Blank Slate


Cap

***************

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 
potential. 

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 
what?"

"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 
home. 

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 
position. 

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 
all.

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.