It’s All Google’s Fault by ClipperAddict

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A TRUE STORY!
Up until the mid 1990's I was pretty convinced my obsession with haircuts and clippers etc. was freaky and peculiar to me. The arrival of Google and the internet changed all that as I discovered there are many guys out there with similar interest. It was great to find out that I was not the only one after all, and I quickly became an active participant in online chat forums, buzzboard and other member sites. Chatting with guys about getting shorn, major transformations, forced cuts, take charge barbers and all kinds of fantasies became a daily part of my life. The thing was it was 99% fantasy and 1% real as I toyed with visits to different barber shops and various forms of regular businessman cuts. Online chatting and browsing slowly gave way to the occasional phone chat and as time went on I became more and more absorbed with everything haircut related. Youtube became a favorite site where I could watch guys divested of their luscious locks and of course The Haircut Story Site was visited regularly to read and "enjoy" the latest tales of guys losing their mops voluntarily or otherwise.

Living in New England at the time I hooked up with fellow enthusiasts online and contemplated the possibility of meeting some of them; to maybe visit a barber shop together, or maybe even give each other haircuts. It all felt very exciting and a little nerve-wracking. A few dates were arranged and missed by me or my buddy not showing up. I'm sure many reading this know how that goes. Until one day, a local buddy posted pictures of his fresh shaved hnt horseshoe flat. It was a work of art and just seeing the pictures gave me an instant erection. We had talked on the phone, but honestly I wasn't entirely convinced he really did have such an awesome, radical haircut as he described. Ashamedly, I have to admit I'd talked to many buddies pretending I had the same haircut or even a shaved head or some other short buzz. The reality of course was quite different; once in a while I'd get a short taper with maybe a #2 at the hairline, but it wasn't ever much shorter than that.

Not long after my buddy posted the pictures of his amazing shoe he called me. I was in Providence, RI just having wrapped up a meeting and was excited to see his number pop up on my phone. As we got to talking, he asked where I was and what do you know he happened to be in Providence that afternoon also. Totally on impulse I said "Let's get together. I want to see that flat in person." Twenty minutes later, he appeared. My heart was racing with both excitement and anxiety. What was I doing? Who is this guy? What are we going to do?

Well, as it turned out he was just as excited and nervous as I was. We sat and chatted for at least an hour; my eyes fixated on his now 2 weeks grown out flat, and his eyes fixated on my regular businessman haircut. After some pleasant small talk, I couldn't stand it any longer and blurted out "Can I touch your flat?" "Of course, you don't need to ask.", he replied and took my hand and placed it on the back of his head. My already throbbing crotch went from hard to rock solid. It felt so good! "It feels even better when it is freshly cut," my buddy informed me. "I'm due for another skinning next Tuesday morning if you'd like to join me" he told me. My heart started pounding as I thought about watching him in the chair getting peeled. "I'd love to," I replied, "but you need to know I can't get a cut. My family will not understand and it won't work for my job." "No pressure," he replied very calmly, "Just come along and see Paul work his magic."

Paul's barber shop in Ayer, MA was a haircut enthusiast's mecca. Every cut was a clipper cut. The favored choice of state troopers, cops and marines. It was a den of testosterone and great haircuts. We arrived for opening just before 7:00 am. Paul was a former cop, and lived up to his no nonsense billing. My buddy was first in the chair to be greeted with "What we doing with this s**t? - The usual?" Boy was this going to be fun. My buddy very calmly replies "Nah, I need something shorter for the summer, peel me real good. Take the back and sides real high and make sure the landing strip is clear." BOING! I know I'm in trouble as I try to sit comfortably in the waiting chair facing the barber chair. I can tell from the smirk on my buddy's face he is enjoying my discomfort. He has had the good sense to wear some very loose fitting pants.

The show begins with the 00000 Osters straight back from the temple carving the first half of the ring below which there will be no hair. Second pass is straight back from the temple on the other side. In no time all the hair below the ring is removed and the Osters are switched out for the edgers which are run freely up and down the sides and back only to followed by a Norelco electric razor. The Norelco is ground into his head in circular motions so hard that I can see his whole head move along with the machine. My buddy has his eyes closed clearly enjoying the rough vibration of the Norelco and the firm hand of the barber on top of his head pushing it around as needed. From where I am sitting the sides and back appear smooth and completely free of hair, however that doesn't stop Paul from grabbing a fistful of hot lather and plastering it all over the already smooth walls. A hot towel is wrapped around his head and left to cook for a few minutes. While Paul is waiting he asks me some questions about where I'm from and what do I do. Beyond the tough exterior there is clearly a great man's man in there and I relax a little with the warm conversation.

Back to business as the straight razor goes to work. The invisible stubble is scraped off meticulously. One go around with the straight razor is not enough as my buddy is lathered up again and the process repeated only this time against the grain. Half way through and the whitewalls are gleaming. The top however is untouched, but not for long. After a quick application of some butchwax and rough brushing with the hairdryer on full blast, Paul starts to work on the freehand flat. Carefully and precisely he wields the Osters pressing hard on the strip and being ever so gentle on the shoe. Making sure every hair that remains (there aren't many)is sculpted into the flattest, shortest horseshoe flat I have ever seen. (Think flatandre or musclebuzz for those who know of the flattop idols). I don't think I blinked once during the whole cut I was so absorbed. I am almost in a trance as the cape is removed and my buddy jumps from the chair.

My response to Paul's question of "What do you think?" is automatic "Man that is AWESOME" so I am caught completely off guard when he follows up his question with a strong invitation to me to get in the chair. "I guess you're next then" he says firmly more as a statement than a question. I am speechless and can feel the blood racing to my face when my buddy intervenes and says "Don't waste your time trying to persuade him Paul. He doesn't have the balls to get a real haircut. He's all concerned about what his family and colleagues will say." Then Paul starts to mock me "Say it's not true? Surely you're not afraid to look like a real man?" Now, I'm beginning to panic and I stutter out "Well, I think it looks great on Dave but I'm just not sure I would suit it." Phew that's a relief. What can he say to that? "You think I'd give you a s**tty haircut? I've never had a guy leave my shop not looking his best." Oh no, now I've offended him or is he just joking? I can't tell and as I look at him he stares back at me and cracks the cape on the back of the chair and holds it up commanding me to sit without saying a word. Before I know it I'm sitting in the chair and he has spun me around to face the mirror while he fixes the cape and paper strip tightly around my neck. He looks at me in the mirror and says "Relax, you're going to enjoy this". If only he knew - maybe he did. He grabs the Osters places them at my right temple pauses for a second to look at me once more in the mirror then pulls them back to form the ring. Hair is cascading on to the cape as he begins the second pass to form the ring around the top of my head. My eyes are wide open, my mouth is dry and my pants are bursting. Having formed the ring he turns the chair away from the mirror to give my buddy a full unobstructed view of the transformation. He is smiling more broadly than I have ever seen, and even his loose fitting pants are showing some strain.

The haircut is like nothing I've ever experienced before. So much better than all the fantasies. The hair falling on my lap. The rough massage of the Norelco. The aroma of the hot lather, and the warmth of the towel. I am in heaven, and proud that I have managed to keep it all together even when he starts to scrape away the stubble with the straight razor. The aggressive brushing of the hair on top after applying the butch wax is awesome as he hairdryer goes full blast. The first few freehand passes of the Osters to get rid of the bulk on top are breathtaking. I'm deep breathing to try and stay in control. A bit more action with the hairdyer now the top is shorter before the ultimate as the Osters pass through a half inch above the hair line on my forehead and touch down on the top of my head to carve the landing strip. I swear it all happened in slow motion. I can feel the hair piling up in front of the clipper blade as it makes it's way back to the crown. I can't take any more and down below my pent up years of fantasy are released in a very real way. There is no way the whole shop didn't hear the sigh / groan that escapes from my mouth (although my buddy claims it wasn't that obvious). The smile on Paul's face is a knowing one, and he doubles down to finish up his masterpiece. Moments later the clippers are turned off and the chair is turned slowly back towards the mirror.

OMG - who is the guy sitting in the chair with the incredible shaved hnt horseshoe flat? Is that really me? YES - it's the me of my dreams and it's all Google's fault.

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