Dream Come True

Here is a new standalone. This one goes out to all of the people who love reading, writing, and roleplaying hair things but haven’t ever taken the plunge and actually lived it out. It’s specially dedicated to a roleplay partner I had that helped me be the writer I am today.

Online Fun

I had it bad. For as long as I could remember, I had a hair fetish. Anything humiliating, anything that took long hair and made it short, even shaved. Especially shaved.

It started with curiously searching for videos, finding so much delight in watching women on the internet shave all of their beautiful hair off. That was never good enough, but it helped. My hair was off limits though, my parents always had strict rules and my long, sandy blonde hair was never any shorter than collarbone length, but most of the time it stopped at the bottom of my bra strap.

That went on for years, through puberty, through high school, and ultimately until I moved out of my parents’ house. At college, I felt like I had to be even more careful. My parents had always left me alone in my room but suddenly I had roommates, had to share a bathroom, had paper thin walls and regular knocks on my door.

It was then that I found chat rooms. Other people, just like me. Not just women, but also men. I had always thought I was alone, and felt like a freak because of that. But now I had a place where I felt like I belonged. I found friends that I chatted with, discussing the repressed urges we all shared. The people I met all liked a variety of different things. People were male, female, straight, gay, bi, transgender, non-binary, anything you could think of. But we all shared a love for hair and the removal and changing of that hair.

I always envied the girls who were brave enough to act on their urges. Their shaved heads, undercuts, pixie cuts, even their bobs taunted me. Meanwhile the best I had been able to do was give myself a small trim in my bathroom mirror.

Then one night, I was introduced to roleplaying. A partner and I would chat with one another, each of us acting out a part. We would talk our way through different scenarios, me always playing the part of a girl losing her hair. I would be a daughter of a vengeful father, a submissive girlfriend undergoing a punishment, a girl sent to military school, or even just a girl that walked into the shop of a forceful barber.

Quickly, I found that my first partner, although enthusiastic, was just not a very good writer. I didn’t know his name but he usually gave me very little to react to and ultimately things always went the same. It was nice and new but I wanted more.

Fortunately, I found more in a new roleplaying partner. He was a talented writer, great at improvisation, and he was skilled at giving me plenty to react to. He slowly figured out my favorite things and incorporated them into our scenarios while also involving things he enjoyed as well, not that our interests were all that different. It seemed like we were the perfect roleplay partners.

Thanks to my new friend, whose true name or face I did not know, I finally found somebody whose writing drove me crazy enough to lead me to masturbate as we chatted. As he wrote what he would do the fictional me, I would touch myself with one hand and type my replies with the other. I hated how careful I had to be, but thankfully my sophomore year of college, I got perhaps the most amazing thing somebody could. I got a single unit.

The Single Life

Having a single meant a lot. I had no roommate, instead having a room, bathroom, and kitchenette all to myself. They were rare and I had gotten lucky in the lottery. Although they were rare, most people preferred not to live alone. But not me. I finally had the chance to live how I wanted.

My online partner and I would stay up late into the night, the only thing lighting my room would be my laptop at my desk. He was so fun and interesting that I actually began to open up to him, cautiously and slowly. Something about him put me at ease.

We would roleplay and then chat about life, leaving out details that might provide too much information and reveal our true identities. I even got bold enough to finally send him a picture of myself. Not of my full face, just my eye and a little bit of my hair. Enough to help with his imagination but not enough to identify me in a crowd or online. I was breaking rules, but only small ones. Nothing bad enough, nothing to get me found out.

I learned that, aside from a raging hair fetish, he was a normal guy. He dated fairly regularly, all women with long hair, he had finished college and was working at a normal IT job that paid him nicely. He had friends, hobbies, and a normal life. But, like me, he had never been able to experience his fetish in the real world. Unlike me, he had tried new and different things with his hair, but that wasn’t what excited him. He preferred to give rather than to receive.

“Hey Jordan?” he asked one day.

”Yes John?” I replied. We both used pseudonyms when we chatted, never revealing our true names.

”Why haven’t you ever actually acted on your fetish?” he asked.

”What do you mean? We roleplay all the time,” I said.

“You know what I mean. You’ve never done anything crazy to your hair. Or let anybody do anything crazy to your hair,” he said.

”I mean you’ve never actually acted on your fetish,” I shot back, suddenly feeling attacked.

”I’ve done what I can. You know I’ve shaved my own head and done other stuff like that. But it’s not like I’ve ever found a girl willing to let me shave all of her hair off while she’s tied to a chair. That’s not as easy. But you could do that. You could have your head shaved. But you won’t,” he said bluntly.

”Well, I don’t know,” I said, now feeling as nervous as I felt attacked.

”You’ll regret it if you don’t. And you’re young and in college, what better time than the present?” John asked.

I thought for a moment but I was held back by what had always stopped me in the past. I held my ponytail in my hand. My hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, something I always did when we chatted so that if I caught my reflection it would kind of look like I didn’t have hair. What held me back was my fear of what people would think. Not that I had a lot of close friends and the ones I did have wouldn’t care what my hair looked like. But I was still afraid.

”I don’t know. Maybe I just haven’t found the right person to do it yet,” I said, sending a winky face emoji along with my message, hoping to distract him with the playful flirting that we always partook in.

”Oh so I’m not the right person?” he asked. He took the bait and the game of flirting was on.

I sent a kissy face emoji with the message, “I haven’t met you in person, silly. Maybe if I did I’d let you have your way with my hair.”

”Wouldn’t that be incredible?” he stated rather than asked.

”It really would. Now, do you want to do one more roleplay before bed or are you ready to turn in for the night?” I asked him.

”One more, please?” he asked.

That night we played out the story of a girl dating a man in the military that only liked women with high and tights. It was fun and we both had the opportunity to cum thanks to each other’s writing. I went to bed satisfied but only a little. He was right, I wanted more. But I couldn’t do it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

A Chance Encounter

The next weeks went by normally. Classes by day, roleplay by night with my friend John. We would send each other new videos we found or share old favorites. One Friday afternoon, I sat at my favorite table in the corner of the library, studying for some history exam I really didn’t want to take.

Listening to my favorite classical study music through my AirPods I was deeply buried in my notes. With my Frappuccino by my side I read a page about the War of 1812 and the Battle of New Orleans. So boring. John would have loved it, aside from working in IT, he was also a huge history nerd.

I felt a tap on my shoulder that awoke me from a paragraph about Andrew Jackson. Pulling out one of my earbuds, I turned to face the person that had the audacity to interrupt me when I clearly wanted to be left alone.

This audacious person also happened to be the most handsome man I had ever seen on campus. He was tall, tan, had short dark hair, a stubbly beard that did nothing but accentuate his strong jawline. I could see his arms and chest were muscular and I knew is tan t-shirt covered a 6 pack of abs. His dark blue jeans didn’t hide a fantastic ass, likely earned by hours in the gym.

He looked older than me. Not by much but too old to be a regular college student. He looked more like a grad student, maybe. But grad students weren’t supposed to be hot. Even though he didn’t look like a student he wore a backpack on his back.

”Excuse me,” he said, a little loudly like maybe he was repeating himself.

It was then that I noticed I had been staring. My mouth was open and I snapped it shut. My hair was thrown up in a messy bun, I wore a baggy t-shirt and sweat pants. This was not how I wanted to meet the hottest guy I had seen in person in who knows how long.

”Sorry, I couldn’t hear you, my music,” I said, holding up my ear bud.

”That’s okay. I just thought you looked familiar,” he said.

Now that I thought about it, something about him felt familiar. I was sure I’d never met him, but then I also felt like I had.

”Is your name Jordan?” he asked.

My heart nearly skipped a beat. Jordan was the name that everybody I had met online knew me by. I could feel my cheeks flush red, but I shook my head, bun wobbling.

”Nuh uh, I’m Jane,” I said breathlessly.

He paused for a moment, looking almost amused. He squinted and then shrugged his shoulders.

”Alright, I guess I’m wrong. Well, it was nice to meet you, Jane,” he said, turning to walk away.

”Wait, what’s your name?” I asked.

”It’s John,” he said, turning to walk away.

Reality

The encounter with the handsome man named John left me rattled. I double locked my door that night, settling in to chat with my John.

”You’ll never believed what happened today,” I said before we started roleplaying.

”What’s that?” he asked.

”I met a guy named John today. And he said I looked like a friend of his named Jordan. Weird, right?” I asked.

”Lol, definitely weird. Although there are a lot of Johns out there so it’s not too weird,” he said.

”Alright so I’m thinking we do another college girl roleplay,” I said, leading into our newest scenario.

In this one, we played out that I was a random hookup that turned into me sitting in a barber’s chair in his basement having my hair shaved completely bald. We both loved ending things with a smooth head but variety was fun so it was always a special treat when he shaved my head smooth. Or at least pretended to.

The next night, one of my real life friends had informed me that I was going to be dragged out to a party. She told me to dress as slutty as possible with as much makeup as I could put on my face. When I showed up to her apartment with a loose t-shirt, shorts, and my everyday makeup, she wouldn’t have it. We left her place and my clothes consisted of little more than a bra, cut off jean shorts, and a face full of makeup complete with glitter on my cheekbones. My long hair was straightened and touched the small of my back.

The party was like a rave with plenty of flashing lights, loud music, and drinking. She went through at least half a dozen while I nursed one beer all night. I was underage and didn’t have much of a taste for drinking although, if I stayed friends with this girl for long, I probably would.

While I was there, all I could think about was that I missed chatting with John. I wished I was on the computer with him, playing out some wild fantasy. It shouldn’t be that way, of course. 19, attractive, and at a party, I should have been having fun and dancing with boys. Instead I was thinking about roleplaying with a man I had never met, never even seen.

We stayed for a little while longer, my friend being cut off 8 drinks in as she was slowly beginning to lose the ability to stand. I helped her home and put her on the couch with a water and a bucket close by and covered her with a blanket. My standard procedures for leaving her after a night out.

Wearily, I walked back to my room. My feet hurt and I took my shoes off, carrying them in my hand. I held my clutch style purse and keys in the other. I knew I looked rather pathetic but I hurried, just in case John was still awake for some chatting.

I opened the door to my apartment, letting the door close behind me. I dropped my things on my little coffee table and took my seat at my desk in front of my lap top in the dark room.

”Hello, Jordan,” I heard a familiar man’s voice say from the corner of my room.

I yelped and whirled around, turning on my desk lamp as my eyes scanned around me. Standing in front of my door was the man from the library. It was John.

”Why did you lie to me yesterday, Jordan?” he asked, taunting me.

”What do you mean? My name is Jane,” I said, nervously rolling my desk chair backwards.

”Again with the lies. You should be better than this, Jordan,” he said, standing over me.

”What are you doing, John? Your name is John, right? From the library?” I asked, having my own questions that needed answering.

”You should know my name. We’ve been chatting for months, you little tease,” he said.

”I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tried denying.

”Check your messages. You were about to log in. Go ahead and check,” he said, picking up my laptop and handing it to me.

I looked at him nervously and took the laptop. Hastily typing my username and password in, I saw that I had one message. From my John.

”It’s me in your room. We’re making this real,” read the message.

Suddenly my laptop was on my bed and my mouth was being stuffed with some kind of a gag.

”Wait, no,” I said, muffled through my gag.

”Sorry, I can’t understand you,” he said, hastily duct taping one hand and then the next to the armrests on my chair.

Before I could react, he was taping me to the back of the chair as well, and taping my ankles together. Soon, I was bound, gagged, and crying.

”You thought you could lead me on, roleplay, live in a fantasy world forever? Well guess what. I’m breaking you free. Tonight,” he said, the orange light of my desk lamp giving him a sinister glow.

I tried to protest, but I was gagged. I wanted to call for help, to tell him to stop. But, part of me, however scared I was, wanted this to continue. Although this was perhaps the most terrifying moment of my life, it was also the most erotic. I could feel my underwear grow wet, even as tears fell down my cheeks.

“I knew it was you in the library. You’re sexier than I expected. I love your outfit too. Now let’s see what we’re going to do with this hair,” he said, lifting up a section of my silky hair and letting it fall through his fingers.

”Mmm! Mmm!” I pleaded.

”What? You want me to have my way with it? If you insist,” he said, using a hair tie to gather my hair back into a low ponytail.

I heard clippers flip on and I tried to scream. It didn’t work. I was too afraid to move, afraid that I would make him slip up and that I’d be punished for it. That was what he liked and I knew it.

I felt the clippers chewing through the ponytail, felt hair, shorter than it had ever been, fall forward around my chin. His clippers were sharp and they were through my ponytail in no time. He held the ponytail aloft like a prize.

”This is coming with me. I want to remember this. I know you will,” he said.

”Would you like to see?” he asked after he put his trophy in a small duffel bag and emerged with a small hand mirror.

I shook my head, tried to look away. But he held my head in place and made me look. I was surprised by what I saw. It actually looked good on me. I had a chin length bob that, aside from the running makeup, made me look sexy and grown up. Maybe I should have done this sooner.

”You like this don’t you? You little whore,” he said, smirking at his work. “Well, you should know that we aren’t done.”

Using scissors he cut bangs, again showing me my reflection. I was surprised again to see how good I looked, even with the hasty cut. Perhaps if I had done this in a salon it would look even better.

”You’re such a skank. You love this don’t you? You need to be punished,” he said.

I shook my head, pleading with my eyes. I knew what it meant to be punished. We had played that scenario out so many times before. I knew what would be coming as the clippers were flipped on again.

He tilted my head back, sweeping my hair back with his hand. Then, without hesitation, he plunged the clippers straight into the middle of my hairline. I sobbed. It was over. I was going to be bald and there was no going back.

Mercilessly he drove the clippers into my hairline a second time and a third. I knew from all of the videos that I had watched what my head probably looked like. Pale, a little bit of stubble. Maybe a few long hairs that got missed.

I couldn’t believe this was actually happening to me as more of my hair fell to the ground and into my lap. It would take years before my hair would be this long again, I knew it from all of the women I had watched on the internet.

”How rude of me, I bet you’d like to watch this too,” John said, pushing my chair in front of the tall mirror I had leaned up against the wall of my studio style room.

What I saw in the mirror looked like what I had seen in so many videos in the past, what I had fantasized about and imagined during so many roleplaying sessions. A girl, tied to a chair, sobbing, and rapidly losing hair. I could actually see my scalp and it terrified me. And it turned me on.

John made another pass over the top of my head and I moaned at the sight and feeling. The pleasure was beginning to outweigh the horror. If it was happening, I might as well enjoy it. There was no fighting things now. I was in his control and I was beginning to love it.

”The whore is beginning to enjoy her treatment. Good. So am I, see?” he said, pointing at the massive bulge in his pants.

I let another moan slip out, pleading with him with my eyes to remove the gag. He must have understood because he pulled it from my mouth.

”What is it, whore?” he demanded.

”I don’t know what you’re planning but don’t leave without giving me a chance to thank you. Can you please put the gag back in now?” I asked, using my best submissive voice, something I had never gotten to use before.

He stuffed the gag, a rag damp with my tears and saliva, back into my mouth and I nodded, indicating that I wanted him to start again. He rubbed the stubbly top of my head and began to shave up through my right sideburn.

He made quick work of the right side of my head, revealing my ear. It stuck out too much. I knew I would look funny without hair. And the thought of that aroused me even further. He was stripping my pride and joy from me, making me into something he desired.

Next, he shaved the left side of my head, pushing the clippers up through my sideburn. He folded my big ear down and shaved around it, making sure he left nothing but blonde stubble behind.

Finally, he pushed my chin down, leaving his hand on the top of my bald head and shaved up through the last of the hair on my head. Hair fell around my face and into my lap.

Seeing my hair on the floor caused a sense of dread to wash over me. I would be bald soon and that wouldn’t go away. I’d go to classes, see friends and professors, people who had last seen me with hair. There would be questions, confusion, humiliation. New tears welled up in my eyes as John lifted my head so I could see the mirror again.

My reflection was that of a broken, bald girl. My makeup ran. Fallen hair stuck to my cheeks, my shoulders, my breasts, and my lap. My ears poked out and I felt like I looked like a slutty koala. I cried even more, nearly shaking with the sobs.

Then, John tilted my head back, forcing me to look up at the ceiling. “I’m not done with you,” he said, holding a palm under my chin.

I knew what was coming and I was terrified. He held the clippers on my right temple, next the my eyebrow. Ruthlessly, he drove the clippers through my right eyebrow and then my left. I closed my eyes, afraid of the falling hair and even more afraid to see myself. I knew I would look like an alien now.

Then, with my eyes still closed, I felt cool shaving cream being sprayed onto my head. The sound was a familiar one, something I had heard in so many videos, something I had imagined experiencing so many times. But it was real now.

John massaged the shaving cream onto my already exposed scalp, spreading it over every stubbly hair. He put some over where my eyebrows had been too.

Cruelly, he shaved my eyebrows first. Somehow, even after losing my long flowing locks, the loss of my eyebrows hurt even more. Now I wouldn’t look like I was making a fashion statement. I’d look like a freak. Like somebody who was sick.

He finished shaving my eyebrows and I still couldn’t bear to look. My eyes squeezed shut, I felt him scrape away at the hair on the top of my head. He pulled against the grain, not wasting any time with shaving my head the nice or comfortable way but fortunately my skin wasn’t sensitive and his razor was sharp. The razor tugged but it didn’t hurt.

”Open your eyes you stupid bitch,” John said, smacking me on the cheek with an open palm.

The slap stung and I opened my eyes, causing tears to fall again. Pain from the slap was one thing but the hideous, hairless, eyebrowless creature before me was another. Especially when I realized that I was that creature.

”You cry too much, bitch,” he said, slapping my cheek again. It was hard enough to sting but not hard enough to leave a bruise.

I sighed out a shaky breath and then took a steadier one. Blinking a few times I cleared the tears from my eyes. This was what I wanted, after all. It was the greatest realization of my sexuality.

Soon my head was shaved smooth and he poured cold water over my head to rinse it, leaving me gasping through my gag.

”You’re welcome, Jordan. You teased me for so long it was obvious you wanted this. I hope you’re happy with the new you,” he said, taunting me.

I nodded and made a muffled sound with my mouth. He pulled the gag out of my mouth.

”Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Can you remove my restraints so I can properly thank you?” I asked meekly.

Using a box cutter, he cut the tape from my arms and from my chest. He left my ankles taped together and pulled me to my knees.

”You may thank me,” he said.

I eagerly unfastened his pants and pulled them and his underwear down to his ankles. His dick was huge and everything was shaved. It was already erect and I knew I probably didn’t have much work but I went at it with vigor.

Putting one hand on his shaft and the other cupping his balls, my fingertips teasing his taint, I slipped his cock into my mouth and sucked. Working his cock into and out of my mouth and sliding my hand up and down his shaft, I started slowly.

I had never given a blow job and was only doing what I had seen in porn. And there was one aspect of the pornography I watched that I loved and I could tell I was close to getting it.

As he drew near to climaxing, I could taste the saltiness of his pre-cum on my tongue. I felt his cock surge and quickly I pulled it out of my mouth and ducked my bare head. His load pumped out onto my naked scalp and ran down my face.

Looking up at him and smiling, I saw he was pleased as well.

”Good girl. You did well. You may now pleasure yourself,” he said, pulling his pants up and collecting his belongings.

”Don’t you want a picture of your new creation?” I asked, still on my knees.

”Jordan, I have been recording this the whole time. I’ll be uploading it on all the good hair fetish sites. You’re going to be famous,” he said, stepping out and closing the door.

Mortified, my tears began to fall anew. Still, I couldn’t pull myself away from the desire to masturbate and found my vibrator. I turned on the web camera on my laptop and recorded myself masturbating. I ran my hands over my head, needing nothing other than myself and the memory of what happened to make myself cum again and again.

Obediently, I sent the video to John when I was finished. Then, I collapsed into bed and passed out for the night.

I awoke when the sun was already in the sky the next morning to a knock on my door. Snapping awake, I dismissed the events of the night before as a dream and hurried to answer the door.

On the other side of the door was my friend from the night before. She had bounced back from the night before and nearly ran into me as she walked into the room.

”Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I must have knocked on the wrong door, wait OH MY GOD JANE!” her hands shot up to my head.

I felt her hands on my bare skin and immediately began to sob. My hands reaching to my own head, I fell to the floor and cried on my friend’s shoulder. It had been real, all of my hair and eyebrows were gone. It was terrible and humiliating. And oh so good.

On my laptop was one message from John.

”See you again soon, Jane.”

If you’re just now finding this, here’s the link to part 2:

Dream Come True: Part 2