Remain.

Despite the swirling discomfort in your gut, you hold your ground and meet his gaze with unwavering determination. "I will stay," you declare, a flicker of defiance in your voice. The room falls silent for a moment, the tension thick as the air around you. The Flesh Artist's gaze remains fixed on you, as if assessing your resolve. Finally, he nods, a subtle acknowledgment of your decision. "Very well," he murmurs, the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Annoyance bubbles up within you at his dismissive response, "What do you want from me?" you demand. His eyes bore into yours, a sense of power radiating from him as he calmly states, "I want to turn you into a work of art." The weight of his words hangs heavily in the air, a chilling reminder of the control he holds over you in this twisted artistic world he has created.

You can feel the tension rising within you as his words sink in. The realization of his intentions sends a shiver down your spine. "You can't do this to me," you protest, your voice filled with fear and defiance. But The Flesh Artist remains unfazed, his expression cold and calculating. "Oh, but I can," he replies, his tone dripping with malice. "You will belong to me, body and soul. In the end, you will give yourself over willingly."

You feel a surge of defiance rise within you, a fire igniting in your chest at his brazen statement. “No. Never! I refuse to be reduced to a mere object for your artistic desires,” you declare, your determination shining through. “I have my own free will!” As you gaze into The Flesh Artist's imposing figure, you steel yourself against his manipulations, determined to protect yourself from becoming another victim of his twisted artistry.

"We spoke of surgeries to change genders," intoned The Flesh Artist, "but that is so binary, and so dull. I could perform a metoidioplasty, enlarging your clitoris with testosterone before surgically turning it into a fully functional male cock, while leaving your cunt untouched. Imagine it! I could even turn your labia into scrotum." The vularity of his words still lingers in the air, his unsettling gaze boring into you as he calmly tells you of the things he could accomplish with your body. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as he describes a grotesque transformation, a twisted version of your own anatomy that sends a shiver of horror down your spine.

But then, The Flesh Artist's laughter breaks the tense silence, sending a chill down your spine. "I must admit, I enjoy seeing the fear in your eyes," he continues, his voice devoid of any warmth or empathy. "I don't intend to go as **** as you may have feared," he reveals, his words slightly easing the tension in your muscles. "Instead, I propose a single piercing. It's not even permanent, so you can easily remove it if it doesn't suit you," he explains, his tone almost casual, yet still unnerving.

The initial wave of relief washes over you, but a sense of unease lingers in the depths of your being. "It's a simple request, really," he adds, his eyes locked onto yours, searching for any signs of hesitation or doubt, "And in exchange, I will allow you a full interview tomorrow morning, and a tour of the compound." As you contemplate his offer, a nagging doubt tugs at the corners of your mind. What if this seemingly harmless act of submission leads to something more sinister? The uncertainty lingers like a dark cloud over your head, casting a shadow of doubt on The Flesh Artist's seemingly benign proposal.