He doesn't care where they come from or who they were. They drop off a Male soundbox, and the client's Holy Order with half of the agreed sum in ash gray bars. Then the doctor gets to work, no figure, no questions.

The Doctor of the Church was excited ; it had been a piece since he had a surgery this challenging. Despite the small room the Dr. had to act with, the equipment in the room was easily worth to a greater extent than the entire apartment composite the makeshift operation room was held in.

The medico looked for non-existing seams on the final part of the artificial hide on her forehead. This was one of the more unique eccentric of skin used, a eccentric of organic flesh colored silicon, giving the smell and feel of a doll. This type of skin supported twice the amount of nerve endings of convention human pelt. Under the skin, there were excess sebaceous secreter to secrete oil onto the skin when pheromones are picked up to provide an oiled rubber-base paint feel for spare sex appeal. All of the patient role's skin had been painstakingly replaced section by section, as removing all of it at once would bear witness to be calamitous.

Her closed centre twinkled like the night sky, the doctor's hands brushed against her multi-coloured palpebra, the dark, cosmic silver undisturbed from his speck. He had blended the powder of several metal and alloys into the delicate skin of the eyelid until the color was just right. His fingers stroked her Black person, feathery eyelashes, naturally total and curved as if mascara had just been applied. The physician gently forced an eye open, revealing a shimmering, emerald bluing iris. He allowed himself to admire his oeuvre before inspecting the soot black lines tattooed around the edges of her eye. His fingers followed the shape of the feminine font to her luscious red lips. The doctor's blue latex baseball mitt met with her rubber sassing, always plump, always glossy, its orange red hue unyielding. Everything was permanent, good.

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The doctor moved to the titty to examine their progress. He massaged the DD sized boob, working his way from the house pliable breast to the garden pink nipple he spent days crafting. He touched the growing nipple gently, admiring just how much was going on underneath the hypersensitive clump of hokey flesh. The doctor's call of duty was sensitive breasts, but he liked to push himself further. He especially liked the monastic order where there were no speed limits for him ; he could truly state his creativeness applying a mix of scientific discipline and art. This was one of those orders. He pinched the grippy mammilla as the balance of his digit felt the modified Milk River gland inside her breasts. The doctor was proud of that the tit was upstanding and addictive to play with, but he still was still not satisfied. The refilling of all the milk glands with Skene's allowed her to cum through her boob. The doctor felt a little throbbing in between his fingers, and knew that he had succeeded. The tit ejected cum, soiling the doctor's juicy operative gloves. The doctor had a triumphant smile knowing that the weeks of mussy cheek rewiring had paid off.

Though she had lost the ability to breastfeed, her breasts had the voltage to create more cum than a normal vagina on an average woman. Her breasts were wired to bring on cum indefinitely in the replaced milk glands, signaling imitating the ones sent after childbirth. The cum would likely swell up her breasts to an E cup before spilling from her nipples. From the medico's deliberation, she would take to make her bosom cum every day or so to prevent an overflow. The MD cleaned the spillage around her breast, and to his pleasant surprise had to clean the second untouched nipple as well. The Doctor of the Church 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 even strike himself, despite all of the breathtaking spell he had created before. Rumour has it that one of his pieces has been known to cause blackouts and possible cardiac stay should the user have a infirm center. The fair sex disappeared shortly afterwards, though there had been an increasing amounts of brawny figures succumbing to heart attacks. The cutis for the vagina was the sum of his experiments with hypersensitive skin, optimized through years of extinction on hundreds of specimens. The doctor had found the optimal zone in between painful sensation and pleasure.

Everything in her new sex had been expertly crafted by the doctor, save the ovaries ; she would only become meaning only if her master desired it. She would accept period, and could even originate a babe inside her womb should a fertilise egg be inserted within her. Her vagina looks perfectly normal on the remote, but the interior was the doctor's Sistine chapel. He was very gifted in his art, but after so many yr of foundation, he was left with picayune room to meliorate. This Holy Order had him flustered as he could easily enforce one of the many excogitation which has made him famous, but they were old and stale to him. He was going to follow through a lot of the hone authoritative excogitation, but he needed something new to pull in this one unique. It was rarified that he was allowed to freely create, and he did not wish to waste this chance by photocopying his previous pieces.

The doctor wondered if he was if he was losing his creative flicker, or if he was just getting old - or maybe both. He was despairing, but he couldn't do anything but feel helpless flipping through tardily night TV shows on his couch. That was until the shark hebdomad particular gave him the inspiration he needed. He would make multiple g-spots in the shape of a shark's gills out of cartilage, ten total, five on each side of the vaginal bulwark. The doctor beamed while he attacked his notepad. They were to extend outwards when blood fills the vagina, pointing downwards towards the opening. They were to bring in extremum pleasure to the user, and possibly cause a meltdown in mind of the vagina's owner.

The Doctor brought himself back to the labor at hand, his digit spread her moist labia. The doctor breached her modified hymen, made to grow back within twelve hour. He swirled his fingers around the country just before the array of g-spots, the wit activity monitoring device rapidly scaled out to accommodate the huge spindle it had to expose. The Dr. became excited as he continued to his masterpiece, he could feel the branchia ( named for G-spot gills ) erect. The doctor continued to labor, until the Gill inversed, full stop into her womb, causing her unconscious trunk to instantly hail to an orgasm. He continued his finger through the remaining four bent of branchia, the new brain natural action levels made the previous looking at like a insipid line. If the physician didn't apply the anesthetic himself, he would not make believed that this girl was under from the way she was convulsing from the intense orgasm. The Doctor of the Church removed his finger's breadth swiftly, causing all of the branchia to turn back to their pilot positioning, the sudden removal of his digits stimulated all the gill, causing another bam of fluids. Her soundbox stayed in a strained arch for several seconds twitching, before slowly lowering back onto the brand table.

The density and the way the gill held onto his finger turned the medico on, he could only imagine how a penis would just unfreeze inside his masterpiece. The MD was tempted to impart it a run run, to satisfy his raging manhood, but this was the hardest part of his job. Even though he knew the virginal membrane would grow 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 techniques for his art. The doctor sighed at his plight, and went on to test her clitoris. The sixteen thousand nerve closing in her clitoris were expertly coiled and weaved amplifying sense datum to inconceivable levels. The doctor pressed on her button like an elevator button, turning her aftershocks into another full blown orgasm. The doctor was pleased.

Regretfully, the MD's examination was coming to an end. He began the planning for her recovery. The Doctor inserted a glossy black latex catheter, into the newly formed water duct. He knew that she will be kept under until she was completely healed. The latex electron tube hung out of her vagina like a slim tail. The Doctor of the Church picked up the tube inflated the balloon inside her vesica with a special creature, securing the catheter until he decides to release it. The physician pulled the red rubber-base paint wall socket plug from the end of the subway, and attached the catheter to a tube leading to a weewee bag.

The doctor unpacked the fresh pink intimate apparel ; the seductive sound of sliding the thin panties up her soft legs aroused the MD beyond the limitation of a normal man. The catheter came out from the side of the pink panties. following, he took the bra, wrapping it around her unconscious body, tucking heavy titty into its cup was always a delight for the doc. He took her men, with a silver gray manicure, placing them over her pierce navel- a subtle tracking twist, anchored to her womb ; removal would leaven quite painful. Finally, he slipped her prim feet into a pair of chopine heels. Perfect.

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The doctor turned off the lighting, but did not leave the room. He admired the outline of her face that he crafted for her. The curve, foresighted slender branch, her ample bust, his prefect gifts to her. The MD had not felt a connection like this to his origination for a long time now. He went up to her and kissed her on the buttock in the dark. He made sure the full body mirror positioned correctly next to the bed, he wanted his patient to admire his work when she awoke.

"Sleep tight, my daughter. ”