Rizzoli & Isles & ‘New U’ genetic alteration salon

[Junketh71]

Rizzoli & Isles & ‘New U’ genetic alteration salon by Junketh71 (giantess)

“Remind me, Maura, why have I agreed to your offer?” Jane Rizzoli grouchily asked her best friend Maura Isles as the two of them walked through downtown Boston. “I mean, I’m a police officer, when all is said and done – you’re the effeminate one here!”

Dr. Isles just rolled her eyes, for Jane’s words... did not ring quite true, actually. True, her friend was a police officer, but Maura herself was a police forensic expert, and the two of them worked side-by-side – or hand in glove depending on your choice of metaphors to describe their relation-ship, so to call her ‘effeminate’ was rather wrong, and not just because she was a woman to being with.

“It’s not my fault that I actually choose to dress not just ‘sensibly’,” Maura replied after a brief pause, after rising to the bait all the same. “Jane, I know that you’re not a big fan of dressing ‘girly’, but there’s no reason to shun high heels all the time!”

“I do not!” Rizzoli protested, as she looked down at her footwear – it was high heeled, sort of, but clearly nowhere as posh or feminine as Maura’s were. “You want to go shoe shopping in-stead?” she added, hopefully.

“No,” the forensic expert said resolutely. “I want to go that New U salon and see what’s behind it.”

...There was a new rumor on the streets of Boston (and other major cities of the US) – that the relatively small and unpretentious New U business was the first and primary powerhouse behind the new fad that was sweeping the world of the popular and the fashionable – the genetic alteration.

Personally, neither Maura nor Jane were much into this new fad – to intertwine your DNA with that of an animal (usually it was a donkey, a cow or a pig) to become more popular in some cir-cles of the American society: it may’ve sounded silly, but it worked well enough, and by now – according to some semi-official polls – up to 11% of people in some American cities were permanently altered, most of them women.

“So what?” Jane shot back. “Sure, this genetic alteration situation is dumb, but so far it is no crime in itself, and if some down-on-its-luck salon tries to enhance its’ reputation by attempting to ride the way – it isn’t a police problem, not yet, not precisely.”

“Yes, Jane, but the point is moot,” Maura tapped her well-groomed fingernails on a door handle. “We’re already here.”

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The inside of the salon were just as Jane imagined them to be: very plain, slightly dusty, without any claim to grandeur or to the statement that they were the power behind the movement. She also was beginning to suspect that Maura may`ve made up this rumor herself in order to lure her here to be her partner in crime of some sort or another. (Hopefully though not a literal one, because that would be just bad.) That said, it also possessed some sort of a door alarm or bell, for when Rizzoli and Isles, an attendant-on-duty also made his appearance shortly afterwards.

“Hello, ladies!” he said brightly. “Welcome to New U genetic alteration salon! How may we assist you?”

“Er, well,” Maura began (since this visit was her idea, she decided to take on the responsibility of telling the tale to the local staff), only to realize that her friend was not next to her. “Jane?”

“I’m just looking at what the salon has to offer,” Rizzoli spoke up, looking away from the book that contained the genetic alterations this place had to offer. “I would like the order 44, please.”

“And I – 46,” Maura added quickly, wondering what was going on and if they were not going to get into trouble.

“46?” The attendant asked, completely serious, as he took another look at Maura. “Not 47? No, not with your Nordic looks. Definitely 46.”

“...Is this a blonde joke?” Maura asked, sourly, “because I can assure you-“

“No, no, of course not!” the attendant replied, quickly. “Ladies, please! This way!”

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Automatically, Jane and Maura followed their new guide, and soon found themselves further down the salon’s corridor, standing before two rooms.

“Here!” another one of the salon’s workers appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “Sign here and we’re ready to begin.”

“Why the separate rooms?” Jane had enough clarity of mind to ask even as she and Isles sound the forms almost without noticing the fact. “We’d really like to be together – moral support and all.”

“We understand, but alas, alas, different orders require separate chambers to minimize the possi-ble accidents,” the original attendant said, ruefully. “Please, proceed.”

Automatically – they could not back down now, not really – Maura and Jane complied, and found themselves (independently from each other) sitting in a chair underneath some sort of a specialized lamp. “What’ll happen now?” Jane growled, while in her room, Maura just curiously looked around – with a professional curiosity (she was a doctor too, of a sorts), when the transformations began.

For Jane, it started with her feet. They began to swell – skin and muscle and bone – so suddenly, so rapidly and so violently, that her footwear (as well as her socks) just split and burst, revealing feet easily the size of clown shoes on their own.

“What the-?” Jane exclaimed as the words were caught in her throat, for the rest of her legs started to grow. At first, they just elongated and stretched with audible pops, as newly grown cells of muscle, sinew and bone prevented them from just falling apart, but then they began to widen as well in proportion to their new height, and so Jane was introduced to a new sight: first her trousers “receded”, becoming little more than knee-length shorts, and then they just burst, as her shoes had earlier, leaving little behind below her waist, as her knees and hips and butts became bigger and wider with muscle and bone.

Sadly, Jane Rizzoli did not have time to dwell on that, as with a new series of pops, her body began to expand above the waistline, the actual torso first – first the skeleton, and then the inner organs.

“Gah!” Jane opened her mouth to scream, but could not: her internal re-workings permitted her to emit no other sound save for some meaningless burble, even as her old heart, lungs, liver, etc., expanded and some new organs (possibly) formed as well. Her arms too were extending and increasing in muscle mass, similar to how her legs had increased earlier; her hands were now deadly weapons in their own right: powered by the new muscles in her arms, they could now break ordinary ribs like twigs!

But Jane did not have time to realize this or anything, as the metamorphosis finally reached her head, and her skin, skull and brain expanded outwards with a series of deafening pops.

...Or maybe they were deafening to her new hearing, as Jane’s ears too had increased in sight and her hearing increased in keenness. The same could be said for her eyes and the power of sight, or her nose and the power of smell... not that Jane could appreciate this: not only her brain was re-shaping to fit into her new skull, but her teeth fell from her mouth, replaced by new ones, more suited for eating meat than her old ones; especially the canines in the upper jaw: maybe not quite sabre-toothed-cat-like, but clearly bigger than the other teeth.

And then, it was over. Jane emitted a sound that sound more like a roar than anything, and smashed through the exit.

...Or she would have, if it did not actually open by itself, releasing Jane Rizzoli back into the cor-ridor. “Where’s Maura?” she snarled.

“Jane?”

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While Jane Rizzoli, was experienced a transformation of swelling, for the lack of a better term, so did Maura Isles. Only, because her new form was even bigger and heavier than Jane’s was, it was even more intense. She was wearing a dress, rather than a pants and blouse combination as Jane, but it did not matter in the slightest: her clothing disintegrated about as fast as Jane’s has, their respective pliancy matched by her greater bulk.

And then... it was also over for Maura Isles, and she joined Jane in the corridor, just as latter snarled:

“Where is Maura?”

“Jane?”

“Maura!” Jane whirled around and froze, since she almost smacked her face into Maura’s chest: by now, Jane was almost 3 meters tall, but Maura was clearly over three meters tall; Jane probably weighted 200 kg of muscle and bone, but Maura was probably twice as heavy and powerful.

“...Yeesh and I thought I was big,” Jane muttered with something resembling appreciation, in-timidation, lust or envy in her voice, “but look at you – you’re a giant!”

“Ah yes, I see that both of you have gone through genetic alterations safely,” the voice of the initial attendant caught their attention.

“Excuse me,” Jane stopped ogling Maura and turned to face the attendant alongside her blonde friend. “What did you say?”

“Two more satisfied customers,” the attendant nodded sagely. “Order 44 – Wild Man... well, Wild Woman; order 46 dash 46 – Troll or Troll-Hag, take your pick.”

“Excuse me?” Maura Isles’ voice rose dangerously high, mostly because of the ‘hag’ part than anything else; “I don’t look any older than before.”

“Sorry ma’am, that’s just the official nomenclature, nothing personal,” the attendant said quickly as he pulled out a remote control of all things. “One final piece, as described in our two-for-half-price offer in the official brochure...”

“What offer? Maura!” Jane whirled to her friend, her suspicions that Maura’s interest in this place had nothing to do with donkey- or another animal people becoming certainty, when the attendant flicked a switch and the world flashed green.

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...Jane Rizzoli stood in the middle of the street, rubbing her forehead to help her gather her thoughts. Though a Wild Woman, and thus looking slightly (well, more than slightly) feral, she was actually very intelligent – intelligent enough to work as a detective for Boston PD. Of course, her sharper than the average senses – sight, smell, hearing, etc – had something to do with that, but so did her brains...

Right now, though, she was drawing a blank, so she turned to her best friend (among other things), Maura Isles.

“Have any idea why we were here?” she asked the (surprisingly) taller woman.

Maura Isles rubbed the front of her own head. Being a Troll (if anyone called her a Troll-Hag she got really angry), her choice of career – a forensics expert – was a surprising one: her massive hands appeared to be ill-suited for handling forensic – and medical – tools made for much smaller humans... but her claws could easily replicate or replace many of them in sharpness or versatility, and she had custom-made those that could not be replaced instead.

“I don’t know, Jane,” she confessed to her smaller friend. “I believe that we went on a night out of town and got carried away.”

“Then we better start wrapping it up before the sun rises and turns you into stone,” Jane only half-joked: as a Troll, Maura was... powerful, not to mention intimidating, but sunlight could kill her in a large enough dose.

“Funny,” Maura bared her teeth and Jane responded in turn. “But – sure. Let’s just hit one last custom clothes’ shop and be done with it.”

“You and your clothes!” Jane exclaimed, but clearly very half-heartedly, and the two best friends restarted their walk through the downtown Boston, the building of the ‘New U’ genetic alteration salon standing forgotten behind them.

End