[Contains NBM/MBM, detachable elements]

Amy had a spring in her step this morning. Either it was the fact that she was dosed up on 3 double espressos, or that she was allowing herself to indulge in some retail therapy... again. There is, of course, nothing better than finding something that you don't really need and buying it anyway, just because you can. It may come in handy someday? It may not practical at all. It may even be replacing something which didn't need to be replaced in the first place, because that thing had no use to start with.

I don't think what she was about to buy really counts, though. Well, I suppose a new pair of legs shouldn't really be necessary for most people. Right?

She flung the door open and immediately caught my eye behind the desk. She started strutting up to me in her lace-up high heels, which may of been overkill, but damn I want them so much.

"Elie! It's been too long! How have you been?"

She calls me that. I think she knows another Emily, so it's to avoid confusion. I don't mind.

Consumer culture has desensitised everyone, so if I can make things more personal, I'll do my best, and nothing gets more personal than your own body, even if the customers themselves don't think so.

"I've been great thanks. Business is good. I was right about hands being big this season, so I've had a lot of people come to me for advice on what to do with theirs."

"Yeah, I got a new pair last week. Got rid of a few of my old pairs for these girlies."

Amy splayed and wriggled some slender digits, adorned with several rings and tipped with long, glittery nails.

"People seem to get so sentimental of their bodies, but I never saw the point. So what I don't have the hands I had at 18? The parts I buy only get better every time!"

See what I mean? She'd sell her soul for a better looking belly button. There have been multiple occasions where she's walked in, found a load of items to buy, couldn't afford most of them, and hopped out the store with less of a body than she started with.

"Wow, they're gorgeous!" I cooed compassionately. "The previous owner must of taken really good care of them."

"She did, didn't she! I got her feet as well. Here, take a look..."

Amy reached into a tote bag she had slung over her shoulder, presenting a pair of equally slender feet with matching glittery nails. She handed them to me, and I inspected them quite diligently.

"How much did you pay for these?"

"Two pairs of hands for the set, I think. I got a good deal considering they're matching."

I didn't reply as I analysed the left one: size 4, good colour, minimal blemishing, two visible veins on the dorsal aspect, a medium arch and a sole as soft and smooth as warm butter. I'm very was sure it was one of mine. Must of been 2nd or 3rd hand, which was surprising since feet are usually heavily modified by this point in the ownership chain.

"You certainly did. Are you sure that was all you paid?"

Amy suddenly entered a moment of deep thought. I noticed a slight deviation in the ankle on the right foot - previous owner was obviously a fan of heels.

"No, I'm pretty certain that was it. I did have to give someone my ear, but that was at a bar yesterday to pay for my drink."

I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was.

"I thought most places don't allow people to barter body parts? It gets pretty complicated in the accounts, trust me on that."

"Not the places I go to. Know the right people, and a whole round is covered by whatever you can yank off at that moment. An ear doesn't stretch that far, but it's defiantly enough for a vodka lemonade with proper measures, plus a top up if your lucky. It's not even much of a hindrance, to be honest. It grew back this morning."

She pushed her flowing mane of dirty, blonde hair to reveal a right ear lacking an earring. It was a definate contrast to the gold hoop on the other side.

"Well, I'm glad to see that you're regenerating. Some people struggle growing their bodies back after a lot of part switching. They usually need another round of my cellular therapy to get it back."

"Same! I've always been proud at how quickly I grow back. I had my whole lower half come back after only a few days once. Just shows how important the supplements are!"

I knew we could have gone on for hours making small talk about how soft our skin had become and which arm we prefer to detach to reach for things, so I began steering the conversion using the most sickly-sweet customer service tone I could muster.

"They certainly are. Is that what you've come in for today?"

"No, just looking for some new legs."

The supplements - my ones in particular - aren't cheap. To go modular, be detachable, perform NBM, is it MBM now? Whatever they call it, we're at the limit of what biology can do, so we need some pretty strong stuff to keep us going (or falling apart). They're the only thing in the whole store that Amy doesn't treat like a disposable item, which I use to my advantage to find out exactly what she's looking for; it works every time.

"I see. Did you have anything in mind, at all?"

"I did, actually..."

This was a surprise. Usually that question was followed by many moments passing through the aisles and testing parts and pieces one-by-one - a leg loose and being compared with another whilst being held by a third arm, attached below another arm which was being considered but likely discarded for a head - but with little order or consistency. I kept my pleasantly startled reaction to herself, simply maintaining her best smile.

"...Long story short, I'm talking to someone, but we've only just moved beyond the awkward texting phase and we're finally going to meet tonight. He's such a sweet and funny guy, handsome too, and I really want it to go well since I haven't been in a proper relationship for so long. I guess the trauma of my last one has held me back..."

*Note-to-self: Never trust those three words*.

"...anyway, his profile says he's only 5'8, and the last thing I want is any height issues. So, I want to be shorter."

This finally broke broke me. I began to snigger, as did Amy, and we both fell into full on laughter. It felt like ages had passed when we we're finally able to look at each other through streaming eyes.

"Sorry, but I really wasn't expecting that! I mean, how short are we speaking? An inch off, half a foot?"

"Oh, just a few inches. If you could make me 5'3" I'd be very happy."

"Funny you should say that, I'm 5'3". It should make comparing heights much easier. Follow me, I'm sure we'll find you a perfect fit."

I went ahead in my typical work clothes - sleeveless top, a somewhat modest pleated skirt and white plimsole trainers - to lead Amy in her somewhat less modest boob tube, skin tight gym shorts, and the aforementioned heels, which I definitely wasn't jealous of at the time. I prefer proper business attire, but I need to have as much of me as 'accessible' as possible most of the time. You never know when you need an arm to reach for the top shelf, or need to swap heads after doing the accounts. It wasn't long before we got the legs aisle, going along to the shorter end and finding the exact leg length Amy needed.

"So here's the range I've got. Did you have any details in mind at all? Do you want slim or muscular legs? Do you want a tan on them? I'm assuming you want to attach your new feet to them, yes?"

"Oh yeah, obviously. I have to be matching tonight, in all areas, if you get what I mean."

Too much info for a Wednesday morning.

"How about you try these two pairs here? I think they match your body shape pretty well."

Usually the customer will go to the changing rooms and get on with it, but Amy didn't seem to care about privacy. She was already balancing on her right leg, the left one leaning on the rack where the shorter and thinner new leg had come from. She took the new one by the thigh pushed it against her stump, making that satisfying fleshy thumping and squishing noise, like fresh dough being kneaded. Amy wasn't as satisfied, though.

"Hmm, I don't know about this one."

She turned and checked the mirror across from her, watching the short leg sway thanks to her own longer limb and heels. She must of been 5'9" in those things. She took the next leg from me, bent her long leg, stood on the other, and continued to do a half-pistol squat, pulling up on her thigh until it began to rip, this time sounding more like mixture a wet dough and a wine cork being pulled, ending in a slight pop. She stuck the next leg on, turned around, looked pensively, and thought for a moment. I was waiting for her discarded limbs to topple over in her stupid heels when she suddenly turned to me and gave me a wide-eyed grin and spoke in a soft, sugary tone could rival mine.

"I just had a thought, Elie. Since you're 5'3", perhaps I could try your legs on?"

I didn't really know what to say at this point. Of course, most of the items in the store are mine anyway, but I grew almost all of them in the back room out of a petri dish, and even then I make different sizes and styles. No one has ever asked me for **MY** legs before. No noises left my lips as I gave her a stare through my 5-star service, until I somehow came to the weirdest response to the weirdest question you could get...

"Ok."

"Oh, thank you so much! I know you'll make me look great! Here, pull these off and I'll help you with yours."

Amy bounced onto a stool just around the corner of the aisle, holding up her little legs ready to be switched. It was when she was in this position that I noticed that her thigh stumps were too big for the legs, and were clearly overlapping. Maybe I could have pulled out of this impromptu trade after all

"I think I know why you didn't like the other legs. Because you're so much taller, the size of your stumps are much bigger than the diameter of the legs, that's why they didn't look right."

"Of course! That makes so much sense!"

I internally breathed a sigh of relief before I noticed she was now split at the waist and made me regret it.

"If I have your lower half as well, then it won't be a problem. Ah, I always knew you were the best in this business. You now it like the back of your hand!"

Didn't I just...

After some balancing issues, we were back at the counter, Amy in a boob tube, pleated skirt and plimsoles, and me in my sleeveless top and, well, that was it. I didn't actually have any legs at that point. I reached behind me for my tablet to work out the final bill, accompanied by the sound of Amy's fingers texting, and her lower half tracing impatient circles on the floor.

"Ok, so including tax, your total is..."

"Actually, I'd like to trade in, if that's ok?"

"Oh, you don't have to. I haven't even told you the price."

"I know, but I was thinking about it, and I've got way to many bits and pieces at home at the moment. I want to try and trim my collection, see what I really want. I swear I could make 10 of me with the body parts I've got and then some!"

I don't know what she was doing on her phone whilst I was busy, but it must of developed a character arch for her or something. Perhaps she was turning a new leaf after taking my legs. Maybe that made her realise just how consumer minded she had become.

"Besides, I'm bored of these legs anyway. They're clunky to walk with and are so last year!"

Perhaps not.

"Well, it's never a bad thing having a good clear out! I'll happily take these."

I tapped a few buttons on the screen as I saw my plimsoles be placed on the counter in the corner of my eye. Looking back up after the accounts and stock list was updated, I was expecting my legs to have Amy on the top and her heels on the bottom, but instead she had a pair of pretty basic sandals on, clearly used as spares. Her lower half was sat on the counter on the far side of me, kicking their stupid, strap-up white heels up and down.

"You can keep the skirt and the heels as a tip. You deserve them!"

We both waved goodbye to each other as she left the building just a few inches shorter than when she walked in, which by her standards was quite remarkable. I made sure to quickly attach my new legs before they got a mind of their own and run off in confusion, taking some tentative first steps. I was definitely a bit taller than before, slightly more trim at the hips, and I'd only just noticed that she had french tips.

"I could get used to these."