and even.
Staring at himself in the barber's mirror, amazed that his mohawk had disappeared and been replaced by a rough, sandpaper-like head, he thought How the f*** am I supposed to do all that old s**t in front of the mirror now? Play electric guitar with a bald head? Then it hit him. Hey that's a style too.
The barber wiped Hamed's rough head clean with a piece of sponge, but Hamed was pissed as hell about both the result and what had happened to him.
The barber noticed how angry and frustrated Hamed was. So after taking his money, he touched the tempting bulge in the front of Hamed's pants and said "F*** it. At least you've still got this!"
After that, Hamed went to his friend's place. When his friend saw how drastically different Hamed looked, he was stunned "Sorry, man. I forgot to warn you about the Head Shavers."
Anyway, until Hamed left that night, his friend treated him pretty damn well. The next day, his friends gathered again to watch porn and get into all kinds of bizarre, satanic s**t. Everyone had hair and mohawks. Only Hamed and another punk who had also been caught by the same gang had shaved heads.
Their friends kept cracking jokes at their expense and smacking the backs of their shaved heads. They rubbed the two rough heads against each other, producing a loud KHHHHHHHH! The sound was strangely arousing.

Story 3 Yaser
Yaser was a skinny, fairly tall young man with long, narrow legs and a slim, pencil-like build. He always wore a pair of light-blue, faded jeans that tightly hugged his skinny, flat ass and narrow legs. The jeans were tight and low-rise, and they had gotten so old that the fabric around the crotch had faded lighter than the rest. That weird wear pattern gave the area an ambiguous look at first glance the folds and shadows of the fabric seemed almost to suggest the shape of some protruding lump.
Yaser never thought about any of that. He had a nicely shaped, oval head, and his hair was messy and dirty. He went about his business, moving back and forth through walls of scrap metalwalls made of tightly compressed blocks of junked iron, with sharp metal edges sticking out here and there.
Two workers, whom nobody knew were members of the Head-Shaving Gang, had been keeping an eye on Yaser's movements for a while.
One elbowed the other. "See his pants?"
The man laughed.
"Yeah. Especially that dick-and-balls-looking bulge sticking out like some f***ing growth."
They both went silent for a few seconds.
One of them said "Imagine if one day, while he's walking through here like that, that thing catches on one of those sharp edges and gets ripped right off."
He pointed toward one of the sharp edges sticking out from one of the concrete blocks.
"All it takes is one second of carelessness."
The second man said "He doesn't even realize how f***ing close he walks to them."
They both laughed.
To them, Yaserwith his messy hair, faded jeans, and constant trips between the metal wallshad become part of the scenery. But that sloppy appearance somehow made him stand out even more.
That afternoon, as Yaser walked past them, one of the workers said "Let's grab Yaser tonight and shave him bald too!"
A few hours later, Yaser entered the same corridor again. This time, as he walked past the blocks, he heard a voice behind him. He turned around. It was the two workers.
"Yaser."
"Yeah?"
"Come here."
Yaser walked over.
One of them pointed at his head.
"Your hair hasn't been cut in a long f***ing time."
Yaser laughed.
"What the f***'s it to you?"
The man switched on the clippers.
ZZZZZZZZZ
The smile disappeared from Yaser's face.
"Wait"
But it was already too late.
The clippers went up the side of his head, and the first strip of hair dropped onto the ground.
One of the men said "Well, you don't have that old look anymore."
The clippers moved farther across. His messy hair disappeared piece by piece, revealing more and more of his long head and thin face.
A few minutes later, not a single long hair remained.
The man ran his hand over his head. KHHHHHHHH
"Now look." Yaser stared at himself in the window glass. Without his hair, his appearance had completely changed. His shaved head stood in a strange contrast to his faded, low-rise jeans, and the details of his clothes that had previously been hidden beneath his messy hair and unkempt appearance now stood out much more clearly.
Yaser slowly ran his hand over his freshly shaved head, a shiver running through him. KHHHHHHHH
One of the two workers laughed as they walked away.
"A shaved head only by force!"

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