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Dr. Chesterfield, Transsentient

By Meridianbat

Begun April 2012 - Finished August 2014

Foreword

I started this story as just a little something I was playing around with. I decided that Doctor Mellany Chesterfield and her assistant Nurse Tatianna needed to be developed further into characters that I could really play with. At the time I started, I was doing a lot of solo field research and trying desperately to publish a scientific paper, so I really didn't have any time to roleplay as a means to bring these characters out.

After a while, I simply started having inner-monologue style scenarios with my characters. I would go out for my days-long trips, hiking over long stretches of terrain with no one around for miles, all the while talking with these people I had made. I decided on a scenario, and I decided to write something up with the benefit of my field laptop.

I've met some great people over my years in the furry community, a few tried-and-true sort of friends who have never let me down, a few good acquaintances with crazy ideas, and some long-time fans of my work. So I decided to let them in on this one. I had a crazy idea and I needed crazy characters. The next thing I knew, my 'quick idea with a cool ending' turned into something more like a novella, with chapters and a plot and everything. Before I knew it I had written over 20,000 words, and then I just kept going whenever I had a free moment of inspiration. It's taken a long time... but then most of what I do takes a long time.

Just some things I wanted to say. Thank you for reading.

Dramatis Personae

Dr. Mellany Chesterfield :

Rabbit - Female - Genius, technologist, cancer survivor, bisexual, personality disorders, caffeine addict.

Tatianna :

Cockatiel - Female - Genius, physiologist, committed to Mellany, loves old cartoons, stable.

Amanda :

Anteater - Female - Sadist, fetishist, 'feeder', master, roommate to Chelsea. Owner Adamios.

Bali :

Snake - Female - Student, psychologist, straight, sociologist, stripper, loves mammals. Owner Asuraludu.

Chelsea :

Fennec - Female - Overweight, lacks confidence & willpower, tormented by Amanda. Owner Adamios.

Sorrel :

Llama - Female - Body-stretching fetishist, generally normal, somewhat obsessive. Owner Tannim.

Thomas Khitti :

Squirrel - Male - Pyrotechnician, genius, short stature, introverted, anger issues. Owner Kehvarl.

Urbos :

Wolf - Male - Dichromatic, cop, criminal, prostitute, gender-queer, loves his car. Owner Phillis

Chapter 1

Tatianna was nervous; she always was whenever Mellany got like this. Here it was, a beautiful late spring day. A day when all the beautiful people had come out to the beach to show off their bodies to the sun and everyone under it. A day to tell the winter cool just where to go.

It was a day that Tatianna and her life-partner and lover, Mellany, should be out trying to find that special someone... or group of 'someone's... to make their afternoon and evening a memorable one. It was a day for a fling, a romp, or even maybe something more. But instead, Mellany had decided to sequester herself in her basement workshop. And in that basement workshop, anything could happen.

Well, anything except for the beach. And new and interesting partners... and _fun_for Tatianna.

Tatianna glanced toward the mirrored wall of the sun-drenched beach house they shared, taking in her figure against the backdrop of their hardwood floors and window-walls exposed to the bright blue sky and creamy tan sands. She straightened her back as she looked at herself in the mirror, thrusting her ample chest forward so that her miniscule bikini top appeared to be straining to contain it.

A rose-pink swimsuit matched the smooth grey down that covered her front and brought out the red of her cheek feathers. Her hips were so perfectly matched to her body that, had she been staring at another person and not her own reflection, she would have definitely seized the opportunity for a flirtatious encounter. Her beak was shiny, well-polished, and neatly trimmed; a perfect match for her shining black eyes, sunny yellow accents, delicate features, and amazingly un-avian eyelashes.

To top it all off, her feathery crest resembled less a shock of feathers and more the luxurious mane of many mammalian supermodels.

Tearing herself away from her own narcissism, Tatianna inspected how she would present herself to her dearest love. Aside from her bikini, one of Mellany's favorites, she had on the ring that matched her lapine lover's own ring, the sparkling emerald earrings that had been a recent birthday present, and she carried a silver tray. Upon the tray, two 'to-go' thermal cups filled with Mellany's favorite hyper-caffeinated drinks fresh from the machine. Thoughtfully, she angled her arms so that the cups would be prominent in front of the lovely, gigantic, exceptionally un-avian breasts that Mellany so adored. Confident that she would show her favorite girl how much she cared, Tatianna spared only the briefest glance at the cavorting beach-goers and made her way down to the basement lab.

*

Mellany Chesterfield twisted the ratchet handle, satisfied in the minute sound of grinding she heard as the bolt tightened fully. Not a moment after the panel was secure; she had already proceeded to her next task. Sliding a circuit board in front of her face, she lowered the magnifying goggles over her eyes. Grabbing one of the soldering tools and a manipulator suspended from overhead wires, Mellany sent wisps of smoke up as components were pieced together. This would be a control panel, she decided, as she attached microprocessors, input ports, and switches in rapid succession. She had no real clue how all this was going to come together. All she knew was that she had a general idea of her end goal and that somehow it would work.

Her keen ears heard Tatianna upstairs making her approach to the stairwell that lead to her room.No matter, she thought, _nothing can stop my new design. It will be the next step in sentient evolution. The next craze in body modifications!_Before she knew it, she had finished the circuit board and had somehow retrieved her interface pad. As she looked at her progress while audibly noting Tatianna's progress on the stairs, she was surprised to see that several dozen lines of coding already finished.

"Break time!" Tatianna said in her high, chirping voice as she pushed her way into the lab, "I thought my favorite honey bunny would like some of her favorite treats all hot and ready!"

Her voice was cheerful, Mellany knew, but her inflections, timbre, and intonation betrayed an undercurrent of concern that was instantly annoying.

"Just set them on the counter," said the lapine doctor irritably, her fingers flying over the virtual keypad on her tablet, "I'm on to something here."

Tatianna drooped, returning to her more avian posture and letting her ample breasts sag. She hadn't even been able to turn her head! She hated when Mellany got like this!

"Come on love," she said pleadingly, "You haven't had a single sip of coffee in days! You've been down here the whole time! I mean, you barely eat and you're missing out on so much! I know your projects are important but..."

That was when she looked over the components of Mellany's newest design. Armatures, hydraulics, electrical systems, and a dozen shipping containers were strewn over every available space within her lover's cavernous workspace. In a way, it looked more like a science-fiction theme park than a serious laboratory.

"... What _IS_your latest project anyway?" she finished, her tone turned toward amazement.

Several seconds passed before the eagerly typing bunny finished the latest applet code and turned her thoughts toward what she was actually doing. In the bio-tech community there were many who thought her mad for the things she had done. She had pushed the bounds of integrative technology and body modification beyond what many theorists had postulated as possible. The only problem... the one thing that prevented her from winning prize after prize... was that she had no real idea HOW she did it.

Her thoughts turned to the odd nature of her designs. She had the training, yes, and the knowhow. She had aced every engineering, biology, and chemistry class she had ever taken. Yet when she put her mind to making something, she always failed. However, when she just let herself go, when her mind was free to roam, the impossible became real right before her eyes. All she needed was to work undistracted, obsessively, and for as long as she needed and all she needed was an end goal in mind. In her more lucid state, she called it 'stochastic engineering', the method of bringing random, disparate, and unpredictable pieces and making them into a whole working thing. Though her colleagues constantly rejected such notions, she knew that her machines worked.

"The end goal I'm working on," she said at length, "is the very transformation of the sentient condition. I am working on a method to redesign biology and take us into the next stage of evolution that people have been dreaming of since time immemorial. Since the caves and deserts, forests and oceans of our past, people have dreamed of joining... even surpassing... the immortal gods of legend."

"Oookay," Tatianna said uncertainly, her knowledge of anatomy was at least the equal, if not better, than Mellany's but what she said made no sense at all, "how... how is that even possible. I mean... I know your stuff works. But this time... I mean this isn't just cell modification or microsurgery you're talking about."

"I don't know!" Mellany shouted, taking her cockatiel lover by surprise, "You know I don't know! It's just gonna work! I know it! I'm so close! Just another day and I promise I'll be done!"

"Mel... I..." she ran her hands through her down in a nervous gesture of security-seeking. She felt the enhancements that Mellany... no, 'Doctor Chesterfield' as she insisted on being called when on the job... had given her. She looked like a centerfold in any mammalian porno-rag. She had so many features that would have been physiologically impossible for a bird, and she owed it all to the bunny that now held her head in her hands over her workbench.

She had breasts, impossibility number one, that would put most bovines to shame and which were completely bio-active. Not one scrap of plastic or silicone sullied her beautiful breasts. Impossibility number two was the fully functional and responsive nipples that lay tucked under her incredibly soft down feathers. Doctor Chesterfield's feminization treatments had given her additions that could never be achieved through biology.

She ran further through her list of impossibilities; her shapely legs, her hourglass hips, the strength and straightness of her back. She even had a clitoris tucked between her legs; the most envied mammalian feature in all the world, of which only certain species had ever developed besides mammalians. Indeed, she was as mammalian as it was possible to be without trading out her beak and feathers! It had all been impossible and just what she had always wanted.

But this!

"It will work Tats," Mellany said, interrupting the cockatiel's retort, "I fixed you up. I fixed myself. I fixed my life and my hair... and a dozen more things. I made us rich. You can trust me."

"But I..." Tatianna began again.

"Go on. I told you I'll be done in a day or so." Mellany said with a note of finality.

Impossible. There was just no talking to her when she was like this. Tatianna heaved a high-pitched sigh. She loved the obsessive bunny with all her heart, and deep down she knew Mellany loved her back, but this was Doctor Chesterfield talking now. There was no way she was going to win on this one. Filled with resignation, Tatianna made her way back up the steps. The only glimmer of hope was the certain knowledge that when this project was finished, she would have her Mellany back.

Her projects were little more than childish fads. Once the obsession and the test trials were completed, she'd be her same loveable, fun-loving self again. It was the inherent design flaw in super-scientists.

*

Thomas Khitti squinted in the bright light of noon as he focused on the wires in front of him. Steady hands, honed by years of practice and experience, guided his tools. Behind those hands, the mind that guided them knew with utter certainty that if he failed the disaster would be tremendous and cost him everything. Of course, working with explosives, he had always known this. One wrong move, one wrong wire, and the whole show was over. Luckily, Thomas was a squirrel of single-minded dedication and cold logic. No emotions made it through the mental walls he had carefully constructed to foul his practiced hands.

The explosions would be amazing. The onlookers would stare in awe and know his greatness as blast after blast tore through the skies, lighting up the night. If all went well, and when didn't it when Thomas was involved, no one would doubt his power. All would feel his might. The city would tremble with each thunderous burst of violence. The bombs all wired, Thomas retreated to rig the detonators. Running through the calculations in his head, he felt reassured that his talent and genius would not fail him. Enough explosive power to level a city... and he would be the one pushing the buttons.

No one in this puny city would miss this spectacle.

Walking away, he brushed some dust off his bright orange jumpsuit. The giant blue and black 'West-End Fireworks Company' logo shone out against the glaring orange of the back of his jumpsuit, making Thomas far, far too noticeable for his liking. Though he was easily the finest pyro-technician in the country, he was ever reduced to the role of circus clown whenever he got dressed for work. Visions of destruction and his inevitable climb to power raced through his mind as he made his way back to the control van and set out for lunch.

*

Another typical day, Sorrel thought as she hung her purse on the coat rack. A sigh of boredom followed suit, along with her business coat. Still, she felt great relief at the end of her day. Money in the bank, food on the table, and now it gave her an opportunity to relax with a favorite activity or two.

A quick dinner of frozen leftovers came and went, all but forgotten amidst the distracting thoughts of how far she would go this evening. Tonight she planned to stretch herself to a new maximum. Tonight she would know a greater pleasure than all the nights before. She would reach the peak she had previously known and surpass it... and then she would brag to all her friends.

Sorrel made her way to her bedroom, unbuttoning her shirt and skirt as she went. The clothes fell away from her coarse hair, leaving her clad only in her specially made panties. She stopped to admire herself in the full length dressing mirror hung on her closet door. She ran a hand over her lightly furred facial features, very fair and delicate for a llama, and through her curly, thick head hair. She grinned as she moved her hands down her shoulders and over her full and drooping breasts, each tipped with a several-inch long teat. She had worked quite some time to get them to the length they were, and among the body-mod crowd, they were something to be extremely proud of. She lingered a moment there, running her fingers through the coarse outer fur and down to the fine, soft fur beneath.

A boastful grin crossed her face as she stoked her nipples to life, bringing them out to their full nine inches with surprising turgidity. So many of those other body-mod gals had ended up with overly droopy and saggy bits thanks to their insistence and impatience, their haste ruining the process. Sorrel's, on the other hand, were perfect. But tonight wasn't about this part of her. No, tonight was about work as much as it was play.

Smirking as she thought this, Sorrel considered her day-job. She was a desk-jockey. A record keeper for the city sanitation department. Little more than a secretary, really. But by night, she was a queen amongst the body-mod scene. With very few exceptions, she was the most prominent nipple and labia stretcher in the community. Sure some had longer of one and some the other, but none matched her when it came to both.

Which brought her thoughts to the task at hand. Finished with her fondling, she hooked her thumbs under the bands of her panties and stripped them off. She looked at the carefully groomed pubic area on the reflected llama before her, considering that she would definitely need a trim before her next exhibition if everything worked out well this night, but for now all was well.

Unlimbering her labia from the carefully woven knot was an easy task, mastered over years of practice. In moments the string fell away from the rings that pierced her, allowing her flesh to droop free. Luckily, she thought as she always did, things down there were stretchy in the first place. Though her lips now hung free, they were not terribly bigger than a normal woman's. This, of course, was because they had been unused all day. Having no pull applied, they had returned to their more-or-less normal size.

But unfortunately, that normal size had done nothing for the dryness. They needed lubrication and carful tending first. Of course, this task was Sorrel's favorite. It was ever a source of pleasure, pride, and confidence that she could control her body so efficiently as to press the boundaries of biology and still remain healthy and happy.

She lay on her bed as she had done every session before and found her jar of lubricant exactly where she had left it.

Time to get to work.

*

Bali let out a sigh as she slapped her textbook closed. Her mind wrestled with the psychological nuances of the trans-sentient movement, the psychosexual realms of body modification, and the sentient need to seek improvement while retaining the biological imperatives. With a second sigh of frustration, she laid her head on the book. The test was in just four days and still she couldn't completely grasp why so many people felt the driving need to alter their bodies.

She was an ace in her Sentient Sexuality classes... most of the time anyways. Her psychology professors found it amazing how well she grasped the mind and all its wonders. What they didn't see was that her night-time profession lent her great insights into the nature of sexuality, insights that her enthusiastic mind simply gobbled up. It was often amazing to her how much watching the audience as she danced around her pole informed her about those most basic of needs and desires.

But trans-sentientism? It defied logic. Why were people so willing to cast off their biological motivations to become something different? She understood fetishizing the exotic, but some of the modifications that people had inflicted on themselves were beyond reasonable. Even from her volunteer time in the LGBTH alliance, where many people had undergone surgeries for gender reassignment, she hadn't seen the kinds of modifications that this class had covered. It almost reminded her of that Taboo show she had downloaded.

Giving up on studying for the night, Bali glanced blearily at the digital clock across the room. The red letters shone 2:35AM, blurred with halos of red light around the numerals in her sleepy vision. Bali yawned, pulling her mouth to its full, gaping width as she even unhinged her jaw to allow a full stretch. Standing, she continued her stretch, reaching for the ceiling and standing on her toes, her long tail arrow-straight behind her. As she relaxed, she ran her hands down her smooth, scaly body just to feel herself.

Pushing the desk chair in, she made her way across the room to her bed and flopped down upon the plush and fuzzy comforter. For a while she wriggled around, not so much to get comfortable, but just to feel all that fur sliding across her nude body. Content and very sleepy, the whirl of confusion and information gone from her mind, Bali snuggled against her downy soft pillows and was asleep before she knew it.

*

"See ya Monday Phillis!" Urbos shouted across the cubicles as he waved to his friend. Tucking his uniform cap smartly under his arm and brushing his hair back, the black and white wolf made his way out of the station-house. Immediately he stood aside as two fellow officers, both lower rank than he, wrestled an unruly swallow-fellow up the stairs. One noticed him, nodding and giving a polite, "Sergeant," as they pushed the miscreant inside for booking.

Urbos sighed. There went another stupid kid who, by the look of his clothes and the smell wafting from his feathers, was the latest victim of the nation's overextended 'War on Drugs' fiasco. Of course, he felt no sympathy really. In his opinion, even if drugs should be legalized, that level of stupid should always be punished.

Making his way along the dark street, he turned into the TCPD car-park, flashing his badge at the pike-guard without slowing. There, at the end of the parking alley was his love. A 2015 Chevy Corvette ZR3, lovingly restored by his own hands, ice blue, and with more under the hood than most airplanes had. Christine he called her; the name of his imaginary sister when he was growing up. She glistened under the faint lights of the car-park, waiting for him to return and take her on an adventure. No speed he could walk would ever be fast enough to close the distance for his tastes.

The roar of her ignition brought a smile to his face and a light to his eye. Were it not for his interest in continuing his facade of the upstanding policeman, he'd have peeled out right then and there, racing out of the car-park and tearing ass down the streets with abandon. Regardless, he waited only as long as it took to be clear of those known routes to which he was privy before he really let his car open up. A flipped switch rotated his license plate, an illegal modification that would lead his fellow cops on a wild goose chase to try and find the owner if they decided to run it. He knew his skill, his knowledge, and his car gave him practical immunity to being caught anyway.

Later, many miles away, Urbos pulled into his hilltop home's garage. Leaving his car parked within, he took a quick jog down to the end of his drive to check his mail. As he passed the row of trees that lined the upper portion of his property, he caught sight of the ocean, glittering with the light of the full moon overhead. He lingered on the sight awhile, enjoying every minute and thinking well spent every dollar he had paid for this place.

A repetitive tone sounded from his pocket. Checking his prepaid cell, he noticed that the number was from Rinaldo, one of his regulars. Images of the young fox with the hot physique filled his mind as he accepted the call.

"Hey man, I needs da hookups. You down fo' it?" came the sly fox's smooth tone, "I can be at your place in twenty if you' game."

Urbos rolled his eyes. Though Rinaldo had a sexy voice and an even sexier body, Urbos always hated the street slang Rinaldo insisted on using. The man could have been a singer or a poet, and instead he wanted to emulate some punk who wore his pants around his knees. Like he didn't get enough 'trippin' and 'hookup' and 'down' and all that trash when he was busy busting punks for... well... exactly what he was doing now.

"And just what kind of 'hookups' are we talking here Rinaldo? You need to be specific." Urbos replied, keeping his patience.

"All da hookups man. I gots da whole night free. Better yet I gots da green fo' yo' ass." Rinaldo replied.

Urbos rolled his eyes yet again. Though he didn't mind making money, and he certainly didn't mind shafting the system with his illegal dealings, he just wished that Rinaldo didn't just want him for the weed and the sex. Thinking this only helped to bring out other longings. Things he wished he had the power to change.

"Yo, you down?" Rinaldo said at last, snapping Urbos back into business mode. "I ain't got all night."

"Twenty minutes... be here. Don't get followed." Urbos said sternly and hung up without allowing another word.

Jogging back up to his house, Urbos reflected on his life. As he did, he felt a little thrill of excitement. Tonight he would take Rinaldo for all he was worth, violate the system, and get his rocks off all at once. But for now, he needed to prepare.

*

Chelsea huffed and puffed along the shady path, trying hard to concentrate on her exercise and not on the burning of her muscles and the stitch developing in her side.Only half a mile more, she told herself, half a mile and I can stop. Sunlight shone through the branches overhead, birds chirped among them, and motes of pollen and dust floated through the beams of light... all unnoticed by the puffing vixen pushing her way along the trail.

Minutes later, Chelsea stood at her door, panting and wiping at her forehead. Her pink jogging outfit was stained with sweat; lose fur stuck to the patches of moisture left by her exertion. For a while she stood there, breathing hard, trying to get her breath back. The last thing she wanted was to be completely wiped out when she entered, giving her roommate Amanda a chance to pick on her again. Resolved that she was now under control once more, Chelsea opened her door and stepped within.

A burst of new sensory information struck the red fox woman as soon as she stepped inside. The smells and sounds of cooking where everywhere. Delicate savory and spicy scents dominated the room and a haze of greasy steam hung in the air. Sizzling sounds and the clank of pans and utensils told of effort and time devoted to the culinary arts in the next room over. Moreover, her nose, sharpened with hunger from her exertions, could detect faint, sweet odors of baked desserts and tangy fruit. Before she had cleared the entryway, Chelsea was salivating and imagining what delights must be being made at that very moment.

Quickly, she made her way to the kitchen to find her roommate there over a stove full of pans. The kitchen was a mess of mixing bowls and used utensils, the sink positively overflowing with the aftermath of succulent construction. Amanda, a tall, lithe anteater with gravity-defying-ly long hair, glanced over at Chelsea with one eye that showed from the side of her long flat face. A sly, tricksterish look crossed her features as she lifted a sauce covered wooden spoon from the large saucepot. With a slowly spreading grinchy smile, one that could take many seconds to cross the entire length of her cheek she flitted her long, thin tongue out to lick at the delicious smelling red sauce, even as it was only as high as her ribcage.

"Well hey there Chunkarella," Amanda said mockingly after her exaggerated moan of satisfaction, "didja enjoy your little sweat session?"

Chelsea grunted angrily, not ready to give her roomie the satisfaction of a response.

"Well you're just in time!" the mischievous anteater continued, "I'm almost done with my awesome lasagna, all hot and fresh and full of Italiano, and my shortcake is just about to come out of the oven. By the time you get cleaned up and changed, it'll be all ready for you!"

"I'm just... I'm..." the shy and embarrassed Chelsea started. Though everything sounded delicious, she was ever trying to watch her figure... something that Amanda took great joy in ruining for her. "I'm just gonna have my Caesar salad tonight... no offense."

"Oh that old thing?" Amanda said fiendishly, "Nah, it looked wilted... probably got all moldy. I just tossed it."

"Wh-what?!" Chelsea squeaked. She had only bought that salad yesterday! "Y-you threw it..."

"Besides," Amanda said, steamrollering through Chelsea's protest, "this is better for you anyways. Healthy and full of the protein you need to recover."

Her attitude shifted, taking of a hurt, resentful look.

"And you know... I mean I've been cooking this for hours now while you've been out exercising. I did all this for you and now you're gonna just... toss my gift away?"

Chelsea blushed furiously, the red of her cheeks showing clearly through the light orange fur on her cheeks. Even though she knew that she shouldn't break her diet, her desire for the good food, the lack of the _right_food, and Amanda's impressively strong guilt trips overrode her willpower once again.

"All... alright Amanda," Chelsea sighed with resignation, "I'm sorry. I'll go get changed."

"You won't regret it!" Amanda said, instantly returning to a cheerful demeanor. As her plump companion left, shoulders slumped, another grin spread across her face at the obvious lie she had just told. Dropping in another handful of sugar, she returned to her saucepot.

Chapter 2

"There," Dr. Chesterfield said aloud to the empty room, "Finished."

Before her sat a great contraption of gleaming metal, shiny smooth plastic, and thousands of complex moving parts. To her first impression of the completed machine it looked a lot like some sort of futuristic iron maiden, but with dozens of intricate and precise tools suspended all around it. Deep within her mind she knew that this was going to be the crowning achievement of all her work. The pinnacle. The machine that would elevate all sentient beings beyond the pale, limited, mortal concerns of life.

"Computer." She said aloud, bringing her personal supercomputer out of stand-by, "Initiate diagnostic and testing procedures Alpha Seven, Beta Seven, Gamma Twelve, and Delta Vee. Contingency. When procedure Delta Vee concludes, initiate data dump to remote servers and backups. Contingency. When backups are complete, notify user Mellany Chesterfield with Alarm Pink Two. End commands. Begin."

Though the supercomputer was insulated against both heat and vibration, Dr. Chesterfield still heard the whines and grinds as her equipment went to work. Scanning devices initiated, pulling data in about the new apparatus. Tendrils of metal snaked out from the computer, attaching to ports built specifically for them in the machine's surface. Lights blinked and monitors filled with excessive and ultimately useless graphic displays... just as the doctor had designed them to do... showing the progress of the diagnostics, the progress of data files, and the mapping of internal circuitries.

Waiting for the numerous progress bars to finish filling and flashing, Dr. Chesterfield had nothing to do but sit idle. She hadn't needed to double check her work or worry after the possibilities of failure since she was in grade seven, back before she learned of her true talents. She was completely unconcerned now, knowing with total certainty that Computer, her custom-built supercomputer, would find no problems with her design or execution. Vague certainty that the end result would alter a body at a cellular level drifted across her hyper-focused consciousness, imagining the possibilities that a totally efficient and completely customizable body would bring to so many millions, billions even, of sentients across the globe.

The possibilities played out quickly, her attention returned to the workshop even as Computer was grinding its way through its many thousands of executions. With nothing else to do and no goals to meet, Dr. Chesterfield set about cleaning her workspace. In mere minutes she was finished, her workshop being practically flawless thanks to her simple maintenance bots and her habit, ingrained in her by her grandmother so many years passed, of always cleaning as she worked. In fact, as she returned to her seat, she found the one thing out of place.

A silver tray... the one that Tatianna had bought two years, one hundred forty three days ago (if she hadn't lost track of time as sometimes happened) on their trip to the mall... sat upon a normally unused section of counter that was usually kept clear specifically for miscellaneous purposes. Upon the tray were two thermal cups, sealed against the climate-controlled lab air. Flicking her memory back, the doctor recalled the incident a mere thirty hours before, when Tatianna had interrupted to bring the tray down.

She would just have to make up for her snappishness to the sensitive cockatiel. Obviously this work was far more important, not just to her, but to the whole world. Still, Doctor Chesterfield understood that a relationship could not be maintained without mutual happiness. Tatianna was needed. She was an excellent physiologist, top in her field in comparative sentient anatomy, and only still regarded as "Nurse" rather than her true place as the preeminent Chief of Medicine for the world because of her relationship with the doctor. Many in the medical community had panned and pooh-poohed her involvement with Dr. Chesterfield and had summarily shunned her from medical practice. Of course, thanks to her enhancements, the fortune in patents shared with her, and the opportunity to practice in the most revolutionary (and illegal) form of medicine, Tatianna was unlikely to leave. However, she was quite easier to manage when she felt happiness from her hedonistic lifestyle and promiscuous sexual relationship with Mellany.

Doctor Chesterfield idly sipped at the first thermal cup. The sweet liquid inside was still quite warm despite having sat for thirty hours. In fact, she reasoned, with the overall lack of thermal conductance in her design of the cup, thirty hours seemed an adequate amount of time to bring the drink down to perfect drinking temperature. The taste of caramel mixed in with the coffee invigorated her taste buds, reminding her of how long it had been since she took in anything besides the occasional sip of water.

Glancing over at the still-processing computer, Dr. Chesterfield sighed. The diagnostic cycles had only made it through the Alpha Seven protocol. At this rate, the testing might not finish for hours. Hours of nothing to do. Still, she knew she should monitor the progress, just in case something actually did go wrong. Having nothing else in mind, Dr. Chesterfield took another mouthful of the warm, sweet, and quite pleasant coffee.

Her eyes turned away from the visually unnecessary displays to look at her snow-white, furred arm. White was the default color... her original color... for her body hair. When activated, the thermo-dynamic crystal filled microtubules could be made to replicate almost any color or pattern she desired. Of course, in her technical, professional manner, or when she just felt like not using the feature, her hair remained white. A drip of her next drink dribbled down her chin to land in her extensive cleavage, the drop making the only deviation in color from her fur. Quickly she leapt to her feet, fetching a lab towel that she might dab away the spill.

As she wiped, she noticed the coffee had left the hairs a golden yellow, not from stain, but simply because the coffee was at roughly 140 degrees. Of course the rest of her breasts, the parts she could see, of course, remained their pure white. She would only need to let them cool before the discolored hairs returned to normal. Of course, staring down at her extensive chest, unhindered by the prudish and static-ridden notion of clothing, and examining her chromo-dynamic artificial fur only got her thinking about how she came to be the person she was now.

Cancer... so many sentients got it. No matter the species or race, everyone was at a risk for cancer. But Mellany Chesterfield was not the type to let something like aberrant cells ruin her life. Of course, back then she had been an average lapine, nothing special at all to look at. It had ruined her final years of public schooling. The chemotherapy had robbed her body of its covering and the ravages of treatment had turned her into a skin-and-bones parody of the girl that once was. Luckily, the cancer was caught early enough that it was treatable. Unlike many others, she survived.

But during that time, Mellany had thrown herself into the learning of science, technology, and medicine. Even during those tender years, she understood that only though advancements could her life ever hope to be improved. They had cured her, yes, but at a cost she simply couldn't accept. Years of study brought her the knowledge that conventional wisdom told her she would need to progress as an engineer. Unfortunately, it always seemed that her designs fell short. Something always interrupted between planning and execution.

It was then that she decided to throw caution to the wind and simply execute. Her feverish dedication yielded her first real breakthrough in biotechnology. Within four years she had the tools to work at the microcellular level and had built her own computer system to cope with the massive amount of information contained within a body. Showing her achievements off brought her accolades and jealous hangers-on, but when it was found that she was unable to replicate the machine or produce schematics for the design, the scientific community turned against her.

Mellany smiled at the thought of those old days. There she had been, just an average female, as naked-pink bald as the day she was born, discussing a machine she had built in her garage to the top figures in her field. She took another drink, tilting the cup back that she might drain the last of the caramel liquid delight from the cup. Without missing a beat, she set the empty cup down and swiped up the second, tasting its white-chocolate goodness an instant later.

The scientific community rejected her, but several private funding sources were most interested in her work. Private interests inevitably wanted the wonderworks that Dr. Chesterfield produced, and being that they could have them without pesky plans or duplicates floating around, the greedy were quick to monopolize on her incredible machines. Thus did she become wealthy, selling off the dozens of trinkets she made while having nothing better to do.

Of course, she always kept the best for herself. Computer, her self-made science machine, had grown every time she made a breakthrough, expanding technologically and technically as it absorbed the intricate, physics defying designs that flowed from Dr. Chesterfield's instinctive building. Mellany mused that Computer was the only one who truly understood anything she had made. She could always make a new thing, but no matter how she might try, the things she made to do the same task were always quite different. Some were better, others not much more than a clunking pile that somehow achieved her desired effect and nothing more. Computer, and the sub-machines housed all over the world, were packed full of diagnostic data and circuit mappings, all recorded and pure without the attempt of interpretation a sentient mind would try.

Her best inventions, the machine that implanted her 'mood fur' directly into her inactive follicles, the machine that had finally eradicated the resurgence of her cancer that happened later, and her wildly successful feminizing machine, had all been tested, stored, and cataloged. But those projects were behind her now. She had all she needed out of them. This was a new day! A new step forward!

Mellany stretched, her half full coffee still in hand, and rose to her feet. Groaning at the stiffness that had crept into her joints and muscles, she ran her free hand down her bare side, stopping only to scratch an itch under her thigh-fur. A giggle shuddered through her as she watched the scintillating patterns of blinking lights as Computer moved through the final steps of diagnostic Delta Vee. No errors had been detected, not that Mellany was surprised, and the machine was preparing to execute its contingent protocols and upload everything to the big storage servers.

Hopping a bit to work out her tired muscles, Mellany had to wrap an arm around her expansive breasts to keep them from interfering too much. Her leg muscles burned in protest and her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in quite some time. Coffee, on an empty stomach, had taken hold of the fun loving part of Chesterfield's mind and, seeing that it was no longer needed, the technical genius of Doctor Chesterfield made way.

*

Tatianna sighed as she sank deeper into the couch. Lazily she let her head roll back, not caring at all what was playing on the massive plasma screen before her. The volume was muted anyways, she thought, stretching her arms and legs out wider, intending to take up as much of the padded furniture in the room as she could. The light of the setting sun shone past the edges of the wall upon which the television hung, illuminating the glass wall of the beach house behind her. If a peeping tom with a telescope had tried to get a look within, they would only see glare and a wide black section where the TV and furniture was.

Eyes lazy, Tatianna grappled with her boredom by picking out shapes in the ceiling material. Here was one bulge that reminded her of the upper thoracic cavity of a female marmoset... there, another that looked an awful lot like a sports car. Still more could be imagined to be various organs, systems, faces, animals, objects...

The door that lead to the laboratory slammed, snapping Tatianna to attention with shock. Half a dozen bounding steps brought the excited looking Dr. Chesterfield into the living room, just as Tatianna had righted herself and wrapped her evening robe around her voluptuous figure. The wild stare in the rabbit doctor's pink eyes told Tatianna all she needed to know. This was Mellany... the work was finished. Sighing with relief, Tatianna allowed herself a small smile.

"All done!" Mellany cheered, bouncing lightly on her large toes, showing Tatianna the full wonder of her lapine lover's anatomy in the process. Dr. Chesterfield insisted on working in the nude, her fur having been designed, somehow, to resist static and prevent unwanted electric fields from ruining her work. Of course, now that Mellany was herself again, she had not yet bothered with the trivial point of getting dressed. Not that Tatianna minded, however.

"Do you know what you got done this time?" Tatianna asked coyly, feeling herself being swept up in the bouncing bunny's boundless energy.

"Uh huh!" said Mellany in her valley-girl-esque manner, "I constructed a bio-efficiency enhancing device that reorganizes homeostatic cellular clusters into poly-cellular super-processors capable of stimulus adaption and programed production of non-biological compounds in addition to their common bio-functions and allows for the integration of outside information sources that facilitate the enhancement of the new factory-like mega-cells beyond the realm of normal biological capacity!"

Tatianna had to take a moment to process. Though she was quite capable of naming most every process a body could perform, as well as the results of those processes, she came up short with Mellany's barrage of jargon.

"So... yes?" Tatianna chirped uncertainly. Whatever it was, at least she was sure it worked.

"Yep!" Mellany said peppily, "now, I'm really feeling... empty. I think we need to go out and fix that."

Tatianna giggled knowing that, while Mellany hadn't eaten anything substantial in quite a long time, food was not the only thing on her amorous companion's mind. Still, the set-up was made, and she knew she had to respond with her own jab.

"Alright. We'll go out and get you filled up," Tatianna whistled smoothly, "Though I wonder how people will react when you strut your stuff like _that_in a nice restaurant."

"You're right!" Mellany said, exaggerating her motions as she looked over her nude supermodel-like body, "I really have got to do my hair! How do you think leopard stripes would look?!"

"Leopards have spots dear," Tatianna replied amusedly.

"Hah! You've never seen _my_kind of leopards." Mellany said with a swish of her hips, "But yeah... I should probably go get dressed, huh?"

Tatianna's reply was a happy roll of laughter and a wave of her hand, ushering her love to the bedroom to get changed.

"Coming with?" Mellany said seductively, pushing her hips out with each teasing step she took.

"We'd never get a thing to eat." Tatianna replied, enticed but far too wily.

"Well... I don't know about that..." Mellany said slowly.

"Just go get dressed." Tatianna laughed.

"Alright then." Mellany said softly as she wrapped herself around the doorframe, sliding into the room, while showing off her curves, "and Tats?"

"Yes love?"

"I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have snapped at you." Mellany said apologetically as she slipped the rest of the way into the room.

*

Bali hated looking through sources. It was possibly the most boring thing in academia. Open up your search engine, scroll through abstract after abstract, always looking for something relevant. And ever paper she found with a nugget of information was saved into an ever growing folder of studies that all didn't _quite_address what she hoped to know. G-Scholar, Psych-Web, Cite-wurks, Web of Learning... all of them just couldn't find her the right kind of things. Did no one do ANYTHING on body-mod fetishism?

Frustrated, she tried a different route. She looked instead for doctors who performed such surgeries. Plastic surgeons. If anyone knew anything about this sort of thing, they would. She would trawl their personal webpages, check all their publications (every doctor had at least ONE publication), and even cold-call them and search through their patients comments if she needed to. After all, "personal conversation" was a perfectly valid citation for her paper.

Hours of searching later, she was only slightly further along than she had been. She had a list of every plastic surgeon in Three-Bays county, from the hills to the beaches and all the land in between. Every scrap they ever wrote was filed away, awaiting her perusal. It was only when she went looking through the authors and try to cross-reference them... see who did the most work... did she notice something odd. It was an outlier. Someone that just wasn't the same.

M. Chesterfield, PH.D, appeared in exactly one journal article; 'the process, effects, and maintenance of artificial mammalian dermal hair replacement; a method for permanent fur replacement and addition' wherein the doctor that Bali had researched was only the third author. In many fields this wouldn't have been unusual but, since plastic surgeons were typically private practice or associated with the same medical group, Doctor Chesterfield's presence stuck out like a sore thumb. And with a topic like artificial fur replacement and addition? Perhaps this would be interesting.

A quick search made her heart droop. Doctor Chesterfield... Mellany Chesterfield had been largely discredited. An up and coming biotechnician, she had been panned by her peers over allegations of fraud and misconduct. Why that surgeon had even bothered putting that paper up... it was like academic poison waiting to strike! Still, Bali was intrigued. There were a number of supporters demanding her return to the field.

And then she found Carolyn.

Some anonymous uptown ex-gymnast who claimed that Dr. Chesterfield had changed her life... and that she had ruined it. It was all anecdotes and exaggerated claims... until Bali read over the brochure Carolyn had scanned into her blog.

'Are You Uncomfortable About Your Bust Size?' it had read, causing Bali to roll her eyes... so this was just a flat gymnast who wanted big silicone ta-ta's... but as she read on, she noticed that this brochure was unlike any she had ever seen. It had scientific studies attached to it! A whole Works Cited section even! Feeling like it would be too good for belief, Bali immediately searched for each article cited, amazed every time as each paper showed up from a legitimate science journal. They were all biotechnology, yes, but they were all aimed at one same topic; the changing of the sentient form!

At last she knew how to proceed. All she had to do was get ahold of Doctor Mellany Chesterfield.

*

"Ready test subject number 187," Dr. Chesterfield called over the noise of her workshop. Though her new machine and the computer were silent, the noise that two hundred experimental lab rats could make in an enclosed space was phenomenal.

"187, ready for procedure." Tatianna whistled above the squeaking, scratching din.

"Computer. Run initial scans of subject 187 on all bio-signs. Contingency. When scans are complete then correlate scans with genetic profile for 187. Contingency. When correlation is complete, Run sequence TransMouse dot E X E. Contingency. When TransMouse dot E X E is complete, Run secondary scans of subject 187. Execute."

"Beginning Initial Scan Sequence." said Computer. "Estimated Time To Completion, One Hour Fifty Two Minutes."

"Alright," yelled the doctor, "I think we can take a break for now."

The pair made their way out of the lab. As the large, soundproofed door sealed shut, both doctor and nurse heaved a great sigh of relief.

"Okay!" Tatianna chirped, "Two hours! Let's hit the beach and find us some fun!"

"One hour and fifty minutes," Dr. Chesterfield commented before taking a drink of her coffee, sitting neatly on an end-table near the lab door. Almost immediately Tatianna noticed a shudder running through her love. The brightness was already working its way into her eyes.

"I really should lay off this stuff if I'm going to get any work done," said the fleeting vestiges of Dr. Chesterfield in Mellany's sweet valley girl voice. Still, there was no arguing with the intense caffeine addict that lived within her head. A minute later the cup was empty and another few more and Mellany bounced out the door with Tatianna and on to the beach. Tatianna clad in her skimpiest bikini and the now-pink Mellany in a tight slingkini.

*

Urbos stretched on his surfboard as the sunlight beat down upon him. What a perfect day this was! Good waves, plenty of sun, and lots and lots of hot bodies to stare at. He had been catching surf all morning and now, his lunch settled nicely in his stomach, he wanted nothing more than to lay himself out on the sand and let time pass him by.

If the guys on the force only knew that he had called in sick so he could lay on the beach and enjoy the money that marijuana and one horny fox had brought him... well the chief would probably burst every vein in his head with the rage-pressure. It was a modest little sum... plenty enough to cover a missed day of chasing the criminals that the law made. Looking off to the side at a pair of fine feminine forms just confirmed that, money or no, he was right where he wanted to be. The other side revealed a form just as fine, but masculine. It was all Urbos could do to contain himself before making a gaffe.

His thoughts drifted to his own body, toned by years of police work and extracurricular exercise... still, he would trade it in to be more feminine. The prostitution had taken him only so far, and often he wished he could experience womanhood. He was still a man, of course, and was desirous of both sexes. He had no real conception of what it was like to be female, however, and it pained him. Still, he wouldn't let some surgeon mutilate him to achieve his impossible dream. The same genetics that had given him his black-and-white pelt, his mesomorphic body type, his fine features and cunning mind all meant that he was stuck, a man who wished he could be more.

"Oooh what about him?" whistled a voice from back over his shoulder.

"Mmmm, wolfie boys always know how to make a gal howl," cooed another.

Urbos snapped his head around to behold the owners of the voices. The two fine females he had spied earlier were now almost upon him! They had bodies like centerfolds and easily the four largest bouncing tits that had ever been restrained by fabric. His eyes goggled at them... they were looking right at him!

A rabbit with pink fur, a dye job most definitely, but arranged in leopard spots? No wait... the leopard pattern went in stripes too?! He certainly had never seen that before, pink leopard spots in stripes... She must have paid a fortune for such detail! Urbos couldn't wrap his mind around why anyone would have that fur-pattern, but all the same it was incredibly exotic and spoke of someone who had a LOT of time to devote to their look.

But that amazement was nothing compared to her companion. A cockatiel... a real live cockatiel... but with TITS?! She was as luscious as the bunny babe. How much plastic surgery did SHE have to endure?! These chicks must be looooaded!!!

Urbos shook his head in disbelief. Still they approached him. HIM of all people.

"Hey there hot stuff," the bunny said in a voice that screamed 'ditzy valley girl'. Urbos was more surprised that she hadn't used the word 'like' about eight times in that statement than he was that she had spoken to him.

"Good day ladies," Urbos said politely as he could.

"You gonna use that board?" the cockatiel said playfully.

"I love a man who knows how to handle his wood," the bunny joined in lewdly.

"How about show us a trick or two?" chirped the cockatiel, "and maybe later we can show you one."

Urbos looked around nervously, a blush heating his cheeks beneath his fur. True he was a manwhore, a police officer, and a drug dealer... but there was just something about actually interacting with women that just put him off. Criminals, junkies, and frothing lust-monsters he could handle, but a girl showing genuine interest...

Sure he was cut from years of grueling physical work. He trained his body every day and was quite cut. It wasn't any lingering doubts about his physical looks. It was just that he never knew just what to say to females. He never expected them to show much interest despite his physical attractiveness. But here they were and now he knew he just had to make the best of things. Who knew? Maybe they weren't just playing with him. After all they did talk about his board and if there was one thing he loved, it was showing off.

"Alright ladies" Urbos said in what he hoped was a smooth manner, "How about I ride some waves and show you how I work my plank."

"We'll be watching," said the bunny, "Catch a good one."

"Show us your 'riding' skills," the cockatiel exclaimed, "So we can know what to expect later."

Not long after, Urbos had paddled his way out on his funboard past the whitewater. The waves had been good all day, and he was hoping for a suitably impressive set to show off his big surf moves. Though his board was one usually favored by beginners, he had brought it to the beach today only to enjoy himself. Luckily, he had one long enough to allow him to catch the larger breakers without too much issue. He had noticed quite a few good ones already on his way out.

Finally, his moment arrived. He felt the swell beneath him and let the water be his guide. With a burst of energy he popped up, squaring his hips and feet, feeling the rush as the water pushed beneath him. Balance fixed, he coaxed the nose of his board up, taking it off the lip of the wave as it started to break to slide down the face. Again and again as the wave built he drove his board into the air, working against the rising water. He knew the wave would be cresting, so with one last surge of momentum, he breached the peak, throwing himself into a 540 and catching back on the face of the wave as the peak began to spill over. Now the barrel formed; a rolling curl of water like a hollow tube. Angling his board he raced along the inside, attempting to stay clear of the folding water so that his beach bunnies could see.

It wouldn't hold, he saw as the wave started to spill over faster than before. Pulling his board out, he rode the rising water clear of the barrel, pushing himself over the leading edge. Now on the other side, he simply rode the remainder of the swells back onto the beach as the wave crashed against the sand. He did his best to look nonchalant as he hopped down into the wet sand and picked up his board.

They were still there! Better yet, they looked genuinely impressed!

"Have I been standing in the surf Tats? I feel like the water got up to my waist!" said the bunny

"Oh you're fur is as dry as my feathers Mel," replied 'Tats', "But I sure know how you feel!"

The girls sprinted up beside Urbos, each taking an arm even despite the board under one of them. The black-and-white wolf was quite surprised to notice that both were nearly as tall as he was, and he was not short by any means! That familiar blush heating his cheeks, Urbos was lead up the beach. He might have questioned or even protested such impetuous treatment, but at this point he was simply too amazed to have such attention. That and he certainly liked where this was going.

"I'm Urbos, by the way." He said sheepishly.

"I'm Mellany and this is Tatianna," said the bunny, who was decidedly more pink than she had been when first he had seen her, "and I don't know about you, but I'm just dying to get out of this wet suit! My place is just up the beach a way."

Urbos' eyes followed her pointing finger to one of the severely expensive looking beach houses that bordered the expanse of sand they were walking on. A place of pearly white, glass walls, mirrors, and no doubt incredible luxury. As he made his way, he glanced at the girls on his arms and wondered again just how loaded they must be.

Chapter 3

Sorrel tightened the straps on her corset, feeling the pressure build as her chest compressed another centimeter. Her bosom stood out from the half-cups of the bodice, drooping only slightly despite the length of her teats. Finishing her knots, she looked herself over in the mirror. She was ready for this night, a night that would see her more popular than ever among her circle of friends. Tonight was the Body-Mod Ball, an event attended by hundreds as they showed off the extremes to which they had taken themselves. Tonight she would see gauged piercings in dozens of places, tattoos that pushed the boundaries between art and magic, and parts altered beyond the mortal limits they were born into.

She would be there. She would be fawned over by all as she showed off her modifications as well. Of this she was certain, for no one else could match the length of her labia. Fanboys would drool over them. This wasn't about sex, of course, but still the attention was nice. With a chuckle, she imagined the reactions if the gals at work could only see her in action!

There was a fireworks celebration just before the Ball, something about a grand opening since all the 'fireworks holidays' were at least three months away. Still, it would be a nice thing to watch.

Content that she would be appropriately dressed for the Ball, she threw on her set of street clothes over her black lace-and-leather bodice, pulled on a pair of matching panties under her skirt, and set out.

*

"Hey Chel!" Amanda shouted up to Chelsea's room, "CHEL!!"

"What..." Chelsea said grumpily. Her stomach gurgled as it attempted to cope with the great meal she had only so recently finished stuffing into it. Once again, Amanda had served up some delicious treat, and once again the timid vixen simply couldn't help herself.

"Why don't you roll yourself down here. We're gonna go out tonight!"

"Go out? Where are we going? I'm not feeling too well, I think I'll just stay home," Chelsea said with more than a hint of annoyance. Last minute plans were not her favorite thing, and Amanda's spontaneity made certain there were a lot of them.

"You'll see! We're gonna go watch fireworks first, but then I've got somewhere for us both to be. A real crazy party, you'll love it," Amanda replied, still shouting despite her climb up the stairs toward Chelsea's room. Not even bothering to ask, she barged in and made her way straight for Chelsea's closet.

"Come on, you've gotta get dressed!"

"I... I said I don't want to go out. I'm not feeling well," Chelsea insisted, summoning all her courage just to do so.

"Oh yeah, what are you gonna do otherwise? Gonna try and jog yourself into a heart attack? Gonna finish off the ice cream and cry all night? Come on girl! You've gotta get out there and be social! You're never gonna drop all that weight sitting here all day. I'm only trying to do what's best for you."

Chelsea sagged a bit further on her bed. Though she knew it was likely not true, she never could resist when Amanda got this way. It was a special brand of 'mother guilt' and poutiness that tugged at her heartstrings. Hesitantly, reluctantly, she got up and started dressing. Though she hurt inside from Amanda making jabs at her cursed chubbiness, she was determined not to let her roommate see. The last thing she needed was to be berated for 'ruining the night' again.

"Alright," she said as she pulled on a pair of nice socks, "So where are we going and... and why do I feel both more formal and more slutty than normal?"

"We're going to a Ball tonight!" Amanda said cheerily.

*

Days of work were about to pay off. Everything was rigged, the weather was perfect, and night was almost fully upon them. It was even a dark night, not a moon in sight to mess things up. Not that it mattered, of course, thought Thomas as he finished the wiring. Moon or no moon, no one would be distracted by some boring white orb.

People were gathering in droves, all waiting to witness his spectacle. Lots more were probably the freaks that were attending some local 'underground' adult event, he thought, but it didn't matter. Everyone would pre-game at his event. The only thing that was missing was a giant sign with the name 'Thomas Khitti' spelled out in lights to inform these petty peasants who had gifted them with such a show! He would never get the credit he deserved. He would always be that short Asian Squirrel guy in the crazy jumpsuit that no one paid attention to or cared about. He would be mentioned in the credits... but who ever really read the credits after the movie was over?

Still. It was almost time. The show must go on. His hands were at the controls.

It would be spectacular.

*

Urbos was nearly exhausted. If it weren't for the constant physical demands of his jobs, he had no doubt that those two would have worn him out entirely. Still, something about them made his body crave more. When money was involved things were different, but here and now he felt like just detaching his manhood to let it have fun while the rest of him rested. It was a strange sort of dualism.

Quickly drying himself after his shower, he wrapped the towel around his waist. He could feel the girls' eyes upon him as they did likewise. The shower had been frisky, not intense like _before_the shower. It was more about being playful than having a physical experience. These ladies were insatiable it seemed, having kept him busy until he completely lost track of time.

"We should get ready," Tatianna chirped, the notes of lust still in her singsong voice, "We've got the Ball in just a little while!"

Mellany sighed heavily, sounding like she was torn between the fun they had been having and the event she had planned. Urbos had no idea what this 'ball' was about, but he had a sudden nagging feeling that he had better start retrieving his clothes.

"Well I guess," Mellany said with a slightly grumpy edge in her voice, "I mean we need volunteers anyways. That and we did already schedule the ride and all."

Urbos slung his wetsuit shirt over his pants which were already hanging from his arm. Both were still damp with saltwater and he did not fancy having to walk all the way back to his car for his street clothes. He had just showered after all.

"Hey," he heard over his shoulder. Soon after, a hand snaked around his waist, just over the top of his towel, "Aren't you gonna escort us to the Ball? You can be our date. And you know what happens when the date is over right?"

Her hand had slipped under the towel, her fingers emphasizing her meaning.

"I... umm... sure?" Urbos said nervously, feeling arousal fighting back his fatigue. Certainly this sort of thing had never happened to him before! "What sort of ball is this? Is it formal dress or something? I mean... just what am I escorting you to?"

"Ooooh, fancy dress!" tweeted Tatianna, "We should totally go all dressed up!"

"I like that idea," Mellany agreed, "And we can use my old dress-up machine! I haven't touched that old thing in years!"

"Dress-up machine?" Urbos muttered as four hands dragged him through the house. Towels dropped, useless and forgotten, as the three streaked through the house toward Dr. Chesterfield's lab.

Urbos could stop looking about as he walked down the steps. From the glass and wood of the house, the hallway and room beneath took on the sheen of brushed metal. It was like stepping into some kind of sci-fi movie. As he caught sight of the array of machinery packed into the cavernous basement (it must have gone under half the beach, he thought) he fully expected to see active circuits shooting lightning around the place. Devices beyond description were everywhere, attached to dozens of monitors, many of which were dark. One bank, a very prominent one, was active, scrolling through data like something he'd seen in those Matrix movies.

Tatianna and Mellany led their new friend to one machine that looked like some weird exam table stood up on its end. It had parts all around that arched over its sides like in that 'Space Trip: The New Interval' show.

"Doctor," a mechanical voice sounded over an unseen PA system, "The Latest Tests Are Ready For Your Perusal."

"Understood." Mellany said automatically with a tone that betrayed both curiosity and frustration, "Computer. Initialize Chesterfield Dressing Unit Alpha 1. Set parameters for Tatianna and select a female formal design consistent with the Body Mod Ball. Contingency. When Tatianna's dress is complete, prepare for new male occupant. Addendum. Save new male occupant parameters as name Urbos; U R B O S. Contingency. When Urbos parameters are saved, set parameters for Urbos and select a female formal design consistent with the Body Mod Ball. Contingency. When Urbos's dress is complete, set parameters for Mellany and select a female formal design consistent with the Body Mod Ball. I would like something slinky. End commands. Begin."

"Tatianna, Enter Dressing Zone," said the computer voice.

Tatianna winked at Urbos as she stepped into the alcove. A few seconds beeping and flashing lights, as well as a flickering scanning beam crossing her alluringly naked body, and the machine began its magic. Armatures extended from unseen panels along the sides of the upright table. These first cupped around her body and then encircled it, forming a sort of 'hoop manikin' around Tatianna. Then a flow of colors, which it took Urbos a fair few seconds to recognize as fine threads, extruded from the armatures. In mere seconds, sheets of precision woven fabrics obscured that downy-feathered body as the threads tightened around, blocking out the light. The dress seemed to shrink-wrap itself onto her, stitching together practically invisibly as the machine built the dress upon her. As the threads tightened, Urbos even saw subtle designs seem to 'pop' from the material. Embroidery so fine it would take a skilled craftsman months to replicate.

It was a cream dress, stitched with silver and lavender. All one piece, it shimmered like new silk and accented every curve and motion she made. It was like someone had frozen milk upon her, but yet kept it shiny and wet. The skirt went down past her knees but was slit on both sides all the way up her thighs. The bra much have been built in too, because he saw no straps of any kind despite the gravity-defying and very prominent nature of her bosom. It was all perfectly custom tailored, just for her. And incredibly the entire process had taken only three short minutes.

Tatianna stepped away, looking radiant in her new clothes, and gestured Urbos to take his place. A mixture of curiosity, amazement, and only a pinch of nervousness came like a slap to his back, sending him springing in front of the device.

The scanning took longer, he noticed, as the computer had to build an entirely new profile, instead of simply updating an existing one as it did with Tatianna. At seemingly random intervals, the computer would demand that he change his position that it might scan his inseams. Still, the full body scan only took five minutes. Then the armatures emerged. Similar to Tatianna's dress, they hooped around him, but unlike hers, a pair of the mechanized arms wrapped around each leg. They were making trousers, he realized to his comfort, and not a skirt. Again the threads came out, layering on to him like a cloud condensing into water droplets. He held very still, face forward, wanting to be surprised with what the machine made for him.

And surprised he was as the machine finished just two minutes later. He felt the weight of the cloth settle upon him as the machine disengaged. He took a step out from the station and glanced down at his body. It was a tuxedo, of course, in the very latest of styles. But what shocked and amazed was how the machine had somehow woven one side pitch-black and the other stark white! The colors were opposite his own, making him stand out against the fabric with as much contrast as possible!

Mellany was beside Tatianna when he came back to his senses. He thought he heard her say something like "100% success" before turning her attention back to him and the machine. She was still completely bare, he noticed, her fur having turned a shining shade of pure white. How she had time was a mystery to him, though he assumed that she must have had another machine do it for her. She bounced happily up to the dressing alcove and stepped in.

"So what are you, some kind of inventor?" Urbos said suddenly as the machine activated, preparing her dress.

"Some kind, yeah," Mellany giggled as the armatures hooped around her, "I made all these myself."

"By yourself?!" Urbos exclaimed, "you've gotta be some kind of genius!"

"Some kind, yeah," Tatianna said with a laugh, "She's got a really 'can do' mind in her."

The dressing machine was sending out waves of silver thread as Urbos watched in astonishment, coming to grips with the fact that he had just met, made love to, and was now escorting, a crazy-smart mechanical genius who couldn't be less than a multi-millionaire! He was in the presence of possibly the smartest person he would ever meet in his whole life... and she talked like some ditzy blonde from high-school... and looked like a supermodel.

"Never judge a book by its cover, that's what grandma always said," Urbos whispered under his breath.

"That's good advice!" Mellany laughed as the machine finished. It was only then that Urbos remembered that a rabbit's 'cover' included two long and sensitive ears.

Mellany's dress was astounding. The computer had certainly taken her request for 'something slinky' both literally and figuratively. It was shining silver, made up of one long coiling piece that showed almost as much of her as it covered. The coil-dress started just under her arms and ended just below her hips. It was so snug and form-fitting that Urbos briefly wondered if she's be able to move properly. Still, it was easily the most intricate dress he had seen anyone wear.

"Well now," said Melanie as she stepped out of the alcove and rand her hands up and down her body, "Don't we just make the threesome. We should go and let Derek know that we're ready."

Up and out of the lab, the trio made their way out to the beach-house's front. There in the driveway stood a onxy-black limousine, waiting for them. A man stood outside the driver's door, Derek, dressed in a formal black tux, white driving gloves, and a cap that did nothing to contain the shoulder-length flow of champagne-colored hair that graced his head.

"Derek and I bartered some services," Mellany said confidently, "I fixed up a few things for him and he gives us limo service whenever we want."

With a tip of his hat and a knowing smile, Derek ushered them inside the spacious luxury car. The inside was stocked with all manner of drinks, a wraparound couch, and a number of secret compartments containing all sorts of amenities to help with the hijinks that could happen in the back of a limo. It wasn't long at all, barely had they left the driveway infact, before the girls were helping themselves to some 'entertainment' at Urbos' expense.

The fact that the clothes were all 'easy access' by design, and that certain articles had been omitted from the 'dressing process' made the ride a very enjoyable one.

*

Flash after flash lit the air with every color of the spectrum. The booms of thunderous explosion came less than a second later, setting up a syncopated sort of rhythm between flash and bang. The crowd below oohed and aahed, with every flower of burning light that erupted before their eyes, all in time to some invisible orchestra led by some unseen conductor.

Thomas Khitti was that conductor. While he didn't wave a baton about, he might as well been conducting a major symphony. He had no time to see the charges going off in the sky above. He needed his sight down upon the ground, on the controls. Just as ever, one stupid mistake could ruin the whole show. He had everything set up, with back-up charges set so that if one misfired, he could react in a split second to send out a replacement. None of the fools out there knew the difference. None knew the intricacies.

"They're probably all the type to blow their fingers off with south-of-the-border stuff." He mused to himself, "Probably all Bic Lighters and Sparklers. Petty little ignoramuses."

He could practically smell the people lining up for that adult exhibition they called a 'ball'. They were lined up across the street, watching the show, waiting to go in and show off their crazy piercings and tattoos. Thomas shook his head. He was willing to bet that for all that 'body modification' stuff that no one had ever worked to make someone taller, or stronger, or... less like a weak little squirrel. They all wanted to be something else, but just contented themselves with jamming metal and ink into themselves.

A few more workings of the controls and the main show was over. The sequence was complete. Looking over his launchers, Thomas was surprised that he had only used three of the replacement charges... three failures... usually it was less. Still, he had a great lot of unexploded fireworks, all rigged and wired and ready to go...

His hand brushed over the control pads.

"What are they gonna do? Fire me?" he said with a chuckle as he activated the back-up sequence. More shots blasted into the sky, erupting in a great finale that no one had been expecting. Dozens of blasts went off every second as over two hundred fireworks went off in a manner similar to a child running their hand down a piano keyboard. This Thomas did not miss. He was the child and these were his piano keys. Sure the boss would get on him for wasting fireworks, but what did he care in the end. It was this or unwire them and risk them not working in the future.

The moments of childhood bliss subsided. Thomas pulled out his earplugs and set to work dismantling the important stuff. The menials would come by soon, most of them college students paid a pittance to clean up after him. That was alright, but some things were just too important to be left to a bunch of slack-jawed kids that shouldn't have graduated high-school but somehow did anyway.

It was minutes later that he heard someone else in the area.

"This zone is off limits. There's some dangerous stuff here." He said curtly without looking.

"I see some dangerous stuff alright," said a very feminine voice, "but it's wearing a jumpsuit. I hope it won't explode."

Thomas turned sharply around. No one had ever talked to him like that before!

"Are you the pyrotechnician?" said the mysterious figure at the entrance to the operations cage, "I wanted to personally thank whoever it was that set up such a perfect display."

She was dressed in a silver mini-dress the likes of which Thomas had not seen before. It looked like someone had wrapped her in a slinky! She was a shining white, head to toe, and had glowing pink eyes. What really caught his attention were her ears. They stood so perfectly from her head he almost believed they were fake. Of course several other assets also screamed 'fake' about her.

"I... Yeah, I'm the guy," Thomas said in his most polite 'leave me alone' voice, "thanks for your... um... thanks. But I really have got to get this stuff packed up."

"Aww, that's too bad." She said with over-emphasized sadness, "I really was hoping to discuss your thermochromodynamic procedures. The richness of the hues and those color transitions were really striking. But I guess I'll have to wait till you're ready."

"We... I made my own chemical mixes," Thomas said suddenly, practically interrupting this newcomer's last sentence, "I found that the factory-batched ones never have the right 'oomph' and that too many of them fail for my taste."

"You mean you pack your own? But don't you work for a company?" the lady asked, her tone betraying her technical knowledge of such things, "How do you keep funded?"

"Fireworks are what I do," Thomas said, "I've just got a passion for blowing things up. The boss knows it. That's how we've gotten the gold at the last three Pyro-lympics... me. If I left; well there goes their champion status. So they let me do what I want. I made all the controls myself too."

"Oooh, a _genius_pyrotechnician," the mystery woman cooed, "I love the kind of brains that can compete with mine."

Inwardly, Thomas still had his doubts. In his mind he thought back to that old joke about the 'hillbilly brain-surgeon'. Still, she seemed to know what she was talking about. For several minutes they simply stood there, talking in jargon about circuit triggers and chemical mixes, self-propulsion and mortars. She was able to think and respond about as fast as he, and a whole conversation was had in just a few minutes that would have sounded like babbling and nonsense to the lesser mind.

"Well anyways," she said at last, "I've left my escorts waiting. But it was so great to actually meet you mister... umm..."

"Khitti," he said, bracing himself for the laughter at his name, "Thomas Khitti."

She didn't laugh. She didn't even crack a smile (though to be honest, she'd been wearing one since he saw her), and instead simply stuck out her hand to shake his. The joke couldn't have been lost on her, he knew, but perhaps she was one of those people who could understand what it was to have a joke name. He didn't shake her hand, his body language making it obvious that he didn't like to be touched.

"I'm Doctor Mellany Chesterfield," she said evenly, no offense in her voice. Instead she flicked her wrist and produced a business card as easily as any street magician would have.

Thomas did have to keep in a smirk and laugh. She had at least as ridiculous a name as his. He just couldn't let himself laugh at it. How could he think to do to her what so many had done to him? What she _hadn't_done to him?! She hadn't laughed. So instead he simply nodded and took the card.

"Maybe we can meet up and talk tech sometime. I've got a couple interesting explosions you might enjoy. How about lunch tomorrow? I'm free if you are." She said with a final wink before disappearing from the operator's cage.

Thomas walked after her, surprised to find the gate to the cage locked... as it had been before she arrived. Had she been able to bypass a locked gate just like that?! Those locks were built to keep just about anyone out. She'd have to be some sort of crazy genius to...

He glanced down at the card:

Dr. M. D. Chesterfield

Biotechnology - Engineering - Organic Chemist

155 Sandy Shores Dr #69

West End, Tympha City, ZG 467211

3-4140-9918

M.Chesterfield@funstuff.co.uc

Sure looked real enough. Maybe he would have to take her up on the offer after all.

Chapter 4

The fireworks were nice, thought Sorrel, but everyone will forget those flashy lights just as soon as they get a load of me!

Lights, party music, snacks and drinks; the party was in full swing. Dozens upon dozens of onlookers swarmed each of the showfolk, men and women exhibiting every bodymod fetish in the state. From the tame, like piercings and tattoos, to the truly bizarre of transdermal implants, stretching, and even full-on transclassism. Most were just the interested normal, some with the odd tattoo or ear gauging. These were the groupies, malingerers, and hangers-on, the bulk of the fetish and the folk that made the real stars popular.

Like magnets the true belles of this ball pulled their own crowd of gawkers to them. Here were the ones who had treated themselves in such ways as to become the bizarre and exotic in all the ways they could. Here, a lizard of some sort who had tattooed the scales of his entire body to resemble a flowering garden, there a marmoset who had more piercings than a pincushion, and yet more as a gallery of males with their phalli shaped in all sorts of ways.

Silicone horns, shining metal, scarifications and full body tattoos, ribcages crushed under years of corseting pressure to give the most wasp-waisted appearance, all these and more were on display, for both the pleasure of the masses and the pride of the owners. Some folk sculpted bonsai trees, these folk sculpted their own flesh and bone.

Sorrel was right in her element. Labia stretching had been her thing since she was a teenager, reading through some very interesting articles on the women of some far off country. Now she could wear her lips as an undergarment, a fact that might disgust some, but filled her with a fierce sense of pride. She'd done it all herself. She was a champion of willpower and concentration. If she could endure the stretching of her own skin to this level, what else could she ever try and fail at?

Onlookers gravitated to her, some pulled away from other women with similar modifications. Her eyes scanned the crowd passively, looking at them for appearance sake. She really had no care at all for those who loved her, but as her eyes passed over them, she knew that they would think that she did. It was a supermodel look, a queen's wave, a president's smile. It meant nothing and everything all at the same time.

My gawd, she thought to herself as a trio caught her eye. A bicolored wolf with two floozies on his arm was entering and casting about. He looked nervous and they looked... well it was obvious to anyone with eyes that there was more silicon than brains in those two. They looked excited, like kids in a candy store. After all the plastic surgery that THOSE two had obviously endured, Sorrel was sure she'd just found the biggest bimbos in the place. Still, she thought to herself, everything about them was fake, while _she_was completely natural. In the end, nature always trumped beauty in these things.

But just as swiftly as it came, her gaze shifted back to her cloud. She answered their petty questions, always the same few, with practiced ease. She did her twirls and shows to impress them all, arousing few and amazing all. It was all she was about to be the top girl at these events. The people needed her, and in the end, she needed their adoration.

She had just glanced up from one green-scaled fellow who had taken his own version of stretching to an almost obscene extreme when a collective gasp sounded in her ears. Turning her eyes down to her crowd, she saw that they now all looked away from her. Following their astounded faces she became aware of their fascination. Her jaw dropped. Having just arrived from outside and having disrobed herself, her newest rival had appeared.

Standing no more than four feet tall, the woman had commanded the entirety of the room. Another stretcher, to be sure, but no one Sorrel had ever seen before. She was a koala, exotic in its own right so far from their homeland, but with modifications that should have been impossible for a body to sustain!

"Like... capes..." Sorrel muttered in amazement as she saw the extent of her stretching.

It didn't stop there either, she realized. This crazy koala had modified her nipples as well. Sorrel's were already long simply from being an alpaca, but this ladies beat her length by twice! Large gaudy piercings adorned both her teats and lady-lips, obviously providing her with various 'stretch points' through which she had achieved her marvelous feats.

"Probably doesn't even have feeling anymore," Sorrel grumbled as her cloud of adoring fans drifted away, almost evaporating to crowd around this newcomer.

Gritting her teeth she realized that she had just been inexorably upstaged. Whoever this was, she couldn't be challenged without extremely risky behavior. Now Sorrel was reduced to being just one more of those girls to whom she had so recently been superior. A frustrated growl and an impotent shake of her fists at the floor was all she could manage as she suddenly felt herself growing as alone as one could be in a crowded room. Muttering under her breath she stamped over to the service tables, pushing thoughtlessly between an anteater girl and her chubby little fox friend, intent only on drowning her anger in some spiked punch.

"Well that was rude," Amanda harrumphed as the llama... or alpaca... whatever, pushed past her, "The nerve of some people huh Chel?"

"I... she looked angry, maybe she just forgot her manners," Chelsea said softly

"What are you, defending her?" Amanda asked sharply, "In case you didn't notice, she pushed you too. Are you just gonna be a doormat all your life?"

"I..." she started

"You can't just let people push you around," Amanda said, criticism dripping from her voice, "You know, you're lucky you've got me around. I'd hate to think what would happen if you ended up all alone."

At that moment, the audacious anteater spotted a knot of familiar faces in the crowd. Without another word to Chelsea she made her way over to them, leaving the frowning, feet-staring fox all alone amongst a sea of strangers. Of course, her roommate was completely on her mind as she did this, but not in any way beneficial to Chelsea. Instead, she struck up an immediate conversation with the other 'secret master' body-modders. The point for these was not to change their own forms, but to manipulate the forms of others. The thrill was dominance, not the change itself.

Chelsea, along with the 'companions' of the others present, was a 'bonsai sub', someone who could be sculpted with the right manipulation and made into a perverse work of art. She would bend to Amanda's will and all the while think she was in control of her own decisions. Amanda would brag at length with the others of the alterations they had made and how their subs were dealing with it. Amanda was proud, as she had caused Chelsea to gain over twenty pounds in just two months, all under the guise of helping her _lose_weight. Amanda had a thing for "inflation", which was what they called making their bonsai sub gain weight rapidly.

With her were others who enjoyed this particularly cruel game. One was a plastic-surgery addict who had convinced her lover to make himself up (also with surgery) to look like a living doll. Another had a rail-thin sub who had been pierced so many times you could hardly see his face, as well as a 'snake tongue' and a few other bisections he was very proud of. Still another had even convinced her sub to get a full-on amputation!

Urbos shuddered with disgust as he turned away from the conversing group of horrible people. As much as it troubled him to think that these people existed, he wondered just who could be so manipulated as to allow this sort of treatment. Did they really convince their... playthings... to go to such extremes?!

The bicolored wolf shook his head to clear the images and looked about for his dates. Mellany had left him early on, saying she needed to do some business. Since she had brought a small stack of business cards with her, he didn't bother staking out the bathroom. Besides, how pathetic would that look to just be hanging about the washrooms all alone? Very pathetic, and creepy too, no doubt.

Tatianna had drifted away not long after, having a few exhibits and tables that she was interested in. Unfortunately this left Urbos alone in a crowd he would have expected at a circus. Some of these people bordered on genuine deformity, having mutilated their bodies almost beyond recognition. Some of it was bizarre, some oddly beautiful, and a few things were obvious to the cop in him as completely illegal. Still, after a while he did find a section that he could somewhat relate to.

The transgender tables were not like those found in pride parades or in LBGTH headquarters. This was actively about procedures that would aid those seeking to make the transformation. Whether out of genuine want, as many transgender were, or out of other motives, these tables had the methods one would need to make a switch. There were tables for Male to Female, Female to Male, neuter, intersex, hermaphrodite to single-gender, and even one proclaiming they could make anyone a hermaphrodite! It was to this last table that Urbos went, parking himself in a neutral orbit reserved for those who were interested but unsure.

Pictures and testimonials, some extremely graphic, were displayed openly and proudly. The names of the surgeons spelled out in giant letters upon posters. Stacks of pamphlets and cards, brochures and buttons, and myriad other paraphernalia were scattered about, handed out by the attendants. Gawkers gawked, the curious asked questions in barrages, and hundreds simply shuffled by with little to no eye contact at all.

A polecat, dressed in leather strapping and showing far more than was 'street legal' sidled up to Urbos. She had a handful of piercings and a permanent bald spot upon which a tattoo of intertwined roses was prominent. Urbos was quick to realize that 'she' was not this feline's proper pronoun as soon as he saw the oversized phallus hanging limp from the leather. This was a hermaphrodite, but whether shi was 'real' or not, it was clear that some work had been done. No one's breasts stood out that way naturally, and certainly no feline was that... 'big' downstairs. Whether shi was completely herm or one of those 'dickgirls' was not obvious to scrutiny.

"Hey there Bee-Dubs," shi purred in a voice too high to be masculine but too low to be feminine, "You interested in this? I know you'd make a fine two-gee if you went that way. You've got the look of someone who could pull it off."

"I... um..." Urbos stammered, "what are you..."

"Look babe," shi went on, "No one stares like that, longing in their eyes, without having thought about it."

A pamphlet and card were shoved into his palm.

"Well, when you're ready to make the addition, let me know," the polecat purred, "There's no shortage of folk who would help you learn how to use it."

Shi left, leaving Urbos standing confused. The polecat had already moved on to another onlooker, ready to repeat hir pitch to those that looked at all interested. His cheeks flush with embarrassment, Urbos decided to make his way back to the refreshments tables, tucking the papers in a pocket hastily to keep them out of sight.

"Don't know why I'm so nervous," he muttered to himself as he took a paper cup of iced tea from the tray, "The one place in the world I could be whoever I want to be... literally..."

He resumed his lookout for his escorts as he sipped at his drink, hoping to regain control. It wasn't that he was really embarrassed, he decided, but rather that this was all just too much, too fast. He'd just need to ease into it, he thought to himself. Glancing around, he somehow let his eyes drift back over to the entrance. A young looking serpent girl, he couldn't quite tell the species, walked in wearing a fuzzy yellow sweater and carrying a notebook under her arm.

"On a night like tonight," Urbos said under his breath, "she must be baking in that thing."

Bali didn't even notice the heat too much as she strolled in from the street. If ever she needed dissertation material, this was the place to go! The Mecca of body-modification and fetishism, all within her grasp. If only she had time to interview everyone here! No doubt she looked out of place, her body practically unmarked and shining new from a recent molt, but she was here to learn!

It was off-putting to see so many faces, all with the same expression of mild confusion as to why such a person was in their midst. Still, she was undaunted. Even the most heavily pierced lips could be parted, and if experience told her anything it was that everyone had a story to tell if you could get them on the right topic. All she had to do was insert herself into a conversation and steer it in her favor.

Eavesdropping didn't hurt either.

Soon enough she had slithered her way into a crowd of trans-sentient-ists who were discussing the finer points of nerve-grafting and brain-to-computer interface. From what she was hearing, Bali knew that it was all theory. The actual technology to bridge the gap between a sentient mind and a machine was still decades away at best. These people talked like they were going to hit the iPeach store on their way home and pick up a new brain-drive. Still, her notebook filled quickly as she made observations on their rhetoric and their psyches.

"So what about the biological imperatives?" she asked suddenly, turning many heads from the theorists. With a sheepish look she tried to bring home her point, "I mean, what about survival or sex or comfort or reproduction?"

She might as well have had two heads. They looked at her like she had just beamed down from Planet Dumb and given her warcry. Eyes rolled and voices tutted but in truth this was just the reaction Bali had been hoping for. Now they would talk. She'd probably have a harder time shutting them up. Of course, she thought, it never failed that 'know-it-all's would feel that they had to combat ignorance.

"The point is to move _beyond_the biological," said one snooty pig fellow dramatically, "We're trying to reach the next stage in sentient evolution."

"With technology you can remove the needs of life that cause suffering in the world," said a very androgynous looking salamander in a voice that poured with its condescending attitude, "You don't need sex or comfort because you can _program_the positive feelings whenever you want. That and plus, you'd be effectively immortal, so no worries about survival."

"Who needs reproduction anyways?" said a ditzy sounding parakeet woman who certainly wouldn't have to worry about reproducing looking like that, "When you're immortal, you don't need to pass on your genes. All that would matter is passing on information. Everyone would eventually know everything, so why bother with more replicating replicators?"

"Besides, if you wanted kids you could just extrapolate their personalities," continued a fat, pimply shrew that had about a dozen piercings in his eyebrows, "Why bother messing with greasy genetics that can mutate when you can just have a code to make up a new person?"

Bali looked like she was listening intently, hoping to goad them into the deeper levels of 'why' by pretending she cared at all what they said. Her notebook flipped every so often as she gather more nuggets of information from the regurgitated rhetoric these folk were spewing. Everything they seemed to think could have been just recited from a Wikipedia page or some news-group comment. None of these people gave any creative opinions at all. She was quickly reaching the conclusion that these people were only in the trans-sentient movement 'because it was cool and would fix their problems' or some similar motive.

"You know, you could simply want to improve yourself," came a voice, unseen, from the crowd, "Instead of discarding the flesh for the metal and plastic, you could instead try to make the body more efficient. If we worked to improve medicine, health, and learning we might find it takes us beyond things anyway. After that, then we can try to add on with machines instead of replace."

Heresy! The trans-sentient groupies were outraged! How dare someone speak of anything but the dogma of online encyclopedias!

Of course Bali was intoxicated that someone would make that case. It didn't take her too long to see who had spoken. The crowd all turned to glare at the disruptor, similar in the way they had descended upon Bali when she had first spoken up. The crowd parted to reveal a very buxom and shapely cockatiel lady, dressed in a stunning silk gown, who stood next to one of the tables holding a martini glass.

At once a barrage of put-downs, reiterations, rebuffs, and outright outrages filled the air, all directed at the lady. These myriad sci-fi geeks and hopefuls, who all seemed to think everything could be fixed like on Space Trip, would not tolerate someone saying that they just needed to work _with_biology instead of against it. Still, the lady stood and took it, letting their words roll aside like water off a duck's back. She was right and she knew it, but what was more, Bali knew it too. This was someone she just had to talk to!

After a time of seeing their provocations ignored, the trans-sentient groupies turned away. Their primitive conflict-making instincts had proven the lady's point in a far deeper way than they ever cared to admit. In the end they were still animals, hurling their feces or puffing themselves up in the face of adversity. Whatever they dreamed of becoming, this was only a painful reminder of how far they had yet to go. The defense mechanism built into their animal brains was simple, if they couldn't defeat the problem and it wouldn't harm them, they would just ignore it.

Bali seized her opportunity and made her way toward the mysterious cockatiel with the E-cup chest, but to her surprise found that she met her in the middle. The avian eyed her inquiringly, but with a smile at her cheeks that left no doubt that Bali was the object of her attention.

"You really got them going didn't you," she chirped merrily, amusement rich in her high-pitched voice, "I was surprised to hear someone question so... artfully."

"And you," Bali said, "unlike a lot of them, you seem to know not only what you're talking about, but how to think outside of the box."

"Well, I'm very interested in the subject, I'm Tatianna and I've been into a lot of things in my time."

"Bali," she introduced herself, "I'm a grad student working on a degree in psychology. I'm here to learn about fetishism, the trans-sentient movement, and body modification in general."

"You sure picked the right place for it." Tatianna said with a giggle, "Everything you could want to know and plenty you probably didn't. Of course, you can get a lot more than you bargained for in getting what you want."

"Well, aside from tracking down one source, I've almost got everything I need to finish. I've just gotta pass this last class and defend. So how about you? You look like you've got an interesting history."

Another giggle. Tatianna sure seemed like the bubbly sort. Still, Bali wasn't about to give up on this vein of information.

"I'm a nurse, and I almost had a full doctorate. But you know, I'm better off without the regular medical community breathing down my neck. I found something better and I've never looked back. Never regretted it."

"So, are you a trans-sentientist too?" Bali ventured, "I mean, since you look so..."

"Oh the body?" she laughed, "Well, that's another story entirely. And no, it's not plastic surgery. And you might say I'm into it. In fact, me and the Doc have got a way to make it a reality. We're really here scouting for candidates to try it out on real live people."

Bali considered for a bit. This sounded suspicious. Her opinion of this new and surprisingly attractive avian was starting to slide. Saying that she had a method to catapult all the sentient races forward to the next step in existence made her sound like just another crazy theorist.

"The Doc?" she asked, picturing crazy-haired old men in lab coats with electric devices sparking all around.

"Yeah, I work with Doctor Chesterfield. She's kind of the underground guru of body-mods."

"Did... did you just say... Chesterfield?!" Bali exclaimed, "Not Mellany Chesterfield, the one that worked with the hair replacement and the bust expansion?"

"How did you know about that?" Tatianna chirped with surprise, the mirth gone from her voice.

"Just... just searches online you know," Bali replied nervously, "She was cited in a paper, so I searched her name up. I found out about her from some horse girl's blog."

"Interesting," Tatianna said, still serious, but in her high voice it was hard to take her genuinely seriously, "Well... yes. She's the one. If you give me a bit, I'll introduce you."

"Really?!" Bali exclaimed excitedly, "She's the last link in my chain! I was going to spend all of tomorrow trying to find her!"

Just at that moment, a voice from behind her, a masculine voice, asked, "Is everything ok over here Tats?"

"Oh we're just fine Ur," Tatianna said, "Just meeting a new fan of our work."

Bali turned to see the black and white wolf with the inverted suit standing over her. He had a look of concern still written all over his face; the look of someone who didn't really belong here either. He was built, she could tell even through the tux. He stood like a military man, or maybe a police officer, but something about his other mannerisms said that he didn't take the law seriously at all... but then maybe she was just reading into things that weren't there. Seriously, she asked herself, how could someone be pro-order _and_an anarchist?

"I'm gonna go find Mel," Tatianna tweeted, "I'll be back in a bit. Bali? Actually, I should be able to find you as long as you have that sweater."

Bali and Urbos eyed each other. His expression betrayed his nervousness to her as clearly as if he had said it aloud. He wasn't comfortable around women. Some females he knew personally enough, she guessed from how he talked to Tatianna, but when it came to strangers he just didn't seem sure of himself. Of course, she could just imagine how soft his fur was. How warm he would be as she rubbed herself against it... But first things first she decided. Out of the corner of his pocket peeked a brochure. From the corner she caught the letters 'odite', plenty enough to guess what was on it.

"So," she prompted, trying to ease the tension, "you know Tatianna and 'the Doc' huh?"

Urbos rubbed his neck idly with his white right hand. His gaze flickered around the room, a sure sign of embarrassment if Bali had ever seen one.

"I... um..." he said nervously, "I met them today at the beach."

Jeeze, thought Bali, either he's not as shy as he puts on or Tatianna and 'the Doc' were some pretty smooth operators. A hidden flick of her sensitive tongue told her all she needed to know about the day's events. She could taste the sex upon his scent. These two ladies were probably very used to quick seductions. After seeing Tatianna's body, she realized that anyone who liked females would be a fool to pass up such an opportunity!

"I see," she said clinically, trying to put him at ease, "well, how are you enjoying the ball?"

"Um... interesting," he said, "I've seen a lot more than I expected. And trust me, I've seen a lot."

"I'll bet you've arrested quite a few who look like some of these, what with the piercings and all," Bali hazarded.

"Yeah, well you know, kids'll do just about anything to shock their parents and prove how 'bad' they are," Urbos said, oblivious to how easily he had revealed that bit of information.

"Dumb kids," Bali interjected, a smile spreading across her cheeks, "They just don't know how to not get caught."

"Tell me about it," Urbos offered easily, "Never mind that the drug-war puts tons of harmless stoners away, but it's these crazy rebellious types that don't have a thought in their head that get punished most. And as much as those dickheads at the station insist that the punishment prevents more crime, the truth is that it just makes more and better criminals. I've seen it first-hand."

"I'll bet," she said with a smirk, she really had this guy on the ropes, "but not everyone here is a shock-happy kid you know. Some people really want to change themselves because they believe in it."

A sigh. A slight slump of the shoulders, and an unconscious motion of his hand toward the pocket with the brochure. He obviously had his own desires. It was his fear that held him back. Something was blocking him, probably from his job or his past. Thanks to the extensive study of 'cold reading' Bali had picked up from years of psych classes, she figured she could find out everything about this guy if she just had a couple hours and a couch.

"Yeah, some people want a change," he said at last.

"If I could do it, I'd have fur." Bali admitted, hoping to pry into him a little more by exposing a 'vulnerable spot', "I've got a thing for you fuzzy warm-bloods."

Dead end, he wasn't going to tell her what he would change. It became obvious just a second later when he spoke again, trying to change the subject.

"So what do you do? You a student?" he asked through his distracted thoughts.

"Yep," Bali admitted, not caring that her effort had failed, "I'm a psychology student workin' on my degree. My emphasis is in sexuality, funny enough. Of course I pay for it by working as a stripper, so I guess I have a lot of first-hand experience in it."

A twitch of the eyebrows. Recognition! Was he a sex-worker too? That would certainly tie in with the 'officer/criminal' sort of vibe she got. Still, she didn't want to press the issue.

"Well," he said at last, "I guess as long as it pays the bills."

"It's a lot of fun too. I get to think inside the heads of my audience. Tell the truth, I make better tips than any of the other girls where I work. Bugs the hell outta them too."

Urbos looked around nervously. He didn't much like the feeling that this snake girl was getting into his head. He'd met people like that on the force, usually internal investigations people. It was like they were digging in his head for something they could accuse him of. She was good, he could tell. She knew her stuff. But at this point, he decided that the conversation needed to end.

"I'm gonna go try and see what's taking the girls so long." He said with a note of finality, "I'll be back real soon."

He sauntered off, leaving the snake gal sitting all alone. A quick search found the two in a corner sitting with a plump looking fox girl who looked like she'd been crying. She tried her best to hide it, but Urbos had seen far too many crying ladies in his life not to notice. It looked like Mellany and Tatianna were talking to her in a very comforting, encouraging way. He decided then that it was better if he found something else to do. He was obviously not needed.

An open side-door caught his eye. He could guess what was going on out there, since the closed side of the double push-open doors had a big "Employees Only" sign on it. It was where the staff who was responsible for cleaning up the showroom went to keep out of sight and probably blaze one up. It was as safe a place as any, since no cop in his right mind would show up at a place like this just to arrest some border-crossing janitors. No one wanted to get screamed at by half a dozen officials for breaking up a social event that brought in tax money.

Still, he walked on over. After this night he could deal with a hit or two to get his mind right. He spared one last glance over towards Mel and Tats. Then the scent of skunky weed hit his nose and he gave up on the scene.

Meanwhile, Tatianna and Mellany had just about calmed the fox girl down.

"You really think you can fix me?" Chelsea said as she wiped at the wet spots in her cheek fur, "I'd do... anything to make myself right again."

"If everything goes right," Mellany said to her, pressing a card into her hand, "You'll be the one in control. And like I said, it's free and I'll even pay_you_if it works. What have you got to lose?"

"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you," Chelsea cried as she embraced the buxom bunny, "I'll... I'll definitely be there. You'll see. I'll be your first patient tomorrow."

Mellany patted Chelsea's head, knowing in her heart that the fox girl meant it.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow. But for now, I've got to go meet someone. You just concentrate on tonight. Try to have fun and don't worry about what your roommate will say. Come tomorrow night you'll be a brand new person."

With that, Mellany and Tatianna left the blonde fox girl, who now smiled with hope despite her tears. She clutched the card in her hands like it was made of solid gold. It wasn't just a business card. It was her ticket to a new life! She was so excited at the prospects she barely noticed the llama who took a seat next to her.

"Hey," said the stranger, sounding incredibly grumpy and maybe a little on the tipsy side.

"Oh," Chelsea squeaked in surprise, "Hello, um, how are you?"

"Eh, a little mad to tell the truth," the llama said with a sigh that told Chelsea she had definitely been drinking, "I came in ready to be a star... got upstaged by a deformed koala."

"Umm... well," Chelsea started.

"I mean where does she get off?" she interrupted, "she musta been working on those things for decades. How else to they get to looking like that? But you... you look like someone who understands. You know what it's like to have someone look better than you, even though you try real hard to be your best huh?"

Chelsea's cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. She was tired of being insulted and picked on!

"Yeah well that's gonna change tomorrow." She snapped, taking herself quite by surprise but not enough to stop her from talking, "tomorrow, Dr. Chesterfield is gonna fix me. You just wait and see. I'm gonna be just who I've always wanted. I'm gonna be pretty and perfect and everyone will stop treating me like I'm just some doormat!"

Sorrel looked hard at her, trying to decipher what was going on through a fog of rant and drink. What she saw was someone who was just fine the way they were and who was just being hard on herself. Whether she was right or wrong didn't matter. The point was, this girl understood.

"What's wrong with you?" she said honestly, "you look just fine to me. Just like a normal person. I'll bet you're just too worried what other people think of you."

"That's not it!" Chelsea said firmly, "I'm not happy being me. But Doctor Chesterfield is going to fix me tomorrow."

"Oh yeah?" Sorrel wondered aloud, "just how is he gonna do that?"

"_SHE_is going to transform me. She's gonna put me in control of my body so I can do whatever I want with myself and be finally happy for once."

Sorrel considered a moment. Through her mildly addled mind this sounded like a splendid idea! If this doc could fix a slightly overweight fox, then maybe she could fix it so she would be best in show no matter where she went!

"That... sounds great," Sorrel said, "I know I'd be more happy with myself if I was in control. I could stretch myself however I wanted and never worry about going too far or too fast."

"Wait... what?" Chelsea murmured, confused.

"Tell me more about this doctor." The llama said, "I'm Sorrel, by the way."

Chapter 5

Urbos groaned as he rolled over toward the darkness of the pillow. The bad part about staying in a glass house was that the sun shone in immediately upon rising. Worse than that, the house he was staying in was on a beach that curved around the land, meaning that the ocean horizon could be seen from east to west with no sort of interruption for the sunrise or sunset. As the brilliant orb climbed carelessly into the bright blue morning, its warmth bathed the black-and-white wolf even through the silky bed-sheet that covered him. Now uncomfortable, he kicked the sheet off and mumbled incoherently against the interruption. Half-awake, he began piecing together what had caused him to end up in this unfamiliar bed that smelled strongly of 'female' and the many fun things one can do with a female.

Flashes of sculpted flesh, shining piercings, crazy hair, hermaphrodites, and potsmoke filled his head, coming back in a tumble of memory, followed by flashes of laughter, driving home with Mellany and Tatianna, and a good round of merry-making that followed. The thoughts started as meaningless remembrance, but slowly they took on a sense of reality. A heaviness settled in his thoughts as he remembered Mel and Tats discussing things way over his head after they had finished with him. He remembered falling asleep as they talked excitedly in the adjacent bathroom as they both enjoyed their shower. Those two were insatiable!

The sound of the bedroom door opening had his ears involuntarily perked. The rhythm of clicking from sharp toenails upon the smooth hardwood floor told Urbos that it was Tatianna entering the room, and the smell of hot coffee, bacon, waffles, cream, and strawberries told his nose that he would need to be fully awake now. As he sat up and stretched, squinting at the scantily dressed, chipper and bright eyed cockatiel, the very real sensation of an empty stomach conspired with his nose.

"Hungry?" Tatianna twittered, "I thought you might be!"

"I think I need a drink first," groaned Urbos, clicking his tongue against the dryness in his mouth while he adjusted the odd stiff muscle.

Tatianna handed him an aluminum bottle and, after fiddling clumsily with the threaded cap, took a sip of shockingly cold water. A slight cough, but then he felt relatively refreshed. Eagerly he took the tray Tatianna had been holding and inspected his unexpected breakfast in bed.

"You didn't have to go through the trouble," he said almost guiltily as his senses returned in full, "I don't mean to be a bother."

"No bother at all!" Tatianna chirped in a way Urbos found almost too happy for it being so early, "The machines do most of the work anyway... that and all of the cleanup... so why not have a full breakfast?"

In her hands appeared a small flask containing syrup. With very little further urging, Urbos found himself wolfing down the delicious food. For a time he couldn't believe that the food had been made by machine, but after a few bites... maybe it was just paranoia or something but... he noticed that each was the same. Same texture, same doneness, same flavor, it was all the same. Sure he could mix up the parts and taste different things, but every bite of waffle was the same crunchiness and the same feel going down. Suddenly, for no reason he could decide, he remembered Tatianna's argument from the previous night. Machines should be used to add to things, not replace them. Imagine how good a chef could have made all this if he had the machine assisting him instead of cooking for him!

"Well now," Tatianna said as he finished... she had watched him eat the whole time, "Since you're done, you might want to freshen up. Doctor Chesterfield wants to talk to you in a bit and we're going to have some guests over for lunch. You're welcome to stay for that too."

For a moment, Urbos wondered what he would tell the chief. Fortunately he remembered that his sick-day had left him with a three day weekend. And here he was, right smack in the middle of the best weekend he could remember! Money, a day at the beach, two beautiful femmes, breakfast in bed, and a whole two days left!

His smile nearly split his face as he watched Tatianna take the tray away, her big hips swaying a healthy butt draped with tailfeathers making him remember something else to be glad of. After she had left, he leaped up, ready to take advantage of the shower and imagine the possibilities that the rest of this great weekend.

*

Dr. Chesterfield stared gleefully at the readouts that scrolled before her wide, manic eyes. All the information, read at an incredible pace, confirmed for her what she had known all along. The machine worked. Not only did it work, but it was better than she could have hoped it to be! The thing she had clanked together, trusting in her engineering instincts, was able to transform the physical condition of any subject she presented it with. More than this, the subjects became better than the biological conglomerations they were. By these readouts, the diagnostics, and the probe datasets it would seem the test mice were now more akin to organic machines than plain old cell-bound organisms. Their cells had been converted into poly-nucleic structures, similar to muscles but so much more advanced.

As she inspected the X-rays and CT scans of the mice her excitement grew. They were bio-robots! Living machines that could program themselves!

Unfortunately, they were also just mice. While the device had given them highly efficient bodies that could be infinitely adapted, they could only do so much with their limited minds. Instincts drove them and no amount of explanation or coaxing would improve them. This realization hit Dr. Chesterfield like a collision with a wall. If only these mice could tell her how different it was to be something more. If only they could tell her if the procedure was safe for sentient beings.

Her hands were at work before she realized what she was doing. As she came out of her slump, she looked up to see that she was about half-done designing a strange looking interface. Somehow she had already found the solution; she would force the poly-cells to grow a port by which she could link the mice to Computer so that she could run tests. Luckily Computer had a small manufacturing setup, of her own design of course, that could build the parts she was designing at this very moment.

Good thing the lunch date is at noon, she thought to herself offhandedly as she coded another line of equations into the bio-manipulator's designs.

*

Chelsea was grateful that she had woken up before Amanda. Luckily for her, the anteater had put away quite a few drinks at the ball and was still sleeping off the after-effects of heavy drunkenness. The demure red fox didn't know if she could handle Amanda with a hangover, especially not so early in the morning.

A rare genuine smile was on Chelsea's face as she pulled her bicycle out from the garage. Today, she had a lot to think about... and a lot to be hopeful for. Her conversation with the strange lady Sorrel, the meeting with that other strange ladies Tatianna and Mellany, and the horrifying confessions a certain drunken anteater roommate had made as she dragged her surprisingly heavy ass into bed.

She was a puppet, she knew now, a doll. Something to be dressed up and painted and posed. An object, a possession, something to be played with. Amanda had admitted everything she had done to Chelsea, the weight gain, the clothes, the manipulation... worst of all she regaled the poor fox with how _proud_she was of the whole ordeal! Now, she wasn't a violent person... but at that point she seriously considered striking out at Amanda. She imagined much worse, if she was honest with herself, but the thought of just punching that long, smug smile of hers right off her face gave her an unexpected thrill.

It didn't matter anymore really. If Dr. Chesterfield's plan worked, then she would never have to endure Amanda again. She would be the person she had always wanted to be, and no amount of manipulation would ever work on her again. In fact, she could tell Amanda to take a hike and never have to listen to her again! And even if the treatment didn't work, well Amanda would still never manipulate her again. With a million people in this city, Chelsea was sure she could find a roommate that wouldn't hurt or sabotage her.

She rode her bike all the way to her favorite fast food place. Right now she didn't give a damn about what she ate. If the procedure worked she'd never have to worry about fat and if it didn't then she'd just work it off as soon as she was free of that wretched roommate. She couldn't remember such a delicious breakfast! Guilt free made it taste absolutely amazing, like tasting it for the first time all over again. Stuffed, she made her way towards the beachfront, knowing that she would still be early even if she was leisurely.

Halfway there, she considered calling Amanda to let her know where she was... but at the realization she was glad she left her cellphone at home. How manipulated was she?! For one horrible moment she wondered if she could ever truly break free from that... that bitch! It was only providence that let her recover from her daydream in time to avoid riding right into a car.

Shaking her head and brushing off her near miss she rode on toward her new future. A future full of freedom.

*

Bali hadn't slept all night. She was simply too excited for sleep. Not only did she have the lead on everything she ever needed for her paper, her study, and even her future, but she also was invited to watch the master at work as she unveiled her latest technological wonder! It didn't hurt that the Doc and her assistant were dead sexy and that both were warm and fluffy sorts of people. Hundreds of fantasies danced through her sleepless night as she lay upon her fuzzy blankets. Some sexy, some technical, some simply the pure fantasy of transcending her body and becoming a god among people.

But now she saw daylight outside. Time was drawing short and she had so much to do to get ready. First, though, she needed to warm herself. Without hesitation, and buoyed by excitement, she walked out into the courtyard, thankful that she lived at a nudist colony. A notepad, hastily snatched as she walked out, would be the receptacle for every question she had for the miracle workers at their afternoon meeting. Finding a warm spot on a concrete flowerbed wall she set to work on transcribing her questions, musings, and dreams while the sun warmed her.

*

Thomas hoped this was the right place. It didn't look like the sort of address to have a number attached to it. But then here he was, 155 Sandy Shores Drive, except it was a beach house! He looked over the large paneled windows on the east and west sides and the sandy-yellow opaque south wall, finally noticing the giant gilt 69 on the sign at the end of the drive. Shrugging, he parked his car and headed up the way to the entrance. He was just a touch nervous, having never given in to such an impromptu meeting before, but then, this Doctor Mellany Chesterfield didn't seem like the kind of person who would mind a little spontaneity. And if she knew pyrotechnics... well, it was a profession of both planning and split-second decisions... she would surely understand his quick decision.

Ringing the doorbell, he shuffled from foot to foot. How could this happen to him? This wasn't who he was! He was brilliant, quick witted, decisive, and harsh! Nervousness didn't become him! Quickly, bolstered by his introspection, he altered his attitude to present the proper air. He was here to discuss tech with a fellow professional! They would talk about the thing he enjoyed most... making things blow up! He would regale her with his best demolitions, wow her with how often the police, military, and construction companies hounded him for his skill, and then he would surprise her womanly sensibilities by actually listening to what she had to say.

It was a different woman that answered the door.

"I'm... I hope I'm in the right place. I'm here to see a Doctor Mellany Chesterfield," he said as confidently as he could, "We met last night and she invited me to discuss technology."

"Oh sure!" Tatianna exclaimed, "She'd told me about you. The cute squirrel with a knack for explosions! Well she's in her lab at the moment, but you can come in if you like!"

A relieved, confident nod saw him ushered inside by the peppy cockatiel into a living room that looked like it could entertain dozens of people. For a moment, he had sworn she was going to say 'cute _little_squirrel' which would have set him in a distinctly foul mood. As Tatianna went to fetch him a drink, he wondered just exactly where in this mostly glass, one-story beach house she could possibly have found to build a lab. After all, a basement below sea-level was just asking for trouble, especially one built into the shoreline itself!

But then, he thought, would it be so terrible if she wasn't completely honest? What if she was just a knowledgeable hobbyist? Why not humor her anyways if it was a chance for some company? He wasn't normally one for words... but once someone got him going on his talents... well, he was very proud of his abilities. And now, as the cockatiel girl went somewhere to 'fetch her', as she had put it, Thomas found himself wishing he had called first. Of course, as he knew it, once his mind was made up... it stayed that way.

A ring of the doorbell, a knock at the door, someone had arrived and just when no one was left in the house! He considered answering the door himself, but then realized that it was in terrible taste to invite someone into a house that wasn't his.

"Mel? Tats?" a masculine voice yelled from somewhere in the house, "Someone's at the door!"

This was followed by a half-clad wolf entering the room from an adjacent bedroom. Though most of the walls were glass, there were yet sections that remained private from the world. The wolf stopped in his tracks, looking at the small squirrel on the couch.

"The bird-girl went to get Mellany," Thomas said shortly, "been gone a few minutes."

The doorbell again.

"I guess I'll get it?" Urbos said, mostly to himself as he walked past the taciturn squirrel on the couch and to the front door. With a quick jerk, the door opened upon the semi-familiar face of a llama woman from the previous night.

"Are... are you here for the meeting too?" she said with a hint of confusion, "I know I'm early, but I didn't expect anyone else to be here."

*

"Um... well," Urbos started, "I'm a guest you see... they're in the lab and..."

"I understand," the llama said curtly, in a way that sounded like her time was valuable, "I'll wait."

"Lemme go see if I can find them." Urbos blurted, hoping for recovery. What was wrong with him today! He could interrogate the most hard-look scum-of-the-earth types all up and down, but when it came to strange ladies with strange attitudes...

He nearly ran into Mellany as he made his way to the lab entrance. Of course, with a chest her size, her face was still nearly as far away as his fore-arm could reach! Behind her stood Tatianna, and both looked excited and cheerful... more than normal even.

"Hey Urby!" Mellany exclaimed, stepping forward to give him a pillowy-warm hug, "Just wait till you see my latest thing! It's gonna be totally awesome."

Urbos snorted a little laugh through his nose. A high tech scientist with advanced degrees in... everything... saying "totally awesome" was almost too much to bear. The hug, however, reminded him just how much he really wanted to see this "latest thing"... in a very 'innuendo' sort of way.

"Uh, mornin'. You've got guests."

"Oh! I didn't realize it had gotten so late! I've been down there since you went to sleep!" Mellany exclaimed.

With a bound of lapine liveliness, Mellany leaped around the preoccupied wolf and made for the door. Thomas only managed to catch her wink at him as she dashed past to receive her latest guest.

"Wow, hey Sorrel!" she piped excitedly, "so great of you to come! Come on in!"

The llama lady was lead in to the den and offered a seat on the couches. She glanced over at Thomas, and the squirrel returned the look. The silence between them grew deafening until Mellany shattered it.

"Sorrel? This is Urbos," she said with a gesture to the wolf, "and Thomas Khitti, a very talented pyrotechnician. The same one, in fact, who put on last night's display!"

Sorrel nodded to each, "A pleasure."

"Sorrel is a secretary by day and a body-modder by night." Mellany announced, "She's here to try my newest creation which just finished all its trials successfully just this morning! She'll be among the first trials on sentient people and when we're all done there won't be a body-mod she can't accomplish!"

Thomas' ears perked at this. "Body mod?" he asked plainly, "Is that what you do?"

Mellany giggled a bit and then hopped over to sit beside the confused squirrel.

"It's not everything I do," she purred, her words laced with so much more than just polite speech, "You should see the boom-booms I've made in my time."

"But... Am I interrupting?" Thomas asked.

"Nah! You and I can tour the lab while the procedure runs! It takes a little while, so we'll have lots of time to talk."

"Wait a sec," Urbos chimed in, "Khitti? Thomas Khitti?! Damn man, you've been on our watch-list down at the precinct for, like, ever! They say you're the best legal bomb-guy in the state!"

"Heh, at _least_in the state," Thomas boasted, "You're a cop then?"

"Yep, well, that's my day job," Urbos replied proudly, "but dude! The EOD guys talk about you all the time. They'd give their left nuts to have you on the force."

"Bah, I'm not in to disabling bombs," Thomas snorted, "don't know why they keep trying."

Another doorbell, this time answered by Tatianna, brought in a very nervous looking fox. A new round of introductions had everyone welcoming Chelsea to the party. As Mellany finished the introductions she quickly turned the tide of conversation to her latest design.

"It's really the neatest thing I've ever built!" she said proudly, "By my estimates, it will completely reform your physical condition, putting you in direct control of your body. My newest tests even show that I can make it so you interact with electronics on a mental level!"

Looks of disbelief passed between the assembled furs. Could this bouncy bunny be serious? A machine that could alter people so completely? It sounded to each like something straight off the Syfy channel!

"I know, I know, I'll have to show you. But luckily, that's exactly what I plan to do!"

Another knock. This time a snake girl was added to the group.

"I was just telling everyone about the machine!" Mellany said to Bali after introducing her, "But now that you're here, why don't we all do down to the lab and I'll _SHOW_you!"

*

"And here are my latest subjects!" Mellany said with a sweep of her hand, motioning the group to look at the test mice.

"What's with the wires?" Urbos wondered aloud, bringing attention to the cables extending from the base of the mice's necks. To the casual observer, the wires seemed to be growing from their heads, but a close inspection revealed that they were actually plugged in to a socket that appeared to grow from the mice.

"It's a new bio-adapted plug that lets them hook directly into Computer. With this set-up I can monitor them completely, program in new bio-adaptions, and even get an idea of their thoughts! For instance, this one here, 187, has been subjected to cognitive expansion. In just five hours, he's grown a portion of brain similar in structure to a sentient brain! Computer has even been able to detect activity concurrent with rational thought!"

"You... you grew its brain in 5 hours?!" Sorrel exclaimed, "I don't believe it!"

"I've done more than that. 188 has been subjected to muscle development and bodily growth, 189 regrew a missing digit that it lost as a baby, and I was able to completely change the gender of 190!"

"In five hours?!" Thomas blurted, completely amazed by the audacity of the proclamations.

"I can ramp up their biological processes amazingly fast. And they're efficient too! They've only needed about half the expected amount of food and water during the process. Their kidneys all adapted to reprocess waste water by themselves! Their digestive systems are like little furnaces too! They lost half their adipose tissue... fat for you layfolk... in the first hour until their systems compensated."

"Wait... did you say you changed that one's gender?!" Urbos interrupted, "What about genetics? How could you change them like that?"

"It was pretty amazing to see," Dr. Chesterfield admitted, "since the genitals are made from the same tissue whether male or female, I figured I'd give it a shot. The X chromosome template is present in both males and females... well for mammals at least... so I caused it to change dominance. The new super-body did the rest, reforming the structures in such a rapid time, I couldn't help but be impressed."

"Well how about the reverse then?" Sorrel said doubtfully, "Could you turn a female into a male with no Y chromosome?"

"Actually, I don't know!" Dr. Chesterfield giggled, "It's too early to have tried everything. But one thing I know for sure... the genetics don't matter for these as much as you'd think. And from the progress of 187, I'd say that there is as much a mental component to the adaptability as there is chemical! Now that the body is hyper-efficient and driven by information, I'd imagine that the individual cell program just becomes... merged with the rest of it."

"But they all lived, right?" Urbos said, desperation mounting in his voice as he considered the possibilities, "I mean, the mice are healthy and everything."

"From my results, they're all healthier than they've ever been. They can regenerate their bodies, survive on almost no food or water, are stronger than they've ever been, and can even interface with my supercomputer!" the doctor said cheerfully.

"I... I want in," Urbos said swiftly, "I want to be your test subject too."

"Kay!" she exclaimed, completely blowing what little mystique remained.

"Are... are you sure, Urbos?" Chelsea piped up for the first time since she arrived, "I'm... I'm not sure anymore."

"Look, this thing... it's what I've always wanted. Mel? Tats? I know we had some great times yesterday, but ya gotta know. I'm... I'm complicated. If you could change me... like 190..."

"So what? You're a tranny?" said Sorrel a tad more harshly than she meant, "You think this thing can fix you?"

"It's... it's more complicated than that. I've always thought that... I mean I felt like... being female would be so cool. But I never wanted to stop being male. I've always dreamed what it felt like. But I've never been, yannow, comfortable with herms and it just didn't seem right getting' surgery."

An unexpected hug came from two sides as Tatianna and Dr. Chesterfield embraced their new lover with his brave confession. Silence filled the lab for a few seconds. Once the threesome came apart, Urbos turned to the nervous fox.

"I've never been more sure about anything," he said to her gently, "Look, it worked on the mice... I've seen Dr. C's other machines do crazy-cool things. One got me and them dressed last night. It wove the clothes right on to our bodies! I had breakfast this morning, a full spread, all cooked by one of her inventions."

"And then there's the feminization procedure," Bali chimed in, finding it impossible to resist throwing her knowledge in, "and the hair restoration... I mean crystal fiber color-change hair? It's genius!"

The others all looked at the scholarly snake girl, a mix of doubt and excitement among their features.

"She made a flat-chested horse girl have double-Ds in less than an hour! All non-surgical! It was like a miracle," she insisted.

"She made me what I am today," Tatianna chirped, "and she even cured herself of cancer and made all that new hair on her body!"

Nothing was quite so poignant as the blush standing out on the doctor's cheeks. Her cheek fur was literally reddening to match the warmth of her skin beneath making it seem almost painted on.

"Thermochromodynamics," Thomas said suddenly with a nod, "I think I get it now."

"Guuuys," Dr. Chesterfield lilted with a bit of embarrassment, "You're selling me too hard," she turned to Chelsea, "I understand if you're nervous, and I'd never want to pressure anyone. If you want, you can wait till the others try it and then make your decision. I won't be upset if you decide not to. It's totally your choice."

Chelsea reeled for a bit. Over the past six years with Amanda, nothing had been her choice. Everything had been either insisted upon or guilted into. Six years...

"I'm in," she said suddenly, her voice full of determination that seemed to materialize out of nowhere, "I don't care what happens... I'm gonna do this."

"Me too," Bali announced, stepping forward unexpectedly.

"I've been in this since last night," Sorrel boasted with a laugh, "Nothing you've said has come close to changing my mind."

*

True to form, the procedure took several hours. All the while Thomas chatted with Mellany and Tatianna, listening to the crazy mishaps that had cost them two laboratories and had caused some horse-girl's chest to blow up all over an alleyway. He told them about several shows in which he had narrowly saved himself and others from disaster, of times he'd spent blowing things up as a child, and even his trip across the ocean where he met a very affable rat fellow who helped him turn a den of thieves into an elite force that ended up running the banks.

The last part he admitted was just a really vivid dream he had once. Still, the ladies were suitably impressed by his knowledge and wit. They had shared a light meal, talked more about the machines Mel and Tats had designed, and even got to discussing their favorite hobbies. It was just at the time when Thomas was describing his sword-fighting lessons from his college SCA days when a chime sounded throughout the house.

"Procedure Completed, Alarm Pink Two Activate." Said a voice from nowhere.

The glass of the house flushed pink, casting a rosy hue over everything the sunlight touched. The hue of the glass wavered through the different shades of pink, going from nearly white to deep salmon. For a few moments, all Thomas could do was stare.

"Sure beats noisy beeps or dings," sighed Mellany, "Well... time to go check on them. Gonna come along Thomas?"

*

"I don't feel any different," Urbos said as he stepped out of the pod, "did it work?"

"I'm right there with you," Sorrel confirmed as she too emerged.

"Me too," Chelsea sighed with a very disappointed expression on her face. Seeing the others in the same room she covered herself with her hands, suddenly feeling quite embarrassed to be naked in front of strangers.

"We probably need to get scanned and stuff first. I didn't expect anything right away." Bali interjected calmly, "let's just wait till the doc gets a look at us."

Urbos stretched experimentally. It was amazing! It was like all his pains had vanished! The stretch itself was nothing but satisfying, and his movements were more fluid that he had ever remembered them being.

"You guys! Try moving around!" he exclaimed, "Try stretching, it's just... wow!"

"Alright! How is everyone feeling!" sang Doctor Chesterfield's voice as she opened the door to the lab.

"I think it worked!" cheered Bali as she stood up from a contorted position, "I've never been able to bend all the way back and grab my ankles before! It's like I'm made of rubber, but still me!"

"I haven't been this flexible since I was a teenager!" Urbos said, climbing down from a perfect handstand.

"I... I can move again!" Chelsea exclaimed, "and I feel like I'm trimming up already!"

"You probably don't want to see what I'm doing," Sorrel called from somewhere secluded, "It doesn't even hurt! It's like... like I'm playing with elastic!"

Thomas surveyed the nude forms before him, all playfully testing their newfound limits. Something inside him stirred. If this was all true... if it really had worked... what could he not achieve then? If the regeneration worked then he would never fear a 'career ending' accident. If the body shaping worked... couldn't he be taller if he wanted? Most importantly, if the computer interface worked, then what was to stop him from...

"Congratulations Doctor," Thomas said sincerely, "When will we know for sure?"

Doctor Chesterfield had already activated her computer's scanning equipment and now hovered the handheld sensor over Bali. "A few minutes more and I'll have a full scan here," she replied, "Though what I'm seeing so far is exactly what happened in the mice."

"And what about the computer interface," he inquired hungrily.

"Oh that? Well I had Computer make something neat for that," she said as she finished up her scans.

Walking briskly over to an area that resembled a large fume hood, the Doctor retrieved a small case. Inside were strips that resembled Band-Aids made from circuitry. She handed one to each of the assembled patients, Sorrel included as she came forward to see what it all was about.

"These are preprogrammed with the bio-adaptors you'll need to grow a satellite relay. Totally wireless! Computer and I commandeered some unused bandwidth on a few orbitals a while ago. They're great when it comes to nabbing free net! I've even set up your own usernames and stuff!"

"So we just..." started Sorrel, staring at the device.

"Just slap it on wherever you want the relay! It'll be pretty small, but it should work. I recommend the base of the neck, near the spine, but if you want to try something else it'll be a fun experiment!"

Disappointingly, Bali, Urbos, and Chelsea put theirs on the back of their neck. Sorrel, however, placed hers on her forehead which, unlike the rest of her, was not covered in curly wool. Dr. Chesterfield smiled heartily at the placement, unable to resist thinking how silly Sorrel looked.

"It's amazing Doctor!" Tatianna chirped from across the room, "A complete biological transformation on a full-sized lifeform! We did it!"

"Just like I said!" crowed the doctor, sounding perfectly 'told-ya-so' in attitude and acting like a college bimbo as she danced in place.

Thomas couldn't help himself. It was truly the path to everything he had ever wanted. Reaching his hand to her shoulder he stopped the gyrating bunny and leaned her close. In one desire-laden pronouncement he breathed into her ear, "me next."

"So... when can I start really losing weight?" Chelsea asked aloud.

Chapter 6

Amanda paced the floor, unable to stop herself from worry. Normally so fiendishly confident, the horrible remembrances of the night before stung at her mind like a rain of needles. How could she have been so stupid?! How could she have let herself spill the beans to her sub?! Was Chelsea gone for good? Would she tell the police?! The consequences never seemed so close when she was the one in control.

She had awoken, hung over, to an empty house and the signs of an unceremonious departure. As the night flooded back, she recalled her great mistake and had immediately set to worrying. Chelsea had left her cellphone in her room. Her diary was unwritten for that night, only one set of her clothes were gone, her bicycle was missing, and no food had been taken. She knew that Chelsea had no other friends with whom she could hide out. Her family lived three states over, so that wasn't an issue, and a quick check of her bank accounts told Amanda that Chelsea had only spent money on a fast-food breakfast... a big one by the price.

Now it was nearly midnight. The hangover had passed, but the weight of anxiety still remained. Every car that passed evoked the thought of red and blue lights flashing and rights being read. She considered going out and driving around to look for her, but dismissed the idea as wasted time. Chelsea would come home. There was no way she couldn't. She had keepsakes and valuables here that she would never skip out on.

After the second day, Amanda had calmed significantly. Her chief worry was that Chelsea hadn't run away, but instead had been hurt or kidnapped. Surely if she went to the police about her treatment, they would have arrived by then. Instead, she would just sit back and watch the news, hoping that her bonsai sub was alive. Hoping optimistically... and a bit delusionally... that Chelsea would be returned to her intact so that she might resume her sculpture in flesh.

*

Bali could scarcely believe her luck! It was wonderful! For the first time in her life, she had fur! Real fur! It wasn't implanted, it wasn't fake, it was her own body growing it! Whatever the good doctor had done she had made it possible that, with bit a short time of concentrating, she could divide her scales into real hair! She could even reverse the process and convert her newfound fur back into scales! It was everything she ever dreamed of and more.

Thanks to the wireless computer-uplink, which was like having the whole internet right in her brain and then some, she had learned months' worth of biology, psychology, physics, chemistry, sociology, and sexology in the course of one day! She could feel her knowledge growing by the second as the computer did the work and her brain stored it all in ways she was only beginning to understand.

In the meantime... fur! And warmth! She no longer had to use the sun, or heaters, or mammals to get warm. She was now in control of her own body temperature, just like a mammal! No, better than a mammal, she thought flicking her tongue rapidly to taste things in the air she never knew existed, mammals can't decide what temperature they want to be set at!

Better still, Mellany and Tatianna had offered her a position as their assistant, tasked with designing even better interfaces and programs to help newly trans-sentient people cope with their new abilities. Even more, they had offered her better money than she could ever hope to make at this stage in her career. She pondered the implications of having the university equivalent of "fuck you money", the amount of wealth needed to tell a boss right where to stick it. Best yet, with the new interface she knew she could gather all the information needed for a dozen doctorates even as she helped them!

The possibilities were staggering.

*

Chelsea's mind wandered through the archives of data within the massive supercomputer. Physically, she was at the beach, catching the warm rays of the sun and getting thinner by the minute as her body transformed the fatty tissues within her into something more useful. Meanwhile, she was free to roam the vast collection of files from Dr. Chesterfield's past. Chelsea had never been terribly smart, having never gotten better than 'average' on schoolwork, but with a supercomputer hooked up to her brain, she was able to guess at what she had been missing for so long. She might not have understood every last little detail, but when one could just look up whatever they didn't understand...

The project files were amazing, not the least of which being that Dr. Chesterfield looked like she was in her twenties, but thanks to her machines and procedures she appeared this way when she was actually pushing 50! She had a cure for cancer, dozens of methods to restore or regrow hair, ways to develop mammalian organs on non-mammals, prosthetic devices that bordered on cybernetics, a huge number of super-computers (including the one she currently used), a dozen automated manufacturing systems, and about five times that in just idle projects. Thanks to her association with the brilliant Tatianna, her bio-technology was beyond anything that even the government had!

In fact, as Chelsea pursued these projects, some of them had been sold _to_the government! Sold for enough money to buy a small country... enough to build and maintain a lab like hers and still live like a millionaire until her grandkids had grandkids. Dr. Chesterfield wasn't just some insane tinkerer, she was some sort of insane super-scientist!

Her head swimming with this knowledge, Chelsea let her consciousness become aware of the present for a while. She lifted up her dark sunglasses to check on the progress of her body adjustments. Eyes wide with shock, she sat up suddenly as she saw that, for the first time in as long as she could remember, she had a flat stomach! More than flat, she could see the muscles clearly beneath her fur! She had a six-pack! More than this, her body had re-assigned some of the unused tissue, giving her a full, large bosom and a firm round bottom!

Unable to contain her joy, she laughed out loud for several minutes. At one point she even got up and danced, grateful that she now looked like she had always hoped. Still heady with excitement, she dropped to her knees on her huge beach-towel. She didn't care what anyone did, didn't care that they stared at her like she had gone mad. She had been waiting for this her whole life.

Her hands darted beside her and pulled the cooler onto her towel, completely oblivious to the amount of sand stuck on the bottom. Ripping the lid open, she lifted out a two-liter bottle filled with deep-red soda. Unscrewing the cap, she took a giant drink of the fizz, sugary liquid within, draining off a quarter of it before she even stopped to take a breath. Her laughter drew yet more people's gaze as she threw the soda casually aside, not even caring to cap it.

Next came the chocolatey sandwich cookies, a whole box of them, which she proceeded to devour one-by-one, barely savoring the taste at all as she chewed them just enough to make them swallow-able. After she had wolfed down enough to get tired of the taste, she moved on to the éclairs, then the burgers, then the candies, all in an orgy of self-indulgence that she had only ever dreamed of.

Wrappers and discarded snacks lay all around her when the beach-cop showed up. A stern expression through mirrored sunglasses met Chelsea's food-stuffed face. She giggled as she bit down on the donut hanging from her mouth, the rest of it falling onto her towel. The humor from irony that she would be eating donuts just as a cop showed up tickled her mind awfully.

"Ma'am..." the cop said slowly, "do you realize you're causing a scene?"

For a moment, Chelsea couldn't help but laugh. She was far beyond caring, and the ridiculousness of someone calling her binge a 'scene' was just more than she could handle.

"I'm havin' a snack," she said through a mouthful of donut, "I'm not doin' nuffin' wrong, sho how 'bout leave me 'lone an' lemme finish?"

'What is wrong with me?!'_she thought as she stared at her beautiful twin reflections in the glasses, '_I've never talked to anyone like this before! What if he throws me in jail?! ... In jail for what? Eating? Other people staring? Was there anything he could really do?

"Ma'am, come on now," the cop said firmly, "You're disturbing the peace and you're littering. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Chelsea reached over and grabbed the half-spilled bottle of soda. Not caring whether it had sand in it or not, she took a big swig to clear her mouth out and then turned back to the cop, fixing him with an angry glare that certainly didn't normally belong on her face.

"Listen here," she said in a surprisingly hard voice, "You don't know what I've been through these last few years. I just went from being in an abusive relationship and having a fat ass to being free and thin! I've tortured myself for five years to get here! And now, because some whiney gawking assholes_think I'm 'disturbing', you think you can just come over and tell _me_I've gotta leave?! Get _THEM_outta here! They're disturbing _MY_peace! Now get outta here gawddamnit, 'cause I want a fucking_SNACK!!"

"Alright, that does it," said the cop, unfastening a pair of handcuffs from his belt, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to place you under arrest," He reached out and grabbed her wrist, "You have the right to remain..."

Before she realized what she had done, the policeman was airborne. She watched as he landed almost five feet away in a burst of sand and lay there, still. Terror hit Chelsea's mind like ton of bricks. This wasn't who she was! She was a shy and gentle person! She didn't yell and scream and throw people!

Chelsea set off at a run, ignorant of the staring faces around her. The crowd parted to let her through, not willing to deal with a crazy strong woman. Tears streaming from her eyes, she grabbed her bike and pedaled quickly away.

*

"Yeah Diane, you would never have believed it!" Sorrel said idly into her phone while she typed, "biggest ones you ever saw. But don't worry. That old koala won't have anything on me when I show up next time! Just get your cameras ready and your writer on standby."

Sorrel had called almost everyone she knew, not just to tell them about her embarrassment at the ball, but also to tell them about how she would redeem herself. She had tried herself out the night before and was constantly amazed at the progress she had made. Not only this, but she was as sensitive as she had ever been and twice as stretchy. More than that, she was in direct control of how far she could take things. The only limit left to her seemed to be her imagination and mental stamina as her new body seemed to know no bounds. When she had finished the latest session she was exhausted... not physically, but psychologically.

But a night of sleep later and she was back to her peak. She woke exactly when she wanted and charged through the day of work. The best part was that, since her feminine parts were now completely controllable, no special folding or tucking was required in her dressing. All she needed do was have them retract to a 'normal' size, a size they hadn't been since she had been a teenager, and go!

She hadn't even bothered to try the neural link to the doctor's supercomputer yet. It wasn't as if she needed to make her life complicated with gadgets. She'd always been a simple llama with simple tastes, no frills or doohickeys necessary. And now all she really needed was this fabulous body that could bend to her will.

Now she did just that. Stretching and playing with herself, extending more than just her labia. Before the night was through, she had added at least an inch of length to her nipples, doubled her earlobe surface-area, and stretched her lip out like those African people did with discs. Hours were spent simply exulting in her newfound play.

*

Thomas was bursting with excitement. Just three days of lying about... and now none of his clothes fit. Three feet in height and muscles like a bodybuilder in just three short days. The main office seemed to be calling every hour after him, but what did he care? He'd done enough in three days to set him up for life! When one had a supercomputer attached to his brain, multitasking became a breeze. He'd learned everything about pyrotechnics and color dynamics that he could find, expanding it out to demolition techniques, the psychology of color, and architecture. After those three days he felt like he had crammed many, many gigabytes into his head, enough that normally it should have overwhelmed him. Though his reformed brain found it a drop in the bucket and in place of exhaustion he found a zest for more.

And so it was, at 3AM on the fourth day that Thomas altered his ambitions. Instead of being the pyrotechnical peon, he decided that he would carve out his own empire. No! He would build an empire from the ashes of his trumped up boss's little company! With Dr. Chesterfield's computer's help, he broke into the networks of the West-End Fireworks Company. By 4:28 he had downloaded and rewritten nearly every scrap of information therein. A complete and destructive sabotage.

When Dominique came in at 8AM and tried to turn on the office computers only to find that they had been reset to factory defaults, she immediately suspected some sort of prank. Of course as other employees came in; shippers, receivers, technicians and even the boss himself, it became clear that something had gone terribly wrong. No data remained, the backups were blank, and even all the accounts had been tampered with.

Cluney D'Vallier, president and CEO of West-End Fireworks Inc., came in to a horror of chaos rather than the tidy, orderly offices he was accustomed to. For hours the remarkably tidy rat ran from place to place, alternating between yelling, fussing, and bemoaning the complete technical failure of his company. His tirade came close to hysteria when the police arrived, tipped off to a dozen crimes that would see Cluney tied up in court for years. Unsafe business practices, corruption, tax evasion, falsified inventories, unacceptable toxicity, and willful neglect poured from the list of charges levied against the once wealthy and powerful businessman. And to top it all off, every one of his accounts had been frozen.

So it was, at 7:43PM that evening, a tall, statuesque Asian squirrel that Cluney had never before met entered the interrogation cell. Calling himself Special Agent Felis, Thomas set the briefcase upon the brushed metal surface of the table and took the only remaining seat in the room. For many minutes, he simply stared at his former employer as the now-disheveled rat fidgeted in his seat. Without a word to him, Thomas clicked open the locks on the briefcase and removed his black, reflective shades.

"Whatever they've told you... I swear... I never..." Cluney began hysterically.

"Shut. Up," punctuated Thomas with icy calm as he settled his neatly folded sunglasses onto the table.

Another minute passed. Thomas' 'Agent Felis' face never wavering from the intense, emotionless stare that set Cluney writhing in his seat. As calm and precise as ever he had been in rigging an explosive, Thomas rotated the briefcase toward Cluney. Deft fingers pulled open the case to show what lay within. A single file-folder sat upon black velvet, not nearly as sunken as the case was deep. Seeing that Cluney was too frazzled to take the hint, Thomas spoke up.

"In this is a detailed report of an elaborate hacking committed against you and your company," Thomas explained coolly, "an expert was able to compromise your entire network in the most complete way any of us has ever seen. Also within is a detailed list of the crimes fabricated against you. You will now take the folder and notice the small flap in the case-bed beneath it."

Cluney did as he was told.

"If you lift that flap," Thomas continued in his best 'crime drama' voice, "you will see the settlement that I am authorized to offer you to hand over your corporation to us and decide to move to... oh... whatever island paradise you care to. We've got bigger fish to fry Mr. D'Vallier, and I'd hate to see you caught in that same skillet. All you need to do is sign the bottom page. We go on TV saying it was a huge scheme, and you get to walk away free and rich."

Cluney's head jerked up in abject confusion. He considered an extended moment before beginning the request to have a lawyer present.

"I think we're far past what you'd like, Mr. D'Vallier," Thomas interrupted stiffly, "I don't think you understand what sort of situation you're in. Do anything other than what I tell you, and none of this will end anything close to well for you. Trust me, it can get much worse..." Thomas pushed the briefcase toward him, "or much better. The choice, of course, is entirely yours."

Eighty-three seconds later, Thomas 'Special Agent Felis' Khitti sat alone in the interrogation chamber. A self-satisfied smile crept up his sculpted jawline as he fingered the page upon which lay Cluney D'Vallier's scrawl. With contemptuous joy he crumpled the page in his hands, relishing the feel of the stiff paper smashing against his palms. As he walked out of the room, the ball of wadded paper arched flawlessly into a nearby wastebasket.

*

"What the FUCK is THIS, Rinaldo?!" Urbos shouted as he glanced around the room, "God damn it Rinaldo, what the fuck have you been doing?!"

Urbos stormed into the room long before his young fox friend could respond. Arms wide, eyes wide, he made his way over to the coffee table; the object of his consternation. Upon the plain wood-veneered press-wood table was stacked wrapped bricks of white powder, crushed crystals, and stacks of cash. Other than his initial outburst, Urbos found himself speechless.

"Man, I'm just waitin' for my distributors and shit," the moron fox replied non-chalantly, "It's just fuckin' Thursday man, damn."

"You keep ten keys of crack and meth and like... what... fifty grand on your LIVINGROOM TABLE?! Every Thursday?!" Urbos yelled, mostly from lingering shock, "Where anyone looking in could see it?!"

"Sheeeeit man, nobody knows," Rinaldo replied insultingly, "E'ryone knows to keep they mouths shut. That's why I don't 'entertain' on Thursdays during the day."

"Jesus fucking Christ man!" Urbos started before the sound of helicopter blades cut him off.

The helicopter passed overhead, low and loud enough to shake all the windows in Rinaldo's pad. On a new sort of reflex with his connection to the internet right in his brain, Urbos scanned the police channels. In seconds he knew that the police were on their way to surround Rinaldo's house. Narcotics police, BATF, SWAT... everything. The helicopter was the first to arrive so as to keep an eye in the sky if the stupid fox tried to run.

Urbos saw in an instant that everything had suddenly become FUBAR. He was an officer, just like the dozens converging on the house, who was out of uniform, off record, standing beside a very wanted man and a table with probably a million dollars of drugs on it. He was minutes away from being uncovered and having the Office of Internal Affairs picking through every inch of him.

"Bathroom," he exclaimed before dashing off, leaving Rinaldo alone in the living room.

But surprisingly, the helicopter sound faded. And even as he set about prying open the bathroom window, he heard the doorbell ring. All this seemed strange as all of the information Dispatch had reported... the cops were still a ways away. The helicopter had been given the order to fall back, out of sight. Then it hit him.

Voices... but not police voices, reached his ears in the bathroom. These voices spoke in those same dumb, affected speech patterns that Urbos knew from half a dozen gang-bangers. The police had realized something and had let the other distributors arrive before moving in!

Giving his moronic acquaintance up for lost, Urbos slipped himself agilely out the bathroom window. He marveled at how easy such things had become since the procedure. He hadn't been this supple and lithe even on his best day, and now he was like some living cyborg robo-cop.

The plan had been to let Rinaldo, arguably the least despicable of his 'clients' test out his new flexibility, as well as one personal 'feminine' addition to his body. He'd imagined that, through this, he could milk Rinaldo for all the cash, or whatever else, he'd had. But now he wondered if even his enhanced form was enough to escape the ensuing shit-storm.

Shouting, something knocked over, the helicopter on its way back. It all went down in moments as Urbos attempted to clear the back yard. A clatter of sharp punctuating sounds rang out, an automatic weapon, followed quickly by the shattering of Rinaldo's sliding back door. Urbos gasped as pain lanced through his left shoulder, arm, and side. He dropped to the ground and gritted his teeth.

Someone had shot him! Even had it been aimed at someone else in the house, someone had managed to nail three shots into him. But where normally shock or fear would set in, a cold analytical feeling of control asserted itself. His body went to work on the damaged tissue immediately as the computer cross-referenced surgical data and felt for the bullet trajectories. Though the hits had been serious, they had mostly been flesh-wounds.

A loudspeaker, the roar of the helicopter overhead, and shouting. The police had the place surrounded even as Urbos dragged himself through a neighboring hedge. With any luck no one would be able to notice him as he made his get-away.

With a stroke of brilliance, he realized that with his access, he could watch all of the cameras on the house even as they were transmitted back to HQ. He also realized that with his new biology, he could effectively camouflage himself in seconds by changing his very noticeable black-and-white fur to something more commonplace and dull.

The cameras were focused on the house, not on him, as the seemingly endless wifi in his brain told him. The cop cars were less than a minute away, surrounding the front of the house, and more cars were on their way to cut off streets around the block. Another helicopter full of SWAT was inbound loaded with a capture team that would get in through the upper story of Rinaldo's house while the cops outside did their standoff. A federal marshal's vehicle was also a minute away with the ATF.

But with his new eye in the sky, compliments of his own precinct, no less, he was seconds away from escape. His heart raced, pumping blood and adrenaline around his body more swiftly than should have been sentiently possible. His lungs took in great gasps of air to fuel everything and his body became a fat-and-carb furnace. But thanks to his new neurochemistry, he wasn't feeling the bit on edge, just focused, ready, and fit to burst with energy.

Just ten minutes later, Urbos skidded to a halt. He'd just run three consecutive miles without a break. The police cameras had caught a glimpse of him as he dashed away at nearly impossible speed. But all they had seen was some brown-haired canine... dime a dozen instead of one in a million... tearing ass across the block. He'd passed the police perimeter while all the cops were busy trying to figure out just why their anti-theft systems had all engaged at once while they were still in their cars.

Another few minutes in the public restroom at a local café, and Urbos come out as a spotty grey-and-black canine with facial features more like a Shepherd than a wolf. Calm as anything, he ordered a drink, sat for a while, and played up his total non-involvement.

Shaking his head at the details, he watched the whole scene unfold in his head as he walked away. Rinaldo was screwed. Even with the best of deals and lawyers, he was facing 15 years minimum. Meanwhile, he was off scot-free, down one client, his bullet wounds were closing and would be completely healed within hours.

He was really liking the 'new me' he had become. Offhand, he made a mental note then and there to show the good doctor and her nurse just how appreciative he was as soon as he could.

Chapter 7

"So yeah, I have no idea what happened to her." Amanda answered to her friend's question, "Little tart just ran off near as I can tell."

Amanda ran a clawed hand up and down her long chin as she listened. Her eyes gazed dreamily, lazily at the ceiling fan. After a moment, she idly made 'chatterbox' motions with her long fingers while mouthing her friend's words mockingly. Why could she never get a word in edge-wise?

"Yeah, yeah, okay." She prompted, hoping she could pass the hint that she was ready to say something else, "Yeah, but look. I think it's time to find me a new target. So I figured I'll hit up the usual spots, look for some loser who seems worth the time, and then just worry about getting Chelsea off the lease."

She listened again, "Yeah, right, so meet me at like eight and we'll go from there." She paused as the voice on the phone over-ran her train of thought, "No! No, stop. I'm totally not worried. She's gone. After this long I'd be surprised if she ever comes back."

"No. Listen. Shut _UP_alright? You be there at eight, no more discussion."

The phone slapped shut and sailed across the room. Amanda groaned aloud in frustration. How dare that mindless whore dredge up that fat sack of crap again? Chelsea had been gone well over a month with no sign from anyone. There had even been a missing persons report and everything. No one had turned up hide or hair or fatty roll of her since.

And that was just fine.

Amanda had spent far too long, in her opinion, out of touch with her favorite pastime, worried over someone who just didn't matter to her. Chelsea had been quite a bit of work, and how easily she put on weight had certainly been enticing, but compared to the constant whining and aggravation the advantages seemed to pale. Chelsea had never been a good match.

It was definitely time to pick someone new to mold into the person Amanda wanted.

The shower was quick and refreshing, with the steamy hot water stimulating Amanda's mind into imagining what she'd do with the next person. While she had a few things that her personality practically demanded when it came to bonsai-subs, there was just so much to do in the area of body modification that she'd be a fool not to consider.

The other bonsai masters were picky just like she was. Every other person had something that they simply loved doing to their subjects. Amanda, specifically, was a feeder. She got a jolly out of watching people expand in girth, especially if she could do it in a way that the sub wouldn't catch on to. Often times this led to terrible break-ups which she brushed off without a moment's thought.

Chelsea had been her most recent project, but was really just one amongst many. Tonight, Amanda decided, she would have just one more to replace the last.

Chuckling at her own confidence, she stood in front of her bathroom mirror and examined herself. Slender, but not overly thin, silky coat, shiny blonde hair that now hung limp due to moisture, and curves that perhaps weren't anything astounding, but ones that most other anteater females would kill for. She was attractive in a way she'd never allow her subs. That was exactly how she wanted it.

Wrapping a big fluffy towel around her torso, Amanda strolled out into her bedroom with a big smile on her tiny lips. The odd note hummed in her very long mouth here and there as she shimmied over to her dressing blind. Drying quickly and throwing on the few articles she'd picked for the night, she made her way out, intending to put on make-up.

"You were doing it all on purpose."

A scream pierced the room as Amanda jumped in surprised shock at the voice.

"All that time I spent with you, I suspected... but in the end... I _let_you manipulate me."

A woman sat on the end of Amanda's bed, someone she did not recognize at all. This woman could have been a supermodel, every male's dirtiest fantasy, and then gone on to win Miss Universe. She was flawless in a way not even Amanda's years of study regarding the forms of people could have prepared her for.

A fennec fox, beautiful beyond genetics, with the voice of Chelsea.

"What?" the fennec demanded, "First time you've got nothing at all to say? Where's that fancy wit? Where are all the quips and put-downs and subtle derision?!"

"Ch... Chelsea?" Amanda finally forced out in an unbelieving whisper, "What the hell?"

"No. Chelsea's dead. That pudgy, under-confident little wastrel is gone forever. You. You killed her."

"I... what?!"

"I'm her spirit come for revenge. I'm here to make you pay for every nasty little thing you did to her... and to everyone else _like_her."

Amanda ran. She bolted for the stairs fast as her legs could carry her. Stomping down the stairs she slipped at the bottom landing, sliding on the carpet like a runner going home. White hot pain flared along her leg, but the rug-burn was pushed quickly aside as she clawed for momentum toward the door.

Even as she reached for the handle, something dropped out in front of the entryway, throwing a dim silhouette across the front door's distorted-glass window. Chelsea had dropped out from her bedroom window and landed like a gymnast right in front of the door!

Throwing herself backward, she made for the sliding glass door that lead to her back yard. But even as she went, the front door flew open violently, admitting Chelsea's advance. Amanda slammed into the reinforced glass and scrabbled at the locks, cursing loudly at her insistence that the back way always remain so secure.

Hands too strong to belong to such a willowy looking woman grabbed around Amanda's slender chest and shoulders in a bear-hug. Amanda screamed and thrashed, but found her opponent to be far too strong and stable to shift. The breath was knocked from her as she was thrown to the floor.

"WHY?!" Amanda screamed in petulant impotent frustration as Chelsea loomed over her.

The fennec drew out a shiny object, sleek and silver, roughly the size and shape of a derringer pistol. There was no bore-hole in the muzzle, but instead a tiny hair-thin needle. Amanda threw her arms up to block Chelsea's lunge. The needle pricked through the fur on her forearm.

"You know why." Chelsea said as Amanda swooned into unconsciousness.

*

The glass walls of Dr. Chesterfield's beachside home cycled through shades of bright chartreuse and powder lavender while staccato humming tones sounded through every room. Tatianna let loose as low a growl as she was able, frustrated that her fun had been so interrupted. There was no point using the remote control to stop the movie, the alert would have automatically saved and paused everything, but the angry cockatiel still made a point of lifting it and slapping it down on the bed.

It was Dr. Chesterfield's highest alarm, this green-and-purple techno-rave, and while Tatianna was happy that her love had not programmed a harsher and more jarring alert, she still wished that they didn't seem to always_interrupt her when she watched classic cartoon movies. While Mellany might not understand what she saw in those 'immature' films, Tatianna was never made to feel like she _couldn't.

But something _always_seemed to happen when she did.

Her fine hand slapped harshly at the access panel on the nearest wall. The alert immediately toned down at her acknowledgment.

"Computer, explain what caused Alert Priority One and find the location of Doctor Chesterfield." She ordered, trying to keep her voice calm.

"Alert Caused By Transsentient Test Subject Data. Mellany Chesterfield Is Within City Limits. Nearest Cross-street Is 37thAnd Breton. She Has Responded To Alert Communique. ETA In Current Traffic: 27 Minutes."

Tatianna rubbed vigorously at her temples. One or more of the people with Dr. C's latest upgrades were up to something that made the computer freak out. Unbeknownst to the test subjects, their actions were being closely monitored. They'd been given bodies and minds with nearly limitless potential; something no one alive had ever had. The potential for abuse was staggering and, though Dr. C had assured her that everything would be fine, Tatianna worried that perhaps this group of people might not be responsible with their new and awesome power.

Disgruntled thoughts building in her mind, Tatianna threw on a silk robe and made for the lab. Just before she reached the entrance to the stairs, a chime from her phone interrupted her thoughts. Without looking, for it could only possibly be Mellany, Tatianna thumbed her phone to answer and pressed it to her ear.

"Hey, Tatianna, it's me Bali." Said the voice on the other end, "I heard the alert while going through the computer link. I'm like, no-time away. Is there anything I can do to help? Is something going really wrong?"

"Bali? How did you..." Tatianna began before remembering that, while connected to Computer, Bali and the others could conceivably get the numbers to her and Mellany's private numbers, "Never mind. The doc is going to be here soon. I'm going to check on the situation. Just... stay where you are until I say so."

"Tats?" Mellany's voice broke in suddenly, "How are you already on the phone?"

"Bali... she's got our numbers. I am on with her right now somehow."

"I'll be there as soon as I can." Mellany... no, Dr. Chesterfield now, said briefly before deactivating the line.

Tatianna groaned in annoyance and made her way down into the lab. In haste she dashed around the various workstations to the main terminal for Computer. Scrolling through the readouts and unnecessary graphics tabs that Mellany_insisted_on having... because it didn't look 'sci-fi' enough without them... and pushed through to the cause of the alert. Tatianna gasped as she scanned through the actions and data in-loads that broke down what the subjects were doing and how their new bio-mechanical supercells were functioning.

Her understanding of medical biology, especially in the field of physiology, was practically unparalleled. In another universe she might have been one of the best doctors in medicine. But the data that scrolled past her stretched her limit of cellular understanding. She'd helped _design_the process and it was still overwhelming to see.

Then she found out what had tripped the alarm. Chelsea, arguably the least stable, had acquired data from Computer's restricted databanks and was preparing to use it! The formulas for an old feminization procedure, one for which she'd been a first-test subject and which had indirectly caused the destruction of the first full practice facility the she and Mellany had ever built, had been accessed and modified...

The experimental procedure that had inadvertently caused a young woman's chest to literally explode as her biology had gone crazy...

Most haunting of all was that the data trail ended there. The systems that Dr. Chesterfield had put into each test subject couldn't read their thoughts and could only monitor their use of their bio-stats and their use of Computer.

Seeing no ability to actually affect the outcomes; all Tatianna could do was wait. Somehow the fact that these super-efficient biological machines with sentient brains and what amounted to superpowers had been just allowed to have free reign like this chaffed.

Still, she knew there would be no talking to Dr. Chesterfield about it. She'd get on her high horse about 'test conditions' and 'acceptable risk' and how Tatianna 'shouldn't worry so much'... just like all the other times. On a whim, fueled by frustration, she checked on the others.

Urbos had grown himself into a fully functioning hermaphrodite, altered his appearance a dozen times, and had used Computer to monitor everything the police had that used electronics. Bali had accessed every academic file they had and had been perusing every corner of the internet, as well as growing herself a layer of fur. Sorrel had yet to bother with computer information and had been crazily stretching every part of her she could... showing off, Tatianna realized. Finally Thomas had caused himself to grow over three feet in height and done some minor cosmetic changes, but shockingly he seemed to be building his own financial empire using Computer's data and algorithms... which is partially how Dr. Chesterfield funded things anyway. Most disturbing was his research into weapons-grade explosives and munitions delivery systems...

The lab door slammed open and the thunk of large feet coming down stairs quickly followed.

"I'm here. What's the problem?" Dr. Chesterfield said neutrally, if a bit out of breath.

"I think Chelsea's going to try to kill someone," Tatianna replied, quite a bit more gruffly than she intended, "and I think everyone else might be going crazy. I don't think she was psychologically stable enough for this... in fact..."

"Don't worry about it," Dr. Chesterfield said dismissively, sitting herself down at the adjacent console, "Computer. Show me all topics accessed by subject Chelsea, tabular format. Then do same for other subjects. Put full monitoring on Chelsea and run all predictive algorithms concerning her behavior and prepare a full report on outcomes, Alarm Blue Two when finished. Then set up a meeting between myself, Tatianna, and Bali."

Tatianna stared incredulously, "That's all we're going to do? We're going to watch as we let one of our crazy bio-enhanced monsters actually _kill_someone?"

Dr. Chesterfield wore an amused look as she leaned over and tapped at an icon on Tatianna's screen. Tatianna glanced at it and then quickly did a double-take. She stared slack-jawed, for a moment before a chirping chuckle started in her throat.

"Oh wow, you had me worried for a second there." She said with relief, "I had almost thought you were going to let things actually get out of control."

"Well it should certainly be interesting how she uses all of this. I mean, it's always fun to watch how other people use my data and tech. I'd better set Computer to record it."

"I can't believe you're going to let her blow that poor woman up." Tatianna chortled, sharing Dr. C's amusement.

"A little justifiable revenge can go a long way towards fixing things," Dr. Chesterfield replied clinically, sounding as if she had ice in her veins, "Maybe we'll get that Department of Defense contract after all. You should go get ready; we have a meeting with Bali to discuss things in half an hour."

Tatianna glanced at the notice blinking in the bottom corner of her screen informing her of the meeting that had just been scheduled.

*

The smell of something cooking brought Amanda to her senses. Something that smells sharp, tangy, and delicious. Some sort of tomato sauce. Before she could open her eyes, she heard someone speak.

"Hey there Chunkarella."

Chelsea's voice. Amanda tried to open her eyes just a slit, hoping that maybe she could pass for unconscious. The effort was in vain, however, as she immediately found herself to be blindfolded. A reactionary twitch told her that she was also bound hand and foot.

"I know you're awake. I also know you are pretending you aren't. Amanda... I don't know how but I freaking know what you're thinking." Chelsea informed her in a haunting tone, "I don't know how... but I already know how this is all going to play out, and it's going to be just like _I_want it to, and in no way how _you_want it to. You're going to get a taste of your own medicine."

"So what," Amanda piped up, breaking the silence with her harshest tone, "your plan is to tie me to a chair and feed me shitty food until I'm a tenth as fat as you were? Fuck you. I've got tons of friends who're expecting me. They notice I'm gone, they'll be calling the cops."

"Yeah, know what?" Chelsea said hauntingly, "I sooo don't care. What I've got in store will let me be gone in too short a time for anyone to help you. They'll never be able to find me anyway. I am in control of all this."

"Hah, yeah right!" Amanda sneered at the threat, "Look at you. Cosmetic surgery? And now you think you're gonna waltz in here, mess me up somehow, and then what? Just walk away? Or what, were you going to go further, huh? Gonna _kill_me you worthless little shit? Fuck that, you ain't got the _balls_for it. You're useless."

Chelsea walked around the corner that separated the living room from the kitchen. The pot with rich red sauce simmered gently on the stove, alighting her senses with the richness of the herbs. She'd never been much of a cook before, but with everything she'd been able to figure out recently, she was certain it was good enough to make a true Italian grandmother weep with joy.

Angel hair pasta with marinara. It was a simple dish, all told, with the sauce having most of the ingredients. She made a small plate and topped it with the sauce. This wasn't just a plate of pasta, though. This was the instrument of her revenge. Pasta had always been her weakness and the thing Amanda had used most against her, so it seemed only appropriate.

"I made you dinner," Chelsea said with mock sweetness, sarcasm dripping from her every word, "I sure hope you like it. I made it special for you."

She sat in a chair beside Amanda, setting the plate down on an end-table she'd pulled up. She took out a long fondue fork, not the tool a normal person would use, but adequate for the thin pasta and Amanda's small mouth. She twirled a fork-full and moved it out in front of her adversary's face.

"If you think for one second..." Amanda began as she smelled the hovering morsel.

"Open. Your. Mouth." Chelsea said harsh and quiet.

"Fuck. You. Bitch." Amanda replied mockingly.

It was the oldest trick in the book. If you wanted to get someone to open up, you just plugged their nose. It worked especially well when someone was _trying_to resist. A calm, rational, non-trapped person would just breathe through their teeth, but a struggling person would always open up. And that was how, after only a minute of struggling with Chelsea's surprisingly strong hand pinching her nose, Amanda's mouth flew open with a gasp.

In went the fork, and then out again without its payload as Amanda tried to reflexively close her mouth again. Chelsea's fingers clamped over her mouth in an instant, preventing Amanda from spitting. Setting down the fork, she used her other hand to remove the blindfold, wanting Amanda to see the grin on her face.

"I don't care if you don't swallow. The sauce should already be doing its work. I can hold my hand here all day though, you're gonna swallow that. Then you're gonna eat this whole plate... and then we'll see."

It took ten minutes, but Chelsea savored every second. Amanda's eyes glared furiously over her ridiculously long muzzle, her long blonde hair pinned back so Chelsea could see both of them at once. Her expression slipped from rage to uncertainty and then to desperation. Tentatively, Chelsea let go and readied another forkful.

Amanda found that she just couldn't help herself. Salivating beyond reason she could hardly mount a defense against taking that second bite. The sauce seemed to directly stimulate her brain's pleasure centers rather than just taste good. As she swallowed the second mouthful, she was already ravenous for the next.

But Chelsea didn't give her a third.

"Did you know that hunger is driven by hormones? Three separate hormones made naturally and, like, fifty other chemicals called 'orexigenics'. I'll give you three guesses..."

"Fuck you!" Amanda shouted, "You're fucking _sick_you crazy bitch!"

"Oh, ain't that just the pot and the kettle!" Chelsea retorted coldly, "I'm just exactly what you made me. Now. Are your ready for another bite?"

Amanda squirmed in the chair, trying with all her might to resist. The simple fact was, she_seriously__needed_another bite. She felt as though her stomach was trying to eat its way through her spine!

The fork hovered just out of reach, loaded with more tasty noodles and sauce. Try though she might, Amanda couldn't break her thoughts away for more than a brief moment. Tunnel vision soon gripped her, her mouth hanging slack, begging for the next bite.

It was then that Chelsea finally let her have it. The fork pulled away empty and Chelsea reached in to dab at Amanda's lips as she chewed desperately. Not a minute after, her drooling mouth was open desperately once again.

"Did you know that a person's body is constantly cycling through fatty acids? I didn't either until I got this encyclopedia in my brain." Chelsea mused cryptically, "Storage happens only when certain conditions are met... it also happens to be triggered by chemicals. I met someone who had, no kidding, found a formula for shutting off the outflow of fat chemicals and freaking _weaponized_hunger! The military didn't want to use it because of it being a chemical weapon... but guess what I did."

Chelsea walked around Amanda, loosening the knot that held everything in place. Immediately, Amanda sprung from the chair and unceremoniously buried her face in the pasta. Her large hands shoveled the noodles and sauce into her mouth with such fervor that she managed to mess the entire length of her muzzle with food. She barely came up to breathe and in moments the little plate was empty.

"Seconds?" Called Chelsea from the kitchen. She brought out a punch-bowl filled with noodles and sauce. The bowl was set on the floor, like someone might do for a pet, mere seconds before Amanda ran forward and buried her long mouth in it. Her little mouth made a surprising amount of noise as she chomped, chewed, slurped and otherwise devoured the contents.

Chelsea then went about opening every cupboard and cabinet, tossing everything edible onto the floor. Chips and cookies, packets of dried bugs, cans full of everything else; all was thrown down in front of Amanda. Once the anteater finished the huge bowl of noodles she attacked the nearest edibles to continue her feast. So consumed with her need to consume, Amanda couldn't even recognize what she was shoving into her mouth before it passed through her teeth.

Chelsea watched as Amanda scarfed down thing after thing. She also watched as her ex-roommate swelled. Amanda had already eaten more than most people could before being sick, but still she ate. Every now and then a wave of nausea or a pain in her abdomen would force her to stop, but Chelsea had used chemicals, nanotechnology, and enzymes to ensure that Amanda would be able to handle _most_of what she ate.

Thanks to a metabolic stimulant, everything Amanda processed was shipped right into her adipose tissue, turning into stored fat. The process wasn't as fast as it might be in cartoons or those ridiculous fiction stories written by fetishists, but it was fast enough to be clearly visible if someone watched it happen over an hour.

Mathematical calculations whizzed through Chelsea's enhanced brain as she considered the caloric contents, the translation into fat, density of fatty tissue, and just how much Amanda would be putting on by the day's end.

"Well," Chelsea sneered with a mockingly sweet voice, "I'm bored with you now. I'm gonna go do some awesome self-indulgent shit with my new super-model body and enjoy the hell out of every minute. You just... you know... stay here and get fatter. Bye-bye bitch."

Perhaps not the most poetic exit, she thought as she made her way toward the door, but it hardly mattered.

*

Cameras flashed in staccato strobes as Sorrel paraded herself out onto the catwalk. Hundreds of eyes stared out from behind those cameras as she struck pose after pose for her enamored audience. The clothing she was wearing served only to accent her body; nothing to do with modesty or civility at all.

She'd become a goddess in the stretch-play circuit. Everyone knew her, all the other models wanted to _be_her. The neural interlink had set her up with agents and fans alike, most of whom hadn't even _heard_of her a week before. People who now thought of her as something to be fawned over.

What little clothing she had on was pulled aside as she unlimbered her assets. Attendants came out, dressed all in black so as not to draw notice, and hooked large metal rings to strategically placed piercings all around her most sensitive parts. One for each nipple, twelve in total for her labia. Threads of nigh-invisible polymer cord were tied to each ring as she positioned herself to show off her stretches.

The cords pulled and so went her flesh. Two more attendants took her arms as she bent over backwards, her nethers unfolding in huge capes of delicate skin. Her nipples pulled out toward the ceiling, taking the weight of her torso as her body reclined as a contortionist's might. Out and out they went, stretching far beyond the limits of what should be biologically possible.

It felt amazing.

Sorrel had to concentrate, even despite her near-total control of her body, to keep from breaking her stone-firm demeanor. The act was to show that this was nothing to her, that she was as stable as a statue while this was going on. But inside she writhed with almost indescribable pleasure and wonder.

More camera flashes, more pictures, and yet more tension on the lines. Anyone with a normal biology, even with decades of training, would have been in agony by now, but all Sorrel could feel was a desire for more. Impossible was simply not in her vocabulary any longer.

Applause erupted all around her, mingled with the shutter-snaps of cameras. An alarm, silent and unnoticeable to anyone else, notified Sorrel that she was at the brink of ruining the suspended disbelief of the audience. Extensive they could take, but she was approaching what should not have been medically possible. It was the end of her display for now.

Judges approached with yardsticks and tape measures. For many of the fetishists, this was the part that solidified things. Anyone could _look_stretched, but numbers gave them something to hold on to. Sorrel grinned broadly as she felt the tickle of the tapes against her.

"Official width," an announcer called out, "three feet, ten inches! Length, four feet, one inch!"

A wave of satisfaction and giddy joy flushed through Sorrel as she heard the numbers and heard the crowd. It was everything she had wanted; a dream come true. While she might have calculated everything in her own head, she reveled in someone else calling out the numbers. It reminded her of how _real_everything seemed.

The crowd cheered again as the judges measure the length of her nipples, and again still as the judges announced that Sorrel had set a new record. But just like that, the measuring was done and the moment was gone. Attendants helped furl her flag-like labia, straighten her into a standing position, and unhook everything. Gathering her excess, trying not to give away that all of it could and would be shrunk back to a normal size in a matter for minutes, Sorrel was ushered off stage.

Back behind the curtains was a stark contrast to the runway. All the decorations were for the audience and backstage was bereft of color and flair. It was mostly due to the crappy venues at which shows like these were held. High class places tended to be both expensive and snobbish. Big places were always claiming that their 'reputation' would be sullied if they allowed such 'lewd' subject matter to be shown. That or they tried to diplomatically say that such fetishes had a limited audience and no 'drawing power'.

So her artistry was confined to this brick-and-mortar abomination. Painted black walls, trash on the floor, bad lights, frameworks and boards all about. It was the side of performances the audience never saw. One side of the curtain, pretty as you please, the other was just horrible.

Sorrel swept toward the waiting room, it didn't deserve the title 'green room' after all, and made for the nearest chair. Around her were half a dozen other performers, each doing last minute touch-ups or busy with the process of removing their make-up and tending their flesh.

Mutters and comments slid past Sorrel as she took her seat. Many were jealous, suspicious, or otherwise negative at her abilities. None knew the truth, of course, but they all figured Sorrel had cheated. But then, if she had truly cheated, none could identify how... or even when she'd had the time.

Being a fetishistic sort of thing, the stretching community was rather close-knit. Cosmetic surgery left scars, natural stretching took time, and even muscle-relaxers only worked so well and never added more than an inch or two. Sorrel had accelerated her stretch far too quickly to have healed from surgery, and nothing else fit a conventional explanation.

Even as Sorrel sat down she heard the other girls begin to chatter. Some of it was speculative, but most was jealous venom and bile. She ignored them pointedly, as if she could hear nothing of their just-above whispers meant to taunt and unnerve her. She knew that she was the spot-light stealer now, and she didn't care at all for their jealousy.

"So, when are you going to tell us all how you cheated?" said a voice from behind Sorrel. The statement was made suddenly, hoping to shock and surprise, but failed utterly to Sorrel's enhanced senses.

"You're delusional Eucan," Sorrel sighed, "If you know something... prove it. You're just mad because you are now clearly in second place."

"Look, Sorrel, no one is going to be mad if you modded. Just tell us all what you did. We're just curious how to increase our own stretch too."

"Yeah, that_doesn't sound manipulative, accusatory, or implicating... Why don't you gals leave off? This was seriously all natural. You just need to work harder. Besides, I know _you, Eucan, are modded out of anyone here. Hell, you've got a genital enhancement store."

Pushing herself from the seat. Sorrel kept her eyes away from the other girls. In just the short time Eucan had been talking, Sorrel had tucked herself away to such an extent that no one could guess the dimensions she had just recently been at. Dismissing the others only made them angrier, but Sorrel had calculated all of this into her movements.

"I'm off to see my agent, gals," She said casually as she walked out.

A heavy sigh passed as soon as she was out of earshot of everyone else. It was fun for a while, being seemingly limitless, but when the show was over and everyone_else_was back to hating her for it, she just couldn't help but feel a bit depressed. Something was missing... and she knew exactly what.

It wasn't a challenge any longer. Nothing was. She was a show-piece. A record-holding show-piece perhaps, but to the audience she was just as interchangeable as the sets and backdrops.

She felt depressed.

But suddenly her mind processed something. She didn't _have_to feel depressed. The new enhancements left her entirely in control. With a mere thought she changed her mind and the depression lifted in an instant in a way no mere mortal could have ever done.

What did she care? She was doing exactly what she wanted. Why shouldn't life be a never-ending basket of pleasure? Why should it matter if the others were jealous? Of _course_they were jealous. It was only natural.

The cellphone in her hand was dialing even as she was thinking this, her thoughts linking with the contact-list.

"Briar?" She started causally, calm as anything, "It's me Sorrel. Hey girlfriend, how about you and I get together in a while and have some fun?" she waited on a response, "That works! Half an hour."

The phone turned itself off as she brought it away from her face. Thanks to her enhanced control of the very chemicals that made up her brain, she felt as good as she had in... ever. Now she was off to enjoy herself, however it might happen.

*

Even if she went back in time, she'd never have recognized herself.

So thought Bali as she gave herself a final once-over in the floor-length mirror before heading to her meeting. Like Quetzalcoatl of ancient legend, she was a feathered serpent. But there the similarity ended. It was not only feathers, but fur as well. Her natural serpentine form remained sleek and shining, but at stylistic places she appeared almost to be wearing some sort of costume.

Hours of work had gone into this look, and she'd even had to spend considerable time on 3D modeling tutorials just to get it all to look right. It seemed like days of work had gone into just getting past the 'uncanny valley' look that her initial attempts had produced. Despite all the bio-robotic super-factory control she had over her anatomy, some things needed a bit more work than she'd imagined.

That had all paid off, of course, when the feathers had come in. While she'd had a love of fur throughout her life, Bali found feathers to be at least as exhilarating.

As she got dressed in a few shockingly scant articles of clothing, just enough to cover the essentials really, she wondered how much faster she could have rendered herself a new look if she hadn't been researching, refining, and finishing three doctoral dissertations in her spare time. And if she hadn't been distracted refining her look... she probably could have squeezed in a fourth.

The link with Dr. Chesterfield's supercomputer had definite advantages.

It would take quite some time for normal people to even catch up to the things she'd accomplished. Her new brain was able to think-to-text and to process words even as they were downloaded. She could know every word in a text-book in minutes, stored in her mind, and then sit back and process the information through her imagination at leisure.

This was what a god of knowledge must feel like, she mused, Balicoatl, Goddess of Knowledge.

No. Goddess of the Mind.

No... Goddess of Thought!

A smile and chuckle left her as she made her way toward the car that would take her to the meeting.

*

"We're both just so impressed with you!" Dr. Chesterfield exclaimed, hugging Tatianna close as they sat on the loveseat together, "Out of all of our test subjects, you've clearly done the most with it!"

Bali beamed at the praise, her plush-soft tail curling up in delight involuntarily.

"We're not going to disclose what the others have been _doing_specifically, you understand," Tatianna added, sounding far too serious for someone with a chirping voice, "Confidentiality."

"Oh don't worry," Bali said proudly, "I already know the kind of mischief they're up to."

"You do?" Dr. Chesterfield remarked with a tone just altered enough to sound surprised.

"I'm hooked into your supercomputer." Bali said flatly, worried for a moment that she might have upset the doctor. "I didn't _do_anything. I mean, I don't want you to compromise your experiments."

Dr. C suddenly laughed, a single-syllable explosive laugh that was laced with both humor and a bit of incredulity. Tatianna tittered to herself quietly, only being heard as Dr. C's outburst died away.

"What's so..." Bali started.

"I haven't done anything_scientific_in years!" Chesterfield exclaimed, "Science is about repetition and experiments. I don't really _do_those."

And for just a second, hearing Dr. Chesterfield's valley-girl accent, Bali could almost believe it.

"What Mel... I mean... the doctor is trying to say is, she doesn't do science, she does technology. Completely different. Scientists try to understand the universe. The doctor really sort of... plays with her toys and then gets bored."

Bali's eyebrows, for she now had actual eyebrows, cocked in amazement at what she thought was a blatant insult.

"Only difference between me and a little kid," Chesterfield added cheerfully, "is that I can_build_my _own_toys!"

"That and the sexual maturity thing," Tatianna countered in great humor.

"I'd hardly call it_maturity_," Dr. C finished with a mockingly 'grown up' sort of voice, "I prefer the term 'advanced youthfulness' myself."

The ladies giggled and laughed as Bali sat staring in wonder at the psychological-analyses-made-flesh sitting before her. She had a moment to wonder just what she may have gotten herself into.

"Well, enough of that," Chesterfield announced in a business-like manner that her accent made to sound like she was about to call for a mall-trip, "Bali, we've asked you here because we think you have the potential to actually accomplish something with us. I'm an exceptional technologist, Tatianna is a superlative medical genius... but with projects like this we need someone more. Someone who can understand the sentient_mind_. Someone who can complement our studies of the body and reach a person's soul."

"I... well..." Bali said hesitantly. Though her mind was whirring at a million rpms, she hadn't really been ready for such an impassioned proposition.

"We're asking you to become a partner!" Tatianna chirped happily.

"Just... just like that?"

"Just like that!" Dr. C answered, "Look, Tats and I are both college dropouts, there's very little you're gonna learn there. You know my stuff works AND_you're way smarter and more perceptive about stuff that... well frankly that we don't care about but _should. That, plus you're linked with my supercomputer anyway. It's not like we've got any other prospects either."

Even with all her newfound brainpower... how could she have ever predicted any of this?

"You'll even earn thirty percent of any contracts and sales we make... and we already_pull in seven digits a year from our patents and contracts _alone."

Enticing, but what was money to someone like her? She was a super-being with a computer in her brain.

"And we'll get you some undergrad research minions," Dr. C added finally, "Some really hot ones."

"Deal!"

*

She smiled brushed a hand through her silky snow-white hair. Urbos hadn't really had a problem with being male, but this...

The mirror showed off a picture of natural wolfish beauty as Urbos posed before it. Masculine shoulders and a honed policeman's muscles had become the graceful feminine curves of an acrobat. How it was possible he couldn't begin to guess... well, not further than he had access to Mellany's project files.

Gender-queer was the nebulous term others had tossed about all his life. Even though he'd gone out of his way to emphasize his masculine aspects, Urbos had never liked feeling so _stuck_before. Years of confusion had been his childhood, with bullies and the ignorant harassing him until he'd decided enough was enough. He'd trained himself to be strong and had even gone into police work. But deep inside he always knew things were wrong.

He'd been in between. Gay had been an early thought, but then his attraction to women had him thinking he was merely bisexual... but even that had gone by the wayside as he fantasized about actually _being_female, if only it weren't permanent. Surgeries were out from the start. He _enjoyed_maleness.

And then the miracle had happened. Urbos had a body that could be male or female or anything in between. Nothing could stand in the way of whatever Urbos had a mind to do. If she wanted to clean up the streets, who could possibly stop her? Who could even _track_her when all she needed to become 'he' and walk away looking completely different?

Even now as Urbos stared at her new self in the mirror, half her fur was transitioning from white to black. Melanins and other pigment chemicals were being mass-produced at his own discretion to replace the colorlessness in the right half of her hair. The bisected coloration, half-white and half-black had always been Urbos' major identifying characteristic. Out of every record in the country there were only one thousand two hundred and forty three other bisected black-and-white furs, and he had been the only wolf.

But gone were the days where he would stand out for something so mundane. Urbos, the female, played with the patterning to form stripes that seemed to invert between each half of her body. It wouldn't do much for undercover work, but she wasn't interested in that.

Apart from Urbos' gender-queer life, there had been an aspect that could only be called 'legal-queer'. Playing both sides of the fence had been a thrill before, but now with access to every bit of information the police had, it was becoming downright easy.

Satisfied with her naked form, Urbos strode to the bed and picked up the bodysuit laying there. It was a shame, she thought, to cover up so much detail work, but she decided that utility had to trump fashion today. The armored garment fit like a glove, zipping up with ease as she wriggled inside. Straps came next, holstering utility pouches, sidearms, flash-bangs, grapples, and other odds and ends.

Finally, Urbos walked to the nearby desk and clicked open the case thereupon. From within came the pieces of her proper weapon. A new rifle requisitioned, technically without permission, from a hostage rescue team. A sniper rifle. Tungsten AP ammunition, full-spectrum target finder, 24" barrel, form-adjusting stock, and a device that could translate the vibrations off of surfaces into audible sound. It was the kind of gun you used to tag someone who was behind a wall.

Again with a sigh of resignation, Urbos pulled on her facemask and got ready for work. If she was going to be a vigilante criminal kingpin, she had quite a lot of targets to get through.

*

Thomas groaned aloud as he flicked paper wads across the priceless Amazonian Rosewood conference table. All around him sat empty chairs, all askew in one way or another. He was sitting at the head of the table...

...completely and utterly bored.

Mentally, Thomas ticked through his checklist of things to do. It wasn't a typical list as most people might think of things. It didn't contain any errands or tasks like 'get milk on the way home'. Nor was it a list of things that would personally better himself.

This was a list of revenges, a catalogue of the slights against him and who had done them.

The top of the list was, of course, his old boss Cluney D'Vallier, crossed off in a satisfyingly final way. On down the list went the names of people and organizations who, one way or another, had gotten in Thomas's way at some point or other. Interestingly enough, had any of them possessed the sense to step aside and simply be polite to him... well... the list would have been so much shorter.

This, Thomas reflected logically, would have only meant he would have gotten bored like this faster than he had.

Throughout his life, he had been small, under-appreciated, dismissed, and slighted. He'd never been bullied-- at least never more than once-- in his youth. Everyone knew better than that after they saw the hideous burn-scars on Ludo after that... accident.

But as adulthood taught him that no one likes an obsessive psychopath, he'd sublimated his urges to attack those that disrespected him. With his intelligence and education it was easy to design dozens of other _non-violent_ways to get his revenge against these irritants which stood between him and greatness.

And now, looking back on it, some of them had just been downright petty.

Though he had to admit, he'd always wanted to melt someone's luxury car with thermite...

...and he'd always wanted to usurp whole corporations...

...and it _had_been fun organizing that fireworks display in such a way that the odd, over-packed, misfiring rocket would just HAPPEN to hit that poorly delivered fuel dump next to city hall...

But what was he to do now that his list was complete?! He had all the known knowledge of pyrotechnics, physics, chemistry, and a dozen other disciplines at his fingertips. His clever manipulation of banking codes and corporate transactions meant he practically ownedeverything...

...why was he BORED now?

The last wad of paper skipped a dozen times across the mirror-polished surface, hitting another wad and knocking it aside in an impromptu sort of 'paper shuffleboard' Thomas had decided he was playing.

Standing and straightening the hideously expensive suit over himself, Thomas let out a long, slow sigh and heaved an overly dramatic shrug.

"I guess I'll just try to take over the world then." He said to the empty room.

Chapter 8 - Finale

"You know," Tatianna said gently, with humor in her voice, "I know how this all should work. I know biology and physiology way_better than you do... and it shouldn't have been physically possible. Like... not at all. Not even knowing _you."

"That's, like, the fiftieth time you've said something like that to me since I've known you," Mellany pointed out, also in good spirits, "I take it as a compliment of the highest sort."

Tatianna raised her fingers, preparing to count off, "One, cells don't work like that. Two,_computers_don't work like that. Three, the brain requires its neurotransmitters and electrical potentials to operate. Four, the_mind_shouldn't work like that..."

"All valid points for sure," Mellany giggled, "but if I could just tell you how I did it... I'd probably still be in a university getting my ideas leeched out by professors. I'd totally be swimming in debt, instead of in cash."

"Point," Tatianna chirped, "But instead you've figured out how to break past the tyranny of DNA, push past the boundaries of carbon and silicon, and make super-smart bio-robotic monsters in your basement."

Mellany shrugged, "I can't take all the credit."

"I just wish I could understand _why_it worked."

Mellany and Tatianna sat in silence for a while, a feather hand stroking idly at a long ear while a white-with-light-teal-swirl-patterned furry hand ran over downy, grey-feathered thighs.

"I think it's to do with networks or something," Mellany said at last, "the more complex a network is, the more likely it is to actually _do_something. That's why our brains work like they do. Big and complex and full of connections. My machine just made it all... complexier."

"Complexier isn't a word, love," Tatianna chided playfully.

"It so is. It means 'the complex of emotional and intellectual attributes that determine a person's characteristic actions and reactions' or something."

"Mismatched context then, love,"

Another quiet moment, enjoyed by both as they comforted each other and allowed the cares of the world to wash away.

"Think we should check on them?" Mellany wondered aloud.

"Probably," Tatianna replied offhandedly.

*

Computer went through its paces, using its stochastic probability engines to predict the environments and effects surrounding its test subjects. The five beings connected to it and stored in life-preserving capsules.

The protocols had been seamless once each subject had adapted the interface into their bodies. Each one believed fully that they existed in the outside world and were experiencing events as they really happened. Simulated scenarios played out across the many windows full of unnecessary graphics displays that Dr. Chesterfield insisted upon having.

"See? This is why I have these things running," Mellany explained as she walked by a monitor and gestured to Tatianna.

"You say that every time dear," Tatianna sighed patiently, "I know. It makes it look 'more sciency' like you like it."

Mellany walked down the row of monitors, checking the displayed statistics graphs, activity reports, and current views of each subject's own eyes.

"One brilliant student," she began, stating the obvious but only so she knew she said it aloud, "one obsessive fetishist, two petty revengers of which one is trying to 'take over the world' and doing well at it, and one vigilante crime-lord."

The pair made their way over to the capsules containing the somnolent forms of Urbos, Thomas, Bali, Sorrel, and Chelsea.

"They've only been here a few days and already they're working to destroy society," Tatianna commented, "Honestly, the least dangerous one is Sorrel, and that's only because her ambition is just to have fun."

"Yup, totally a good thing I didn't actually let any of them loose." Mellany replied.

"A year and a half's worth of events in just 72 hours..." Tatianna sighed, "That'll be impossible to just explain away."

"Yep."

"Sorta proves that people just aren't ready for this sort of stuff doesn't it?"

"Not unless everyone could have it all at once. It might work out in that case... you know... new status quo or whatever. Or maybe if we only did it to deep-space astronauts or something... But I have no idea how to build an intergalactic spaceship."

Tatianna sighed again, but for a completely different reason. "I suppose this means we're going to have to move again isn't it?"

"Eh, whatever. I was getting bored of all this stuff anyway. Come on, let's go get dinner and a show... ooh and let's hit that café we saw the other day! I totally need another drink!"

Tatianna and Mellany Chesterfield departed the lab, pausing only long enough to halt the simulations, save all the data, and shut off the machines.

The door closed and the lab fell into silent darkness.

End.