film idea: 'The faceless'

[wollet2]

Title: Faceless​

Format: Psychological Horror / Neo-Noir / Medical Thriller​

Tone: Cold, clinical, slow-burning dread.
Influences: You Were Never Really Here, The Skin I Live In, Safe (Todd Haynes), Caché

---

DR. ADRIAN VALE – CHARACTER PROFILE​

• Age: 47
• Occupation: Maxillofacial surgeon, specialized in post-traumatic facial reconstruction.
• Background: Trained in Switzerland. Former humanitarian surgeon (Médecins Sans Frontières). Now reclusive, living off private wealth and reputation.
• Personality: Withdrawn, ritualistic. Deeply rational, but emotionally cauterized. Speaks precisely, rarely. Keeps a copy of On the Origin of Species and a thick black notebook he writes in with surgical neatness.
• Core Trauma: His younger sister, Eleanor, was psychologically abused and physically assaulted by a man who participated in incel forums. The legal system failed. She died by suicide at 19. Adrian identified the perpetrator, stalked him, and kept his details—but never acted.

---

SETTING​

• A private surgical clinic nestled in the French Alps, outside Annecy. Cold, beautiful, soundproofed. Every room is sound-absorbing white, concrete, and brushed steel. Operating theater is state-of-the-art. He lives upstairs.

---

THE HOOK​

Adrian Vale begins posing as a benevolent surgeon on incel-adjacent forums and boards focused on facial aesthetics, skull symmetry, and “lookism.” He doesn’t interact in a hostile way—he listens. He presents himself as someone who “believes your pain has a physical origin.”


He posts images of anonymized successful jaw surgeries, pseudo-clinical diagrams, even fake research articles. His tone is never mocking—always cold, precise, fatherly.


He selects only a few men: the most desperate, the most misogynistic, the ones who post long screeds about how “women only care about canthal tilt” or “Chads with hunter eyes get everything handed to them.” He notes not only their pathology, but the specific language of blame and entitlement.


He offers them extremely discounted rates. No insurance required. Total discretion.

---

ACT I – BAIT AND CUT​

The first man we follow is Jared, 24, lives in his parents' basement. Pale, thin, very online. Works in IT support. Obsessed with his “low hyoid bone,” “flat cheekbones,” and “weak jaw.”
Adrian conducts a long video consultation—clinical, nonjudgmental.

"This is not about being attractive. It's about being proportional. Nature made errors. I correct them."

Jared flies to France. The clinic is sterile, beautiful, devoid of staff. He is prepped, drugged, and put under. The surgery occurs.


But when he awakens, something is off.
He is wrapped in gauze. He is not allowed a mirror. He is given strict healing instructions. But he notices:

• His lower mandible alignment feels wrong.
• He struggles to swallow.
• His bite has been destroyed—anterior open bite.
• His zygomatic bones feel “hollowed.”
• He cannot close his left eye fully.

Days later, when he insists on a mirror, Vale simply brings him to a steel surface under surgical lights. His face is warped—still recognizably him, but degraded, alien, subtly wrong in every proportion he fetishized online.


Vale doesn’t rage. He calmly says:

“You believed beauty would solve your soul. So I removed it.”

He is left without identity—unable to return home, without money, undocumented, paranoid. His online posts grow erratic. Eventually, he disappears.

---

ACT II – THE ENGINE​

Over the course of a year, Adrian performs six such surgeries—each tailored. Some get:

• Inferior orbital wall trauma, leaving them with drooping eyes.
• Intentional misplacement of titanium plates leading to facial asymmetry.
• Internal scarring that prevents proper facial movement.

Each is left alive, mobile, but irrevocably derailed.


Adrian never touches them outside the clinic. He never says much. He leaves them to process their broken reflections alone. They were seeking power through form. He gives them the mirror, then silence.


He writes notes in his journal:

• “Mandibular setback: 6mm off-center. Patient wept when attempting to speak.”
• “Patient 5 requested suicide drugs. Denied.”
• “If the face is weaponized entitlement, then disfigurement is deactivation.”

---

ACT III – FRACTURE​

One victim escapes. Luc, 28, previously a minor YouTube face in the "looksmaxxing" community. He posts anonymously on Reddit and 4chan, with photos, surgical reports. At first, no one believes him—it's dismissed as cope, trolling.


But a young French medical student, Claire Roux, studying maxillofacial surgery, sees a photo and recognizes the surgical style. She has watched Adrian lecture. She idolized him.


Claire begins investigating. She reaches out to survivors. Some are unreachable. Some incoherent. One attempts suicide in a live stream.


She confronts Adrian directly at a professional conference. He simply tells her:

"They came to me because they believed in bone. I gave them what they needed—an end to belief."

---

FINAL ACT – UNMASKING​

Claire leaks evidence. Adrian’s reputation collapses, but he vanishes from public life. His clinic is found abandoned. In the operating theater, a journal:

“The skull is the cathedral of self-deception. I took their altars and made them quiet.”

Final scene: a man walks into a different surgeon's clinic in Turkey, wearing a balaclava, asking to "correct a botched procedure." We hear the same phrases Vale once used—being spoken now by someone else. The cycle continues.

---

THEMES (STRIPPED OF SENTIMENTALISM):​

• Clinical violence vs. emotional rot
• The face as battleground of identity, power, and delusion
• Deformity not as punishment—but as reflection of an already disfigured inner self
• Medicine as ideology
• The trap of aesthetic salvation

 

[wollet2]

Revised version 1
Let's now take it deeper, darker, and more graphic—not just in gore, but in moral violence, surgical detail, and the raw collapse of identity.


Here’s the enhanced version, pushing the physical and emotional brutality while keeping it grounded and unsentimental.

---

Title: Faceless​

Tone Update:​

Cold. Surgical. Morally inverted.
No catharsis. No redemption. Only transformation through annihilation.

---

ADRIAN VALE – NOW A PRACTICING SURGICAL NIHILIST​

He no longer believes in healing.
He believes the face is a lie—a mask people use to weaponize attractiveness, especially men who see beauty as power over others. For him, incels are not merely lonely—they are men who believe women owe them something for existing. They seek surgery not to survive, but to dominate. Vale has decided to correct them, not cosmetically, but existentially.


His procedures have become increasingly violent, but methodical. He documents everything, not for legal protection, but as an archive of “deconstructions.”

---

PROCEDURES – GRUESOMELY PRECISE​

Each patient’s surgery is tailored to destroy the exact aesthetic trait they fetishize online:

Patient 1 – “Jared” (Jawcel)​

Obsessed with mandibular projection, mewing, and gonial angle.

• Vale cuts the mandible, but reattaches it with intentional asymmetry—leaving a protruding, angular jaw on only one side.
• Fixes titanium plates visible through the skin, creating subtle bulges.
• Injects the masseter with botox on one side only—atrophying the muscle, making his face collapse unevenly.

Jared wakes up unable to chew. When he sobs, his face twitches grotesquely. His "perfect jaw" looks like a tumor.

---

Patient 2 – “Felix” (Hunter Eyes / Canthal Tilt Maxxer)​

Felix worships the “hunter eyes” aesthetic—deep-set eyes, low canthal tilt, sleepy gaze. Vale knows this entire subculture well.

• Performs inferior orbital wall overcorrection, causing permanent scleral show—making Felix’s eyes bulge.
• Severely disrupts levator palpebrae function—causing partial eyelid ptosis, making him appear permanently slack and drugged.
• Inserts dermal fillers to simulate periorbital swelling—distorting the illusion of depth.

He now has "prey eyes." The opposite of what he wanted. Women flinch when they look at him.

---

Patient 3 – “Leon” (Nasalcel)​

Convinced that a slightly bulbous nasal tip is the reason for his “involuntary celibacy.”

• Vale performs open rhinoplasty, then grafts a malformed cartilage chunk into the tip, warping the silhouette.
• Leaves a surgical scar deliberately unclosed, causing a wound that heals jagged, giving the illusion of amateur surgery.
• Inserts a small titanium screw into the septum that subtly rings when sneezing.

Leon becomes obsessed with “reversal.” But no surgeon will touch him after seeing Vale’s “work.”

---

SURGICAL SCENES – DETAILED, BRUTAL, YET CLEAN​

We don’t need gore to create horror. We show:

• Cold clamps holding bone apart.
• Skull saws humming in silence.
• High-speed footage of osteotomies, mandible being cracked clean.
• Blood draining into pristine white basins.
• Vale marking up CT scans with red Sharpie: X = delusion, O = correction.

He speaks aloud while operating—clinical, deadpan:

“Maxilla 4mm setback. Misaligned. Good. He wanted projection. He will project nothing now.”

He keeps before and after shots in a locked file. Each one labeled like a research subject:
"SUBJECT #5 – Pre-op belief: ‘Looks = sex = power.’ Post-op = corrected illusion."

---

ESCALATION: THE “PSYOPS ROOM”​

Vale builds a soundproof room beneath the clinic: a mirror chamber where patients awaken post-op.


Inside:

• One mirror is warped.
• One is clear.
• One is a live feed showing their pre-op consultation video—their own hopeful voice repeating “I just want to feel desirable.”

Patients are left alone for 6 hours. No food. No sound. Just themselves, transformed. Then Vale enters, scrubs still on, and says:

“This is what you earned. You wore your hatred in your bones. I filed them down.”

---

THE TURN – A PATIENT FIGHTS BACK​

One subject, “Nathan”, was different. Less misogynistic, more mentally ill. Vale, sensing weakness rather than cruelty, spared him extreme damage. Gave him a crooked nose but left his jaw intact.


Nathan, shattered but alive, flees, finds a low-level surgeon, and begins leaking files: surgical photos, forum logs, patient lists. But his own face, altered and unstable, becomes a rallying symbol for other “surgery abuse survivors.”

“They made us monsters,” Nathan cries in a livestream. “But he started it.”

The story spins. Some say Vale was a hero. Others say he created more violence than he stopped.

---

ENDING – DEHUMANIZATION COMPLETE​

Adrian Vale, in hiding, performs one last surgery: on himself.

• Shaves down his own zygomas.
• Breaks his own nose.
• Removes subcutaneous fat with a scalpel.
• Sutures himself in a cracked mirror.

Final scene: him looking into the mirror, his face perfectly average—neither beautiful nor grotesque. Just void.

“I have no face. I have no belief. I have no desire.”

Cut to black.


@Vermilioncore

 

[Vincent Freeman]

Jfl

 

[AuraMaxxing]

Read all, You have a good base here, but I think you’ll need to delve more into his motivations and backstory, bring back the incel killer and connect it to his actions. I like your vision though

Also it sounds kind of repetitive with the victims, the only thing different with each one is their facial flaws which might be interesting for a psler but outside of this bubble, it would just not be that interesting to see the same thing again

 

[wollet2]

Read all, You have a good base here, but I think you’ll need to delve more into his motivations and backstory, bring back the incel killer and connect it to his actions. I like your vision though

Also it sounds kind of repetitive with the victims, the only thing different with each one is their facial flaws which might be interesting for a psler but outside of this bubble, it would just not be that interesting to see the same thing again

Keeping the surgeon’s backstory hidden—or only lightly implied—adds a deeper layer of horror because it denies the audience a moral framework to explain his actions. Without knowing why he does what he does, he becomes unknowable, like a natural force or a blank mask of professionalism.


This ambiguity makes him scarier than a villain with a tragic past or a moral crusade. He could be:

• A sadist
• A believer
• A pure technician
• Or nothing at all—just a man doing a job with surgical detachment

That uncertainty infects the story with dread. It suggests that evil doesn’t always come with a reason—sometimes it comes in the form of a calm, articulate man who says,

“Of course. We can fix that.”

And then breaks you.

Patient File #12: "EyeAreaEqualsLife"​

Real Name: Renzo A.
Alias: EyeAreaEqualsLife
Forum Rank: Gold poster on Looksmax.org
Primary Thread Contributions:

• “Ranking Celebs by SCL and Canthal Tilt Only”
• “Don’t Even Approach Unless You’re +Eyebrow Ridge and -SCL”
• “Bro You Will NEVER Mog with Almond Eyes (cope thread)”

---

Renzo didn’t just believe in hunter eyes. He believed they were destiny.


His own were wide, scleral show visible even in selfies with poor lighting. Flat orbital rims. Thin, papery eyelids. He called them “prey eyes” and often compared himself to “a baby being fed to wolves.”


He posted anonymously but obsessively—his face cropped into hundreds of redlined diagrams: measuring palpebral fissure length, analyzing canthal tilt by degrees. He believed beauty wasn’t subjective. It was math. And math had spat in his face.

---

He sold his PlayStation. Liquidated his crypto. Took a second loan on his father’s name. He found Dr. Vale through a referral post buried in the Orbital Frame Dysgenics Megathread.


Vale’s email reply was short:

“Your numbers are viable. We can create something formidable.”

Renzo printed it and slept with it under his pillow.

---

The Operation​

The plan on paper was elegant:

• Lateral canthopexy with tilt correction
• Tarsal platform reduction
• Orbital roof advancement
• “Subtle lower lid tightening” for scleral show minimization

Renzo signed without reading the fine print. He just scrawled:

“I want to be feared. Not pitied.”

---

Three days later, he awoke.


The room smelled like heat and iodine. His eyes were crusted shut. His skin itched under the bandages.


When Vale returned, he was silent. He removed the gauze like a father unwrapping a present he already knows the contents of.


Renzo blinked. Tried to. One eye wouldn’t open. The other did—barely. A mirror was handed to him. No ceremony.


His orbital rims had been deepened, but asymmetrically. One side sunk; the other bulged like a growth. His eyelids had been over-shortened—the upper lid curled back slightly, exposing the inner pink flesh. A coil of sutures still dangled at the corner. His eyeballs looked dry, protuberant, like something left out in wind.


Vale made a note on his tablet.

“Excessive scleral show resolved. Tarsal exposure now dominant. Eye presence: unmistakable.”

Renzo stared into the mirror. The sockets didn’t match. One eye was feral. The other was gutted.

---

Recovery didn’t happen.


He couldn’t blink fully. Couldn’t make eye contact without people recoiling. Dogs barked at him.


He wore sunglasses at night. Went outside once. A girl saw him on the metro, gasped audibly, and shifted cars.


He stopped posting. His username was marked inactive.


A month later, Vale received a letter from a law office. The handwriting was crooked and seemed forced. The return address was a psychiatric unit in the suburbs of Naples. Inside was a single sentence:

“It’s worse being seen than being invisible.”

Attached was a coroner’s report. He had taken a plastic knife from the cafeteria and carved the good eye out. The bad one had already ulcerated from exposure.

 

[wollet2]

Read all, You have a good base here, but I think you’ll need to delve more into his motivations and backstory, bring back the incel killer and connect it to his actions. I like your vision though

Also it sounds kind of repetitive with the victims, the only thing different with each one is their facial flaws which might be interesting for a psler but outside of this bubble, it would just not be that interesting to see the same thing again

this is only the base that i will build on. chatgpt is dumb and needs to aqcuire more substance, for example .org users dont find wide eyes undesirable, doesnt mention a lot of the common surgeries but succeeds at being funny, 'now even dogs bark at him', 'Renzo printed it and slept with it under his pillow.' etc

i dont want to get a lot into the surgeons backstory, his sister commited suicide due to a incel raping her and he just deeply hates them, thats enough

 

[wollet2]

Vale had known his name for two years.


He hadn’t needed to investigate. His sister had told him everything—through tears, barely able to speak—but she’d named him. Full name, where he worked, what he looked like. What he did.


The man was never arrested. She didn’t want a trial. She didn’t want to explain anything to strangers in a courtroom. She just wanted it to disappear. Vale nodded. He said he understood. He let it go—on the surface.


But he remembered. He remembered everything.


He watched from a distance. Quietly. He learned the man’s routines. Where he went. What bars he visited. The websites he frequented. Vale didn’t look for a reason to act. He waited for an excuse. Something the man did that Vale could use to open the door.


That came six months later.


A new Looksmax forum profile: PosteriorChad. The man didn’t use his real name, but it was unmistakably him. Same photos. Same language. Same warped ideas. He posted about “hatefucking” a girl who “thought she was better than him.” He posted selfies, jaw clenched, brows forced low. He asked about surgery. About “orbital reconstruction” and “deep-set sockets.”


Vale didn’t reply right away. He waited. Let the man post more, expose himself further. Then, after enough time, he reached out.

“Private surgical consultations. No questions. Total anonymity. You’ve got raw potential. You just need guidance.”

The man responded in minutes. Vale told him he was traveling for a special case and would be near his city. That was a lie. He booked the flight only after the meeting was arranged.


He packed light: gloves, syringes, anesthetics, a burner phone, cash. The surgical kit was already stored in a lockbox at a warehouse he’d rented months before, under another name.


This wasn’t improvisation.
This was the plan.
He met Vale in a warehouse converted into a “private clinic” on the outskirts of town—concrete floors, harsh overhead lighting, everything spotless but bare. The man looked nervous, but eager. He wore sunglasses and kept adjusting his hoodie. He called himself “James.” Vale never asked for more.


He paced while Vale prepared the paperwork. “So I looked into like, orbital decompression, jaw implants, infraorbital hollow correction… but most of those fuckers online are just snake oilers, you know?”


Vale didn’t respond. He finished laying out the tools on a tray and motioned to the chair. “You’ll be sedated. Procedure time is about six hours. When you wake up, the weak parts of your face won’t be there anymore.”


The man grinned. “Fucking finally.”


He didn’t see the needle go in.

---

Vale strapped his arms and legs to the chair once he was fully under. Not surgical straps—industrial bindings. Zip ties over the ankles. Duct tape wrapped tight around the elbows. Jaw secured open with a custom dental vise.


He checked the man’s vitals, then started the prep. Shaved his face. Disinfected the skin. Covered the eyes. And began.

---

Step One: Deconstruction


He started with the jaw.


Instead of defining the mandible with implants, Vale used a bone saw to remove the lateral mass entirely. Now the lower half of the face drooped inward—soft, caved, concave. The chin was sliced vertically in half, leaving it split like a ruptured fruit, each side sagging outward under its own weight. No symmetry remained.


He moved up to the nose.
But didn’t refine it.
He hollowed it.


Removed the septum, widened the nostrils until they flared unnaturally like burnt slits. Not even crooked—nonexistent. The bridge was collapsed inward with forceps. The cartilage was crushed and suctioned out. Now the nose was just a fleshy concavity above the lip.


Then the cheeks. Vale slit open each side and inserted industrial-grade foam implants, but only on the right—making one side balloon grotesquely, while the other sagged flat and loose, skin wrinkled from internal hollowing. The effect was asymmetrical swelling—a face that looked like it had melted halfway, then stopped.

---

Step Two: Mouth


He didn’t sew the lips tighter. He peeled back the upper lip entirely, trimming it down until the gums were fully exposed at all times. Then he severed the lower labial muscles so the mouth could no longer close.


The teeth were filed to uneven points—not to sharpen, but to maim the tongue every time it moved.


He removed three teeth at random and jammed one of them up through the hard palate, until it pierced through the base of the nose cavity. Blood flooded the sinuses and dripped steadily through what remained of the nostrils.

---

Step Three: Eyes


He cut out the eyelids entirely.


Not all at once—he sliced each one into thin vertical strips, leaving shredded flaps that no longer functioned. The eyeballs stared outward, exposed, permanently drying in the open air. He injected saline to keep them from cracking, but he let the corneas scar. The vision wouldn’t return properly. Just enough would remain for him to see himself.


Vale slit the forehead above each brow, detached the skin, and stapled it backward and upward, warping the arch of the browline into an unnatural "surprised" expression—forever wide-eyed, forever alert. He shaved off both eyebrows.

---

By the time he was finished, no one could recognize this as a human face. It was expressionless, but not neutral. It was obscene—a war between swelling, emptiness, and exposed structures. The result looked like a melted silicone mask stretched too far over a skull that didn’t match.

---

Waking


He removed the IV. Let the sedative wear off. Slowly.


The man woke up trembling. Disoriented. Then he blinked—or tried to. His eyes made a dry, clicking sound.


Then the pain hit.
The screaming started.


But the mouth didn’t close. It couldn’t.
The sound that came out was high-pitched, wordless, like an animal with its jaw broken. He flailed, but the restraints held. His eyes darted around in panic. He looked for a mirror.


Vale gave him one.


A handheld, cracked mirror. Slowly, he held it in front of his face.


The man’s body bucked so violently that he nearly broke his wrist against the restraints. He screamed again, spit and blood foaming at the edges of his exposed gums.


Vale watched.


After a while, the man stopped. He just looked down. Then sideways. Then began to shake his head, muttering something Vale couldn’t make out.


Vale stepped forward.


“You took someone from me,” he said. “She was waking up shaking until she couldn't take it.”


The man didn’t answer. Couldn’t.


Vale leaned closer. “Now you’ll never touch another person again. You’ll never be able to look someone in the eye without them screaming.”


He turned and left the room. Locked the door.


The man inside screamed until his throat shredded. Then he just made sounds.

---

Three days later, someone reported a foul smell from the abandoned warehouse. The cops found the man alive, but barely. His wrists were torn open from trying to escape the straps. He’d tried to chew through the tape on his ankles, destroying three of his remaining teeth.


He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t write. Couldn’t sign his name.
He was listed as @John Doe.


He lives in a long-term care facility now. Staff only enter his room with sedation. He no longer reacts to mirrors.

@AuraMaxxing

 

[FastBananaCEO]

How many gallons of water were wasted with AI making this script

 

[wollet2]

How many gallons of water were wasted with AI making this script

Training a large AI model like this consumes a lot of resources—including water, which is used primarily to cool the data center servers during model training or large-scale operations.


According to research from the University of California, training GPT-3 (a predecessor model) may have consumed about 700,000 liters of clean freshwater—around 184,920 gallons.


Now, generating one script like this? That's just a tiny inference task, not training. Estimates vary, but a single prompt-response like this might use a few hundred milliliters of water worth of cooling power per generation, depending on infrastructure.


So for this grotesque, beautifully horrifying little story? You could say:

Roughly 0.05 to 0.5 gallons of water may have been used indirectly to cool the data centers handling this inference. Enough to make a single, deformed sip from a metal hospital cup.

 

[AuraMaxxing]

Vale had known his name for two years.


He hadn’t needed to investigate. His sister had told him everything—through tears, barely able to speak—but she’d named him. Full name, where he worked, what he looked like. What he did.


The man was never arrested. She didn’t want a trial. She didn’t want to explain anything to strangers in a courtroom. She just wanted it to disappear. Vale nodded. He said he understood. He let it go—on the surface.


But he remembered. He remembered everything.


He watched from a distance. Quietly. He learned the man’s routines. Where he went. What bars he visited. The websites he frequented. Vale didn’t look for a reason to act. He waited for an excuse. Something the man did that Vale could use to open the door.


That came six months later.


A new Looksmax forum profile: PosteriorChad. The man didn’t use his real name, but it was unmistakably him. Same photos. Same language. Same warped ideas. He posted about “hatefucking” a girl who “thought she was better than him.” He posted selfies, jaw clenched, brows forced low. He asked about surgery. About “orbital reconstruction” and “deep-set sockets.”


Vale didn’t reply right away. He waited. Let the man post more, expose himself further. Then, after enough time, he reached out.




The man responded in minutes. Vale told him he was traveling for a special case and would be near his city. That was a lie. He booked the flight only after the meeting was arranged.


He packed light: gloves, syringes, anesthetics, a burner phone, cash. The surgical kit was already stored in a lockbox at a warehouse he’d rented months before, under another name.


This wasn’t improvisation.
This was the plan.
He met Vale in a warehouse converted into a “private clinic” on the outskirts of town—concrete floors, harsh overhead lighting, everything spotless but bare. The man looked nervous, but eager. He wore sunglasses and kept adjusting his hoodie. He called himself “James.” Vale never asked for more.


He paced while Vale prepared the paperwork. “So I looked into like, orbital decompression, jaw implants, infraorbital hollow correction… but most of those fuckers online are just snake oilers, you know?”


Vale didn’t respond. He finished laying out the tools on a tray and motioned to the chair. “You’ll be sedated. Procedure time is about six hours. When you wake up, the weak parts of your face won’t be there anymore.”


The man grinned. “Fucking finally.”


He didn’t see the needle go in.

---

Vale strapped his arms and legs to the chair once he was fully under. Not surgical straps—industrial bindings. Zip ties over the ankles. Duct tape wrapped tight around the elbows. Jaw secured open with a custom dental vise.


He checked the man’s vitals, then started the prep. Shaved his face. Disinfected the skin. Covered the eyes. And began.

---

Step One: Deconstruction


He started with the jaw.


Instead of defining the mandible with implants, Vale used a bone saw to remove the lateral mass entirely. Now the lower half of the face drooped inward—soft, caved, concave. The chin was sliced vertically in half, leaving it split like a ruptured fruit, each side sagging outward under its own weight. No symmetry remained.


He moved up to the nose.
But didn’t refine it.
He hollowed it.


Removed the septum, widened the nostrils until they flared unnaturally like burnt slits. Not even crooked—nonexistent. The bridge was collapsed inward with forceps. The cartilage was crushed and suctioned out. Now the nose was just a fleshy concavity above the lip.


Then the cheeks. Vale slit open each side and inserted industrial-grade foam implants, but only on the right—making one side balloon grotesquely, while the other sagged flat and loose, skin wrinkled from internal hollowing. The effect was asymmetrical swelling—a face that looked like it had melted halfway, then stopped.

---

Step Two: Mouth


He didn’t sew the lips tighter. He peeled back the upper lip entirely, trimming it down until the gums were fully exposed at all times. Then he severed the lower labial muscles so the mouth could no longer close.


The teeth were filed to uneven points—not to sharpen, but to maim the tongue every time it moved.


He removed three teeth at random and jammed one of them up through the hard palate, until it pierced through the base of the nose cavity. Blood flooded the sinuses and dripped steadily through what remained of the nostrils.

---

Step Three: Eyes


He cut out the eyelids entirely.


Not all at once—he sliced each one into thin vertical strips, leaving shredded flaps that no longer functioned. The eyeballs stared outward, exposed, permanently drying in the open air. He injected saline to keep them from cracking, but he let the corneas scar. The vision wouldn’t return properly. Just enough would remain for him to see himself.


Vale slit the forehead above each brow, detached the skin, and stapled it backward and upward, warping the arch of the browline into an unnatural "surprised" expression—forever wide-eyed, forever alert. He shaved off both eyebrows.

---

By the time he was finished, no one could recognize this as a human face. It was expressionless, but not neutral. It was obscene—a war between swelling, emptiness, and exposed structures. The result looked like a melted silicone mask stretched too far over a skull that didn’t match.

---

Waking


He removed the IV. Let the sedative wear off. Slowly.


The man woke up trembling. Disoriented. Then he blinked—or tried to. His eyes made a dry, clicking sound.


Then the pain hit.
The screaming started.


But the mouth didn’t close. It couldn’t.
The sound that came out was high-pitched, wordless, like an animal with its jaw broken. He flailed, but the restraints held. His eyes darted around in panic. He looked for a mirror.


Vale gave him one.


A handheld, cracked mirror. Slowly, he held it in front of his face.


The man’s body bucked so violently that he nearly broke his wrist against the restraints. He screamed again, spit and blood foaming at the edges of his exposed gums.


Vale watched.


After a while, the man stopped. He just looked down. Then sideways. Then began to shake his head, muttering something Vale couldn’t make out.


Vale stepped forward.


“You took someone from me,” he said. “She was waking up shaking until she couldn't take it.”


The man didn’t answer. Couldn’t.


Vale leaned closer. “Now you’ll never touch another person again. You’ll never be able to look someone in the eye without them screaming.”


He turned and left the room. Locked the door.


The man inside screamed until his throat shredded. Then he just made sounds.

---

Three days later, someone reported a foul smell from the abandoned warehouse. The cops found the man alive, but barely. His wrists were torn open from trying to escape the straps. He’d tried to chew through the tape on his ankles, destroying three of his remaining teeth.


He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t write. Couldn’t sign his name.
He was listed as @John Doe.


He lives in a long-term care facility now. Staff only enter his room with sedation. He no longer reacts to mirrors.

@AuraMaxxing

Damn don’t give @RealSurgerymax any ideas for his next patients

 

[Vermilioncore]

Amazing movie. A doctor cucks ugly men and causes thrm To fuck their fists forever with no pussy in sight