Warning : This story depicts medical procedures in an unrealistic manner. If you are a pedantic medical professional or worse, TVTropes editor, continue at your own risk.

The doctor entered the exam room.

It was a little chilly, so she wore a labcoat over her scrubs.

Patient is Caucasian male, good physical condition, works out. Looks tired, day-old beard. Trying not to put his hand over his crotch. Either I'm the hottest woman he's seen today, or he had a particularly crazy night.

"Hello," she said, and adjusted her glasses. He wasn't bad looking, really.

"Hey, Doc."

"What seems to be the problem?"

He looked away.

"I can get a male doctor."

"No, it's fine. It's just...it'smydick."

"Is it...injured?"

"I don't know what it is."

He took a deep breath, stood up, and unzipped his pants.

A long, black, shaft was at his crotch, and not the one one would expect to find there, even if he had been African-American. For one thing, it was was made of black rubber, around nine inches long. There was a black, rubber foregrip on the underside, like a shotgun. It even had a criss-cross diamond pattern cut into it.

"That's a handle," she said.

"I know."

"That's a handle where your penis should be."

"I know."

"Is this a joke?"

"No."

"Sorry, I'm just-" She adjusted her glasses. "Surprised. When you work in an emergency room you think you've seen everything, but..." She needed to look professional. "Why..."

"I don't know." His hands gripped the edge of the bed a little tighter. The extensors tensed in his arms- No. Be professional. "I just woke up like this."

"Hangover?"

"Like your wouldn't believe."

She crossed the room to the counter, snapped on some gloves. "Do you remember where the party was?"

"No clue. I crawled to the bathroom with my eyes closed, drank water out of the bathtub tap, and laid under a cold shower in the fetal position until I felt human again. Then I took my clothes off, and I noticed the...replacement."

"I see." Where was-ah. She pulled the plastic Wartenberg wheel out of a drawer, and approached the patient. "How does it feel."

"Numb. Can't pull it off, can't even feel it. It's literally like someone replaced my dick with a handle."

She couldn't smile. It would be unprofessional to smile. But not to press her lips together really hard. "This is a Wartenberg wheel. It's to test sensitivity."

"Oh, my ex had one of those. Go right ahead."

The doctor tried not to blush. She grasped the tool's handle in her right hand, and and tested the spin of the little spiked wheel in her left. No resistance. She ran it across the patient's handle. "Feel anything?"

"No."

She gripped the handle-

"Oh," he said.

She looked up. What?

"I felt that."

"Where?"

"All over."

"Really?" She ran the wheel over the handle again.

"Nothing."

She grabbed hold of it.

"Feel it."

"That's very...strange." She let go of his new equipment, and ran the wheel over the same spot she had just touched. No joy.

So she supported the handle from the underside, and ran the wheel over the top. Nothing. She held him firmly, and poked the wheel between her fingers. He could feel the fingers, but not the spikes. He could even feel her nail, through the glove.

"Fascinating," she said.

"So, you have any idea what the problem is?"

She looked up. "Well, if it wasn't for the varying sensation, I'd assume someone had played a horrible trick on you. Or-"

The corner of her mouth quirked up, entirely against her will.

"-you had been kind of wild last night. Have you urinated this morning? We may want to test for drugs."

He frowned, and looked up at the ceiling. "...No. Weird."

"Do you mind if I get a more experienced doctor in here?"

"No. No problem," he said.

She rose.

"Uh, Doc?"

"Hmmm?"

"You gonna let go?"

"What?"

"You're still holding it."

"Oh, right," she said. And then she moved the handle up and down, like she was pumping water.

It wasn't even a conscious thought.

"Doc, what are you-"

"How does that feel?"

"G-good, but-"

She pumped again, and he sucked in air through his teeth. Yes. Good.

His stomach was growing.

It had been a fairly trim and muscled stomach when he came in. Now it puffed out; not like a few years of beer and pizza, but like a balloon or something inflatable.

The doctor pumped a few more times. Yes, it was growing. His skin was even getting darker. But not in a normal skin tone, it was literally starting to shade dark grey.

"What's-what happening to me?"

The doctor looked up. The patient was glassy eyed, and his mouth was open. He ran a finger across the exposed parts of his stomach, and it squeaked. He said "what's happening to my belly button?"

There was something plastic-looking . The doctor reached out, touched it, ran her finger across the familiar shape.

Then she pulled the nozzle out.

The patient arched his back.

It was identical to the nozzle from any given pool inflatable, just bigger, and replacing a human being's belly button.

Once, when she was little, she had tried to blow up an inner tube by herself, and got so dizzy that she fell in the pool.

What would happen if she let the air out? Would he deflate? Slowly shrink back to normal? Would the nozzle spew out blood and guts and intestines and fluids?

What would happen if she tried to blow him up?

She pumped again, and his stomach inflated - there was no other word for it - satisfyingly.

I should stop.

She didn't stop.

Maybe she couldn't.

He was just kind of swelling, growing larger. Where the swelling hit his shirt, his pants, they vanished. She could swear she was starting to see through his changing skin, as it got darker, shinier.

The handle had to be at least a foot long. She kept pumping. Her elbow twinged, and she shifted hands.

The patient shifted on the bed as his hips and rear and leg thickened. He was quite feminine between his ribs and knees, and his chest must've been jealous. The inflation pushed aside his shirt, to reveal his chest, and the two swelling mounds on it.

Something moved on his hips. She looked down. There were two handles, positioned perfectly for gripping if...

If...

Two muted popping noises. His nipples were now two smaller nozzles.

He was curvy all over now. Even his muscular shoulders softened. It wasn't designed to exert himself. He was designed to be used.

The doc frowned. Designed? Where did that come from?

"Doc..."

He was raspy now, voice pitched higher. The grey crept up his neck.

"Doc, I can't..."

She stopped pumping, but it was already too late.

The grey enveloped his head, leaving it a featureless, head-shaped...thing. Like a doll, or a mannequin. It had smoothed out his cheekbones, the sharp, masculine planes of his face. The whole effect was very feminine.

The doctor pushed the head back. It was heavier than it looked. Heavier than air, but lighter than a hu-

A horizontal line appeared on the lower half of the thing's face. The mouth filled out into lush, full lips. Still grey. Sick.

The pump broke off in the doctor's hand. She nearly dropped it, juggled it, managed to catch it before it hit the floor. Then she realized she had better not get the attachment end too close to her, and pointed it away.

It had to be a foot and a half, two feet long.

What have I done?

She looked from the thing in her hand to the thing she had created. The dark grey rubber pooltoy...drone. There were other words she could use, but "drone" was cold. Clinical.

Made it an object, not a victim.

She took a step back.

And then she slipped on the Wartenberg wheel. Her feet flew out from under her. Her gluteus maximus hit the floor. Her shirt rode up a little-

And she watched the handle arc through in the air.

She realized what was happening about half a second before it landed, point down, in her belly button.

what

Something squeaked.

He - she? - got off the table, and rubbered over to her. Knelt.

this can't

The drone's face - well, its lips - stretched into a smile -

be happening

and it looked at her stomach.

Her belly button was gone. The backside of the pump was apparently a little nozzle, like you'd find on a beach ball, or float, or-

The drone had one too.

-inflatable pool toy.

"I'm pretty sure your dick should be hitting my spine about now," she said. "It should be poking out the back."

The drone reached for her.

She back-scrambled, until she hit the counter. One hand probed the...thing. It was completely sealed to her skin. Pressed down flat. If she pulled the nozzle out-

Her back arched.

Oh.

Well.

That felt nice.

Something grasped her nozzle.

She followed the hand up to the drone's face. It was still smiling.

"No."

It bent over. She couldn't see what, if anything, was at its crotch now-

"No, don't-"

Its lips met the nozzle, and blew. Her stomach immediately swelled.

"- stop -"

Pfft.

Her stomach was now that nice curve. That appealing curve. Soon she'd be covered in new, slick, white, skin-

She tried to push the drone away.

But not too hard.

"- you can't -"

Pfft.

Her hips widened, right, then left. The air wrapped around to her butt, added what would be fat if it had still been flesh and blood. Two grips extruded themselves on either side of her hips.

"-but-"

Pfft.

The swelling reached her chest, swallowed her boobs. They puffed out into her hands, with more handles crossing the nipples. Anyone using her could still access them, of course. Could still shove the grips over and suck on her nozzles.

"-dooooon't-"

Pfft.

Her legs were curvy now, the shape they would've been if she'd been lucky enough to have the time to be anything other than a medical resident and good genetics. Or maybe plastic surgery Traffic stoppers, someone had once called them. With the rest of her, she'd be able to grind the Indy 500 to a halt.

"-no-"

Pfft.

Her shoulders flexed as grips appeared on her shoulderblades, on the back of her neck, under her labcoat. She couldn't breathe; someone had put one of those inflatable armbands around her throat and pumped it up.

Why did it dissolve her clothes, but not her coat?

The transformation reached the ends of her arms, made them puffy, but still dexterous enough to grab, to stroke, to pull. Grips on her arms too.

"-nonononononnoooo-"

Pfft.

The white swallowed her face up, left it featureless, like a doll or mannequin.

And then there was nothing but a long, drawn out moan.

The security guard knocked on the door. "Doc? I heard someone making a noise." Silence. He pushed the door open.

There was nobody in the exam room.

"Hello?"

Nothing. Silence. He walked into the middle of the room, and looked at the two weird inflatables.

"Is this a joke?" he said.

The inflatables didn't answer. One was dark grey, and the other, a few feet away, was white. It wore a labcoat.

He tapped the white one. Heavier than it looked. If it wasn't full of air, what was it full of? Were they both full of the whatever?

Wait, where was the other-

Behind him, as it happened. He hadn't seen it move.

And then, for some reason, he thought of the raptor ambush in Jurassic Park.

"Clever girl," he said.

And then they struck.

ENDF

The Pump

2018 Nequ CC-By-SA-NC Fan stories/fanart welcome

For a long time, I had the idea of a TF story based on a guy whose personal plumbing was replaced by a replica made out of rubber. Problem was, it was an interesting image, but it didn't go anywhere.

Then I realized the replica could be a pump handle instead, and the story basically wrote itself.

I've actually been so sick I had to do that shower thing. Write what you know.