The Porthole Club

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The Porthole Club


By Shorngirl


Stacie always thought of the place as a bit too much for her. The Porthole was a trendy new club on the west side of town that seemed to be making a splash. She would hear the name brought up in casual conversations at work, and even amongst her friends when they were out.

“I can’t believe you haven’t been yet,” Allie smirked, as Stacie downed the last of her Moscow Mule.

“It’s just a club. What’s so special about it?” Stacie asked.

“It’s not the place. It’s what goes on there that’s so crazy.” Allie explained.

“No one has ever told me what goes on, so I have no idea,” Stacie complained.

“I’m not going to give it away. You’re going to have to go there and check it out for yourself.” Allie laughed.

“Why don’t we head over there now?” Lisa, another of Stacie’s friends suggested. “I mean, it’s not even eleven. Things don’t heat up there until right about now.”

“Who’s game?” Allie asked. All hands in the group went up except for Stacie’s. “Looks like you’re overruled, Stace. And I’m driving, so guess what?”

They all piled into the back seat of Allie’s car and drove the short distance across town to The Porthole. To look at the place, you wouldn’t think it was anything but a corner bar. Of course, you would have to ignore the line of people waiting to get in.

“You mean, we have to wait in line to get in?” Stacie grumbled. “This had better be worth it.”

“It moves pretty fast. We’ll be inside in no time.” Lisa assured everyone. There were five girls in their group, and they promised each other that they had to go in all at once, even if it meant waiting. They had been at the front of the line for a good ten minutes when a large group of guys came out, allowing them to head inside as a group.

Loud wasn’t the right word to describe the noise. It was difficult to hear anything, let alone carry on a conversation. All the attention seemed to be focused on a corner of the tavern, away from the bar. As a result, they were able to walk right up and order drinks.

Cocktails in hand, they moved back into the throng of people. Every so often a loud cheer rang out, and Stacie was curious about what on earth was going on. Standing on her tiptoes, she managed to catch a glimpse.

A bright spotlight lit up what seemed to be a ship’s porthole. Hinged glass window and all. At the moment it was closed, and Stacie couldn’t figure out what all the commotion was about. Raising her voice above the din, she elbowed Lisa. “What’s with the porthole?”

Lisa raised a finger in understanding, and pulled Stacie and the rest of the group to a flight of stairs that seemed to disappear into a dark void. She indicated up, so they filed into the narrow staircase and ascended into complete darkness. When they reached the top a curtain explained why the stairwell was so dark. On the other side of it, an entire upper level of the bar opened up before them, only not nearly as crowded, or noisy.

To the center was a railing, and a row of tables scattered along its edge. Approaching the only open table, Stacie saw that the entire center of the ceiling downstairs opened up to this upper level; a balcony of sorts. As they sat down, they looked down at the writhing throng of people below.

“We’ll have to order something to eat up here, but at least we can talk,” Lisa explained. “I’m starving anyway.” Everyone shrugged in agreement. After the server took their order, Stacie’s attention once again returned to the porthole, obviously what the club had been named after. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out what the big deal was. Suddenly there was a tug on her hair.

“Watch!” Lisa blurted out.

A tall, almost statuesque girl walked hesitantly up to the porthole, obviously being egged on by a group of friends. She looked as though she’d had a bit too much to drink by the way she carried herself. Finally, after the crowd began to chant something that Stacie couldn’t quite make out, the girl knocked on the glass of the porthole. Stacie then figured out the chant had been “Knock! Knock! Knock!”

A few seconds later, the porthole popped open, and the glass door swung wide and came to rest against the wall. Looking back at her friends, the tall brunette appeared to hesitate, but then, with a determined look on her face, poked her head through the porthole. Stacie struggled to see what was happening on the other side, but all she could make out were shadows.

She could see the girl’s foot nervously kicking against the wall while her head remained soundly pushed through the opening of the porthole. After almost a minute, a loud bell rang above the thing, and the girl emerged at last.

Stacie’s mouth dropped open as did most of her friends as they saw what had happened. The girl, who had once sported an attractive shoulder-length bob, now appeared with a severely undercut pixie. Stacie could see the skin of her scalp at the sides and back of her head and as if in reflex the girl’s hands flew up to feel how short her hair now was.

“Holy shit!” Stacie called out, while the rest of the table cheered and clapped. The poor girl, obviously embarrassed, slipped back into the crowd where her friends began razzing her by scruffing her head with their hands. “Oh my God, how humiliating.” She said to Allie.

During the night, three other women approached the porthole, all emerging with far more reasonable coifs. Only the brunette had been so brutally shorn. Stacie wondered why. Guys weren’t allowed to use the porthole, Lisa had explained. It was all about the girls and their braving the unknown.

“Why did they butcher the brunette so badly?” Stacie asked as they were driving back.

“Nobody knows what’s going to happen when they poke their head through that porthole.” Lisa began. “That’s the scary part. You might just get a trim, or they could shave you bald. A friend of mine actually saw it happen. This gorgeous blonde had been bothered all night about doing it. Her friends had been pushing and pushing, and she finally gave in. I mean, her hair was almost to her ass, according to the rumors. When she pulled her head back out, the entire place went silent, I mean it was shocking. They had shaved her totally bald.”

“Jesus.” Allie whooshed. “They’ll never get me to stick my head in there.” She stroked her long blonde hair in sympathy.

“I guess they had to throw the girl’s boyfriend out of the club. He was pretty upset.” Lisa sighed.

“Well, wouldn’t you be?” Stacie chided. “What do you think Al would do if that happened to you, Allie?”

“It wouldn’t be pretty, that’s for sure. The thing is, we’re never going to know, ‘cause I am never going to do it.” Allie assured us.

The car fell silent for the rest of the trip, everyone contemplating whether they might have the guts to actually go through with it, or at least that’s what Stacie imagined, because that was the only thing on her mind.

That night, she had been awakened twice by a persistent nightmare. Somehow, in the dream, she had ended up back at the porthole, standing at the porthole. Behind her, Allie and Lisa were yelling, pushing her. She stroked her long red hair, combing her fingers through the ends near her waist. The chant was pounding in her ears, knock, knock, knock, knock! The blank faces of people seemed to have a power all their own.

The glass was hard against her knuckles as she rapped against it, unable to resist the pressure any longer. There was nothing but darkness on the other side of the glass, as the porthole swung open. An ominous welcome and a fate unknown. As the darkness enveloped her, Stacie would wake with a start, her hands immediately flying up to find her luscious mane still very much intact.

The crazy thing was, as frightening as the dream was, she found her sex was completely soaked. Had she peed herself? She lowered a curious hand to her center and then back to her nose. “Not pee.” She assured herself. No, in fact, Stacie was incredibly aroused. The second time it happened, she had to give in and masturbate. She thought about the usual stuff she fantasized about, but that did nothing for her that night. “I can’t possibly be…” but as soon as Stacie’s mind began to fall back on her dream, an orgasm was upon her almost at once, ripping through her so violently, that she worried she might wake the tenants in the next apartment over.

“Jesus! Oh! Oh my God! Ohhhh!” Her fingers frantically whipped her sex into a froth as she came. Through the waves of pleasure, the one image that cut like a knife through the fog was a reflection of herself, completely bald.

When at last, the pleasure-pain, and the afterglow had subsided, Stacie lay exhausted on her bed, naked. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” She admonished. “That’s just sick.” Disgusted with herself, she rolled onto her side and willed herself back to sleep.

Over the next week, the dream manifested itself over and over again. Each time it was a little different, a little more twisted. In a final realization of how far she had fallen, Stacie had pulled her head back through the porthole for the humiliating reveal, and was shocked to find that she was not only bald, but naked as well. The entire place erupted in laughter, but to her shock and horror, she didn’t wake up. Instead, Stacie began to masturbate, spreading her legs lewdly for the wildly amused audience, who gawked and taunted as she pleasured herself. Mercifully, as she began to come, her eyes flew open to the relative comfort of her bedroom.

Stacie’s bedsheets were kicked off the bottom of the bed, her hand furiously working her throbbing clit, as she woke to a tumultuous orgasm that had her gasping for breath in its wake.

It took some time, but she eventually recovered. “Jesus, Stacie!” She griped, “Seek help!” Unable to come to grips with whatever this was, she sobbed until she finally fell into a restful sleep.

It was Friday night, and the girls were going out, as they always did. Stacie, feeling somewhat sleep-deprived, was hesitant to go.

“Come on, Stace, you’ve never missed a Friday night. What’s going on?” Allie, her best friend asked.

“I had that dream again last night.” Stacie had shared the fact that she seemed to be having nightmares concerning The Porthole club. What she hadn’t shared was the fact that these dreams were actually fantasies that were leading to some of the best self-induced orgasms of her young life.

“We’re not going to The Porthole, okay. We’ll probably end up at Riley’s again. Come on, Stacie. You know you want to get out.” Allie prodded.

“Fine, fine. Give an hour or so to get made up, and I’ll be ready.” Stacie said, disappointed by her inability to say no.

Stacie jumped in the shower and spent the twenty minutes she always devoted to drying and styling her waist-length hair. She absolutely loved her hair, and so did everyone else, especially a few of the boys who had been bugging her of late. The bright red mane fell in loose unwinding curls to her waist. It was her best feature, and she knew it. “Why the hell am I having these fantasies about shaving it all, then?” She said out loud to the mirror, as she finished her makeup.

Exactly an hour after she called, Allie was at the door to Stacie’s apartment. She let herself in, having been given the key. “Stace?” Allie called out, walking through the spartan living room to the bath. “There you are.”

“Hey. Almost ready.” Stacie grabbed her purse and tossed the hairbrush she had just been using into it with a flourish. “Let’s go.”

They met the others at Riley’s Pub as Allie had promised. For a Friday night, the place was almost sedate. Lisa seemed restless after an hour or so, and was pressing the five of them to head elsewhere. “Come on, guys, this place is dead. Let’s head out.”

There wasn’t any argument over the lack of people, so they all stood at once and headed for the door. Allie was always the dedicated driver, as she didn’t drink, so they piled into her late-model Avalon and sat for a moment.

Allie turned to face the three girls in the back seat. “Where to, guys?”

The Porthole was an almost unanimous decision. Allie looked over at Stacie, who seemed to have a very worried look on her face. She looked over at Allie, her eyes wide to silently voice her objection to the choice. The choice had already been made, however, so without saying a word to her best friend, Allie set off across town, to the infamous club.

The line to get in was a lot shorter than last time they were there, but then again it was only ten. After a few minutes, they were already inside and ordering drinks. Stacie, almost hyperventilating over where she was, quickly downed the Moscow Mule, setting the copper cup on the bar for another round. The bartender responded by filling her cup again, and in short order.

“Hey, slow down, Stace,” Allie warned, pulling the group to a spot near the front of the bar, and only a few feet away from the object of infamy. Stacie stared at the closed porthole, wondering if she could ever muster the courage to actually knock on that glass, and then to bravely poke her head inside. She shuddered with the thought, but noticed how wet she had gotten between her legs. She was in serious trouble there.

“What’s up, Stacie?” Lisa asked, noticing how quiet she had grown. “Thinking about knocking?” She kidded.

“What?” Stacie snapped out of her daydream. “What? Hell no.” She grimaced, turning away from the thing to face her friends. “I think I have to go,” Stacie admitted, nervously.

Allie raised her eyebrows. “Go? Go where?”

“You guys hang out, have fun. I’ll call an Uber or something.” Stacie walked away from the group and towards the door. She’d almost made it out of the club when a hand grabbed her arm.

“Hey? What the fuck, Stace?” Allie questioned.

“Allie, I’m scared,” Stacie admitted, painfully. “I’m scared that if I stay here, I’m going to end up with my head through that damned porthole.”

“I’m not going to let that happen, Stacie,” Allie assured her. “How long have we known each other, babe? Would I let that happen to you?”

Stacie realized how foolish she was being, and returned to the group with Allie in the lead. Just as they reached their spot, a young woman, maybe twenty-five, stepped up to the porthole. There didn’t seem to be anyone encouraging her, other than the general crowd, which began the chant.

Without too much prodding the woman knocked on the glass, sending a shiver down Stacie’s spine. She watched in horror and ecstasy as the porthole swung open and the woman’s head disappeared within. She had entered with reddish hair to her shoulders. Stacie pondered over what the woman might look like when she re-emerged. In the meantime, her pussy was literally streaming, and if she hadn’t been wearing jeans, she’d be worried about leaking down her thighs.

The cheering from the crowd grew louder as the bell finally rang, and the woman emerged with a much shorter style. This time it was a mullet, the hair cropped short at the front and sides, slowly feathering back to a long flowing tail.

The woman smiled, obviously embarrassed by the crowd’s reaction to her new haircut, running a hand over the greatly reduced length on the top of her head. Her hair stood up in longish spikes and the sides had been cropped down to the skin. It was a good look for her, and Stacie couldn’t help but make the comparison to her own red locks, imagining them cut so severely.

Soon afterward, the crowd settled into a dull buzz. Finishing her drink and realizing that Lisa was standing with another in her outstretched hand, Stacie couldn’t help but think they were deliberately trying to get her drunk. She hesitantly took the drink, but held off on raising it to her lips. She was already a bit tipsy.

Allie announced that she had to pee, and dragged Penny, more of an acquaintance than a friend, along with her. That left Stacie with Lisa and Caroline, who seemed to be talking amongst themselves. With Allie gone, Stacie felt what could almost be described as an irresistible force, carrying her to the front of the room. With Lisa and Penny looking on in disbelief, Stacie stepped up to the porthole.

Almost immediately, the chants began, knock! Knock! Knock! With her hand shaking almost uncontrollably, Stacie reached up and pressed her hand against the glass. The chants continued until she fashioned a fist and allowed her knuckles to rap against the glass of the porthole. It was all so surreal.

As the porthole swung open, Stacie could hear her name being called from behind. She turned to see Allie, screaming to her, with a very determined Lisa restraining her from approaching. “Just as well,” Stacie whispered under her breath, “This was inevitable.” And with that, she allowed her head to slip inside the curtained hole.

Once she had poked her head through the curtain, Stacie tried to come to terms with what she saw. A young woman, perhaps her own age, approached Stacie with a smile.

“Hey, you.” The woman soothed, reaching out to pull the rest of Stacie’s long red hair through the curtain so it hung down straight from her head. “I was hoping you’d pop in.”

“Hi.” Stacie returned nervously, her pussy absolutely throbbing in her jeans, and she only prayed that no one looked down at her rear, because she was certain her excitement was sure to be evident.

“So, what are we doing?” The young woman asked.

“You mean I have a choice?” Stacie asked, shocked.

“Of course. But what happens in the porthole, stays in the porthole. As far as anyone else is concerned, it’s a surprise. It’s kind of like a pact.” She explained. The crowd noise behind Stacie was growing louder. “We better get started, though.”

“Might as well give them a good show,” Stacie muttered, not believing what she was about to do. “Shave it off.” She said, resolutely.

“You mean shave it, as in bald, or more of a buzzcut?” The girl asked as she raised the clippers to Stacie’s forehead.

“Give them what they want. All the way down.” Stacie smiled.

The girl snapped the guard off the clippers, running the bare blades over Stacie’s head, forehead to crown, over and over until the entire top of her head was devoid of any hair at all. Stacie could feel the inevitable wave of pleasure sweeping up from her center and she knew she was about to have an orgasm. As the girl denuded the sides and back of Stacie’s head and the last of her hair fell into what appeared to be a bushel basket, Stacie was unable to stop. She gasped as the orgasm swept over her, and a shudder ran over her entire body, causing the girl to pause for a moment.

The crowd noise was almost deafening behind her as she looked up, humiliated, and bashfully smiled. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be honey. It happens all the time. I kind of get a kick out of it.” She admitted. Quickly, she ran the naked clippers over Stacie’s head one more time, making sure she hadn’t missed a single hair. Satisfied that Stacie was as bald as she had requested, the girl reached up and grabbed a thin rope that hung down near Stacie’s head. “Ready?”

“I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. Demille.” Stacie joked. They both giggled as the bell rang out. The girl gave Stacie a wink before she pulled her head back out into the waiting room.

The reaction was everything she had hoped it would be. For an instant, the entire room fell silent, as if in awe of what had just happened. Allie stood a few feet away, tears running down her cheeks. Stacie smiled, and shook her head, raising her hands to allow her fingers to feel her new nakedness for the first time. The smile grew into a toothy grin as she realized what she had done. As she joined her friends, their inquisitive hands caressed her baldness, and she literally had to fight to keep from coming again right in front of them.

“Stacie? Why?” Allie sobbed, still upset over what had happened, when she had promised to prevent it.

“Because. I just had to do it.” Stacie admitted, pulling her best friend in for a hug. “Besides, I really do love it.”

“Well, you look awesome, anyway,” Lisa interjected. “You really rock the look, Stacie.”

Self-conscious for the first time, Stacie once again confirmed that she was indeed bald, running a shaky hand over her nearly smooth scalp. “Thanks, Lisa. You have no idea how great this feels.” Of course, for the rest of the night, all eyes were on her, and she must have been hit on more times in those few hours than she had ever been in her entire life.

Completely exhausted, Stacie opened the door to her apartment, making her way to her bathroom to get a closer look at what she had done. Allie had begged her to stay the night, out of concern. Stacie had assured her that she was fine, and just needed to sleep. Her friends couldn’t quite believe that the girl with the longest, most beautiful hair amongst them, had been shorn to the skin. Of course, the secret of the porthole, would remain a secret. As far as her friends were concerned, the shaving was as much of a surprise to Stacie as it was to them. If they only knew the truth. What would they think then?

One thing was for sure, Stacie resolved, as she had her first close look at herself in the stark light of her bathroom, the stubble had to go. Rummaging in her clothespress, she came up with a can of gel shaving foam, and liberally spread it over her head. As an afterthought, she quickly shed her clothes. If she was going to do this, she was damned well going to be naked for it. Even though she had tried to clean herself up in the ladies’ room at The Porthole, she still reeked of her own arousal. The heady scent only added fuel to the fire as she ran the razor deliberately down the middle of her head.

A few minutes later, her head felt as bald as it looked, and Stacie vowed to keep it that way, at least for the foreseeable future. Unable to resist, Stacie laid down on her bed and masturbated, one hand searching her barren scalp which had transformed into one huge erogenous zone, while the other gently and rhythmically stroked her clitoris. Stacie wasn’t sure which smooth surface was granting her the most pleasure, and she began to imagine her head as her second clit, doubling, even tripling her pleasure, as she came, and came and came.

Closing her eyes, and feeling the silky smooth surface of her pillow against her head, she enjoyed the first good night’s sleep she had in a week. Stacie, the luscious redhead, was no more.

4 responses to “The Porthole Club

  1. This is one of my all time favorites of yours, what an incredible story! I love the scenario of a girl with a raging fetish of her own and totally succumbing to it – and ending up shaved smooth and a total sex freak. One of the hottest things I’ve ever read on this site, please write more like it!

  2. I am so glad you enjoyed it. It was a fresh idea that I came up with while visiting a tavern in Chicago. No haircuts took place there (alas), but there was that porthole, and it got me thinking. This is a stand alone story, but I do come up with ideas all the time and often post them here. Although this is recreation for me, a break from my serious writing as a novelist, I try to instill the same quality of workmanship and editing that I do for any of my published works. Keep on reading, and as always, I appreciate your comments.
    Claire (aka Dreadlocks)

  3. I’m catching up on a lot of stories I’ve missed over the last month or so. I read this one late last week and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. WOW. I wish it were a real place. Although I’d miss the experience of *watching* the haircuts, the idea of *being* the one in the porthole is divine.

  4. Thank you for this thought provoking story about Stacie and her uncontrollable urge to face the unknown, an urge that I sadly only know too well. If only one had the courage and life’s circumstances were different.
    Once again thank you. Your writing is so inspiring.
    As an aside what type of novels do you write.
    Stacey xxx

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