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(Yes, but...) Is there more to the corrupt cops? What's the story there? How many has she killed!? All this and more in the next part of me writing things that a horrifying.\n\nCredit to: CobaltDawg cause he's jawsome. Mila, cause she's the sweetest person ever and not at all a murderer in real life I swear. Ballantine because he's... well. He's Ballantine. Further credit to uh... Energy drinks and powerade, my lifeblood, and burritos for being the fuel for my madness.\n\nFull size of the thumbnail: http://imgur.com/rhjfj0x < Second verse, same as the first. Copyright, my sweet ass. Dat hand drawn blood, hnnnnnnnnnng.", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Oh jesus christ this is horrifying holy shit.

Is she just crazy? (Yes, but...) Is there more to the corrupt cops? What's the story there? How many has she killed!? All this and more in the next part of me writing things that a horrifying.

Credit to: CobaltDawg cause he's jawsome. Mila, cause she's the sweetest person ever and not at all a murderer in real life I swear. Ballantine because he's... well. He's Ballantine. Further credit to uh... Energy drinks and powerade, my lifeblood, and burritos for being the fuel for my madness.

Full size of the thumbnail: http://imgur.com/rhjfj0x < Second verse, same as the first. Copyright, my sweet ass. Dat hand drawn blood, hnnnnnnnnnng.", "writing": "\"Shush, now. I promise, this will all be over before you know it,\" the doe whispers. She's graceful and fit, though she is rather small - surprisingly, even. This planet tends to be home to taller people. She has a decent bit of muscle tone, though nothing unfeminine, for sure. The man strapped to the metal table struggles and she giggles a little, running her fingers up his thigh. She checks the gag in his mouth, a ball gag. In her other hand, she holds a paper topped plastic package. She sets it on a rolling tray table beside where he is strapped. \"That's actually a bit of a lie, handsome. You'll never know when it's over cause... you'll be dead! In fact, the rest of your life will be nothing but pain. I take my time but I'm also… so open about what is happening. I'll explain every step of the process, I promise! The goal is to see how long you can survive with different things cut out of you after I give you some special drugs. I'm a doctor, you see.\"\n\nHe struggles some more, looking at her with bloodshot, terrified eyes. The doe doesn't pay him any mind. Instead, she dances slowly around the table, raising her arms, her coat flapping a little bit on the faster turns - a white coat, a lab coat. Her face looks happy, and almost innocent - except for the visible madness in her eyes. They flick about, looking quickly to everything in the room. The corners of her mouth twitch now and again. Her wide gaze gives her a look like she is strangely fearful and yet always on the edge of bursting out in laughter.\n\nShe hums a soft tune and throws a cabinet open, withdraws from it a small glass vial from inside as well as a syringe with a clean, capped needle. He watches her return to the table, letting out whining noises, spit weeping and sputtering around the ball in his mouth. She picks up a pair of gloves and pulls them on, snapping them to her forearms. The pain makes her jump and shiver, then giggle softly. Her hands then fall to her leather apron and she tugs it tight, making sure the wide straps up her back are buckled nice and tight.\n\nThe sensation of it binding her is extremely comforting, and arousing.\n\nBelow it, a simple outfit.\n\nHer humming grows a little louder as she sticks the needle into the rubber cap of the vial and draws up a measure of the oddly bright blue fluid inside. Her face breaks in a smile then, a nice, wide one. It's an eerie look on her, a look that would make most immediately shake with terror - as they should in the presence of the Doctor. Of course, he is already shaking, so it's rather ineffective on that front.\n\n\"This drug… I made this drug. It's a paralytic, you see. It's still in beta,\" she explains, checking the dosage, flicking the syringe and pushing the plunger until a drop of blue weeps out of the tip. She sets the little bottle down. \"It'll stop you from moving around so much! But, you'll still feel all the pain which is very important for my experiment.\"\n\nHe jerks and twitches, fur damp with a sheen of sweat. His struggles are of no import, she just pushes the needle into his arm, under his fur, finds a good vein and depresses the plunger. \n\n\"You won't ever recover from the paralysis, which is okay, cause… you're gonna be dead when I'm done with you, like I said. Some day... some day I'm going to take a victim and watch them as time passes with this special drug in them... maybe your brother. Bad cops, bad... Lonit family... I killed your niece last week, the lawyer. She begged for death, so you know. Her blood... it tasted sweet,\" she says, babbling while giving the drug time to take effect. \"You people, you fucking think you can just sit there above the rest and piss on the heads of the poor. I watched the video of you beating that homeless man. No remorse, no punishment... That will not do. Not anymore! [b]Not anymore![/b]\"\n\nThe voices in her head are finally quiet as he falls still and she silent after her shout. His eyes are locked on the ceiling, even though the paralytic allows them to still move. His face is frozen, an expression of snarling horror upon it. Her face remains fixed in that eerie smile. Nervous eyes flick to another paper topped box and she tears it open, examining the knurled handles of the surgical implements inside. Her slender fingers trail over the bumpy surfaces and takes hold of a scalpel. Tears dampen the fur on the cheeks of the man. There's a creeping arousal just becoming noticeable to her, a specific warmth between her thighs.\n\nShe ignores it, shakes her head. She has to focus, there is work to be done.\n\n\"I would recommend pissing yourself, or praying to whichever imaginary god you find most pleasing, but the catheter I had in you before you woke up on the table here, it means your bladder is largely empty. I suppose you can pray to your god if you want, but he can't saaaave you. I'm god down here.\"\n\nFor one, he is an interesting specimen. Eight feet tall, a Kodiak bear. It took a lot of tranqs to get him down, seven of the darts loaded with her home made custom knockout drug. Muscular, yes. Very muscular. His fur, dark, gorgeously smooth. He was a police officer, she knows. Of course, she had to strip his outfit off and burn it. She kept his gun and ammunition though, those are so very useful.\n\nThe keyword here however is was. \n\nHe [i]was [/i]a police officer. Now he's a subject. Nothing more. He will pay for his crimes.\n\nShe makes the first cuts then, nice and slow, from the shoulders downwards toward the sternum. They meet over the thick bone, blood dampening his fur. She smiles again.\n\n\"Ooops, I almost forgot,\" she drawls, setting the scalpel down and dancing away. Her booted hooves click on the tile floor - a floor of white made to show the splatters of blood. The walls themselves are bare cement save for the cabinets and hologram projectors. He hears some kind of noise, the sound of something rolling across the floor. Then there's the sound of plastic crinkling, a squeaking noise. The cabinets are pulled open, things withdrawn from within. Finally she returns and there is a sharp pain in his upper right arm. \n\t\nShe twirls away and a fridge is opened, and then shut. More sounds of plastic on plastic.\n\n\"I have your type!\" she says in a singsong voice, setting the bags of blood up on the IV pole. Also on the pole, connected to the pump. In two of the bags, softly glowing blue fluids. In one of the others, red fluid that glows even brighter. \"These fluids… are drugs. Drugs made from my own blood! They are potent stimulants, extremely potent - granted, they do more than stimulate! They have other things in them, they'll keep you from dying too soon, if I'm right about them! See… see I'm not… I'm not normal…\"\n\nShe giggles a little, picking up a battery operated cautery pen from her rolling tray table and sears the current incisions shut. It won't stop the bleeding completely, but it will slow it down. More incisions and the cautery pen is used to sear the wounds again. Carefully, cut by cut, she peels the fur and skin away from the fat and muscle beneath, effectively skinning his abdomen - he's so very attractive, and so fit, so little fat at all on his body. She brushes her fingers over the twitching meat before slicing and cauterizing it, pulling it away from the soft internals. The drugs seem to be working. Next, the muscles must be cut away from the bone carefully, a process she's become very adept at. Once his ribcage is free of meat, she takes a long moment to just watch his lungs expand and his heart beat.\n\n\"You're dying now… Not quickly though. Is the pain…\" she trails off, squirming a little as she leans over to peer right in his deep brown eyes. Her smile is now an insane, disturbingly wide, ghoulish grin. \"Is it horrible…? It must be so horrible. God I wish I could fuckin' feel it… you have no idea.\"\n\nShe stands, turning her gaze back to his insides. It's a work of art, his body. So beautiful. She's proud to have opened it. Glad she gets to touch the soft meat within. Cackling evilly, she dances to the cabinet and draws another bottle, returning to stand beside him. She fills the syringe again, right over his face where he can see it. She sticks it in his arm.\n\n\"This medication modulates your blood pressure and heart rate,\" she explains. This part, this is the best part. Seeing their eyes as she slowly breaks their minds. He's already cracking, she can tell. At work, all her patients are asleep when she cuts them. It's just not the same, especially considering this man is going to die and further, he deserves it - whereas at work, her job is saving people. It satisfies those horrible whispering voices in her head, what she does at work, but not as much as the man on her table. He deserves the dissection, deserves to be broken. She needs it, and the voices want her to take lives. They want her to revel in the blood spilled on the floor and they will scream and scream until she kills more and more. She picks her targets with purpose at least, not just killing senselessly.\n\nStill though, she can't help but wonder if it's evil how much fun she has.\n\nShe spreads her arms and the hologram projectors go hot, as well as the built in sensor packages. Displayed around him, floating in the air, are measurement panels. Heart rate, respiration, blood volume, and so on. From the large cabinet that still stands open, she withdraws a rather large black case made of plastic.It gets set down on the rolling tray table and popped it open. \n\nInside, an odd sort of device. The Doctor pulls it free and it looks oddly like a curled up spider made of shiny black metal. She giggles and flicks the 'on' switch on one of the two handles on the back of the 'spider.' It spreads its arms out, arms ending in two rings each, rings that part open. \n\nIt is then held in position over his rib cage. A hologram scanning grid is projected into and onto his chest cavity, mapping everything, taking measurements. \n\n\"This is my favorite home made toy, created just for these experiments. See, any normal person would be dead by now, but you're full of the strange chemicals that flow through my blood stream. I don't understand them really, but I know… I know they make me strong. But they're wrong, they make me crazy, and I just… I just…\" she trails off and giggles softly. \"I get so hungry… for things I shouldn't have. Maybe it's not the chemicals in my blood. Maybe I'm broken for real. I don't really know. They do mess with my brain chemistry though.\"\n\nShe lowers the thing onto his rib cage and each double ringed foot clamps to a different rib, as close to the flaps of muscle and skin as they can. A small chime sounds when the feet close tight and the laser emitters power up. She turns her head, closes her eyes. There is intense heat for a moment and then the air fills with the smell of the acrid smoke of laser cut bone. She breathes the scent in with pleasure. With practiced ease, she pulls the laser ribcage removal tool away, lifting the front of his ribcage off with it - the bone clamped firmly by the inner set of rings.\nThe bone makes an odd noise when it hits the floor, released from the grip of the removal tool by a press of a button. She picks the plate of bone up and then sets it on the nearby counter with the cutter. The cutter will be cleaned later, of course. She stares then at his completely exposed heart and lungs and trembles, her hand falling to press against the vinyl of her apron at her groin. The mild arousal is growing. Soon it will be unmanageable. \n\n\"You… you have such beautiful organs…\" she whispers as she strides over. Her fingers gently brush over his internals. Each breath is taken shakily - she's nearly panting at this point. \"So, so beautiful and healthy. I've had subjects die by now, you know. They weren't as healthy as you are. The chemicals work better the more healthy you are.\"\n\nHe hears the sound of rolling again, and then the sound of plastic crinkling and something thinking. The front of his rib cage is now in a trash bag in a rather enormous trash can. She takes a moment to lean against the wall. Her fingers are shaking. Her breath comes in quick gasps. She's not alone. The voices are there in her head, congratulating, listening, watching, encouraging. She's practically shivering with the intensity of the satisfaction she feels.\n\nIt's a struggle. She wants to give in. Wants to let herself love her work, but she can't. She's terrified to. It's the last step before she won't have any control anymore. Running her hand between her legs, under her apron, will be the last thing she gives up before the insanity owns her completely.\n\nBut she wants it. She wants it so bad it hurts, she wants to touch herself so bad, even with her gloved fingers slick with blood.\n\nShe starts with deep, slow breaths. One at a time. Each breath helps her ignore her sexual need, the blood wet urges she can't allow herself to have. She cannot and will not be that much of a monster. Several long minute of exercising calming techniques and the arousal begins to recede. The heat in her groin becomes less noticeable. She steps back up and holds her scalpel in the air. It catches the light, glinting and gleaming.\n\nAll that can be smelled is hot fresh blood and scorched flesh, the reek of a murder most vile in the air. Slice by slice, without a word but with practiced skill and absolute flawless accuracy she removes much of his intestines. They slop into the trash can with a disgustingly satisfying wet noise and she watches for a time. His heart speeds just a little, but the drug is working well. A giggle sounds.\n\n\n\"System state: set active full projection. Give me a full readout of possible complications.\"\n\nThe holograms around her flash and she giggles madly, dancing in a circle around his body and to the cabinet, drawing out plastic sleeves that she then secures about his arms and legs. Moments pass where the holograms flash and slowly rotating circles show that the systems are processing. Then they flash red several times and another hologram panel is projected over the top of his head, giving her all the data she needs.\n\nObviously, he doesn't have long left, even with all the drugs. She watches and waits, bent over him, smiling right into his face. She watches his mind as it starts to go. He's fully aware. He can feel everything wrong with him, everything missing. The horror, the agony. It's just too much. His personality is shattering. So expressive, these eyes of his. Her arousal is growing again. She almost starts to run her hand down again and then…\n\nA beep. She looks up.\n\nThe projection monitor is flashing red.\n\n\"Such a shame… you're already starting to go, big man. Oh well, you're the longest living subject yet! Healthy healthy healthy!\"\n\nA smirk graces the doe's pretty face. When she stands up straight, her scalpel flashes again and she brings it down. She's moving and cutting so fast it ought to be impossible for her to be cutting so accurately - yet she is. His eyes roll back in his head, but she doesn't notice. She's busy. She's busy slicing and cutting, noting his lungs filling and collapsing faster and faster, his heart throbbing harder. She can't stop herself. She winds up giggling, then the giggle rises more and more until it's a horrible insane cackle that echoes off the wall. Once his vitals start to get to the critical point, her control slips.\n\nShe slices fast, hard, deep, cutting just for the sake of cutting. Blood splatters about, dampening the fur of her face and the cement floor, the walls, the surgical lamp. The holograms flicker when blood splashes through them. She's showered in the sounds of insanity, of madness. The heat of his fluids on her skin…\n\nFinally she lets out a vicious cry and drives the scalpel into his heart. Only a minute has passed since she started to wildly cut. Blood splatters out of the organ when she drags her scalpel back out. One hot pulse spurts the red and then it weeps out sluggishly with each pump. The monitor holograms all go dark red and white warning triangles flash on them. Seconds later, he flatlines.\n\nThen the Doctor is left to stare, giggling, at the ruined torso. The cackling keeps up for a few moments and then slowly, it settles down into giggles. Now that the job is done, some of the madness is fading. Her eyes stop looking quite so filled with mania and start looking ever so slightly more tired and scared. The smile doesn't leave her face, not even for a second. \n\n\"Oh dear… I got too excited again. At least I got the data,\" she whispers to herself. The tools then are gathered, even the ones she didn't use. She places them inside the sterilization cabinet. They are arranged carefuly, and then the door is shut and locked. Once it's all set up and the dials in the proper position, she sets it active. The timer will run while the tools are blasted with intense heat for a long period of time. All blood and DNA will be burnt off them, then it will automatically repackage them for her to keep them sterile - after sharpening them, of course.\n\n\"System. Save recordings, disengage measurements,\" she says softly. \"Double back up.\"\n\nNext comes the largest plastic case, the last of the large plastic cases she will withdraw. She sets the case on the rolling tray table and pops it open. From inside, she withdraws an odd metal device and a pair of dark lensed goggles. The goggles cover her wide eyes and then she holds the strange rod out. It's as if someone put a handle on one end of a bow - as in, one for arrows. A click of a button on the hilt and a brilliant beam of super heated plasma arcs between the hilt and then far end of the end. \n\nShe drags his legs off the table and then slices through them easily, the air filling with the disgusting smell of burnt meat, fur and fat. Each leg goes into the trash bag. She follows by lifting each arm and doing the same. It's easier to move it this way, of course, bag or no bag. Before tossing each arm in, she slices the paws free. This is a world of infrared vein scanners for identification - short of rapid DNA sequencing. But, the drugs in his system will have already altered his DNA somewhat, especially when they crossed the blood brain barrier and interacted with adrenaline and other chemicals.\n\nNonetheless, the paws are still an issue because of the vein pattern. Further, they will eventually manage to ID him.\n\nShe sets them on the table where his legs used to be and moves to his head. The eyes, those have to be taken care of. She slices part way through his head with the plasma cutter, burning the eyes totally out. Next, she runs the beam inside of his mouth and burns every single tooth until they shatter and go to pieces. Her eyes are narrowed behind her goggle lenses. It's delicate work. Very delicate. Unconcerned, she slices the head free and tosses it in the bag.\n\nThe paws then go into a special cabinet, a much smaller one than the sterilizing cabinet. She flicks a switch and an exhaust fan pulls all of the awful smoke out of the little box. The paws will be burnt to white ash, of course. Perfect disposal.\n\nShe's so fond of this part. The bag is drawn out of the can, easily - the doe is much stronger than she appears - and then tied up. That bag is placed in another bag, and then the double bagged corpse, organs, head and all, is set in the corner. On the wall by the door, a hose reel. She undresses, pulling her apron free. She then removes the rubberized medical coat, and then below that, a t-shirt and sports bra. Rubberized pants come off, followed by high socks of the same design and shoes that match. Her fur is ruffled and all out of order beneath them and she takes a moment to smooth it out, shaking a little as she feels the stinging of hairs pushed in the wrong direction for an extended period of time being righted.\n\nEach clothing item is painstakingly hung on a special rack that is just inside the room, and then she takes a moment to give her body attention. The urges are so strong, the urges to run her hands up, gripping at her smallish breasts and squeezing, gasping softly, her eyes half open.\n\nThen she remembers it is clean up time and focus returns.\n\nThe water that sprays from the nozzle on the end of the hose comes from a dedicated tank in the next room. Mixed in with the water in that tank is a complex blend of sterilizing agents of her own design that will bleach the blood, soak into the cement, completely destroy any genetic material. Small quantities of nano-machines will further ensure a lack of evidence.\n\nIt takes a while to get the whole room sprayed down. While she sprays her garments clean, she makes some plans. \n\n\"List: Time.\"\n\n\"It is currently two AM in the morning, SSC Standard time.\"\n\n\"List: Weather.\"\n\n\"Current weather conditions: Low chance of rain, clear skies. Temperature is currently at 79 degrees Fahrenheit. Pollen counts are projected to hit an all time low today.\"\n\nThe computer system's responses make her smile. It's the perfect day to make some art, a public display piece, a collage where people will see it.\n\nHappily, she hoses down the rest of the room, including the plasma cutter and the rib removal spider and then dries and boxes them carefully. After that, everything is in place save for cleaning off her face. She does that with the hose last, closing her eyes against the stinging sterilizer spray.\n\nWith her face clean, she lifts the bag in one hand and heads from the grim room, flicking the lights off as she passes through the door. \n\nA smile continues to grace her pretty face. Another giggle passes her lips.\n\nShe's refining the chemicals in her bloodstream more and more, and this was the best performance yet, data wise. \n\nThe closer she gets to control, the closer she gets to building an implant to manage the chemicals.\n\nAnother giggle passes her lips.\n\nShe's going to show the world such [i]beautiful[/i] things.\n\nFull size of the thumbnail (Woooooo! HAND DRAWN BLOOD!): http://imgur.com/rhjfj0x", "writing_bbcode_parsed": ""Shush, now. I promise, this will all be over before you know it," the doe whispers. She's graceful and fit, though she is rather small - surprisingly, even. This planet tends to be home to taller people. She has a decent bit of muscle tone, though nothing unfeminine, for sure. The man strapped to the metal table struggles and she giggles a little, running her fingers up his thigh. She checks the gag in his mouth, a ball gag. In her other hand, she holds a paper topped plastic package. She sets it on a rolling tray table beside where he is strapped. "That's actually a bit of a lie, handsome. You'll never know when it's over cause... you'll be dead! In fact, the rest of your life will be nothing but pain. I take my time but I'm also… so open about what is happening. I'll explain every step of the process, I promise! The goal is to see how long you can survive with different things cut out of you after I give you some special drugs. I'm a doctor, you see."

He struggles some more, looking at her with bloodshot, terrified eyes. The doe doesn't pay him any mind. Instead, she dances slowly around the table, raising her arms, her coat flapping a little bit on the faster turns - a white coat, a lab coat. Her face looks happy, and almost innocent - except for the visible madness in her eyes. They flick about, looking quickly to everything in the room. The corners of her mouth twitch now and again. Her wide gaze gives her a look like she is strangely fearful and yet always on the edge of bursting out in laughter.

She hums a soft tune and throws a cabinet open, withdraws from it a small glass vial from inside as well as a syringe with a clean, capped needle. He watches her return to the table, letting out whining noises, spit weeping and sputtering around the ball in his mouth. She picks up a pair of gloves and pulls them on, snapping them to her forearms. The pain makes her jump and shiver, then giggle softly. Her hands then fall to her  leather apron and she tugs it tight, making sure the wide straps up her back are buckled nice and tight.

The sensation of it binding her is extremely comforting, and arousing.

Below it, a simple outfit.

Her humming grows a little louder as she sticks the needle into the rubber cap of the vial and draws up a measure of the oddly bright blue fluid inside. Her face breaks in a smile then, a nice, wide one. It's an eerie look on her, a look that would make most immediately shake with terror - as they should in the presence of the Doctor. Of course, he is already shaking, so it's rather ineffective on that front.

"This drug… I made this drug. It's a paralytic, you see. It's still in beta," she explains, checking the dosage, flicking the syringe and pushing the plunger until a drop of blue weeps out of the tip. She sets the little bottle down. "It'll stop you from moving around so much! But, you'll still feel all the pain which is very important for my experiment."

He jerks and twitches, fur damp with a sheen of sweat. His struggles are of no import, she just pushes the needle into his arm, under his fur, finds a good vein and depresses the plunger.

"You won't ever recover from the paralysis, which is okay, cause… you're gonna be dead when I'm done with you, like I said. Some day... some day I'm going to take a victim and watch them as time passes with this special drug in them... maybe your brother. Bad cops, bad... Lonit family... I killed your niece last week, the lawyer. She begged for death, so you know. Her blood... it tasted sweet," she says, babbling while giving the drug time to take effect. "You people, you fucking think you can just sit there above the rest and piss on the heads of the poor. I watched the video of you beating that homeless man. No remorse, no punishment... That will not do. Not anymore! Not anymore!"

The voices in her head are finally quiet as he falls still and she silent after her shout. His eyes are locked on the ceiling, even though the paralytic allows them to still move. His face is frozen, an expression of snarling horror upon it. Her face remains fixed in that eerie smile. Nervous eyes flick to another paper topped box and she tears it open, examining the knurled handles of the surgical implements inside. Her slender fingers trail over the bumpy surfaces and takes hold of a scalpel. Tears dampen the fur on the cheeks of the man. There's a creeping arousal just becoming noticeable to her, a specific warmth between her thighs.

She ignores it, shakes her head. She has to focus, there is work to be done.

"I would recommend pissing yourself, or praying to whichever imaginary god you find most pleasing, but the catheter I had in you before you woke up on the table here, it means your bladder is largely empty. I suppose you can pray to your god if you want, but he can't saaaave you. I'm god down here."

For one, he is an interesting specimen. Eight feet tall, a Kodiak bear. It took a lot of tranqs to get him down, seven of the darts loaded with her home made custom knockout drug. Muscular, yes. Very muscular. His fur, dark, gorgeously smooth. He was a police officer, she knows. Of course, she had to strip his outfit off and burn it. She kept his gun and ammunition though, those are so very useful.

The keyword here however is was.

He was a police officer. Now he's a subject. Nothing more. He will pay for his crimes.

She makes the first cuts then, nice and slow, from the shoulders downwards toward the sternum. They meet over the thick bone, blood dampening his fur. She smiles again.

"Ooops, I almost forgot," she drawls, setting the scalpel down and dancing away. Her booted hooves click on the tile floor - a floor of white made to show the splatters of blood. The walls themselves are bare cement save for the cabinets and hologram projectors. He hears some kind of noise, the sound of something rolling across the floor. Then there's the sound of plastic crinkling, a squeaking noise. The cabinets are pulled open, things withdrawn from within. Finally she returns and there is a sharp pain in his upper right arm.
\t
She twirls away and a fridge is opened, and then shut. More sounds of plastic on plastic.

"I have your type!" she says in a singsong voice, setting the bags of blood up on the IV pole. Also on the pole, connected to the pump. In two of the bags, softly glowing blue fluids. In one of the others, red fluid that glows even brighter. "These fluids… are drugs. Drugs made from my own blood! They are potent stimulants, extremely potent - granted, they do more than stimulate! They have other things in them, they'll keep you from dying too soon, if I'm right about them! See… see I'm not… I'm not normal…"

She giggles a little, picking up a battery operated cautery pen from her rolling tray table and sears the current incisions shut. It won't stop the bleeding completely, but it will slow it down. More incisions and the cautery pen is used to sear the wounds again. Carefully, cut by cut, she peels the fur and skin away from the fat and muscle beneath, effectively skinning his abdomen - he's so very attractive, and so fit, so little fat at all on his body. She brushes her fingers over the twitching meat before slicing and cauterizing it, pulling it away from the soft internals. The drugs seem to be working. Next, the muscles must be cut away from the bone carefully, a process she's become very adept at. Once his ribcage is free of meat, she takes a long moment to just watch his lungs expand and his heart beat.

"You're dying now… Not quickly though. Is the pain…" she trails off, squirming a little as she leans over to peer right in his deep brown eyes. Her smile is now an insane, disturbingly wide, ghoulish grin. "Is it horrible…? It must be so horrible. God I wish I could fuckin' feel it… you have no idea."

She stands, turning her gaze back to his insides. It's a work of art, his body. So beautiful. She's proud to have opened it. Glad she gets to touch the soft meat within. Cackling evilly, she dances to the cabinet and draws another bottle, returning to stand beside him. She fills the syringe again, right over his face where he can see it. She sticks it in his arm.

"This medication modulates your blood pressure and heart rate," she explains. This part, this is the best part. Seeing their eyes as she slowly breaks their minds. He's already cracking, she can tell. At work, all her patients are asleep when she cuts them. It's just not the same, especially considering this man is going to die and further, he deserves it - whereas at work, her job is saving people. It satisfies those horrible whispering voices in her head, what she does at work, but not as much as the man on her table. He deserves the dissection, deserves to be broken. She needs it, and the voices want her to take lives. They want her to revel in the blood spilled on the floor and they will scream and scream until she kills more and more. She picks her targets with purpose at least, not just killing senselessly.

Still though, she can't help but wonder if it's evil how much fun she has.

She spreads her arms and the hologram projectors go hot, as well as the built in sensor packages. Displayed around him, floating in the air, are measurement panels. Heart rate, respiration, blood volume, and so on. From the large cabinet that still stands open, she withdraws a rather large black case made of plastic.It gets set down on the rolling tray table and popped it open.

Inside, an odd sort of device. The Doctor pulls it free and it looks oddly like a curled up spider made of shiny black metal. She giggles and flicks the 'on' switch on one of the two handles on the back of the 'spider.' It spreads its arms out, arms ending in two rings each, rings that part open.

It is then held in position over his rib cage. A hologram scanning grid is projected into and onto his chest cavity, mapping everything, taking measurements.

"This is my favorite home made toy, created just for these experiments. See, any normal person would be dead by now, but you're full of the strange chemicals that flow through my blood stream. I don't understand them really, but I know… I know they make me strong. But they're wrong, they make me crazy, and I just… I just…" she trails off and giggles softly. "I get so hungry… for things I shouldn't have. Maybe it's not the chemicals in my blood. Maybe I'm broken for real. I don't really know. They do mess with my brain chemistry though."

She lowers the thing onto his rib cage and each double ringed foot clamps to a different rib, as close to the flaps of muscle and skin as they can. A small chime sounds when the feet close tight and the laser emitters power up. She turns her head, closes her eyes. There is intense heat for a moment and then the air fills with the smell of the acrid smoke of laser cut bone. She breathes the scent in with pleasure. With practiced ease, she pulls the laser ribcage removal tool away, lifting the front of his ribcage off with it - the bone clamped firmly by the inner set of rings.
The bone makes an odd noise when it hits the floor, released from the grip of the removal tool by a press of a button. She picks the plate of bone up and then sets it on the nearby counter with the cutter. The cutter will be cleaned later, of course. She stares then at his completely exposed heart and lungs and trembles, her hand falling to press against the vinyl of her apron at her groin. The mild arousal is growing. Soon it will be unmanageable.

"You… you have such beautiful organs…" she whispers as she strides over. Her fingers gently brush over his internals. Each breath is taken shakily - she's nearly panting at this point. "So, so beautiful and healthy. I've had subjects die by now, you know. They weren't as healthy as you are. The chemicals work better the more healthy you are."

He hears the sound of rolling again, and then the sound of plastic crinkling and something thinking. The front of his rib cage is now in a trash bag in a rather enormous trash can. She takes a moment to lean against the wall. Her fingers are shaking. Her breath comes in quick gasps. She's not alone. The voices are there in her head, congratulating, listening, watching, encouraging. She's practically shivering with the intensity of the satisfaction she feels.

It's a struggle. She wants to give in. Wants to let herself love her work, but she can't. She's terrified to. It's the last step before she won't have any control anymore. Running her hand between her legs, under her apron, will be the last thing she gives up before the insanity owns her completely.

But she wants it. She wants it so bad it hurts, she wants to touch herself so bad, even with her gloved fingers slick with blood.

She starts with deep, slow breaths. One at a time. Each breath helps her ignore her sexual need, the blood wet urges she can't allow herself to have. She cannot and will not be that much of a monster. Several long minute of exercising calming techniques and the arousal begins to recede. The heat in her groin becomes less noticeable. She steps back up and holds her scalpel in the air. It catches the light, glinting and gleaming.

All that can be smelled is hot fresh blood and scorched flesh, the reek of a murder most vile in the air. Slice by slice, without a word but with practiced skill and absolute flawless accuracy she removes much of his intestines. They slop into the trash can with a disgustingly satisfying wet noise and she watches for a time. His heart speeds just a little, but the drug is working well. A giggle sounds.


"System state: set active full projection. Give me a full readout of possible complications."

The holograms around her flash and she giggles madly, dancing in a circle around his body and to the cabinet, drawing out plastic sleeves that she then secures about his arms and legs. Moments pass where the holograms flash and slowly rotating circles show that the systems are processing. Then they flash red several times and another hologram panel is projected over the top of his head, giving her all the data she needs.

Obviously, he doesn't have long left, even with all the drugs. She watches and waits, bent over him, smiling right into his face. She watches his mind as it starts to go. He's fully aware. He can feel everything wrong with him, everything missing. The horror, the agony. It's just too much. His personality is shattering. So expressive, these eyes of his. Her arousal is growing again. She almost starts to run her hand down again and then…

A beep. She looks up.

The projection monitor is flashing red.

"Such a shame… you're already starting to go, big man. Oh well, you're the longest living subject yet! Healthy healthy healthy!"

A smirk graces the doe's pretty face. When she stands up straight, her scalpel flashes again and she brings it down. She's moving and cutting so fast it ought to be impossible for her to be cutting so accurately - yet she is. His eyes roll back in his head, but she doesn't notice. She's busy. She's busy slicing and cutting, noting his lungs filling and collapsing faster and faster, his heart throbbing harder. She can't stop herself. She winds up giggling, then the giggle rises more and more until it's a horrible insane cackle that echoes off the wall. Once his vitals start to get to the critical point, her control slips.

She slices fast, hard, deep, cutting just for the sake of cutting. Blood splatters about, dampening the fur of her face and the cement floor, the walls, the surgical lamp. The holograms flicker when blood splashes through them. She's showered in the sounds of insanity, of madness. The heat of his fluids on her skin…

Finally she lets out a vicious cry and drives the scalpel into his heart. Only a minute has passed since she started to wildly cut. Blood splatters out of the organ when she drags her scalpel back out. One hot pulse spurts the red and then it weeps out sluggishly with each pump. The monitor holograms all go dark red and white warning triangles flash on them. Seconds later, he flatlines.

Then the Doctor is left to stare, giggling, at the ruined torso. The cackling keeps up for a few moments and then slowly, it settles down into giggles. Now that the job is done, some of the madness is fading. Her eyes stop looking quite so filled with mania and start looking ever so slightly more tired and scared. The smile doesn't leave her face, not even for a second.

"Oh dear… I got too excited again. At least I got the data," she whispers to herself. The tools then are gathered, even the ones she didn't use. She places them inside the sterilization cabinet. They are arranged carefuly, and then the door is shut and locked. Once it's all set up and the dials in the proper position, she sets it active. The timer will run while the tools are blasted with intense heat for a long period of time. All blood and DNA will be burnt off them, then it will automatically repackage them for her to keep them sterile - after sharpening them, of course.

"System. Save recordings, disengage measurements," she says softly. "Double back up."

Next comes the largest plastic case, the last of the large plastic cases she will withdraw. She sets the case on the rolling tray table and pops it open. From inside, she withdraws an odd metal device and a pair of dark lensed goggles. The goggles cover her wide eyes and then she holds the strange rod out. It's as if someone put a handle on one end of a bow - as in, one for arrows. A click of a button on the hilt and a brilliant beam of super heated plasma arcs between the hilt and then far end of the end.

She drags his legs off the table and then slices through them easily, the air filling with the disgusting smell of burnt meat, fur and fat. Each leg goes into the trash bag. She follows by lifting each arm and doing the same. It's easier to move it this way, of course, bag or no bag. Before tossing each arm in, she slices the paws free. This is a world of infrared vein scanners for identification - short of rapid DNA sequencing. But, the drugs in his system will have already altered his DNA somewhat, especially when they crossed the blood brain barrier and interacted with adrenaline and other chemicals.

Nonetheless, the paws are still an issue because of the vein pattern. Further, they will eventually manage to ID him.

She sets them on the table where his legs used to be and moves to his head. The eyes, those have to be taken care of. She slices part way through his head with the plasma cutter, burning the eyes totally out. Next, she runs the beam inside of his mouth and burns every single tooth until they shatter and go to pieces. Her eyes are narrowed behind her goggle lenses. It's delicate work. Very delicate. Unconcerned, she slices the head free and tosses it in the bag.

The paws then go into a special cabinet, a much smaller one than the sterilizing cabinet. She flicks a switch and an exhaust fan pulls all of the awful smoke out of the little box. The paws will be burnt to white ash, of course. Perfect disposal.

She's so fond of this part. The bag is drawn out of the can, easily - the doe is much stronger than she appears - and then tied up. That bag is placed in another bag, and then the double bagged corpse, organs, head and all, is set in the corner. On the wall by the door, a hose reel. She undresses, pulling her apron free. She then removes the rubberized medical coat, and then below that, a t-shirt and sports bra. Rubberized pants come off, followed by high socks of the same design and shoes that match. Her fur is ruffled and all out of order beneath them and she takes a moment to smooth it out, shaking a little as she feels the stinging of hairs pushed in the wrong direction for an extended period of time being righted.

Each clothing item is painstakingly hung on a special rack that is just inside the room, and then she takes a moment to give her body attention. The urges are so strong, the urges to run her hands up, gripping at her smallish breasts and squeezing, gasping softly, her eyes half open.

Then she remembers it is clean up time and focus returns.

The water that sprays from the nozzle on the end of the hose comes from a dedicated tank in the next room. Mixed in with the water in that tank is a complex blend of sterilizing agents of her own design that will bleach the blood, soak into the cement, completely destroy any genetic material. Small quantities of nano-machines will further ensure a lack of evidence.

It takes a while to get the whole room sprayed down. While she sprays her garments clean, she makes some plans.

"List: Time."

"It is currently two AM in the morning, SSC Standard time."

"List: Weather."

"Current weather conditions: Low chance of rain, clear skies. Temperature is currently at 79 degrees Fahrenheit. Pollen counts are projected to hit an all time low today."

The computer system's responses make her smile. It's the perfect day to make some art, a public display piece, a collage where people will see it.

Happily, she hoses down the rest of the room, including the plasma cutter and the rib removal spider and then dries and boxes them carefully. After that, everything is in place save for cleaning off her face. She does that with the hose last, closing her eyes against the stinging sterilizer spray.

With her face clean, she lifts the bag in one hand and heads from the grim room, flicking the lights off as she passes through the door.

A smile continues to grace her pretty face. Another giggle passes her lips.

She's refining the chemicals in her bloodstream more and more, and this was the best performance yet, data wise.

The closer she gets to control, the closer she gets to building an implant to manage the chemicals.

Another giggle passes her lips.

She's going to show the world such beautiful things.

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