As the VTOL flew past with the Metrosec logo blazing in orange, and blue-red lights flashed up ahead at the ground checkpoint, the pair of Turbo and Gator did their best to look as innocent as anyone could look in The Layers, especially the lower two. And if their residency cards were ran by the Metrosec identifying them as from the Catacombs, they were certain to be searched. And their package discovered.

"Shit, what do we do here, man?" Turbo said nervously.

The more inexperienced of the pair by a matter of a few weeks, the twenty year old had been working as a courier for a year. He resisted an urge to run his hands through his spiked purple hair, and wished he'd gone for a nanite treatment for the tintmod that wasn't so bright. Then again sticking with his natural blond might have been just as standout. His small frame and average height would otherwise have kept him looking like just a random guy, he figured.

"No clue..." Gator sighed helpfully.

The mildly more experienced contraband runner was actually a year younger, but built far different. Tanned skin and natural black hair trimmed to a buzzcut, he was tall and muscular in build, something Turbo had though might have been a useful deterrent to anyone trying to jack their cargo. But now working with the big man meant that he stood beside a sore thumb sticking out of the crowd when the Metrosec Enforcers would look them over.

Turbo considered his options. Turning around was suspicious. To keep going meant inevitable checks. But if there was a halfway...

His green eyes fell on a dimly lit sign. The flickering thing advertised noodles, beer, and... Well, presumably pool, but the L had burned out. But he read it as Plan B.

"There. We're just going for a drink, nothing suspicious about that," he said, nodding towards the sign.

"Right, sure.... And if they decide to go into the bar?"

"They won't."

***

A few hours later, in a dimly lit office in the Catacombs below, Turbo and Gator stood in the shadows, nervous and meeting the glowing gaze of cybernetic eyes that didn't need to bother with any of the ornate lamps that sat in the gloom at the edges. Those lamps were for employees without eyemods who hadn't screwed up and therefore were not meant to feel intimidated.

"And I'm assuming the next part is, they in fact did? Which is why my shipment got dumped in a dive bar toilet and then vanished rather than getting past the Surface and up to The Clouds where it should have arrived?"

The two stood nervously in front of their boss, Lady Mole. One of the major players on the grey market of the Catacombs, her talents and business ventures were of questionable legality. Her blue cybernetic eyes and colour-shifting hair held the attention of the two men as the 'Buisnesswoman' looked over her two employees like they were merely naughty children rather than a pair of clowns that had lost a valuable shipment.

"Uh... Y-yeah...." Gator stammered.

Mole sighed, hair shifting to all-black, making the two couriers grow nervous. Natural hair on their boss was never a good sign.

"I try to run a careful business venture here, boys. I keep the Metrosec looking the other way, even if once in a while I work for associates of.... Less repute. And we're very lucky you didn't lose a shipment for one of them, because frankly until now you two have did your jobs with discretion and more importantly success. A pity, you were really a reliable pair of employees..."

She stood up, the lamps activating at her command. The two felt some relief that the room was otherwise empty.

"And while there's no client needing compensation the fact is that was quite a financial loss I'm facing now. Which you two need to work off."

"Both of us? But-" Gator began, silencing at angry glares from both others in the room.

"You work as a pair, you fail as a pair. Besides, you didn't have any ideas to avoid the cops by your own admission, Gator. And while Turbo's idea didn't pan out, at least he tried, which means you tried. Or did you not care about the delivery?"

Gator stammered a response.

"N-no, boss, I mean, uh, I cared about the shipment I mean."

"We can pay you back, boss, just let us do another run or two and we'll work for half pay...." Turbo tried.

Mole shook her head.

"Afraid not, boys. My clients hear things fast. They learn you lost a package, they won't trust you. And I can't trust you as couriers right now either, your appearances might be linked to a spot where Metrosec found a package for all I know. So here's my offer. I get you two a change in appearance away from what's maybe on the suspect list, and you go work off the cost of your failure and the mods."

"Um, okay, I can do that. Where?" Gator asked.

"Yeah, but, what kinda mods, boss?" Turbo wondered.

Mole simply grinned.

"The good news is there's some vacancies at The Burrow...."

The two briefly felt elation. The Burrow? The strip club? They'd be given some kind of quick-change nanites to look more the part for barmen or whatever, and spend months paying off the lost package surrounded by beautiful girls literally sculpted into perfection with the help of bodymod nanites. But their brains caught up with their libidos when they realised her choice of words implied.

"...The bad news is it's not behind the bar, cleaning, on the doors, or anything like that. It's on the stage."

"Uh, boss? We're males. Unless there's a shift in clientele I don't think they're gonna be happy to see us dancing for them...." Gator said.

"Yes, but it's the only option right now. It changes your looks, and I'll even only take your payback fees from your actual wages, not any tips or side work or the like. So, package value split in two, plus the cost of the nanites we need.... That'll be about two hundred thousand credits. About six to eight months work I think, unless you want to pay it faster with any of your own earnings. Any questions?"

Gator raised his hand.

"It, uh... doesn't hurt, does it?"

Mole shrugged.

"No idea, all I know is it works. Now, you two want to get started? I'll take you to the Doc...."

***

The two were surprised that 'The Doc' was based in the club itself, though it turned out she was more a technician or mechanic. She was a woman with a cybernetic arm, that had mods to shift into a few tools, and kept most of her appearance behind a facemask and hood. Her workspace was a combination of workshop, first aid bay, and fabrication space. A set of autolooms could print out new garments, other additive printer systems lay around able to make assorted other items. One was busy printing out new beer glasses, the previous night's used ones no longer washed, merely recycled for their constituent matter.

"I'm here to make sure machines work properly is all. It's biotech, but still tech. So.... Male to Female. Your estimate was a little off, Boss, the nanite treatment here is 30k a jab, since it'll need a bit more juice to reshape and rewrite certain bits, plus they'll need a personality assist system to be convincing on stage, and it'll save teaching them to dance."

"Ah, so, another ten thousand each, my mistake, boys. Or maybe girls?" Mole smirked.

"That won't add much longer to the time, will it? And while I'm here does this hurt?" Gator asked.

"It'll hurt more if Metrosec know our faces and drag us in," Turbo muttered, then realised something.

"Wait, personality assist? Like, nanintes that'll help us act more like women?"

"Pretty much. Perfectly safe, they'll just give you a stage persona, it works partly off the real you and gives some mental advice. Oh, and training on how to actually look sexy out there, it takes more than tits and a jiggly ass to actually be convincing," The Doc replied.

"Does it hurt though?" Gator repeated.

"It may be a little uncomfortable, after all, the nanites are going to have to shift bits, slim down some muscle mass, purge hormones, tweak a few little things here and there, and burn off some excess material. So, they get to pick, or you got something in mind, Boss?" The Doc said.

"Well, the roster needs a new Tomboy type, ladette sort that can pull off feminine, and a tall redhead, wide hips and big boobs."

"Ah, well, then these two are good bodywise. Gator there can be made shorter and keep the muscle proportions, and Turbo can go taller and a bit thinner. Blonde for your tomboy?"

"Sure."

"Wait, we don't even get to pick anything?" Turbo asked.

"Well, you can adjust your hairstyles and your pubes to your preference now or just cut it later. Once you're ready get your clothes off and I'll start."

The two men paused.

"Uh... We need to strip? Like, all the way?"

"It's not like your clothes will fit when the process is done," Mole pointed out.

"You can keep underwear if you two are really that shy but I ideally need to visually monitor everything," The Doc said, readying two vials for an injector.

The two couriers under punishment made their hairstyle selections on a tablet, reluctantly disrobed completely, and to their relief and also mild discouragement neither current woman in the room looked all that interested in what was on show.

"Now.... Arms please, ladies," The Doc said, and the pair obeyed, not even catching the rib.

The injections were brief, but the results began quickly.

"Ah.... I feel weird," Gator said as warmth and an odd sense of pins and needles began spreading all over. Especially around the crotch, chest, and hips.

"Me too..." Turbo said, as his legs began to have the sensation of a dull ache, and everything slowly felt taller.

On their heads, the nanites began modding their hair as chosen. Their colouration was forced, but Gator had tried to pick as short a hairstyle as he thought would work, not a fan of having longer hair. Turbo meanwhile had just decided to have it long and adjust later if needed. That manifested in both cases with rapid growth and change in shade. Turbo's previous nanite adjusted hair became the ginger-red Mole wanted for her roster, while Gator's grew and turned lighter, a platinum blonde as far away as possible from the dark black he had before.

"Oh man, I'm getting boobs already," Gator said, and then gasped, his voice already shifted down an octave or two.

"...Aw crap, mine are in the way already!" Turbo moaned, his chest expanding quickly as he tried to monitor the activity down below at his groin.

Gator glanced down and yelped at seeing the changes on his lower half. His penis, which he had deemed rather average, seemed to be rapidly shrinking and receding.... And then things got very uncomfortable as the hips and groin area began shifting to more internal genitalia.

Both transforming figures gave out cries of alarm at that, the sensations not painful but very much uncomfortable as their junk climbed up a new cavity that was forming, and parts adjusted and modified to a more feminine configuration.

"Ah, what the hell, I'm getting dizzy now," Turbo said, her hair now passing her shoulders even as her legs lengthened upwards.

"I'm not feeling that," Gator said, and then groaned again.

"I sound like I huffed helium!"

On and on the shifting went as the two gained or lost height, grew curves in places while losing some mass in others. Gator's rear became a little rounder, but still muscular, her frame certainly not a dainty waif, but also not that of a female bodybuilder. She looked more athletic than weightlifter, but her sixpack merely altered to be a little daintier in appearance. Her breasts were not especially large but she wasn't exactly flat chested. Her chest hair shrank down, becoming far finer than the black strands it had been before, while her pubes became a little neater than her male self had looked. Her arms, slimmed down quite a bit, lost their hair as well for the most part, and her armpits were given the same ultra-close shave by the nanites simply absorbing the unwanted hair.

Turbo meanwhile was now a good foot taller, and her chest was considerably swollen. Her unwanted bodyhair had vanished too, which included most of her pubes, to her confusion as she managed to look past her generous new breasts.

"Wait, I didn't set that! Why're my pubes a landing strip?!" She protested.

"Guess you misclicked. What did you actually want, fully shaven?" The Doc asked.

Turbo sighed, the feminine sound strange to her ears.

"Never mind. It's done now.... Ugh, this still feels so weird."

But it eventually ended, and while the two did feel the odd sensations of pins and needles, their main worries now were that their bodies were considerably shifted from their former selves.

"Feels weird being short," Gator grumbled, prodding her chest... and gasping as he realised it was a good deal more sensitive.

The Doc and Mole watched as the pair began nervously poking their new bodies, Mole opening up

"Well, girls, you two can whip up some clothes from the autolooms for now, but I'm afraid for now your regular gear's not going to fit at all. Use them for material in the looms, head home to get adjusted a bit, and come back at six tonight to get ready for your first shifts. Don't worry about what you wear, we'll supply a uniform...." Mole instructed, and walked out, followed by the Doc, leaving the two new women behind.

"So,uh.... At least we're kinda hot?" Turbo said.

"Just shut up and pick your clothes," Gator grumbled, as she found her personality assistant kicking in and advising she picked boyshorts, sports bra, black leggings, a leather jacket... and a red choker necklace for some reason?

Turbo picked out a light blue dress, a little alarmed her personality assistant advised a very short skirt on it. She also went for the plainest panties and bra she could over the assistant advising she go sexy.

And so it was, a short-haired blonde walked out of the club, a tall redhead with her. The blonde looked moody, while the redhead seemed to be regretting even the slightly longer skirt she picked, and especially the choice of a dress and bra that seemed to also emphasise her already large cleavage. Footwear also was a source of gripes...

"Why the hell did I pick heels?! I feel like planes could crash into me up here..."

"Not my problem, dumbass," Gator grumped.