Hi! My name is Joyce. I’m really not sure how this all transpired… how this came to be me… or, if in fact this even is me any more.

It’s kind of funny in a strange way. I had been born into a middle class family. My parents weren’t rich, but they were liberal minded and hard working people. They had scrimped and saved their money, so that they could send me, their cherished, one and only daughter to college, so that I could grow up and make something of myself in this world. They had grown up in the fifty’s and sixty’s. Dad turned into a nine to fiver. Mom was a part of that generation of women that went to college and demanded equality for women in the work place. I was a product of that liberated woman’s environment. My folks were just so easy to get over on.

I was selected as a cheerleader in high school. I went to all the parties. I lost my virginity with Dave Bowers in my sophomore year, in the back of his mom’s mini-van. I wasn’t elected the prom queen… Betty Gibson, my second best girl friend, received that honor, but I was a member of her court. I was popular. Betty, Mary Ann, Cecelia and I were THE GROUP. We were trendy. We were with it. We were beautiful. We had the best clothes, the best skin, and the best hair. We were the most popular girls in the school. It was pretty cool.

After high school, I was able to go on to a good college. It was fun. I had a good time. There were fraternities and sororities and there were fraternity and sorority parties. There were football games, basketball games and football parties and basketball parties. There was the "Spring Fling"… there was a party for every occasion and I attended them all. I had a ball. I was hot stuff.

I wore hip hugger jeans, my little thong peeked and winked provocatively above my cheeks, I wore tight ribbed knit sweaters and tops with no bra. I had dark streaks dyed into my glorious, wavy shoulder blade length; "All American" platinum blond hair. I became the regular all around, anything goes, party girl. I was probably a lot like one of the thousands of "Britney Wannabes" you see every day on every college campus. But truthfully, I looked better then most of them. I dated the boys. Actually, I dated quite a few boys. I’d bat my big black mascara laden eyes and lashes and they would just fall all over themselves trying to get into my pants. It was like so funny. Ok, In retrospect, maybe I was a little loose. I do like sex and I had the pill. But I wasn’t a whore, you know. I just liked a good time.

So, what happened was… it was getting close to graduation and one afternoon, I woke up and I was just sitting there after washing my beautiful hair, a towel wrapped around my head, working on my nails… and stuff, it just hit me. Damn… what am I going to do after school? I mean really after school, not just today. I had pretty much just stroked all my classes. I did enough to get by and all, but probably not enough to pull a job offer from any of the recruiters. And, like really… did I want to work a job anyway? I’d been partying for the last 8 years, now and for sure… I wasn’t born to slug it out in the trenches with the rest of those tight ass business dykes. I have a great body. I have great hair. I have glamour. I am the great party lady. I deserve to live well.

So, that was when I decided I would have to secure my future. It seemed that the best deal for me would be to hook up with one of the engineering nerds. These guys could work. They spent their entire lives, snookered away in their little labs. They were absolutely oblivious to the outside world. The recruiters just threw job promises of money, money and more money at them. They were the hot commodities. If I would marry one of those idiots, I could live the rest of my life in the lap of luxury, pamper myself, I’d join the best clubs and just keep on partying. A nerdy husband would be so easy to manipulate. I would only have to shake my gorgeous hair; look beautiful and he would melt. Ok, so maybe once in a while, I’d have to let him bone me, but that wouldn’t be too hard, and I’d probably, still be able to keep a few prime studs hanging around on the side, for the party times. A careful survey of the crop, turned up Jim.

Jim was ranked second in his class. He was a very quiet guy, studious, he wore glasses of course… don’t they all, but he wasn’t bad looking. And, believe it or not, his glasses were not all taped up. Actually, he looked rather handsome in a somber sort of way. He was from somewhere in the middle of nowhere… Wisconsin or Kansas, whatever… somewhere so out of touch, I just knew he’d be the hardworking, true and faithful, do anything and everything for the wife (me) type. He did dress oddly, usually in some weird plaid print shirt, buttoned up to his neck… and not the collegiate, ivy-league button down collar styles neither, nawww… but the ones with that little button and loopy tab. He paired that with corduroy pants, white socks and brown wing tip shoes, I could see I would really have to work on loosing that pocket protector, right away. He didn’t have a girlfriend and by asking around, I could conclude that it seemed as though he hadn’t dated anyone at all in the last four years… and no, he wasn’t gay. And, get this, the best part was… He had already received more job offers than God. This was going to be too easy.

And, It was easy, really. I put on a nice matching set of Victoria’s Secret, lavender; low cut demi-bra that lifted my titties up onto little bitsy shelves, with a matching thong. Then, I wiggled into a pair of glimmer pantyhose. I decided to go for the sophisticated look, with a button front white silk blouse, leaving a few buttons undone for nipple effect and then finished off, with a skin tight dark burgundy wool knit skirt and sling back pumps. Sitting down at my vanity I carefully penciled up my eyes and brows, fluffed up my lashes, then went to work on my hair. I combed and brushed through my luscious locks, over and over. A little back comb here and there for a little body and I soon had a totally face framing platinum mane that I knew he would just cream over. A nice thick shiny coat of burgundy lip gloss to match my skirt and nails and I was ready to rock! I had a plan.

Well, needless to say… I was a knock out. He never saw it coming. We started dating regularly and soon I had him about eating out of my hand, so to speak. All I had to do was shake my head full of platinum and his eyes would seem to glass over and he was mine. End of story. Eventually, I introduced Jim to the pleasures of measured sex and every Saturday night I welcomed him within me. Now, to Jim’s credit, he did stay focused on his studies and his career goals… it would do me no good to have him turn into a babbling sex crazed idiot. Of course, I am a sensuous woman and I do have my needs. Many a weeknight, as Jim busied himself in his dinky lab, I would meet up with the old crew, rock on, and if one thing led to another, well, I couldn’t be expected to shock Jim with some of my more kinkier sexual predilections, now could I?

The week before graduation, I broke it to him. Sobbing hysterically, I told Jim how much I loved him and how I could not bear the thought that these, our college years together, all of our "special" times, would soon come to an end and that I would never see him again. Jim took me in his arms, to comfort me and right there and then proposed. I was so happy.

"Do you really mean it?" sniff… "You want me, sniff… to be your wife?"

As they say… the rest was history. I didn’t want to chance anything going wrong at this point, after all my hard work, so I was able to convince Jim that we shouldn’t wait any longer. We arranged to be married at the local Justice of the Peace. I was all decked out in just the cutest white mini dress. It was a wrap and the neckline just plunged down to "There". I found the, oh so sexiest white platform heels, fixed my hair into a really wild tousled style and just looked "to die for". Jim wore his blue suit and one of his goofy plaid shirts with a red patterned tie. The fat tie clip was a nice touch. God, I’m going to have to work on that. I was so embarrassed.

Anyway, the whole thing went off without a problem and I did want to celebrate with my new husband, so I suggested we go to a nearby club, one that I had frequented so many times in the past, for a bite to eat and maybe a bit of libation. Of course, Jim didn’t know how frequently that was. Now that I think back, maybe, that wasn’t a good idea. Oh, I had a great time… nothing like that… but Jim is not a party person, and certainly not a drinker. I guess I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. I had just landed my prize. Easy street is just around the corner. We were there a couple hours and I’d been belting down a few and feeling no pain, if you know what I mean. A few members of my old party crew arrived and came over to our table. And then some more came in. The girl friends were giggling and flirting with the guys and the guys, well… I did look hot, if I say so myself. It wasn’t long before an entire group of hunk studs had circled us, just drooling and leering at me and before I knew it, I was out in the center of the dance floor, bumping and grinding with the best of them.

I looked over at Jim. He was just staring at me. His mouth was hanging open like he wanted to speak, but just couldn’t find the muscles that worked his jaw. I probably should have gone back over to him sooner. It was our wedding day and all, but I was just having too much fun and these were my party boys after all. Lord knows when I’d wrap my hands around sexy Chuck Hanson’s fat dick again. But, I couldn’t just ignore my new husband, so, every now and then, I’d kind of dance my way over to where he was still sitting and shimmy and shake my butt in his face. I’d shake my head, run my hands up through my platinum locks and just let them cascade back down around my neck and shoulders. I’d give him a coy little wink and an air kiss over my shoulder. He better just appreciate what a real babe he’s got.

Well, the night seemed to go on and on, and old Jimbo never once got up to dance with me. Jimbo didn’t say much of anything. But that was ok, because ole Chucky Hanson kept me plenty busy. I guess it was around a quarter to two, in the morning when I finally plopped back down at Jim’s table. I was totally drenched; soaked… my hair was just plastered around my face and neck. God I was hot. Jim just looked at me. Then he grabbed my arm and said "Come on, we’re leaving." I didn’t even get a chance to say ‘bye to the crew. We walked back to his apartment in a hazed silence. I kept giggling and grabbing at his crotch and trying to nuzzle into his neck. Jim was having none of it. Damn, what a fuddy duddy.

Back at his apartment, Jim sat down on a kitchen chair and motioned for me to sit in another. I made another grab at his crotch, before I sat down, still giggling a little and playing with my wet hair, twisting it around my fingers, damn, there were some strands of hair stuck in my mouth.

"Comon, Do me" I said, then I slowly extended my tongue from between my lip stick smeared lips in the most lascivious way imaginable. "Come on Baby, gimmie that piece of hot meat, put that pork where it feels real good". Jim just stared and then started to speak.

"Joyce, as you know, I’ve had a lot of job offers in the last 6 months. Offers from some of the most prestigious, multi billion dollar companies in the entire country. And I’ve also been thinking long and hard about accepting them and about us. I’ve been thinking about us as husband and wife and what that will mean for you and me. How I’m the husband, the head of the household now, the provider, the man… the MAN. You Joyce, you are now my wife, the homemaker, the woman… MY WIFE. I watched you tonight with those other men. I do not approve of that behavior. I will not have my wife acting the slut. I must protect you, take care of you and lead you onto a path of righteousness. I have decided to decline the offers of those fancy companies. I cannot abandon you to the depravities of life in the cities of whores. I have decided to accept a job offer with my uncle’s firm back home and we will fly out there in the morning. "

"Huh!" What did he just say?

Podash, Nebraska

Never heard of it. But here I was. It had been about a two and a half-hour drive from the airport and out here, you do not have to go far before you’re out of town. I was still sitting in the car. Staring out of the window at the sights before me. Where in the hell am I? This was getting crazier by the minute. Jim, excuse me, James, I was to call him James now, had carried on most of the small amount of talking that may have passed for conversation between us on the flight out. I wasn’t always listening. My head still throbbed and hurt from the night before. There hadn’t been a lot of chatter during the drive either. Well, Jim, James had talked off and on. I mostly tried to stay awake and pay attention and comprehend. Man, woman, husband, wife, honor, obey, tradition, roles, blah, blah, blah.

This entire town is whacked. I have never, in my entire 22 years seen anything like it. It is like a set from Mayberry RFD, or what ever that moron show was called. I must have been really ripped last night… and now I’m hallucinating. This place is in a time warp. Do not tell me that Jim, James seriously turned down every one of those dream city job offers, to come here. Look at these shops. Geezus… a general store; there are bald mannequins standing in the window wearing, what… pillow cases? Do you believe it, and over there, a drug store… I mean a real old time drug store with a barbershop pole hanging on it, like in an old cowboy flick. And right next to it, a beauty parlor. Not a salon, not a boutique, a parlor… a beauty parlor with big glass windows on each side of the door and frilly, pinky, lacey curtains hanging halfway down in each one. Then there are all these totally camp posters with pictures of women’s heads, sporting hairdos from what, the fifties. Gag me. They better have a decent mall out here.

I was startled from my thoughts, and looked up as Jim, James had come around to my side of the car and opened the door. He still had a dower look on his face as he stood there, offered his hand and helped me stand. On this side of the street, we were parked in front of an older brick home. It was situated on a knoll with a set of steps rising up to it from the pavement. And down those steps lumbered a true apparition. Yes, I am absolutely hallucinating.

"Oh James, so this is your new bride? My goodness, goodness. Oh, my dear, I’m your Aunt Bea. My you are such a mess. Come inside and let’s get you cleaned up." She smiled at "James" as her attention turned to me.

Ok, it was true… I was a mess. I kid you not. I was still wearing my mini from the wedding, only now… ok; maybe I didn’t look so hot. I sure didn’t feel so hot. We had sat at that kitchen table for hours and then taxied straight to the airport. I realized that I still had my platforms on as I fished to remove another slightly sticky strand of hair from my mouth. Did she just say Aunt Bea? Help! Focus, focus. I stared at the woman before me. I’d guess she had to be in her fifties. Are those tortoise frame glasses? And she actually has one of those beaded chain thingies attached to the frames, so they’re always hanging on her ponderous breasts when she can’t find them. Her hair is mostly a light gray, with white at the temples… well what hair she has at her temples was probably white. It was hard to tell. Her hair was permed into a tight little curly ball that seemed to just sit on top of her head like a hat. Her dress was well… something an Aunt Bea would wear, in a god awful print. I just don’t how to describe it. There was just too much stuff going on here.

Again, my attention snapped back to the present, as Aunt Bea clasped my hand and briskly led me up those steps and into the house. We continued through the front room. We reached a stair. Aunt Bea did not break stride, as she tightened her grip on my hand and we climbed toward the second floor. She hustled me into a bedroom off the upper hall, closed the door and let go of my hand.

"You go right on in the bathroom there." She motioned to an adjoining door. "And wash yourself up real good and then come back in here and we’ll get you dressed, real proper like. Now move along." This was all going too fast and Aunt Bea seemed to be in the mood to give orders, so I kind of nodded and shuffled into the bathroom and closed the door.

I turned on both faucets of the big old claw foot tub and pushed in the rubber drain plug. I kicked off my shoes, peeled my mini, bra, thong and hose and thew them into the corner. I needed a bath, I felt so filthy. My hair and scalp was starting to itch. It would be so good to just soak my entire body and lather and wash my hair. I could take this time to lay back and analyze the last twenty-four hours and try to make some sense of what had just transpired. Where am I now and what am I going to do about it? I really do need to get back in control of this situation.

I was lying there, nearly submerged, in a state of bliss, my beautiful hair floating around me, when she knocked. I knew it would be her even before she spoke. "Come on now, we don’t have all day. Let’s get you out here and get you dressed!"

"Ok!" Ok… good, I guess James had brought up my bags. I hope he remembered the one with my blow dryer in it. I slowly stepped from the tub and reached for a towel. I could hear Bea, banging around in the room… doors and drawers being opened and closed. I cracked the door and leaned out into the room.

"Can you hand me my blow dryer please? It’s in one of my bags."

"Now you come right out here this minute. Don’t you try me girl."

Oh, this is great! Damn… this woman is pushy. I wrapped a smaller, dry towel around my hair, twisted it and pushed it up over my head. I wrapped the other towel around by body and stepped out into the room with as much dignity as I could muster in front of this old biddy. There were some clothes laid out on the bed, but I didn’t recognize any of them. This didn’t look right. Where is my stuff? Where’s my dryer?

"Bea… Where… where are my bags? I need my blow dryer. Bea, didn’t James bring my bags up?"

"That’s Aunt Bea to you Missy Bea. Rubbish. That’s what they were. That’s where they went."

"What? I mean my things, my clothes, Bea. Where are my bags? Didn’t James bring my bags up here? I need my bags. I need my dryer. My hair is wet. I can’t leave it like this. Bea. You have no right! Where are my bags?"

Wham… I never saw it coming. Bea had hauled off and slapped me right across my face. Wow! That hurts. I lifted my hands to my face. The towel dropped. I tried to cover myself, OH… my face stings! I couldn’t decide which was more important; covering myself in front of this strange woman or protecting my face from another slap.

"That’s Aunt Bea, Missy Bea … Aunt Bea and don’t you forget it. James told us all about your little escapades. Don’t you think for a single minute that we will abide a slut in Podash. You can just thank your lucky stars you have such a fine, caring family to help you through your troubled times. Your bags are in the rubbish, just like the rest of your former life. There will be no more of that. We will help you to over come your sinful ways. We will help you to learn the modesty of a proper submissive wife. You will obey the wishes of your husband and you will show him the honor and respect he should be accorded. You will learn self-discipline. There shall be no whores in Podash. Now step over here and let’s get you properly dressed."

I was stunned. I walked over to the bed and looked down. What is all this crap?

"These things were my daughter Myra Anne’s. "She’s out grown most of it and this was her room. Now that she’s a respectable married lady of Podash, Myra Anne has taken up a rightful residence with her husband, Horace. These things might be a little small, but they will do you nicely, until we get you settled in. Now lift your leg and step into this."

I felt as if I was in a trance. I lifted my leg as Aunt Bea picked a strange white contraption from off the bed. She bent over a bit and slipped the open end over my foot,

"Now, the other one"

I put my foot back to the floor and lifted my other leg. I reached out to brace my hand on her shoulder. Then I was in it; both feet back on the floor as Aunt Bea tugged the sturdy garment up past my thighs and around my waist.

"Suck in!"

I took a deep breath and pulled my stomach in and held it, as Aunt Bea jerked me around, fastening a long row of hooks and eyes and then pulled a zipper up to secure the closure. I let my breath out. As best I could. I was a cheerleader. I’m not a heavy girl at all, by any stretch of the imagination, I have excellent body tone, but this thing was tight. This was not at all comfortable. This thing just squeezed the hell out of me. This was a heavy-duty girdle. This was nuts. I was standing there, just blinking and trying to adjust to the constriction, when she handed me a bra. This was not a bra. I had a bra, this was five bras. I obediently slipped my arms through the heavy straps, what the… I failed to fully grasp the meaning of this, this… what is this thing covering my chest? I looked down at where my breasts should be. I knew they were in there somewhere under all that structure and framework. Now they looked like bumps… little mounds, jammed into hard little white birdcages. Aunt Bea stepped behind me and fastened another overly excessive series of hooks and eyes that griped me within it. When she was done, I felt like I was wearing body armor. She handed me hose; thick old lady fashioned tan support stockings. I sat down on the bed and struggled to bend against the unyielding girdle, and finally got them up my legs and she helped fastened them to the all the fussy little clips attached around the bottom of the girdle. I just couldn’t do it.

Then she handed me panties, stupid old granny panties. Ok, ok. I slipped them over my feet and stood up to pull them up to my waist. They went way above my waist. Baggy white shinny nylon panties with elastic around the legs, I left the elastic waist snap tight over where my stomach used to be. She handed me a slip, a long full white nylon slip with shoulder straps reminiscent of a T-shirt. I put it on. She handed me a nylon blouse. Nylon again. Oh my God! What an ugly blouse. It was sort of mainly white with, large pastel fuchsia flowers, pastel green flowers, lavender flowers and yellow flowers printed all over it. Who had bought this? Why would anyone even make such an ugly blouse? I buttoned a few buttons, but Aunt Bea wasn’t satisfied with that and buttoned it up to my neck, and it too, had a little tab and button closure under the collar just like James’s shirts. Gee, now I look like James. It was too tight around my neck. The pointy ends of the collar wanted to stick straight out and Aunt Bea kept pushing them back down against my clavicle. It might have been funny if I would have been watching this happen to one of the girl nerds back in school and not me. We then dropped a disgusting polyester pastel lavender skirt over my head and it kept dropping straight on down, until the hem was about two inches below my knees. I zipped it up at the back of my waist and struggled to fasten the button. Well, actually it was riding far above my waist, just above my belly button, and with the girdle squeezing me so unmercifully it wasn’t even very tight or sexy.

The final touch was the shoes. They were a plain, light tan oxford type, with tie laces, and maybe one and a half-inch heel. They almost looked like boy’s shoes. With the girdle on I couldn’t bend over very well to slip my feet into them and Aunt Bea handed me a long handled shoe horn. I poked my toes into the openings and using the shoehorn was able to squeeze my feet into them. I lifted my foot up onto the stool one at a time and Auntie Bea tied them off for me.

We were done. Auntie Bea guided me over to the wall closet and opened the door. Oh – My – God ! On the back of the closet door was a mirror. I looked back and forth between the image in the mirror and the clothes hanging in the closet. I just stood there, gasping, attempting to form words and yet I was speechless. I looked like a complete dork. I looked again into the closet. The clothes! Look at those clothes. It was a dork’s convention! There was a whole lot more of where ever this look crawled out from. I looked back at my image in the mirror. Unbelievable! I was dressed like one of those frumpy housewives I used to see coming out of the "Dollar Store". I still had the towel wrapped around my hair. I saw Auntie Bea behind me, looking over my shoulder. She was smiling now. She moved up closer, behind me and placed her hand on my arm. Well, This is really something, all right. Well, when I finally get my hair dried, combed and brushed out, I’ll still look better then anyone in this goofy burg.

"You look really sweet, Missy Bea." She was positively beaming. I guess she was really proud of what she’d just done to me. I wasn’t so sure… I think I still look like a total geek. God, I have got to brush my hair! God, she was trying to be so nice. Maybe she’d let me alone now.

"Missy Bea, you look so sweet." She repeated herself. "Now we just need to go over to Betty Lou’s and we’ll fix your hair."

"What? Yes, I do need to fix my hair. Yes. What? Betty Lou? Who’s Betty Lou?" I was also thinking… who is this "we"?

"Hmm… yes, Betty Lou will do your hair up real nice. You want to have your hair fixed real nice for James, now don’t you?"

"Yes, I guess so." What the hell did it matter now, anyway? Look at me, for god’s sake, what more could they do? Maybe Betty Lou has a damn blow dryer. It was still me after all, under all this junk. It would feel good to kick back and have my hair brushed out by someone else. A little of the old pamper treatment. I’d feel better after that. Get my hair back in shape. Get some body. Get my confidence back.

We turned toward the door. Auntie Bea stopped me for a second and handed me a bag. It was tan, to match my shoes, I guess. No strap, so I’d have to hang onto it all the time. A clutch. Ok, I get it.

"Oh, let’s put just a little color on."

Auntie Bea motioned toward the bag and I opened it. I was immediately struck by an indescribably overwhelming, sickly sweet scent of what, roses? Trying to get past the ghastly fragrance, I peered in. It held a couple different little embroidered handkerchiefs that stunk to high heavens, what looked like a big pair of pearly plastic button screw on ear rings, bobby pins, some other things, I wasn’t quite sure of and then I found the lipstick. I unscrewed the cap and rolled some out. I briefly wondered where this had last been, but paid it no further mind as I leaned into the mirror and laid on a couple of thick swipes. "Mmmmwaaahh" I went, as I smacked my lips together to even out the color. The color was a darker version of the pastel fuchsia. Ok, at least I’m coordinated. Though, the look was pretty garish, with this bright slash of color on my lips and no other makeup on my otherwise pale face. I recapped the stick, popped it back into my clutch, snapped it shut and we went down the stairs together and out the front door, arm in arm. The fact that I still had a towel wrapped around my head and I could smell my lips, didn’t bother me. The sun was shining.

The smell is the first thing that hits me. It is a bit like the odor that I had released earlier when I first opened my clutch. But this is much heavier. I can feel it in my eyes. I can see it in the air. I can taste it. It hangs on my tongue and I could probably chew it. My original take on the beauty parlor has been correct. Time had stopped here many, many years ago. This must be a museum. I have entered the land of frilly, pinky, lacey curtains. The place is a pink haze, extremely pink with touches of green, I think. It is hard to be sure, with all of the pink. It isn’t a particularly large shop, but it has everything and everything is over the top frilly feminine. I could puke. My eyes are drawn to three large chrome domed chairs along one wall. They look like the nosecones of ICBM’s. Maybe these are the time machines. There are ladies under two of the gleaming cones. I can’t see their faces beneath their visors, but it does appear that they shop for their clothes in the same dollar store as Myra Anne did, but astoundingly, and most unfortunately, they seem to lack her exquisite sense for tasteless color coordination. They seem to be smiling at me. What is going on under those domes? Brainwashing? Feebly, I return their smile.

Betty Lou is a round little woman. She is one of those eternally bubbly souls with infectious good humor. I can’t help but smile back at her. She shouts her greetings to Auntie Bea, right out across the busy salon, and excuse me, parlor. There is an aura about her, a pink aura. Betty Lou is waving furiously at us. Is she expecting me? Auntie Bea ushered me over to the mechanical chair and I settled in.

"What will we be doing today?" Betty Lou asked.

"We would like you to give Missy Bea the full Podash Treatment. Missy Bea is James’ new bride and they’ve just arrived from the East Coast this very morning. We want Missy to feel right at home here and she has so much to learn."

"Ok, little Missy. You just lean your little head back in here and leave everything to me. We take real good care of our ladies in Podash." With that, she wrapped and taped a thin paper around my neck and then with a smart snap, flicked a pink plastic cape up and over me and then fastened that as well, around my neck.

What’s with this "Missy Bea" all the time? And this "we" business? I didn’t really want to provoke Auntie Bea again, but I am tempted to question this. My name is Joyce. I kind of figured before, that maybe calling me "Missy Bea" was just a part of some of Auntie Bea’s funny habits. But, now Betty Lou is going to think that Missy Bea is my real name. Betty Lou started brushing my hair as she continued to talk. My hair is still damp from the bath, which I had earlier and her combing and brushing does feel pretty good. She brushed it straight down my back… the sides and then the front. This feels great! She does have mesmerizing hands. Gradually, I began to relax. It had been a long day. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before and I had only been able to catch little fitful catnaps during the trip. The heavily perfumed smells of the parlor filled my lungs. The gentle pulls on my scalp, from the brush… Missy Bea, Sissy Cea, whatever. This feels so good. Ahhh… I felt myself beginning to doze off.

I must have dozed off. I suddenly awoke to the metallic sound of clip, clip, and clip round my ears. I stared in disbelief at the large strands of hair that were falling from my head and lying on the pink plastic, in my lap before me. My hair? Is this my hair"

"MY HAIR! What have you done to my hair? What are you doing to my hair?" My hair! God Almighty! MY HAIR!" I was totally freaked.

I tried to get up, but Betty Lou got a quick grasp with both hands on my shoulders and Auntie Bea moved in for the assist. I sat there and began to sob. The chair was facing away from the mirror, so I couldn’t see how much damage had been done. I started to raise my arms to my head, as Auntie Bea moved her face right in front of mine. She was speaking slowly and directly to me. I could see her squinty eyes and her lips move through my tears. Gradually I heard her words.

"Missy Bea, Missy Bea, calm down. Everything is all right. Now you just calm down and stop waving your arms about or we’ll be forced to tie you down. Now you just sit still and be good."

"But my hair, my beautiful hair! You’ve cut it all off!"

"Nonsense Missy Bea, We’re not cutting your hair off, we’re just giving you a little trim. Lord knows that you need it. You’ll have plenty of hair. We just need to get you trimmed up a little for your set."

I sniffled a bit and tried to keep from blubbering again. There was an awful lot of my former hair lying all around me. I could not feel any of my hair around my ears and I could not feel any hair on my neck. It all felt very breezy. It felt like I still had some hair on the top of my head, but it couldn’t have been more than 3 or 4 inches long. What kind of "little trim" was I receiving? "Set"… set what?

"Missy Bea, This is a part of your transformation and your moral cleansing. You are James’ wife now. You must look and act like his wife. In Podash, marriage vows are taken seriously. As a married woman you shall give up the ways of a loose young girl, trying to attract and tempt the eye of every man she sees. For you, that day is done. You are now a married women in Podash. You will submit and conduct your life as a Podash Woman."

Her words burned in my ears. My mind was in a whirl. Visions of old news films flashed in my head. Images of young women in France, a long time ago, who had whored with the Germans during World War II, being brutally shorn of their locks, thrown to the ground and branded as collaborators and outcasts. Oh God, not me! Please! Don’t do this to me! I was whimpering again.

"Missy Bea, Oh, little Missy Bea, calm down little Missy." She was stroking my cheek now. "You are a very pretty young woman. We will fix you up so nice. James will just adore you. Just relax. You are in Betty Lou’s good hands."

I was getting warm. Even though my head now felt cool and lighter, it was warm under the cape. Ok, maybe a new look would work. A short cut will be easier to take care of. Maybe a Pixie cut. Betty Lou was back in my hair again. Ok, I can get around that. I still have some hair. I wonder how much? There was a "pop" and then a buzzing sound. Did she have electric clippers in her hand? Betty Lou moved around to my side. I froze and stared straight ahead, but caught a sight of the clippers in her hand in my peripheral vision. The maniacal clippers moved in and I felt it touch just below my temple. Little flecks of my hair began to drift past my eye and onto the cape. She moved the clippers back, following an arc around my ear, and then she stepped to my other side and repeated the process.

"You’re cutting off all my hair! You said you wouldn’t cut off all my hair!" I was very nervous. I felt very warm. My hands were becoming clammy and I rubbed them on the lap of my skirt. The polyester was not absorbent. The plastic crinkled around me. She moved the clippers to the nape of my neck. I felt them touch. I shuddered and then she pushed upward and out.

"No Missy, I’m just going to even it out a bit and blend it into the top more."

Oh please God, Ok, I’ll be good. I promise. Please don’t let her cut off all my hair. It’s really warm in here.

Betty Lou was very meticulous and finally she was done and put the clippers down. She slipped her hands into some rubber gloves and then she wrapped a fluffy towel around my neck. Auntie Bea was saying something about a little color, which I didn’t clearly understand, since I don’t think there is a single thing wrong with the color of my fantastic platinum hair, just the way it is. Well, maybe some extra highlights would be nice.

Betty Lou picked up a bottle and squeezed some kind of blue liquid lotion out and onto my hair. She massaged the goopy blue stuff down into my hair, down to my scalp, and worked it up into a frothy blue lather. It got pretty foamy. This must be the full treatment. I do feel pretty good. She did this for a while and then she put a plastic cap over the whole mess of my head and I was left alone to just lay back and close my eyes and let the lotion or whatever it was, work it’s supposed magic.

I guess I dozed off yet again. It’s so warm in here. Betty Lou was back and had reclined my chair so that she could remove the cap and rinse the blue stuff out of my hair. Then she patted my hair with another towel until it was just mainly damp. I was still facing away from any mirrors, so I still couldn’t see my new cut. Gee, I am really dying to see how cute I must look. I just can’t wait to see myself. This is kind of fun. She raised my chair again into the upright sitting position. I waited patiently for her to remove my cape. That didn’t happen.

Betty Lou had wheeled a cart over to my station. It looked like it contained different curlers and other stuff. Hmm, curlers, what is she up to now? She combed through what was left of my hair, making it nice and straight and then started to section out one part of my hair away from the rest. She picked a little pink roller kind of rod from the cart and began to wrap the ends of my hair very tightly around it, all the way down to my scalp. When it was flat against my head, she slipped a little clip over it to hold it all together and picked up another little rod. She sectioned off another strip of my hair and again rolled it tightly around the rod and down against my head. Again and again my hair was sectioned off and tightly wrapped around these little pink pencil rods. I had used rollers to set my hair a few times in the past, but never any as small or tight as these. I wondered how I would look. I bet I’ll look like Little Orphan Annie. My scalp was alive. It felt like all of my hair was being pulled straight out of my head at once. Betty Lou wasn’t done. She brought a plastic bottle to my head and began to squeeze another thick viscous liquid along the length of each and every row of the rods. The odor was overwhelming. It took her a while and she absolutely drenched them all. Betty Lou then covered my head again, with all the rods, this time with a stringy net cap. When that was all in place, she tucked little cloth pads up under the net covering, against my ears. My scalp was starting to tingle a little bit.

"Ok Missy Bea, let’s move you over to a dryer"

Yeah, right… let’s do that. I don’t know if I can even get back up in this girdle. I put my hands on the arms of the chair, gave a little rock, then another and pulled myself out of the comfortable seat and onto my feet.

"Wow!" My eyes just bugged straight out of my head. As I turned from the seat, I was confronted by a large mirror and in the mirror, well, I just had to stop and stare… there was a lot to look at. It was me, staring back at me… eyes wide, my big fuchsia mouth shaped in an "O". I had to focus on my head. Yes, that is my head, it is mimicking my every move. My head is a bright purple and pink ball with ears. Wow! OK… My whole head isn’t purple and pink, but I have all these little pink rods arranged in perfect row after row all across the top of my head. There must be 30 of them or more! And, I have purple hair, well ok, I have purple hair tightly wrapped around all these pink rods and then there is this fishnet hair net over the whole thing. Well, mainly over the top of my head. I don’t seem to have a bit of hair on the sides of my head. Hmmm, I don’t seem to have any in back either, actually I’m not sure if I have any hair at all. I look mostly just like a purple and pink bumpy baldhead with big ears.

"PURPLE?" My hair is PURPLE? And PINK? Oh My! Betty Lou? Oh My! Where is Auntie Bea?" They really faked me out on this one! This is… this is… Bitchin! Wow… these old cooties are giving me a goth punk head? Whoa… Missy Bea is gonna be Stylin!

"For goodness sakes, Missy Bea, Now, you just get on over there and set under the dryer. You act like you’ve never had a nice perm before. We have to put the color in a little heavy, when we do a perm right after, because the perm solution will want to just fade a fresh coloring. Now when we get you all combed out, you mark my words, you’ll be just the sweetest little thing."

Color! I had to hand it to these kinkos. They must have grown up with the big box of crayons. They really had me going there, for a while. I spun on my heel, swirling my cape and sashayed on over to the gleaming dryers. Well, as much of a sashay as I could manage in my chest harness and girdle. Auntie Bea just kept on beaming.

I backed in and bent to sit down in the empty seat, as Betty Lou guided my bumpy head under the chrome helmet and then lowered the amber visor. Auntie Bea was there, offering me a magazine. It was a several years old, well thumbed copy of "Family Circle". I giggled and took it from her, as Betty Lou turned on the giant machine and I saw that her lips were still moving, but I could no longer hear a thing as the motor revved up to speed.

It was warm under the hood. The stories in the magazine were silly. I looked over at the two ladies under the hoods next to me. They were still looking at me and they were still smiling. I don’t know how long I sat under there like that. The hood was getting awfully hot. My attention drifted back to the magazine. Actually, some of the articles aren’t so bad. The one about how to knit these little cute covers, so you can make coaster thingies out of leftover jelly lids, was pretty neat. Except that, I don’t know how to knit. Then I started finding things that I could do. This was a pretty clever magazine! And I am just feeling so hot! And my head was really tingling a lot. I was even starting to get all squishy in my panties. All of a sudden the whirling in my ears stopped and I looked up. Here was Betty Lou, smiling as usual, motioning for me to get up and out of the chair. Darn, I’m not finished with this article.

"Oh, just bring it with you, Missy Bea. I think we’re ready for your comb out now."

I rocked back and forth in the seat a couple times. I was starting to get the hang of getting up and down in this girdle now. Back on my feet, I smiled, clutched my magazine and dutifully followed Betty Lou back to our first station. Oh, my cuny felt so gushy.

Once I was snuggled back down into the seat, Betty Lou spun my chair around, so that I was now facing a mirrored wall. I giggled at my reflection. This is so much fun! I can’t wait to see what she’s going to do next.

Betty Lou slowly lifted the hairnet from my head, being careful not to catch it on any of my perm rods and pulled off the little pads that had covered and protected my ears under the dryer. I watched in amazement as she began to quickly and professionally removed all of the little rods from my hair. Oh, my hair is so curly. The top of my head is just covered in tiny tight little curls. I loved it. Look, and what is that color? Oh, That is too neat! The purple and pink is gone. It’s now lavender! I have just the sweetest lavender tint to my hair. Oh, my goodness! I look just like the cutest little poodle! Betty Lou quickly brought a pic and a comb to my head and began to spread the tight curls apart a bit and lift and blend and smooth the top together.

It was fascinating to watch my transformation. Betty Lou had obviously done this a thousand times before. She smoothed and patted and pushed and lifted my hair until it looked like a round shaped ball sitting on the top of my head. She deftly flicked two little curls down at each side, just over each of my temples to soften the whole look. I just sat there, fascinated by my new appearance. She stopped then and just looked at me from all sides. Then she picked up her electric clippers again. I heard the "pop", as it went on and felt her lay the cutting edge high up on the back of my neck, just below the occipital bone, just at the point where my smoothed poodle hair ended. She carefully drew it down towards my nape, removing any trace of hair stubble. She did this several times and gradually worked her way around each side toward my ears. When she reached my ears, Betty Lou worked the clippers all the way around them, so that they were completely outlined by my white skin and then blended that area, once again up into the poodle. When she put the clippers down, she picked up a small brush and flicked away any errant hairs. Then she picked up an aerosol can and began to shake it vigorously. Done shaking, she placed her hand over my eyes and began to spray a heavy coat of the contents all over my head. The heavy smell of lacquer flooded my senses.

"A little hairspray to hold you together, Hon." Betty Lou advised, as she handed me a mirror. "What do you think, Bea?"

Auntie Bea was behind me. I caught her reflection in the mirror. She looked so happy, I though she would burst out crying in any second. I moved the mirror around my head. I certainly looked perky! Cute, actually, I looked pretty cute with my subtly smoothed, curly little lavender hair helmet perched high, just on the top of my head. My completely shaved neck and the bare sides of my head blended nicely into my bubble coif and the little curls that dropped and accentuated my temples were just darling. The fact that my ears seemed to be just jutting out from the sides of my head seemed to look pretty normal to me now.

"OH, I just love it!" I cooed.

"Oh Missy Bea, let’s just touch up your makeup a little bit and we’ll be done. Where is your clutch?"

Auntie Bea didn’t really wait for my answer. She was already in my clutch, fishing round for the lipstick and things.

"Open" She said, and I obediently parted my lips as she unscrewed the cap, leaned in and rolled a generous coating of the fuchsia color around the entire opening of my mouth. She didn’t just dab my upper and lower lips; she completely outlined my mouth like a big bull’s eye. I giggled. My mouth looked so much bigger and pinker. Looking in the mirror, I was reminded of how I looked when, as a very little girl, I had sneaked into my mother’s room and first tried on her makeup.

Pleased with her work on my mouth, she recapped the lipstick and put it back in my clutch. She had something else in her palm… the earrings. She deftly threaded each of them open a bit and slipped them over my earlobes and screwed them tightly closed. The pearly half domes were an inch in diameter and completely covered my lobes. They were pinched so tight that they hurt some, and I could see that even my ears had already started to turn a little pink, just above where they fastened. They shook a little bit, as I turned my head, but they held tight. All in all, it was a nice complement to my new look.

"We might as well clean up your brows while we’re here. Do you have anything Betty Lou?"

Auntie Bea was totally into this now, turning my head this way and that. I didn’t have bushy eyebrows or anything. I think I have always kept them very nicely shaped… fairly natural with a little taper towards the outsides. Betty Lou immediately returned with a foam lather, which she liberally applied to each of my brows.

"Hold still now" She instructed, as she suddenly got a very serious look on her face. "Just a minute, now." A few deft flicks with a straight razor, a wipe of her towel and my brows were gone! Completely gone. Now, this is a different look!

My mouth dropped open in a big "O". A big fuchsia O, mind you, that filled up just about all of face. My forehead, my goodness! My face looked so strange without eyebrows. Betty Lou was shuffling through a handful of plastic cards.

"Here we go Missy. This one will suit you right fine."

She peered at the card, studying it, as she held it before my face. I stole a glance up at it. It appeared to be a stencil template of an eyebrow. A rather thin arched shape that tapered to almost nothing at the end. Betty Lou placed it against by forehead in roughly the location of my former brow, with one hand and took hold of a dark pencil, I now noticed she had in her mouth with the other. She studied me a bit more, then nudged the stencil a bit higher and began to rub the soft pencil within the pre-shaped opening of the plastic. When she was done, she flipped it over and carefully placed it above my other eye. Again she rubbed the pencil through the stencil’s opening. When she was done, she lifted it off. I now had a pair of dark, thinly arched eyebrows over each eye. The effect was one of a look of complete surprise. I mean, I was surprised, fer sure, but I looked surprised because my eyebrows were drawn that way. I wiggled them up and down using my facial muscles and they followed along, but I had this kind of perpetual surprised look on my face. Clever. Very interesting effect.

"Well, there you go Missy Bea. We’re all done. Won’t James be pleasantly surprised? He’s going to just love you to death!"

Betty Lou removed my cape and dusted me off one more time. We were finally done. I rocked in my seat a few times, gathering a little momentum to get up. Darn this girdle is going to take some getting used to. The whole thing seems to pull all the way up from my feet, with the stockings and all. And… Oomph, I was up and on my feet. Well that wasn’t so bad.

I twirl a bit, trying to look at myself from all sides in the mirror. I certainly look quite different. I now look like a proper young lady. Well maybe not a young lady, maybe an older lady… maybe a lot older lady… well ok, maybe a mature old lady. I still have my smooth young skin and complexion though and well; yes I certainly do look very cute and sweet. Mary Beth and Aunty Bea are both beaming, They stand smiling, genuinely pleased, with their hands clasped before them and just let me discover and take in my new appearance.

I turn this way and that. The sensation of the cool air, of having no hair around my neck and ears is exhilarating. My tight, stiff little lavender poodle perm just hugs the top of my head, following every move, bob and feint I make, with never a hair out of place. It’s so neat. The large pearlescent domes at my earlobes sparkle and glisten as they catch the light. With no mascara, eyeliner or color on my lids for competition, and just the thinnest of dark highly arched eyebrows as an accent, my thickly painted fuchsia mouth is the positively fluorescent focal point of my entire face. My now fully exposed neck tapers gracefully beneath the sharp confines of the tightly buttoned floral blouse. The closed collar itself creates a crisp yet subliminal arrow, formed by the juncture of it’s closing, pointing upward toward my luscious lips. The body of the multicolored blouse fairly hugs my chest, yet drawing no undo attention to my breasts, firmly confined within the structural pockets of my rigid brassiere. My eye drifts downward, following the line of my torso. There is just the hint of my waist, as my blouse disappears beneath the waistband of the straight lavender skirt. My long heavy girdle allows for no unnecessary bulges before it allows the flair of my hips. From the rear, I see that my bum is flattened into a sort of mono-butt. There is no visible indication whatsoever of the twin cheeks beneath. Only the horizontal suggestion of the trailing edge of my formidable girdle shows across the bottom of my seat. I hadn’t noticed before that the grainy tan support hose had seams stitched up the backs. My legs appeared briefly below the long hem of my skirt before they tucked into my sensible and comfortable laced up shoes.

"Well, that about does it then." Auntie Bea piped up. Betty Lou, Please put this all on my tab and I’ll settle up with you when I come back in for my regular touch up. Do you think we can get Missy on a regular schedule now?"

"Yes, of course, Bea. But, You know how busy it gets at the end of the week with the regulars and all, getting fixed up for the weekend. We can probably see her again on Thursdays, though, in the morning. Maybe next, we won’t have so much to do and we’ll have a little extra time to spend on a proper dilapitory and it wouldn’t hurt none, to work on her nails some, either."

"Yes, that will be just fine." Auntie Bea thanked Betty Lou. "Dear me, the child might be a little chilled going outside, not being used to having her neck all uncovered like this. Betty Lou, do you have a sweater handy that Missy Bea can borrow?"

"Oh sure, Bea, there’s probably one over on the hanger, next to the front door. You know how the ladies always come in and out with and with out sweaters all the time. If there’s one there, you just go ahead and borrow it and bring it back next time you’re by."

We both thanked Betty Lou for all her work and just gushed on about how pretty I looked and felt and made our way to the door. There was indeed a sweater hanging in the rack and Auntie Bea reached over and picked it up. It was beige, with a full row of pearl buttons, and a little round jewel neck collar. Auntie Bea lifted it around me and just draped it over my shoulders. She had me lift my chin and closed it around my neck fastening it just at the top button. She then poked her fingers through the neck opening and pulled out my blouse collar and smoothed it down over top of the sweater. It was a cute sweater with some rhinestone and leaf patterns at each side over the chest. The arms of the sweater flapped behind me as we headed out the door.

We crossed the street and got back to Auntie Bea’s house in no time. I was so happy, I was almost skipping, but I knew I should mind my manners and just pace myself with her measured progress. I just babbled on and on about how I hoped that I looked real pretty for James and how I just couldn’t wait to see him and show myself off real pretty for him. When we entered the foyer, I saw James in the center of the front room and just rushed up to him and took his hand. James had a huge smile across his face.

"Missy Bea. You look absolutely adorable!" James said as he looked down at me with his big warm brown eyes.

I just wanted him so bad right now. I shuddered and got all weak in my knees with desire. I stood there holding onto his arm with both of my hands, staring up into his kind face. I wanted him to see my need in my eyes. I wanted him to take me up right now and make love to me… to use me. I would do anything for him. I wanted him to see that in me.

James looked at me for a long time, then he looked up and over to Auntie Bea and winked. Oh, thank God! And, I saw the sparkle in his eyes. He looked back down to me and winked again. Oh God, I’ll just die! He took my hand and led me to the stairs. We slowly climbed them together. James did not speak, yet I hung on his every nuance and move as we climbed. At the upper landing I clung to him as we entered my room and he closed the door. He maneuvered around me and I stood before him in all my modesty and as respectful as he deserved. He slowly reached up and placed each of his hands on my shoulders. My passion was high and I was starting to breathe more rapidly.

"Oh Missy Bea. You look wonderful. You will finally be my Proper Podash Wife."

Gently, he applied pressure to my shoulders, urging me down. I understood what he wanted and lowered myself onto my knees before him. His hands moved gently, first to the sides of my neck. Then slowly inched back, until he firmly cupped the base of my head beneath my lavender permed head within both of his hands. I feverishly tore at his pants unbuckling his belt and lowering the zipper of his fly. I was beginning to pant heavily. My mouth opens before him. A brilliant wet fuchsia orifice for him and him only.

"I will be a good Podash wife. I will. I promise. I will! OHHHHHMMmmmmm!"

(With inspiration from Boxer Barber)