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“Rise and shine, Ms. Bradshaw! Or should I say: Patient No. 403. Orrrr...should I say Synyen Success Story No. 145!"

Molly's eyes drew open slowly, the brightness of the chamber lights forcing her to adjust. “Wha...oh..." she slurred, her new mouth a peculiar sensation. Muscles were in the wrong place. No, the right place, just wrong for a human...

She dragged her lower lip across her teeth, tongue breaking from its confines and testing the cold, dry air of the clinic. “Fuuuu—"

“Easy there, Ms. Bradshaw," Dr. Synyen's voice came in loud and clear, and Molly relaxed in his company once she knew who was talking, “take it easy, your body has just been through some major changes. I didn't have a great time of it myself when I underwent gene therapy, but you're looking good. Notice any sore spots? Anything that might be an issue."

She finally mustered the strength to speak. “No," she replied, breathing heavily, “am tired."

“Yes you would be, takes a lot out of you this does!"

“Hold on..." Molly reached for her head, cradling both sides with her hands. Her vision was blurry, but recovering. For the moment she rested her head, content with the fact she hadn't fucked up the one thing she'd been looking forward to in a long while. Doctor said she was looking good, and she was a-okay with taking him at his word.

“Ah," she sighed, rubbing her head. Her fingers felt weird. Hard. The tips were a solid mass of smooth nail — as best she could describe it in her waking state. They could feel, but it was somewhat dulled compared to squishy human fingertips. The sensation of touching her head, running her hand through the short fur that covered her skull, was welcome. It was pleasant, despite lesser precision. She'd get used to it.

Next, her hands slid across her cheeks, up and around her cranium. Blocking the way were two ears, tapering out to points on either side. Her digits swarmed the extremities, feeling their way around each contour, each rise and fall. And fall they did — Molly let her arms drop, and gave a short gasp. “It's so different! I—"

“You don't have to inspect everything right now," Dr. Synyen piped, idly rearranging his equipment, “the nurse has gone to fetch a mirror for the big reveal."

“Oh God," she murred, “I don't know if I can wait any longer to see me!"

“Relax," he said, walking over to her and placing his hands (paws?) on her shoulders. “Deep breaths." Her surgical gown had maintained its integrity during the transformation, which came in handy when he prompted her sit up straight and get her bearings. Better to be dressed with something than nude in a stranger's presence, right?

Molly shook her head, feeling the flick of her ears toss in sync with the twist of her neck. She exhaled, quite loudly, and waited for her heart to slow its beating. Dr. Synyen carefully removed the Applicator from her arm — disconnecting the drained IV and letting her soothe the needle's point of entry. Her new fingers rubbed the sore injection site, finding a small amount of swelling under the mat of fur.

Still dealing with poor eyesight, Molly squinted at the white-clad doctor, his cheetah-patterned fur a splotch of yellow and black. She returned to studying herself. After checking, double-checking, and hell even triple-checking, she had built up a sensory survey of her transformed body...

Her head now grew outwards into a snout — a decent length, long enough to form a blob of colour at the bottom of her field of view when she concentrated. Her nose, now perched at the end of the snout, picked up all manner of intense scents. Scents she'd never before experienced. Many were clean. Clinical. The smell of a hospital magnified a thousandfold. She let her mouth open, just a sliver. The air tasted no better. An unsavoury affair — pharmaceutical chemicals ruined it with their sterile flavours. She recoiled, grimacing, as Dr. Synyen noted her enhanced senses. “Excellent. Seems we have transferred all nervous system functionality without hiccup. But I'm guessing your having a little trouble with sight, yes? No biggie. It'll come back shortly. I've found vision is the most complex sense to rewire, there's a lot of delicate parts that need to be juggled around in order to align with your new genetic code." He coughed. “Sorry, ignore the babbling. I happen to enjoy this part the most."

A giddy energy exuded from his presence, which Molly absorbed without a second thought. She was excited. How often do you go through something like this? Almost never, which made the awakening of her improved senses feel exquisite, even with less-than-optimal scents surrounding her.

From her head down, her muscles flexed — contracting and expanding as they performed minute adjustments to her seated posture. She noticed the increase in musculature, and the denser, firmer nature of her flesh. She was designed to jump, to leap, to stride across the grasslands and woods. The bounty of Mother Nature had been bottled, refined, and fed to her to create the creature that she inhabited now. She was beginning to understand herself.

As her vision cleared, Molly gave in to a moment of fright and shut her eyes. Her heart beat quickly again, and breathing became erratic. She couldn't look, could she? Dr. Synyen tried to speak, but she blurted out something first:

“H-how do I look?"

“Why don't you see for yourself?"

Dr. Synyen helped her turn around, and a nurse wheeled in a full-height mirror. Once placed, Molly slowly shifted her gaze from the floor (and the good doctor's coat-tails) to the mirror. What confronted her, staring into her soul, was stunning...

“Oh my—"

An antelope morph looked through the mirror back at Molly. A mix of beige, black, and white fur swept across its slender form. Though much of her was hidden, she got full view of her arms, neck, and hear, poking out from her gown. Behind her, though she could not see, a tail jutted out above her behind. Gee, she tutted, talk about a pain in the butt! Gonna have to get used to balancing with one of these.

The patterning was perfect, the proportions pristine. Molly got exactly what she wanted. Relief was visible in her shocked expression, and Dr. Synyen moved in to remark on his handiwork.

“I'm very good at my job, Ms. Bradshaw. You didn't have anything to worry about."

“Well I believe that now, holy..."

She shook her rear, sliding off of the bed. Looking down, she saw her hooves — no bigger than her human feet but reshaped. Hitting the ground, she felt her hooves spread, two large toes securing their hold on the floor. Rough padding on the base meant for life outdoors, and elongated joints that moved her ankle further away from her feet, created a thoroughly alien experience.

“...shit!"

She stood taller than before, the spring in her legs holding her at a comfortable height. She had a foot over Dr. Synyen at least, something the cheetah chuckled about. “And here I thought I had long legs!"

“I mean...I...geez! Oh wow...I..."

“You'll adjust to the right stance over time. Walking with hooves and a tail is a tricky task, but people adapt. Would you like to hold my hand?" He offered her support, which she accepted, smiling at him.

“Thank you," she said, “for everything."

“All part of the service, Ms. Bradshaw. We want you well and on your feet as soon as possible. If you'd like to stay for a couple of days I can arrange that, but it'll cost you."

“No, I think I'm good. I was told you get used to your new body fast."

“You do. And I'm glad you paid attention to the literature we provided."

“I was waiting for three hours in the foyer, it was the only thing I could think of doing that wasn't playing games on my phone. Wait — my stuff!"

“Over there, in that locker," he said, pointing to a grey box in the corner, “say, why don't we try walking over to it. One step at a time, hmm?"

Molly let Dr. Synyen lead her around the bed. The surgical gown seemed shorter, due to her extended height, but hugged enough of her thighs for her to not fret over exposure. Sooner I get some clothes on the better, she told herself.

“Here," he said, taking a soft tone, “lift your leg and extend. All the way, you want to know your proportions with this new body. There..."

“I think I got it."

“You're making good progress."

The pair shuffled over to the locker, Molly gradually building confidence with each step. Soon, she stormed ahead of her companion, legs swinging in wide arcs leaving him in the dust. Falling at the last hurdle, Molly shoved her arms out and caught the locker before crumpling. “Crap!" she shrieked as Dr. Synyen rushed to her aid.

“I got cocky."

“No, you did just fine. Now let me unlock this so you can retrieve your phone and clothes."

“Thanks," she sighed. “Wait...my clothes won't fit me, will they?"

“Ehm...no, but we have a set laid out for you based on recommended sizes. Basic, but does the job."

“Oh okay. I might need a sec to change."

“I'll give you some privacy." Dr. Synyen pulled over a curtain, letting Molly dress herself. A set of plain, 'anthro-compatible' clothes were prepared for her. She pulled on a small top and some shorts, covering parts of her furry body with synthetic fibres. They rustled, and conjured a sense of discomfort. Ugh, these don't feel great.

She raised her voice, hoping to penetrate the curtain. “Umm, doctor? Are these clothes supposed to itch like this."

“They are only temporary. I will make a call to your sponsor, Ms. Wilson, and get you some better articles."

My sponsor? Oh right, Vi...it's her money funding me...

“Thanks!"

Molly exited the privacy curtain, finding a place to sit as Dr. Synyen debriefed her further. She paid attention, absorbing the most minute of details he mentioned about her changes. Like a sponge, she soaked herself in knowledge. So much so, that she paid no heed to the time, or who had just entered:

“How's my friend doing? She presentable?"

Molly snapped out of her laser focus and discovered Violet leaning against the door. Her friend's eyes widened something fierce as she caught her first glimpse of Molly's transformation. “Oh snap," she cried, closing the door, “you look gorgeous! Any problems with the procedure?"

The gracefulness of her antelope form felt magnified by the compliments heaped upon it. Molly shied away from the attention, diverting it. “No — I feel great. No problems with the procedure."

“Yeah, tech's come a long way since the first experimental anthromorphings. You shouldn't feel any fatigue or nausea."

“Correct, I don't."

“Gimme a sec—"

Violet signed a few documents handed to her by Dr. Synyen, then spirited away her friend for breakfast on the clinic's ground floor. Molly only realised now she was starving. Her whole body had been rebuilt from scratch, of course she needed sustenance!

Digging into a bowl of strawberries and cream — while Violet sipped a coffee, one hand tapping her phone — Molly's taste-buds were ablaze. Never had she experienced sweetness such as this — so vibrant, so powerful; it was like she had never tasted before. Her tongue recoiled as the berries disintegrated into juice, and the smoothness of the whipped cream softened the sensation...blunted the bite.

Around her, the cafe linked with the Theodoros Gene Therapy Clinic was busy with staff and patients taking their breakfast as well. Molly spied one or two hybrids, transformed like herself. They were big — equines and bovines seemed to be a favourite. She also spotted a very cute cat, before keeping her head down and focusing on her meal.

“I think my new taste-buds are better than the old ones," she remarked.

“They gotta be, I paid a fortune for them," Vi shot back, grinning.

“Oh you," Molly muttered 'mid mouthfuls of cream-coated strawberries. The spoon wasn't big enough to feed her hunger. One that wasn't wholly physical.

“Happy?"

“Uh-huh."

“Good, now for the bad news."

Molly paused, then swallowed. “Bad news?"

“You have to come to work."

“Seriously!?"

“I'm bringing you in for your first lesson. Nothing too taxing."

“Vi, I just woke up."

Turning a deaf ear to Molly's complaints, Violet stood up and motioned for her new employee to join her. “Yeah," she said, “and you're already on the payroll, so chop-chop!"

Molly moved from her seat, her hooves finding firm ground and spreading the right amount to support her. Legs were a bit wobbly, though. Vi sauntered around to her side, hooking an arm underneath Molly's. “C'mon, it won't be so bad! I have nicer clothes at the gym."

“You do?" Swayed by the prospect of apparel that didn't itch like hell, Molly let Vi guide her out of the cafe, and check her out of the clinic.

“Of course Molls, I take care of my employees. Plus, you can stick around at the gym — membership is automatic 'cause I own both it and my club. You will need a little physio to help get to grips with the new body. Only a little."

Molly's expression lifted, confidence building within her.

“Then lead on!"

* * *

“Breathe...easy, easy...take it slow...now rise..."

Molly lifted her arms, reaching for the ceiling — with Rylan beside her. The peace and quiet of the gym adjacent to the club Violetta gave her time to appreciate the nuances of her new form. He had coached her with a number of warm-up exercises, which she practised for him as he repeated his own. Her hooves pressed down on the gym mat, forming a narrow depression that threatened to mess with her balance. Rylan anticipated this, and grabbed her flank.

“It's okay, I'll help you up."

“Thanks," she said, standing tall and letting the weight of her body find its balance.

“There you go, another hour and you'll be pole-vaulting in no time." Molly turned her head, smiling at Violet, who watched from the sidelines.

“Would you like to do another round?" Rylan asked, cracking his neck and releasing a satisfied sigh.

“It's not too late, is it?"

“No," Vi answered, “we don't open for another hour."

“I think you'll enjoy it." Rylan grinned.

“Well..." Molly bent over to rub her calves, muscles bunched tightly together from her exercise, “observing's only half of the matter."

“While I appreciate your eagerness, Molls," Vi spoke softly, her voice carrying across the gym to Molly despite the distance, “practice is everything in Violetta."

“Mm-hmm. But won't it be boring — the whole night backstage, watching the others?"

“You could take notes," Rylan offered her his hand, leading her back to the centre of the arranged mats. “And you don't have to spend the whole night here. That was more of a suggestion from the boss lady!" He winked. “She sure wants you to see what she's built."

Molly glanced at Vi. “Is that okay? If I bail an hour or two in? I do need sleep."

Violet shrugged. “It's a free country."

She returned her attention to Rylan. “She gave me a pass."

“Yeah, like she's the kinda person to do that for anyone else. Nepotism, honestly..." he snorted.

“Rylan. Clock's ticking. Be a star and continue her physio."

“Sure thing ma'am. C'mere." Rylan spun Molly around until she faced him properly. “Now, repeat what I showed you," he mumbled as they turned ninety degrees, away from Vi's discerning gaze. Molly felt the twist of her gym clothes as the material expanded and contracted — fighting to fit her form. Grey shorts with blue stripes and a top exposing her midriff flexed as she prepared another set of stretches.

“When you're ready."

Molly leaned forward, applying weight on one leg, while the other extended behind her. She sensed the twinge in her side rise and fall, a result of adjusting her standard posture from positions suited to human proportions to those better for an anthropomorphic antelope. The added length in her legs was a constant worry — would she topple? Rylan had explained the finer details of life with hooves, but she had yet to get used to them. “Remember, if you feel yourself falling forward, you can centre your body the way I showed you."

“Got it," she replied, and took the time to shore up her footing. She was ready to complete her stretch as Rylan mimicked her actions. Sneaking a peak at the sculpted equine, she ensure her pose matched his, and let the tension do the rest.

She exhaled, letting the lingering aches pass from her. Now she moved to the other leg, rising and switching her favoured limb until the same soothing tightness encompassed both. Using her split hoof to keep herself balanced was a tricky task; a new sensation, like she was permanently tippy-toed.

“Cool. Next move."

She followed Rylan's guidance. Her top half turned, hands stuck to her hips, and now she lunged sideways, carrying her body through a series of exercises that sought to test every muscle group. Violet watched intently as her newest acquisition demonstrated her flexibility. Molly was making an impression on her friend, who experienced a surge of admiration for what she had put herself through.

“Almost finished. Molly, keep your eyes staring straight ahead...it'll maintain direction..."

Rylan's sequence came to an end. Molly stood, her legs slightly splayed as the recovery from the last manoeuvre played out. She moved her arms in front, hands kept clear of contact, and let them travel along her silhouette, controlling her breathing as she climbed down from the rush of an effective exercise session.

“And, we're done!" Rylan clapped his hands, rubbing those broad mitts together with glee. “I felt good after that, how 'bout you? How's it feel? Any soreness?"

“Nope, still good."

Molly walked over to Vi with Rylan in tow. “Great," he said, “I think we've spent enough time working through the kinks in your new body. Reckon we should introduce you to your coworkers, 'sides myself of course. Whaddya think, boss?"

Violet spent a moment thinking. “Hmm, first performers of the night tend to show up around this time. Yeah, we can organise a little meet and greet for Molls, get her acquainted. I'll see you two downstairs. Don't waste too much time talking!"

“We won't," Molly waved off her friend as Vi left for the club. She was about to chat with Rylan about the finer details of life as a hybrid when she noticed Vi pause. The door to the gym opened and an unexpected visitor came through.

Violet glanced over the shoulder at her two employees and smirked. “Rylan, sweetheart, you've got another customer."

Once Vi had exited, Molly got a better look at the newcomer. A clean, white-furred rabbit morph, possessed of all the quirks of bunnydom: long, floppy ears; big feet; a shapely figure with a puffy pom-pom as a tail bursting through the back of a figure-hugging pair of gym shorts. Seems I'm not the only one with form-fitting attire, she thought, watching the rabbit keep his head down and approach.

“Hey Sammy, what's up?"

Molly missed the obvious joke in Rylan's greeting, instead focusing on the appearance of the young lapine. Young, yes...no more than eighteen years old. Something inside helped her identify age — perhaps hybrids understand how to read their animal exteriors for signs like that? Perhaps. She shook her head, and left idle thoughts where they lay.

Closer, Molly saw more. He walked with a shy reluctance, a twinkish quality to his gait. His exposed feet bounced across the gym floor, long white slippers of fur that seemed comical how big they were compared to the rest of his body. As he took that last couple of steps to reach her and Rylan, she noted the pair of thin rectangular spectacles that rested atop his adorable nose.

“I, uh..." he began to speak, but suddenly went quiet.

Rylan spoke: “oh right, you haven't me Molly yet. Molly — meet Sammy, one of our performers. Sammy — likewise."

“Hi," she said, making as friendly a face as she could to help defuse his shyness.

“Hello," he replied, his bunny nose scrunching into a cute bundle of fluff with pink at its heart. “I heard you were joining." A hand sprang up, open-palmed, waiting to be taken. Molly reached over and shook it. On contact, she sensed his anxiety. “New people. I get it. Nice to meet you Sammy. Can I ask you a question?"

“Um, sure."

“Don't wanna be rude, but do you actually need glasses? I thought hybrids didn't have the same problems with their bodies as humans did."

Sammy blushed. Or, at least he did what Molly interpreted as a blush. Within the confines of his animal characteristics, a dash of red in his ears and the elevated fuzziness of his cheeks told all.

“It's kinda dumb," he said, finally, “I like the way they look on me. They're not required — not like when I used to need them. I'm transformed."

“Me too." Molly smiled, easing his nerves.

“Me three," Rylan interjected, “us three amigos. All anthromorphed in a gene therapy clinic. Skirting the frontier of science!" He pointed to Molly. “Molly was done earlier today."

“What!? Really?"

“Yeah, probably went to the same guy you did: Dr. Synyen."

“Dr. Synyen, you had him too?"

Molly nodded.

“He's strange."

Molly chuckled. “Yeah, maybe it comes with the territory."

Sammy smiled. “Maybe," he hummed.

“So what are you doing here?" asked Rylan.

“I...wanted to try a massage...with you." It felt like an eternity for him to get those words out, but when he did, Rylan was nothing if not cordial. “Seems my reputation has spread," the horse remarked.

Sammy nodded enthusiastically. “The girls on my shift won't stop talking about your magic touch."

Molly held back from completely disintegrating into a single fragment of a syllable of 'awwww', and let Rylan continue talking to the rabbit.

“I'm flattered."

“So you do more than physio," Molly elbowed Rylan, “care to offer one to me too?"

“Don't you have a whole host of coworkers to meet? Aren't you gonna get ready?"

“Already prepared. If they're anything like Sammy here they'll be darlings. All of them."

“Whatever, Molls." Rylan yawned, and spoke to Sammy: “I'll help you out. We can use one of the private tables."

“Thanks! I should get ready."

“Well hold up a sec. Not wanna talk some more with our newest member?" He nudged Molly. “Sammy's new. But you're newer. Sorry bud, she's got you beat."

Sammy stamped his lapine feet and puffed up. “Hey! I still have that new stripper smell!"

Molly barely contained a guffaw. “What — is there a prize for newest?"

Rylan chuckled. “Toilet-cleaning duty."

“Pfft! Yeah like I'm doing that! Nepotism has some upsides, y'know."

“Oh yeah, Molly here is a friend of Violet's."

“That's pretty exclusive," Sammy said, “but I've still kept some exclusivity." He proudly thumped his chest, all notions of embarrassment gone as the introductory jitters melted away.

Rylan shuffled closer to Molly and whispered in her ear: “Sammy is one of the only guys on in the first hour. I think he likes the attention."

Sammy reacted to Rylan's whispered words, looking away as shyness overtook him. “Yeah, use those big ears," Rylan jeered, beneath his tone a friendly countenance, “embarrassed again? What happened to the loud and proud dude from a second ago!?"

Molly spared Sammy the indignity of further torment, and changed the subject: “more girls than guys here, eh? Not that I've seen a list of employees or anything."

“It's skewed that way," Rylan explained. “Myself, Derek, Mark, and Jace are all onstage with the club's finest ladies after Sammy's warmed up the crowd. We take on the rowdy two-hour stretch between drinks four and nine — that's ten 'til twelve for you civilians. After that it's girls girls girls for as long as the night...err...morning lasts."

“Say Molly," he continued, “I know the boss lady probably scooped your brains for this already, but any male friends who'd be willing to bare all for a paying crowd. We'd need them to become hybrids, of course, if they weren't before."

“Nope. Clean out of handsome men."

“Shame," he tutted, “we could use more boys in the club. Some more folks to talk with about sportsball 'n' stuff."

“Don't worry Rylan. I'll be sure to learn all about your interests so I can keep you company — vagina notwithstanding."

Sammy tried hard to suppress a giggle.

Rylan ran his fingers through his mane. “I've stalled long enough. Could you excuse me while I handle my friend here."

“No problem."

* * *

Molly let her freak flag fly in the changing room, as the discarded top and shorts could attest, strewn wildly as she danced alone. “Whoof," she sighed as she held her arms up high, “really feeling the punch this body can pack!"

Grateful for the solitude, she spent a moment admiring herself in the mirror. Jaw agape at the depth of her changes. Doesn't feel like this morning, does it?

The nude antelope strutted from one locker to another, gathering her regular clothes as tossing them over her shoulder. Should I shower? Best decide now before people start showing up.

She paused. Checking herself, she found no trace of sweat. Idiot! We don't perspire...at least, not the same way humans do. Gotta shed that kind of thinking.

Stepping into her underwear, Molly began the arduous task of dressing her new body. Bottoms went on fine, but she fumbled with her bra — capped fingers fighting with the strap. Eventually, and with much cursing, she put it on. A quick tug of the support let her gauge how snug they fit. Never mind the hooves, ears, snout, and antler-nubs — the ordinary parts of her were out-of-proportion too!

God, I think I went up a couple of cup sizes.

Tight jeans and a low-cut top were next. Soon, Molly was once more presentable. The pleasant feelings she'd garnered during Rylan's physio remained, clinging to her body, banishing aches and pains. In their place, a well-earned sensation of peace. Stillness. Relaxation...

“Okay," she said aloud, “let's see if I can find the others."

Molly walked out of the changing room and followed the path she remembered Rylan and Sammy had taken. The horse and bunny pictured in her mind strolled with butts waggling, tails swishing. Something Molly had trouble removing from her inner eye. She stopped to check her own rear, taking small strides to see if she did the same. Her pert behind supported a tapering plume of fur that was stuck upright, capable of revealing far too much if she hadn't the sense to wear trousers. Mine's a lot perkier than Rylans, but Sammy's? Can't tell, she thought as she walked.

Thoughts of tails were long abandoned by the time she found the room they'd chosen. She first sat outside, on a convenient bench, but curiosity got the better of her. It wormed into her mind, driving her to stick her ear against the door. Muffled conversation. Sounded far enough away to let her peek, didn't it?

Molly turned the handle and inched the door open. A crack — enough to spy through — was left.

She peered through, and saw Sammy and Rylan. The snowy rabbit was lying face-first on a massage table — a very professional setup to be sure. Towel wrapped around his lower half. Circling the table, and patting his hands with a dusty, chalky powder, Rylan tended to his customer.

Molly overhead them talk about her. “She's nice," Sammy muttered. In the gap of the door she pushed her head close, watching the large equine rub down the rabbit's shoulders.

“You know what I say," Rylan grumbled, “any friend of Violet is a friend of ours."

“That's good." Sammy's speech slowed to a drawl, as strong hands took hold of him.

“Mmm," Rylan murmured, “it is. Provided no-one comes close to the boss lady's personality, of course. If that happens, I say ditch 'em. We can't handle two of her! But Ms. Bradshaw doesn't appear to behave like that."

“No," the bunny coughed, “I mean your massage...it's good..."

“Oh, thanks." Sad that his playful conversation had come to an abrupt end, Rylan concentrated on Sammy's tension. His hands kneaded young muscle, releasing endorphins into the rabbit, presently subsuming into a relaxed state. He hummed, his voice becoming a soft 'murr' as Rylan pressed and gripped ropes of lapine flesh.

“Lower," Molly heard him say.

“Can do."

Rylan massaged his lower back, hands digging around to his sides. Sammy let the big horse work his magic, the force of his rough ministrations a tantalising tease. Molly could tell he was enjoying it by the subtle curl of his enormous toes, slowly winding...clenching as Rylan went through the motions.

Sammy moaned. Louder than expected, but he wasn't in the right state of mind to feel embarrassed. Rylan paused briefly, but kept going. Too much of a delay would hint that something's wrong.

“Uuaaahhhh," he moaned again, “mmmhhmm..."

Rylan had begun to feel things. As he neared the soft, cushy bunny butt, desires stirred. The silky-to-the-touch consistency of Sammy's fur...awash with sumptuous sweeps of Rylan's broad hands...oooh how it flowed like water! Fingers slipped between tufts of his feather-light coat. He descended, taking every inch between his palms and Sammy's plump rear with gusto, holding firm and applying pressure in all the right places. He grew closer, and closer...

Molly narrated his inner turmoil, adding spice to the scene before her. Rylan was trapped. Stuck between his duty to a coworker and the insatiable lust stirring within. He wanted him. Wanted that hot little twink so bad he thought his chest might burst! Longer, deeper strokes elicited moans from Sammy, oblivious to the torment he inflicted. Rylan's shorts tightened, a tent forming as his arousal surged. Molly held a hand to her lips, shushing any shock, and positively absorbed the poor equine's trials. How she responded in kind, her heart fluttering the moment Rylan's fingers teetered at the brink of Sammy's waistline. How the moans, shallow yet entrancing, maintained the magical mood...until...

Sammy shifted. His ass wiggled, puffy tail shaking defiantly in the face of Rylan. The horse reluctantly pulled away, dead set on keeping his attraction a secret. Molly felt amused. She blushed in sympathy with the equine.

Seems I'm not the only one with designs on a younger man.

Don't put it like that...I...fuck...!

Once she'd had her fill, Molly waited until the right moment. A knock on the door startled Rylan, and roused Sammy from his pleasant slumber. She heard a flurry of shuffling, and called out to the pair:

“Hi guys, Molly here. Um...do you want me to hang around, 'cause you're taking your time in there."

Rylan's surprise led him to stammer. “Muh-m-Molly — hi! Sorry about that, I got...distracted, and didn't notice the time. Sammy, you ready to work?"

The rabbit gave a mellow smile, towel wrapped around his waist. As he lifted off of the table he answered Rylan: “yeah. I'm ready." He began dressing himself, bending over innocently to accidentally grant his masseur one last tease before hiking his pants up beneath the towel. Bunny feet popped out the end of each leg, toes splaying as he put pressure on the ground. “Ah, the girls were right about you. I feel totally relaxed."

“Well, uh, all in a days work, bud. Now get going, I've got to change too."

Molly pushed her way past a departing Sammy, apologising as their extremities bumped into one another. With just her and Rylan, she debated whether to spill what she'd seen.

What's a better way to make an impression? Mouth shut or mouth flapping?

They moved into the changing room.

“So, do you want me to head off as well?"

“You can stay, if you're willing to catch a sick slice of pony ass."

“How tempting," she chuckled, “I'll see it on-stage soon enough."

“Yep. If you stick around for my show."

“Well so far you're the only person I know even the least bit about. So I might have to stick with you. For pointers..."

“Mm, pointers." Rylan stripped off his gym clothes, graciously facing away from Molly. True to his word, his bare 'pony' ass stood taut in its masculine glory. His black fur made it hard to find where his thick bushy tail began; its flicks kept Molly guessing.

“Are we on cheek-slapping terms yet?" she ventured, a smirk crossing her snout.

Rylan looked over his shoulder, stacked body rippling beneath his coat of fur. “Depends."

“On what."

“If you're any good to warrant sticking around."

“I'll have you know I was a knockout in my youth."

“Heh," the horse nickered, “you say that like you're an old lady. Not from where I'm standing."

“Thanks." Molly paced between the ends of the changing room. “Y'know — it's hard to adjust to feeling this much more—"

“Refreshed?"

Molly made a gesture of confirmation. “Yes. That's the word. Once I recovered from the transformation, which — by the way — I really appreciate your exercise routine, it's like I can run, jump, move more than I could before."

“You are riding a post-op high. I was the same when I changed, years back. Your brain is still forming the connections necessary to regulate your new body. Some folks get headaches, others don't feel a thing. Us two, we got an energy boost."

“Yeah, a boost!"

“Don't take it for granted. Sure, you'll be a lot more athletic now that you don't have decades of human wear and tear on your chassis, but it'll go back to seeming normal after a while."

Rylan grunted and hoist his underwear, stretching them 'round his bulky legs. The clop-clop of his hooves on the solid floor rang throughout the gym, volume enhanced by the sheer amount of mass they supported. Molly twirled, her own gear breezy and free. Rylan pulled again, and the type of underwear he was sporting became clear: a purple jock strap. A glimpse of equine meat managed to escape from between his thighs to Molly's widening eyes. After a second of wrestling with his wedding tackle Rylan hitched the thin string between his cheeks. Next came another layer — partial chaps with sequined stones dotting lines along the length of the seams.

Figures, she thought, he's due on in a couple of hours.

He produced another item from his locker. This time, a shred of fabric that barely clad his mighty pecs. Still, Rylan forced it to connect at the front, stretching the silken material and forcing it to outline his physique. A bevvy of lesser accoutrements attached themselves, designed to come off with ease.

Turning around, he cut an impressive (if gaudy) figure. Nothing that the stage-lights wouldn't enhance, mind you. Molly took inventory of his appearance, and the large bulge that hung from between his rock-hard thighs. He noticed her staring.

“What they all come to see," he joked.

“Nice costume."

“You think? It's one of a few I rotate on the regular."

“What kind of getup will I have to wear, I wonder."

Rylan spread his shoulders and stretched. “If I know the boss lady, then you'll be given a number of sexy combinations. But for your first handful of performances, I bet it'll be simple exotic lingerie."

“Simple and exotic. Those aren't two words that are usually put together."

“When you get to the big leagues, Molly, then you'll understand why they're together." Rylan sighed and stepped up to the antelope hybrid. “You do have input on what you wear, though."

“Oh, this," she motioned with her finger to his attire, “this is all your own choosing...?"

Rylan snorted. “Not telling. Better to leave the fans guessing, don'cha think?"

“So, weird little side question: what are the others like?"

“In general, or how they dress?"

“Uhh—both?"

“I'm not sure I should prejudice your opinions on who's who. I think it's better you get introduced to them by yourself."

“Any reason why?"

“No reason, just that they've all seen me buck naked — and vice-versa. That sorta intimacy changes how you view your colleagues. Wouldn't want to spoil anything for you until you get acclimatised."

“That makes sense, I think. In an odd way."

“But I can tell you our costume department is second-to-none. This club ain't just for ordinary dancers in skimpy bikinis. We can get wild!"

“Ooh, sounds like fun."

“It is."

“So how does Sammy play into this? Are many of the dancer's like him?"

“Like...him?" Rylan tilted his head.

One of Molly's ears flicked. Involuntarily. God I hope that doesn't become a tell.

“I mean, he's kinda shy. Works against him in this type of job, doesn't it?"

“Oh that, yeah. He does have that side to him. But it's not his entire personality. "

“I think it's sweet that you fancy him," Molly remarked, breaking her impromptu oath. She noticed Rylan's expression change, first from surprise then to a faint sadness. A distressed melancholy that gripped his otherwise jovial attitude. “You saw that," he mumbled.

“I'm not trying to be—"

“Shush..." Rylan planted a finger 'gainst her lips, “keep it to yourself. He..."

The big horse paused. A groan, and a mutter left him in silence. Molly stepped forward and held his arm. “Didn't mean to pry. I just...saw how you reacted when he was enjoying the massage."

Rylan gave her a heavy laugh. “Stupid fuckin' loose shorts! That's the upside of my stage wear," he said, tugging at his jock strap. “They keep erections packed tight."

Lovely mental image, she tittered to herself.

“Listen, Molly. Sammy's only worked here a few months, and I don't want to scare him off...big guy, imposing-looking, you know...I'm taking the slow road with him."

Molly looked away. “Okay. I didn't mean to say anything."

“You did, however."

“I just thought he was kinda young."

“It's a little sudden for you to judge, eh? You just met him." Rylan talked slowly, trying to gauge the mood of their conversation.

“Just...are you sure it's a good idea? Shy guy. Like you said: you're bigger, more imposing. He might not feel comfortable."

“Ah," Rylan sucked in his cheek, “can't blame you for thinking that way, but you haven't seen him out there." Molly looked confused. “As soon as he hits the stage a switch is flipped. The Sammy you saw: quiet, nerdy, shy, though a bitch of a cock-tease (yeah, he's hot — sue me!)...he's replaced with someone who's confident, enthusiastic. Who loves every ounce of attention he receives. Kid rules the runway."

“Shouldn't call him a kid."

“Really!? Figure of speech, okay? Not my fault I feel drawn to his wild side."

Molly sighed. “I can relate. There's a part of me that's felt the same. That's why I'm here after all."

“Nah-nah. That's different. That's internal to you. Sammy was...well, lemme explain." Rylan sat Molly down and spoke earnestly. “Sammy joined up as soon as he was legal." Molly raised an eyebrow at that fact but let him continue. “No, I'm serious. He hit eighteen and decided he was gonna hitch his wagon to us."

“Home trouble?"

“Your guess is as good as mine. Probably didn't approve of his 'lifestyle'." Rylan mimed finger-quotes as he finished his sentence. Molly looked down at her feet and wondered about what to say next. She didn't have to concern herself with carrying the conversation, as after a huff, Rylan spoke again: “he doesn't say much about home. And I don't ask. There are plenty of people in our line of business who want to be left to their own devices. Who are we to judge, hmm?"

“No-one."

“Exactly. Look, I know Sammy. He's a good friend once you get past that shy exterior. Wouldn't want to jeopardise that by coming onto him too soon."

“It's not just a fling thing, is it?"

Rylan shook his head, mane swirling down his neck. “No. That's for sure." A brief pause ensued, wherein the equine anthro breathed loudly. “Sammy knows what he wants, and he gets it. Doubt me? Check this: he decides to join — goes straight to the anthromorphing clinic. Gets the op, and bluffs his way onboard. Kid hadn't danced a day in his life before his first night. And he's a natural!"

“You said kid again," Molly chuckled.

Rylan frowned, followed shortly by a smile. A soft sigh escaped his lips. “Maybe I'm preparing for future role-play! Teacher and student!"

“But I understand," Molly replied, “he is very cute."

Rylan laughed and produced a quaint 'aw shucks' that warmed Molly's heart with its saccharine style.

Molly slapped her legs. Standing up, she put her hands on her hips and announced she was done waiting. “If you're finished researching the best way to hunt wabbits why don't you escort me to Violetta? I'm probably late for my own introduction."

Rylan stood and linked arms with her. “It would be my pleasure, Ms. Bradshaw."

* * *

“Everyone, meet Molly!"

A clap, a cheer, and the pop of a champagne bottle filled the room as she entered. Eyes were cast to her, a few comments she overheard mentioning how beautiful she looked.

Rylan accompanied Molly as a series of dancers made their introductions. “That's Derek and Mark, mentioned them earlier. And Jace...where's Jace?"

The pair of males approached. Molly saw a zebra, with an uncanny resemblance to Rylan, except monochrome and with a short-cut mane; and a dalmatian, patterned with plenty of spots. One equine, one canine. Both were tall, and cut ravishing figures — curves and muscles in all the right places. Wearing their normal clothes (t-shirts and ripped jeans, hinting at an element of fashionable rebellion) they greeted Molly and went to answer Rylan's query. She spied the lace and string of skimpy underwear, whenever their shirts lifted as their strong arms struck out for handshakes.

“Jace?" the Zebra, Mark, replied, “he called in sick today."

“Shoot," Rylan hissed, “you'd like him Molly." He whispered in her ear: “a fellow hoofed beast."

The spotted snout of Derek broadened into a smug wife-stealing grin as he took Molly's hand. Her palm touched the dog's padded paw, slight pricks of his claws on her wrist. “Well well," he growled in a low timbre, “who do we have here?"

“I'm Molly."

“Molly, hmm? I like the name. Have you been a hybrid long?"

She paused. “W-what makes you think I became one?"

“Your scent," he said, leaning close and drawing a sensual breath. Molly shivered. A pleasant sensation ran from her neck down to the base of her spine. Closeness...two animals sharing an intimate expression of closeness. “It's still got a dash of human in it. And the way you look around, unsure. Like you don't yet belong."

Rylan added himself to the moment, the bulky horse holding Molly. Joining the intimacy. “Derek may be a dalmatian, but he's got bloodhound mixed in there somewhere. Ain't that right?"

Derek sniffed again. “Correct. Somewhere on my mother's side."

“You were born a hybrid?"

He nodded. “Correct again. Not everyone comes from human stock. We've existed long enough for families to run a couple of generations."

Molly felt a pang of guilt. From where? She couldn't tell. It just kind of...stormed out of her subconscious. Her expression changed, losing its cheery lustre. Derek picked up on her unease.

“Sorry, was I too close?" he asked, an eager concern in his eyes, “I get a little...excited meeting new people..."

Molly heard a thump-thump-thump of appendage on cloth. The swish and whack of a tail beating against the clothes that restrain its motion. At that moment, she knew Derek's animal instincts were in play. She cracked a smile and patted his head, causing the dalmatian surprise. He laughed it off, tail calming down, and let Molly and Rylan speak.

“I'm not gonna develop a fondness for prancing through grasslands, am I?" she guffawed, falling against Rylan's chest. His costume rustled beneath their contact.

“The gene therapy does blend your personality." said Rylan. “Maybe you will. I feel the urge to gallop on occasion."

The trio moved around her, until she had somewhere to stand away from too many onlooking colleagues, desperate for a chat.

Mark interjected: “Same. We've got stallion blood pumping through our veins. It's hot stuff."

“Well that's good," Molly beamed, “we need that hotness to pay the bills."

She turned to Derek, who was staring into the distance. Dragged back to the conversation by Molly's sweet voice — the sugar-coated song of a delicate (delicate? Pah!) prey animal — he looked at her. “And what about you?" she asked him, “do you have any urges?"

“Humping legs!" Rylan roared, slapping his friend's back without too much force. Derek jolted forward, grateful he wasn't carrying a drink at that moment.

“Hey! That only happened once!"

Molly giggled. “Oh God it's true isn't it? So I've got a part of me that just wants to be an antelope all the time."

The others joined in...

“Skip across wild country."

“Munch grass."

“Prance naked."

“That's my job now though," she halted the teasing with a firm hand.

Derek paused. “True."

Mark sighed. “Real talk, you will get a couple of intrusive thoughts every now-and-then. Nothing big. Nothing scary. But it'll feel weird when you do."

“Thanks for the heads up," Molly smiled. “So it's really like that? Human and animal — fighting my altered instincts?"

“Nah," Mark replied, “don't look at it that way. That's far too black-and-white."

The conversation stalled. All eyes turned to Mark, who looked around, confused.

“What?"

Rylan and Derek shared a knowing glance, and saw fit to include Molly. Appreciative, she kept the suspense going as Mark grew ever more bewildered.

“What is it?"

“..."

“Seriously?"

Another handful of seconds passed, in which Mark (the zebra) stared at his friend Derek (a dalmatian) and wondered if it was something he said.

Finally, realisation dawned.

“Oh...I get it..."

“Guys, c'mon," Rylan groaned, “let me steal away our newbie for further mingling. Derek, make sure you keep that tail under control — save it for the stage, crowd loves that shit. And Mark, get some sleep. Maybe then you're brain will catch a joke without us having to prod the crap outta you!"

Rylan bade farewell to the two males, sequestering Molly through a small crowd of friendly faces. Once in the centre, she was introduced one-by-one to a crowd of females. More dancers, some already in-costume or stripped down to their lingerie.

“May I introduce Rebecca..." he said, gesturing to a border collie with an incredibly fluffy bosom. Molly was tempted to dive into the deep valley, smother herself with cleavage; and she figured Rebecca might even be open to the idea. Alas, Rylan's strong hands pulled her away before her excitement got the better of her. Teeth-filled grins were exchanged, and Molly waved goodbye to the canine in almost the same second she said 'hello'.

“...Juni..." Rylan brought her to a large lady with plenty to hold onto. A beautiful bovine face filled her vision — the aforementioned Juni. Vivacious, curvaceous, voluptuous...there were many adjectives that suited her. Especially since she was wearing a tight two-piece costume, letting the audience of one admired the flow of her bounteous form. “Well hello dear," she said, “or should I say: 'deer'?"

“Oh you!" Rylan muttered as he moved Molly to the next dancer. What confronted her captured her attention completely.

“Molly, this is Angelica. She is a sparrowhawk."

Wow, an avian! Never seen a real one before.

She exhaled, her balance beginning to teeter after numerous sweeps off her feet by Rylan. “Hi," was all she managed before the sight of Angelica consumed her. The bird anthro chirped, her beak making it difficult to discern precise emotion. Her eyes, thought...her eyes. Memory, emotion, you name it, came flooding through those sapphires. Blue as can be, deeper than anything she'd ever seen. Molly felt trapped by the slender beauty of the sparrowhawk. She tried to pull away, divert her gaze, but only saw more of her elegant form.

Angelica was in the process of changing, before Vi had whipped them into a presentable order to meet Molly. Half-clad in her costume for the night, she shone in the fluorescence of the club's lights. The avian reached out, her scaled hand resting on Molly's cheek. Black talons poked the back of her head, pin-pricks that left no pain, overwhelmed by the rush of emotion heralding her beauty in those that witnessed it.

“I have that effect on people," she said, descending into a hushed whisper, “you should see me soar!"

“Y-you can do that? You can actually fly...?"

“You'll have to wait and see," Angelica gave Molly a twirl, showing off her feathered body, and the strong arms that supported what appeared to be wings. “Won't you?"

Molly's jaw hit the floor. I don't care if she's bending the truth, she thought, she's amazing!

“Your kind is rare."

“We are...an exclusive item." Angelica placed her palm on her chest, careful not to ruin her feathery coat. “Only recently possible."

“I'll say," Molly blurted aloud, “it was wonderful meeting you!"

“Same to you," the sparrowhawk curtseyed as Rylan moved her along.

“She's something, isn't she?" Molly nodded. “I didn't know you could be so many species."

“Didn't you have a brochure when choosing?"

“Yeah," Molly sighed, “but I don't remember seeing anything like that!"

“Jealous?"

She paused, thinking. “No, no — just look at her! She must be so high maintenance."

“You'd have to be do keep feathers in line. Imagine the hours spent grooming."

“Yeah..."

“Hey, look!" Rylan pointed to another pair of canines, this time a couple of well-rounded doberman pinschers wearing more than most. They noticed him, and he waved them over. Molly watched them walk, their uniforms that, while skimpy, exuded purpose, became clearer. Belts, torches, and walkie-talkies adorned their navy outfits. But that didn't mean they weren't showing some skin (or fur)! Their black and beige colouration peeked out at the midriff and high-cut shorts exposed thick thighs, packed with muscle. The plodding of their bare foot-paws on the grew louder, and louder, until they came to stop, imposing figures both.

The horse grinned, and began introductions: “here's our security detail, the aptly-named 'Guard Dogs' of the establishment!"

The dobie on the left grunted and gestured to herself, and then her doppelganger in turn. “I'm Hannah, and this is Heather."

“My name's Molly."

“Antelope, eh?"

Molly lowered her head instinctively. Catching herself before she got stuck in that deferential pose, she rose again, breaking into a smile. The busts of the two powerful canine women ate up the space between Molly and them. Constrained by their custom uniforms, the dobies' bodies yearned to burst free. Molly could feel the tension, viscerally, as they made minor movements.

“So," she ventured, “are those costumes as well as uniforms?"

Smirking side-glances drew the pair into revelation: “we dabble..." said Hannah, trailing off before she could say any more.

“When we're off-duty," Heather added.

Rylan bowed. “Ladies, as you were." The two dogs walked away, curves mesmerising her. Molly demanded a moment to gather herself.

“So I take it — apart from Vi — we don't have any humans on-staff?"

“Whatever made you think that?" Rylan joked, nudging her flank. He changed tact, and spoke softly: “does that bother you? Too much to take in all at once? Nothing familiar to latch onto?"

“No, no...never. It's just...new. Like I've stepped through a portal into a whole 'nother universe."

“I love that feeling, don't you?"

Molly looked around. Still more people were gathered, clustering into cliques to chat — champing at the bit to meet their newest member. Soon they would be thick as thieves; as intimate as lovers, their bodies entwined, inexorably linked by a shared joy. The weight, as immense as it seemed to her right now, she knew she could handle. She sighed, and said to Rylan: “of course. It's magical."

“Patrons of Violetta are mostly humans. It is a mostly human area after all, though plenty of anthros show their furry faces. You'd never believe how many there could be when they usually keep to themselves."

Molly agreed. “I'm only seeing this now. You feel more at home among hybrids. I can already sense where I belong..."

“Mmm," Rylan continued, “prudes resist, as they always do. But even the most uptight will show up to 'support their community'. We have a great deal of pull when it comes to our performances." He finished his sentence with a wink.

“People are pervs."

“Oh yes they are!"

“Not complaining, more money to be made."

Rylan mimed a punch. “Atta girl, that's what we like to see in our performers."

They moved around, passing by groups she'd already met. A glancing blow as someone stumbled into them forced Molly to spin 'round and come face-to-face with Sammy. “Um, hi!" he said, apologising for knocking into her. Molly brushed it off and told him she was fine. They spent a moment chatting. Small talk — the weather, shopping — stuff Rylan rolled his eyes endlessly over. As brief as their meeting was, it cemented a sense of camaraderie between the people she knew best here. Sammy soon left to prepare for the night, Rylan nervously waving to the bunny rabbit.

Molly and Rylan were soon interrupted again as Rebecca the border collie rushed over to the pair. “Ohmygod!" she squealed, her words mashing together at speed, “ohmygodohmygodohmygod — I'm such a bitch! I never asked if you wanted a drink."

“No thanks," Molly replied, “I'm—"

“Are you driving? Something non-alcoholic? Soda?" She rattled off a series of drinks. Molly availed of the collie's generosity and opted for a small lemonade.

“Okay, great! Sorry, I forgot my manners." Dashing away, Molly was speechless at the suddenness of Rebecca's entrance. She had no time to dwell on it either, as she stormed back — fiery gaze filled with purpose. In her hand a narrow cylindrical glass of opaque liquid, a small head of froth atop the drink. “Here!" she bleated, jamming the glass into Molly's grasp. “Sorry again!"

“Hey that's okay, you weren't being rude."

“I wasn't, oh great — now I've made things weird."

Rylan chuckled, and tapped Molly's shoulder. “I'll leave you with your new friend, got some work to do." Molly nodded and turned her attention back to Rebecca. The collie's entrancing cleavage continued to maintain a hold on her, heaving with each deep breath.

“No, not weird. But thanks." Molly brought the drink to her mouth, and attempted a sip. Gah! Fire! Water! Pain! Molly recoiled as droplets splashed everywhere.

“Careful, don't get any fizz up your nose," Rebecca said, her voice a lot calmer than before, “you don't take sips the way you used to." She took the drink from Molly and demonstrated how to do it with a protruding jaw. “There, see?"

“Now you tell me!"

“Sorry — skipped my mind. Anyway, Molly — Molly, right? Anyway...would you like to meet some more of us before we have to go on? We just got our twenty minute warning."

“Yeah. Why not? I won't remember half of your names, and that's without this being alcohol!"

“C'mon ya silly-billy, this way..."

Molly was led by the hand as the eager Rebecca navigated the room. A few nods to freshly-familiar faces as they passed by, and Molly was in a group of three, each chatting to the other without much of a care for the wider conversation. Rebecca puffed herself up and cleared her throat, breaking the spell of obliviousness and calling attention to the newcomer. “You've met Juni and Angelica, but you haven't met Savannah, have you?"

“No, I—"

Molly lost all semblance of intelligible speech when Juni and Angelica parted, revealing the one called Savannah. For perhaps the third time today she was awestruck — and with good reason. The woman who took a step towards was covered in a warm, sandy coat of fur, wearing even less than the others. Small patches of fabric covered unmentionable parts, long silver strings wrapping 'round...lassoing her body, as if dividing it into segments. The seams, as they appeared, enhanced each part of her as Molly's eyes wandered. Smooth fur ran across every inch of her body, coating her curves with a silken sheen. Molly met her eyes, the iconic feline slits widening as she drank in her prey. A lioness — regal, bearing a spark of the divine. The Queen of the Jungle, standing before her.

She came close. Closer than comfortable, enough to send shivers down Molly's spine as primal instinct surged. Any hint of fear or panic melted away as her intense stare dissolved into a welcome grin. “Please, my name is Emily. Savannah's just a stage name."

Her arms took Molly by the hips, and the lioness leaned forward to plant a kiss on each cheek. “Nice to meet you," they said to one another.

The others broke the one-on-one encounter with their talking, and soon Molly found herself dragged into all sorts of chatter. Savannah — or Emily — spoke well, like she'd been scooped up from a finishing school in the days of old Britannia. Posh, but with a humble twist. The group turned to the topic of stage names, prompted by Molly's asking...

“Does everyone use a stage name?"

“Many do, some don't," Savannah purred. “It depends on how you feel about it. Why? Are you thinking about one? 'Molly' has a ring to it, but you can always choose a more...anonymous option."

“That's what you did."

“Yes."

“I wouldn't mind either way. But...be honest, is 'Molly' sexy enough?"

The lioness lowered her head, and let Molly get trapped in her spellbinding gaze. “It's as sexy as you make it. Which, if Violet's confidence regarding you holds true, shouldn't be a problem." Molly noticed Emily/Savannah's tail coil around her ankle, stroking the big cat's shin. “Although," she growled, sensual thrill prickling hairs on Molly's hide, “if you'd like to pick one that suits a theme, I'm all for it. We could even be a double act — playing out the age-old struggle of predator and prey for a thirsting crowd..."

Molly gulped. “I'll keep that in mind."

“Think about it," she murred, “you will have to take part in one of our big shows eventually, who better to star with than me?"

There's no denying that, she reasoned with herself, she is stunning...

“I...I will..."

“Ooh, Molly's wrapped around her finger!"

“So soon?"

The voices continued, dull yet perceptible. Molly felt faint, and in her wooziness returned to the here and now. Juni and Rebecca were prodding her. Teasing her.

“Wake up girl!"

“Hehe, I think she's in love."

“Please, ladies," the lioness said aloud, “give her some space."

Molly sputtered. “Yes — need space. Stage names, wasn't it?"

The other women nodded. “You haven't said you wouldn't..."

Molly shrugged. “Alright, pick a theme. What's a synonym for antelope?" She saw in the corner of her vision two of the girls cringe at the idea. “Is that bad?" she asked.

Rebecca spoke next. “That's be like if I called myself 'Doggo' or 'Mutt'! C'mon, ya gotta have a better idea than that!"

“Well — some of us must be simple-minded," Juni shot back, “because Brianna's stage name is 'B'. As in the letter! Literally!"

The canine paused, a look of deep thought forming. “Oh, she's not here, is she?" Rebecca swung her pondering self around to call over the only human in sight, their employer. “Violet, did Brianna take the whole week off or just today?"

Violet joined them, herself thinking. “Hmm...vacation," she said, snapping her fingers. “She's visiting family."

Molly and Violet shared a silent moment, a look between them that yearned to be expanded upon. Violet addressed the assembled dancers: “say, ladies, could I borrow my friend? I want to see how she's doing so far."

They acknowledged her request and let Molly part ways with them, a round of hand-shakes and blown kisses goodbye exchanged for good measure. “Now Molls," said Violet, once they were at a suitable distance, “what do you think?"

“I..."

“Bearing in mind not everyone's here — I know, I said everyone but not everyone everyone, y'know?" Counting fingers for each absentee, she continued: “there's Brianna, Dasha, Katlyn, Esper, and others who are off today. You'll meet them all in time, don't worry."

“I wasn't gonna...so many new faces...shit! I can barely remember people's names at the best of times."

Violet held her by the shoulders, her voice calm and familiar. “Relax Molls, you'll relearn. Not expecting you to have a photographic memory. I'm throwing you in at the deep end on purpose. You'll see the benefit of it."

Molly noticed Rylan nearby. The horse was chatting to the zebra, Mark. They seemed to be having a good time. It looked to her like he and Mark noticed her starting in turn, leading to them splitting up. She watched Rylan walk through the room, dodging groups of dancers, his bedazzling costume proudly on display. Molly nodded, and smiled. He answered her with his own tip of the head.

“So Vi," she said, addressing her new boss. Ooh — new boss, she'd have to get used to seeing her friend that way. “About me..."

“What about you?"

“Am I really ready? I had my operation yesterday — I woke up as a whole new person today!"

“Yes, yes," Violet sighed. She laid hands on her friend's face, a caring look breaching her businesslike exterior. “Relax Molls. You are ready. It's all been explained to you. Nowadays anyone can check into a clinic one morning, and walk out transformed the next. If they have the money. No problems. No worries."

“I...yes, I know. It just feels like things are moving so fast!"

“They are," Vi remarked, “you are."

Molly held Violet's hand as it pressed gently against her cheek. “I know. I'm just...nervous."

“You'll be a star out there. Want a word with my number two?" Vi raised an eyebrow, tilting her head towards Rylan, slowly getting closer and closer.

“I want to thank him, for today."

“I bet the exercise helped a lot."

Molly beamed. “It did."

A yawn graced the pair of them, Molly's jaws stretching to release the noise of a dull inhale. Infecting Vi, who did the same. “It's not your time to fall asleep, Vi. You've got work to do!"

“Funny. Sounds like you're the one who wants to hit the hay." Violet turned around, greeting Rylan with a coy smile. “No offence."

“Heh, none taken."

“See Molls, I get to make horse jokes because if he complains," she said in a nonchalant tone, patting the equine's broad pecs, “he's fired."

Rylan held back his own retort, feigning a grumble to indicate they both meant well. Molly guessed as much. “So, Ms. Bradshaw...you're one of us now."

“Yep, my first day as a hybrid's almost over. This is gonna take some getting used to!"

“Well I hope you keep Rylan on as your personal trainer, he's got a gift."

“Not the only one, I've noticed," Molly smirked, leading Rylan to blush. His antics with Sammy were coming to the fore. Violet missed the implication, and let the two carry on talking until she wanted to bid her farewell...

“See you soon Molly, I have to avoid sleep for the next six hours in case the club needs me. You take care of yourself, understand? After a few more sessions with Rylan you'll be nice and limber — good to go! And Rylan, dear..."

“Yes boss?"

Molly stepped back to allow Violet and Rylan to speak closely.

“Look out for my friend, will you?"

“I will."

Molly watched Vi depart for the second time today, this time she wouldn't see her until tomorrow. Or the day after. Or whenever she was in the building, preparing for the job of her lifetime. Yes, as the day drew on she began to realise...an all-consuming desire to strip, to put on a show. Her days of college past were bubbling to the surface, breaking the formerly-restrained attitude she'd shown much of her adult life. She was about to have the time of her life, she knew it!

The room cleared slowly over the next few minutes, dancers filtering out to begin their performances. According to Rylan showtime was in ten minutes. She debated leaving, but remembered she should probably hang around for some of it. Though she was tired. Very tired.

“I think the slump's about to hit me," she groaned, stumbling backwards.

Rylan caught her, and steadied her. “You've been on your feet all day. And they're new feet too! Sit down somewhere — there are a few boxes you can rest in and view the show."

“Boxes? What is this, a theatre?"

“Well, would you believe me if I said it used to be?"

Molly sighed. Full of surprises, this place. She left Rylan's stabilising embrace and brushed off her clothes. “I could do with a bite to eat."

“I'll fix you something," he hurriedly replied, before clomping off to another part of the club. “Give me a minute!" he shouted over the shifting milieu of performers and their helpers.

Alone, Molly returned to her thoughts. She felt her heart lighten, as if it was a cloud in the sky, floating above the remnants of her old life. Yes, she whispered, unsure if she spoke or imagined the words, yes...

The room was almost empty.

The time of her life. That notion swam around in her mind. She had been looking forward to something like this for a long, long time.

Rebirth. Renewal. Call it what you want — she had experienced it.

She heard the first notes of music play through the walls, emanating from the stages as they revved up for a night of debauchery and delight.

Molly breathed, feeling the flutter in her chest grow. She pictured herself on that stage.

Her hybrid body...her costume...

I can't wait!