Time to shave my head again

 

It has been two months since I last shaved my head, and today, I felt the urge to go bald again. I woke up at my usual time and headed to the salon, but as luck would have it, it was closed.

Disappointed, I headed back home. As I reached my building, I saw Priya Auntie, who runs a local parlor, standing downstairs with some heavy bags. Being a good neighbor, I offered to help and carried her things up to her apartment. As I was about to leave, she insisted I stay for tea. I politely declined the tea but asked for a glass of water instead.

While I was drinking, she asked, "So, where were you off to so early in the morning?"

"I went to the salon, but it’s closed," I replied. "I’ll try again later."

She looked at me curiously. "The salon? Your hair isn't that long. Why do you need a haircut?"

I felt a bit awkward but told her the truth: "I wanted to shave my head."

She stared at me for a moment before bursting into laughter. "Bald! Don't you want to grow your hair out? Didn't you just shave it a few weeks ago?"

I was caught in a spot and didn't know what to say, but eventually, I admitted, "Yes, I did, but I just like the feeling of being bald. I wanted to get it done today, but since the salon was closed, you've been spared the sight of my shiny head!"

She laughed again and said, "Okay, do me a favor. Meet me at my parlor in an hour. I have some work for you." Like a good kid, I agreed and went home.

An hour passed quickly, and I headed to the parlor. Priya Auntie was just arriving to open up. She smiled when she saw me. "Right on time. Come on in."

Once inside, she turned on the lights and gestured to the stylist's chair. Without asking any questions, I sat down. She came over, ran her hand through my hair, and asked, "So, we're clearing this head? A full shave?"

I was a bit confused. "Yes, completely smooth. I want a shiny bald head."

"If a shave is all you want, I’ll do it myself," she said. "Shaving a head is much simpler than a haircut."

I hesitated. "Thanks, Auntie, but I can just go to the salon."

She wasn't having it. "Come on, it’s just a shave! You helped me out earlier, so let me do this for you. No more arguments—I'm shaving your head and that's that."

I figured the salon might still be closed anyway, so I agreed. "Okay, if you’re sure. Please, go ahead."

She gave me a wide smile. "I was going to shave it even if you hadn't agreed!" She then went to lock the front door. When I asked why, she teased, "The ladies from the society will start arriving soon. Do you want them to see you getting buzzed?"

"Definitely not!" I laughed.

She put a cape around my neck and began searching through a drawer. She pulled out a pair of clippers and set them down, but continued looking for something else. I felt a bit disappointed because I was hoping for a traditional straight-razor shave.

"Auntie, I was hoping for a razor shave," I admitted.

"I know, dear," she replied, still searching. "I'm looking for the razor." Finally, she found it—a beautiful, gleaming silver straight razor. She held it up and asked, "Ready to go bald?"

I nodded with a grin. She sprayed my hair with water, saying, "I usually use clippers for styling, but for you, I’ll use the razor. Trust me, I’ll give you such a perfect shave you won't believe it."

She loaded a fresh blade, applied liquid soap to my head, and began. She placed the razor right in the center of my scalp and started gliding it downward. I watched the hair fall onto the cape. Her hands were incredibly soft, and she moved with such precision and care that I could barely feel the blade.

"Look in the mirror," she said. I looked up to see the top of my head was completely smooth, while the sides still had hair—I looked like I had extreme male-pattern baldness!

"Looking good," I joked, bowing my head again. She moved to the back, her movements so smooth that it felt relaxing.

"Auntie, your hands are so steady," I remarked. "It feels great when you run your hand over the shaved skin."

She laughed and rubbed the smooth top of my head. "You have a good head shape for this. If it were up to me, I’d keep you bald all the time."

"Just give the word," I joked. "I'll show up whenever you want for a touch-up."

She chuckled, "I'm just teasing! I don't intend to keep you bald forever. But if you want, I can do this for you once or twice a year."

"I'm joking too," I said. "My mom would kill me if I stayed bald permanently!"

She finished shaving the back and sides until every bit of hair was gone. She used a brush to clear away the loose strands and then applied a mysterious green gel.

"What's this?" I asked.

"It helps the skin and softens the remaining stubble," she explained. "This is how you get an expert finish." She went over my head one last time with the razor, catching every tiny hair I didn't even know was there. My scalp felt smoother than it ever had at a regular salon.

Finally, she wiped my head down, massaged it with oil, and removed the cape. "Don't wash the oil off for two hours," she instructed. "And go out into the sun and send me a selfie of that shining head!"

I laughed, "Sure thing. And let me know if you need help with your bags again."

"Why? So you can get another free shave?" she teased, rubbing my head one last time.

I walked home in the sun, took a "selfie" of my glowing scalp, and sent it to her. She replied instantly: "So shiny! My hard work paid off."

When I got home, my mom stared at me. "Again? Why are you bald again?"

"I told you, it's for the dandruff treatment," I lied smoothly. "Besides, it's summer. Lots of people shave their heads."

She came over and rubbed my head. "Who did it this time? It’s much cleaner than before. It’s so smooth it looks like you never had hair to begin with! Go get freshened up."

"I have to wait," I said. "I've got 'medicine' on it."

As she walked away, I couldn't help but wonder what the experience would be like when I go back to see Auntie next month.

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."