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Wherein Falcon doesn't want anybody else.
Falcon was, by nature, not a bad morning person, but he wasn’t a good one either.
He hadn’t slept well at all the night before. He wasn’t sick, no, he’d gotten over that stupid cold a few days ago. Just a general discomfort--tossing and turning and periodic jolting awake. Towards the morning he had managed to drift off successfully but the respite was short-lived as the sound of his alarm jarred him from unconsciousness.
Despite this, the bed remained still as the clock continued to blare obnoxiously. It was a few moments before there was any movement from the mass of sheets at all, but soon enough the Captain emerged, reluctantly swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up to yawn and stretch.
He made to take a step towards the bathroom but for some reason found his boxer shorts caught around his ankles. Foot stuck in the tangled fabric, he crashed to the floor. In a bleary attempt to stop his fall, he flung his arms outward but only managed to slam into the bedside table and send a lamp, a half-empty glass of water and several racing magazines down with him. The alarm clock landed on his head and silenced itself with a rather painful-sounding THUNK.
It was an unexpected position to find oneself in at about 6 in the morning, and the explosion of stars behind his eyes was certainly unwelcome, especially when he had just woken up and was barely coherent.
Had he been an iota more coherent as he righted himself, he probably would have noticed that his groan sounded a bit less baritone than usual and that his boxers were a little large and he had to hold them up with one hand during his shuffle to the bathroom.
The elastic was probably shot.
Probably.
It was another several moments before he was awake enough to step up to the mirror and check for inevitable bruising.
Jesus CHRIST that was not what I wanted to wake up to I swear to God if I didn’t have a job I would just crawl back in bed right now and hello that is a rather butch-looking and very naked chick in my mirror.
Falcon straightened up and stared carefully at the reflection, squinting a little and cocking his head to the side. Naked butch chick followed suit.
Okay, he’d admit that was a little weird. Maybe that alarm clock hit him harder than he thought. Still glaring skeptical daggers at the mirror, he raised his hand to rub the spot on the back of his head where he’d been smacked. And predictably, the reflection did so as well.
He started to recall a frantic codec from Otacon the night before, one that he’d brushed off without a thought.
Slowly, very slowly, and without breaking his staring contest with the naked butch chick, he reached up with a hand and touched his chest, finding exactly what he expected.
They were kind of squishy.
Falcon growled to no one in particular, startling himself with a distinctly feminine voice.
Surprisingly, his first instinct was not to panic. Instead, he took a moment to examine himself. He’d…definitely lost some height…and a lot of muscle mass…and his hair brushed his shoulders and fell in his face. Still, he refused to believe this was anything but a booze-and-painkillers induced trip and his gaze wandered down to the hand that was currently holding up his undergarment. He took his other hand and shoved it down his boxers.
Yeah. There was definitely something missing.
He, or rather, she, because that was unquestionably what she was (the hand jammed down his pants was a testament to that) turned on her heel away from the mirror and staggered back into the bedroom, lifting a hand to her ear to tap her codec. “Otacooooooooon.”
There wasn’t an answer right away so she busied herself with thoughts of what on earth was going on and what could possibly have caused this. She’d had strange things happen to her before—spent a week as a ten-year-old, switched bodies with a midget alien—but she had to admit, this took the metaphorical cake.
Not even bothering to put on clothes, and nearly tripping over her shorts again, she crawled over the bed to her laptop, flipping it open to see if the school network would provide any insight.
And lo and behold, it appeared as though most of the school had swapped genders overnight. So it was a prank. Possibly the greatest prank she’d ever seen or experienced. She had to admit, she’d surprised herself by not panicking or worrying about whether or not it was permanent but any sort of transformative anything at this school only seemed to last a week tops so…panic could probably come later.
Otacon wasn’t answering, so reluctantly, she realized that she’d probably have to head into the school to track him down. For it to affect this many people, the agent would have needed to be widely accessible. It had to be the food. Either that or a very very powerful magic-user but the former seemed more likely, especially when Falcon remembered that she’d missed breakfast the previous day and had snagged a few muffins from the cafeteria.
So she was going to school. And it took her the adventure of relieving oneself sitting down, an entire shower and several long minutes of naked examination in front of the mirror to realize that nothing she owned was going to fit her.
ACE bandages from his first-aid box proved to function well as a makeshift bra, even if it was several attempts before she managed to strap herself down properly. After that, it was on with clothes that far too large and fit all wrong. What followed was a succession of mumbled profanities as she gathered what safety pins she could find and tried her best to at least make a pair of boxers stay up. Pants were easier, except for the part where she was forced to punch a new hole in one of her belts. She made a mental note to go shopping.
She stalled as long as she possibly could, taking her sweet time with coffee and hoping that being a little more awake would snap her out of this. It didn’t. Codecs to Samus and Snake proved unsuccessful as well.
Left with little choice than to make the commute to Sumabura, Falcon dumped out the coffee she wasn’t going to drink and trudged her way to the car. She could get in touch with Otacon and figure things out when she got there.
Never a dull moment.
-------
I think I'm going to stay in my office today.
If anyone should need me, I'd advise that you knock first.
((OOC: This journal will function both as a regular entry i.e. you can comment as you always do, and as an OFFICE LOG (paragraph format plz, just so I can differentiate. A date/time in the subject line would also be fab, but it's not necessary.)! If your character feels the need to bother Falcon, whether to laugh at him or ask for sage advice, his door is open! Okay, no it's not. Knock first.))
He hadn’t slept well at all the night before. He wasn’t sick, no, he’d gotten over that stupid cold a few days ago. Just a general discomfort--tossing and turning and periodic jolting awake. Towards the morning he had managed to drift off successfully but the respite was short-lived as the sound of his alarm jarred him from unconsciousness.
Despite this, the bed remained still as the clock continued to blare obnoxiously. It was a few moments before there was any movement from the mass of sheets at all, but soon enough the Captain emerged, reluctantly swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up to yawn and stretch.
He made to take a step towards the bathroom but for some reason found his boxer shorts caught around his ankles. Foot stuck in the tangled fabric, he crashed to the floor. In a bleary attempt to stop his fall, he flung his arms outward but only managed to slam into the bedside table and send a lamp, a half-empty glass of water and several racing magazines down with him. The alarm clock landed on his head and silenced itself with a rather painful-sounding THUNK.
It was an unexpected position to find oneself in at about 6 in the morning, and the explosion of stars behind his eyes was certainly unwelcome, especially when he had just woken up and was barely coherent.
Had he been an iota more coherent as he righted himself, he probably would have noticed that his groan sounded a bit less baritone than usual and that his boxers were a little large and he had to hold them up with one hand during his shuffle to the bathroom.
The elastic was probably shot.
Probably.
It was another several moments before he was awake enough to step up to the mirror and check for inevitable bruising.
Jesus CHRIST that was not what I wanted to wake up to I swear to God if I didn’t have a job I would just crawl back in bed right now and hello that is a rather butch-looking and very naked chick in my mirror.
Falcon straightened up and stared carefully at the reflection, squinting a little and cocking his head to the side. Naked butch chick followed suit.
Okay, he’d admit that was a little weird. Maybe that alarm clock hit him harder than he thought. Still glaring skeptical daggers at the mirror, he raised his hand to rub the spot on the back of his head where he’d been smacked. And predictably, the reflection did so as well.
He started to recall a frantic codec from Otacon the night before, one that he’d brushed off without a thought.
Slowly, very slowly, and without breaking his staring contest with the naked butch chick, he reached up with a hand and touched his chest, finding exactly what he expected.
They were kind of squishy.
Falcon growled to no one in particular, startling himself with a distinctly feminine voice.
Surprisingly, his first instinct was not to panic. Instead, he took a moment to examine himself. He’d…definitely lost some height…and a lot of muscle mass…and his hair brushed his shoulders and fell in his face. Still, he refused to believe this was anything but a booze-and-painkillers induced trip and his gaze wandered down to the hand that was currently holding up his undergarment. He took his other hand and shoved it down his boxers.
Yeah. There was definitely something missing.
He, or rather, she, because that was unquestionably what she was (the hand jammed down his pants was a testament to that) turned on her heel away from the mirror and staggered back into the bedroom, lifting a hand to her ear to tap her codec. “Otacooooooooon.”
There wasn’t an answer right away so she busied herself with thoughts of what on earth was going on and what could possibly have caused this. She’d had strange things happen to her before—spent a week as a ten-year-old, switched bodies with a midget alien—but she had to admit, this took the metaphorical cake.
Not even bothering to put on clothes, and nearly tripping over her shorts again, she crawled over the bed to her laptop, flipping it open to see if the school network would provide any insight.
And lo and behold, it appeared as though most of the school had swapped genders overnight. So it was a prank. Possibly the greatest prank she’d ever seen or experienced. She had to admit, she’d surprised herself by not panicking or worrying about whether or not it was permanent but any sort of transformative anything at this school only seemed to last a week tops so…panic could probably come later.
Otacon wasn’t answering, so reluctantly, she realized that she’d probably have to head into the school to track him down. For it to affect this many people, the agent would have needed to be widely accessible. It had to be the food. Either that or a very very powerful magic-user but the former seemed more likely, especially when Falcon remembered that she’d missed breakfast the previous day and had snagged a few muffins from the cafeteria.
So she was going to school. And it took her the adventure of relieving oneself sitting down, an entire shower and several long minutes of naked examination in front of the mirror to realize that nothing she owned was going to fit her.
ACE bandages from his first-aid box proved to function well as a makeshift bra, even if it was several attempts before she managed to strap herself down properly. After that, it was on with clothes that far too large and fit all wrong. What followed was a succession of mumbled profanities as she gathered what safety pins she could find and tried her best to at least make a pair of boxers stay up. Pants were easier, except for the part where she was forced to punch a new hole in one of her belts. She made a mental note to go shopping.
She stalled as long as she possibly could, taking her sweet time with coffee and hoping that being a little more awake would snap her out of this. It didn’t. Codecs to Samus and Snake proved unsuccessful as well.
Left with little choice than to make the commute to Sumabura, Falcon dumped out the coffee she wasn’t going to drink and trudged her way to the car. She could get in touch with Otacon and figure things out when she got there.
Never a dull moment.
-------
I think I'm going to stay in my office today.
If anyone should need me, I'd advise that you knock first.
((OOC: This journal will function both as a regular entry i.e. you can comment as you always do, and as an OFFICE LOG (paragraph format plz, just so I can differentiate. A date/time in the subject line would also be fab, but it's not necessary.)! If your character feels the need to bother Falcon, whether to laugh at him or ask for sage advice, his door is open! Okay, no it's not. Knock first.))
Re: Office Log: 1/15 Whatever time is best for Flacon :Ub
Another cough. "No...no, you're correct. I can help you out." She took the garment in her hands and held it up, knowing how to get the thing on but not entirely sure where to start. Was Maxwell just going to take it all off or did the TA want her to demonstrate and oh god this was so awkward why did all this have to be happening to her.
Re: Office Log: 1/15 Whatever time is best for Flacon :Ub
Both females were staring at the lacy undergarment now. Maxwell looked past it curiously at Falcon, motioning towards her chest. "Should I take anything off for this?"
Re: Office Log: 1/15 Whatever time is best for Flacon :Ub
This was not a good situation.
It wasn't like she hadn't seen naked girls before. But this was her TA. Who was not usually a girl.
"Uhhhhh...I guess...whatever is most comfortable for you."
Re: Office Log: 1/15 Whatever time is best for Flacon :Ub
When you didn't have breasts.
But Maxwell had those, and Falcon was currently getting a nice look at them. "Ok!"
Re: Office Log: 1/15 Whatever time is best for Flacon :Ub
She wasn't sure why, seeing as she'd experienced her fair share of boobs but the fact that this was her TA willingly flashing her in the office...oh god.
The Captain tried her absolute best to try to ignore this fact and do what Maxwell asked of her. She handed her the bra and tried to keep her hands off as she instructed. "All right...put it around yourself...right below them...yeah...like that. Just turn it around so the clip's in the front. That way you can fasten it."
Re: Office Log: 1/15 Whatever time is best for Flacon :Ub
Maxwell looked up from her business to Falcon. "And then this goes in the back? Do they usually clasp it in the back?"
Re: Office Log: 1/15 Whatever time is best for Flacon :Ub
"Then you just...turn it around so the clasps are in the back, that's it. Then they go in the cups and you can put your arms through the straps. See?"
She waited a moment for Maxwell to follow the instructions and see if she needed more elaboration.
Re: Office Log: 1/15 Whatever time is best for Flacon :Ub
Maxwell slipped the straps over her shoulders. Success! "Fascinating," She said as she marveled over them suddenly staying in one place. She poked one for good measure. "That was surprisingly straight foward for something so mysterious."
Re: Office Log: 1/15 Whatever time is best for Flacon :Ub
She gestured to the straps. "You can adjust those to make it fit better."
O-Okay Maxwell you didn't really need to be poking yourself.
But at least Falcon was able to help her out. "Do you need anything else?"
Re: Office Log: 1/15 Whatever time is best for Flacon :Ub
Maxwell went and adjusted the straps of the bra, since they had been fairly. Oh that was feeling much better. Maxwwell gave Falcon a bright smile.
"Thank you, Falcon! That's all I needed help with at the moment. I may or may not ask you later about the best ways to fight a little girl that was once a grown man but..."
Re: Office Log: 1/15 Whatever time is best for Flacon :Ub
Falcon watched the TA futz with the bra for a few more moments, feeling the awkward silence continue to fill the room.
If anything, this was her good deed for the day. She handed Maxwell her shirt the instant the adjusting seemed to be over.
"Hey...uh...whatever I can do for you. It's fine."