The Follicle Challenge
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“It was a stupid challenge,” my sister Gala told me. “I don’t understand why you thought that you could grow your hair faster than Nadia.”

Nadia had been talking about hair in our science class. Nadia decided that short hair was not for her, and she was going to take year to grow it down to her waist. I told her that was physically impossible, which upset her. But I had some idea of the facts, and growth of more than 9 inches a year would be exceptional.

But it was her simple statement that: “Girl’s hair grows faster than boys” that set me off. Science is just my thing. If somebody makes a statement like that, without any empirical support, I want to check it. And then when I told her that science says there is no difference in hair growth rates between sexes (although there is between races) she still stuck to her statement. Science faced with a disputed proposition must prove that proposition by controlled trial. That is just how we scientists do things.

So, it became a challenge. I was confident because I figured that I had genetics on my side. My mother always said that her hair grew like a weed. But things were not looking good for me at that point. We were only a month out from the starting point, when hair on both our heads was registered as 3 inches. Hers was looking longer than mine.

“Sis, there is now money riding on this as well as bragging rights, and good science,” I said. “I have to do something; and fast.”

“She is taking this very seriously,” said Gala. “She has bets riding on it too. She is supposed to be using special compounds and hanging her hair upside, or something like that.”

“Yeah, the Inversion Method,” I said. “I’m doing that. But I just think she has the edge as a woman.”

The Inversion Method was something that I had heard about as a means of encouraging hair growth. Basically, it means tipping your head down in any fashion that works, so that your scalp is below your heart. It is supposed to be to encourage more blood flow, and I can understand that it is plausible. I had to do to cover all my bases.

So, Gala said: “It could only be hormones. So, if you think that’s it, you could take some of Mom’s menopause drugs. HRT – female hormones. She says they are great for her hair. But for a boy, maybe not such a good idea to take them.”

“I could try them for a couple of weeks”, I said. “Maybe just see if they lift the growth rate.”

Gala was measuring me every week and while I was achieving unheard of rates of growth, better than an inch per week, it was not enough. I was working of a base growth rate of 6 inches per year, so 1 inch per month was 8 times that, but I figured that Nadia was already at 8 inches from the shared start of 3 inches. She was an inch ahead.

“I will try the HRT,” I said. “And I will double the inversion treatments.”

I was following a strict regime before that moment, but from here I had to be totally fixed on the objective. That meant not just food rich in Biotin (Vitamin H) like almonds, avocado, walnuts, eggs, oily fish and liver, but also Biotin a supplement in tablet form. It meant not just conditioning after washing (using special shampoo) but also adding oils. It meant scalp massaging to promote hair growth, sometimes using natural gelatins, and (of course) keeping my scalp “inverted”.

I was always watching for the signs of increased growth, by putting some color on my nails for a graphic marker of how much could be achieved even overnight (hair and nails being made of the same stuff and grow at a similar rate). And I checked the thickness of the eyelashes – these are small hairs that can easily be examined every morning to look for signs of increased volume, a good sign that the vitamins are working. You need to keep them dark to observe them properly.

I needed to take special care when brushing my hair, and, as it got longer, keeping it out of the way. To avoid tying my hair I first adopted a snood bag with the hair loosely wound inside it, but after some length was achieved I decided that the best thing was to follow Nadia and wind the hair softly into a bun that could be secured with a claw clip. Sure, this looked a little strange on a guy, but well, even without it being arranged like that, my hair looked like it did not belong. It looked like girl’s hair.

But everybody knew what was going on, so nobody said much. And I was just so wound up in winning, that I never noticed the other changes. I never noticed that my facial hair stopped growing, and that what I had fell out. I did not notice the increasing softness of my skin. I was so focused that even the swelling mounds on my chest were invisible to me, until they were noticeable to others.

By the time that happened, I was pulling ahead. We were almost six months in and my hair was well down my back, shiny and healthy. It had even lightened in color quite a bit, even though I kept it out of the sun, as to much sun will damage it. I was really happy with what had been achieved.

I kept my hair in a net in science lab, where I usually partnered with my friend and fellow science nut, Bart Hawes. After one lab session, I pulled off my hairnet and my hair just tumbled out around me shoulders. Bart said: “I think your hair is really beautiful. Can I touch it?”

For some reason, I did not this was so weird. My hair was more than long, it was beautiful. So I said: “OK. But if you want to brush it or something like that, we had better do it at my place.”

He came around to my place. We sat side by side playing a game on my PC, and he played with my hair.

He said: “I’ve been reading over the internet that semen is very good for hair.”

You may think that this was an indecent suggestion, or the start of something creepy, but my only thought at the time was whether it was true. So, we checked the internet, and there did seem to be some support for it. I told him that I was ready to try it, but I said: “I am not jacking off these days. I just don’t seem to be getting stiffies. So I don’t have any semen.”

“I can help,” he said. “If you help me I think I can fill up a small jar.”

“What do I have to do?” I asked.

“Just hang your hair in my face,” he said. “Maybe just hold my dick. That’s it. Pull it a bit. Gently. Wet your fingers with a bit of your saliva. Ohhh.”

Before I knew it, I was using more than my hand – I was sucking off Bart Hawes. Then collecting it in a specimen jar. It seems like one of his shots was more than I could ever produce in a week, even when I was fully functional.

He said: “I can do it again. Just give me a minute. Maybe take of your sweater. Oh my God. You have tits. Small but perfect tits.” He had seen them, and now I saw them in the mirror in my room. There on the bed was a long-haired girl with tits on her chest bending over the naked body of Bart Hawes, his penis gaining volume again. I was in shock. Bart sat up and started to lick my nipples. Honestly, it was like a cattle prod, but good.

Bart kissed me full on the lips, and I kissed him back. I am not sure why. Maybe I just thought that it would help in getting his erection back so we could milk a bit more semen.

He said: “You have turned into the most beautiful girl, and I think I am falling in love with you.”

I said: “Come on. Let’s get some more semen in the jar. I want to see if it really does improve hair growth.”

The End

© Maryanne Peters 2018