The low buzz of the hair clippers finally cuts off, leaving your faint whimpers the only sound in the studio. Even knowing the ordeal’s over now, you’re still too nervous to open your eyes.

There’s a familiar laugh in the near distance, your Owner’s signature cackle that somehow blends pity, adoration, amusement and cruelty together into a single sound. “It’s OK, little plaything. All done. Open up those pretty blue eyes for me.”

As always, Owner’s desires trump your own feelings, so you let your eyelids flutter upwards and gaze over at them, sitting in their ‘throne’, their leather armchair, a few feet in front of you. They grin back at you, and then up above you. “You can put those to one side now, and kneel next to her.”

You hear movement behind you, and then, in your peripheral vision, your sister slave drops to her knees beside you. Your own knees, and your calves, ache from being sat on for so long. Your back hurts a little too. And you can’t help squirming at the feeling of tiny stray pieces of hair all over your nude body.

Owner admires you both for a minute, their eyes darting from you to her and back again. “Perfect,” they purr, getting up and striding towards you, moving out of your line of sight. The next second, you feel their fingernails run across your scalp, a sharp, biting caress that sends shivers through you. You let out a soft moan, and hear another from next to you a second later.

Even as you continue to bask in the pleasure of Owner’s scritches, you grimace at the sound of your fellow slave’s own enjoyment. Your pact to try and get along - on the basis that Owner had jumbled your memories so much that you were essentially the same person - hadn’t lasted long. Everything she does just pisses you off. And the awareness that the hatred was most likely hypnotically-induced, created by your mutual master to amuse them, made no difference.

You just can’t fucking stand her. Your terrible twin slavegirl. Your hated other self. Your dark reflection. Your nemesis, forced into a servile partnership with you - and you knew she hated it just as much as you did.

And now you look even more alike.

You’re sure she must have enjoyed shaving your head as much as you’d hated it, relishing your distress. Then again, you took the same sadistic satisfaction in shaving her head too.

You were desperately upset when Owner revealed their plans for the afternoon. You didn’t want to give up your long, lustrous locks of auburn hair. (Were they auburn? Or were they a darker brown? You’d already forgotten. And the heap of severed strands surrounding you on all sides are a mix of both colours, unhelpfully.) You’d always been so proud of your hair, you knew that much, and the thought of losing them so completely, of being shaved right down to a number one, made you cry. So did the other slave. Neither of you were able to hold back the tears.

Owner wrapped you both in their arms, and held you close, and let each of you sob into a shoulder, until you both recovered enough to obey their commands. You still weren’t happy about it, but you felt strong enough to do it. The thought of not submitting to the head shaving never crossed your mind for one second. It was Owner’s wish. You were going to do it. And now it’s done.

“Up,” they say airily, and you jump to your feet at once, in sync with the other slave. They stand behind you both, groping your asses while you stand at attention. Then they move back in front of you, looking over each of you hungrily.

“Perfect,” they say again. “Do you know why I chose you - the second of you? Whichever of you that was?” They smile wickedly.

You stay silent, as does she. You’re not allowed to speak in their presence without permission, and that was clearly a rhetorical question.

“It wasn’t just because I wanted more than one pet - although that was certainly a factor. It’s because of how closely you resemble my first pet.” They step forwards and caress your cheek with the back of one hand, and hers with the other. You lean into the stroke, smiling dazedly, and see her doing the same in your peripheral vision. “Same height... Similar body shape... Very similar voices... Faces that resemble each other close enough to mix you up... Same eye colour...” They shudder with obvious arousal, their manic grin growing wider. “I just, I can’t get over the idea of having two identical slaves - of making you so alike that no-one can ever know which of you is which - including you.”

Mission accomplished, you think, your lips twitching into a wry smile.

“And now you’ve got the same hair, too - or lack thereof,” they laugh. “Now you’re totally indistinguishable.” Their hands drop from your faces to your chests, each beginning to fondle and squeeze a tit. “Well, almost,” they noted. “There’s still these, after all. When I found Thing Two, your resemblance to Thing One was so uncanny that I had to forgive the different breast size.”

You stare down at your heaving bosom in mild bemusement. Huh. Why didn’t you think of that? That was the reason for your backache, after all. You realise that Owner probably made sure you wouldn’t notice or remember that your tits were bigger than the other slave’s - all part of their mental mischief!

“We should do something about that,” they say thoughtfully, staring at the other girl’s small tit as they rub it. “What d’you think, whore? Would you like bigger boobies? Ones that you can really bounce around, just like this bitch has got?”

She nods eagerly, smiling broadly, eyes wide. Of course she wants bigger tits - of course she’s jumping at the chance. What a fucking bimbo.

“Well, then, I’ll see about getting that arranged,” Owner smirks. “Nice huge titties for both of you, then...”

Oh, hold on. If we’re adjusting breast size, maybe they’ll be willing to consider...

You timidly raise a hand. Noticing, Owner gives you a nod, dropping their hand from your breast. “Speak freely, slut. But pinch your nipple until you’re finished.”

“Thank you, Owner,” you gasp, seizing your nipple in a vice-like grip. (Your hand had already been on its way there, anticipating a penalty for daring to want to speak before them.) “I - I was just wondering, instead of making her tits bigger... Well, mine are so big, they’re actually kind of a hassle. I get back pain from them quite often. So I was just thinking, maybe you could make them smaller - if, if you want? I mean, if you don’t want to that’s absolutely OK with me, it was just a thou-”

Owner’s finger lands against your lips, silencing you. Taken aback, you continue to pinch your nipple for a few seconds before registering that you no longer had to, because your permission to speak had been revoked.

They’re gazing at you sympathetically. “Oh, you poor thing, I didn’t realise... That’s not good. I can’t believe you’ve been walking around suffering all this time, with those humongous melons. No, you’re right, we should do something about that - I don’t want you in any unnecessary pain.”

You give them your biggest, most grateful smile, feeling tears start to prickle in your eyes again. Owner was so kind!

“Although it would be a shame to lose all of this,” they add, giving one of your ‘humongous melons’ a playful bap with their hand and watching it jiggle. “Ooh, I know - I’ll have yours reduced, and yours” - they squeeze the other slut’s boob, making her mewl - “enlarged, so it balances out. That way, you get the big bouncy boobies you’ve always wanted, and you get smaller tits that don’t hurt your back.”

You nod happily. You’d been reluctant to even raise the issue, because you knew how much Owner liked your breasts. This was a fair compromise, so you’d have tits of a more reasonable size that Owner could still enjoy.

“The important thing is, you’ll match,” they continue, stepping back to admire you both again. “My two perfectly alike sex dolls. You already can’t tell yourselves apart from the inside, and now no-one will be able to tell you apart from the outside, either.” They’re quivering with lust again, licking their lips, their smouldering eyes flickering from one of their playthings to the other more and more quickly. “It’s the ultimate loss of identity. You still have your identity, after a fashion, but you can’t tell which of your memories are yours and which are hers. I kinda think that must be worse than having no identity at all...”

They look just about ready to cum, right here and now. You hope they’ll get you to take them over the finish line.

Instead, they turn and walk back to their throne, waving a hand at the pair of you. “Alright. Now we’ve figured all that out, you girls go and shower, wash off the stray hairs. Make sure you fuck while you’re in there.”

You both bow your heads deferentially, and then scurry out of the studio in the direction of the showers. She’s ahead of you, lighter on her feet with those perky little tits. As you follow her down the corridor, she hangs back to walk alongside you.

“Was that true? About getting backache?” she whispers, her eyebrow raised. “Or were you lying to stop me from getting bigger tits?”

You look at her in astonishment. She appears more amused than angry, which is a relief. You guess she doesn’t really think you’d do such a thing - but she knows you detest her enough that it’s not completely outside the realms of possibility.

“I can see why you’d think that, but no,” you chuckle. “No, it’s the truth.”

“That sucks,” she grimaces. “I mean, I still fuckin’ hate you, but I don’t want you to suffer like that.”

You shrug. “It’s OK. But wasn’t that so sweet of Owner? They didn’t have to agree to make my tits smaller, but they did...”

“I know, right? So generous...”

“They’re the best,” you sigh wistfully. “Apart from making us shave our heads, of course.”

She giggles. “Yeah, apart from that. Alright, you start the shower running, I’ll grab a sex toy and meet you in there.”

Your near-doppelgänger turns and ducks into your shared bedroom, while you continue on to the bathroom, absent-mindedly running a hand over your head, feeling your short hairs prickle against your palm. That’s going to take some getting used to. As is the feeling of cool air directly on your scalp, without your dark brown (or possibly auburn) mane to hold it at bay.

But the look on Owner’s face made it all worthwhile. You’d do anything to make them happy.

It’s not as if you have a choice, after all.