Let me introduce myself. I am a boy of 18 and I love to see women with short hair and also love to see women get their hair cut. This is my fantasy. Part of it is true.

I have an aunt. Let me call her T. My aunt always seemed to know my love for short hair. She is maybe 15 years older than me. She always used to tell me that she was going to cut her hair short some day. But she lives in India and the society she lives in wouldn’t dream of letting her do it. That’s where my fantasy kicks in. Her husband is dead and she lives alone. One day on the insistence of my mom I had to go pay her a visit. She lives about 5kms away from my house. When I went there, she welcomed me with open arms, literally. One reason I like her is her hair. Her hair is long and I mean really long. It reaches down to her buttocks. It was my dream to cut hair that long some time. Hair, which has never been cut since she was a small girl. She lived in a small apartment, not that she couldn’t afford a bigger one, but she felt it would be too big for her and since she knew me from the time I was a kid, she let me sleep with her on the double bed. That night I wasn’t too tired and I got up at about 4:00am and saw that she was already awake, but lying down. She seemed to be fingering her hair and sighing. I don’t know what prompted me ask at the right question at that time. I’ll always thank god for putting the right question.

“What are you sighing about so early in the morning?”

I took her by surprise. She hadn’t noticed that I was awake. Her answer was hesitant. But for some reason she decided to trust me.

“I… I… I… am just thinking if I could get rid of this hair. How nice it would be. I am really tired of it. I was once proud of it. But now, it really gets me so irritated in the morning, doing it up. Besides I also have to spend quite some time washing it, every other day….”

She left the sentence hanging in mid air. But the words were out in a hurry, before she could stop them. She seemed to regret the words as soon as she spoke them.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” was her stammered reply.

“It’s alright. I understand.”

That seemed to work wonders for her. She now found it far easier to confide in me. She began by saying that she had last had her hair cut when she was ten and that was a trim. In school she had the longest hair in her class and used every opportunity to let the other girls know it. It was her pride and joy. But now she wanted to get rid of it.

“Well I am not averse to that,” was my only thought. “Ya,” I murmured.

“Just a passing thought,” she said, killing all my further questions and expectations, but only for a second. Again she murmured to herself, “I can’t go to the barbershop, can I?” Man, a guy can only take so much temptation.

“Can I help, it seems to be an Everest-sized problem.”

“Ya… maybe…” she hesitantly replied.

“So how can I help?” I asked, trying to hide the eagerness in my voice.

“Well, you can’t take me to the barbershop can you?”

“I can, what’s the problem in that?”

“Well, for starters, the barber will be surprised and won’t be willing to shave my head and what will people think of me in a barbershop?”

“So pull equal rights on them.” I was trying to appear casual, besides she was a strong feminist.

She didn’t smile. She thought for some time and I thought I saw her eyes sparkle.

“No, I’ll tell you what,” she was obviously excited. “Why don’t we get the supplies and you shave my head at home?”

Now was my turn to think. I always carried clippers with me; apart from the other materials for cutting hair, hoping for an opportunity like this. Now was I to show my desire. I decided to.

“You don’t have to bother. I have all you need.”

She didn’t suspect a thing. “Really? Great!” After all, she was so excited.

“Ya, when shall we do it?”

“Why not now?” She really wanted to do it. Wow!!

“Fine… with… me” was my stammered reply now, as she suddenly stared at my bulging shorts.

Well, so we began.

I pulled out my haircutting tools – clippers, shaving foam, razor, combs and scissors. I oiled the clippers, while she waited impatiently. She didn’t want hair on her clothes, and we didn’t have any cape so she decided to sit in just her panty. We’ve known each other enough for her to do that. Then I released her hair from the braid. I began combing her hair out and was careful not to say anything like her hair was beautiful or whether she really wanted to cut it.

I then ran the clippers through her hair. She was shocked at the amount of hair falling, but didn’t flinch. It was obvious how much she wanted her hair cut. If you haven’t seen that much hair falling, you haven’t seen anything. Man… it was mind blowing. I was coming on my own. I had to stop for a while. Even that short stop seemed to irritate her. She asked me to get on with it. I made pass after pass. Her hair practically seemed to be raining down. She seemed genuinely surprised that she had that much hair. I got rid of her hair till it was reduced to a 1/8th-inch stubble. Then I got out the razor and shaved her clean. I asked her if she wanted to save the hair and she said no. She loved her new hairstyle. And I continued to shave head for her, for a year, though now she wears her hair in a pixie. Well, she swears that she’ll never grow her hair long again.

“I really wonder how I had that,” is all she’ll say.