My butt was next. I knew it was the same
gang, because they took pains to match my
new rear end to the thighs they stuck me
with earlier. I couldn't believe that my new
butt was attached at least three inches
lower than my original. Now, my rear
complemented my legs, lump for lump.
Frantic, I prayed that long skirts would stay
in fashion.

It was two years ago when I realized my
arms had been switched. One morning I
was fixing my hair and I watched horrified
but fascinated as the flesh of my upper
arms swung to and fro with the motion of
the hairbrush. This was really getting scary.
My body was being replaced one section at
a time. How clever and fiendish.