Eryne layered herbs inside her mask snout then she stuffed a cloth in its remaining space. Her patient on the bed, with her legs spread wide, saw Eryne wearing the black cloak. She saw every bit of her wrinkling body. The doctor buttoned her cloak to cover her dangling breasts.

She put the mask over her thin face and kept it affixed to her head by tightening the strap behind her head.

When she saw long equipments with sharp tip on the shelf, the patient thought again if she needed surgery or not. But her husband had already made the choice for her. Her destination was Eryne’s scissors only. And the doctor had picked a scissor which she thought would be perfect for the procedure.

Eryne opened and closed the half a foot long scissor to check its sharpness. The woman couldn’t see her eyes but could tell she was not satisfied by the sharpness it had just by her body language. The doctor rubbed it on another knife till she could hear sweet sound of metal sliding on another metal.

She rubbed it a couple of times then submerged it and a pincer in bubbling water. Eryne adjusted her mask again while the scissor boiled. Soon she took it out with a twitcher.

Eryne tightened the cuffs on her patient’s limbs and removed the cloth from her crotch. Her shame was now exposed to a woman in mask. Eryne heard her teeth clanking.

“Don’t be scared.” Eryne’s distorted voice came, “Anesthetics which you had won’t work well if you panic like this.”

“Will it even work?” she had her doubts of her own.

“If it doesn’t then you’ll pass out in a minute.” She said.

The woman preferred unconsciousness over the pain.

“Can I begin the surgery?” Eryne held the pincer.

“Give me something to bite.”

“No. Let your husband know what he is putting you through.”