Leaving Beauty Behind

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Leaving Beauty Behind


By Dreadlocks


I was incredibly excited to be starting my new position at the Enduro-Tech Laboratories. Having just graduated from Alexander University with a degree in electrical engineering, I was more than satisfied with such an excellent opportunity.

I know what you’re thinking. Why would a girl, such as myself, choose a career normally populated by geeks and introverts? Well, it was what I was good at, and I stuck with it.

I didn’t fit the profile, at all. Designated as one of the ‘popular’ girls in high school, it must have seemed an anomaly that I was so gifted in mathematics. I kept it low-key, and only my closest friends knew of my geeky side.

On the outside, my long blonde hair and perfect complexion were a façade, disguising what I considered to be my greatest asset, my mind. I had been encouraged to join the ‘mathletes’ by my teachers, but in doing so I would most certainly blow my cover. So, I kept things on the low down.

Once at university, I was eager to shed the popular personality, finally free from the peer pressure so prevalent in high school. Now, hundreds of miles from home, I let my hair down, so to speak. Not even unpacked, I began the process.

The first thing I did was lose the contact lenses. I had hated the things from word go, but there was no reason to continue torturing myself now. Digging the heavy framed glasses out of my footlocker, I slipped them over my nose and looked at myself in the mirror.

Gone was the slender-nosed beauty, almost at once, the frames resting bluntly in the middle of my face. Next to go, was the hair, but not before I dumped a couple hundred dollar’s worth of makeup and perfume in the bin. If I was doing this, it was going to be all the way.

I had always been complimented on my long blonde hair, by girls and boys alike, but it was almost as annoying as the contacts. I spent too many hours washing, drying, and styling the waist-length curls. There would be no time for that now, and to be frank, it didn’t fit the persona I was aiming for.

I walked (freshmen weren’t allowed cars on campus, ugh.) into the small village that rested quietly outside the large college campus, in search of a haircut. I wasn’t going to be picky, deciding that the first place I came upon that was open, would be doing the honors.

As it happened, that establishment was your average small-town barbershop. It came with the requisite spinning pole, mounted tenuously on the frame of a wooden doorframe.

The small bell tinkled as I entered, pushing my way into what would have to be called a very male-oriented environment. Everything about the place screamed masculinity, from the hotrod and sports magazines scattered on the tables, to the framed pictures on the walls, denoting various sporting heroes.

“Can I help you, young lady?” I man’s voice startled me from my reverie.

“Uh… I need a haircut.” I stammered, nervously, readjusting my purse strap which had slipped into the crook of my elbow.

“You’re from the college?” The man asked, almost annoyedly. I nodded. “You must have missed the salon up the street a piece.”

“No, I just walked into the first place I saw that cuts hair.” I defended.

“Well, we do men’s haircuts in here, little lady, so you best be on your way.” Trying his best to scare me off.

“I’m not fussy.” I slipped off my glasses and looked directly at him. “I just want to get rid of this.” I sighed, tugging at my blonde tresses with a closed fist.

“Well, I can certainly do that, it’s whether you’ll be happy at the end of it.” The man chuckled.

“The less there is to take care of, the better,” I said, boldly.

“In that case, why don’t you have a seat over here, and we’ll talk about it.” He indicated one of the large swivel chairs that dominated one side of the long room. A man also getting a haircut, seemed to frown as I invaded their space.

Climbing in, I suddenly felt a swirl of emotions. Should I reconsider what I was doing? I didn’t feel trapped or anything, but to back out now would be embarrassing.

“Around here, I normally do lots of fades and clipper cuts.” He pointed to photographs of various styles taped to the large plate glass mirror.

I examined the haircuts, a little taken aback by their severity. Were these to be my only options? The barber had me lift my hair as he fastened a strip of stretchy paper around my neck, followed by a brightly striped cape. This was it.

“Can you leave a little more length?” I asked, meekly.

“How about a little boy’s cut?” He dug a small image from a drawer, handing it to me as I struggled getting my hands out from under the enveloping cape. It was certainly a young boy, no more than five. His dark hair was cut at an angle across his forehead, with large ears poking out of cookie-cutter arches sculpted right to the scalp, forming a white frame around each. It was certainly longer than anything else he had shown me.

I hesitated before nodding my approval, handing the picture back to the man, who stashed it back in the drawer.

“Okay, as long as you’re sure.” He warned. “That’s a lot of hair you’re about to lose.”

His obtuse statement caused me to squirm a little in the chair, an unusual feeling creeping through my belly and settling in my sex. “I’m sure.” I agreed, shakily.

“Okay, one little boy’s cut, coming up.” He prodded.

My mind kept going back to that picture, and I prayed that my ears were smaller than the boys had been. I’d never had any trouble hooking my long locks over them to get it out of my eyes, but had never had any cause to wonder about their size.

The pop of a machine coming to life, shattered my thoughts once again, as the man turned from the counter, a set of menacing clippers in his hand. “Might as well get rid of the bulk.” He said, nonchalantly.

I watched in the oversized mirror as he held out my hair and slipped the clippers through the silken strand from beneath, severing it only inches from my head. “No turning back now.” He mentioned, deliberately allowing the hair to fall from his outstretched fingers and down the front of the cape. There was some snickering from the next barber over and his disgruntled customer.

I knew my mouth was open, perhaps in shock, but there was another emotion competing for my attention as well. There was no mistaking it. As I watched each long strand of hair fall away from the whirring clipper blades, the sensation between my legs grew almost urgent.

The ragged crop that was left behind as the clippers did their worst was almost comical. What should have been remorse for having been so careless, was supplanted by an overwhelming urge to masturbate. I slipped a finger into the crotch of my jeans, pressing firmly through the heavy fabric, the pressure against my clitoris only adding to my dilemma. ‘God, I’m going to come right here.’ I thought.

I hoped the cape hid what I was doing, but as the man slowly finished removing all the length from my head, he smiled. “Enjoying this, are you?” A few more chuckles erupted from the chair next door.

I didn’t say a word, for fear of revealing just how much I was enjoying his ministrations. Instead, I simply smiled, as he seemed to be changing out the business end of the clippers. “Now we can get started.”

I shuddered as the cool metal of the clipper blades came to rest against my nape, sliding effortlessly upward. The tone of the motor changed only slightly as it entered what remained of my once glorious mane, only pulling away as they approached my crown. Again, I felt the metal, slightly warmer now as it laid down another path next to the first.

By the time he had finished with the back, the blades were bordering on hot, but he didn’t stop there. Just as he had done in the back, he did on the sides. I watched with what must have been something akin to astonishment, as the hair around my ears vanished, cropped so it only just laid down. A fraction of an inch shorter, and I was certain my scalp would have shone through the abbreviated covering.

As I feared, my ears popped through the fringe of blonde left behind, revealing just how prominent they were going to be in the end. Still, the intense throbbing between my legs persisted and I began to wonder just what had caused so violent a reaction. Was it the humiliation of watching my best asset be reduced to nearly nothing?

I remembered feeling something like this when I had been caught naked at a slumber party by a group of boys. They had snuck in through the back door and were watching me as I showered. When I emerged through the glass partition to find them gawking, I was horrified. Only later, upon reflection, did I experience the sensations I was having as I sat in that barber chair.

It was humiliation. That was what was driving my arousal, and that thought alone was self-perpetuating. The more I thought about how embarrassed I was going to be sporting this somewhat ridiculous ‘little boy’ haircut, the more aroused I became. Surely the barber knew what was running through my addled mind.

“Okay, let’s carve out these puppies.” The barber smirked, catching my eyes in the mirror. Changing the blade once again, he set them at the front of my right ear and carefully created that same cookie-cutter arch that seemed so silly in the photograph. “You’ve got yourself a set of aerials, don’t you little girl.” He kidded, flipping the tip of the ear he had just exposed with his finger. I thought I heard ‘Dumbo’ being mentioned from the next chair, followed by some healthy laughter.

I literally had to struggle against the urge to come right then and there. Even so, a slight moan escaped my lips. I hoped he had missed it, but I wasn’t so lucky. He repeated the process on my left ear, exposing it, just as he had done the other.

“Well, one thing’s for sure, you won’t miss a thing in school with flaps like these.” He smiled as he saw the pleasure flush over my face, a wave of sensation coursing through my loins as my first orgasm shattered any hope of modesty.

The rest of the cut was a blur, as he scissored away any reasonable length I had remaining on the top. All that remained was the slightest covering of blonde silk, just long enough to lay flat. I struggled to maintain myself as he cut the angled bangs that finished the look.

The barber smiled as he watched me, unable to speak in his chair, the humiliating arousal still possessing me. He laid a bead of white cream into his palm and roughly spread it through my hair. Then, as if to add insult to injury, he carved a jet straight part down the left side of my head, combing over the darkened blonde crop.

The guy next to me left, shaking his head in my direction, certainly comparing the blonde beauty from only moments before, to the tonsured little boy I was now. His customer gone, the other barber disappeared into the back, leaving me alone with my apparent nemesis.

I thought for sure that the humiliation was over, that I was going to be released from his chair. Then the whine of a dispenser distracted me, as it deposited a dollop of lather into his hand. With his thumb, he carefully spread the cream around my ears and along the nape of my fully exposed neck.

The sensation of the razor as it accentuated the snow-white border of skin around my ears was erotic enough, but as the blade scraped along my neck, it was all I could do not to come all over again.

At that point, I didn’t care if he knew what I was feeling. It was all wrapped up in the humiliation, the intensity of it, my shame, his knowledge of it, it was all one. My breathing was shallow and the tiniest of mini orgasms kept firing from my clitoris in rapid-fire succession as the blade scraped the last remnants of hair from my neck.

Smiling, he folded the blade into itself and rested the instrument on the counter. He surveyed the sexual wreck of a female he had created. I swore I was vibrating in the chair. “I think, maybe, with your blonde hair, the back and sides could be a bit shorter.” A crooked little smile appeared on his face as he awaited my response.

To be honest, I didn’t want it to be over. My eyes met his, and I was only marginally surprised when I nodded my approval.

He swept his tongue across his front teeth, hidden by his lips. “I want you to say it, little girl.” He blurted, as I took in a sharp breath.

“Cut it shorter.” I managed, but only just.

“Of course.” Smiling, he once again changed the blades on the insipid clippers. He deliberately began in the back, as if to keep what he was doing to me a secret. There was no doubt it was considerably shorter, as I could feel his breath against my scalp now. ‘Was there anything left?’ I worried.

Running a comb through what now remained was merely an exercise, there being no resistance at all. The suspense was relieved as he worked his way to the sides of my head. Any hair that still laid down with the expedient of the product was no longer able. The short, bristly stubble left in the clipper’s wake was beyond short. The carved-out border that framed my ears was gone, leaving them stranded in bare naked skin.

This was a step beyond humiliating. This was degrading, bringing with it a whole new set of emotions and sensations. I was no longer trying to hide my satisfaction, as the clippers reduced the left side of my head to match the right. The hair that I once thought so short on the crown of my head now seemed inordinately long in comparison to the sides.

To my relief, the barber managed to blend the sides into the top, but it still seemed out of place. The little boy cut was gone, replaced by the most masculine of haircuts. “Let’s just fade this in, shall we.” The barber whispered, as he grabbed a smaller set of clippers.

The high whine of these seemed more intense, angrier, as they slipped up the back of my head. The bare metal of the blades razored through any remaining stubble like a knife through warm butter. I watched in awe as they denuded the entire left side of my head, leaving the slightest bristled border against the cropped top.

My chest was heaving as another wave of pleasure swept over me, the barber chuckling under his breath as he finished with the trimmers. “Nah. The top is just too long now.” The barber decided. He grabbed the large clippers once more, and I thought my heart would simply stop as he brought them to the top of my forehead.

Tufts of blonde hair, sticky with product tumbled over the cape as he swept the machine front to back. “Number two for you, little girl.” He whispered as he reduced the top to a mere fraction of an inch. He chuckled aloud as I arched out of the chair, my orgasm so powerful that I had lost all control.

I was caught off guard when the barber slipped the cape away from my body. Humiliated, I quickly pulled my sloppy fingers from beneath the waistband of my jeans. I was almost afraid to look up, but the darkened triangle of fabric that covered my sex, was too humiliating to endure, so I allowed my eyes to drift to the mirror.

I slipped my glasses from my purse and rested the arms over my ears, hoping that they would partially disguise their enormity. They didn’t. In fact, they only served to accentuate them, the arms pushing the pinkish-white flaps outward that much more.

As I stood from the chair, I did my best to conceal the wet spot between my legs, but failed miserably, the barber noticing it immediately. He smiled devilishly and ushered me over to the cash register.

“That’ll be twenty bucks, but the good news is, the next two are on the house.” He joked, figuring that I would probably never return.

I ran my hand slowly over my head, feeling naked scalp and stubble in place of my hair. I looked past him, where a sea of gold lay scattered around his chair like a wavy moat. Groaning audibly, I took in the reality of my situation and it settled in the pit of my stomach. I handed the guy a twenty and slipped through the door.

Each store window I passed was a stark reminder of who I had become. I had wanted to lose the pretty-girl look, but had gone way past that. Between the heavy-rimmed glasses, the bald fade, and the ears, I was the ultimate Poindexter, a geek in need of a plastic pocket protector. The only thing was, I looked more like a guy than a girl and spent most of the first semester correcting people when they misgendered me.

I couldn’t blame them, honestly. I really did look like a guy. My ‘A’ cup breasts did nothing to dispute that image either.

After returning home for the mid-winter break, I finally began to allow my hair to grow back. My parents were less than enthusiastic about my appearance, missing their pretty blonde princess. I actually did take the barber up on his offer and was a regular up until heading home that winter.

He was shocked when I showed up a few weeks later for a free touch-up. The best part was, nobody seemed to question my being there that time. I walked in looking like a boy and walked out shaved up closer than the time before.

To be honest, I never masturbated so much in my life. As ugly as I was, I had zero social life, so that was my outlet. I never let down on my studies, though, maintaining a 4.0 throughout my college career.

My roommate didn’t seem to mind all that much, as she was as guilty of self-pleasure as I was. We used to kid each other about being perfectly matched Gooners, right down to the degrading hairstyle. We stopped short of having sex with each other, although the idea had crossed my mind more than a few times.

I never grew my hair back to the length it once was in high school, keeping it at a reasonably frumpy chin-length bob. The hair, glasses, and lack of makeup pretty much guaranteed that I was free from being hit on by anyone. While this was a huge change from my ultra-popular status in high school, it played into the whole humiliation game I so avidly enjoyed.

We both played it, admittedly, my roommate and I. The more people ignored us, the deeper our humiliation, and the more we masturbated. It was a real vicious cycle.

Fast forward to today, I wondered how my lifestyle would factor into my employment. University was one thing, where I could pretty much skim along. This was real life, and the stakes were a bit higher.

After having set myself up in a one-room, efficiency apartment, I prepared for my first day on the job. I considered getting my hair cut, but I had only just had a trim a few weeks before, the hair grazing my earlobes. There were those ever-present reminders, poking through the jet straight bob. I sometimes missed the days when they were on full display, but it was a bit much full time, even for me.

Breakfast consisted of coffee and a pastry, which I ate in the car on the way to the Enduro-Tech offices. The place seemed huge, and I began to feel a bit small as I walked up to the glass-fronted building. A long desk transected the lobby, so I made myself known.

“Elizabeth Merritt.” I offered, as the rather attractive-looking security guard glanced at the register.

“Ah, here you are. You are to report to the fifth-floor lab, where you will report to Robert Wilkes.” She printed out a temporary pass, explaining that I would be meeting with human resources later that day, for my permanent ID. “Wouldn’t do any good to take your picture now, anyhow.” The woman smirked.

I wondered about her amusement, but brushed it off quickly as I made my way to the elevators. The fifth floor resembled something out of a science fiction film. Lots of plexiglass walls, and what looked like air-locks separating the hallway from brightly lit laboratories. Following the security guard’s instructions, I found the office I was seeking.

A middle-aged man stood from his desk and walked to the door to greet me. “Ms. Merritt?” He asked, to which I nodded. “Welcome to the ET labs. I have to say, you come highly recommended by your professors. Let’s hope we don’t scare you off the first day.”

He directed me into a chair across a desk from his own. He seemed like a pleasant enough guy, and would have been reasonably attractive if he had hair. Although I tried my best not to stare, he was completely devoid of even the most remote shadow of hair. I wondered if he had alopecia or something.

As he described my duties and the training I would receive, but seemed reticent to discuss the next section of the manual, prevaricating rather obviously.

“Ms. Merritt. You don’t seem to be particularly… well, not to put too fine a point on it, concerned about your appearance.” He winced.

I wasn’t certain whether to be insulted or turned on. Was he deliberately playing into my penchant for humiliation? Did he have information about me that I was unaware of? Maybe my over-sexed, masturbatory habits weren’t as private as I had hoped. Playing dumb, I responded in kind. “I admit, my outward appearance isn’t high on my priority list.”

He smiled. “That may well work in your favor.” He ran a hand nervously over his head. “How attached are you to your hair?”

“Um… Why do you ask?” I began to feel a tad nervous.

“Ms. Merritt. The area you will be trained in is what we refer to here as an ultra-clean lab. The research involves the spinning and testing of conductive microfiber technology. The dexterity involved prohibits the use of bulky environment suits, so the solution ET has come up with seems to work.” He tapped on his hairless head.

“So… you’re saying I will have to shave my head?” I tried to act shocked, when in fact I could feel my panties beginning to cling to my sex.

“Uh…. Yeah. Your head, and everything else.” He winced again. I think he was preparing to watch me stand and walk out.

I didn’t want to act eager or anything, but I was absolutely gushing. Immediately taken back to that little barbershop, I wondered just how this depilation was to be done. “Everything?” I asked, inquisitively.

His eyes opened wide with my question. “You would be the first female in the lab. All the others ran like lemmings for the door.” I think he was still trying to convince me.

Still not wanting to tip my hand, I repeated my question. “Everything?”

“Yes. I’m afraid so. We’ve found that even hair that normally would be trapped by clothing, still manages to foul up the research.”

“And I would just…”

“Oh, it’s a very simple process, actually, one that we all must undergo each morning before entering the lab.” He explained.

“Show me.” I finally agreed.

Robert seemed so overjoyed that I hadn’t run. I wondered how this was going to work as he led me down a short corridor to a security station. Placing his eye against a small aperture, a sliding door opened into a dimly lit room. He grabbed a small packet, removing what appeared to be black contact lenses.

“Have you worn contact lenses before?” He asked.

“Before college, yes.” I offered.

“Good, then you should be a pro. You’ll need to step into this booth and place the contacts in your eyes once inside.” He hesitated. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I almost forgot. You’ll need to be nude, unless you want to go up like a bonfire.”

“Well, you probably wouldn’t want that on my first day, right?” I kidded. There was an awkward moment as I wondered if he was going to watch me strip.

“Um…here’s the thing. I was so certain that you would leave, that I never took this into account. We’ll have to come up with a schedule where you can be by yourself in here. For now, I can just turn my back.”

“Not necessary Mr. Wilkes. We’re all scientists, right?” I insisted, slipping my top off to reveal my small pointy breasts. He started to turn but failed to do so in the end, instead, simply averting his eyes as I dropped my clothing into a small container.

“Okay, we’re giving up on the whole modesty thing here.” He continued. “Step inside and place the contacts in your eyes. You’ll be blind but that doesn’t matter as you won’t be moving all that much. Stand with your legs apart and your arms raised over your head and say… depilate.” He shrugged. “It’s voice-activated.” He seemed proud of that fact. “Oh, and there’s a bit of a surprise waiting for you on the other side.”

Okay, so this was probably going to be one of the most erotic moments of my life, and I was going to be completely blind and alone. It sounded all too familiar, at least the ‘alone’ part, anyway.

I managed to get the contacts into my eyes, although they were considerably larger than I was used to. I supposed that was for safety. The booth was quite small and had a multitude of what looked like high-intensity lamps pointed directly at me from every angle.

The contacts in, I positioned myself as instructed, not certain how the process would react with the juice that was surely drooling from my sex. I wondered if Robert sensed my arousal, but he seemed so excited over my agreeing to stay on, that I doubt he even noticed.

“Depilate,” I spoke as clearly as my excitement allowed.

A robotic voice with a distinctly female tone responded. “Depilation process initiated, ensure eye protection is in place. Position in five, four, three, two, one…”

Even with the blackout contacts in place, the brightness of the light leaked through my skull, illuminating my retinas from behind. It was fascinating, but not nearly as distracting as the strange sensation of what must have been ash rolling over my shoulders. An almost overpowering burst of air rushed over my body from below, then everything went silent.

“Depilation process complete, you make remove eye protection and exit.” The voice instructed.

I reached up with my fingers, touching my scalp. The chin-length bob was completely gone, silky smooth skin replacing it. I stopped at once, knowing that this was neither the time nor the place to lose control.

Once the contacts were out, I managed to catch a glimpse of myself in one of the many reflective surfaces within the booth. Everything was gone, hair, eyebrows, lashes, pubic hair, everything, as Mr. Wilkes had said. A door popped open, on the opposite side of the booth, bright white light leaking in.

Tentatively, I stepped through the door. A group of ten or so men stood applauding. I tried to forget the fact that I was completely naked as they walked up to welcome me to the lab.

A few moments later, Robert Wilkes followed me through the booth. “I suppose now would be a good time to get you set up with the wardrobe department.” He handed me my glasses, which I promptly put on as if they might cover something. Everyone laughed, myself included.

I tried my best to forget the fact that every hair on my body had been singed to the skin, and that I was buck naked and bald in front of all of my future colleagues.

As first days on the job go, this one was going to be hard to match. A vague thought seemed to be floating somewhere near fruition as I was introduced to each of the team. Our eyes would meet, but then theirs would seem to drift to the side.

‘Oh shit! My ears!’ Unconsciously, my hands flew up to cover my protuberant flaps. Laughter erupted from the group.

“She’s naked as a jaybird and she worried about her ears.” Robert chimed in. “We all have them, although I have to admit, you have a particularly fine pair.”

I thought I might actually melt into the floor. This was fodder for masturbation for months to come. How long was I expected to traipse around naked in front of all of these men? And I totally forgot about my ears, Jesus.

“Okay, guys. Initiation is over.” Robert laughed, pulling a freshly pressed uniform from a convenient drawer. “Besides, I think Ms. Merritt has sprung a leak.”

11 responses to “Leaving Beauty Behind

  1. An interesting read and very well written.You do really know when initiate your pouncing acts gradually to ground zero.Loved it.On the sidelines, may I ask if you are that kind of person if someone knows you well enough?Thanks for sharing the story.

    1. Thank you so much for your kind comment. So glad you enjoyed the story. As for your question, I think one might assume that because I write all manner of strange and twisted erotica, that I would naturally tend to lean that way myself. Quite honestly, their assumptions would be spot on.

  2. Stacey,
    I knew you would enjoy this bit of humiliating erotica. Nothing like a ‘fall from grace’ story to titillate the senses. Lately, I seem to enjoy this theme. I love writing a once beautiful woman, willingly stripped down to the ugly truth beneath; to expose her as nothing more than a humiliation pig, masturbating for all she’s worth. Masturbating, because that is all she can get; her self-imposed sentence of degradation so utterly effective. I live all my characters as I write them. This is how I stay so completely ensconced in my fetish.
    Claire xxx

  3. A note to all my readers,
    I am always happy to receive comments on stories, be they complimentary or critical. I will not, however, put up with personal attacks or derogatory statements that pertain to others. I have deleted several comments here (and as result, responses to those comments), as they crossed that line. I try never to do that, but I felt that they were uncalled for and vindictive.

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