Long2Short
Ready for the first date night in a VERY long time, wish me luck!
I snapped a selfie, then glanced at it to make sure I looked cute before I uploaded the photo and caption to my Instagram. I looked good, at 24 with a great body, wide kind smile, a gorgeous tan complexion, and bright, expressive eyes, I could admit I was quite the catch. My makeup looked good and my hair… well, my hair was effortlessly perfect… as always. Long, silky, and shiny, my hair was probably my best feature. It was a thick, beautiful fall of silk that spilled down my back in a beautiful, lustrous shade of rich, deep brown, all the way past my bra-strap and to the middle of my back, like a waterfall of melted milk chocolate.
I took a deep breath to try and alleviate the stress I was feeling over this date. I had sworn off dating for the last 3 years while I had finished college and started my career. All things considered, I was doing really well for myself, and now I was ready to jump back into the dating world and hopefully find Mr Right.
I reached up and fluffed up my hair. I had let it dry naturally and wavy for this date, but as I thought about it, I began to think that maybe my hair would look a little better today straight, so I pulled my “emergency straightener” out of my glove box, plugged it in to the charging port on my car, and began straightening my long, wavy locks into a smooth mass of shining brown silk. I chuckled as I expertly moved the straighter down the lengths of my hair, realizing that against all odds I was getting really good at having long, beautiful hair, despite the fact that I had never intended this.
My whole life my hair had been short. When I was 7, I asked my mom if I could cut my hair short and she let me, and from there… well… it remained. Over the next 14 years my hair would go through various styles, sometimes a pixie, sometimes a bob, but it never grew longer than my chin. When I had gone to college it had been in that chin-length bob, my sophomore year I had added thick, eye-length bangs to mimic Phryne Fisher, my role model, and my junior year I had cut it all off and returned to a short pixie.
I had intended to keep it there for a long time, but against my better judgment, a part of me wondered what I would look like with longer hair, so I had decided to let it grow out. By the time I started senior year my hair was back to my chin-length bob, and I debated keeping it there, but while making an appointment to get a trim I decided to see just what it was like having long hair.
By the time I graduated it had grown to my shoulder-blades, and again I debated keeping it there, but I realized that I LOVED the new length, and the feel of such soft, healthy hair. All my friends had told me I had beautiful hair, and it was a shame to not grow it out, and as it grew longer and longer, I realized they were RIGHT! So I let it ride, and I continued to grow it out. When I landed a job at my dream company a year later my hair fell to below my bra-strap, and 9 months after that it fell all the way to the small of my back. I wanted to keep growing it, but I had been doing it for so long that I DESPERATELY needed a trim.
I seethed at the idea of seeing 3 whole inches of hair being severed from my beautiful mane, but I had begrudgingly gone through with it, and the result was shinier, thicker, and even more beautiful hair than it had been before! Now I could get back to growing it even LONGER! How long I wanted to grow it was uncertain, but I knew the top of my butt was the first step in reaching my dream length, so I would start there.
As my hair had grown, I had gone from completely inept (I didn’t even know how to properly put it into a ponytail at first!) to masterfully skilled. It helped that my hair seemed to be the most cooperative hair on the planet, seemingly able to be styled in whatever style I felt like putting it in with the greatest of ease. As the years went on and I became more and more comfortable with my long hair, I wondered how long I would grow it to: my butt? My thighs? I didn’t know, but I absolutely LOVED my new long hair, and was certainly excited to find out.
I got out of the car and smoothed out my date outfit, which consisted of a sheer, see-through black blouse worn over a black tank top, and dark blue form-fitting jeans with strappy black shoes. I checked myself in the mirror, smiling and nodding as I confirmed that my hair had straightened perfectly, as always, another wonderful feature of my lustrous hair. My smile slipped slightly when I wondered if this guy I was meeting for my date (a very nice and rather attractive man named Gary who I had found online) would think I was catfishing him by using an old photo of me with my super-short college pixie cut, after all, wat if he LIKED me with short hair?
I doubted it. I had used the photo because of all the catcalling and attention my new hair generated, and I wanted to find someone who wasn’t just attracted to the traditional definition of beauty, and that included my long, shiny hair. So I had used a college photo that not only had me with my unflattering short hair, but in simple jogging clothes and very little make-up (I had been doing a half-marathon that day). This Gary guy was happy to meet up with what looked like a 4, maybe a 5 at best just because we had the same interests, so I imagine he was going to be very excited when that lady showed up looking like an 8 or a 9.
I made my way into the bar where we agreed to meet, and I spotted Gary right away at the table, nervously nursing a beer and watching the door. He smiled politely when he saw me, thinking I was someone else, then I had the pleasure of seeing him do a double-take, and then smiled as I saw his eyes widen when he realized I was the same girl in the unflattering photo I had used. My plan had worked.
“Samantha?” he asked with surprise as I walked up to him, sticking out his hand.
“Gary I take it?” I replied, and walked up to him to give him a proper hug. I felt him laugh once in shock, then reach around me for a proper hug, his hand sinking into my lush jungle of shining brown silk, and I wondered if he appreciated all the work I had put into it.
We talked, ate, and drank, and we hit it off instantly. Gary was like me, recently graduated from college and just starting out his career. He was incredibly sweet, funny, and very easy on the eyes. We talked about all sorts of things, our interests, hobbies, careers, and we had so much in common that I felt we would be great together.
At one point he even asked about my hair and asked why I had decided to grow it out. I gave him the full rundown on my hair; how I had worn it short all my life, the years of hard work growing it out, how I had fallen in love with it long, how I wanted to grow it all the way down to my butt and go from there, everything. As I spoke I could see a glint of desire in his eyes, and it became very clear that he preferred me with long hair, and couldn’t wait to see it even longer, but there was something else in that look too… something I couldn’t place.
After dinner we went walking around downtown, going nowhere in particular, and talking about anything that popped into our heads. As we spoke I made sure to toss my hair around my head quite a bit more than I normally did, and as I did I was rewarded with seeing him sneak glances at my doing it. It was clear he had a thing for long hair, and I knew seeing me with it over the short hair in the profile picture was a serious bonus for him, but I was going to be shocked when I found out why. Around 11 o’ clock ha walked me to my car, and I was getting ready to receive a kiss tonight and cap off a perfect first date when suddenly, he did the opposite.
“So listen,” he said as he held my hands, “please don’t take this the wrong way, but… I don’t think I can see you again.”
“WHAT?!?” I said flabbergasted, “what the hell man? I thought things were going great!”
“They were, they ARE!” he continued, “but if you stay with me, something bad is going to happen and I’ll never forgive myself for it.”
“Like what?” I said, still not believing this, normally I wouldn’t care if a guy didn’t want a second date, but there was something special about Gary, and somehow I knew he wanted to see me again… he was just making it hard, “what could possibly happen that you would feel so bad about?”
There was a long moment of silence where I could tell he was thinking over telling me something, then finally he nodded to himself.
“OK, alright,” he said quietly, “you deserve to know the truth, even if you don’t believe it. Did you know that everyone in the world vibrates at different frequencies?”
“You’re talking about Malcolm Dyson’s Theory of Reciprocated Vibrational Attunement,” I said, and his eyes grew wide, “physics major, remember?”
“You nailed it,” he said as he pulled out his phone and began to search for something, “so you know that different vibrational frequencies can arouse certain emotions right? Anxiety, fear, in some cases nausea.”
“Yeah of course,” I replied, watching him as he appeared to flip to some photos, “it’s one of the leading theories behind hauntings and unexplainable feelings of dread.”
“Well, apparently, I vibrate at a frequency that can cause a… bizarre side effect.”
“Like what?” I asked, wondering where he was going with this.
“I could tell you,” he said as he handed me his phone, “or I can show you.”
On his phone was a photo of a gorgeous young woman about our age with deep blue eyes and long, shiny blond hair that fell to her breasts.
“Who is she?” I asked, “she’s very beautiful.”
“That’s my last ex-girlfriend Lauren when we started dating,” Gary said as he flipped to a new photo, “and this is her after dating me for a couple months.”
He showed me the photo, and my jaw dropped. All of Lauren’s gorgeous, thick shiny hair was gone, replaced with a shining, bare head.
“What… what happened?” I asked in disbelief as Gary took his phone back and began flipping to something else, “all her hair…”
“This is Julie, my girlfriend in senior year,” he said as he ignored my question to show me a photo of a sweet looking young lady with long, wavy brown hair that fell all the way to her hips, even longer than mine, “and this is her after dating me for 3 months.”
Once again I was shocked at what I saw. The girl’s hair, which had been remarkably long and beautiful, was absent as well, now nothing more than stubble. Before I had a chance to respond, Gary took the phone back and quickly flipped to another photo.
“This is Stephanie, my girlfriend through most of junior year,” he said as he showed me a photo of another very attractive woman with blue-green eyes and drop-dead gorgeous thick and bouncy curls of beautiful strawberry-blond hair, and I prayed that the next photo wouldn’t show that she too had lost such gorgeous hair, “she absolutely loved her hair, and she lasted the longest, but as hard as she fought to keep it, six months later…”
He showed me the next photo, and sure enough, those remarkable, soft, bouncing curls were gone, leaving nothing but stubble in their wake.
“I… I don’t understand,” I said, utterly confused at what I was looking at, “your vibrational frequency makes their hair fall out?”
“No, nothing that simple,” he replied, a tone of severe sadness in his voice, “being around me for long periods of time makes them want to shave their own heads.”
“But… HOW?” I asked, and Gary shrugged.
“No idea,” he replied, “but it’s literally the only thing I can come up with. I did a study for a physics lab credit, and that was how they found out I was the one-in-a-million with such a unique vibrational frequency. It’s the only explanation I have for why this keeps happening.”
“Did you… know… about this while you were dating them?” I asked, still not quite believing this incredible story, but wanting to know more, “did you expect them to do this?”
“I had my suspicions when I was dating Lauren,” he said without missing a beat, this had obviously been haunting him a lot, “I got the results of the study back when we had been dating for a few days, and I began to wonder if the two things were connected. About a month later she asked me if I thought she would look good with a shaved head… and I knew it was over.”
“Oh my God,” I said, my hand going to cover my mouth, “my profile picture. You went out with me because my hair was so short in my profile picture. Didn’t you?”
He shrugged, then made a waffling gesture with his hand.
“Yes and no,” he replied, “I actually found you because you and I have so much in common, and we are obviously a good match. The short hair was definitely a bonus though, since it would be a lot easier to explain what might happen to someone with very little hair to begin with. Little did I know you would turn up with THIS head of hair instead.”
He gently reached out and very delicately stroked my long, soft hair. It felt wonderful, and I closed my eyes as he did it. I LOVED my hair, and I wanted nothing more than to see it at butt-length like I had been working towards for years. In my head I could picture what it would look like… my long, silky curtain of dark, glistening silk spilling all the way down to my butt, swaying and shining like a waterfall of melted chocolate, softer than satin to the touch. It would be beautiful, but in that moment, I realized what I wanted even more was a chance to get to know Gary better… and to roll the dice on the fate of my hair in the process.
“I don’t care,” I said as I reached up and grabbed his hand, which was still in the process of stroking my glorious mane, “I want to see you again Gary, with or without hair. I know I said I love my hair, and I do, but this is MY choice to make. Besides, vibrational theory states that people perceive and react to vibrations in different ways, so there’s a good chance I won’t even be affected by this. What do you say?”
His eyes grew wide, and his jaw dropped as he stumbled over his words. I knew one of two things would happen now. Either he would come up with an excuse why he couldn’t because the whole thing was a lie, or he would say yes… and possibly doom my hair in the process. I was relieved… and a little bit nervous… when he chose the second option.
“And you realize what you’re getting into, right?” he asked, then reached deeply into my thick, silky mane and lifted it as he looked into my eyes, “all this beautiful, soft hair, hair that you just confessed you loved, this hair that you fought so hard to get this way, this hair that you still want to grow out at least another 8 inches… it all might be gone in a few months if you do this.”
I thought about it, but not for long. My hair meant the world to me, but this chance to find the person I was meant to spend my life with meant even more. There was something to this man, something that clicked in a way I never knew could click, and at the very least, I could spend the next few weeks getting to know if he really was the one. Besides, if I felt myself feeling any strange “impulses” to shave off all my beautiful hair, I could decide then and there if I wanted to stay in the relationship, or break up and save my glorious mane, but I wasn’t worried… especially since the likelihood of this ACTUALLY happening was probably incredibly low.
Right?
“Look Gary,” I said, this time taking his hands in mine and flipping my hair back behind my head, “I like you. I want to see you again. That’s all that matters. The rest, we will figure out as we get there. The question is… do you want to see me again?”
Gary was silent for a moment, then a smile slowly crept over his face. Before I knew what was going on he quickly reached his left arm around my waist and dug his right hand into my thick mane, bringing me in for a deep, passionate kiss, a perfect end to a somewhat bizarre but otherwise perfect first date.
And things continued to go perfectly after that. Gary and I fell for each other HARD, and within a few weeks, I knew that we had made the right choice to go down this road. Every moment I was away from him was spent dreaming about meeting back up with him, and his constant texts while I was working always kept me laughing and entertained. I knew he felt the same way about me because of the way his eyes would light up every time he saw me, and the way he would pick me up and twirl me around every time we met. No guy I had ever dated had even come close to showing me this level of affection and care, and I loved it.
He even managed to have that twinkle in his eyes on days I WASN’T at my best. One day when I had to cancel our date because I had come down with a horrendous stomach flu, he showed up on my door unannounced with half-a-dozen bowls of different soups, movies, and every medicine I would need to ride out the flu. I looked anything but a hundred percent when I answered the door, wearing a fleece robe, bunny slippers, and no makeup, my nose bright red and my normally gorgeous hair put up in a massive, messy bun, but he still had that wonderful twinkle in his eyes when he saw me.
During that time I continued to grow my hair out. My hair didn’t exactly grow super fast by any means, but three months into our relationship my hair had grown another inch and a half, falling just three inches away from my first goal, the top of my butt. But more importantly, this was the length my hair was at when Gary and I finally consummated our relationship, and made love for the first time.
It was incredible. Passionate, sweet, hot, and magical all at once. He knew just how to please me in all the right ways as our bodies intertwined passionately… and then three more times that same day. During these amazing sessions, I couldn’t help but love the way at least one (and frequently both) of his hands were always dug deep into my thick mane of shiny, silky brown hair. I loved the sensation, and secretly wondered if he had ever made love to a woman who was still in possession of their long hair.
Around 11 o’clock that night, after our fourth incredible time, I excused myself to go the bathroom to freshen up. I stood in front of the mirror for a bit in nothing but my sheer black bra and panties I had worn to turn him on tonight (and boy oh boy, had it worked) to touch up my makeup and brush out my hair, deflating it from its voluminous, post-sex appearance and returning it to the smooth, sleek, shiny mass of soft brown silk it usually was.
After deflating it and returning it to something resembling normal, I took a moment to run my fingers through it as Gary had just spent hours doing. It was so smooth and silky that my fingers slid through it effortlessly, not hitting a single snag or knot as they slipped through that luscious brown silk with nothing more than the soft whisper of my hair. I smiled as I did so, reveling in the feeling and wondering how nice this would feel when I grew my hair out those few extra inches to my butt.
Or how it will feel if you shave it all off, a voice in my head said.
My hands stopped moving and my eyes snapped open. I stood there motionless for a moment as my breathing quickened, not quite sure if I had heard what I thought I had heard. After a moment, another thought popped into my head. It wasn’t a voice this time, but a mental picture of me pulling a set of clippers through my lush, wonderful, soft tresses, piles of silky brown hair spilling down either side of my body as a strip of pale skin appeared behind the destructive clippers.
I shook my head to get the strange thought out of it, my silky hair flying around my head like a storm of silk with the motion, and then I took a long look at myself in the mirror.
“Oh no,” I whispered quietly to myself, Gary had been right… it was starting…
I tried to push the thoughts out of my head. I really did. I thought that maybe if I knew they were coming, or if I knew what (or who) was causing them, that would give me a leg-up on the women who this had happened to earlier, and I might have a fighting chance. I was wrong, and as the days passed I felt those strange desires, urges, and fantasies popping up in my head with increasing frequency and intensity.
I didn’t want to end the relationship, but I found myself torn between wanting to stay with Gary, and wanting to save my beautiful hair, so much so that there were several times I almost considered breaking up for purely vain reasons… even though even thinking about it made me feel like a horrible person, and rightly so.
But in the end, I had a long sit-down with Gary where I opened up and told him what was going on, and how I was slowly finding myself more and more ready to chop off all of my beautiful hair. I could tell he felt horrible, and wanted me to leave him to save my hair, but after 2 hours of in-depth discussion, I convinced him that this relationship meant more to me than just my hair… my beautiful… silky… soft… shiny… hair.
“So what do we do?” he asked, reaching out and gently stroking my long locks, “where do we go from here?”
I sighed, not sure how to answer, then I decided to do so the best way I knew how… honestly.
“We just enjoy it while we can,” I said with a shrug, “it’s not going to last much longer, the impulses are getting stronger by the day, but there’s no reason we can’t just cherish how great it looks while I still have it.”
“How about you do something better than cherish it?” Gary asked with a sly grin, “what if we immortalize it?”
“What do you mean?” I asked with a curious smile, wondering where this was going.
“What if we do a photoshoot of your hair while you still have it?” he asked, and I could tell he was getting VERY aroused at the idea, “then we can always remember what it looked like.”
I thought about it, thinking it was ridiculous, but then realizing that this could be a lot of fun with just the two of us, and it would give me a reminder of how amazing my hair was years from now when I was sporting a bald head (assuming Gary and I were still together then).
“You know what? What the hell!” I exclaimed with a nervous laugh, happy to have the chance to enjoy my hair at least one last time before its nigh inevitable end, “what do you have in mind?”
It turned out Gary had a great deal in mind, and he really went all out as I did a naked photo shoot for him that showed off my long, silky hair for the last time. He took great care to take shots that didn’t show anything R-rated, and he did a great job really showing off the beauty of my hair’s soft, healthy condition. I was a little nervous at first, but as the shoot went on I found myself loosening up and really enjoying myself. The photos came out great, but as I looked at them, my hair looking amazing and gorgeous in every one, I couldn’t help but be struck by sadness that soon all of it was going to be gone.
The weeks went on, and my desire to shave off my gorgeous hair grew by the day. Every minute brought me closer to what I knew was the inevitable destruction of my silken mocks, and my hands were constantly smoothing, stroking, or playing with my beloves tresses in a valiant attempt to commit that luxurious feeling to memory. Gary continued to reassure me that he would understand if I wanted to leave and save those glorious locks, but every time I refused. I told him that I would rather shave off every hair in the world if it meant spending one more moment with him, but I secretly lamented that both of us had the misfortune of falling in love with my hair… only to lose it all in the end.
A few days later, I was sitting in a chair in the middle of Gary’s bathroom. My hair had been freshly washed and cleaned, immaculately styled, and ready to face its doom at the hands of the buzzing clippers Gary was holding. I was smiling bravely, but trembling so hard that I could see my beautiful long hair fluttering softly with my body.
It had been two months, three weeks, and four days since the first strange impulse to shave off all my beautiful hair had popped into my mind, making me hands down the longest holdout that Gary had ever known. That morning I had woken up to my dark, silky hair spilling over my face, and I knew that my time left with my shimmering, soft locks was coming to an end. I had thought I had a few days left before the end, a week tops, but as the day had gone on, the desire had grown with so much strength and force that I had eventually just called Gary and told him to have the equipment ready and meet me at my apartment after work. When I hung up I looked at myself in my nearby mirror, a long sheaf of hair hanging over my right eye and making me look ravishing, and I knew that my hair would be gone within hours.
I got off work early and got to my apartment at 4:15. Gary got off work at 6, and it was a 20 minute drive to my apartment, so that meant I had just over two hours left with my hair to do… whatever I felt like doing really. For a few minutes I contemplated how, exactly, I spent my final moment with something I had worked so hard to make look so beautiful, and I decided I was going to pamper and style it one last time for memory’s sake.
I got in the shower and soaked it for what I knew would be the last time, shampooed it twice for what I knew would be the last time, and saturated it in the most expensive conditioner I could find, again, for what I knew would be the last time. When I got out of the shower I bushed it out, then blow-dried it and immaculately styled it, brushing it out and making sure it looked absolutely perfect… for what I knew would be the last time.
I applied my makeup so I looked my best for the big event (I still wanted Gary to find me pretty without my hair), then slipped into one of his favorite outfits, a cropped white t-shirt that showed off my firm midriff, a pair of dark, skintight blue jeans, and some strappy leather sandals, then took a look in the mirror. I looked really good, especially my hair, which looked exceptionally shiny and sleek, and was unbelievably soft to the touch.
I reached up to stroke my hair, getting a firsthand feel for just how soft it felt in its final moments… then reached up to stroke it again… and again… and again… my fingers sliding effortlessly through the soft tresses without a single snag. My hair was so long by now that it fell nearly to the small of my back, but was still several inches away from reaching my butt… like I had worked so hard to achieve.
“Looks like I’ll never get a chance to see you at your full potential,” I sadly said to my locks as I continued to stroke them lovingly, a few tears silently sliding down my face as I did so, “I hope you understand why I need to say goodbye to you… but I promise I’m going to miss you so god damn much.”
Gary finally got to my house about 15 minutes after the tears had dried and I had re-applied my makeup, and we embraced tightly as he walked through the door. We stood there like that for several minutes as he silently stroked my hair, the last person who would ever be able to appreciate it in all its glory, then he pulled me away and looked into my eyes.
“Are you going to be OK?” he asked, “I know how attached to your hair you’ve gotten.”
“I’m calling pot and kettle on that,” I said with a smile as I punched his arm, “I just want you to get your last feel for how soft this hair is… because I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to again.”
He obliged, running his fingers through it a few more times before letting out a loud sigh and asking me if I was ready. I nodded silently, and we made our way to the bathroom, me slipping out of my shirt and standing there in a strapless bra as he pulled up a chair for me to sit in. I obliged and sat down as he opened a box he had brought with him and opened it up, pulling out a pair of wickedly shiny chrome clippers and plugging them in. I gulped audibly as he did so, a long sheaf of my shiny hair falling into my eyes as I did so.
“So that’s them huh?” I asked, tucking the loose sheaf back behind my ear.
“Yeah,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice, but not determination, “I bought them back in the day for swim, never thought I’d be shaving the woman I love with them.”
“The… the woman you what?” I asked, my mouth dropping.
He looked at me, a look of shock on his face, but that shock slowly melted away into a smile, and he slowly nodded. I smiled back and him, and mouthed I love you too back to him just as he started the clippers… punctuating the moment.
“So… any idea how you want to do this?” he asked as he walked around behind me, picking up my hair delicately and stroking it as the clippers roared in his hands, “or just play it by instinct?”
I thought for a moment, a small, desperate idea broiling in my mind.
“OK, this is a long shot, but…” I told him, lifting my heavy hair to expose my left temple, “try shaving the side of my head, like in an undercut.”
“An undercut?” Gary asked, confused.
“Yeah, maybe if we shave some of my hair, it will appease this strange desire,” I told him, looking at him with pleading eyes, “if it works, maybe I can save the bulk of my hair and just have an undercut… which I can grow back out over time.”
Gary looked skeptical, but nodded.
“Well, it’s worth a shot I suppose,” he said, then obediently pulled some hair back from my temple to expose the hair there, “are you ready?”
I took a deep breath, hesitated a moment, and with a quick nod of my head, he moved the clipped up my jawline and let it sink into the thick, silky hair at my temple. The clippers made a terrible, angry buzzing sound as they sank into my hair, separating it from my head with absolute ease. My head resonated with an angry buzzing sound as they did so, making my brain almost go numb with shock at this new, bizarre, but not-entirely-unpleasant sensation moving over my head, stripping away my lush, shiny hair. Fifteen seconds and three swipes later, my left temple was bare, and Gary turned off the clippers as I surveyed the sea of dropped locks on the floor. I had barely lost any of my hair, and the pile already looked massive.
“Wanna feel?” Gary asked, and I actually did, so I slowly reached up with a shaking hand and felt the newly shorn patch of my head. I knew what stubble felt like, but I had never felt it as thick and as sharp as the patch of it at my temple.
“Oh my God,” I whispered as my hand ran over the stubble, fighting back a tear as I did so, but I still had the overwhelming bulk of my hair so why was I so sad? Then I remembered.
“Did it work?” Gary asked. It hadn’t, but maybe it was too little to make a difference.
“No,” I replied, “but move it further back towards the back of my head, maybe we can still save most of it if we shave off a bit more.”
Gary obliged, lifting my hair once again to expose the shaved area and moving the clippers further back towards the crown of my head. More and more hair slipped from the left side of my head, falling to the floor as more and more of my bare head became exposed. Before long, the area behind my ear was left hairless, then the area behind my head on the left side, then the entire back of my head, and a few moments later, the underside of the left side of my mane was completely hairless.
Gary shut down the clippers and lifted my hair to show the exposed areas, and I looked at it with a sad glean in my eyes. My beautiful, wonderful hair was rapidly vanishing… and I was the one asking for it!
“Keep going?” Gary asked, and I nodded. I felt something, some primal urge slowly melting away as more and more hair fell, but I knew all that remained of the underside of my hair was the right side now, and if shaving it didn’t completely kill this urge and drive it out, then I knew there was no chance at saving any of my hair.
“I feel… something,” I told, him, still hopeful that this next shearing would be the last, “do the right side… and maybe that will do the trick.”
I jumped as Gary fired up the clippers again, laughing slightly as he lifted my hair once again and clipped off the undergrowth on the right side of my head. Another three passes… and another mass of silky brown hair tumbled to the floor, adding to the enormous pile already there. I felt the urge shrinking with every pass, but even before he finished that section I knew it wasn’t going to be enough, and I wouldn’t be leaving this bathroom with a single hair on my head… despite my wishes. Before long, the last traces of hair on the underside of the right side of my head were gone, and I sat there holding up the hair on the top of my head, the last traces of my formerly glorious mane.
More than half my hair was gone, but as I let it down, the remaining hair still felt soft and silky as it swung against the newly shaved portion of my head. As wonderful as it felt though, I knew even this last portion of beautiful hair would be gone in seconds… joining the rest of my shed locks on the floor very soon. But as sad as this fact made me, I realized that part of me… some strange, primal part, actually LIKED the feeling of that stubble… and was happy knowing that there would no chance at saving my hair.
“So what’s the final consensus?” Gary asked, and I stroked the remains of my long hair one last time before nodding silently to myself and taking the plunge.
“It didn’t work,” I said, shaking my head out so that my long hair fell to either side and covered up the shaved sections, my hair was so thick that even with so little of it left I could still hide the damage, “finish it.”
Gary hesitated, clearly also hoping that this last-ditch effort would allow me to keep some of the hair he had grown so attached to playing with, but a split second later he fired up the clippers, placed them at the center of my head, and moved them back into the final holdouts of my beautiful mane.
The made quick work as they slid through the center of my head, separating soft, silky hair from my head without even slowing down. A few seconds later there was a strip of bare, stubble-covered skin surrounded on either side by narrow strips of shiny brown hair. Gary quickly moved to either side of that bare strip though, and within seconds, even those tiny traces of hair were nothing but a memory… and the last of my beautiful hair was gone. Gary’s strange vibration had claimed another victim.
“Are you ready to see the new you?” Gary asked, a deep desire for my happiness very evident in the tone of his voice.
I nodded and stood up as I slipped the straps of my bra back over my shoulders, then looked into a nearby mirror.
“Oh my GOD!” I cried as I looked at the stranger with the bald head staring back at me, “it’s… it’s all gone! My hair is all gone!”
“What do you think?” Gary asked, still audibly nervous, and I found myself shocked to realize that as horrified as I was at this, I didn’t hate it!
Granted, all I wanted in that moment was to have my long, healthy hair back, but all things considered, I pulled off a bald head relatively well! If Gary still found me attractive, I could live with this, and I was already thinking of all the extra time I would have getting ready in the morning.
“I can deal with this!” I exclaimed proudly, turning to face him with worried eyes, “the question is… can you?”
Gary smiled as he walked over to me, gently running his hand over my rough stubble, then kissed me long and deep, giving me all the answer I needed.
Gary and I continued to date, and in the months following the night I lost all my beloved hair, I continued to shave my head. I even went above and beyond, deciding to shave my head with a straight razor to complete the process. I continued to do this for months, as the compulsion grabbed me, but three months after the night I went bald I moved in with Gary… and something strange happened.
Every girl whose hair had ever been claimed by poor Gary’s curse had broken up with him shortly after they had shaved their heads, unable to come to terms with someone who might find them ugly after doing so. But had the stayed with Gary, they would have found that after being exposed to this strange vibration in close proximity for a long period of time, moving in with him and being with him all the time made me grow resistant and then immune to the effects of his natural vibration.
Over time I felt the compulsion to regularly shave my head begin to wane… and then vanish entirely! About a year into dating I sat down with Gary and asked him if he thought I should grow my hair back, as I had been thinking of doing so with cautious optimism once the compulsions seemed to pass for several weeks. Gary told me that he loved my bald look, but honestly missed my long silky hair, so we both agreed to grow it back.
And so my hair grew… and grew… and continued to grow… and grew some more. Within three months it had grown into a shaggy sort of pixie. Within six months it had grown into a shaggy, uneven, chin length cut, and I needed my first trim to even it out into something resembling a feminine style. Within nine months my strange lady-mullet reached down to my neck, and when Gary proposed to me a year after my shave, the longest part of my hair was able to brush my shoulder-blades for the first time. It kept growing as we prepared for the wedding, and when we tied the know 6 months later I was able to even out my hair with a long-needed trim, letting it all spill beautifully into a thick and healthy shoulder-length bob, not losing a single bit of the softness and shine I remembered from my wait length locks.
As we went on our honeymoon, a strange but comforting thought occurred to me, would I FINALLY be able to grow my hair to my butt like I had tried to do all those years ago… and come so very close to achieving? It was looking more and more like it… but time would tell.
“You have everything you need?” Gary asked me nervously, but very excitedly on the video chat, “your passport? Your ticket info? Your flight information?”
“Gary, I’ve GOT this,” I said with a smile, “YOU just worry about knowing EXACTLY where you and the kids are picking me up tomorrow, I know how much that airport confuses you.”
“Oh we’ll be there alright!” he said happily, “I can’t believe you’re finally coming home for good!”
“Me either,” I replied with an excited smile, “it’s going to be so nice to spend more than a few days with you and the kids.”
“Get some sleep babe, we love you, and can’t wait to see you,” Gary said, “love you.”
“Love you most,” I said, and then we signed off. I sighed and closed my laptop, then made my way to the bathroom to get ready for bed as I tossed my hair lightly over my shoulder.
My long, nearly thigh-length hair.
Gary and I had been married for 6 years now, and during that whole time, I had worked and worked and worked at growing my hair back out once I had been given the gift of immunity to Gary’s vibrations. The work had been long and arduous, but slowly my hair had grown longer and longer as time went on. Two pregnancies to two wonderful children had accelerated the growth of my hair and increased its thickness nine months at a time, and the progress paid off. By the end of the first year my hair was down to my shoulder-blades. By the end of the second it to the small of my back, a couple inches shorter than it had been when I shaved it, and by the end of the third year, I finally got my hair to the length I had spent so long working towards, just under the top of my butt.
By the end of the fourth year my hair had grown past the bottom of my butt and hung a few past it, resting at the middle of my thighs. It was at that length when I decided that there was such a thing as hair being TOO long, so I had cut it back several inches to where it hung now, to the bottom of my butt, right where it met my smooth, creamy thighs. I had spent the last year with it at that length, and absolutely LOVING it there. My hair had once again become my pride and joy, turning heads where my family and I went, and becoming Gary’s favorite play-thing in any situation (especially in bed). Sometimes I wore it in a braid or ponytail, but most of the time I just wore it down to fully enjoy it in all its beauty.
I was wearing it like that the day I found out my company was opening a new branch in London, and they wanted ME to oversee it. It required me to be away from Gary and the kids for 3 months with nothing but occasional 3-day weekend trips back home every three weeks or so, which nearly killed me, but once the branch was set-up and running, I’d be fast-tracked wherever I wanted to go in the company. And so I had gone, and tomorrow, I would finally be going home to be re-united with my family.
I stripped off my makeup, slipped into a thigh-length satin sleep-shirt, and started brushing out my hair. When it was silky and shiny, just the way I liked it, I made my way to the bed and crawled under the covers, spreading my hair around me like a blanket as was my tradition. Gary LOVED when I did this, and as I shut my eyes to go to sleep I couldn’t wait to get home to sleep in the same bed with him again while he ran his fingers lovingly through my long, soft tresses, immune to the strange vibrations he gave off that had cost so much hair in the past
Suddenly my eyes snapped open, my smile vanished, and a horrible thought occurred to me. I had been away from Gary for over two months, what if… what if that resistance I had spent months building up… had vanished during that time away? Granted I got spend a few weekends with him, but that was only about 48 hours at a time. It had been over three months since I had spent any real time with him, what if I got home and in a few months… the compulsion returned?
I stared up at the ceiling as I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to comfort myself at this horrible new possibility. Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep that night, and while I went to the airport that day with my hair long, loose, and absolutely beautiful… I spent my entire flight wondering what fate the next few months held for my gorgeous, long hair.
The End
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