The Shavathon

Kevin had a fascination, one that set him apart from most who gathered at the annual shavathon. Tucked behind a pillar, he watched intently as women lined up, taking their turns in the chair, awaiting the buzzing of the clippers. It was the fourth shavathon he’d attended, and over the years, his curiosity had only grown stronger.

There was something unique, almost hypnotic, about seeing women surrender their hair, inch by inch, as the buzzing clippers revealed pale scalps. He was captivated by the sight of freshly exposed skin, the buzzed hair falling away, layer by layer, until there was nothing left but smooth skin. The men who participated didn’t interest him, nor did the temporary head sprays in neon colours or bold patterns. Kevin wanted to witness a total transformation, the kind that only happened when hair was reduced to the barest length possible. But despite the allure of the shavathon, he often left feeling something was missing.

Shavathons, despite the promising name, seldom lived up to his expectations. Few women went fully bald; most walked away with a close buzz at best. He imagined how different it would be if even one dared to go all the way. He’d seen videos online—a solitary indulgence, he supposed—but the reality, he felt, would be far more striking.

In his thirties, with a few relationships behind him, Kevin’s connection with women had gradually faded into something distant, where he’d once sought connection, now he found himself drawn more to this ritual of transformation, watching a woman willingly relinquish what society deemed her femininity. Whether it was fascination, curiosity, or something he couldn’t quite name, Kevin knew one thing: he would be back next year, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’d witness someone take the plunge.

But no matter how much he wished, he knew he’d never see a full, true head shave here. The closest thing—and the best chance he had—was the clipper shave. On blonde women, it came tantalizingly close. They left the chair looking nearly bald, as their pale stubble blended seamlessly with their scalp. In some cases, it was nearly impossible to tell from a distance that they still had any hair at all.

Right now, a young blonde woman was settling into one of the chairs. She seemed calm, almost serene, as she adjusted herself and waited for the clippers to begin their work. Kevin’s pulse quickened. The buzz of the clippers grew louder, and he inched closer, moving to a nearby pillar for a better view. If this had been a scene in a cartoon, his eyes would have been popping out of his head. In reality, his heart was racing, his mouth dry and his tongue darting out instinctively to wet his lips.

He watched as the clippers grazed her scalp, leaving behind only the faintest shadow of stubble, practically invisible from where he stood. With each pass, more of her hair fell away, her expression remaining neutral, almost peaceful. For Kevin, this was the closest he’d come to witnessing a complete transformation, and he felt the thrill of it, as if he was seeing a moment of surrender.

He knew this wasn’t something he could ever really explain. Most people came to shavathons for charity, solidarity, or to have fun with colour and style. But for him, it was something else entirely, a quiet fascination that drew him back year after year, always hoping—though perhaps in vain—that he’d finally see what he was searching for.

“You sicko!” The words rang out across the hall, drawing more than a few heads in Kevin’s direction. The voice belonged to a large woman with a freshly buzzed head, her scalp as close-cropped as it could be without going completely bare. Her eyes were blazing as she pointed an accusatory finger at him. “I saw you leering at me while I was helping a charity. What, you get your thrills standing there like some kind of peeping tom?” Her words were sharp, filled with anger and disgust.

Kevin froze, feeling a shock of embarrassment rush through him. He hadn’t meant to stare so openly. But before he could respond, she continued, her voice rising in intensity. “You should be ashamed of yourself. If this weren’t a public place, I’d have security drag you out of here.”

Instinctively, he started to back away, his palms up in a silent plea for her to stop. But she advanced with every step he took backward, her face hard, her eyes locked on him. A few people around them started to murmur, glancing his way with looks of disapproval and unease. He felt his chest tighten, and his throat went dry; there was nowhere to go, no words he could muster to defend himself.

Finally, with a shake of her head, the woman turned and stalked off, leaving him standing there, his body taut with shame and nerves. Kevin leaned back against a nearby wall, steadying himself, his legs weak beneath him. He closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to catch his breath. He had never been a confrontational person, and he’d been completely unprepared for the harshness of her words. In that moment, he felt small, his fascination no longer a quiet indulgence but a source of humiliation.

Kevin wasn’t sure he’d ever come back to the shavathon again. The thrill he’d once felt was tainted now, replaced by a gnawing sense of guilt and vulnerability.

Kevin had barely regained his composure when another voice reached him, this one softer, more measured. “I saw that. She’s the one who should be ashamed of herself. This is a public event, and anyone should be able to enjoy it, however they want.”

He looked up, startled, and found himself facing a young woman with a buzzed head. Her stubble, likely from a No. 2 clipper guard, barely covered her scalp, which gleamed faintly under the overhead lights. Despite her closely cropped hair, her demeanour was warm, and her smile radiated reassurance.

She took a step closer, her tone kind. “Can I get you a coffee? You look like you could use one.” Kevin hesitated for a moment before nodding and following her toward a small concession stand.

They settled at a corner table, the hum of the event buzzing softly around them. Kevin wrapped his hands around the warm coffee cup, his nerves still frayed. The woman sipped hers, watching him thoughtfully. Finally, she broke the silence. “Do you come to these events often?” she asked, her voice light with curiosity.

Kevin managed a small smile. “I do. Every year, actually.”

A sly glint entered her eye. “Let me guess. You have a hair fetish?”

His hesitated, but nodded, deciding that honesty might be the best approach. “I guess you could say that,” he admitted.

To his surprise, she didn’t recoil or judge. Instead, she glanced down at her cup, her voice soft and confiding. “So do I.”

Kevin blinked, unsure he’d heard her correctly. She chuckled quietly at his reaction and went on. “I’ve been coming to these shavathons every year. Watching, mostly. But this is the first time I worked up the courage to have my hair cropped a bit.”

He glanced at her head, her short hair followed the curve of her scalp, and nodded appreciatively. “It suits you,” he said honestly.

She smiled, but her gaze grew distant, her voice dropping almost to a whisper. “One day, though, I’d like to go all the way. A full head shave—lather, a razor, everything. Smooth and shiny.”

Kevin felt a spark of connection, a shared understanding that he’d never expected to find in a place like this. “You’d look amazing,” he said softly, and for the first time all day, he felt his nerves settle, replaced by something unexpected: hope.

Kevin felt a thrill at her words, a mixture of awe and excitement. He hadn’t expected to find someone here who shared his interest, much less someone open enough to talk about it. It felt surreal, as though he’d stumbled upon a kindred spirit in the most unlikely of places.

“Well, maybe next time we’ll both see it,” he replied with a small smile. She met his eyes, and they both laughed softly, an understanding passing between them that neither had expected.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said suddenly, her voice filled with a playful urgency. “Do you live nearby?” As they settled into the car, Lily turned to Kevin with an unexpected intensity in her eyes.

He started the car, still slightly stunned by how the evening was unfolding. They drove in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the sounds of the city fading as they left the crowded event behind. Then, as they turned down a quiet street, Lily leaned closer to him, her voice a soft murmur. “Would you… would you like to shave my head?” Her words hung in the air, tantalizing and surreal. “I just realized I’m almost there, so… it might be the perfect opportunity. If you’re willing.”

Kevin felt his throat go dry. This was a dream he’d never thought he’d have the chance to live out in real life. He managed a hoarse reply, “I’d like nothing better.”

Lily’s face softened, and she let out a breath, as if releasing any lingering doubt. “Then drive me to your place. Quickly, before I change my mind.”

The anticipation between them grew as they drove. When they finally reached his building, they hurried up the stairs, each step a silent agreement, each glance with a spark of excitement.

Inside his apartment, Lily moved directly to the bathroom, looking around as though imagining the scene about to unfold. To Kevin’s amazement, she undressed completely and found a stool settling onto it, glancing at Kevin with a smile that both nervous and eager. He took a moment to gather the supplies: clippers, fresh razors, warm water, and a lathering brush. As he laid everything out he looked up to find Lily watching him, he flipped on the clippers, her eyes bright with anticipation.

Kevin took a deep breath to steady his hands, his fingers grazing her scalp as he positioned the clippers. As the hum of the machine filled the room, he began, slowly guiding the clippers across her scalp, wiping away the long stubble she had. Lily closed her eyes, visibly relaxing under his touch, letting him take her closer and closer to total smoothness.

When he finally applied the lather, his movements were gentle, almost reverent. Each stroke of the razor was more erotic to the extent that he was finding it hard to hide his erection. By the time he made the last pass, her head gleamed under the light, smooth and soft to the touch. There was a pool of wetness on the chair between her legs.

Lily reached up, running her hands over her newly shaved scalp with a look of wonder. Then she smiled, catching his gaze in the mirror, their reflection capturing the thrill of an unforgettable connection. Kevin asked her if she would like an extra shine to her newly revealed scalp. She agreed eagerly and Kevin rubbed an oily lotion all over her head, massaging it in thoroughly. Lily loved the feel and the final shine she saw reflecting off her head.

The rush of emotions, the thrill of the shave, and the intensity of their connection left Kevin and Lily utterly hyped up. After the last wipe of the towel over her absolutely smooth scalp, she’d done a hip swaying saunter to his bed, smiling softly as she turned onto her back and opened her legs to reveal a pussy, as hairless as her head, he stripped off his clothes in a time which did not seem to exist and slid upwards onto her, she was ready to receive him, his inexperience no match for the expert guiding hands that plunged him into her wetness.

When they woke, after what must have been some hours, Lily being insatiable and demanding several repeat performances and her finally coaxing him to a last erection with her mouth, she slid down onto him from above and squeezed one last ejection out of Kevin. Exhausted, they fell asleep, when they awoke the apartment was bathed in the warm hues of early evening, the city’s lights flickering on outside. Kevin’s stomach rumbled, and he glanced at Lily with a smile. “Hungry?”

She nodded, stretching her arms and sitting up. “Yes, very actually.”

They both dressed, helping each other with a bit of groping thrown in, Kevin smoothing down his hair while Lily straightened her blouse and adjusted her jeans. Just as they were about to leave, she paused, glancing toward the mirror. She ran her hand over her freshly shaved scalp, her fingers lingering over the smooth skin. After a moment, she looked at Kevin with a small, hesitant smile. “Can you rub some more of that oil on my scalp, it feels so good, and then have you a cap I could borrow? I’m not quite ready to go out… like this. Not yet.”

Kevin understood. He rummaged through his closet and pulled out a simple black cap, which she pulled down low over her face. “Thank you,” she murmured, glancing at him with gratitude and a hint of vulnerability.

They stepped out into the cool evening, the streets alive with people heading out for the night. Kevin pointed toward a familiar spot, a casual restaurant he often visited. But Lily shook her head, smiling as she nudged his arm. “How about that little Italian place?” she said, gesturing to a cosy restaurant tucked into the corner of the street. “If I’m giving you the thrill of dining with a bald woman, I’d rather it not be in a place where I am too much of a spectacle.”

He laughed, nodding in agreement. “Italian it is, then.”

Inside, the restaurant was warm and inviting, its dim lighting casting a comfortable ambiance. They settled into a quiet booth, and as they removed their coats, Lily took the cap off, dropping it down on a chair. Despite her earlier hesitation, she seemed to relax as they chatted over pasta and wine. They shared stories, laughter, and the occasional knowing glance, savouring both the food and the unspoken bond they’d formed.

By the end of the meal, Lily’s nervousness had all but vanished, and as they lingered over dessert, she tilted her head with a newfound confidence. “Maybe next time, I’ll leave the cap at home.” Her voice was light, but her eyes held that same spark that had drawn him in from the start.

Kevin smiled, feeling the promise of something more in her words—a quiet understanding that their story together was just beginning.

As they left the restaurant, Lily pulled the cap back down over her head, casting a glance up at him as she held onto his arm. In a soft, almost conspiratorial whisper, she said, “I wish I were bold enough to show the world my new look, but… I’ll get there.”

Kevin smiled, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. “One step at a time,” he said. “You’ll know when you’re ready.”

Back at his building, they rode up together in the elevator, and the charged energy between them flared again. As the doors closed, she reached up, pulling him down into a deep, lingering kiss, her hands gripping the collar of his jacket as though grounding herself in the moment. They stumbled out into his apartment, laughing softly, Kevin had recovered sufficiently to perform again but exhaustion caught up with him again all too soon. Lily leaned into him, sighing with a satisfied weariness.

“How about a nightcap?” she suggested with a drowsy smile as lay with her head on his chest, her leg splayed over his.

Kevin nodded, gesturing to the liquor cabinet. “Help yourself—I’ll have a whiskey. Just give me a minute.” He headed to the bathroom, still processing the surreal events of the night, the feeling of something both intimate and extraordinary.

When he returned, he stopped short. Lily was sitting on his couch, her face calm and radiant, and her skin gleaming with a sheen of perspiration. She’d chosen to sit under the living room’s warm light, which caught the curve of her freshly shaved scalp, her shapely breasts, and her nude pubes and cast a soft glow over her smooth skin. She met his gaze, a quiet, knowing smile on her lips, her earlier hesitation replaced by a newfound confidence. She looked almost regal albeit naked, sitting there so openly, her head gleaming as if she’d always worn it this way.

Kevin crossed the room, she handed him the glass she’d poured, taking a seat beside her. They raised their glasses, clinking them in a silent toast to the day’s unexpected journey. There, in the quiet of his living room, they sat together, his arm around her stroking her breast while she gently caressed his penis, sharing a drink, a moment, and the thrill of a connection they’d both been seeking, but never expected to find.

Kevin woke up slowly, feeling the hazy remnants of the previous day’s emotions. He reached across the bed for Lily, half-expecting to find her warmth beside him. But his hand met only empty sheets. Groggily, he thought she might be up, maybe making coffee or even breakfast.

As he rubbed his eyes, he reached for his watch, but it wasn’t on the nightstand. Strange, he thought. With a growing sense of unease, he got out of bed, heading toward the kitchen to find her. But she wasn’t there. Nor was his cell phone, which he was sure he’d left charging on the counter the night before.

Anxiety prickled his mind as he turned and walked into the living room, hoping to find her there. But instead, his gaze froze on the wall across from him. The large photograph that covered his wall safe was askew, the frame clipped to the side, and the safe door was wide open. He felt a wave of dread crash over him as he approached it. It was empty. Everything he’d stored—cash, documents, a few pieces of jewellery with some sentimental value—all gone.

His chest tightened as he stumbled into his spare room, heart pounding. Both his laptops were missing, the cables left hanging uselessly from the desk. He could barely process what he was seeing.

Kevin sank onto the couch, struggling to catch his breath. It felt like a nightmare, the pieces of the previous day swirling in his mind. How had he let this happen? She’d seemed so genuine, so real. The shared laughter, the intimate conversations, her confession about her own insecurities—all of it had felt authentic.

He replayed the evening in his mind, searching for any hint, any clue he might have missed. Her hesitant charm, the cap she’d worn to hide her shaved head, the whispered words of shared desires, their utter intimacies, sexual exploits in every form—all now felt like parts of a careful act, tailored to lure him in. His anger grew, mingling with shame as he realized just how thoroughly he’d been deceived.

Kevin sat in stunned silence, his mind racing to piece together the twisted puzzle that was now a reality. His thoughts drifted to the woman who had confronted him so publicly at the shavathon. There had been something familiar about her face, but he’d been too caught off guard to connect the dots at the time. Now, as he replayed the scene in his mind, it clicked.

Add long hair, he thought, and an image flashed in his memory. He’d seen her watching him intently at the casino on one of his most profitable nights, her gaze sharp, almost calculating. And then, months later, at a different venue, the same face but with black hair. Was it possible that she’d been trailing him all this time, studying his habits, his interests?

The realization struck him with a chill: this had been no random encounter. The woman at the shavathon—perhaps the “bad cop”—had created the perfect distraction, humiliating him, drawing attention to him. Meanwhile, Lily had played the “good cop,” the sympathetic stranger who shared his secret fascination. It was a classic setup, he realized, carefully orchestrated.

His mind reeled. Had his nightcap been laced? It would explain why he’d felt so drowsy, why he’d fallen into such a deep sleep, unaware of their movements. The two women must have had free rein over his apartment, able to take their time gathering his valuables while he lay unconscious. He clenched his fists, anger flaring anew. Lily—if that was even her real name—had been disturbingly convincing, embodying everything he’d imagined in a kindred spirit.

But then, an unsettling question wormed its way to the surface: how had they known about his fetish? The shavathon was open to the public, sure, but it wasn’t common knowledge that he had such a specific interest. Had they hacked his computer, tracked his browsing history? It seemed extreme, but then again, they had been thorough. Maybe they’d found his Facebook groups, where he sometimes posted images of bald women or commented on posts that intrigued him. He shuddered, realizing how much someone could learn about one if they truly wanted to.

It was all so meticulously planned, so expertly executed, that he couldn’t help but feel trapped and exposed.

Kevin’s initial shock and anger slowly gave way to a dark satisfaction as he surveyed the situation with a clearer mind. Yes, his phone and laptops were gone, and his wallet was missing. But Lily—thoughtful, “considerate” Lily—had left his driver’s license behind, perhaps in a twisted attempt to keep her con somewhat cordial. And in her haste to grab anything valuable, she’d overlooked some important details.

He chuckled, feeling a wave of relief mixed with amusement. His cards, taken along with his wallet, were low-limit accounts he barely used. Some were even tied to long-closed accounts, kept around merely for appearances. He’d handle the important ones tomorrow. As for the laptops, they were insured, and nearly everything on them was backed up. His phone had been due for an upgrade anyway. And while they’d opened his wall safe, she hadn’t discovered the hidden compartment inside—where he kept his real cash stash.

A grin spread across his face as he recalled his “Rolex.” The watch was a convincing replica, far from valuable, and he pictured her smugly examining it, thinking she’d scored big. But the real treasure he had taken, one which she probably never even considered.

The memory made him laugh outright. Just as before, and again before they’d gone to sleep, he’d offered to apply the oily lotion to her scalp, supposedly to give her freshly shaved scalp an even longer lasting shine. Lily had accepted, seemingly touched by his thoughtfulness and he had thought that he was preparing her for the lasting relationship he longed for. She had hinted that she desired a smooth scalp and he was intent on fulfilling her wish because the lotion contained a hair growth inhibitor, one specifically designed to maintain a perfectly bald, shiny head over time.

“Lily, darling,” he muttered to himself, “In a week, you’ll notice something strange when your hair doesn’t start to grow back. And in a month, when all you can manage is a patchy fuzz…” He chuckled again, savouring the image. Her eagerness to play him had cost her, and in more ways than one.

Then he remembered something else—the video. He’d asked her if he could record her head shave, framing it as a memento of what he’d hoped might become a long-term connection. She’d agreed, smugly confident that she’d be leaving with his computer, erasing any chance of the recording resurfacing. But Kevin, always cautious, had made a backup on a flash drive, which he’d hidden safely under his mattress.

He let out a low, satisfied laugh. She thought she’d pulled off the perfect heist, but in the end, she’d left him with far more than she’d taken. She’d traded her hair—and the flawless image she had so carefully crafted—for a mere $2,500, some electronics, and a worthless ‘Rolex’.

Kevin leaned back, still smiling. “Oh, Lily, was it worth it?” he said to the empty room, “For sure, I’d do it all over again in a flash.”

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