I used to be into Black Metal
My name back then was "Doom Master" (changed by deed poll) and I was completely committed to Darkness. That's why I didn't have any problem having a likeness of Christ crucified upside-down tattooed on my forehead and my ears snipped to resemble those of Hell's dwarves.

Then I grew up.

I remember with embarrassment my first interview for a retail management position with a large high-street supermarket chain:

Interviewer: So, Mr Master, do you think that our customers might be offended by that inverted Christ on your forehead?

Me: It's not Christ, honestly! It's just a guy who looks like him. But not him.

Interviewer: He has a crown of thorns and nails. He's on a cross.

Me: He was just an unlucky passer-by.

Interviewer: Do you think our customers will sympathise with you having an inverted crucifixion of an unlucky passer-by tattooed on your forehead?

Me: Not really, no.

Interviewer: Go home, Mr Master.

Me: Call me Doom, please.

Interviewer: No.
(frankspencer, Mon 4 Dec 2006, 11:15, Reply)

I had the top half of my giant,
oversized toe removed when I was four...

Does that count as a mod?
( The Togaboy The world will end on, Mon 4 Dec 2006, 22:07, Reply)

Real Steel. (and a little "getting stuck" story)
.. unlike many people here, My piercings are not about what's cool... they're not done to make people think i'm hard... the'yre done because at the end of each large relationship, I find that i want to do something that's going to keep me from havig re-bound sex. On the flip-side.. I like sex, and above that, I like to please: That's what my steel is designed to do. Those are my reasons.

People who tattoo themselves: I respect that.... I'd never have the guts to get a lasting mark on my body (scars aside)...

Now.. My piercing Trip started many years ago. I'd always wanted a genital piercing because I'd wanted to have something different. Lots of people have piercings to make thier diminutive tadgers look ... erm... special (but much like a chihuahua with a diamond collar, It's still a small piece of meat) ... Me.. I wanted somethin g to make my cock more fun for the lasses.. And.. As I spend a lot of time in the sauna and glittery "look at me" bits of steel would be well.. an intresting change from the norm.

When I decided to leave the big relationship that brought me to Sweden, I decided to take the plunge.

I didn't want a Prince Albert.
My opinion was "well.. how boring can you get? Everyone's got one. Shove needle down jap's eye, and angle downwards once you get to the banjo string. *shove* out the other side.. and chase the hole with a ring. Heals in 2-3 weeks, adds no pleasure for the lass, and you get to piss like a fountain. Cool? No"
To add to my list of reasons aginst it... apparently it adds a lot of pleasure for the owner.. Anythign that gives more pleasure in theory decreases performance time... I think I'll step clear of that! :o)

No... What I wanted was a Frenum piercing: this "Sub-Banjo-String" wonder apparently stimulates as-yet un-chartered parts of the amazon, and is a dead-cert runner for world peace. ... It also alledgedly hits the "G-Spot" when you're in certain positions. Is that true? Who knows. I just like it.

Second up on my hit-list was the "Pubic".
3 words. "Thumb on clit"
We all know how it'd be great to have rubber wrists.. yet we all know that - in reality - this feat only remains comfortable while it "seems" as though she'll come.... after that point your wrist is waving protest banners at you.

Imagine if you will that you have the ability to thump that clit each time you dig deep... Yup... That's what the pubic positioning does..

The pubic piercing is usually a ring that sits twixt Tadger and body. This is designed to hit the clit each time you go balls deep... In my case, it is exactly that. Currently it's a 3.6mm ring (material diameter) but the photo is of when it was *first* done and it was a lowly 1.6mm.
Incidentally... it grew out, and when I had it re-done, A 2.4mm Needle was used. I consider myself to have a high threshold for pain... I nealy passed out when this was done the second time ... I'm gla i'll never have to give birth.

PHOTOS.....

It takes balls to show these, yet, -In the name of drunken friday night entertainment - I do so.

For those who've not got steel or tattoos... it's a deeply personal thing... and while "sharing" them for some is a matter of showing off, For others they're deeply personal. Mine are just that: Few of my friends even know I have them... and noone in my family knows.
Bare that in mind... For me this is personal.

ABSOLOUTLY NSFW...
Though to be honest, It's floppy, chilled and in "artistic" Black and White.
*to the people who ACTUALLY know me...* I suggest you don't click on the links... but hey.. you know me. Hit it if you want to. Curiosity is always well rewarded.

Frenum: (NSFW) www.pichotel.com/pic/5760vcBwB/96859.jpg
This goes through approx 15mm of flesh, and took 12 weeks to heal.
Pubic: (NSFW) www.pichotel.com/pic/5760vcBwB/96858.jpg another 15mm, and a shag-free 15 weeks (pure torture)

In honour of the question.... regarding a girlfriend's Hood piercing (clitoris hood for those who aren't familiar with the fact that NO-ONE pierces the clit istelf (unless totally devoid of all freeling there already) ...


She and I were rutting like drunken bunnies when we caught.... she had a "horseshoe"... (much like a ball closure ring, but with an open gap) and I was earing a 25mm diameter ring... and her hood caught on my pubic. Thank crap for big bar diameters (less likely to go "cheesewire" and tear out) It tugged a little, and we giggled like stoned hyenas as we tried to de-tangle.



Length? Width? I refer the right honourable Gentleman to the picture of Flaccid member when compared to Lady's hand. Make your own judgements.

EDIT: while I do regret posting *such* personal photos, the comments in my "b3ta inbox" are proving *very* interesting.. so I think I'll leave it :o)
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Fri 1 Dec 2006, 23:23, Reply)

I've been inked.
I have a tattoo on my arse.

It's of a policeman, holding a torch, pointing upwards, towards the 'crack'.

The copper on my arse has a speech bubble. It says.

'Come down Mr Brown, we know you are up there'.

I thought it was funny at the time, I no longer think it's funny, partly because for about 6 months after I had it done, loads of people (including strangers) wanted to see it, therefore, I spent the best part of half a year 'mooning' in various pubs, clubs, bars and airport.

Well, not airports, but you know what I mean.

I'm new here, and I apologise.

Still, it's 'goodbye, new-bi Tuesday' or however it is the song went.

Length and girth are both minimal.

Hello everyone.
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Fri 1 Dec 2006, 13:50, Reply)

The chicken king
You know in "The Scorpion King" where The Rock is stabbed with a spear impregnated with scorpion venom and thereafter carries the blood of the scorpion within him? Well, I was cracking chicken bones to make a stock last week and a splinter of bone shot into my thumb. It went septic before I could pull it out with tweezers and now I am destined to always carry the blood (or bone marrow) of the chicken within me.

Not a piercing, but who else out there is a Chicken King, eh? Who else?
(frankspencer, Tue 5 Dec 2006, 9:37, Reply)

you need hands
I did some temp warehousing work with a guy who'd lost a finger in an industrial accident some years previously.

He had tattooed knuckles that said "LOVE" and "HAT".
...
(Barry_Bulsara, Fri 1 Dec 2006, 13:52, Reply)

I always wanted a tattoo when I was little
I think this tattoo fetish stemmed from an incident when I was six. Those transfer tattoos that you put on with water were all the rage at my school at the time and we just called them "tattoos" - thus this was my understanding of what a tattoo was. Unfortunately these things are rather poisonous if you're thick enough to stick them in your mouth, and my mum got on her high horse and wrote a letter to the headteacher about it. Thus they were banned and any shred of popularity I may once have had evaporated.

Altogether now:

Grandmasterfluffles' mum is a big fat bitch
She's the biggest bitch in the whole wide world
She's a stupid bitch if there ever was a bitch
She's a bitch to all the boys and girls!

Anyway, because my mother so heartily disapproved of them it immediately became my life's ambition to get a tattoo.

Fast forward four years....

It was the Christmas fair at school. This was an event whereby we all brought our pocket money into school and squandered it on silly little toys to raise money for the PTA. Lots of fun. And this year, there was a stall selling temporary tattoos for 10p a pop. Remember, this is what I thought a real, permanent tattoo was.

I had to have one.

I bought a really cool, pretty, kickass orange and yellow dragon, locked myself in the bathroom as soon as I got home from school and applied it to my left bicep. I pranced in front of the mirror posing for several minutes and felt thoroughly pleased with myself. After a while, it dawned on me that I really wasn't going to be able to hide my new adornment from my mother forever. I was going to have to tell her.

So I told her I had something extremely important to talk to her about. We sat down in the living room. I must have looked terrified. I told her that I'd got a tattoo, and showed her my kickass dragon. Her reaction was priceless.

Okay....I'm not angry.......just.... Tell. Me. Where. You. Had. That. Done.

So I said, "Well, I bought it at the Christmas fair", whereupon she laughed like a mong, told me my little dragon was very pretty and educated me as to what a REAL tattoo involved.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Tue 5 Dec 2006, 22:48, Reply)

The music hurt my ear(s)
I wear five earrings in my right ear. Once during an orchestra concert I had 50-odd bars rest (a couple of minutes-worth) and, being tired from lots of blowing, held my flute upright on my lap and leaned my weary head against it. Earrings and flute keys mingled. Try to move. Oh dear. Have to play solo line in x seconds and flute is stuck to ear. Shit, ouch, bastard thing, etc.

I did manage to yank it free in time, but at the price of a painful bleeding earlobe and wobbly G and G# keys (hence an even more painful wallet).
(Turangalila, Tue 5 Dec 2006, 12:41, Reply)

Hairy
I'm pretty hairy, and it's interesting the reactions people have when they see my hairy little belly; funnily enough most people go "Oh my god, you're so hairy", as if I hadn't noticed.

Anyway, I decided to do a little social experiment when I was 16 and judge people's reactions. Basically I shaved "Merry Xmas" into my belly hair.

The result? In 2 short hours, a school of 2000 students were all asking to see it, even the teachers. Never again, it itched like fuck and people renamed me "Hairy Weirdo".

I'd quite like to do it again now tho, so I'm open to requests. Perhaps I should shave "Boo!" into it and see if I can scare people? If anyone's got any funny ideas I'll do it and document the results.
(Hammer Time, Mon 4 Dec 2006, 16:30, Reply)

Clit piercing = spontaneous orgasm
My first brush with piercing was at Uni with a "rock-chick" called Jo.

I was editing a video which she was involved in when she started talking about her piercings and what she had just had done, I turned around, she pulled up her T-shirt and two very large and lovely tits bounced into view. With two large cherry nipples with gold BCRs through them.

"NICE!" - I said embarassed and looking away, when now I realise I should have launched my face into the jubblies.

She said that she had also just had her "hood" pierced and that once that had healed, she was going to have her clit done, "because he (the piercer) said it was big enough to handle it - but I'll have to wait for 6 weeks"

Cut to the following semester.......

I'm sat in a history lecture, in lecture theatre 1 - Jo is about 4 rows diagonally down from me and people around her start looking at her and whispering at each other

Then the rest of the theatre start to hear her panting, then banging the desk, louder, and louder and faster and faster until she started screaming and spasming with a wall shaking orgasm.

There was a stunned silence - the lecturer (an Aussie woman) stood with her gob open - followed by the lads giving the rapidlly running out the theatre Jo a standing ovation.
(Catchag "You know!....For Kids!", Fri 1 Dec 2006, 10:48, Reply)

My bastard mate
From a good five years back was into the whole body mod thing. He had the comic book character Spawn tattooed onto back, with the cape spanning across both shoulders all the way to the small of his back.
He had piercings everywhere, the bridge of his nose, ears, eyebrows, labretta, tongue, the back of his hands (they didn't last long), nipples, and of course the Prince Albert.
I swear the guy was magnetic.

Anyway, he goes into his local parlor to find a new challenge, a new piercing for his lass to fawn over, and he find these small ball bearings. Upon a bit of research he finds out that these are surgically implanted into the cock to increase pleasure for the lady in your life.
Without hesitation he empties his wallet and some time later he's strolling home to the missus with clear instructions to 'not let the egg get hard boiled' for a week.

He manages to wait roughly 5 hours.

I met him in a pub maybe 3 days after he had it done so he can tell me about his new body mod.
He turns up late, walks straight over to my table and tells me all about it, what the sex was like, all the grisly detail on how much it hurt, etc, etc.
It's then that I asked a rather stupid question.
"So, how is 'it' doing, man?"

"Oh not bad dude, it's been sitting in your pint for the last 15 minutes."

It had fallen out the night before and the cunt had slipped it into my pint.
Bastard.
( Pointy Head poked another hole in my anorak on, Fri 1 Dec 2006, 14:39, Reply)

Should Have Stopped It Earlier
One christmas, more years ago then I care to remember, we all returned home after just starting university and were sitting in the pub swapping stories of our new found freedom and the keraaazy adventures we'd been getting up to. Suddenly a friend excitedly announced that he'd gotten a tattoo. I feigned being impressed and asked him what it was. "Oh I didn't want anything boring and predictable so I just picked this random, cool little character design they had." Naturally we asked to see it and he turned, pulling his shirt up. After a few seconds of peering quizically at his shoulder blade and exchanging glances he was more than a little insulted when I burst out laughing.

"What???" He demanded.
"Well," I said, "I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that that 'cool, random little character' is actually Stoppit from the late eighties kids cartoon for the under fives, Stoppit and Tidyup, narrated by Terry Wogan."

(He's the one on the left in this picture what I found: tn3-1.deviantart.com/fs5/300W/i/2004/299/7/b/Stoppit_and_Tidyup_by_ClassicCartoons.jpg )

Strangely, my mate was more than a little embarrassed. More so due to the fact that for the next year whenever he annoyed us, or even sometimes when he just dared to speak, move or even breathe, large groups of people would shout "STOPPIT!" at him and then dissolve into giggles. Even more fun was had the next time we saw him and asked if he'd gotten any more tattoos. Perhaps Bella from the Tweenies on his left bum cheek or, even better, NooNoo The Vacuum Cleaner from the Teletubbies on his crotch, sporting a smaller than usual hose attachment.

He endured the torment for just over a year before getting a black sun tattooed over the top of poor Stoppit, much to our annoyance. Well, until we started asking each other in front of him what had happened to his cool tattoo and replying, as if he wasn't there, that it was a bit messily done and had needed a Tidyup.
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Fri 1 Dec 2006, 8:11, Reply)

I met a scary Scotish bloke on a train to Preston once
Who was wearing a Rangers football shirt and drinking purple tinnies (Tennants Super).

I noticed that across the knuckles on his left hand he had the letters "G E R S" - I assumed that his other hand had "R A N" across the knuckles to spell Rangers...

Alas no. When he took a swig from his beer a little later I saw that the tattoo across his knuckles spelt the word "FINGERS".
(aroe_m0rre, Fri 1 Dec 2006, 15:20, Reply)

Whilst at university
I met a lovely South Londoner by the name of Paddy.

One evening after several beverages we got chatting, and Paddy said, "You know, it's such a weird coincidence..."

"What is?" I asked

"I actually have your name tattooed on my arse" he replied, to much disbelief on my part.


Imagine the hilarity as he pulled down his filthy keks to reveal 'Your Name' written in lovely flowing script across his left buttock.


Worst. Chat-up Line. Ever.
( kirst0s, Fri 1 Dec 2006, 13:54, Reply)

More disturbingly...
My MOTHER (who is a DOMINATRIX) has a huge number of piercings, including both nipples and her clitoral hood, and has had some sort of extreme surgical mod involving her labia. I didn't like to ask for any more details; she may be into bizzare physical scarring, but I'm not into enough mental scarring to incur thousands of pounds of therapy fees.
(clumsyeloquence is a girl, Thu 30 Nov 2006, 23:17, Reply)

Don’t try this at home…
As an undergraduate, I did forensic medicine in second year as one of my elective courses. It was fantastic; anatomy, pathology, toxicology, ballistics, proper CSI type stuff. One of the lectures covered “How to identify a body”. They discussed using things you found on the victim, like drivers licence, DNA samples, dental records etc. But then they also touched on unusual body modifications, whether natural (like missing fingers) or unnatural, like tattoos and piercings. Our lecturer was a top bloke; a really well respected forensic pathologist who had worked on a number of high profile cases.

He introduces the slides on “Tattoos as a form of identification” and goes through some bog standard blurb about a unique tattoo making a positive ID of an unknown body much easier. He then says, with a huge grin on his face “and I’d like to illustrate this with an example, if I may.” He presents a case of a middle-aged gentleman of seemingly no fixed abode who had been discovered dead in an alleyway. He had no ID on him and no one had reported him missing. It was however suspected that he might be a fairly regular visitor to some of the more dubious hostelries in the locale. A quick sweep of said establishments and a chat with the regulars did indeed show that the man in question was known in that area and was positively ID’ed from the description that the police gave to the drinkers.

“He was identified by a rather unusual home made tattoo,“ said the Prof, and put up a picture of the body.

The guy had “BOB MARLEY” tattooed across his forehead.

But he’d done it himself.

In a mirror.

So it was backwards.


There's really nothing I can add to that...
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Mon 4 Dec 2006, 12:59, Reply)

Piercings need to come with warnings
I had my right nipple pierced on Monday of this week. It has a very strange effect on you, well, it has on me.

No one warned me that the right nipple is directly linked to the clitoris and that a new pierced nipple is permanently hard. Mr Chickenlady is slightly perturbed that his wife has become obsessed with sex and keeps propositioning him, friends, strangers, builders…..

Piercings can also cause untold embarrassment.

Last night I went to a black tie do. As usual I had been fretting about what to wear; decided upon a very fetching strapless number (6 actually – I prefer round numbers). I forgot, until sitting in the car en route, that as this strapless dress is quite tight therefore requiring no bra, that the seams inside would rub against piercing. Cue me sitting in a traffic jam attempting to re-position breast whilst being watched by white transit van drivers…hooters all round…as it were…

Anyway, I get to the party and as I am alone (Mr Chickenlady was not available) I decide to drink large amounts of wine in order to calm down….silly, very, very, silly. I then spend an hour or so making rude remarks and laughing at inappropriate moments – like when someone said that they felt a certain amount of sympathy for Heather Macartney because all the press seemed to ‘want a piece of her’ at the moment…pffft…

Later I begin to disgrace myself by leaning over a table and thus ensuring that all those seated around it get a slightly more than brief glimpse of new piercing….

Later still I pop off to ladies for a pee and decide now is the time to show all my friends my nipple….camera phone….emails….and propositions abound…..

Oh and half an hour ago I had the lovely job of washing dessert off the side of the car (don’t worry I wasn’t driving…I was too busy hurling).

So now I feel like a right tit. But I’d better not feel it too much or I’ll get arrested.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 1 Dec 2006, 16:28, Reply)

I don't have any interesting stories
so here's a picture with the word 'cock' in it.


(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 1 Dec 2006, 10:17, Reply)

Not me, but a friend...
...was sitting in school one day when he realises that he can use a compass to scratch his skin lightly and draw shapes. so what's the first thing he drew? you guessed it, a CDC.

The problem was, it made a scar on his hand in the shape of, (yup you guessed it again), a cock.

And due to the dark nature of his skin, the light coloured penis sticks out for all to see and laugh.

His parents weren't even mad but his dad always makes fun of him for it.

Now thats what i call a body mod!
(General Arfarfarnarf He who hesitates, Masturbates!, Mon 4 Dec 2006, 18:18, Reply)

Kids
Many moons ago Kite Jnr, being about 3 at the time, was being very quiet, in the front room, colouring. Myself and Mrs. Kite were in the kitchen. After a bit, I decide to check on Kite Jr., who has coloured large areas of her body with dark blue felt pen "Cos I'm a Zebra Daddy". Of course you are dear, of course you are.
(kitescreech still here, Sat 2 Dec 2006, 10:24, Reply)

Err..
.
Men who have pierced body parts are better prepared for marriage.They've experienced pain and bought jewellery.

Sorry.Sorry.Sorry.
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Tue 5 Dec 2006, 16:42, Reply)

Sorry Dave...
Never change your friend's freshly pierced eyebrow ring for them after you've been eating salt and vinegar crisps.

They'll cry like a stuck pig for the next hour.

Fact.
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Fri 1 Dec 2006, 13:23, Reply)

CUMMING SOON TO A BED NEAR YOU - THE COIL!!!
SHRIEK at the horrible feeling of your old chap rubbing against something that feels like barbed wire-midway through screwing a loose moraled woman you picked up in Chicago's in Luton.

TREMOR in revulsion as you pull your little lad out to reveal a something that looks like a really small starting handle for a tram, piercing the end of the prophylactic you are using --narrowly missing skewering your tail.

REVEL in her not being that bothered and letting you do her up the Gary Glitter for the rest of the evening
( bigmeuprudeboy is using powerpoint or paint...have MERCY, Fri 1 Dec 2006, 9:36, Reply)

Oh dear . . .
I must admit I don't have a thing for tattoos/piercings, but I have noticed a couple of things over time, in those who come in for surgery:

1. Tattoo on belly: unless that belly is not going to sag (and it's never symmetrical), bulge or otherwise follow the laws of gravity . . . don't, just don't.
2. Tattoos on arms (the tribal circumferential ones) - if I have to cut into that arm to fix a break, I ain't going to make sure I sew the ends together so that the tattoo lines up, OK? Swelling and bruising make this a wee too much after spending a couple of hours plating a bone.

More observations:
Babies with earrings - why oh why? Did bubs ask for the piercing? Was it their first request on emerging from the womb? "Hi Mum and Dad - nice to meet you. Could you put a couple of holes in my ears please - I'd feel so much better . . ?"
Pets with the same - don't get me started, I'm already sounding like an old fuddy-duddy . . .
( Mrs Legless . . . belongs to, well, you know . . . :), Wed 6 Dec 2006, 0:44, Reply)

most snowboarders have crap body mods
a girl i'm friends with used to work at bear mountain in california. one of her best friends was the kind of guy who owned nothing except a snowboard, and lived his off-season preparing for the coming snow. his board was a one of a kind prototype given to him by a pro rider he was friends with. it was his life, pride and joy.

one day it gets stolen.

this young lady spots it while working the lifts and gives her friend a call, "some guy is riding your board here at the mountain."

dude shows up, takes the lift to the top and waits for the perpetraitor. when the man in question exits the lift, the dude beats the living crap out of him, and with his own snowboard tool carves into his forehead "i stole."

he then walked down the mountain and went home. true story.
(crazytalk, Mon 4 Dec 2006, 18:49, Reply)

Smiley face
Many moons ago I was sitting in the back of my mates car. There were four of us in the car chatting away and checking out fit birds. Being summer I was wearing shorts. I was sitting in the back staring at some hot young thing completely oblivious to what my mate in the front was doing. The next thing I feel a sharp, searing pain in my inner thigh. Turns out this bastard 'friend' of mine had decided to give me a smiley face. To those not in the know, this is where you heat up a lighter for a couple of minutes and then brand someone with it. This leaves a smiley face with the two bits of the flint marking the eyes and the rim creating the smile.
Hurt like a bastard. Now being one of those people that can't leave scabs alone I picked at it every day. 15 years later and I still have the scar of a smiley face on my inner thigh.

Years later I heard that the guy who did this to me actually commited suicide - so we're all even there then.
(Stainer Has been treating objects like women since, Mon 4 Dec 2006, 4:46, Reply)

Brain Piercing (kind of)
Not really a body mod by choice, but more one of necessity. But still one that provokes funny reactions sometimes.

When I was 18, just as I was about to sit my A-Levels, I wound up in hospital as they finally discovered the reason I was having trouble doing such challenging things as standing up and talking without severe head pain and being violently ill, was not in fact migraines, but something more. Cue three and a half weeks of various things being done to my head in hospital to ease the pressure within. The first one basically involved doctors drilling a hole through my skull to drain out the fluid (I still wish there was a video I could watch of this). This didn't actually work, but has to this day (four years later) left me with a big dent on the right hand side of my head.

You can't see it, but you can sure as hell feel it, as one poor hairdresser found out as she cried out "Oh my God, have I just done that?" whilst washing my hair about a year afterwards. I also figured an interesting way to introduce myself in Fresher's Week would be to mention said dent in head, which didn't really result in people remembering my name, but did result in lots of people touching my head and going "oooh" or "ergh", and me getting weird looks.

The bit at the back of my head is kind of the piercing bit. It's a pipe which goes into my brain and runs down my neck and into my stomach (technically called a shunt), therefore keeping me alive, and as I have also discovered, preventing me getting hangover headaches (yay for bonus side effects). This also resulted in my insistance that people "feel the pipe that runs down my neck" in the bar. There's no wonder I get funny looks sometimes.

But, hey, I'm assured the staples in my head looked really cool before they were removed, apparently just like Frankenstein. And well, I'm still here, and with crazy scars to boot, so I can't complain.
(Picotee, Wed 6 Dec 2006, 16:24, Reply)

Cinderella tattoo (more tenuous pron)
I once knew a girl who was as hot as a girl can be: beautiful, curvy, a maniac in bed and with some intelligence, too. One night she picked up some guy in a pub and they had the most wild sex they'd ever experienced. SHE ejaculated.

The morning after, the guy was gone and the only reminder she had of him was a hand-print in chocolate on the sheets. She couldn't remember his name or where she'd met him, but she had an idea.

She cut out the handprint from the sheet and took it to a tattoo artiste, who tattoed an exact facsimile of the hand on her right buttock, just where the juicy swell of it met her thigh. Her plan? As with the glass slipper in the Cinderella story, she would search for the man of her dreams by inviting any likely candidate to lay his hand over the tattoo in an attempt to find an exact match.

Night after night, she would approach men in bars and invite them to the toilets, where she would drop her pants and invite him to fondle her ass. One problem: it was one of her most erogenous zones and the mere touch of a hand there send electricty to her loins. She'd start moaning and writhing and in no time she'd be full of thrusting man meat, leaving the cubicle with juices running down her lovely thighs. Or she'd ask the guy to kneel in front of her to place his hand ... and wind up twitching on his tongue.

She must have gone through most of her town before she realised that she didn't really give a toss anymore about finding her perfect guy. She was having too much fun.

Then one day a guy approached her in a bar and told her he'd once had the best lay of his life, but lost the girl. Would she mind coming to the lavs and puttling her slender hand around the handprint tattoed on his rock hard tool? No problem.

In no time she had a mouth full of cock and they were preparing to go for the doggy option ... when he grasped her hand tattoo in such a way that, even though she couldn't see it, she knew he was the one. This was confirmed when she let forth a bestial moan and a jet of ejaculate gushed from her parts to douse his swollen nuts.

"My prince!" she may have yelled.
(frankspencer, Tue 5 Dec 2006, 13:24, Reply)

The ugly dolphin
I heard the story of someone who had a dolphin tattooed on her belly. She was of the, err, chav persuasion, and consequently became pregnant. Apparently, the dolphin became a whale as the baby developed, and never returned to its original bottle-nosed, grinning shape after she sprogged.
(lardaholics anonymous, Tue 5 Dec 2006, 10:49, Reply)

Weelllll...
I just have a tattoo of a monkey (designed by my girlfriend - now wife), but I intend to get more. The real story here is not so much a body mod one, but it fits with some of the other responses...

When I was little, i found a hypodermic needle & syringe in our house (my dad used it for something to do with his photography) I decided i would fill it with water and squirt a friend in the face. He took offense to this and tried to stop me by flailing his hands around. Predictably, needle connected with hand and pierced right through his palm. Despite him going a funny colour, i decided to squirt him in the face some more, right through his hand.
( TheAlmightyBeev, Mon 4 Dec 2006, 16:38, Reply)