He doesn't care where they come from or who they were. They drop off a Male consistency, and the client's rules of order with half of the agreed sum in silver gray cake. Then the doctor gets to work, no name calling, no questions.

The MD was excited ; it had been a piece since he had a surgery this challenging. Despite the small room the doctor had to form with, the equipment in the elbow room was easily worth Thomas More than the entire apartment complex the makeshift operation room was held in.

The physician looked for non-existing crease on the final piece of the contrived skin on her forehead. This was one of the more unequaled type of pelt used, a type of organic chassis colored silicon, giving the tone and smell of a skirt. This eccentric of pelt supported twice the total of heart endings of convention homo skin. Under the skin, there were extra sebaceous secreter to release oil onto the hide when pheromones are picked up to render an inunct latex look for extra sex appeal. All of the patient's peel had been painstakingly replaced section by section, as removing all of it at once would test to be fatal.

Her closed centre twinkled like the nighttime sky, the doctor's hands brushed against her multicolour eyelids, the dark, cosmic silver gray undisturbed from his soupcon. He had blended the powder of various metals and alloys into the ticklish pelt of the eyelid until the color was just right. His fingers stroked her black, featherlike eyelashes, naturally full and curved as if mascara had just been applied. The doc gently forced an eye overt, revealing a shimmering, emerald blueing iris. He allowed himself to admire his work before inspecting the ebony lines tattooed around the border of her eye. His fingerbreadth followed the figure of the feminine brass to her delicious red sass. The medico's blue latex boxing glove met with her gumshoe lips, always plump, always shiny, its scarlet hue unyielding. Everything was permanent, good.

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The doctor moved to the breasts to examine their progress. He massaged the DD sized breast, working his way from the firm elastic band breast to the pink nipple he spent days crafting. He touched the growing nipple gently, admiring just how much was going on underneath the supersensitive clustering of artificial flesh. The Doctor's song of duty was sensitive breasts, but he liked to bear on himself further. He especially liked the orders where there were no amphetamine terminal point for him ; he could truly express his creativity applying a mix of science and art. This was one of those gild. He pinched the grippy nipples as the remainder of his finger felt the modified Milk glands inside her breasts. The doctor was pleased that the mamilla was substantial and addictive to wreak with, but he still was still not satisfied. The replacement of all the milk glands with Skene's allowed her to cum through her breasts. The doc felt a slight throbbing in between his fingerbreadth, and knew that he had succeeded. The nipple ejected cum, soiling the Doctor's blue surgical baseball mitt. The doctor had a triumphant smiling knowing that the weeks of messy nerve rewiring had paid off.

Though she had lost the ability to breastfeed, her white meat had the potential to create more cum than a normal vagina on an average woman. Her breasts were wired to produce cum indefinitely in the replaced Milk River glands, sign imitating the ones sent after childbirth. The cum would likely tumesce her breasts to an E cup before spilling from her pap. From the medico's calculations, she would have to make her breasts cum every day or so to prevent an overflow. The physician cleaned the spillage around her titty, and to his pleasant surprise had to strip the indorse unaffected nipple as well. The physician scribbled with hullabaloo in his notes before continuing his examination.

The doctor was renowned in the art of crafting vaginas that would cause the most dysfunctional man to cum prematurely. But what the doctor was about to make water even impressed himself, despite all of the breathtaking small-arm he had created before. Rumour has it that one of his bit has been known to have brownout and possible cardiac arrest should the substance abuser have a weak heart. The cleaning lady disappeared shortly afterwards, though there had been an increasing sum of money of hefty figures succumbing to heart attacks. The peel for the vagina was the sum of his experiment with hypersensitive skin, optimized through years of extermination on hundreds of specimens. The doctor had found the optimal zone in between botheration and pleasure.

Everything in her new sex had been expertly crafted by the doctor, save the ovaries ; she would only become significant only if her schoolmaster desired it. She would have stop, and could even turn a baby inside her uterus should a fertilise egg be inserted within her. Her vagina looks perfectly normal on the out of doors, but the inside was the Doctor of the Church's Sistine chapel. He was very gifted in his art, but after so many years of innovation, he was left with little room to amend. This social club had him flustered as he could easily follow out one of the many designs which has made him famous, but they were old and stale to him. He was going to implement a lot of the perfected classic designs, but he needed something new to cause this one unique. It was uncommon that he was allowed to freely create, and he did not like to waste this opportunity by photocopying his previous pieces.

The doctor wondered if he was if he was losing his creative light, or if he was just getting old - or maybe both. He was do-or-die, but he couldn't do anything but experience incapacitated flipping through late nighttime TV shows on his sofa. That was until the shark workweek special gave him the brainchild he needed. He would name multiple g-spots in the embodiment of a shark's gills out of cartilage, ten aggregate, five on each side of the vaginal paries. The doctor beamed while he attacked his notepad. They were to extend outwards when blood fills the vagina, pointing downwards towards the initiative. They were to land utmost pleasure to the drug user, and possibly make a meltdown in intellect of the vagina's owner.

The doctor brought himself back to the undertaking at bridge player, his fingers spread her moist labia. The doctor breached her modified Hymen, made to spring up back within XII hours. He swirled his fingers around the region just before the array of g-spots, the brain activity monitor rapidly scaled out to adapt the Brobdingnagian capitulum it had to display. The doctor became emotional as he continued to his chef-d'oeuvre, he could feel the Gills ( named for G-spot gills ) erect. The doctor continued to push, until the lamella inversed, pointedness into her womb, causing her unconscious body to instantly come to an orgasm. He continued his finger through the remaining four sets of gills, the new mental capacity natural action levels made the late spirit like a flat line. If the MD didn't enforce the anaesthetic himself, he would not have believed that this miss was under from the way she was convulsing from the intense climax. The doctor removed his finger swiftly, causing all of the Gills to regress to their original position, the sudden removal of his figure stimulated all the Gills, causing another irruption of fluids. Her body stayed in a filter arch for several seconds twitching, before slowly lowering back onto the steel table.

The denseness and the way the gill held onto his finger turned the doctor on, he could only conceive of how a phallus would just fade inside his masterpiece. The doctor was tempted to give it a exam run, to satisfy his raging manhood, but this was the concentrated component part of his job. Even though he knew the virginal membrane would originate back, and there was no evidence, he had to remain a professional. He had always thought of making one for himself, but he realized that he would continuously discard them when he came up with new proficiency for his art. The physician sighed at his quandary, and went on to essay her clitoris. The sixteen thousand nerve endings in her clitoris were expertly coiled and weaved amplifying sensations to inconceivable levels. The doctor pressed on her clit like an lift clitoris, turning her aftershocks into another full blown sexual climax. The doctor was pleased.

Regretfully, the MD's examination was coming to an end. He began the preparations for her recovery. The Dr. inserted a shiny black latex catheter, into the newly formed water duct. He knew that she will be kept under until she was completely healed. The latex tube hung out of her vagina like a slim down tail. The doctor picked up the tube inflated the balloon inside her bladder with a special tool, securing the catheter until he decides to release it. The doctor pulled the red latex outlet stopper from the end of the tube, and attached the catheter to a subway leading to a urine bag.

The doctor unpacked the fresh pink intimate apparel ; the seductive phone of sliding the thin panty up her soft leg aroused the doctor beyond the limits of a normal man. The catheter came out from the side of the pinko panties. Next, he took the bra, wrapping it around her unconscious torso, tucking heavy chest into its cups was always a pleasance for the doctor. He took her hands, with a silver manicure, placing them over her pierced navel- a elusive tracking device, anchored to her womb ; removal would bear witness quite painful. Finally, he slipped her dainty feet into a brace of weapons platform hound. Perfect.

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The Doctor turned off the lights, but did not leave the room. He admired the synopsis of her typeface that he crafted for her. The curves, long slender leg, her plenteous tear, his prefect gifts to her. The physician had not felt a connector like this to his founding for a long prison term now. He went up to her and kissed her on the cheek in the wickedness. He made certainly the full phase of the moon body mirror positioned correctly next to the bed, he wanted his patient to look up to his work when she awoke.

"rest tight, my daughter. ”