A Premature Inheritance

By DX

Copyrighted 1/2001, 1/2025, all rights reserved.

 Her black gloved hands sparkled with expensive and gaudy rings as she shook the doctor's hand. "It was a most beautiful ceremony. Howard would have loved it." Her eyes smiled flirtatiously from beneath her black veil. "Had I not known better, I would have sworn he was dead."

 The doctor nodded to the compliment. "Everything to your liking, Angela?"

 Angela smiled. "Worth every penny. A minor investment with huge payoffs. The reading of the will is tomorrow." She laughed breathlessly. "That's when they officially turn over everything to the weeping widow.”  Her eyes flashed.  “And I will be weeping.”

 "I'm just glad we can be of service. Would you like to see the final results?"

 "Is he here?" Angela looked amazed.

 The doctor nodded. "Right this way." He motioned her to the bookcase. He pressed a hidden stud and it silently slipped aside and exposed the entrance to the lab. 

 The room was cluttered with medical equipment and machines whispering secrets to one another.  Monitors flickered mindlessly, and filled the room with eerie light.  In the center of the room, strapped to a vertical slab, was a woman. 

 The doctor presented her like a game show host. "Here's Howard!"

 Angela's eyes were wide with surprise as she lifted her widow's veil to get a better look at the image of perfect beauty. Large, ozone blue eyes nested in long black lashes peered straight ahead, longingly, lovingly. Her doll like face and near non-existent nose were smooth and sculpted. Her full, oh so kissable lips of dark blood glistened in the sterile light. Her delicate swan neck poured like cream into her expansive, oversized breasts which were perched atop a tiny breath wide waist that, if it was not for the heavy boned corset, she would have simply folded in half. Her callipygous hips were balanced on her long, long legs that disappeared into tiny, tiny feet.

 Angela suddenly realized her mouth was open in aghast and closed it. She could not believe this was her pudgy, balding husband. She felt positively ugly, and patted under her chin with the black of her bejeweled fingers. "Schedule me for a chin tuck, would you?"

 The doctor’s face flickered with confusion then he smiled. "You are perfect the way you are." The doctor then regarded Howard. "And besides, it’s not plastic surgery. Don't get me wrong, there is major reconstructive surgery involved. Since you said it was our discretion of the disposal of Howard, we decided on our most popular sex toy model."

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A Linda Doll

by DX

Copyrighted 1997, 12/2024, all rights reserved.

A chubby, metallic bronze Rolls Royce rolled its way slowly and quietly down the rain washed street. It crawled gently over the spring cracks in the old asphalt as it rumbled past the old vine encrusted wall and up into the driveway, past the wrought iron gates that almost magically swung open in welcome. 

With the lightest of touches, Linda steered her Rolls down the wavy red brick driveway, slowing to a stop at the steps of the manor. It was every bit as impressive as she had imagined. 

She bowed as she stepped from the door, her wide brim sun hat catching the morning sun, blocking out the skin aging rays. She glanced at the gardener working in a patch of white popping flowers as he dropped a sack of peat moss from his shoulders.  Linda marveled at how the sun rippled across his glistening back. She could not imagine a wrinkle on that body. 

"Good morning, Mrs. Abrams. The doctor will be right with you." 

Linda turned and looked up the short steps, her near opaque sunglasses saving her from squinting, hoping to avoid crows feet in the corners of her eyes. Nurse Magilacutty (why did that name sound so familiar?) stood in the door way. Her crisp, starched uniform was a brilliant white. Simple, stoic, yet it emphasized the shape of her body. Her heaving bosom and wasp waist billowed into curvaceous hips. Her micro-skirt ended there, covering nothing yet hiding everything. Her white stockinged legs poured like cream into her white 4 inch pumps. 

Linda made her way up the short steps carrying her bubble of regality about her. Nurse Magilacutty bowed slightly in a submissive gesture. "Is there anything I can get you? A light breakfast perhaps?" 

Linda looked at the nurse's porcelain face framed by escaping wisps of hair, black and shining like wet tar that spilled from her tiny cap. Her deep brown eyes and long, long waving lashes blinked attentively. Her lips of ruby posed in a delicate bow. 

Linda snorted. "Yes. A rusty scalpel and five minutes alone with your face." 

Her tiny ruby lips smiled politely. "Will there be anything else?” 

Linda sighed and looked back at the gardener working in the sun. " Yes. I want him on a large silver tray with a bottle of chocolate syrup." 

Nurse Magilacutty blushed scandalously. "What would Mr. Abrams say?" 

Blushing? Linda thought. What a pure and wonderfully honest reaction... ‘I should have brought my own scalpel.’  She thought. 

"Why would I care what he thinks? I have his Rolls, I have his money, and I have his undying love and adoration.  Next you'll have me in the same room with that slug." She looked up at the nurse's perfect face. "A bourbon in a highball glass, splash an ice cube in, swish it about for thirty seconds, not twenty eight, not thirty two, then rescue it and bring it here. The drink that is. Do as you will with the ice cube. I'll be watching the flower show." Linda looked out to the garden and marveled how the gardener’s jeans could cling so tightly. 

"Excuse me Ma'am." The nurse said. "But alcohol is not advised before the procedure. We do have some fresh squeezed orange juice." 

Linda looked back at the nurse and her so damned pleased to serve you smile. "Throw two fingers of vodka in there and fail to rescue the ice cube." 

The nurse smiled and with a bow and a turn, went inside. 

Linda watched her hip sway down the hall. The nurse had been one of the deciding factors to get the procedure done. Her mind reeled when the doctor told her the nurse was forty-two. 

"Let me guess," She asked skeptically. “You transplanted her brain into a sixteen year old body and the trigger got stuck on the silicon gun?" 

But the doctor took out her high school year book. 

Linda's eyes grew wide and the doctor only smiled. "No brain transplant." 

Now, Linda wandered into the long main hall of the manor and looked at the mannequins that stood like statues of armor. There were six of them. Six different ones than what were there when she first saw the doctor, but no less amazing. They were perfect, almost like humans frozen in time. Four women, two men. Gowns, tuxedo's, evening-wear, bathing suits. They were perfect humans in every way. 

She looked up to the first one. Poised on her pedestal, her hands in her scarlet hair, ready to open it to a spring breeze, her expression of joy was almost inspiring.  She heard the doctor enter, but she could not look away from the face before her. The deep green eyes shone like a wet jungle leaf.  Her skin was ivory smooth and without blemish. Her lips, looked tasty and inviting. 

She turned quickly at the doctor's approach. "That's what I want doctor. I want perfection. I want to be the fantasy of every male. I want to be irresistible. I want to be an object to be fought over in silly boyish wars like Helen of Troy. I want to be on that pedestal. I want to be worshiped as Cleopatra or Katherine the Great." 

The doctor looked so young and blonde with a male model's casual stance. Like a Ken doll, fresh out of the plastic. He smiled. "You are already all that Mrs. Abrams." 

She tightened her fists. "I want it to last. I don't want to worry about sleeping on one side of my face too long or smiling too much or hiding from the sun like a vampire. I don't want to grow old. I want immortality." She looked up at the exquisite mannequin.   "And I want bigger breasts." 

"You don't need bigger breasts." 

"Can you do it?" She looked at him. 

"Breasts, yeah, that's easy." 

"I mean…”  She barked, flustered.  “You know!" 

"Mrs. Abrams. I can take years from your body and then let you keep them for the rest of your life. My process has shown to extend life beyond the average span and let you keep your beauty. Better than Russians in a Yogurt commercial." 

Nurse Magilacutty silently entered the room with a glass of glowing orange juice on a silver tray. Linda scooped it up and took a gulp like it was a shot of whiskey. She glowered at the nurse. "Next time you pour vodka, take a half step closer to the glass." She looked to the doctor. “Let's go." 

She followed the doctor through the long, maze like halls to his office where Mrs. Ratchett greeted them (another familiar name). Linda didn't look up at the majestic beauty and her historical Victorian nurses uniform, she only handed her the orange juice glass, headed to the examination room, stepped behind the curtain and stripped her clothes, donning her hospital smock. While Nurse Magilacutty folded and hung Linda's clothes, Nurse Ratchett escorted her to the operating room and sat her up on the white covered table. 

"I'm sure Mr. Abrams will be pleased at the new you." Ratchett made small talk. 

Linda looked at the demure face of Nurse Ratchett and could only think of War posters with a black cloaked nurse maternally cradling one of the injured boys as the American flag rippled behind her. She was a pin up girl in white. 

Linda became cross. "Why does everyone want me to please my husband? He and I have an agreement. He gives me money and I let people call me Mrs. Abrams to my face." 

Any snappy retort would have crashed Nurse Magilacutty's little brain but Nurse Ratchett only smiled. "Then why are you doing it?" 

"For me of course, who else? If I can divert the funding that feeds a small African Nation so construction workers can break their necks gawking a second look at this face and body then I'll do it in a heart beat. Me, me, me... and perhaps my new boyfriend." 

"I see. If men have mistresses, what do women have?" 

"Escorts, and I'll be opening up a service with very exclusive clientele; me." Linda scooted a little on the table to peer out the window. "And I think I see my first employee now." 

"Well, he does like working with his hands." 

"Honey, It’s not his hands I'm after." 

The doctor coughed politely as he entered the room. “Let's get this show on the road." He said stepping behind Linda. "Look forward please. You'll feel a slight pinch." There was more than a slight pinch at the base of her neck as a shard of ice pushed in. 

"Ow! How would you like a slight pinch?” Linda went to rub the growing ball of cold on her neck, but Nurse Ratchett held her hands and placed them in her lap. 

"Hold still for a moment." 

Linda glared at her. "You hold still Miss Red Cross. Why don't you duck out and get us some doughnuts and coffee. Make mine a 'Kahlua'. 

The Doctor stepped in front of her, quickly shinning a light in her eyes "Just keep looking forward." He turned off his light and held out his hands. "Squeeze my hands." 

Linda took a grip still staring ahead. She could see part of the garden and the bronze of her Rolls as it pealed out of the driveway with Nurse Magilacutty behind the wheel.  "Where is she taking my car?" 

"She is going to wreck it." The doctor answered matter of factly. 

"I know that, but where is she taking it?" 

"Squeeze my hand. To some cliffs up the coast." 

Linda's anger flared. "Not funny. I don't like people driving my car." 

"Squeeze my hand." 

"I Am Squeezing!" 

Without effort, the doctor slipped his hands out of her limp grip. Nurse Ratchett and the doctor eased Linda down onto the table, laying her flat on her back. Linda could only barely mumble, "What is going on? 

"I'm sorry about your car, Mrs. Abrams, but it was the best way to explain your 'death'. You should not drink and drive." 

Linda could feel cold wrap around her neck like a strangler's hands. She felt her limbs relaxing and ignoring her commands to move. "I... I'm paralyzed!" 

"Something like that. The shot I gave you arrests a section of the synaptic gaps in the dorsal cortex canceling out voluntary movement. That's the group of nerves in your spine that allows your brain to give orders to your body. Soon, this area of nerves will die completely." He took a sharp probe from the tray at his side. "Reflexes..." He poked her in the bottom of her foot and her leg jerked slightly. Still work. Your breathing and heart rate will slow to an almost catatonic state."

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Office Politics

By DX
Copyrighted 2/2007, 2024 all rights reserved.

 Lucille leaned back in her chair with a happy sigh as a smug grin of satisfaction spread across her face. She admired the stark, white walls of her new office as she made plans for the money from her salary raise to decorate them. With her new position, she would be able to afford a lot more things.

 She peered through her open door and watched Kimberly make her rounds. Lucille smiled devilishly, then forced the expression from her face. She scanned her desk quickly, snatched up a blank piece of paper, stuffed it into an inter-office envelope and sealed it up.

 "Kimmy," She called cooly. "might I see you in my office?"

 The blonde girl nodded, parking her mail cart by the door. "Yeah, Luce?"

 Lucille's face darkened slightly. "Kimmy, it is inappropriate to address management in such a familiar tone."

 Kimberly pursed her lips as she thought. "I'll keep that in mind in case I meet any management, Luce."

 Lucille sniffed contemptuously. "Kimmy, I realize that we've had a bit of history together, but I must impress upon you to remember that I did receive the promotion over you." Lucille interlaced her fingers, her long, lacquered fingernails of blood forming a row of spikes. "I am your superior and I will be treated as such." Her voice bit vehemently, then softened. "Don't make my first act to be reprimanding you."

 The blonde girl scoffed. "The only reason you got the promotion is because I could not make the review board in time."

 Lucille straightened, stung. "If the position meant anything to you, you would have made the effort to show up." Her voice dripped with venom.

 "My car broke down." Kimberly's voice leveled, accusingly. "The plug from my oil pan mysteriously vanished and my engine seized. By time I was able to get a cab, I was too late for the board."

 Lucille's face dropped, looking innocent. "Well, I know nothing about cars or engines, but you should have allotted yourself more time..."

 "Know nothing about cars or engines?" Kimberly rebuked quickly, hotly. "We took auto-shop together in college. You got an 'A'!"

 Lucille sat back in her chair, clearly unnerved. "I don't know what you're trying to infer, but the bottom line is that I got the job." She leaned back in her seat, her smile and confidence returning. "And if you want to get anywhere on the corporate ladder, you should show a little respect." Lucille's eyes darkened like a praying mantis considering its prey. "Perhaps you should learn a little about office politics. Making an enemy out of me isn't a good start."

 Kimberly laughed breathlessly. "Sure, Luce. Is there something you wanted?"

 Lucille had almost forgotten. She snatched up the inter-office mail and held it out. "Take this to Diane in accounting right away." She ordered, her smugness returning.

 "Sure thing, Luce." Kimberly took the envelope. "Enjoy it while you can."

 Lucille flinched as her smug expression drained. "What's that supposed to mean?"

 "Oh, I'm sure you've heard that Steve in acquisitions is retiring this month." Kimberly said, offhandedly.

 "Of course I heard about that," She hadn't. "but isn't that an executive position?"

 Kimberly nodded, looking about the tiny office. "And his office has a window." Kimberly smiled at her boss. "With a view."

 Lucille's eyes focused threateningly. "What makes you think you'll get that position?"

 Kimberly frowned slightly, pouting as she thought. "For starters, I am qualified for the job. Secondly, Dan is doing the interview personally." Kimberly gave herself a little hug, making her breasts bulge. "And you know he can't resist a little cleavage."

 Lucille scowled as he face drained of pallor. "Well, I think it will take a little more than a C cup to make him give you the job."

 "Actually, they're a D, and I've got that covered."

 Lucille leaned forward, her brow arching suspiciously. "What, are you getting a boob job?"

 The blonde smiled scandalously. "A little office politic campaigning."

 "Really?" Lucille sat up. "And how can you afford plastic surgery on your meager salary?"

 Kimberly's face lit up as she leaned in close, her voice lowered. "You know Michelle up in personnel?"

 Lucille sensed hot gossip and was drawn in like a shark to blood. Everyone knew Michelle. She was a tall goddess in killer pumps whose fashion model looks could enslave men with a glance. She could be on the runway as a super model save that her massive breasts and juicy curves would not fit in the anorexic world of modeling. Lucille had watched her like every woman, with loathe and envy. "Michelle had plastic surgery?" She whispered.

 Kimberly snorted a laugh. "She used to be a man!"

 "No way!"

 "Yes way. Her doctor is this guy up from Brazil. He's doing low budget procedures because he hasn't gotten his license in this country yet." Kimberly smiled, coyly. "So, he's going to add a cup to my chest and smooth out some lines. He says he can take five to seven years off my face."

 "Take seven years off your face and you'll look like you're fourteen." Lucille mumbled sardonically.

 "We're talking Dan here. Fourteen's a little old for him." Kimberly rose and turned, showing her profile. "A little lypo here," She laid her hand on her already flat tummy. "and a little added back here for some nice curve," She patted her rump. "and Dan will be a blithering idiot." Kimberly regarded Lucille in the suddenly silence. "You know, you could stand to have a little work done and smooth out those Crow's Feet."

 Lucille's hand reflexively shot up to the corner of her eye, almost trying to hide. She managed a weak smile. "I prefer to earn my promotions on merit."

 Kimberly breathed a silent, mocking laugh. "That would be a change in tactics for you." She looked around the stark, plain office walls. "That'll get you right to the top, I’m sure.” She held up the envelope Lucille gave her to deliver. "Since I'm leaving early today, I'll be sure to get this to accounting before I leave. My procedure is tomorrow morning at six."

 "All that in one day?"

 Kimberly shrugged. "It's not all that. Besides, the man is good."

 "A miracle worker."

 "Ha, ha." Kimberly said, dryly. "I'll be on three weeks vacation time to recover, and then my interview with Dan will be right after that." She smiled brightly. "See you around, Luce."

 Lucille sneered more than smiled and gave a half wave as Kimberly left. Lucille picked up the phone to look busy, pretending Kimberly’s taunt fell on deaf ears. Once the blonde was out of sight, Lucille hung up the phone, her eyes dark and brooding. A small smile crept onto her lips as she picked up the phone again.

 "Hello, Michelle? This is Lucille! Lucille from downstairs. Yes, that Lucille. You know I just recalled that I owe you a lunch. Yes, I'm sure. What say I even the score. I can meet you downstairs at Noon. Yes, yes, I owe you a lunch, I'm very sure. We should get to know each other. Besides, why turn down a free lunch?"

 Dawn had yet to cast its gentle light on the darkened street. The tall shadowy buildings rose like fortress walls, their forlorn, cracked and broken windows gazing silently down to the vacant lot below.

 Lucille shuddered as she parked her car beneath the only working light in the parking lot. As she stepped from the security of her car, she glanced around nervously. Her car, old and well used looked pristine compared to the other cars in the lot. She locked it, then checked that it was locked, then made her way quickly across the lot to the dark door. She had pumped Michelle for information to the point of using subtle threats of exposing her past as a man. Michelle reluctantly gave Lucille directions to The Miracle Worker.

 "Talk about your back door surgeries." Lucille mumbled as she reached for the bell. She hesitated, wondering if what she was doing was worth it. She set her lips and pressed the greasy button. Earlier that morning, Lucille snuck over to Kimberly's apartment and put a nick in the brake lines of her car. With the steep hills in that neighborhood, Kimmy was going to need a little more than plastic surgery. 

 Lucille sighed sharply. She was in deep now.

 She flinched and yelped as the door buzzed angrily at her. Trying to slow her quickly beating heart, she pushed open the door and stepped into the darkness beyond. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the gloom. She stepped forward and found the elevator. As the door slid open, the stench of urine assaulted her. The elevator rattled like a haunted house as it climbed up, then opened to a shadowy hall.

 Fear clutched her heart as she walked down the dimly lit hall to the double doors at the end. There was no sign, no indication that this rat infested building was anything of a clinic. Lucille again hesitated at the door as the idea of sterile conditions came to mind.

 "A healthy dose of penicillin can handle any infection." She whispered as she reached for the dented and pitted door knob.

 The door swung open easily and Lucille blinked, blinded by the bright light. When she could see, she took in the warm, fresh painted walls and breathed in the clean air scented with antiseptic.

 Behind the glass desk, typing on her laptop, the receptionist peered up. "Senorita Kimberly?"

 Lucille was stunned silent by the woman's youth and beauty. Her friendly, but exotic dark eyes, sculpted full lips and delicate chin were captivating. She could never be a model. She was too pretty to look at. No one would pay any attention to any product she was selling.

 "May I help you?" The woman asked again.

 Lucille was jolted from her revery. "Ah, si, yes, I am Kimberly." Michelle had told her that everything was done through phone calls and e-mails. Lucille gambled that the doctor would have no idea what Kimberly looked like so posing would be easy.

 The receptionist held out a clip board. "Please fill these out and sign here. Your payment has already been processed."

 Lucille grinned as she took a seat and filled out the form using Kimberly's name, but used her own medical history and allergies. With that done, Lucille was escorted to another room, not as pretty as the reception area, where a nurse in full surgical scrubs and mask greeted her and gave her a gown to put on. Lucille tried to catch a glimpse of the woman. She was blonde with lovely blue eyes, but her mask covered everything else.

 The nurse took Lucille's clothes away as the doctor came in. He chittered quickly in Spanish and Lucille assumed he wanted her naked. When she opened her gown, the doctor took a marker and drew on her body where he was going to cut. He then sketched lines on her face. Lucille realized that Kimberly was having more than just a minor procedure done.

 As the doctor finished, the blonde nurse wheeled in a gurney and motioned for Lucille to lay down. The doctor then swabbed Lucille's arm and gave her a shot. He then put an intravenous shunt into her arm. The nurse wheeled Lucille into the operating theater.

 Large lights hovered over head, blinding Lucille. Trays and tables covered in green cloth surrounded her. Hoses and tubes sprang from everywhere. Lucille was wheeled into the center of it all.

 The nurse said something in Spanish, and Lucille, nervousness building, nodded dumbly. The nurse smiled beneath her mask. "No Espanol?"

 "Uh, I took it in highschool a few years ago." Actually, she had cheated off of Kimberly.

 The nurse nodded, understanding. "The shot the doctor gave you is a sedative. It will make you very sleepy. This procedure requires full anesthesia."

 Lucille did feel sleepy and her limbs grew heavy. She watched submissively as the nurse ran straps across her wrists. As she strapped her feet down, the nurse explained, "Can't risk you sleep walking." The nurse stood back and glanced through the open door. "The doctor is scrubbing up and the anesthesiologist will be here in a minute." The nurse looked down at Lucille, patting her hand reassuringly. "Just relax, Kimberly, the doctor is very experienced in this type of surgery. Although you have chosen a very extensive and extreme procedure, the doctor is confident you will be pleased with the results."

 The words, extreme and extensive pushed a spike in Lucille's mind. What did Kimberly sign up for?

 The nurse moved a tray over. "These breast implants are imported. This country will not allow any this big to be used." Lucille blinked, fighting the affects of the sedative as she looked at two grey, lucid plastic forms the size and shape of beach balls. Lucille tried to speak but with the sedative in her system, she could only moan.

 The nurse patted her arm gently. "Oh, don't worry. These are not your implants." Lucille breathed a sigh of relief. "These are only to stretch the skin." The nurse went on, pulling back another cloth revealing two massive bags of silicone, sparkling in the light. "These will be your permanent implants, the finest and highest quality I might add. It should give you the ninety inch bust line that you requested."

 Lucille's eyes grew wide as plates. Ninety inches!

 "Now, I know you were thinking bigger," The nurse went on, "But I think that after we remove some of your ribs," The nurse pointed to Lucille's side where the doctor had marked. "and several yards of your small intestine and most of your stomach and large intestine, and bring your waist size down to a fourteen, your breasts will look sensational."

 Lucille tried to struggle, but the sedative was at full effect. Kimberly had signed up to be a freak!

 The nurse held up a tray with a silicone doughnut. "These will be your lip implants. I can't imagine how you'll be able to talk after this, but it is what you ordered.”  She shrugged.  “Your teeth will be removed, and your jaw pinned open.”  She looked at markings on Lucille.  “And your vagina?  Crazy!  Utterly gone.  You will be incapable of experiencing pleasure ever again.”

 "Stop," Lucille struggled to talk, her voice barely a whisper. "I'm not Kimberly." Every word was a struggle but she forced back the effects of the drug. "It's a mistake."

 Lucille looked up as another man, swabbed in surgical scrubs came in.

 "Stop," She moaned. "Please, don't do this."

 "Que?" He asked and the nurse answered him in Spanish. The man nodded and gave Lucille a thumbs up. "All okay!" He said as he picked up the black rubber anesthesia mask and strapped it to Lucille's face.

 "Just breathe normally." The nurse instructed.

 Lucille tried to protest as the world swirled into darkness. "No, wait," Her voice was muffled by the mask.

 The nurse leaned in close and whispered into Lucille's ear. "Perhaps you should not have cheated off me during Spanish class."

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Copyrighted 2/2007, 10/2024 all rights reserved. 

Used with permission, Gag Order.