Stripped Bare

I had never felt so vulnerable. The cold leather of the barber chair pressed against my back, sending a shiver up my spine. My waist-length hair cascaded over the back of the chair, a familiar weight I wasn’t ready to part with. Emma, my so-called best friend, sat nearby, her eyes gleaming with excitement. I had only come here to watch her experiment with a new haircut, but somehow I ended up in this chair.

Raven, the barberette, stood behind me with her muscular arms crossed. Her intense gaze made it clear that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Her dark, tattooed arms glistened as she reached for the tools on her counter. “You’re going to leave here with something unforgettable,” she said with a wicked grin. The firmness of her voice left no room for negotiation.

I tried to get up, but Raven’s strong hands pushed me back into the seat. “You’re not going anywhere,” she said, leaning down so close I could feel her breath on my neck. Emma giggled, enjoying every second of my discomfort. I glanced at my reflection, the familiar sight of my long, soft hair giving me one last sense of comfort. It wouldn’t last long.

The First Chop

Raven wasted no time. Before I could say another word, she grabbed a thick section of my hair and, without hesitation, sliced it off. I gasped as I watched the heavy strands fall to the floor. My waist-length locks were reduced to a blunt cut that barely reached my shoulders. The shock of seeing so much hair fall at once sent a jolt through me. My hands gripped the armrests, knuckles white.

“Still too long,” Raven muttered, more to herself than to anyone else. Her fingers dug into my scalp as she combed through the remaining hair, not caring about my discomfort. She lifted another section and cut, the sound of the scissors slicing through the air filled the room. Each snip felt like an assault on my identity, stripping me of something I’d always relied on for comfort.

I looked in the mirror, horrified by what I saw. My once flowing hair was now a blunt shoulder-length bob. My heart raced, and I struggled to process what had just happened. But Raven was already on to the next step.

“This isn’t nearly short enough for you,” Raven said, her tone laced with authority. She grabbed the clippers, their buzzing sound sending chills down my spine.

Before I could even react, Raven tilted my head forward, pressing it down so my chin touched my chest. The clippers roared to life as she pressed them against the nape of my neck. The vibration was harsh, the feeling of my hair being shaved off overwhelming. I could feel the cool air hitting the back of my exposed neck as the clippers moved higher and higher.

“There, much better,” Raven said, sounding satisfied with her work. When she finally lifted my head back up, I stared at the reflection before me. My hair now barely brushed my jaw, the sides of my head buzzed into a sharp undercut. I looked nothing like myself. The once soft and feminine image I had relied on was gone, replaced by something severe and sharp.

“Don’t worry, we’re not done yet,” Raven said, clearly enjoying the power she had over me. My throat tightened, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak. I was trapped.

Raven moved quickly, grabbing her scissors again. She snipped at the top, reducing the length until the remaining hair barely reached my chin. With deliberate, cruel precision, she cut blunt bangs across my forehead, the severity of them adding to my feeling of helplessness. The bangs were cut so sharply that they hung like a harsh line just above my eyebrows.

Raven ran her fingers through the remaining length, yanking it into place. “You’ll thank me for this later,” she said, but I doubted it. I barely recognized the person staring back at me in the mirror.

Emma’s laughter rang in my ears as I sat, frozen in the chair, unable to move. “She’s not done yet,” Emma teased, her grin widening. She seemed to be enjoying my discomfort far too much.

Raven grabbed the clippers again, and I winced as she turned them on. She didn’t bother with any warnings or comforting words. In one swift motion, she placed the clippers just above my ear and started cutting a straight line across my head, creating a severe bowl cut. Hair fell in large chunks, piling on the floor as the clippers buzzed angrily around my head.

She carved a path through my hair, leaving me with a brutal, uneven bowl that sat unnaturally on my head. The top was heavy, while the sides were buzzed down close to my scalp. The micro bangs were so short they looked almost ridiculous. I wanted to scream, but all I could do was sit in silence, enduring the humiliation.

Embracing the Inevitable

Raven wasn’t finished with me yet. “Now for the real change,” she said, her voice low, almost a whisper. She grabbed the clippers one more time, but this time, she removed the guard.

My body stiffened as she forced my head forward again, the clippers pressed directly to my scalp. She worked with brutal precision, shaving the sides of my head completely bald. The scraping sound of the clippers against bare skin made my stomach churn. I could feel the coldness of the air against my scalp, the vulnerability of having nothing left to hide behind.

After the sides were completely shaven, Raven started working on the top. She carefully sculpted it into a flat, angular surface. I could feel the clippers buzzing over the top of my head, the sharp teeth grazing my scalp as she meticulously flattened the remaining hair into a perfect plateau. The landing strip she created down the middle exposed more of my scalp, leaving a stark, military-like appearance.

I felt exposed in every possible way.

The Razor Finish

Just when I thought it was over, Raven stepped back and grabbed a straight razor. “Time for the finishing touch,” she said with a cold smirk. She lathered the sides of my head with shaving cream, her fingers roughly massaging it into the bare skin. The sensation was foreign and alarming.

She then placed the razor against my scalp, dragging it smoothly over the already shaved sides. Each stroke of the razor felt invasive, the scraping sound making me cringe. She shaved the sides down until they were completely smooth, leaving no trace of stubble behind. The baldness was complete.

Raven moved to the top, and with careful precision, she shaved the landing strip down the middle of my head, leaving the stark contrast between the flat top and the bare skin.

“There, now it’s perfect,” Raven said, stepping back to admire her work. I barely recognized myself. My once long, flowing hair had been replaced by this harsh, severe flattop, the sides shaved down to the skin and the landing strip glaringly obvious. I looked like a soldier, stripped of all femininity.

Forced Dress Alterations

Raven wasn’t done humiliating me. She turned to Emma, who nodded knowingly. Raven approached me, grabbing my shirt by the collar. “You’re not leaving here until you look the part,” she said. Before I could react, she yanked my shirt tight across my chest, her fingers roughly grabbing the clasp of my bra from beneath.

With a sharp snap, she unclasped my bra and pulled it out from under my shirt, leaving me completely braless. The thin, sheer fabric clung to my skin, making my nipples painfully obvious through the material. I tried to cover myself instinctively, but Raven swatted my hands away.

“Don’t you dare cover up,” she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. My cheeks burned with humiliation as I sat there, exposed and vulnerable, my body on display for both Raven and Emma.

Raven stepped back, folding her arms. “Now you look perfect,” she said, her tone final.

The Aftermath: Facing the World

I stood shakily, my legs weak beneath me. My scalp tingled from the fresh shave, the cool air against the bare skin almost unbearable. I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at the mirror one last time. The person staring back at me wasn’t me. She was someone else—stripped of everything familiar, someone I barely recognized. My eyes stung with tears, but I refused to let them fall.

“Go on,” Raven said, shoving me lightly toward the door. “You’ll thank me later.”

I stumbled out of the barbershop, the cold air hitting my freshly shaved scalp like a slap in the face. People on the street stared as I passed by, their eyes lingering on my harsh haircut and exposed body. I felt raw, humiliated, completely undone. Emma followed behind me, laughing as though this were all some big joke.

I wanted to hide, to crawl into a hole and never come out. But there was no escaping what had happened. I had been stripped bare—of my hair, my dignity, my sense of self. And now, I had to face the world in this new, harsh version of myself.

As I walked down the street, feeling every eye on me, something strange began to stir inside me. Beneath the layers of shame and embarrassment, a new feeling started to grow. I wasn’t sure what it was—defiance, maybe, or something like freedom.

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