“You know what? You go check out that Villa and I’ll meet you around there in like... some time.”

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna ‘hide out’ in public again,” retorted Janet.

“...And what if I do?” Rachel challenged.

“Then I might forget you’re in the store! It’s not unlike you to become the bra on one of the Victoria’s Secret mannequins without anyone knowing.”

“Okay fine I’ll at least tell you what I’m gonna be. There’s a music boutique across the mall called Four Strings. And I’m gonna see if I can become one of ‘their’ cellos, okay? I’ll be off somehow, like, not in a display or a stand. And if someone moves me or tries to sell me I’ll make my escape somehow.”

Janet thought this over, her mind tossing about inside her head. She knew Rachel could escape just about anything — from handcuffs to a depth cage — but her cautious judgment obstructed her purer logic.

Rachel interrupted her thoughts just then. “I’m gonna go, alright? Just a half an hour. Tops,” she affirmed. “I’ll see you soon!”

Janet sighed and walked into Villa while her friend eagerly made her way to Four Strings. She leaned on the storefront and peered inside the small, house-like boutique. The floor was hardwood and the windows on the front were rectangular and white-trimmed like the front of someone’s home. Two ceiling fans hung above, their large light kits flooding the shop with warm, incandescent luminescence. And the walls were a light beige but they were covered mostly by decals, hooks for violins, shelves, and the occasional lamp.

At the back of the store, where the desk was, there was nobody manning the register. So Rachel stepped out from hiding and perused the store as inconspicuously as possible, checking for security cameras as she did. Luckily for her, the store never thought to install them, and once she observed this she moseyed over to a corner of the store where three cellos were being displayed. Laying her hand gently on one of their upper bouts, she closed her eyes and let the electric rush of acquiring overcome her.

A moment later, when her nerves settled, she turned her back to the wall and sidled a handful of feet to the violin section, pretending to be a spy. The James Bond theme played in her head as she selected her place and leaned back, carefully stepping outward as she pitched to the wall until she decided she had the optimal angle. Sighing to calm down, her mind began to evaporate as she started to shift.

Rachel’s shoulders were first to harden, her clothes eroding around and into them as wood overtook her pliable human skin. Her eyes constantly scanned her environment as her body crackled, the wood’s strands and fibers all meshing together incredibly fast to perfectly replicate a cello’s frame. Rachel’s breasts receded into her wooden chest as her hips squeezed inward with an audible <CRUNCH>. The wood fibers started to grow from her legs next, attracting them together like magnets with tan-colored strings pulling together between them, drawing them closer and closer as they swelled into halves of a lower bout and finally merged. Her shoes stood on end as her combined ankles filed down into an aluminum endpin, eventually extending to its full length at the same pace her feet assimilated with the base of her frame. Rachel lifted her arms and let them retract into her body the same way her feet did and she willed her neck to extend while that took place. Her hair twisted together into four distinct strings that got longer and longer like her neck, attaching to her new tailpiece while her neck popped like bubble wrap and solidified as ebony wood. Wincing, her head bent wildly and shriveled into an ornate scroll while grating sounds could be heard from what was left of her abdomen. It too finally hardened after a few seconds, and Rachel completed her metamorphosis with finished, perfectly symmetrical f-holes.

Rachel was a magnificent cello, at least until Janet came to rouse her.