Kelli Goes to Hell

Kelli Goes to Hell!From: kelli21257@aol.com

You and your friend Danny used to love hanging out near an old tattoo parlor called “Fingers'”. It was in a cool grungy area of San Francisco and all of the coolest people hung around there. You weren’t really a big tattoo fan, but since you followed whatever trend was hot, you pretended to think they were cool. This Danny was a guy you had only met weeks ago but since you thought he was such a stud you hung out with him a lot—hoping he’d dig you. You had just moved in the area from rural Oregon to go to school and were eager to make friends. Danny had several tattoos and tried to talk you into getting one (even a small one) which you always declined.

“I will but not now” was your famous mantra.

The tattoo parlor was run down and old looking. It had taken a beating in the last earthquake, but as long as it was standing nobody cared. People just thought it looked more cool. Competing cappuccino shops were its closest neighbors. The tattoo parlor attracted a lot of attention because all of the work was done in a front chair very close to the windowed entrance of the shop. Any tattoo or piercing was done in that chair. Unlike other tattoo parlors that offered the choice of privacy to its customers, “Fingers'” could get away with this since their tattoos were quite coveted. They were the Calvin Klein of tattoos. Every once in a while the crowds were given a treat when a brave lady would come and have her buttocks or vaginal area tattooed. The crowd would chant, cheer, and was generally rowdy. No one cared about the noise or nudity since it was in such a run down area. Anything went.

The proprietor of this shop was a guy named “Fingers.” He looked like a hippy gone wrong. Fat, old, bald (he had a puffy ring of hair around his head that made him look like a clown), dirty, and most of all he looked like a pervert. He wore tie-dyed shirts but he looked like he knew nothing about peace or understanding. You had gotten on Finger’s bad side ever since you politely declined a pass he made at you. Ever since then he was hostile towards you—to the point of making threats.

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It was no surprise why Fingers lusted after you. You were quite a young lady. An angelic white face, long shiny brown hair, a perfectly proportioned athlete’s body, and perky breasts that could only exist on a 21 year old. None of this could be hidden under you flannel and cut up jeans. There was also that innocent virginal quality that made you irresistible.

For a few weeks Fingers continued to taunt you, showing you tattoos he would give you and how he would change your looks. He always remarked on your hair and how he would cut all of it off to make room for more tattoos. You generally ignored him. One Friday night he propositioned you in front of the whole crowd to be his contestant in the “Ms. Tattoo USA” pageant. Ms. Tattoo would have to be a lady sporting tattoos in various areas of the body (the back, head, arms, legs, vagina, buttocks, etc.) in order to be eligible. He offers you $100,000 to be his work of art. You don’t even consider it as a possibility and leave.

The next night you and Danny are enjoying a coffee next to Fingers’. Danny is playfully teasing you about being Ms. Tattoo. You both laugh. As you get up to leave you start feeling funny. You’re getting light-headed. Danny picks you up and walks you into Fingers’ where they take you into the back. You’re not passing out yet, but you’re starting to lose you’re sense of perception. “Good job kid, ” says Fingers to Danny. “I knew that drug shit in the coffee would work.” He hands Danny a wad of 100’s and tells him, “Now get out of town. You don’t want to be here when she wakes up.” Fingers looks at you. “You’re life as a pretty little bitch is over. You should’ve gone out with me when you had the chance.” You somehow understand him, but are powerless to move your muscles or speak.

Fingers starts getting his gear ready. Tattoo equipment, designs, piercings, etc. He takes out a red box that just says “Hair” and looks through its contents. Shears, combs, shaving cream, disposable razors, and a large pair of pink Oster hair clippers. “The pink one is just for girls,” he laughs to himself.

You feel your clothes being cut off with scissors. You try to stop them but they finally clip off your bra and panties. Two men carry you to a barber’s chair. You don’t know where you are any more, but you have just been taken to the front entrance window of the shop. Fingers addresses the crowd. He tells them that you have changed your mind and have agreed to his offer from the night before. They cheer in great anticipation. It’s not only a great event that a girl will go through a radical makeover, but also because Fingers hardly works anymore. He gets all of his assistants to do the work, so when he tattoos it’s a huge event. Fingers pulls the curtains showing you completely naked and spread-eagled on the chair. The crowd roars. You’re lost in another world. You look awake, but you really aren’t. People start snapping pictures—getting a last glimpse of the old you.

Fingers kneels down, takes the shears, and starts cutting your curly brown pubic hairs close to your crotch. The crowd goes wild. He starts throwing some of your fur into the crowd. Ever the showman, he sticks his nose in your vagina and yells “I love the smell of fresh pussy!”

He then starts fingering you. First lightly then heavily. Even in your drugged state you finally put it together on how he got his name. Fingers would have fucked you too if he wasn’t impotent.

Fingers keeps trimming your bush until little is left. He lathers you up and starts shaving your pussy clean. First he shaves with the grain and then he shaves against– all to ensure the smoothest shave possible. At every opportunity he sticks his fingers inside of you. Finally he takes a very hot towel and starts rubbing it between your legs and on your crotch. He takes another towel to dry up and then reveals a perfectly clean vagina. No one could have gotten you as smooth as Fingers. The crowd goes crazy.

Fingers then takes the shears and yells “Now for the fun part!” You don’t understand what’s going on. Fingers takes your mid back length, curly brown hair and fixes it nicely around your shoulders. He smiles and takes a large handful of hair close to your forehead and smiles to the crowd. “Do it! Do it” they yell. He takes the shears and cuts close to your scalp leaving a hairless patch. He throws the long strand of hair into the crowd. He keeps cutting quickly working on the length of your hair. He hacks around your ears and around your face. Bushels of long brown hair accumulate on your breast. He is cutting so quickly that wisps of hair are floating all over you and the chair. He finally leaves a jagged uneven bob. You still look quite normal with shoulder length hair. Some of the crowd has already begun collecting and spreading your hair amongst themselves.

You’ve become a sorry sight. Your hair is still at an acceptable length despite Fingers butchering but you’re completely out of it. Your eyes are glazed and at times you stupidly smile–giving the crowd the impression that you’re enjoying what is happening and what is still to come. The crowd anticipates Fingers’ next move and begin chanting “Clippers! Clippers! Clippers!” He takes out the pink monster Oster clippers, snaps them on and raises them dramatically to the crowd. In a brief recovery of sanity your eyes begin to tear. BUZZZSHZZZZ. . . Fingers runs the clippers down the middle of your head and mows a path of stubble across your scalp. Amid the women of the crowd many gasps and “omigods” can be heard. Fingers next works on your left side buzzing off your oh-so-soft baby haired sideburns. He continues working on that side removing the bulk of the hair and leaving patchy stubble. A small tear runs down your cheek. Your head is almost half shaved now. The pink clippers are now being run over your nape up the back of your neck—leaving stubble and adding to the huge collection of curly brown hair on the floor. Almost all of your hair is gone now and you finally understand what Fingers is doing to you. His big hands caress your scalp as he tilts your head to finish shaving the remaining long hairs on the right side of your now white head. The last wisps of hair are buzzed off and the crowd cheers. Fingers ignores them and pulls out a smaller pair of clippers. The buzz is of a much higher pitch as he quickly runs them over your head again and again. He is now shaving the stubble. He clicks the clippers off. Your entire head of midback length hair that looked so soft and heavenly, that appeared almost immortal in its own right, now lays in either the pile on the floor or has been harvested by people in the crowd. The inconceivable has happened—you are now bald.

Just as you think it’s over you feel a cool menthol cream being applied on your head. Your head tingles. Fingers takes out a disposable razor (pink of course) and begins running it in orderly lines across your nearly hairless head. The rasping brings chills down your spine. He shaves your entire head this way. He massages your smooth head and begins shaving any part that has remaining stubble. Fingers is the best at shaving and you don’t even get a nick. You feel a towel being wiped on your head. The crowd roars. In your drug induced stupor you struggle to raise an arm. You feel your own head and don’t recognize the foreign feeling. You are anticipating locks of silk, but instead feel a cold, smooth, bald head.

“Time to go to work men,” says Fingers. Three of his assistants come out, each with tattoo equipment. You’re beginning to feel more light-headed. Preoccupied with your head being shaved, you didn’t recognize that you were naked and spread eagled in a barber’s chair and being seen by a huge crowd of people. Your eyes are getting heavy. You notice one of Fingers’ assistant, Angela, bending down and beginning to put alcohol around your pussy. You want to yell “Get away dyke” but are powerless to speak. You had nothing against lesbians but Angela’s persistent hitting (in some ways worse than Fingers’) had worn your nearly immaculate patience thin. You yelled at her one day and ever since she has hated you. She gives you a nice big smile as the top of her blonde flat top accidentally tickles your most sensitive area. You feel a needle pinching around your pussy and see that Angela is now putting one of her designs down there. Fingers puts his hand on your head and from behind whispers “I’m gonna make your head real pretty.” You feel the needle pricking your clean head. You feel another prick on your left arm, and another on one of your legs. You see another man approaching you with a tattoo needle and heading for your chest. You fade out to black amid crowd jeers and constant buzzing.

Soft lights. Flowers. Tuxedos. You find yourself back in high-school. It’s prom time and you’re onstage—one of the finalists for prom queen. You remember this situation well. You didn’t end up winning, but you were so thrilled to have been a part of it. You look into the crowd and smile at your date. Why were you in this situation again? You look at the girls on the court and giggle in anticipation as the winner for queen is about to be announced. “And the winner for this year’s prom queen is (drum roll) Kelli!!!” You begin crying in joy. Someone hands you flowers as everyone cheers and claps. You turn your head and begin to notice that people in the crowd are carrying hair clippers. You turn to hug the other girls on the court and notice that they too are each holding clippers. One scowls, “Big hair is out Kelli.” They begin surrounding you. The girls in pretty dresses wrestle you to the ground. A pretty redhead sits on your breast (with you flat on the ground) and begins clippering your head. Other girls come from behind and help her out with their clippers. It’s all so surreal and everyone is looking so evil. People from the crowd begin coming on stage. One boy rips off the bottom of your dress and tears off your laced panties. He begins clippering your bush while two other girls hold your legs. The crowd laughs and points. One girl gets the mic and yells “Now all the guys can see the hairy unkempt pussy that only we girls got to see in gym class. We warned her to keep it cleaner!” You yell and plead for help, but no one acknowledges you. One girl holds your own severed long hair in front of your face. You blank out.

You wake up panting and sweaty. You’re on a bed and it’s dark. You’ve had a nightmare. You remember having coffee with Danny and then something about high- school and prom. You hurt. Your whole body feels like a giant bruise. You notice photos on a desk. It’s dark but you can still decipher them. You see a bald women with tattoos all over her body. She has a tattoo of a large demonic hand over her head. The arm of this tattoo extends down her spine to her buttocks. Tattoos of snakes are all over her arms. A huge tattoo of a female demon is on her front torso. The female demon looks evil yet incredibly beautiful with her long waist length hair. The photo also shows tattoos of snakes, skulls, and demons covering the girl’s legs. Finally you find a picture of a smooth vagina decorated like an old castle door. Above it is tattooed the words “Abandon hope all ye who enter here” (a quote from Dante). The girl’s buttocks has 666 branded on each cheek. You can’t believe the pictures of this poor woman. There aren’t any photos that show the girl’s face, but she looks like she has an incredible body. Who would want to corrupt it with tattoos? You notice a pamphlet that says “Welcome to the 1996 Ms. Tattoo USA Pageant. Our motif for this year is hell and demons. Bring the whole family and remember kids are free!” You think “what hicks” and giggle to yourself. You habitually raise your arm to move that one strand of hair that always seems to fall over your face. You’re shocked not to find it. You touch your head and feel nothing but smooth skin. You run to the bathroom and turn on the lights. You scream as the lady demon tattooed on your chest smiles at you with her long head of hair. . .

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