Margaret always wanted more - and now, she has it!
The light pouring through the window was strange, Margaret thought sleepily, then realised why: surely it was too yellow, to bright to be natural? It trickled through the blinds like liquid gold and pooled lazily on the tiled floor. Who would melt so much gold, just so they could pour it into her room? Would it burn her if she tried to get out of bed? On the other hand, the thought of climbing from her warm, comfortable bed was so unappealing that the thought of being trapped in bed was almost welcome. Perhaps I'll just stay here. Perhaps I'll just sleep...
"How do you feel, Miss Carter?" The voice seemed, all at once, to be very far away and right against her ear, rich and deep and heavy with authority.
"Fine," she murmured, then smiled sleepily. "Better. I feel great."
"Excellent. That's the effect of the hypnosis, Miss Carter."
"Hypnosis?" Margaret frowned slightly, though the expression felt alien and uncomfortable.
"Conventional anesthetics would have left you bruised and uncomfortable, but this technique reduces the physical trauma and leaves you with a pleasant post-hypnotic glow."
Slowly, Margaret raised her head. A man was leaning over her, a distinguished-looking man in his mid-fifties. A name swam into her mind. "Doctor Calvin. That's who he is. He's going to fix me..."
"Pleasant," she murmured aloud. "Yeah."
"Now, what do you think of your new breasts?"
"Oh... oh my God." Realisation burst through Margaret's befuddled mind like a tidal wave. She had gone to a cosmetic surgery clinic to have her breasts enlarged. Not by any measure unattractive, Margaret had always felt let down by her small, shapeless breasts. She knew she would feel better by having them enlarged, she could finally be the woman she always wanted to be, confident, attractive, sexy. She had been prepared for surgery, even booking her appointment at the clinic, but Doctor Calvin had taken a personal interest in her case, and had explained the details of an exciting new procedure. Injections of a genetically-engineered growth hormone into the breast tissue would lead to sudden and pronounced growth - and, to counteract the pain of the procedure, Doctor Calvin would place the patient in a deep hypnotic trance. No ugly scars, no sacks of silicon gel waiting to burst or leak, and no pain. Margaret had wrestled with the decision for ten long, lonely minutes, but her fear of the surgeon's knife had outweighed her caution at this relatively untested medical procedure, and she had finally agreed to Doctor Calvin's offer with a great feeling of relief and excitement.
Margaret struggled to sit upright, took a deep, cleansing breath, looked down, and blinked. Her loose robe was open to the waist, given her a clear view of two mountainous breasts. Where once there had been two sad little bulges, topped with a miserly nipples that could be mistaken for teenage zits, now there were titanic beauties, rounded masses of soft, smooth flesh, adorned with generous red nipples that stood proudly erect. Their weight was strangely comforting, and, distantly, a strange tingle of excitement ran through her body.
Forcing herself to raise her gaze, Margaret blinked at Doctor Calvin. "But, I thought -"
As if unaware of the movement, Margaret raised her hands and began to touch and caress the generous globes. "I thought I was going to a D-cup, Doctor. These are - are these really mine?"
"Of course they are, Miss Carter. We took advantage of your hypnotic state to take you a little larger, that's all. You are now the proud owner of F-cup tits, perfect for the slut-about-town."
Margaret blinked again, and looked up at the grey-haired doctor uncertainly. "But I -"
Doctor Calvin sighed. "Think of it this way, Miss Carter. We live, as I'm sure you are aware, in a sexualised society. What would the media do without an ample supply of generously-endowed young women who were willing to take their clothes off at the slightest provocation? What would the advertising industry do without? What would the sex industry do without porn stars and strippers? Not to mention, of course, the oldest profession in the world: men who are brought up on a regular diet of pneumatically-enhanced beauties aren't going to be satisfied with a whore who would struggle to fill an A-cup?"
The euphoric glow had completely faded. "W-what does that have to do with me?" Margaret stammered.
Doctor Calvin sat on the edge of the bed and began to remove his latex gloves. "Economics, Miss Carter. When there is a demand, there must be a supply. The world wants sluts with big, bouncing tits, and we are in the prefect position to supply them. You were a receptionist, I believe, before your procedure?"
"I still am," whispered Margaret, but Doctor Calvin shook his head firmly.
"No. No, that's quite impossible. Answering telephones would be a waste of your wonderful new body, dear girl. Considering how well you've turned out..." He frowned reflectively, and tapped the end of his silver fountain pen against his chin. "I dare say we can start you with some soft-porn shoots, maybe some live appearances, before moving on to a full-length hardcore feature by Christmas. How does that sound?"
Margaret struggled to sit up, blinking away tears. "I don't want to," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I won't do it. You can't - God, you can't make me do it!"
"Well, that's the key phrase, isn't it, Miss Carter? 'Make' you. You came here, unhappy with your body, and I made you into something new. Something beautiful. Something wonderful."
"I won't be a whore," Margaret whispered, a single hot tear running down her face.
"Of course not. You're far too attractive. No, I dare say you'll be an international celebrity, the fuck-toy of the rich and famous, the wet dream of a million adolescents. And the best part is, Miss Carter, that you'll enjoy every moment - you'll love it."
"Oh, come now. Do you think I would set you on this new path without seeing to your ongoing well-being?" He smiled and shook his head, then suddenly reached out and squeezed Margaret's left breast. She gasped at the feeling, though the sensation that rushed through her body was not the anger she suspected. It was...
"Oh, no," she breathed.
It was pleasure: burning, tingling, aching pleasure. Under his firm touch, her nipple hardened immediately, and a hot surge of desire swept through her.
"A post-hypnotic suggestion, dear girl. From now on, your sexual responses are not yours to control. You will rebuff no advance; you will be open and accessible." This was followed by a soft chuckle. "In every sense of the word," he added with a smile.
"Doctor, please, I -"
"Suck my cock, Miss Carter."
For an instant, a violent revulsion blazed through her mind, but her tongue was busy moistening her pink lips. Her mouth was filled with the taste of throbbing male flesh, of the sweet salty tang of his sex. She reached for his trousers, unthinking, unable to fight the urge to comply with his demand.
Doctor Calvin watched with keen interest as Margaret bent double, the swollen flesh of her new breasts impeding her movements only slightly, and fumbled with his belt buckle. A moment later, and his modest penis was released from his underpants, only for Margaret to eagerly take it into her mouth. He sighed happily and made a small note on his clipboard. This was the best result so far. The section of the hypnotic re-programming that dealt with the subject's attitude toward oral sex was a new addition, entirely his own creation: under it's influences, the patient would happily suck off a passing stranger or even a member of her own family just for a mouthful of creamy cum - so powerful was the compulsion that one of the test subjects had actually performed oral sex on her pet Labrador in order to satisfy the craving. The craving was independent of her own sexual satisfaction, so the compulsion would return every few days regardless of her other activity, a fact which caused him enormous pleasure. Even without the considerable amount of money he made from these procedures, William Calvin would happily have continued with the project just to unleash more cum-hungry sluts on the people of the world.
Margaret, meanwhile, sucked happily, conscious only of the feel and taste of this wonderful dick, and the distant damp heat of her pussy. Suddenly, Doctor Calvin pulled backward, his thin penis slipping from her mouth, only to spill a generous dollop of sperm over her chin and titanic breasts. He nodded in contented fashion, the pressed the moist tip back against her lips so that she might enjoy the last few droplets of his sticky cum.
"Excellent, Miss Carter, you've made marvellous progress."
"Thank you, Doctor," Margaret gasped, licking the traces of his seed from her fingers.
"We must, of course, ensure the rest of the procedure has been successful. If you'd lift your chin for a moment -" Margaret did so, and gasped in pleasure as Doctor Calvin delivered a stinging slap to her cheek. "How did that feel?" he asked curiously.
"Do it again," Margaret panted, her fingernails biting into the flesh of her right breast.
"Excellent, the pain/pleasure rewiring seems complete. Do you believe you could achieve orgasm purely from, for example, being spanked, Miss Carter?"
"Is that an offer, Doctor Calvin?" Margaret asked with a salacious grin.
Doctor Calvin returned the smile and marked something on his clipboard. "A perfect response. There are a few other tweaks that we've made to your psychosexual profile, but you'll discover most of them in your own good time - your strong attraction to other well-endowed sluts, your willingness to engage with multiple partners of either sex, your fondness for public displays of sexual behaviour, and so forth."
The words washed over Margaret, and she sighed happily at the images they created. The aching joy of a woman's breasts pressing against her own, the deep fulfillment of a hard, unyielding male organ in every one of her gaping, desperate holes... was there ever a time when these wonderful, exciting things had not ignited a urgent lust in her loins? A vague memory whispered at the fringes of her conscious mind: the ridiculous idea that she had once been shocked and offended that her ex-boyfriend watched porn movies?
Margaret shook her head. No, it was just her imagination. Why would she be bothered that her boyfriend liked watching hot fuck-sluts taking huge cocks in their oozing wet cunts? God, even the thought was enough to get her own juices flowing. When the Asian girl had pulled the stud's horse-sized cock out of her stinging asshole and began to feast on it, her tongue running from the plum-sized head to his generous balls... the vivid image threatened to tip her over the edge into orgasm. If Doctor Calvin didn't give her some more of his delicious cock, she'd be forced to finger herself in front of him - a possibility which only served to heighten her excitement further.
"Thank you, Doctor," she purred happily, delicately tweaking her erect nipples and scratching her fingernails lightly over the acres of tit-flesh that were now hers. "It's exactly what I wanted."
"I know it is, my dear. You're going to make a large number of men very happy indeed."
"Mmm..." purred Margaret, sliding one hand over her breasts, then down across the hot skin of her flat stomach. "Yeah, a large number of large men..."
"And now, if you'll excuse me, I have several other patients to check on. I only hope they've responded as positively to the treatment as you have, Miss Carter." Margaret giggled, swelling with pride at the compliment, her right index finger tenderly parting the slick lips of her pussy, her gaze drifting back to her new breasts. "I'll return later, to continue your evaluation and -" Doctor Calvin began, but Margaret's attention had turned from him to the damp heat of her impending orgasm. Smiling affectionately, he marked a final check on his clipboard, and stepped out into the hallway, careful to close the door quietly behind him.
"Miss Carter needs some personal time, but you can take her down to the day-room in half an hour or so," he instructed the pretty auburn nurse who stood at the desk.
"Of course, Doctor," she replied. "And you asked me to remind you that Miss Gray is due to wake up in a few minutes."
"Damn," he muttered, glancing at his watch. Maria Gray was a beautiful latino woman who had just been blessed with a pair of gargantuan tits and a sexual appetite to match. By the time he ran through the checklist and spilled another load of cum on her beautiful chest, he'd be running late for lunch. "Ah, to hell with it. Thank you, Nurse. I'll see to her right away."
After all, he reflected, strolling along the corridor to the room where his newest slut was beginning to awake, preparing an army of hyper-sexualised, well-endowed fuck toys wasn't just a job - it was a public service.