Implant Expanders Clinic: Natasha's Story 2

“Tell me again exactly how these things work, will you Doc? Natasha said, shaking the cobwebs from her mind

“Look at the examples behind you. They are my own design, sold under the IEC brand, they’re like a very strong water balloon.

An outer shell that can stretch to the size you need it, on it is a port that we connect to and pump saline through” the Doc said matter of factly.

Her first meeting with the Doc had come as a significant shock, but was starting to get used to her.

Natasha was prepared for her rather curt manners from the phone calls they’d had back and forth, really she had come to expect this from surgeons.

While many of them seemed arrogant, the Doc seemed to have reigned that in and was just a matter of fact and straight to the point kind of person.

The Doc did not post much of a profile on her website, just her qualifications, no photo.

Natasha could tell that she was not an especially old woman from the voice, but that was about it.

Their first meeting had cleared a few things up.

No, the Doc was not old, especially for a surgeon.

In fact, she was an exceedingly beautiful woman in what seemed to be her late 20s.

Adorned in a set of pink scrubs and training shoes, she appeared to have been having a rather busy day on her feet.

But the major thing she was not prepared for, was that the Doc seemed that she might have sampled a bit of her own merchandise.

While they were nothing on the woman from the advertisement, the Doc was sporting a set of implants that still would have disqualified her from any work in Natasha’s line.

“So when I install your expanders, they will be very small, as small as possible while keeping their shape” the Doc continued, snapping Natasha from her reverie.

“This is where they differ from the examples behind you, those are capable of going to extremely large sizes, but subsequently they cannot be much smaller than how they are currently” she said.

“Oh I see, well thank god, I don’t think one of those would fit in me!” Natasha blurted out.

“I think you would be surprised. But at any rate, your expanders are a smaller model to suit your rather specific requirements regarding recovery time” the Doc responded, not ruffled at all.

“They are still capable of going much larger than I would ever recommend you fill them, given your line of work, but they will take much better to an underfilled state” she continued.

“Then, when you’re back home and free from work, you can start adding saline until you are happy with the result.

You’ll need at least some recovery time after a fill, but it will be much less than if we’d done it all at once” said the Doc, gesturing absentmindedly at the huge implant behind Natasha’s head as she spoke.

“The only caveat to this approach is you’ll need to be in charge of your own filling, which is not something I usually permit.

It’s a relatively simple procedure, but you will need to exercise impeccable judgement about what your goals and limitations are. You would not be the first person to make … errors in that regard” the Doc finished, her tone softer now.

“But given you live halfway across the world and cannot stay here in the IEC, I will have to make an exception.

So, any more questions?”

“I .. don’t think so. I’m full of nerves but I’ve come too far to back out now” Natasha replied trepidatiously.

“Try not to overthink it Natasha. You’ll be in control of your own destiny here, if you don’t like your new breasts, you can either fill them up or fly back and drain them down a bit. As long as it's above the minimum amount you are in total control. Not many people have that luxury” the Doc soothed.

“Ok thanks Doc. Oh uh, maybe one question... The nurse in your advertisement, the one I found out about the IEC from. Does she work here? How does she do anything carrying those all day? Is she the biggest?” Natasha exclaimed in rapid fire, her trepidation replaced with excitement.

“That’s more than one question. She does work here, yes, you might even meet her during your recovery.

Almost all of our nurses end up staying on at the IEC, I’d like to think I’m a hard boss to beat.

As to the rest, I’m not sure that's something I should disclose to you. But rest assured, we produce tremendous implants and I do a damn good job installing them” the Doc finished, stern again, standing up and making subtle motions that she’d prefer to get on with things.

Natasha felt a bit childish at her line of questioning, she wasn’t really sure where it had come from.

She’d tried not to think about the ad (and the woman!) much, since it had ceased being a post on social media and became a complicated itinerary that used up all of her meagre savings.

She stood up and followed the Doc through the door.

Sitting alone in her room in a robe, the creeping doubt made its way back into Natasha’s mind.

It was too late now, she had at most minutes before proceedings began.

She had been so sure she wanted implants for the last few years.

And she still was sure.

But what she’d seen and discussed at the IEC so far seemed to be from an entirely different world than her.

The woman from the job ad was not some sort of sideshow freak adult model they had hired to get clicks. She was a woman that worked in this clinic, every day carrying a set of implants that must have weighed a ton. That seemed normal here.

Her modelling peers, her agent, the magazine reps, none of them would have understood or cared to understand any of what she’d seen so far.

Getting implants was not uncommon for women in her position, many of the girls mentioned it in passing, but never had the money to follow through.

Would they entertain meeting with a surgeon who had boobs as big as her head, get implanted with something compared to a ‘water balloon’ and then fill themselves up with a needle?

She doubted it.

“That just means you’re the one who’s got what it takes, Natasha”.

“But I am kind of embarrassed by myself and-”

There was a knock at the door, a young nurse in blue robes and a headscarf, no implants.

For whatever reason this fact comforted her. This wasn’t a stripper academy, it was a clinic. A totally normal nurse. (sic)

“She’s ready for you, let’s go”.