He doesn't charge where they come from or who they were. They drop off a Male body, and the client's society with half of the agreed sum in silver bar. Then the Doctor gets to work, no gens, no questions.

The Doctor was excited ; it had been a while since he had a operating theater this challenging. Despite the small way the physician had to knead with, the equipment in the room was easily worth more than the entire apartment complex the makeshift cognitive operation room was held in.

The doctor looked for non-existing seams on the final firearm of the artificial hide on her forehead. This was one of the more unique type of skins used, a case of constituent pulp colored silicon, giving the look and flavour of a dolly. This character of skin supported twice the measure of nerve termination of normal human skin. Under the skin, there were excess sebaceous gland to secrete oil onto the skin when pheromones are picked up to furnish an oiled latex tone for extra sex appeal. All of the patient's pelt had been painstakingly replaced subdivision by section, as removing all of it at once would prove to be fatal.

Her closed eyes twinkled like the nighttime sky, the doctor's hand brushed against her multicolored lid, the dark, cosmic silver grey undisturbed from his touch. He had blended the powder of various alloy and alloys into the ticklish skin of the eyelids until the color was just right. His fingers stroked her lightlessness, plumy eyelashes, naturally good and curved as if mascara had just been applied. The doctor gently forced an eye open, revealing a shimmering, emerald juicy iris. He allowed himself to look up to his body of work before inspecting the Diospyros ebenum assembly line tattooed around the edges of her eye. His digit followed the shape of the feminine boldness to her pleasant-tasting red sass. The doctor's blue latex glove met with her arctic mouth, always plump, always lustrous, its vermilion hue unyielding. Everything was perm, good.

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The doctor moved to the bosom to examine their procession. He massaged the DD sized breast, working his way from the firm pliable white meat to the pink nipple he spent days crafting. He touched the growing nipple gently, admiring just how often was going on underneath the hypersensitive clump of artificial flesh. The physician's phone call of duty was sensitive breasts, but he liked to advertise himself further. He especially liked the Order where there were no speed limits for him ; he could truly express his creative thinking applying a mix of skill and art. This was one of those orders. He pinched the grippy mamilla as the balance of his fingers felt the modified milk glands inside her breast. The doctor was proud of that the nipple was solid and addictive to toy 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 doctor felt a flimsy throb in between his fingers, and knew that he had succeeded. The pap discharge cum, soiling the doctor's blue surgical glove. The doctor had a triumphant smile knowing that the weeks of mussy heart rewiring had paid off.

Though she had lost the ability to nurse, her breasts had the potential to create more cum than a convention vagina on an average woman. Her white meat were wired to grow cum indefinitely in the replaced milk secretor, signals imitating the ace sent after childbirth. The cum would likely swell her breasts to an E cup before spilling from her mamilla. From the doctor's calculations, she would receive to induce her breasts cum every day or so to prevent an runoff. The MD cleaned the spillage around her breast, and to his pleasant surprise had to clean the second untouched nipple as well. The doctor scribbled with hullabaloo in his musical note before continuing his examination.

The physician was renowned in the art of crafting vaginas that would cause the most dysfunctional man to cum prematurely. But what the Dr. was about to score even impressed himself, despite all of the breathtaking musical composition he had created before. Rumour has it that one of his bit has been known to cause blackouts and potential cardiac stay should the user have a infirm spunk. The woman disappeared shortly afterwards, though there had been an increasing amounts of powerful frame succumbing to nitty-gritty attacks. The skin for the vagina was the sum of his experiments with hypersensitive peel, optimized through years of extermination on hundreds of specimens. The doc had found the optimal zone in between pain and pleasure.

Everything in her new sex had been expertly crafted by the doctor, save the ovaries ; she would only become pregnant only if her superior desired it. She would give birth periods, and could even mature a baby inside her womb should a inseminate egg be inserted within her. Her vagina looks perfectly normal on the outside, but the interior was the doctor's Sistine chapel. He was very gifted in his art, but after so many geezerhood of innovation, he was left with lilliputian room to improve. This decree had him flustered as he could easily put through one of the many designs which has made him famous, but they were old and moth-eaten to him. He was going to implement a lot of the perfect classic designs, but he needed something new to relieve oneself this one unique. It was rare that he was allowed to freely make, and he did not wish to waste this opportunity by photocopying his former pieces.

The doctor wondered if he was if he was losing his creative electric discharge, or if he was just getting old - or maybe both. He was despairing, but he couldn't do anything but palpate helpless flipping through late Night TV shows on his sofa. That was until the shark workweek especial gave him the inspiration he needed. He would make multiple g-spots in the anatomy of a shark's gills out of cartilage, ten total, five on each side of the vaginal wall. The doctor beamed while he attacked his notepad. They were to exsert outwards when line fills the vagina, pointing downwards towards the opening night. They were to bring extreme point joy to the user, and possibly stimulate a nuclear meltdown in psyche of the vagina's owner.

The MD brought himself back to the undertaking at hand, his finger's breadth spread her moist labia. The physician breached her modified hymen, made to spring up back within twelve hours. He swirled his fingers around the area just before the array of g-spots, the psyche activity monitor rapidly scaled out to lodge the vast spikes it had to display. The Doctor became mad as he continued to his chef-d'oeuvre, he could feel the Gills ( named for G-spot lamella ) erect. The Doctor continued to push, until the Gill inversed, spot into her womb, causing her unconscious body to instantly fall to an orgasm. He continued his digit through the remaining four sets of branchia, the new psyche natural action layer made the late look like a prostrate phone line. If the doctor didn't implement the anesthetic himself, he would not have believed that this little girl was under from the way she was convulsing from the acute sexual climax. The doctor removed his finger swiftly, causing all of the Gills to revert to their original position, the sudden remotion of his digit stimulated all the branchia, causing another eruption of fluids. Her body stayed in a strained archway for several second gear twitching, before slowly lowering back onto the steel board.

The tightness and the way the gills held onto his finger turned the doctor on, he could only imagine how a penis would just melt inside his masterpiece. The doctor was tempted to give it a test run, to satisfy his raging humanness, but this was the hardest character of his job. Even though he knew the hymen would raise 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 toss out them when he came up with new technique for his art. The doc sighed at his predicament, and went on to try out her clitoris. The sixteen thousand nerve endings in her button were expertly coiled and weaved amplifying sensations to unimaginable storey. The Doctor pressed on her button like an lift release, turning her aftershocks into another full blown orgasm. The Doctor was pleased.

Regretfully, the doctor's examination was coming to an end. He began the preparations for her recovery. The doctor inserted a sheeny black latex catheter, into the newly formed urine duct. He knew that she will be kept under until she was completely healed. The rubber-base paint tube hung out of her vagina like a slim tail. The doctor picked up the tube-shaped structure inflated the balloon inside her vesica with a special tool, securing the catheter until he decides to discharge it. The physician pulled the red latex paint exit stopper from the end of the tube-shaped structure, and attached the catheter to a thermionic tube leading to a piss bag.

The doctor unpacked the fresh pink lingerie ; the seductive sound of sliding the slight panties up her soft legs aroused the doctor beyond the limits of a normal man. The catheter came out from the side of the pinko scanty. Next, he took the bra, wrapping it around her unconscious mind body, tucking heavy breasts into its cup was always a pleasure for the Doctor. He took her hands, with a atomic number 47 manicure, placing them over her pierced navel- a subtle trailing gimmick, anchored to her womb ; removal would raise quite painful. Finally, he slipped her twee substructure into a duo of platform heels. Perfect.

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The doctor turned off the lights, but did not go out the room. He admired the lineation of her face that he crafted for her. The curves, long slender leg, her ample bust, his prefect gifts to her. The doctor had not felt a connection like this to his creations for a foresighted fourth dimension now. He went up to her and kissed her on the cheek in the dark. He made sure the full body mirror positioned correctly next to the bed, he wanted his affected role to admire his work when she awoke.

"Sleep tight, my girl. ”