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Archive - most of my fiction
New Life for Cooper
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
Ivan - Master Barber - ( continues on after New Life for Cooper )
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
Part 7
Rogue Gain
Casey Wyatt’s pissed off a new barber. He is then made to think he is loosing his hair.
Ivan - Master Barber by Titan
PART SEVEN
Sam surveyed the three men before him focusing on Garrett. “What the fuck happened to you, Garvey?” Sam asked, a little out of breath. “It’s Garrett now, and Ivans made me over into a proper gentleman much like yourself.”
“Well, it’s an improvement; you don’t look like a thug anymore.” Indeed, Sam couldn’t believe how much more debonair the tattooist looked.
“So where have you been?” Ivan interjected sharply.
“I saw that musclehead leave, so I came around the back,” Sam said as he went to look out the front window. “I had to drown my fears at a bar near the waterfront. I thought that guy was going to kill me, you know.”
“There’s no need to worry about him, Sam. Ivan has him right where he wants him,” Garrett added, still sitting in his chair in the waiting area. “And where is that?” Sam asked, wondering who the customer with the elaborate mustache was. He’d never seen him before.
“As a future customer,” Ivan added. “What?” Sam couldn’t believe his ears. He didn’t want that thug anywhere near his shop.
“Relax, Sam, I have a few more tricks up my sleeve now, thanks to Pete.” “Speaking of Pete, where is he?” Then, looking at Pierre, “And should we be discussing all this in front of a customer?” Sam was eyeing the man before him, a beautifully dressed and groomed gentleman he found very attractive. Why had they let him in the shop at such a dangerous time?
“This is Pierre, Sam,” Ivan said as he relit his pipe. “And he is going to be working here.” “What?” “Pleased to meet you again, Monsieur.” Pierre smiled. “Again, where have we met?” “Right here, a few hours ago,” Pierre said before adding, “You may know me as Pete the mailman.” “Sorry? What game is this?” Sam was confused and exhausted after his day. He was in no mood for comedy. “It’s no game, Sam, this is old Pete.” Ivan tried to reassure Sam
Sam’s mouth almost dropped. He couldn’t believe it as he came close. The eyes were the same, but everything else was radically different. “It seems my magic has blossomed big time, Samuel.” Ivan said, “you wouldn’t believe what I can do with my mind.” “But…th…this can’t be Pete…how could you do this in just a few hours?" Sam was trying to process the changes. “It is ol’ Pete, Ivan has found some new potions,” Garrett answered. “I watched it all happen, besides, look how quickly he worked on my new look?”
“No, Garrett. It’s Pierre now, and he will be helping in this shop from now on. He is one of our newest recruits, and a dashing one at that.” Ivan corrected him.
“But….but we don’t need another barber….it isn’t busy enough.” Sam returned annoyed at this latest revelation.
“It soon will be busier. I’ve been working on some plans to increase business in this area. We have the bar, which I will expand into a nightclub, and a few more new enterprises planned”. Ivan announced with gusto.
“Since when has all this been happening?” Sam asked incredulously as this was the first he’d heard about such plans.
“I’ve been working on it for some time. Two previous landlords have already signed over their leases to me. They weren’t hard to convince when the area was as run-down as it is. The old tobacconist is reopening next week. It seems nice, young Mr Michaels was happy to partner with me.”
Garrett just smiled, knowing what that meant.
“Josh Michaels, the accountant?” Sam knew Ivan’s fascination with the 26-year-old who visited Sam’s shop but recently he’d started going to Ivan’s shop. Seems Ivan wanted to work on his look though Sam hadn’t seen him since.
“The ex-accountant. He wasn’t hard to convince.” “What do you mean? When did you do all this? I knew the tobacconist was your store but so soon.” Sam was beside himself with worry. What was Ivan keeping from him?
“Sam, as I told you, you have overstepped your position a few times too many. I don’t have to tell you all my plans, you work for me remember?” Sam could feel the anger growing in Ivan’s tone; he knew better than to argue, but the past few days had been too much.
“Ivan, I thought this was my shop,” Sam stated knowing the answer already.
“No, it’s mine. You forget who the Master is here.” Ivan returned angrily. “Who made you over into the successful barber you are?” Sam didn’t know what to say. Yes, Ivan had been the one to help him become the mature man he is but sometimes he wondered why he gave up his former life. Was it that bad?
“Yes, by the time I’m finished, we should have a dozen more businesses trading on this street. We will be run off our feet.”
“We Ivan?”
“Yes, I’ll be moving in and expanding this shop. I’ve already bought the building next door. We should be able to knock down the wall between our buildings.” Ivan just watched Sam’s expression change. “My power seems to work beyond my barbershop now. There is no need for me to stay limited to that part of town. What has happened here today has changed my mind about where I base myself and this spot has potential for expansion.”
Sam looked pissed off. Ivan seemed different, almost sinister in his thoughts. Something was different about him and how he was treating Sam.
“So, how can you stay as the owner, Sam, when Marcus has seen you and thinks you’re a client named Jasper Samuels? He will know you lied.” Sam thought for a moment. Ivan had a point, it made him shiver as he thought about his narrow escape. “You will have to lay low for some time and working in my shop will keep you busy too, help increase business here.” “But surely…surely he won’t be back?” Sam liked his small shop. Ivan’s shop was in a busier neighbourhood.
“I’m sure he will”, Ivan winked at Garrett though Sam noticed it and wondered what it meant? Picking up on Sams thoughts he added, “Here is a quieter area, so I can start up my niche businesses. There is plenty of deserted buildings so few people will notice what I am up to. I don’t want the city up my arse.”
“But where…where am I to live?”
“We will move your stuff into my upstairs spare room. Once we’ve expanded here I’ll require you back here but not until it’s safe.” Ivan was reading Sam’s mind and was getting very tired of the negative thoughts. Tired from all his mind work he wasn’t impressed with Sam, especially after bringing Marcus to the shopq. “Now, you need a few additional changes in case anyone recognizes you. That loan shark, Danny Masters may still sniff around here when he finds out Marcus lost Pete. That’s why I need to be here. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to face him, Sam.” Ivan played with Sam’s head. He probably didn’t need to change Sam’s look much but he was asking for it. With his new enhanced power, Ivan wanted to experiment more on what was possible, it seemed to be an obsession now and Sam was the perfect canvas for what he had in mind.
“But…but Ivan, you have already changed my looks so much….wh…ah…what are you going to do?” Sam knew it was useless to argue with the man but he was sick of the changes he’d been subjected to already.
“My shop tomorrow, Sam, no arguments or you may not like what I can do to you now.”
Sam couldn’t imagine what that would entail but looking at the changes around him he didn’t want to find out. “Just a few changes to make you unrecognisable for now, I think you’ll be well pleased with what I have in mind old man.”
“Really? But what if my shop and my customers?” He asked almost pleading.
“Pierre will take over here with Garrett for now.” Ivan said without any emotion in his voice.
BACK OUT ON THE STREET
As Marcus climbed into his car his mind was a mass of contradictions. It almost felt like the barber had been in his head but that was impossible. And the weird shit he was talking about. Pipe smoking and a bald head surrounded by a lower horseshoe of hair. None of it made sense. Why would he want any of those things? He tried to shake it off as he drove away, wondering what his boss would say about losing Pete. He knew Masters wouldn’t be happy. What would he tell him? It couldn’t be the truth he knew that much.
Later that evening, Danny Masters was more than angry with Marcus for losing sight of Pete. He made him go straight to Pete’s apartment to see if the mailman had been there recently. Pete broke in and found the place empty. He phoned his boss who told him to search for clues where the low-life could be and not to return until he did if he wanted to keep his job.
As he turned the place over he kept thinking about that strange barber, smoking a pipe, telling him he needed to look more like them. At the same time, he felt his cock stiffen slightly causing him even more confusion. Why was this turning him on? He wasn’t a fag. He noticed himself in the bathroom mirror as he went to look in there. He suddenly wondered what he would look like with an ornate, big mustache like those old dudes in the barbers? As he studied his shaved scalp he tried to imagine growing hair again. He had to admit, he listened too much to Masters regarding his styling or lack thereof. He wondered if he should change his look? He wasn’t getting any older.
As he searched the rest of the small apartment he found an old street directory on the kitchen table. It was open showing the area where Sam’s Barbershop was. He didn’t think anyone used those any more. Additionally, there was a pad with scribblings on it, a lot of it making no sense but there were some references to blackmailing someone with various lines being crossed out.
He decided to take it hoping to please his boss.
“What was our Pete up to?” Danny Masters said when presented with the scribblings from Marcus’ raid on Pete’s apartment. “Much of this makes little sense but he wanted to find this barbershop. He seems to state knowing what goes on there and more but keeps crossing out stuff as if he changed his mind. What did he know?” Marcus said more to himself.
“So was he just there for a haircut then saw you waiting for him, so tried to escape after you were led on a wild goose chase.” Masters was trying to figure out what the Mailman had been up to. There was obviously something he’d discovered that could make him money. “Yes, and if I ever find that Jasper Samuels again?” Marcus said remembering how angry he’d been after being duped by a customer at the barbershop.
“Blackmail……why was he mentioning that here?”
“Oh…ah he also got his new mustache prettied up apparently the barber told me.” Marcus added as he imagined Pete with a well-groomed handlebar mustache on his weasel face, unaware of his constant focus on facial hair above the lip.
“Yes….hmm. That mustache! How did he ever grow it in the first place? He always had a patchy beard at best.”
Marcus wasn’t sure whether to say much about his conversation with the barber but realized it may get his boss back on side. He started to explain about the barber saying he had some products to help beard growth and that all the men there at the time had the thickest mustaches. As he spoke to the swarthy man before him he wondered why the mustache was so small and tight. Wouldn’t Masters like a more generous one?
“Strange! Do you think he was telling the truth?” Danny asked wondering was it possible?
“Well he certainly had some amazing facial looks captured in the photos on the wall.” Marcus remembered the radical hairstyles featured.
“I remember Pete saying he was coming into money soon. Yes…some new beauty treatment. I should have listened to him but he always had some story made up just to get out of his repayments.” Then Danny focused on something. “Beauty treatment, could that have something to do with his mustache growth?” He stroked his own, thin, perfectly manicured mustache as he stared into space.
Marcus avoided adding his knowledge on that still wondering what his boss would look like with a large, flourishing mustache.
“Whatever it was it was going to make him a lot of money, or so he thought.” Master’s said more to himself then turned to Marcus. “ Marcus, I want you to keep surveillance on that apartment. Something doesn’t smell right. He has to come back eventually for his stuff.” Then he added, “You better come up with where he is or I’ll be taking what I’m owed out of your pay. I might pay this mysterious barber a call. Ivan is it?”
The next day, Sam wasn’t looking forward to Ivan’s plans to alter his look. He had seen what he was capable of with Pete and Garvey yesterday and he knew it wouldn’t be cosmetic. Sitting in the chair naked and exposed, Ivan kept the closed sign up and the blinds down.
“Sam, you have always been very open to my cosmetic changes; you even got off on them more times than I care to mention. Well, it now calls for greater changes than ever. No one can ever connect you to Sam’s barbershop.”
Sam’s face said it all, he wasn’t happy with any of this.
“Don’t look so worried, it will be fun… just like the days when I first met you, only now I can accomplish everything and more in a few hours or so.”
Sam felt a chill as he remembered seeing flashbacks of the tall, blond 29-year-old who had entered Ivan’s shop a few years back.
Like every other young, brash customer that Ivan took an interest in Samuel Knight, as he was known then, was transformed from a handsome graphic design artist into a mature 55-year-old balding Barber. His mind was induced to want the changes more than anything. He was then selected to work in a new shop that Ivan was to open, Sam’s Barbershop. Sam could remember his past but he had been brainwashed to believe wanting to become a mature, pipe-smoking barber eager to alter young men into their total opposites. It was as if it had always been his deepest desire.
Of course, back then, it had taken Ivan many weeks of work to alter the younger man into Sam, the aging, balding barber.
That, obviously had all changed Sam realised, as he evidenced in his shop with Pierre and Garrett. What was this stuff Ivan now used? Something about a mind connection he conjured up causing the physical changes in the person.
"How…how much do I need to change, Ivan?” Sam asked almost knowing the answer. “Just enough to fool everyone you can’t possibly be Sam the old, jovial barber.” Ivan returned enjoying Sam’s discomfort.
He began preparing a few tubs and bottles in his wheeled cart before taking a closer look at Sam in the mirror. “You certainly are a lot thinner these days….hmm……that gives me an idea.”
Sam wondered what was going on in the strange barber’s head. He seemed to have become more devious in the last 24 hours.
Ivan went to the counter to call Garrett. Sam could hear some conversation: “Yes, full sleeves and a few piercings. No… no, I know I can help heal everything quickly. You’ve seen my latest work. Yes, well, it can be used for any body modifications……yes, yes……Just come over as soon as you can.”
Sam was scared now. They were letting that tattoo artist loose on him. He was happy looking the way he did, even down to regaining a large handlebar mustache albeit it had belonged to Pete and now was just stuck to his top lip, but it was nice to have such a specimen once again.
Sam knew he’d lost a lot of weight thanks to Ivan’s Magic neoprene wrap, but he was hardly skinny. His belly still poked out as a smaller beer belly and his pecs were more like moobs.
“Now Samuel,” Ivan continued, “I’ve wanted to tap into the younger market for some time now, more of those younger trendy guys who love hipster looks. They spend a lot of time and money looking like they do, and I can certainly play with their looks more than my usual clientele. Make them more inclined to become a constant customer of my new enterprise. A type of addiction to the scissors. Over time, I need a barber to guide the younger ones to focus on their looks more than they normally would. You. As my longest assistant will be that barber. However, you need that same, modern look to attract them.”
“But…I don’t look like a hipster…I …” Sam tried to say. “Not yet old man but trust me, you will look amazing while helping me start a whole new quota of customers who will be clients for life. They will return time after time to your shop and in turn, come use the new shop and square I plan to set up around it.” Ivan could see this new development in his mind; an expanded Barbershop, Men’s health Spa, Gentleman’s outfitters, Tobacconist, a Coffee Shop, Bar, and Nightclub. The Tobacconist was due to open in a matter of days thanks to a little inducement to the old owner of the previous shop, closed down a few years before. A few minutes in the barber’s chair with Ivan and he was more than happy to part with the shop at a bargain price.
Of course, this was all news to Sam but all he could concentrate on was what Ivan was about to do to him. Turn him into a hipster? He didn’t want any of it. He was happy being an old-fashioned barber but he wasn’t in a position to argue with Ivan. He remained loyal to him even if he was playing with his look.
“Just relax, Samuel.” Ivan laid his hands over both shoulders looking into the mirror, staring deeply into Sam’s eyes. Suddenly he felt an odd feeling, a brain fog if you will. It was as if he was forgetting what he was just thinking. “You love the idea of makeovers and soon with your new ultimate one you will be my most important employee. You will lead your new customers on a journey through different looks and styles.” As he massaged the neck area Sam found himself relaxing more and more. Staring into those dark eyes was so hypnotic, he felt more settled with the idea of change if that meant he was still so important to Ivan.
Ivan watched in the mirror as he felt his barber become his. The enchanted tea he had this morning was working fast, especially with the new powers of Ivan’s hypnotic control. It was relatively easy to mix a batch of a new ‘relaxant and control’ potion into the loose leaf tea he had in his apartment. He knew Sam was old-fashioned and preferred to brew his tea in the morning.
“Yes, Samuel; you will be a force to be reckoned with when you start turning those jocks from the university into trendy, sophisticated men of the world.” Sam was feeling euphoric as he heard those words, he could feel a hardening in his crotch as images entered his mind.
Sam had trouble remembering any fear or concern as his eyes started to glaze over. “That’s it Sam, relax,” Ivan said noting the rise in Sam’s small cock. He was quite amazed at how much easier he could bring someone under his hypnotic power now. “As you sit before me you feel no fear, nothing but excitement for your future. You trust me to make you over into a new, younger man. You want the changes I enact on you……you need these changes to feel reborn and alive. You will love everything about your new self.” “That’s it, you are now totally relaxed, unable to move. You don’t want to interfere with any of the array of treatments you’re about to undergo. You know how important it is to become the new you. You will relish the chance I now give you to become new, refreshed, sexy.” “Now sleep,” Ivan commanded. Sam suddenly slouched in the chair totally under his control now, unable to move or speak. Quickly he was secured upright by a strap around his chest. A contented smile remained on his face.
Ivan had brought his grandfather’s ‘mind reactionary serum’ from Sam’s Barbershop as he’d forgotten where it was stored in his basement, never thinking to use it before. Placing it on the countertop he went to put on some latex gloves for protection though he wondered if he needed to protect his hands at this stage. He had interfaced with the cream so heavily that maybe he’d be impervious to its effects on the sorcerer he was fast becoming.
Ivan turned the chair towards the back so he could work freely, ready with his trolley of potions beside him. He reclined the oversized chair and started applying thick amounts on the chest area, spreading the viscous substance over the pectorals and nipples. Watching the serum pulsate as it connected with the warmth of the skin before starting to seep inward. Ivan made the connection with the nano-like E microbial beings contained within the mystical substance as it spread and then replicated deep down into the muscle tissue. Slowly, as Ivan focused, the sagging breasts began to inflate. Muscles magically formed and fat disappeared as each pectoral took on an incredible metamorphosis in a matter of minutes.
Ivan couldn’t believe how quickly he could achieve the desired modification. What he didn’t realize was that the enchanted serum when interfaced with his mind over time, was growing in its limited knowledge of him and his desires. It was like a sponge, the microbials picking up on his fetish for body modification in their collective mass. They learnt everything about Ivan’s many fetishes and how sexually active they made him. The microbial beings or Enchrobes, were becoming an entity in themselves, wanting to experience the sexual highs of their new host. Ivan had no idea he had become a vessel for these replicating creatures, to think independently when they grew in their collective size. He was using too much of the serum over a greater period.
It was this growing interface that caused these Enchrobes to want to increase the size and length of Sam’s nipples as they picked up on Ivan’s fetish for enhanced nipples.
As Ivan noticed how beautiful the chest area was he thought the nipples were too small, they should stand out more. The Enchrobes picked up his thought pattern instantly. Even if Ivan wanted to slow down their power, it was getting too late. They replicated throughout the nipple area, before finding the area they wanted to alter most.
Here, they attached themselves to the flesh beneath each aureole and started to pulsate without Ivan’s direct concentration. The skin darkened and widened in the aureole area. Ivan noticed and was turned on by those very changes in the nipple area, and began pulling on each nipple with each hand.
He felt he needed more serum on each small nipple, very excited as he realised he could make some real cow teats out of these tiny nubs watching the transformation progress. It didn’t take long before those nipples became like thumbs on his muscled pectorals. All the time Samuel seemed oblivious to the work being performed on his enlarged chest, just staring into nothingness.
Suddenly there was a knock at the back door announcing Garrett’s arrival, stopping Ivan’s train of thought for a moment.
When he entered the shop he couldn’t believe the exposed chest before him. Particularly the massive, long nipples, that seemed ready for milking. “That’s one sexy pair of pecs Ivan. And those nips, look at the size of them, just asking for some large rings through them.” Garrett said excitedly as he came close to the naked Sam still amazed by the length and thickness of each nipple.
“Yes… well…… I’ve….still got work to do but I wasn’t going to pierce his nipples.” Ivan said a little bewildered as he looked at Sam’s chest. He realised he’d overdone the nipples, but why?
“Go make yourself a coffee, I need peace for now thank you,” Ivan said gruffly wondering why he felt he had lost some control of the Enchrobes. Garrett would have liked to watch but he could tell Ivan was preoccupied, and a little snarkier than usual so he went out back to brew a coffee.
Ivan tried to compose himself as he thought about his dilemma. The massive nipples were too big. He took some serum and reapplied it to each nipple on Sam’s pecs. Focusing again he tried to see if he could reduce their size to some more acceptable degree. Slowly the length reduced slightly but the thickness remained for a while before a little stronger thoughts made them lessen in circumference too. Soon they were back to a more thimble-like appearance which seemed to be the extent of their reversal. However, they would still be hard not to notice.
He decided to carry on despite a niggling feeling. The serum was applied to the right arm bicep and shoulder, before the muscle building began to change the old man’s physique once again. It wasn’t long before the same was done to the left arm and shoulder area ensuring medal-winning traps, deltoids, and biceps. He then worked on the forearms, making them equally impressive.
Next came the making of a solidroid gut before adding muscle growth to the thighs and calves. He concentrated on making the new muscled hunk hair-free which would be a first for Samuel. It was then time for the face but first, he removed Pete’s glued-on former mustache, which required a spirit to remove the glue exposing the tattooed pencil line mustache Garrett had tattooed on him.
As the tonic was spread over the beard area, Ivan wondered if he could be faster by applying it over the whole face.
Soon, Sam’s face was covered in the serum, including his male pattern balding head. Every time Ivan dipped his fingers in the serum to collect more, the leftover serum would replicate, magically refilling the pot.
When he was ready Ivan began to focus on key areas. As the connection was made he noticed the serum pulsating rapidly then spreading over the whole head, the cream moving then drying slightly as it seeped deep into the skin. Ivan wanted the new, improved Sam to have a full head of hair once again as well as a luxuriant beard and mustache combo. He found it exhilarating to watch the progress of hair growth first on the head then face, darkening then spreading before a succession of growth spurts increased the density. As he watched he realised only the horseshoe of hair was regrowing on the head, his balding having been subjected to much depilation. He knew he had a solution to the balding look while keeping the permanent mpb.
As for the beard, it would need very little trimming or conditioning in the future thanks to his mind connection with the Enchrobes, ensuring it would be in perfect health, design, and style. As the beard lengthened he concentrated on its ultimate design in his mind. Dark brown with some chestnut highlights, luxuriant, and soft, sitting just to his upper chest, narrowing down the sides of the face, and rounded off perfectly at the bottom. The mustache would be equally lush and made a separate piece from the beard, styled into Ivan’s preferred wide handlebar curl.
It was time for a new hairstyle. As Sam was permanently bald on top Ivan was pretty sure he couldn’t get hair to grow again thanks to his depilatories. Sam’s gleaming scalp was a constant reminder of how different he was from when he first came to Ivan’s barbershop. A very healthy mane of blond hair, thick and healthy back then. With a glint in his eye, Ivan recalled his recent investment in a diverse collection of hairpieces, originally intended to diversify and expand his business venture in the neighborhood around Sam’s shop. He would trick customers into believing they were balding then sell them hair replacement systems knowing that would increase his client base. They would be hooked on hiding their baldness, forking out huge sums for the constant upkeep of their hairpieces.
He made his way to a side cupboard, revealing a well-organized display of toupees and wigs. Styrene headforms lined the shelves, each sporting a different style, color, and texture of hairpieces. After a moment he knew which one would be perfect for his new hipster barber, selecting a darker brown full head wig in a colour match close to the new beard…
Approaching Sam with a newfound purpose, Ivan applied some bonding glue to the smooth, hairless scalp and then gently applied the wig atop his naked scalp instantly concealing the signs of male pattern baldness. The trans formation was remarkable but now Ivan could use his real artistry. With a surprisingly deft hand, he started styling the wig keeping it in place thanks to the mind serum previously applied aiding the glue. He envisioned a high, dramatic pompadour, a style favored by original hipsters. He added a gel-like cream to most of the long hair at the front. Skillfully, he wielded a brush, coaxing the long lengths back over the top of the head, creating a gravity-defying wave of hair that would add inches to Sam’s small stature and a significant boost to his appearance. A few more modifications were made including making the skin look younger and more tanned, not that he’d given Sam much wrinkling in the past.
Garrett couldn’t wait any longer and called out to Ivan if he could come in yet knowing not to just barge in.
When Ivan gave the okay Garrett couldn’t believe his eyes. To say he was amazed at the instant transformation of the older barber would be an understatement.
”That can’t be Sam?” Garrett said as he came near the chair. “No, it’s Samuel from now on. I take it you approve?” Ivan said as he fiddled with items on his trolley. “Magnificent Master, absolutely brilliant,” Garrett said as he ran his fingers over the wig. “So I guess you mean no one will recognise this sexy man as our Sam,” Ivan said before adding, “Now for some of your talents to add to his makeover, Garrett.”
“Certainly, my pleasure,” Garrett replied as he readied his equipment. He began the delicate etching of Sam’s tattoos, a precise undertaking. Ivan’s instructions were explicit: the designs were to remain confined to small, impactful pieces on each man’s upper arms, a stark contrast to the sprawling canvases Garrett usually worked on. The true marvel, Ivan insisted, would be the subsequent application of the serum. Ivan would meticulously spread the shimmering, almost viscous serum over each fresh tattoo, watching as it was absorbed, encouraging its potent energy to cascade down each arm. This was a dramatically accelerated method compared to the painstaking, months-long process of designing and executing full sleeves, a testament to the serum’s unique capabilities.
Ivan began to concentrate on bringing Samuel out of his unconscious state.
“Hello Samuel, we’ve nearly finished your makeover. What do you think so far?”
Sam could hear Ivan’s familiar voice, slowly regaining his senses, his vision returning as he focused on the mirror ahead. A stranger was looking at him. He’d never seen him before and he was naked just like Sam had been. Sam couldn’t believe his eyes, a bodybuilder, with a huge beard and the most amazing nipples. As he tried to focus more he was suddenly aware of a large beard dropping down onto his chest, just like the stranger ahead of him. As he moved his head, so did the stranger. It was him, as weird as it was, he knew straight away how overboard Ivan had gone with his transformation. How was it possible in so short a time? He was unrecognizable as he studied his new body in the mirror though for some reason he wasn’t too shocked.
He had to admit he looked good. The new muscles were completely hair-free, hang on, why was he so quick to approve he wondered. He was still groggy but he knew he looked good. This was too much, wasn’t it, but as he took in the changes he accepted it was better than what Ivan could have done.
He now wore a prominent, styled beard well below his neckline, full but trimmed closer on the sides making it appear longer. Ivan favored this style he’d seen on many young, trendy men. His mustache was a full handlebar again, but more precise in its styling. The most significant change was that he now had hair, lots of it in a big pomade style, and no longer silver. His face seemed thinner, along with his nose, while his skin was tanned and without wrinkles. His arms were a riot of colors from the tattoos, and he had two small flesh tunnels in his earlobes. He felt no pain from Garrett’s work as he touched his fleshy lobe, feeling the new stretched hole. How was any of this possible in that amount of time? He looked up and saw the clock. It had barely been two hours.
Ivan could read Samuel’s mind, deciding to answer his questions. “Yes, it is remarkable Samuel, I have so much more at my fingertips to hasten any body modifications. Garrett has been working on your piercings and tattoos of course. Usually, they would take weeks of designing and healing, but thanks to dear old Grandad, my Tonic can achieve instant results. It looks like you’ve had all these changes for weeks.”
Ivan watched the man before him. He knew he would accept the changes with his mind control adding, “You are certainly one, sexy barber now I must say.” Sam just felt his chest muscles and touched his newly enhanced nipples, feeling how sensitive they suddenly were. “Amazing, eh, Samuel? I may have got a little carried away.”
“They….they are huge!” Sam said as he started to pull on each one. At the same time, his cock stiffened, while his mind focused on what Ivan had described him as.
“They are a lot more receptive to touch I take it?” Ivan smiled as he watched Samuel feel the euphoria of the enhanced nerve endings in each nipple. It surprised him too hearing the slight moans from the barber as he massaged each teat.
Garrett licked his lips as he studied Samuel’s nipples and growing cock.
His new mamouth cock spreading down one leg. “Would you like to help Samuel out?” Ivan asked. “Yes, with pleasure Master.” Garrett wasted no time. Garrett reached for his own crotch his arousal clearly showing. “I’ll leave you gentlemen to it,” Ivan said leaving the shop floor.
Garrett had already dropped his trousers and removed his shirt. His massive cock was a shock at first. Samuel hadn’t seen it before but now he was worried when it stood out as Garrett kept stroking it, his hand barely wrapping around it. “Th…that’s fucking massive Garvey….I mean Garrett.” Samuel said.
“All thanks to Ivan. Now how about you let me get a taste of those cow teats?” Garrett drew near, taking the left nipple in his mouth while rubbing the right with his fingers. He had aligned his cock beside the barber’s considerably smaller one rubbing them together despite the difference in size. Samual was getting harder and thicker, the sensitivity in his nips increasing tenfold as Garrett worked on them. Soon Garrett had positioned himself behind the new hipster barber, keeping his attack on the massive nipples. They were facing the large full-length mirror. Garrett slowly thrusting his penis into Samuels hole. Despite it’s girth, Samuel took the phallus as he watched his new body in the mirror his nipples so sensitive to Garretts touch. With a final shove Samuel felt the pain as Garrett’s cock filled his arse with one final shove but it soon turned to pleasure as Garrett moved his cock rhythmically, back and forward. He could feel the man’s huge belly up against his bottom, moaning for him to keep fucking him. Both men became covered in sweat as the action continued, Garrett reaching around to pump Samuel’s cock.
As Garrett shoved his cock harder and harder, he knew he was close. “Ready for me to fill that arse old man?” “Yes.” That was all Samuel could say as he moaned in sheer lust as he watched his new, muscled body being worked over. He heard a groan then felt the gush of cum, Garrett speeding up his thrust a little as he shot his load. At the same time, Garrett’s grip on Samuel’s erect cock increased, though one hand still worked over his raw nipples. With one loud moan, Samuel sprayed the area around him with rope after rope of cum, Garrett still filling his whole with his spent cock. As they both relaxed into each other and Garrett removed his cock from the bubble butt of the barber, they heard Ivan from the back storeroom. “Sounds like you two are friends again.”
Samuel wore a grin as he looked closely in the mirror. Despite his modified nipples his pecs were definitely impressive to say the least. A hand went to his dense beard and felt the softness of the whiskers. It was one very well-crafted and conditioned beard. It all looked so good together, the fake pompadour, the tats, and the beard.
Garrett, putting his clothes back on watched in the mirror. “You certainly are a handsome fucker now old man.” “Maybe to you Garrett but there was something special about old Sam!” Sam returned knowing this was only a cosmetic change to win over the young guys around here.
Indeed, Samuel soon drew in a different clientele to Ivan’s shop. Younger, more interested in Trendy Barbershops catering to their personal taste and looks. With the help of some mind control, they would be taken on a journey, trying different facial and hair styles, and they would be more than happy to be altered into various styles of hipster.
Once they were modified and controlled they would be directed to use Sam’s old neighborhood where Ivan was busy reorganizing Sam’s shop renovations ensuring they spread the word about the new hip district being created there.
Ivan - Master Barber - part 6
By Titan
Pete he former mailman has been transformed into a Canadian Bear of a man now called Pierre. Totally unrecognizable, thanks to Ivan’s Special Mind-Control Serum can now evade the LoanShark, Danny Masters and his bodyguard and Henchman, Marcus but now it seems the Barbershop is of interest instead.
PART SIX
Before the newly created Pierre could react, Ivan pushed him towards the barber’s chair and quickly threw a vinyl cape around him whilst handing the pipe to a startled Garrett.
He then slowed himself down and continued pretending to use the scissors on the new horseshoe of hair.
“He is really coming to the shop, Ivan.” Garrett now sounded scared.
Ivan then realized that Sam had not given the steroid-infused giant a strong enough dose of his knock-out spray which generally worked longer and made lesser people very confused. “How much has Sam blabbed, and where is he for that matter?”Garrett nervously asked to no one.
Ivan was thinking the same thing: "It doesn’t matter. Let’s all calm down. Maybe he won’t even come in here, we have the closed sign up.” Though Ivan knew that was highly improbable now.
“He…he is looking at the door now. I think I can see him reaching into his jacket for a gun….yes… I can see the outline of his holster.” Garrett gave a blow-by-blow description.
Pierre could barely contain his nerves as he heard Marcus was coming in with a gun.
“Just act normally, everyone. Let me do all the talking… Garrett, take a seat………quickly now. Look like you are a waiting customer.” He sat in one of the waiting area chairs not knowing what to do with Pierre’s pipe he’d held on to. Ivan just glared at him and Garvey knew to shove it in his mouth.
Suddenly, the front door opened with some force behind it, adding to the already tense atmosphere of the shop. Ivan looked up with a nervous smile while Garrett fiddled with the pipe nervously, not wanting to draw on it as he knew it would start him coughing.
“Good Day, Sir, I’m afraid we are closed,” Ivan said as he combed and expertly made small snips trimming Pierre’s newly acquired handlebar mustache, barely looking up from his work. Just finishing up my last customers for the day, maybe you could come back tomorrow?”
“Not here for a social visit, and do I look like I need a haircut?" Marcus said back angrily as he studied the man in the chair.
“Oh, I do excellent head shaves, too,” Ivan said turning towards him.
“I don’t need a head shave, mate, and if I needed a barber, I wouldn’t come anywhere near a dump like this,” the brute said gruffly as he made his way to the barber’s chair. His gun was still pointing at the barber. “Obviously it is a specialty with that old man’s baldy look you got.” A sly smile spread over Marcus’ thin lips at his put-down as he stared at the barber’s shiny head.
Ivan would remember the comment about his place being a dump and his “old man’s baldy’, but chose not to say anything. There was plenty of time to pay back the thug.
“I’m looking for someone who was in here earlier; he sent one of your customers away, a Jasper Samuels, I believe, gave him his hat and coat obviously to fool me into thinking it was him. Led me on a wild goose chase, and somehow I lost him…though I’m not sure how? Would like to thank him for that!"
Luckily, the spray had the desired effect, making the oath unaware that Sam had knocked him out.
Marcus stepped closer as he took in the heavyset barber before him. “You, Sam?” He asked gruffly.
Ivan realized that Sam had luckily reversed his Christian and surname, so Marcus thought Ivan was the Sam in the shop window.
“No, Sam is away today. It’s a family emergency. My name is Ivan. I help him out whenever I can.” He said with a touch of nervousness, noticing Pierre’s eyes in the mirror. “Do you need to point that thing so close?”
Marcus was now studying the man being worked on in the chair. He cut an imposing figure despite being hidden by the vinyl cape in a barber’s chair but something about him seemed familiar.
“Well, Mr I….vaaan, " the man said, exaggerating the name. “That depends on the information you give me. This customer of yours, his name is Pete, when did he leave here?” “Pete?” Ivan never looked up from his work. "Yes, your dweeb of a mailman. He was in here earlier. I need to speak to him urgently, " the bald man returned still pointing his gun. “Well as I said, I’m not here much so I wouldn’t know the mailman around here.” Ivan tried to say convincingly, using his newfound power to connect with the man’s mind but it was proving difficult. “Now you wouldn’t be covering for him? It wouldn’t go down well if you were.”
Ivan’s anger at this man was growing more than his fear. It was the exact thing needed to spark his mind-reading of the bafoon. He gathered his thoughts and looked directly at the man, his dark eyes penetrating the goon’s eyes for more than a few seconds. “The gun is not necessary, is it, Sir?” Ivan said, stopping his trimming of Pierre’s enormous, handlebar mustache.
“Oh…ah no.” He reholstered his gun under his jacket. He surprised himself as he complied with the barber. Something in his head unsettled him, and then told him to do it.
“Now that’s better. So, who is it you must speak to so urgently?”
Watching Ivan return to work on the enormous mustache, snipping carefully at individual hairs he forgot himself momentarily, “Hmm?..…ah Pete Masing, the lying, ugly shit that delivers the mail around here. Got himself a mustache now, like this old dude, though how he can grow something like that is beyond me.”
Pierre’s eyes showed anger as he looked at Marcus in the mirror. Ivan squeezed his shoulder, trying to remind him. “Now sit still, Pierre, I need to finish this mustache today.” Pierre looked back towards Ivan as his mind picked up Ivan’s thoughts.
‘Let me at him, Ivan. Lying is one thing, but ugly!’ Ivan picked up Pierre’s thoughts and couldn’t blame him.
'Relax, you look nothing like Pete, you are much more dapper and handsome. He will get his later don’t you worry. Now calm down.’
Pierre was amazed he could hear the words in his head but it barely calmed him. Deep down he was still Pete.
Ivan stopped to look at Marcus in the mirror. “Oh yes……Sorry, I never found out his name. He wasn’t a big talker, either. I gave him a regular, short haircut and that mustache certainly needed some work.”
“When did he leave?” Marcus said impatiently.
“Oh, a few hours ago, he was in some hurry. I just thought he was kind in giving old Samuel his coat and hat. I thought it odd he really insisted…" Ivan wondered how he could get rid of this bafoon.
“Yeah, a regular Mother Theresa,” Marcus answered sarcastically, moving to the window to look between the blinds.
“So what’s this Pete done?” Ivan asked trying to read Marcus’s mind again. “He owes my boss some money,” he answered as he looked at Pierre in the mirror. “So, who is this, then?” Something about the overweight mustachioed geriatric looked a little familiar.
Ivan used his newly enhanced telepathy to be calm, as the goon didn’t recognise him as Pete but he could tell the man wasn’t listening well, he was still angry.
“I….I am Pierre Duplantier.” The former Pete said in his new French accent. “Ah! Very fancy. So Pierre, did you see this weasel named Pete? He owes a lot of money, and I could get into trouble if I don’t find him very soon.”
“No….no…I…haven’t been here long,” Pierre said trying not to sound like he was lying. “That’s some fancy mustache you’ve got there old man. Reminds me of the one old Pete had and that fool I chased. In fact, it seems to be a very popular style around here.” He watched as Ivan applied wax carefully to the edges. He then nodded towards Garrett, sitting nervously lightly puffing away on the pipe between his lips. “Even you mate, you all look the same around here, bald and old-fashioned looking with silly, handlebar mustaches. So, do you know the mailman I’m talking about?” He came closer to the waiting area.
Garrett had tried to remain quiet but kept fidgeting with the pipe. He had never smoked much before and certainly not a pipe. Garrett looked up at Ivan, unable to say anything for the moment.” “Well? Cat got your tongue?
"No…can’t…can’t say I’ve seen him,” Garrett said nervously puffing away and causing himself to cough.
“Convenient, what’s your name, old timer?” “Ah, Garrett Garvey, Sir.” He answered, his nerves growing and trying not to cough. “Weird name for a weird guy. Are you still waiting for your haircut? You don’t look like you need one.” Garrett looked at Ivan for an answer. “I told him I would fit him in, so I put the closed sign up.”
“Well, that won’t take long, not a lot of hair on top.” Marcus shot back with a chuckle, “Just the same old ring around the sides.
Garrett looked at Ivan and noticed a look in his eye. This guy was asking for Ivan’s kind of trouble.
"Yeah, seems all your customers are balding and have these old-fashioned mustaches, even your nosy friend outside. What? Is it some specialty of yours?” Marcus did another chuckle as he turned back to Ivan.
“Well, I specialize in many styles, particularly for men who are thin on top. And then I think if the man wears a nice big mustache, it will surely draw everyone’s eyes away from the baldness on their head." Ivan said with a smile.
“Never been into them myself, kind of the '80s disco era isn’t it, or maybe just old fat guys like you dudes.” Marcus couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t believe they all looked the same.
“Well, you aren’t ‘old’ looking yet but you are bald like us, a mustache would give you a more masculine look." Ivan was staring deep into his eyes. He wasn’t sure it would work but he knew he could influence people now.
Trying to look away, Marcus lost his focus momentarily before looking back into Ivan’s eyes, answering, " I……I……shaved my head, mate. I’m not losing my hair like you guys and if I were I wouldn’t have that donut of hair you all have." Marcus couldn’t believe the barber thought he was balding. He only shaved it to look tougher.
"Well when was the last time you let your hair grow out, Maybe there is a slight regression already.” Ivan pressed, still staring into his soulless eyes. “Nonsense…… ah……no baldness in my family.” Marcus shot back angrily but a little confused now. He had been shaved clean for many years now and it had been a while since he’d had a full head of hair. Who did this barber think he was? Then as he looked into the barber’s eyes he thought for a moment, ‘Maybe I have some thinning on top now.’
“Well in that case you should let your hair grow out, it would soften your look,” Ivan stated as he finished up on Pierre and went to get his pipe. He knew he had some hold on the goon now but he still wasn’t sure how much.
Ivan continued as he filled his pipe. “Well, you can only tell if you are really balding like us by not shaving your head smooth and while you are at it, consider growing out your mustache. A nice chevron style, you would stand out more.” He concentrated his gaze on Marcus while he relit his pipe. He knew his powers were growing but he obviously needed the pipe to connect better with Marcus’s mind.
Pierre watched Ivan as the pipe spread the special tobacco blend around them. He knew what the pipe could do, and a small smile hidden by his mustache was forming on his face.
Suddenly, the goon touched his shaved scalp while looking in the mirror. “I…I told you, barber, I’m not into mustaches. I tried to grow a beard, but that came in too patchy." Marcus was shocked that he even mentioned this to the barber. Why was he discussing his beard growth with this man? “Well, I have some great products to help you along,” Ivan continued, running a finger over his own thick mustache while staring into the thug’s eyes and filling the area with more smoke.
“You should grow a nice big mustache here like Pierre and I can help you grow a beauty like many of my customers,” Ivan said holding Marcus’s gaze.
He could see the slightly dazed look in them so the smoke was starting to work.
Marcus looked at Pierre, a little confused. He hadn’t ever wanted to grow a mustache, or had he? Maybe he would look good with one. “Really…like his?”
Marcus suddenly looked at his face in the mirror, then at Pierre. A mustache like that! His boss would never let him though it would certainly make him stand out and the barber knew how to look after them. Maybe he wouldn’t look so threatening without a shaved head and a mustache.
“Oh, most certainly, Pierre here could never grow such a specimen without my treatments. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m closing up soon, and I’ve still got Garrett over there.”
Marcus was quite confused now. The pipe smoke was heavy in the air and he had trouble concentrating not really hearing the barber. Then in his head he could hear him. ‘You should wear more hair on your head, but not too much. You want to look like a successful gentleman who enjoys the good things in life. Older, wiser, adorned with more hair on your face than on your head’.
As he heard this mantra in his head, he looked once again at the men around him. Even the photos on the wall looked more like them with plenty of carefully manicured mustaches or beards and various balding styles. They did look quite dapper he suddenly thought, even sexy. As he wondered where that thought came from he felt his cock respond.
“Is…is that how Pete came to grow his mustache…like with your so-called expertise?” Marcus couldn’t stop thinking about mustaches as he stared at all the men. He was the only one with a clean-shaven top lip and it now seemed to be odd. It filled his mind that mustaches were sexy, strange as that was. Why didn’t he grow one?
"Yes, naturally, he could never grow such a specimen before, he needed a few visits for me to create such a beast,” Ivan said concentrating on Marcus’s mind, filling it with his visions for how a gentleman should look, and how sexy a mustache could be on an older, fatter Balder man.
Marcus was daydreaming momentarily, imagining himself looking grander and dapper, more like a gentleman, older and wiser; more like Pierre. He tried to adjust his cock without Ivan noticing but it was too late. “Don’t worry Marcus, we know exactly how you feel when you visualise changing into a man like Pierre,” Ivan said directly.
Marcus tried to shake off his strange thoughts, then noticed Garrett holding the pipe. He seemed to be shaking slightly. This made him focus again. “Why so nervous, Garrett Garvey?” Marcus turned towards him, exaggerating his name. “You…you…are making me nervous…" Garrett could barely finish. “I’m just a pussycat at heart,” Marcus said softly as he came a little closer to Garrett though his pipe smoke was different from the barbers’, not as enticing, making him cough a little. “You know, you old guys shouldn’t be smoking so much indoors; besides, it’s bad for your health.”
“Oh, we just light up to relax when we shut the shop.” Ivan looked directly at Marcus. He knew he would need it to get rid of the goon but a bit more fun with his mind. Make fun of all of us and my shop? Well, let’s see you join us.
Pierre watched in the mirror as he could feel what Ivan was thinking. It would be so rewarding to transform the thug into the very thing he made fun of; old, bald guys.
Marcus turned to the mirror and saw Pierre’s stare, “Haven’t I seen you before, buddy? " he suddenly asked. Pierre looked up and tried to speak. But Ivan spoke for him, "Pierre is a little hard of hearing.” Marcus came closer. "There is something familiar. Are you…sure I don’t know you?” “I…I… don’t believe I know you Monsieur,” Pierre said hesitantly. “Hmmm. I’ve seen that fear in someone’s eyes, recent like …but where?” Marcus scratched his bare scalp as he stared at Pierre. He started to get influenced by the increased pipe smoke around him and forgot about Pierre’s eyes momentarily as Ivan tried to influence his thoughts again. “Pierre is from Montreal, recently arrived to work with me.” Ivan tried to intervene.
“Now, unless you want my expertise with growing out your hair or beard, I need to finish up…. maybe come back later when I can focus on what you would like me to change.”. Ivan was puffing furiously to help relax the villain again. “Just let your hair grow a little and I can help style it.” “Hmm…cough! …cough!..shit man…what is with you guys and your fucking pipes…cough…it’s hard to breathe.” “Many of our customers find the pipe very relaxing…I think you should try it, it would help you relax more, too.” Marcus looked at himself in the mirror as he swallowed more of the enchanted smoke. “Me…a…a…pipe smoker?” It didn’t make sense to him but he was imagining it as he stared at himself. "Oh yes… You would look so good with a pipe. It does relax one. Breathe in the aroma, feel it relax your mind and body. You can’t wait to become a real pipe man.” He was focused on the barber’s intense eyes, having trouble looking away. He felt he should do as asked and suddenly took deeper breaths. Slowly at first. “Yeah…well I don’t want to smoke a pipe.…though…it…does smell better… now you mention it.” Now he was coming closer to Ivan breathing deeper. “It certainly is.….is.……relaxing.” Marcus was puzzled. He should be telling this guy to shove his pipe, but as he took in more of the sweet scent, he couldn’t help but feel a little euphoric. He never thought about smoking before, especially a pipe. Would he even suit smoking a pipe? He’d always thought they were for old dudes like these guys but he had to admit something about the barber enjoying his pipe with his stylish mustache and balding head made him look more interesting, more sexy! Something in the smoke was making him breathe it deeper and deeper.
Ivan continued to lead the man. Now he had connected completely with his mind via the pipe blend he could also tell what he was thinking. "You already look the part with your shaved head and soon a nice mustache will make you into a sexier man too.” Marcus was even more confused, why was he suddenly finding any of these guys sexy? Looking in the mirror now he realised he needed to be more like these men. “But you said…… I needed to grow my hair again……so I didn’t look so menacing?” "Yes, but you shave it because you are thinning on top, remember?”
“Balding? I…. didn’t think I was thinning?” Marcus was unable to remember now. He had shaved his head for so long he couldn’t remember if he was losing his hair. Maybe that’s why the boss made him keep it shaved.” “Yes, it’s alright to be balding, we think it’s sexy on a gentleman. When you shave your scalp clean, isn’t it to make you look like this tough guy?” "My boss……he insisted I shave it.” Marcus couldn’t believe how honest he was being. Yes, he liked the shaved look but did always want to look so scary and now he was getting older maybe he should soften his look? "So why not let it grow a little, let’s see what we have to work with? Let’s see the real you with hair, If it is receding, I will help you with a new masculine style—like all of us here. Not pretty but masculine and handsome.” Ivan was happy with how quickly he’d influenced Marcus to think he was balding before he shaved his head.
"What?… Like you guys? Just……just a little bit of hair?” Marcus said in disbelief at first. “We call it male pattern balding.” Ivan pressed. “You said you like it on us maybe you should try it out.” “I.…. I never said……” Marcus was confused. Yes, the men were standing out and he found them sexy but had he said he liked their baldness as a hairstyle out loud? “That’s alright Marcus, many of my customers pretend they aren’t into the donut of hair beneath a shiny bald scalp but they soon admit the attraction.” “Well…isn’t it only for older……sorry……more mature men?”
“No, it’s for any masculine gentlemen who aren’t into all the latest fads for male hairstyles. Many men and women see the power donut as sexy and I think you are seeing that too.” Ivan nodded towards Marcus’s crotch. “Shit…that’s that’s…” Marcus was confused and embarrassed. “Breathe… relax, Marcus. We are all men here.” Ivan had connected more with Marcus’s mind even adding to his sexual preference. His abilities were indeed stronger than ever; how this had happened so fast, he couldn’t explain, though his vanity prevented him from questioning it more deeply. At the same time, Marcus started to do what Ivan said. The smoke was a great aphrodisiac, and combined with Ivan’s hypnotic talents, Marcus was getting off on the suggested changes, the outline of his considerable cock showing through his dark trousers. "Yes, many of my customers are turned on by the changes we suggest, you’re not alone there, a nice smooth head with a stylish horseshoe of silky hair, a crafted, chevron mustache almost hiding your top lip, and a pipe between your lips. Very sexy indeed.”
Marcus could visualise his changes and felt hornier as he thought about it all unable to stop himself. It started to feel like he’d always had these feelings about looking more like these men. Had he been suppressing it all these years?
Ivan came closer, “It’s alright Marcus, you can admit you’re interested. You wish you could be as distinguished as Pierre. You want to look like a real, gentleman of yesteryear. It makes you so turned on. You don’t want to be this villain you portray.” "A gentleman…… turned on….” Marcus rubbed his crotch now feeling his growing cock. He’d never been into guys before, but something about what Ivan was suggesting, made him excited. “See Marcus….you really are a pussycat at heart; you don’t need to be such a scary man.”
“A pussycat….yes that’s me……” Marcus was quite confused by this stage but something told him the Barber knew him best.
“So you are all set now—no more styling advice from your boss, he is far too toxic for such a gentleman as yourself Marcus. I will see you soon for that makeover. Now I must finish up.”
Marcus knew he shouldn’t take advice or orders from the barber, but his head told him to relax and trust the sexy barber. He could help him look more like a masculine gentleman of yesteryear. He turned towards the door as Ivan let go of his hold on the man’s mind Marcus felt dizzy for a moment before opening the door. Suddenly a thought came to Marcus as his mind cleared a little. He turned back to Ivan. “Hang on a minute. If you helped create Pete’s handlebar mustache, you must have met him before.”
Ivan’s face showed the realization of his mistake; he was getting tired. “Well, I haven’t met this Pete before but I know it was obviously the hair growth formula Sam uses in the shop. He remarked to me how well it worked on his mustache……I …I use it in my shop too.” “As I said, I’m only here sometimes to help out.” And with that, he puffed harder on his pipe, the smoke surrounding Marcus once again. “Now, please return when you want me to trim your mustache, I’ll be working here more often soon." Marcus could feel Ivan’s command in his head and he soon forgot what he was worried about.
“But… but I don’t have a mustache.” He almost said to himself as the smoke relaxed him and his suspicions.
Marcus touched his top lip again in a continuing daze wondering how it would feel to have a big mustache.
As the door shut, everyone, including Ivan, breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn’t believe he had connected to the thug’s mind so easily, but there were moments he slipped up with his control.
“That was close!” Garrett said as he handed the pipe back to Pierre. Ivan helped him out of the chair, a little seedy after breathing in the additional special pipe smoke.
At the same time, the back door opened, and in walked a disheveled Sam. “Where in the hell have you been?” Garrett beat Ivan to the question. “Waiting for that thug to leave.” He said sounding out of breath.
Mid 30s Black Male to Late 50s Balding Hairy East Asian Male. (Was my very first "extended"
The couple that shaves together…
The barber was happy with the mustache. It had taken him quite awhile to convince Lennox to get rid of the beard and let him create an epic mustache, while the hippy length hair had no room in his plans for Lennox future look.
Alex fell asleep as the barber worked on his haircut. It seemed to take way too long for just a trim, and he wondered what the weird pulling sensation was on his scalp.
When he finally woke, he thought there was a man looking straight at him. A bald man with a big wide, mustache. As he moved his arm, so do the man ahead.
As the strange realization the reflection before him was indeed himself he couldn’t get over how sexy he looked.
Leo just looked on with amusement. “So young man, you finally approve of my work?”
Alex was at a loss. How did the old barber do all this to him in such a small time? “But….but I look different, I mean, why am I bald and where did this mustache come from?”
He wanted to yell or shout out his anger but the barber just held up his hand. “Just be happy ole Leopold tended to your new look. Others would never as worked as quick as me.”
POV: you got your hands on a bottle of hair tonic. Now you’re the only 18 year old graduating senior with a handlebar mustache. Maybe you’ll see where else the tonic can go…
You noticed a few of your friends around campus were sporting facial hair practically overnight, so one day you cornered your friend Don and asked how he grew such a long beard so quickly. He told you about a hair tonic from the costume shop that caused instant hair growth. He offered to pass you his bottle but you said you’d swing by the costume shop to get your own. That was your first mistake.
At the costume shop you couldn’t find any hair tonic where it was supposed to be. You rummaged around a bit and found a dusty old bottle labeled hair tonic next to costumes that seemed like they were meant for older men. “Hair tonic is hair tonic” you thought as you grabbed the bottle, paid and went back to your dorm.
You decided to apply the tonic in the evening and opted to start with a mustache. You put a few drops on your head too hoping to grow out your hair a bit for a dramatic effect... that was your second mistake. It didn’t take long before you noticed changes…and they weren’t what you were expecting! Your mustache grew in thick with brown and white hair! At the same time the hair on your scalp started shedding and whitening.
After a few more seconds you had the hairline and coloration of your grandpa and a thick white walrus mustache. You gasped and picked up the bottle of hair tonic hoping for an answer. You spun it around and saw “expiration date: 6/1950 use past expiration can have undesired effects.” Looks like the tonic isn’t the only thing that has expired.
A new skinhead in the making.
The Master Barber in training
The barber looked way too young to be a professional stylist when I first sat in his chair. I only wanted a trim of my beard and hair. I ended up being in that chair for over an hour. The boy was meticulous as he took control of my new look.
I can’t explain why I agreed to the new lone mustache that eclipsed my former one in size and thickness or why my hairline had been modified. It was as if it was just meant to be and I was powerless to stop it.
As I watched him in silence, I actually liked what he’d done - all of it.
New year, new look! The first customer of the year, always wanted to be NW6. After years of inner debate, and some light tweezing, he finally got rid of all his hair on top and is after all, now very happy with his new look!
Dream trip to the barbershop
PART I: The Liturgy of Steel and the Definition of the Border
The air in the bathroom felt dense, charged with a tepid humidity that slightly fogged the edges of the mirror. Marco slid the bolt shut. The metallic click wasn't just a door closing; it was a separation from the outside world and its judgments. In here, under the harsh overhead yellow light casting hard shadows on his collarbones and cheekbones, only will and flesh existed.
He stripped off his shirt. The fabric slid off his shoulders, hitting the floor in a heavy silence. He stood before his reflection, torso bare, observing the current density of his hair. It was a lie he was about to rectify. He wasn't looking for a haircut; he was looking for a revelation.
Resting on the cold marble of the sink was the tool: a professional body groomer, a robust body of black and silver. It wasn’t a plastic toy; it had weight, presence. Marco picked it up. The metal was cold against the hot palm of his hand. He gripped the handle, feeling the anti-slip texture etching into his skin, a promise of imminent friction.
The Mapping of the Territory
Before the noise, the silence of the line. He took a white dermographic pencil. He leaned into the mirror until his breath fogged the glass. He had to define what was to be sacrificed.
With a deliberate, almost painful slowness, he rested the tip of the pencil on his right temple. He didn’t follow his natural hairline. He went up. Higher. He traced a deep, aggressive curve, a bay venturing into the capillary territory in the shape of a sharp, inverted "V". He could feel the pencil tip dragging over the sensitive skin of the temple, parting the hairs, marking the border where youth would yield to authority.
He repeated the process on the left. Symmetry was crucial. When he finished, he looked at himself: the white lines drew a Norwood IV balding pattern, the preamble to the V. The design left an "island" of hair in the center of the forehead and the crown still covered, but condemned.
Marco took a deep breath, his pectorals expanding slowly. Anticipation prickled the hair on his arms. He was about to violate the integrity of his own image to forge a harder one.
PART II: The Invasion of the Hum and the Frontal Conquest
Marco’s thumb caressed the machine’s switch. Click.
The motor roared to life. It wasn’t a high-pitched whine, but a grave, deep purr—a vibration that traveled up from his hand, through his forearm, and settled at the base of his neck. The machine vibrated with contained power, the steel blades moving at an invisible speed, hungry. The smell of machine oil and ozone filled the small space between his nose and the metal.
The First Contact: Penetrating the Guard
Without using any combs or guards, he brought the naked head of the clippers to his right temple, right where the white line dictated the sentence. The metal touched the skin. It was cold, yet the blades generated immediate heat from the friction.
He advanced.
The sound changed drastically. From a free-flowing hum, it shifted to a rhythmic, crunchy tearing. Crack-crack-crack. The machine didn’t ask for permission; it devoured. Marco pushed the steel against the grain, watching whole clumps of dark hair detach from the root and fall, floating in slow motion toward the white sink.
The sensation was electric. He could feel every microscopic blade lifting the follicle and severing it flush. There was no pain, only an overwhelming intensity, a sudden nakedness where there had once been shelter.
Hollowing Out the Receding Lines
With methodical movements, like someone carving noble wood, Marco cleared the right entry. The skin, now exposed, shone pale under the light, in violent contrast to the dark hair still remaining in the center. He ran his free hand over the freshly shaved zone. His fingertips met the rough, almost sandpaper-like texture of the "shadow"—the hair shaved to zero. That touch, rugged and virile, sent a shiver down his lower back.
He moved to the left. The machine vibrated against his skull, resonating inside his head, turning the act into something internal. The noise filled everything. He eliminated the lateral defense, leaving the bone structure of his forehead exposed, broad and clear.
Now, facing the mirror, the hardest part remained: the central bridge and the crown. The machine was still on, hot in his hand, demanding to continue toward the center, toward the total destruction of the upper cover to unite those two voids and create the definitive pattern of dominance.
PART III: The Burning Anointing and the Tearing of the Crown
Marco stopped the machine. Silence returned abruptly, but his ears still rang. He looked at the "bridge" of hair that still survived on the top and the crown, that dark island surrounded by the shaved bays of his temples. The machine had done the dirty work, but for the sacred zone—the epicenter of his forced baldness—he needed something more definitive. He didn’t want to cut; he wanted to uproot. He wanted to feel the root surrender.
He turned toward the small wax heater that had been softly smoking in the corner. The scent was sweet and penetrating, a mix of resin and heat.
The Application: The Weight of Heat
With a wooden spatula, Marco scooped up a dense, viscous, dark mass of molten wax. He looked at himself in the mirror, eye to eye, daring himself not to blink. He raised his hand and let the hot wax fall right onto the center of his crown.
The contact was a thermal shock. The intense heat, almost bordering on a burn, spread across his scalp, embracing every follicle in the upper zone. Marco closed his eyes and threw his head back, clenching his jaw, enjoying that invasion of temperature. He spread the wax firmly, covering the entire top area, from the forehead to the high nape, burying the remaining hair under a thick, heavy layer that quickly began to solidify.
The sensation was one of absolute restraint. As the wax cooled and hardened, he felt his skin tightening, taut, trapped under the amber crust. It was a sustained bite. The hair was immobilized, awaiting final judgment.
The Act of Extraction
Marco waited for the wax to be rigid. He lifted a small tab at the edge, near the forehead, to get a grip. His fingers, strong and precise, pinched the edge of the hardened material. He took a deep breath, puffing out his chest, preparing his body for the impact.
Rip!
The movement was dry, brutal, and upward.
The sound was like thick fabric tearing. A sharp, clean, and exquisite pain exploded in his head, shooting down his spine like lightning. Marco didn’t scream; he let out a low, deep, guttural growl.
He looked at the strip of wax in his hand: it was seeded with hundreds of roots, extracted whole. He brought his hand to his head. Where there was once density, there was now a scandalous smoothness, naked skin, reddened and throbbing, completely stripped of defense. He repeated the process, strip after strip, stripping the crown with controlled violence, until the top of his skull was virgin, exposed to the cold bathroom air for the first time in his life.
PART IV: The Consecration of Oil and the New Man
The violence of the wax was over. Now, a tense calm reigned.
Marco leaned into the mirror, his nose almost touching the glass. The map was complete. The upper zone was a desert of smooth, traumatized skin; the sides and back maintained his dark, dense hair, perfectly trimmed to create that Norwood VI contrast. The "horseshoe" of hair surrounded the central baldness like a Roman amphitheater.
The Polishing and Definition
He took up the machine again, this time only to profile the edges. With surgical precision, he defined the line where the bald skin ended and the side hair began. He wanted no soft fades or timid transitions. He wanted a hard edge, a statement of intent. He ran the blade outlining the curve over the ears and down toward the nape, cleaning up any rebellious hair that dared to defy the perfect shape.
The Final Anointing
He opened a bottle of post-depilatory oil. The liquid was dense, smelling of eucalyptus and sandalwood. He poured a generous amount into the cup of his hand and rubbed both palms together until warm.
He brought his hands to his head.
The contact of the oil on the freshly waxed and sensitized skin was a sensory explosion. His palms, large and oily, slid without friction over the gleaming curvature of his skull. He massaged with force, feeling the bone shape beneath the skin, taking ownership of his new silhouette. His fingers traced the path from the clear forehead, passing over the smooth summit, until deliberately stumbling against the barrier of rough hair at the nape.
That tactile contrast—the smooth and slippery versus the rough and dense—was the culmination of the rite.
Marco stood there, his torso gleaming with sweat, hands covering his bald head, breathing heavily. The image in the mirror was no longer that of a young man trying to cling to the past. It was that of a man, a patriarch of his own destiny, displaying his skull like a trophy of war. Baldness hadn't happened to him; he had done it to himself, with wax, steel, and will.
He passed his hand one last time over the pristine surface, feeling heavier, harder, more real.
"Done," he whispered, and his voice sounded different, resonating in the new space he had conquered.
