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rugtopper · 6 months ago

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LOVING UNCLE VAL

By Rugtopper

I had debated all day whether or not I was going to talk to my uncle. When he finally came home that evening from an art exhibition, I waited until he had finished in his bedroom before I finally knocked on his bedroom door.

"Wait just a moment, Anthony. I'm in the bathroom."

I waited another minute or so and then my uncle told me to come in.

I sat down on the end of the bed and waited to say what I wanted to say while I watched my uncle. My Uncle Valentine Carminello was standing in front of his dresser mirror removing his cufflinks and button studs from his tuxedo shirt. He had removed his tuxedo pants. Even though his shirt was loose, I could clearly see his traditional athletic undershirt beneath it. He was still wearing his black thick and thin socks, his double grip sock garters, and his opera court shoes. I could also see he was wearing boxer shorts that were almost knee-length with little burgundy medallions all over them. Being Italian, he had the most luscious head of jet black hair. Although on closer inspection, it was obvious that his hair was really a toupee. As it was 1978, his toupee was the best Kanekalon fiber money could buy. It was thick and full and brushed off the forehead in an Italian pompadour. It was styled with an off-the-forehead upsweep. If you got very close you could see the mesh foundation base. I was in awe.

"Did you enjoy the art exhibition, Uncle Val?"

"It wasn't bad, Anthony. It was an eclectic mix. Now, Anthony, what is the matter with you? You have been in a mood all day long. Did you do well on that science test?"

"I made a B minus on the test, but I got an A plus on the lab work. That's not why I've been in a weird mood lately."

"Well, I'm proud of you. Now, what is wrong?"

"I don't know how to tell you."

"Well, you don't look sick. What is going on?"

I just sat there looking down, unable to really say what I really wanted to say.

"Well . . ."

I just blurted out, "I want my hair to look like yours, Uncle Val."

"Anthony, look at me. Look at my hair. Now I know that you are fully aware that my hair is not really my own hair. You are old enough to know that this is a toupee."

"I know, Uncle Val, but I love how it looks and I love you. I just want to look like you."

"Oh, Anthony I love you, too, but you are only 13 years old. You are too young for a toupee. Besides, you have nice pretty hair just like your mom had."

We just sat there for a few moments. Finally I looked up at my uncle and asked, "do you know why we were late to the funeral service?"

"That was ages ago, Anthony . You were only six. How could I remember. I don't recall that we were late for the funeral, Anthony. They were not going to start without us. I just remember how handsome you looked in your little suit."

"Uncle Val, we were late because I kept trying to make my hair look like yours. Dad always made fun of it. I didn't know when I was six what a toupee was. I just knew I liked how nice it looked."

"Anthony, your dad never liked me even before he married my sister, your mom. I didn't want them to get married, but your mom insisted on marrying him. When they started fighting, she made sure she named me as your guardian. Four months later, they had that horrible car wreck that killed them and put you in the hospital for weeks."

"I know. I don't know why I want to have hair like yours. I just would like mine to look like yours."

"Anthony, look at me." He reached up and started slowly removing his toupee. I couldn't believe how bald he was. I hadn't seen him without his toupee in a few years. He had always tried to keep me from seeing him without it. "Take a close look, Anthony. Do you really want to be like this? Does this have to do with your friends? Your friend Danny's grandfather wears a toupee, so does your friend Marty's eldest brother. Is that what this is about?"

"How do you know about them?"

"They both go to the same barber as I do. Is this what this is about?"

"Not exactly. I don't know. I just know that I'd like to have one."

"Anthony, do you really want to be bald and wear a toupee? Do you really want to put up with the snide remarks behind your back like that I get? What about swimming and roller coasters? Yeah, you can enjoy them, but there is always the fear that you might have a mishap and be embarrassed. Then there is the fact that someone might want to run their fingers through your hair someday. Do you want to have to endure that potential humiliation? I don't think you have even begun to think about what is involved with something like this."

As he finished telling me all that, he got up from the bed, took his toupee and put it on its leather wig stand on his dresser. There was a slightly longer one just beside it. He came back to the end of the bed, put on his robe, sat down, and removed his shoes, garters, and socks. He slipped on his house shoes and went to the kitchen. I followed him. He filled the kettle from the tap and got two mugs. He was going to make chamomile tea. I knew we weren't through talking.

"Anthony, you are a sweet boy, but you haven't got a clue what you think you want."

"You may be right. I guess I'm being silly, wanting my hair to look like yours."

"Of course I'm right. Now, drink your tea and tell me more about this science lab. You're a better student than I ever was. I nearly blew my science lab up when I was your age."

I went to bed that night, but I still couldn't get the idea out of my head. I decided to try talking to Uncle Val again after school. It went slightly better only because Uncle Val made a concession.

"Come here, Anthony. Put on my spare," Uncle Val said to me after I talked to him the next day. I went into his bedroom. I sat at the little built-in vanity. He took the spare toupee off its stand and put it on top of my head. It felt funny with my mop of dark wavy hair bunched up underneath it. He tried to get it to stay in place and combed it. I thought it looked great, even if I was only 13.

"So, what do you think? How does it feel?"

"I don't know. I guess I would have to get used to it like you did."

He took it off and put it back on its stand.

"I'll tell you what, Anthony. When you are older, if you need it, I will do everything to help you get one. However, if, when you graduate from high school, you still want it, whether you need it or not, I will get it for you before you go off to college. Okay?"

"Okay."

With that, I didn't discuss it with him anymore. However, the desire never faded. It only grew stronger as the months and years rolled on. As I soon discovered how to pleasure myself, I realized why I might want it. That was something I certainly couldn't tell Uncle Val.

As the school years rolled by, I adopted a few other things I liked about my uncle. He took me to buy some underclothes and a pair of garters. He thought it was funny when I dyed my dark brown hair black, but he didn't make fun of me.

The week of my high school graduation, I asked him if he remembered what he had promised me when I was only 13. I reminded him that he said that he would get me a toupee whether I needed one or not after I graduated from school. I asked him for one as a graduation present before I went off to college.

"What! Are you crazy, Anthony? Look at you. Most guys would be jealous of a head of hair like yours. Hell, I'm jealous. Why on earth would you want to get rid of it only to cover up with a cheap facsimile? It doesn't make any sense."

"You're right, Uncle Val. It doesn't make any sense. I don't understand it at all, but you promised. Will you take me to your barber next week after I graduate?"

Uncle Val just stood there . He hadn't changed much in the past six years. His toupee was just as dark and full. It was still a synthetic fiber, though I don't know what kind. He finally walked over to the phone and called his barber. He was on the phone for quite some time. When he got off the phone, he looked at me and said, "you have an appointment a week from Friday."

I know I smiled and said thank you. I probably also got a bit excited in other ways. I wasn't really thinking clearly.

Finals and graduation flew by without incident. I was 25th in my class.

When Friday came, I was excited and nervous and scared. I had no idea what was going to happen. Over the years I had gone to the barbershop with Uncle Val. I had watched him get his real hair trimmed while he sat there very bald and embarrassed. I would look at the hairpiece magazines. Sometimes I'd take a few home to look at while I played with myself. Sometimes Danny's grandfather was there. Sometimes Marty's eldest brother was there. Danny's grandfather was at least 60. His toupee was this pewter or silvery gray that was very thick. Marty's eldest brother was named Jon. He was about an inch shorter than Marty. He wore a brown toupee with a traditional left-sided part. I couldn't believe how bald he was when the barber removed his toupee to trim his fringe. Marty and I had turned 18 a few weeks apart. Jon had to have been 26 or 27. Marty never told me when Jon got his first toupee. I was going to wait and ask him myself after I got mine.

After all the customers had left, Uncle Val began talking with the barber. About ten minutes later, he motioned for me to get in the chair. He had a toupee exactly like Uncle Val's, only it was light brown. There was some gray on the sides and in the back, but none in the toupee. He began combing my hair in various directions. Finally he got these long clips and began to segment my hair. He took a pair of scissors and a narrow-toothed comb. He started giving me a regular haircut on the sides above my ears and in the back. He was extremely quick. In less than 15 minutes, he was completely done. I had a traditional businessman's haircut that would have been acceptable in any corporate setting around the globe. He put down the comb and scissors and walked to a cabinet a few feet away. He opened to reveal a dozen wig stands on three different shelves. He took two identical off the third shelf and carried them over to the ledge across from the chair from where I was sitting. They were similar in style to the barber's and Uncle Val's, but they were a dark brown like what my natural hair color had been before I dyed it.

He took the clips out of the hair on top. He got clippers, turned them on, and began removing all the hair on the top of my head. He made several passes from back to front as sheets of my dyed black hair fell onto the clear, see-through cape. With each pass, I saw more and more scalp. After the third pass, he got a small electric razor and ran it back and forth across the top of my head. I had dreamed of this moment. Now that it was finally happening, I did not know how to respond. I just sat silently in awe of my new look. He must have told me to get up because Uncle Val had to call my name and tap me on the shoulder. The barber led me to the sink. He shampooed my hair. It had an almost acrid, pungent odor. I soon discovered that it was to remove the black dye. After he applied a heavy cream conditioner to my hair and scalp, he left me with my head in the basin for almost five minutes. After he rinsed me, he applied another heavy cream, but only to the top of my scalp. It felt like my scalp was on fire. He told me this would kill the hair follicles for several weeks making it easier to wear the toupee on a day-to-day basis. When he said that I suddenly got the most uncontrollable erection I had ever had in public. Tipped backward in that chair, there was no way to hide it. The barber just smiled and made a comment about me being like my uncle. After he rinsed the depilatory from my scalp, he led me back to the barber's chair. I got a good look at the new me. I was bald. I was almost as bald as Uncle Val. I didn't look 18. I didn't know how old I looked, but it wasn't anything like a teenager should look.

The fitting, and the cutting, and the styling took quite some time. Despite his swiftness, it took over an hour to "cut-in" both of my new hairpieces. He dealt with both exactly the same way. There was very little styling involved. They were mesh based just like Uncle Val's. There was a perimeter of hardened plastic where the barber applied a heavy double-sided tape. He used thinning shears to taper and blend the sides and back into the fringe hair. He never trimmed the main body of my new toupees. Lastly, he rolled this machine over and plugged it in. It looked like a portable IV drip that you would see in the hospital except this had a huge two gallon container at the bottom full of water with a hose attached to something that looked like it came off a vacuum cleaner. He told me it was a steamer that is used for clothes, but it worked well on hairpieces. He turned it on. In less than two minutes, steam was coming out of the hose. He took the vacuum cleaner attachment in his hand and with a brush began styling my new hair. I could feel my toupee ever so slightly lift as he used the steamer and the brush to "shape" my new hair into the same style he and Uncle Val also had.

When he finished with the second toupee, he put the spare wig on its stand and the other empty stand in two sacks. Uncle Val paid and we left the barbershop. Uncle Val had me place the sacks in his trunk. When we got into the car, he looked over at me and said, "well, Anthony, is it everything you thought it would be?"

I didn't really know what to say or what he expected me to say. Finally, I looked in the vanity mirror at my new hair.

"I like how it looks, but it feels different than what I had expected it to feel like. I'm also slightly nervous because I'm actually bald underneath my new toupee."

"Well, you said this is what you wanted. You better plan on wearing it for a very long time. I don't want you to leave the house without it taped to your head. Do you understand me? So, are you ready to face the public as a young man in a rug?"

"What?"

"I thought I'd take you out to dinner. I know graduation was last week, but I think you need to get used to wearing it out in public as soon as possible. Danny and his grandfather, Tom, and Jon and Marty are meeting us at the restaurant. Danny and Marty were at the barbershop earlier this morning. I think they will want you to see their new look, and they will want to see your new look, as well."

I just turned and stared at my uncle and finally said, "I love you, Uncle Val!"

"I know, Anthony. I love you, too."

Six handsome men of various ages sat around a huge table at a popular local steakhouse in 1984. It was no different than other people eating out on any given night, except these six men all shared an uncommon, but fairly obvious secret. Sadly, they were also oblivious to the fact that most anyone with basic observation skills could deduce that special secret.

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