It had been a long time since I’d been to a hair salon. My trip to the wilds of Patagonia had lasted two years longer than I had expected, and other than a quick trim by one of my teammates, there had been no attention paid to my curly auburn mane.
It was a medical mission, and as one of the lead physicians, I was expected to toe the line. Thus, when the vacancy occurred, I was almost forced into staying for the extra two years.
My apartment smelt musty, having been closed up for all that time, save for occasional visits from the landlord to check on things. Being winter, I felt odd about opening windows, but there wasn’t a choice. I turned off the heat for a few hours while the place aired out.
I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, the person looking back was a totally different woman than the one that had disappeared four years before. My face was deeply tanned and windburned, and even at the tender age of twenty-four, crow’s feet had formed at the corners of my eyes.
“Well, this won’t do at all,” I muttered to myself. I wasn’t due to start at the hospital for another month, so I had some time to get myself back into shape. Reaching back, I tugged at my hair, which was long enough to cover my bra strap. “I think I need to make a call.” Deciding, finally.
I loved my hair, don’t misunderstand, but the abuse it had endured on the plains of Argentina left it looking dead. Even the color, which was once a vibrant red had faded to a muted rust color, which was less than attractive.
Disappointed that my usual salon had gone out of business, the pandemic having taken its toll, I was forced to search the internet. That’s when I found the ad that seemed to meet all my needs.
New Beginnings Salon
Tired of looking at the same reflection in the mirror every morning? Longing for something new and exciting? We can help. Our expert staff of trained beauticians can transform that tired look into something extraordinary.
We’re waiting to change your life.
I smirked over the rather cliché tone of the ad, but something about it just tugged at me to call. I wondered what they’d make of this weather-worn doctor.
To my surprise, I was able to set an appointment for two days later. In the meantime, I set about rearranging everything about my apartment. I had changed, a lot, and what suited me as a resident, fresh out of medical school, certainly seemed out of place now.
I had grown used to the spartan lifestyle. My yurt at the clinic was necessarily plain, and after living in it for so long, I had an aversion to clutter. By the time I had finished, most of what I had considered essential had made its way to the curb or the local Salvation Army. What was left could be considered minimalist, but tasteful.
Gone was the queen-sized bedstead, in its place, a simple futon mattress on the floor. The living room furniture was gone, replaced by oversized pillows of various designs; books, and nick-knacks stacked neatly against the baseboard of the room. I had my computer, so I saw no use for a television, so that went as well.
I supposed there would be some explaining to do if any of my old friends were to pay a visit, but then, this was me now. They would either have to accept it or not.
I had come to the conclusion that the long hair simply had to go. It was part of the old me, and even though I had let it go at the clinic, it was more out of neglect than vanity. Now there was no excuse.
I was pleased when I walked through the doors of the salon. It was certainly furnished in the style that I might call, the new me. The furnishings were comfortable but simple, and there was absolutely no clutter. Even the workstations seemed completely stripped of the usual accoutrements of the trade.
“Good morning.” A young woman smiled. She was young looking but I could sense that she was experienced. “You must be Marion.”
“That’s me.” I had taken the time over the last few days to at least moisturize my skin and run a brush through my unruly locks. Even so, it was drawn back in its usual ponytail, keeping it away from my face.
“Why don’t you come back to one of our consultation rooms? There, we’ll decide what best needs to be done to bring out the new you.” She seemed quite confident that I was ready to relinquish control. To be honest, the idea seemed quite appealing.
Once inside the comfortable, but somewhat claustrophobic room, I was greeted by three women, one of whom was the woman who had greeted me at the door.
I was directed to sit in a single chair, whilst the three sat opposite on a sofa that only just fit between the walls. Nothing between us at all. It was a bit intimidating, but I was yet to learn just how much.
“Name, in full please?” The eldest of the three asked, tersely.
“Marion Charles.” I returned, meekly.
“Twenty-Four.” I managed. There was some whispering amongst them as they took in that information. Then the same woman turned back to face me.
“You’ll be needing the full treatment, Ms. Charles.” Almost insultingly.
“What do you do for a living, Marion?” The youngest of the three asked.
“I’m a physician,” I said, trying to reassert myself.
“Then you can certainly afford what we have planned for you.” She assumed, setting down a small tablet. “You’ll be more than pleased with the result.”
“I was under the impression I was coming in for a haircut.” I got in.
“Oh, you’ll be getting one of those, to be sure.” The eldest said, condescendingly. She leaned sideways as if examining the ponytail which spread out over my shoulders. “I hope you’re ready for something a bit shorter. Your hair looks as though it’s been living in the desert.”
As insulting as the woman was, I had to chuckle. “It has, to be honest.”
“You cannot be serious.” The woman who had greeted me exclaimed.
“Argentina. And yes, I’m quite serious. I’m ready for a change.” I declared. I learned that the older of the three went by Gloria, the youngest was Beth, and the one who had first met me, Anastasia. She preferred Anna, but Gloria insisted on her using her full name in the salon.
Once I had agreed to the treatment and had signed various releases permitting the same, I was led to the back of the shop into what looked like several dressing rooms.
“If you’ll just pick an open one and strip, we can get started,” Gloria instructed, walking away as she did. Two of the rooms appeared to be locked, but the other three were open. Picking the farthest one, I stepped inside. I wondered just how far I was to go, so I decided to leave my underwear on. Seeing as there didn’t appear to be a robe, I thought this was best.
As I was locking the room, and slipped the elastic key holder around my wrist, I was accosted by Gloria once again. “What part of ‘strip’ was I unclear about, Ms. Charles?”
Her attitude was so rude and domineering, but for whatever reason, I found the treatment stimulating. “Sorry, there weren’t any robes.”
“Go back inside, and finish. We’re all women here, Ms. Charles. There’s no need for such modesty.” I could see the smug look on her face in my mind as I slipped my panties over my ankles and unclasped my bra. I took one quick look at my naked body before stepping out into the salon.
“Very good. We like our fresh lambs to know their place.” The statement seemed so odd, but she said it with such conviction that I took it in stride. She led me back into the main room, and I suddenly felt as naked as I was.
Two other women were in chairs, each getting some sort of treatment to their face, but each as naked as I was. The only ones wearing clothes were the beauticians. Gloria sat me down in a very low chair, and I did my best to keep my legs squeezed firmly together, a task which soon proved impossible. After ten minutes, I had allowed them to open, revealing my unkempt bush, as bright and red as it had ever been.
I wondered if I had been forgotten and was about to stand when Gloria reappeared. “Okay, let’s get this out of the way.” She smacked, sternly, grasping my ponytail. My head jerked back with the roughness of her grasp, but that shock was soon displaced by the unmistakable sound of scissors hacking through my hair.
I could feel the short wisps of hair falling high against my neck, and knew that she was cutting it extremely short. In fact, as she pulled away, she held the entire pony in her hands, a good three inches of hair on the short side of the tie. The rest of my reddish-brown locks hung lifeless from her hand until she discarded what had just been firmly attached to my scalp into the bin.
“There. No going back now, is there, Marion?” She said, grasping my chin in her fingers and tilting my face up to meet her petulant stare.
What was left of my hair fell forward to graze my cheeks, my hands reflexively shooting up to feel what was left in the back. It was hacked, to be sure, but so short! I wouldn’t have called it stubble, but I could only just grasp the shortest bits between my thumb and fingers. “It’s so short.” I gasped.
“Yes, but not nearly short enough. We’ll get to the rest later. That was just to get it out of the way.” Gloria smirked, lifting me out of the chair and over to what looked like a massage table. I soon learned that massage was not the intent as two stirrups popped up at the base.
Beth instructed me to lay on my back, tugging roughly at my nether-locks. “Say goodbye to this. You’re a naughty girl, letting this go so long.” Placing each of my bare feet into the stirrups, I was surprised only when a thin leather strap was placed around my ankles, securing my legs into a very revealing lithotomy pose.
I could see the other clients smiling as they caught an eyeful of my carrot-colored bush. Then Gloria was back. “It’s almost a shame. I’ve never seen pubic hair quite that color before.” She chortled, giving a tug herself before returning to one of the other customers.
A sharp click brought my attention back between my legs. Beth held a set of clippers, and without too much ado, began stripping my downy thatch from me. I had never shaved there, ever, but there I was submitting to it. The vibration of the clippers felt surprisingly good against my sex, and even though I knew I should be angry, I wasn’t. I was even more aroused than I had been over Gloria’s debasement.
Beth wore the cutest smile as she worked, tufts of red fur falling this way and that as the clippers did their worst. I could tell she enjoyed what she was doing, and I wondered if she might be gay. I wondered if, at the end of it, they might discover that I was.
When I discovered what was next, I almost shot upright on the bench. The hot wax felt almost uncomfortable as it was spread over the stubble that remained on my pubis. Beth looked up as she applied the hot goo, and frowned. “You’ve never done this before, have you.” More a statement than a question. I shook my head. “Well, it stings a bit when I pull off the wax, but the result is amazing.”
Without any warning at all, a sharp pressure erupted from my mound, followed by a distinct stinging pain, as though I’d just been slapped. When I worked up the courage to look down, one half of my pubis was bare, the bright red stubble replaced by smooth, pink, skin.
“Wow.” Was all I could say as she spread more of the wax on the opposite side. A few moments of soothing warmth followed by a second of pain, over and over, for what seemed like hours. In fact, the entire process took less than thirty minutes.
I was relieved as Beth spread a cool numbing gel over the area and untied my ankles. As I stood, I was more than a bit self-conscious as I looked down, my utterly hairless pussy on full display to everyone in the room.
I had totally forgotten about my hair being so haphazardly chopped until I caught my reflection in a mirror. I looked so different. The ultra-short bob looked completely out of place on me, at least in my eyes. I remembered Gloria saying it was only the beginning and the idea sent a shiver through my loins. Part of me hoped that it was her that finished the job. Something about her tickled me in the most sensitive places.
When I was placed into the next station, it was Anastasia that appeared. Her friendly face was a relief after Gloria’s authoritarian style and Beth with her youthful chiding of my neglectful grooming. The numbing cream was beginning to wear off, and my sex burned in the most incessant way imaginable.
“So. Marion. I’m going to be peeling your face.” She said it with such confidence, that the normal reaction I should have been having was subdued.
“I’ve never done that,” I said.
“Obviously, my dear. We can’t have you looking forty when you’re only twenty-four, now can we?” She bent down and squeezed my cheeks together, causing my lips to purse obscenely in the mirror. “Can we?” She asked, more firmly.
I was taken aback by her stinging comment but was unable to do anything but answer her question. “No, Anastasia. We can’t.” I spluttered through my ridiculous forced pout. At a loss over my response, I said nothing more. I should have been furious over her insult. Instead, just as with Gloria and Beth, I found myself spellbound by her dominance.
“You’re just a little lamb, Marion. You may be a doctor out there, in the real world but here, you belong to us. Is that perfectly clear?” Showing just who was in charge, Anastasia leaned down and kissed the lips she still held pursed so rudely, squeezing that much harder, until the inside of my cheeks bit painfully into my teeth. She laughed at what must have been my shocked expression.
As I looked up to the mirror, Gloria and Beth stood on either side of my chair, smiling as the realization spread over me like a suffocating blanket. “We know it’s what you want, Marion. I mean, we can smell it all over you.”
She was right. I knew my own scent, and there was no mistaking the intoxicating flavor of it as it coated my freshly depilated cunt. I gasped audibly with the realization.
“You are one of our lambs, aren’t you, Ms. Charles.” Gloria urged, taking a turn at my mouth, now free of Anastasia’s grasp. Her lips were soft and wet, but not nearly so much as Beth’s, whose youthful fullness felt almost sinful against my own weathered lips.
What was happening? Every sensible part of me said that I should have been running out of there, never to return. Why then, did I feel like I might never be able to leave? This was, undoubtedly, the most sexual experience of my life and it was only just beginning. I opened my mouth, only to have Anastasia insert her thumb, encouraging me to suck on it, which I did without resistance.
“And we take care of our lambs, don’t we Gloria?” Anastasia glowed.
“We certainly do, and as soon as you’re done with your peel, I’ll be giving you your first shearing.” The woman ran her fingers through my bobbed hair, grasping it as she emphasized her point.
I was left with Anastasia, who applied the chemical peel to my skin. It only burned slightly, but I worried that I’d end up beat red, as some women did after they underwent such a procedure.
I have to admit to looking a little pink when the mask was finally removed and the exfoliation complete. The women seemed to take the change in stride, saying that it would all fade in a few days. Of course, it would take a bit longer for what followed.
I saw Gloria eagerly awaiting her turn with me as if she hadn’t done enough when she so unceremoniously chopped off my pony. I figured that the damage was done. What more could she do to my hair?
“As a fresh ‘shearling’, as we like to call our newest members of the flock, I want to give you a more innocent look, my darling.” Gloria mused, leading me by the hand. “This shade of red is simply too brash for one so new.”
I had no idea what she was up to, but as the liquid was applied to my hair, I suddenly realized what it was. The distinct scent of bleach wafted into my nostrils as she carefully painted the noxious stuff over what remained of my hair. I wanted to say something, anything, but with everything that had occurred, I felt powerless to.
I watched with a mix of horror and amusement as my auburn color faded in the mirror. Two applications later, Gloria moved me to the sink to rinse the last of the bleach out of my hair. It was not soon enough for me. My scalp had started to itch not long after the first go-round.
“That’s perfect, my little lamb. Almost as white as snow, I must say.” Gloria bubbled. “Now for a little color.”
I watched as she gleefully applied what looked suspiciously like pastel pink throughout my jet-white bob. This was going to be extremely difficult to explain to the hospital. I was pretty certain they had dress codes when it came to hair color.
An hour later, the color was finally rinsed away, and I got a glimpse of my true color in the mirror. It was far lighter than the dye had been, an almost white pink gave me a virginal appearance. It was something akin to a onesie you might see on a newborn baby girl.
“Now, let’s get this trimmed up, and curled for your crib shots.” Gloria moved quickly, not wanting to give me too much time to think about what was happening, I think.
‘Did she say something about a crib?’ I wondered, silently. The bob which I sported was soon being pared down with scissors. I was shocked at how much hair was still falling around me as she cut. Three-inch-long hanks of gossamer pink strands fell against the cape, rolling onto the floor. I began to worry if I might be left with any hair at all.
As she wheeled over the cart, I suddenly realized where things were going. In a very organized tray, fifty or so red curling rods stood at attention, ready to be put to the test. My hair, if you could still call it that, stood out straight from my head like a pink puffball and I supposed that anything she might do would look better than it did then.
Starting at the front, Gloria expertly rolled the shortened hair around the tight little rods three or four times before clipping it in place. Over and over, she did this, a real labor of love, until my entire head was coated with them. Not a single stray hair escaped her deft fingers.
My pussy had long since stopped burning, and I could help myself. Under the cape, where I thought no one might notice, I slipped my fingers between my lips, my clitoris swollen and bursting with arousal.
“I know what you’re doing under there, young lady. If you’re going to play with yourself, you will do it for all to see.” With that, she whipped the cape away. “Go on. Don’t be shy now, little lamb.”
All eyes were on me, expecting me to continue my self-gratification. In my over-sexed state, animalistic need won out over good sense. With rows of cotton now stuffed around my hairline, Gloria applied the perm solution; my fingers once again spreading moisture up and down my open slot.
“You are precious, aren’t you?” Gloria mused, slipping her tongue into my mouth, as my lips parted for her. She explored inside, our lips locked in a passionate kiss. I allowed her to do whatever she pleased. I was hers, after all.
Both of the other ladies had long since left the shop, leaving me as the center of attention. The three women descended upon me, pleasing me with their tongues as the perm set, the last step in my shearling transformation. I must have orgasmed four times at least before, Gloria shooed them away.
“Time to neutralize this, little Marion. Your change is nearly complete.” She sighed. Once the noxious fluid was rinsed away and my hair set, I was allowed to see the result.
Where I was expecting curls, I saw only fuzz. It was beyond curls. I looked like a deranged pink poodle, minus the floppy ears. “Oh, my.” Was all I managed, as Gloria picked away at the mass of tight downy fleece.
“Yes. Isn’t it wonderful?” Was all she said, as the other girls circled me.
“She is such a little lamb.” Anastasia giggled, tweaking my nipples with her fingertips.
“Yes, she is, isn’t she.” Beth sighed, managing a kiss around Gloria’s ministrations.
“Now, now, girls. I still have to shape this up. Then you can have her.” She smiled, slipping a small set of hair clippers from their hook.
I panicked, as the high-pitched blades slipped up the back of my neck, higher than I thought was possible. Again, and again, the bare blades slid along my nape, as tufts of pink wool rolled down my naked back. I tried to reach up, but my hand was swatted away.
“Soon enough, little lamb. Soon enough.” Gloria switched to the sides, the clippers riding up in front of my ears, carving them out so they looked bare and exposed. A few snips of the scissors, and I was declared finished.
As Gloria put away her instruments, I couldn’t wait any longer. My hands slipped up along my neck, feeling just how far my nape extended, shorn of its covering to the finest stubble imaginable. Stopping just below my occipital bump, it was most assuredly going to be difficult to explain. It could hardly be called an undercut, my fleece as was, did little to hide the bare-naked skin.
I could hear giggling coming from the back of the shop, where my clothing was still locked away, the bracelet which held the key long since gone.
What I saw still shocks me to this day when I think back on it. In what looked to be a large nursery, I found Anastasia and Beth, frolicking with one another. What startled me more than their nakedness, was the fact that their heads were completely bald. I saw the wigs they must have been wearing, tossed unceremoniously on a tabletop nearby.
“Would you like to join them, Dr. Charles?” Gloria asked, reminding me suddenly of a fact I had completely forgotten. I saw her pick up an expensive-looking camera as I climbed into the crib with the hairless women. Knowing the consequences all too well, I slipped between the two, unable to stop my hands from caressing their naked pates.
They weren’t shaved, I could tell. No, there wasn’t a hair that grew on those ultra-smooth scalps. As I began to entwine myself with them, and them with me, the flash of the camera ensured that I would be, from that moment on, their little lamb.