#once upon a time i had an article that talked about how the sleek detail-free design was bad because of ... fuck i forget!

[theemperorsfeather]

Every time I hear someone talk about literally anything as being better because it's ~modern~ I think about grey-and-white interior design, and soulless bland blank garbage that's easier to mass produce, and think uncharitable thoughts at how easily so many people just go the fuck along with whatever is ~trendy~ so they won't look ~out of touch~ or whateverthefuck.

Yes I do have some strong and not entirely friendly* opinions about Modern design, too.

[lalainajanes]

For klarosummer bingo, this completes my first row! The prompt was “swimsuit model.”

Fortune Favors

“Bekah, these are amazing,” Caroline gushes. She 100% means it, but she’s laying it on a little thick. She’s seen pictures, mock-ups, and was fitted with prototypes. Now, with the line entirely constructed, all the details finished, Caroline’s impressed.  

Rebekah, however, seems frazzled, her usual rock-solid confidence nowhere to be found. 

Totally understandable. It’s a big day for her.

Rebekah’s working on launching a swimwear line, is funding a big chunk of it herself. Caroline would have agreed to help out even if she didn’t owe Rebekah a favor. Caroline continues flipping through the garments until she finds the tag with her name on it.

She pulls the first hanger off the rack to look at the suit more closely. It’s a white one-piece with a deep-v neck, a belt slim black belt, and ruffled straps. Rebekah fidgets, “We’re styling this one with red lips and heels, a big hat. We’re going to try to shoot this one on the rocks.”

“Sounds good to me.” The shoot seems far more professional from the ones they’d managed to pull together for school projects. They’d done the best they could with the facilities available to students, but the house they’re using today is by far the nicest one Caroline’s ever been inside of. It backs onto a private beach which seems unnecessary considering the freaking gorgeous pool in the backyard. “Who’s the photographer?”

Rebekah grins, clearly pleased with herself. “I managed to convince my brother to donate his services.”

Well. Now Caroline’s nervous. “Your brother Klaus?” she asks, kind of hoping she’s wrong. Klaus Mikaelson is a big deal. He’s shot major covers, A-list celebrities, million-dollar international campaigns.

He’s used to models who know what they’re doing, and Caroline’s definitely an amateur.

“Yes, Klaus. I’ve forbidden Kol from coming within a five-mile radius. Can’t have him harassing the models. And Elijah’s been a gem, but his expertise lies more in negotiating with suppliers and nagging me to mind the expenses.”

Caroline takes a deep breath, tells herself it’ll be fine.

She studies her next look, a sleek black bikini and a sheer black robe covered in floral details. “Love the appliqués. Did you bead this yourself?”

“Till my fingers were bloody. But I think it’ll photograph well.”

Caroline hums in agreement. “Is this one on the beach too?”

“No, by the pool. Chaise lounge, martini glass, one of the male models in the background. Think rich divorcee seducing the help.”

Caroline hopes it’s a real martini. She might need it.

 She flips to the next hanger and has to bite back a distressed groan. Rebekah’s concept leans retro, so the yellow polka dot bikini in her hand is skimpier than Caroline had anticipated. 

“Probably should have skipped breakfast,” she mutters.

Rebekah scoffs, “None of that. You’ll look smashing in it. I have impeccable taste.”

Caroline’s distracted by male laughter, a new person slipping into the tent. “So you’ve insisted your whole life. I distinctly recall you sneaking into the family albums and burning most of the photographic evidence of the unfortunate style choices you made in years 7 through 9.”

Ordinarily, Caroline would exploit the opportunity to get a little dirt on Rebekah, but she’s annoyingly tongue-tied and intimidated. She’s pasted on a polite smile, more out of habit than anything. 

She may have google stalked Rebekah once upon a time, way back when they’d been rivals at school. And if during Caroline’s research, she’d read several articles and poured over dozens of pictures of Rebekah’s very talented and successful fashion photographer brother, that was her business.

Know thy enemy and all that, she couldn’t have known that rivalry would shift to friendly competition, then to actual friendship. 

She’d noted he was attractive, of course, as anyone with eyes and sense would have. Most people don’t manage to live up to photos taken by professionals.

Klaus Mikaelson does, and it’s not helping her insecurities.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Nik.”

He walks further in, offering Caroline his hand. “You must be Caroline. It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Klaus Mikaelson.

She swallows, is relieved when her voice sounds normal. “You too. I’m excited for today. I love your work.”

He nods, appearing pleased. “It’s been ages since I’ve done this kind of shoot, but you must know how Rebekah can be. Wouldn’t stop haranguing me until I agreed.”

Rebekah glares, piqued, and Caroline presses her lips together to hold in a laugh that threatens, knowing it would not be appreciated. “I can’t blame her for doing what needed to be done to ensure the desired outcome. It’s only good business.”

Rebekah nods firmly, “Exactly. Thank you, Caroline. At least someone here appreciates me.” She picks up the last hanger that had been in Caroline’s section and hands it over. “This one’s first since the set-up is the simplest. Bonnie should arrive while you’re shooting. We’ll do her first look while you go back into beauty, then rotate throughout the day. Put this on. I’ll send hair in first.”

She knocks into Klaus’ shoulder when she leaves, hard enough to have him swaying. “That’s why you’re not allowed in my house!” he calls to her retreating form. “Just had the floor redone,” he tells Caroline. “Can’t have her stomping all over them if she has a tantrum.”

“She’s stressed. You might want to be nicer.” Caroline regrets the words immediately, glances away under the pretense of studying the bikini in her hand. He’s donating his time and apparently his house. Their family squabbles really aren’t her business.

But Klaus isn’t offended, “Perhaps you have a point, though Rebekah’s never more productive than she is when she’s angry. Failure’s not an option when she’s fueled by spite.”

Hmm. Caroline has similar ideals. Maybe that’s why she and Rebekah came to understand each other.

She realizes she’s been twisting the bikini top’s strap, hurriedly straightens it out. “I feel like I should warn you, my modeling experience is limited to pitching in with other student’s shoots at school. So, I’m far from a professional.”

He shrugs. “You have nothing to be worried about.”

That startles a laugh from her. “You only say that because you don’t know me. I am a world-class worrier.”

He takes the suit away from her, setting it aside. His knees bend, until their eyes are level. “Caroline. You’re beautiful. Rebekah’s created lovely things. I’m very good at my job. I have every confidence the final product will be spectacular, and I’ll be able to enjoy reminding Rebekah that she owes me a favor down the line.”

Caroline blinks at him in surprise, some of her nerves having drifted away when faced with his absolute and unwavering confidence. “That’s… actually very reassuring.”

“Was it? I confess that’s not a strength of mine.”

She’s not sure if he’s joking or not, but she picks up her first outfit again. It’s another bikini, a tropical print on a pink background with a halter top and a high waisted bottom. “I should change,” she says. “Something tells me Rebekah won’t appreciate it if we fall behind schedule.”

Klaus nods, rocking back a step. “Of course. I just wanted to introduce myself. Please feel free to let me know if you need or want anything at all.”

She thanks him again, and he lets himself out of the tent. 

Caroline takes one more deep breath and then ducks behind the screen in the corner and strips out of her sundress.

Once she’s dressed in Rebekah’s design, she begins to feel like everything might just go okay. The suit fits like a dream, propping up her breasts and perfectly hugging the curve of her hips. By the time hair and makeup work their magic, leaving her curls full and her lips slicked bubblegum pink, she feels freaking fantastic.

When she steps out onto the set, Klaus’ eyes widen when he spots her, lingering in a way that’s slightly unprofessional but not at all unwelcome.

He walks over, paying not the slightest bit of attention to anyone on the crew, even when an assistant tries to wave him over. Klaus offers his arm to help steady her as she steps into the matching pink pumps, leans in close, and tells her she looks incredible, his lips brushing her ear and sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.

She might be in trouble.

Will Rebekah kill Caroline if she flirts with Klaus? Probably.

Caroline thinks she’s willing to risk it.

[comeback-tomy-home]

The Appointment

pairing: doctor Seokjin x patient reader

genre: smut, PWP, doctor!Jin, medical fetish, medical AU

word count: 6.1k

warnings: this isnt gonna be for everyone! if you like medical fetish stuff then read on :) includes: fingering, cmnf, nipple stimulation, use of sex toys (?), clit clamp, breast exam, squirting (?), slight edging, a dash of angst

You had been putting it off for weeks, convincing yourself alternately that you were too busy for the appointment and that you didn’t really need it anyway -you were pretty healthy, weren’t you? But after a long, boring day at work saw you arrive home to another nagging letter glaring up at you accusingly from the doormat,you resigned yourself to the fact that, sooner or later, you’d have to go to the hospital and have your state-recommended check-up. Ignoring the sinking feeling in your stomach,you glanced over the letter and sat down at the kitchen table. For some reason, these things always made you nervous; rationally,you knew there was nothing to worry about, that it was a perfectly ordinary procedure that everyone had to endure once they reached a certain age. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that it would somehow be embarrassing, that something would go wrong, that it would hurt...you tapped the number from the letter into your phone keypad and held it to your ear.

After an agonisingly long time (was it a long time? You couldn’t tell; it took all your willpower not to cancel the call as the line rang and rang), a female voice with a soft accent answered. ‘Good afternoon, Parsons Clinic. How can I help?’ You swallowed. ‘Hello?’ ‘H-hi, sorry. I’d like to make an appointment?’ Your voice rose into a high-pitched squeak and you cursed your nerves. It was just a phone call! ‘That’s fine. Surname and date of birth, please?’ You gave your details, hearing the clattering of a keyboard on the other end. You imagined the woman consulting a database of hundreds of patients, clicking through to find your record and scanning your notes, which probably said the medical equivalent of ‘nervous flier’. She had probably had training to deal with problem patients. Your palms started to sweat. ‘Y/N? I’ve got your record here, and I can see it’s your first appointment. We’ll need to make it for ninety minutes. I can offer you an slot…’ She paused, clearly scanning her electronic schedule. ‘Tomorrow at ten AM.’ You dropped the phone. Hastily wiping your hands on your jeans and scrabbling to pick it up again, you heard her say, ‘Hello?’ ‘Sorry, sorry, I’m still here. That’s a bit short-notice…’ ‘The next appointment is in two months’ time, I’m afraid.’ You were silent. Could you wait another two months?  ‘Miss Y/L/N?’ ‘That’s - that’s fine.’ Your voice was shaking and you could feel your pulse racing. ‘Alright. We’ll see you tomorrow morning then.’

You stuttered a hasty ‘thanks’ and cut the call off, then dropped the phone on the table and rested your head in your hands. It was only a routine appointment. It would be fine. Ninety minutes wasn’t that long. After a few deep breaths,you tapped out a message to your boss:

Hi, fyi I won’t be in tomorrow. Got an appointment. Will work from home PM.

Your phone beeped almost straight away - Seth was annoyingly efficient. You worked for a start-up tech business, one of these trendy places that didn’t believe in business attire and gave its employees free smoothies at lunchtime, so you knew that you could easily skive off for the day as long as you kept up with your emails.

Fine by me. See ya Monday, take care x

Inwardly sighing at the over-familiar sign-off, you put the radio on Channel Six and started to get the ingredients ready for dinner, distracting yourself by throwing an onion in the air and catching it again. You had just started experimenting with backspin when your phone buzzed, the vibration amplified by the wooden table - you jumped violently and the onion rolled away under the dresser. 

Your appointment at Parsons Clinic has been confirmed for 10.00 tomorrow with Dr Kim Seokjin.

Shit. There it was. You couldn’t forget about it now. You scooped up the onion, paused for a few deep breaths and started to make dinner, telling yourself that everything would be fine tomorrow. Why shouldn’t it be? The doctor would ask you some questions, poke around a bit, and send you on your way. 

You tried to forget about it for the rest of the evening; after gulping down your dinner, you answered a few emails, then played a couple of levels of Spade Champion when you could no longer focus on work. Your mind kept wandering back into worries about the next morning, even when you curled up on the sofa with a sitcom and over-full glass of wine. Eventually you turned in, having resigned yourself to a night of broken sleep, punctuated by fretful, half-waking dreams about the appointment. Lying in the darkness, you probed your memories for some event which would give you a reason to be quite so nervous, but as far as you could remember, every visit to hospital (few and far between, fortunately), every dentist trip, every visit to the doctor had been utterly mundane. And, you reminded myself for the hundredth time, tomorrow’s appointment would be exactly the same.

The clinic was spacious and spotlessly clean, wedged between a pharmacist on one side and a dry cleaner on the other, the only new building on the bustling, grubby high street; you were half an hour early. After delaying as long as possible at home (loading the dishwasher, making the bed, scrolling through Twitter), you were unable to sit around any longer and had walked the twenty minutes into town, hoping the fresh air would clear your head. Of course, this had been unsuccessful and you felt your pulse accelerate as the glass doors slid open in front of you. You took a deep breath, stepped inside and were immediately blasted by a gust from the air conditioner directly overhead. The reception desk faced the door and you stumbled towards it, noting as you did so that the woman sitting behind it must have been the one you spoke to on the phone; she was sitting down, wearing a headset over her long, curly hair. The sparkling glass tiles behind her made her look like a mermaid, you thought dimly as she smiled at you, still talking to the person at the other end of the line, then returned to tapping at her keyboard. You stood there awkwardly while she ended the call and turned to you.

‘Sorry about that. How can I help?’ ‘I, er…’ you swallowed. You knew you were blushing and prayed she wouldn’t notice. You tried again. ‘I have an appointment. At ten.’ ‘Is it Miss Y/L/N?’  You nodded, unable to say anything else. She smiled at you again and directed you to the hard-looking grey sofa pushed against one wall, clearly meant to look sleek and professional, its matching coffee table scattered with glossy magazines.  ‘Help yourself to water. I’ll let you know when Doctor Kim is ready.’  You sat on the sofa for twenty minutes or so, trying to distract yourself by flicking through the vapid fashion articles. You chanced upon an article about women in tech and quickly became engrossed - so engrossed that you didn’t immediately hear her say your name ten minutes later. ‘Miss Y/N? Doctor Kim will see you now. Exam Room four, please, just down the hall and on the right.’ She pointed to the door to the left of her desk and smiled at you again. ‘Thanks,’ you croaked, your throat dry. You stumbled through the door and down the hall, took a moment to compose yourself a little, and knocked on the second door on the right. There was a pause, then a muffled voice said, ‘Enter.’

Pushing open the door, you slipped inside and glanced around. The room was far larger than you were expecting, roughly square, with a curtain drawn across the middle, and (in your opinion) far too warm. The doctor was sitting behind a desk angled slightly towards the door, scribbling on a notepad. He didn’t look up, but gestured to the chair in front of the desk and said, in a mildly accented voice, ‘Sit down please, Miss Y/L/N.’

The doctor had smooth golden skin and shiny black hair badly in need of a trim, thick eyebrows and a generous mouth - he was strikingly, breathtakingly handsome, and all the breath in your lungs evaporated. Brilliant. The most handsome man I’ve ever seen is my doctor. Just fantastic. He was also quite a lot younger than you had expected. You watched him writing his illegible notes and tried to breathe normally, clenching your fists in your lap. 

He finally looked up at you and said, ‘Sorry about that. Just finishing up some notes. Now, this is your first check-up, isn’t it?’ You nodded shyly.  ‘No need to be nervous, Miss Y/L/N. This is a routine sexual health appointment. First, a few questions.’ He pulled a clipboard towards him. Upside down, you could read your first and last name at the top of the page.  ‘I have some of your details here… Do you smoke?’ You shook your head.  ‘Good. How many units do you drink per week?’ you cleared your throat to buy a couple of seconds, then said quietly, ‘Ten?’ Really, you had no idea. Who really counts these things, anyway? ‘Are you sexually active?’ asked the doctor, his deep brown eyes on the form in front of him. ‘Now and then,’ you joked feebly, but the doctor said nothing and ticked a box on the form. That bombed. Note to self: no more jokes.

Doctor Kim asked you several more questions - whether you were on the pill, whether you used condoms, if you had experienced any problems during sex - and jotted down your answers on the form.  ‘So - your answers give me no cause for concern, but I need to make sure everything is normal with a physical exam.’

As he was saying this, he got up from the chair and drew back the curtain crossing the room. In the middle of the room was something that looked like a cross between a dentist’s chair and a sun lounger, but clearly very high tech; the chassis was cream-coloured with pale pink padding and concealed, you were sure, some sort of machinery - there was no other reason it would be so self-consciously over-designed. The bed was attached to a large monitor, which was currently blank, along with some wires and other bits of medical equipment you didn’t recognise. A small trolley was slotted squarely underneath the monitor.

‘I’ll ask you to get undressed and lie down on the bed, then I’ll talk you through each step. Nothing to worry about, but do let me know if you need to stop at any point.’  He smiled briefly and continued, ‘Just step behind the curtain so you can get undressed, then. Alright?’

You nodded, dumbstruck. Trying to ignore the trembling in your legs,you walked over to the bed and drew the curtain behind you with a smooth whizzing noise. You undressed as quickly as you could, as if you would lose your nerve otherwise, balled up your clothes and dropped them onto a nearby chair. Thank fuck I shaved yesterday, you thought, then immediately berated yourself for thinking it. He’s a doctor. He doesn’t care if I have hairy legs.

You called, ‘Ready!’, trying to sound confident and unfazed. But you were uncomfortably aware of the fact that you were stark naked and about to let a complete stranger see everything. ‘Lie down on the bed and put your feet in the stirrups, please. Let me know when you’re ready,’ the doctor said from the other side of the curtain.

You awkwardly clambered up onto the bed, which was set at waist-height and very stable - it didn’t shake at all when you shuffled around to position yourself as the doctor had asked. The bed was slightly tilted so that the head was higher than the foot, with padded arm rests and a curved cushion to support the neck of the occupant. It was actually very comfortable. You took a deep breath, noting the trolley of instruments discreetly placed to the side, and told the doctor you were ready to start. 

Doctor Kim drew back the curtain all the way and snapped on a pair of gloves from a box on the trolley, not looking at you as he said, ‘Now, Miss Y/L/N, this is a routine check, so I’ll explain the procedure first and then we’ll get started. Is that alright?’ You nodded, eyes fixed on the ceiling. ‘The first part of the check is on your whole body, so that means I’ll be using a couple of the instruments on this trolley to look at your nervous reaction, your receptiveness, so naturally that means I’ll be focusing more on some areas than others.’ Nervous reaction is right, you thought, your heart hammering. ‘Afterwards, we need to make sure everything is working as it should, so I’ll perform a few simple tests on your genital area. That might mean some internal examination. Does that all sound okay?’ You nodded again, unable to speak.  ‘Just relax, Miss Y/L/N,’ said the doctor with an encouraging nod. Damn it, you thought. Clearly your nerves were showing again.

Doctor Kim stood next to the bed and pulled the trolley closer to him, slinging a stethoscope around his neck. Instantly your whole body stiffened as it struck you that everything was exposed. He would see the scars, the moles - everything! You took another deep, steadying breath. He was a doctor. He had probably seen hundreds of bodies, and after all, it was his job. 

Your skin rose in goosebumps all over, the tiny hairs on your arms lifting and you were very aware of your nipples stiffening a little in response. You were glad the room was heated. He’s a doctor. This is his job. you thought loudly. ‘Ready?’ He asked.  ‘Ready,’ you tried to speak normally but your voice came out as a whisper. Turning to you, Doctor Kim kept his eyes fixed on your face, straight-faced and almost stern. He was extremely professional, and his cool demeanour did help soothe your nerves somewhat. He was an expert, doing the job he had done for countless people before you, having been trained for years and years - you were just another patient in his office. 

‘Right, then - I’ll just check your vital signs. This will be a bit cold...’ He stood over you, and having inserted the stethoscope into his ears he pressed it against different points on your chest, directing you to breathe in...and out, and in...and out again. You couldn’t help but notice your breasts moving slightly with the rhythm of your breathing, and tried to ignore the goosebumps rising on your skin again when the cold metal of the stethoscope touched you. 

‘Very good. No obstructions in your lungs, heart sounds healthy’, he said, putting the stethoscope down on the trolley and fixing a small, blue plastic clip to your finger. ‘That will check your blood oxygen levels, heart rate and blood pressure.’ He was looking at the screen again, reading the apparently comprehensible numbers, pulsing lines and rapidly flickering letters - you sneaked a look at the trolley. A row of shiny steel instruments were laid neatly in a line, along with a box of gloves, a plastic bottle with a pump handle and something sleek and black. You hadn’t the faintest idea what any of them were.

‘Blood oxygen is at 98%, heart rate and blood pressure are slightly up, but that’s to be expected.’ He had turned back to you and you quickly looked up. He had seen you looking at the trolley, and you both knew it - he smiled wryly. ‘So far, so good - next part of the check-up, now. I’ll leave this on for the time being, just to keep an eye…’ He picked up a tool that looked something like a rake, with long, thin tines bent into right angles and finished with rounded tips. ‘This is to check that the nerves in the skin are all working properly. Let me know if it’s painful or uncomfortable.’ You gripped the arm rests involuntarily. Painful?  ‘Try to relax, please. Close your eyes if that helps.’  Forcing yourself to breathe deeply, you unclenched your muscles. You hadn’t even realised you had been so tense. Relax, you told yourself firmly, and closed your eyes. 

Doctor Kim touched the little rake to your forearm, just above your wrist, and moved it slowly up your arm with delicate precision. It tickled, but not in the usual way - you didn’t feel any urge to squeak and squirm - it was like tiny fingertips on your skin. The doctor moved the rake to your other arm and repeated the action, saying,

‘How does that feel?’ he asked, drawing the rake over your chest, above your breasts, and stomach in a well-rehearsed pattern of straight and curved lines. You tried hard not to twitch when the rake was dragged over your thighs.

‘Fine,’ you muttered. It was actually quite tolerable, now that you had (mostly) got over how naked you were; lying there, on the comfortable bed, in a warm, dim room...Why was I so worried? You asked yourself. This isn’t that bad. In fact, you realised with dawning horror, being stroked all over was very nice indeed - so nice that you had started to enjoy it rather more than you should. The doctor repeated the pattern of lines on your body and you fought to keep your face impassive, but couldn’t help the occasional twitch or pause in your deliberately even breathing. Up the inside of your right arm, over the sensitive skin of your wrists, over your shoulder and down your chest, circling your nipple, a row of straight lines over your ribs and stomach, then tracing over your hips and all the way down your thighs. It’s a check-up. I’m in a clinic having a routine medical procedure, you told yourself again. But you wanted him to keep stroking you with the little rake. Your skin seemed to grow more sensitive with the passing moments, and finally you knew you would have to say something to the doctor - but how could you tell him? On the one hand, you wanted him to continue moving the little rake all over you - maybe focusing a little more on the upper thighs, you thought as another shiver raced through you - but on the other, you couldn’t humiliate yourself by getting turned on in front of him.

Your internal struggle seemed to have shown on your face, as Doctor Kim stopped moving the rake and said, his tone neutral: ‘Arousal is normal, Miss Y/N. In fact, it tells me that your nervous reaction for this section of the check-up is healthy, so we can move on to the next part.’ How did he know? You thought desperately, keeping your eyes clamped shut. How did he know I’m turned on? And then you realised that the clip on your finger must have picked up how much faster your heart was beating now and shown up on the screen next to the bed.  ‘I just didn’t…’ you started to say. ‘Not to worry. Now, shall we move on?’ He said briskly, replacing the rake on the trolley with a faint clatter. You nodded silently, wondering how many people had laid on this bed before you, fighting their growing arousal, not sure what to do or say.  ‘Very good,’ he said, ‘The next thing is to check the reaction to stimulation of your erogenous zones.’  My…? Your eyes snapped open. ‘I’ll combine it with a breast exam. Two birds with one stone, see? Do you perform checks on yourself at home?’ You stared at the ceiling and heard yourself saying, as if from a long way away, ‘In the shower, sometimes. Not very often.’ ‘Well, that’s better than nothing. Arms straight above your head, please.’

You were expecting the same rough pulling and squeezing you had had from the practice nurse that time you thought you had a lump; she had kneaded you like wet dough, leaving you sore for days. Doctor Kim, in contrast, was extremely gentle, employing the same practiced delicacy he had used before; he cupped your right breast in one hand, pressing firmly but gently on the soft tissue under the skin. His hands were warm, even through the latex gloves, and you felt your nipples swelling in response as he moved to examine your left side. Your foot twitched slightly as a finger brushed the very tip of one stiff, pink peak.

‘Seems okay…’ he muttered, ‘Nothing to worry about here. I see you’ve started to respond already. You can put your arms back on the rests, now.’ You didn’t say anything. Were you supposed to be aroused? He said it was normal, healthy even… Maybe you were overthinking it. That would be about right; closing your eyes again and settling back on the bed, you decided to stop fighting and just let it happen. The doctor had probably seen it all by now. Still holding your breast, he moved his thumb gently and deliberately over your nipple and you barely stopped myself gasping as a wave of pleasure rushed through you, starting where he had touched you and finishing in the valley between your legs. ‘How does that feel?’ he asked, now rolling it slowly between his fingertips. ‘F-fine,’ you stammered, not opening your eyes. It was more than fine. Being touched there always turned you on, and the familiar warmth was kindling. Let it happen, you reminded yourself.

The doctor moved his hand to your other breast and flicked his thumb over your other nipple in the same firm, practiced motion, over and over again until you couldn’t help but shift a little on the bed, your breathing shallower. You knew you were starting to get wet and pressed your thighs together. Doctor Kim stopped abruptly and said. ‘Your sexual response to this type of stimulation appears to be normal. I need to ensure that your level of arousal doesn’t drop for the remainder of the check-up.’ There was a clatter of something like beads on the trolley and you opened your eyes to see him picking up an object that looked like two pairs of large, rubber-tipped tweezers attached to two ends of a steel chain. ‘Why?’ you said, eyeing the tool nervously. ‘It’s very important that the results of the next tests are accurate. A drop in arousal could mean that I get an incorrect reading from the rate monitor.’ That doesn’t explain much. What is he going to do? ‘I’m going to attach these to your nipples,’ he held the tweezer-like clamps up so you could see them, ‘they’re clamps which are automatically calibrated to stimulate the nipple depending on readings from the rate monitor. Let me know if it becomes uncomfortable.’ What on earth does that mean? you thought, slightly alarmed. Those clamps looked scary. Is it going to hurt?

You tensed up again, gripping the arm rests hard as the doctor stood over you, opening one clamp wide and holding your breast firmly with the other hand. He lowered the clamp onto your nipple so that it was directly between the two rubber-tipped arms, then you felt a sharp, almost painful squeeze which diminished as the doctor adjusted the clamp. ‘How’s that?’ he said, fixing the clamp to your other nipple.  ‘Fine, thanks,’ you almost gasped again at the pressure.  ‘I’m going to turn them on now - ready?’ He pressed a button on the remote control, and instantly the clamps started vibrating slightly, almost imperceptibly, in a slow, regular pulsing pattern. It wasn’t like the cheap vibrators you had used in the past, overpowered and noisy, but low, deep and utterly silent. Your pussy tightened at the now-constant pleasure; you were definitely wet.

‘Feet in the stirrups, please,’ said Doctor Kim, walking to the foot of the bed with the trolley and pressing another button on the remote. You opened your eyes in surprise as in one smooth movement, the stirrups swung away from each other and bent like concertinas, and the bed curved to raise your hips, exposing your pink slit as your legs were spread wide, knees bent. You had to force yourself not to try and press your thighs together to hide how turned on you were, reminding yourself that this was the point of the check-up. Doctor Kim positioned himself between the stirrups, pulling the trolley closer. ‘Good, it looks like your reaction is normal,’ the doctor said, gently pulling back your lips in turn with one fingertip, making you twitch again as the clamps continued to pulse on your nipples. ‘Just a quick external exam now, Miss Y/N…’ 

You felt him place one gloved hand on your mound, fingers spreading your outer lips apart, and start to probe your slit gently with the other. He ran the tip of one finger slowly up the length, starting beneath the slick entrance and finishing just below your clit - you tried not to sigh in frustration. You wanted him to touch you there, to tease and press and flick his fingertip over it, and the clamps on your nipples pulsed more quickly.

‘I’m going to put another clamp over your clitoris,’ he said, and picked something small up from the tray. He held it up - it looked like an overgrown bobby pin. ‘It won’t hurt. It’s simply to optimise sensitivity by trapping blood in the erectile tissue.’

Despite his reassurance, you were fully expecting it to hurt and held your breath. With one hand, he pushed back your lips and with the other, he swiftly opened the clamp and slid it over your clit, releasing it so that your clit was held securely between the arms. It took two seconds. You breathed out in relief; it didn’t hurt at all, just ensured a constant squeezing pressure that wasn’t at all unpleasant. 

‘I’ll leave that on there for the time being, just to make sure your clitoris gets fully erect,’ he said. ‘Your vulva appears to be in perfect shape, but I need to do an internal exam as well. I’m going to put my fingers inside you - is that alright?’ 

Your pussy tightened again at his words and you nodded silently, allowing the rush of anticipation to dissipate. Opening your eyes,you felt calm, your brain somehow tranquilised - you were no longer worrying about what the doctor was doing or what he thought as he pumped something clear and viscous onto his fingers from the bottle on the trolley. Your body didn’t tense up when he spread the cold gel over the lower part of your slit and began to press gently against your opening, slick from arousal and lubricant. The pressure on your clit seemed to increase as the doctor slid what felt like two fingers easily into you, and the vibrations from the clamps came faster and stronger. 

‘Try to breathe normally, Miss Y/L/N,’ Doctor Kim said, looking at you with his dark brown eyes. ‘I’m going to put pressure on your G-spot now. It might feel a little strange.’ You hadn’t realised how uneven your breathing had become and forced yourself to take slow, regular breaths as the doctor pushed his fingers deeper into you. His fingers were strong and well-practised, probing and then curving upwards to press firmly against the upper wall, and you couldn’t help but let out a small groan as he began to rub his fingers rhythmically against it. He was careful not to touch the clamp but you could feel how swollen your clit had become from the pressure inside you and the regular pulsing of the clamps on your nipples, and you had to force yourself not to buck your hips in time with the doctor’s fingers. It was a delicious tease, and you wanted him to keep going, to flex his fingers inside you until you couldn’t take it any more.

‘How does that feel? Not uncomfortable?’ You didn’t trust yourself to speak without gasping, so you shook your head and suddenly he withdrew his fingers with a soft sucking noise. Is that the end? You thought desperately, and was surprised to find that you were disappointed. Is he finished? Doctor Kim had his back to you, busy with something on the trolley, and didn’t speak for a few seconds. ‘Is - is there…?’ you stuttered. ‘Not finished yet, I’m afraid. Nearly there, now - just a couple more things before I can let you go. Lift your hips, please.’  You obeyed, waves of goosebumps washing over you as your stomach jolted. What now? The doctor deftly slid a square of fabric underneath you, saying, ‘Just a precaution against the bed getting wet. Your natural lubrication is rather effusive.’ The doctor turned back to the trolley.

Never had any complaints, you thought, but he was right - several of your lovers had commented in the past on how wet you got during sex. One had even made you squirt, and as the memory suddenly flooded your brain, the clamps tightened on your nipples, your clit starting to throb. The increase in stimulation made you draw your breath in sharply and the doctor looked around at you.  ‘Everything alright?’ he asked dispassionately. You grunted a shaky affirmation and the doctor turned back to you, holding what was unmistakably a long, curved, matte black dildo with a complicated-looking port on the other end. Your eyes must have widened in surprise, because he glanced down at it and smiled slightly. ‘It’s an automated speculum. We’ve just started using these in the clinic, and I’m pleased to say that they’re very effective. They measure the contractions of your Kegel muscles by ensuring constant stimulation to the vagina and G spot. It can also be used to take an internal ultrasound and a cell sample,’ he said, clearly proud of his new toy. 

‘So, I just plug it in...here,’ There was a click as the doctor screwed the base into a port on the bed, ‘and then insert this end…relax, please,’ Doctor Kim spread your lips gently, applying a little more gel on the tip of the speculum with the other hand. A quiet whirring sound and a series of ticking noises, then the rounded end of the speculum slid smoothly inside you, making your muscles involuntarily clench around it as you gasped in earnest. It was thicker than you had expected, and your pussy already felt pleasurably stretched after the doctor’s fingers. The doctor fiddled with the remote control, muttering something about automatic calibration, and the speculum shifted inside you, vibrating slightly - a very odd sensation while it was happening, but after a few seconds it stopped moving and you could feel a bump on its surface pressing against your G spot. It felt so good to have the smooth shaft buried deep inside your pussy that you began to shift your hips backwards and forwards a little, hoping the doctor wouldn’t notice as you started to ride it, craving more stimulation.

The doctor did, of course, notice. He chuckled and said, ‘There’s no need for that, Miss Y/L/N. Lie still please - like I said, the speculum is automated.’ As if to prove a point, he pressed a button on the remote and the speculum instantly started sliding deeper inside you, achingly slowly. ‘See?’, he said as it began to pull out again, the bump grinding against your upper wall as it did so. ‘I’m going to take the clamp off now. The final check is on your orgasm - strength, duration, bodily response, et cetera.’ 

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out except a quiet groan as the machine continued to pump inside you. You almost felt close already, as if it would take only a few seconds for the doctor to bring you to climax once he started touching your clit. With one swift movement, the doctor released the clamp and the throbbing in your clit lessened to a pulse, thought it felt just as swollen as before. You wanted desperately to come, the clamps on your nipples almost too tight, now sending shocks of pleasure through your body with every slow thrust of the speculum inside you. You felt a trickle of something warm dripping down your slit and onto the fabric covering the bed. 

The doctor said nothing, but with a little more of the lubricant gel on his finger, he tapped your clit lightly, once. Immediately your body twitched and your pussy clenched - the clamp had made it so much more sensitive than you had expected. ‘Very good. Now, I’m going to stimulate your clitoris, but try not to orgasm too quickly. The speculum still needs to collect some data - I’ll tell you when it’s finished.’ You nodded to show you understood, then gripped the arm rests in anticipation. With one finger, the doctor began to stroke your clit slowly, starting just underneath it and moving upwards over the swollen flesh to finish on the very tip, repeating the motion over and over. Your breath was ragged and sharp, stifling little moans of pleasure as the speculum continued to thrust into you. Your mind seemed frozen, all thoughts and feelings gone, focused solely on the ache that was now building deep inside you and the doctor’s fingertip sliding over your clit. 

The speculum started thrusting into you faster, still grinding firmly against your G spot as it pushed deep inside you in time with the doctor’s movements; you knew it wouldn’t be long now. Your head was tilted back, hair hanging over the back of the chair, your mouth open and eyes closed, panting groans issuing uncontrollably from your throat as the machine fucked you. It felt so good to have the speculum stretching your tight hole that you almost forgot the doctor’s instruction not to come too fast, feeling the ache growing in your chest and cunt with the passing moments. You concentrated hard on the sensation of being pounded, goosebumps all over your body and the clamps on your nipples sending shocks through you, trying not to let yourself go yet. You wanted so desperately to come and you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer as the doctor’s fingertip circled your clit, making your pussy twitch. 

There was a sudden click and a musical tone, and you looked down towards the doctor standing between your legs - his movements slowed, but did not stop as he glanced up from your slit to the monitor.  ‘It’s finished, Miss Y/L/N - you can come now,’ he said quietly, the corner of his mouth lifting as he took in your flushed face.

You let your head fall back onto the padding of the chair and tried to say something, but only a gasping moan came out as the speculum started pounding you, fucking you faster and harder than before, ramming deep inside you. The doctor rubbed your clit firmly, holding back your lips with a hand on your mound and you writhed on the bed, bucking your hips with the motion of the speculum, riding it hard and feeling your orgasm building inside you, your inhibitions gone, shaking and groaning and gasping. Your body tensed, your head lifted off the table and the wave of pure, burning, rushing pleasure suddenly broke over you - you were coming harder than you ever had and cried out uncontrollably, every spasm of your cunt ripping through you as you lost yourself in ecstasy. 

Several minutes later, once you had recovered enough to sit up, shakily drink a cup of water and pull on your clothes,you dazedly sat back in front of the doctor at his desk.

‘So, Miss Y/L/N, how are you feeling?’ Doctor Kim asked, professional as ever. You had no idea what you said in response, and zoned out so completely that the next thing you remember was your phone beeping in the taxi home (you weren’t up to walking, after the morning you’d had), with a text which read:

Thank you for attending your appointment at Parsons Clinic. We look forward to seeing you next year.

a/n: phew. this is an adaptation of a smut i wrote a couple of years ago for my ex, and i gotta say that jin slotted in nicely as the gorgeous, professional gynecologist of my filthiest dreams. as always, thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! feedback is welcomed~

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

OT3FIC: Puppy

Bonus -  There had been many theories about how she had been murdered

There had been many theories about how she had been murdered and how many she had been involved in herself.

She had been laid up in bed originally when the stories of her disappearance and the appearance of her ear in the throat of the man who’d echoed the words of her father, who’d filled his shoes and stared at her the same way her father had sometimes that made her skin break out in bumps but also soothed her. She had watched and read the news articles about her savior turned killer, and heard the commentary on how he was unstable, untrustworthy, a threat and a menace when all she could remember was the way that he would talk so softly to her and seemed to understand exactly how she had felt under the knife of her father’s love for her. She’d been confined to the darkness of the basement at the time, her bed had been warm and soft and lavish compared to the beds of her past, and the company had not been so bad.

Her time with Hannibal had been quiet for her, and as the time from her supposed death grew, he had let her travel through more and more of the house with less restrictions than before. He was so kind to her and he taught her things her father hadn’t and built on what he had. She learned how to butcher her own meat and that a full side of meat took 36 hours to freeze solid in the storage chest before they could slice it into the thin display pieces. She learned how to snap cartilage in the right spot to pop the hip and shoulder joints free and remove the fore and hind quarters from the torso. She learned how to use a blow torch to singe the hairs from the thick skin but not burn the skin itself. But most of all, she learned how stories could be as damning as the reality - the way the world condemned one and lauded the other, the way the right inflection and suggestion by one person against another could change the way the bars would wrap around their world.

She hadn’t realized that Will had been released until she saw him walking down the hall, hand in hand with another man, at one of Hannibal’s dinners from where she stood on the upper landing - the silk boundary rope blocking the stairs off politely from the guests like a metal bar blocking her from announcing herself to him. They had seemed happy in that brief moment, away from the rest of the crowd, and carefree in a way that Abigail wished she could have seen him like before. There had been something different about her friend at that point, and as she had slowly prowled like a ghostly spectre or dark moving shadow along the landing to follow the pair until they left her chance to observe them, she couldn’t stop the flood of blood to her cheeks at the realization she wished she could be down there with them in a desire she had not felt once since waking in the sheets of her basement ward. She felt the desire to be with others - not her own shadows or the tall man that guided her so carefully - in a way she hadn’t felt since her father first held a knife to her throat before they had begun their murder spree.

She had haunted the balistrade looking down on the parties and dinners and small congregations since then - eyes focused and searching for the mop of curls and the five o’clock shadow that never seemed to disappear even when the agent tried to shave it away; and drank in every moment she could see him like it was the fuel that sustained her. She came to learn the name of the man that rarely left his side at those times was Grey, and his gentle touches and small but significant glances seemed to suit the subdued man’s way of life so well. Abigail knew they were together, and that Hannibal hated every moment of it from the moods he would be in after the dinners that both attended and the way he would hit her fingers with the wooden spoon for days afterwards if she did the slightest cut or technique wrong.

It had surprised her to find herself searching out the other dark haired man as much as her savior on those nights, a surprise to herself to be so desperate for connection that she had imagined a connection between herself and the unknown man altogether. A fragile tie made up of Will Graham and the way she knew that she missed the comforting arms of him in the same way the stranger seemed to melt into them the few times they would duck away from the crowd to a darkened corner that only their silent watcher could see.

After that surprise, it had seemed to her that she should feel nothing would catch her off guard again as Hannibal would tell her more as the days went on, would share very small observations but no real details that helped her form an opinion that could be unbiased to his disgust and loathing for the man. But she was wrong.

Abigail had seen the flash of pink from the corner of her eye where she sat at the top of the stairs in the dark, ears straining to hear as much as she could from the dining room in the sheer hopes to hear anything and pretend she was there too - if she closed her eyes and focused hard enough, the way Hannibal said to do so to form the room in her mind and the faces in the chairs she’d seen the assigned names of before the guests and waiters had arrived, she could pretend she was sat beside her savior and listening to whatever Hannibal had to say for the evening, and perhaps Will’s hand would be on the back of her chair and he would give her those small, secretive smiles, that she remembered sharing with her father whenever her mother would go on some tangent about the Parents Association during school. Instead she had been jerked from her palace by the slamming of the dinning room door and the pink hair streaming down the hall, followed by the sounds of retching that made Abigail’s stomach turn. That the next person to come from the room wasn’t the host of the evening but the dark haired man she had also kept an eye out for surprised her.

Even more surprising was her realization that there was more at play than just some games of power between Hannibal and the man he was most jealous of.

It took her months to learn about the blonde woman she’d seen leaving, wrapped in the dark haired man’s jacket, and even more to find the courage to do something with the information she had learned. It took her months to realize that she was merely a pawn in a game still with Hannibal, the same as her father had used her in a game to fill the dark center of him that craved her; and longer still to know she no longer wanted to be a puppet with her strings still tied, that she wanted to cut herself free and control her own destiny for once. The thought that she might have planned to flee from one controlling world, to one so similar to the one before that made her pause longer than she’d thought she should. Long enough for her to learn even more from the man that stalked the halls of the house like a monstrous being and dragged his pray to her knife for processing.

The same knife which had freed her - the quick strike and the even quicker sprint through the halls and into the busy road and cars that separated her from her pursuer with his bleeding shoulder as she threw herself in the path of the on coming traffic, and escape was an escape and no matter which happened she was prepared for it now she had cut her strings. But they were cut and frayed and sagged around her the same as her body breathing heavily upon the asphalt as she rolled from the hood of the sleek black car, and stared at the clouds above for the first time in a year, the heavens above breaking above her and the clouds weeping for her.

The stark white walls of the psychiatric ward were clinical again, the coldness that she remembered only softened by the warm yellow globe that illuminated her room as she settled for a new cage just with less murder and meat of suspect origins. Abigail knew the moment she was identified that this would be where she would end up, and claims were made that she had faked her own death, the rumors and words circulating how Hannibal hard taught her they would, distorting the truth and wrapping her history in a lie that no amount of knives would cut through for everyone. And so far, after two weeks alone, she had yet to see the only one who’s vision she wanted the lies cut from - the threads shed from around her and herself to be seen as a whole and not a collection of organs and cuts.

There was a creak of the door out of schedule - something Abigail had learned so well from her captor was to learn schedules and what isn’t one - and she found herself looking in surprise at the blonde woman in a nurse’s uniform with the white crisp scrubs and all the way down to the white volleys matching those residents that took care of her day in and out.

“What... What are you doing here? Am.. Have I truly gone made?” Abigail asked quietly eyes staring hard, trying to see the part of the illusion that would tell her this wasn’t the same woman that had sparked her revolution. “I.. you’re not supposed to be here.”

“Neither are you, sugar. But I’m here to fix that.” The woman’s voice was husky and soft, as soft as the way Abigail knew her own mind was at that moment - ready to be molded over and over again like clay before it was fired - and when she shook her head, the woman stepped closer and that friendly smile stayed while her brows creased in concern. “Come on Abigail, you don’t deserve to be in a place like this any more than I do. You’ll heal better with people who’ll care for you, not just for the body you come in.”

The words seemed right, so carefully selected and targeted but gentle, and the warmth in the brown eyes couldn’t be faked. And neither could the small waft of what smelt like the vanilla sugar cookies her mother used to make and even fainter the scent of an aftershave she’d pressed her nose into against the warm chest and the hand had pressed against her neck.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked, as she tentatively sat up in the starchy white bed sheets. “I’m not going to go back to Han-”

“Fuck no, sugar, I’d never give you back to that monster.” The woman replied with a shake of her head and a whip of the golden pony tail behind her as she moved back towards the door and looked down the corridor calmly. “I’m takin’ you home, Abigail. A real home, where you can recover properly and no one’s goin’ to try to hurt you ever again.”

The idea seemed fake to her - the idea that there was somewhere that she wouldn’t be eyed like a piece of meat ready to be devoured or a pretty dolly for private display - but this hospital was as much a puppet show as Hannibal’s formidable house and presence had been, and slipping her feet off the side of the bed and into her slippers, Abigail nodded once at the other woman.

"I didn’t think anyone would ever-” She found herself speaking quietly as she followed the blonde down the halls at a sedate pace - a resident and a patient, side by side but echoing the way she would be guided around the place during the day light hours as the cold moonlight splashed the halls with a crisp, eerie white - as the other seemed to know the exact steps to follow for wherever her destination was. A sign that she’d been here before, that this had been planned for some time, and Abigail could feel a small part of her mind start to speak softly in that gently accented voice that she was just another pig being led to the slaughter by a butcher with a softer touch than his own. “-ever want me somewhere again. I don’t know what that’s like.”

“I knew that feeling too, sugar, but you’ll learn what I did too,” The other replied gently as they turned along the halls and finally reached a side door Abigail had never seen before - or perhaps she had just stopped looking for doors, means of escapes, like she had in the last web she’d been in after a while - and the sound of an alarm blared through the clinical halls as the door opened and the pair stepped into the fresh, cool night. The blonde smiled as she led Abigail quickly and quietly across the gravel towards a hole in the chain link fence and a car parked right outside. “You’ll find that with Will Graham and Grey? You won’t ever know that feelin’ again.”

“The dark haired man?” She was surprised, having thought from watching how the man had wrapped this woman up and never come to dinner again that whatever was between him and the curly haired man was done, before looking in surprise at the sound of the soft laugh. Laughter was a foreign concept for her, and sounded so strange to hear after so long. “Are they who you’re taking me to?”

“I told you, Abigail.” The woman answered as the engine started and the cold building that had been ready to trap her there forever began to turn into merely a dot on the horizon behind them, before Abigail’s blue eyes widened at the next words and the warmth of their implication. “I’m takin’ you home. We’re all goin’ to take care of you, the way you always should have had.”

Abigail found the idea strange, and rolled it around her mind as she lent her head against the cold window beside her as the blonde drove through the darkness towards this fantasy place she claimed existed. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what the idea was - her childhood had been pleasant and suburban - but that it could be attained again after the way her last safe place has been poisoned from the inside out by her father’s dark desires and twisted needs and that the next house had been nothing but a cold training facility to turn her into the perfect bait to draw the man in and twist him to match the darkness of that house made the concept seem unattainable now she was full grown and the world had lost the wonder and light of her innocence before her father wanted to eat her. That she might have somewhere soft and loving and filled with wonder and light again seemed impossible.

However, as the car drew up the winding drive past the trees like the forest she would hunt with her father in and past the tall field, she caught a sight of the little white house that seemed illuminated from within and the warm lights reaching out to her like the tendrils of the smoke from the chimney, that Abigail’s disbelief crumbled a little.

She didn’t know when the car stopped, the fact unimportant to her as she blinked her eyes and found her nose pressed against the hot, hard chest and that smell filling her nostrils with the peace she knew, wide hands pressed against her back, the first time she smelled it and looked into the wide eyes that stared down at her - radiating fear and concern and love for her the way her father always had, and somewhere inside she knew she would find the ghost of him if she dug deep enough, but coated by the care and desire to save her rather than end her that was all his. Breathing in deeply as she tucked her head back against him and his arms shifted to hold her for a moment tighter as the quiet sounds of dogs and two calming voices surrounded them, Abigail breathed in the calming affect and surrendered to the dream of having a home again.

[ebodyfusion]

Your ENART 911 puts the power in your hands.

Free Assessment – worth $47

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The ENART 911 represents the world’s most advanced micro-current biofeedback SCENAR

Call 808-989-6305 for pricing

Your ENART 911 puts the power in your hands.

In 2008 and just before the original 911M launch (the predecessor of the 911) I had a dream about a new ENART which manifested a few months later as the 911M.  In the dream it had different ranges of frequency sweeps and superior what I call transverse “skinning”, but in actuality it was just one of many new features.

The ENART 911, is the flagship device from ENART developed by specialists at CCC Invet independently without Doctor Karasev.  While undeniably the sleek lines of the old “ex735 slider x2″ are legendary combining Star Trek wizardry with beauty but the new 911 model brings in greater range of application, model design functionality and 3 built in electrode design choices of which the three rail design is my favorite. I use a lot of different SCENARs in my practice and I love the engine in the ENART 911 and with my training and professional daily PRACTICE it will surpasses the COMODIC SCENARs, RITM and DENAS devices. Like a Ferrari you can only experience the benefits after a lot of high speed training and practice driving.  Perfect practice make perfect. I have personally used the ENART 911 since 2009 and for certain situations in a busy practice it is my preferred device. If you have followed my work over the years you will know that I use the much simpler now discontinued DENAS most of the time. However no other device touches the feel of the signal, the speed and read-ability of diagnostics mode of the ENART 911 with its large display and 3 rail electrodes. So the ENART 911 is an amazing unit especially for professionals, and the various modes I talk about in the video are good for any emergency imaginable, awesome power (if and when you need it), and so many programmable functions that you might get easily lost, but not with my videos and coaching!

For the techies out there reading this the “engine” or chip in the 911 can emulates several SCENAR models by adjusting the first phase voltage, or how the loud the signal talks with various tissues.

Features: – ENART 911 is set to adjust the first-phase pulse amplitude – 5/15 basic stimulation modes – see specifications for L1 and L2 – Adjustable settings of modes of treatment that are effective for managing a wide range of health problems – Sensitivity adjustment of the device accordingly to each particular case – Saving programs of influence created by user

Size: 143 x 63/43 x 30/24 mm. Weight: 175 grams

Specifications:

As an ex development for GE I really appreciate what it takes to conceive, develop and manufacture a new product. In some case years of work, and in rare cases like this it is the culmination of decades of experience to quickly restore the body with the most sophisticated bio electrical engineering on the planet.

Once again the development specialists at CCC Invet combined this technical know how with user feedback from across the planet further improving on the COSMODIC.

The ENART 911M engine and now updated in the the ENART 911 make it even easier to use and to further improve upon the electrical interface with living organisms.

Here are the new modes or settings that have been incorporated:

MCONST (for models 911-L1 and 911-L2) – For the addressing of wounds and other injuries of skin – for use with electrodes of the device and with remote electrodes in the skin areas where it is difficult to establish a sufficient contact with skin (for example, thick hair) – User is slowly repositioning the Device over the skin surface (moving it at a steady speed) or keeps it stationary at the range of 0,5 cm above the surface of the treated area pre-setting the maximum value of the treatment energy; -the sufficient time of the treatment is determined by User themselves. -the device signals the end of the optimal time of treatment in the treated area (in about 30 minutes).

EM (in 911-L2): This mode is used for addressing a wide range of conditions, both chronic and acute.

• The value of Frequency automatically changes according to the body response at the moment of each particular skin contact. • The Device produces three short tones at the sites where additional specific time is needed. •Determines maximal sufficient time at each particular position of the Device electrode on the skin.

IF (only in 911-L2): This mode is used to reinforce therapeutic effect, eliciting resonance in malfunctioned organs. I.e., with help of infra low frequencies it “shows” the organ its normal working frequency, “adjusts” it.

A positive effect is achieved by using several frequencies in one treatment program.

This allows to regulate purposefully the activity of the specific CNS (central nervous system) structures and, as a result, to elicit more rapid and stable homeostasis.

User may apply infra low frequencies (like the DiaDENS PCM – see my video) according to the table attached to User Manual (where the resonance frequencies for different organs and systems are mentioned about.

Below you will find other new technical data of the device 911:

In addition to the 17 treatment modes user has the opportunity to create their own of treatment programs and save them in the memory of the device – up to 20 programs, and in previous versions there were 10 of them.

In devices 907 and 911 we’ve worked out a new advancement — SENSITIVITY function (SENS), which allows the user to adjust sensitivity of the device in accordance with such factors as condition of the skin surface (individual peculiarities, moistness, sensitiveness), psycho-emotional condition of the patient, environmental conditions, etc.

Now you won’t have problems with tracking the contact as it is possible to adjust sensitivity of the device in accordance with each particular case.

About the first phase amplitude:

All regular Avazzia, SCENAR and DENAS devices the first-phase rectangular pulse amplitude remains unchanged, while the second-phase oscillating pulse amplitude varies in accordance with the body’s response to the influence of the device.

Many practitioners who use several different devices made by DENAS, SCENAR or Avazzia have noticed that each particular model is most effective for different specific conditions. For instance, some devices are more efficient in adressing musculoskeletal disorders while others are best used for internal organs; still others are more effective for addressing diseases of the nervous system, etc. The latest studies have shown that these specific healing effects are more dependent on the level of the first-phase pulse amplitude. Each particular device model features its own specific level of the first-phase pulse amplitude, which ranges in value from 10V for some early models to 70V in some of the latest models. Until now this level has always been a strictly specific factory setting that could not be adjusted by the practitioner. Now, for the first time, with the ENART 911 and 907 device (levels L1 and L2), the practitioner can adjust the first-phase pulse amplitude within the range of 25V to 80V. By allowing the practitioner to adjust the first-phase pulse amplitude the ENART 911 can more effectively address the whole range of diseases/injuries with only one device. The customer/practitioner will now only have to buy one device to address the whole range of diseases rather than having to buy different devices in order to address different specific diseases.

Training and Wellness Coaching

Click arrow to choose the best option for you.Remember “Success Loves Speed”.Get going today!

Money Back Guarantee LET INVET ENART has a limited 18 month warranty against defect of material or workmanship The warranty becomes invalid when: More than 18 months have passed since purchase Or if the unit was damaged because of misuse or improper use Units are returned to Ukraine for repairs - 2 month turnaround

Returns, Refunds and Exchanges None.  Special order only  3 - 4 weeks delivery.

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Here’s another opinion … What is the best biofeedback device ever? In this article I’d like to answer the questions often asked by many people who are interested in purchasing the electropulse biofeedback device. Indeed, with no experience of using these devices, it is very hard to decide which of them one would prefer. I have been engaged in electropulse therapy over 12 years and I have the devices from different manufacturers (DENAS, RITHM, INVET, LET MEDICAL). My colleagues have models of LET MEDICAL – Cosmodic EX 735 and VX 735. I used LET MEDICAL’s device Scenar Cosmodic PS705 before INVET’s devices – ENART 907 and ENART 911. I have used these ENART devices for the last 3 years. I use them for 90% of all cases to treat my patients having various diseases. The reasons for this are the following: 1) ENART devices have more possibilities for achieving the results in the shortest time period. For instance, Scenar-Cosmodic PS 705 has only one mode and its price is USD1400. ENART 907-L1 also has this mode PLUS 7 more modes at the same price. In other words, the whole PS705 is only one mode of the ENART 907 or 911. Besides, PS705 has rather low power. When I use it, many patients just don’t feel its pulse. ENART 900 series have the function of manual amplitude adjustment, i.e. the device can be altered in accordance with the patient’s sensitivity. This is critical, especially when I have patients with acute pain or reduced sensitivity related to various nervous system diseases. 2) Let’s take Scenar Cosmodic EX 735 Modific. It has 3 modes: CS, SC and SM. The cost is about 5800. All these modes are available on the ENARTs and there are 5 more modes in the Semi-professional ENART 907-L1 and 13 more in advanced Professional ENART 907-L2 costing USD$1990. It’s simple arithmetic. 3) Now we will compare their capabilities as to searching of the priority treatment zones. Cosmodic devices display the response of the tested skin area or the lights will be ON (in those models which have no monitor) In Cosmodic devices THE USER ARE TO COMPARE the values of the responses HIMSELF, and then decides which area is suitable best for treatment. The zones can be found only by means of the consecutive applications of the device to the studied areas, i.e. one cannot move the device around on the skin. Zones treatment is carried out just holding the device stationary, without movement. Using ENARTs is much easier. They display the characteristics of the treated area (in the models having LCD) as well as give an audible alarm which indicates what zone is of the first priority to treat. I.e., the ENART DEVICE COMPARES ZONES BY ITSELF and indicates to you the zones to choose for treatment! Moreover, this ENARTs’ feature is very convenient for self-treatment, in those areas which are not seen (back, low back etc.) Treatment zones can be easily found and you do not even need to see the device, simply hear its signals. Besides, ENARTs can do this both in successive electrode application from one area to another, and in device movement. The user draws the device over the body surface and when he/she reaches a pathology zone, a triple audible signal is heard. It goes without saying how much session time can be saved! This function is not available in COSMODIC devices (as well as in the devices of other manufacturers.) 4) Quality of construction by both firms is good. Warranty period is: in LET MEDICAL – 1 year, INVET – 1,5 year. However post-sale maintenance is much better with INVET. The staff at this firm are ready to response immediately and solve your problem irrespective of the length of period from the date of purchase. Besides, they get in touch with their clients once new functions appear in their range of devices and offer to upgrade your device. I had my device upgraded. I just sent it via postal carrier and I got it back in a week. LET MEDICAL has no such service. Especially, if you are a foreigner, it causes more inconveniences. Recently, I have been training a Spanish doctor and he encountered this problem. His colleague bought EX 735 Modific and pressed something incorrectly. Now the device can’t be turned on. The device asked for some code. The dealers who had sold him the apparatus advised him by telephone what to do, but this didn’t solve the problem. After this they washed their hands of it and said they were not able to do anything else and that man had to bring the device by himself to the factory for repair (in Russia) And this was regardless of the fact that these devices are rather expensive. 5) I’d like to say a few words about the efficiency of the devices by these manufacturers. Certainly, CoSMODIC devices are also effective, but not to the extent as the advertisement of manufacturer’s states. In my opinion, their prices are unfairly risen too high. I want to warn those who read about miraculous properties of Cosmodic devices at LET MEDICAL’s website. You will pay large sums of money hoping that the device will manage your problems in a short time period. Believe me, this won’t happen. To get positive effects, you will need some patience and continuous training. One of my colleagues, whose had patients were all over the world and who made it on his own and patented his treatment method with electropulse devices, sold his EX 735 Modific after using it for 1 year, because of its inefficiency. 6) Having read the testimonies about the recent modification – sliding effect – at LET MEDICAL’s website, I understood that it is not something outstanding, neither by recovery terms, nor by the device effectiveness. The sliding effect is implemented in super-modern ENART 911-L2 (EN and EM modes), in which apart from this, there are many other capabilities which are not available in Cosmodic series. And I mentioned the price difference above. I think, it is clear from what I’ve already said which devices I prefer. So, it is up to you to decide which of the two manufacturers you would prefer. Hopefully, my article was of use. Dr. Igor Linsky

Dr. Igor Linsky, INVET ENART

My response on another site ... I am a BIG fan of the ENART 911, after all that’s why I created this website so don’t get me wrong about what I am about to say. For professionals who are already familiar with the classical Russian training this is hands down THE tool to add to your SCENAR arsenal. There is none better, then the ENART 911, and frankly forget the COSMODIC BS that Dr Irena pushes. Enough of that $8000 crapola. For the novice wanna be professional you are going to be completely confused unless you get training and coaching. I have you covered with my 13 week online interactive course for beginners and seasoned professionals alike. Why? Because I have cracked the “code” with all these micro current biofeedback devices that shatters the classical Russian training style and support that is purely designed for working on clients. With my training and coaching you really will know which settings to use and why. To achieve results in this now heavily polluted world that used to be a lot easier to obtain even 10 years ago, now takes a lot longer. To do this you need a deeper understanding of the effects of electricity than the frequency and waveform models currently used. That’s why I created the 13 week program so that you learn on yourself through daily self application exercises and thoroughly explore the fullest potential of this micro current technology. If you are looking for a device to work on your self don’t be fooled by all the settings, unless you want to admit that your big ego needs to look good with the world’s best SCENAR. Then go ahead, but your egos going to get right in the way of my training and training , so likely we wont have a good fit there because I have been around too long give you any slack in that department. It’s like driving a Lamborghini or a Ferrari, unless you are already a REALLY GOOD driver you cannot take full advantage of the functionality of the ENART 911. And 80% of the extra functionality will be lost on you because you don’t understand the basics of the miraculous effects of electricity, and the best way to understand that is to work on yourself and learn. The results are all delivered from application strategies that can change day to day, and the application models that you learn from the ENART DVDs are great but outdated in today’s polluted world. That’s why you need training, coaching and support after all don’t expect to resolve a chronic issue quickly, it takes a lifestyle change to break those old mental, emotional and physical habits.

Benedick Howard, eBodyFUSION

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I feel the training program, esp. with all the videos, is a big selling point. Since I purchased my Electrical Energizer I have directed many friends to your site Benedick. When I talk to them about buying a device I always emphasize the great training that you provide.”

Dr David

The doctors diagnosed me with nerve impingement, bulging of discs and stenosis along my whole spine. Later I went back for a MRI and the doctors were amazed – “Wow your body is healing itself” to them they could not understand that.”

Bily

Herniated discs, had hard time turning my head, arm going dead, numb for years.  After a couple of sessions felt the difference immediately.  Gone diabetes sores from legs, arms and chest, no more itching, sleeping better.”

Ruth

Everybody was giving me different advice for lower back, sciatica and neck.  Lots of pain keeping me up at night. I was miserable for six months.  Now, sleeping at night, minimal soreness.  After healing crisis feeling much better, now it’s really working.”

Jenn

Thanks to the training I am able to do my stained glass art without having to endure the pain in my back and hands. Will treat my hands after working all day and will have no pain. Also, have arthritis in right shoulder, pain controlled by the Electrical Energizer. No longer use my allergy medicine, treat sinuses freq especially when I have symptoms.”

Barb

The trainings helped me to fully understand the basic principles of the Electrical Energizer. And especially the importance of the neuropeptides which motivated me to do the entire body.”

Russ

I have a chronic, autoimmune disease that manifests itself with many different pain syndromes – paresthesia, joint pain, back pain, muscle pain, numbness and pain in the hands and feet. Your training has been helpful with almost all of the above.”

David

[thesylvalining]

Once upon a time, there was a girl who needed a haircut. That girl, as fate would have it, was me. I’d just finished a bike ride (of course) and was wandering the side streets off Corso Giacomo Matteotti, daydreaming about handsome Italian men, my next bike ride and the pasta con pesto di pistacchio con gamberi Lisa crafted a couple days prior.

As I shoved the bangs out of my eyes for the umpteenth time, one of a plethora of parucchieres (hairdressers) materialized. Its name: Beauty Lab, in English. I thought, I’ll pop in and see if they can’t save me from a certain very near fate as a Shetland Pony…

Inside above the cool tiles, to the hum of hair dryers, the nice proprietor Ivana filled me out a little card and said come back at 1400. I burst back out into the heat, went back to the castle, made lunch, knocked off a few things on the to-do list and returned.

Twenty minutes, a coffee and a free, blunt bang trim (frangia taglia dritta) later (plus tip), I’d maybe found a(nother) job. Speaking Italian to Ivana with surprising success, a woman in the back waiting for a shampoo overheard me.

I joined her there and we exchanged contacts; her name was Laura and at that time all I knew of her was she had a two and a half-year-old daughter, was very nice, spoke English and was in need of a shampoo.

Fast forward a week or so in which Lisa and I had been literally inseparable (more on the shenanigans later). And during which I’d been able to watch the flag throwing ceremony of Faenza’s traditional Palio with all the other screaming, hormonal adolescents in the province of Ravenna.

  Now, on Tuesday Lisa and I were sitting in front of the fountain in Faenza at Fmarket, enjoying a victory drink or two during aperetivo.

I’d figured out — with ample and loving assistance from the Universe — how to remain in Italy until September and see about going broke in another country besides my own (I promised the whole tale; you shall have it soon). Another victory sip; the phone rings.

Now, over the same week I’d been playing a game of employment cat-and-mouse with the downstairs neighbors (Matteo and Alice) regarding babysitting. Every time either of us smacked into each other in the castle’s courtyard — one or both parties in a hurry — they said we’ll call you, we promise. So I figured the caller was Matteo. “Pronto,” I said, which literally means “ready” but also kind of means “hello.”

A man’s voice in English — but not Matteo. Curiosity mingled with the Prosecco in my cocktail as I absorbed the words ��tomorrow” and “photo shoot.” Eventually I put due and due together and realized I was speaking with Laura’s husband — Laura from the hairdresser. Her company was desperate for someone to help wash dishes between photo shoots in Ravenna tomorrow, starting around 8:30 a.m. It was an all day gig and did I want to work?

Visions of Italian underwear models swam in my brain like espresso bean moscas (flies) in the top of a glass of Sambuca. Then he said the photo shoot was of a famous vegan Italian chef… well, that was cool, too. I told him I needed to change some plans and mull it over, hung up, put my phone on the table, looked at Lisa and said, “Holy sh*t!” The Universe, once again, came through like last night’s full, brilliant moon over Piazza del Popolo. Even though Lisa and I had plans the next day for a stupendous bike ride, it seemed too good an opportunity to decline.

So the next morning, Laura picked me up and off we went to the photo shoot/filming session. On the drive, the details unfurled like a sheet about to be dried on the line in dryer-less Italia: Laura, with her business partner Carlo, owns a communication and marketing company called Cambiamente in Faenza. One of their projects is a thick, elegant magazine in both Italian and English (referred to as their book-azine) called Ossigeno, (or Oxygen) which focuses on healthy recipes, fitness and general health. They pair their content with classy photos and art, hence our journey to Ravenna.

Passing vineyards and canals, we touched upon my journalism background and my general passion for words. Honestly, I hoped for a chance to write something for Cambiamente — and the way the Universe and my lucky stars were pulling me along by my thrift store bike jersey, was anything too much to hope for?

We pulled up to a sleek kitchen in what seemed like an industrial zone somewhere in Ravenna. I met a tired Carlo outside (he and Laura were up entirely too late hobnobbing).

“This is Sylva,” Laura said, as I shook Carlo’s hand. “She’s a journalist, too.”

Laura and I went on a coffee mission and when we returned, met the rest of the crew: film maker Lucca, Cambiamente’s editor Fabiola, vegan chef Daniela Cicioni, Matteo, assisting a famous photographer who — like Voldemort — shall not be named. But — very unlike Voldemort — this photographer was kind, interesting, funny and made snapping incredible photographs look easier than it would be if he had actually borrowed Harry Potter’s wand.

I found myself generally assisting Daniela; strangely, we started as two souls on the same boat holding different paddles — hers Italian and mine English, both of us learning to use the other. But I quickly re-learned pass me a knife please (passami un coltello, per favore) or a spoon (un cucchiaio) or a small bowl (una piccola ciotola) and things went smoother than one of the purees Daniela crafted. At some point, we switched paddles and she started asking me in English; I answered in Italian.

Somehow, thirteen hours disappeared among dirty dishes and photo and video shoots to the whir of Daniela’s 750 euro blender. It transported me back to one of my past lives as a college journalist/editor, interviewing bands and random politicians. Sure, these folks — the musicians, this photographer and chef — are famous and ridiculously successful, but also just plain human. I enjoyed the ample down time with everyone spent drinking way too much coffee, fiddling on phones, eating piadina con rucola, squacquerone e proscuitto for lunch and watching music videos in order to answer the world’s most important question: who was hotter, Beyonce or her sister Solange?

Assisting Daniela was a pleasure — she was like a kind, quiet tornado, a petite person with an incredibly measured, precisely beautiful approach to vegan cooking. I quickly ascertained this was the perfect job: when we weren’t filming or shooting and I wasn’t washing dishes, we were sampling vegan delights. First, leftover hazelnut tortes sprinkled with thyme and vegan chocolate muffins from a previous day…

Then everything that left the table after the famous photographer was done with it… among other things sauteed leeks, pureed purple sweet potatoes with ginger, tempeh with almond milk merengue, velvety pureed butternut squash alive with spices, edible flowers, and the nuts, fruit and vegetables strewn about everywhere as props…

That evening, after extensive cleaning and rearranging, we packed Laura’s car with our stuff — and our spoils. I walked away with fruit, enough nuts to sink a ferry, vegetables, Daniela’s homemade tofu and tempeh, edible flowers and a mint plant.

Then, with tired feet and an even more tired Laura, we all piled into her small car to drop Daniela and Matteo off at their hotel (in the morning, they’d return to their respective homes — Daniela to Lake Como and Matteo to Verona). I thanked Daniela (in Italian) for the chance to help and said it was a pleasure to meet her. During the rare moments when she wasn’t chopping, blending or preparing, she asked me about myself and where I was from; I told her I’ve lived in Colorado the last eleven years. She said, “Don’t you miss your home?” To which I responded I don’t have one at the moment — only a storage unit. Although I do miss friends and family sometimes. Outside the car in Ravenna, she told me (also in Italian) that I was interesting, nice and efficient which was a perfect mirror of my experience with her.

Against the backdrop of a blazing orange and pink sunset, Laura and I chatted all the way home — in English, despite her constant protests (in English) that her English isn’t that great 🙂 I went to bed exhausted but once again pleased after following the Universe’s breadcrumbs yet again, like a modern day Gretel sans Hansel…

Two days ago, as Lisa and I fell out the door on our way to a couple hours of work at the Farm, my phone rang again. I was wrestling with my bike jersey,  one shoe on, unable to find said phone, of course. It was Laura — and not, as I assumed, asking when I’d like to come get paid (although she did that too) but explaining something far more interesting. She’d made a proposition to Carlo regarding an article about an exercise called Feldenkrais for the next edition of Ossigeno. Could I send some writing samples over?

Yesterday I popped into Cambiamente to retrieve my euros for the photo shoot — and to meet with Laura and Carlo about the potential article. When I came into Carlo’s office, the PDF of my article for Backcountry Magazine was up on the computer. And then we were talking about word counts, due dates, payment and shaking hands — we had a deal!

Now it’s Saturday, June 10 (four days after I originally would have flown home) and I officially have a freelance writing gig in Italy. I think it’s certainly a small hop and not a leap to say the message right now is stay. Stay and see what happens, who it happens with and how. Each day is its own little mystery and I happily take on the roll of detective.

However, this detective needs to go on a bike ride, in order to come back refreshed, with weirder tan lines, ready to embark on a more cerebral journey involving the gentler art of Feldenkrais…

On the next edition, we’ll return to the enchanting waters of Venice (and/or the Story of Staying) — unless the Universe sends me another case to crack!

  Something’s Cooking… Once upon a time, there was a girl who needed a haircut. That girl, as fate would have it, was me.