AUTHOR'S NOTE: I must caution readers that this particular chapter in the story may be offensive to some. It includes scenes that many would consider abusive in nature. To be honest, they are, but there is a reason for this that will come out later in the stories within this universe.

If you do not think that you want to read this particular chapter, then here is a sanitized synopsis so that you can skip to the next one and still follow the story line: Joey is forced by the group he calls the Joy-Squad to be pierced and tattooed. He is obviously confused and hurt, both physically and mentally. This is NOT the theme of the rest of the book.

I look at the sea of girls before me—well, OK it is ten to be exact—but it is intimidating none-the-less to be in the hot seat in front of these girls. Emily is among them and I am most ashamed to be doing this in front of her. I really don’t want her to think badly of me…

Mrs. Braun taps her foot behind me and says, “Well? Are we going to get this show on the road or am I going to just have to the curtain call? Swan song, Joey?” I grimace and look back out at the feminine sea in front of me. I sigh and say, “Ummm, I don’t really know where to start. It seems my choice of important woman was not in keeping with the standards of this class.” One of the girls, a beautiful red-head named Shauna pipes up and asks, “Why? Who did you pick? Jenna Jameson?” I blush profusely. I don’t know if it is the question or the fact that I even know who that is… I shake my head and lamely respond, “No. Err…Scarlet Johansen…” There is a lot of loud laughter from the class until Mrs. Braun shuts it down with a “Girls!” Shauna looks at me again and asks, “So, who else would be in your top three?” I blush and Mrs. Braun says, “Go on. Answer her!” I gulp and whisper, “Well, Christina Aguilera and Emma Watson, I guess…” More giggling then a hushed silence as Mrs. Braun explains why we are here, “As you girls can see, our genius boy Joey here is not quite in line with the level of this class. He claims that is because he does not have the proper perspective to make a proper choice. I have agreed to allow him a chance to get some extra credit, so he will not fail this class and lose his scholarship. That is where you girls come in… Mr. Rousseau has agreed to become Ms. Rousseau for the remainder of the year. If ‘she’ can convince me that ‘she’ is worthy of a passing grade then all is well and Mr. Rousseau can finish out his studies here without any issues from me. If not, well…”

Mrs. Braun has to rap on her desk several times to get the chatter to stop. She continues, “You have an idea of the kind of girl that Mr. Rousseau here thinks is ideal. I trust the lot of you can make him into some semblance of that. If he gives you any resistance—or seems to show any signs of not taking this learning experience seriously, then I want to hear about it.”

More rapping on the desk and Mrs. Braun continues, “So, girls, I would like you take on Ms. Rousseau as a project. If Joey can get extra credit in this class, then so can the rest of you. If you can turn our Joey here into a bona-fied Joy by the end of the year—one that I can take to any venue without question, then you will each earn an ‘A’ for the class—no matter what the rest of your work looks like. That will, of course, require detailed journaling of your contributions and feelings of the process along the way—a juicy blow-by-blow diary, in other words. Deal?”

This time there is no rapping for quiet as the mob of girls descends on me…

A few of the girls stay behind to talk to Mrs. Braun as the rest, Emily in the lead, take me to my room. In a matter of minutes I am seated at my vanity in the middle of six chattering, giggling girls. They are fighting over how the best way is to turn me into ‘Joy’… A little later, the other three girls, led by Shauna come in and Shauna raises her hand for quiet. When the babbling settles down, she says, “The terms of the agreement are that we are in charge and anything is fair to give ‘Joy’ here a fair assessment of what being a girl is like. We are to use ‘her’ top-three important women list as inspiration. The key is that, in the end, ‘Joy’ is supposed to be a real person—a real girl. That is what we will be graded on. How she puts that to use is what ’she’ will be graded on… So, ‘Joy’, what is it you like about your top-three?”

I spend the next several hours being grilled about what I like about Scarlet—her boobs, her hair, her face…? Then the same about Christina, and then about Emma… Finally, the throng, save Emily, disperses to do whatever it was that Shauna had doled out for them to do. Shauna, it seems has turned out to be the leader of the ‘material’ things. I look at Emily and she shakes her head as she says, “You really got yourself into something here, Sport.” Emily is to be my main “inner” advisor. Phase one is mostly on Shauna to get me to outwardly look like a girl. Emily’s job is get to me to feel and act like one—phase two. The others will be in various support roles during those phases… Emily looks back over at me and asks, “How did you think that was going to go?” She looks at me hard and then giggles as she says, “You really DON’T get it, do you? You adorable, sweet little brat.” Then she surprises me as she kisses me full-on; tongue and all. “She grins and says, “We will have to work on that now, won’t we? First time? I guess I keep forgetting that I am three years older than you… Anyways—get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a tough day for you. This weekend will likely be worse…”

I wake up, once again confused, to insistent pounding on my door—I am wrapped up in my bed and can’t seem to get out from under the covers. I finally figure out is my…nightgown? Oh yeah. My nightmare begins today… I stagger to the door and finally get it open. Shauna is standing there, impatiently tapping her foot. She looks at me and says in an exasperated voice, “What? You are still in bed? Girl, you need to get with it! You are lucky that we have a pass on all classes today…Mrs. Braun has more pull than I thought—I guess it helps to be the Mother Superior’s right-hand gal… Come on, we have a tight schedule today… Get dressed…jeans or something neutral. We will get you girlied up as the day progresses…”

An hour later, I am with three of the girls in the closest town—in the town’s only salon. Georgette, one of my ‘Joy-squad’, as they have started calling themselves, works here part-time. The place is normally not open Friday mornings, so we have the salon to ourselves. Georgette starts giving orders and I find myself stripped down to my undies. Paula and Gwen are the two ‘helpers’ and Gwen just pulls off my undies leaving me naked in front of them. They all three giggle at my under-whelming ‘equipment’—of course it is small; I have not even come close to puberty yet… Georgette looks me over and says, “Well, the good news is that you are already mostly hairless. This won’t take long…” She has me lay down on a table and waxes my entire body, including my face—removing what little fuzz I have. When she is done, I am smooth as a baby’s bottom—all over. At that moment, Shauna walks in with a box. It looks kind of heavy, but I am more worried about the shocked look she gives my naked body—then the giggles… She hands the box to Georgette and asks how it is going. Georgette smiles and says, “We were just getting ready for the laser…” The next hour is spent running a laser over my entire body—where I had just been waxed. They explain to me that it will slow down the growth of the little hair that I have. After that, Georgette has me lay back down on a table and opens a can of what smells like glue of some sort. She makes some marks on my chest and starts spreading what obviously is glue over my chest. Then she presses a cold jiggly mass down, first on one side, then the other. The weight on my chest is disconcerting, but she just keeps pushing down on it. After a bit, she says, “OK, sit up and let’s see how they look.” I sit up and the weights pull down on my chest. I look down and feel the blood drain from my face. I stutter, “I…I…I have…boobs!” The girls laugh and Gwen says, “Yeah. D-cups. Just like you covet…”

I get up off of the table and Shauna hands me a really short pink satin robe. I pull it on and tie the string-belt around my waist. Georgette leads me to one of the chairs at a sink and washes my hair. My hair is not really long by most standards and is sort of a muddy brown. After she has rinsed it out, she leads me to a regular stylist’s chair. She looks at me and says, “We have decided that the best compromise of your ‘important’ women is turn you into a pretty strawberry blonde…” With that she starts mixing up some smelly chemicals and spreads them all over my hair, making sure that it is all saturated with the goop. While she is doing that, Gwen has put my feet and hands into a hot liquid of some sort. I quickly figure out it is wax when she pulls them out and it cools into a coating. She removes the wax and then sets out working on my nails—both hands and feet. She meticulously removes my cuticles, using some sort of caustic liquid and wooden stick of some sort. Then she cuts my nails short and files them smooth.

I lose track of what is happening for a while after that. Georgette rinses my hair and starts adding in long hair extensions that are the same color as my newly-dyed strawberry blondness. Gwen starts gluing ‘claws’ to my nails and is busy doing things that I try my best to ignore. All I know is she is busy mixing pasty stuff, putting it on my nails and buffing it out… An hour or so later, Gwen is finishing up filing my nails and Georgette is cutting my hair that is now miraculously falling below my shoulders. As Georgette finishes cutting my hair, I smell the unmistakable scent of lacquer and know that Gwen is applying nail polish of some sort to my nails. I can’t look right now as Georgette is in control of how I hold my head. I am faced away from the mirror, so I don’t even know what she is up to…

Georgette finishes cutting my hair and leaves it damp. Gwen keeps working on my nails…and Shauna starts working on my face. First, she applies a clay-like coating to my face that I later learn is a ‘mud pack’ and lets it dry. By the time it is done and Shauna is pulling it from my face, along with half of my skin it seems, Gwen is done with my nails. Shauna then turns my chair towards the mirror and tells me to pay close attention. I don’t have time to look at my nails but can feel that they are really long. My hair is a long wet mess that Shauna brushes and clips out of my face with little ‘butterfly clips’. Then she starts explaining all of the makeup that she is using—expecting me to remember what she is saying and doing. It is a blur of foundation, eye liner (something about cats), eye shadow (in three shades), mascara (something about butterflies), blush, lip liner, lip stick, lip gloss, and oh…who knows what else…

I am shocked at my face when Shauna is done, but Georgette quickly turns me away from the mirror and starts keeping my attention as she is drying my hair…talking about rolling a brush this way and that as you are blowing it dry… I am completely lost when she turns the blow dryer off. I am flabbergasted when she turns me back towards the mirror and I see myself… I stutter, “I…I…I look like a girl…like a pretty girl. H…h…ho…how can that be?!?!?” The other girls laugh and Shauna says, “Hon, we are just getting started…!”

I am lost in my face in the mirror. The layered strawberry blond hair feathered into my face. The eyes, perfectly made up to pull you into the deep pools of green. The glistening ruby-red lips—plump and moist. I raise my hands to my face and see the long French tips on my fingers. Gwen says, “They are just a quarter inch for now. We will get them to glamour-length once you have a chance to adjust to them.” I glance down at my toes and see the deep red color on the nails—a tough gel finish perfectly matching my lips…

Shauna looks out the door and waves us over. She says, “Joy, we are just going next door. No one is looking right now, so…hurry up!” Before I know what is going on, I am ushered out the door and over to store next door…all just wearing my pink uber-short robe and some flip-flops that came from who-knows-where. I feel like my new ‘boobs’ are going to bounce up and hit me in the eye as we rush over… When we get inside, I see Clarissa, another of the ‘Joy-Squad’ talking to a heavily pierced and tattooed girl. Shauna grins at me and says, “This is where you meet one of the more ‘naughty’ sides of your idols. Be prepared to be pierced and tattooed—all in the vein of your ‘important’ women…” I look at her and feel the blood drain from my face…for the thousandth time today. I stutter in a whiny voice, “B…b….bbb…but that is really permanent…do we have to…” Shauna looks at me sternly and asks, “Now Joy, do I have to tell Mrs. Braun that you are resisting? No? I didn’t think so. Remember, we won’t do anything to you that your ‘important’ women wouldn’t do to themselves…”

Shauna leads me over to Clarissa and the tattooed girl, whose name is Zoey I am told. Zoey has me sit down on a stool and tells me to sit up straight. She looks at Clarissa and says, “So, let me make sure I have this right. You want her to have both earlobes triple-pierced, along with the right upper ear cartilage, the left inner ear cartilage, the left side of the nose, and the navel? Did I miss anything on the piercings?” Clarissa nods her head and says, “That should do it…for now.” Zoey nods and then continues, “As for the tattoos: the Chinese symbol for ‘joy’ down the back of her neck—about 4 inches; the colorful hummingbird we discussed in bright colors on her left butt cheek—about 6 inches; and a Celtic joy knot on the inside of her right ankle—about 3 inches? Did I miss anything on that?” Clarissa shakes her head. Then Zoey asks, “And you are sure on that final procedure? That is expensive on top of all of this. You are going to owe me a lot of hours in the shop, girl.” Clarissa says, “Yes, I am sure. We will work it all out. Joy here is worth it, aren’t you, Sweetie?” I had gotten more and more pale with each item listed and am feeling really faint. I know better than to argue, though. I smile wanly and just nod my head.

Zoey goes over to a cart and wheels it closer. She loads several piercing guns with starter earrings. She makes several marks on each ear and looks at Clarissa to confirm the placement. She just nods her acquiescence. When Zoey pierces my ear lobes, it does not really hurt much—not physically anyway; but with each ‘pop’ of the gun I get more and more emotional. When she is done with the ear lobes, I am allowed a quick look in the mirror. I have a succession of ‘diamond’ studs in each ear, from large to small—front to back. The large ones are about a 1/4-inch in diameter and the small ones maybe 1/8. She then pierces the upper cartilage of my right ear, which hurts, and places a 1/2-inch gold hoop in it. Then she pierces the cartilage fold inside my left ear, which hurts a lot and places a small gold hoop in it. Another extremely painful pop and the left side of my nose is pierced and fitted with another small gold hoop. Finally, she has me lie down on my back and picks up a nasty pair of pointy pliers. She grabs the fleshy fold above my naval and stretches it before punching a hole in my naval. I nearly pass out as she puts a piece of jewelry in the piercing—it has a large ‘diamond’ jewel that sort of stretches my navel, it is so big. There is a smaller sparkly clear blue stone protruding from the top hole above my navel.

If I thought that was bad, I had another thing coming. Zoey has me lie on my very sore tummy and starts drawing on the back of my neck with a marker of some sort. Clarissa had put my newly long hair into a tight bun high on my head. Then Zoey starts drawing on my left butt cheek. After a minute, Clarissa starts pointing and touching my thigh and my back around that area and I hear Zoey ask, “Are you sure? Of course I can—it would be pretty. OK, you are the boss.” I feel the drawing get bigger—going down and around my left thigh a bit and up onto my back, towards the small of it. It feels like she is drawing some sort of swirls, or something. Then, finally, she draws a symbol on the inside of my right ankle, about an inch or so above my foot. After that, I hear a sharp buzzing and pure, unadulterated pain as the needles bite into the back of my neck and upper spine delivering the permanent ink deep under my skin that I am so dreading.

After a few minutes, I guess I start to get used to the pain a bit. It still hurts like you-know-what, though and I think I may have even whimpered a bit. Shauna comes into view with a box of red wine and pours a large glass of it. She hands it to me and says, “Here! We are not barbarians. This will take the edge off—the whole box is yours; we have our own!” She giggles and goes back around to watch the progress Zoey is making. The next hours are a blur of buzzing, pain, and…relief as the wine kicks in. Now, mind you, I had never had wine before this and, after a couple of gulps, I am already feeling it and relaxing…

I lose track of time gulping the wine and the next thing I know Zoey and the girls help me turn over onto my sore back; I am so sloshed by now that I don't care. Through the fog, I feel Zoey messing around with my little guy below and…it feels like she is sticking something UP it… Shauna just lifts my head up and gives me another gulp of wine. I feel two sharp pains somewhere down there…it is hard to pinpoint at this point. I hear Zoey say something like, “Once the holes have healed, the bar can be removed and the front is like a normal Prince Albert that can sport a curved barbell that will fully plug the front, since the urine will exit through this hole back here…” I have no idea what she is saying.

A moment later, I mercifully pass out…

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As the story progresses, please remember that this is fiction. I am not in any way holding myself to reality, just ‘near’ reality. I am in no way endorsing some of the actions in this story as realistic, so please don’t get upset if some things happen that should not really ever happen in true life—at least not in a responsible environment. They are only meant to help the flow of this fictional story and should not be taken seriously.