The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

—HAVE THE BODY YOU ALWAYS DREAMED OF-

RE-CREATION COSMETICS INTRODUCES NEW NON-SURGICAL COSMETIC ENHANCEMENTS

NOSE, HIPS, TUMMY TUCKS, BREASTS—COMPLETELY CHANGE YOUR APPEARANCE IN ALMOST ANY WAY!

Gina looked from the advert to her friend, Ali, who had just passed it to her.

“Why would I want this, Ali?” she said to her friend of many years. “Or you for that matter—it’s not as if either of us have any deficiencies, physically.”

“No such thing as perfect, Gi,” her friend replied. “Besides, it’s not bad. I’ve already been once—look at the bottom of the ad’”

Gina looked at the ad again, further down this time. In somewhat smaller letters than one might’ve expected, it said ‘FIRST TIME FREE’. She looked as her friend again.

“What did you have done, Ali? I can’t see any difference”

“Oh, I had some cellulite stripped off. Didn’t hurt a bit,” her friend replied bouncily. “I’m gonna go back and pay for a boob job.”

Gina looked at her friend’s perfectly well formed 36Cs. “Ali, why on Earth would you want that. They’re not exactly tiny you know!”

“Well, change is as good as a rest. I don’t know what they do, but there’s no pain, and the prices are reasonable. All done same day—I think you should come along, it being free and all.”

“Oh yeah, and what would I want done?” asked Gina, her thoughts drifting to her slightly arched nose and her small but sensitive 32A breasts.

“Far be it from me to say, but there’s not a woman alive who couldn’t think of some way to improve herself.”

“I’ll take a look... c’mon, I’ll drive.”

The ladies pulled up at the plush looking central city clinic, handing the keys to the smartly dressed valet. They strode into the well-appointed reception area, and Ali swept up to the counter. Gina looked over the receptionist, intrigued but not really surprised by the somewhat revealing clothing. Managers always seemed to want to put a pretty face on their company.

“Hi,” said Ali. “My names Ali Mulgrave, I came in start of the week for a quick cellulite-removal?”

The receptionist tapped at the computer, looked up, and nodded.

“Well, my friend here wants to take you up on the free offer, and I want a second go.”

“Certainly,” said the receptionist, in a round, throaty voice. “If you would take these and go to the appointed rooms...” She handed them each a clipboard, well-covered in papers, and a pen.

“Well, looks like we’re off to separate rooms, G,” said Ali, reading each of their cards. “You in 3, over there,” she pointed, “and I’m over there in room 7.” She gave Gina a gentle push over to the consultation room, and headed off herself.

Gina reached the room, and decided to sit down on a comfortable sofa. The room was airy, and well lit, with a nice, middling beige décor. The sofa was leather, and nice paintings adorned the walls. She sat down, and looked at the papers on her clipboard. The company asked for an astounding array of details—name, address, occupation, date of birth, the works! The initial forms were rounded off by a declaration indemnifying Re-Creation Cosmetics against any physical or psychological damage, with the exception of the guaranteed £1,000,000 payout in the event of a botched procedure.

The legalese over with, Gina moved onto her free trial claim form. She signed to say she had not previously claimed the trial, and looked at her choice of procedures. She eventually decided on a breast enhancement—she might be happy with her 32A breasts, but men generally weren’t so pleased—she always lost out to the more well-endowed women. Having ticked the box, she read the final legend on the page, and tapped the signal button on the wall to say she was ready for consultation.

After a short wait, a distinguished-looking gentleman in a white coat strode into the room, and picked up Gina’s clipboard. He flicked through the legal papers, and took a good look at her as he contemplated her choice of procedure.

“Good afternoon, Miss Hadlow,” he began. “Now that you have made your choice of procedure, we can begin some tests, and I will ask you some questions. Firstly, you came here with Miss Mulgrave?”

“Ali?” Gina was puzzled as to why this was important. “Yeah, I did.”

“Wonderful,” emoted the doctor. “Please step this way.”

He left the room by the back entrance, and guided Gina to a room full of strange-looking machinery.

“Welcome to our testing area. We will perform a full scan of your body, weight you, measure you, that sort of thing. Do you have any objections?”

“No, no,” she said, getting more comfortable with the idea. “Where do you want me?”

“If you could get undressed,” the doctor said, gesturing for a screen, “and lie down on the bench you see over there,” gesturing this time at a simple, slightly angled bench, below a range of ceiling-and-wall-mounted machinery. “I’ll just ask you a few questions as we go along, for both medical and ethical purposes.”

Gina stripped as instructed, and lay on the bench, legs closed over her hairy crotch, small breasts pointing upwards, as the doctor began asking questions, and the machines above her leapt into life.

“Do you have any heart conditions, Miss Hadlow?” he asked, as what looked like a normal fluorescent tube swept over her, humming, “or any in your family?”

“No,” she replied, honestly.

“Any cancer problems, especially breast cancer, in you or your immediate relatives?” Now a trio of glowing lights were spinning above her head, making a subtly different hum.

“No,” she replied.

“And why do you want your breasts enhanced?”

“Because I feel my current size is small, and I think men would prefer me if I had bigger breasts.” She had no trouble asking as she figured this was ethical purposes. The doctor nodded.

“We’re ready to begin the treatment, if you are, Miss Hadlow. You can stay where you are, and I’ll ask some more questions for future purposes.” She nodded. One set of spinning lights settled very close to her shapely breasts, angling themselves so that they just skimmed the surface all around. She began to feel a painless tingling, and knew her breasts were slowly beginning to swell. The doctor continued his questioning.

“What is your sexual orientation, Miss Hadlow?”

“Hey,” began Gina, “that’s no medical question!” She began to shift on the bench, but suddenly found she couldn’t move. Another set of lights settled above her head, and she felt a tingling permeate her head, sending shivering tendrils through her body.

“I think you will answer the question,” said the doctor, somewhat more firmly. Gina felt herself answer, through little will of her own.

“I’m straight. I find women nice to look at, but I wouldn’t want to have sex with one.”

“Okay,” said the doctor, entering something on a console. “And what kinds of sex do you enjoy?”

“Normal stuff. Lots of positions.”

“Do you like men to go down on you?”

“Of course I do,” she said, her surprise registering in the voice that was not entirely in her control.

“Do you like giving head?”

“Not particularly. I don’t mind, but I don’t like a man to come in my mouth.”

“You dislike the taste of semen?” More entries on the console.

“And the texture.”

“Indeed.” More action on the console. “Do you find it easy to orgasm?”

“I don’t usually come unless I get some foreplay. Then I generally come once or twice, plus maybe once during the foreplay.” Almost as an afterthought, she said, “I come more when I masturbate.”

“And how do you masturbate? How often?” The doctor sounded particularly interested in this.

“I have a vibrator but I don’t usually use it. I use my own fingers, usually.”

“Well, I think that will do,” he said, fingers playing on a few more controls. The spinning lights over her head sped up, and settled yet closer to her skin.

Gina whimpered slightly as she felt new things pour into her mind, and part of her draining away in the swirling visions and the spinning lights, and she felt everything since she had lain on the bench drift away from her.