A week and a half later, Becca was finally beginning to notice a difference.
Her bras didn't fit any more. Well, the small ones, at least. The sports bras simply looked fuller, and felt a lot tighter.
"Not that I shoud buy more just yet," she said to herself, posing in the mirror. "I'm only halfway done."
Dr. Rose had said she could quit at any time, when he would 'seal' the gel, so that it would bond with the skin above it. For now, except for what he called 'anchor points', her skin
was mostly divorced from the fatty tissue underneath. The steadily growing layer of goop separated them, attached only to the fat cells it was mimicing. The skin was loose, the better to stretch.
She couldn't tell. There was soreness, and a stiffness that was mostly gone by the time she went in for her next 'layer'.
And there was size.
Becca turned the other way. They were evening out, too. Her left breast had always been a touch bigger than her right, and it wasn't any more.
It wasn't, any more. She was actually doing it. Changing her body. Getting tits. Real tits. Model tits.
Despite herself, Becca grinned at the mirror.
Dr. Rose sucked on his Diet Coke, and held the schema up to the light.
It was a cognitive map, although not at all like the diagrams commently given that appellation. This map was a rough sketch of how one Becca Young thought.
He released the straw with a soft slurping sound. A very rough sketch. What Dr. Rose did, in his clinic, was much more art than science. But he had to know what his clay was like, before
he began. The folder on the desk in front of him was his best guess as to precisely that.
It was true enough, that Miss Young's breasts needed to be built up in layers. But those weeks also gave him the time he needed to gain just enough insight into the biology of her brain, a organ with a complexity unlike any other.
For a little while longer, at least.
Rose put the schema down on the table next to his chair. Then he grunted, twitched his pelvis, and his cock spat white reward into the nursing mouth of Nurse McArie.
Becca flounced down onto the bench.
The nurse with the short brown hair - what was her name again? - smiled at her. "Dr. Rose will be right in," she said, bowing her way back out of of the door.
Becca relaxed, her back arching as she slumped forwards. She shifted her torso a bit. The weight on her chest was still new, and she liked the way it felt. It felt like sex appeal. It felt like attention, and attraction, and money. It felt like being wanted.
The door swung open, and Dr. Rose strode in. Becca straightened.
"So," he said, "how do they feel today?"
"Fine," she replied. "Great."
"Yes," he said, pulling out a caliper, "but I mean how do they really feel. Stiff? Stretched?"
"Yeah," she admitted. "Not stiff, but the skin does feel kind of tight."
He nodded. "It will take a while for the skin to become accustomed to this new size. It will always be a bit taut, but of course that's probably for the best, looks-wise. The discomfort should go away in a few weeks. Okay, clothes off."
Becca unbuttoned her blouse and shucked it. Her bra, black lace, joined it on the bench next to her. Dr. Rose moved them to a table against the wall.
He bent down, and spend a long moment appraising. "Hmm. Mmm." He took some measurements with the caliper. "Looks good," he
finally said. "Now, I could seal the gel today,
if you like this size. There's nothing preventing you from coming back for more later, but it's much more difficult - and hence,
expensive - to remove the gel once it's hardened. You've said you want to go all the way to the edge of a 'D' cup, but I just want to double check."
"All the way, doc," Becca quipped. "I want that 'D'."
"As you like," he replied. "That will take another three sessions, after today."
"Sounds fine," she said.
"Excellent. Well, lie down. I'll try and get you out of here by two o'clock."
"Great," Becca replied, leaning back. Dr. Rose put the mask over her mouth and nose, and she took a deep breath.
Rose hit the button, and Nurse Nguyen walked in, staring blankly.
"Nurse, we're starting on Miss Young's mind today. Take her to the lower level, and put the hole in her skull for the cranial socket.
I'll be down presently."
"Yes, master," Nguyen replied. As she had done for the last few weeks, she pulled the gurney from under the bench, and transferred
Becca's unconscious body onto it.
Today, however, instead of leaving the room and turning left, she turned right.
Dr. Rose went to get his notes about Rebecca Young's sleeping brain.
She woke up, and the world was blurry.
That was normal, she remembered. She was... what? Doing something. Surgery. Gas. Yes, it was gas. It made her sleep.
Why was she?
Her breasts felt sore. She looked down. Oh, right. Her breasts. She was having them enlarged.
The blurriness wasn't going away.
She lifted a hand, and looked at it. It looked the same, but something was different. It was like she was looking at it through glass. No.
It was like she was <i>thinking</i> about it through glass. The thought "my hand" was somehow distant, removed.
All her thoughts were.
Wait - who was she?
She was... was...
Becca. Rebecca. Rebecca Young. Yes, that's who she was.
It was weird that she had to ask that question.
It was the gas. Must be. She'd wake up more, soon.
The door opened.
Someone came in, but her attention had been captured by the door, and she forgot about the person. It was a new door, white, and
featureless. She was pretty sure she hadn't seen it before. Something about it was strange, too - a handle. It didn't have a handle.
"Miss Young," the woman who had walked in said, and snapped her fingers.
Becca focused on her. She was pretty... pale white skin, black hair, big tits. Her clothes sure showed a lot of cleavage. Slightly
surprised, Becca realized that she could see the nurse's garters a clear inch below the bottom of her skirt. In fact, she could see just the bottom of a white panty - was that even a skirt?
She sure had pretty legs, in white stockings.
Shouldn't she be more surprised? Even her surprise was dim, distant.
The woman snapped her fingers again, and Becca found herself focusing on them.
"I am to ask you some questions," the woman said. She was looking through Becca, her eyes glassy and distant. Becca wondered if she
looked like that.
When was this going to wear off?
The woman was holding a clipboard, and hanging from it on a short cord was a stopwatch. She lifted the stopwatch.
Becca's attention had wandered to the watch, but another finger snap brought it back to the nurse's face.
"What is your name?" the nurse asked.
"Reh, Rebecca Young," Becca replied.
The nurse made some sort of note on the clipboard.
She snapped her fingers again, focusing Becca.
"What is your home address?"
Becca frowned. Her what? Where she lived? It was... was... in Venice.
The number was... 6... 6514. 6514 Beach Terrace. She smiled.
"6514 Beach Terrace," she said. "Venice."
The nurse stopped the watch, and wrote in her clipboard.
"What is your home phone number?"
It went on for some time. The nurse would snap her fingers to get Becca's wandering attention, and ask a question.
"What is your mother's name?"
"Who is the current president?"
"What was the last movie you saw?"
"Who do you live with?"
"Who was the last person you had sex with?"
"What do you get if you combine blue and yellow?"
Becca could make no sense of the questions, but then she couldn't really remember any of them after she'd answered them. She was certain
that she could have, except that the nurse kept snapping at her and distracting her.
Then the nurse turned, and left. The door closed behind her.
Becca sat for a while, and thought blurry thoughts. She was considering standing up, when the door opened again.
A man came in. She recognized him. The name would have come to her, but he began to speak.
"Hello, Rebecca," he said.
She looked quizzically at him.
"Oh, you know who I am. Don't worry about it, though. The entire surface of your mind is covered in gel, and I bet it's making it awfully hard to think. So don't."
"Gel?" Becca asked.
"Yes," he replied, while pulling something from under the bench she was sitting on. "The exact same stuff that's filling your tits. Only
now, it's seeping into, and mimicing, your brain cells."
Becca frowned. "But I don't want..." she trailed off.
"Of course not," he said, producing a tank and some sort of clear mask. "But you will. You see, I'm going to start setting appropriate
thoughts in the gel, as it hardens. Rest assured, a lot of those thoughts will be happiness with what I'm doing to you."
"I... I... no..." Becca said unhappily.
"Shush," he replied, putting the mask over her nose and mouth. "Breathe in."
She was breathing without thinking about it. She tried to push him away, but there wasn't any conviction in it, and she was distracted
by a sudden thought.
Rose! That was his name. Dr. Rose.
She felt some small triumph before she fell asleep again.
The darkness receded reluctantly. With a soft moan of discomfort, Becca opened her eyes.
The room was white, and bright. She squinted around. She didn't know where she was.
Wait - she didn't know! And that bothered her!
She was thinking again!
With shock, she remembered. Rose - he had drugged her! And he must have kidnapped her!
She tried to stand up, to run, and realized that she was tied to the chair - no, clamped! There were metal manacles around her wrists and ankles, and another around her waist.
The fear came.
What had he said he was doing with her? She could remember waking up in a room, feeling dopey, and there was this nurse - this slut
nurse - and then Rose, but she couldn't remember what he had said.
What was going on? What was he going to do with her?
As if on cue, the door opened, and Rose strode in.
"Ah, you're awake," he said. "You always seem to come out of anesthesia sooner than I think you will."
"What the hell is going on?" Becca demanded, fear raising her voice an octave, and cracking it. "Let me go!"
"Be quiet," Rose said simply, and Becca's mouth clamped shut.
Her eyes widened.
He smiled. "Excellent," he said, stepping forward and stopping in front of the chair.
"What...?" Becca managed, quietly.
"Remain seated," Rose said, and touched a panel on the chair. The manacles retracted into the chair.
Becca didn't leap to her feet. One leg twitched, but that was it.
"What's happening?" she asked. Quietly.
"You are doing what you are told," Rose replied. "You have to do what you are told. You're hard-wired to."
She stared at him.
He shrugged. "It's the first one I do, for obvious reasons," he said. "Oh, you have some other programmed behaviors, too. You can't
hurt me, for instance." He pushed another button. "Some other things."
"What have you done to me?" she whispered.
"I've filled your skull with gel," he said. "Which promptly mimiced your brain cells. And then, while these new cells were setting,
I programmed them to think certain things. To contain certain behavior. So now, that behavior is permanent."
"Oh no," she breathed, eyes wide.
"Oh yes," he replied. "I'd tell you not to worry, but that will come soon enough. I'm hardly finished with you." Behind him,
an asian woman walked in. She was in a parody of a nurse's outfit, white skirt not quite reaching to cover white panties, exposed garters holding white hose that ran to ridiculously high white
heels. And massive tits, far too large for her frame, pushed up into deep cleavage by her shirt.
"Yes, master?" the woman asked.
"Give Miss Young here another headful of gel," Dr. Rose said. "She's ready for some more programming."
"No," Becca gasped, "please-"
"Be silent," Dr. Rose said. "Do not move at all. Not to speak, not for any reason."
Becca felt her body softly clench. She would not move.
The pin-up nurse walked behind the chair. Becca felt her hair being lifted, then there was a pushing sensation as something plugged
into her head.
"Yes," Rose said, watching her face. "I've had a socket put in back there. Don't worry, I'll take it out when I'm finished. But remaking your mind will take a few weeks, so it's easier to
just install it and remove it when I'm done than have to open a new one every time."
"Shall I turn on the flow, master?" the woman behind Becca asked.
"Do," he replied.
There was a strange sound, then something... wet flooded into Becca's head. She gurgled in fear as the slick stuff pushed its way into her skull. It pulsed in, then paused, before beginning a slow flow. She could feel it, filling her skull, like creme into an eclair.
"You'll feel a bit of pressure," Dr. Rose was saying. "But as you may recall, the gel becomes much smaller as it hardens. And once I've isolated the areas that are absorbing the implanted thoughts, I'll drain the rest."
Becca felt a tear run down her cheek, but she did not move.
"Now, today we're going to start altering what you want," Rose said. There was a little shade - he must have swung something over her head. "It's trickier than the more basic do, do not sort of injunctions, which is why I start with them, to double check that things are working. You may find it hard to believe,
but I do a lot more breast enlargements than I do this sort of procedure, so surprises are still possible."
Something poked her inside her head. Then she felt it sliding, and growing, along the top of her brain.
"There, that's the control mesh. It provides feedback, and allows me to harden the gel where I want to. Then the rest, we'll drain back out."
The nurse had come around to Becca's side. She was very close, but Becca couldn't look at her. She would not move.
"Okay, time for me to start composing. Nurse, tell Miss Young that she wants to be my slave."
Becca didn't jump, because that would be moving, but she was startled to feel the nurse's lips just brushing her ear.
"You want to be Doctor Rose's slave," the nurse whispered. "You want to be Doctor Rose's slave. You want to be Doctor Rose's slave. You want to be Doctor Rose's..."
Her diction was perfect, every time. And it just kept going...
Until Dr. Rose said, "Enough." The nurse, still robotically whispering, stopped dead in the middle of the word 'slave'.
"There now. Becca, would you like to be my slave?"
"I would!" she blurted. Then she gasped.
"Excellent," he said. "You're taking to this right well. Nurse, tell Miss Young that wanting to be my slave makes her happy."
"Wanting to be Dr. Rose's slave makes you happy,"
the nurse whispered. "Wanting to be Dr. Rose's slave makes you happy. Wanting..."
After three very similar hours, Dr. Rose told a very different Becca to sleep.
Becca's eyes snapped open. She was still in the chair. She rolled her eyes up, to look at Dr. Rose.
"You can speak," he said, "quietly. But no moving."
"What time is it?" she asked.
"Sunday," he replied.
"Ready for more programming?" he asked.
"Yes!" She answered brightly.
"So you want to be my slave?"
"Are you sure?"
Becca licked her lips. "Um. I want to be your slave. But... I don't... I don't want..."
"You don't want more programming?"
"No. I want more programming."
"And you do want to obey me."
"So, what don't you want, then, Miss Young?"
"I don't want to... want to."
"You don't want to want to obey me?"
"That's... Yes. No."
He laughed. "You just don't know any more, do you?"
Rebecca started to cry. "No."
He ran a hand down the side of her face, and she pressed into it like a cat. "Poor Miss Young. Being re-programmed is always a little traumatic. You see, your mind is like a rosebush. It was wild, growing in whichever direction it wanted. And now I've come along, and staked it up - but it hasn't gotten used to that it. It's all misaligned. All of your little supporting thoughts are still about how I'm bad, and you are a free woman, and how you wish this wasn't happening. And until those little thoughts all die off, and are replaced by new subsidiary thoughts about making me happy and how best to obey, you're going to have this painful conflict in your head."
She screwed up her face. "It does hurt."
"Well, I'll fix that, don't you worry." He bent nearer. "I have done this before, you know."
"The nurses," Becca said, looking up.
"Oh, yes. And many, many more. In fact, I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do with you. After you're a happy, puppy-eager slave, that is.
But you don't need to worry about that." He pushed a button.
The nurse with the pageboy-cut brown hair - and the requisite large breasts - came in. Her eyes were glassy and distant.
"Why do they look so... out of it?" Becca asked, quietly.
"Oh, they aren't thinking, really. Just obeying. Instruction in, action out. There's no higher consciousness analyzing things. Human
"Are you going to... to turn me into one of those?"
"Oh, yes, and more. All my slaves - and you want to be one of my slaves, right?"
"Yes," she replied instantly. She did, she really did.
She just wished that she didn't.
"Good." He continued, grinning. "All my slaves can be put into a robot-like trance, just like Nurse McArie here is in. Many of them live in it.
Frankly, there's no reason for slaves - like you're becoming - to think at all."
Becca had nothing to say to that.
"What are you going to do to me now?" she asked.
"Oh, whatever I feel like. I've got a long list, and it's not terribly important which things I get to first." He gestured. "Nurse McArie,
flood her brain."
"Yes, master," the nurse said, and walked behind the chair.
"Once you're fully co-operative in your enslavement, I'll let you walk around and get some exercise. Should be in a few days."
"A few days..." Becca repeated. Then she felt the hose plug into the back of her head.
"Shall I turn on the flow, master?" the nurse asked.
"Do," he replied.
The hose ejaculated wetness into Becca's head, and her eyes rolled up. She could feel her skull filling with the fluid.
It was making her aroused. She'd been told being a slave turned her on - so it did. The feel of her skull filling up with gel made Becca wet.
Dr. Rose was settling into his chair, behind her. "Now, I didn't tell you earlier, but there are some unfortunate side effects to this process. Memory loss, mostly. The gel is actually a trifle damaging to the outer layer of your brain. It's a little corrosive to fat, though of course it more than makes up for that in the volume it ads. But you won't mind that, very shortly."
"Please stop," Becca whispered, eyes closed.
"What's that I hear? A touch of the old Miss Young surfacing?"
"I don't want to be a robot," she said.
"Hm. But you do want to be a slave, right?"
"Yes," Becca replied.
"Well, why don't we continue with our pruning there. Nurse McArie, tell Miss Young that she wants to be a robot."
Soft lips began to whisper in her ear...
------ END 'Fake Ones'------
The Rose clinic is not related in any way to WinterRose.
At least, that's what they tell me.