Mcstories

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Mcstories
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Aku-Gang 32 Recent Deviations Featured: RQ: Nurse Serenity
Thesaxcat 29 Recent Deviations Featured: Ensnared by a friend
Quiche and Tell - Quiche TF TG AR MC
, There was a package for Lorraine in the mailroom.She didn’t usually get packages. She usually got envelopes- bills, promotional fliers, junk mail, credit card offers, but no packages. Curious of its contents, Lorraine turned the box over, searching for the return address. A few seconds later, there it was, written in thick purple sharpie ink.Blanca.Blanca. That was a name she hadn’t heard in a bit- at least not by mail. She and Blanca had been friends since middle school, though that friendship fell off after high school graduation as most pre-college friendships did. Now their contact was relegated to the occasional happy birthday text or themed bitmoji sent during certain holidays. Lorraine had sent her her new address once she moved into the complex a few months ago, but she hadn’t expected Blanca to actually ship her something.“What the hell could she possibly have sent me?” Lorraine whispered. She took the package and brought it up the flight of stairs to her studio apartment, shutting the door behind her as she made her way to the kitchen island. Producing a pair of scissors out from a nearby drawer, she carefully cut through the tape holding the cardboard box together before pulling the flaps back to look inside.Inside the box sat a card and… something large Lorraine couldn’t quite make out. Whatever it was, it was nestled under so many layers of bubble wrap and tape that she couldn’t see it as anything other than a vaguely pink blur. Figuring the card would explain things, Lorraine read it first. Hey Lori! I know I’ve referenced it a few times in our texts, but I’m finally moving to Seattle! Big city living, here I come! I can only take so much stuff with me, though, so I’ve had to downsize my collection in the process. I managed to sell most of the stuff I couldn’t take with me on eBay before the movers came, but I knew this one needed to go to you. Remember Zoey? Enjoy, Blanca. Lorraine blinked, squinting down at her old friend’s script. No, she did not remember Zoey. Was that an old classmate or something? Maybe someone from middle school. If it was, the name definitely wasn’t ringing any bells. And what was this about a collection? Blanca’s family had always been well off, so she started a few collections over the years Lorraine knew her. My Little Ponies, old coins, Pokémon cards… But she doubted ‘Zoey’ was relevant to any of that. Still a mystery, then.Her potential clues exhausted, Lorraine picked the scissors back up and pulled out the massive lump of bubble-wrapped… something. She felt all over the covered object, cutting the tape wherever she could. Layer by layer she pulled off the wrap, the item within slowly taking a more defined shape and the faint pinks beneath becoming even more vibrant. It was a plastic figure of a humanoid character, striking an over-the-top pose. When the final layer came away, Lorraine realized why.It was a figure of Ichigo Momomiya from Tokyo Mew Mew. She was decked out in her familiar pink dress and thigh-high magenta boots, her cat ears perked and her bell and bow-tipped tail pointed upright. Tokyo Mew Mew. God, Lorraine thought, setting the figure down. What a throwback. She’d watched the show way back when- back when it was mangled by 4Kids censorship and out as ‘Mew Mew Power’ on Fox. Then, she ended up watching the show subbed after discovering people complaining about the changes on forums probably lost to the ages. She remembered loving the show- even if she never really watched the whole thing. In the wild west of the mid-2000s internet, she had to make do with viewing around 5-minute snippets of content spread over several different video hosting sites. Even now, she probably couldn’t remember most of what happened in the series. She remembered the colorful designs and the over the top-ness of the show’s concept, and she certainly remembered moving from ‘Mew Mew Power’ to other magical girl shows like Sailor Moon and Princess Tutu. Other than that, though? Nothing. After a brief tenure at her middle school’s anime club, the appeal for the medium waned with time as most interests did. The friendships she made there didn’t, of course. If they had, the package on the kitchen island might not have been there at all.That’s when she remembered. Zoey. Zoey Hanson - that was the name the 4Kids English dub gave Ichigo, the main character of Tokyo Mew Mew, the same Ichigo who lay face-down on the polished studio apartment countertop. “Oh my god, Blanca,” Lorraine laughed, shaking her head. “What the hell am I gonna do with this?” Did she put it in her room? She felt weird displaying a figure of a tweenage catgirl on her shelf. She didn’t want to have to explain that to company. Did she put it in storage? Lorraine felt bad just stuffing it in a box somewhere, especially since Blanca specifically gave it to her. That meant tossing it or reselling it weren’t options, either.Conflicted, she reached for the figure, grabbing the catgirl around the waist and turning her over in her hand. She tipped the Ichigo statue from side to side in her grasp, like if she looked at a specific spot on the sculpted plastic, she’d figure out what to do.Her fingers seized without warning, an aching, stinging sensation rippling from her fingertips to her palms to the backs of her hands. Crying out, she dropped the figure back onto the counter. Ichigo landed awkwardly, spinning a few times on her circular base before falling face-up. A laugh rang out in her mind, echoing around the confines of her skull before it ebbed into silence. It was a cruel laugh, but one laced with playfulness- the unmistakable sound of someone reveling in the satisfaction of winning a game. The sound that was followed by a voice. You humans almost make it too easy. Lorraine hissed in pain, gripping the wrist of the hand she’d grabbed the figurine with. Her fingers twitched, the skin beginning to soften and lighten before her eyes. A sunless pallor stained the skin, spreading from the tips of her fingers like food coloring in water. All the blemishes were scrubbed away, painted over. That burn mark on her thumb from cooking, that scar on her palm from fooling with the x-acto knife in high school art class, all fading into smooth, untouched flesh. Her rounded nails pushed further out of the beds as the paler color claimed the skin of her hands, eventually drawing to catlike points- points that dug into her wrist and made her let go of her arm. Just as her nails lengthened, her fingers seemed to do the opposite. With a series of sharp pops the digits slimmed and shortened, the softening skin and shrinking size warping them back into something younger, yet unfamiliar.The voice came again, lackadaisical yet malicious- sweet and sour. Hope you don’t mind- being incorporeal is terrible, and I need this body more than you do. Just sit tight while I play with that little spirit of yours. It’s a little harder than extracting it outright. Lorraine cried out, another pulse of pain tearing through her. Only a little, though~! Her head swimming, Lorraine’s eyes fell to her hands- then to her arms. The paler complexion was already ascended from her wrists, quickly conquering and smoothing her upper limbs into that same, unblemished tone. The bones felt cramped, like they were taking up too much space inside the skin, a feeling that got worse and worse until finally-Snap.Lorraine’s slim arms drew shorter, quick to follow the same fate as her regressed hands. The limbs trembled in the throes of change, light muscle building beneath the altered skin. Strong. Powerful- more powerful than she could imagine. The pale flesh crested her shoulders, pushing them narrower and forcing out another gasp. Pallid tones prickled over her collarbone and spread down her chest, painting her changing body with the ever-advancing hue. Her legs were starting to feel like jelly, and her chest… her chest, it felt so tight! She groaned, pitching forward over the island, face slick with sweat. Oh, don’t be such a baby , the voice objected. The voice seemed close and distant- in more ways than one. Lorraine knew this voice- knew it from somewhere, somewhere that wasn’t clicking past the haze of pain and torrent of confusion. Her tightening chest heaved with breath, breasts retreating into her upper torso until they were flat, light, and undefined pectorals. Besides, we’re not even at the good part. Something slammed into her stomach and Lorraine’s legs buckled. In a panic, she threw her arms out, trembling frame grabbing the other end of the island and her glasses tumbling off her nose. The movement slammed her stomach against the cool surface of the countertop, pushing the weight back against itself. Press it did, harder, harder, the slight pudge of her gut retreating, muscle pulsing and thickening into firm, but ill-defined, hidden, and exaggerated power. Her back raised, the sloping curve of her pulled into straightness. Lorraine squeezed her eyes tight, feeling the vertebrae tense and tremble, heralding the oncoming shift. Another snap rang out and her spine shortened, the shrinking pulling her already weak legs across the floor. She still clung to the countertop, turning her head to lay her cheek on the polished material.An invisible force gripped her hips, and Lorraine squirmed as if trying to wrench herself free of it. The pressure gave way before long, driving her hips closer together beneath her baggy-ing shirt- a shirt that hid the pale flesh as it finally reached her legs.A final shrinking of her limbs yanked her legs shorter. The movement pulled her onto her tiptoes as she kept her grasp on the counter, her dwindling, paling, claw-toed feet shaking off their too-large work shoes. Her glazing eyes widened at the realization. How small had she gotten? When was it going to stop? She was usually an even 5’10’’ but now? Now she must have shrunken close to a foot! I know you won’t remember once I’m done, since we’ll be the same and all, but I really must thank you. If it weren’t for you, my little kitten would still be stuck in that box~ Her glazed eyes traveled to the turned-over statue, perceptible even through the film of tears. “I-Ichi-go…,” she gurgled, realization hitting her like a fist. He was here for Ichigo. He wanted her. And that meant only one thing. “Y-yuh… you’re…” That voice. She remembered where she recognized it from. She heard that voice and she was eleven years old again and it was the middle of the night. She heard that voice and she was sitting in the dark at her chunky desktop, hoping she wasn’t making too much noise. She was jumping website by website, watching snippets of Tokyo Mew Mew again. She knew that voice, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. It sounded ridiculous, it didn't sound real. Oh, I’ve got a fan, do I? Sorry, but I’m taken- or I will be soon enough! The invisible force grabbed her by the throat, lifting her suddenly into the air and suspending her there. She kicked fruitlessly, hoping to drag herself down with the edge of the island counter, but she was too high and too far from it for the structure to offer any salvation. Her throat closed under the constricting force, eliciting frantic, helpless gurgles- gurgles that lightened and lightened. Finally, the invisible entity let go of her neck, and Lorraine cried out, the sound familiar and alien and once. Her voice- she sounded like the voice in her head! She rubbed her throat, coughing in an attempt to restore her voice to normal, but it was no use. It was younger now, lighter, edged with a sharp playfulness. A ball pit of Christmas ornaments, endearing on the surface, jagged and rough when engaged.Burning cold swept up her throat, jabbing her sweaty face in icy needles of pain. The last of her untouched skin paled to that familiar near-white, the rest of her face quick to warp even further. She grunted, features twisting in on themselves with all the grace of a child frustrated that their play-doh sculpture just wasn’t coming out right. Her expression softened, her square jawline pulling to a gentle rounded end at the chin, her nose twitching and coming to a short point. Lorraine grimaced, canines pushing longer from her gums until they were prominent and catlike. Her squeezed-shut eyes grew in their expanding sockets, irises burning gold. Her pupils stretched and squished into slits behind the closed lids, lids that ended in thickening, darkening lashes. She cracked one eye open, winking a few times in surprise at her improved vision. A tugging on her ears pulled her focus in more ways than one, and both eyes flew wide at the feeling of her ears growing longer and longer, more triangular and pointed at the end. They grew and lengthened until they stuck out in either side of her head, drooping in her discomfort. Re-laaaax , the voice reassured. I’m almost done. Lorraine’s breath hitched in her throat, if she could still call it that. With every change, each inch of her body felt less and less like her own. The top of her head began to itch, a darker green shade beginning to attack her blonde hair at the roots. Like the change to her skin, the shift in hue rapidly expanded, cascading down her locks until they reached the ends. From there, her hair retreated closer to her scalp, stopping its shortening as it restyled, becoming a pair of low pigtails held by red bands that brushed slightly past her shoulders. Her bangs grew in, fluffing messily a little past her thinned brows.Her outfit flashed, a spray of iridescent glitter that would put a Barbie to shame engulfing her attire. The shape of her clothing visibly shifted under the light of the metamorphosis, the shimmering, transforming obscurity bursting apart before long to reveal what had become of the articles.Where once she wore a simple pink blouse and black dress pants, she now sported something far more… revealing. Her pants were still black, but looser and cut to rest mid-thigh, complete with a brown loincloth that hung down the middle. Further down the limbs, a set of red bandages wrapped around each lower half of the leg. Her work shoes had rematerialized on her smaller feet, now a pair of brown boots. Her shirt was instead a short black and brown top with short sleeves ending in red cuffs, a top that stopped short enough to show off the expanse of her midriff. Like her lower legs, each of her forearms were wrapped in those same red cloth-like bandages.“Ta-dah!” Lorraine exclaimed, dropping to the ground. Her boots clacked softly on the kitchen tile as she ceased levitating, the weakness and unwieldiness of her shrunken limbs gone in a blink.Wait, no, she hadn’t said that, had she? It sounded like she said it… like it came out of her mouth. But she hadn’t… meant to say that? Right? Lorraine winced, reaching to grab her head- or at least attempting to. When she tried, she couldn’t find the strength to move her arms, her hands, wiggle her fingers. Fuzzy numbness swept from her toes to her waist to her chest to her head to her brainHer brain her brain herbrain herbrainherbraintherbraintheirbrainsisbrainhisbrainHisBrain.Quiche yawned, shaking himself out. He rolled his shoulders, tipping his head from side to side and letting the joints in his neck pop. With a heavy sigh, he raised his arms, pulling them over his head to stretch, only to pause as he remembered his surroundings.The alien wrinkled his nose, scanning the interior of the apartment with disgust. “What a dump,” he spat, letting his arms drop to the side as marched toward the door. “Humans really can’t be trusted with anything , can they? Eh, whatever.” He went to reach for the doorknob, only to gasp, yellow eyes wide. “Oh! How could I forget?”Quiche darted back to the island, snatching up the figure of Ichigo. He beamed down at the statuette, grinning sharply as he stroked the replica’s plastic pink hair. It paled in comparison to the original, of course, but she wasn’t his, not yet . He was back, after all. He could make it happen.In the meantime, though?This would have to do.
Chameleone looked down at the picture that was thrown in front of him. The former member of the Whitebeard Pirates had been contacted by his friend, Admiral Kizaru, to take care of someone, and the picture was who he needed to take care of. The picture was of a short pink haired woman who had an umbrella with her. The woman looked like she was dressed like a child and had a love of the gothic lolita style. "So, who is this?" Chameleone asked Kizaru. "She is really cute." "That is Perona, the Ghost Princess. She was a member of the Thriller Bark Pirates. As I imagine you have read, Moria and his crew were defeated. Well, she was somehow able to get away from the Marines that were sent there to capture all the defeated pirates and we just now got her location." Kizaru then sighed, annoyed about what he had to explain. "She is on Kuraigana Island." Chameleone looked at Kizaru, not sure about the significance of that island. "That is where Dracule Mihawk resides. I don't have to tell you that it would be bad to have a Marine fleet arrive at an island under the jurisdiction of a Warlord, do I?" Kizaru allowed Chameleone to read between the lines that this was not to be talked about with anyone. "So, I am to go in and take care of her?" Chameleone asked Kizaru. "Yes, make it so we do not have to worry about her again." Kizaru answered back. "Okay, can I have a rundown of her powers then?" Chameleone asked back. ============= Perona was sitting on the throne in the middle of one of the many castles on Kuraigana Island and napping. She had been sent to this location by Kuma, one of the other Warlords, and did not know why. When she had first arrived, she was scared of being alone, but soon she disco
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