Tales From a Barber Shop 3: Things Just Keep Getting Better
by Peircedskin
This Story may be reproduced without permission on any non-payment site, and with permission from me on any pay per view site. Any comments or suggestions are gratefully received at [email protected]. As per usual, if you are under aged by the laws of your country or are easily upset by stories with a gay subject matter, then please stop reading now.
Chapter One
It had been several weeks since I had opened my shop, and it looked like I was a hit with the locals. Admittedly I did do normal cuts, but with a cute muscular skinhead slave doing the manual work like cleaning up, making customers coffee and sneaking under the cape to relieve the sexual tensions of my more excited customers, I was starting to become the place of choice for the discerning gentleman of specific sexual interests. To be honest, some of that was my own doing. It’s easy to get customers to return if you nudge them in the right direction now and again. I hadn’t done any major alterations recently as I was saving the pleasure. Too much becomes like a drug, and you end up making mistakes. I’m not the only one out there with special abilities and we try not to draw attention to ourselves.
It was a Saturday evening and I could hear Jock and Chris upstairs getting ready to go out. There was a lot of grunting and slapping, then a long series of frenzied banging as Jock took the edge off his sexual desire. In a way I pitied Chris a little. His leather daddy had a voracious sexual appetite and he liked to save it up on those long trips so his boy got the full benefit.
Eventually they came downstairs and I liked what I saw. They both wore matching black rubber kilts with sporran, polished until the rubber shone like mirrors. Jock had on a black rubber vest and yellow suspenders pulled over his shoulders. He wore heavy black ranger boots with yellow laces and had swapped his usual leather wrist bands for elbow length heavy duty rubber gloves. In his left hand was a chain running to a D-ring on a wide rubber collar round Chris’s neck. Chris was topless, showing off his nice muscular body. He also wore yellow suspenders, but his highly polished rangers were oxblood. He had spent hours mixing the red and black polish into the boots so that they glowed and the black highlighted the creases in the 30 hole boots.
Jock had added to the work in progress. Chris now had plugs of the Scottish flag in each ear, matching the ones in Jocks. I had asked how big they were, and Jock had told me they were now over 20mm wide. If Chris ever stopped being Jocks slave and decided to take them out, it wouldn’t do any good. At that size, the skin had been overstretched and the holes would never shrink back. He would have wide holes in his ears forever. I liked the new tattoo on his back of a crucified skinhead. It was very traditional yet strangely disturbing at the same time. I noticed that he had new tattoos on his elbows as well. Thick black spiders’ webs spread from the center of the elbow to quite high and low on each arm. They were intricately shaded and added to the thug look Jock was obviously going for. Chris had recently made the acquaintance of a couple of local skinhead thugs about the same age, and Jock had given him instructions to become as close as he could to them. His vocabulary was certainly rougher and less coherent, but Jock wanted him to get much deeper into the skinhead lifestyle so most nights found him standing on a street corner with them drinking cheap lager, smoking and taking the piss out of people walking past. A couple of times he had been warned by the police to behave himself. They both knew he was Jocks slave, and they respected that. Most people respected Jock; he had an air of violence round him like a cloud. No-one in their right mind went out of their way to upset him if they could help it.
“Ye sure ye won’t come out with us man?” asked jock as they left. “I’m sure I could find you a boy of your own to play with”.
“Thanks Jock, but I have some paperwork to be dealing with. Have fun tonight and try not to bruise the lad too much.”
“See you later then mate,” he said as they left, leaving me to my empty shop.
Chapter Two
I liked these quiet moments. The sun had just gone down, and the city was slowly changing gear. Earlier it had been all serious and solemn, but now it was gearing itself up for a change of pace. Saturday night was for fun and the city knew it. A time for letting your hair down and casting caution to the winds. Unfortunately, it is also a time for the dark beast to awaken. There are things out there in the darkness, waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting victim. True, I am one of those things myself, but I’m so sexy you just have to forgive me, don’t you….
The first I knew that the beast had awoken was when I was locking up the shops rear. From the alley at the side I heard the sound of a woman’s voice gasping for air as though crying with no breath left in her abused lungs, and the sound of running. Next there came the crash of a garbage can being knocked over and landing at my feet was a small black woman. She was quite young, and dressed nicely, if cheaply. Her makeup was more Avon than Dior, and her high heeled shoes were pretty but cheaply made. It was obvious that she was a woman of good taste but limited budget. “Help me...” she gasped as I stood over her and helped her to her feet.
I quickly ushered her into the rear of the shop and encouraged her to sleep just as a couple of white youths in their late teens skidded to a halt at the mouth of the alley. “Got you now bitch,” one of them said before he saw me then stopped, trying to pretend he hadn’t said anything. When I had helped the young lady up, I had done a quick surface scan of her memories. I hadn’t had time to do a thorough job, but it was enough to see that she was the victim of a robbery and possibly worse. I don’t tend to accept on face value panic memories, but she had been so scared that they were going to rape her that she had lost control of her bladder. In her panic she had clobbered one of them with her handbag and I could see a small bruise under his eye. He was also holding the bag so I knew there was no possibility of having the wrong guys.
Chapter Three
Now, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not a nice person. If you think about it, what I enjoy doing most is to destroy someone’s past, present and future, replacing them with one of my own design. I don’t do it for love, or money, or charity. I do it for fun. I feast on their souls and leave them with a new life that has some sort of unpleasant sting in the tale. I don’t take their complete souls, I’m not a monster, but the ones I love the best are those containing some sort of evil. The more evil within, the tastier I find them. Good souls are fine when there’s nothing else available, but it’s the difference between a supermarket budget brand and a gourmet chef preparing the same dish with fresh, high quality ingredients. Given the choice, which would you choose?
The two arseholes standing in front of me were a prime example. Their souls were black and shrivelled and I could feel my mouth watering at the sight of them.
“Can I help you gentlemen?” I asked as they stood there in stunned silence. They were obviously surprised to see a knight in shining armour helping the damsel in distress.
“Look man, just hand over the black bitch and walk away. She needs punishing for what she did to my boy here” he pointed at his mate with the black eye, “And you don’t want to get in our way. We will hurt you if you do.” And he pulled a wicked looking flick knife out of his back pocket.
His mate gave an evil grin, revealing not too clean teeth, and they walked towards me. Damn, it’s too easy sometimes. Where’s the challenge? They always walk straight into it, every single time.
I backed into the shop, trying to keep a terrified look on my face. They swaggered in behind me gazing round at the old fashioned barbers’ chairs and the prints of old actors on the walls. The young lady was asleep on the couch near the back door, totally out of it.
“She fainted?” asked the vocal thug as his mate just hovered over her leering. He stroked her leg and slowly began lifting her dress.
“Stop that you pervert!” I yelled, and he spun towards me with a face like fury.
“Shut the fuck up, old man. One more word from you and I’ll cut you good.”
“Please, I’m sorry,” I begged, “It’s just that you should look your best when you touch a lady.” I said quickly. “Please, just sit in the chairs and I’ll have you looking fabulous in minutes”.
Yes I know it’s corny, but I like to do things in a certain way. Its all about style, you either have it or you don’t. and boy did I have it.
The two lads didn’t really have a choice in the matter. Without understanding why, they found themselves sitting in my chairs with a cape tucked nicely round their necks. Something one of them had said earlier struck me as I looked at their poor excuses for a haircut and smiled. This was going to be poetic.
Chapter Four
I started with the more vocal of the two. Browsing through his mind, I saw that his name was Geoff and he was your typical white middle class upbringing bad boy. Bored with his life, he had drifted into crime when he was young, and had taken to it like a fish to water. His parents were too interested in themselves to take an interest in their only child. It was obviously society’s fault that Geoff was like that. They had given him everything he had ever wanted, and it wasn’t up to them to punish their little angel. It was a phase he was going through, and he would grow out of it eventually. I sighed. This modern world was such a mystery to me sometimes. In the old days, we would have strangled little monsters like him to avoid polluting the gene pool. Nowadays, the punishment is mainly financial and they pay for it by stealing the cash from someone else. Oh well, the train had arrived at the station. There were no more stops. It was time to pay the fare, and I was the ticket collector.
I turned to his friend with the bad mouth next. His name was Phil, but he preferred to be called Scuz. He had met Geoff at their local probation office, and they had hit it off. Their favourite pastime was to mug single women and scare them as badly as possible. They didn’t carry out the disgusting things they threatened, but most of the women were so frightened that they hardly ventured out again.
Running my fingers through his hair, I noticed that it had grown a lot longer, and was becoming very silky. It had a small natural wave to it that made it look thicker than it really was. Slowly, I began to braid it into tight corn rows and it darkened until it was totally black. At the same time, his skin gradually darkened to a light shade of brown, and his nose became flatter and wider. I finished plaiting his hair and looked at his new face. His lips were now thick and luscious, really kissable and slightly parted to reveal a row of perfect ivory white teeth. His eyebrows were viciously plucked, until all that was left were two very thin arches giving him a slightly wide eyed startled look. As an afterthought, his eyes became slightly slanted and became perfectly violet and almond shaped, revealing his mixed heritage.
Pulling off the cape, with a thought he was naked. The flabby specimen of youth sitting in the chair was a perfect example of bad diet. Too much fast food and not enough fruit. Slowly, the flab began to tighten. All over his body he began to shrink down until every muscle group was clearly defined. Slowly his body began to grow, until the man sitting in front of me had a perfect, slim, muscular body. It was obvious that he looked after himself. He wasn’t going for bulk just that highly toned look of a professional dancer. Clothing came next, and I decided on a pair of silver micro shorts and a tiny tank top that barely covered his pecs. On his feet appeared a pair of silver wrestling boots, tightly laced round his now very well toned calves. In his navel I put a gaudy, very feminine piercing that hung like diamante and glittered in the light, and in both ears were big hoop earrings. I looked at his face and makeup started to appear. Only light, but you could see the eyeliner and lip gloss enhancing his best features. The final touch was to cover all the exposed flesh with gold body glitter, and to put multiple bangles on each wrist.
Leaving him to sleep, I turned my attention to Geoff. I had high hopes for that young man and was going to enjoy every second of it.
Chapter Five
I woke Geoff up slowly while I picked up the clippers. He looked at me with a slightly dazed expression on his face. I felt the confusion in his mind. He was wondering what he was doing getting a haircut, and who was the dark skinned man in the next chair? I relished his pain. It was going to be so clear to him soon, but for now, the fun was in the change.
“Don’t leave it so long next time, man,” I said to him as the clippers slowly bit into his unruly mop. “It makes it harder to clean you up. I recommend a weekly treatment from now on or you will end up having to start this all over again”.
“Uh, start what?” he said as the blonde hair fell to the floor.
“The treatment,” I replied. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”
“Oh, the treatment” he said relaxing into my hands. The hair falling to the floor was now black and wiry. I lathered up his head and slowly started to drag the straight razor over every spot until his head was totally smooth. It was now also jet black and shiny. The skin had changed colour and he was almost the blue black of a central African native. The colour slowly leeched down and it was like watching ink running down a glass as his face slowly changed colour to match his head. His nose thickened and flattened out, and his lips puffed up, becoming jet black, with red lines towards the inside of his mouth where the blood vessels were close to the surface. His head swelled and he developed a ridge above his eyes which had turned dark brown. The whiteness of his eyeballs stark in the deep blackness of the rest of his face. I rubbed his head with a lotion that would slow the hair growth down considerably. He would only need to shave his head once a week now.
Pulling off the cape, I looked at the black body underneath. Slowly it began to expand. His chest was first, blowing up like a balloon until he had a massive set of pecs. His shoulders became incredibly wide, and his arms swelled until he was in proportion. He now had upper arms thicker than most men’s thighs. His neck thickened up until his head was resting on a huge slab of meat with no definition between his head and his chest. Lower down, his waist shrunk and his abs popped out. He didn’t have a six pack; I gave him an eight pack just for variety. His legs swelled up and lengthened and his feet became enormous. He was going to have a lot of difficulty getting shoes to fit now. Turning to his cock and balls, I doubled them in size. His now low hangers banged against his thighs as his thick meaty tube stuck out, ten inches long and still soft. It was going to be a monster when he got aroused. He was now the classic shape of a steroid using body builder. A wall of black muscle, he would stand seven feet tall in his bare feet. Dressing him, I put him in a pair of black slacks that left little to the imagination. He wore patent leather shoes on his feet, but no socks. Stretched across his torso was a short sleeved white t-shirt with the words “Door Supervisor” written in black across the back. I decided that a bit of colour was needed to break up all that black and white so in each ear was a large diamond stud, and his front tooth became gold. Round each wrist was a thick gold bracelet and a very thick gold chain hung round his neck. As an afterthought, I put a large gold sovereign ring on each finger.
Scuz looked at Geoff and gave a wolf whistle. “Looking good Boo,” he said in a very feminine slightly lisping voice. Gone was the white street trash of earlier. In its place was a very camp, extremely effeminate, 18-year-old gay go-go dancer of mixed race. His father was Jamaican and his mother was Chinese, leaving him with an interesting mix of features. He had inherited the best characteristics of each parent, and was indeed really pretty. He had been disowned by his family when he had come out as gay, and now earned good money in the local gay bar waitressing and cage dancing on the weekends. He also did a very good drag routine under the stage name Black Beauty but his friends called him Sasha and he had been dating the ebony god beside him for the last six months.
Geoff was now known as Mkwambe. His parents had fled from Africa when he was a small child, and he had been brought up in London for most of his life. He spoke with a thick cockney accent and was a total geezer. 25 years old, he worked at the local gay bar as a bouncer and had been body building since he was a teenager. Meeting Sasha had been a turning point in his life and he had given up the petty crime and thuggery to settle into domestic bliss with his new life partner. Sasha was very highly strung, and was prone to making everything into a drama, but was devoted to Mkwambe and totally faithful.
Mkwambe looked over at Sasha and smiled. “You look pretty too babe,” he said in a deep rumbling voice. “What do you think Taneka?” he asked turning to the sleeping girl on the couch.
Taneka woke up and stretched. “Sorry Hun, I fell asleep waiting for you two pretty boys to finish up.”
Taneka was now the cousin to Sasha. She regularly visited London to stay with him and his lover, and they both adored her. They treated her like royalty and she was thinking of moving down to stay with them full time so that she could study at the University of Fashion and Design. She wanted to be a fashion designer and it was obvious from her hand made clothes that she was going to be a good one. I had thought of various options, but this one seemed to be the best. Her previous life had been really shitty, so I thought it poetic to make her tormentors her helpers. They would be at her beck and call for the rest of their lives, and would punish themselves for their previous lives by helping her in any way she needed.
They stood up, Mkwambe towering over the much shorter Sasha and Taneka. Pulling out a nice fat wallet, he paid me for the two cuts and with his arm round his lovers’ waist, they left the shop.
I, meanwhile, flopped into a chair before I collapsed. That was fun! Jock and Chris couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to go out clubbing, but this was so much better. I finished locking up the shop and headed for my bed. Jock and Chris were staying out all night so I wouldn’t be disturbed. Tomorrow was another day and who knows what it would bring? I slipped into the deep peaceful sleep of the righteous and dreamed of black gods and pretty dancers.
To be continued?