"Oops, busted" giggled the voice.
The Doctor felt something wiggle on his head, rushing over to the mirror, he stared at his reflection. "Cool" he said looking at how long his hair was, but then an image of his much shorter hair when he had tried on the pink tutu flickered in his brain. "Not so cool."
Timidly he put his hand up to his tresses, for that was what they were now. They covered half his face, and seemed to be growing more by the second.
The Doctor grabbed a pair of scissors, and started to hack at his mane.
"I wouldn't if I were you" the voice sternly told him.
"Well you are not me" the Doctor dryly commented, looking at the much shorter hairdo. It instantly grew to momentous proportions again, falling past the collar of his shirt, and down to his chest.
"What the…" the Doctor muttered and was just about to start cutting his hair again, when he started to choke.
Something was wrapped around his throat, constraining it; he tore at his neck, and came away with hair.
He fell to his knees, and then face first onto the floor, just before he fell into oblivion; he saw more of the cut hair moving towards him like it was alive.
"I did warn you" the voice cackled.
"What do you want?" he managed to ask.
"Why Doctor" the voice responded, "I want you."