The Ugly Shop

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Monica finds she cannot cope with her beauty.
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A brief overview and explanation: Firstly this series of short stories contains scenes of a sexually charged nature, including humiliation, degradation, defeminization and various other acts along those lines, please read no further if those may offend you.

*

Premise:

Have you ever noticed that the most beautiful women are often seen alone. Some are so awesomely beautiful in fact that most men don't even attempt to approach them, much less ask them out. Some even curse their beauty, saying that it has brought them nothing but trouble. Well, enter Dr. Brandenburg. A board certified plastic surgeon that specializes in toning down a woman's beauty to a, shall we say, more approachable level. All characters are fictional and any likeness to any real world entity is strictly incidental.

*****

Monica

I was so sick of the stares, the following eyes, the stolen glances. I would often hear "Oh, she must be a model" or "I think I saw her in a movie" or some such bullshit. I was just Monica Flint, the production clerk at a Bridgetown Mall. I wasn't even famous, but everyone that saw me thought I was. My mother used to try and get me to model, but it was such a turn off I had to stop as soon as I was old enough to say "no". I just hated people staring at me. Even at work, when I would be heading from one office to another the guys would ogle me all the way, no matter how frumpy I dressed. And let me tell you I always dressed down.

I remember the one time I dressed to the nines, the first few days of my internship, fresh out of high school. I actually had people following me. I wondered what was up, until finally one little girl came up to me and asked me for my autograph. I asked her who she thought I was.

"Aren't you Valerie Vincent?" she asked, looking rather dejected.

"No, sorry." She walked away like I had lied to her. When I got back to my desk I looked up this person and found that she was a teen pop sensation, and I looked just like her. "Oh my god!" I thought, no wonder people are staring at me. From then on I wore my hair straight down in blonde sheets, no makeup and low heels, pants and a plain blouse. Even then I would get the stares. This had to stop.

To top everything else off, I hadn't had a date since I was eighteen. The guys were all petrified of me, even in my own office. I remember one time I went so far as to ask this one guy out. He accepted of course, practically falling over his own feet as he walked away from my desk.

Well, needless to say the date was a disaster. I dressed up a little bit as I would for any date. When he picked me up, things went okay, with the usual small talk. When we got to the club, it was insane. Immediately there was a flurry of activity as I walked in and then we were offered the best seat in the house. My date was speechless. Instantly there were people there waiting on me, ignoring him, and things just went from bad to worse. Finally I stood up and yelled at the top of my lungs:

"I'm not Valerie Vincent!" I grabbed my date by his arm and ran out with everyone still staring at me, like I was avoiding the paparazzi or something.

"Fuck!!" I yelled when we reached the car. "I am so sorry." I looked over at the poor guy who was beside himself with anxiety. "Can you please just take me home?" I was in tears as he dropped me off. He felt horrible and apologized a few times. "Listen, it's not you okay, it's me." He avoided me like the plague after that.

It was about six months ago when I had this crazy dream. I was walking in a beautiful park with a warm breeze blowing the leaves around on the ground, warm yellows and reds covered the landscape. People would walk past me and I was totally at ease, there were no stares. Guys walked past without a second look. I thought that this was wonderful. I came to edge of a lake and over a small bridge that crossed at its narrowest point. Stopping at the top, I looked down into the still water and saw someone else. Gone was the ravishing blonde with the perfect face and the electric smile. In its place was a demure face, with unruly brown hair and a ruddy complexion. I smiled and in place of my perfect teeth was the unmistakable glint of braces. "No wonder no one was staring", I thought, "I'm ugly."

On those words I awoke with a start. For some reason, I was out of breath and my normal need to masturbate was way out of whack. I mean, I masturbated every morning, don't get me wrong, but this was an unbridled assault on my pussy. My panties were instantly around my ankles and the blankets kicked off the end of the bed as my fingers furiously whipped up a froth between my legs. I was rarely vocal with my orgasms aside from a few high pitched squeaks, but this was a roaring, guttural moan that built from my loins and ended with a primal yell. "Holy Shit!" was all I could manage as I struggled to regain my composure and catch my breath. "What the fuck was that?"

I quickly hopped in the shower and washed away the crazies and the dew that had soaked my pussy and ass. The dream was fresh in my head as I drove to work. Mrs. Bentley, my downstairs neighbor, looked at me a little funny as I walked to my car, half expecting someone to be with me, no doubt.

The day was something of a blur, and I never really noticed in the normal way the stares that I was getting or the second takes, as if they didn't matter anymore. The drive home was a protracted affair, with the traffic on the I-5 backed up, but I began to think.

"Is that even possible?" I thought to myself. "Who would even do that?" I giggled as the thought came over me to just smack myself in the face with a brick. "That would knock some of the pretties out of me." Under my breath I laughed again. "But how could not being pretty make me so damned horny?" I wondered. Again I saw the reflection in the water and the juices once again stirred below. "This is just crazy." I said to myself. As I pulled into my parking space, I dashed upstairs and stripped out of my clothes.

Naked, I stood in front of the full length mirror behind the bathroom door. There I was, miss America, and my sexual urges drifted away as fast as they had come on. I was actually stifled by my own beauty. After seeing myself as the homely brunette my beauty was now a turn off. I was doomed to walk around with a face like an angel that everyone was afraid to talk to or assumed was someone I wasn't.

I began to surf the Internet for something, anything. Always ads for making yourself more beautiful. Face jobs, nose jobs, tummy tucks, veneers and all manner of improvements that could be done. Then I saw the ad. It was small and I almost missed it.

Dr. Charles Brandenburg, MD, ABPS

Specializing in Beauty Atonement

"Too sexy for your clothes?"

We can help you.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

"What the fuck?" I said out loud. "Is that for real?" I wrote down the number and the address but just figured that it was just some way to get more customers or something. I knew it was too late to call that night, but I felt some strange relief that there might actually be someone out there that understood my dilemma.

I entered the public restroom, the stale smell of urine and the street permeated my nose. I entered the stall, "Of course no fucking door!" I thought as I lowered my panties and hovered over the toilet paper lined seat. As I finished I heard another person enter the room. I quickly stood raising my panties in one quick motion.

"There you are." A male voice echoed shallowly against the tiles. As I emerged from the stall, there was a tall black man. He moved towards me but I didn't move away or try to run. I knew this man, he was incredibly handsome and his arms wrapped around my waist as I giggled.

"Not in here." I said half hoping he would.

"Why not in here?" Suddenly I was pushed up against the sinks bent over. I looked down in time to see his hands lower my panties to my knees. There was the sound of his zipper and then I felt him against my opening and then with no resistance pushing inside. I gasped with pleasure as his rod thrust deep inside me. So began the rhythmic thrusting, almost desperate, as he sought his release inside me. I could hear myself whimpering and then gasping as I felt close to orgasm. I raised my face to see the spectacle in the mirror and my mouth hung open, my head bobbing with his aggression. felt him burst inside me as I came with a final gasp of pleasure.

I felt a sudden impact to my face and side as I rocked from this incredible orgasm, only to realize that I had fallen out of bed. "Who the fuck was that?" Were the first words out of my mouth as I lifted myself off the floor. The dream still vividly fresh in my mind, I remembered my face in the mirror. It wasn't me, again. This time I was a redhead with bobbed hair and freckles. My white skin was so pale that is seemed almost translucent. My teeth were small, spaced and uneven and I was a bit heavy, my face round and dimpled.

I sat on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands. "That was way, way too real." I thought to myself as I noticed my pussy was completely soaked. Not only that but my entire bed was wet from my sweat. I looked at the clock and it was only 2am. I ran and got my spare sheets from the closet and quickly made the bed. I had to pee and actually caught myself hovering over my own toilet. Sitting with a splat, I shook my head in disbelief. Getting up I examined myself in the mirror, even in this state, my ridiculous good looks shone through and ebbed any residual arousal I might have been feeling. I instinctively ran a brush through my hair, and for an instant thought about hacking it off, just for spite. I eyed the scissors in the plastic container on the shelf and then walked out of the bathroom frustrated that I didn't have the courage to do it. To just cut it off, and with it part of my accursed beauty. "Could I do it?"

I woke the next morning to my cell ringing.

"Monica Hi, it's Jules. Say listen, Sarah and Steven are both out sick today so there's really no sense in you coming in." Julie, or "Jules" as she liked to be called was my boss, and it seemed the rest of my team decided to take the day off.

"Are you sure boss, I don't mind, I'd find something to keep me busy." I tried to sound sincere.

"Sweetie, you haven't taken a day off all year." Julie was adamant. "It's supposed to nice, take the day." She hung on expectantly.

"Well you can twist my arm rather effectively Julie. I could actually use a long weekend, there's something I wanted to check out." I had no idea why I had shared that.

"Enjoy Monica, see you Monday." She hung up before I did and my cell blanked off. I flopped back into bed, relaxed, my fingers finding their target as I thought back to the dream. I kicked down the covers and worked out of my panties. Suddenly a thought raced through my mind like an electric shock. Just as I began thinking about the chubby redhead with the short hair, I remembered what I almost did after the dream. Still naked I wandered to the doorway of my bathroom and looked wearily at the scissors in the jar.

All I ever used them for was to trim my bush when it got out of hand or if I was brave enough to removed a few split ends from my hair. What I was considering was drastic. I was actually thinking about a major change, right then, with those scissors. I stroked my hair, which was long enough to gently caress my breasts, tickling them in the process. I walked over to the shelf and took the lid off the container, fishing the scissors out with my ring finger. I nervously looked at the lethal tool, nervously passing them from one hand to the other. I looked up at myself in the mirror, my sun bleached blonde tresses were in serious jeopardy.

"Shit!" I threw the scissors into the sink and stomped out of the bathroom. I started making the bed with quick jerk motions, annoyed with my cowardice. Not quite finished I found myself running into the bathroom. Grabbing my hair I reached for the scissors and held them open against it. Almost involuntarily the blades closed with a crunch. I looked down to see my hand clutching a long hank of my hair. In shock, I realized what I had done and looked up to see that in my haste, I had cut my hair off to my chin. My hand released the severed locks which fell, spilling randomly into a silvery blonde pile.

"Oh fuck!" I had actually cut my hair, and short too. It was cut, cut short and completely irreversible. I thought about finishing the job but I knew I would just screw it up. No the only thing to do was to go somewhere and have it cut off. The rest of the way off, that is.

I tried a few places on the phone but it was Friday and all the salons were booked and there was no way I could face the world with my hair half hacked off. I cringed at the thought of one of those walk in places, but that was probably my only option. I threw on some clothes and tucked what remained of my hair up under an oversized cap, trying to avoid seeing anyone. Of course Mrs. Bentley was talking to someone right next to my car.

"Hi Monica, that's a new look for you." She chimed see my hair all tucked up.

"Sorry, in a hurry, no time to chat." She raised an eyebrow at being shrugged off. I started the car but not before she leaned in and smiled.

"You know honey, if you messed up your hair, I can fix it." I put the car in gear forcing the woman to lean away from the window. "I used to be a hairdresser you know..." Was all I heard as I drove away.

How the hell did she even know, how could she. The cut portion of my hair was leaking out from under the cap as I drove, looking for somewhere to have it fixed. "Why did I do this to myself?" I asked over and over. I knew exactly why I had done it. I knew it was to spoil my looks, to ruin the beauty. It was certainly in reality mode now. I tried to picture myself with a chin length bob and I wanted to vomit. Well I could always cut it shorter. "Shorter!" I said out loud.

Something inside me actually wanted it shorter than I had already cut it. It was ludicrous, ridiculous and it made perfect sense. "You wanted to spoil your beauty, why not go all the way?" I thought. Something subconsciously caught my eye and I circled the block to see what it was. There in a small plaza was a little shop, a barber shop with the spinning pole and everything. "That's what caught my eye." The car sort of steered it's way into the little lot that didn't hold more than about twenty cars.

I stared at that pole for what seemed like ten minutes watching the little red and white stripes work their way from the top to the bottom, almost hypnotically. And that's just the way I felt as I opened the door and made my way over to the shop. I tried in vain to tuck that hank of cut hair up under the cap, but it kept falling out. I peered through the window to see an older man resting in one of the chairs reading the newspaper. I felt a surge of courage course through me as I pushed through the door, causing a little bell to tinkle above my head.

"Hello, young lady." He laid the newspaper down on his lap. "What do you have hidden under that cap there?" A fair question for man of his profession I thought. I reached up and took off the cap allowing my long blonde hair to cascade about my shoulders. "Tell me you don't want..." He started to get up and noticed the chin length swathe of hair adorning my left cheek. "Oh." Was all he could get out. He offered me the chair he was sitting in and I realized that I was about to have my hair cut off by a barber. "So...did somebody do that to you, or did you start something you couldn't finish?" He had me hold my hair up as he wrapped a strip of paper around my neck and then adorned me with a very traditional looking striped cape.

"No Sir, I did it to myself." He shook his head as her combed out the portion I had cut. "I only wished I had cut it shorter." What the hell was I saying.

"Why on earth would you cut such beautiful hair my dear?" He sounded sad "Why you have to be the prettiest thing to walk through these doors...ever."

"That's why!" I shouted, startling the poor man.

"Okay...now I think I see what's up here." He smiled. "How would you like me to cut it then?"

"Short!" was all I could manage.

"Well, there's short, and then there's...short." He was hedging, not wanting to force me into something I didn't want. All I wanted was to destroy my hair.

"Just cut it off." I spurted. "All of it, off." I was shocked at how resolute I was sounding, but I was about to have a lesson in haircutting. Without saying a word the man reached behind him and grabbed some clippers off of a hook. My hands gripped the armrests under the cape as he raised them to my forehead and without pausing ran them right over the top of my head. There was no hesitation as he made pass after pass with them, my hair flowing to the floor like a waterfall, nonstop. Just as I was getting used to the feeling of the clippers it was over. In less than a minute I had been sheared bald. I looked at the strange girl staring back at me in the mirror.

"My god." He smiled "You're more beautiful bald than you were with hair. I turned my perfectly shaped head back and forth as I admired his work, but he was indeed correct. Shaving off my hair actually enhanced my features. I could feel a real rage building in my gut as I stepped on the slivery sea of hair that surrounded the chair.

"What do I owe you?" He waved me off, so I handed him a twenty and bolted out the door. By now there were tears running down my cheeks as I realized that nothing I could do would correct what nature had endowed me with. As if I needed any more reinforcement, a young guy getting out of his car stared wide eyed at me mouthing "wow" as he looked.

"Ohhhh, just Fuck off!" I yelled, screamed really as I flounced into my car. The guy was actually still staring at me as I drove off. It wasn't until I was halfway home that I realized that I had left the hat at the barbers. "Fuck it." I said under my breath. As I pulled up in front of my apartment, of course Mrs. Bentley was outside again. "Doesn't that woman ever go inside?" I thought to myself as I shut off the engine and stepped out. She didn't say anything, I think she didn't dare. Her mouth formed a perfect "O" which indicated her shock at my baldness.

I slammed the door to my apartment and collapsed on the sofa, exhausted. I ran my hands over my closely cropped head and sulked. Without thinking I reached for the TV remote and switched it on. The news was on so I watched the daily spew of stories that spilled out of the anchor's mouth.

"Next up, it seems that superstar Valerie Vincent has traded her famous blonde hair for a bald head" A commercial popped on and I was going to be sick. I reached for the remote to shut the damn thing off, but I wanted for some reason to hear what they said.

As the news came back on I had to listen to a few stories before the "Valerie Vincent" headline came up. Suddenly there I was, in all my bald glory, appearing to be yelling something at a guy. The newscaster began, "Valerie Vincent was seen to day in Bridgetown, leaving a barber shop and sporting a new bald look. This photo was taken by an anonymous source but apparently Miss Vincent was none to pleased with a gentleman, as she shouted obscenities at him while getting into her car." The anchor continued as the photo was zoomed in and it clearly showed me and my bald head. "Sources close to the artist have said that it was definitely a case of mistaken identity as

her golden locks are still quite attached to her head. Skeptics though are speculating that this may be part of a publicity stunt to garner more attention before the release of her newest album called "Bare"". I switched off the TV and curled into ball on the sofa. This was unbelievable.

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