It always interesting to find out just how a fetish gets its start.  Sometimes it’s a bad experience and other times it’s a good one.  Something gets triggered in the mind that translates a normal or not so normal activity into one of arousal.  Sometimes it is so powerful that nothing the person can do will stop the urges to follow their fetish, even to self destruction and despair.  A hair fetish is one of the most powerful fetishes a person can have.  This is the story of Cynthia.   

 Cynthia was a typical 16 year old girl living in rural America.  She had lots of friends and some of them were boys.  Some of the boys she found attractive, and others were just friends.  She was pretty, but not beautiful, and had long chestnut hair that cascaded down her back in swirling ringlets.  She always thought that her hair was her best feature.  She would spend lots of time brushing and fixing it just so.  Cynthia also had two younger brothers, twins, Chad and Jason.  They were 10 and caused as much mischief as two boys that age were capable of.  A lot of the time, at least when she was around, they picked on their sister.  Cynthia was the brunt of a lot of their little practical jokes, but she always laughed them off, which of course drove the boys to even more outrageousness. 

 It was nearing the end of the school year and the days were getting longer and hotter.  The twins were settling into what would be a long hot summer and so was Cynthia.  It was a Friday evening on the weekend before school was to recess for the summer, when Cynthia’s mother asked her to take the boys to the barber for their summer cuts.  She hated doing this as the boys would whine all the way there about not cutting their hair too short.  There was no debate of course as mother had laid down exactly what kind of cut the boys were to have.

Saturday morning came with the temperature climbing into the eighties by 10 am.

Cynthia was meeting some friends at the local park at noon, so she wanted to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible.  She gathered the twins together and marched them down to Sammy’s, the local barber.  It was a quick walk, being only a few blocks from their house.  Cynthia had the money that her mother had given her in her jeans and the note stating the cut the boys were to get.   

 There were a few people in the shop, and the boys each took a number, getting in line to have their winter locks shorn.  As it happened that day, and much to Cynthia’s delight, two chairs opened up at the same time and both Jason and Chad were hustled into the waiting chairs.    

 “Summer cuts for the twins?” asked the one barber, speaking for both of them. 

 “Yes, please.” Cynthia pulled the note from her pocket. “Both boys are to get short crewcuts.” She read 

 “How short miss, there’s a few different lengths we can go to.”  He showed Cynthia the clippers and the different combs that attached to them.  Now Cynthia had never been in a barber shop before and knew nothing of this.  So thinking she would do her mother proud she blurted out “Just make it short as possible.”  Sitting down in the opposite chair, she watched as the boys got sheared, and then some.  She had never seen them get their hair cut this short.  The barbers started with a clipper that pretty much wisked them bald. Except for a slight blondish hue at the curve of their heads, they were bald.  Cynthia knew she had made a mistake, but it was too late to do anything about it.  This wasn’t the end of it though, as Cynthia soon witnessed.  After the twins had been shorn down to stubble, the barbers took smaller clippers and shaved the sides and backs of their heads completely bald.  The boys were watching each other in their respective mirrors, as they were shaved, their eyes wide as saucers.  After they finished with that, they lathered over their ears and up the back of their head, shaving them with a straight razor, a good 2 inches up from the hairline.  Cynthia was terrified about what her mother was going to say as the boys jumped from the chairs and gave her an evil look, that could have split her in two. 

 As they arrived home, their mother was just carrying groceries into the house from the car.  “I told you crewcuts, Cynthia, not bald!”  Cynthia knew she was in for it.

“Go in the house boys, I’ll be right in.”  The two baldies ran up the front stairs and through the screen door, laughing because they knew she was in trouble.  “Cynthia, what the hell happened!”  her Mother shouted.   

 “The barbers showed me all these things that cut different lengths, I didn’t know what to pick.”  She hesitated. “So I just told them as short as possible.”  Cynthia cringed, awaiting her mother’s wrath. 

 “Well, OK, I suppose that’s a credible enough story, how would you know.  Besides, it’ll grow in fast enough anyway.”  Her mother nodded at the bags in the trunk and Cynthia grabbed two, thinking she had escaped. 

 Cynthia met her friends at the park, and they hung around for a while.  It was really hot, so they didn’t do a whole lot except talk about school being finished and summer stuff.  As Cynthia was walking home, it was getting to be about 3pm and she made the turn past Sammy’s barber shop on the way.  She thought about what had happened, and how her brothers were practically bald because of her.  She felt a strange little tingle, like she did when a handsome boy talked to her in the halls.  She thought it was weird, maybe the heat.  As she passed the shop, one of the barbers stepped through the door and started to lock up. 

 “Hey, aren’t you that girl that was in the shop this morning.?” He asked.   

 “Yes, Sir….that was me, with my brothers.” 

 “Well young lady, you forgot to pay us for the haircuts.”  Cynthia panicked, knowing that in her flustered state and the way the boys hustled out of the shop she had completely forgotten to pay.  She reached into her pocket, but the two crisp bills that had been there this morning were gone.   

 “The money, it’s gone, I must have lost it.”  Cynthia was frantically searching through her other pockets, but knowing that it was lost. 

 “Lost it, you mean spent it!  Probably on stuff for that pretty hair of yours.  I felt bad for your brothers this morning, getting shaved like that and then you just ran out.” 

 “Listen, mister, I live right around the corner, I can go get the money, I promise.” 

 “Sure you do.  You sit right there little miss.” He plopped her down on the first chair inside the door and locked it behind him while he went for the phone.  “We’ll see what the police have to say about this.”  Cynthia’s mouth dropped open.  She had never been in trouble in her whole life.   

 “Please mister, don’t call the cops,” she pleaded “Please!”  The barber placed the receiver back down, and stared over at her, shaking in the chair.   

 “Well, you owe me Twenty-Six dollars, plus tips young lady, how are we going to settle this?”  Cynthia looked down at her hands as if they had the answer, but she had no response.  Suddenly, the barber looked kind of strangely at her, like he was sizing her up.  “That hair ought to be worth something.  I bet it’s worth at least what you owe me.”  He lifted the cape off the counter and gave the barber chair a pat.  “Come on, I’ll take it in trade.  We’ll be even, like nothing ever happened.”  Cynthia was terrified at the thought of this barber cutting her hair.  “It’s either that, or I call the police sweetie.”   

 Cynthia was silent, but felt her legs carrying her over to the chair, wobbly as they were.  She found herself sitting in the exact spot where Jason had been shorn that very morning.  Cynthia sat staring at herself in the mirror as the barber swirled the cape around her and fastened it, almost too tightly around her slender neck.  He carefully pulled her hair out and behind her shoulders, letting it fall gracefully down and over the arms of the chair.   

 “That is some beautiful hair!”  the barber said excitedly “Too bad its all got to go.” 

 “All!!” Cynthia was horrified “All of it, how short are you going to cut it?”  There were some little tears welling up in her eyes as she looked at the barber. 

 “Well, the more length I cut, the more money it’s worth, so I figure at least up to, hmmmm, at least up to your chin, I’d say.”  He gathered her hair into a pony tail and put a clip on it tightly.  “Ready to pay up?” he asked. 

 “Yes….NO!  oh….Just do it OK!” Cynthia shouted.  She was expecting to hear scissors scrunching as he hacked off her mane, but instead she heard the whine of clippers.  “You’re not going to….” 

 “What, shave you like you did to your brothers? No, but I should.”  He placed the clippers above the clip and worked them through the thick walnut cord, until it fell away in this hand.  Cynthia watched in horror as he placed the three foot pony onto the counter, carefully.  Slowly, she looked up at her reflection. A short choppy bob replaced the once flowing locks that she had been so proud of.  Roughly cut, it fell bluntly almost in chunks around her tear streaked face.  “Well, the debt is paid sweetie.”  He said abruptly.  “You can go, or I can try and fix this up a bit.”  Cynthia looked at her hacked off hair and thought there was no way she could walk outside with her hair like that.  She nodded to the barber.  “I’m not that great at long cuts, but I’ll do the best that I can with it.”  He grabbed a spray bottle and wet down her hair until it hung limply on either side of her face.  Once again the barber grabbed the clippers, and with a comb he began shaping Cynthia’s hair, lifting and clipping off, lifting and clipping off.  Cynthia noticed a rhythm to it as the hair slid into the comb and the clippers wisked it off.  It was then that she noticed another rhythm.  Each time the clippers ran over the comb, she noticed a thrumming in her sex.  With each pass the feeling got stronger.  Cynthia wiggled a little in the chair to try and cope with the swelling arousal, but to no avail.  She looked up at herself in the mirror only to have the barber forcefully push her chin back into her breast as he worked on the back.  Ever so quietly a slight gasp escaped her lips, and the barber looked up from his task, smiling.  Finally the clippers fell silent and she was allowed to see her hair.  It was short.  Not a bob as she had been expecting, but tapered close to her head.  Her ears stuck out as the hair had been trimmed around them.  There was a white rim around each of her ears where her hairline had been exposed, and her new bangs fell halfway down her forehead.  She watched as the barber placed a part on the left side of her head and combed her hair over, as she had seen her father do so many times with his.

She looked like a little boy, and she was so aroused by it that her fetish was born in earnest.  Like any new fetish, it was amazingly strong and hard to control, and Cynthia was not up to that task.  “So, that short enough for you?”  The barber cajoled, knowing he had cut her hair far shorter than it needed to be for his Twenty-six dollars. 

 “I’d like it a little shorter.” Cynthia couldn’t believe the words had actually formed in her mouth.  There was another force at work here, it was firmly in control, and Cynthia was just a passenger along for the ride. 

 “OK kid, you got it.”  The barber sounded only a little annoyed at having to redo the haircut.  He reached for the clippers and put a different attachment on them.  No comb this time as he started in the back, running the clippers up to the crown of Cynthia’s head.

She could feel them, the cool metal,  as it ran over the bump on the back of her head and onwards to the top.  She was lost in a sea of emotions and arousal as the clippers worked their way around the sides, stripping the hair down to stubble.  The barber paused for a moment as he brought them to the top of her forehead, but only for a moment, until they plunged through her locks, removing the last of any remaining hair.  She stared at the buzz cut head in the mirror.  It was a quarter inch buzz, but Cynthia’s fetish was still in control. 

 “I just couldn’t live with myself, if I went home with more hair on my head than my little brothers.”  The barber looked exasperated, but then Cynthia’s fetish went into overdrive.  “I think I should be punished for what I did to them.&amp
;nbsp; I’m sure they would feel better about it, if my hair was shorter than theirs.”  The barber shrugged his shoulders and picked up the trimming clippers.  Cynthia was lost now, part of her was screaming in shame and the other part was screaming in ecstasy.  The quiet hum of the clippers bit into her last remaining stubble, reducing her already buzzed hair to absolutely nothing.  Strip after strip, her bald head was revealed, and the fetish came closer and closer to absolute victory. Finally the humming fell silent.  Cynthia looked up at herself in the mirror, and a bald little girl looked back at her in complete shock.  She reached her hands up and ran them over her smooth scalp, almost not beleiving anything could feel that good.   

 As the barber removed the cape and what little hair remained, fell onto the floor, Cynthia ran out of the shop.  She didn’t stop running until she reached the seclusion of the park, and the small restroom that stood at its center.  She flew into a stall, and hastily lowered her jeans and her panties, now soaked with her aromatic scent.  With her left hand she played, and with her right hand she explored her new nakedness, until she had exploded in a release so complete, that she lost consciousness for a moment falling back onto the wall behind the commode.  Shaking loose the cobwebs she realized that there was someone standing at the entrance to the stall. 

“Cynthia??” 

End of Part One