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Breast Expansion Mind Control


Dr. Bill Hooper was jarred out of his thoughts by the sight of the
woman on bed #82. Years of cosmetic surgery had given him a fine eye
for what he called “potential.” And the woman on bed #82 had more
potential than he had ever seen. Which was not to say that she was
beautiful now, for she wasn’t; even if she had not been wrapped in
bandages, one would have seen that her lips were too small, her jaw a
bit too big, her nose a tad too large. But Hooper knew there was

He turned to Nurse Jones. “Who is that?” he asked.

“Oh…real sad story. Name is Jennifer Woodward. 23, Harvard student.
She was on a ride
up to the coast with her family, and the car got a hit by drunk
driver doing 60. The whole
family’s dead, except for her. And she’s got brain damage-total
amnesia. Blank slate.”

A wild idea suddenly gripped Dr. Hooper and he nodded vigorously.
Then he realized he
had to express sympathy. This was the Right Thing to Do. “That’s
very…sad. So now

“Well, we’re waiting to see if she has any extended family. If any
show up, we’ll release
her to their care. Until then, we’re keeping her sedated. The
attending psychiatrist thought
that was best.”

“That makes sense,” the doctor replied. “She’s going to be very
impressionable when she
wakes up… If there’s to be any chance of recovering her memories,
it’ll be best if there’s
someone familiar there.”

After the nurse had left, Dr. Hooper stared at the woman on bed #82,
the blank slate, for a
long long time.

What possesses a man to devote the years of toil and effort required
to become a cosmetic
surgeon? For some, it was an accident-a byproduct of a career in
reconstructive surgery
that has suddenly become more lucrative. For others, it was a careful
choice-a weighing
of costs and benefits that concluded that cosmetic surgery was a far
more profitable
endeavor in the long term than, say, urology. And for a third group,
it was an obsession.
Dr. Hooper fell into that third group. He was obsessed with creating
the perfect woman.
He liked to think of himself as Pygmalion, the sculptor of Greek myth
who found no
woman satisfactory and so set out to create his own.

Had Dr. Hooper’s ideal woman been a divine beauty, he perhaps would
long since have
accomplished his goals. But Hooper’s interests were somewhat darker.
His perfect
woman would be a fucktoy, built for sex, the most perfectly sexy
bimbo slut that had ever
walked the earth.

The problem was that very few woman were willing to subject
themselves to this sort of
transformation. And so Dr. Hooper’s dream went unfulfilled. Most of
the time, Dr.
Hooper kept his obsession under control. He didn’t secretly inject
collagen into the lips of
his patients to give them cocksucker lips, although he wanted to. He
didn’t accidentally
give them HH breasts when they asked for a C cup, although he had
come close once.

But now the obsession was back and it was all he could to keep it
under control. Because
the woman on bed #82 had potential.

The woman on bed #82 had potential. And her mind was a blank slate.
When she woke
up she’d be very impressionable. And she had no relatives.

He made up his mind to do it. Now it was just a matter of preparation.

“What happened to Miss Woodward?” Nurse Jones asked.

The orderly glanced over at the empty bed #82. “Oh, her. Her great-
uncle showed up late
last night to collect her. Nice fellow. Says he has a room all set up
for her.”

Dr. Hooper smiled to himself as he locked down at the sedate form of
Miss Jennifer
Woodward, now pleasantly tucked into a bed in the private surgical
ward in Hooper’s

The girl was in a half-conscious state, just awake enough to hear the
words being planted
in her brain by the earphones. When Hooper bent close to her, he
could just makeout the
whispers, “slut cock cunt bitch fucktoy jugs boobs tits cum.”
Vocabulary training.

Apart from the headphones, she was naked and hairless. The hair was
gone permanently;
Hooper had used a surgical laser to burn it off. Several IVs were
dripping fluids into her;
one was water, a second was a brownish-yellow chemical. It was
labeled “nicotine.”

The surgeon bent over her and got to work. He started with her feet,
which he carefully
positioned into the shape they’d wear in a very high-heeled shoe. He
placed a metal brace
over the ankle and instep to hold them in the high-heeled position,
then wrapped her toes
tightly with plaster-cast, until they were squeezed into a point.
Then he went to work on
her relaxed achilles tendons, making a small incision in each calf,
shortening the tendons,
and then stitching them back so that they were taut in the high-
heeled position. He then
wrapped both legs in more plaster-cast, setting everything in

When he finished with her feet, he got started on her hands. This was
a delicate procedure
that required exquisite skill – which Dr. Hooper had in abundance.
Starting with the small
finger of her left hand and moving to each finger in turn, he
carefully removed her natural
fingernails, cutting them from away from their root. In their place,
he grafted a special
artificial nail. They were made of a immuno-friendly acrylic polymer,
and resistant to
cutting and breakage; each was square-cut and extended a half-inch
past the fingertip.

The hands of his fucktoy-to-be complete, the doctor stopped to take a
break. Even as he
drank his coffee, his mind was planning out the other modifications
he would make.
There was so much to be done! After a few sips of the hot java, he
was reinvigorated.

Next up on the doctor’s plan were Ms. Woodward’s breasts. Nature had
given the
amnesiac girl a perky B cup; but this would simply not do to Dr.
Hooper. He had decided
on something rather more extreme. It was a procedure that would take
quite a while. He
started it by liposuctioning the fatty tissue from her breasts until
they were empty tissue;
then he inserted the first of the silicone implants. Over the next
few weeks these would be
slowly increased in size, stretching her skin. By the end of it all,
she was going to have
H-sized breasts that were 100% silicone, hard, round, erect.

Moving from her breasts, he shifted to working on her face. A lot of
work had to be done
here; her nose made smaller and prettier, her cheekbones raised, her
eyes made wider.
But for now he worked on her lips. Like her breasts, these were
increased in size with
silicone. Angelina Jolie, Jessica Alba – these were the models for
the cocksucking lips
Jennifer Woodward would possess.

He had decided that his goal for Jennifer Woodward was to achieve a
total plastic look –
like a Barbie doll, obviously fake, obviously the product of plastic
surgery, exaggerated
in every way…
When she woke up, she was sitting in a pretty white room on a
comfortable bed under
clean sheets. A nice-looking man was sitting by her side, holding her
hand. She saw that
her hand had very long nails that were pretty. She didn’t think she’d
ever seen her hand
before, or the man, or the room. She tried to speak, but no words
came out.

“Hello, Jenni,” said the nice-looking man. “Yes, that’s right. Your
name is Jenni. And my
name is Dr. Bill Hooper. I’m your boyfriend.”

She moved her mouth but no words came out. She was utterly confused!
Why couldn’t
she remember – who was this man – what was going on?!

He patted her hand. “Jenni, this is going to be hard for you to
accept, but you have had a
bad accident. You were on your way home from the salon and you were
hit by a car. You
suffered total memory loss.”

She shook her head – no, no! It couldn’t be true! She pursed her lips
and thought hard.
She tried to remember something. Anything. And all she came up with
was that her name
was Jenni and she was in a pretty white room.

“But, don’t worry Jenni. Everything is going to be OK. I’m here to
take care of you, and
you are going to be fine. Now, listen to me.”

She looked up at him from behind long, dark lashes.

“Your name is Jenni Wood. You are 19 years old. You dropped out of
high school when
you were 16 to be a model but the work was too hard. You remember,
right? And I saw
you model and you were so beautiful and we fell in love. And when I
offered to just take
care of you, you quit working. Now you live here and you don’t do
anything except shop
and go out and have fun. OK?”

She nodded and smiled up at him…at “Bill”. He was her boyfriend and
he was going to
take care of her so that she could just have fun and shop and go out.

“Good, good.” He bent down and kissed her hand that she didn’t
remember with its long
nails. His lips were warm and she liked it. Then he kissed her wrist,
and then up her arm
to her neck. And then his lips were on her lips and she felt his
tongue caress hers…
Jenni lit up a long white cigarette and inhaled deeply. She had
needed a smoke so bad
and she had forgotten where her Fendi purse was that had her Virginia
Slims. She had
found it eventually but not before she had tromped all through the
house in her 6″
stilettos. This sort of thing happened to her a lot. She knew in some
dim way that she
wasn’t very smart. This concerned her a little bit, because she
thought maybe she should
be smart, and a worried little crease appeared in her forehead and
made her pancake
makeup crinkle.

But then the new N’Synch video came on and she was too distracted by
how hot the boys
were to worry anymore. She spent a lot of time thinking about boys
and their cocks. She
liked cocks and she knew that the reason she had big fat tits was so
that she could make
cocks hard. She had heard her speech therapist one time talking on
the phone about her
and the therapist had called Jenni a ‘fucktoy’ and Jenni had liked
that. That was how she
thought of herself now, to the extent that she thought of herself at

She had decided that her speech therapist Cindy was very nice. She
came in every day
and she was helping Jenni learn to talk again. At first Jenni had
made all sorts of
mistakes, like using words that were no good and talking too deep and
slow. But now she
remembered how to talk good in her old high-pitched voice. Bill was
so happy that she
was recovering.

Actually everyone that Bill had hired to help her was nice. Her
physical therapist Juan
was soooo handsome and he had these big chest muscles and even though
he was gay she
thought maybe she might get to suck his cock at the end of the summer
if she was good.
He worked her very hard. She had to do everything in really high
heels, like running and
dancing and everything. Juan said she used to be like a ballerina in
heels which she
didn’t remember but she trusted him and tried hard.

Then there was her personal shopper Kathi. Kathi took her to these
amazing stores where
they had the most beautiful clothes and she made sure that Jenni
bought the right things.
At first she had gone for all the wrong things until Kathi had
reminded her that someone
with such big boobies should wear tight clothes that showed off how
fake and round her
tits were. Like, the other day, Kathi had her buy a pink halter top
that was so tight her
nipples stuck out and a white leather micro-mini skirt. She wore it
with these pink
platform sandals and when she walked around the mall she knew all the
guys were
watching her ass wiggle and her tits bounce.

Her favorite though was Maria, who did her hair and nails and makeup.
She had thought
at first she should have brown hair and she didn’t remember how to
wear makeup at all.
But Maria made sure she got her hair dyed this great white-platinum
color and it was all
grown out and styled real big. And every other day she came in and
gave her a manicure
on her 1/2″ long nails – today they were hot pink. And Maria showed
Jenni how to wear
her makeup good, with lots of foundation and real dark eyeliner and
her big lips for
cocksucking all shiny and wet. Maria had reminded her how much she
liked looking
glamorous and sexy and so now Jenni spent a lot of time checking her
makeup and
making sure it was perfect at all times. She kept a lot of makeup in
her purse because it
was so important. Of course her purse was so big now because she had
to keep cigarettes
and hairspray and other stuff in it too. But it was good that it was
so big because
otherwise she would lose it!

Of course Bill himself was very nice and he always bought her lots of
jewelry and
presents and made sure she had movies to watch and magazines to read.
She actually
couldn’t remember how so she just looked at the pictures and that was
OK. Sometimes
the pictures were of pretty women, and sometimes of hot guys, and
sometimes they were
of hot guys fucking pretty women. Those were her favorites.наружная реклама нижний новгород

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