Secretshaver
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I sat on the couch, transfixed by my phone as I chatted with Ray.
“How about coffee at that diner you always too me to after work?” I Texted. “I’m free this afternoon.”
“I would be honored.” Ray responded. “My treat.”
The day progressed without any more surprise packages or interrupting neighbors until Mark returned home. I explained that I was meeting an old work friend to catch up.
“Where did you get the blonde wig?” Mark asked before kissing me on the lips. “I’m getting Deja Vu.”
“You like it?” I asked coyly. “I picked it up the other day.”
“I thought we concluded the other day that I prefer my women hairless.” He smirked
“And that’s why I love you.” I responded, kissing him passionately and slipping a hand down the front of his pants. “I’ll let you peel this off of my head when I get home.”
“Deal.” He replied.
I hopped into my roadster and sped through the streets, with the wind whipping through my wig. Although it was once my hair, it felt foreign like a stranger. Before long, I found myself in front of the Silver Dollar Diner. The place was a total hole-in-the-wall, but they had the best damn pancakes I had ever eaten. Once I got inside, I immediately spotted Ray sitting in his favorite booth reading the newspaper.
“Old habits die hard.” I said as I seated myself opposite of him. “Anything good in the news today?”
“Just the usual.” He said with a smile, neatly folding his paper and setting it to the side. “Stock market mayhem and such.”
“You look great, Ray.” I beamed back. “Seems like only yesterday we were in the office together, complaining about board members.”
“I only complained about them to keep staff morale up.” He replied with a chuckle as he took a sip of his coffee. “You look great as well.”
“I’ve gotten really good at drawing on eyebrows.” I smiled. “Practices makes perfect.”
“I’m sorry, Maggie.” He replied
“Don’t be.” I said as I picked up the menu from the table. “If Mark was here, he’d probably kiss you. The sex has never been better.”
“I’m glad the serum has been of benefit to you.” He smiled. “I couldn’t live with myself if I thought I had harmed you in any way.”
“Would you be comfortable if I made myself more comfortable? I asked with a sly grin.
Ray simply nodded in response. I reached up and slowly peeled my wig off, exposing my perfectly smooth scalp, before setting it on the table. Next I pulled my dentures out of my mouth with a satisfying slurp before dropping them into my ice water. I sat there exposing my baldness and toothlessness to the world as the waiter came to take my order.
“Um, excuse me ma’am.” The waiter struggled to say through the shock of my transformation. “Can I get you anything?”
“Oatmeal and black coffee.” I said without hesitation.
With that, the waiter scampered off, leaving Ray and I to our conversation.
“Ravishing.” Ray said as he admired me. “Simply ravishing.”
We sat there together and enjoyed each others company as we caught up on each other’s current events. Towards the end of our time together, Ray mentioned how he and his wife would be attending a charity auction this weekend, benefiting a non-profit that his wife supported.
“It should be dreadfully dull.” Ray explained. “They’re auctioning off ‘experiences’.”
“Cancun vacations and wine tastings?” I asked curiously.
“Last year we won the privilege to do hot yoga with a professional yogi…” Ray continued. “The heat and smells were definitely an experience.”
“Interesting.” I said with the gears spinning in my mind. “Is there still time to submit an experience for the auction?”
“I believe so.” Ray replied without pause. “I can get you connected with Miranda, who can share more details about the event.”
“Splendid.” I said as I slipped my dentures back in and tucked my wig into my purse.
“What are you thinking of auctioning?” Ray asked with earnest.
“A beauty consultation with myself, of course.” I replied with a smile. “I’m thinking I could offer the full spa experience, manis, pedis, and a haircut to cap things off.”
“Sounds like a worthwhile experience.” Ray said as he locked eyes with me. “A truly memorable one.”
“Indeed.” I said as we both stiff up from the both. “Especially for the right person. Feel free to send me Miranda’s information and I’ll be sure to get everything squared away.”
With that, we said our goodbyes and I got into my car to return home. No sooner than I got out of my car, did I receive a text from Ray with everything I needed to put my plans into motion. Without delay, I called Miranda and pitched the experience I wanted to auction.
“That sounds wonderful!” She responded with excitement. “I’ll make sure to leave two tickets at will-call for you and your spouse. Thank you again for agreeing to help with the benefit auction.”
“Of course.” I replied. “And thank you for allowing me to participate last minute.”
I sat there in the kitchen, fingering the vial of blue liquid as I finished my call with Miranda.
Later that evening, I slipped into my favorite nightie and adjusted my wig before slinking off to bed, where Mark was reading. Without saying a word, I reached into his boxers and began to caress his cock. He gently set his book down with a moan as he started to stiffen. As I continued to play, I used my other hand to slip my dentures out with a soft slurp, then slowly migrated my head to Mark’s throbbing member. The tip was already drenched in pre-cum as I began to kiss and suck on the head. I bobbed up and down, taking him deep into my mouth.
Soon, I felt Mark’s fingers fiddling with the edge of my wig before he removed it completely. As my pace increased, his hands continued to explore the smoothness of my bald scalp. Before long, his back arched as he unloaded into my awaiting mouth.
“That was amazing,” Mark said breathlessly as I swallowed every drop.
“I promised I’d let you peel that wig off tonight,” I replied with a toothless smile. “Promises made, promises kept.”
“You’ll have to let me return the favor,” he said, pulling me into a kiss.
“Oh, I’ll be sitting on your face soon enough,” I teased, slipping my dentures back in. “But first, I need a different kind of favor.”
“I’m all ears,” Mark replied, eyeing me suspiciously.
“There’s a charity auction that I may or may not have signed us up for,” I said with a smirk. “And I may or may not have volunteered to auction off an experience—with me.”
“Sounds like a weird sex-club auction,” Mark replied, raising an eyebrow.
“Nothing sexual!” I chuckled. “The lucky winner gets an all-expenses-paid spa day—with me.”
“Okay,” Mark said, kissing me on my smooth scalp. “Count me in. I’ll get my tux dry-cleaned.”
“Don’t worry, love,” I said, kissing him back. “I’ll take care of everything.”
The week passed smoothly, and before long, the night of the charity auction arrived. I’d found a stunning, full-length navy-blue ball gown that looked radiant against my skin. To top things off, I chose to go without a wig, proudly displaying my perfectly bald head.
Mark and I picked up our tickets and made our way into the ballroom. As I expected, we were seated next to Ray and his gorgeous wife. Ray’s eyes widened as Mark and I approached the table.
“Ray, is that you?” I asked, hands on hips. “It’s me, Margaret.”
“Yes, of course—it’s been far too long,” Ray replied, catching the hint. “You look ravishing this evening.”
“The dress or the bald head?” I asked with a chuckle.
“I’m sure he means the whole package,” his wife answered with a smile. “Your entire look is stunning.”
“You look gorgeous as well, Pamela,” I said. “I haven’t seen you since Julie’s company Christmas party.”
“What a dreadful evening,” she laughed. “Liquor, hair extensions, and open flames should never mix.”
We settled in as the festivities began. The evening was filled with delicious food, light conversation, and laughter.
“So, what made you shave your head?” Pamela asked, sipping her wine. “Ray seems quite taken with your new look.”
“I just got tired of hair and wanted a change,” I replied with a smile. “I usually wear a wig out and about.”
“You shouldn’t,” she said. “Baldness suits you. Though I imagine it’s hard to maintain?”
“It would be—if I hadn’t had it permanently removed,” I said, gliding my hand over my slick scalp.
“That’s quite the commitment,” Pamela replied, a hint of curiosity in her voice.
“Once I saw how I looked, there was no going back,” I said with a wink.
Eventually, the doors to the silent auction opened, and guests began placing bids. Surprisingly, my experience already had a few contenders. Mark and I wandered the room, placing bids on a few trips. I kept glancing to see where Pamela and Ray had gone, but they’d disappeared into the crowd.
As the night wound down, we returned to our table for the announcements. The MC reviewed each prize, finally arriving at the last item.
“And last but not least, we have the ultimate spa experience with Mrs. Margaret Harrison!” the MC said. “Our highest bidder dropped a whopping $15,000. Congratulations to Pamela Dheil!”
“You didn’t have to blow the others out of the water just to spend a day with me,” I teased, glancing at Pamela. “I’m sure Ray would’ve paid to send us if we asked nicely.”
“Nonsense,” she replied with a smile. “It’s for a good cause. Besides, it’s been such a pleasure sitting next to you.”
“The feeling is mutual,” I said. “I guess we need to plan our little excursion.”
“I’m free tomorrow—unless that’s too soon?” she asked, reaching out to touch my cheek.
“It’s a date,” I replied, guiding her hand to my scalp. “Thought you might be curious.”
“Very soft,” she said, her fingers gliding over the smooth surface.
“You could have this same feeling. A free haircut is part of the package,” I said playfully. “Just think about it.”
Pamela only smiled, her hand lingering a moment longer. We finalized our plans and said our goodbyes.
The next morning, I put my plan into motion. I called the local salon to ensure everything was prepared, then packed my bag with essentials: a spare wig, a set of dentures, and the vial of blue serum. If things went well, those items would be leaving with someone else today.
I removed my wig and placed it on its crystal mannequin head, just as Pamela messaged me.
“Where shall I be meeting you today?”
“55 Main Street,” I replied. “Leaving home soon.”
“Marvelous,” she texted back. “See you there.”
When I arrived, Pamela was already waiting by the door, practically glowing with anticipation.
“Ready for our spa day?” I asked.
“Been thinking about it since last night,” she replied.
The scent of lavender and eucalyptus hit us the moment we walked through the door of the massage parlor. A gentle chime sounded as we stepped inside, and a soft-spoken receptionist greeted us before leading us into the couple’s room. The lights were low, the room warmed to perfection, and two massage tables were already prepared for us.
“This feels decadent,” Pamela whispered, slipping off her blouse and folding it neatly onto a chair. “I never do things like this for myself.”
“That’s the point,” I replied with a wink, already shimmying out of my clothes. “Today is about giving in. Indulging.”
We both lay face down as the therapists entered, their hands immediately setting to work. Fingers dug into my shoulder blades, kneading away tension I hadn’t realized I was holding. From the occasional gasp and sigh beside me, Pamela was clearly enjoying herself.
Midway through, our therapists excused themselves for a brief moment to refresh their oils. That’s when Pamela spoke again.
“I keep thinking about last night,” she said softly, her voice muffled by the table’s headrest. “How confident you looked. Just… owning that bald head like it was couture.”
I chuckled. “It is couture, darling. I’ve just accepted that it’s my best look.”
Pamela turned her head slightly. “Did it take time to feel that way?”
“No. The moment I saw myself fully bald, I felt right. Like I’d been playing a part before. I don’t miss the hair, not for a second.”
She was quiet for a moment. “I think I’m jealous. Of the freedom. The boldness.”
“You could have it too, you know.”
Her hand brushed mine beneath the table. “Maybe I’m not ready yet. But I keep wondering what it would be like… to let go of all of it.”
After the massage, we walked down the block to a trendy nail salon with floor-to-ceiling windows and pristine white interiors. We were seated next to each other for pedicures, our legs soaking in warm water as upbeat lounge music hummed in the background.
A young technician in bubblegum-pink scrubs began working on Pamela’s toes, while another started on mine.
“I think I’m still a little drunk on those massage oils,” Pamela laughed, tilting her head back.
“I hope so. We’re just getting started,” I said, watching as my toenails were trimmed and shaped with precision.
Pamela glanced over, her eyes lingering on my smooth scalp. “I’m not trying to sound weird, but it’s mesmerizing. I just keep looking at it.”
“I don’t think that’s weird,” I said. “You’re just curious. Most people are. We’ve been trained to associate femininity with long hair, but the truth is—bald can be beautiful too.”
She nodded, thoughtful. “When you said last night that you had it permanently removed… do you mean like laser?”
“Not quite,” I said, lowering my voice a touch. “There’s a serum. It’s rare and permanent. One drink and your hair will never grow again. Anywhere.”
Her eyes widened. “That sounds like magic.”
“It feels like it,” I said, reaching into my purse to subtly brush my fingers against the vial tucked safely inside. “It’s not for the faint of heart, though. Once you take it, there’s no going back. You have to want the change.”
Pamela swallowed hard and nodded, staring down at her toes.
“I think I want to know what it feels like to be free,” she said. “I just don’t know if I’m ready for forever.”
I reached out and touched her hand gently. “Then maybe just… watch. See what it does for me. And if you’re still curious by the end of the day, we’ll talk again.”
As the polish dried and our feet sparkled with fresh color, I knew exactly how the rest of the day would unfold. I’d drink the serum before her—let her see the transformation. And if her curiosity blossomed into desire, she wouldn’t be far behind.
Pamela let out a content sigh as the nail technician buffed the final shine into her freshly painted nails. A deep rose color—sultry, elegant, and just the right shade of bold.
“I feel like a new woman already,” she purred, admiring her hands as the gloss caught the light.
“Oh, we’re just getting started,” I said with a knowing smile, brushing a few stray hairs from her shoulder as we exited the nail salon. “The best part is yet to come.”
The short walk to the salon felt like floating. The anticipation radiating off Pamela was palpable. She’d been asking more questions all day—about my look, about the way people reacted, about the way I felt since choosing baldness for good. The idea had started as a curiosity, a flirtation with the forbidden. But now, it was something more—something she was beginning to want.
As we entered the private salon space, the soft glow of the lights reflected off the polished floor, casting warm, golden tones across the chairs and mirrors. I locked the door behind us, ensuring we wouldn’t be disturbed. The air carried the crisp scent of citrus and mint, a clean and rejuvenating perfume that clung to the skin like silk.
Pamela wandered to one of the salon chairs and sat down, folding one leg over the other. She reached up and twisted a thick lock of her auburn hair between her fingers, watching me in the mirror.
“I still can’t believe how confident you are,” she said, voice a touch dreamy. “The way you own it. It’s… liberating.”
“It is,” I said, stepping behind her and letting my fingertips trail gently through her hair. “And it’s permanent. There’s no going back.”
She tilted her head slightly, leaning into my touch. “Tell me again what it was like—after the serum.”
I smiled. “It was like shedding skin. Like stepping out of a costume I didn’t know I was wearing. The tingling, the warmth—it was all part of the release. My scalp, my body—every follicle just… let go. And then it was smooth. Forever.”
Pamela shivered, and not from the cold.
“I don’t want to maintain anymore,” she whispered. “I don’t want to hide behind layers—hair, makeup, expectations. I want to feel like me, the way you do.”
“You’re almost there,” I said, reaching for the small velvet pouch in my bag. From inside, I withdrew the vial of blue serum—the liquid glowed softly in the light like something sacred. I shook it gently and poured it into a chilled glass of lemon water, swirling it until the liquid turned a pale seafoam hue.
I set the glass in front of her on the vanity counter. “This is it,” I said softly. “A single drink. And there’s no going back. Every hair—gone. Forever.”
Pamela stared at the glass for a moment, then up at me. Her eyes searched mine. “Did you know, before you took it, that it would feel like this?”
“No,” I said truthfully. “But I’ve never once regretted it.”
She looked down at her hands, perfectly manicured, then slowly touched the ends of her ponytail, brushing them across her lips as if saying goodbye.
“I want to be beautiful in a new way,” she said. “I want to feel everything you’ve felt.”
“Then drink,” I whispered, my voice a velvet thread. “Let go.”
Pamela’s hand trembled slightly as she reached for the glass. She raised it to her lips, pausing for just a moment. I watched her throat move as she took a slow, deliberate sip—then another—until the glass was empty.
The silence that followed was sacred.
She set the glass down and looked up at me. “Now what?”
I placed my hand on her shoulder, grounding her. “Now, you let the serum do what it was made to do.”
Already, a faint warmth flushed across her cheeks. Pamela exhaled sharply as she shifted in the chair, her skin growing more sensitive, her scalp beginning to tingle beneath her hairline.
“It’s starting,” she murmured, reaching up to touch her temples. “It feels… like electricity.”
I leaned closer and kissed her temple. “That’s the freedom settling in.”
As the serum worked its way through her body, Pamela’s posture softened, her breathing deepened. She brought both hands to her scalp, feeling the gentle tension—the prelude to release.
“Am I going to lose it all at once?” she asked, wide-eyed.
“No,” I said, brushing my fingers along the crown of her head. “It starts slow. The roots loosen. Then the hair just… lets go.”
Pamela closed her eyes. “I want that. I want it now.”
“You’re about to have it, love,” I whispered. “And I’ll be right here every step of the way.”
Pamela sat still in the salon chair, her eyes fluttering closed as the serum settled into her bloodstream. A flush warmed her chest, spreading outward in soft waves, like the rising heat of a bath. She moaned softly—not in pain, but in release—as the sensation spread further.
She lifted her arms instinctively and gasped.
“The hair,” she murmured, brushing her palms over her forearms.
Fine strands, once invisible in their softness, now shed like silk threads caught in a breeze. They floated down from her arms—each one letting go without resistance. Pamela began to squirm in her seat. Sensing that the serum had also taken care of her public hair, I coaxed Pamela to pull her panties down from inside of her skirt. Without missing a beat, I got down onto my knees to quickly cleaned up her finely manicured pubic hair faded with a single sweep of my hand, the skin beneath gleaming, impossibly smooth. All of a sudden, I felt Pamela place her hand on the back of my head, pushing me towards her glistening lips.
“Just a little.” I heard her say as I approached her hairless mound.
Without thinking, I began to kiss and lick Pamela. The more attention I gave to her pussy, the harder she pushed on my head. Before long, Pamela exploded with ecstasy, releasing her grip from my head. I emerged from her skirt to find Pamela watching her reflection with reverence, her eyes wide as she ran her hands down her now-bare pussy. Her brows itched gently, and when she reached up to touch them, they fell away in soft clusters, like ash from a burnt paper. Her lashes were next—detaching and drifting down her cheeks like feathery snow.
She laughed—light, breathless, new. “It’s like I’m molting.”
“You’re being revealed.” I smiled back.
And then, the main event began.
Pamela’s scalp pulsed gently under the weight of her thick, auburn ponytail. She grasped it, giving it an experimental tug—and to her shock, it came away with no resistance, sliding free like a silk ribbon from a gift box. She gasped, holding it in her hands as if it were something no longer hers.
Beneath, her scalp was dotted with the last remnants of hair, now loosened and falling freely with every brush of my fingers. They let go in clusters, drifting into her lap, collecting on the salon cape like petals after a storm.
Pamela leaned forward and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her head was completely smooth now—bare, exposed, radiant.
She stood slowly and approached the mirror, the salon quiet except for the soft clicks of her heels. Her reflection met her like a stranger—and then like an old friend. She tilted her head, running her palms over the glistening scalp, fingers exploring the newfound curves and contours of her skull.
“I look like… me,” she whispered.
“You do,” I said from behind. “And that’s just the beginning.”
Pamela turned, her brows lifted. “The beginning?”
Margaret hesitated for just a moment, then moved closer, brushing a strand of invisible hair from Pamela’s cheek. “The serum’s secondary effect is just now taking hold. You’ll feel it soon.”
Pamela opened her mouth to respond—but paused. Her tongue flicked against something loose.
She reached up slowly, her expression puzzled. Her index finger met her front tooth. It wobbled—barely tethered to the gum, as if it had lost the will to stay.
A soft click echoed in her mouth as the tooth toppled free and landed gently on her tongue. She cupped her hand and let it fall into her palm. It sat there, smooth, clean, strangely beautiful.
Her breath caught. “Margaret…?”
“I’ve got you,” I said softly, stepping forward. I reached out, guiding Pamela’s jaw open with gentle fingers. “It’s all part of the experience. Let’s take the rest together.”
Pamela nodded, trembling slightly, mouth open. My fingers moved with practiced care, my touch firm but tender. I found the next tooth—another incisor—and gently pushed at its base.
There was a soft pop, followed by a slick sliding sound as it gave way. The root glided free from the gum like a pearl slipping from its shell.
Pamela whimpered, not in pain but in awe. “It’s so strange… It doesn’t hurt. Just… releases.”
“That’s right,” I murmured, my voice like a lullaby. “It’s your old self letting go.”
One by one, the teeth loosened under my fingers. Some tilted out with a gentle twist, others dropped into Pamela’s waiting hand with faint clicks—tink, tink. Each one slid from the gums with a soft, wet sound, like a seed being plucked from ripe fruit.
Pamela’s lips were parted, her breath heavy as Margaret reached the molars. They took a touch more coaxing, but still, each surrendered, slipping free with the same strange grace.
By the end, Pamela stood there—completely hairless, utterly bare. Her gums tingled, pink and tender, but she smiled—a wide, toothless grin that radiated something raw and unfiltered. Something real.
“How do you feel, dear?” I asked, cradling her cheeks in both hands.
“I’ve never felt more beautiful.” She strained to say without her teeth. “But I worry what Ray will think when he sees me.”
“I’d wager that he will love this as much as you do, love.” I said running my fingers across her sensitive scalp. “Who knows. Perhaps you’ll see a whole new side of him.”
With that, we locked up the salon and went our separate ways for the evening. I heard nothing from Pamela for the rest of the day— just a message from Ray, late that night:
“Thank you, Maggie.”
