Part One:

Part Three:

Roger was a big guy -or had been minutes ago- which meant a lot of meat for the Gender Vender to store. Within the machine, the skin was being sprayed with preserving isotonic fluid and the local stray dog population was soon sniffing around, on schedule, hunting in vain for the smell of blood and brine. One of the pups clambered onto Jonah's sleeping bag to better press its nose to the vent. Jonah didn't mind. He liked the company.

A woman came marching down the station platform. One of the strays had the misfortune to wander into her warpath and went flying with a swift kick. She hadn't even slowed down.

"Oi, they're not hurting anybody!" Jonah protested.

"Did I ask for your opinion?" the woman snapped, regarding him as she might an insect. She stepped up to the Gender Vender, jabbing angrily at the buttons while the machine tried to sing its 'welcome back, valued customer' jingle. "If it was up to me, I'd have you dragged out of here with the rest of the vermin. Now kindly shut up. Some of us actually have jobs that we're late for."

Jonah knew when to pick his battles, and shrank back into his sleeping bag. He knew the girl only as Angry Finance Lady. The first time he'd encountered her using the vending machine, he'd been unsure which was her grafted identity and which was the real her - certainly the middle-aged, masculine face she wore for work fit her personality far better.

It was hard to believe such a delicate appearance could house such a violent temper. They had never spoken before, though Jonah had decided she must work in finance by how her mood fluctuated with the headlines of the Financial Times that made up his bedding. If the stock markets were up or down, her personality would go from bad to worse respectively.

She loved throwing her weight around, and the more weight the better. The Gender Vender worked on her for half an hour, layered on thick slabs of powerful muscle before attaching a heavy-duty penis between her legs and wrapped her in hairy skin. Even as the machine took her apart and reassembled her, Jonah could hear her grumbling through the vent about the train delays. She stepped out, running a hand through her short, salt-and-pepper hair fondling her new equipment through the tight grey suit with a deep, self-satisfied grunt. She gave the dogs a glare that sent them running, and strode away.

Behind her, the token for her skin rattled into the slot, unnoticed.

"Ah, little miss... sir... your token! You forgot your token!" Jonah exclaimed, hopping out of his sleeping bag. She didn't seem to hear. He picked up the token and hurried after her, clutching the sleeve of her jacket.

"Get your dirty hands off me," she snarled, shoving him with all her vended strength. Jonah staggered back into the Gender Vendor, his hand skidding over the machine's sensor. When he picked himself up, she was gone.

"Oh no," Jonah said, looking at the token in his palm. He turned to see the machine lit up, singing its 'Welcome Back, Valued Consumer' jingle, while a limp sack of pale, red-headed skin was being prepared behind the glass. "Oh no!"