Peach bit her lip nervously as she approached Daisy’s apartment, dressed for once in casual clothes instead of her royal dress, her long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail.
She’d received a message a few days prior from her fellow Princess, in which Daisy excitedly informed her that she’d come into possession of a hairstyling machine from the ever-eccentric Professor E. Gadd, and invited her over to ‘test it out’. She’d agreed, of course – far be it for her to let her friend test out a potentially dangerous device alone – but now she was having second thoughts…
“Peach!”
Too late now.
Peach plastered a smile onto her face as her brunette friend waved to her from a doorway, grinning excitedly.
“Daisy!” She called, “it’s good to see you!”
Daisy beamed, hugging her tightly, before ushering her inside.
“Well,” she announced, throwing an arm around Peach’s shoulders as she gestured to the middle of the room, “here it is!”
Peach gaped.
The machine looked like nothing more than a long, squat tunnel – a circular hole at each end and several large fans built into the floor, with a comfy-looking leather chair attached to a long pole that ran through the length of the machine.
“Is it… safe?” Peach asked dubiously, eyeing the wicked-looking fan blades, separated from the rest of the machine only by a thin mesh.
“Totally!” Daisy enthused, “apparently Professor Gadd had one of his assistants try it out, and she was absolutely fine!”
Peach hummed, chewing her lip – but at Daisy’s eager look, she caved, edging forwards to slide reluctantly into the chair.
The moment Peach’s backside touched the seat, however, she froze in horror as the arms of the chair popped open and a pair of restraints slid out!
“Wha- what kind of machine is this, Daisy??” She demanded, horrified, but the brunette simply laughed, patting her should reassuringly.
“They’re just to make sure you don’t wriggle around and ruin the cut!” She assured her.
Peach opened her mouth to argue, but Daisy had already reached over her and snapped the restraints into place, and was now gazing at a screen, humming thoughtfully.
“I think… this one? No… this one? No! This one!” She grinned, her eyes lighting up as she jabbed a button.
“W-w-wait! Hang on! Don’t I get to choose?!” Peach stammered, her eyes widening.
“Relax, Peach,” Daisy grinned – her eyes sparkling with excitement – “if you don’t like the haircut, you can go through again and get it sorted – and I’ll let you choose mine, too!”
I rather think I’ll be choosing yours whatever happens! Peach thought indignantly, but before she could open her mouth the chair clanked loudly and began to move into the mouth of the machine, the fan blades roaring to life underneath her and sucking the air down towards the floor.
“Commencing Stage One – cutting!” A chirpy, female-sounding voice announced, and a robotic hand clutching a wickedly sharp-looking pair of shears emerged from the tunnel wall, quickly snipping through the band holding her hair up in a ponytail and letting her soft blonde locks tumble down to the small of her back.
Peach sucked in a deep breath and squeezed her eyes closed, unable to watch.
More hands emerged quickly – these ones plunging into her fluffy mane and slicing through it mercilessly, sending chunk after chunk of Peach’s beloved locks plummeting to the floor: where the rotating fans promptly shredded it into nothingness.
Peach shuddered at the steady schnick, schnick, schnick of the blades chewing through her hair – the flashes of yellow in the corner of her eye her only clue as to how much of her hair was being butchered by the machine.
Within seconds, Peach’s waist-length hair had been reduced to a fluffy, shoulder-length style – but instead of retracting into the wall, the scissor-clutching robotic hands simply repositioned.
Peach shivered in apprehension as she felt freezing cold steel glide along her neck – her eyes opening wide as she realised just how short Daisy had planned on taking her.
Before she had a chance to speak up, though, the shears snapped shut with a series of deafening schnick-snap!’s, severing a solid 7 inches of golden fluff. The hair rained down to the floor, the fan slicing it into nothingness in the blink of an eye.
Peach’s jaw was clenched, her eyes wide open as she felt – for the first time she could remember – the ends of her hair swing forward to brush the bottom of her ears.
‘Well,’ she thought to herself as she saw the scissorhands slide back into the wall, ‘at least it’s over now. Daisy’s not leaving here with that hair intact, that’s for sure!’
Her inner monologue was interrupted by the chirpy, female voice ringing out again.
“Commencing Stage Two – shaving!”
Peach froze, her jaw dropping in horror as a loud buzzing noise burst into life above her and she felt something cold and vibrating slide up the centre of her head – a shower of golden hair raining down past her face!
“DAISY!” She screeched, struggling futilely against the restraints, “YOU ARE SO IN TROUBLE!”
Daisy’s answering peals of laughter were drowned out by the buzzing of the clippers as they ploughed stripe after stripe over Peach’s head, shearing her short-lived, bouncy bob down to a blonde fuzz.
Peach’s eyes were squeezed shut, her chest heaving as she took deep, calming breaths – trying desperately not to focus on the alien sensation of clippers running over her scalp, or the freezing cold air of the tunnel gliding across her virgin skin as the machine stripped her of her crowning glory.
After what felt like hours of the clippers chewing through her hair – but what was most likely less than a few minutes – the clippers made one last pass over her scalp, catching any stray hairs they may have missed, and retracted back into the wall.
The chair shuddered to a stop at the other end of the tunnel, the restraints snapping open as the cheery female voice piped up for the final time.
“Thank you for using the E.Gadd hairstyle machine! Please come again soon!”
Peach rose slowly to her feet, her hands snapping up to feel her new buzzcut as she turned to face the still-chuckling Daisy.
“Daisy,” she ground out, her voice sounding decidedly un-princess-like, “explain.”
Daisy held her hands out in front of her placatingly, and hurriedly explained herself.
“Well, I was talking to Rosalina a few weeks ago and she mentioned that you were getting sick and tired of your hair always getting in the way and that you said you wanted to shave your head and then the Professor told me about this machine and I thought ‘Hey, I know someone who wants a good shearing’ and called you and anyway you look amazing so please don’t be angry?”
She trailed off, taking a deep breath, and looked at Peach imploringly.
The (formerly) blonde princess sighed, rubbing a hand idly across her fuzzy scalp, and nodded.
“I’m not angry, Daisy.”
The brunette wilted in relief, smiling broadly.
“But!”
Peach snapped her fingers, and pointed to the now-empty chair.
“You are getting in this chair, and you are getting this exact same style. If I’m shaving my head, so are you!”
Peach expected there to be arguing, or negotiating, or at least hesitation on the other Princess’s part.
She did not expect the long-haired brunette woman to grin widely, jump into the chair and fluff out her locks, gazing expectantly up at her buzzed friend.
“Well? Let’s get this show on the road!”
