"Oh wow..." mutters the stranger, my hazy vision slowly struggling to see them towering over me. After a short moment they snap into view as I find myself staring up at Margaret, the pudgy blonde newly-wed florist with wiry blonde hair and a subtle tan.
The doughy and pudgy blonde appears like a giant, her soft and lightly tan form appearing more as a mountain than a person. She adjusts a small set of rectangular spectacles on the bridge of her nose, placing a hand at her back as she leans down to inspect me.
Her sizeable and sagging flabby rack begins to hang from her chest, the soft and supple flesh hanging and resting inside her green and yellow sundress and her dirt smeared apron. Sweat clings to her skin, the reward for a days work out on her balcony garden and at her little florists.
Her blonde hair frizzes out in a dry mess, without a headband or scrunchie to hold it all back it's simply left to puff out as it hangs between her shoulder blades at its lowest. A set of dirty jeans are slung over her arm, leaving her bare feet and just a hint of her legs visible as she shuffles ever closer.
Her muddy hazel eyes blink at me in confusion and shock, her gaze quickly turning to the rest of the Auto-Closet with shock. Her thin lips part, her ringed hand flying to her mouth as she stifles a gasp. In the reflection of her glasses I can make out something, bundles of pale white shards and clumps of red fibers shifting in and out of view as she moves.
"Well that's certainly... a lot" she coos in her sweet motherly tone, chuckling nervously as she looks back down to me.
I try to call out, to beg for help, only to find myself without a mouth or tongue to even form the words with. The massive woman drops her jeans in a washing machine, seemingly starting the cycle on reflex before turning back the me.
I can feel the rumble of the enormous device rumble through every inch of me, the vibrations in the floor sending my vision shaking. It suddenly stops, the shaking quickly getting replaced by a more human trembling as Margaret lifts me with a groaning huff.
"There we are dear, I'm..." she mutters with a wince, pausing as my vision seemingly impacts with the glass prison I had found myself in. "Sorry, sorry..." she cries, her warm full voice causing my head to ache as her chest squishes against my enclosure.
The world tumbles and whirls around me, the sloshing noise reaching my ears as I find myself spun and placed atop one of the empty dryers. Finally off the floor I have a chance to gain my bearings, a silent screaming failing to escape my nonexistent mouth as I stop the Auto-Closet.
The massive chamber stands open, steam emanating from the grates and walls after a heft cleaning. Glass canisters hang from the ceiling, chains and hooks holding them aloft like some mechanical abattoir.
Piles of shattered and broken bones, carved and cleaved muscles, vats of blood, and even a seemingly complete yet empty coat of skin skin rest either bobbing or tightly packed into the spaces made for them. Resting between the legs of the sagging and ghastly flesh rests an equally flattened cock, the massive length of skin twisting and turning in the vat.
"Recognize it?" the doughy blonde giggles, struggling to keep calm as she is filled with a mixture of terror at what had happened and excitement at the possibilities. She slowly waddles up, her wide hips swaying and swishing her long dress with each step as she begins to run her hands over the glass.
"I think that's a pectoral... and that's a... maybe a femur, maybe?" she chirps under her breath, as if taking inventory of the bio mass inside the glass. "Oh my..." she yelps, her cheeks growing red as the large yet empty cock presses against the glass. "Gosh, if Nathan had something like that I swear I'd..." she mutters, turning back to me with a nervous smile.
As she approaches me once again she pulls and tugs at her apron, pulling a small compact mirror out before flipping it open. She turns it to me with a grin, seemingly please with her work as I'm forced to stare at my reflection.
It takes a moment to sink in, the sight of the mangled mass of nerves and tissue in the small aquarium of a jar seemingly being impossible to grasp. A set of bright blue eyes bob gently in the green ooze, their nerves hooking up to an exposed brain stem and the bulbous fatty gray-matter sitting at the top of the tank. Two ears float out at the sides, the tubes and the tiny bones fully exposed without even and ounce of skin on them. The beginning of a spine ends with a collection of tubes, red viscous liquid pumping up from the base of the container in one and back down into it from another.
"Isn't it am-mazing-ZING!?" Margaret chirps, clasping her hands together and squeezing her chest with her arms. "It took so long, I didn't think someone like me could even..." she giggles, the florist in her mid-to-late thirties seemingly excited at having managed such a complete vivisection without any prior training.
After a brief pause, seemingly forgetting that I had no way to respond, her cheeks begin to burn red.
"Right right, you can't..." she murmurs, embarrassed as she looks down demurely at her feet. Slowly her gaze moves back up to the exposed flesh in the Auto-Closet, a faint grin spreading across her lips. "Right..." she mutters, wandering over to the control panel before bending over to inspect it.
Adjusting her glasses she begins to poke at the options one by one, pulling a little booklet from her apron as she reads some notes outlining her plan.
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