Perfect Fuckdoll
The girls begin to converse but your ears seem to be filled with a soft hum, tuning them out. You watch as the machines to your side begin to unfold, long hydraulic arms with delicate instruments at the end of them. With horror, you feel one one slide over your head with some sort of delicate laser, and in a flash of heat, the hair on your head simply melts away, falling in sheaves around you. Your mouth won't open to cry out.
But even as it passes, a second arm begins inching over your head, feeding from a machine, and centimeter by centimeter began inserting hair into your scalp. The hair sticks and then burrows in, and you could feel each individual strand like the tingle of a limb falling asleep, a steady, pleasant feeling stretching across your head from front to back. Within minutes, long, dark, wavy tresses fall to your shoulders, a beautiful womens cut.
The laser passes over your brow, shaping it gently. It evaporates the remaining hair on your face, leaving a warm flush.