EllaRazor
Emma stared at her reflection in the glass window as she sat in the barber’s chair, feeling like every passing stranger could see her, judge her. The shop was right there, exposed to the mall’s bustling walkway—no privacy, no chance to hide. She nervously adjusted the hem of her modest navy skirt, which fell just below her knees. The cream blouse she wore was neatly tucked in, her soft cardigan wrapped around her like a security blanket. She’d dressed modestly, as always, hoping to keep a low profile.
She didn’t belong here, and the thought echoed loudly in her mind. The edgy, dark vibe of the shop contrasted starkly with her modest outfit, wrapped around her as if it could shield her from the coming storm.
But here she was, on display, about to do something so out of character that it made her stomach turn. There there was no hiding from this.
Emma had always been the good girl—the one who followed the rules, listened to her parents, never took risks. Her long brown hair had been a part of that identity. It was safe, predictable, beautiful in its simplicity. Her parents loved it. She was supposed to love it too. And for the longest time, she had.
But there was a rebellious part of her, a part that wanted to break free, to do something reckless. Something like this. That’s how she ended up here, booking a head shave at a trendy barber shop in the middle of Roosevelt Field Mall. For the thrill of it. Some might see she had a little fetish. Like stepping onto a rollercoaster she wasn’t sure she should ride. Her heart pounded, wondering how she’d even gotten this far. Her parents didn’t know. No one knew.
And then there was Alexa.
The barber strode over to Emma with an almost predatory confidence, her grin a mix of excitement and something darker. Alexa’s jet-black hair was buzzed into a tight skin fade, sharp and aggressive, with ink crawling up her arms. She had an intensity about her, a rough confidence, as if she knew exactly how far she could push the boundaries and take pleasure in doing so. Alexa’s long, sharp nails gleamed under the shop lights—dark burgundy, meticulously manicured, adding an extra edge to her already intimidating presence. She wore a sleek black crop top that revealed her navel piercing, black leather leggings that left little to the imagination, and patent leather heels that ominously made her presence known. There was an air about her that screamed bold, rebellious, everything Emma was not. And Emma could feel Alexa’s excitement—it was palpable.
“You ready?” Alexa asked, her voice clipped. There was no small talk, no easing into it. Alexa’s eyes gleamed with a mixture of curiosity and hunger, like she knew this was going to be fun.
Emma felt her throat tighten. Was she ready? No. Not even close. But she nodded anyway, knowing it was too late to back out. “Yeah… I’m ready,” she whispered, though the tremble in her voice said otherwise.
“So, full head shave, right?” Alexa asked, but it wasn’t really a question. There was no kindness in her tone, just a kind of dark thrill. Her hands were already gripping the clippers, as if she couldn’t wait to start.
Emma swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. “Umm… so … I’d like… short for summer?”
Emma had it all planned out. She’d thought about this for months. She knew she had booked herself for a head shave, but it was just for the thrill of it. She imagined she’d just ask the stylist for something short and end up leaving with a cute bob, maybe even a long pixie cut. She has played the scene out in her head already and rehearsed it countless times. “Short for summer” is what she’d ask for, and she’d get a little refresh. The vague statement would ensure the stylist would be a little cautious. No stylist would just look at her appointment booking and cut her hair without asking. No, they’d ask what she wanted and she’d leave with a cute new look. And along the way Emma would get to share the thrill of almost trying something crazy.
Alexa smirked at that, clearly unimpressed with the hesitation. “Oh, we’re going way shorter than that,” she said, her voice low and firm. Without warning, Alexa grabbed a handful of Emma’s long hair and yanked her head forward. “Ouch!” The motion was rough, almost careless, like Alexa had no interest in making this easy for her. “Hold still,” Alexa said sharply, as she grabbed the clippers, flicking them on with a loud buzz that seemed to reverberate through Emma’s bones. The sound alone made Emma’s hands clench the armrests of the chair.
The buzzing filled her ears, and Emma’s panic flared. Her skin prickled with anxiety, her body stiffening in the chair. She wasn’t ready. She wanted to tell Alexa to stop, to wait, to give her more time—but the words wouldn’t come. She just sat there, mute with fear, while the clippers hummed ominously in the background.
Alexa didn’t bother with pleasantries. Her burgundy nails combed through Emma’s long brown hair, almost casually, before gripping a thick section of it and pulling her head forward. The tug was firm, almost rough, like Alexa was in control now, and Emma could only follow along.
“I’ll tell you one thing, I didn’t expect my 10 o’clock headshave to be such a girly girl” Alexa muttered with a smirk. “But trust me, you won’t be leaving looking like this. And you’ll look much better without all that fucking hair.” After a brief pause Alexa snickered “Oh, and a word of advice- ditch the long skirts and sweaters. You’ll thank me later. You look like a fucking grandma”
Emma swallowed hard, the weight of those words pressing down on her. Alexa didn’t know her. Didn’t know how much Emma had clung to her hair, how it had always been her comfort zone. This wasn’t just a haircut—it was her identity being stripped away.
Without hesitation, Alexa pushed Emma’s head forward, exposing the back of her neck. The motion was sharp, assertive. Emma winced sharply as she felt the swipe of the clippers bite into her hair. “Ahhh”. It was harsher than she had imagined, the sight of her beautiful chestnut locks cascading to the floor unbearable. Chunk after chunk of her long brown locks tumbled down, leaving her head feeling colder with each brutal pass.
The long, soft strands that had always been her comfort fell away, tumbling onto the floor in heavy chunks. She could feel the cool air hitting the back of her neck immediately, and the sensation made her want to curl in on herself, to disappear.
Her heart raced, and the panic flared again. This was really happening. She was losing it all. “Oh God, this was a mistake.” She whimpered.
But Alexa showed no mercy, not even pausing as she moved the clippers higher, taking more and more of Emma’s hair with each pass. She worked quickly, the clippers buzzing in relentless strokes, leaving a short, ragged buzz in their wake. It felt like the world was closing in around her, and she was powerless to stop it.
The clipper experience was brutal. Emma felt the clippers bite into her hair, ripping through it with ease. She could feel the weight of her hair falling away in thick chunks, tumbling to the floor in heaps. Each pass of the clippers stripped her down further, the buzzing sound in her ears making her want to sink through the floor. She was on full display, her transformation visible to anyone passing by the shop.
Emma’s eyes darted to the window again. People were walking by, glancing in. Some slowing down to watch. She felt humiliated, completely exposed. She wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to go.
Tears pricked at Emma’s eyes, but she forced herself to hold them back. She couldn’t cry, not here, not like this. People were watching. She could feel their eyes on her through the window. Her haircut was a public spectacle now, her embarrassment laid bare for everyone to see. “What are they thinking? Do they pity me?” Emma thought.
Alexa was relentless, working quickly and without any sign of hesitation. “You’re gonna look so badass when we’re done,” Alexa said, but it wasn’t a compliment—it was a fact. She was enjoying this, savoring the transformation.
Emma tried to fight the tears welling up in her eyes, but it was hard. Her fingers dug into the chair as more of her hair fell away, leaving her with nothing but a buzzed shadow of what had once been her soft, feminine waves. She looked horrible already. Her parents would freak out. She wasn’t supposed to be this kind of girl—the one with an edgy buzz cut. This was wrong. So, so wrong. The reflection staring back at her in the mirror was barely recognizable now—her scalp was exposed, her once long, flowing hair reduced to little more than stubble.
Alexa, of course, wasn’t finished. “Don’t worry, we’re just getting started,” Alexa said, her voice almost teasing. With a casual smirk, she grabbed a hot towel and wrapped it tightly around Emma’s freshly buzzed scalp. The heat seeped into her skin, but it didn’t relax her. It only reminded her of what was coming next—the final step. Her head was going to be shaved. Completely bald. There would be nothing left.
Alexa seemed to be reveling in Emma’s discomfort, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she wiped away the towel and began slathering shaving cream onto Emma’s scalp. “This is my favorite part” Alexa muttered, her voice low. “Once we’re done, you’re going to turn heads for sure.”
Emma couldn’t speak. Her throat was tight with fear, her heart pounding as she watched Alexa pick up the straight razor. The blade flashed under the lights, and Emma’s stomach churned. She was trapped. No turning back now. Alexa tilted her head to the side, and the first scrape of the razor sent a chill down Emma’s spine. “Hold still,” Alexa barked, her voice suddenly sharper. Her long nails scraped Emma’s scalp as she adjusted her head, roughly pushing her chin up to get a better angle. There was no softness in her touch, no kindness. Alexa was in her element, and she seemed to enjoy every second of Emma’s discomfort. The sound was agonizingly slow, each stroke peeling away the last remnants of who she had been.
Her scalp felt bare, raw, as the razor moved over her skin. Emma’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back, trying to stay composed. But how could she? She was losing everything—her hair, her identity. The worst part was that Alexa seemed to be enjoying every second of it. Emma’s transformation wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, and it felt like she was being torn apart.
Alexa’s manicured nails moved deftly, spreading the cream in even strokes, and Emma caught a glimpse of her wicked smile reflected in the mirror. The barber was clearly enjoying herself. There was no hesitation as Alexa maneuvered the straight razor, the blade gleaming under the lights.
“Time to finish what we started,” Alexa murmured, leaning in as she tilted Emma’s head down. The razor scraped against the top of her scalp with a slow, deliberate stroke, the sound sharp and agonizingly slow. Emma winced, feeling every inch of hair being peeled away. Alexa was taking her time now, savoring each pass of the blade, as if she knew the impact it was having on Emma.
Tears blurred Emma’s vision, but she blinked them back, biting her lip to keep from breaking down completely. The sensation of the blade gliding over her scalp was too much—it was terrifying, humiliating, and so final. She could feel her last traces of hair being shaved away, leaving nothing but smooth, bare skin in its place.
The razor moved over her scalp in long, precise strokes, and with each one, Emma felt a piece of herself slipping away. Her tears welled up again, this time unstoppable. They fell freely down her cheeks, hot and stinging, but Alexa didn’t stop. The razor kept gliding, methodically stripping her of the last remnants of her long brown hair.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Alexa wiped away the remaining foam and applied a cold balm to Emma’s smooth scalp. The sensation was chilling, a stark contrast to the heat of the towel, and it only made Emma more aware of how exposed she was now.
“All done,” Alexa said, stepping back with a triumphant grin. She tossed the towel aside, her burgundy nails catching the light as she admired her handiwork. “You can stop crying now. I fixed you up.”
But as Emma stared at her reflection, all she saw was a stranger. Her scalp was bare, gleaming under the lights, her face sharp and vulnerable without the soft frame of her hair. She looked awful. Worse than she had imagined. Her parents were going to lose it, and she couldn’t even blame them. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t who she was.
The tears came harder now, and she couldn’t stop them. She didn’t care that people walking by might see. She didn’t care that Alexa was watching. She had made a mistake, and now, she had nothing left.
In a final act of misguided consolation, Alexa leaned closer and deftly shaved a slit into Emma’s eyebrows, her expression gleeful. “This is the cherry on top,” she said, almost as if she were adding the final touch to a masterpiece. “A little badass touch”
Emma wanted to scream, wanted to tell Alexa how wrong she was, but the words wouldn’t come. The razor glided once more, and with it, Emma felt her last ties to her identity slip away. Her tears fell freely now, and she couldn’t stop them. She looked hideous, the very picture of someone who had lost everything.
When Emma looked at her reflection, all she saw was a stranger. Her scalp was completely exposed, every angle of her face now on display without the soft frame of her hair to hide behind. She wasn’t bold. She wasn’t edgy. She was scared. Her eyes welled up, and this time, the tears spilled over, hot and heavy down her cheeks.
Alexa didn’t seem to care. “Hey, it’s just hair. You’ll get used to it.”
But Emma wasn’t sure if she ever would.
