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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Copyright 1997, 12/2024.  All rights reserved

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