“OK, then, thanks anyway,” Brad said in a bored tone and ended the call.
He’s sitting in a bar over on the west side where he had planned to meet his best man Rico Rodriguez for a few drinks. As Brad scans Google on his phone for more places to call, Rico arrives dressed in expensive jeans, Nike’s, a black tank top with some gold chains. The tall, muscular, Latino man slaps Brad on the back as he arrives.
“Hey, Homie, wassup?” he asks as he sits.
“Hey, man, just trying to find a place I can get my haircut,” Brad said, then sighs heavily, “Seems every place in the city is booked out for some reason.”
Rico snorts derisively. “Shiite, there’s some big race meeting in town this weekend and probably several hundred weddings, including yours, so whatcha expect homie?”
Brad signals the bartender, a busty redheaded woman. “Two more…” he said, indicating his beer. The woman nods and gets two and puts one in front of Brad and the other in front of Rico, who takes a swig immediately. “I just thought getting a stupid haircut wouldn’t be such a pain in the ass, Rico,” Brad said before swigging his own beer bottle.
“You always leave shit to the last minute, Homie, and then bitch and moan that you can’t get it done.” Rico laughed, and said, “As Brit would say: ‘It’s classic Brad.’” Brit is the familiar term Brad’s fiancée uses with her friends instead of Britney.
‘Brit is gonna kill me,” Brad said with a grimace. “I suppose I could buy some electric hair shears and do it myself.”
“Jesus, man, she surely would kill you if you turn up with a fuckin; buzz cut…”
“What do I do then?”
Rico thought for a moment and said, “I have an idea.”
“Anything, please…” Brad said, staring wide-eyed at Rico.
“I know this homie from school who became a barber,” Rico said. “He was a good one too, and I heard recently he has a barbershop on the west side of town. I could give him a call and see if he can do me a solid and fit you in.”
Brad swallows. “The west side, you mean in the black part of town?”
Rico shrugs. “So? I take it you’re desperate at this point, so you go to DJ’s barbershop, and he’ll fix you up. It’s either that or Brit kicks your ass for spoiling her wedding photos.”
Brad knows his fiancée is perfectly capable of kicking his ass too. At five-foot-seven, Brad is on the shorter side even though he’s wiry and muscular. Britney towers over him with her blonde hair and DD-cups at six-foot. He always liked the tall, leggy women, and Britney certainly fits that description. Brad sighs, he knows he has no choice, Rico was right, the groom is desperate to get it done even if it’s just so he can avoid Britney saying, ‘I told you so…’
Brad sighs. “OK, if you can get me in, I’ll be very grateful,” he said and takes another swig of beer.
Rico pulls out his phone and spends a moment scrolling through his contacts then makes a call. “DJ? Hey, DJ, it’s ya old Homie, Rico Rodriguez, how ya doin’, Dawg?”
*****
Brad doesn’t waste any time and soon finds himself driving through the infamous black neighborhood famous for its gangs and crime, not usually a place he would go for anything. It’s not that Brad is racist, he’s just a bit of a wimp when it comes to dealing with more powerful men. It’s always been an issue for Brad, his older brother Kyle always said he had ‘small man syndrome,’ and he took that to be a reference to his height. The GPS in the car pings, letting him know his destination is coming up, and sure enough, there’s the sign above a standard looking shop front that says ‘DJ’s.’ After parking his car, Brad goes to the shop and opens the door, and immediately the smell of pot and incense hits him.
Inside is your typical barbershop, four chairs facing some shelves with a large mirror. The floor is black and white squares and somewhat cracked and dirty. The shelves under the mirror have an assortment of hair cutting equipment, lotions, shaving cream, razors, towels, and smocks. The wall behind has a seating area where three rather large black men are sitting smoking weed. There’s some kind of hip-hop playing, a performer Brad doesn’t know as he only listens to country and western music. As Brad enters, taking in the relaxed ambiance of the place, a black man smiles, elbows another who gazes up at him
“Hey, Deej, just when I felt hungry, someone sent us a cracker,” the black man said with a smile bordering on a leer.
“Keep it in your pants, Razor,” the other black man said, “I think this is Rico’s boi.” Then to brad, he yells, “Are you the dude lookin’ for a haircut?”
“Um yeah, my friend arranged it, Rico Rodriguez arranged it,” Brad said, feeling his mouth go dry and an empty feeling at the pit of his stomach. “Are y-you DJ?”
The black man stands, he’s tall easily six foot five, and solid muscle, he smiles a set of perfect white teeth. “Yeah, I’m him, come in, and we’ll take care of your little problem,” he said casually.
Suddenly, Brad goes pale, and beads of sweat appear on his upper lip. DJ is an intimidating alpha male, just the type Brad fears. “I-I…Ahhh…Maybe I…” he stammers.
“Ain’t you getting married this weekend, Dawg?” DJ asks with a raised eyebrow. Brad nods numbly, then wiping his forehead with his sleeve. “Well, you ain’t gonna find anyone else to cut your hair by then, so sit down, Dawg.”
DJ points to one of the barber chairs, and Brad walks to it with heavy footsteps and a rolling stomach. Something about DJ and Razor is making him act like a wimp, Brad’s typical response to strong men. He sits, and DJ throws the smock over him and does it up.
“So what you after, Dawg?” he asks, as he stuffs some tissue paper under the collar of the smock.
“Um…Keep the style I have just take a few inches off, thanks,” Brad said in a soft, almost feminine voice.
‘God, what’s wrong with me,’ Brad thought. ‘Why do men like this always make me nervous?’
Razor suddenly stands, he’s about the same height at DJ but much bigger, a real linebacker. He saunters over to Brad with a mischievous smile on his face and a blunt in his fingers. “So who is this woman you talked into marrying, little man?” he asks.
“Her name is Britney,” Brad said, watching Razor in the mirror.
“Is she hot?” Brad nods, and Razor said, “Aw, I don’t believe you. Prove it…”
“What?”
“You gotta picture of her, don’t ya,” Razor urges. “Show me, I wanna see just how hot she is.” Brad hesitates, and the big man holds out his hand. “C’mon show me…”
The smaller white man pulls out his phone and activates the screen, after pressing his thumb to it to open it, he looks through his gallery and finds a picture of Britney in a bikini showing off her assets. As he hands the phone to Razor, Brad wonders why he chose this particular photo as there were others more conservative and some he’d never show someone like Razor.
‘Maybe if he sees just how she is, he’ll respect me,’ Brad thought.
DJ starts cutting Brad’s hair as Razor stares at the photo of Britney on the phone.
“Jesus, dude, you’re wife is fucking hot,” Razor shouts wide-eyed then shows DJ the picture. “Check her out, Deej, I’d love to smoke my meat in her…”
DJ chuckled. “Congratulations, Dawg,” he said to Brad. “You’re a lucky man, that’s a damn fine ‘PAWG’ you got there. You must be packin’ to keep a hottie like that happy.”
Suddenly, Razor starts flicking through Brad’s phone, which makes him jump. DJ grabs his shoulders and holds him there.
“Hey, give me back my phone…” Brad whines. “I didn’t give you permission to do that.”
“Just relax,” DJ said with a growl. “You keep jumpin’ round I’ll mess up your haircut.”
Razor finds some topless shots showing Britney’s considerable breasts in all their glory with her beautiful pink nipples erect and ready. “DAMMMMMMM, those titties are magnificent,” Razor squeals.
“Stop…” Brad said, weakly.
“Stop or what?” Razor asks with a glint of menace in his eyes, making Brad grimace and glance away. “That’s what I thought…What else you got in here, I wanna see some pussy.”
Brad is shaking as he watches razor in the mirror look through the galleries on his phone, praying the big black man grows bored and gives up before finding some pictures he’d rather keep private. Suddenly, Razor bursts out laughing, almost dropping the phone in the process as he bends with hilarity.
“What?” DJ asks his friend.
Brad’s face turns red as he knows what Razor has found. One drunken night he did it to send to Brit, but he forgot to delete the photos after. It’s dick pics. Razor holds the phone up so DJ can see what is so funny. The athletic barber stops and takes it, staring at it and then at Brad in the mirror. A smirk breaks out on his face.
“Dude, is that your dick?” DJ asks.
Brad bows his head, and his body collapses on itself in the chair. His face flushes so severely he can feel his ears burning with heat. This is not what he wanted, not with two strong men like DJ and Razor. “Please, give me my phone back…” Brad almost whimpers.
“Ha-ha, that’s what I call a small ass white dick,” Razor said, staring at the photo again, then swiping to another. “That thing is barely four inches, dude, and it’s so thin…Fuck, it’s a real-life pencil dick…” he bursts out laughing.
Brad is pouting now. “It’s four and a half inches, which is in the average range,” he said like an insolent teen girl.
This only makes Razor and DJ laugh even harder, as while that might be in the average range, the girth of Brad’s dicklette certainly is well below it.
“Omigod, dude, it’s like a Slim Jim,” Razor said, making both black men laugh loudly.
DJ gazes at the photo again, and said, “I see your problem, Slim Jim. It’s all that hair you got down there. If you shave it off, your dick will look bigger. It might even impress your woman on your wedding night. Women like the smooth look these days.”
“I don’t see how this dick could impress a woman like your fiancée, are you rich or something?” Razor asks.
“Um, what?” brad said wide-eyed.
“I’m just trying to figure out why she wants to marry a man like you, that’s all.”
Brad gasps and his eyes bulge. “Cos she loves me,” he said.
The men laugh. “She doesn’t love your dicklette, that’s for sure,” Razor said with a smirk.
“You really should get rid of your hair there,” DJ persists. “Your woman will appreciate it.”
“Do you really think so?”
DJ has been cutting Brad’s hair all this time and grabs the electric hair shears to tidy the back. As he starts cutting, he says, “Yeah, Slim Jim, women find that shit sexy, I promise you. Razor, show him how it looks.”
Suddenly, Razor steps beside Brad and pulls his pants down, exposing the biggest cock the white man has ever seen outside porn. The big black cock looks nine inches long soft, and very thick. His balls hang low and heavy, and sure enough, there’s not one hair anywhere. Razor’s genitals are as smooth as a baby is, but that’s where the comparison ends. Brad gulps, staring at the enormous black meat wide-eyed, feeling his stomach flutter and dicklette tingle. DJ and Razor glance at each other with knowing eyes. They’ve got ‘Slim Jim’ all worked out now, and as Brad stares at the cock, DJ cuts a ‘spade’ outline (the playing card symbol) on the back of the white man’s head. They laugh once the spades complete, and Razor puts his cock away while Brad finds he feels disappointed he can no longer see such a marvelous sight.
“See, women find that bald dick shit sexy, so what you say?” DJ said with Razor nodding.
“Do it for your wife,” Razor adds.
“Well, OK, but it’s a little late to organize a body wax, isn’t it?” Brad said.
“Nah, there’s a salon a few shops down,” DJ said. “I’m banging the woman who owns it; she’ll get you in right now, for me.”
“I don’t wanna impose…”
“Nah, it’s aiight, I’ll call her…” DJ is soon on his phone, and sure enough, the salon agrees to take him straight away.
*****
They bustle brad out of the barbershop, not really giving him a chance to inspect the final haircut and the ‘spade’ outlined on the back of his head. DJ locks the barbershop as Razor hustles the short white man down the street to another shop called ‘Eternal Beauty,’ a salon for women to get everything from nails, body waxes to hairstyling and more. Razor shoves Brad through the door as all the women inside turn to stare at the ridiculous sight.
“Where’s Tanisha?” Razor shouts, “We got us a waxing emergency here.”
A disinterested slim black woman glances at Brad and then said, “She’s outback in the waxing room waiting for you.”
Razor pushes Brad past the woman and to a hallway. DJ enters, and the black woman said warmly while fluttering her eyes, “Hi, Deej, how are you?”
“I’m good Marcia, how are you?” DJ said, going past.
“All the better for seeing you,” Marcia said.
*****
Razor ushers Brad into a room and tells him to strip to his underpants and lay on what looked like a massage table. Two busty black females then enter the room.
“Hi, Brad, I’m Tanisha, I’ll be attending to your waxing. This is my assistant, Alice,” she said.
“Hi,” is all Brad can muster over his thoughts of dread.
“So you’re DJ’s latest project, eh?” then gazing at the two black men, she said, “What are you two up to this time?”
DJ smiled. “Nothing, honey, Slim Jim here is getting married tomorrow, and we’re helping him be his best for his sexy bride,” he said.
Tanisha rolled her eyes, she knows DJ too well to fall for his bull, but a rich white guy like this is easy pay for the salon. They’ll charge him double what they do their regular clientele. “We’ll begin by doing your limbs,” Tanisha said to a shaking Brad. “It’ll hurt a little, but since you’re not overly hairy, you should be fine. If you want us to stop for a break, just say. OK, any questions?”
Brad shakes his head. Tanisha and Alice seem efficient at waxing; their technique shows they have done it many times before. As one applied the hot wax, the other would put a strip over it and remove it quickly with what Brad assumes is all his hair and skin. The waxing hurt sometimes but felt OK at other times. When they finished the back of his legs, Brad span over, and they did the front. They attacked his arms and hands in the same manner, the worst part being his armpits that had thicker hair.
As they finished his limbs, Marcia came in with some coffee and biscuits, time for a break. She put the tray on a side table, and DJ and Razor helped themselves. They all chatted for a while ignoring Brad on the waxing table until eventually, the women started again. They had all his chest and stomach hair off quickly, so Brad rolls over and they repeat the process on his back.
“OK, are you ready?” Tanisha asks Brad.
He nods, and she gently pulls his underpants down and takes them off, throwing them on a chair with his other clothes. Te black women start waxing his butt cheeks, and to his horror inside his ass and taint as well. ‘This place is thorough,’ Brad thought. Then she told Brad to roll over, and finally, his small dick was revealed in all its glory. Tanisha and Alice stare at it for several minutes wide-eyed.
“Now I see why you call him Slim Jim,” Alice said with a smirk.
The two black men start laughing. “Dang, Slim Jim, it looks even smaller in person,” Razor shouts.
Tanisha gazes at the black men with a raised eyebrow and points to Brad’s small soft dick barely an inch long. “What woman in her right mind would marry that?” Tanisha said to the men, ignoring Brad.
“Maybe sex isn’t important to her,” Alice offers.
“Or she ain’t ever had a proper cock fuck her,” Razor said with a grin. “Most white guys are small and useless like that.”
“Yeah, his poor fiancée probably doesn’t know any better…” DJ said, nodding.
“Hey, I am lying here…” Brad said in a whiny, weak voice.
“Oh, shut up, Slim Jim,” Tanisha said coldly. “Little boi’s should be seen but not heard. OK, now this next bit will hurt you more than it does me.”
Brad shakes his head with a grimace. “I believe you,” he said sarcastically.
Tanisha begins pillaging the pubic hair around his groin. His balls were the worst part, as she stretched them and it felt as if she tore them off.
“OK, finished,” she finally declares.
Brad sits up wondering if he still has a dick, and stares at his now bald genitals thinking he’s looking at a kid’s dick for a moment. Tanisha must’ve noticed his shock.
“I bet you thought shaving that hair would make it look bigger,” she said. “Well, now, you know the truth. It makes your dick look like a toddler’s pee-pee. I pity the poor biatch who wants to marry that. Get dressed, I don’t wanna look at it anymore, it’s making me feel sick.”
Brad slides off the table and goes to where his clothes were to find them gone.
“What the fuck, where are my clothes?” he said wide-eyed.
*****
This is the first chapter of The Cut, buy the eBook to read the whole story or join our Members Area to read all our stories.
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