Finally I have a use for all the anatomically-bizarre renders!

Part One:

Mature Content

[minor heresy] The Book of Eve [TG/bimbofication] by Transviscera

Part Two:

Mature Content

Part Three:

Mature Content

Part Four:

Mature Content

Part Five:

Mature Content

The Cult of Eve - Five [TG] by Transviscera

"How did the newcomers react to our ways?" came the soft voice of Bishop Geldermann, as he uncurled himself and rose to his full height. "Have they accepted the love of Eve into their hearts?"
"They tried to leave during my sermon. Leonard stopped them," the pastor replied.
"A shame," the bishop said.
As the Bishop loomed from the shadows, Pastor Roberts fixated on the text he was reading. Not that he didn't want to look at the Bishop, no, no, no. To scorn adoration of the female form was tantamount to heresy. No, it was just that this particular passage was just so very fascinating.
The bishop had attained what so all of their order had long desired - perfection, a oneness with the holy form. Dating all the way back to the founding, men had tried with what crude appliances and knowledge they had, though the results had been... wasteful, even abominable. Was it hubris that thwarted them, the church elders wondered as their grafted flesh failed, to think they could correct God's mistake?
Though every failure had been a tragedy, piece-by-bloody-piece they'd learned. In time, the church had brought modern science to bear on the ancient problem, though still their efforts were slow. The hallowed flesh rejected the wicked meat, male heads withering atop female necks, male brains rotting inside female skulls. Modern science could heal flesh together, even knit severed nerves with enough time, but never quick enough. The brains, separated from their hearts and lungs for even a few minutes, died long before the slow process of unification could complete.
The bishop had found a compromise. The bishop held the exact details of the procedure close to his chests but from what the pastor could glean, enough of the original brain stem remained to keep his female heart beating, long enough for his spine to fuse to hers. Before the union, he had been a pretty thing, plundering the church's finances in pursuit of the ideal body. Following the surgery, he had become a creature of terrible beauty.
The bishop came closer, swaying with an eerie, willowy grace. He bent at the waists to pour himself a glass of communion wine, his four breasts -two flesh, two silicone- shifting beautifully. He was perfect except for one aspect, though a gilded choker-belt concealed the seam about his neck-waist.
"We have the father sedated," the pastor said. "His wife is enjoying being pampered at our facilities with the other wives. She has been informed that her that her husband simply had too much of the communion wine - not entirely untrue-, that he is sleeping it off, and will join her in the morning with a headache. It's unlikely he'll remember anything."
The bishop shook his head. "We can't be sure of that. He might leave, bring others. I won't have our work here sabotaged." His four hands touched the seam of his lower neck. "Not after everything my wife sacrificed."
"My choir have his son's attention. They've offered to show him around our town. Their sweet natures will win him around to our ways and, with a little persuasion, I'm sure they could convince him to spend the summer at our bible retreat." The remote camp in the hills was where all the disobedient men of the town were sent for re-education. "If we get the boy, we get the father."
"It's a start," the bishop nodded. "But we'll need more leverage than that."
The pastor grimaced, knowing precisely what 'leverage' entailed. "If I might ask, my Lord, why bring them here at all? Why sell a home to an outsider when we've been so careful all these years? If you wish it, let Leonard take care of the family. He could do it tonight while they're sleeping."
"No." A bashful smile grew on the bishop's face and he even blushed, for a moment resembling a timid girl half a century his junior. "As you know, the men of our congregation are not yet ready to see me in all my glory. My beauty would blind them. And the stories they would tell... Alas, they cannot give me what I want. I may be akin to Eve in form, but not yet in function." His lower hands fidgeted and stroked his bare midriff. His smile was warm and maternal. "I need the outsider. When there is life growing in my womb, dispose of them however you wish. But until then, he is not to be harmed."