The Strange Death of David Parmenter 2 No Going Back
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The Strange Death Of David Parmenter - 4. The Cucooning free porn video
Author's note: This is an original work of transgender fiction. Any
similarity between any person, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.
I. The Strange Death of David Parmenter
by Erin Shoemaker, Jr.
4. Cocooning
Twice more during the night, David had to ring for additional
analgesics. The throbbing of his face and throat continued, and it was
only through the administering of more drugs that he could be free
enough from the pain to again, at least temporarily, drift off into
sleep. Even then it was a restless repose.
But daylight finally arrived, and it wasn't long before his two wardens
appeared. "Good morning David. Please don't try to answer, but are you
feeling OK this morning? It's your big day..." asked the gargoyle-like
doctor.
Lying to her, he only gave her a "thumbs up" gesture. "Good," she said.
"Now, we have a full day ahead of us, and so, we want you please go into
the bathroom and try to have a BM before we begin. OK?"
Again David nodded and complied with her request. But the combination
of drugs he had been receiving had the effect of making the whole
process rather difficult. With much straining and pushing he was
finally able to achieve what was needed. But the delay caused Patterson
to call through the door, "Are you alright in there?" "Yes," he
squeaked at which he could her both women laughing in the other room.
Patterson then called to him, "be sure to use the sitz bath, and clean
up very good!"
Together they again walked down the long hallway lined by doors; past
the conference room to the next door. Patterson opened the door and he
followed her through into what looked like an operating room. Within
the tile-walled room, there was the large stainless steel table, huge
circular light above, and all kinds of little carts and tables with
blinking machines scattered around the room. Then he spotted it. On
the far side of the room, there was what looked like a giant fish tank.
Inside he could see a familiar sight - it was filled with same green
liquid he had twice soaked in. But inside, hanging there, was a blob of
wrinkled material resembling, well, resembling nothing he had ever seen
- there was no specific shape or features to be discerned - just a mass
of gelatinous plastic or something.
"All right now David, please undress and hop up on the table," commanded
Patterson.
As he dropped his clothes, Debra quickly picked them up. He did as he
was asked, but was shocked by the coldness of the metal. He turned to
watch Patterson, who had moved to the tank and was delicately removing
the skin. As he turned back, he felt a sharp prick in his leg; Debra
was injecting him with something. "What's that?" he whispered with
worry.
'Nothing honey," she said lightly, "just a little tranquilizer and local
anesthetic to calm you down. We may be here a while. So please try to
relax." And leaning over, she injected his other leg. "Just keep
thinking that this is your birthday." Somehow that actually did make
him feel a bit better, and in all honesty, he was getting a little tired
of being told all the time to relax; there was nothing relaxing about
all this. But then Patterson had arrived with the soaking mass and
plopped it onto a nearby cart.
"Alright then," she said, "This is always an interesting experience for
all of us. We will start with your toes, and work up from there. I'm
going to apply our special cr?me to your skin as we go to help make the
suit slide on easier, and to help with the bonding process. This has
been specially made just for you, with your very own new DNA, and I
would guess, it might actually feel rather nice on your cold skin. So
please just lay back and let us do the work. You may detect some odd
feelings as we work on you, and so we may want to sedate you if
necessary. Hopefully not, but just in case... OK? So here we go..."
In typical fashion, she didn't wait for a response, but he could not
argue with her anyway. Whatever Debra had injected had worked quickly.
He was once again in a state of delirium; half in and half out of
consciousness, and unable to feel anything in his legs. They were
completely numb.
The nurse then produced a large beaker filled with a green colored gel,
and scooping it into her glove-clad hands, began to smear it all over
legs and feet. Patterson's remark about it feeling good was lost on him
since he couldn't feel anything now below his waist anyway.
"Debra?" she said as she looked up toward the nurse with a cocked eye.
She quickly rolled over a little tray covered with instruments. David
was not privy to seeing what was happening down there, but he suddenly
felt the pressure of tugging; like someone pulling on his leg, followed
by a metallic clank sound. Again and again the tugging pressure came,
and again and again he heard the sound. Clink, ugh, clink, ugh... Then
she said, "There we are, all gone now."
Patterson then picked-up the suit which had been lying on a nearby cart.
She bundled up the legs like a woman putting on hose, and through the
large opening in the back began to feed his feet into the appropriate
spaces. Although lacking feeling he got the impression that the goo was
doing its job; making the efforts easy and without protest. Then there
was nothing. No pressure, no pulling or tugging. Alarmed he raised his
head and managed to squeak out, "What's going on down there?"
Debra answered, "It's OK David, we're just fitting your toes. We'll be
done in a second here, and we'll move up to more important areas," and
she laughed. Even old straight faced Patterson gave a chuckle. He lay
back down. But still there was nothing. So in frustration, he strained
to whisper to them, "Can I see?" Silence greeted his request. Then
under her breath Patterson whispered to the nurse, "I'm just about done
here. Why don't you bring in a mirror for him?" She likewise whispered
back that she would, and was soon heading out the door. Patterson then
spoke up, "Of course you can. I'm sorry dear. You're probably very
anxious to see what we're doing to you."
In a few minutes, the nurse returned, rolling in a large oval-shaped
mirror mounted in a wooden frame. She positioned it on his left side
and adjusted it so he could see. Apparently they had finished with his
feet, and were up to his ankles. He was amazed; he couldn't feel the
ersatz skin at all. But then he saw something in the mirror that
shocked him. There, lying in a little steel pan was what appeared to be
a bloody pile of his toenails. "Jesus Christ!" he tried to cry out in
his hoarse voice, "Are those my toenails?"
Without hesitation Patterson answered, "Yes dear. It wouldn't do to
have those hard nasty things under your nice new skin now would it?
Besides, your new skin will grow new nails very quickly; you won't even
miss them." David's eyes widened as he realized that he was completely
helpless, and these two women we performing actual surgery on him; not
at all what he had expected. "What next?" he thought - but then was
sure he really didn't want to know.
David suddenly began to squirm about nervously. He began to twist and
kick; at one point almost kicking Patterson in the face. He began
trying to cry out, but his sore throat prevented all but the most meager
whisper. Debra responded immediately by grabbing his wrist and quickly
cinching it down by the Velcro restraints at the edge of the table. Then
she reached across him and did the same on the other side. But at this
point, David was on the verge of a full-blown anxiety attack. He began
panting and sweating while his eyes rolled wildly in their sockets. As
his limbs continued to quake, both women became further concerned by his
behavior. "Quickly now," said Patterson to the nurse. The last thing
he remembered was feeling the prick of the needle in his arm and Nurse
Debra looking down at him with a sympathetic smile. "It'll be OK," she
said. Then all went black.
The two continued to cocoon David in the body suit. The nurse would
smooth out any visible creases, of which there were not a lot.
Finishing his feet and ankles, they proceeded to pull the suit up his
legs and after they released his arms and rolled him onto his stomach,
over his buttocks. Pulling his legs apart, Patterson said, "OK time to
seal up the sphincter." She began poking around, smearing goo into his
rectum, and prodding the edges of the suit into the orifice with a blunt
little spoon-like instrument. Then after smoothing out his butt cheeks,
she and the nurse rolled him over again. "All right then," she said,
"now for the naughty bits. Debra?" Again she stabbed his abdomen in
several places with her favorite instrument of torture, the syringe.
She followed with several more, including administering several all
around the base of his penis and scrotum.
"Now," said the doctor, "we need to make a start on his new vagina. We
don't have to create one, but we need to make a small incision to fold
the edges of the skin into it. When activated, the suit will do the
rest." She made a quick little slice in the space just below his
scrotum. Then pulling the suit a little higher, smeared the cut with
the green goo, and proceeded to poke the edges of the suit into the cut.
Blood was spurting everywhere, but Nurse Debra did good job and kept it
relatively clean. Then a good slap of the goo seemed to help stop the
profuse bleeding. "There," said Patterson. "Once in place and
activated, the suit will begin to make his new DNA profile infiltrate
deeper and deeper internally as the enzymatic activity of the suit
catalyzes the programmed changes. Initially the opening we just created
will take on this new DNA signature, and programming, and will grow into
his, or more appropriately her, new vagina.
The doctor then took his scrotum, and, for lack of a better term,
smashed it down until his testicles where well within his abdomen. She
inspected the new slit carefully to be sure the bleeding was not
excessive. Then, looking up at Debra, she was handed a large strip of
what looked like surgical tape. After another coating of goo, Patterson
basically taped his scrotum down so the testicles could not escape their
new prison. Then looking at him she took a deep breath and said to
Debra, "The tape will dissolve quickly enough once the suit is in place.
What this means is that his testicles will soon migrate deeper into his
abdomen, and there will be invaded by his new DNA migrating from his
forming vagina. Each time one of his old cells dies, which of course
the enzymes help along considerably, it will be replaced with new ones
containing his new genotype. The programmed nature of the suit will
make this occur at a greatly accelerated rate. Eventually, his
testicles will be transformed into her fully functional ovaries,
producing ova with her new DNA signature. Once his new ovaries begin to
produce their own hormones, they will interface with surrounding
tissues, and should complete the hook-up of the rest of her new female
anatomy. Speaking of which..."
Suddenly there was a scalpel in her hand. She proceeded to slice the
underside of what was left of his manhood. Then, carefully picking away
at the surrounding tissue, she extracted his urethra from within. She
quickly sliced off the remaining tissue with one quick circular motion.
Again blood flowed freely, and now only a slim bloody tube remained of
what had been his penis. And again Nurse Debra was there dabbing, and
slapping more goo across the area. "Alright then, the time has come."
With that, she began pulling the suit up the remaining areas around his
hips. She fed the urethra, the only part of him left, through a small
opening in the suit. Hitching it up at the waist, she looked down onto,
well, onto nothing. No penis, and no small cleft of womanhood either.
He truly had been turned into some kind of odd sexless creature.
"There," she said, "Whew. The worst is over now." Then taking a deep
breath and a large sigh, said, "So let's continue, shall we?"
The rest of the procedure was essentially the same. He again had his
limbs numbed and his nails removed. With great care they pulled the suit
around under his armpits. Eventually it made its way over his chest and
was pulled up to his neck.
Save for the head, they had now fully encased David within the body
suit. "Let's check everything before we finish up, OK?" suggested
Patterson. So the two started at his toes again, and inch by inch
inspected, adjusted, and smoothed out the new skin. The only part left
lay on his chest in front of him like a feed bag for a horse; lose,
lifeless. Its yawning opening looked as if some dark cave that was
waiting to be explored; waiting for his entrance to seal his fate for
good. "One thing left," said the nurse as Patterson stepped up and took
the blob in her hands. Debra began smearing the green goo all over his
face, into his ears, around his eyes, and even up his nose. Then
quickly, and not without some violence, Patterson yanked and pulled the
mask up and over his head.
What began was then a very long and tedious exercise in which they
fitted every little nook and cranny of the suit to his face; Patterson
pushing it here and there with her little spoon, and Nurse Debra with
her fingers. Nostrils, lips and mouth, ears, eyelids - all were
eventually encased within. Then finished with his head, they rolled him
over and pulled the two sides of the suit together along his spine and
the back of his head. They held it in place with surgical tape, before
rolling him back.
Finally, the carapace was done. They stepped back with a sigh and
looked at their handy work. "Good. Good," Patterson said with an
agreeing nod of her head while holding her chin.
And there it was. Without a doubt, there was now absolutely no trace of
the former David Parmenter. To the rest of the world, he was dead, and
his ashes were spread into the sea. To them he was just as dead. The
eunuch lying before the two women was neither man nor woman. It
possessed no official identity, had no past, and would soon come into
the conscious world as a being that never existed before. It had become
a tabula rasa on which they could continue to imprint whatever
consciousness, behavior or desires they chose. David Parmenter was
dead, and Sandra Lorraine Taylor was born that day - she just didn't
know it yet.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Alma
- 28.09.2021
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