I’ve been working all night and I’m so goddamn tired, but I know that time is of the essence when attempting to create the perfect pets. I’m almost done, having already removed most of the useless parts and viscera. Since I’m self-trained in this craft, I have no care for the rules of do no harm especially not with the amount of money I get paid for these things.

I take my work seriously and I’m very passionate about producing the perfect product as requested by each suitor.

I do pretty good for myself considering that I work alone and my prices start at ten-thousand dollars depending on what kind of product is required.

Simple little things like appearance changes or body molding into some form of small animal is the easiest and quickest thing I can produce and that’s usually what gets ordered more often than not.

I use the back of my hand to wipe away the sweat from my forehead, then take a step back. I’m behind on my orders because I don’t need any money right now, so this is really more for fun and to keep my skills honed than anything else.

I smile and run a hand gently down the side of its face. It isn’t afraid of me anymore because it has accepted its fate and I appreciate when they’re like this. It makes the work easier for me and the process more bearable for them.

I don’t like to hurt them, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t give me a hard-on from time to time.

The first cut is always sweet like nectar and the last stitch is the release of euphoria. It can be likened to a sexual experience if one holds that kind of perversion, but I don’t. To me, this is a job and nothing more, though sometimes I do have to fight the urge to touch my creations in ways I shouldn’t.

I may not be completely done for the evening, but I’m satisfied with what I’ve accomplished so far and decide to call it a night.

“I’ll finish you tomorrow,” I promise it, kissing the forehead softly.

It manages a small smile, and nods as best as it can. I appreciate them more when they’re like this and that’s something they come to find out sooner rather than later.

I never mistreat the pets because that’s not what I’m paid to do. I recreate them from the base design I’m given and make them into something of splendor and worthy of praise by their new owners.

I smile kindly at it and pull the sheet up to its neck so that it will be as comfortable as possible when I’m gone before I head for the door.

I live by the motto usually of not shitting where I eat, but because of the amount of money that’s been rolling in, I’ve been able to move into a much bigger place which allows me to have a workroom on the top floor of the building.

I always did like the way loft apartments looked and I saved enough money to be able to buy the entire building so I don’t have to worry about nosy neighbors poking about in my business.

Figuratively and literally.

I sigh heavily as I make my way toward the lift and lean back against the cool metal, waiting for it to stop on the bottom floor. That’s what I use as my general living space, while the second floor is where I sleep and conduct my business.

Just as I reach my fridge and pull out a cool pitcher of water, the obnoxious sounds of open handed, rapid knocking greets my ears and I laugh. I put the pitcher on the counter and walk over to the door, pulling it open and grinning down at Aiden James, who looks up at me with the usual mischief dancing in her narrow, chocolate-brown eyes. I like her so much because she’s different. She’s a little sprite of a person and her silver hair makes her look like a fairy tale creature of sorts.

“You’re not ready,” she points out in confusion.

“For?” I ask, raising an eyebrow and leaning against the door.

“You promised to take me to The Lounge tonight,” she replies, placing her hands on her hips.

“Is that why you’re dressed up like that?” I inquire, nodding at her. I let out a low whistle and she laughs, pushing her way past me.

Aiden’s wearing a tight, scarlet tube top, leather pants, and her famous stripper heels—the kind that have the huge wedge in the front and the point of death in the back. They hike her up about another four inches, but she’s so tiny that I don’t think it really makes much of a difference. The way her clothes cling to her body show off her figure and even though she’s not supermodel thin, she’s so goddamn beautiful that no one seems to care.

That and the fact that she can beat the ever living shit out of anyone that tries to do her harm or crosses her in anyway seem to make the world work out in her favor.

“Don’t you look good enough to eat,” I say as she sways her hips, making a show of her entering my place as she tends to do when she’s feeling pretty.

“Well, the kitchen is always open for you, Gray,” she replies, glancing at me over her shoulder and wiggling her eyebrows. I groan as I laugh in embarrassment. Aiden’s my best friend and we tend to banter back and forth like this a lot. She always manages to say something so damn salacious that she comes out the winner while I turn eighteen shades of crimson.

“Anyway,” I say, desperate to change the subject, “do you wanna just hang out here? I’ve been working all day and only stopped a little while ago. I’m beat.”

“I know,” she replies, hopping up onto the counter and swinging her legs.

“How?” I ask her curiously.

“You’re still wearing your gloves, Einstein,” she says, reaching for my pack of smokes on the counter and lighting one. I immediately scrunch my face and mimic a high-pitched tone, to which she laughs and tosses my lighter at me.

“Get cleaned up and let’s get out of here. I’m sure you can use a night out after what you’ve been up to,” she says, crossing her legs at the ankles and placing the cigarette in between her lips. She’s right and she knows it, and the way she’s eyeing me tells me that I agree with her.

“Yeah, just give me a few,” I finally agree, as I turn and walk out of the kitchen area.

I decide to take the stairs this time because I know how impatient she can get. I don’t spend more than twenty or so minutes in the shower scrubbing away any excess fluids that aren’t mine and smile slightly when I notice that the drain is a slight crimson color. I thought I had bled the piece properly, but sometimes I get so into what I’m doing that I don’t really notice little things like that.

Once I’m dry and my hair is neatly combed, I walk quickly to my bedroom and drop my towel, pulling on my boxers, then my fitted black v-neck and a loose pair of dark, blue denim jeans. I head into my closet and sit on the floor as I pull on some socks and my boots, then head back down to where I assume Aiden is waiting rather impatiently for me.

“Well, damn, Gray. You sure do know how to clean up nicely,” she says, from her new spot on the floor. Her head is tilted in my direction and as I slide my smokes into my back pocket, she gets to her feet and loops an arm through mine.

“Let’s go get fucked up!”