Post by Kappa on Apr 28, 2022 16:41:30 GMT
The year is 2004 in the historic city of London.
In the background of a cafe, a recently popular song from Denmark is played on a vintage jukebox circa 1956.
youtu.be/SPlQpGeTbIE
Sitting at a table, a young man, 18 years old, tall and lanky with blotchy light green skin, brown hair in a bowl cut, wearing a pair of black framed sunglasses, wrapped in red jumper with blue jeans and boots, quietly eats a plate of fish fingers and beans with a side of buttered white toast.
Mortimer Toynbee, or, as most would call him...
"Toad, ya fuckin tosser!" A Cockney accent shouts form the entrance.
A fork in hand, Mort is frozen with grief, holding up a dish finger from shoulder height.
Betsy Braddock, 24 years old, with purple hair, dressing in an oversized red hoodie, is what you'd call a slacker.
A bright young woman, Betsy is wasting her potential with the underhanded and sketchy.
"Thanks, luv!" Betsy snatches Mort's fork.
"Hey!" Mortimer yelps, his hair, surprisingly, growing in length as his shoulders widen and chin starts to point.
"I'm starvin!" Betsy sits across the mutant, height shrinking a good 4 inches as his skin beings to smooth and chest starts to grow.
"I was eating that!" Mortimer speaks with a more feminine, high pitch tone.
Betsy smirks.
"Oi, calm down, Marcy, it's just a fish finger!"
With out warning, Betsy pokes another fish finger of Toad's plate.
"Hey!" Marcy yelps, her chest, at this point, two jiggly, bouncy double ds.
Betsy laughs.
"I love when you go all Marcy on me! You're so bloody cute it's ridiculous!"
Marcy blushes. She didn't mean to change genders. It just happens when her emotions get to her.
"Great." Marcy sighs. "You know I can't change back for a few hours. And my shift is twenty minutes!"
Betsy shrugs her slender shoulders.
"You skip work?" Betsy suggests. "I have a little side job at the moment that Marcy would be absolutely perfect for, yeah?"
Marcy grits her teeth. Her appearance like an adorable Chihuahua growling at an intruder.
"I'm clean now." Marcy points out. "I don't do that stuff anymore."
Betsy moans.
"Come off that high horse, luv! Once a mongrel always a mongrel!"
Marcy shakes her head.
"Things are getting better for mutants lately." Marcy smiles. "I can actually have a future."
"Oh, I get it. You wanna be a mum?"
Marcy's eyes lit up.
"Wut?!"
"I get it, luv, I do. The older I get, the more I think about it to." Betsy giggles. "Wouldn't mind seeing those twins of yours even bigger than they are now! Mmm!"
"..." Marcy a loss, taking out her wallet and dropping a ten pound note on the table, she stands up and walks to the entrance.
The whole time, Betsy, the deviant she is, eyes Marcy's bubble butt, biting her lip wickedly.
"I hope she does get pregnant." Betsy thinks to herself, sliding toad's plate closed to herself. "What I'd give to see that arse fatter!"
In the background of a cafe, a recently popular song from Denmark is played on a vintage jukebox circa 1956.
youtu.be/SPlQpGeTbIE
Sitting at a table, a young man, 18 years old, tall and lanky with blotchy light green skin, brown hair in a bowl cut, wearing a pair of black framed sunglasses, wrapped in red jumper with blue jeans and boots, quietly eats a plate of fish fingers and beans with a side of buttered white toast.
Mortimer Toynbee, or, as most would call him...
"Toad, ya fuckin tosser!" A Cockney accent shouts form the entrance.
A fork in hand, Mort is frozen with grief, holding up a dish finger from shoulder height.
Betsy Braddock, 24 years old, with purple hair, dressing in an oversized red hoodie, is what you'd call a slacker.
A bright young woman, Betsy is wasting her potential with the underhanded and sketchy.
"Thanks, luv!" Betsy snatches Mort's fork.
"Hey!" Mortimer yelps, his hair, surprisingly, growing in length as his shoulders widen and chin starts to point.
"I'm starvin!" Betsy sits across the mutant, height shrinking a good 4 inches as his skin beings to smooth and chest starts to grow.
"I was eating that!" Mortimer speaks with a more feminine, high pitch tone.
Betsy smirks.
"Oi, calm down, Marcy, it's just a fish finger!"
With out warning, Betsy pokes another fish finger of Toad's plate.
"Hey!" Marcy yelps, her chest, at this point, two jiggly, bouncy double ds.
Betsy laughs.
"I love when you go all Marcy on me! You're so bloody cute it's ridiculous!"
Marcy blushes. She didn't mean to change genders. It just happens when her emotions get to her.
"Great." Marcy sighs. "You know I can't change back for a few hours. And my shift is twenty minutes!"
Betsy shrugs her slender shoulders.
"You skip work?" Betsy suggests. "I have a little side job at the moment that Marcy would be absolutely perfect for, yeah?"
Marcy grits her teeth. Her appearance like an adorable Chihuahua growling at an intruder.
"I'm clean now." Marcy points out. "I don't do that stuff anymore."
Betsy moans.
"Come off that high horse, luv! Once a mongrel always a mongrel!"
Marcy shakes her head.
"Things are getting better for mutants lately." Marcy smiles. "I can actually have a future."
"Oh, I get it. You wanna be a mum?"
Marcy's eyes lit up.
"Wut?!"
"I get it, luv, I do. The older I get, the more I think about it to." Betsy giggles. "Wouldn't mind seeing those twins of yours even bigger than they are now! Mmm!"
"..." Marcy a loss, taking out her wallet and dropping a ten pound note on the table, she stands up and walks to the entrance.
The whole time, Betsy, the deviant she is, eyes Marcy's bubble butt, biting her lip wickedly.
"I hope she does get pregnant." Betsy thinks to herself, sliding toad's plate closed to herself. "What I'd give to see that arse fatter!"