Tattoo incomplete story
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Tattoo -- Marked For A New Life free porn video
Tattoo -- Marked For A New Life
By Ellie Dauber
(c) 2004
"I'm doing it, man," Ricco Correlli said. "I'm getting a tattoo." He
flexed, showing off the muscles in his arms.
"Cool," Brando Gianetta said. "What're you getting?" Brando was Ricco's
best friend. He started calling himself Brando after some chick dragged
him
to see STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE at an art theater. He was blown away by
Marlon Brando's performance, even more so, when the chick told him she
thought he looked like Brando.
"A flaming skull. I saw this new shop over on Kingsley. They got
pictures
in the window. The skull is fucking incredible, man."
"So do it. It looks good, I'll get one. too."
"Forget the skull, Brando, they got a cycle in flames, too."
"Now, _that_ would be cool. When you gonna do it, man?"
"I'm heading over now. Later, man." The two men slapped hands, and
Ricco
left.
* * * * *
"You have come to be tattooed?" The woman asked, as Ricco walked into
the
store.
"Yeah, are you the one who does it?" She was old, sixties, maybe. Ricco
raised an eyebrow and looked at her hand for any sign of shaking.
"I do." She smiled and held up her hand. Steady as a rock. "I am...
Jadia. I have been doing this sort of work since before you was born."
She
took what looked like a large photo album out from under the counter.
"Look
through and see what you want."
"I don't need to. I know what I want, that flaming skull you got in the
window. How much?"
Jadia blinked as if in surprise. "The skull... then you are..." She
closed
the book and smiled. "Very good. We do it now."
"How much?"
"You are Ricco Correlli, no, the leader of the Pythons?"
Ricco smiled. The Pythons ran the neighborhood, everybody knew it, even
the
cops. Even this old lady. "Yeah, what about it?"
"For you is no charge. Just gift, so the Pythons not bother me."
That was the sort of respect, Ricco loved. Respect born of fear. "I'll
take the gift, but there'll still be the insurance, say... ten a week."
"I pay if you not bother me."
"You pay, and we won't."
She stood. "Follow me, then." There was a green beaded curtain behind
her.
She walked though it. "Come. The work room is back here."
By the time Ricco walked through, she was sitting on a chair next to
what
looked like a doctor's exam table. "You lay down on this." She pointed
at
the table, then, without looking at Ricco, turned and began fitting
small
cylinders into an opening on the desk next to her.
"These are the colors... for the skull." She studied him closely, as if
looking for something.
Even if she was old, she was still female. Out of habit, Ricco flexed
his
muscles, showing off. He was wearing an old sweatshirt with the sleeves
cut
off and a pair of tight jeans. "I got things to do. Can we get
started?"
"Yes, you are a busy man." Jadia reached across him and pulled a strap
out.
It slid over his chest and into an opening on the table.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Even the bravest of men can jerk or flinch from the needles. I hold
you
steady with these. You not get hurt from moving, and the... picture be
perfect."
"Okay, then, but let me know what you're doing from now on."
"I will." She pulled out other straps, first over his legs, then his
arms,
and, finally, one at his neck.
"Now you not move, Ricco."
Ricco strained at the straps. They were thick, brown leather, very old
and
_very_ strong. "Damn straight I can't. Do you really need to do this"
"I do. I know you, Ricco Correlli. I know all about you." She pulled
the
stylus, a long, multi-jointed mechanical arm out of the desk. The end
of
the arm was the hollow tattooing needle. She flipped a switch, and the
apparatus began to vibrate.
"I know what sort of man you are and what you do?"
"What I do is my business, lady. I changed my mind. Let me outta this
thing."
"No, I say that I make a gift of this tattoo, and that is what I do."
Ricco
felt something cold and wet on his arm, and he strained again at the
straps.
"That just the alcohol. You not afraid of just that."
"I'm not afraid of nothing." He clenched his teeth, readying himself
for
the torture he expected.
"No, you not. You walk around like you king. You hurt people. You hurt
my
Magda."
"Magda. Who's..." He stopped. He remembered a girl, just one of the
kids
in the neighborhood. She was young and kind of pretty -- no, damn
pretty.
He'd watched her for a while, then taken here back to his place for
some
fun.
When she wouldn't cooperate, he slipped her some crack. That loosened
her
up -- loosened her up real good. She ran off screaming after. Dumb
skank
killed herself from what he heard.
Jadia smiled, showing teeth, long _sharp_ teeth, it seemed to Ricco.
"You
remember her now. Don't you, Ricco?" She jabbed him with the stylus.
He didn't want to scream, didn't want to give her the satisfaction. He
ground his teeth from the pain, but, through what seemed like days of
the
torture, he didn't scream.
"We done," she said finally. She reached over and began loosening the
straps.
"You'll pay for this, bitch." Ricco sat up as soon as he could. He
wanted
to grab the old lady by the throat and choke the life out of her.
But he couldn't. His feet were free. He jumped off the table. He could
move any way he wanted. Except take a step towards her. "What'd you do
to
me?"
"You ever read about tattoos, Ricco? Tattoos is magic, real old magic.
That what I done to you."
Ricco looked at his arm. Instead of the skull, the name "Magda" was
spelled
out in big, flowery, pink letters. There was even a little pink
butterfly
just above the name.
"Damn, it looks like a girl's tattoo."
"It is." She touched it with a fingertip and said a couple of words in
some
language Ricco had never heard before.
His skin around the tattoo began to tingle. The feeling spread down his
arm
towards his fingers. His arm grew slender. The hair on it thinned, then
disappeared completely.
When the feeling reached his hand, it began to get smaller, more
delicate
looking. As he looked at his hand, his nails grew out a half inch. They
darkened as polish appeared on them.
The feeling moved up his arm and across his chest to all parts of his
body.
He was slimmer now. The muscle builder's body that he'd spent years
creating vanished in moments. It left behind a slender frame that was
developing very female curves.
His other arm and hand changed just as the first one had. Six-pack abs
became a gently sloping, stomach and narrow waist. His hips widened, as
his
butt flowed into the teardrop shape of a woman's behind.
His shirt felt harsh against his chest. Something was pushing against
it,
pushing it out. Two small, rounded shapes grew outward to become a pair
of
pillowy breasts that he would later find to be 38-D.
His pants were loose at the waist now. He reached down inside. His
balls
were gone. He could feel the fleshy sack that had held them tightening
against his groin. He ran a finger along them and shuddered at the
strength
of the sensation.
He found his prick, too. It couldn't have been more than an inch or so
long. It was sinking down in between the two folds that had been his
scrotum. An opening formed, wet and sensitive to his touch, and he felt
his... clit slide down into it.
"Damn you, woman," he cursed in a voice that was now a soft soprano.
"I'm
gonna get my boys, and we'll tear this place up until you change me
back."
"Go," Magda said, triumph in her voice. "Nothing can change you back."
"We'll see about that." Ricco turned and ran out of the shop. "I swear,
once she changes me back, I'm gonna kill that bitch."
Ricco tried to ignore the feelings of his breasts bobbing up and down
as he
ran. After a minute or so, it got a lot better. 'Nothing to it," he
thought, not realizing that his undershirt had become a sports bra.
He didn't notice that his black hair had grown out from under his cap
and
was tailing down his back in curly waves. Or that his jeans now had a
woman's cut to them, or that his $150 cross trainers were now a $15
pair of
pink Lady Keds.
"When I find Brando, he'll know what to do. He's smart, almost as smart
as
me. Kinda cute, too, and... what am I thinking? Brando is a guy. I'm a
guy. He can't be cute. Not even if he's got those dreamy eyes and... No.
I'm a guy. I'm a guy. I'm a guy. So is Brando. We're buddies. We been
doing stuff together since we was kids. Stealing hubcaps, shooting
craps,
all that _man_ stuff. If that lady thinks that she can make me want to
kiss
him and hug him and be in his arms and... screw this. Screw you, lady.
Screw me, Brando. Aw, no, I said it, said it out loud."
Ricco felt his eyes fill with tears. "Now I'm crying like a girl. I got
to
find Brando. I need his help. I... I need him, need him in me. No! I
can't... I gotta."
Ricco felt himself bump into something. A pair of hands grabbed his
arms.
"What's the matter, babe?" a voice gently asked.
Ricco opened her eyes. "Brando?" She asked the man holding her.
It was Brando, but... it _wasn't_. This Brando was clean shaven. he
wore a
pair of dark blue slacks and a matching shirt with his real name,
"Berto"
embroidered on it in silver letters. It was the uniform that the
suckers
who worked at the 8th Avenue Garage wore.
"Brando?" he asked. "Oh, yeah. You said I looked like him when we saw
that
movie. I guess it's a compliment." He pulled Ricco close and kissed him.
Ricco squirmed for a moment, trying to get free. Then he suddenly felt
how
good it was and surrendered to the kiss. 'I shouldn't be doing this,'
he
thought to himself.
'Of course, you should,' a new voice in his head answered. 'He's your
husband, isn't he?"
Husband. A flood of new memories swept over Ricco... Rita. Brando...
Berto
was her husband. They got married right after high school, as soon as
he'd
quit that stupid gang and gotten a real job. They'd been married three
years now. She'd worked in a shoe store. They had a nice apartment
and...
an eleven month old baby.
The shock was too much. What was left of Ricco let go and fell into
blackness.
"So where are you heading?" Berto asked, taking her hand.
Rita looked up at her handsome husband and smiled. "Where do you think
_we're_ going? We have to pick up the baby at Magda's. You know she
runs
that pre-school right down the street from her grandmother's tattoo
parlor."
"I know, but it's hard to believe that they're related. Magda's so
_normal_, and her grandmother's always carrying on about tattoos and
magic."
Rita kissed Berto on the cheek. Men got so silly sometimes. "Tattoos
and
magic, as if such things could be real."
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