Doctor's Orders

Doctor’s Orders

Doctor’s Orders – Bob688

This is a work of fiction about non-consensual female hair cutting. It contains no violence or adult themes. Read it only if this sort of story appeals to you. As always, none of these actions are recommended for use in the real world. bob688.

“I really appreciate you coming with me today, Honey. I’d be an absolute wreck without you here. Seeing this new doctor, the 4 hour drive to his building, finding his office…all that while I’m itching and scratching my entire head and shoulders.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for anything. I’m with you all the way, Babe,” Bill assured. And he meant it. Bill and Linda had a good, solid marriage and a loving relationship that was the envy of most of their friends. “How are you doing with the itching? It started when, just about 24 hours ago?”

“Yeah, just about this time, yesterday. It started on the top of my head and worked itself down over my whole head, then my neck and finally my shoulders. I’ve never had anything like it before. Nothing I’ve taken has helped the itching at all. I sometimes think that if I don’t stop this itching, soon I’ll shave my whole head to scratch it better.”

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“Well, I’m sure this Doctor Wilson will have the answer. He’s got a great reputation in the Allergy and Environmental Immunology field,” Bill confidently replied.

The rest of the trip continued uneventfully, with Bill carefully navigating, while Linda scratched her head.

“There it is, 4201. That’s his building on the left.” Bill parked the car and soon they both headed for the building directory. “Four Twenty One – Doctor Gerard Wilson,” read Bill. Before long, they were both seated in a pleasant waiting room, filling out the endless paperwork which always seems like an initiation rite for admission to some private club.

“Mrs. Russell,” called the nurse, indicating that Linda and Bill should follow her into one of the back rooms. After the usual blood pressure, pulse, questions, questions, and more questions, the nurse now knew as much about Linda’s problem as she, herself, did. The nurse left the room, indicating that the Doctor would be in in a few moments.

Dr. Gerard Wilson entered and introduced himself. He was a tall, attractive and mature man, one who quickly inspired confidence. However, with all that confidence, he still seemed to be asking the same questions that the nurse had just asked, and he got the same answers the nurse had just gotten. After reviewing some medical books from his library, he drew a sample of blood from Linda, and explained that he would send it out immediately to the laboratory for emergency analysis and would have an answer back before the end of the day. He further explained that he was due out of town for a medical convention later that evening, but he would send the analysis, his advice, and a prescription, if any, to their home by overnight delivery service. He was certain he would have an answer for them tomorrow, but, unfortunately, he had nothing he could give Linda now to effectively relieve the itching.

The drive home was pretty quiet. Linda spent most of her time wondering how she could tolerate the itching until tomorrow afternoon, when the Doctor’s package would arrive. She decided she would be better off at work, because she could keep her mind busy on her work and off her itching. Bill spent his driving time on a different topic. His mind wandered back to a comment Linda had made earlier, about being so frustrated with the itching that she would shave her head. This rekindled in Bill strong feelings, which had been dormant for quite some time. From time to time, he had attempted to talk to Linda about his fascination with hair and hair cutting, but she seemed to be very closed minded about the subject, not wanting to hear anything he might have to say. In a move designed to keep peace in his marriage, Bill generally suppressed any such thoughts over the years. But now…

The following day passed slowly for both Bill and Linda. She had already decided to leave work two hours early, and would arrive home about 4pm. Bill decided to arrive home about noon, and was there to answer the door and sign for the Doctor’s package.

There was no question that Bill would open the package, but he gave careful thought to just how to do it. He knew that Linda would certainly want to be the one to first open the package and read the results, but Bill really wanted to see the results, too. Being somewhat devious by nature (Bill preferred to call it crafty), he slit open the package on the bottom of the envelope, where he could reseal it before Linda returned.

“The patient, Linda Russell, a 35 year old female, was examined and found to be suffering…” Bill read the entire report.

“Oh, crap!” Bill exclaimed. “She’s going to kill me. That whole itching problem was a temporary reaction to the stuff I used to refinish the cabinet in our bedroom. I caused that whole problem!” Even though her problem would clear up in a few hours by itself, the implications of this were not lost on Bill. Sure he felt guilty about her suffering, but he was also fascinated by his having directly caused so much discomfort on Linda’s part because of the furniture refinishing he had done. Bill let his mind wander freely, and began feeling a sense of power

By about 2pm, Bill had developed a plan, a terrible, devious, wonderful plan. First he needed to scan Dr. Wilson’s report into the computer. After deleting the body of the report, Bill began typing.

“I have examined the patient, Linda Russell, a 35 year old female, and have found that she is suffering an auto-immune reaction to the proteins in her own hair. The exact reason for the onset of this reaction is unknown, but the curative action is clear and singular. The patient must totally rid herself of the offending proteins, allowing the body time to rest and recover in the absence of this irritant. As the proteins slowly reappear, it is anticipated that the body will slowly reacclimatize itself once again to its presence, and no future reactions are expected.

“No prescriptions should be necessary, and relief of the itching should follow within a few hours of the hair removal.”

“Perfect, absolutely perfect”, Bill thought. He added this text to the Doctor’s letterhead and signature, and printed out a final copy. Bill carefully sealed the report inside the overnight delivery envelope, and dialed Linda’s number at work.

“Hi, Babe. The envelope is here. Will you be home soon? I’m really anxious to see what the Doctor has to say.”

“You’re anxious? What about me! I’m on my way.”

Linda arrived home, and quickly tore open the delivery envelope, paying no attention to it. She began reading the report. Bill could see the color draining from her face, as Linda slowly sunk deeper into the large chair.

“What is it? What does he say?…Linda! Are you all right?” This was the part Bill had not planned. He would have to make this up as he went along.

“He says I’m allergic to my own hair. He says I’ll have to cut it all off! I can’t possibly do that. I’m not going to cut my hair off. I don’t care what he says!” Linda exclaimed, as she reached up to again scratch an itchy head.

“Are you sure? Here, let me read it.” Bill read the Doctor’s report and confirmed what Linda had understood. He put his arms around his Honey, and consoled her, as best he could. “You know, the news could have been much worse. At least he knows what’s wrong with you, and how to fix it. You know how much the itching bothers you, and all you have to do is cut your hair, and you’ll be back to normal in a few hours or so”

“But my hair!…” Linda seemed deep in thought and emotions.

Bill moved to the back of the chair, and began massaging her tense shoulder and back. As he continued, Linda began to relax a little. Bill moved to her nape, then her temples, and continued massaging. He could see her breathing pattern return to normal. It was then that Bill moved to Linda’s forehead and massaged it a little before quickly cutting off a handful of hair, including all her bangs. He swiftly moved to the right temple, and cleared the right side of her head, forward of her ear.

By now, Linda was fully alert, and aware of what Bill had done. “BILL! WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?” she shouted, as she turned her head, moving it out of range of his scissors. Linda had both hands on her head, one where she used to have bangs, and one feeling the open, the right side of her head.

“Wait a minute, before you get angry with me.”, Bill started, knowing that his marriage probably depended on how well he did here. “I could see that you were going to have a very hard time ‘taking your medicine’. You read the report! You know the Doctor’s orders! You know that you need all of your hair cut off, every bit of it. It’s terrible, it’s horrible, it’s awful, but its also absolutely necessary. All I did was help you by starting the process. Doctor’s orders, remember, Doctor’s orders. Now be a good little girl and turn around and ‘take your medicine’.”

Linda couldn’t argue with his logic, but didn’t at all like his tactics. “You could have at least told me what you were going to do,” she angrily asserted.

Bill know he had won. She was very angry.. She knew he was right. She just didn’t like it, that’s all. He knew he would now cut off the rest of the hair, and maybe shave her head, and he knew she would get over her anger and frustration in a few hours (or maybe days, but it was still worth it).

Trusting his experience and judgment, Bill pressed on. He combed her remaining hair a few times, just to see that she didn’t explode, and proceeded with the cutting when he saw that she was allowing it. He removed the hair on the left temple, much as he had just done to the right one. He relaxed at this point, knowing he was safe.

The rest of the haircut went as expected. Bill worked his way from the bangs area toward the crown, widening the cut toward each side as he went along. He worked from the right ear, toward the left, and saved the nape for last. He tried to be conscious of each of his actions and his emotions, knowing he would replay this haircut in his mind many times in the years to come.

“Ok! You’re just about done. All I have to do now is clean it up a little,” Bill said. He thought that would sound better than “Ok, now I’m going to shave your head”. Bill went and got the old pair of clippers from the closet shelf. He wondered if all closets had a pair of clippers somewhere on the shelves? It was only then that he realized he must be feeling a little more relaxed, making little jokes like that. It was a good sign.

“The Doctor didn’t say, but I guess it will be alright to just clipper your head. If the itching doesn’t stop in a few hours, we can always shave it, but I don’t think it will be necessary.” Bill couldn’t believe he had actually said that out loud to Linda. He had thought about such things many times, but this was real. “Incredible!” he thought.

Bill plugged in the old clippers, and set about his work. He started at the nape this time, just to be different. He worked over the crown, to the bangs. He then did both sides, working as slowly as he thought he could get away with.

Bill put the clippers down, and brushed off the hair from his beautiful wife. He had to remember not to be too obvious about his enjoyment of her new haircut, but he really did think she looked great that way. He offered his hand to Linda, who waited only a second or two before accepting it. She stood up, and he drew her into his arms, telling her how attractive she looked without any hair, and what an attractive shape she has to her head. He offered to take her out that evening to buy a wig, understanding that she would not be ready to explain her medical problem to the whole world.

While Linda changed clothes and showered, Bill quickly removed the video camera from its hiding place on the bookshelf. Although he only had a few moments, he could not help but to rewind the tape, and take a quick look at the picture and sound quality. “Great picture, OK sound,” Bill thought, getting only a quick look before having to put it away. There would be many hours to watch the tape again and again in the months and years to come. And besides, if he ever got tired of watching the tape, he could always refinish another cabinet 🙂

Write with any comments to bob688@flinet.com

 

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