The Craving for a Headshave - Story of two Girls

 

This is the story of Priya and Reema, two inseparable friends who shared a rather unusual and intense hobby: they were obsessed with shaving people’s heads. There was something about the transformation, the sound of the razor, and the sight of a smooth, bald scalp that gave them a thrill unlike any other.

One afternoon, the two were lounging in Priya’s living room, feeling a sense of restless boredom. It had been weeks since they had managed to convince anyone to go under the blade, and the itch to shave someone was becoming unbearable.

"Priya, I can't take it anymore," Reema sighed, leaning back against the sofa. "My hands are literally shaking. I need to shave someone’s head." She looked over at her friend with a mischievous glint in her eye. "What if I just shave you? You'd look great bald."

Priya laughed, brushing her long hair back. "Nice try, Reema. Why should I be the one? Why don't I shave you instead? We’d have a much better time with your hair on the floor."

They both knew neither was willing to part with their own locks. They needed a volunteer—or at least, someone easily persuaded.

"Wait," Priya said, sitting up straight. "That guy who’s been following you around lately... the one who’s totally head-over-heels for you. What’s his name? Rahul?"

Reema nodded slowly. "Yeah, he’s been texting me constantly. But why bring him up?"

"Because," Priya smirked, "he’d do anything for you. Why don't we invite him over and give him the 'royal treatment'?"

Reema’s face lit up. "Do you really think he’d agree to let us shave him bald?"

"He’s obsessed with you, Reema. If you tell him it’s your deepest desire, he won't be able to say no."

Reema didn't need much more convincing. She messaged the boy, telling him she was home with a friend and wanted him to come over for a "special surprise. " While Reema went to meet him at the door, Priya began preparing the "salon." She moved two chairs into the center of the room and laid out the tools: professional-grade straight razors, bowls of warm water, and thick cans of shaving foam.

When Reema returned with the young man, he looked nervous but excited to be in her home. Reema led him to the sofa and sat him down. Priya emerged from the bedroom with a predatory smile that made the boy’s heart race—though he wasn't sure if it was out of attraction or fear.

"So," Reema whispered, leaning close to him. "You’ve told me a thousand times that you’d do anything for me. Is that true?"

"Anything," he replied breathlessly. "Just name it."

"I want to see what you look like without all this hair," Reema said, running her fingers through his thick mane. "I want you to let us shave your head. Completely smooth. Will you do that for me?"

The boy stammered, caught off guard. "My... my whole head? Like, bald?"

"Totally bald," Priya added, stepping closer with the razor in hand. "A clean slate."

Seeing Reema’s pouting lips and pleading eyes, the boy’s resolve crumbled. "Okay," he whispered. "If it makes you happy, do it."

They led him into the makeshift barber shop. Priya, eager as always, moved toward his forehead. "I’ll start from the front this time," she declared.

"No way," Reema countered, grabbing a razor. "He’s my boyfriend. I get the front. You take the back."

Priya pouted but relented. They began by dousing his head with warm water, massaging his scalp thoroughly to soften the hair. The boy sat frozen, watching the reflections of the two women in the mirror as they prepared to change his appearance forever.

Then, the razors came out.

They stood on either side of him. "Get ready," Reema whispered. "You're about to be perfectly smooth."

Simultaneously, they pressed the cold steel of the straight razors against the very center of his scalp. With slow, synchronized movements, they dragged the blades—Reema toward his forehead and Priya toward the nape of his neck.

A thick path of hair fell away instantly. The boy watched in a daze as clumps of his hair landed on his lap and the floor.

"Wow," Reema giggled, rubbing the freshly exposed skin. "You have a great-shaped head. This is going to look amazing."

They continued to work with rhythmic precision. After the initial "landing strip" was cleared, they spent the next twenty minutes meticulously clearing the sides. Every time the boy tried to look down, they would tilt his head back up, enjoying the sight of the transition.

Once the bulk of the hair was gone, Reema coated his entire scalp in a thick, white layer of shaving foam.

"Now for the best part," she said.

She took long, sweeping strokes from the front to the crown, leaving behind a trail of gleaming, bare skin. Priya followed suit from the back, working upward. They moved around him like artists, checking for the slightest hint of stubble and buffing it away until his head felt like polished marble.

After thirty minutes of intense focus, the job was done. Priya brought out a bottle of cooling oil and began massaging it into his scalp, making the skin shine under the living room lights.

The boy stood up, feeling a strange lightness. He rubbed his hand over his head, shocked by the sensation of his own bare skin. He looked at Reema, searching for the "love" he thought this sacrifice would earn him.

Reema walked him to the door, her eyes fixed on his bald head rather than his face. She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"You look perfect," she whispered. "But remember—from now on, you only shave your head when I tell you to. I want to be the one to keep it this smooth."

She gently pushed him out and shut the door. Turning to Priya, she let out a long, satisfied breath.

"That was amazing," Reema said, her eyes already searching for the next thrill. "But tomorrow, Priya... tomorrow it's your turn to find someone. I want to do it all over again."

Priya smiled, picking up the razor to clean it. "Deal."

Prank, Punishment, and Headshave

 

I learned the hard way that you should never make fun of someone. You truly never know when karma will swing back around to strike you. This realization hit me during my college years, centered around a girl named Priya.

Priya was pretty and shy, which unfortunately made her a constant target for bullies. One day, she showed up to campus with a drastic new look; she had cut her hair into a short, boyish pixie cut. Because she had always worn her hair long, the change looked a bit awkward on her. Being one of her frequent tormentors, I couldn't resist the opportunity.

I began relentlessly mocking her new style. Despite her repeatedly asking me to leave her alone, I refused to let up. "Why even bother cutting it that short?" I laughed. "You might as well have just shaved it all off!"

Deeply hurt and visibly angry, Priya turned and ran away. Later that evening, a wave of guilt washed over me. I decided to find her and apologize. She lived alone, and when I knocked on her door, she opened it with fire in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," I stammered. "I shouldn't have misbehaved. I feel terrible about what I said."

She stared at me for a long, silent moment before gesturing for me to come inside. I followed her to the living room and took a seat. She brought out some tea, and as we sat talking, a sudden, heavy drowsiness overcame me. Everything went black.

When I finally regained consciousness, I was horrified to find myself tied securely to a chair. Priya was sitting opposite me, calmly waiting. I struggled against the ropes, but they were too tight.

"So, you're awake," she said coolly. "Now we can finally discuss my hair."

"You’re out of your mind!" I shouted. "Let me go!"

"Why the rush?" she replied, standing up. "You’re about to get a new haircut. I want to make sure I don't mess it up. After all, you’re the one who suggested I should have shaved my head. I thought it was only fair that you get a head shave instead."

I was paralyzed with shock. "Please, no! I don't want to be bald!"

She let out a sharp laugh. "That’s exactly what I thought before my haircut. But since you brought it up, let's give you a nice, smooth finish."

Ignoring my screams, she emptied a glass of water over my head. While I sat there dripping, she retreated to another room and returned with a gleaming straight razor. She began loading a fresh blade, her eyes locked on mine. She ran her hand over my wet hair and whispered, "Soon, all of this will be on the floor."

She grabbed a clump of hair from the very center of my scalp and made the first pass. I could feel the cold steel against my skin, but I was helpless. After a few minutes, she held up a large shock of hair before letting it flutter to the floor.

"Look at that," she teased. "There's a massive bald spot right in the middle. Should I stop, or should I continue?"

The humiliation was complete. "Don't stop," I muttered, defeated. "I can't go out looking like this. Just shave it all."

"You were the one telling me to shave," she laughed loudly, "and now look who’s begging for it!"

She moved behind me, and I felt the weight of my hair falling onto my shoulders and the floor. Then she moved to the front, the sides, and the back until my scalp was bare. But she wasn't done. She fetched some body wash, lathered my head, and performed a second pass with the razor to ensure it was perfectly smooth.

When she finished, she rubbed her hands over my bare scalp. "You actually look quite good like this," she mused. "For the next six months, every time you look in the mirror, you’ll remember me. By the time your hair grows back, mine will be long again."

After she untied me and I cleaned up in the bathroom, I returned to find her sweeping up the remains of my hair.

"I didn't want to do this," she said softly, "but you had to learn that hurting people's feelings has consequences. Now, you can hang out with me. Don't worry—I won't make fun of your bald head."

She reached out and rubbed my head again, smiling. "I don't know why, but I can't seem to keep my hands off it."

I stayed for a while longer, and to my surprise, I discovered that Priya was actually a wonderful person. For the remainder of my college career, I stayed bald—and Priya was the one who made sure my head stayed perfectly smooth.