Anonpencil Writes Drunk: Knit Happens (Oneshit)

>There’s no mistaking it: You need a haircut.
>That wouldn’t bother you so much if you were just getting a little shaggy around the edges, but no. It’s down to the damn middle of your back. It’s reaching the point where when you roll over in your sleep, your dreams immediately morph to some domme pulling your hair while she spanks you from behind and calls you her bitch. You always wake up with your hair caught somewhere and pulling, as well as a very disappointed boner.
>You’ve already made the mental note to explore domme as a fetish, and it doesn’t help the inconvenience of long hair.
>Why did you let it get this bad? Honestly, it’s because the spas here creep you the fuck out. It’s just… ponies touching you everywhere. And speaking in these really fake sounding accents. That’s not even mentioning when the ladies are out and the huge chunky man pony is there to rub you down instead. Big Chungus may be nice enough, but you don’t like the way he grunts when he massages your lower back.
>You could have cut it yourself, but you did that back on earth once and you ended up looking like a little lad who loves berries and cream. So fuck that.
>Still, it’s reaching the point where it’s getting frustrating, so you turn to the most beauty-centric pony you know for help. Well, assuming she has time to help you, but you think you know the magic words.
>You knock politely on the door to Carousel Boutique, and wait to hear the musical call of her voice from inside.
“Come in, Darling!” she sings out, sure enough.
>You open the door to find her… not looking quite as peppy as her voice sounded. She’s sitting near the center of the room, surrounded by thread, yarn, fabric, and all manner of other sewing supplies. Her usually neat mane looks slightly frazzled, and her eyes look strained as she turns to face you.
“Ah! Anon, how nice to see you my dear,” she says, “what brings you here this bright sunny day?”
“Uh… hey,” you say, “I wanted to come ask you a favor but… are you okay, Rarity?”
>She opens her mouth, and her forced happy expression cracks at the edges.
“Well,” she says abruptly, as if she can’t stop the flow of words, “I just feel I’ve lost inspiration! My sewing muse has left me! I don’t have the right fabric, materials… just nothing seems new or exciting and I can’t help feeling that…”
>She suddenly seems to notice she’s rambling, because she starts. She shakes her head, puts her smile back on, and addresses you once more.
“But you came to ask me a favor! Sorry to complain, dear, it’s just been a difficult week. Now, what can I help you with?”
>You feel almost a little guilty for asking now. But hey, you need to deal with your problem. Just the day before, your hair got wrapped around a male Unicorn’s horn as you passed by, and he got… ideas. Ever had to outrun an amorous unicorn with a magical dick before? You wouldn’t recommend it.
“It’s my hair,” you explain, “I need it cut. Like… mostly off. I can’t shave my head entirely though, because last time I did that I found out I have this birthmark on the side of my head that kinda looks like a raccoon taking a shit.”
>Rarity blinks, obviously picturing it, then readjusts her thoughts back to the topic at hand.
“Why, I can certainly give you a trim!” she says, “It will be a welcome break for me anyway. Now, you just want it short all over, correct?”
“Yep, short all over.”
“Easy as a pleat, my dear Anon!”
“...I assume that’s easy?”
“Easy for me anyway,” Rarity says with a wink. “Now go fetch a chair, I’ll get the scissors I use for trimming my own hair.”
>You glance at the mess around her, and gesture to a pair of scissors.
“Why don’t you just use those?”
>She stands up straight with an expressions that indicates extreme personal offense.
“Those are fabric scissors!” She says with a gasp.
“...and?”
>She lets out a sigh and shakes her head.
“Remind me to never let you use my sewing supplies,” she mutters, then goes to fetch everything she needs.
>You set yourself on a small chair, weirdly shallow for your larger human body, and wait as she throws a sheet rough your neck and fastens it in back with tape. You hear a soft tinkling glitter noise as the scissors rise with her magic. Then, there’s a loud snip, and your head instantly feels lighter.
“There now, that’s a start!” you hear Rarity say, “Let’s make you look absolutely gorgeous!”
“Just… shorter hair is fine.”
“It’s so soft,” she says in almost a purr, “I bet the ladies back home simply loved your hair.”
“...you’d think that.”
“No matter, let me get to work and stop chit chatting.”
>You do your best to sit still as Rarity hums and trims all over. Your head feels colder and less heavy by the minute. You see coils of hair fall to the floor around you, and smaller wisps fall onto the sheet. The whole time you feel her magically adjust your head, and can’t help thinking about how she might be a pretty damn good domme, wondering if she spanks good, or what that magic could do to your co-
“Head a little farther forward please.”
“Yes mistress.”
“Pardon?”
“Er, nothing.”
>You lean your head forward and feel the scissors close to the back of your neck, but not painfully. She goes back to humming, and soon you feel an odd sense of uniformity across your scalp. At last, she stops.
“Alright, I believe we’ve done it!” she crows.
>A mirror levitates down in front of your face, and you have to admit, you look pretty great! The neck and area around the ears is shorter, and it all really frames your face nicely. Yep, seems like you made the right call in asking Rarity for help rather than Fluttershy. You get the feeling you would have gotten a poodle cut or something if you had gone there.
“Wow, it’s great!” you say, “thanks a bunch, Rarity. Can I pay you a bit or treat you to lunch or…”
“Actually,” she says haltingly, “I was wondering… would you mind if I kept the hair? I might be able to use it for a project or something. I’ve used fur from Opalescence to make little felt figures before, so this might work too.”
>It actually hits you as a little creepy, but who are you to say no? After all, she’s freed you from your hair prison of kink nightmares and accidental flirtation. You shrug.
“Sure, I guess.”
“Great,” she says, and removes the sheet from you, “Now, I really must get back to work, but let me know if you need anything else, won’t you?”
“I will,” you say, “thanks again.”
>You go to the door and raise a hand to wave, but Rarity is already crouched on the floor again, staring intently at the materials, as well as the heap of your trimmed hair. Again, creepy, but you’re feeling too good to care. For the first time in a long time, you’re sure you’ll get some actually decent sleep tonight.
----
>You’re awakened from a pleasant dream about kicking Spike off a moving merry-go-round, by a strange sensation. It’s a distant sort of pain, like being pricked by a tiny needle over and over again. But that’s not quite it either. It’s sharp, sudden, and feels like a tugging.
>When you open your eyes, you’re surprised and startled to find Rarity standing over your bed. You let out a yelp and try to move, but it seems you’re… restrained?
>Yes! You’re tied down to the bed by a series of thick, strong ribbons, across your chest, elbows, hands, knees, and feet. Well, at least they're tied in very fancy bows.
“Rarity?” You almost shout, “what…”
>And then you see the tweezers. You look at her, and then at the bag beside her that’s full of what looks like small, dark hairs. You blink, and find very abruptly that you lack eyelashes. In fact, when you move slightly everything seems to slide past your body too easily. You glance down and find that, no only are you naked, but hairless from the waist up.
“Sorry darling,” Rarity says with a sigh and a gentle pat to your shoulder, “but you must understand, it had to be done!”
“Are you fucking kidding!” you shriek, “Why did this have to be done!?”
>She blushes a little as she speaks.
“Well, after you left I tried turning your hair into a wool, to use as knitting or weaving into cloth. And my goodness Anon! Your hair makes the finest, silkiest cloth! As a wool it’s so plush. As a threat it’s so strong!”
>She’s nearly wailing for dramatic effect as she speaks, and she holds a hoof to her forehead.
“Why, I had found my muse again! I knew I simply had to have more. And, well, if you had hair only our head I knew there must be some elsewhere. It’s not nearly as soft, to be fair, but.”
“How the fuck did you get in?” you blurt out.
>She rolls her eyes.
“Really, dear, hiding your spare key under the matt? It was far too easy. Why, my little sister could have broken in and stolen your toothbrush twenty times by now and you’d never have known it.”
>Well, that would explain why your toothbrushes keep going missing.
“Wait, why does she steal toothbrushes?”
“I dunno, Sweetie Belle is weird.”
“That’s besides the point though!” you cry, “Release me right now you crazy bitch!”
“Tut, such language!” she says reproachfully, “and I will do so as soon as I collect all I can. I figure, once a month, I can collect and you can still live a relatively normal life.”
“Shouldn’t I get a say in that?!”
“This is a matter of high art!” she says, puffing out her chest, “we are all subjects to its rule! Now then, down to this bushy area… er, by the way, is it supposed to look like that?”
“LIKE WHAT?”
“All wrinkly and… Never mind, never mind.” she says, waving a hoof dismissively, “now hold still while I…”
“Wait. Wait, hold on I…”
>Your whole body shudders as Rarity’s tweezers come down and pluck a small bunch of your pubes right from beside your dick. You let out a yelping cry, and look down at your poor genitals apologetically. Soon, it will be bare and look like an Atretochoana just sunning itself on a relaxing warm day.
“You bitch,” you whimper out.
“Oh, suck it up,” she rolls her eyes, “really, I never knew someone to whine so much about a little plucking.”
>Well, you can officially say that insulting domme Rarity does nothing for you. Now, maybe if she was wearing leather and had a feather tickler… but no. All you can do for now is go teary eyes looking down at your awkwardly hairless naked molerat body. Rarity seems to notice, and pauses in her tweezing.
“Cheer up Anon,” she says soothingly, “it all grows back and just think how smooth you’ll be! Why, even your completely plucked head is still soft and… huh. That really does look like a shitting raccoon.”
>One thing’s for sure, you wool never live this down.

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