The first snip by Emily

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Liam woke up and ran his fingers through his long hair. Then the fantasy returned — that strange image that kept haunting him. He was standing in front of a mirror, scissors in hand, closing them around a thick lock and watching it slide down to the floor. It was thrilling, even though he never truly wanted to do it.

He couldn’t understand it. He liked his hair, yet those wild flashes in his imagination felt strangely pleasant.

He felt ashamed of them, wished they would stop — but instead, they grew stronger each day.

One morning, he took real scissors. It wasn’t just a safe, hazy vision anymore. Still, he had no intention of making a cut. He only wanted to feel it more vividly, to freeze that image in his mind for later.

It felt so good. Standing before the mirror, he saw himself with the scissors poised for the first snip. His hand trembled with excitement — then he lowered them and stepped back.

But a few days later, the temptation returned.
He couldn’t wait to grab the scissors again, to feel them so close to his hair. He started visualizing his long locks falling softly down, hearing in his mind the faint sound of cutting, trying to imagine the strange lightness that would follow.

He pressed the blades together a little — not to cut, just to feel that pleasant thrill.
His hand trembled slightly, and when he closed them just a bit more, he saw a long lock slide down to the floor.

He froze, terrified and stunned, realizing that his innocent fantasy had just become real through a careless movement.
A wave of heat washed over him. He reached up and touched the short strand near his temple in disbelief.

How could this happen?

He stood there for a moment, staring at his reflection and the lock of hair on the floor. What had just happened was both terrifying and strangely exhilarating.
What if he cut one more strand on the other side, just to keep things even? No one would notice the difference. This time, he would do it consciously — savoring the process.

He knew it was foolish, yet after the initial shock faded, he decided to make the most of the experience. He closed the scissors again. His hand was still trembling, but this time it felt good. The quiet snip and the sensation of hair sliding down his neck sent a shiver through him. It was thrilling — almost unreal.

He had really done it. But now he wanted to stop. The sight of his cut hair gave him an odd thrill, a mix of guilt and satisfaction.

And then, a short knock on the door snapped him out of his trance. Before he could react, the door opened and his flatmate Emma stepped inside.

Liam turned bright red, unable to hide the evidence of his guilt. He wanted to curl up and disappear. How on earth could he explain this to Emma? He couldn’t possibly tell her the truth.

"What are you doing, Liam?" she asked, clearly astonished. Her eyes darted between the strands of hair scattered on the floor and the scissors trembling in his hand.

"I… I just thought…" He was completely lost for words.

Emma burst out laughing at his embarrassment.
"I’d advise you to book an appointment at the salon — or at least ask me for help! But it’s great that you finally decided to cut it. You’ll look so much better with short hair."

Before he could react, she stepped closer and reached for the scissors.
"I’ll do it for you," she said with a bright smile. "You didn’t mention you were planning this. I guess you wanted to surprise everyone with your new look."

Liam’s mind raced, desperately searching for a way to avoid what was about to happen.

He couldn’t forgive himself for his carelessness. He knew Emma could walk into the room at any moment, and now she was certain he had really decided to cut his hair short.

He looked at her in terror.
"You know, now I think it’s not such a good idea. I’d rather leave my hair as it is. I didn’t think it through," he said, hoping the explanation would be enough to make her stop.

"I’ve changed my mind — I’m not going to cut it," he added quickly, reaching for the scissors she was holding.

"Oh, come on," Emma said enthusiastically, "it’ll really suit you. I didn’t tell you anything earlier, but you should do it. Besides, you’ve already started — you don’t want to go around with those two chopped locks, do you?"

She didn’t give up, ready to complete Liam’s transformation.
He moaned in fear.

Now he knew that this little guilty pleasure should have never gone out of control. It had been exciting in his imagination, but the thought of a real haircut sent shivers down his spine.
Emma brought a chair, clearly happy to help.
"It's a pity we don't have clippers at home," she said cheerfully. "I won’t be able to cut your hair really short."

That should have been a relief for Liam—but it wasn’t. He still wanted to save as much hair as possible. Emma, however, already had a plan B.
"After I finish, you can go to a salon and have it evened out with the clippers," she added with satisfaction.

Liam wanted to protest, to tell her he preferred something a little longer, but shame glued his tongue.
"Okay, let’s start," Emma said, gathering his hair back before cutting straight across, just below his ears and around his neck.

He had seen this image many times before—in his fantasies.
Now, the sensations weren’t imagined anymore. The cool air on his nape, the lightness, the soft snip of the scissors—all real. He was on the verge of tears as a few long locks fell into his lap and brushed against his hands.

Yet Emma didn’t notice his fear.
"I bet it feels good to finally get it cut," she said casually.

Liam trembled when her fingers brushed his ear. He wished this haircut had never begun—but Emma’s gentle hands and the rhythmic whisper of the scissors suddenly made him feel calmer. The soft weight of his cut hair lying on his lap and hands gave him an odd sense of warmth. He gripped it gently, aware it was his, but no longer a part of him.

It felt strange at first, but then a sudden wave of excitement ran through him.
He would have preferred to keep his long mane, yet now his secret fantasy had become real. He could experience it with all its details, with every sense. He wanted it to stop and last at the same time.
Looking in the mirror, he saw himself with short hair for the first time in many years.
His fantasy had come true — his hair lay scattered on the floor.

"You look fabulous," Emma exclaimed.

Liam was shocked, and still a little ashamed, that something he hadn’t really wanted had brought him a strange sense of pleasure in the end.

"But you still need to have it fixed by a professional," she added firmly.

To his surprise, Liam had to admit that short hair actually looked good on him. His initial fear began to fade, replaced by a confusing mix of emotions — shame, excitement, relief, and gratitude.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Emma asked.

He didn’t mind. After all, she was the one who had started it, the one who had given him this unusual experience. It felt right for her to stay with him till the end.

A new thrill ran down his spine. Now he couldn’t wait to feel the clippers touch his nape.

He sat in the barber's chair with a sense of delight, asking for a slightly shorter cut. The hair falling onto the cape in rhythm with the clippers gave him a strange, thrilling satisfaction.
It was even better than in his fantasies — shorter than he had ever imagined.

Emma’s presence in his room had been perfectly timed.

"I have to admit, I love it," he said to her after leaving the salon, running his fingers through his freshly cut hair with excitement.

"So do I," Emma replied with a smile.

That evening, Liam felt genuinely happy. Short hair turned out to be great after all, and now he could fantasize not about what it might be, but about what it really was.

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