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Hypnotic Barber Turns Nerd Into Hairy Jock

by Jackstock

Corey was always a book nerd. But after meeting an infamous new barber, he becomes muscular, hairy, and begins to love sports.

Corey had never truly cared about appearances. He was what he was, and that seemed ok to him. Sure, others might see him as too thin, too gawky, perpetually lost in a book, but it was simply who he was.

He had never known any different, after all.


Ever since he was a kid, he had been too sickly to participate in sports like the other boys in his class, and even as he grew, Corey didn’t develop muscles easily either. He remained rangy all through high school, pale from spending too much of his time in the library.


Today, though, he had decided to finally listen to his mom and go to the barber shop. His hair had gotten a bit long for comfort, and usually that meant going over to his mother’s house for a trim, but the older woman sighed at the idea.


“Come on, baby, you should pamper yourself a bit,” she said, offering her son a nice cup of coffee. He was almost completely hairless from the neck down, something that added to that geekish appearance he had dealt with all his life. “Get a new, hip haircut. I noticed a barbershop just opened up a few blocks away, why don’t you give it a try?”


A perpetual mamma’s boy, Corey couldn’t find the determination to argue with the woman who had raised him. It seemed to always go that way for him. So he meekly nodded and once his tea was finished, Corey stepped out onto the street, following his mother’s directions.


It wouldn’t be so bad, he told himself. Just a few minutes on the chair. He wouldn’t even have to make too much of a conversation, right? Corey was socially awkward, the idea of small talk put him on edge.


The barbershop was everything he might have imagined. Cool, sporty, with an owner that looked like he would belong in any sports league. He was tall and broad-shouldered, muscular, a macho sort if he had ever seen one. He was also hairy beyond belief.


“Here for a trim, boy?” the barber asked him, and Corey nodded meekly, flushing under that strong stare. The man was at least a full head taller than he was, and twice as broad. Corey nodded, and the barber motioned toward the chair. “I’m Hank.”


“Uhm, nice to meet you. I’m Corey. I just want to cut my hair short, neat, so I…” he began to speak, but Hank shook his head, standing before the chair. His intense stare was on him then, and Corey found himself unable to look away.


“I know what you need. Don’t worry, just sit back and relax,” Hank spoke smoothly, his voice hypnotic. It was hard, if not impossible, to focus on anything else but that bearded face. So Corey went silent and did just that: stare, while the barber began working his magic.


The sound of the scissors filled Corey’s ears, Hank’s smooth hands moving over his scalp increased that feeling of irreality. It was as if he wasn’t simply sitting on a barber’s chair any longer. It was as if he had been transported to a place where only both of them mattered. 


This man… oh, this barber, it was suddenly so clear to Corey he was everything he ever wanted to be. Maybe he always had wanted that, secretly, down in the bottom of his heart, but didn’t realize until that very moment.


“You would look so much better if you grew a beard,” the tall, muscular man told him, and suddenly it made so much sense. Yes, he would look better that way. He would look like Hank, and wasn’t that what he wanted? What he ached deep inside?


Hank continued to make eye contact, never looking away, never losing focus. He spoke in a low, masculine growl that filled Corey’s ears, his touch numbing him to any other sensations, any other thoughts.


“More hair, that’s what you need. More hair here, everywhere… don’t you think? Yes… more hair, more hair…” he continued to speak, repeating those words over and over again, almost like a mantra which surrounded him.


Corey was in a haze, his mind spinning. The idea of being like Hank, just like him, was more and amore appealing with every passing second. To be muscular, strong, hairy. To be into sports instead of books.


Why had he wasted so much time in the library to begin with? It seemed so stupid now, such a bad decision. Books seemed dull all of a sudden, and though Corey had never sat through an entire game of football in his life, he suddenly felt an urge to rush to a gym and begin bulking up.


He was a man, after all, and he was far more similar to Hank than he had ever given himself credit for.


This was it, wasn’t it? The moment he changed his life, realized that he had always been meant to be a jock.


Muscular. Hairy. Why not? It made sense, it was right.


He had never wanted something more in his entire life. It was hard to look away from that powerful stare. Impossible even. How could he do it, even if he tried? There was this magnetism about Hank.


Powerful, indomitable, hypnotizing. The scissors kept on clipping and clipping away, over and over again. That manly voice filling Corey’s ears.


And his body began to tingle then. An odd sensation that seemed to almost tug at his skin. Hair seemed to grow where there had been nothing but pale skin.


He felt so skinny all of a sudden, so lame. The idea of going to the library, of being his old geeky self seemed so impossibly stupid all of a sudden.


How much time had he lost reading books when he could have just as easily spent it at the gym, or down at the field throwing a ball? Yes, that seemed far more interesting in every sense of the word.


“You’d look good like me. More hair, don’t you think? Yes, more hair. That’s it, you want more hair, don’t you?” Hank kept on talking, his voice captivating. Corey listened, he stared, he would have nodded if he could have moved his head while getting a haircut.


Hair grew on his arms, on his chest, on his back. His legs suddenly seemed stronger, his arms larger… more muscular? Was that even possible? He didn’t know how, but it was happening, something was changing, both on the inside and out, and Corey wanted that to happen. Oh, he wanted it so badly.


Those words kept on circling endlessly around his head: Hair, hair, hair. Sports, sports, sports. Muscles, so many muscles. Strong, bulky body. Strong and firm, not like the skinny frame he used to have. 


He wasn’t skinny because he had been born that way, he was skinny because he didn’t hit the gym often enough. That was going to change, yes, he was going to change. He could feel the transformation happening already, taking over completely.


His back was hairy too, his chest looked like a porn actor from the 70s, and it felt good. It felt right, the way it always should have been. He used to be so small, so thin, gaunt even. His body hairless, pathetic.


But now? Now… hair. That was all he could think about, all he could focus on. It seemed almost like an obsession. One that had begun the instant he sat on the barber chair, the moment Hank stared deep inside his eyes and began trimming his hair.


Everything in the barbershop seemed to be designed to sink Corey further and further into a deep trance. Hank’s voice, the sporty decor all around them, the way those scissors moved at even intervals, like some kind of hypnotic magic which overpowered every single one of his senses.


“I’ll shape your beard too, just like mine. You’re going to like it,” Hank spoke smoothly, and though Corey didn’t have any facial hair when he first stepped into the barber shop, he surely did now.


A face full of hair that needed to be trimmed, shaped. He would walk out of this place with a full beard and mustache, and it felt right.


He couldn’t even focus on how strange it was that he had been hairless and slim all of his life, obsessed with books and his studies, and it all had changed in a span of a few minutes. How could he suddenly be covered in thick hair? How had it grown so quickly? Why was his mind drifting toward thoughts of sports and beer?


No, Corey had always been a smart young man, noticing small details others might overlook, but not any longer. He was lost in a new world, hypnotized into a brand new man.


There was no way to escape the spell he had fallen into, the spell this guy had pulled him into with his voice, his scissors, his manliness.


The barber kept on staring deep into his eyes. He was done with the hair and now he was focusing on shaping Corey’s new beard, making it look just like the one he was sporting.


“You’re into sports too, right? Say it… you’re into sports, just like your barber. It feels right all of a sudden, doesn’t it?” Hank continued to speak in a soft whisper, his voice engulfing Corey’s senses.


It wasn’t just his ears those smooth words filled, not any longer. Somehow they also managed to take over every other one of his senses. It was impossible, he could have told anyone who’d hear that only an hour ago. Now, now it made perfect sense. Hank and his beard, Hank and his hairy chest could make anything happen.


“Yes… I’m into sports. Yes…” Corey whispered back, his voice monotone, his eyes glazed over. He couldn’t think straight any longer, he couldn’t focus on anything but the man standing before him.


Hair, hair, hair. It covered his body now, like never before. It was thick, it was dark and smooth, and it was all over. His back, his legs, his arms, his face and neck. Especially his chest. He felt manly, and oh, it was just right in every sense of the word.


This was what he was always meant to be without knowing it. A strong, hairy man, obsessed with sports, wanting nothing but to hang out with other guys and enjoy a good game on the television, or maybe even play football himself.


Why not? It made sense, it made perfect sense. Why shouldn’t he be just like the barber? There was no better role model to Corey at that very moment, no one he wanted to be like more than him.


It was right, it was what he had always been meant to be.


“Hairy…” he whispered, lost in a trance. His chest hair curled up then too, and he knew Hank’s must look just the same. “Yes, hairy”


“That’s it,” Hank encouraged his client, as he finished trimming that thick beard. 


Corey knew where he’d go once Hank finished working his -literal- magic on him. He had, of course, planned to visit the library, but not any more. Of course not. That sounded dull, boring, stupid.


He’d hit the gym. Sign up for the most expensive plan, one where he could work out day in and day out to bulk up just like Hank. He wanted his arms to be massive, his chest to be broad, his legs to be strong. And he’d look so good then, covered in thick hair, he knew it.


His body had already changed since the moment he sat down on the chair, since the scissors began to trim at his hair, at his brand new beard. He was not slim, not any longer. But he still had a long way to go. He needed to bulk up, to work out until his body was just like Hank’s, and then come back to this barbershop.Come back and get another trim. Get a reminder of this new life he had embraced during his haircut.


Yes, that’s what he would do. It felt right, it was what he had always been meant to do, even if he hadn’t discovered that fact till he met Hank.


Hair, muscles, sports. All that mattered any longer were those simple concepts. Hair that covered his body, thick and black. Manly, the way it always should have been.


“Well, I’d say you’re done for now,” Hank spoke, and the scissors went down. Corey stood up, no longer under that heavy spell, but still influenced by it. A brand new man, one modeled after the barber himself. “But come back next month for a trim. I’ll keep shaping this beard to make it look even better than it does now.”


Corey, of course, agreed at once, and he left the barbershop a new man. Not a geek, but a jock, a sports fan. There was a great gym two blocks away. He had walked past it a million times in the past, but never paid much attention to it. Now it seemed to be the only thing in his mind.


He spent the rest of the day working out, building up those muscles Hank had granted him, making sure to begin the journey that would turn him into a perfect copy of that handsome, broad-shouldered jock.


Corey couldn’t wait to go back to that barber chair, to sit down and stare into Hank’s eyes as he worked his magic, the sound of the scissors filling his mind, hair sprouting the way it always should have.Thick, black, plentiful hair, up and down his legs, his chest, his back, his arms. All over, and especially on that beard.


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