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It had been a big change for Tracy moving from the small country-town where everyone knew each other to the big city; from her protected existence at home to the life of a student amidst thousands of others at the campus. Not to speak of her flaboyant roommate Samantha, a sophomore, whose behavior struck Tracy with astonishment. She used to stroll around in the apartment totally naked (“Too hot for all that clothing stuff”). Indeed, in September it still was hot in Arizona, but speaking unclothed to some one at the front door and leaving the door open………no, Sam had no sense of shame.

“Sam, I’m sorry, but doesn’t it bother you what people will say…..about us?”

“Don’t be such a goody-goody, sweetheart. What could they say? That I’m a slut? Well, who cares? Not me. And what about us? I don’t know what you mean.”

Sam looked at Tracy, investigating and mischievously: “Dear me! How can you stand it in this heat? Such clothes and that hair!”

“What is wrong with my hair?” Tracy asked, nervously fumbling one of her tresses.

“Nothing……though it is too long, too thick, too curly, too dark, too much in one word.” She began to laugh: “Never mind, sweetheart, if you are happy, I’m too.”

“What I meant to say, Sam, that we……well, you know.”

“Of course I know. I’m dyed in the wool, you know. Just name it: lesbian, eh? Well, let them think, you know better.”

Tracy knew. No shortage of boys who wanted to date her; and to have her laid. And the first semester had just started!

“Tracy, you are so decent. You should let yourself go. That is why we are here, isn’t it? To be free, no parents, no home rules.”

“No rules? Read the home-regulations.”

“Rubbish! They are only there to be broken.”

“Oh Sam! I should want to be like you a little.”

“Well sweetheart, you can! I’ll teach you if you want!”

They both laughed.


At the billboard in the hallway of the Psychological Institute a poster called for students who would like to volunteer in a research program as experimental subjects. Tracy read it and thought: ‘Could be interesting. Come on, don’t be shy! Let yourself go! And it might help to learn to know some members of the scientific staff better.’

Samantha laughed when Tracy told about it.

“That’s not what I have in mind for you. I’ll take you with me to a party next Saturday night. You’ll meet a lot of hot boys.”

“Where is it? At the campus?”

“Oh no, somewhere in town.”

“What am I to wear? What party is it?”

“It’s informal. Let’s have a look what you have in store.”

She went through Tracy’s dresses, skirts, blouses and shoes.

“This dress may do but it is too long, your knees are hardly visible. Much shorter it has to be; that’s no problem though. And you have to buy high-heeled boots. We are going to transform you, sweetie! You have to loose that high school girl appearance. Wow, I would like that you let me cut your hair.”

“Noway, I want to keep my hair long.”

Samantha sighed: “Okay, you have not yet got that far.”

Tracy took off her dress which had to be shortened and grabbed her skirt and T-shirt but Samantha stopped her: “First lesson, girl, do just like me, no clothes at home. Take off your panties and bra as well.”

Tracy laughed with a wry face but she obeyed. She didn’t feel comfortable though.

“You’ll get used to it,” reassured Samantha her, “Wow, I wish I had that body of yours. Shame to hide it. And your legs! They are perfect. Besides you have your hair to take shelter behind,” she laughed.

Samantha was right, Tracy had slender, well-shaped legs, narrow hips and small perky breasts. This in contrary to Samantha, more the voluptuous type with a broad pelvis and well developed breasts.

“Cool, isn’t it?” Sam asked. “Don’t you feel better without all those textiles?”

Tracy had to admit that though she still felt rather strange. She put a towel on the seat of her chair before she sat wown.

“What is the party about?” she asked.

“Oh, you’ll see, it will be fun.” Sam didn’t want to tell more.

The next day Tracy called the telephone number mentioned at the poster. She was asked to come for an interview after her last college of the day.

The leader of the project explained the purpose of the program though he didn’t get into details. It was called “Subliminal Mindtransmission” and they needed persons whe would be subjected to a series of psychological tests.

“There is nothing to worry about, there is no danger of damaging you. What we do is connect you to an encephalograph which will be connected to another one which again is connected to a second person. The difference with normal encephalographic examinaton is that both of you will be hypnotized and that we have developed a special hood which will cover your head but your face will be left free. If you decide to commit yourself we need a written consent from you.”

“How long will the project last?”

“We don’t know yet but we ask you to commit yourself for at least three months. It will cost you one or two evening sessionsof about three hours a week. To compensate the lost hours your taking part in the program will be considered to replace three of your own projects which you have to undertake during your first and second year. You will be exempted from them.”

Tracy didn’t consider a long time about the offer. She signed the agreement. The program would start in October.

Samantha was not in when Tracy came home but she arrived twenty minutes later.

“Hey, why are you not undressed?” She greeted Tracy.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

“No my dear, it has nothing to do with my presence. I told you to undress when you are at home. Besides I have your shortened dress. Just try it on.”

“Oh my god, it has got so short!” Tracy exclaimed. “When I bend down my panties are showing!”

“Rubbish! You should show your legs, they are perfect. Did you buy boots?”

“No, I haven’t had time. I had an interview at the psychological institute.”

“Oh yes, that experimental project. Did you enroll?”

“Yes, indeed.”

She told Samantha the intention of the project.”

“Well, better you than me!”


The party took place in a hall of a party-centre in town. There was a bar, a dance floor and of course music coming out of huge speakers. Adjacent there were smaller rooms.

Tracy didn’t feel at ease with her sexy dress and the high-heeled boots, exposing a lot of her thighs. In any case she had no complains about attention of the male visitors. It confused her and they offered her so many drinks that she swallowed more than she used to. In fact she used to be very moderate in drinking alcoholics. This and the unusual attention she got made her reckless and audicious.

She lost sight of Samantha and she fell into the company of three boys and two girls and when one of them proposed to enter one of the smaller rooms to play strippoker, Tracy agreed, though she never had played poker and didn’t know what strippoker implied.

Soon she would notice. She lost one boot, then the other. And when she lost again her dress had to go and the only pieces of clothing consisted of her bra and panties. She wouldn’t take the risk to lose them too but her playfellows convinced her that she certainly didn’t want to leave the party dressed only in her underwear.

In dispair she asked: “But what if I lose again?”

One of the others suggested: “Well, if you lose, the winner shall not ask you to undress further but he will be allowed to cut off a strand of your hair. Is that okay with everyone?”

They all agreed. Of course Tracy did never win, even not by accident, and lost again several times.

“Please, cut a strand at the backside of my head, please,” she pleade
d and the winners granted her request.

At last Tracy was saved by Samantha. She succeeded in conquering back Tracy’s dress and took her home.

Back home at their dorm Tracy started to cry: “I feel so humiliated, I’m so ashamed. I shouln’t have gone, I shouldn’t have done such things. I feel like having been a slut.”

Sam consoled and hugged her.

“Yes, I know. I’ve gone too fast with you, you are not yet ready for it. But you shouldn’t have left me. If you had stuck to me this wouldn’t have happened. And you did drink too much. It’s your own fault too, sweetie, don’t blame me for everything.”

“I don’t. I know I was wrong.”

“I’m sorry that you lost your boots.”

“I don’t care. I would never wear them again, anyway.”

“They must have been cheating on you and you were too naieve to detect it.”

“But my hair!” Tracy sobbed. “I can’t see what they have done. They were so nice to lop off strands at the backside.”

“It might have been worse. I think you can mask the damage by gathering your hair into a ponytail.”


The application of the electrodes, totaling 24, to the scalp of Tracy and fixating them with colloid jelly, took more than half an hour.

“Oh my, you have such a lot of dense hair and the electrodes must make an intense contact with the skin of your head. it is not so easy,” the labassistent sighed.

“Do your best, Elaine,” the psychologist told her. He, Ken, would hypnotize Tracy. He had introduced himself and Arthur, a senior student, to Tracy.

“Arthur will be your partner tonight. You will be connected to each other via encephalographs.”

The hood was pulled over Tracy’s head. In the hood were apertures for the wires of the electrodes. After Tracy had been hypnotized she was left alone in a cubicle, Arthur being in another. No orders were given to Tracy after hypnotizing her.

A half hour later she was brought back.

“What do you remember, Tracy?”

“I must have been dreaming.”

“What were the contents of your dream?”

“I should meet someone in a restaurant for dinner or lunch, I think.”

“Okay, do you know with whom?”

“No, I met someone but I don’t know who.”

“A man or a woman?”

“I can’t tell you. I saw figures, shadows rather. Well, it comes into my mind that there were no colours. Just like an old movie, black-white you know.”

“What did you wear and eat?”

“I’ve no idea, sorry, it’s all very dim.”

“I doesn’t matter, Tracy, it’s only the first experiment.”

She was hypnotized again. Now she got an assignment.

“Tracy, you know Arthur. You are a shopgirl in a bookshop. Arthur wants to buy a thriller and you are going to advise him.”

After Arthur and Tracy had been brought back the researcher asked Arthur what he could remember.

“I entered a shop.”

“What was sold there?”

“I’ve no idea. there was someone else but…no, I can’t tell you what happened.”

Ken looked somewhat disappointed: “Well, it is enough for today. Hope to see you in three days, same time.”

Elaine removed the electrodes and as much of the dried jelly as possible.

“The rests will get loose gradually, you can comb them out.”


“The results are not encouraging,” Ken said during a meeting with the projectleader. “I gave one of them clear instructions and the other should be able to reproduce the contents but they could only do so very fragmentarily.”

“Try again.”

During the second session no improvement was reached.

Elaine suggested that the skin contact of the electrodes on Tracy’s head couldn’t be achieved in an optimal way.

“Better use a subject with short and not so dense hair, I think.”

Ken asked Tracy to come and see him after college.

“Tracy, I think we have a problem. The results of the experiment are not in accordance with those of our other test subjects. Elaine thinks that the skincontact of the electrodes is insufficient owing to the abundance of your hair. Are you willing to do something about that?”

“You want me to cut my hair?” Tracy asked anxiously.

“Is that a problem for you? Well, think about it and speak to Elaine. She could give you directions. But let me know soon what you decide, eventually we must find a replacement for you. I must say I should deplore that as you are otherwise an ideal subject to work with.”


“Yes,” Elaine told Tracy, “I certainly think that so much hair hampers the transmission. No hair at all would be ideal but I couldn’t anyone ask to do that.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Hmmm…..as short as you wish to go. Besides, what did you do to your hair? There are a lot of very short tufts at the back.”


“Sam, they want me to cut my hair short for the experiment.”

“Oh cool! Do it, that will solve your problem with the short wisps on the back of your head.”

“I don’t like it. Should I cut my hair because of an experiment? Is it worth that?”

‘But,’ she thought, ‘On the other hand the compensation, the exemption of three of her own projects, couldn’t be underestimated.’

She combed with her fingers through her hair. Samantha looked on while she stroked her own short pixiecut.

“So, I would be more suitable as a test subject with my short hair. I’ll tell you something, sweetie, if you cut it it should get to be so short as the wisps at the back.”

Tracy didn’t answer immediately, then said: “Ken called me an ideal subject………….apart from my hair of course. No hair at all would be the summit.”

“What?! He asked you to shave it all off?”

“No, not he, Elaine said that.”

“You know what? When you do that I’ll do it too.”

Tracy laughed: “Have you gone nuts? Of course I don’t consider such a thing.”

“I’m serious, Tracy. I’ve thought about shaving my head several times. Do you think that to be weird?”

Tracy didn’t know what to say and Sam continued: “You would have to cut your hair so short that it wouldn’t make much difference.”

Suddenly it struck Tracy: “You would do that?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Okay, go on! Do it!”

‘What the hell,’ Tracy thought. Her hair had been spoiled. ‘Why not cut it all off?’

But she hesitated…………..

Sam knew that it had to be now or never. Delay could easily cause Tracy to chicken out. Besides the shops would close soon. She grabbed her friend by an arm and dragged her outside.

“Ladies, if you want a labour-intensive hairdo you have better come back tomorrow.”

The barber who had one more customer in the chair gave them a troubled look: “It’s nearly closing time.”

“It won’t take much time,” Samantha grinned.

“Then turn the sign on the window saying ‘open’ to ‘close’, please.”

Having finished off his customer and after being paid the barber turned to the two girls.

“Well ladies, I’m a barber, not a hairstylist, so what can I do for you?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Sam laughed, “we want you to chop off our locks.”

“All of them?” he asked unbelievingly. “Are you sure?” Turning towards Tracy who had been pushed to the chair by Sam.

Tracy nodde and said in a feeble voice: “Yes.”

Trembling she climbed on the chair, she couldn’t believe that she really was doing this. The barber shrugged, took a cape and draped it across her shoulders. He combed her mane forward and fixed it with a clip on top of her head before fixating the cape at her neck. He grabbed a pair of clippers without an attachment and switched them on. Holding the big ponytail taut he moved the clippers up her nape and the back of her head. One pass after another till the ponytail came loose and was laid on the counter. Tracy sadly looked at the mass of hair that only a few minutes ago had been attached to her head. Meanwhile the barber lost no time to shave off the remains of the shortened hair from her skull.

Shocked Tracy rubbed her hands across her head, not believing that all of her tresses had gone. But her image didn’t lie…………

Sam sat d
own in the chair which Tracy had left. Her short wisps offered no resistance to the violence of the clippers and in a few minutes her head was cleared of hair.

“Do you want to keep your ponytail?” The barber asked Tracy.

She shook her head.

“Do you mind when I donate it to “Locks of Love” then? I think they could use a two feet length of hair to manufacture wigs for little bald girls whose parents are too poor to pay for them.”

“Oh, not at all,” Tracy said. She had regained herself. “My sacrifice serves two purposes that way.”

Tracy hugged Samantha and both rubbed the shorn heads of each other.

“You really are a friend, Sam. If you had not declared your solidarity with me I would never have done it.”

Samantha smiled: “I know.”


Elaine and Ken were delighted. They now had a really ideal subject!

“I had hoped that you would cut your hair but I couldn’t have dreamt of a so radical ├índ brave decision,” Elaine praised her.

“Let’s see how the experiment develops without the interference of hair.” Ken was eager to start.

It was not a dream. Tracy had an appointment with Arthur in a restaurant. She could tell how she was dressed and what she had eaten. Everything seemed real though she only noticed what took place in Arthur’s mind.

Subliminal mind transmission seemed to be possible! But to prove it a lot of more experiments had to be performed.

“I hope you will be available for some time to come and willing to keep your hair as short as it is now,” Ken asked Tracy.

“Sure, no problem,” she assured him.


“What do you think people will say and which rumours will circulate about us baldies now?” Samantha laughed.

“I don’t care,” Tracy answered. “I have done this in the interest of science. Besides, Ken asked me to keep my head devoid of hair as long as the experiments go on. But we have no clippers.”

“Sweetheart, that is no problem. We have razors! Wouldn’t you like feel them caress your scalp? I can assure you that it is a wonderful experience.”

“Okay, you may shave me when I’m allowed to shave your head.”

“That’s a matter of course. Come on, to the bathroom!”

The end.

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