Permafrost (Patreon)

He changed my hair. It's such a small thing I almost feel embarrassed complaining about it, but that just makes it worse. It's driving me crazy, and I can't complain to anyone because they would just tell me others have it worse. Rightfully so, because I'm healthy, I'm employed, I have a place to sleep. But it's just so fucking in your face every morning, literally.

"I hope everyone will see you for who you are! A fucking desperate twink whore!" he shouted, stormed out, and slammed the door. I ran to the kitchen and opened the window in the hope of seeing him exiting the building, but the street was empty. "It was only a blow job! He did it to me!" I shouted back, hoping he would hear me. I don't know if he did. I never saw him again, but he left something behind alright.

The next morning I stared in disbelief at the mirror. At first I thought there was something stuck in my hair, like shampoo foam, and almost instinctively I grabbed it with my hand. It was just hair, my hair. Same length and cut as when I went to bed, but now partially bleached. I tried to think back to when I saw myself last in the mirror. I might have been too upset to brush my teeth before going to bed. I had more questions, of course, than when. How did this happen? Was this what he was referring to by everyone would see who I really am? But it's just... hair.

I had a quick shower, and predictably looked just the same after, only wet. I didn't really feel it was a big deal. I mean I didn't particularly care for the look, but not knowing how it happened kind of bugged me. I can't say that I dwelled on it, and I quickly got used to my new reflection, as did everyone around me best I could tell. But something was subtly different.

I met up with Tommy again a few days later. If you lose your possible boyfriend because of another possible boyfriend he kind of owes you, I reckoned. He was startled at first when he saw me, only to break out in a big smile and a long, deep kiss. "Love what you've done with the hair!" he said when we broke free. Everything was like before until we got to the bedroom when he asked if he could top me. He'd never done that before.

My old friends and colleagues behaved as before, mostly. It was new encounters that became decidedly different. My lean but tight, muscled body usually got stares from all the hot twinks when out and clubbing, but now it was more the bigger guys that oogled me or came with suggestions. It was a small shift, but noticeable. I was feeling almost uncomfortable with the attention, but the worst was everything they proposed was shallow. A quick fuck out in their truck or a men's room's stall. And they all talked like I had shits for brain.

After two weeks I realized my hair didn't grow longer. It did grow, but then fell out when it was getting too long for my hairstyle. I looked exactly the same though, bleached hair with like an inch of black roots. I pulled a short, black strand of hair and placed it in a jar. After a week half of it had turned bleach blonde and after another week all of it had switched color. It was like it had its own delayed chemical reaction.

My relationship with Tommy deteriorated as he kept treating me more and more dismissive until finally he stopped inviting me. He did take my call though, and after the usual "he didn't feel it anymore" he said that he couldn't take me seriously. I specifically asked if it was the hair, but he just said he didn't know.

I must give props for an expertly made curse, if that is what it is. I could dye the hair, I could keep it below an inch, or keep it as is, but no matter what I can't escape being reminded of what he has done to me.