A Blonde’s Dream Come True

This is my first story- I hope you guys like it ! Please give me feedback

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Having a forced hair fetish is rough. You can’t just walk in to a barbershop one day and ask them to shave your head. No, that wouldn’t be force. You need it to happen outside of your control. But how? That question has been on my mind for the better part of the past few years.
Hi, I’m Clara, and I have a forced headshave fetish. I’m 27, have long blonde hair, and live in the great city of New York. I’ve had a fetish for a while now. My fetish started when I was a teen, but that’s a story for a whole other time. For now, all you need to know is that I’ve never had the courage to do anything crazy with my hair. I’ve kept my hair long and healthy for years, never getting more than a trim. But I’ve decided it’s time for a change. I can’t take it anymore. I need to do something about this fetish. This is the story of how that happens.
My plan started with an app- Tinder.
All I needed was someone with the right personality. Aggressive, dominant, and jealous. I set up my Tinder account on Friday night and waited until Sunday to check it. I opened the app to find over 1,000 matches, which definitely would give me plenty of options. One by one I started swiping. Good guys to the left, bad guys to the right. Basically I swiped on anyone with enough red flags on his profile to play flag football. And boy there were quite the options. I could feel myself one step closer to my fantasy.
I’d check the app before bed each night. On Tuesday night I got a gross first message from this guy named Brad. Classic finance bro who thinks he’s entitled to be an asshole. I played along, and before long he was pushing me to go out with him. Not this weekend, not next, no- tomorrow night. Right away I knew this guy had what I needed.
We went out to Veronika, a really high end restaurant in Flatiron, and Brad treated me to the meal. I didn’t really like him though, having a conversation with him felt like pulling teeth. At one point he yelled at the guy at the table next to us for looking at me. But I stuck it out. At the end of the night, Brad invited me to his place. That was the last place I had wanted to go, but I did anyway. Of course we had sex, but it was more a “he had sex with me” than a “we had sex” kinda night.
I came home the following morning feeling gross. I had 0 interest in Brad, but he was all I needed- aggressive and dominant and jealous- the trinity.
I had to make this work. Night after night, Brad would take me out. And night after night, I’d go. He’d pleasure himself with my body, and I let him. After a few weeks, we decided that we’re officially a couple. Yup, I’m Brad’s girlfriend. Crazy- I know- but it was all part of a plan.
After about a month, I felt like it was time. I asked Brad to try a double date with my friend Chloe and her boyfriend Justin. Brad agreed. We went out to brunch on a Saturday morning. Chloe and I sat across each other, got busy with conversation, leaving Brad and Justin to talk. They seemed to get along just fine. The brunch was nice. Finally it was time to leave, we paid, got up, and started saying goodbyes. Then came the bomb. Justin reaches over to gently touch the ends of my hair and says “Clara, it was great seeing you. I just have to say how GORGEOUS your long hair is.” With that, Justin comes in for a goodbye hug, and the couple heads off. Shots fired.
I could tell something was brewing inside of Brad. He definitely wasn’t happy about it. I was glee inside though, because my plan seemed to be working. Justin didn’t just compliment my hair. I had Chloe in on my plan, and she had told Justin to compliment my hair just as he did.
Brad thought surprised me. For the asshole that he was, I thought he’d react more. Instead, he let his jealousy stir inside him, without saying a thing. Time for the next step. One night, I told Brad that I used to cut my brother’s hair, and I really missed it. I showed him some pics, to make him think I was good at it, and asked him if he’d ever let me cut his hair. He agreed. I smiled, and told him I’d order a pair of clippers.
I waited a few weeks until Brad’s hair started feeling a bit long for him. He was itching for a cut, but the clippers hadn’t arrived yet. I made him promise he’d wait until they arrived to get a haircut. The next Friday my neighbor Rebecca invited us over to her apartment for a little party. Just as we were getting ready to leave, I show Brad a cardboard box that had just come in the mail. We open it- and it’s the clippers. We set them on the kitchen table, together with all my other hair cutting tools. Everything was ready to go as soon as we came back from the party. Brad seemed to have a good time at the party, drinking a fair amount. I was just waiting for the right moment where Brad was a bit tipsy and ready to leave. As soon as Brad came close enough, Rebecca signaled to our friend Aaron. Aaron walks over, gives me a big hug hello, and then looks up and down at my blow dried hair with wide eyes. “Clara, your hair looks so pretty. I wish I had hair like yours” he chuckles and before he walks away Justin chimes in. Justin was standing next to me at that moment, as planned, and he speaks up “Clara’s hair is the hottest hair in all Manhattan, I mean just look at it!” Now came Chloe’s turn “I know! Clara your long hair makes heads turn- whether you notice it or not- don’t ever think of cutting it.” Boom. That’s all Brad needed to hear.
We leave, and Brad was visibly upset. “Why the f*ck does everyone comment on your hair Clara?! They should mind their own business” My plan was working. All I needed was to stir the pot more. “Well Brad, it’s not my fault my hair is so long and pretty. People like blondes. What can I do?” With that, we open the door to my apartment. “You can cut your hair short… that’s for one” I motion to Brad to sit by the kitchen table. As he approaches the table I respond “But Brad, even if I have short hair men will still look at me. Think of all the actresses with short hair” I bend over to plug in the clippers and turn them on, setting them on the table. “Heck, if I have any hair it’ll probably still make heads turn. I mean just look at me!”
I sit down as if to let Brad take good look at me. Brad suddenly snaps. He reaches for the clippers and goes straight for my head. “No more hair for you Clara” the cold blades of the clippers forcefully hit my forehead. The clippers emit a loud angry rumble as they start chewing through my hair. I jerk back, only to be grabbed by Brad’s hands like he’s holding a football. The clippers spit out the fist golden lock of hair, which starts cascading downwards. At first slowly, then quickly. Finally, it reaches the floor, and lays there lifelessly. “BRAD WHAT?!” I yell. “I’m shaving your head Clara. You’re mine now” I couldn’t have imagined how aroused I’d feel when hearing those words. Here he was, this aggressive angry man, peeling the golden locks of hair off my head- without my permission. I was electrified. But then again, I also felt the terror of actually losing my hair. I’ve never had short hair, never had the courage to cut it, and my hair had always been the treasure of any man I’d dated. This was scary. I let the fear take over, and decided to resist, as futile as it was.
“WHY are you doing this to me Brad?!”
“I can’t take it Clara. Everywhere we go you catch other guys’ attention. Enough. You’re my girlfriend now, and nobody else will look at you”
The buzzer was loud, humming with an angry tone. I had chosen the most powerful balding clippers I could find for today, and it wasn’t disappointing. Combine it with the force and speed with which Brad was working and it felt like I was an army recruit getting my head shaved by some indifferent barber with thousands of recruits on line.
“Buzzz”
“Buzz”
The humming filled the room. The buzzing continued. Brad worked mercilessly. I felt uneasy seeing a pile of hair building on the floor. On the inside, I was being gratified though. This is what I wanted deep down. This is what I had fantasized about. And it was finally happening.
I was shaken back to reality when the clippers fell silent. The deed was done. All I had to do was to look into the mirror to confirm. But just then Brad came around front and turned the clippers right back on.
“Close your eyes” he commanded. I obeyed, but I was scared. What could he want now? It’s not like I could see what he was doing. All I could hear were the clippers getting louder as they approached my head. Brad grabbed my jaw so I couldn’t move, and then I felt it. The clippers went into my eyebrows. Brad was shaving them off. It only took him two passes, first with the grain and then against. Silence. The clippers shut off. I never imagined Brad going this far. My eyebrows were a part of my face- my look. I spent so much time tweezing, shaping and grooming them- and now they were gone.
As I sat there mourning the loss of my eyebrows, Brad shoved his phone into my hands. It was open to the selfie camera, and I saw it. My once golden locks were replaced by an uneven patch of stubble. My manicured eyebrows – now nonexistent. Brad was silent. He simply said he’ll catch me later, and walked out of my apartment. That was the last time I saw Brad.
The truth, I’m not sure if I was hurt or relieved. One one hand, I was only using Brad to make my fetish a reality. On the other, I kinda felt a bond with him after that night. Something like a Stockholm syndrome maybe, but a part of me wanted Brad to stick around, to take me places, and shave me down from time to time. I wanted to be his pet, dominated by his aggressive personality. I don’t really know what happened with him- he never responded to my texts after then. I guess he realized I wasn’t a gorgeous blonde without my hair. But one thing is for sure, he made my hair dreams come true.

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