Our lead groggily comes to in the morning, the hypnotic whir of the treadmill now drowned out by the sounds of water being pumped from the tank. Standing before him, the lawyer bows slightly and greets him. The man weakly but repeatedly assures her he’ll give the investors what they want and she thanks him for making a wise choice. With the goop drained from the tank, the treadmill slows to a stop and the lawyer pops open the door. She unhooks the attachments and unlocks his gloves before leading him out. No longer suspended in the goo or propped up by the machine, the man feels his own heft and unease as his new body wobbles and bounces. His wet clothes cling to pumped up curves and he almost stumbles as he looks himself over. Deftly repositioning on his boots, he registers how natural it feels to have his feet elevated like this. Removing his gloves, the lawyer holds up his hand and strokes one of his long fingernails. She assures him that she’ll have one of his crew file and paint those for him. He pulls away from the lawyer, his body naturally mimicking the swaying strut of the treadmill. It takes considerable effort to fight himself from walking that way and it tires him out and leaves his muscles uncomfortable to try to remember how he’d walked before last night. Unable to hide her smile, the lawyer fights to remove the protective dome over his head, but with a final yank, it pops off before hair cascades over the man’s face and blocks his vision. He’s able to tuck the fire red strands back and gawks at the reflection in the tank. The lawyer says it will take a few sessions to get that under control into a manageable hairdo but his salon is filled with the best product on the market. And not to worry about the makeup. They’ll do yearly touch-ups, but really the new formulas can go at least two years before you notice any fading. He gingerly touches his plumped up ruby lips and dabs at the purple eye shadow, but his fingers come back dry and smudgeless from the colors that won’t rub off.
Three months later, the salon’s new owner says goodnight to the last of her staff, finished cleaning up for the night. As she saves and closes the books of today’s sales, the door jingles as it swings open. Just as she’s explaining that they’re closed and you’ll have to come back tomorrow to make an appointment, our lead catches the investors’ figures in the shadows. They know things have been tense between them, but she really is going a fine job running the shops and they love the addition of the juice bar to the fitness center. With all the markups on the drinks, it turns quite the profit. But they’re here today with a request. A new... friend of theirs just informed on some corrupt officials and worries they may come after him. He’s been a fine client over the years so maybe the salon could help protect him with a new look. Our lead nods and motions to the back before asking if the gentleman prefers blondes or brunettes.