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Dream Guy [Worm Changer/Stranger GregFic]

Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by MissBrainProblems, Nov 2, 2019.

  1. MissBrainProblems

    MissBrainProblems Making the rounds.

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    A/N: I need something else to write while I get my feet back under me for ADT/ADA.

    Synopsis: Greg Veder triggers, and gains powers. Unfortunately for him, he's still Greg Veder, with the same Greg Veder problems as before, but now with the trials and tribulations of being a parahuman thrown on top of everything else. Join our young hero (?) as he attempts - and often fails - to become the person that he truly wants to be.

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    Chapter 1: Hollywood

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    I could be whoever I wanted to be. I could be whoever that anybody else wanted me to be. So why the hell wasn't I popular yet? Why the hell weren't girls crawling all over me yet? Me, Greg Veder, Hollywood?

    Well, to be fair, I wasn't exactly me at that specific point in time. As I was sitting in the chain bookstore's bathroom sobbing my eyes out - thankfully, it was a single occupancy room, so I didn't have to worry about some other guy in the stall next to me hearing me cry like a little baby - I could only think that it didn't make any sense. At that moment, I had changed myself to look like the hottest guy I could find in some sort of fashion magazine; well, I wasn't into guys, but I picked the one that I felt chicks would find to be hottest, anyways. I had stolen his clothes, his face, his body, everything about him that made him - would make me - irresistible to girls. And yet, they were still rejecting me. Ignoring me. Running away from me. Why? Why why why why why? I had this power that was clearly intended for me to use in order to get people and chicks in specific to like me, so why weren't they liking me?!

    I had previously attempted to go for a more a specific sort of "attack" a few times. I would change into somebody nondescript, look at what sort of guys that a girl was checking out in a magazine, or on a book cover, or on her cell phone, head to the bathroom, and then change into a guy that fit that image. Tall, skinny, but still handsome bookish type? I could do that. Wow, that chick was really into black guys, wasn't she? A little creepy on her part, maybe even a little bit racist, but I supposed that I could change my skin color for her. Oooh, that lady was into other ladies? It was a bit odd to replace my junk, but I could still do it. Woah, girl, you like short and pudgy guys? I'm not judging, especially since that's how I... Since that's how I...

    My shapeshifting canceled itself, and I was back to Greg Veder, body and clothes and everything else. Short. Pudgy. Not necessarily ugly, but not necessarily more attractive than 'plain' on a good day, either. The dumb, annoying, stupid, bratty kid that nobody liked. I didn't have the energy left in me to cry any more, so, I didn't, opting to just sit there on the toilet until I recovered. A knock on the bathroom door jolted me out of my melancholy for a moment, though, causing me to let out a startled "O... Occupied!" Whoever it was must have gone onto the next restroom, since I didn't hear anything else after that. I held out my hand in front of my face and idly shifted it, giving myself piano-player fingers, then feminine, long-nailed ones, before making the muscles in my palm as large as possible for a normal human. I had tried to make myself, well... Parahumanly strong, but my power didn't seem to extend that far. I could reach peak human strength, like the people who pulled entire airplanes during competitions, but I wasn't able to bash buildings down like Alexandria or somebody like her could. I could also do the opposite, making myself literally anorexic, a walking skeleton like somebody who hadn't eaten in a whole month; I felt like garbage when I did that, though, so I had only done it the one time, afraid that I might actually die if I tried it again. Fortunately, I also found out after cutting my hand on a kitchen knife that I could "change" my injury away.

    Changing my hand back to its "normal" state - I was surprised that after shifting around so much, my body could still remember who I "normally" was, though I wouldn't have minded if it forgot - I stood up from the toilet seat and stepped over to the sink and the mirror. I placed my hands on either side of the sink, and stared at my reflection in front of me, hating what I saw. It was a vague recreation of the first time that I had used my powers, staring at myself in the mirror at home, wishing, just wishing that I could be somebody else, somebody that people liked, somebody that girls wanted, girls like Taylor, who made girls want to hug him, to kiss him, to... All that other stuff, too. And then, I changed. At first, it was into a guy that I supposed I considered to be the peak male aesthetic. Then, as I watched, I changed into other people; other guys, other girls, other everything, so long as it was a normal human. Not only that, I could change my clothes too, my voice, I could add and remove piercings, I could give myself minor accessories like phones or wallets or purses, hell, even driver's licenses. My mind had ran rampant with the possibilities. I could be some kind of super spy, using my power to sneak into secret military bases, generating ID cards to get past security, healing myself from any bullet wounds, and saving the day like some big damn hero!

    ...and here I was, trying to pick up chicks in a chain bookstore, to absolutely no avail. Without even realizing that I was doing it, I had thrown my fist into the mirror, shattering it into pieces. I cursed and yelped as my hand was cut and began to bleed, but I quickly used my power to undo the injuries; I idly noticed that the glass that had embedded itself into my hand disappeared rather than be pushed out, which I found to be rather interesting. Unfortunately, I didn't have the time to speculate on what that meant about my abilities, as the sound of the mirror breaking was likely to attract attention if anybody heard it. Shifting myself back into Mister Hottie, I cautiously opened up the bathroom door and looked around; nobody was coming to investigate just at that moment, so I rapidly made my way out and towards the exit of the bookstore. The girl that I had been trying to chat up in this form glared at me as I walked past, and I hazarded a smile and a wave in her direction; for all of my trouble, she just gave me the finger, the stupid God damned bitch. I was Hollywood, I could be whoever she wanted, at any time, no matter why! Didn't she know what she was missing out on?! In the end, I could only sigh in misery and defeat as I stepped out onto the streets of Brockton Bay.

    It was the middle of a late October Saturday - fall heading into winter for New England - and I vaguely cursed myself for not having shifted on heavier clothes; I tried to "change" my body to some kind of warmer state, but quickly found that my power didn't seem to work that way. I didn't exactly want to stay as Mister Hottie for any longer than I needed to - the looks of cute chicks that I knew wouldn't actually give a shit about me once I opened my mouth were growing heavy - so I slipped into a nearby alleyway and turned myself into the most mild-mannered office worker that I could think of. Hoping that would draw the least amount of attention, I exited out the opposite end of the alleyway, and was pleased to find that nobody was giving me a second glance.

    I sighed, again, that time even heavier in melancholy and annoyance than before. Five minutes before then, I wanted everybody's eyes on me; or, at least, every girl's eyes on me. At that moment, I wanted nobody to look at me, because I just wanted to get away from there, because I just wanted to get away from the sense of dismissive scorn that still hung off my shoulders. I shoved my absolutely average hands into a pair of absolutely average business slacks as I began to walk, eyes raised from the ground only just enough to make sure I wasn't colliding into anyone as I moved along; I didn't need any more people popping off at me today, after all.

    I hadn't used my powers at school, though I desperately wanted to. There was too much risk of being found out, and even though part of me wanted everyone to know that Greg Veder was the magnificently gorgeous Hollywood, I was also smart enough to know that revealing my civilian self as a parahuman would invite all sorts of disaster upon my head. Even so, every time I saw gorgeous Emma Barnes or adorable Madison Clements, I wanted to turn myself into some hot guy to sweep them off their feet and away into one of the bathrooms or behind a stairwell to... Do that sort of stuff. Every time I saw my friend Taylor Hebert getting bullied by that cunt Sophia Hess, I wanted to change into the most muscular man I could imagine, maybe even with literal shining armor, to dash in and save her from the evil villain. Not just them, but every girl at school. I wanted to be Hollywood for each of them, I wanted to be the boy or the guy or the man that they all dreamed of, I wanted to do everything I could for them, make them all like me, make them all...

    I stared up at the building that my feet had taken me to, and frowned as I saw where I had ended up at. It was something that I had been considering since I had developed my powers, but I wanted to try things on my own, first, try to pick up girls, try to become popular, try to just have a good time with my abilities before I finally bit the bullet and came here. I had additionally been considering all of the benefits that coming here could give me. If I wanted to be popular? Well, that was the way to do it, wasn't it? If I wanted to get ladies, they had, uhh... Two, one of whom was still in middle school and the other of whom seemed like a right bitch. Well, I'm sure there were cute girls in the office, or something... Regardless, all of my plans about having been able to use my abilities for fun and profit had been foiled, so I felt like I hadn't been left with much other choice than to formally enter the system.

    The logo loomed over the doors, and I idly noticed how kind of dull and lifeless the letters were. With a shrug, I made my way into the PRT HQ building. There was a female receptionist sitting at a front desk in the lobby - yeah, she was cute - while two PRT officers with containment foam weapons stood to either side. They eyed me warily as I entered, and I felt a little annoyed when they did. What, did they think I was some kind of villain, or something? Jerks. Maybe that receptionist girl wasn't as cute as I thought she was, after all.

    The lady at the desk, still with that frustratingly suspicious look in her eyes, spoke in a monotone voice. "Good afternoon, sir. Welcome to the Parahuman Response Team headquarters building. Is there anything I can help you with?" Even with the wariness on her face, she still somehow managed to sound supremely bored, as if she didn't care about whatever it was I had come there to talk about. I'd show her...

    I had practiced what I was about to do in the mirror for hours, thinking about when I'd eventually do it. I was going to impress them, make them all stare in awe, make the chick swoon in love. With a grin, I shifted my body, my clothes, and everything else into Mister Hottie. "Hey there. I'm a parahuman." She'd dig that, yeah?

    "Stranger protocols!" The receptionist screamed out as alarms began to blare throughout the building, while the PRT officers leveled their containment weapons at me.

    I didn't have but a second to let out a confused, startled "Wha?" before I was buried in foam. The lady at the desk had grabbed a taser at some point, and was then standing and pointing it in my direction. She looked at me like I was scum, and I couldn't believe what was happening. I had come here to join the Wards, and now I was being treated like I was some kind of villain?! What the fuck was this! I was a hero, God damnit! Why was I being treated like this?! I struggled underneath the containment matter, attempting to use my power to shift it around as I grew and contracted my body, but that only caused the officers to shoot more of the foam at me.

    "If you continue to attempt to escape, I will be forced to taser you, sir." I looked up towards the receptionist, and saw that she was completely serious about doing so.

    With an exasperated breath, I stopped struggling, frowning in frustration and anger. "Alright, alright, fine, I get it. I mean, I don't get it. I don't why you're burying me in containment foam, when I didn't do anything wrong, I just came into the building and-"

    "Please be quiet, sir. We can't be sure that you don't have Master powers, as well." The woman's finger had gone to the trigger of the taser, and I was pretty sure that she was going to pull it at any moment. Yeah, definitely not as cute as I thought she was.

    I huffed again, before opening my mouth as if to speak; I saw the receptionist tense up, so I closed my lips. I just wanted to change back to my normal form, but I was worried that doing so would provoke them if I didn't tell them that I was going to do it in advance, but if I spoke, then they'd shoot me anyways. I really wanted to change back, though, so I risked speaking again. "Look, can I just-" I didn't know how many volts were going through me, but it was enough to fucking hurt. The worst part was that the containment foam restricted my body in a way that it couldn't jiggle around as it liked, just causing me even further discomfort. The silver lining of the situation was that I felt my power autonomously shifting me back to my normal, Greg-form, so there was that, at least.

    I recovered from my semi-conscious state shortly after, to see Miss Militia standing next to the receptionist, looking shocked. Jeez, the heroine was even cuter in person, wasn't she? Cute brown eyes, nice-looking black hair, a warm skin tone... "Why in the name of all that is good did you taser this young man?" Oh, was Miss Militia talking about him? Oh, wow, she was! Miss Militia, the Protectorate hero, was talking about him, Greg Veder! Wow...

    The desk-lady looked simultaneously shocked and sheepish. "Ma'am, he was refusing to follow orders, we didn't know if he had Master powers, and he continued to speak, so..."

    Miss Militia looked flabbergasted. "He's a child, for God's sake!" Oh, but I could have been far, far more than just a child for Miss Militia, if she had asked for it... "What powers do we know for a fact that he has?"

    The receptionist seemed a tad annoyed with Miss Militia, but didn't argue with her superior. "He can change his body, his face, his voice, his hair, and his clothes, including size as well as general appearance."

    The Protectorate heroine nodded, walking forward and looking down at me where I had been sealed up in containment foam. So pretty... "Why are you here, sweetie?"

    Oh, God, she called me sweetie! My heart beat harder for a little bit, but I gulped and managed to stutter out an answer. "I... Uhm... I wa... Wanted to join the, erm... Th... The Wards, Miss Militia, ma'am. I, uhm... I gained these p... Powers just not too long ago, s... So, uhm. Yeah..."

    Miss Militia shot a dirty look back at the receptionist, who just scowled and threw her arms wide. "We couldn't have known, ma'am! All we saw were Stranger powers, so we initiated the proper protocols!"

    The Protectorate heroine shook her head, looking back at me with the most caring, sweetest look in her eyes. "Get him free of the containment foam, and then bring him down to the Wards level, the private room." The PRT officers nodded, while Miss Militia turned back to me. "I'm assuming that you usually rely on your powers to keep your identity hidden?" I nodded dumbly, as the woman grabbed something from a pocket, and lifted it up towards me; a cloth face mask. "You should probably have something like this on hand, just in case this happens again." Using her fingers - her slender, wonderful fingers - Miss Militia placed the eye mask on my face. I cursed my teenage hormones as I felt my body naturally react to the intimate touch of a woman. "Alright, sweetie. I'm going to head downstairs and get set up, but I'll see you in a little bit, okay?" I nodded with what must have been an even stupider look on my face than before, as Miss Militia smiled and made her way towards an elevator.

    The receptionist glared at me as she placed her taser on the front desk, but I just smiled back at the lady as the PRT officers freed me. She was just jealous, after all, because I had a date with Miss Militia.

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    Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly a date, per se, but being alone in a room with a pretty girl like her? Yeah, I was fine with it.

    We had gone over a battery of standard forms and paperwork while Miss Militia explained all of the rules, regulations, and general proceedings in being a Ward. The heroine had called up my parents to confirm my identity - oh, God, she was talking to my parents already? - and get their verbal permission for me to join the Wards, on mandate that I would get their written permission at a later date. Of course, there was the little issue that I hadn't actually told my parents by that point that I even had powers, so we had to spend a good ten or fifteen minutes getting them past that little bit of news; Miss Militia looked at me in annoyance the entire time, and I opted to just blush sheepishly for that same duration. Another ten or fifteen minutes was spent running me through the PRT's "Stranger" protocols with my parents, being asked and answering what felt like a hundred questions to confirm my identity; I felt rather frustrated that Miss Militia wouldn't just accept my school ID as proof. A short period of time was spent on the phone with an old, sick-sounding woman that Miss Militia informed me was the local PRT's Director, Emily Piggot, who sounded annoyed for most of the conversation as Miss Militia ran through some official mumbo-jumbo with her. Eventually, though, after what must have been a full two hours or more, the interview finally came to a conclusion.

    "Alright, Greg." Greg. The way she said my name, my name, my first name, made my breath hitch a little bit. Maybe I could eventually graduate to the Protectorate, and then be on a team with Miss Militia, and then we go on patrol together, and then it's in the moonlight, and...! "I'm glad that you decided to join the Wards, rather than any of the other options you could have taken." I couldn't see her smile behind the scarf, but the way it made the rest of her face move... Was I falling in love? "I think that the PRT can definitely use a young man with a powerset like yours." Oh, Miss Militia, you could have used me any way that you wanted. "You'll need to have an official, in-person meeting with Director Piggot some time soon, but that's mostly a formality. Essentially, you're already a full member of our organization." The heroine stood up, and I got a glimpse of her body's curves yet again. "We'll also want you to undergo some testing with our scientists to get a full understanding of your abilities, but that can happen on another day." She extended a hand across the table for me to shake, and I panicked for a moment; I stood up out of my own chair, and extended my hand towards her... Before it shifted to a motorcycle-gloved version at the last moment.

    The handshake still happened, but Miss Militia looked at my now leather-covered hand in curiosity. "Ah, sorry, Miss Militia, ma'am. My power, uhh, it works on its own, sometimes, when I'm nervous?" And boy was I nervous right then and there.

    Smiling again, Miss Militia nodded and ended the handshake all too soon; maybe I wasn't feeling skin-on-skin like I had hoped for, but... "That's understandable, Greg. Joining the Wards is a major life decision, and I'm glad to see that you're considering it that much." Yes, ma'am. I was nervous because I was joining the Wards. Absolutely, ma'am. "Ah, but on that note, I guess what I should now be saying is..." Miss Militia walked towards the door that led out of the room, ushering me along with her. "Welcome to the Wards, Hollywood."

    I smiled wide as I exited out into the hallway; the room the two of us had just been in - been in alone - wasn't attached to the Wards HQ-proper, but was instead part of a sort of "airlock" hallway between the elevator and the main Wards hub. Miss Militia walked me towards the door leading into the hub, and pressed a button on the wall, causing a red light to appear above the entrance. "Just giving them time to get their masks on. Kind of just a formality, since you'll be unmasking to them here shortly, and them to you, but it does have to be done either way." I nodded, intently studying the shape of her ears, before the light turned green and Miss Militia flashed an ID card up against a reader. "Alright, Hollywood. Let's go meet your new team mates."

    As we entered the hub, the various members of the Brockton Bay Wards were standing at attention for Miss Militia and I. Well, except for Shadow Stalker, who was sitting down at some kind of complicated-looking computer console, not paying any attention; after Miss Militia cleared her throat several times - causing the other Wards to look around nervously - Shadow Stalker eventually sighed with annoyance and stood up next to her team mates. "Good. Now that everybody is ready-" Miss Militia glared at Shadow Stalker pointedly, before continuing "-I would like to introduce the newest addition to the Brockton Bay Wards. This is Hollywood, newly processed and inducted, and provisionally classified as a Changer/Stranger." She looked over towards me with one of those million-dollar smiles. "If you want to, Hollywood, you can offer a demonstration. Nothing too dangerous though, yes?"

    I nodded, and only realized just how nervous I was when I made the motion; before then, any sense of anxiety had come from being with Miss Militia, but now there were eight people in the room with me, all looking at me expectantly, waiting for something amazing to happen. Alright, Greg, you could do it, all you had to do was focus, make sure you didn't do anything stupid, and...

    "Hello. My name is Legend." Murmurs bubbled up throughout the room, and I even impressed myself with how well I replicated the man's voice.

    The one I recognized as Clockblocker - wearing an odd, white mask with clock faces on it - let out a "Holy shit." Miss Militia glared at him, but he continued regardless. "No, I mean, seriously. I know there's like, uhh, Satyrical over in Vegas, right? But Hollywood here even replicated Legend's mask and his voice? Yeah, that's cool." Clockblocker stared at me for a few moments, before asking. "Hey. Guy. You try to use that power to pick up chicks yet?"

    I blushed furiously, and I couldn't imagine how odd that must have looked on Legend's face. The girl I recognized as Vista smacked Clockblocker's arm as hard as she could, causing the time-stopper to yelp and laugh. I shifted my feet around nervously as I thought of how to respond, or if I should even respond. With a gulp, I turned my whole self into Mister Hottie again, feeling my vision shift a foot higher in the process; as much as I could replicate or change my voice, though, I couldn't keep the nervousness or stutter out of my speech. "I, uhm. Yeah. I've tried, a few times, but, uhh. It didn't work out too well. And, uhm. Stuff. Yeah."

    I got a fresh set of stares as I shifted into that form, and I noticed that Shadow Stalker was giving me a particular type of look that I had grown to recognize since I began to use my powers for this purpose. Even if she was kind of a bitch, I didn't mind getting stared at her like that. Hey, maybe I could have even been the type of guy that turned her into a kind, gentle soul? Wouldn't that have been cool. "Yeah. Fuck this. I don't care about time-stopping. Give me his power. Please, Miss Militia?" Clockblocker had his hands wide in a playfully annoyed gesture, while the ones I recognized as Aegis, Browbeat, and Kid Win were trying not to experience second-hand embarrassment over their team mate's shenanigans, urging him to stop or to plainly just shut up; Vista punched Clockblocker again, while Gallant continued to look at me, his expression hidden behind his helmet.

    Miss Militia sighed and shook her head. "No, you may not have Hollywood's power, Clockblocker. And Hollywood and I have already discussed how he will not be using his power for... Those sorts of purposes any more, correct, Hollywood?" I shifted back into masked-Greg, nodding vehemently at the Protectorate heroine. I swear to God, cross my heart, hope to die, on my mother's grave, Miss Militia, that I absolutely, positively, will not ever again never use my power to try and make girls more attracted to me. Not on purpose at least, but who knows what sort of accidents could happen, after all... "Regardless. I believe that should be a sufficient demonstration of Hollywood's powers?" Miss Militia looked to me, and I nodded, followed by everyone else in the room; Shadow Stalker was still looking at me with an odd gaze, but the expression in her eyes was then inscrutable to me. "As you will, then, Hollywood." Miss Militia motioned for me to unmask myself, and I nodded again in response.

    Taking a few deep breaths - taking several deep breaths, actually - I tried to ignore the fact that I had eight pairs of eyes all focused on me, all staring at me, all judging me. My hands trembled as they went up to my mask, and I felt the sudden urge to just dash out of the Wards HQ. I couldn't do this. There was no way I could do this. Be a hero? Get into fights with criminals? Get into fights with supervillains? With the likes of Lung, and Kaiser? I was fifteen! All I could do was make myself look like other people! How was I supposed to be a hero with a stupid, dumb, ridiculous, useless power like this?! And I was going to have to be measured against the likes of Aegis and Shadow Stalker at that point, and then Armsmaster and Battery later?! Why was I there? Why in the fuck was I there, trying to be something, trying to be somebody I wasn't?! God damnit, Greg! Just leave! Just go back to trying to pick up girls in bookstores! Just... Just.... Just!

    "Hi. My name's, uhm. Gregory. Greg Veder, I mean. Or, just Greg, actually. Nice to meet you all." My mask was off, and they could all see me, and... Nobody cared. In a good way, though. The ones whose expressions I could see - Aegis, Kid Win, Vista, Browbeat - none of them looked shocked or disgusted or anything else to see my Greg-face. Miss Militia nodded, before motioning to the other Wards to unmask for me, in return.

    Aegis, first. "Carlos Artigas. Wards' captain. Nice to meet you, Greg." He gave off a smile that replicated Legend's better than I ever could.

    Gallant, next. "Dean Stansfield. Nice to meet you." I began shaking hands with each of the Wards that introduced themselves to me, by gloved hand coming back by force of reflex, though nobody seemed to notice or question it.

    Clockblocker. "Dennis Archer. Hey, you play video games?" I blinked a few times, I did, but... Miss Militia cleared her throat behind us, causing Dennis to roll his eyes in annoyance. "Alright, later, then."

    Kid Win. "Chris Michaels. Uhh, don't worry about Dennis. He's always like this." I felt something like a kindred soul in Chris, and I actually managed a genuine, only half-nervous smile as I shook his hand.

    Browbeat. "Robert Mason." I felt my hand naturally grow more muscular as the guy shook it, as if I was subconsciously worried that he was going to crush my fingers.

    Vista. "Missy Biron. Please, just call me Vista, though." I was pretty sure that Vista was the only one in the Wards shorter than my Greg-self, which I felt extremely self-conscious of.

    Shadow Stalker, the last. I stood there with my hand outstretched, the girl making me look like an idiot while she had her arms folded. All the other Wards looked around awkwardly, a few of them coughing a bit as if trying to clear the air. The look in Stalker's eyes had changed yet again, and this time it was... Disbelief? Anger? Confusion? Frustration? "Shadow Stalker. Please unmask yourself. Everyone else has. It's your turn, now." Miss Militia called from behind me, in a very strict, very serious tone, suggesting that it was an order, rather than a suggestion.

    The Ward shook her head, scoffing as she did. "Christ. Can't believe this shit. Guess they're letting anyone into the Wards these days, aren't they?" A look of confusion crossed my face as the hand that I had extended out for her to shake fell back to my side. What was she talking about? Had I upset Shadow Stalker in some way? What was... Oh. "Sophia Hess. Nice to meet you, Greg." Once she had taken her mask off, there was nothing but a look of absolute derision and disgust on Sophia's face while she stared at me. Oh.

    Dennis voiced the question that everybody in the room - Sophia and myself included, probably - had then wanted to ask. "Uhh, guys?" The red-headed boy looked around at everyone, as if expecting an answer out of somebody else. "What the fuck is going on?"
     
  2. ThedudeManBro

    ThedudeManBro Striving to go by words of The Dude De Ching Muted

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    Ah Greg. Only he can inspire woobie pity and face-punching hellos in equal measure.
     
    MissBrainProblems likes this.
  3. Edifier

    Edifier To rectify be my cause, The Goddess be my purpose!

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    Greg's quite fun. Aaah, wonder if he will be able to change his brain too, to not just take on others bodies but also their skills. Like socialising and seduction skills - he sorely needs them.
     
    Qwertykus and Aztez Fan like this.
  4. Biigoh

    Biigoh Moderator

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    Oh lordy... Xd