It was a simple dare, really; the kind of thing that a lot of stupid young kids do to impress each other with their bravery. All you had to do was break into the abandoned mental asylum on the outskirts of town one night, snap a few pictures, maybe steal a souvenir, and you'd be a legend. Getting in was simple as prying open a window in the old cafeteria. It's a walk in the park, you figure as you sweep your flashlight through the dark, dust-caked hallways.
Your every footstep echoes through the building as you make your way up the stairs, searching for a suitable place to commemorate the journey. OPERATING ROOM. You're bound to find something wild in there. The heavy, rusted door takes some force to open, but finally it does, with a long, loud squeal.
A shrill scream hurts your ears. A woman in a straitjacket lays on the operating table, ankles bound. Her skin is a worrying, mottled gray, a metal cap on her head still sparking with electricity. The shocks make her toes curl, her thighs twitching and tensing as you drop your light and rush to undo her restraints.
"Pardon me, young man," a stern woman's voice barks from behind you. You turn to see a woman glaring at you, wearing a labcoat and... surprisingly little else. Apart from the coat, the surgical mask, and the gloves on her hands, she's entirely undressed. Her withered skin glows a sickly green in the dim light. It's enough to distract you from her thick hips and remarkably ample bust.
"I was not prepared for a new subject," she snarls. Her eyes, ringed in black muck, narrow as she steps toward you, producing a syringe from her coat pocket, filled with a gleaming red substance. "Ah, but a doctor's work is never done, is it not? We'll pencil you in."
As you