The Price of Fame 2 – The Fall of Elena

The Plain Bob

Chantal, the host of the DarkLocks live stream, led Elena from the barber’s chair. For her next makeover, she asked her model to change into a different dress. The material was in a floral pattern reminiscent of her usual long styles – a continuity of sorts – but so flimsy that her body was easily visible underneath. Furthermore, the dress was far shorter than she had ever worn in the past, barely covering her bottom. And gone were the puffed sleeves, replaced by thin straps that scarcely held in place the skimpy material covering her cleavage. While the dress hinted at the essence of femininity, the overall effect was far more provocative.

Elena stole a quick glance in a mirror to check her appearance and saw her shortened hair for the first time, swinging lazily back and forth, skimming her shoulder. She squeezed her eyes closed, refusing to look again, waiting until Chantal called her back in front of the cameras.

= * = * =

Elena mused on how her life had changed over the previous few weeks. Once upon a time she had enjoyed a quiet life; an undemanding job by day and, in the evening, displaying her remarkably long hair on her social media channel to an appreciative audience. Then she had found Laura, the love her life, who had encouraged her to exploit her long hair even more. Money had poured in for a while but, when it dried up, the couple had quickly accrued considerable debts.

An organisation called DarkLocks had offered them a lifeline. Run by a formidable lady called Chantal, they produced dramatic makeover videos. And that’s how Elena had come to be waiting in the wings, sad that an intimidating barber had already chopped off a considerable amount of her long hair … but having the expectation that even worse was soon to come.

= * = * =

As directed, Elena displayed her shoulder length locks in the same manner as she had with her long tresses. However, the perfunctory demonstration came over as a sad parody of her more familiar artistic performance. Chantal gave her a thumbs up and gestured her towards the barber’s chair where Carla, the barber, waited impassively.

With a tight smile but without a comforting word, Carla drove her scissors through Elena’s hair. This time at chin level on her left side. Moving speedily, in contrast to her earlier slower pace, her activity came over as savage and demeaning. Huge chunks of hair rained down on Elena’s now bare shoulders, catching in her cleavage, and rolling into her lap.

The barber moved to Elena’s right side and, with no more mercy, repeated the action. Positioning herself behind the woman in the chair, she speedily sheared all the hair that covered her neck.

Moving around to stand in front of Elena, Carla combed down a panel of hair from each side of Elena’s face, obscuring her eyes. With little care, the barber sliced through the hair hanging over Elena’s forehead. A blunt lop-sided fringe remained, covering her eyebrows and nearly obscuring her vision.

Carla stood back to admire the deliberately amateurish chin length bob that she had speedily fashioned, in a time that suggested she had been aiming for a world record. It could not have looked any worse, however hard she could have tried. The ends were uneven, and cowlicks marred the line of the fringe, giving an unflattering frame to Elena’s delicate features. Contrasting with the pretty dress, designed to make someone look provocative and sensuous, her bob served to make Elena look plain and unremarkable. And, although she could not see the result, that was exactly how Elena felt.

‘I imagine all your fans are now seeing just how ordinary you are without your remarkable hair, sweetie,’ Chantal chuckled. ‘But fear not, as our barber has a wealth of ideas, and she will now elevate your unbecoming style to something quite remarkable.’

Motivated by an urgent gesture from Chantal, Elena lumbered to her feet and paraded her unbecoming hairstyle. The savage host was giving a commentary to the audience during each cut, and thereafter. However, Elena had done her best to tune her out, thus remaining oblivious to her hurtful words.

‘Sit!’ growled Carla under her breath – the first time she had spoken – after Elena was too slow to return to her barber’s chair.

The Glossy Cap

Stoic, Elena mused, reminding herself of her girlfriend’s instruction, as she propped herself upright in the chair, resigned to continuing her ordeal. However, she flinched dramatically when a loud roaring noise sounded in her ear.

Carla, having fired up her hairclippers, quietly chuckled. She cupped the top of Elena’s head and held it firmly in position. Elena felt trapped and vulnerable as the powerful clipper blade pressed firmly against her scalp, revealing a line of white skin high up the back of her head.

Working more carefully than before, Carla used this guideline to carve a precise contour around Elena’s head, passing above each ear. Having checked the accuracy of her initial guideline, the barber quickly clippered away all the hair below the perimeter she had established, reducing the area to a fine felt.

Moving to the front, Carla lined up the clipper blade with the guideline established on each side of Elena’s head, then pressed firmly down on the long thick fringe. Instantly, Elena’s eyebrows were revealed together with a great deal of her forehead, clearly exposed by the imposition of a childishly short fringe.

All that remained of Elena’s hair was a thick glossy cap, resembling a sleek helmet, perched on her crown. To make it more prominent, Carla selected smaller hairclippers to mercilessly shave the fine pelt below the cap, leaving Elena’s freshly exposed skin undeniably bare.

‘That’s perfect, Carla,’ Chantal praised, gesturing for Elena to present her latest look to the camera. ‘Yes, sweetie, our superb barber has given you a beautifully severe bowlcut,’ she added, holding back her laughter.

‘What?’ Elena whimpered, reacting emotionally rather than thinking stoically. ‘You mean, like a schoolboy?’

‘Yes, exactly, sweetie,’ Chantal agreed. ‘A sweet little schoolboy in a dress, no less. But, perhaps, I should have said humiliating to describe your haircut, rather than beautiful. Although, I must say, Carla has cut it exceptionally well for you.’

‘Why?’ Elena whined, continuing off-script, and consequently suffering a warning frown and a concealed tap on the wrist from Chantal.

‘It’s always a popular choice amongst our discerning audience,’ Chantal explained patiently as Elena sat down once again. ‘For some of our discerning audience, the bowlcut is their world!’

The Flat Mood

Without warning, the large hairclippers fired up again. With the blade now covered by a plastic guard, it swooped through the hairline at Elena’s forehead. Thrust onwards by Carla, the efficient blade left behind a furrow of short hair in its wake. Wasting no time, Carla quickly destroyed the remainder of Elena’s bowlcut, leaving a harvested field of uniform bristles covering the top of her head.

With the practiced ease of an expert barber, Carla used hairclippers and comb to graduate the back and sides, fading the crown hair into the bare skin lower down. Carla precisely trimmed the bristles on the crown to create a level, brush-like surface with no hair longer than two centimetres, and with every hair standing erect.

‘And there we have it everybody. Carla has excelled herself by fashioning a precise and perfect flattop. Elena’s magnificent long hair finally reduced to a style suitable for her induction into the military,’ Chantal grandly explained, ‘although her pretty floral dress is hardly the uniform for her to wear into battle,’ she added with a chuckle, sarcasm lacing every word.

‘Why,’ Elena whimpered, barely audible, her eyes puffy.

‘Just think of the money, my sweet little soldier,’ Chantal cooed quietly. ‘And there, my friends, we will leave it for now,’ she grandly announced to the audience on the live stream.

Elena was devastated by the ordeal, but a sliver of hope remained for the future, fuelled by the promise of financial security. While her original followers felt betrayed, a new audience, captivated by her shocking transformation, had come forward.

Laura stepped from the shadows and placed a comforting arm around Elena as she stood on shaking legs. Elena forced a smile, and her girlfriend rewarded her with one in return.

But Laura’s was a cold smile, and one that did not reach her eyes.

The Price of Freedom

Encouraged by the surge in income, Chantal pushed the boundaries even further. Although the live stream of Elena losing her long hair had proved extremely lucrative, and the resulting edited videos had attracted huge profits, DarkLocks insisted on maximising their investment.

Carla thoroughly shaved Elena’s head at their next meeting. The model wore a skimpy black lace dress with heavy makeup and jewellery. It was as if she was preparing to attend a grand party, although her flattop haircut provided a jarring contrast to the remainder of her appearance.

Initially, Carla enthusiastically buzzed Elena’s head with hairclippers. She then used a foil shaver to leisurely remove the remaining dark shadow of bristles. Finally, she applied copious quantities of shaving foam to coat Elena’s head before skilfully scaping it away with any bristles, using an old-fashioned razor. Elena’s scalp was completely smooth, her skin shining like a glass.

With each passing session, DarkLocks added a new element to the mix, usually at the cost of humiliating Elena even more. Chantal paraded her in skimpy outfits, bound her to the chair, and subjected her to increasingly degrading scenarios.

Each shave was agonising, a public stripping away of her identity. While Elena felt her spirit breaking, the money continued to pour in. Premium live streams and exclusive content raked in an unimaginable fortune for DarkLocks.

Laura had continued to show support for Elena. However, the initial excitement they had shared of being together had faded, eroded by the relentless pressure felt by the increasingly drained Elena. Laura’s eyes only lit up in her girlfriend’s presence, when she related details of the small fortune they were amassing that was making it all worthwhile.

To be continued

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