Hot Pink Lips and Nails, and Long Blond Pigtails

I leaned back in my chair and hooked the belt in the chair across my waist. The tech pressed a button and the belt tightened firmly across my recently-bimbified tight midsection. Then the chair leaned backwards as the huge head piece came down, although the headpiece didn't cover my head.

The tech circled around the workstation and brushed something onto my lips. He then began stroking some sort of vibrating hairbrush through my hair. It left my scalp tingling. Then he went over my lips with some sort of electronic pen. Finally, he nodded and drew the bowl down the rest of the way.

The bowl suction-sealed along my hairline, but apparently there was a little door, because the tech kept reaching in and arranging things. Several chemicals washed through my hair and over my scalp, and I could feel the tech's fingers in my hair repeatedly. This definitely wasn't your usual salon session.

He finally left the machine alone to work on my hair. The tech then flipped little slotted attachments up from the arms of the chair I was sitting in. He had me slide my fingers into the slots. I couldn't see, but apparently he had similar attachments on the footrest, because I felt something sliding over my bare toes. He must have pressed some buttons then, because I felt new machinery kick in and the slots tightened somewhat around my fingers and toes.

"Don't worry," said the tech. "It won't take long."

"Easy for you to say," I said. "It's not your hair."

He chuckled, then pushed a few more buttons. After several minutes, he checked his numbers. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he strapped some darkened goggles over my eyes and then lifted the bowl off my head. Then I could feel tugging and pulling on my hair, but the darkened goggles prevented me from seeing anything at all.

"I'm shaping your hair right now," he said. "I have to do something with all this extra length."

Extra length? Shit.

After an eternity, the goggles finally came off and my fingers and toes were freed from their respective slots. "Alright," said the biker/tech, "You're done."

I stood up slowly. I could already feel lengths of hair on my shoulders and back, which was not a good sign. I looked down at my fingers and toes and shook my head, sighing. My fingernails were a good half-inch or so past my fingertips now. And, along with my toes, a bright, metallic hot pink. It was the sort of color a high-school girl would wear.

"Dammit," I said, "This is too fucking embarrassing."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, honey," said the tech. "You haven't seen your hair yet."

Oh, that really didn't sound good.

My jaw tightened. I looked at the tech. "Do I want to see it, hair dresser guy?"

"My name is Roadkill. And I doubt you want to see it," he said cheerfully. He pressed a button. "I'm moving the mirror into place for you."

A full-length mirror slid out from the station and rotated into place directly in front of me. And Roadkill had been right.

I looked at my image with widened eyes. My brown hair was gone. It was now a bright golden blonde. But the color wasn't the only thing that had been changed.

My hair was now gathered into two pigtails on the top of my head, each slightly back and to the side. These embarrassingly blonde pigtails went all the way down to my tiny waist. And my lips were the same embarrassing shade of metallic hot pink as my nails. Everytime I moved, my pigtails bobbed cheerfully. I looked like an adorable fetish model.

My heart was pounding. "Roadkill," I said, "Did you have to do such a damn good job?"

"What can I say?" he said. "I'm an artist. I love my work. The pigtails are permanent, by the way. That's part of what took so long. Your hair was being 'programmed' to grow like that, so to speak. You'll save a fortune on styling, but you can't change it. You'll stay adorable whether you like it or not. Heh."

I said some very unladylike things then. After I exhausted my vocabulary of swear words, Roadkill tapped his biker knowledge to offer me a few more, plus some variations of ones that I knew.

"You're a good student," said Roadkill. "You would have probably made a decent biker chick. I didn't give you all the possible words, though. I kept some in reserve."

"Kept them in reserve?" I said. "Why?"

"Because I haven't given you the outfit you get to wear yet."