“Peggy, wake up. We’re ready for you.”

I had fallen asleep. First sleep I’ve had in over two days. I had hardly slept at all in the last couple weeks. Everyday less sleep than the day before. I open my eyes and see Marge standing before me. I ask her, “How long have I been out?”

“Not long,” she answers, “maybe a half hour.”

I look into the hall and see Phyllis standing next to a chair and a portable table. Phyllis is holding a white cape waiting for me. On top the table is a bowl of water and several instruments.

I ask Marge, “What time is it?”

“Five o’clock,” she replies.

I push my hair back. It sure has gotten long over the past twelve years. The last time I was in a beauty salon was 2002. I had somewhat long hair at that time and had asked for a short businesswoman’s hair style. The beautician had cut off over a foot of my blonde locks to get it to collar length. The haircut was extreme. I was left with short sides that would not touch my ears. The top of my head was about three inches long. When I saw the end result, I thought I had been given a man’s style, yet with a little primping it was a very becoming look. I looked professional like I had wanted.

Marge helped me to my feet and I walked into the hall. I sat in the waiting chair and asked, “Who’s gonna do this?”

Marge answered, “I’ll be showing Phyllis how to do it, so I’ll be doing most of it. Phyllis will assist and get a few practice cuts.”

“When was the last time you did this?” I wanted to know.

Marge thinks for a bit and says, “1991.”

I look Marge in the eye and ask, “How many times have you done it?”

“Just twice. You’re my third and my last. I’m retiring next year. But don’t worry, it’s an easy task. No one will hurt you.”

Phyllis draped the cape over my shoulders, gathered my hair to keep it outside as she secured the cape around my neck. I sat with my hands in my lap. I was nervous and not looking forward to my future.

Marge told Phyllis, “You want them to put their head forward, chin on their chest.” I felt Marge’s hand on top my head and push it down. She then brushed my hair from the neck up, pushing it all over the top of my head to hang down into my lap.

Marge continued her instruction, “We start at the neck and work upward.” I heard the electric clippers buzz to life. I feel the blade touch my nape and move upwards to the top of my head. I watch several feet of my hair fall free and onto my lap. Marge quickly uses the clippers and within four passes, the back of my head has been shorn to the skin.

Phyllis asks Marge, “Why didn’t you continue over the top of her head?”

Marge replies, “Because during the shearing process, we go against the grain.” Marge pushes my head to the right and places the clippers in front of my left ear. She buzzes clean the side of my head with four or five upward strokes.

She moves my head the other way and hands the clippers to Phyllis. “Here you go, do that side.” Hesitantly, Phyllis places the clippers on my right side and pushes up. My hair falls free. There is such a big pile in my lap that I can believe the amount. Phyllis takes about ten strokes to reduce my right side to stubble. All that remains is what is on top.

Marge takes back the clippers and with three swift strokes leaves me completely sheared. I wished I had a mirror to see the results. I had thought the women were through with me, but no. Marge shakes a can of shaving cream and squirts some on my head. She works the paste into a lather and covers my scalp. She then tells Phyllis, “Okay, now with the razor blade, we go with the grain.” I feel her using a disposable razor to rid my head of the stubble. She works her way from the top of my head down.

Phyllis comments, “Wow, that really looks smooth.”

Marge tells her, “Touch it,” and I feel Phyllis rub my now shaved head.

“Amazing…” Phyllis remarks. “I doesn’t feel like she ever had hair.”

Marge says, “That’s how you know if you did a good job. Okay, take off the cape and let’s get her to the shower.”

Phyllis takes off my cape and the hair tumbles to the ground. As I get out of the chair, I look at all the hair lying on the floor. Hard to believe it had all been attached to my head ten minutes ago. I walk with Marge and Phyllis down the hall to the shower.

The women watch as I strip off my dress and panties. I step under the shower and turn it on. The water is warm. There is a bar of soap setting in a tray and I pick it up. I use it on my torso and chest. Then I finally bring it to my head. Phyllis was right, it did not feel like I ever had hair. It felt strange to touch nothing but skin on my scalp. I used the soap on my bare skull and face, rinsed off and proceeded to wash the rest of me. I was able to work up a lather in my pubic hair. I was amazed that I had been allowed to keep the pubes. I thought about masturbating but couldn’t get into it. Not because Marge and Phyllis were watching, but I had something else consuming my thoughts. I let the warm water rinse away the soap and lingered under the soothing spray for several extra minutes before turning off the water.

Phyllis handed me a towel and I dried off. When I went to pick up my dress and panties, Marge stopped me. She said, “You can get dressed in little bit. We have to finish prepping you first.”

There was a table close by and I was instructed to lay my stomach over it and spread my legs. I did as I was told. A moment later a something being pushed into my anus. I cried out and Marge said softly, “It’s only cotton padding. Just relax.” I tried to relax as the women showed cotton up my asshole. They also shoved cotton into my vagina. There must have been enough cotton inside my privates to make a dozen t-shirts. Once all the cotton was in, I was handed an adult diaper to put on. After donning that, I was given my dress to put back on.

The women walked through another door and I was in an area I had never been before. There was one cell in the room and I was placed in it. I asked what time it was and Phyllis told me, “Almost six o’clock. You’re dinner should be here soon.”

I ended up turning down the lobster dinner. I was in no mood for food.

The next hour and half went fast. It seemed like only minutes had passed, but it was seven forty-five and the warder arrived. He told me, “I’m sorry, Peggy. Looks like there won’t be any last minute reprieve.”

Marge, Phyllis and the warden helped me from my cell and took me to where the electric chair was waiting.