There once lived two peculiar frogs named Narcissus and Aesthetico. They crossed paths one fateful day in the waiting room of a plastic surgeon's clinic. The stark white walls were adorned with pictures of picture-perfect models flaunting flawless skin and perfect proportions, a stark contrast to the anxious and self-conscious terrapins. Narcissus had long been tormented by his asymmetrical eyes and a tail that drooped at an awkward angle, while Bruce was painfully embarrassed about his bony legs and wrinkled skin that sagged in an unflattering manner.

As they sat in the sterile waiting room, the once-awkward atmosphere slowly dissipated. Narcissus's sharp, vibrant eyes were fixated upon Bruce's supple, leafy-green skin, soft as grass and speckled with the dew of the morning. Bruce, in turn, couldn't help but gaze at Narcissus's canary-yellow belly, glowing against the surrounding stark white walls. Slowly, a spark of connection formed between the two, drawing them closer together. Conversations flourished, hopes and dreams bloomed from their hearts, and they were lost in the fascination of their newfound harmony.

Narcissus leaned in a little closer to Bruce and said, "You know, I've never really talked to another frog about my insecurities before." Bruce smiled, "I know what you mean, I feel like I have to put on a brave face and act like I'm okay with the way I look, when really, I'm not." Narcissus nodded, "Exactly! It's so hard to admit that we're not perfect." Bruce replied, "But you know what? I think it's okay to be imperfect. It's what makes us unique and interesting." Narcissus looked at Bruce with admiration and said, "You're right. I haven't thought of it that way before. It's nice to know someone else feels the same way." As they continued to talk, they couldn't help but feel a sense of connection that they had never experienced before. They discovered they were both from ponds nearby, nestled in fields of wildflowers and fringed by willows. They loved to hop along the lily pads, basking in the midday sun, dreaming of one day looking perfect. As the minutes crept by, their names were suddenly called, interrupting their heart-to-heart connection.

Narcissus sighed, "I wish we could keep talking, Bruce." Bruce nodded, "Me too, but I guess we'll have to continue our conversation after our surgeries." Narcissus looked down at his feet, "I hope we'll still recognize each other after the surgeries." Bruce put a hand on Narcissus's shoulder, "Don't worry, no matter what we look like, we'll still be friends." With that, they both got up and walked towards the surgeon's office, their hearts heavy with the thought of being separated even for a short while.

Narcissus went first, stepping into the sterile surgical room as the surgeons worked their magic. He emerged from surgery with vibrant eyes that shimmered like emeralds, a tail that stood firm and straight, and a body that gleamed like polished marble. Bruce followed suit, as the surgeon worked tirelessly to lift his thin legs, tighten his saggy skin, and erase his wrinkles, with the skill of a master sculptor. As they looked at each other post-surgery, their hearts skipped a beat. They were amazed at how different they looked, and how much more attractive they had become, like two shining stars in the night sky. Narcissus turned to Bruce, "I can't believe it. I look like a completely different frog!" Bruce smiled, "You look amazing, Narcissus. Your eyes are so bright and your tail is so straight!" Narcissus returned the smile, "And you look great too, Bruce! You look so much younger!" They spent the next few moments admiring each other's new features, pointing out all the improvements they noticed. As they looked at each other, they couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and satisfaction, knowing they had finally become the perfect frogs they had always dreamed of being.

Over the next few months, Narcissus and Bruce became regulars at the clinic. They would spend hours poring over the surgeon's catalogues, pointing out the procedures they wanted to get done next. Narcissus was the first to undergo a full-body transformation, getting a new tongue that could catch flies faster than any other frog, and having his skin transformed into a kaleidoscope of bright colors that sparkled in the sunlight. But that wasn't enough for Narcissus. He wanted more, and so he got a set of wings, becoming the very first flying frog in the town. Bruce was in awe of Narcissus's new wings, but he couldn't help but feel a tinge of envy. So, he got a new smile that highlighted his pearly white teeth, making him look happier and more approachable than ever before. But that wasn't all. Bruce wanted to look more attractive too, so he got bigger eyes that made him look like a prince among frogs. And as he hopped around, his new sense of balance helped him land more gracefully than ever before. With each surgery, they felt more confident, more attractive, and more in love with each other. They appreciated each other's new features and were fascinated by the possibilities that cosmetic surgery could offer. So, they continued to go back for more, eager to see what other improvements they could get done. And as they sat in the waiting room, they couldn't wait to see what they would look like next.

The thrill of constant cosmetic transformations consumed Narcissus and Bruce, leaving them desperate for more and more surgeries in attempts to achieve the impossible - physical perfection. Their addiction to changing their appearance grew so strong that they felt they could no longer undergo these procedures in the public eye. Instead, they decided to retreat to an isolated manor in the countryside. This grand estate was nestled in a grove of ancient trees, surrounded by wildflowers of every shade. The house itself was stately and regal, but also oddly eerie. The looming shadows of the trees around the property seemed to stretch towards the house, as if warning them of the darkness waiting within. The manor was hauntingly quiet, with creaking doors and windows that rattled in the wind. As they moved through the expansive, cobwebbed rooms, they hired a surgeon to live with them, a skilled professional who would cater exclusively to their needs. This surgeon was their only connection to the world beyond their self-imposed isolation, and they would stop at nothing to ensure they could continue their cosmetic alterations without any scrutiny. The surgeon became devoted to their every need, tending to their every desire and perfecting their appearances to an almost unrecognizable degree. The manor became a place of near-constant surgeries, with the smell of antiseptic lingering in the air and the sounds of buzzing saws and clanking tools echoing through the halls. The room in which they underwent surgeries was cold and sterile - designed to put them at ease but ultimately serving to further disconnect them from the world outside of their obsession. As more time passed, the amphibians became lost in their own world of a never-ending pursuit of physical perfection, with the surgeon's steady hand providing a glimmer of hope for their eternal search. They became the surgeon's sole focus, with his medical ethics and objective stillness becoming more and more eroded by their intense demands for even more radical alterations. Together, the three of them were trapped in an endless cycle of alterations and procedures, consumed in an otherworldly dance of transformation and self-satisfaction. The manor became their entire world, with nothing to remind them of the outside world except for the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves outside. They were living in their own distorted version of reality, a place where physical perfection was the only gateway to true happiness. And yet, the world outside the walls of the manor continued to spin, wholly unaware of the transformations being wrought behind closed doors.

As the years passed, Narcissus and Bruce continued to undergo more and more surgeries until they were unrecognizable as frogs. They had human-like noses that protruded from their slimy faces, long fingers that curled like vines instead of toes, and ears that could hear even the faintest of sounds. Their eyes glimmered with the reflection of a thousand surgeries, their skin glistened with an unnatural sheen, and their overall appearance was no longer that of frogs but something otherworldly. Despite their fading health, they remained fixated on perfection, spending their days admiring each other's new features and showering each other with compliments. They planned their next surgeries with a fervor that rivaled that of a religious zealot, their obsessions blinding them to the growing toll their body's could no longer bear. Their once glossy skin grew thin and scaly, as if the countless surgeries had stripped their bodies of every last drop of moisture. Their tongues, once agile enough to catch flies with ease, grew too weak to do so, and their wings that had once carried them to soaring heights had become far too frail to support their weight. Despite the obvious signs of decay, they refused to stop their pursuit of perfection. Their addiction had taken hold, and the only thing that mattered to them was the next surgery, the next modification that would bring them closer to their idealized selves. But little did they know that in their search for perfection, they were losing themselves. With each surgery, their true identities were erased, their once simple existence replaced by an eternal dance of transformation and self-satisfaction. As they fell apart, they refused to stop, driven by their relentless desire for physical perfection. Their bodies, now a ghastly testament to humanity's obsession with appearances, began to crumble. The very surgeries that had once brought them so much joy had turned into a cruel joke, a reminder of their own mortality. No longer could they fool themselves into believing that eternal youth and beauty could be found through the surgeon's knife. But even in the face of their own mortality, they remained unable to turn away from their self-destructive habits. They were too immersed in their own delusions of eternal beauty and the false sense of security that came with it. And as they continued to undergo surgeries, their bodies falling apart piece by piece, they knew deep down that they had made a grave mistake. But by then, it was too late. They were lost, forever trapped in a cycle of beauty and decay, a hypnotic waltz that had taken over their lives without hope of escape.

One fateful day, Narcissus's heart gave out during a routine procedure, leaving Bruce beside himself with unimaginable grief. The surgeon tried everything in his power to revive Narcissus, but it was in vain. The once vivacious and playful Narcissus was now lifeless, his vibrant eyes dimmed, and his shimmering skin dulled. Bruce was inconsolable, unable to imagine life without his beloved friend and partner. But the addiction to surgery had taken hold of Bruce, and he could not bear the thought of living without getting more surgeries. The constant pursuit of perfection had taken its toll on him, and he was now obsessed with modifying his body, always in search of the next procedure to improve or repair his appearance. As Bruce continued to undergo more and more surgeries, he lost sight of himself and the memory of Narcissus became increasingly distant. Every new alteration felt like a small step towards a perfect being, yet only pushed him further away from his true self. His once expressive eyes grew heavy with fatigue, and his once agile tongue could hardly catch a fly anymore. And yet, he never stopped, trapped in an endless cycle of surgeries, each more drastic than the last. With each surgery, Bruce became more isolated, further distanced from his true self and the memory of Narcissus. And in the end, he too died on the operating table, his body unable to withstand the constant strain he had put it under. The surgeon was left alone, surrounded by the corpses of the two frogs who had given up everything to be perfect. The once sterile and pristine surgical room now held a macabre atmosphere of death and decay. The surgeon knew that he had contributed to their deaths, that his desire for power and profit had fueled their addiction. As he wandered the empty halls of the manor, he was haunted by the faint echoes of Narcissus and Bruce's croaking from beyond the grave.

There once lived two peculiar frogs named Narcissus and Aesthetico. They crossed paths one fateful day in the waiting room of a plastic surgeon's clinic. The stark white walls were adorned with pictures of picture-perfect models flaunting flawless skin and perfect proportions, a stark contrast to the anxious and self-conscious terrapins. Narcissus had long been tormented by his asymmetrical eyes and a tail that drooped at an awkward angle, while Bruce was painfully embarrassed about his bony legs and wrinkled skin that sagged in an unflattering manner.

As they sat in the sterile waiting room, the once-awkward atmosphere slowly dissipated. Narcissus's sharp, vibrant eyes were fixated upon Bruce's supple, leafy-green skin, soft as grass and speckled with the dew of the morning. Bruce, in turn, couldn't help but gaze at Narcissus's canary-yellow belly, glowing against the surrounding stark white walls. Slowly, a spark of connection formed between the two, drawing them closer together. Conversations flourished, hopes and dreams bloomed from their hearts, and they were lost in the fascination of their newfound harmony.

Narcissus leaned in a little closer to Bruce and said, "You know, I've never really talked to another frog about my insecurities before." Bruce smiled, "I know what you mean, I feel like I have to put on a brave face and act like I'm okay with the way I look, when really, I'm not." Narcissus nodded, "Exactly! It's so hard to admit that we're not perfect." Bruce replied, "But you know what? I think it's okay to be imperfect. It's what makes us unique and interesting." Narcissus looked at Bruce with admiration and said, "You're right. I haven't thought of it that way before. It's nice to know someone else feels the same way." As they continued to talk, they couldn't help but feel a sense of connection that they had never experienced before. They discovered they were both from ponds nearby, nestled in fields of wildflowers and fringed by willows. They loved to hop along the lily pads, basking in the midday sun, dreaming of one day looking perfect. As the minutes crept by, their names were suddenly called, interrupting their heart-to-heart connection.

Narcissus sighed, "I wish we could keep talking, Bruce." Bruce nodded, "Me too, but I guess we'll have to continue our conversation after our surgeries." Narcissus looked down at his feet, "I hope we'll still recognize each other after the surgeries." Bruce put a hand on Narcissus's shoulder, "Don't worry, no matter what we look like, we'll still be friends." With that, they both got up and walked towards the surgeon's office, their hearts heavy with the thought of being separated even for a short while.

Narcissus went first, stepping into the sterile surgical room as the surgeons worked their magic. He emerged from surgery with vibrant eyes that shimmered like emeralds, a tail that stood firm and straight, and a body that gleamed like polished marble. Bruce followed suit, as the surgeon worked tirelessly to lift his thin legs, tighten his saggy skin, and erase his wrinkles, with the skill of a master sculptor. As they looked at each other post-surgery, their hearts skipped a beat. They were amazed at how different they looked, and how much more attractive they had become, like two shining stars in the night sky. Narcissus turned to Bruce, "I can't believe it. I look like a completely different frog!" Bruce smiled, "You look amazing, Narcissus. Your eyes are so bright and your tail is so straight!" Narcissus returned the smile, "And you look great too, Bruce! You look so much younger!" They spent the next few moments admiring each other's new features, pointing out all the improvements they noticed. As they looked at each other, they couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and satisfaction, knowing they had finally become the perfect frogs they had always dreamed of being.

Over the next few months, Narcissus and Bruce became regulars at the clinic. They would spend hours poring over the surgeon's catalogues, pointing out the procedures they wanted to get done next. Narcissus was the first to undergo a full-body transformation, getting a new tongue that could catch flies faster than any other frog, and having his skin transformed into a kaleidoscope of bright colors that sparkled in the sunlight. But that wasn't enough for Narcissus. He wanted more, and so he got a set of wings, becoming the very first flying frog in the town. Bruce was in awe of Narcissus's new wings, but he couldn't help but feel a tinge of envy. So, he got a new smile that highlighted his pearly white teeth, making him look happier and more approachable than ever before. But that wasn't all. Bruce wanted to look more attractive too, so he got bigger eyes that made him look like a prince among frogs. And as he hopped around, his new sense of balance helped him land more gracefully than ever before. With each surgery, they felt more confident, more attractive, and more in love with each other. They appreciated each other's new features and were fascinated by the possibilities that cosmetic surgery could offer. So, they continued to go back for more, eager to see what other improvements they could get done. And as they sat in the waiting room, they couldn't wait to see what they would look like next.

The thrill of constant cosmetic transformations consumed Narcissus and Bruce, leaving them desperate for more and more surgeries in attempts to achieve the impossible - physical perfection. Their addiction to changing their appearance grew so strong that they felt they could no longer undergo these procedures in the public eye. Instead, they decided to retreat to an isolated manor in the countryside. This grand estate was nestled in a grove of ancient trees, surrounded by wildflowers of every shade. The house itself was stately and regal, but also oddly eerie. The looming shadows of the trees around the property seemed to stretch towards the house, as if warning them of the darkness waiting within. The manor was hauntingly quiet, with creaking doors and windows that rattled in the wind. As they moved through the expansive, cobwebbed rooms, they hired a surgeon to live with them, a skilled professional who would cater exclusively to their needs. This surgeon was their only connection to the world beyond their self-imposed isolation, and they would stop at nothing to ensure they could continue their cosmetic alterations without any scrutiny. The surgeon became devoted to their every need, tending to their every desire and perfecting their appearances to an almost unrecognizable degree. The manor became a place of near-constant surgeries, with the smell of antiseptic lingering in the air and the sounds of buzzing saws and clanking tools echoing through the halls. The room in which they underwent surgeries was cold and sterile - designed to put them at ease but ultimately serving to further disconnect them from the world outside of their obsession. As more time passed, the amphibians became lost in their own world of a never-ending pursuit of physical perfection, with the surgeon's steady hand providing a glimmer of hope for their eternal search. They became the surgeon's sole focus, with his medical ethics and objective stillness becoming more and more eroded by their intense demands for even more radical alterations. Together, the three of them were trapped in an endless cycle of alterations and procedures, consumed in an otherworldly dance of transformation and self-satisfaction. The manor became their entire world, with nothing to remind them of the outside world except for the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves outside. They were living in their own distorted version of reality, a place where physical perfection was the only gateway to true happiness. And yet, the world outside the walls of the manor continued to spin, wholly unaware of the transformations being wrought behind closed doors.

As the years passed, Narcissus and Bruce continued to undergo more and more surgeries until they were unrecognizable as frogs. They had human-like noses that protruded from their slimy faces, long fingers that curled like vines instead of toes, and ears that could hear even the faintest of sounds. Their eyes glimmered with the reflection of a thousand surgeries, their skin glistened with an unnatural sheen, and their overall appearance was no longer that of frogs but something otherworldly. Despite their fading health, they remained fixated on perfection, spending their days admiring each other's new features and showering each other with compliments. They planned their next surgeries with a fervor that rivaled that of a religious zealot, their obsessions blinding them to the growing toll their body's could no longer bear. Their once glossy skin grew thin and scaly, as if the countless surgeries had stripped their bodies of every last drop of moisture. Their tongues, once agile enough to catch flies with ease, grew too weak to do so, and their wings that had once carried them to soaring heights had become far too frail to support their weight. Despite the obvious signs of decay, they refused to stop their pursuit of perfection. Their addiction had taken hold, and the only thing that mattered to them was the next surgery, the next modification that would bring them closer to their idealized selves. But little did they know that in their search for perfection, they were losing themselves. With each surgery, their true identities were erased, their once simple existence replaced by an eternal dance of transformation and self-satisfaction. As they fell apart, they refused to stop, driven by their relentless desire for physical perfection. Their bodies, now a ghastly testament to humanity's obsession with appearances, began to crumble. The very surgeries that had once brought them so much joy had turned into a cruel joke, a reminder of their own mortality. No longer could they fool themselves into believing that eternal youth and beauty could be found through the surgeon's knife. But even in the face of their own mortality, they remained unable to turn away from their self-destructive habits. They were too immersed in their own delusions of eternal beauty and the false sense of security that came with it. And as they continued to undergo surgeries, their bodies falling apart piece by piece, they knew deep down that they had made a grave mistake. But by then, it was too late. They were lost, forever trapped in a cycle of beauty and decay, a hypnotic waltz that had taken over their lives without hope of escape.

One fateful day, Narcissus's heart gave out during a routine procedure, leaving Bruce beside himself with unimaginable grief. The surgeon tried everything in his power to revive Narcissus, but it was in vain. The once vivacious and playful Narcissus was now lifeless, his vibrant eyes dimmed, and his shimmering skin dulled. Bruce was inconsolable, unable to imagine life without his beloved friend and partner. But the addiction to surgery had taken hold of Bruce, and he could not bear the thought of living without getting more surgeries. The constant pursuit of perfection had taken its toll on him, and he was now obsessed with modifying his body, always in search of the next procedure to improve or repair his appearance. As Bruce continued to undergo more and more surgeries, he lost sight of himself and the memory of Narcissus became increasingly distant. Every new alteration felt like a small step towards a perfect being, yet only pushed him further away from his true self. His once expressive eyes grew heavy with fatigue, and his once agile tongue could hardly catch a fly anymore. And yet, he never stopped, trapped in an endless cycle of surgeries, each more drastic than the last. With each surgery, Bruce became more isolated, further distanced from his true self and the memory of Narcissus. And in the end, he too died on the operating table, his body unable to withstand the constant strain he had put it under. The surgeon was left alone, surrounded by the corpses of the two frogs who had given up everything to be perfect. The once sterile and pristine surgical room now held a macabre atmosphere of death and decay. The surgeon knew that he had contributed to their deaths, that his desire for power and profit had fueled their addiction. As he wandered the empty halls of the manor, he was haunted by the faint echoes of Narcissus and Bruce's croaking from beyond the grave.

There once lived two peculiar frogs named Narcissus and Aesthetico. They crossed paths one fateful day in the waiting room of a plastic surgeon's clinic. The stark white walls were adorned with pictures of picture-perfect models flaunting flawless skin and perfect proportions, a stark contrast to the anxious and self-conscious terrapins. Narcissus had long been tormented by his asymmetrical eyes and a tail that drooped at an awkward angle, while Bruce was painfully embarrassed about his bony legs and wrinkled skin that sagged in an unflattering manner.

As they sat in the sterile waiting room, the once-awkward atmosphere slowly dissipated. Narcissus's sharp, vibrant eyes were fixated upon Bruce's supple, leafy-green skin, soft as grass and speckled with the dew of the morning. Bruce, in turn, couldn't help but gaze at Narcissus's canary-yellow belly, glowing against the surrounding stark white walls. Slowly, a spark of connection formed between the two, drawing them closer together. Conversations flourished, hopes and dreams bloomed from their hearts, and they were lost in the fascination of their newfound harmony.

Narcissus leaned in a little closer to Bruce and said, "You know, I've never really talked to another frog about my insecurities before." Bruce smiled, "I know what you mean, I feel like I have to put on a brave face and act like I'm okay with the way I look, when really, I'm not." Narcissus nodded, "Exactly! It's so hard to admit that we're not perfect." Bruce replied, "But you know what? I think it's okay to be imperfect. It's what makes us unique and interesting." Narcissus looked at Bruce with admiration and said, "You're right. I haven't thought of it that way before. It's nice to know someone else feels the same way." As they continued to talk, they couldn't help but feel a sense of connection that they had never experienced before. They discovered they were both from ponds nearby, nestled in fields of wildflowers and fringed by willows. They loved to hop along the lily pads, basking in the midday sun, dreaming of one day looking perfect. As the minutes crept by, their names were suddenly called, interrupting their heart-to-heart connection.

Narcissus sighed, "I wish we could keep talking, Bruce." Bruce nodded, "Me too, but I guess we'll have to continue our conversation after our surgeries." Narcissus looked down at his feet, "I hope we'll still recognize each other after the surgeries." Bruce put a hand on Narcissus's shoulder, "Don't worry, no matter what we look like, we'll still be friends." With that, they both got up and walked towards the surgeon's office, their hearts heavy with the thought of being separated even for a short while.

Narcissus went first, stepping into the sterile surgical room as the surgeons worked their magic. He emerged from surgery with vibrant eyes that shimmered like emeralds, a tail that stood firm and straight, and a body that gleamed like polished marble. Bruce followed suit, as the surgeon worked tirelessly to lift his thin legs, tighten his saggy skin, and erase his wrinkles, with the skill of a master sculptor. As they looked at each other post-surgery, their hearts skipped a beat. They were amazed at how different they looked, and how much more attractive they had become, like two shining stars in the night sky. Narcissus turned to Bruce, "I can't believe it. I look like a completely different frog!" Bruce smiled, "You look amazing, Narcissus. Your eyes are so bright and your tail is so straight!" Narcissus returned the smile, "And you look great too, Bruce! You look so much younger!" They spent the next few moments admiring each other's new features, pointing out all the improvements they noticed. As they looked at each other, they couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and satisfaction, knowing they had finally become the perfect frogs they had always dreamed of being.

Over the next few months, Narcissus and Bruce became regulars at the clinic. They would spend hours poring over the surgeon's catalogues, pointing out the procedures they wanted to get done next. Narcissus was the first to undergo a full-body transformation, getting a new tongue that could catch flies faster than any other frog, and having his skin transformed into a kaleidoscope of bright colors that sparkled in the sunlight. But that wasn't enough for Narcissus. He wanted more, and so he got a set of wings, becoming the very first flying frog in the town. Bruce was in awe of Narcissus's new wings, but he couldn't help but feel a tinge of envy. So, he got a new smile that highlighted his pearly white teeth, making him look happier and more approachable than ever before. But that wasn't all. Bruce wanted to look more attractive too, so he got bigger eyes that made him look like a prince among frogs. And as he hopped around, his new sense of balance helped him land more gracefully than ever before. With each surgery, they felt more confident, more attractive, and more in love with each other. They appreciated each other's new features and were fascinated by the possibilities that cosmetic surgery could offer. So, they continued to go back for more, eager to see what other improvements they could get done. And as they sat in the waiting room, they couldn't wait to see what they would look like next.

The thrill of constant cosmetic transformations consumed Narcissus and Bruce, leaving them desperate for more and more surgeries in attempts to achieve the impossible - physical perfection. Their addiction to changing their appearance grew so strong that they felt they could no longer undergo these procedures in the public eye. Instead, they decided to retreat to an isolated manor in the countryside. This grand estate was nestled in a grove of ancient trees, surrounded by wildflowers of every shade. The house itself was stately and regal, but also oddly eerie. The looming shadows of the trees around the property seemed to stretch towards the house, as if warning them of the darkness waiting within. The manor was hauntingly quiet, with creaking doors and windows that rattled in the wind. As they moved through the expansive, cobwebbed rooms, they hired a surgeon to live with them, a skilled professional who would cater exclusively to their needs. This surgeon was their only connection to the world beyond their self-imposed isolation, and they would stop at nothing to ensure they could continue their cosmetic alterations without any scrutiny. The surgeon became devoted to their every need, tending to their every desire and perfecting their appearances to an almost unrecognizable degree. The manor became a place of near-constant surgeries, with the smell of antiseptic lingering in the air and the sounds of buzzing saws and clanking tools echoing through the halls. The room in which they underwent surgeries was cold and sterile - designed to put them at ease but ultimately serving to further disconnect them from the world outside of their obsession. As more time passed, the amphibians became lost in their own world of a never-ending pursuit of physical perfection, with the surgeon's steady hand providing a glimmer of hope for their eternal search. They became the surgeon's sole focus, with his medical ethics and objective stillness becoming more and more eroded by their intense demands for even more radical alterations. Together, the three of them were trapped in an endless cycle of alterations and procedures, consumed in an otherworldly dance of transformation and self-satisfaction. The manor became their entire world, with nothing to remind them of the outside world except for the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves outside. They were living in their own distorted version of reality, a place where physical perfection was the only gateway to true happiness. And yet, the world outside the walls of the manor continued to spin, wholly unaware of the transformations being wrought behind closed doors.

As the years passed, Narcissus and Bruce continued to undergo more and more surgeries until they were unrecognizable as frogs. They had human-like noses that protruded from their slimy faces, long fingers that curled like vines instead of toes, and ears that could hear even the faintest of sounds. Their eyes glimmered with the reflection of a thousand surgeries, their skin glistened with an unnatural sheen, and their overall appearance was no longer that of frogs but something otherworldly. Despite their fading health, they remained fixated on perfection, spending their days admiring each other's new features and showering each other with compliments. They planned their next surgeries with a fervor that rivaled that of a religious zealot, their obsessions blinding them to the growing toll their body's could no longer bear. Their once glossy skin grew thin and scaly, as if the countless surgeries had stripped their bodies of every last drop of moisture. Their tongues, once agile enough to catch flies with ease, grew too weak to do so, and their wings that had once carried them to soaring heights had become far too frail to support their weight. Despite the obvious signs of decay, they refused to stop their pursuit of perfection. Their addiction had taken hold, and the only thing that mattered to them was the next surgery, the next modification that would bring them closer to their idealized selves. But little did they know that in their search for perfection, they were losing themselves. With each surgery, their true identities were erased, their once simple existence replaced by an eternal dance of transformation and self-satisfaction. As they fell apart, they refused to stop, driven by their relentless desire for physical perfection. Their bodies, now a ghastly testament to humanity's obsession with appearances, began to crumble. The very surgeries that had once brought them so much joy had turned into a cruel joke, a reminder of their own mortality. No longer could they fool themselves into believing that eternal youth and beauty could be found through the surgeon's knife. But even in the face of their own mortality, they remained unable to turn away from their self-destructive habits. They were too immersed in their own delusions of eternal beauty and the false sense of security that came with it. And as they continued to undergo surgeries, their bodies falling apart piece by piece, they knew deep down that they had made a grave mistake. But by then, it was too late. They were lost, forever trapped in a cycle of beauty and decay, a hypnotic waltz that had taken over their lives without hope of escape.

One fateful day, Narcissus's heart gave out during a routine procedure, leaving Bruce beside himself with unimaginable grief. The surgeon tried everything in his power to revive Narcissus, but it was in vain. The once vivacious and playful Narcissus was now lifeless, his vibrant eyes dimmed, and his shimmering skin dulled. Bruce was inconsolable, unable to imagine life without his beloved friend and partner. But the addiction to surgery had taken hold of Bruce, and he could not bear the thought of living without getting more surgeries. The constant pursuit of perfection had taken its toll on him, and he was now obsessed with modifying his body, always in search of the next procedure to improve or repair his appearance. As Bruce continued to undergo more and more surgeries, he lost sight of himself and the memory of Narcissus became increasingly distant. Every new alteration felt like a small step towards a perfect being, yet only pushed him further away from his true self. His once expressive eyes grew heavy with fatigue, and his once agile tongue could hardly catch a fly anymore. And yet, he never stopped, trapped in an endless cycle of surgeries, each more drastic than the last. With each surgery, Bruce became more isolated, further distanced from his true self and the memory of Narcissus. And in the end, he too died on the operating table, his body unable to withstand the constant strain he had put it under. The surgeon was left alone, surrounded by the corpses of the two frogs who had given up everything to be perfect. The once sterile and pristine surgical room now held a macabre atmosphere of death and decay. The surgeon knew that he had contributed to their deaths, that his desire for power and profit had fueled their addiction. As he wandered the empty halls of the manor, he was haunted by the faint echoes of Narcissus and Bruce's croaking from beyond the grave.