Soft Target

Molly and Jordan weren’t exactly bullies—not really. They were too smart for that. Instead, they hid behind sarcasm, inside jokes, and that constant smirking we’re just messing with you attitude.

Molly was effortlessly popular, the kind of girl who never tried too hard but always seemed to have everyone’s attention. Slim and pretty, with perfect winged eyeliner and a wardrobe of ripped jeans and crop tops, she didn’t have to chase male attention—it found her. She knew it, too.

Jordan was different. Loud, annoying, and always joking, he was the guy who made everyone laugh even when the joke was mean. Especially when the joke was mean. If Molly was the queen bee, Jordan was her jester—eager to entertain, to push boundaries, to get a reaction.

And Amanda?

Amanda was their soft target.

She wasn’t really their friend—not in the same way they were friends with each other. She was the other one, the one they invited along to parties because she was easy to tease. She let them tease her. She never fought back, never stood up for herself. And that made her fun.

So when Jordan, half-drunk and bored at Amanda’s party, leaned in and whispered, ‘We should do something to Mandy’, Molly had smirked.

‘Like what?’ she asked, twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger.

Jordan shrugged, eyes flicking across the party, searching. ‘Something funny. Something big.’

Molly tilted her head. ‘Like what?’

Jordan thought for a second, then grinned. “I dunno… let’s strip her. Like, completely naked.”

Molly laughed, eyes widening. ‘Jordan!’

‘She’d freak out. It’d be hilarious.’

Molly bit her lip, considering. ‘She would freak out…’

Jordan leaned closer, voice low. ‘And then… we shave her head.’

Molly gasped, then let out a wicked giggle. ‘You’re evil.’

‘I know,’ Jordan grinned. ‘But come on… can’t you just see it? Bald little Mandy? Her reaxtion would be priceless.’

Molly imagined it. Amanda, standing there, totally exposed, nothing to hide behind. The thought made her giddy.

‘Let’s do it,’ she said.

*

Amanda was already regretting letting Molly and Jordan talk her into having this party. It wasn’t that she didn’t like having people over, but the idea of her house being filled with rowdy teenagers, half of whom she barely knew, made her stomach twist.

The night had been fine at first—cheap cider, emo rock blasting through speakers, people packed into the living room and spilling out into the garden. Amanda stuck to the corner, sipping her drink and feeling slightly out of place in her home.

Now, she stood in her bedroom, nervously twanging her emo band wristbands. She’d had enough. Her skinny jeans clung uncomfortably to her legs, and her Converse had seen better days, the white rubber edges smudged with dirt.

Her room was small, barely big enough for her bed, desk, and the overloaded bookshelf stacked with horror novels and band posters covering the walls. Her rucksack, covered in badges—bands, sarcastic slogans, and a smiley face —sat slumped in the corner. Posters covered the walls – My Chemical Romance, Paramore, and Bring Me the Horizon. She ran a hand through her dark blonde, mousy hair, cut with uneven side bangs, attempting to hide her high forehead. It was thin and fine, but she’d worn it in the same style since she was 11, and six years later she didn’t see the need to change it. Her friend Molly had the same style, just longer, blonder and nicer.

Tall, slim, effortlessly cool, Molly. Even in something as simple as ripped jeans and a cropped top like she wore tonight, she looked fit. Amanda wasn’t stupid; she knew she was the less attractive one in their friendship. She was softer, curvier, her big frame and chubby stomach making her feel more out of place in the fashion she loved. Molly always had boys fawning over her. Amanda mostly had Jordan.

Jordan was an annoying, loud-mouthed idiot, and probably gay, but he was one of the few guys who actually gave her attention, even if half the time it was mocking her. He had a mean streak, and when he and Molly got together, they had a habit of turning their teasing toward Amanda.

Tonight was no different. The party was already too loud, the bass from someone’s speaker vibrating through the floor. Molly and Jordan stood in her door way, watching her with matching mischievous grins.

‘Mandy, Mandy, Mandy,’ Molly drawled, leaning on door frame like he owned the place. ‘C’mon, loosen up, have some fun. Come back down.’

‘I am having fun,’ Amanda muttered. ‘I was only…’

‘You were only what?’ Molly smirked. ‘No, you’re being boring. Isn’t she boring Jordan?’

‘Yeah,’ He agreed. ‘We were just saying you need shaking up. Same outfit, same mopey attitude. You need a makeover.’

Amanda rolled her eyes. ‘Not this again.’

Molly turned to Jordan, exchanging a look that sent a cold feeling down Amanda’s spine.

‘Yeah,’ Jordan said, strutting towards her suddenly. ‘You really do. And you know what? I think it’s time we helped you with that.’

Before Amanda could react, Molly lunged, pushing her backwards onto the bed. She shrieked, kicking out, but Jordan grabbed her legs, pinning them down as Molly straddled her waist.

Jordan pulled her shoes off, throwing them over his shoulder with a look of glee in his eyes.

‘What the hell?! Get off!’ Amanda squirmed, panic rising in her throat. Molly was already on top of her too, laughing as she grabbed Amanda’s wrists and pinned them above her head.

‘Relax, it’s just a joke,’ Molly purred, leaning down close to Amanda’s ear. ‘You trust us, don’t you?’

Amanda wriggled, her heartbeat spiking. ‘What are you doing?’

Jordan grinned down at her, his hands at the hem of her t-shirt. ‘Undressing you.’

Amanda’s stomach twisted. ‘What? No—stop!’

But Molly’s grip was iron-tight, and Jordan was already yanking her shirt up.

The fabric bunched under her arms, momentarily trapping her, and then—whoosh—her tee was gone, bunched up round her wrists. Molly momentarily let go of her wrists to get if off, then used her iron grip on Amanda again.

A cold rush of air prickled her bare stomach, her soft skin breaking out in goosebumps. Amanda gasped, her face burning.

Her bra was old, a black cotton thing that wasn’t particularly sexy or flattering. It dug into her back slightly, the elastic worn. Her stomach wasn’t flat like Molly’s—it was soft and podgy, streaked with cellulite. Amanda’s arms were thicker than she liked, her skin pale and pinkish.

Molly reached under Amanda’s back with one hand, and she felt her reaching for the clip. ‘No! Molly! I don’t want my boobs out!’ she felt the clip let go, then Jordan’s hands on her stomach, rolling her over as Molly stood up. Molly whipped her bra off, throwing it well out of reach into the corner of the room, then forced her back onto her back. Her big, fat tits spilled out towards her armpits, nipples standing to attention, big pink areolas shrivelled and prune-like.

Molly reached over and flicked on of her nipples. ‘You could pick radio one up on those.’

Nobody had ever seen her boobs in her life – Amanda tried twisting herself so she was facing the wall, desperately bucking against Molly’s grip, and Jordan who was straddling her now.

Amanda felt Jordan’s fingers undo her belt, then pull at her waistband, and he yanked at her jeans, pulling them down roughly, making her cry out.

‘Stop! Jordan, stop!’

‘Oh my god, Mandy, you’re so dramatic,’ Molly laughed, holding her wrists down. ‘We’re just having a little fun.’

Her jeans were gone, and her bight white, milk bottle legs exposed. She thrashed desperately, but they were both stronger than her. Her face burned with humiliation. This couldn’t be happening. Not here. Not with them.

‘Oh my God!’ Jordan shrieked. ‘Look at her knickers, they’ve gone Wonder Woman on them!’

‘What was her catchphrase?’ Molly said. ‘I will fight for those who can’t fight for themselves? You really need her now, Mandy!’

‘Brutal.’ Jordan chortled. Amanda clamped her legs together, her stomach twisting.

Molly sighed dramatically. “This would be easier if she weren’t such a prude.”

Jordan pulled at the elastic.

Amanda yelped, jerking, her back arching. ‘No! Please—’

Molly leaned close, voice like sugar. ‘You don’t get to say no, Mandy.’

Jordan hooked his fingers into her knickers. With one quick motion, he dragged them down her thighs, past her knees, over her ankles.

Amanda let out a panicked sob, trying to twist away, but it was too late. Just like that, she was completely naked – apart from her socks and wristbands.

‘We’ve got a shaver!’ Jordan said excitedly. ‘Never had you down as the type to shave your fanny, Mandy.’

‘Shut up!’ Amanda sulked as Jordan got off her.

Molly let go, and then grabbed her arm, dragging her off the bed and towards the door. With only one free hand, Amanda faced a snap choice. Cover up her boobs, or her fanny? Fanny was somehow worse, so she cupped her hand over it.

‘No—please—Molly, please don’t!’ Amanda pleaded, tears burning her eyes.

‘Oh, shut up,’ Molly giggled. ‘This is gonna be hilarious.’

Jordan blocked her way, so the only way to go was down the staircase, as Molly shoved her towards it. Amanda staggered downstairs, one hand over still over her bits.

In the hallway, she could feel the draught from the open patio doors.

Down the stairs, came Jordan, twirling her knickers over his head.

‘Come on, walkies!’ Molly tried dragging her towards the door.

‘Please,’ Amanda sobbed, ‘I’m your friend.’

‘And friends make each other laugh.’ Molly was all cheerful and lightness.

Amanda was shoved forward, stumbling into the back garden, in nothing but her wristbands and socks, Jordan giving her arse a slap on the way out.

The cold air hit her skin, but worse than that was the dozens of eyes that immediately snapped on her. Her friends, her classmates, people she barely even knew.

Laughter erupted, mostly squealing from the girls, covering their mouths as they laughed. The boys oogled her, wide eyed. She was tubby and average looking at best, but she knew a naked girl was a naked girl.

Amanda froze, too stunned, too mortified to move. Now with both arms free, she covered up her boobs, even though it was too late.

‘Now for the evening entertainment!’ Molly announced gleefully.

She was shoved into a plastic garden chair, her naked skin sticking to the cold surface, the soft rolls in her stomach only half hidden under her arms.

Jordan pulled something from his pocket. Hair clippers.

Amanda’s stomach dropped.

‘No. No, no, no, please!’ she sobbed, shaking her head as Molly grabbed a fistful of her hair. ‘This isn’t funny!’

Molly giggled. ‘Not for you it isn’t funny.’

‘Hold still, Mandy!’ Jordan laughed.

‘Oh my god! They’re gonna shave her head!’ somebody shouted.

‘That’s really mean.’ Said a more sympathetic voice.

The clippers roared to life, the buzz filling her ears. ‘Who wants to see Amanda’s makeover?’ Molly took the clippers from Jordan.

‘Please! Please!’ she pleaded, squirming in the chair, her arms instinctively flying up to shield her head.

Jordan rolled his eyes, grabbing her wrists and forcing them down onto the chair’s armrests.

‘Molly, hurry up before she pisses herself or something,’ he snickered.

She was hyperventilating now, her bare breasts heaving in time to her breathing.

‘Say goodbye, Mandy,’ Molly whispered, holding one of Amanda’s locks up to her face.

‘Molly! I have to live with this. No!’

Bzzzzzzt.

The clippers pressed against Amanda’s forehead and drove straight back, ploughing through her bangs in a long, merciless strip.

Amanda gasped as she felt the vibration against her skull, her eyes wide, mouth open in horror, as a strip of her hair fell over her bare shoulders.

Her side-swept bangs—her safety, her shield, the thing she always used to hide behind—fell away in thin sheets of hair, exposing her big forehead completely.

The soft blonde strands tumbled down over her bare shoulders, onto her lap, onto her heaving tits.

Amanda cried harder, her whole body shaking as Molly continued, shaving away her identity, her dignity, in front of everyone.

It felt like it lasted forever, and she could hear her “friend’s” comments:

“Oh my God, look at her face!”
“This is fucking brutal!”
“Shave her bald!“

‘Guys, guys!’ Jordan shouted, I’ve just noticed that one of her tits are bigger than the other.

‘Most girls are lopsided, you arse!’ Amanda said through her tears.

‘But look!’ Jordan let her go – there was no point fighting now. He lifted both her boobs up by the nipples, red marks from her bra still on them. ‘They’re both big, but the left one is so much smaller.’

She smacked his hands away, face screwed up as she tried to stop crying.

Molly tilted Amanda’s head forward, exposing the back of her neck.

The clippers roared again, buzzing up her nape, leaving behind cold, naked skin.

Amanda sobbed, her chest heaving, her pale breasts bouncing slightly with each desperate breath. She could feel thetickling sensation of hair falling down her back, onto her lap and her thighs.

Her hair—her last piece of dignity—was being stripped away in front of everyone.

And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

‘I never knew her ears were so big.’ Jordan flicked one of them after Molly had shaved around it. ‘Dumbo.’

When the clippers fell silent, Amanda was left with nothing but faint blonde stubble. Her big blue eyes had gone red from crying.

The laughter, the taunts, the phone cameras flashing—it was all too much. Amanda was a big pale, hairless, blob.

She curled into herself, wishing she could disappear.

Molly leaned down, whispering with a smirk.

‘See, Mandy? I told you we’d give you a makeover.’

‘You dick.’ She sulked. Amanda could still feel the faint, ghostly weight of her hair, could still imagine it there, brushing against her shoulders, sweeping into her face, covering her. But it wasn’t. But they weren’t done. Somewhere in the swirling haze of voices and laughter, she heard the hiss of a can.

‘Alright, Mandy,’ Molly said cheerfully. ‘Bald means bald.’

Amanda didn’t move. She couldn’t move. Her body was frozen, still curled inward, still trying to disappear, though she knew by now it was impossible.

She barely registered the cold, foamy sensation as Molly slathered thick shaving cream over her scalp, coating the last of her rough stubble. She dreaded to think what she would look like with her head covered in shaving cream.

It felt wrong—alien.  Sitting naked in a plastic chair, surrounded by watching, laughing faces. and covered in her own fallen hair, she didn’t know this could get any worse.

Then it did. Molly was wielding a pink-handled Venus razor—her razor—and held it up with a smirk.

‘Figured we’d finish you off with something personal,’ Molly said mockingly.

Jordan snickered. ‘This is the one you use on your legs, and fanny, right Mandy?’

Amanda stared at it blankly. ‘That’s gross.’

‘It’s your pussy it’s been shaving.’ Said Molly. ‘Now your head can match.’

A fresh wave of shame, disgust, and helplessness surged through her

She felt the blade scrape against her scalp, the slow, precise movements as Molly dragged the razor over her skin, strip by strip.

‘Damn,’ Jordan grinned. ‘She’s gonna be smooth as hell.’

Amanda didn’t react. She just stayed still, unblinking, detached, feeling the razor glide over her, feeling the cold air press against the new, smooth surface of her scalp. It pulled and dragged on her scalp. It was rubbing salt into the wound that her hair was gone.

Molly tilted her head back, examining her work, then rubbed a hand over Amanda’s freshly smooth scalp, letting out a satisfied sigh.

‘Perfect,’ she said. ‘Pleased I only nicked your head a couple of times.

Jordan laughed, stepping closer and trailing a single finger over the bare curve of Amanda’s head. ‘Holy shit,’ he murmured. ‘She feels like a fucking bowling ball. And looks like one.’

Amanda felt the touch, felt every nerve on her raw, sensitive scalp react and cringe. ‘Mandy,’ Molly sing-songed. ‘Let’s see how you look.

Amanda’s stomach dropped.

She wanted to refuse, to shake her head, to close her eyes but Molly was already holding up her phone, with the forward facing camera on.

For a second, Amanda couldn’t even recognize the person staring back at her.

The girl in the reflection wasn’t her – she looked like a man. Her lips parted slightly in horror, but she couldn’t even speak.

Molly was grinning. ‘You look so different!’

She didn’t react. She was too busy staring at the stranger in the mirror, trying to find some trace of herself. But there was nothing left. Her hair had always been thin and lifeless, but at least it was hers. At least it softened her, gave her something to hide behind.

Now?

Now her huge, bare forehead dominated her face, her square jaw looked even harsher, her cheeks rounder and puffier than ever. Her ears looked ridiculous.

‘Aww, what’s wrong, Bald Mandy? Molly pulled the phone away. ‘Don’t like what you see?’

‘No! I look like a potato.’ She mumbled.

Jordan laughed, running a hand over her smooth scalp, rubbing it like a magic lamp. ‘Maybe if you make a wish, your hair’ll grow back.’

Amanda jerked away, her shoulders curling inward as if she could make herself disappear. ‘Leave me alone.’

Molly tilted her head, pretending to think. ‘Hmm… I dunno. You’re just so much fun to mess with, Mandy.’

Hunched forwards, trying to hide her body, she mumbled. ‘Can I have my clothes back?’

‘No.’ Molly said instantly.

‘Please,’ Amanda said miserably. ‘Just my knickers.’

Amanda’s stomach lurched when she saw it. Her knickers—her chance to regain a shred of dignity —dangling from Molly’s fingertips.

‘You want these back, Mandy?’

Amanda nodded weakly, her arms still clutched tightly over her body, trying to shield whatever she could.

‘Then you have to earn them,’ Molly said, her voice mockingly sweet. She gestured to the ground beneath the chair, where Amanda’s shaved-off hair lay scattered across the patio in messy clumps.

‘Pick it up,’ Molly said. ‘All of it.’

Amanda stared down at it, her own honey-blonde strands littering the ground.

‘You can have your knickers back when you’ve cleaned up your mess,’ Molly added, tossing a crumpled plastic bag at her feet.

This was as low as it could possibly get.

And yet… she had no choice.

Amanda sat crossed legged, and began gathering up the hair.

‘Uh – uh.’ Molly said. ‘You have to crawl.’

The cold, dirty ground scraped against her bare skin as she got to her hands and knees, and as she leaned forward, her arms instinctively tried to shield her chest—but it was no use.

Her breasts hung down freely, like udders, swaying slightly with each shaky movement, completely on display for everyone around her. Her, flat and flabby arse, fully exposed behind her had grit and dirt from the patio on it. She tried hiding it with one hand, but kept loosing her balance so gave up.

Her hair felt light, delicate, wrong in her hands.

This was hers—her hair, her protection, the thing that had always made her feel like herself—and now she was gathering it up like rubbish, shoving it into the plastic bag as if it had never mattered at all.

Tears pricked her eyes again, but she blinked them back, forcing herself to keep going, to scoop up more and more, to ignore the laughter, the wolf-whistles, the crude comments.

She just kept scooping up her own hair, kept shoving it into the plastic bag like a good girl.

Finally—after what felt like an eternity—she reached the last handful. She dropped it into the bag, her hands shaking as she tied it shut.

She slowly lifted her head, her face burning. ‘Done.’

Molly smiled, twirling Amanda’s knickers around her finger. ‘Good girl.’

Amanda reached out for them— only for Molly to toss them into the air, and to land on the shed roof.

‘Hey, that’s not fair!’

‘Why isn’t it fair?’ Molly shrugged. ‘I said I would let you have them back. So go get them.’

With all of her friends grinning, Amanda walked across the patio, onto the grass, head bowed, shoulders hunched, head over her boobs and pussy to the shed.

Standing as close to the shed as she could, she reached up, aware she was flashing her arse again.

‘She can’t reach.’ Somebody said. ‘Too short.’

Amanda had to jump, all her flab wobbling as she did so before she rescued them from the roof. Her friends hands started to rub and slap her head she put her knickers back on, prompting a fresh wave of crying.

‘Wow!’ Molly cried out. ‘I’ve never seen her get to much attention!’