Some Lessons Get Repeated


by Darrin Morgan <darrinmorgan@hotmail.com>

Sam and I had been friends for, well, ever since I could remember. Sam and I had gotten into our share of trouble growing up, but that night we faced a new trouble.

Dad came in and loudly said that Old Ike down at the gas station had been ripped off. It seemed that someone stole some of his candy that afternoon after school. Dad said "If I were the culprit, I'd own up to it right away."

Sam and I decided to say nothing. We were just sure we had gotten away with it. No doubt about it. Old Ike couldn't have seen us take the candy. WRONG!

After dinner, Dad came up to my room where Sam and I were sitting down to our new free candy stash. Dad opened the door and said "Darrin, Sam, I'm more than disappointed! I'm pissed off for sure. Let's get in the car and go for a ride."

I had no idea what was in stor for us. Old Ike's station was closed, and Dad seemed to be driving toward his shop. Sam and I sat silent in the back seat, getting quite nervous about what kind of punishment Dad was going to dole out.

Sure enough, we arrived at Dad's shop, Dad's Barbershop. Dad entered first, Sam next, and I followed. Dad told me to pull the shades and both Sam and I to strip. At first I thought Dad had brought us there to use the razor strop on our thirteen year old butts, but Dad had more in mind for us little theives.

Sam had caught a whipping at my house plenty of times. His Dad died when Sam was just a baby, and his Mom sort of relied on my Dad for a man's influence.

Having a Dad who is a barber, I had more than the average difficulty in convincing my old man that I should be able to wear my hair longer since I was coming into adolescence. It had taken me about three years to win the right to have hair down to my shoulders, and when Dad ordered me into his chair, I knew my locks were history.

Dad didn't speak a word, nor did he turn the chair so that I could see what he was doing. I was not surprised though to have him finish and spin the chair to reveal his trademark flattop. He had given me the works, landing strip and all. My shock came though when he took off the cape and ordered me to climb two steps on a step stool. He told me to raise my arms. I did, and he sheared off my armpit fuzz. He then made his way South, and buzzed off the hairs surrounding my _c_o_c_k_ and balls. My thirteen year old rod stood at attention, and I was embarrassed to be hard in front of Sam and especially in front of Dad. Next he dobbed me with hot foam and took his straight razor to the stubble. When he was done, he toweled the remaining foam off and told me to go stand in the corner. Without a word of invitation, Sam climbed up into the chair. Quickly, Sam had the same flattop as I. I didn't loose the woody while watching Sam get shorn, and when he got out from under the cape, he too was hard. Dad told Sam to raise his arms. Off came his budding fur and most importantly to a thirteen year old, his bush.

Dad proceeded to use the razor strop on our butts. The welts appeared quickly, and we felt them deeply. I got mine first, and then Sam. We were both crying and flailing our legsas we received our turn across Dad's lap in the barber chair. Dad took hold of my rod when pulling me up into the chair. he positoned it between his legs for added control I guess. When I was through, he did the same to Sam. Sam had a bigger and longer _c_o_c_k_ than I did. Dad complimented him on that, then grabbed on and stuck it between his legs like he had done me.

We had gotten our candy, and our punishment on a Friday night. We both were wondering what gym class would be like on Monday. Just as we began to hopoe that at least the welts would be gone by then, Dad announced that since we were not men enough to own up to stealing the candy, we would look like little boys for another year. and we would return to the shop for the same shave and whipping every Firday night at the close of business.

The next year was hard. We had pretty much gotten used to the whippings, but the humiliation of having no pubes in junior high is pretty unbearable. Sure enough, Dad had planned to make sure we got our last remembrance of our misdeed against Old Ike one last time, having us report to his shop on the last night of the year of punishment. As Dad shaved Sam's balls one last time, he said that he hoped we had learned our lesson well, because if we didn't behave as men from now on, he would do it all over again.

Sam and I remained good friends all through school. A couple of years after graduation, Sam took up with my younger sister. Now Sam always had a bit of a wondering eye, and a lust for new pussy. He just always seemed to find it too. It seemed Sam could always find another snatch to wet his _c_o_c_k_ in.

I had warned Sam not to run around on my sister. He assured me that he wouldn't. About a year after he and Lindy got married, she came crying to me, saying that she had caught Sam fooling around on her.

I confronted Sam, and he blew me off and told me to mind my own business.

I told Dad about Sam's misdeed, and shared a plan to bring Sam back into line. Dad agreed, we would take care of Sam Friday night.

Now that Sam and I were older, we had outgrown our desire for longer hair. Sam wore longish regular cut, and came in every Firday night before he hit the bar to use Dad's tanning bed.

When I arrived, Sam was nude in the backroom, just getting into the tanning bed. As the last customer left, I pulled the shades. Sam peeked out from the back room and aske dif anyone else wanted a beer from the fridge. Dad and I said no, but that he could come out for his haircut, as the shop was closed and the shades had been pulled.

Sam stepped up into the chair, nude, and swigging the beer. Dad placed a cape around him and began to give Sam a haircut that he didn't expect. Before Sam knew what had happened, Dad had reduced his hair to the flattop he had worn years ago. This time, it seemed to be even shorter. The landing strip seemed to be almost a shave itself, as did the sides. I don't think there was a hair on his head longer than a half inch.

While Dad clipped, I chewed Sam out for not being faithful to my sister. When Dad finished the flattop, he removed the cape and tapped on the step stool. As if falling into training that he would never loose, Sam stepped up the two steps, and raised his arms.

Dad turned the clippers back on, and removed the hair from Sam's under arms, and then went to work on his chest and stomach. Dad took off the hairs on Sam's arms and then started from the bottom working at his feet on up. When Dad got to Sam's butt, he pushed on his back and Sam bent over, revealing a growth that hadn't been there at thirteen. Dad brought the clippers back around to the front and swipe by swipe removed the dense coat of manfur from Sam's crotch. Dad returned to finish the job with the hot foam and the straight razor. When Dad was done he told Sam to go and stand in the corner.

I thought Sam was placed there for humiliation, but was I wrong. Dad looked at me and told me to strip and get up in the chair.

At first I protested. And then I caught a glimpse of Sam's denuded _c_o_c_k_ oozing pre cum. I started to disrobe and my Dad informed me why I too was receiving the same treatment.

Dad said that I should have kept a better watch on Sam, and that a real man doesn't rat out his friend. Soon I had the trakemark flattop like Sam, and got out of the chair to reveal my woodie. With the same quickness, Dad removed the traces of my own manhood. I was a child again in look.

Dad pulled Sam by the _c_o_c_k_ to his lap and took the razor strop to his butt with avengence. My turn came and Dad used my "handle" too. This time, it was I who received the compliment on _c_o_c_k_ size. Dad tucked it between his legs and gave it to me royally.

Dad had Sam and I stand together in front of the paneled wall. He came out from the back room with his camera. He snapped a picture of us from the front, and then from the back. Sam asked what the pictures were for. Dad said "I'm putting these up in the bathroom here. If my customers for in there and ask what gives, I'm going to tell them about you two and how I'm making men out of you again. And oh, yeah every Friday night for a year boys!"

We did our year stint with Dad, but we noticed that he was working more and more evenings, and that more and more guys in twon were sporting Dad's flattop special. At the end of the year, we asked my Dad why he was working so many nights. He told us that he is swamped with all of the "man maker' treatments our pictures had inspired. Dad asked if Sam and I would help him on those evenings with the business.

It was amazing. So many fathers and sons from our town came in for the treatment. At first, we had them come in by appointment, but then, as business grew, we just had them come in after hours, drop trou, and wait. some came in because their sons had committed misdeeds like Sam and I, some just thought it was hot. I was especially glad to see the principal from my junior high bring in my gym teacher for the treatment. The same guy who had given me such abuse for my lack of pubes that year. We worked it as an assembly line. Dad gave the flattops, I buzzed the body hair, and Sam gave the final shave. I took great delight in removing the thick patches of hair from my old gym teacher. I just kept whispering "little boy" over and over. He was rock hard when he got to Sam, and the principal gave him one merciless whipping right there in the shop. They return every week still.

Sam and I took over the shop a year ago, and business is still lucrative.


Other stories by Darrin Morgan