*Beep, beep, beep.* Her earpiece crackled to life.
“Agent Raforus, go ahead, command.”
“Raforus, we just got confirmation Franzé made it to the medical team. Good job.”
“He did. Why was he allowed on-site without a proper escort?” Her voice tightened as frustration bubbled beneath the surface. A long pause followed. “Command...?”
“I’m sorry,” the operator finally replied. “Best I can say is there were communication issues on both sides.” Their tone was apologetic but unsatisfactory.
Tiff clenched her fists as anger flared. The equipment issues in the building were legitimate, but that didn’t excuse the reckless deployment of someone like Franzé. *I mean, come on! How do you send someone with no combat experience or talent into a situation like this without proper protection?* she thought, the idea gnawing at her.
After a few moments, Tiff snapped out of her thoughts. “Command, did you get the files I sent you?”
“Yes! Good job on that—we got what we needed and more.”
“So where do I go from here?”
“Believe it or not, I just received an insta-message from medical. They said your backordered part came in. It’d probably be a good idea to get it installed.”
“But I didn’t order… Are you sure the name and ID tags are correct?”
“Hold on....it’s registered under your name and ID tag, and it’s marked as paid.” The voice hesitated briefly. “Hmm, looks like there’s an attachment. Let me check what it says…” A long pause drifted over the comms. *I know I didn’t order it. Even if I wanted to buy it, it would take two cycles to save up enough credits.*
“It says YOU purchased it with a statement confirming delivery and installation coverage if you’re off on mission or leave.”
Tiff squinted and scratched her head. *Usually, something like this would require scheduling weeks ahead and an appointment at the medical bay. But… how? Why?*
“I can’t go into detail, but your next job may require a bit more finesse and less smash, plus you’re short on prep time. I suggest you take advantage of this service.”
“Okay, sounds fine. What do I need to do?”
“I’ll dispatch two installers to your apartment tonight, disguised. They’ll handle what’s needed. Be there to meet them, and call me after you wake up from the procedure.”
“Roger that. I’m heading that way now. Raforus out.”
Still in human form, Tiff took a moment to steady herself before turning toward her apartment building. She took a running leap from the rooftop she was on, vaulting to the next building effortlessly. Staying on the high ground, she bounded roof to roof until she reached her destination.
Landing on the rooftop of her apartment building, she walked to the edge and executed a flawless drop-flip off the side. Her hands caught the ledge mid-air, allowing her to swing neatly onto her balcony.
Once inside, she shut the blinds and turned off the single lamp. She paused, wondering why Jarvis hadn’t greeted her. Glancing over at his sleep station, she noticed he was shut down, downloading an update. Judging by the status bar displayed on his faceplate, it must have been a rather large one.
She shrugged and moved briskly, stripping out of her gear and stealth suit—which resembled a very thick, dull blue and silver jumper—before hopping into the shower for a quick rinse.
Clean and refreshed, she slipped into baggy workout shorts and an oversized tank top.
Taking a breather to let the adrenaline run its course, Tiff turned on a small dim lamp in the kitchen and cleared off the table.
“That should give them plenty of room to do what they need.”
*Knock-knock.*
She headed to the door, checking the peephole. Two men in black suits with dark sunglasses stood on the other side.
*Geeze, guys, can you be any more obvious?* she thought, opening the door.
“Ms. Raforus?”
“Gentlemen, thank you for coming on such short notice—and on a house call, no less.” She waved them inside with a slight bow and closed the door behind them.
“No problem, ma’am. We were already in the area, and the drone only had a short jump for delivery, so it was no trouble at all. I’ll need you to shift out of disguise mode. Oh, before you do that, where would you like us to set up?”
“I cleared off the kitchen table for your bags,” she said, pointing to it. They nodded in unison and placed their equipment on the table. One of them pulled out a small injection gun.
“Okay, Ms. Raforus, you can shift now and take a seat by the table. We’ll get started.”
She hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly. The technician gave her a reassuring smile. “Ma’am, I promise the only thing you’ll feel is a slight pressure from the numbing solution.”
“You didn’t read the whole file, did you?”
The medic tech looked puzzled as his partner slipped into a sterile med suit. Grabbing his tablet, he began scrolling through her medical file, skimming the details. Judging by his expression, he’d only bothered to check past surgeries and augments—ignoring body dimensions altogether (not that she had many to list). His movements faltered as his gaze landed on her name and personal data.
“A Lupus? Where did they find you? I thought your species was wiped out!”
She shrugged. “Not everyone gets to live a fairytale life.” He looked at her, deeply sympathetic, before getting ahold of himself.
“Sorry about that. Um, yeah, a dining room chair won’t work for you,” he said, reading over her measurements again, still a little taken aback by everything and the data on his pad. “Go ahead and shift for me and try to make yourself comfortable lying down flat on your front side.”
She nodded and stepped back from the furniture. Double-checking her surroundings, she sat down to shift so she wouldn’t put a hole in the ceiling. When she finished, the tech motioned for her to lie down next to the table. She arched her back in a long, much-needed stretch, her overtaxed tank top protesting, ripping and tearing until it resembled nothing more than an ill-fitting tube top, which exposed copious amounts of red, hairy flesh spilling out in every direction.
Her once baggy workout shorts weren’t faring any better, looking like her butt crack and neither regions were trying to eat her shorts. The tech tried to be as professional as possible as she laid down, using her assets as pillows with her arms crossed around them for more support.
“Okay, I’m not used to having to do this, but is it okay if I sit between your shoulder blades for this?”
She slightly lifted her muzzle from atop her pillows and gave a guttural, “That’s fine, whatever makes it easier for you.” Then she nuzzled back down.
The tech changed into his sterile suit, with his work partner standing by the table, patiently waiting to hand over tools and whatever else was needed from the bag. After slipping into his onesie, the tech stepped onto her lower back to sit on her shoulders. He ruffled around in her mane going down her neck and pressed where the data cable was stored, then moved up an inch or so higher to the lower part of her skull and started poking to find her direct connect plate fused to her spine.
“Ah, there it is. Hand me the numbing solution, sterile cloth, and a razor.”
The other tech started handing over tools and supplies while the first tech went to work shaving a small patch on the side of her neck for the injection site.
“Okay, I’m going to inject the numbing solution and regenerative inhibitor. You’ll feel a pressure and a possible chill.”
Tiff grunted in acknowledgment while the tech injected the solution. Moments later, he saw and felt her body hair prickle out like she was hit by a burst of static electricity.
“Annnd that means it’s working.” He then took out a device that looked like an ink pen, clicked the end to make the tip glow cherry red, and nicked her skin, searing the bald patch he cleaned.
“Ma’am, did you feel that?” No response. He clicked the pen off and leaned in by her face.
“Ma’am?” The only response he got was what he thought was a snort, but listening closely, it stayed steady.
*Is she really snoring? Poor dear must’ve had a really rough day.* The tech continued to cut the flap of skin out of the way, exposing the plate between her neck muscles fused to her neck bone. He used his tools to remove the security screws, then wedged the chip out of the port plate. He handed his partner the old chip, which he set on the table, then handed him the new one, fresh from the sterilization bag. He secured it back with the mount and security screws, then his partner checked the tablet.
“Running diagnostics.....okay, she’s green across the board. Seal her up,” the helper tech told his partner, giving a thumbs up.
The tech that was doing the procedure took the same pen he cut her open with to sear and fuse the skin back, then wiped her down with more sterilization cream and a clean hand towel. You could barely tell that anything was done except for the patch of missing hair and the fine line where she was cut.
He handed everything back to the helper tech, who proceeded to bag everything up, including the used chip (which she'd get part of her credits back for since it wasn't that old). They both tossed the sterile suits and cleaned up, dressing back in their black suits.
Leaving the exhausted Lupas still passed out on the floor.
(A few hours later)
Tiff's eyes fluttered open after her much-needed nap. She groggily yawned, smacking her chops as she lifted her muzzle from the pillows.
She noticed something barely in her field of vision, just above her eyes. Still lying flat, she plucked the small Post-it note from her forehead and squinted, reading the fine print alongside a doodle of a man giving a curtsey bow.
*Dear Ma'am, thank you for being an excellent patient. Your install went smoothly, and diagnostics came back positive. We left you a link to our survey (please fill it out). Also, instructions for your new chip—PLEASE READ LINK BEFORE USE.*
She set the note aside, still in a daze. Rising to her knees with her front half pressed to the floor, she raised her buttocks high, arched her back, and stretched her arms forward.
*Shrip, Fump!*
Her plump butt cheeks deployed like airbags as her shorts gave way.
Still not fully awake, she dropped her rear, extending her legs straight. She shifted focus to her upper body, pressing her front to the floor, shoulders arched, chest extended.
*Shriiiip, Plap Plap!* Her top met the same fate as her shorts, her oversized breasts slapping against the kitchen floor.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
It wasn’t the noise that caught her attention so much as the cold linoleum pressing against her bare chest. The sensation sending a shiver up and down her spine.
"Buuure, I really need to get some larger clothes. Maybe I should try yoga pants or something stretchy—like what I see some of the fat humans wearing."
She hunched down on her haunches to shift into her human disguise, which she did—but something felt off. Before she could react or understand why her balance seemed strange, she pitched forward, landing tits-first with an audible *Plap, Plap.* Her breasts hit the linoleum, propping her up at a 45-degree angle.
"The heck?" Her body shifted to her 5'1" frame, but some parts didn’t adjust. Her breast stayed the same size as in her original form (albeit hairless), looking utterly ridiculous on her tiny frame. Stuck where she landed, she facepalmed.
"Of course, I'd have to relearn everything from scratch and recalibrate the settings," she grumbled aloud, glancing at the table where she’d left her phone. She rolled her eyes and muttered, "This is going to be fun."
She squatted to wedge herself between her cleavage and straightened up as best she could, slipping a small, cold foot under each breast. Her already massive nipples hardened further. Taking small steps, she used each foot and leg to heft a tit at a time, slow-walking them in a penguin shuffle to the table.
She flopped an arm toward the table, misjudging the distance knocking the phone to the floor with a clatter. "Oh, come on!" she groaned, scooting forward an inch at a time, her breasts dragging like stubborn anchors. She swiped at it again, only to send it spinning under the table. With a huff, she squirmed halfway beneath, one tit smooshed underneather her against the linoleum, and finally fished it out with her fingertips, muttering, "Stupid chip, stupid sliders, stupid everything."
Finally reaching it, she grabbed her phone and checked her messages, spotting a new one received recently:
"Dear valued customer, we want to thank you again for letting us serve you! If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to call or message! We have taken your old chip as a trade-in per the contract signed..."
She stopped reading, puzzled. *Who in the world ordered this for me, and why? Also, who in the galaxy signed my name for everything?* She pushed the thoughts aside for later and continued the message.
"There will be some stiffness around the surgical area. You’ll also need to re-exercise your system so it can re-learn your configurations. If anything goes wrong, mentally focus on what should be fixed, and the chip will handle the rest; it has options your previous model didn’t.
Your last model had a basic default mode for your alternative self. Your basic mode will be the same, with some exaggerated differences to prompt you to read the manual."
She looked down and gave her breast a gentle kick. "Well, they were right about the exaggerated differences," she scoffed, returning to the message.
"Also, if you choose, you can save your previous default mode and keep it, start over from scratch, or edit what you want to suit your needs at the time. Please read the enclosed attached manual before use. For a quick-start reference, sync any compatible, linkable device with the open-source chipset and follow the directions."
After reading, a window popped up on her display: "New device to link to your network: Connect? Y/N"
When she tapped "Y," a 3D render appeared as a side-by-side split screen. On the left was her towering Lupus self; on the right, her current petite frame in comparison. Except her breasts were the same size on both renders, making them look like beanbag chairs strapped to a halfling in her human mode.
She highlighted her current human mode, and a gear icon appeared in the bottom right corner. Clicking it opened a page of options with graphs and technical jargon she didn’t understand. Scrolling down, she found a section of slider bars that caught her attention.
It listed all the major body parts. When she clicked "head," another page of sliders opened. She backed out, found "upper torso," then scrolled to "bust," which had a slew of questionable options for some reason. *Lactation? Who on earth would want that?* she thought, shaking her head.
Then she found the bust size option she wanted. Her jaw dropped at the general size slider bar, set to one-quarter, with three more increments to max.
"What the hell are these people thinking?! If I had the normal strength of a female human, I’d still be pinned tits-down on the floor!"
She slid the bar to zero—*Zooop!*—and was now flat-chested, which still looked awkward with no breasts but thumb-sized nipples.
She adjusted the settings, testing out different sizes, but quickly decided on something a bit moderate for her 5’1” frame. Deciding to go with a healthy C-cup, she felt the size suited her athletic build better. The natural padding made them look practical.
She made small changes to her hips, balancing them with her sturdy thighs and narrow waist. The slight adjustment gave her a strong, simple shape, not boring--but also not drawing every eye in the room either.
She was adjusting her rump when the phone rang, causing unexpected trouble. Juggling the phone, she accidentally maxed out the bar. *Phoomp!* The sudden growth of her rear flipped her backward off her feet. Wedged on her neck and shoulders with her feet in the air, she shook off the daze and reached for the still-ringing phone. Thankfully, it had landed on the carpeted area, bouncing within reach. She grabbed it, adjusted her rump size, and freed herself to stand.
“Hello?”
“Rafuros, what took you so long to answer?”
“Sorry, ma’am, I was having a bit of trouble getting off my ass in time.”
“Yes, well, it’s fine. The techs checked in and told me they were done with the install and everything cleared. So, how does it feel?” Tiff put the phone on speaker mode and performed a flurry of kicks, punches, and a couple of aerial somersaults. Then, she flexed and stretched a bit.
“Yes, ma’am, it seems like everything is fully operational.”
“Very good. We sifted through the files you sent us and resent some back to you, highlighted for the mission.”
“When does it start?”
“Tomorrow. From what we can tell, the warehouse we raided was a small unit of a larger operation. Your next mission is more of a standby mission.”
“Standby for what? That isn’t usually my strong suit, ma'am.”
“Well, this will hopefully give you some positive experience in that realm. You’re going to a dinner party as a form of protection. There will be a human who may need your help. He will be there looking for answers from a plant, but he probably doesn’t know it’s a setup. You’re going there to ensure that, if the time comes, he receives it—covertly, of course.”
“Yes, ma’am, any specifics on attire or security?”
“I’ve sent you a revised packet of the info you sent us originally. Instructions, names, bios, addresses, and personal info are included with the info on the party.”
“Rafuros?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Keep your wits about you, and happy hunting. Command out.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Tiffany sighed, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “I need a drink and a shower,” she huffed as she made her way to the bathroom before settling in for the night.
She stepped out of the bathroom wearing an oversized nightshirt, drying her bright red hair. After wrapping her hair up with a towel, she fixed herself a drink and set it on the nightstand before plopping down on the bed, the mattress springs barely registering her petite frame. She picked up her tablet and drink to start going over the orders and information that had been sent to her.
They did a good job on the mapping, but that’s something that probably anyone could achieve with a little money and a trip to the city clerk of court office.
She scrolled and made mental notes and bullet points on the mission: attend a party tomorrow night, keep an eye out for the local target, and protect him from Tommy if need be.
She kept scrolling until she came across the bios.
**Tommy Penske**
Race: Rattus
Sex: M
Age: Unknown
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 196 lbs
Nationality: Norvegicus
Hair/Eye Color: Brown, Brown
Family: The Fratelli (Warning, see note)
Current Location: ??RiverBrook??
Current Employment: Underling
*Note: HIGHLY Dangerous. Exercise Extreme Caution If Confrontation Is Unavoidable.*
"Really? They want me to be cautious with a rat?" she lightly chuckled upon reading this and kept scrolling, coming across the info on the person she was supposed to keep an eye on.
**Nick Dixon**
Race: Human/Caucasian
Sex: M
Age: 35
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 190 lbs
Nationality: American
Hair/Eye Color: Brown, Hazel
Family: None
Current Location: 1112 Millerville Rd, RiverBrook, AR 71953
USA Air Force: 10th Mountain Division, Military Police
Stationed: Bagram Air Field
Time Served: 2001-2009, Honorably Discharged
Position: Military Police
Current Employment: RiverBrook Police Department
"Hmmm, he seems capable enough on paper. He's kind of small and light for a human male, but not too bad on the eyes." A faint smile crossed her lips as she went over the pictures on file. She saved his personal file and photos while continuing going over the business end of the mission.
She gingerly sipped her tea while reviewing the rest of the specifics and data. After finishing her tea, she set the tablet and cup back on the nightstand and called it a night.
