Ash : My Head Shaving Story

 

When I was a teenager there was a moment the urge to shave my head got so strong, I got some scissors and cut my fringe off. I pretended to my parents it was an accident so I could go to the barber. 

“How long is a number zero,” I asked the barber.

“Nothing, no hair,” he said.

That was what I wanted. But I ended up with a no.2 I think he was worried about my parents coming in there asking why he’d shaved all their son’s hair off. Still the buzzcut was exciting to me.

Most of my childhood I had short haircuts. I wanted long hair like Tommy from “3^rd Rock from the sun” or like Hanson, hair that expressed the feminine boy that I was, but I didn’t feel I could say that. My brain seems to have turned this mild trauma into the thing that most turns me on

The first time I ever came, I went to the same barber and got a number zero on the back and sides. As soon as I got home, I got my dick out and ejaculated without even wanking. I was really shocked. I hadn’t realised that’s what masturbation was. I felt kind of dirty and exhilerated looking at the cum that had just shout out of my penis onto my bed.

I tried wanking over pictures of guys I thought were cute but it didn’t work. I had to look at head shave transformations on the internet to cum. I would go through this cycle of getting really obsessed with head-shaving, collecting lots of pictures, then deleting them all to try and stop myself.

I was turned on by clothing transformations too. There are photos of me when I was little, crying because I was put in a polo shirt. Now if I’m put in a polo shirt, I get an erection. I would go to clothes shops and get turned on by trying on clothes I would never normally wear.

At university, I got obsessed with this picture of a guy with short bleached hair. So obsessed, I couldn’t rest till I got that haircut. Then I wanked looking at the change in the mirror. 

In third year, I had brown emo hair. After trying to give myself a haircut one night I just started cutting it all off till it was really short. Then I went into the bathroom and put shaving foam on my head and shaved it without even using clippers. Having no hair felt so weird and different. I ended up wearing a hat for two months I didn’t have the confidence to go out looking so different from the way I normally do.

I regret wearing the hat. I wonder if keeping my head bald for a while would’ve helped me process something, helped me balance some internal conflict. I wonder if it would’ve given me a new confidence, in my appearance, or in spite of my appearance. Or was it just a sexual compulsion to do something that was against my androgynous nature.

I had emo hair for the next few years which I bleached. It made me feel cute and twinky. Then I moved to Germany and started messaging guys on fetish websites who were into head shaving. I almost met up with one, who wanted to tie me up and shave my head. Talking to them made me so obsessed I just ended up doing it myself. I buzzed it down shorter and shorter, filming the whole thing, in the end not using a guard. It looked good, but after I’d cum I didn’t feel like myself.

I felt this need for secrecy around my fetish, like talking about it would mean somebody could use it against me. Then I joined a group of gay hippies who had sharing circles. It was really empowering to finally talk about it and good to see it wasn’t that big of a deal to others. I’d never even told a boyfriend before. In my next relationship my boyfriend tied me up and cut my blonde hair off. We went to a barber and I got a cut from a picture he had chosen. I bought chav clothes and dressed up in them and had sex with him. It was a sexually liberating relationship. When it was over, I got my hair cut really short. It made me so horny that I accidentally had sex with my ex five times in one day while dressed as a chav! 

Last summer my current boyfriend buzzed all my blonde hair off with a number one. I was tied up on a chair in front of a mirror. Now I feel like we should've gone all the way, but he isn’t totally into bald guys. I started growing my hair back straight away, I had this feeling like I had betrayed my feminine side. It started a journey of talking to people, trying to understand my gender and my fetish.

My fetish associates shaved heads with masculinity. It feels submissive and exciting to be forced to be masculine when that is not really me. I was turned on by the transformation of dying my hair pink, a look I'm much more comfortable with. But having my head shaved bald is still my ultimate fantasy.

I’ve thought about starting a Gofundme when the self-isolation is over. When it gets to a certain amount, I’d film myself getting tied up and having my mid length hair shaved bald. I’d keep it razor shaved every day for at least a month and only wear sports clothes. I’d send videos and photos of the whole experience to the people who donated. I’ve started really admiring this shapeshifting quality in people who fetishize transformations. I want to document how it feels to do such an extreme transformation, see if it helps me overcome any inner demons, and see at the end of the month if I like it and want to stay bald.

Unexpected Haircut (Final Part)

(Click here to read Part 1)

For the last six months I’ve been shaving my head bald, working out and wearing sports clothes. All because of this guy called Chris I met on Grindr. After he fucked me the other night, he said he wanted me to get my head lasered, permanently bald. I just laid there, not knowing what to say as he stroked my shaved head.

I flash back to a conversation we were having when he took me out to a wine bar. He made me wear a tight light-blue shirt that clung to my muscles. I couldn’t stop looking at myself in the mirror behind the bar, smoothing my hand over my bald head.

“How come you know so much about wine?” Chris asked.

“I used to work at this outdoor opera tent in the summer,” I tell him. “I took a lot of very expensive half-finished wines home with me.”

“Well, what should we get next then?” He hands me the menu.

“Hmmm I like something red with a lot of tanins …”

When I was tipsy I leant my head into him and felt the fabric of his shirt sleeve on my shaved bald scalp. 

I thought maybe there was something more there. More than him living out his fetish, changing this skinny emo boy into this bald muscled sex object. But I think asking me to remove all my hair shows that he only really cares about transforming me.

My reaction is to not shave my head for a couple of days and get completely pissed on £4 white wine. I drunkenly look at my wardrobe full of sports clothes. I wonder if I should go out in the blue shirt or borrow some of my housemate’s emo clothes. Everything I wear is from Chris, even my body and my haircut. In the end I just say fuck it and put on my usual chav attire, a shiny white and grey addidas tracksuit.

The bouncer at the gay bar seems wary about letting me in. I sit at the bar drinking a pint of cider. Some cute guys mostly dressed in black, one wearing a crop top, glance over at me awkwardly. A cocky guy with bleached hair sitting next to me says,

“Don’t see many guys like you in here.”

“I see myself in here lots.” I slur.

He’s the kind of person, that used to be out of my league. He’s probably turned on thinking I’m a real chav. He makes a little gesture with his head over to the toilets.

Making out with him, I rub my hand through his bleached hair. I’d kind of forgotten what hair feels like. I unzip my tracksuit top.

“Great body,” he says, feeling my muscles. He pulls his t-shirt off, kind of nervous and goes down like he’s about to suck my dick. 

My dick is still locked inside the chastity device. I push him back up and to his suprise, get on my knees and unbutton his jeans. I suck his dick like I’m desperate, my cock filling it's little cage. I grab the lump in my trackies and force his dick back into my throat. He holds onto my shaved head and lets out a moan.

Then I’m on this busy dance floor, tracksuit tied around my waist, silver necklace on, banging into people. Everything is a mess of coloured lights. Some guy rubs his hand over my body. I accidentally knock someone’s drink out of their hand. They see what I look like and decide not to argue. Then I recognise Tommy's buzzed black hair. He's dancing topless the lights flashing over his body. I stumble over and sort of fall onto him.

“Woah!” He exclaims, then recognises me and wraps me in a sweaty naked hug. He rubs his hand over my two days of stubble. “You didn’t shave your head.”

“I’m pissed off,” I roll my eyes.

“Wanna talk?” He offers me a cigarette, his manner half rude-boy, half gay-boy.

We sit on a doorstep in our tracksuit tops, the music muffled.

“— It seems like it’s only about the transformation for him.” I take a last drag on the cigarette and flick it into a drain. “I want it to be more than that.”

“I think there was a time when I wanted it to be more than that. But —” Tommy taps ash onto the pavement. “I’m happy with what it is. Being his sub helped me realise part of myself. If it ended tomorrow …” He shrugs.

“You wouldn’t miss him?”

“I’d miss his dick. I’d miss him buying me cute chav clothes. I’d miss the free gym pass. But there’s other things I want to do. Can you imagine being his sub forever?”

I give Tommy a look that says maybe I can.

“You might’ve noticed he has kind of a fast turnover of boys.” Tommy raises his pierced eyebrow.

“What would you do about this–” I gesture drunkenly at Tommy’s tracksuit and shaved head. “– If it ended with Chris?”

“I think I’d ask him for a few hundred pounds, and I’d go to the shopping centre, and decide who I want to be next.” He smiles at the idea, stubbing his cigarette out on the wall.

In that moment I see him as both this submissive chav boy and this chameleon shapeshifter. I grab him and kiss him. The same way he kissed me on Chris’ sofa, biting his lips, rubbing my hand over his buzzed hair.

Then we’re on the dancefloor. People staring at these two chavs with shaved heads dancing wild. Then we’re screaming in the street on the way home. Then I’m falling onto the floor in his hallway. 

“Shhh, my housemates,” Tommy says.

I lay there, rubbing my velcro like hair and say, “I do enjoy looking like this.” 

“I enjoy you looking like that too,” he says. He gets on the floor too, one knee either side of me and pulls down my trackies. In all the excitement I’d forgot about my caged dick. He get’s it in his mouth, chastity device and all, and sucks it. My dick presses even tighter against the walls of the cage. Tommy looks up and says, “I think I’ve got a hacksaw somewhere.”

It’s scary having this drunk chav so close to my penis with a saw. As soon as the chastity device clatters on the floor, he gets back to sucking my cock. He pushes me against his chest of draws, which is covered in a strange collection of sports clothes and manga books. I’m so horny and he sucks my cock so well, I almost cum.

“Wanna fuck me?” I gasp.

“Fuck me first,” he says, pulling down his trackies. He pushes all the pens and paper off his cluttered desktop and lays back on there. I enjoy pretending to be the dom, squeezing his pierced nipples, fucking him deeper and harder . I love watching him with his cute masculine apperance, being so submissive, legs spread, my dick inside him. 

“I wanna fuck you now,” Tommy moans.

He pushes me onto his bed, lifts my ass up and forces his cock in. He holds my waist to help him ram his cock deeper. There’s something beyond words about both looking so masculine yet being so submissive. I grab at my chest and abdomen to try and contain the feeling of ectstacy building inside me. He leans his head back squirting cum inside me. I only have to rub my cock a few times before cum squirts across my stomach.

We make and talk until light outside turns blue. Then I spoon him, feeling the contor of his abdomen, the stubble of his shaved head against my lips.

“I feel like we’re real life shapeshifters,” I whisper.

“We are,” he whispers back.

So, here’s the happy ending. The scene where we go off into the sunset. It’s late morning, I’m sitting on a stool wearing Tommy’s black shiny adidas shorts. He’s wearing my white tracksuit bottoms. He shaves the last bit of foam and stubble off my head, then rubs a towel over my bald scalp. It amazes me, I’m still shaving my head bald, not to send a photo to Chris, but because I like the feel and the look. Tommy rubs his hand over my hairless scalp and smiles.

“You do look really good bald!”