A Change of the Rules

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A Change of the Rules


By Shorngirl


I had been looking forward to this day since the end of school. Brindlewood Summer Camp had been a part of my summers since my freshman year in high school. Just because I was heading off to college in the fall didn’t mean that I couldn’t take time out for the two-week camp.

Brindlewood Camp sat on the banks of one of the most beautiful lakes in the Adirondack Mountains; it was almost idyllic. Life was simpler there, swim, play games, hike, and swim some more. Just what I needed. The last few weeks had been hectic. I had just had my eighteenth birthday, and all the craziness that went along with that. On top of getting ready to leave for New Hampshire and my new school, I had broken things off with my boyfriend, Jake. He was heartbroken, of course, but I couldn’t see continuing something long distance with him. I’d be five hours away at Dartmouth. It was for the best.

The footlocker that I dragged behind me was loaded with everything I thought I might need over the two weeks, lots of shorts and crop tops, goodies that I had stashed without her mother knowing, and of course the myriad of hair care products. I loved my long red hair. It had been as much a part of my life as anything else in high school, and I spent an incredible amount of time pampering it.

Camp was always rough on my hair. I remembered the one summer between my sophomore and junior years I had even consented to having it cut. The memory wasn’t a fond one, but it came with some strange feelings that I was hard-pressed to figure out. Having one of my bunkmates hack twelve inches of my hair off had been traumatic, to say the least. When I thought back on it, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of arousal, the crunch of the scissors, the long strands floating dramatically to the wooden plank floor all fed into my vision of the event.

         It had been a bet, of course. I had been so confident in my wager that I had bet the one thing that I treasured most; my hair. The victor, also the owner of a lovely head of blonde hair, made the same bet with her own tresses.

         “An inch for every point you lose by, Tina Roberts.” Natalie had pressed.

         “You mean, that you lose by, Natalie Burns.” I had said, my false sense of confidence soon to be tested.

         It was a single game of volleyball, and the teams were fairly evenly matched. I was certain that my team was the better one. Boy, could I have ever been more wrong. In the end, it was twenty-one to nine, in the end. I had imagined possibly losing by a point or two, and suffering a slight trim, something I probably needed anyway. Twelve points though? I didn’t know if I was ready to lose twelve inches of my luscious red hair.

         “Double or nothing,” I remembered saying, not even realizing what I was saying.

         “Don’t make bets you can’t keep, Tina.” Natalie had warned, tugging on my hair. “You aren’t going to have another twelve inches to bet, girl.”

         She was right of course. Even if she’d shaved me bald it wouldn’t have equaled the wager. After supper that night, the eight girls in the cabin gathered around a chair that had been placed in the middle of the room. Natalie gloated, opening and closing the scissors viciously, as I took the center seat.

         “You are going to donate this, I hope?” I asked, hopefully, not able to imagine her keeping my hair as a trophy or something, or worse yet, just tossing it in the trash.

         “Good idea, Tina. I will donate it. We’ll be well over the minimum length.” She smirked.

         The remark drove home the amount of hair I was about to lose. One of the other girls measured after Natalie sacrificed one of her bauble hair ties and cinched it at my shoulders. To the cheers and jeers of my cabin mates, the cutting began.

         I still remember the shock as my hair swung forward, in a roughly hewn off the shoulders bob. I thought I looked hideous, in spite of everyone saying it was an improvement.

         The next day, Mrs. Spaulding straightened up the cut, saying that she couldn’t send me home with such a choppy hairstyle. “What on earth were you thinking, Tina. You had such lovely hair.” She had said, not making me feel any better. I ended up with a slightly inverted bob which, in the end, actually did look reasonably good.

         My mother was beside herself when I got home. I had left for camp with my hair to the middle of my back, and arrived home with considerably less than that. Aside from my mother’s displeasure, my friends were all in shock as well.

I slid my footlocker into the stack of luggage that was piled at the side of the bus. Time to go. There were fifteen other girls on the bus all heading to the camp, and I was sorry to say, I didn’t recognize any of them. Wondering if any of my summer friends would be there, I daydreamed the trip away.

I could have been a counselor that year, now that I was eighteen, but somehow all the added responsibility seemed like something I wasn’t up for. I opted to simply be a camper for what was probably my last year at Brindlewood.

The camp had changed owners over the winter, and I wondered if things might be different as a result. I hoped that it wasn’t too different. Of course, my hopes would be dashed as soon as I got off the bus.

“Okay, girls. Welcome to the new Camp Brindlewood. You’ll find that many things have stayed the same, but you will also find that there have been quite a few changes.”

The matronly woman strode before us like a drill sergeant, doling out a book of rules that we were expected to memorize by the next day. Arriving at my cabin, I paged through the small pamphlet, and was shocked by one particular section. Grooming.


All campers are expected to adhere to grooming standards. To some, these standards may seem harsh, but it is all in the interest of cleanliness and ease of care. Hair will be kept short, in a style best suited for your hair. The camp barber will decide what style is best for your particular hair type. Councilors and staff are, of course, exempt from these standards. Parents and guardians have been made aware of these changes to our policies, and have consented in writing.


         I remember the letter arriving, and as I was eighteen, never handed it to my parents. Assuming that it was the standard disclaimer, I skimmed through the letter without really paying attention to details. I signed it and sent it back unaware of what I had signed.

I was, by a few years, the oldest girl in the cabin. Most of the girls were already sporting shorter styles, perhaps in preparation for the new rules. It had taken me all of two years to grow my hair back to the middle of my back since Natalie had taken it from me. Now, it would seem I was to lose even more than before. I tried to imagine what the camp barber might decide to do with my overly thick red hair.

The door to the cabin opened, probably a visit from our councilor, I thought. As I turned, I was surprised to see my old nemesis, Natalie Burns.

“Tina Roberts.” Natalie wasn’t surprised to see me. She had a list of campers she was responsible for. Now she was responsible for me. It was a bit demeaning to know that my former rival was now my keeper. At the same time, it had elicited a sexual response that was almost overpowering. I felt moisture between my thighs and was suddenly very self-conscious.

“Natalie,” I said, meekly.

“Ms. Burns, if you would, Tina. I am your counselor, after all.” She boasted, tugging once again at my hair. “Can’t wait to see all this come off, tomorrow. The barber is going to have a field day with this mop.” She leaned in to my ear. “By the way, I never donated that hair.” She whispered. “It was so soft and red, I just couldn’t part with it.”

I looked up at her, powerless, it would seem. Natalie’s long blonde hair hung down almost to her waist, and I felt an almost overpowering urge to reach out and touch it. It did not go unnoticed.

“You like my hair, don’t you, camper.” Natalie grinned. She took my trembling hand and pressed it into her locks. “Feel that, Tina?” She sighed. She looked down at my face, seeing the unmistakable attraction in my eyes. “Well, well. Maybe I was wrong about you, Tina Roberts.” And with that, she was off.

The other girls in the cabin had largely ignored the exchange between Natalie and myself, and for that I was thankful. It had been humiliating, to say the least. As for the feelings that I had, I was at a loss. I had never been attracted to girls, ever. I had a gorgeous boyfriend, for crying out loud. So why was I lusting after Natalie?

After a fairly uneventful night of games and just general horsing around as we all got to know one another, we all fell asleep knowing, in the back of our minds at least, that tomorrow was barber day.

Sure enough, as much as almost wished that the night would go on forever, the sun rose the next morning, and breakfast was at eight o’clock. As we all filed down the trail, the talk was all about the hair. How much was he going to cut? Was he going to be really mean? What would people think? All of those questions were on the minds of every girl, but for me, with the longest hair of them all, it was particularly worrisome. Now I wished that I had just taken the councilors job, regardless of how much work it was.

Breakfast was over too quickly, of course. Ms. Ashland, the new camp leader, was quick to usher us all down to the office, where a makeshift barbershop had been set up. It was really nothing more than a high chair and a table, but it was no less ominous than if I had walked into Clinton’s Chop Shop back home.

“Okay, girls, when your name is called you will step up and take your place on the chair. The barber will then cut your hair according to the rules and your hair type.” And so it began.

I could see Natalie gloating from the corner of the room, biding her time until my name was called. A few of the girls from my cabin were called, along with others from around the camp. The cuts were indeed varied. Most of the blonde-haired girls were cut really short, the clippers being used to taper the back and sides. Those girls with dark hair were left a little more, but not much. I was the only redhead, so I was clueless as to what was in store for me. For all the cuts, the little bit of hair that was left on top was barely enough to comb, but the barber was quick to spray it down and slick it down tight to their heads. They all looked like little boys, ready for school.

“Tina Roberts!” Ms. Ashland called out, harshly. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” She ushered me into her office and shuffled through some paperwork. “There seems to be a little problem here. Looks like you signed your own release.”

“Yes, I did,” I admitted, secretly hoping that she would question the validity and just send me home with my hair intact.

“Oh, I see the problem. We neglected to update your age in our system. By the date of this signature, you had just turned eighteen.” She typed a few characters into the computer. “Okay, we’re all set then. You can take your seat in the barber chair, Tina.”

My hopes dashed, I made my way uneasily to the chair, looking the barber in the eye as he ushered me in. I had seen Natalie speaking to him as I exited Ms. Ashland’s office and I worried what she may have said to him. Surely she wouldn’t try and influence his decision on my hairstyle.

The cape was thrown around my shoulders and fastened tightly around my neck as I held my waist-length hair up at his request. He had grabbed a comb and was having trouble passing it through my hair. I had always had trouble with combs, my hair being so thick, and I could see the frustration building on his face as he finally gave up.

“To thick.” He muttered, tossing the comb on the table and opting for a menacing pair of scissors that looked more akin to hedge trimmers than hair scissors. The blades must have been ten inches long and they rang with an ominous tone as he opened and closed them. “First, we get rid of the bulk, yes.” I could hear the Italian accent in his voice, as he slipped the shears into my hair against the top of my neck and began to saw.

Wave upon wave of my beautiful red hair started to fall to the floor, and I could hear the gasps from the other girls as they watched my de-tressing. Natalie of course, was front and center, making eye contact with me whenever I looked up. Having her there witnessing this, added such humiliation to an already traumatic event. She smiled as the last of my long hair hit the floor.

I could see that my hair had sprung out from my head now that the weight had been severed from what remained. Again, the barber attempted the comb, but to no avail.

“Too thick. Nah, it all has to go.” I heard him say. I couldn’t imagine that he had actually said that. What did he mean, ‘It ALL had to go’?

I looked up at Natalie who was smiling, shaking her head in amusement as the barber flipped on the clippers. Surely, he wasn’t going to do the unthinkable. I gasped as the clippers found their way under my hair at the base of my skull and slowly made their way to my crown. This was my worst nightmare come true.

I could hear the clippers labor as they severed my thick red hair close to my scalp. I could feel tears on my cheeks as the hair slowly fell away from my head. Then, the most amazing thing happened. All of the fear, anxiety, and angst suddenly lifted, and all because I met Natalie’s gaze directly with my own.

As the hair was stripped from my scalp, our locked gaze deepened until all I could see were her eyes, their deep blue irises burning into my own. What was happening? Instead of feeling horrible, as I should have done, I was feeling excited, aroused by the hot metal of the clippers slowly removing my pride and joy. My hair was being shaved from my skull and all I could think about was how wonderful the vibrating clippers felt against my skin. How I wanted the gorgeous blonde that stood proudly before me to rest the clippers from the barber and finish the job herself.

When at last, the machine fell silent, the quiet in the room was deafening. Everyone stared in disbelief at my transformation.

“There, there, Ms. Roberts. The barber did what he needed to do. You’ll be fine.” Ms. Ashland comforted.

The thing was, I didn’t need comforting. I needed to be alone, and not for the reason one might think. As soon as the barber had released me from the cape, I dashed out of the office, hoping that my cabin was empty. As I ran, I reached up and felt for anything that might still remain of my hair. The sharp coarse stubble that met my hand further drove my needs as I burst through the door of my temporary quarters.

Thankfully, the place was empty, and I quickly dashed for my bed, almost tearing my shorts and panties as I struggled to get them off. My sex was totally soaked as my fingers slid between the folds, finding my swollen nubbin throbbing with excitement. I moaned as I frantically masturbated, not even caring if anyone came through the door, one hand in my flaming bush and the other rubbing my newly shorn head.

I started as the door burst open, and a very concerned-looking Natalie Burns ran in. As soon as she saw me, she laughed. “I had a feeling that’s what you’d be up to, Tina.” She turned and closed the door, locking it with a key that only she and Ms. Ashland possessed. “Let me feel that head of yours, little Tina.” She mocked.

I gasped loudly as her hand caressed my scalp, rubbing the fine hair this way and that. I couldn’t help but continue to masturbate, even as she watched.

“You’re a naughty little girl, aren’t you, Tina.” She accused.

“Yes, Ms. Burns.” Not forgetting her authority over me.

“Do you want me to rub it for you, little one?” She asked, replacing my own trembling hand with her firm and deliberate one. I groaned as she plunged two fingers inside me, her thumb resting stiffly against my clitoris.

Throwing both hands up, I allowed all ten of my slender fingers to find my stubbled head, while Natalie continued to fuck me.

“I think we’re going to have to maintain this new look, little Tina. Unfortunately, the barber leaves today.” Natalie leaned down and placed a wet kiss on my lips, her tongue thrusting into my mouth, exploring everything inside. She pulled away, despite my desperately wanting to maintain the contact. “The thing is, little one, I know where Ms. Ashland keeps the clippers.”

Again, the image of Natalie wielding the clippers, with her luscious blonde hair flowing about her, made me nearly orgasm under her knowing hand.

“You’re mine, little Tina.” She mused, slowing her attention and preventing me from reaching my peak. “I wonder what Jake would think of you now?” Natalie teased. “I can’t imagine him wanting a scruffy little bald girl like you.”

“We broke up before I left,” I admitted through my teeth, as she again pushed her fingers inside me.

“Oh. So much the better.” She grinned. “You won’t have to feel guilty about cheating on him with another girl.”

Right at that moment, it had suddenly occurred to me that I was having sex with another girl. Was I a lesbian? And, so what if I was? It seemed the right attitude to have just then.

“Do you want to come, little Tina?” She jostled, increasing the pressure on my clit.

“Oh, please, Ms. Burns.” I gasped, so close I could taste it.

“The girls will be coming soon, so I best finish you off. There will be some new rules for you, little Tina, my rules.”

With that being said, I immediately came, my orgasm more intense than anything I had ever had in my life. I looked up at her, my better, I always knew it somehow. She was better than me. I may be heading for an Ivy League school, but Natalie Burns was always better than me.

“You have to see yourself, little Tina.” She pulled me, naked from the waist down, onto my feet and marched me over to the mirror.

The image was shocking, to say the least. There was far less hair than I imagined there would be. Through the reddish dusting of stubble, my jet white scalp could plainly be seen. Natalie stood behind me, the contrast of her glorious blonde locks and my bald head was so humiliating that I leaned back into her for a moment.

“Easy there, little one.” She wrapped her arms around me tightly. “The barber really did a number on you, but only after I insisted that he do.” Natalie shared.

What should have made me livid with anger, only served to add to my humiliation and my ultimate submission to her will. Then I did something that even she wasn’t expecting.

“Thank you for my haircut, Ms. Burns.” I groveled.

“You’re welcome, little Tina.” She stroked my neck with her tongue, running the hot pink item into my stubble. “We’re going to have so much fun, aren’t we, my pet?” She ran her fingers down into my bush, her fingers sliding through my sopping wet folds. Deep inside, a voice was screaming, but it was fading, just as any will I had to resist Ms. Burns was fading. It was, indeed, going to be a very interesting two weeks.





4 responses to “A Change of the Rules

  1. Yet another fabulous story Claire! I absolutely love the concept of summer camp haircuts whether they are mandatory or as a result of a bet. You really have an incredible talent at writing such great stories with wonderful attention to detail.

  2. Thank you, Sam. I really do appreciate your kind words. Writing is something we do because we need an outlet for our ideas, much as a painter paints, or a musician plays. We are all creators in our own way, and I’m extraordinarily grateful that so many here appreciate my efforts. This is the one place where I can let my fetish flag fly high. In my published works as a novelist, I am forced to adhere to certain industry standards that are oft times restrictive and unforgiving. Having an editor send back a manuscript three or four times for perceived content corrections that you have already explained in detail, really drives that point home. That’s when you throw your hands up in the air and scream, “Give them what they want, Claire!” And, that’s when you sit down and painstakingly remove, that which you know in your heart, makes the novel better.
    Stay tuned for part two of this story, btw. I’m editing it as we speak, lol, because I am, by far, my toughest critic.
    Thanks again!
    Claire (aka Dreadlocks)

  3. I give you some thumbs up credits. You have a nice way of writing. My question is does every girl have to be shaved bald? Don’t get me wrong I like to shave a girl’s head. You write so many stories can’t you have a couple that are just haircuts. Like fetish bangs above the eyebrows, blunt cut halfway up ears. Buzzed nape. I don’t understand why you have to always go bald. You’re writing like five stories a week you can’t venture out into. Anything but shaved bald girls. I know you watch your votes I’ll bet if you tried a couple of stories with fetish haircuts that don’t shave the girl bald I’ll bet you do good.. come on. Try a story or two with a little variation.. anyways, just a suggestion I think you are excellent author. Be good..write on!


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