Clara’s weekend of growth.

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Steam hung heavy in Clara’s modest sized bathroom. The reflected surface of the mirror was revealed with
her growing circular motion’s. She posed her mid-twenties, naked form with confidence earned from forever getting
what she wanted. With a happy jiggle she played with her left breast. Satisfied with one last smacking tap
she freed her hair from her shower cap. Side-to-side her head shook giving movement to her ample locks. Tumbling as
they may past her shoulder, her mid-back, landing in loose, chestnut curls at her waist. She was young, she was
healthy, blessed with most anything a girl could ask for.

“She’s perfect.” A form that was more human than not – mostly by their choice – commented to another in the
corner of Clara’s bathroom. A circumstance that would have concerned Clara, had she been able to see or hear

“Two days, do you think? More than enough time to see what an exceptional human would choose as the perfect
hair cut?” The form, who’s given name could reasonably be shortened to Mark, gave his thoughts on the parameters
of their current experiment.

“More than enough. Begin the experiment. We have much else to do.” Clark, as one of the syllables of his name would
sound, faded from the bathroom.”

A bracer on Mark’s arm booped, and beeped with his inputs. “Why do they have hair, anyway?” Silently, he vanished
to join his partner.

Clara’s scalp tingled no more than warranted a quick rub.




The next morning Clara woke refreshed, spinning herself ninety degrees, using her shapely butt as a pivot. Ready
to meet the weekend she launched forward to fill her empty belly with a bland, but healthy cereal. A few feet
into her morning she froze, bemused by the feeling of her hair, which she was certain had been waist length the
night before. Yet, sure as the sun was in the spring sky, was busy coming to a stop against her thighs.

Her face moved in known, and unknown patterns as she puzzled the development. “No?” She came unassuredly to the
only reasonable answer. A few more steps dissuaded her from what should have been a perfectly reasonable, and logical
deduction. “No?” She used two fingers to bring her hair around front. Down, and down her fingers went as her pampered
waist length locks refused to end.

Clara bumbled across the living to her phone. Her hair’s new length distracted her as it passed between her legs causing
her to trip onto the couch. “Come over now!” Clara messaged her girlfriend, Brittany.

Clara’s head yanked backwards as she sat on her hair. “Yeeowwwch!”




“Let’s see this mane of yours…” Brittany closed the apartment door with a skeptical sigh. Her dirty blonde hair pulled back
in moderately high ponytail, combined with the tight, breathable fabric of her outfit, showed she intended to get to their
morning jog sooner rather than later.

“Now do you believe me?” Clara stood up from the couch, spinning to show off the contested miracle. “I think grow, it grows. I
think stop, and, well… I think it stops?” Her spinning ended, causing her weighty locks to rest just below her knees.
“How can I go out like this? People will find out, I’ll be dissected! I’ll be an a lab rat!”.

Brittany managed to break her dumbfounded silence. “You’re not fucking with me?” She dove into Clara’s hair with both hands,
certain she would find the secret of the trick. “No extensions…”

“I’m going to give you some time to work through it. Lord knows I needed a bit. Then I need you to work this out with me,”
Clara separated her hair into three strands, certain this time the extra hair would not thwart her attempt at control.

“Here, let me help,” Brittany took over for Clara. “Jog? To help us think?”

“We’ll have to drive a ways. I can’t be seen by someone I know. I mean, other than you. You I trust,” Clara moved her chin down
to counter the pull from the new weight on her head.




Clara emptied a water bottle into her mouth. The warm day was not helped by her jog with elongated locks.

“You can’t be serious,” Brittany grabbed Clara by the wrist before she could open the salon door.

“What part about ‘I can grow it as fast as I want’ do you not get?” Clara broke free from Brittany’s grip. “Cutting it back
to where it was last night will help until we figure something else out.”

“Fine. Whatever. As long as you can grow it back,” Brittany was not shy about how much she liked Clara’s new length.

Clara looked down at the braid between her legs. Within moment’s the ends moved downwards multiple inches. “I’ll make it nice
and long for you later,” She pecked Brittany on the lips, then entered the salon.

“What can I do for you today?” said the stylist as she removed herself from her chair. “A trim?” she readied the black cape
to be uselessly draped over Clara’s shoulders.

“Looking to go back to about here,” Clara motioned a line a bit longer than her hair had been the previous night. “This is too
much for me.” Clara suddenly appreciated what she was asking this poor stylist to do. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long
time. Really sure. Don’t worry about me.”

“Well… umm… are you looking to keep the hair?” The stylist scratched her over bleached pixie cut.

“You can do whatever you want with it. I won’t be needing it.” Clara took her seat to move the stylist along. “A slight curve
to it.” She moved her hands in a shallow cupping motion.

“With this much hair it will be better if you stand,” The stylist held the cape up for Clara.

“Haven’t been to a salon since I’ve had hair this long,” Clara smiled, taking her spot.

“I’ve never seen a braid so loose,” The stylist released the full might of Clara’s mane. “Wow. This must have taken ages to grow.”

“Growing it is no problem. It’s the weight. Doesn’t get any thinner as it goes.”

The stylist was going to come out Clara’s hair, then gave up when she couldn’t find an imperfection. “Here?” she pushed her hand
into Clara’s lower back.


“Then here we go,” The stylist snipped sending what was Clara’s seemingly perfect chestnut hair from the night before to the salon’s
cheap vinyl floor. With each snip her loose curls bounced back. “I feel terrible cutting it off.”

“It grows REALLY fast. You’re doing me a favor.” Clara felt the cramps in her neck subside.

With a gentle push from her shoe the stylist made room to readjust her footing. “What are your friends going to think?” She continued
to snip at Clara’s dense strands.

“The one out the window will be fine in a while. The rest, will probably not even notice.”

“Kept it up a lot, did you?” The stylist worked on the curve of Clara’s hemline.

“Something like that.”

“You really don’t want to keep this?” The stylist nodded to a pile that would have taken her months to make with the help of all her normal

“I’m fine, I swear.” Clara wondered if she shouldn’t have gone shorter.




The day was nearly spent before Clara made it back to her apartment. A full day out, and about after the salon. Not a soul mentioned her
hair being any longer than when they had last seen here. An inch, she thought, an inch at a time, and I’ll be wearing my hair long in
public in no time.

“Grow it back, grow it back!” Brittany didn’t wait for Clara to be fully in the apartment.

“I’ll be yours in a moment,” Clara’s hair was already on a downwards trend when her keys hit the table.

Brittany’s white blouse, worn at dinner barely two hours, covered the keys. “Here,” She helped Clara rid herself of her stylishly over-sized

Clara’s still growing hair hung wild in front of her. With both hand’s she made a hole to look through. “Aren’t you frisky.”

Brittany pulled Clara into the bedroom. Crashing against the side of the bed she fell backwards, legs spread. Wiggling out of her black skirt
she locked eyes with Clara.

Kneeling Clara moved between Brittany’s legs. Her hair massed beside her right leg.

“Wait,” Brittany gathered Clara’s hair, and dropped it on her own belly. “Now.”

Clara went to kiss Brittany around her belly button, only to be rebuffed. Her head pushed into Brittany’s crotch.

Brittany sniffed fists full of Clara’s hair. The silky hair intoxicated her. “Mmm, right there.”

Clara obliged.




Sunday morning arrived for Clara with the sight of Brittany nude except for a strap-on sticking straight up into the air. The previous night had
been a whirlwind of Brittany being more assertive than Clara thought her capable. A side of her girlfriend she wanted to see more of.

Clara went to clean last night’s smells off her when she noticed the last of her hair fall off the bed as she entered the doorway. “Really?” Her
train of her extended feet past her body. “Ugh…”

On her way to the bathroom she passed her junk draw. Doubling back she opened it, pulling out a pair of craft scissors.. “Is this going to be every
morning?” she thought. With effort she brought to her front, and held it about breast height. Her hair crunched between the dull scissors. Through
sheer grit she brought her hair back to a diagonal line just above her ass, and just below her waist. She balked at cleaning up the over a meter and
a half of thick hair in her living room. “Shower first.”


Clara poured her second cup of coffee when Brittany rolled around the corner dressed in her blouse, and skirt. “Crazy night.”

“Crazy morning.” Clara pointed to the trash bin stuffed with chestnut curls. “Grows when I’m asleep.”

“Going to cut it every morning?” Brittany said disapprovingly.

“Any ideas on what to do with the extra?” Clara sipped her coffee.

“You can sell hair. We should look into that. Extra cash in our pockets.” Brittany poured her own cup.

“I’m going to buy a set of hair clippers, today.” Clara watched Brittany.

Coffee sprayed from Clara’s mouth. “Like hell you are.”

“Shave it at night, finish growing it back in the morning. No getting it snagged on anything while I sleep.”

“Cut it short. You don’t need to shave your damn head.”

“I’m doing it, at least once. Scratch that itch.”


“Like you’ve never wanted to shave your head.”

“This isn’t about me.”

“No, it’s about the one with the magical growing hair. You’ll have control over my hair otherwise?” Clara didn’t want to push
this new assertive Brittany too far.

“You get one time. I’ll figure out something else for you at night.”




“I thought you were going to buy clippers.” Brittany knocked on a red, and white spinning pole.

“Only once, right? No need to buy clippers when I can rent them.” Clara pushed the door open. “It grows back.”

“I’m not going to watch this. Yesterday was more than enough. I will see you tomorrow, after work.” Brittany became
one with the passing foot traffic.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Clara walked inside.

“You have the wrong place. Salon is down the block.” A young barber of maybe thirty went back to playing a game on his phone.

“This is the right spot.” Clara took her place. She draped her loose curls over the back of the chair.

The barber did not move. Dismissing the Rapunzel in the chair. “We don’t trim long hair here.”

“As you can see. I am in need of a good haircut, not a trim,” Clara shook her head to flaunt her mane. Its ends somewhere
in the length pooled on the floor.

“If I get up. You’re going to loose more than you want,” The barber warned Clara with a stern stare.

“I doubt it,” Clara found herself wishing she went to another barbershop.

The barbers phone went black. Without a word her rose to over six foot in height.

Clara kept her eyes on the clippers. “Short. And I’m sure.”


“Those,” Clara pointed at the clippers. “All over this,” she pointed at her scalp.

“Are you-”

“I’m sure.”

The barber caped Clara. A minute later he had fished the last of her hair from underneath. Before he could ask Clara one last
time the clippers were pushed into his hands.

“Do it.” Clara made herself comfortable in the chair. If there was a next time, she’d be sure to not go with floor length hair.
It was far too much of a hassle. *POP* *BZZZZ* She jumped.

“For some one so sure. You sure do spook easy.” The barber brought the clippers around to the front of Clara’s head.

“Just do-” The clippers crackled through Clara’s chestnut locks, cutting them at their roots. The sight of her milky scalp was
more foreign than the when her hair first touched her thighs. The length of her hair pulled each strand behind her, leaving her
lap empty, a feeling she was disappointed to miss out on.

“Short enough?”

“Y-yah… perfect.” The clippers massaged her in a way she did not know she needed She wondered if she should tan her scalp before she grew her hair back.
A tattoo?

“Friends of yours?”

Clara looked at the reflection of a growing crowd of onlookers. “You’d think they’d never seen someone getting their head shaved

The barber pushed a massive pile of chestnut hair out of his way. “Mhmm…”

Clara admired her nude scalp, as the barber worked on the back of her head. “I didn’t think it would look this good.”

“You are weird one.” The barber swapped to a smaller pair of clippers to clean up Clara. “Keeping it?” He nodded to the floor.

“All yours.” Clara closed her eyes to enjoy the last bit of buzzing. “All yours.”




Later that night, after her shower, and just before bed Clara admired her bald head one last time in the steamed up mirror. “Back to
dealing with hair in the morning,” she rubbed her scalp.

Two forms arrived in the corner. “She has no hair.” Clark noted the development.

“As I predicted.” Mark tapped on his bracer, ending the experiment.

“We’ll need more data to be sure.” Clark vanished.

Mark waited a moment, then followed.

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