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Room 203, Thursday Morning
Stark woke up, stumbled out of of bed, and was headed to the bathroom before he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the back of his door.
"Oh, frell!"
For one thing, he had hair. And that would be fine if it were the only difference. But there were also some anatomical additions and subtractions that he really wasn't comfortable with. Wait, was he still a he if he was shaped like a she? Did he have to be a she from now on until it went away and was it even going to go away because if it didn't go away...
"Frell, frell, frell!"
Stark decided he was going to stay a he, even if he was temporarily (oh how he hoped it was temporary) she-shaped.
"Frell!" he yelped again, because at this point there really were no other words. Well, actually there were a few. Like, "what the FRELL was in those brownies last night?" He might have to swear off brownies for life now.
And to think, he'd just been talking with Bridge last night about how people should just be themselves and not somebody else. At this point Stark was torn between an urge to flail wildly and an urge to maskpalm repeatedly. He went with the flailing, because he was Stark. He was going to keep the flailing to himself for now and not come out of his room until it was absolutely necessary.
[Yes, another waking up as a girl post. It's almost canon, couldn't resist! Mostly establishy, but feel free to come poke at the poor flaily alien.]
"Oh, frell!"
For one thing, he had hair. And that would be fine if it were the only difference. But there were also some anatomical additions and subtractions that he really wasn't comfortable with. Wait, was he still a he if he was shaped like a she? Did he have to be a she from now on until it went away and was it even going to go away because if it didn't go away...
"Frell, frell, frell!"
Stark decided he was going to stay a he, even if he was temporarily (oh how he hoped it was temporary) she-shaped.
"Frell!" he yelped again, because at this point there really were no other words. Well, actually there were a few. Like, "what the FRELL was in those brownies last night?" He might have to swear off brownies for life now.
And to think, he'd just been talking with Bridge last night about how people should just be themselves and not somebody else. At this point Stark was torn between an urge to flail wildly and an urge to maskpalm repeatedly. He went with the flailing, because he was Stark. He was going to keep the flailing to himself for now and not come out of his room until it was absolutely necessary.
[Yes, another waking up as a girl post. It's almost canon, couldn't resist! Mostly establishy, but feel free to come poke at the poor flaily alien.]