roberto
When Laura sat down, a slick, sticky sensation that made her squirm uncomfortably. The smell in the shed hit her immediately—sharp and sour, like oil mixed with something old and stale. It clung to the air, seeping into the heavy plastic of the red cape that was swiftly snapped tight around her neck. She swallowed hard, her nerves buzzing like static as Emma’s father in law stepped forward, holding the clippers in one hand and a small oil bottle in the other.
The clippers weren’t electric, as she’d expected—these were manual, ancient-looking. The blades gleamed with fresh oil that dripped down the edges, dark beads pooling before splattering onto the cape covering her lap. She stared at the drops, feeling her stomach twist. The oil left faint smears as her father-in-law wiped it casually with a rag, unfazed. The metallic scent mixed with the shed’s strange pugnant odor, making her nose wrinkle.
“Ready?” His tone was brusque, not really a question, and the clippers snapped open and shut with a sharp metallic snick-snick, the sound loud and invasive in the quiet room.
Laura forced a nod, though her heart felt like it might hammer its way out of her chest. The first time had been thrilling. Emma had invited her to watch her father in law giving her a regular bi-monthly shearing. And she ended up in the chair getting a severe clipping too. The second, when Anna joined them ,almost euphoric. But this—this felt different. Raw. Too real. The manual clippers looked unforgiving in his hand, the sharp edges glinting as they neared her scalp.
“Hold still,” he said gruffly, ” you know the drill by now, ” placing a firm hand on her head. The pressure forced her chin downward, and she felt the damp cape tighten around her neck. Her nape prickled, exposed to the cool air as the blades met her skin for the first time.
The sensation was nerve-racking. Unlike the electric clippers, these dragged with a deliberate pull, each motion a sharp tug that sent vibrations straight to her scalp. Her breath hitched as the first pass left a streak of bare skin in its wake. The tugging felt almost too close, as though it might peel away more than hair. Her toes curled inside her shoes, her hands gripping the chair’s armrests as she tried not to move.
A soft squeal escaped her lips when the blades caught slightly, pulling at a stubborn strand. She flushed instantly, embarrassed by the sound, but Anna laughed from her spot on the couch.
“You’re such a wimp,” Anna teased, her voice light, but Laura could hear the amusement beneath it.
Laura bit her lip, her cheeks burning as the clippers made their next pass, tugging sharply at her temples. Her scalp tingled, the sensation almost overwhelming. The oil from the clippers glistened against her skin, mixing with beads of sweat that had started to form at her hairline. She squirmed in the chair, unable to keep still as the rhythmic snick-snick echoed in her ears.
“Stop moving,” he barked, his grip on her head tightening. He tilted her forward slightly, the clippers moving to her nape. She felt the metal teeth dig in close, the sharp blades scraping against her skin with unnerving precision. The foul odor seemed to intensify, making her stomach churn as more oil dripped onto the cape, leaving dark stains in its path.
Her thoughts spiraled, her mind flashing to her new boyfriend. What would he think? she wondered, panic bubbling beneath her skin. He’d loved her long hair, always running his fingers through it, complimenting how it framed her face. Now, she’d be showing up to dinner with barely a shadow left on her scalp—and that was if the hand clippers didn’t take it all. Would he even recognize her? Would he hate it?
The dampness beneath her worsened as she squirmed again, the seat’s slick surface sticking to her thighs. The cape rustled, heavy with sweat and stray clippings that clung to the plastic like static. Each motion of the clippers felt slower, more deliberate, as if the process would never end. She felt a rising itching coming from her crotch. She carefully moved her left hand fingers to touch herself. She felt dizzy and aroused, she had never felt something like this before, but then she`d never been severely sheared by an older man before. She tried to lift her head to see if Emma and Anna was aware of what was happening to her, but he quickly tilted her head down again with a sharp, ” Sit still for me ! ”
When the clippers moved to the left side of her head, scraping just in front of her ears, she let out another involuntary squeak. The sensation was too much—her scalp stung where the blades pressed too close, leaving the skin raw and red in their wake. The merciless hobby barber grunted, muttering something about “sensitive scalps” as he worked.
The silence in the shed was suffocating, broken only by the relentless snick-snick of the clippers and the occasional squeal of the seat beneath her shifting weight. By the time he stepped back, dragged his fingers up her clippershaved nape and laid the clippers down, her shoulders were stiff from tension, her breath coming in shallow bursts.
“All done,” he said curtly.
Laura sat there for a moment, frozen, her both hands covering her crotch, and her dampness. Her scalp was smooth—slick, even—barely a trace of hair left behind. She swallowed hard, her fingertips grazing the raw, sandpapery stubbles. The sensation was alien, like touching someone else’s skin.
Anna whistled from the couch, leaning forward to inspect Laura’s head. “Damn,” she said with a grin. “That’s hardcore. I like it.”
Laura tried to smile, but her thoughts were still racing. She couldn’t stop picturing her boyfriend’s face when he saw her like this. Would he laugh? Would he cringe? Or worse—would he say nothing at all?
As she finally stood, the damp seat clinging to her legs one final time, she couldn’t shake the mix of emotions swirling inside her—thrill, shame, aroused, exhilaration, and dread all tangled together. As she stepped away from the chair of humiliation, wetness dripped down her tighs to the dirty cement floor. She dragged her feet slightly as she walked over to the sofa and picked up her summer dress and bra, hoping that the girls didn`t notice her embarrasment.
Her scalp gleamed under the harsh light, her features sharper, more pronounced than ever. It wasn’t just a haircut—it was a transformation. And while part of her felt stripped bare, vulnerable in a way that made her chest tighten, another part of her felt… unstoppable.
“Thoughts?” Anna asked, her grin teasing as she joined Laura at the mirror.
Laura’s fingers lingered on her scalp, her heart still racing. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
