In the summer heat

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Summer was hot and humid and Amelia couldn’t stand the layer of sweat that seemed to be making a permanent home on her skin. It was almost 3 am and the sound of trilling frogs was the only thing she could hear in the dead of night. She was restless, absolutely unable to get any sleep. She wanted to crawl out of her own skin and just get some sort of relief.

A cold shower. That was what she needed. If she could just cool down and feel clean again maybe she could get some sort of relief and rest. She just needed this day to be over, just needed this night to be over. And tomorrow, tomorrow she would buy an air conditioner or a fan or anything to avoid another hot sleepless night like this one.

Amelia rolled out of bed, her skin sticking to the thin sheet she kept beside her. She should change her sheets, should get rid of all traces of this sweaty uncomfortable night.

Her long ponytail swung behind her, the slightly curled damp strands sticking to her neck in their own kind of torture. Amelia took stock of her reflection in her small bathroom mirror, the light causing her to squint at herself as her eyes adjusted after being in her dark bedroom for hours. She looked as miserable as she felt, her face was flushed and glistening and her sweaty dark hair looked greasy as it hung limply behind her. Strands were sticking up every which way from all her tossing and turning in bed.

She didn’t know if she should pull her hair from the ponytail and put it into a bun or go through the process of getting it wet in the shower. On one hand, the cool water would feel incredible on her scalp, running through her hair and down her body. On the other hand, she didn’t think she would enjoy trying to go to bed with wet hair, the feeling too similar to the sticky hot mess she was trying to escape from.

Amelia opened the drawer to the right of the sink in search of a clip or the shower cap she rarely used. As she shuffled through the contents she just got more and more frustrated, pushing aside an ungodly amount of half empty toothpaste tubes and bobby pins and hair brushes stuffed with dead hair.

She reached her hand into the back of the drawer that was hidden by the countertop, hoping her fingers would find what she was desperate for. A small prick of her finger had Amelia drawing her hand back, swearing and examining her hand to find no broken skin but an angry red patch staring back at her. She cautiously reached her hand back in and grabbed the offending pair of scissors that were wedged in the unseen portion of the drawer.

Amelia had purchased a pair of cheap hair cutting scissors at the grocery store when she had first moved into her apartment to trim the bangs that she had ended up growing out pretty soon after. She had liked the way they looked on her, the curtain of dark hair on her light complexion, but the upkeep was just too much for her. They would have surely been stuck to her forehead with sweat right now if she had decided to keep them. So good riddance to that.

She placed the scissors on the corner of the counter, resuming her search in the left hand drawer. It seemed to be a bottomless pit and Amelia was getting hotter and angrier with every second that she looked. Finally she decided to just take her ponytail out and use that holder to make a bun with her hair.

As she pulled the elastic out of her thick hair it sprung free and snapped against her wrist, leaving an angry red mark where the broken hair band had smacked her sensitive skin.

Great, just great. She thought. This night was never ending and all she wanted to do was cry. It seemed like the world was out to get her as her hair tumbled free, sticking even more so to her sweaty shoulders.

Amelia huffed out yet another annoyed breath as she rummaged once again through her drawers for something to pull her hair back with. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. How was this possible? She had so many hair ties and clips that seemed to litter every surface in her house and now she couldn’t find any of them. A growl of frustration left her mouth as she pounded her fists down on the counter. This caused the scissors to jump unexpectedly and catch her attention.

The scissors.

They sat there. Staring at her. Taunting her. Giving her ideas that she was too sleep deprived to consider.

Her gaze caught in the mirror, on her delicate features and her long hair and the tears that started to well in her piercing blue eyes.

Before she knew what she was doing the scissors were in her right hand, resting comfortably on her fingers. And as she stared at her reflection it seemed like a completely different person was staring back at her. Someone she didn’t recognize, someone she didn’t have any control over.

Her arm lifted up, pulling a clump of hair at the front of her scalp taut as her other hand slid the scissors an inch or two above her head. What was she doing? Why was she doing this? Her heart rate seemed to increase, her pulse beating wildly as a trickle of excitement started to course through her body. Was she really going to do it? If she closed those scissors, she knew there was no going back from it.

With her shoulders straightened and her heart hammering, Amelia squeezed her right hand shut and watched as the scissors sliced through the thick bundle of hair she held up. The loud crunch reverberated through her entire body and she felt nauseous and excited and terrified at the sound and the sight in front of her. Her left hand pulled away, a handful of long dark soft hair coming with it. Amelia stared at it like it wasn’t real, like it wasn’t her own hair.

When she looked back at the mirror she saw the short patch of hair standing straight up, spiking up without the weight of length to keep it down. A lump formed at the back of her throat when she lifted up her hand and ran it over the inch long hairs that rested at her hair line. Well, there was no going back now. There was no taking it back. She couldn’t even pass the cut off as short bangs. She was committed.

It excited her, more than she would have ever expected as she grabbed another section, pulling it up tight and slicing through it with reckless abandon. Section after section, hair after hair, Amelia pulled and cut and pulled and cut. The long clumps of hair raining down around her, sticking to her sweaty shoulders and fluttering down to pile around her bare feet.

The woman staring back at her was striking, determined, and flushed in a way that was different than before. The ache that had settled between her legs was growing more and more insistent as she cut and cut and cut.

When Amelia reached around for the last long chunk of hair at the back of her head she hesitated. Like that one piece was the last thing keeping this from being real. Her hands trembled as she pulled it forward and slid the scissors as close to the scalp as she could reach.

The final crunch resounded through her body, through her bones and her heart and through her aching core.

She had done it.

She had cut off all her hair.

It stuck up in every single direction and felt like soft fur under her searching hands. A breath that she had seemed to be holding whooshed out of her, catching in the back of her throat where a lump had formed.

Her hair looked terrible, she looked terrible. It was short and spiky and had no style what so ever. It seemed to point in every direction as she had cut it too short. She shouldn’t have reacted so irrationally, she should have been paying more attention and left a little more length so that she could style it as a cute pixie cut. But no, she had pushed the boundaries and cut her hair into what looked like an overgrown buzz cut.

Maybe if she just cut it a little bit shorter it wouldn’t look so unruly and stupid. Her heart seemed to be beating out of her chest as her trembling hands once again reached for the scissors.

Amelia grabbed a comb out of a drawer and lifted it to her hairline, hoping she could get some sort of guide as she cut her butchered hair shorter and shorter.

Like they weren’t even attached to her body, her hands took over. Cutting and snipping and combing and cutting as little bits of hair rained all over her, coating her cheeks and shoulders and making her itchy and uncomfortable.

schnick crunch crunch crunch

The hair at the front of her head just got shorter and shorter until her scalp was showing and barely anything was left on the crown of her head. The back was still long and scraggly and the front was basically bald, almost down to the skin in places and very patchy.

Fuck, she cursed under her breath. She should have just stopped when she was ahead. But this vision in front of her, scared and flushed and almost bald intrigued her. So she went to work, not even trying to look in the mirror as her fingers searched and scissors crunched as she cut and cut the hair on the back of her head, groaning silently at the wet heat that seemed to grow and grow between her legs as her hair was cut and cut and cut.

Her hands skimmed over her hair, feeling the patchy landscape of her handiwork. She had hardly any hair left. Pieces here and there that couldn’t be much longer than a millimeter or two. Her hands shook as she leaned into the shower, grabbing for the can of shaving cream and razor she kept in there.

Like it was a dream, she filled the sink with water and rubbed a small amount of shaving cream into the stubble at the front of her head. The razor scraped against her hairline, putting up a small fight as it pulled through her hair. A smooth bald patch was left in its wake, standing out in stark contrast to the short hairs that seemed incredibly long now in comparison. Amelia just stared. Stared and stared at her reflection as it all started to sink it. She couldn’t stop now, she was in it for the long run. So she rinsed off the razor and got to town, alternating shaving cream and razor as she slowly peeled her remaining hair away.

scrape scrape scrape

The blades made good work of her short hair, clearing it away like it was never meant to be on her head. As she finished the back, her hands searching behind her for any stray hairs, she couldn’t help but get even more aroused from the feel of her finger tips gliding along her bald head.

Amelia swallowed heavily as she met herself again in the mirror. Her hands still unsteady as she pat a wash cloth over her hairless head. It was like a dream, like a mirage as she delicately laid a hand on her head. It couldn’t be real. That couldn’t be her, that couldn’t be her scalp that she was touching. It was smooth and shiny and slightly sticky with sweat.

She had just shaved her head. She had just gotten out of bed 15 minutes ago with a full head of hair, just looking to take a shower to cool down and here she was with no hair and tight breasts and a throbbing core. Shit. She thought, almost distantly. Shit shit shit.

Her hair lay in piled all around her on the floor and she stepped over it numbly as she made her way into the shower. The cool water was a shock on her body, making her sensitive skin sing even more as it pounded down on her. And as she worked up the nerve, slipping her bare head under the spray, her wandered down her stomach to touch herself. She was so slick, so wet, so turned on by the events that transpired.

And as she touched herself, pleasured herself, one hand on her head and the other on her throbbing bundle of nerves, it was more ecstasy than she had ever felt before. She flew higher and faster than she ever thought possible, collapsing against the wall of the shower after crying out her orgasm.

She stayed there for a few minutes, breathing heavily and exploring her new head, the slick feel of skin on skin. Up her neck, around her ears. From her forehead to her crown and down around to her breast. She was spent but already turned on again, feeling like an active power line with too much energy and electricity for one body to contain.

Her towel was plush and cool as she wrapped it around her sensitive body, her hands instinctively going to her hair to squeeze out the excess water before exiting the shower. Like a shock, her hands met bare skin again and everything started to prickle all over again.

She carefully sidestepped the mound of hair on the ground, vowing to clean it up tomorrow and not really believing that all of that had been on her head less than an hour ago.

Her damp body tumbled into bed, tired and satisfied and cool as they hit the soft sheets. And Amelia sunk into a deep sleep, not knowing what had just happened and when she could do it again.








The sun shone through her window, humidity still hung heavy in the air as Amelia emerged from a deep sleep. She had had the weirdest dream, had even seemed to get off on it and her mind seemed to take an extra second to pull her out of sleep. Who knew she had a thing for haircuts, who knew she would get so turned on by thinking about an impulsive haircut, and impulsive head shave. But it was just a dream. She rolled over and was puzzled by the towel that lay damp beneath her. What the heck? Her limbs felt heavy and sleepy as she sat up, her naked body sweaty and uncomfortable once again. But something was off. Something was different. And with a start, Amelia’s hands flew to her head. Where they met smooth skin.

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