Bleach Buzz Grown Out Novels & Stories

like you know, two inches long but shaved an inch shorter along the sides and back? Yeah, that was his hair. He didn't look so much the bad guy anymore, the buzzcut was really selling that. "Enough about me and my amazing life." He exhaled heavily. "How are you doing? After letting all of the emotions and stuff out?" I smiled up at him, not feeling so shy to express myself. "Im okay. Just navigating things right now, every day as it is." His eyes dropped to my stomach, his nose twitching. "Well, have you thought about what you are going to do when you get... larger?"

His breath stank of cigarettes. "Let me go!" I gagged, struggling hard. The next second, the guy flew two feet back, passing out with a grunt. A familiar, cool scent hit me as someone helped me up. I looked up to see a handsome face, and tears poured out. "You left the party early," he said, his voice deep and soothing. "I got worried and checked the surveillance. I'm sorry I'm late."

she asked kindly. I didn’t even blink. “I want to bleach my hair. All of it. Cut it, too.” She raised a brow, a grin tugging at her lip. “You sure? You’ve got pretty hair.” “I don’t want pretty,” I said. “I want different.” An hour later, the woman in the mirror barely looked like me. My long, curly hair had been chopped into a blunt shoulder-length bob that made my neck look longer and drew every attention to my face. My dull black hair had been dyed strawberry blonde.

"Time for you to blue me." I follow her back to the bathroom, where she's dumped the contents of the pot of dye into the same plastic bowl she used to mix up her bleach, but now there's a different tint brush on the side of the sink and a box of disposable gloves. She sits down in the chair and tosses her head forward to remove the towel, revealing her freshly bleached, untoned hair. "How do you feel now that the brown is all gone?" I ask her, sectioning her hair off with clips. The bleach has dried it out a little, but there's not too much damage.

Delving in, a mask of concentration paints her face while she carefully brushes out my messy plaits from the day before; probably horrified by my hair’s damaged and neglected condition after all those months in the woods. “So what did you have in mind?” Taylor sweetly asks, “How about we take it just below your shoulders? That would look amazing,” she yaps while chewing her bubble gum, hip jutted outwards as she awaits my answer, “-it would suit your face type so well. And we could add highlights if you wanted? Ooh. Or change the colour completely. Fancy bleaching it? What d’you think?” she looks at me, scratching her chin, still deep in thought as if she were navigating through a sea of her

she answered with a more free tone. My behavior during the past few days has been nothing if not peaceful and calm. I sucked the air through my teeth and slowly rubbed the little hair that was already growing in my jaw. They are already coming out again, even though it hasn't been up to a week since I shaved them off. They weren't of any concern to me right now; I have more serious issues to deal with. I am pretty sure that this breach will affect us sometime in the future, and it might even be closer than I think, which is quite scary.

Then I went to the bathroom to remove my makeup and wash my face thoroughly. After sanitizing my hands, I gathered my loose hair into a ponytail. My hair had grown long since I’d cut off the dyed sections. Now it fell just below my collarbone—pure, natural strands, jet-black and silky smooth. Tied into a ponytail, it made my face appear even smaller. After changing, I hurried downstairs."