The specific command in Chad's head told him to cut his hair down to the stubble. He was soon alone in the locker room showers naked and shaving. His head of hair had quickly been reduced to stubble. But Chad was a good soldier, so he kept shaving. He had to go beyond what was asked. He had to be the best he had to prove his worthiness to be his commander's soldier. It was all abstract and totally clear to him at the same time.
His pit hairs, chest hairs, arm, leg and butt hairs were all soon down the drain. His pubes were the only hair left. Something in him tried to resist briefly, but Chad was a good soldier. Now even his crotch was clean-shaven.
Chad hurriedly dried, and dressed in the fatigues and helmet that were waiting in his locker. He needed to wear a 50 lb pack for his maneuvers until his rendezvous with his Supreme Commander on Monday.
The dogtags grew hot and burned his chest every time Chad resisted his standing orders. He couldn't resist. He was a good soldier. He was going to follow orders.