Cynthia, One With Her Fetish

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Cynthia, One With Her Fetish

Part 3/3


By Dreadlocks



Unbelievably, Cynthia’s parents left her undisturbed that evening, and she was able to explore her new nakedness. She found that her shiny bald head acted as another erogenous zone, sending shivers through her sex each time she caressed it. After her shower, she fell asleep, well satiated from her many orgasms.

The next morning it was raining, the dim light seeping through her window in a sort of monotone, making her vibrantly painted room, look rather drab. For a moment she forgot the events of the previous day and instinctively reached for her brush.

“Silly!” She exclaimed out loud, running her hand over her head. The renewed sense of sexual arousal crept in all over again and she reached between her legs to find her pussy rather sensitive and sore.. “I’ve got to get a handle on this, or I’m going to wear the damn thing out.” She whispered under her breath.

It was Sunday, and she usually accompanied her parents to church. Cynthia was fairly confident that they would be more than happy to allow her to stay home. At least she hoped they would. Slowly opening the door to her room, she was ready to face her family and the world, sporting her new hairless head. She had decided that she was going to say it was her choice to have it shaved. She felt badly about her brother’s fate the day before, at her hands, and was making amends. Cynthia thought that she would add that she had donated her hair, which wouldn’t be too far from the truth.

Taking a deep breath as Cynthia rounded the bottom of the stairs and headed for the kitchen to face her parents and the impending mockery from her younger brothers. As soon as she entered the room the giggles started from the boys. Her mother and father just stared at her in what looked like a mixture of disappointment and disbelief.

“Quiet now! Your sister has some explaining to do.” Her father was stern enough that the boys zipped up immediately. Cynthia sat down at the kitchen table, followed by her parents. “Well?” Her father asked, impatiently, doing his best to hold his temper at bay.

“Ahhh…What happened at the barbershop yesterday, when these two got shaved because I had told the barber to go as short as possible,” Cynthia bit her lower lip for a moment, preparing the lie. “well….I felt really guilty over it and decided to donate all my hair.” She looked at her parents’ faces to see if they were buying it. “I went back to the barbershop and asked him to shave my head and to donate the hair. He didn’t want to do it at first, but I insisted.” There was a moment of silence and then at least a hint of a smile from her mother.

“Cynthia, you sure have a way of making things dramatic, and this is no exception. But, Cynthia, sweetheart, your beautiful hair? Why did you have to shave it bald? Couldn’t you have just cut some of it off?” Her mother ran her hand over Cynthia’s head, quickly pulling it back, almost shocked at how smooth it was.

“Really, Cynthia, you look like a freak!” Her father interjected.

“Oh….thanks Dad! I do something I felt really strongly about, and now I’m a freak?” Cynthia feigned being upset over it. Her mother gave her father a sharp glare.

“Well… I guess I’m going to have to get used to it.” Her father said in an apologetic tone. “Couldn’t you have just cut it short, as your mother suggested?”

“I wanted to make a statement, Dad.” Cynthia knew she had convinced them at this point. She ran her hand over her baldness and stood up to make herself some coffee.

Almost simultaneously, her brothers, knowing her explanation was over, asked if they could touch it too. Playing along, Cynthia bent over and let her giggling younger brothers run their fingers over her scalp.

“It feels like a bowling ball,” Jason said, as he put both hands over Cynthia’s ears. “Except for these.” The fascination at an end, the boys retreated back to the table and continued eating their breakfast.

Cynthia’s mother came over to her as she stood at the counter, sipping her coffee. “I’m kind of proud of you for donating your hair honey. That took some guts.” She smiled and turned to the table to start cleaning up. “OK boys, get ready for church!” Jason and Chad chased each other up the stairs as they always did.

“Mom, do you think…” Cynthia’s mother already knew what she was going to ask.

“You can stay back from service today if you like. There would be a lot of explaining to do, and I don’t think you need that right now.” Her mother again ran her hand over her head, not so quick to pull away.

“I guess we’ll get used to it. You’re always going to be a pretty girl, even bald.” Her mother stepped back and looked her daughter straight on. “At least you’ll be able to hear better now; especially with these.” Mother wiggled her ears between her fingers and gave her a peck on the cheek, heading back to her bedroom to change for church.

Cynthia couldn’t believe that both her brothers and her mother had commented on her ears. “My Dumbo ears.” She whispered under her breath as she raised her hands to feel the fleshy prominences.

She walked out the door and took a seat on the porch swing outside, coffee in hand, waiting almost expectantly for someone she knew to walk by. Something was driving her to expose herself this way. Cynthia suspected it was the same sense of arousal she’d been experiencing almost continuously since the barbershop. She couldn’t explain why, all she knew was it felt really good.

No one that knew her passed by, but most people turning to stare at the peculiar bald girl on the porch swing. Some even made comments to each other as they stared.

The rain had finally let up, the sun peeking through the clouds as Cynthia retreated to her bedroom. The exposure, even to strangers had her needing few more exhausting orgasms before her family arrived home from church.

Sunday passed without too much going on, but Cynthia knew that tomorrow was going to be the real test of her resolve. She would be exposed to the entire school, bald. After dinner, she hopped in the shower and quickly ran the razor over her head, removing any trace of stubble that might have grown since the day before. Underarms and legs and pubes were the last to succumb to the razor, any stubble being smoothly rinsed away down the drain.

Monday morning came; it was inevitable and with it a bright, sunny sky. Doing her best to be brave, Cynthia readied herself for school. She thought about going ultra-feminine, a dress and blouse, perhaps, but then thought better of it. Jeans and a tee were going to be a better defense against what was going to be an onslaught of comments and insults.

Not able to eat or drink anything, Cynthia stepped out of the house and traversed the familiar half-mile to school, quickly and deliberately.

The comments had started before she had even reached school, though. Students passing by in their cars whistled and yelled; a slew of comments nipping away at her resolve. “Nice head!” or “Hey, Baldy, or the most dreaded of all, “Nice haircut, Dumbo!”

Cynthia never looked up to see who was making the comments, but the humiliation of hearing them excited her, and it was all she could do to continue. Her heart was racing a mile a minute as she walked up the front steps, still crowded with students waiting for first bell. Most just stared in silence, but a few made comments similar to those she had already been subjected to.

Cynthia knew she must be turning every shade of red imaginable as she made her way to her locker. News traveled fast concerning her new look, someone having already written “Baldy” on her locker by second period.

Although Cynthia was growing used to the comments, the relentless humiliation had her in an undeniable predicament. Her sex was sopping wet and to her horror, she could smell it through her jeans. Was this really happening? She was being completely degraded by almost every student that passed her, some even bold enough to run their hands over her head as they passed. Suddenly, she felt her ears being tugged from behind.

“That’s a real close shave there, Dumbo, or is it Dumbette?” Cynthia turned, horrified to see it was Johnny Will, a boy she had had a crush on for the entire school year. He ran his hand over her head, as if he was tousling her hair. “Real close shave.” He laughed, joining his friends as they continued down the hall.

Cynthia felt weak suddenly, as if her knees were going to buckle. Beside herself, she realized that she was experiencing an overwhelming orgasm, right there, in front of her locker, in the hallway, at school, in front of everybody! She sunk to her knees as the waves of pleasure swept over her, tears rolling down her cheeks as she leaned back against her locker.

“Cynthia Moore? What on earth have you done to yourself?” One of her favorite teachers, Mrs. Wheeler, leaned over her, making certain she was all right. “Oh, honey, looks like you’ve had a little accident here.” Cynthia looked down and saw what Mrs. Wheeler was talking about. The crotch of her jeans was dark with moisture, but it wasn’t pee. “Let me take you to the nurse, honey.”

Mrs. Wheeler helped Cynthia to her feet and escorted her to the nurse’s office where she was allowed to go home, putting an end to her outrageous ordeal.

Cynthia managed to finish the last two days of school, and although the taunts continued, her fetish seemed to have been satisfied with the level of humiliation she had endured that day. It retreated within her for the time being.

Most of her friends had stopped speaking to her, save for Emily and a couple of boys that didn’t mind being seen with her. Even so, Cynthia kept her head shaved throughout the summer, enjoying its smoothness and the intense sexual feelings it elicited.

As the cooler weather arrived in the fall, Cynthia began to grow her hair, as much of a battle as that seemed to be. Each time she walked by Sammy’s barbershop in town, she still got that twinge between her legs, and had to fight the urge to step inside. Of course, Cynthia never gave her pubic hair a chance. Small compensation though it was, it was enough to at least keep her fetish at bay.

Much to her parent’s disappointment, Cynthia had chosen to take a year off school, and attend college the following fall. Throughout the winter and the following spring, she had managed to grow her hair into a stylish bob. Of course, it was a shadow of its former glory, but it was all Cynthia could allow. As painful as it was, she would allow her mother to bring her to her salon and have the bob maintained.

The following summer was torture, and she really had to fight the urge to shave it off again, especially when the really warm days of late summer arrived. She would envy the boys and their crewcuts, occasionally watching as one would be skinned to the bone at Sammy’s.

Even her brothers were egging her on, “Don’t you want to shave your head again, Cyn?” Jason would ask, sporting his ultra-short buzz. Strangely enough, her mother never asked her to take the twins to Sammy’s again, even though she almost wished she would have. Of course, the temptation would have been all too much for her fetish to resist, a fetish that Cynthia was now quite conscious of.

Finally, August was at an end, and it was time to head off to college. There were the usual tears as her parents dropped her off at her dorm; all the uneasy and awkward introductions as she met her roommate for the first time.

Allison was from San Francisco, and seemed like a really nice girl. She and Cynthia hit it off really well as school began to kick into high gear. Allison was a very pretty girl, much prettier than Cynthia, with long blonde hair and a strawberry complexion. They would often help each other do different styles, and eventually became inseparable. The two would always be together around campus.

By the end of the fall semester, Cynthia was seriously involved with someone for the first time in her life. Her relationship with Drew was getting hot and heavy. The first time she and Drew had been alone together, Drew immediately noticed her shaved mound, the one thing she maintained from the ‘hairless time’ as she had called it. Drew didn’t seem to mind her ‘bald pussy’, as he called it, often teasing her about it. Cynthia knew he was treading on dangerous ground. His teasing would bring back those same feelings of humiliation that had driven her fetish, but she did nothing to discourage him.

Cynthia remembered what Drew had said as they said their goodbyes at the end of term. “You keep your little pussy bald for me, while you’re home.” He had insisted.

For the entire bus ride home, all Cynthia could think about was shaving, and not her pussy. It was cold outside, and the snow was falling by the time the bus pulled into town. She pulled the small suitcase behind her as she made her way home, knowing she was in serious trouble.

As she turned the corner onto Main Street, there it was. That spinning pole that had been such a temptation for so long. As she approached Sammy’s she could start to smell the bitterroot and the tonic, smells that she associated with haircutting. Smell was such a powerful memory jog, and she found herself staring in the window of the shop.

“Going somewhere?” A low voice asked.

Cynthia looked down at the suitcase that stood next to her. “No, just getting home.” Looking up, she realized that it was the same barber that had stolen her hair that first time. He was the beginning. He was the catalyst that had ignited her fetish. She stared at him, wanting to hate him, but she couldn’t. For even though her fetish had caused her untold humiliation and angst, it had also been the most sexually enthralling force in her life, a force that could still have firm control of her, if she let it.

“You just going to look, or are you coming inside?” The man asked.

That was all it took. Drew and the rest of the world be damned. It was Drew that had lit the flames with his damned teasing. Now the fire scorched Cynthia’s sex and if it weren’t for the juices that drenched her slick smooth folds, she would swear it might actually burn. “Coming in.”

“You’ve grown up some since the last time you were here.” He said, shaking out the cape and turning the chair so that Cynthia could climb in.

“You remember me?” She asked.

“Remember? How could I forget.” He said, huskily. “It’s not every day I shave a girl’s head bald.”

“No, I don’t suppose it is.” Cynthia regarded herself in the large mirror, the one that had been the fuel for so many fantasies. The mousy brown bob was shoulder length now, and she shook it out as if to say goodbye.

“So, what are we doing?” He asked, as he straightened the cape around her.

“It’s time.” That was all Cynthia said. “It’s all got to go.”

“Same as last time?” He smirked.

All Cynthia could do was nod, her fetish stealing her power of speech, just in case she put up any resistance. But, there would be no resistance, not this time. So as the blades of the clippers bit into her hair, Cynthia came, unashamedly. She didn’t care that the barber knew exactly what was happening to her, that he pressed harder into her scalp with the blades of the clipper as she pulsed with one orgasm after the next in his chair.

When at last the clippers fell silent, they smiled knowingly at one another. It wasn’t enough this time. Cynthia sighed wantonly as the foam was scraped from her denuded scalp. She could see the bulge in the barber’s pants and knew that he would be reliving her humiliation later. It thrilled her to know that; that he would be pleasing himself at her expense.

There was that bald girl that she had missed so much. There she was, exposed and humiliated once again. The fetish had won. She had become one with it, and whatever it cost her, it would never relinquish its grasp again.



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