Force of Habit, Chapter One

Force of Habit

 

By Shorngirl

 

Chapter One – The Beginning

 

Twister

 

         I hate to admit it, but I’m addicted to having my hair cut. As strange as it sounds, it’s true. Most people get their hair cut or at least styled as a matter of course, or to make themselves look better. For me, it’s a more tactile experience, with some serious sexual connotations.

         My name is Winona Bender, and I am currently a programmer with a software firm in New York City. It isn’t my first job, nor will it probably be my last. I seem to burn through employment opportunities, and there is a specific reason for that, which I am somewhat reticent to share.

         Seeing as that is why I am writing this, I suppose it’s necessary to divulge the reason for my frequent moves and job changes. Aside from being addicted to haircutting, specifically my own, I seem to have a penchant for humiliation. The haircutting feeds into that little quirk very nicely.

         It all began when I was fresh out of college at SUNY Binghampton. A job opportunity presented itself almost immediately with IBM, as they had a large hub there. Thrilled at the chance to get into such a reputable firm, I fell right into step and was soon working my way up the ladder, as it were.

         The apartment I had, I kept from college. After my roommates graduated, they all moved out, save for one. Mickey Friese was a Dramatic Arts major, and he didn’t fare as well as the others. Although he always promised he was going to move out, he just sort of hung on. I promised I wouldn’t throw him out at some point, and aside from being good in bed, he kept the place spotlessly clean.

         One day, after arriving home from the office, he seemed particularly randy, hinting at some pretty kinky things as he cooked supper for me. He said he’d been attending a workshop and was learning about roleplay and power exchange.

         “What kind of a workshop is this anyway?” I asked, curious.

         “Oh, it borders on theatre, but a very loose interpretation of it. I’d say it’s more of a sexual awakening of sorts.” Mickey admitted, freely.

         Now, I wasn’t a prude and had dabbled in some mild horseplay when it came to sex. I’d certainly read about what he was referring to, but never imagined myself partaking.

         When we’d finished our meal and I’d done the washing up, as was the arrangement, he continued with his antics. “I want you to try something.” He mused.

         “Oh really?” I could only imagine what he had in mind.

         “Why don’t you slip out of your work clothes and come back here, au naturel.” It wasn’t a suggestion, but more of a command. I was willing to play along, figuring he’d end up shagging me on the carpet or something.

         I couldn’t stop from being aroused. We’d had sex a few times, but this was just a bit weirder than that. When I came back to the large living area, he was nowhere to be seen. I wandered about looking for him, but he seemed to have left. A bit let down, to be fair, I’d started to head back into my bedroom, when a raucous roar of laughter erupted from the kitchen.

         “Where are you going, Winny?” I heard Mickey call out, leading a small group of people out of the kitchen.

         “Mickey, what the hell!” I cried, but before I could escape, he had me by the arm, pulling me, naked before what had to have been ten or twelve people. They all relaxed into various spots in the room while I cowered behind my palms, hiding my face as there was no point in hiding my body.

         “This is Winny, everyone,” Mickey announced. God, how I hated that name. It had haunted me all through grammar school, and my grandmother seemed to delight in taunting me with it, still. There was a general murmur of approval from the mostly male crowd, although there were two women amongst the onlookers.

         “Mickey, I’m naked for crying out loud.” I spat through my hands, still unwilling to look fully at my audience.

         “That you are, and that you will stay for the rest of the evening.” Mickey insisted. “There’s food and drink in the kitchen. I suggest you start serving us.”

         When he let go, I resisted the immediate urge to run into my bedroom and lock the door. Standing there, dumbfounded, to be honest, I looked around the room. No one seemed shy about gawking at my nudity.

         It was at that moment when something inside me clicked. It wasn’t audible or anything, it just felt like someone had thrown a switch. I went from being thoroughly humiliated to being embarrassingly titillated. Realizing what was happening, I escaped to the relative safety of the kitchen, where I found grocery bags full of party supplies.

         I quickly poured chips and dips into bowls and deposited several six-packs of beer into the fridge. Taking a deep breath, I emerged with my hands full, setting the food before my apparent admirers. No one seemed to pay too much attention to me, which only deepened my arousal. After the second round of beers, I began to realize that I was little more than a naked serf, there to wait on them.

         An occasional hand would reach out and caress my ass or squeeze a breast, but that was the extent of their attention. Mickey instructed me to stand outside their circle as they joked and cajoled, sometimes at my expense. I could feel myself leak down the inside of my thighs, such was the level of my arousal. How could Mickey have known I’d react this way?

         After everyone left, Mickey seemed to take pity on me and fucked me hard and almost too roughly on the coffee table, my back showing the bruises the following day.

         “What the hell was that, last night?” I asked as he popped out of his bedroom the next morning.

         “Why? You seemed to enjoy yourself. Look at you.” Chortling over my slightly disheveled appearance.

         “It was…”

         “It was perfect, so you best get used to it, Winny.” He mused. “The gang will be by after every workshop.”

         Part of me wanted to scream over this intrusion into my quiet, orderly life, but the other part was jumping up and down with joy. My only fear was that it might escalate into something more than ogling and copping an occasional feel. “Okay,” I replied, demurely.

         Mickey seemed almost surprised by my lack of resolve. A smile soon crept over his face. “By the way, Winny. One of the girls found a hair in the dip last night. It was quite long, so it could only have been yours.”

         “I’m… I’m sorry.” I stammered.

         “She was kinda pissed off. She said that if you were hers, she’d get rid of that blonde mane of yours.” He stood, running his fingers through my waist-length hair. “What do you think?”

         “I’ll be more careful,” I said, trying not to imagine someone having at my precious locks.

         I went to work that day, fighting the thought of this girl lopping off my hair. It was no use. I masturbated twice in the bathroom that day, imagining just that.

         By the time I got home, I was a wreck. I threw my things on the floor of the bedroom and didn’t bother with clothes. Mickey was already cooking super, but he smiled as I came in utterly naked.

         “It’s nice that you’re catching on, Winny.” He chuckled. “Maybe you shouldn’t be allowed any clothes in the apartment.”

         Having already gotten myself off twice, I figured I would be immune to his prodding, but I only found myself more aroused. “Maybe you’re right.”

         “Well then, it’s a rule. No clothes.” His offhand delivery sent a surge of electricity through my sex. What had I just done? I was playing right into his hands.

         I just couldn’t stop myself. So, I had to tell him about my fantasies that day. “You know, I couldn’t get what you said about my hair, and that… that girl, out of my head today.” I stammered.

         “So, Winny, you agree with her assessment?” He pressed, turning to eye my naked body up and down.

         As desperately as I tried, I couldn’t help but tell him the truth. “I masturbated twice about it in the staff bathroom.”

         His giddy laugh only served to send ripples down my spine, centering in an electric shock to my clitoris. “Then I guess it has to go then, doesn’t it, Winny?”

         Why did he have to make it a question? I failed to answer, but he could see I was struggling. We were about halfway through the meal before I spouted. “I guess it does.”

         “I guess it does…what?” He asked.

         “I guess it has to go,” trying not to reach between my legs right then and there. I couldn’t believe I’d said it, but I had.

         “Can’t imagine you’ll want Becky cutting it, so, seeing as it’s Saturday tomorrow, what do you say to a trip down to my barber’s? He’ll straighten you out nicely.” Mickey directed, standing and leaving me with the dishes.

         “You’re taking me to a barbershop?” I trembled. “I can’t go to a barbershop, Mickey. I’m a girl.” I complained, but to tell the truth, the idea only made me hotter.

         By the time I was done with the kitchen, Mickey was settled in watching television. Still naked, it seemed odd to just walk in and join him there. He reached under the sofa and pulled out what looked like the spinner from my old Twister game. “What are you doing with that?” I asked, imagining some kinky version of Naked Twister.

         “Have a look.” He set it down on the table. In place of the hands and feet were post-its, all four with some sort of writing on them. “We’re going to play haircut roulette.”

         “Oh, my God, you’re kidding.” I groaned.

         “We each take a turn until we’ve landed on a haircut three times. Whatever that is, the barber will be doing tomorrow.

         I was still feeling a bit odd sitting across from Mickey completely naked, and his insisting on my sitting cross-legged as he was doing, didn’t help that cause. It wasn’t any real consolation that he would be spinning as well, as he wore his hair fairly short anyway. With my pussy completely on display, my lips spread open lewdly, I spun the pointer first.

         I was only just beginning to take in the choices of haircuts, out of four, my first spin landed on Crewcut. The other three were no more appealing. One actually said, Bald.

         Mickey spun and he had to laugh as he actually did land on Bald.

         “It would serve you right,” I muttered, as he pushed the devilish spinner towards me again. I spun the red pointer hard this time but only prolonged my fate as it landed on Crewcut for a second time. Of course, and right on cue, my pussy was getting wet, and he couldn’t help but point out that embarrassing fact.

         His second spin landed on Flattop, which was about how he wore it anyway, and he didn’t waste time in reminding me. Wanting to get this over with, I quickly spun the thing and it landed on Recon.

         “What the hell is recon?” I asked.

         “Land on it two more times and you’ll find out.” Mickey giggled, as he spun for a Flattop again. It would be so annoying if he ended up getting a touchup while I suffered a complete change of appearance.

         I flicked the spinner a bit nonchalantly, resulting in it not making it around the board all the way. “That doesn’t count.”

         “Oh, yes it does. Check the rules, Winny.” He was right of course, there was nothing in the rules about the spinner. So, I’d landed on Recon for a second time. Something told me I was either coming away from this with a crewcut or a recon, whatever that was.

         If there was any justice in the world, Mickey would end up shaved as his fourth spin was Baldagain. “Hah!” I spouted, eliciting a frown.

         He started chanting, Recon, recon, recon…” as I spun, landing on Bald for the first time. I wasn’t sure if that was a momentary reprieve or the beginning of something awful.

         He spun it hard, saying there was no way it could come up three times in a row. Much to his chagrin, it did just that. “Damn.” Although he didn’t seem that upset.

         “You’re gonna look funny with a skinhead, Mickey.” I jostled, taking the spinner back and holding my breath. But, when the little red arrow landed on Recon for a third time, it was Mickey’s turn to laugh.

         “Shit, what the fuck is a recon?!” I shouted, knowing my fate had been decided.

         “Look it up, marine.” He joked.

         I ran for my phone which was still in my work clothes lying in a disheveled heap on the bedroom floor. By the time I returned, I had pulled up an example on Google. “You’ve got to be kidding!” I groaned. “I think I’d rather be bald.”

         “Nuh uh, what you spin is what you get, Winny.”

         Sleep was elusive, to say the least, that night, as I tossed and turned imagining what I’d set myself up for. I could have just kept my mouth shut about the hair, and it might have just gone away, quietly. No, I had to blurt out how horny it made me, just to think about it. Now my beautiful hair was doomed.

Saturday…

 

         “Wake up sleepy head!” His voice boomed through my bedroom door, which I never kept closed. Mickey was fully clothed, noting that I was as well when I came into the kitchen. “Hey, you’re supposed to be naked, Winny.” He scolded.

         “But, we’re going out, right?” I reasoned.

         “Naked, now.” He ordered. “Toss your clothes outside in the hall and you can put them on when we leave.”

         “But, what about the neighbor?” I asked, fearfully.

         “He’s downstairs, Winny. You think he’s going to come up the stairs just so he can see you naked? Maybe we’ll move a set of drawers out there, just for you.” He chuckled, but I knew he was serious.

         The idea of stripping outside the apartment just to abide by his new rule seemed almost too much, but my pussy disagreed. “Fine, we can do it when we get back.” I surprised him with my compliance.

         The drive to the barbershop, in my own car I might add, was beyond nerve-racking. I kept running my fingers through my hair, knowing it was the last time I would have hair that long again.

         Fortunately, it was a short ride, and Mickey almost had to pull me out of the driver’s seat. The shop wasn’t large, set between a sewing place and a bakery. A red and white spinning pole reminded me I was entering a foreign land. What I hadn’t counted on was the crowd. We actually had to wait for a chair to open up to sit down.

         Mickey seemed right at home, pulling out his phone and scrolling to whatever game was going to keep him occupied. I was the focus of attention, apparently, being the only female in the place. Eyes kept glancing over to me, perhaps wondering why a reasonably attractive blonde would be waiting in a place like that.

         He handed me a paper number, keeping one for himself. I felt just like that too, a number, an unfortunate waif, waiting to meet her fate. Each man or boy climbed into a large swivel chair and received their prescribed skinning, usually very short with few exceptions, and I tried not to imagine it was me.

         I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised to find Mickey had given me to lower of the two numbers. I caught his grin as I followed the order and climbed into the chair.

         The barber, a younger man by comparison, but still well into his thirties, eyed me suspiciously. “What you doin’ in here, girly?” He asked, a more than thick Brooklyn accent adding some weight to his question.

         “I need a haircut,” I said, in an obvious response.

         “You wanna trim or somethin’? A couple inches off the bottom, like?” He asked, running an intrusive hand over my long golden mane.

         “A… I’d like… a recon.” I returned, hesitantly.

         “Oh, come on!” He laughed, along with a few others that were within earshot. “You’re not serious, or nothin’ right?”

         “Quite serious.” I blurted over the laughter. I looked back at Mickey through the mirror. He was enjoying himself immensely as I squirmed my way through this.

         “What. You lose a bet or somethin’?” He asked, more seriously.

         “Something like that,” I admitted, painfully.

         “A Recon?” He shook his head. “You know how short that is?” I nodded, understanding his concern. “It’s fuckin’ short, babe, just sayin’.” He held his fingers to close that light only just passed between them. He had me hold up my hair as he fastened his cape around me, securing it tightly around my slender neck.

         “Jeez, you wanna keep any of this?” He asked, admiring my locks, his fingers running through its length.

         I thought about keeping it, or donating it, but just then I just wanted to get it all over with. “No, not really.”

         I held my breath as the barber approached me with the whirring clippers, setting them at the top of my forehead. “You’re sure?” He asked again.

         The feeling of the clippers against my scalp as he ran them straight over the top was almost too much. Between the sound, the vibration against my skull, and my reflection in the mirror, I very nearly came right then and there. As he pulled away I saw the strip of fur that divided the long blonde tresses, which couldn’t have been more than a quarter of an inch long. It was so short that my scalp plainly shone through it. “Oh…” was all I managed.

         “No goin’ back now, sweetheart.” He mused as he stripped away what remained on the top of my head, each long penetrating stroke revealing more of me. With the top stripped away, he switched something on the clippers and returned, slipping them up the sides.

         The skin, and that’s just what it was, was laid completely bare in front of my ear. There was nothing, no fur, no stubble, just gleaming white skin. It was a sharp contrast to what he had left on the top. As he worked his way around my head, I saw Mickey, who was grinning ear to ear; and he wasn’t the only one, either.

         I could feel the cool air of the fan circulating overhead against my freshly exposed scalp. It was weird, knowing that all my hair was being peeled off. The barber was methodical, eventually coming to the last remaining tendril of silk falling in front of my other ear. With one quick pass, it was gone too.

         Looking in the mirror, the person staring back at me couldn’t have been me, but I knew it was. The barber wasn’t done. “You hold still now, I don’t wanna fuck up the top.” He laid a large comb across my crown and slipped the clippers over it, sending little knots of hair falling over the cape. As he worked his way back, I began to see what I saw in the images from the night before.

         A horseshoe-shaped ring was forming in the blonde stubble that remained, the center of which was shorn to the skin. ‘How humiliating’, I thought. The idea of it was only feeding my absurd arousal, edging me closer to climax.

         Thinking that the back and sides were bald already, I was surprised when the barber spread shaving foam over everything but that damned horseshoe. He honed the blade on a leather strap that hung from the side of the chair and then proceeded to shave me. I could see how smooth the sides were, the room reflected in the wet skin as he worked. Long steady strips were tonsured from my skull as he rid me of any tactile covering that remained.

         “There you go, girly, one recon.” He mused, as he swung the cape from around me. I was almost afraid to look down, fearing that my arousal would be all too evident at the crotch of my jeans. Quickly jumping from the chair, I handed the man a twenty and returned to watch Mickey in the process of being shaved.

         Seeing the simple smooth surface of his scalp, I suddenly wished that I was the one in that chair. My haircut was so masculine; so defeminizing, surely a bald head would be better. I reached up and felt the prickly stubble that circled the top of my head and then the vast smoothness that surrounded it.

         “Feels good, don’t it, toots.” The guy said sitting beside me. “I watched the whole thing.”

         I looked over, the guy almost salivating over me as he leered. All I wanted was to get out of there. As soon as Mickey was shaved, I stood and made for the door, but not before I saw my barber sweeping up those long silky strands that once belonged to me. It was all so much garbage now.

         Mickey actually looked good with his scalp all shiny, but as I gazed at myself in the rearview mirror, all I saw was a marine.

         As promised, I helped Mickey move my dresser into the hallway, where I would be forced to dress and undress. I masturbated that night, to a furious orgasm, my fingers fondling my new haircut, and wondering just what everyone would say at work.

         As it turned out, it was ignored for the most part. The women seemed pleased that I’d seen to removing myself from the gene pool, and guys simply avoided me like the plague. My manager did inquire as to the nature of the change, and not having a rational explanation I had to lie, saying that I did it for charity. He seemed impressed with that explanation, and I was able to keep my job, for the time being.

         I couldn’t believe it, but I actually begged Mickey to shave my head the rest of the way. Forever the antagonist, he insisted that a deal was a deal, and that I would sport the unbecoming recon for as long as he decided.

         Rebecca certainly got a kick out of my new look, saying that she had no intention of Mickey following through with so crazy a suggestion. She later joked that Mickey should have a chevron tattooed on my arm to go along with my decidedly military haircut.

         I caught the glint in his eye as the group slowly filed out that evening, Rebecca’s idea most certainly on his mind. “So, private Winny, what do you say?”