He Has a Fetish, Now I Have a Fetish

My phone vibrated signalling a text as I walked nervously to the hair salon.

“A bob with bangs. Chin length. Bangs straight across and full, sat above the eyebrows.” – Jason

My instructions couldn’t be clearer. Butterflies flew around my stomach yet my pussy hummed with a sense of anticipation. I loved this humiliation, this embarrassment, this loss of control. All for a boy I have a hopeless crush on. He knows he has me where he wants me, and where he wants me is a salon chair, getting my long blonde hair hacked off leaving me an uglier version of myself. Before Jason, this situation would have seemed laughable, yet now, I was willing to change myself entirely, sacrificing my well established, pretty girl in her early 20s look for his fetish. Since I started talking to him 6 months ago I have gained 30 pounds. My clothing reveals bumps and curves that were not there earlier this year. I am losing myself, or rather going through a metamorphosis that will allow me to be with him, or at least I hope it will.

As I walk down the street I take passing glances at myself in shop windows and the reflection of cars. My clothing is conservative, blue flare jeans envelop my ballerina flats and a baggy hoodie covers my new rolls and curves. A pair of glasses suited for a librarian adorn my face, I no longer use my contact lenses on request of Jason. Although the glasses are nerdy and out of fashion he says I look cute. Secretly, I am willing to change, there is something erotic about this transformation. Slowly but surely I am becoming someone else and the thought sends shivers to my groin.

The sign for the salon appears in the distance and I feel myself disassociate as I reach for the door. My eyes adjust to the room and a receptionist sits with a smile awaiting my approach.

“Hi there, an appointment for Emma?” I say sheepishly.

“Ah yes, hello Emma. Please take a seat and we will be with you in a moment.”

I sit down on a couch in the waiting area and scan my surroundings. A couple of other ladies sit getting touch ups and trims, little do they know the salon floor is about to be drowned in my blonde locks.

My excitement grows as I imagine the process. Hair falling onto my forehead as my new bangs are constructed. The ends of a bob grazing my chin, complimenting my increasingly round face. It’s embarrassing, and I love it. Not many women my age step foot into a salon wanting to become uglier, they fear that. I find power in this, not caring what people think, doing it for Jason.

I imagine meeting Jason when this transformation is complete. His kiss, his touch, his approval. It will all be worth it.

I stare at my feet as a woman approaches wearing black wid leg trousers and a black shirt, professionally dressed and sporting a chin length bob, with an age I’d place in her late 20s.

“Hey sweetheart, I’m Angie. You must be Emma. I’ll take you through.” She says with a kind tone to her voice.

I get up and follow her to the salon chair, I feel my legs lower as I sit and my face and body become apparent in the mirror.

“Take your hoodie off if you’d like.” Angie offers and smiles.

I peel my hoodie off and it reveals an old white t shirt that is getting a bit too tight on me. I feel my stomach tight against the cloth of the t shirt and my breasts push against the fabric. Jesus, what have I turned into these past few months. As I sit fat protrudes from my side cupped by the shirt, obvious without the hoodie obscuring my increasing size. I stare at my image in the mirror, blonde hair grazing my breasts, a chubby face punctuated by nerdy small circle rimmed glasses and I imagine myself from last year, sitting in a salon getting a trim, skinny and done up with makeup. The contrast between that Emma and this Emma already brings me to near wetness before any hair has been cut.

“So Emma, what are we doing today?” Angie asks as she fishes a cape out and begins to strap me in for the transformation.

“Well… I’m looking for something different. Very different.”

“That’s okay, I’m all ears.” Angie looks genuinely curious.

“I want most of this off, a bob, kind of like yours. And I think I want to try bangs.” The words barely escaped, but it was done. The process is well and truly underway. Now, I don’t even feel present, as if I’m outside of my body letting my urges take full control.

“Oh, wow. That is a big change. Well Emma, I had long hair like yours a few months back, and cut it real short.” She plays with the end of her bob, just sitting below her chin. “It was cut an inch shorter than this, just above my chin. The shortest I’ve ever had it, actually. It’s a big change, are you sure?” Angie is covering her back in case this haircut disappoints or surprises me. Little did she know that is the whole point of this operation.

“…yeah, I’m sure. I need a change. It’s about time I did something different.” I replied confidently.

“Alright sweetie, let’s get going.”

Angie begins by partitioning my hair, ready for cutting. Two long strands are held by clips as Angie determines how to tackle this hair. I am transfixed on her every motion, and she picks up her scissors I feel a tightening between my legs. She grabbed one of the strands carefully, holding it with one hand while armed with scissors in the other. I see Angie catch my eyes in the mirror.

“Are you ready?” She asks.

I nod. And as I do, Angies face grows focused as she begins to cut away my hair. I feel my stomach do twists and turns as the hair is taken away from me. My wetness grows. Strands of hair fall to the floor beneath my feet, I glance down and see the cuff of my jeans and shoes decorated by blonde wisps.

Angie then steps back and my hair falls to below my chin on one side. I can hardly believe what I’m looking at, it’s finally happening. Angie steps back behind me and begins cutting the long hair from my nape, slowly but with determination, and as she steps away I feel the bottom of my hair graze the middle of my neck, a sensation I’ve never felt before. Angie then turns to the other side and repeats the butchering of my locks, leaving my hair sitting just below my chin. An actual bob. My newly acquired rounder features are accentuated and framed by the shortness of my new hair.

“Now, the hair is still wet, so it may be a little shorter when dry. Is this length ok for you?” Angie asks.

I consider the question and as a fever grows in my groin I gain confidence and realise it’s now or never.

“Maybe a little shorter? Just above the chin?” I ask sheepishly.

“Sure, but it will probably be quite short when dry, like I said. We can go for it though.” Angie replies, covering her own back.

“Yeah, I like it so far. What’s another centimetres or two of hair.” I can’t quite believe the words that are coming out of my mouth.

Angie proceeds to trim away at the ends of my new bob, shortening and shortening it until it sits just parallel to the middle of my chin. Now this is a bob.

“Is this short enough for you?” Angie looks at me in the mirror, judging her work. I think to myself that I should probably stop before I end up with a pixie.

“Yeah, I love it! This is going to feel so healthy.” I want to reassure Angie that despite this being a massive transformation, I am comfortable.

“Alright, now for these bangs.” Angie wastes no time getting to work, and partitions the front of my hair, combing it in front of my face. This sensation gets my heart beating faster and my juices flowing.

“How do you want them? Most girls these days are getting softer bangs. Do you want to try that?” Angie suggests.

“Hmmm… I was thinking more full, blunt bangs. Straight across my forehead, just above the eyebrows.” Nice and nerdy, how Jason would want. Angies eyes widen at this request.

“Cool, like an indie-alternative style thing. It’s different but I like it.” Sure, we can call it indie, I think to myself, as Angie continues combing and lifts the scissors to my forehead. I close my eyes as the snipping continues.

I open to see bangs fall above my forehead with Angie combing them, they are blunt, almost brutal, and truly finish the framing created by the bob.

“Wow.” I let out, as Angie plays with the new bangs.

“You like it?”

“…I… love it.” I stare at the mirror, struggling to keep my mouth from falling in shock. I look so different.

“Great! I am so happy to hear that! We will get finished up, get your hair dried off and if you want we can arrange maintenance cuts? Or even more off next time.” Angie says this sincerely not realising the havoc it will play inside my mind.

“Yeah, of course. Thanks Angie.” I muster a smile but happiness is one of the last emotions I’m feeling right now. Shock, arousal, anticipation all take precedent. I want to get home and play with my hair, play with myself. I want to show Jason.

Angie dries my hair and I notice the bob and bangs sitting shorter than they did in the cutting process. I am now desperate to get out of this chair and just stare at myself in the mirror at home for hours.

“All done. Thanks Emma, that was fun.” Angie hands me my glasses from the shelf.

As I put them on a girl I can only describe as nerdy, chubby, and quiet-looking stares back at me. I am uncaped now and stand up to pay, feeling a whole lot lighter and conscious of the wetness between my jeans. Thank God they are dark wash.

“So Emma, will I be seeing you again?” Angie asks as I collect my coat.

“…yeah, book me in for this time next month.” I reply, excitement building for our next encounter already.

“Great, I’ll see you later then!” Angie says as I step out the door.

The wind hits me and short wisps of hair gust into my face as I run my fingers through them. It’s a strange sensation as the hair cuts off what feels like a foot short from where it normally does. I again look in passing shop windows at my reflection and see a chubby nerd. I am different now, some may say uglier, more conservative. But I feel more me.

As I enter my house I run to my room and look in the mirror, gazing at myself. I slip my shoes and jeans off, my hoodie thrown onto my bed as I sit cross legged on the floor in front of the full body mirror, admiring my look. My stomach spills out as I sit and my fingers are drawn to my privates where wetness awaits, as my other hand plays with the hair I have left on my head. I bring myself to orgasm and collapse on the floor, breathing heavily. Just then I hear my front door open-

“Emma?” A voice beckons from the hallway.

I submit. I am naked and wet, waiting for more.

“Jason- come in”.

The End