"No," the spider growled, scratching his nose with one of his legs, "this is how I always look. What, were you born yesterday?"

"Well, actually ... ," Justin began. But the spider cut him off, handing him a crystal disk. "Listen, bud. Big party every night at Schatzy's on Bourbon Street." The spider then moved on, and by the shrieks of delight and laughter that followed "it," Justin realized that he'd just bumped into one of the best walking advertisements he'd ever seen.

He had to step over broken beer bottles and past a group of drunken men swaying in hula skirts, and sidestep an alligator-skinned couple holding alligator-skin bags. As he made his way out the exit he could have sworn he saw the spider talking to a cyclops.

"Alright, sebastian, you win," he said, as he exited the orport. "Get me to the Hotel Rex ASAP."

_______.

There was no point in keeping his mask on. Seasoned paparrazi would have spotted him in a nanobeat, so he ditched it in the cab. The first thing he noticed as he entered the hotel was the hubbub of people and transbods hurriedly rushing to and fro. The next thing he noticed was the burgundy-colored marble floor spread across the entire lobby. In the center of the space were two hexagonal marble pillars with ornate wooden benches in the style of Louis XIV resting on either side. Large floral bouquets were in evidence everywhere. He looked over at the main desk and saw that it, too, was made from the same burgundy tile as the floor he was standing on. Behind the desk were three well-dressed workers, and behind them were what appeared to be three Botticelli paintings. Ironically, it wasn't the Botticelli paintings that marked the hotel as uberprestigious; it was the humans working in front of them. Only the most prominent hotels and restaurants would even attempt to use human labor during Mardi Gras. Except for police, courts, and medical centers, most of humanity was taking the week off-way off.

Justin ignored the head-turning his entrance had garnered and began to make his way to the desk. If he could find his room he'd at least be able to take a break from the overload of visual stimuli.

No luck. He was stopped in his tracks by one of the most erotic creatures he'd ever laid eyes on. Granted, he hadn't seen that many, but this one was knock-dead stunning. Where most of the transbods he'd noticed seemed to content themselves with the merely outrageous, this woman, if what he was looking at could be called that, had clearly gone for more devilish attire.

She was tall, at least as tall as Justin, and her skin was deep auburn red. She had a very thick mane of long black hair that seemed to fall restlessly off her shoulders, cascading down onto a well-exposed bosom that was attempting to escape from a tight-fitting black leather top. Protruding from her forehead through the mass of hair was a pair of short, pointed ivory horns. Justin's eyes followed her perfectly flat stomach to the black leather G-string patch she was wearing over her crotch. The strings on either side of the minuscule covering seemed to leap in perfect arches over her shapely hips. Her extraordinarily long legs were accentuated by a pair of thigh-high black leather boots resting precariously over six-inch stiletto heels. He also noticed that her arms and hands were covered in fingerless black leather gloves that went all the way up to her well-toned biceps. The face seemed oddly familiar, though it was hard to get past the jet-black eyes-no white showing whatsoever-black pouty lips, and dazzling white teeth. But the piece de resistance was a set of large bat wings that emerged from the back of the creature's upright shoulders. They were almost as large as the woman herself.

Justin was entranced.

He wasn't the only one. The entire lobby seemed to stop and stare as the transbod made her way across the foyer. And it only took a second for Justin to realize that the demon was heading straight toward him. It was one of the few times in his lives that he was thankful his face was so easily recognized.

The woman quickly traversed the space between herself and Justin. As she approached, he could see that she had a slightly worried look on her face.

"You're late," she said.

Justin recognized the voice instantly, but his mind had trouble putting the sound to the image.

"Ne-Ne-Neela?" he stuttered.

Neela's expression went from concerned den mother to that of a girl hoping her date liked the prom dress. She spread her wings out to their full radius and placed her hands squarely on her hips. "Do you like it?" she asked.

"Neela," he answered, hardly believing this beautiful creature was his dear friend and confidante. " 'Like' is not the word; 'amazed' is." Then, "It's all ... real?"

Neela laughed, as a bit of the seductress demon returned. "Of course it's real, Justin."

She took his hand and placed it on her arm. "See," she said, rubbing his hand slowly up and down her upper arm just above the rim where the black leather glove ended. "The color doesn't come off." She removed his hand from her arm and placed it on one of her horns, drawing Justin closer provocatively. "They don't come off either ... even this," she said, as a long prehensile tail emerged from her backside, practically popping up between them, "doesn't come off." She saw by the look in Justin's eyes that the tail had completely surprised him-as she'd intended.

Justin's head was spinning and his heart was pounding. He was speechless, no longer because of what he was looking at but because of what he was feeling. He wanted this woman, and he wanted her now. He laughed inwardly as he realized he probably could have taken her-if she were willing-right there on the cold marble floor with nary an onlooker interested. Though they certainly would've been, he reasoned, had they any inkling as to her real identity.

But he'd had it pounded into him so many times about the dire consequences of such an action that he barely allowed himself time for the fantasy. Old Thaddeus's admonitions had apparently done their job. Though he knew he wanted her, he also knew he'd never risk her career just to satisfy his carnal desires.

"Well, hello there!" came a cry from the far end of the lobby. It was Dr. Gillette. Of that Justin was sure. Where the voice was coming from he couldn't tell amid the din.

He felt a tap on the shoulder.

Thank goodness, thought Justin, needing time to sort out his feelings. While the good doctor offered respite from Neela, his outfit, too, did not. Except for a pair of sandals, Thaddeus was stark naked. But what did set him apart from most of the other hotel patrons, many of whom were, in fact, unclothed, was his exposed phallus. It was a good two feet long and as thick as a soda can. Justin's first reaction was to laugh, but Dr. Gillette, misinterpreting his laugh, assured him that it was fully functional.

"Oh, that I believe, Thaddeus," replied Justin. "I just can't wait to see the woman who that," he said, pointing down to the doctor's giant organ with his eyebrows, "will fit into."

"Don't you worry about a thing, dear boy," answered Thaddeus, with a devilish grin. Thaddeus finally seemed to notice Neela standing proudly next to his patient. The doctor's appreciation of Neela's transformation was noted not only in his eyes but also in his manhood. It now stood fully erect at what Justin guessed must have been two and a half feet.

"Thank you, Thaddeus," Neela said, with obvious delight.

"Don't mention it, dear. I must say they certainly did justice to your vision."

"And your outfit ... ," she began to say.

Thaddeus cut her off. "I know, I know. Boooring. Well, what did you expect? Who has time?" He then apologized for keeping Neela's secret from Justin.

On their way up to the room, via a very slow-moving, old-fashioned elevator, Neela explained to Justin why she'd recently been so unavailable. "First of all," she explained, "I wanted to surprise you."

Justin blushed. "Well, consider it a success," he said, trying hard not to stare at every square inch of her.

In the space of two weeks Neela had had her hair, eye, and skin color changed and her pregrown wings, tail, and horns attached-the last part taking only two days to complete. The rest of the time was spent getting used to the new appendages and learning how to use them.

"I always wanted to go wild on Mardi Gras," she said, "but I didn't have the money until now. I've been dreaming about this costume since I was little. Most kids have some sort of crazy drawing they've held on to, hoping one day to strike it rich enough to bring it to fruition. ... I guess I just got lucky."

"Yeah," laughed Justin. "You found me."

"Oh, stop being so vain," she teased. "Omad found you. I'm just reaping the benefits."

Justin chuckled nervously. Is she flirting with me? Is she flirting with me?

"Ahh, yes," interrupted Thaddeus, stopping in front of a brass-rimmed door. "Here's my room. See you kids later."

Justin and Neela walked down to the hallway's end and arrived at a penthouse. Since the hotel was a nostalgic re-creation, the doors opened, and thus required Justin to put his palm on a pad located near the entryway. The reader checked his DNA and palm print, allowing him access. They both entered and were greeted with a beautiful master suite. There was, Justin could see, a single plantation bed in the center of the room. Two Louis XIV chairs were placed in front of the grand four-poster sleeper almost as if guarding it. The rest of the furniture was period, and the adjoining antechambers were just as exquisitely laid out. French doors led out onto a balcony that gave a fine view of the street and all the goings-on.

"Well, we've seen your room," said Neela, "now let's get out of here, because in case you haven't noticed, there's a party going on!"

Justin had to laugh. All he'd wanted to do was get into the room and out of the fracas, but now that he'd been entranced by the vixen currently occupying the body of Neela Harper, he nodded lamely. "Let me just get into my costume."

"Sure thing," she answered, hopping onto the bed and spreading her wings alluringly across the comforter.

Justin opened up his costume box. The outfit enclosed was a simple affair. Coarse tunic with sandals and a belt. Though the tunic went down to his knees, he decided to wear underwear. A decision made even easier after seeing in recent broadcasts where mediabots could go.

"Spartacus," he explained, shrugging.

"Ahh, the symbolic outfit," Neela said, nodding in support. "Nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Neela," he responded, "no outfit could possibly look good next to yours."

She laughed.

"Anyways," he continued, "Spartacus seemed like the perfect outfit. Had he remained a gladiator slave and mercenary performer for the Roman masses, he could've had all the riches and benefits that Roman society offered."

"But he chose to rebel against the Romans and fight," added Neela.

"Yes," said Justin, "he chose to fight."

"And die."

"Been there, done that," he joked. Then to reassure her, "Don't worry, Neela, it's just a symbol."

She frowned. "You ready or what?"

"No," he answered, "but that doesn't matter. I'm not sure I'll ever be ready for what's waiting for me out there."

Their hotel was located between Decatur and Chartres streets, so they opted to head up Canal to Chartres. Once there they saw wrought-iron balconies filled with party revelers tossing jewels down to the partygoers below, as well as up to those floating above. The rain of trinkets, jewels, and knickknacks acted as a graceful frame of color to the spires of the St. Louis Cathedral, located farther down the avenue in the heart of the French Quarter.

Justin chose to ignore the finger-pointing of those who recognized him, and he grudgingly gave autographs to those who requested it. Neela got a pass, as everyone apparently assumed the vivacious creature next to the Unincorporated Man was most likely his well-transbodied bimbo of the hour. When she suggested he buy a mask, he refused. Night had fallen, so the street was dim enough, and everyone was drunk enough, that the "fame" harassment was at a minimum. Plus, he had a few securibot floaters trailing him for good measure should any revelers get out of hand.

As they inched their way down the sidewalk through the garrulous crowd, they heard the cacophonous sounds of a parade heading toward them. They decided to stop for a minute and take in the moving pageant. At first a man on a horse rode by. He was, explained Neela, the captain or krewe leader of the Orpheus Club. Next came the officers and the queen, soon followed by maids and dukes. They were followed by an enormous float. Its theme was a historical event and, in this case, "three centuries of progress."

Justin was able to make out an oversized replication of an early nanobot that was quickly followed by one of the first transorbital pods. The t.o.p. kept shooting out of one orport tube representing Hong Kong, into another orport tube representing New York. That float was followed by another representing the terraforming of Mars, which was followed by another representing the newly begun terraformation of Venus.

Drifting purposely all around these larger floats were smaller ones representing the colonization of the asteroid belt as well as that of the lower-orbit colonies. Following the "show" floats were three smaller ones hovering at various heights. These smaller transports carried the costumed Orpheus Club members, who were kept busy throwing shiny trinkets into the open arms of the revelers.

One of the necklaces landed on Justin's outstretched arms. When he looked at it closely, he realized it was a string of diamonds made of at least forty genuine three-carat stones. He began to laugh, slowly at first, and then in fits. The sky was raining diamonds, his date was an auburn-skinned, leather-clad vision in wings, and here he was alive and well to experience it all.

Neela grabbed him by the arm and they began, again, to make their way down the street. At the corner of St. Louis and Chartres they passed the Napoleon House, on top of which was an octagonal cupola rumored to have been built as a lookout to sight Napoleon's ship on the river. Legend had it that Napoleon intended to land in Louisiana and stay in the house they currently found themselves in front of. Unfortunately, he never made it, having perished before reaching the city. As in Justin's day the house had been converted into an old drinking haunt. On this night they could both see from the curbside that the place was crammed wall-to-wall with people, and even, in one part of the room, they were crammed in ceiling-to-ceiling. They moved farther down the road, alternately pulling one another through the tightly packed swaying mass of humans and transbods. They passed Toulouse Street and were close to Jackson Square across from the St. Louis Cathedral. Chartres, like the other streets of the French Quarter, seemed to act as a small tributary of a great orgiastic river pouring forth into Jackson Square, where larger shows were taking place.

Justin realized he was no longer moving of his own volition, and was, in fact, being pushed along by the swell of partiers behind him. He could barely see Neela's hand, which he was holding, though he could still feel the tight grip of her long nails. The smell of sweat and alcohol was everywhere.

He felt a sharp yank to the left. Then another. In a flash he found himself standing in a small alley. While it, too, was crowded, it was not nearly as full as the torrent of partiers they'd just left behind.

Justin leaned up against the dank stone wall, catching his breath and massaging the shoulder Neela had practically yanked out of its socket. "You nearly pulled my ..." He stopped talking when he realized how close Neela was to his face. So close he could feel the soft rush of air emanating from her nostrils.

His skin bristled and his heart began to pound.

Neela could feel his breath on her neck. She lingered for a moment, allowing the tension to build between them.

"Neela ... I ..."

She silenced him with the tip of her index finger lightly touching his lips.

Justin put his hands on her waist and slowly pulled her in-giving her a chance to change her mind-he didn't know, didn't care. He matched her stare with his. Though her eyes were black as night, they hid nothing. With one hand Justin slowly brushed aside a wisp of Neela's long, dark hair that had fallen over her cheekbone. With the other he gently framed her face, then gingerly brought his mouth to hers.

The kiss was slow and deep.

Neela leaped up onto him and locked her long leather boots around his waist. He then carried her the few steps across the cobblestone alleyway until her back was pushed against a wall. Neela felt the cool stones against her shoulder blades and wings. A tiny, dimly lit balcony was above them and a small wooden door was to their left. If there was anybody above they didn't notice, and should anyone exit the door, they wouldn't have cared. Neela shrouded her wings around Justin's body as he quickly rid them both of their undergarments.

Neela was now no longer Neela Harper in the body of an animal being, she was was that animal being. She swayed her wings to Justin's rhythm as her tail moved about frantically, snapping violently to every climax she felt. that animal being. She swayed her wings to Justin's rhythm as her tail moved about frantically, snapping violently to every climax she felt.

She kissed him fiercely, cupping his face in her hands.

Their breathing was out of sync as they each seemed to gasp in sporadic bursts. She was lost in his motion; she felt nothing and everything as her body began its steady and quick ascent. As soon as she sensed that he was about to release, she allowed herself to experience her purest vulnerability, and that was all she needed. As Neela heard her lover climax, an explosion of sensation washed over her in multiple waves of dissipating energy, each one draining her until she collapsed onto Justin's powerful shoulders.

He gently lowered her to the ground as she leaned on him for support. She covered his half-naked body in the folds of her great crimson wings and drew him close in embrace.

He pulled back slowly and softly kissed her lips.

She smiled at him and gently caressed his cheek.

"I guess this means I'm fired," she said, still catching her breath.

Justin laughed. "Lord, I hope so."

"You OK?" she asked, still seeing, even in the dim light, the flushness of his face.

"Yeah, just a little drained ... nothing a little walking won't rectify."

"Sounds like a lovely idea."

They gathered their garments, dressed quickly, and emerged hand in hand from the alley, where they were quickly swallowed up by the boisterous crowd streaming into Jackson Square.

After a few more hours of soaking up the night they made their way back to the Hotel Rex, knowing Omad would be waiting for them. They did their best to tidy up, and then, as one, entered the lobby, oblivious to their friend who'd been sitting patiently on a chair next to one of the lobby's hexagonal pillars.

Omad was dressed in an old-fashioned, mismatched, three-piece business suit, and was wearing a pinstriped collarless shirt. Resting beside his knee was a large metallic briefcase with the letters IRS spelled out on both sides. He also had a holstered gun on his hip, and wrapped around his head was a black sash with the eyeholes cut out. He stood up as Justin and Neela approached.

"Let me guess," Justin said. "Tax man?"

"Let me me guess," Omad retorted. "Satiated lovers?" guess," Omad retorted. "Satiated lovers?"

Neither Justin nor Neela answered, remaining stone-faced.

Omad didn't give them time for a denial. "About time. All I can say is, thank Damsah for Mardi Gras."

"Hey!" Neela protested, attempting to change the subject. "You didn't say anything about my transbod!"