Her Contract Enatails Ch. 02

With all the skill of his profession, Pickford lifted the fin from its bath of fluid and manoeuvred it so that the narrow end aligned with the blunt edge of Carla's lower limb. Made malleable by the effects of the liquid, her flesh offered no resistance as he attached the fin to the nerve endings that had once been located in her toes. One rib of cartridge within the fin married up to one set of nerves that had previously been those of her vanished digits, an arrangement that would allow her to move the new addition to her body in a similar manner once the operation was complete.

With the nerve endings attached, all that remained was for Pickford to smooth the fin into the flesh of what was now, more than ever, becoming recognisable as Carla's tail. He did this with the same expertise that he had shaped her legs, soon rendering the distinction between what was her own flesh and the specially grown additions ever harder to discern.

As soon as the fin was attached and he was satisfied with the look of his work, the doctor called for yet another container to be brought to him by his assistants. Like the first, this was filled with liquid, but below the surface there could be seen the glittering of literally hundreds of small objects no bigger than a penny. One might have mistaken the things for just that, a tank filled with silver pennies that caught the light much as the tail fin that now graced the end of Carla's body.

But then what purpose would such things have served in those surroundings?

Pickford dispelled any illusion as to just what the tiny reflective objects might have been when he plucked one from the liquid with a pair of tweezers held in one hand and proceeded to spray Carla's tail at the point where the fin met the dark skin with a container he held in the other. Instantly the liquid softened her flesh, indicating that the same solution used to mould her body was contained in the vessel and could be delivered to a desired spot with no more than a squeeze on the trigger.

He pressed the silver disc down onto the softened skin, covering a small portion of the area where the fin met the flesh. This was followed by a second disc by the side of the first as Pickford worked his way around the width of Carla's suspended tail until he had done a complete circuit of the limb.

But he did not stop there, instead beginning another row of discs atop the first. Laying them over the previous row, as he worked the true nature of his task became apparent. Each row placed over the last and moving ever higher up Carla's tail encased ever more of her lower body beneath what were now clearly scales.

Pickford worked tirelessly, placing each individual scale with care and subtlety so that the skin of silvery armour creeping up Carla's tail seemed to swallow her a little at a time. More and more of her formerly human flesh was replaced by the skin of an aquatic creature as she appeared to change by degrees into a mermaid.

When he finally reached the point where her legs began to melt into each other, Pickford traced the area where the transition could truly be said to be located with the scales. But he also picked out a decreasing number of spots as he progressed further at which he placed perhaps a trio of pair of scales before reducing the number to a single silver disc. He placed some on her upper thighs, buttocks and belly as though the tail petered away to nothing in the regions of her body that were still recognisably human.

Pickford's last task was to take from a far smaller container a series of almost triangular objects that resembled miniature versions of the tailfin he had already grafted onto Carla's body. These he pressed into the gaps between her fingers with the aid of the liquid spray, revealing them to be webbing that transformed her hands into partial flippers that would be ideal for speeding her passage through water.

As he moulded the last of the webbing into place, it occurred to Pickford that while this modification to Carla's body might have made her a more efficient mermaid, it would come at a price as regards her digital dexterity. She would be well able to feed herself and perform basic tasks as she had before, but more complicated or involved operations that a normal human being found routine would be beyond her as she struggled with the semi-rigid cartilage between her fingers.

Normally he prided himself on his ability to remain suitably removed from the plight of his patients, but for some reason there was a compulsion in him to worry about this woman in particular. Perhaps it was based on the fact that she would not be under his care for her recuperation, the time in which he liked to observe and monitor his patients in order to be sure that they could adjust to the changes he had wrought upon them.

But instinct told him that it was more to do with the heavy level of involvement that his colleague, Doctor Ward, had with this case.

Pickford respected Ward for his skill and vision, but he had never fooled himself into believing for a second that he liked the man on a personal level and he was sure the feeling was mutual. Beyond his cavalier attitude and lack of respect for his patients, there was a quality to Ward that Pickford could not help but suspect bordered on the corrupt and reckless.

When the case had crossed his desk, Pickford noted the fact that the entire contact with The Retreat had gone through Ward's office before arriving in his own. That was nothing unusual, but based on the amount of theatre time that would be required; he was providing more than two thirds of the work to be done as specified in the file. Under those circumstances it was an unspoken convention that the case was first referred to the surgeon who would be responsible for the lion's share of the work.

This combined with the requirement for the patient to be whisked away upon completion of the surgery had made him suspicious of Ward's motives. But he had to resign himself to the fact that as there was no hint of malpractice or coercion in the case, there was nothing he could do beyond perform his duties and hope for the best.

His work complete, Pickford spared a moment to consider the mermaid laid upon the operating table. Like any man proud of his work, there was always a part of him loathe to see his creations taken away from him. If he had been allowed to do what he wanted with the creatures that he created, he had once dreamt up an admittedly impossible fantasy of spiriting them away to a hidden island where each would be free to live as they chose in their new forms.

He hoped that wherever this one ended up, it would be a place in which she would be happy.

He also hoped that if she ended up in the arms of a lover, that they would be good to her and make her radically altered life a joy.