The Draft

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Here is another stand-alone story, this one in a sci-fi setting based off of a fantasy I had for a fictional character from a game. If you enjoy this, make sure and check out my other works! Let me know what you think in the comments!

A war. One like Earth had never seen before. Millions lost, even more displaced. The enemy was like nothing we had ever seen before. They came from far beyond anywhere we had ever been and with them, came the destruction of the world we once knew.

My name is Alara. I was a teenager when they came. I lived on one of the colonies closest to Earth in relative comfort. My family had been wealthier than most, my father being the colony manager for the main space shipping company of Earth and her colonies.

Before the invasion, or rather attempted extermination, I had spent my days in school, being groomed to one day take over my father’s mantle in the company. By night I would throw up my long chocolate brown hair into a variety of different an elaborate hairstyles, my luscious locks being the envy of all those who knew me or even saw me, to go out and party in the city that I lived in.

When worn down and hanging in my natural loose waves, my hair reached my thin but toned waistline. Even after we evacuated to Earth, I had carefully cared for my beautiful hair, doing everything I could to treat it right.

My father’s company had a compound where colonial executives and their families could live while hiding out from the invaders on Earth as we hid ourselves while we did our best to fight back. Life was nowhere near as luxurious as I was used to on my home planet but the company did a good job taking care of us. I made friends and finished school.

But then things got worse. The Earth’s military had been nearly wiped out and soldiers were needed. A draft was instituted and anyone over 18 was eligible. Male or female. Not everyone was being taken but the selection seemed to be completely random. Some suspected that those chosen were selected because they matched the physical, mental and emotional standards for the Space Forces. Only the best and brightest were good enough to be sent off to fight. Boot camp, placement, and ultimately military service was what their future held. And with boot camp came the horrid haircuts.

I never considered myself to be worthy of that and so when I reached my 18th birthday, I was in no way concerned. I celebrated that day with a cake which had been cleverly made using ingredients that were not currently being rationed. It was good but not great. My parents then surprised me with a salon visit. My hair would go through a deep conditioning treatment, a trim, and a blow out. Then a night of partying and fun.

The next morning though, the fun ended. At my doorstep were a man and woman from the Department of Interplanetary Defense. Both wore grim expressions, sharp uniforms, and different varieties of shorn haircuts. With them were my draft papers.

”Report to the recruit depot at 0800 Friday morning. You have been selected for military service. Thank you for your service,” had been all they simply said.

I cried that night, as did my parents, and as did my friends. As a girl, I was unlikely to be selected for a combat role and would most likely find myself in some kind of support role. But the minimum term of service was four years. I would be 22 when I returned home.

It was a Wednesday when they told me to report on Friday. The rest of Wednesday and all of Thursday, my family and I did the best we could to enjoy our time but the looming life altering change kept nervousness tight in our chests.

Thursday night before I went to sleep, I began to braid my hair into the French braided pigtails I always slept in. I began to sob as I handled my long hair for the last time. In boot camp, my hair would be changed. And it would probably never be the same again.

The standard for men was a smooth shaved head through all of boot camp which could then be grown out as long as no hair was longer than two inches and the sides were shaved short. Women received a chin length bob with an undercut all the way up to the edges of the crown that was buzzed with clippers that had no guard. The standard military helmet was required to be fit around the ears and the occipital bone and hair caused interference so the sides and nape had to remain shaved. Women were allowed to grow the hair on their crown long but had to keep it up in a severe bun while on duty.

Another disappointing aspect was that, to rob the recruits of their individuality, a chemical was used to permanently change their hair color to black so each would look almost identical from behind. These requirements had not been an issue when the military was made up of volunteers but now that the majority of recruits were conscripted, many resented the interplanetary government for robbing so many of their individual appearances.

I held my braids as I cried myself to sleep. In the morning, my life would be over. And my beautiful, carefully maintained brown locks would be forever changed. I couldn’t believe all of this was happening to me. At some point in my sobbing, I drifted off to sleep.

Alarm blaring, I snapped awake. I looked down and checked the time. Somehow I had overslept and would cut it dangerously close to being late. Unable to style my hair for one last time, I ran downstairs as I pulled on simple workout clothes. After a hasty but tear filled goodbye to my family, I dashed out the door to the recruit depot.

Running up I saw a couple dozen other recruits, some hugging parents and other loved ones. I saw a boy and girl around my age kissing a long, passionate kiss before separating. The girl, a beautiful young woman with long red hair and splash of freckles across her face, turned and joined me as I took my place in line.

Nervously we shifted our weight, wringing our hands as we waited in line. At the front of the lines were intimidating looking intake soldiers, handing each recruit a new set of plain looking workout clothes and directing them into the building.

”I’m Leigh,” the red haired girl said, offering me a hand for a polite handshake.

I took it and gave it a light squeeze, “Alara.”

”We’re going to be ok right?” she asked, seeking comfort where she could find it.

”Sure! Probably-,” I said, as we got closer to the front.

“Take your PT gear, move into the correction chambers,” a gruff man with a black baseball cap bellowed as recruits moved by.

”Correction chambers? What are they correcting? We haven’t done anything wrong!” Leigh said, nervously running her fingers through her long hair.

I looked at the nervous girl. Black hair would look fairly normal on me but with her ginger’s complexion, she would likely look very strange. Anxiously I thumb the end of one of my long, chocolaty brown braids. I wasn’t ready to lose my hair but I had the suspicion that the thing that was going to be corrected was our appearance.

Reaching the front of the line, I was handed a black sports bra, an unflattering pair of gray boxer briefs, gray tennis shoes, and a pair of white, mid calf height socks. How they predicted my size, I had no idea. I was also disappointed to find that there was no shirt and there were no pants or shorts of any kind. I hesitated for a moment and was pushed along by a female soldier, her undercut showing no signs of stubble, who got close to my face and bellowed, “Move!”

Inside, I found my new friend, Leigh, who held her new clothes as well. We looked at one another nervously as we were forced into a large room. In there everyone, male or female, was ordered to strip down and change. There were receptacles on the sides to put our old belongings. We were to bring nothing along but what had been issued to us.

In the chaos of the moment, I was unbothered by the fact that I undressed fully to the nude in a room full of other people. I fully stripped down before pulling on the underwear and bra. They were at least comfortable. Sitting on the ground, I pulled on the socks and shoes. Lacing up the shoes, I saw that Leigh was also ready and the two of us took our old belongings to the barrels that were rapidly filling with clothes, shoes, comm phones, and other lose belongings. I left the hair ties in my braids, assuming they would want my hair well managed for whatever came next.

Next we were ushered to a table that had wipes to remove any cosmetics or deodorant. I had no makeup as I had been forced to rush out the door but I did pause to wipe away the deodorant from under my arms. Why they wanted that made no sense to me as I was herded along like an animal.

”Can you believe they had us strip down around boys?” Leigh asked quietly as we jogged down a corridor.

”No but if they did that, I can’t imagine we’ll be getting much privacy for the next four years,” I said, holding my arms around myself to fight against the cold of the air conditioned building.

My nipples were hard beneath my thin sports bra and I was sure they could be seen but I figured if mine were, so were everybody else’s. A quick peek at Leigh’s chest revealed my thoughts to be true. The red haired girl’s face was a mask of concern as we finally reached a line and we’re forced to wait.

”Do you think these are the correction chambers?” Leigh asked me, scanning those ahead of us and looking at the doors that swiftly closed behind those who entered them.

”They have to be, any guesses for what they correct?” I asked, hoping to get any length of time before my hair was forever changed.

”Your differences,” I heard a voice say from behind me.

I turned around to see a tall boy, around my age, perhaps a year older. He was fit, athletic, and admittedly attractive. The strong boy also looked serious. His head was already shaved smooth as if he wanted to just bypass whatever annoyances that lay in store for the rest of us recruits. Like the rest of the male recruits, he was shirtless in a pair of gray boxer briefs just like mine and wore matching socks and tennis shoes. I also noticed the impressive bulge that his tight underwear did little to conceal.

”Our differences?” Leigh asked, holding the ends of her beautiful red locks in her hands.

“That’s right, princess. Your hair. And anything else about you that isn’t uniform. Blemishes, beauty marks, tattoos, piercings, whatever. Anything that would differentiate you from any of your fellow soldiers. At least they let us keep our natural eye colors and stay the genders we came in as,” he said, first seriously and then finishing with a wink and smirk after his last statement.

Leigh began to cry silently, holding her hair. I looked up at the serious young man who stood behind me. Sizing him up, I guessed he came from a military pedigree and that he had volunteered to be here. He knew far too much about the process to have just been a draftee who learned his fate two days ago.

”How do you know so much?” I asked him, squinting my gray-blue eyes up at him. He was nearly a head taller than me.

”I’m a Navy brat. My dad is a ship captain. Once I’m done with boot camp, I go straight into special operations. I was born for this,” he said, his square jaw set.

“Well Mr. Navy Brat, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Alara,” I said, offering him a hand, doing everything I can to distract myself from the horrifying thing that rapidly approached.

Mr. Navy Brat smirked, “Alara, nice to meet you. I’ll see you on the other side. You’ll look pretty different then so I won’t get used to this,” he looked me up and down. “Oh and the name is John,” he said before looking back to the front.

“Alara,” I head Leigh say meekly.

I looked at her and then to the front and saw that there was nobody in front of me. Only an open door to a correction chamber. Tears began to well up in my eyes. Then another door opened, one for Leigh. As I went through my door, I looked back at her one last time. She was shaking in silent sobs as she walked forward. Behind her, John gave me a reassuring smile and nodded his bald head. I gave an uncertain, teary eyed smile in return and then closed the door to my chamber.

”Please step inside the circle at the center of the room,” a pleasant feminine robotic voice said.

In the middle of the room, a beam of white light came down from the ceiling, illuminated a red circle. I gulped say I walked to it. Standing in the center I squinted up at the bright light.

”Please stand by while your correction begins,” the voice instructed.

Machines began to whir around me. In front of me, scanners shined red lights on me, going up and down on my front and back. I stood, arms hanging at my sides, grazing my feminine hips.

”Scan complete. Beginning corrections,” the voice stated.

Several robotic arms reached down from the ceiling and pointed these things that looked like guns at me. Behind me I felt a burning sting on my back shoulder.

”Ow!” I yelped in protest, flinching away from the pain.

”Blemishes are being removed. There may be mild discomfort, please stay still,” the voice ordered.

I then realized the little mole on my shoulder, something my mother had always found so adorable, was now gone. As I stood there, I felt several other burning stings, each just as painful as the first. Across my whole body, freckles, scars, and even acne were being removed from my body. A lifetime of memories were being removed from my body.

“Body correction complete. Beginning hair now,” the voice said.

Tears began to fall down my cheeks as what felt like a bucket came down over my head and shoulders. Inside the bucket it was dark and I felt claws begin to grab at my hair. They worked their way down the lengths of my braids.

”Error, error, error,” I heard the voice say, echoing inside my bucket.

Something grabbed my shoulders and held me in place. I felt my hair being pulled, something tugging at my braids.

”Unregistered objects detected. Engaging default settings,” the machine said.

Unregistered objects? I remembered my hair ties. They had said to remove everything but I thought the hair ties would be ok. Panicked, my mind began to race at the thought of what the default settings were.

I felt my hair being pulled outward and heard a loud buzzing sound within the mechanical bucket. Suddenly, over the top of my head I felt something pass over, buzzing as it went. After is passed, I felt a cool breeze. Again and again, I felt the same sensation and then cool air.

Then I realized what was happening. Default settings must have been the male settings. My head was being shaved bald! I wouldn’t even have the undercut like all of the female recruits. I would be smoothly shaved and bald for the next several weeks during boot camp.

”Wait, I’m a girl! Please don’t do this,” I begged the merciless machine as I felt more hair being removed by the second.

The machine paid no attention to my pleas as I felt the hair now being removed from the sides of my head. If that was happening I knew the top of my head had already been shaved. I was already going to be bald. And it appeared as though once the machine started, it could not be stopped.

The buzzing sound stopped, just as I had finally accepted my fate. I hoped that maybe it wouldn’t use the chemical to keep my hair from growing during the eight week long boot camp and that the drill instructors would realize the mistake and let me begin growing out my hair to match the other women. My hair had never grown particularly fast so I knew I had a long road ahead of me. At least I had a lot to distract me.

Then I felt a warm gel wash over my bald head. Initially I believed it was the chemical until I was warned by the machine, “Remain still, razor shave in progress.”

Something cool and sharp touched my head and I felt it drag back on my hair, making a weird scraping sound. It felt like whatever minuscule amount of hair was left was fighting back against the blades of the razors that shaved my head smooth. The razors made pass after pass until I felt no resistance, just the feeling of something passing over a glassy smooth surface. I could tell that I was now fully bald.

Then came the final step. The chemical treatment. My head would be bald for most of boot camp, with it only growing enough for me to have some variation of a military haircut for graduation. I felt the cold foam being sprayed on my naked scalp. Inside the bucket, I had no idea what I looked like but I had the feeling it wasn’t good. I’d never had my hair any shorter than collarbone length. Even as a baby I had been born with thick hair and there were never any doubts I was a girl because of how quickly it grew long and thick.

With the effects of the chemical treatment I expected it to last longer but within seconds, it began to burn. The burning did not last long though as something that felt suspiciously like a head shaped squeegee wiped the foam from my head. Then a wet cloth was dragged across my head.

”Hair correction complete. There will be a mirror available to see yourself if you choose,” the voice said as the bucket raised into the ceiling.

The lights in the room were activated as the bucket was removed from my head. I closed my eyes to the bright lights and held up my hand to shield my eyes. Slowly my eyes adjusted and I opened them. In front of me, the entire wall was a mirror. What looked back at me did not look like me at all.

Just as I had expected, my hair was completely and totally gone. I still had my eyebrows and eyelashes and thank god for that because I think I would have looked sick without them. My head was shockingly pale and there were no traces of hair on it. Surprisingly, I felt myself starting to grow wet in my crotch.

My neck looked long, slender and feminine without hair covering it up. The delicate features of my face were only more prominent, making what had been just a pretty face now a stunningly beautiful one. My ears seemed to stick out a little more than I would have preferred but even that didn’t bother me much. Shockingly I looked good. Really good.

Reaching a hand up to feel what my new look felt like, I gently placed my fingers on my smooth head. The chemical treatment had clearly worked well because it felt like my scalp was completely smooth. It actually shined in the light of the correction chamber. I began to rub it more now, my other hand reaching down to my clit, my arousal building to a level I had never experienced before at the sight of my new appearance.

I rubbed both my head and clit simultaneously, building to what would have been a soul shattering climax when I was interrupted by the robotic voice.

”Correction complete, please exit the chamber,” the voice said in a monotone.

Looking at myself now more clearly after the fog of my arousal, my whole head flushed red. On my gray boxer briefs, I saw a wet spot. I had gotten so soaking wet from my self-pleasure that it had actually soaked my underwear that was my only covering. As soon as I stepped out the door that swung open for the next stage of intake, everybody would know what had happened to me.

“Please exit the chamber. Please exit the chamber,” the voice began to repeat as I heard the entry door begin to open.

Trying my best to discretely cover my crotch with my hands, I hurried out of the room, afraid to get into trouble on my first day. With my concern over the dark spot on my underwear, I had nearly forgotten about my naked head. That is until I emerged and heard a voice I had just come to know.

”Oh my god, Alara? Are you bald?” Leigh asked, shocked as we entered into a room full of other recruits.

I reached my hand up to touch my naked scalp as I turned around, tears returning to my eyes from the embarrassment.

”The machine said something about an error because I had my hair ties in,” I said shamefully.

Leigh looked like a completely different person from the last time I saw her, mere seconds before. All of her freckles and any natural redness was gone, replaced by flawless skin. Her hair which had been a fiery natural red was now black as the night. The sides and back had been reduced down  to stubble while the top hung down to her chin. If it hadn’t been for the shaved sections being revealed when she moved her head, it would have looked like a normal bob haircut.

Trying to distract her from my shame, I stepped toward her and reached my hand up to her newly shorn hair, “Oh my god, your poor hair!”

”Yeah it’s bad but now I’m glad I at least have some. Should we talk to a drill instructor and see if they can fix something?” Leigh asked, touching my bare head.

“What can they do, glue it back on?” John asked with a smirk. He had finished quickly considering he was already perfect by military standards.

I bowed my bare head in shame as Leigh pulled me in a for a hug. “He’s right, they can’t change anything. What’s done is done. Hopefully they won’t mistake me for a boy.”

”That’s unlikely considering your figure. Even if you are bald just like me,” John said, guiding us to follow instructions.

Suddenly I caught him looking down at my damp groin. “Did you enjoy yourself in there?” he asked me in a soft whisper.

”What, no, I-,” I started to babble.

”It’s ok, I’m the same way. I love your new look, see?” he said, discretely gesturing at his crotch.

What I saw shocked me. His already massive bulge had turned into an even larger erection. He must have really liked my bald head. I was glad to find someone who understood me in this scary time. And I was glad to have found friends.

I felt him reach up and feel my bald head, feigning a casual rub. We approached the group and were immediately screamed at to take our places in formation.

”Looks like we’ve got us a baldie!” a female drill instructor with a perfectly tied up top bun screamed.

”Can’t follow instructions, huh baldie?” another female drill instructor bellowed into my face.

”I…I-,” I stuttered nervously.

”Begin each of your statements with ‘this recruit’ baldie!” the first drill instructor shouted into my exposed ear.

”This recruit-,” I started before being interrupted by the second drill instructor who wore a wicked grin.

”Actually, you will refer to yourself as ‘this baldie’ so you can be reminded of your fuckup when you can’t see your stupid bald head! And you better show me how loud you can scream when you address me!” she screamed.

“This baldie made a mistake! It won’t happen again ma’am!” I shouted as loudly as I could.

”It better not, baldie! Or this will be a long boot camp for you!” the first drill instructor bellowed as she moved on down the line. The second drill instructor left going the other direction.

I stood there at attention, my bald head gleaming in the artificial light of the room. We were given an introduction by the man who would be our boot camp commanding officer. Then we were sworn in and shuffled off. Luckily, John and Leigh were alongside me.


Two months later, I stood at the head of my class of recruits during our graduation, flanked by my two best friends, John and Leigh. We had been through a lot together and had graduated at the top of our class. John and I tied for first, Leigh achieving second place.

We stood at attention for the ceremony, wearing our official dress uniforms. Following graduation, each of the new soldiers would be shipped off for their assignments. John was headed to special operations and, thanks to our successes in boot camp, so would Leigh and me.

As we presented our class flag, we were saluted as soldiers, no longer recruits. And I was no longer baldie. Under my dress hat, I had hair again. It was neatly shaved into a perfect horseshoe style flat top, complete with a perfect landing strip. I matched John who, after the events of the previous eight weeks, I had grown to have a romantic connection with. We had our first date planned for the afternoon when we would be given a break. Leigh and her undercut bob would give us the space for our lunch date and then would meet up with us for a night on the town to celebrate.

I, no longer baldie, but now a soldier, was ready for what the world would throw at me. And I planned to never grow my hair out king again.

Now, as the captain of my own company of elite soldiers, I’ve grown it the top to the maximum two inches for male standards. Leigh, a staff officer under my command has copied me, as has nearly every other female under my command. John, my second in command and new husband, has, at my request returned to the smoothly shaved head that I love on him.

The war isn’t over but it’s being won thanks to people like us. And to think, this all started with a couple of bald heads.

4 responses to “The Draft

  1. Here is another standalone! What do you think of our trio of comrades in arms? Let me know what you think in the comments.

    Question of the story, do you enjoy hair color changes as well as new cuts? Or would you rather nobody know the hair color at all because they have none left?

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