Manny's Barber Shop, part 1 by burrlypup

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There's a particular department store I go to, it's really bright inside with the red accents and bulls eyes. Not really to shop, but because of the military eye candy. It's the closest place to shop off base, so there are plenty of flattops, high n tights, head shaves, and my personal favorite haircut: the horseshoe flattop.

I wear my hair in a boxy flattop – when I'm feeling brave I'll have my barber skin the sides but he never goes as short on top as I'd like. Manny, my barber, always leaves a deep pile telling me how fantastic it looks. And it does look great. I just have a fantasy that one day he'll cape me up and take my landing strip down to zero and then lather it up and shave it clean. That would put an end to my deep pile!

But as always, I leave his shop tonight after work with a thick, full flattop tapered in the rear and squared in the back. It looks very professional. Very safe. I'm a bit fed up with safe.

I drive down to cruise the department store, and it's bustling on a Friday night. I see plenty of whitewalls, and it reminds me that summer is approaching and it's ‘safe' for me to have my taper reduced down to a high and tight flattop…. With that damn deep pile on top. As I stroll down the clipper aisle, I see my reflection in a mirror against the wall I run my hand over my flattop. It looks masculine and clean. I'm reminded how handsome it looks on me, so I'm at least comforted by that.

I suppose I looked a little too long in the mirror – the door next to it opened and it then I realized it was a double sided mirror. I felt sheepish for my vanity, so I quickly turned from the two men exiting the room.

"Nice flat, man.” I heard from behind me. I turned and before I could say thanks, I was spellbound by the view in front of me. He was a security guard with a skin tight horseshoe flattop, he was shorter than me, so I could see his razor shaved landing strip. Absolute perfection.

"Thanks, wish my barber knew how to cut a flattop like that!”

"Let me give you his card,” the man said, pulling out a familiar looking business card. It was Manny.

"Manny? Three blocks down the road on the left?"

"Yeah, I used to get a flattop like yours, but he convinced me to take it down a few notches as you can see.” I stood surprised, why didn't Manny take such initiative with me? Part of me wanted to drive back to the barbershop and demand a recut. Like Brett, here.

"Manny's my barber, just left his shop,” I explained, handing Brett his card back. "He's a bit conservative with my cuts though.”

"Well, he's more than a barber, man. He cuts your hair the way you present yourself. You always go in with a suit and tie?”

"Well, yes. I have to wear a suit to work, but I can cut my hair however I see fit since I'm the boss.”

"There's your answer. Maybe go in with jeans and a t-shirt, tell him you want a change. Better yet, come with me on Friday afternoon. After he's done with mine, just tell him you want it cut like mine.”

"Great! What time?”

"I always go at 5pm, before he closes at 5:30pm. Meet me in front at 4:45?”

"You bet! And I'll take your advice and wear something casual.”

"Sweet.” Brett looked at me, then reached up and ran his fingers through my soft, thick pile on top.

"I'm going to enjoy watching this get razored smooth like mine.” He finished and then patted my shoulder and ran back into his office. I felt flushed in the face, so I paid for my things and took off, walking by a couple fresh flattops and plenty of skin. My thoughts were consumed by the anticipation of what would happen on Friday night. I didn't want to seem desperate, so I avoided shopping and focused on work to keep my mind off of the Friday appointment.

Thursday morning, I showered, shaved my face, leaving a thick goatee I had grown in over the past month. I'm a rather hairy man, very muscular and about six feet tall. I combed my flattop, but left out the butch wax since I was going to have it cut. By noon, my hair was a mess without wax. It looked neat, but by my standards, it made me look haggard.

At 4pm I left my office and made a quick stop at home to change. I was so nervous, drove to the barbershop across town, right at 4:45. There was Brett, outside grinning at me and looking at his watch.

"Welcome boys, it's close enough to 5:30, how about you turn over that open sign for me?” Manny asked, and I cooperated, locking the door and blinds. I'm not sure why I did those two things, but Manny gave me a wicked grin and then focused on Brett, who had taken his seat.

"Extra tight, please.” Brett told Manny. There wasn't much hair to cut, probably a grown out #1 on the sides and barely three quarters of an inch on top. I'd be happy to be leaving with what Brett came in with!

Manny glanced over at me, and then back at Brett.

"Coming in for your summer whitewalls, Mike?” Manny asked me, noticing I was wearing jeans and an old shirt that I wear while gardening, topped off with a ball cap and some boots.

"You bet!” I responded, excited as I watched him scrape off Brett's week of growth, forming a perfect horseshoe flattop. I was very aroused and felt wet as Brett's head was lathered up and the razor removed everything except the half inch horseshoe.

Manny slapped some aftershave onto Brett's neck and rubbed it up to his crown and over, massaging his temples. The cape came off and my eyes darted to Brett's hand rubbing his bulge. Manny acted like he didn't notice, until he reached down and gripped it, smiling as he said, "Next!”

Brett got up rubbing his smooth sides and offered me a rub, which I leapt at. I rubbed the top all the way to his nape – it felt so sexy on my palm. Brett took a seat and nodded at Manny. I sat and Manny caped me up.

Then I took off my cap.

"What have you done, boy?” Manny gasped, and Brett's eyes looked at the top of my head.

"Just started the process for you. Now, cut it just like Brett.” As I changed clothes between work and home, I thought to myself, ‘Manny is probably going to give me white walls and refuse to cut the top as he had done before.' So, I took out my beard trimmer and buzzed my deep pile off. It took a minute it was so thick, and then I quickly shaved it smooth. Manny examined my head, mumbling to himself and Brett planted his face in his palm laughing.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you, but see what you did on top here? Took a nice big chunk out of the left side, razor smooth. Only way to fix this mess would be to shave it all off. Total baldie for you.” Manny showed me the top with a hand mirror. My jaw dropped. He was right. I inadvertently cheated myself out of the cut I wanted most, and while I admired the bald look on other men, I likely would have never shaved my whole head. The flattop was part of my identity, and it was about to be stripped away completely.

Manny took out his clippers and removed the wreckage on my head. His grip tightened as he progressed.

"It's a shame, I would've loved to give you a cut like Brett here. Been waiting for you to man up and say, ‘Shoe me.'” Manny seemed to rub salt in the wound. My whole head was wrapped in hot towels, and it felt amazing. Manny lathered my head and shaved it twice. His hands seemed to linger as he massaged my virgin scalp. It finally hit me: I was bald. No handsome, deep pile flattop. No horseshoe flattop. Just bald. My reflection was pathetic, not a strong, virile man, but an anemic, non-descript bald dude. My scalp was pasty white and I was terrified to have anyone see me so humbled. I longed to have my deep pile back, not a baldie!

Brett looked annoyed, yet dutifully stayed since he offered to go out for a beer afterward. I was afraid my immature actions cost me a friend in the process. I got up and got a closer look at my unwanted baldie cut. I reached for my hat, but Manny beat me to it.

"You'll tan that head, my man. No hat for you! And be back here in 4 weeks for a proper shoe. Got it?!” Manny asserted.

"Yes Sir!” I responded, completely shocked at what was happening: Manny started manhandling me, bent me over the chair I'd just been shaved bald in, and pulled my jeans down, revealing my hairy cheeks.

THWACK!!! His bare hand slapped my bum so hard I cried out, followed by another 5 or 6 that left my bare ass numb.

"And if you butcher one of my masterpieces ever again, I swear to God you won't have a hair left on your body when I'm finished!”

I peaked over at Brett, who was laughing at my situation.

"You think it's funny? Hop in the chair again, I'm taking that ‘shoe down even tighter!”

Brett stopped laughing and stood up, I was released from the chair and Brett returned to the barber chair. The shop fell silent as Manny went to work scraping Brett's landing strip a full two inches wide. My pants were still around my knees so I made the best out of the situation, and saw Brett licking his lips once I got hard.

"Know what? Since you were so entertained by Mike getting his first baldie, I think it's time you've had your first as well.” Manny grinned, and before Brett could protest, the balding clippers swept away the left side of his shoe. Two more passes and it was all gone. I was pissed, not only did I miss out on my own horseshoe flattop, but now Brett's was demolished as well. Brett sat raging and unable to deal with losing his perfect flattop. He got up and headed for the door as Manny turned around to fetch some hot lather for the top of his head. Without turning around, Manny made his case clear.

"Walk out, don't bother coming back. And good luck trying to find a barber who'll let you wank under the cape. Matter of fact, try and find a barber who can cut a decent flattop.” Manny laid out the truth.

Brett stopped in his tracks, ran his hand over the stubbly patch where his amazing flattop was just a minute prior, and took his seat again. Manny placed the now lukewarm lather on the top of his head, shaved it once with the grain, taking only 4 strokes, and then haphazardly slapped on some aftershave. Without further accomodations, Manny ripped off the cape, sending the waxed remnants of Brett's flattop to the floor.

"Now get out!” Manny scolded Brett, who placed a wadded $20 on the counter and stormed out.

"Why are you still here?” Manny turned to me. I got up and handed him a $50, then he wrapped his strong arm around me and led me outside.

"Four weeks. And remember what I told you.”

"Thank you, Sir.” I smiled and left. As I got into my car, my rear felt sore from being pummeled so aggressively. I rubbed my smooth bald head. It wasn't as bad as I initially thought, but I would need to tan my head. As I showered off the loose hairs, I looked down into my waste basket, in it was the deep pile I so 'smartly' shaved off the day before. I felt the pang of regret, rubbing the top of my head with my palm, imagining how good my flattop felt. I took out the trash and ended my night. The next morning I woke up, and felt my head scratching against my pillow. My head stubbled over while I slept, and throughout the day, I kept thinking…. 27 days to go.

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