Surprise Makeover for the Bride

The Mumbai gully was glowing with wedding lights as Virat and Ankita’s big day was almost here. Their families, rich but traditional, were busy with last-minute rituals and decorations. Ankita, lovingly called as Anu, still had the deep red of mehendi shining on her hands, while Viru’s skin carried the golden tint of haldi from the morning ceremony. They were modern in their lifestyle but never left their roots behind, which made every ritual feel special. The house buzzed with joy, but in the middle of all this, Viru’s mind was already plotting something playful, something only he knew. Sitting on his bed, Viru dialed his closest friend, Rohit. “Bhai, tomorrow is the wedding, but tonight I want something exclusive,” Viru said with a cheeky smile. Rohit laughed, “Aree bhai, you still have time for drama?

 What now?” Viru leaned back, grinning, “Reserve your saloon just for me and your bhabhi tonight. No outsiders, only us.” Rohit raised his brows even over the phone, surprised but amused. “That’s crazy… but fine, bhai. Consider it done. You better not scare her though.” Viru chuckled, already excited about the surprise he was cooking. Later that evening, Viru called Anu. His tone was casual, almost too calm. “Anu, check WhatsApp, I sent you a location. Come there directly.” She frowned, tired from the day. “Viru, are you serious? Last night was mehendi, this morning I had the bangle ceremony. I’m exhausted, why now?” Viru teased, “Arre, even I had haldi and then my bachelor’s party last night. 

You said you wanted a special party right? This is it.” She sighed, reluctant but curious. “What kind of party?” she asked suspiciously. Viru lowered his voice, smiling, “It’s a private surprise… only for us.” Against her better judgment, she agreed, unaware of what was coming next. After a few more minutes of convincing her on the phone, Viru’s playful words finally broke Anu’s stubbornness. She agreed, though reluctantly, and soon he was outside her house waiting. Ankita slipped out quietly, adjusting her long dupatta so no one would notice, and when she saw Viru, she couldn’t resist hugging him tight. Viru grinned and mischievously squeezed her ass, making her gasp.

“Viru!” she looked at him, her cheeks turning red as she pulled back. He laughed, “Relax yaar, tum toh jaldi blush ho jaati ho.” Hand in hand, they tiptoed away, escaping without their parents knowing, aware they were breaking the no-meeting rule before the wedding. That secrecy only made it more thrilling for Viru. The drive was filled with Anu’s endless questions. “Where are we going? Why are you being so rahasyamayi? At least tell me if this is something serious,” she pressed, her voice half-curious, half-annoyed. Viru just grinned, eyes on the road. “Patience, Anu. You’ll love it. Trust me.” She frowned harder, folding her arms, but curiosity kept her quiet.

When the car stopped outside a closed salon, she looked at him suspiciously. Viru opened the door for her with a dramatic bow. Inside, Rohit stood waiting with a smile. “Are wah, bhabhi has finally come,” he teased, shaking Viru’s hand. “come in... come in... bhadiya choice, bhai.” His playful tone made Anu more nervous, while Viru winked at her mischievously. Anu’s confusion only grew as she looked around. “Viru… what is this? Don’t tell me you brought me here for your haircut,” she asked, eyes narrowing. Viru laughed, sliding an arm around her shoulder. “Mera nahi. tumara. A special makeover for my Sweet Cute Anu.” She pulled back immediately, shaking her head. 

“No way. I am not cutting my baal before the wedding, Viru. This is paagalpan.” He moved closer, lowering his voice softly, “Anu, just imagine… something new, something stunning, only I get to see first. Please.” Rohit added lightly from the side, “Come on bhabhi, karwalo, Viru is right. It’ll suit you, i will make you look awesome... sachme.” Ankita stood frozen, her heart racing, torn between saying no and trusting her playful groom virat. The surprise ended with her staring at the salon chair, still deciding whether to sit or walk away. Ankita sat frozen for a moment, biting her lip, but Viru leaned close, whispering sweetly, “Anu, trust me once. Just sit… bas ek baar.” 

She sighed, her heart pounding, and finally lowered herself into the salon chair. Her fingers gripped the armrests tightly as Viru pulled out his phone, showing Rohit a picture secretly. Rohit gave a small smile and nodded, while Anu leaned forward, trying to peek. “Show me, Viru… what is that?” she demanded. He quickly slipped the phone back into his pocket, smirking. “Not yet. Surprise. You’ll thank me later.” Her suspicion only grew stronger, but she stayed put, still hoping this was some harmless fun. The moment she shifted as if to stand, Rohit moved swiftly and open a long black cape and settled it around her shoulders, fastening it tight at the neck. “There, bhabhi, now you’re ready for the cut,”

He said lightly. She frowned, tugging at the cape. “Rohit, I don’t like this… Viru, stop this na.” Viru winked, “Relax yaar, just enjoy.” Rohit pulled open a drawer, taking out clips, a comb, and scissors one by one, tapping them on the counter. The sharp sound made Anu’s stomach twist. “Remove your earrings, bhabhi, otherwise it might get stuck.” Her eyes narrowed in doubt, but Viru nodded encouragingly. With trembling hands, she slipped them off and held them in her palm, her uneasiness growing heavier with every passing second. Rohit ran the comb through her silky baal, sectioning 5 inches from hairline  with neat precision. He parted them sharply,

 tying the long top into a secured knot, leaving the sides and back hip length long hair hanging loose. Ankita’s heartbeat raced. “Viru, why is he tying it like this? What are you doing to me? I’m scared.” Her voice cracked with panic. Viru chuckled, brushing her cheek gently, “Don’t worry. Just sit. Bhai knows what he’s doing.” Rohit, focused and steady, reached for the trimmer and pressed the switch. The loud buzzing filled the small room, echoing against the walls. Ankita froze, her eyes widening in horror as the sound grew closer to her head. Her chest tightened, breath caught. Rohit pressed Ankita’s head down so that her chin touched her breasts. Before she could guess his move, 

the trimmer with guard number 3 buzzed alive against her nape. Brrrrr… the vibration shook her spine as the first thick strip of hair was shorn away. Long dark locks slid down over her lap and onto the floor. Her breath hitched. Rohit tilted her head left and ran the machine up the right side, leaving a neat buzz. Then he bent her head right and cleared the left portion the same way. With every pass, more of her hair rained down. Ankita’s eyes darted at the floor. “Viru! Mere baal… what is he doing yaar?!” she blurted, voice trembling. Virat leaned forward, calm smile on his face, “Bas relax Anu… he is cutting just little. nothing much just a light trim.” But her chest rose and fell faster, 

anxiety building as Rohit’s trimmer hummed steadily at her neck. Rohit, expression blank, now caught the heavy mass of her top hair — still hip length. He combed it smooth, sprayed water, the mist making her shiver. Wet strands clung to her shoulders, heavy and dark. Without hesitation, his scissors opened and snip–snip–snip! came down in sharp, quick strokes. In seconds, her long length scattered around her, leaving the top hair bluntly at her shoulders. Ankita gasped, her hands clutching the cape, “Nahi… Viru! Ruko! its really very short..” Her voice cracked into a scream as another lock slid into her lap. Virat immediately bent closer, whispering in her ear,

“Shhh… shant ho ja. its just a little… trust me you will love the end result...” His voice soft, almost hypnotic, trying to cool her panic. Rohit, meanwhile, kept working silently, cutting with precision, ignoring her cries. Finally, Rohit stepped back, glanced at Virat. Virat gave him a slight nod to continue, but Ankita’s trembling hand rose to touch her shoulder-length ends. Her fingertips grazed the hidden undercut beneath “Oh god… kya kar diya tumne?!” she whispered panicing, eyes widening. She stood, cape still tied. She looked shaken, breathless, strands of hair stuck to her damp face. Virat reached for her arm, “Arre Anu… ruk… i am here right ” 

He tried to cool her down. But Ankita pulled back, shaking her head violently, “Nahi, bas! i dont need any makeover!” Her panic filled the room. Virat caught her gently, cupping her cheeks in both hands. “Anu… bas, look at me,” he whispered, pressing a long kiss to her trembling lips. Her protests softened under the warmth of his mouth, her breathing slowing even as her eyes brimmed. He turned her chair to face him, locking her gaze so she couldn’t look at the mirror or the falling strands anymore. “Trust me, I’m right here,” Rohit picked up his scissors again while Virat’s thumb brushed her damp lashes. For a moment, she let her body sink back into the chair, still hesitant but no longer running. 

The blades began their work, chopping away her freshly trimmed shoulder-length hair into a neat boyish pixie, each snip revealing more of the undercut from behind and the sides. The contrast grew striking, her long identity fading into a modern, cropped edge. “Viru… it’s so short, please ask him to stop…” Ankita pleaded, her voice breaking, eyes searching Virat’s face for mercy. Virat leaned closer, holding her hand against his chest. “Shh… it’s beautiful, Anu, I can already see how stunning you’ll look. Don’t worry about baal, more to come anu.” She bit her lip, fresh tears slipping free as more hair slid to the floor.  By now, her nape was buzzing clean at guard 1, 

faded tightly against the longer crown. Rohit wiped his hands, then quietly loaded a fresh blade into the ustra. As he raised it to her neck, Ankita’s eyes darted in panic, her breath catching. “Viru! He’s holding ustra yaar!” she whispered harshly, almost pulling away. Virat quickly dabbed her tears with a tissue, keeping his voice low but firm. “dont panic yaar anu,  its just for sharp look… let him finish, phir dekhna.” Her chin trembled as Rohit placed the blade just above her nape and dragged a clean pass, exposing bare skin beneath the fade. The sound made her shiver. She clutched Virat’s wrist tightly, her mind racing with thoughts of her mother’s shock, yet her heart surrendering to Virat’s dominance.

Rohit steadied her head with one hand, razor gliding over the nape in long, deliberate strokes, the faint scrape echoing in the quiet salon. Virat leaned on the chair’s armrest, watching every pass with a glint of mischief. “Bhai… face ka bhi kardo,” he said smoothly, fingers brushing Ankita’s cheek. She stiffened, eyes wide. “Viru, no… please, not my face.” But Rohit only smirked, lathering her jawline with soft foam. The cool steel traced across her skin, removing tiny fuzz and leaving her face glowing. Ankita’s lashes fluttered, torn between embarrassment and surrender as Virat whispered, “See… my Anu looks even more perfect.” Rohit shaped her brows neatly with scissors.

Virat’s hand drifted into her top cropped hair, tugging gently at the strands. “Still too long… let’s make it sharper.” Ankita’s breath hitched, panic flooding her again. “No, Viru, stop it… it’s already short… enough karo!” she pleaded, clutching the cape with both hands. But Virat tilted her chin up, locking her gaze. “Anu… meri baat suno. Trust me. Just little. You’ll look stylish…” His voice carried the same mix of command and tenderness that made her weak. She shut her eyes, trembling, as Rohit’s fingers lifted sections, chopping them down ruthlessly to three-inch spikes. Each snip made her scalp lighter, the long girl she once was vanishing strand by strand, while Virat’s thumb stroked her hand in reassurance.

As the last bits of hair fell, Ankita’s chest heaved. She shot up from the chair, voice cracking. “Viru… bas! What will mummy-papa say? I can’t… I can’t go home like this.” Virat caught her by the shoulders, gently but firmly pressing her back into the seat. His lips brushed her ear. “Shh… trust me ” He signaled Rohit, who mixed a soft red color and streaked it carefully through the cropped spikes. Ankita sat frozen, heart racing, until the dye was washed, blow-dried, and styled with gel. When she finally turned to the mirror, her breath caught — the undercut gleamed smooth, the top spiked sharp with subtle red glints catching the light. She barely recognized herself.

The makeover was complete, Virat rose from his seat and stood behind her, eyes fixed on the mirror. His fingers trailed slowly through the gelled spikes, sliding down to the freshly shaved nape. The smoothness under his fingertips made him grin, and when he pressed a little firmer, Ankita let out the faint moan before biting her lip to stop herself. She spun her head slightly, cheeks pink. “Viru, stop it… don’t do like this yaar,” she scolded, though her voice wavered with the heat rising inside her. Virat only smirked, lowering his voice, “Bas ek touch aur, Anu. You don’t know how crazy you look.” Her blush deepened, caught between irritation and the thrill of his dominance.

Rohit stepped in with a knowing grin, unclipping the cape and dusting away stray hairs. “Bhabhi, ekdum ready.” He worked carefully, brushing a line of black eyeliner across her lids, a touch of mascara to deepen her lashes, then painting her lips in a bold, deep red that sharpened the contrast of her boyish crop. A light base smoothed her skin, leaving her face glowing under the salon lights. Ankita reached into her pouch, fastening back her necklace, slipping on earrings she had removed earlier. For a moment, staring at her reflection — spikes, crimson lips, sleek jewels — she couldn't belive her eyes. Virat held her hand, leading her toward the door as she still touched her new hair in disbelief. 

Rohit stopped them halfway, sliding a small handbag to virat . “Yeh rakh le bhai… jo surprise chahiye na, sab andar hai.” Virat chuckled under his breath, hiding it from Ankita. Anu frowned, curious but too drained to question. Hand in hand, the couple stepped back into the night air, the city lights glinting against her new crimson streaks as Virat guided her to the car. The car hummed softly as the city lights slipped past. Ankita sat stiffly, her hands constantly moving — one brushing her cropped spikes, the other covering her smooth nape as though hiding it. Her eyes glistened with fear. “Viru… how will I go home like this? Maa will break down… she loved my baal. 

Papa is so strict, he won’t even look at me.” Her voice trembled with each word. Virat, one hand on the wheel, glanced at her profile and smiled. “Anu, stop worrying. You don’t know… you look amazing. This short hair, these red lips… I can’t take my eyes off you. sach batha raha hoon” She shook her head, pressing her palms to her face. “It’s not amazing, Viru. Tomorrow is our wedding. Everyone will laugh at me.” He only chuckled softly, stealing another look at her boyish look glowing in the streetlight. The road diverted, and Virat turned away from the route leading to her house. Ankita sat up straight. “Viru, this is not the way. Where are we going?” He tapped her knee lightly, eyes still on the road.

“Relax, Anu. Our night is not yet over. ye tho abhi shurvaad hei” She frowned, her panic deepening. “What do you mean not over? Take me home.” Virat only grinned, slowing the car near a late-night bar. He hopped out, returning minutes later with a bag of drinks, placing it at the back seat. “Bas, little fuel for us,” he said casually, starting the engine again. Ankita turned toward him, shocked. “Drinks? Viru, this is crazy.” He only squeezed her hand, voice calm. “Crazy is good. Trust me.” She leaned back, her fingers brushing the short spikes again, still unfamiliar with the texture. Each time she touched the gelled tips, she sighed, half-scared, half-curious. 

“It doesn’t even feel like me… Viru, you’ve changed everything. How will people even recognize me tomorrow?” Her words carried real fear, yet Virat reached over, tracing her jawline with his thumb. “I don’t care if anyone recognizes you. You’re mine, Anu. Just mine.” The tension hung between them, her worry pressing against his calm confidence. Before she could reply, the car slowed, pulling up to a quiet OYO lodge glowing in the night. Ankita’s eyes widened as they stepped out. “Viru… what is this?” He only smiled, carrying the bag Rohit had handed him, his eyes glinting with the promise of what came next. Virat walked to the reception and asked calmly,

“Room no. 18 please.”  His voice had that mix of excitement and control. Ankita followed, a nervous smile on her lips. Inside the corridor, she tugged at his arm, half-whispering, “Virat… no touching until marriage. if mummy paapa gets to know it will be a drama” Her eyes narrowed playfully, but the tone had a thin line of seriousness. Virat chuckled, shaking his head. “You say it like I’ll listen ah” She nudged him lightly, blushing. “I mean it… I’ll get angry.” He smiled deeper, replying, “Then be ready to get angry every second with me.” Her cheeks warmed, and she quickly changed the topic, “What if someone sees us here?” He leaned closer, murmuring,

 “Thab tho our maza ayega Anu.” The door clicked shut. Ankita stood in front of the huge mirror, fingers brushing her short top hair, still unsure about her new look. Virat came closer, gently removing her dupatta. “Don’t…” she whispered first, but when he met her eyes, she lowered her lashes and allowed it. The fabric slipped down, revealing her blush. His hands moved slowly to her kurti, unbuttoning as she bit her lip. Ankita raised her arms slightly, letting him peel it away. She then slid her leggings down herself, her breath uneven, now standing in just her and panties. Virat’s eyes lingered, making her nervous. She teased faintly, “You’re staring too much.” 

He whispered, “Ab raha nahi jaatha na.” When she hooked her thumbs to slip off the panties, Virat caught her wrist gently. “Not yet.” He stepped behind her, picking up the saree. From her back, he draped the saree across her, letting the pallu fall loosely over her bare shoulder. No blouse — just the silk framing her curves. He turned her toward the mirror. Ankita gasped softly. The reflection stunned her — shaved sides, short top hair, saree falling carelessly, her mehendi-darkened hands glittering with bangles. She touched her cheek, whispering, “Is this really me?” Virat pressed his lips near her ear, murmuring, “This is the most beautiful you.” 

Her eyes glistened with a new kind of boldness. Virat poured the rum slowly, the clink of glass cutting through the silence. He slid one to Ankita and kept the other for himself, setting the kebab plate between them. “To us,” he smiled, raising his glass. She rolled her eyes, taking a small sip, teasing, “To your crazy ideas… you cut my baal, and still think I’ll forgive you.” He chuckled, gaze locked on her short spiky crown glowing under the light. “Not forgive… love me more.” She smirked, hiding her blush behind the glass. The warmth of the drink settled in, both leaning back. Virat’s hand wandered up her neck, fingers grazing the freshly shaved nape. 

Ankita closed her eyes, a soft moan escaping before she quickly covered her lips. “Stop, yaar… I’ll lose myself.” He whispered, “That’s what I want.” She suddenly pushed him down on the bed, surprising him, her bangles clinking. Reaching for the cover, she pulled out the condom packet, tossed it onto his chest. “Wear it… or I’m not touching you.” Her voice was shy, trembling, yet bold. Virat’s smile widened, fire flickering in his eyes. She swung off her saree pallu, letting it fall free. Leaving her boobs open, skin glowing. Virat sat up, lips parted in awe at the sight of her bold bridal look—

saree draped, topless, hair short and wild, shaved sides gleaming under the dim light. “Anu…” he whispered, brushing his hand through the spiky top and down the smooth fade at her nape. She shivered, moaning louder, clutching his shoulders. “Don’t stop… please.” He kissed her hard, their bodies tangling, saree wrapping and falling as they pulled each other closer. Ankita pounced on him, lips and nails marking him, while his hands moved over her nape and sides, giving her the best liberation she had ever had. Breathless, laughing, moaning—they gave in to the night, wild and free, just before marriage.