Author : Jennifer George

Lisilia was the epitome of fashion from her perfectly quaffed faux-hair to her dainty four-inch stiletto shoes, hiding her painted, clawed feet. She spent her entire life seeking the newest and brightest in style. She was young and sparkly, but soon, she would be required to take her father’s place. Lisilia swished her tail and sped down the dark alley in the forbidden zone. Lisilia wanted more than to be haut-couture; she wanted the full prize.

In her compulsive drive of trend-setting, she entered the grubbiest drinking pit possible; nothing like the expensive, pretend-sleazy she frequented. Her flappy ears quivered as she absorbed the nasty milieu. She closed her nostrils to keep the smell out, but she could still taste their rotten stench. Lisilia tipped along the sticky-springy floor deeper into the dim pub.

She opened her pupils wider looking for the insectoid doctor, u’Hil, who was the best genetic manipulator outside of the Lwas. A light flashed across her, highlighting Lisilia’s green-scaled skin. She pressed her thin lips together and noted those who retreated. And those who didn’t.

A shadow moved to Lisilia’s left, making her flinch. She recovered quickly; her Lwas’s pride made her. u’Hil clicked, “You are late.”

Her eyes slitted to half again their size as she said, “I am paying too well for petty complaints.”

“I have yet to receive payment.” His antennae moved in circles, searching. “You don’t have it.”

Lisilia laughed her practiced trilling. “This technology is completely undetectable.” She flashed her left limb, and her three exquisitely sharpened claws where the liquid AI prototype waited.

The transfer of payment was then completed, and Lisilia was led down an algae covered hallway into a pristine surgery. Her long tongue lashed out into the sudden multi-hued light and found only sanitized air. She relished her soon-to-be vogue victory as the anesthesia slipped her into unconsciousness.

When Lisilia opened her new eyes, simple colors jumped out at her in the gray light. u’Hil conducted her to a mirror, and she stared at her reflection.

Long black hair fell in waves from a round head and matte-brown skin covered her body. Her eyes were oval and hazel, tiny; her lips were bright pink. Her high-couture tunic fit oddly, exposing rounded shoulders and extra-large, dual chest protrusions.

Her two slight and bowed arms ended in five declawed fingers. Her stomach was flat to the top of her legs then flared into wide hips. Her legs were twice as long as before and curved; at the end, short toes wiggled against the cool floor. Her exclusively-made pants were ripped by the increase in lower body mass and drooped where her third lower limb and tail used to be.

She had done it; she’d pushed the limits of limits. No one else could be so daring. Lisilia was human, the ultimate in chic!

After a long moment, turning slightly back and forth, she asked in a soft, throaty voice, “Do you think I look fat?”


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