[Author's Note: This is a male haircut fetish story and revolves around three guys getting their hair cut [or wrecked] in a public setting! If you find yourself reading on don't be disappointed by the lack of explicit content. Although it goes big on the haircutting action, it's a pretty vanilla story which was a lot of fun to write but it's totally SFW, sort of...
'Locks & Stocks' is set in present-day Los Angeles. Bamboo Lane exists but alas there is no Blue Dragon theater and, even worse, no show called 'Locks & Stocks'! The two main characters, the unnamed narrator and his friend and colleague, Devin, will reappear in another story chronicling their time on the infamous TV show, 'Dare Your Hair?', which is referenced in passing. Thanks for reading, should you choose to do so! - HF]
I - At the Blue Dragon Theater
We'd had a relatively quiet week at the studios when Devin walked into the apartment excitedly waving a small piece of colored paper.
"Oh man, check this out!" he exclaimed as he handed me the sheet. It was a flyer advertising a new show at the Blue Dragon Chinese Theater in Bamboo Lane over in Chinatown. And this is what it said:
"Locks & Stocks - The Live Haircut Spectacle!
Step back in time and witness the ultimate test of courage.
Join us in our dungeon for a thrilling game of trivia where volunteers risk losing it all to the merciless Gaoler. Will they emerge unscathed or will they fall victim to the shears?
Experience the suspense, humor, and sheer excitement of live theater in a unique medieval setting!
Don't miss your chance to be part of the action at 'Locks & Stocks' and win a Big Cash Prize!
Reserve your seat now for an unforgettable evening where history meets haircuts.
Two complimentary drinks with each ticket sold!
Every Saturday evening at 21:30hrs - The Blue Dragon, Bamboo Lane."
As specialists in the removal of men's hair, the sound of this new show instantly aroused our curiosity. Devin got two tickets and the following Saturday we headed over to Chinatown.
It was dark by the time we arrived in Bamboo Lane. The front of the theater was elaborately carved to resemble a giant blue dragon's head, framed by gold pillars, its eyes illuminated with lamps behind green glass. The dragon's gaping mouth formed the theater's entrance, either side of which hung dozens of glowing, red paper lanterns which swung gently in the warm breeze.
As Devin and I shuffled inside along with the other ticket holders, we couldn't help but wonder what exactly this 'live haircut spectacle' would involve.
The crowd seemed to be made up of people about our own age, late 20s, early 30s, some younger and a few who were a little older. The majority seemed to be groups of men but there were couples too and even a few groups of women on a night-out.
We mingled for several minutes in the foyer, contributing to the babble of excitable voices, before heading over to the bar to guzzle our complimentary drinks. We then filtered past some big pots filled with leafy bamboo and on into the main auditorium.
The Blue Dragon wasn't a large theater, its 500 seats constructed in tiers to form the shape of a horseshoe around a small stage. The stage itself was only elevated about twelve inches off the floor, giving everyone a perfect view of the action.
The main set lived up to the promise of the flyer. It really did look like a medieval dungeon. The rough-stone walls seemed to drip with moisture and were dotted with half-a-dozen flickering torches, the 'flames' being red and orange silk that fluttered upwards using a system of compressed air.
Flagstones stained with mildew covered the floor. To the left was a wooden podium that looked like a medieval church pulpit. A pointed archway on the right was filled by an oak door studded with iron rivets.
But what made me and Devin look at each other with barely suppressed excitement, eyebrows raised, was the huge medieval pillory that was anchored to the center of the stage. Constructed of solid oak with heavy iron fittings, the pillory dominated the entire set.
Devin thought it was stocks, but it wasn't. Stocks were designed to secure a person's feet and ankles. The pillory was different and was intended to hold a guy fast using just his head and his hands. It was one of my favorite inventions of the Middle Ages. I guessed 'Locks & Pillory' didn't have quite the same ring to it.
My heart started to beat a little faster as the implications of what we were seeing began to sink in. I quietly thanked Devin for booking us front row seats. We weren't going to miss a single thing.
The lights of the auditorium dimmed as everyone settled into their seats. The studded oak door to the right slowly creaked open and a figure solemnly walked through dressed head to toe in black robes. His face was almost entirely obscured by a monk's cowl pulled up over his head with only his mouth and bearded chin left visible.
The figure processed across the stage to the pulpit on the opposite side, and then stood there in silence, head bowed, hands clasped in front of him, as if in prayer. The audience murmured with curiosity.
Suddenly the door opened again and a second figure appeared. I guessed this was the Gaoler. And this guy was huge. He must've been 6ft 7, at least. I wondered if he had a background in wrestling or even body-building as it was that kind of physique, but toned, not a trace of flab.
He looked about 35, maybe a little older, his black hair tightly shorn down into a clipper-shaved buzzcut. His face was extremely handsome, in an aggressive, threatening kind of way, a hint of black stubble around his square jawline. His huge chest was covered in a curling carpet of black fur that stretched from his hairy armpits and down towards the crotch of his dark leather pants. Running across his huge pecs, under his pits and back around the shoulders was a thick leather harness.
The harness honestly made him look like some sort of farmyard animal that had been prepared to draw a plough: a bull or a cart horse. Something bestial and massive.
Around his waist was strapped a leather utility belt that held combs, rechargeable hair clippers, and a couple of gigantic shears. And these weren't scissors. No, these were definitely shears. Huge steel shears with blades that were twelve inches long. Finally, on one of his bulging biceps, was a large colorful tattoo of an ouroboros, a snake eating its own tail in an eternal cycle of destruction and rebirth.
You would not want to get on the wrong side of this dude. He just emanated an aura of intense, almost pungent masculinity. When I looked at him just one word came into my mind: 'domination'. Within the small confines of the Blue Dragon theater, his physical presence was overwhelming.
Having made his entrance, the Gaoler went to stand next to the pillory in the center of the stage from where he glowered at the audience from beneath his thick, black eyebrows, arms folded.
The Monk, I'm guessing he was our host, reached beneath the pulpit and drew something out. Holding it up in the air, it looked like a wad of paper, less than an inch thick and bound together with a paper collar.
He riffled through it casually with the ball of his thumb.
"One thousand dollars!" he declared, in a surprisingly deep voice. "One thousand dollars in new five dollar bills!"
The Monk was looking for a volunteer, from the audience, and the thousand bucks was the bait.
II - When Ethan Volunteered
The audience stirred, the scent of cash permeating through the studio. It was like blood in the water.
"One thousand dollars!" the Monk repeated.
He then began to chant:
"In the pillory, one shall stand, To test wit and skill, hand in hand. Three riddles, a test of mental might, Answer two true, claim fortune's light!"
