The Loss of the Hair Mage

Flare opened her eyes. Darkness engulfed the cell that the guards had thrown her into, hours ago. Or days ago? She didn’t know. All that she knew was that, alongside the members of Raven Tail, her guild, were accused of crimes against Magnolia by its Supreme Court. She didn’t know where her comrades had been sent, since everyone got separated after the hearing. A lifetime of imprisonment, and she would spend it all in solitary.

The guards were ruthless, though: after entering prison, one of them tried to sniff her crimson hair, while squeezing one of her big and round breasts. However, unfortunately for the foolish guard, Flare was a hair mage, so it didn’t take much time for him to learn a valuable lesson about boundaries. After almost strangling the horny guard to death with her crimson mane, his colleagues tried to solve the problem they had in their hands by cropping inch after inch of Flare’s beloved hair.

Unfortunately for them, Flare’s hair, being embedded in magic, kept growing, much to their frustration. Also, because Flare was extremely fond of her mane, she was not ecstatic about the attempted butchering of her “sunset red” hair, applying the same punishment to the group of naughty guards. As a result, Flare had her red dress, gloves that almost reached her shoulder, and black heels removed and tarnished, making her cover herself with her long, crimson mane.

F (smiling maliciously, with her head tilted to the side): If you ever dare to cut my hair again, I’ll burn your necks!

Although Flare was strong and had separated one of her locks, putting it to blaze to intimidate them, she was still no match to the hundreds of guards that entered the room, beating her with clubs until she yielded. Even when using her hair to cover her entire body, minimizing the wounds, it was hard to protect herself from multiple magical blows on all parts of her body. And so, after being knocked out, Flare was dragged to a dark cell. As she tried to manipulate her hair, she felt it way shorter than it was before the beating.

Putting her hands on her head, Flare gasped, shocked to notice that the guards had given her a bitter reward for all the trouble she caused: her hair had been savagely ravaged by them, chopped so close to the roots that it was reduced to an ugly pixie cut. She knew that the blondie would have liked to see her like that: naked, cold, in a dark cell, and with a cruelly butchered pixie cut.

F (with tears flowing down her face): Bastards… When I put my hands on those weaklings…

Those, however, weren’t tears of sadness: she could always regrow her mane to its usual length in a second. They were tears of frustration. Frustration and shame for not being strong enough to remain conscious, for giving those dirty insects a chance to chop her luxurious mane as short as possible. With scissors, of course: they wouldn’t dare to approach a razor to her roots. Unless they had a death wish.

Growing a lock, she put it in a blaze, serving as a torch. The cell she was in was quite small: 5 meters in length, 2 meters width, and 2 meters tall, it looked like a short corridor where, at the left, there was a heavy metal door.

With her feet cold from being unprotected on the stone floor, Flare stretched her lock further, observing every piece of the cell, in search of a small crack that she could, eventually, exploit. However, much to her disappointment, the redhead found a hole in the floor, too small for her to enter. And, even if she wished to enlarge it, Flare, like the proud woman that she was, loathed the idea of swimming in the sewers, diving alongside the excrement. And, even though she could grow her mane to whatever length her heart desired, she would take months to wash off the smell. Unless she went to a barber, to shave off the stinky part of her long hair. Flare kept looking around the small corridor of a cell.

F: Solitary is quite solitary, once you think about it…

People could say whatever they wanted about Flare. That she was crazy for talking to herself. Even deranged. Psychotic. Honestly, she didn’t care: talking to herself was a luxury, even if people couldn’t understand.

As she moved her burning lock closer and closer to the door, she gritted her teeth in rage. The guards, as a way to belittle Flare even further, had glued a body-sized mirror to the extreme part of the wall, near the metallic door. As she approached the wall, she noticed that her body was bruised from head to toe. Nothing that she hadn’t already experienced with Raven Tail, where the master punched daily its members for any wrongdoing. However, none of her teammates ever dared to cut her hair. They weren’t idiotic enough to try her wrath. Not like those guards.

The top of her head was so cropped that the biggest strand was as small as a nail. Adding insult to injury, both sides and the back of her mane were longer, but not by much: just the length of her pinkie. Flare was furious. However, as she got a closer look at her pathetic figure, she smirked. Sure, she was still furious that those disgusting guards dared to slice her gorgeous locks. Still, now that she had a mirror, she could, at least, know just how much different it was to have short hair from her usual massive long hair.

While gazing at the reflection of her hourglass figure, poorly mixed in with her cropped mess of a short mane (aside from the antenna of hair that served as a torch), she tilted her head to the left. Then, to the right. Left. Right. Left. Right. She bit her lips. It was…unnerving to not feel her hair accompany her movements. Creeped out by the feeling of lifelessness from her mane, Flare decided that enough was enough! Using the blessing from the Eternal Flame, the redhead grew her hair instantly, making it cover her entire back, thighs, calves, and feet.

F (tilting her head, feeling her hair accompany the movement, ticking her legs): Much better! Oh, my precious sunset red, I missed you so much!

Flare, rotating her body, allowed herself to be covered head to toe by her crimson mane, as thick and silky as a blanket given to royalty.

Her hair wasn’t able to heal the bruises all over her body. However, that didn’t matter: as long as she was warm, nothing else mattered. Hair manipulation was the power the Eternal Flame gave her as a boon, a link to the Sun Village. She wondered what the giants were doing at the moment, while she was imprisoned in solitary.

F: I hope they are alright… I wonder if they’ll still be able to recognize me after so long…

Her hair and body had changed, shaping her into a young woman. Especially her breasts, where most men, upon seeing them, tried to grapple them with their horny hands. To be honest, Flare didn’t care much about her body: all the magic was in her hair. But it was nice to move well, and that body was the result of burnt calories, so, as long Flare used her hair manipulation, she wouldn’t be fat.

That was a comforting thought.

F (with only her face uncovered on that cocoon of hair): Oh, my sweet sunset red… I’m so grateful for this boon, bestowed to me by the Eternal Flame… When I get out of here, you’ll get the best washing of your life!

The crimson mane unwrapped around her, freeing her from her comfy cocoon. Flare giggled happily, as one of her long, serpentine strands cuddled her cheek.

F (smiled, with her cheeks getting red): It’s just as they say… A girl’s hair is her life…

And so, with the help of a multitude of locks, Flare didn’t waste time and started searching for any crack, small and exploitable to pick up the keys to the bulky metallic door. If Flare said she didn’t look good, she would be lying: her long, crimson hair freckled the light of her “torch”, reflecting it to make the cell illuminated in a dim crimson light.

However, to her odd surprise, the metallic door, which should be locked up, opened with a slow shriek, at the faintest touch. Flare’s eyes widened.

F (surprised): What the…?

As Flare stepped outside her cell, she extinguished the blazing lock, as there was a path of torches, stuck in the wall, shedding light to a bigger corridor. Feeling as if her luck had changed for the better, Flare ran, as fast as she could. She tried to find an exit or, at least, an alternative to her cell and the guards’ barracks.

So, as soon as she saw a door, illuminating the corridor with a scratch of sunlight, she bolted there. However, instead of the outside, Flare had entered a big, richly decorated room with a window as large as her cell length, and the triple in width. At the left, there was a dossel bed, with the curtains covering the bed. Maybe the room of someone important in the prison.

F (thinking to herself, while slowly creeping to the bed): If this is the room of an official, I can use her as a bargaining chip for my freedom!

And so, Flare, with all of her massive tentacle-like locks wiping in mid-air, pulled the curtains, revealing an empty bed.

F: What the…?

? : Are you looking for someone?

Flare jumped, after hearing a voice from behind her. The young man that surprised her was well-dressed. So much so that he could be from high nobility. And, although she hated to admit it, he was quite handsome.

?: Well, where are my manners…? I’m Rudolph Watkins, chief warden of this prison. I suppose you are our most “esteemed” prisoner, Flare, the hair mage, and I right?

F (grinning, while tilting her head): Yes… I was exactly looking for you…

R (smiling): I’m glad I found you as well… Your mane looks impeccable, like a well-cared rose…

Flare didn’t lose any time: in an instant, all of Rudolph Watkins’s body, except his head, was wrapped by her crimson locks.

F: If you try something, I’ll crush you like a bug… Understand?

But Rudolph, instead of being terrified for his life was…breathing heavily!?

F (angry, tilting her head): What kind of freak are you? Do you like being squeezed to half-death?

R (excited): No… It’s just…your hair… It’s so perfect. Such a crimson, silky work of art… I’m enamorated by this mane of yours!

F (confused, but also flustered): Are… Are you right? Of your mind, I mean?

R: Not at all. You might be the mage with the best hair in the prison. I’ll even risk telling the world! Is it a blessing?

Flare removed one of the locks from Rudolph’s deadly cocoon, using it to cover her smoldering cheeks, impressed by the compliments. No one had ever said such great things about her hair. It was always a mockery or a threat regarding relieving her of her long hair, but nothing like this.

F (looking sideways, ignoring his excited gaze): Yes… It is a blessing… From the Eternal Flame… My hair is my pride…

R: Great… Now, as much as I love to feel the sweet flowery scent of your mane up my nostrils, I order you to let me down.

Rudolph’s face now had the same expression of impatience as someone who was used to be promptly obeyed.

But Flare was having none of it. It didn’t matter if that young man loved or hated her crimson hair: he was her exit ticket. And she wasn’t going to let it waste.

F (smirking, with her usual deranged look): I don’t think you understand, Lord Rudolph Watkins. YOU are MY prisoner and, until I get out of this wretched hole you call a prison, you will obey me. Got it?

R (sighed): Well, I suppose I let this charade go on for too long…

As he said that, something weird started happening with Flare’s hair. It wasn’t responding. She was losing the ability to manipulate her hair at will. As the crimson hair around Lord Rudolph was beginning to fall flat on the floor, Flare felt her confidence shattering into a million pieces. When her hair fell, lifeless, around her body, the redhead kneeled, putting her hands in front of her face, terrified of getting beaten up in her powerless state. The hunter had become the prey.

R (holding one of Flare’s extremely long crimson locks): Did you think that that metallic door wasn’t open for a reason? Every door in this corridor is locked, except one. My room.

F (her eyebrows widened, and her lower lip trembling): How… How did you…?

R (sniffing the thick, soft strand): Flare, do you know what a blocker mage is?

The redhead shook her head, making her crimson hair wave around with the sudden movement.

R: To be fair, no country will ever admit to having them, since our use in wars makes them… Quite short and pointless… Well, as I was going to say, blocker mages are, as the name may already have given away, mages whose sole power is to block the magic of other mages. Since you are a mage with hair manipulation abilities, that power was…cut off indefinitely.

Then, Rudolph approached a terrified Flare, that tried to shove him away, only to get her thin arms trapped by one of his sturdy hands.

R (grinning, while gazing at the big breasts of the hair mage): But, in a prison… We’re the perfect type of mage to put in control. Want to stop a guy from bulldozing through a wall with his metal skin? Arrest someone with the ability to keep an arsenal of deadly weapons in a pocket dimension? Just count on us, blocker mages!

F (gritting her teeth, with tears rolling down her face): Please, don’t hurt me…

R: Well, well, well… You’re not so feisty when you lose your powers, are you?

F (trying, unsuccessfully to release her arms from his strong grip): Why? Why are you doing this?

R (caressing Flare’s warm scalp): Why? Because, as my previous reactions should have told you by now…

F (grossed by the idea): Do you…you have a hair fetish?

R (blushing, while passing his fingers on the left side of her mane): Yes. Yes, indeed. You see, I always craved for a woman with long hair. Not the waist-length or calves-length hair that many have. No. When I say long hair, I mean hair like yours: that grows as long as your heart desires.

F (grinned, while crying): And why me? Aren’t there any “honest woman” with the same powers as mine?

Rudolph shook his head.

R: Unfortunately, you are the only woman I’ve ever met who has the hair I crave in my life.

F (getting pale): And… What are you going to do with me?

The man didn’t say anything. Instead, he dropped the lock and shoved his hands deep into the sides of her scalp, massaging it.

R: I want you to become my concubine.

Flare was shocked and flustered, with those two feelings mixing themselves into something that left her speechless.

F: W… Why?

R: Flare, you are an abhorrent, deranged woman, which I would never even gaze upon if circumstances were different. However, I enjoy hair that you can grow to whatever length you desire, even when suffering from the worst cuts imaginable. I want to have your mane, no matter how despicable the person in which is rooted. You ARE hair.

F: I… I…

R: Look, I know that you are a coward. And cowards usually choose the easiest routes possible. So, see this opportunity and seize it! I swear to you that you will detest the alternative.

(Option one: Accept)

(Option two: Refuse)