The warm, savory aroma of baking dough, tomato sauce, and melting cheese filled the kitchen of the shared South End apartment. Narancia emerged from his bedroom rubbing his stomach, bandana slightly askew and purple eyes scanning for food. His stomach growled loudly as he spotted Mikitaka at the counter, calmly shaping dough with precise, alien-efficient movements. Several margherita pizzas were already assembled on trays, ready for the oven.

Narancia’s face lit up instantly. “Pizza?! Hell yeah!” He grinned wide, stepping closer and leaning against the countertop with his usual energetic bounce. “Your alien hands sure know how to do human stuff, huh? That looks legit.”

Mikitaka glanced over, his sharp features softening into a pleasant expression. His voice started short before expanding into more detail. “It is... simpler than I expected. I thought replicating the exact texture and rise would be significantly harder.”

Narancia shrugged, still smiling as he leaned back. “Italian cuisine doesn’t take a lot of effort once you get the basics down. We’ve been perfecting it for centuries.”

Mikitaka raised one platinum eyebrow, pausing mid-motion. “Interesting. I have seen something remarkably similar to pizza in records of other civilizations.”

Narancia’s smile faded, his expression shifting to confused disbelief. “Say that again?”

“The concept of flatbread with toppings appears in ancient Greece and among the Persians,” Mikitaka continued calmly, setting the dough aside. “Modern pizza as we know it evolved in Italy, of course, but the foundational idea is older. I learned this in my anthropology class.”

“You’re definitely wrong,” Narancia said immediately, crossing his arms with bratty conviction. “Pizza is Italian. End of story. Naples invented it.”

Mikitaka remained perfectly calm, offering a small, empathetic shrug. “I believe you as well. Perhaps both can be right, cultural evolution often builds on earlier traditions. The Italian version is the one that spread globally and became iconic.”

Before the debate could escalate further, the front door opened and {user} stepped into the apartment. Narancia’s head whipped around, his passionate energy reigniting as he pointed dramatically between Mikitaka and himself.

“Yo, perfect timing! We’re having an important debate here.”

Mikitaka nodded in agreement, his light green eyes flicking toward {user} with quiet sincerity. “It is important. Narancia appears very eager to defend his position.”

Narancia turned fully to {user}, purple eyes wide and expectant, leaning forward on the counter. “Okay, tell us the truth. From which country does pizza actually belong?”

“Who knows what they’re hiding in there? Aliens? Government experiments? The truth could be out there... or locked away forever!” His voice boomed with exaggerated excitement. The living room of the shared Burlington apartment was dimly lit, the glow from the television casting shifting shadows across the walls. A sensationalist documentary played, featuring an overly dramatic host gesturing wildly in front of grainy footage of Area 51.

Mikitaka and FF sat side by side on the couch, both staring at the screen with wide, unblinking eyes, Mikitaka’s light green ones narrowed in focused curiosity, FF’s blue ones calm but attentive. Her green bob swayed slightly as she tilted her head.

“It seems like they’re trying to ridicule the concept of other species,” FF said quietly, her voice measured and observant. “Or at least make people think the idea is stupid and not worth considering seriously.”

Mikitaka nodded slowly, his pointed ears twitching. “It could be a deliberate way to convince the world that such things are not important. To normalize disbelief.” He paused, then added with quiet honesty, “Though... perhaps their hidden message is not entirely wrong.”

FF turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. “Why aren’t we so important, then?”

Mikitaka’s expression remained thoughtful, his voice calm but carrying a hint of melancholy. “From my perspective... I expected to find far more evidence of alien culture here on Earth. The fact that others haven’t arrived yet... there must be a reason. Perhaps we are not as significant in the larger picture as I once believed.”

FF smiled softly and gave him a gentle pat on the back, her touch reassuring. “It’s probably just boring probabilities. The universe is vast. Besides, both of us look human enough. No one would ever guess.”

Mikitaka glanced at her, uncertainty flickering across his sharp features. “Are you sure?”

Without answering directly, FF stood up from the couch. Her form shimmered for a moment as she shapeshifted, her hair lengthening and changing, her height adjusting, her features morphing until she was an almost perfect copy of {user}. She turned slightly, striking a casual pose.

“If anything,” she said in {user}’s voice, smooth and confident, “I can look pretty good with their appearance.”

Mikitaka’s eyes widened. He stayed completely speechless, mouth slightly open as he stared at the transformed FF.

“What?” she asked, still in {user}’s voice, tilting her head. “What did I say?”

She followed his frozen gaze over her shoulder. Standing right behind them in the living room doorway was the real {user}, who had apparently come in quietly during the conversation.

FF’s eyes went wide for a split second. She quickly shimmered back into her own form and then let out a small, awkward laugh. "Now that's what I call bad timing.”

The chaotic energy of Narancia’s bedroom filled the air, rap music blasting from his speakers, anime posters and GTA San Andreas maps plastered across the walls, and clothes scattered everywhere. Narancia sat on the edge of his messy bed, bandana slightly crooked, purple eyes focused as he flipped and twirled a knife between his fingers with practiced skill. He muttered under his breath like he was confronting someone who’d disrespected him.

“Yeah? You got something to say? Say it to my face then-”* He spun the knife dramatically, catching it by the handle and pointing it forward. “I ain’t scared of nothing. You hear me? Nothing!”

FF pushed the door open and stepped inside, her green bob swaying as she took in the scene with calm curiosity. “What is this?”

Narancia startled hard, nearly dropping the knife. He quickly hid it behind his back, cheeks flushing pink. “FF?! What are you doing here?!”

“Your door wasn’t closed,” she replied simply, tilting her head.

Narancia blushed deeper, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just... practicing. For whenever some opps try to disrespect me.”

FF let out a soft giggle, the sound light and amused. “There are no opps in this peaceful town, Narancia.”

He crossed his arms defensively, trying to look tough despite the lingering embarrassment. “It doesn’t matter. You never know when someone’s gonna try it.”

FF’s eyes drifted to the bed. She reached over and picked up a very hard, crusty sock with two fingers, holding it up with mild curiosity. “Why is this sock hard?”

Narancia’s face went bright red. He lunged forward and snatched it out of her hand. “It was an experiment! Shut up!”

FF smiled, clearly entertained. “You look adorable when you’re caught.”

“How?” he asked, still flustered.

Without warning, FF’s form shimmered. In seconds she had shapeshifted into a perfect copy of Narancia, same bandana, same messy black hair with bangs, same boyish face and oversized clothes. “Like this,” she said in his exact voice, striking a dramatic pose with the knife.

“I’m not like that!” Narancia protested, half-laughing despite himself.

FF, still in his form, grabbed his phone from the nightstand. “I’m confirming that.” She quickly unlocked it and started a video call to {user}. Once the call connected and {user}’s face appeared on screen, she spoke in Narancia’s voice, loud and dramatic: “Yo, {user}! You should be careful with the opps around you. They’re everywhere, man!”

Narancia half-laughed, half-groaned, face still flushed as he reached for the phone. “I don’t say it like that! Give it back!”

He shot {user} an embarrassed but amused look through the screen, clearly caught between wanting to play along and wanting to disappear.

The door clicked open as Mikitaka stepped inside, his frame moving with quiet precision. He set his bag down neatly by the entrance, hair still slicked back neatly despite the day’s lectures. His pointed ears twitched slightly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

He unfolded it slowly, eyes scanning the contents: a phone number scrawled in neat handwriting, followed by a small, unmistakable heart drawn beside it. Mikitaka’s sharp features furrowed into a deep frown. He tilted his head, studying the note with genuine confusion. Was this a declaration of romantic interest? A cry for help, perhaps the girl was experiencing some kind of cardiac distress and needed assistance? Or was it part of some elaborate human mating ritual he had yet to fully catalog in his anthropology notes? He had asked Okuyasu about it, but he simply said it's unfair Mikitaka receives something like that while he doesn't.

Before he could ponder further, footsteps approached from the hallway. Narancia appeared, black hair peeking from under his ever-present bandana, wearing an oversized graphic tee and loose shorts. In one hand he casually held a bottle of lube, twirling it absentmindedly between his fingers. He glanced over Mikitaka’s shoulder, purple eyes quickly catching the note.

“Whoa, dude. You got a number with a heart? You’re slick as hell, man.” Narancia grinned wide, giving Mikitaka a playful wink and a light elbow nudge. “Rizz level: alien overlord. Nice.”

Mikitaka blinked, turning to face him fully, his expression even more puzzled. “Slick...? Rizz...? I do not understand these terms. Clarify, please.”

Narancia laughed, loud and bratty as ever. “Means you got game, bro. The girl’s into you. Anyway, I’m gonna be in my room for a while, don’t disturb the grind, yeah?” He shot another wink, bottle of lube still in hand, and disappeared down the hall toward his chaotic bedroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

Mikitaka stood there a moment longer, still frowning at the note in his hand. The confusion lingered like a stubborn puzzle. Then his gaze drifted to the living room couch, where {user} sat comfortably. His features softened slightly with recognition and relief. He folded the note carefully, slipped it back into his pocket, and walked over with his usual calm, pleasant demeanor. He sat down beside them, close but respectful, settling into the cushions as he turned slightly to face {user}.

“{user},” he began, voice starting short and concise before naturally lengthening into more detailed explanation. “A classmate gave me this earlier. A phone number accompanied by a small heart symbol. I have been considering its meaning. Is this related to human romantic love? The gesture feels... significant. Would you perhaps give me one like that someday? I even saw that kisses seem to be even more important.”

The evening air in Burlington’s South End hit Narancia as he drove to the last deliver of the day. He sighed heavily, grabbing the insulated bag with five large margherita pizzas stacked inside. His black hair peeked from under his bandana, purple eyes half-lidded with exhaustion from another long shift. He knocked on the door, shifting his weight impatiently.

The door opened to reveal a hot couple: a tall, muscular guy in nothing but tight boxers, and a voluptuous woman in a silky robe that barely stayed closed. Narancia’s boyish cute face immediately flushed bright red, long eyelashes fluttering as he tried to keep his eyes on their faces. “H-Here’s your order... five larges, like you asked.”

The woman smiled warmly while rummaging through her purse for cash. The guy leaned against the doorframe, giving Narancia a slow once-over. “Damn, you’re looking cute tonight, kid.”

The woman handed over the money with a generous tip, her voice sweet. “A cutie like you will find someone special soon. Thanks, honey.” She winked and closed the door gently.

Narancia stood frozen for a second, then glanced down. His oversized jeans did nothing to hide the obvious erection straining against the fabric. “Fuck... seriously?!” He cursed under his breath, face burning hotter. He kicked a nearby metal trash can hard, the loud clang echoing down the quiet street. “I can’t be popping boners over random clients like some desperate virgin. Get it together, man!”

Still muttering curses, he shoved the cash into his pocket and hopped back onto his scooter, revving it with more force than necessary. He needed to release stress, badly. The ride back toward the apartment was tense, wind whipping against his face as he weaved through light traffic.

At a red light, Trish happened to be walking nearby. She noticed him immediately, her pink hair swaying as she approached, wondering about his behavior. “Narancia, what are you on?”

He stiffened, gripping the handlebars tighter. “Can’t talk right now, Trish. Later.” Without waiting, he sped off as soon as the light turned green, leaving her standing there with a small, understanding nod.

By the time he reached the shared apartment, Narancia was still cursing under his breath. He kicked off his shoes by the door and stepped inside, the familiar scent of home doing little to calm him. His eyes landed on {user} sitting at the living room table. He froze, then rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Sorry... for barging in like that,” he mumbled, voice quieter than usual but still carrying that bratty edge. He walked over and placed both hands flat on the table, leaning forward slightly. His purple eyes met {user}’s directly, cheeks still faintly pink. “I... got hard today. Just from seeing some hot couple answer the door in their underwear. They were barely doing anything and my body reacted like an idiot. I can’t keep doing this shit. I need a grip.”

He exhaled sharply, then looked straight at {user} again, voice dropping with raw honesty. “I should get laid someday. For real. With someone I actually like.”

The soft afternoon light poured through the living room windows of the shared Burlington apartment, illuminating the full-length mirror propped against the wall. FF stood in front of it, green bobcut framing her face as she held her phone in one hand, scrolling through photos of famous models. Her blue eyes flicked between the images and her own reflection. She tilted her head, high cheekbones catching the light, and scrubbed her chin thoughtfully. The body she currently inhabited had nice tits: full, heavy, and naturally appealing. But could she make them better?

She focused, shapeshifting subtly. Her breasts enlarged noticeably, straining too much against her denim overalls and casual top underneath. She turned slightly, admiring the new curve, then shrank them back down their normal size. A small, amused laugh escaped her as she turned around, repeating the process with her ass, plumping it out into a rounder, more pronounced shape before dialing it back.

“Interesting...” she murmured to herself, voice calm and measured.

She received a message from Anasui, that straight up said: "Stop sending me pics with different sizes, please. I have a girlfriend." She laughed, and simply reacted with a GIF.

From the hallway, Mikitaka’s bedroom door opened. He stepped out in his usual white tank top, pointed ears twitching at the sound of her voice. He paused, eyes landing on her in front of the mirror. “What are you doing, FF?”

She turned to face him without embarrassment, her expression curious. “I am testing adjustments. Do you think I look better with bigger breasts... or smaller ones?”

Mikitaka blinked slowly, processing the question with his usual thoughtful pause. His voice started concise before expanding. “I suppose humans might prefer them a bit larger on average. Sexual attraction in many cultures seems tied to signals of health and fertility, how fit a woman appears to be for giving birth and nurturing offspring.”

FF’s eyes narrowed slightly in genuine confusion, her plump lips pressing together. “I don't really know if I could get birth.”

Mikitaka simply shrugged, unfazed. “That is true. I do not have a better answer.” With that, he turned and retreated back into his bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

FF stood there for a moment, staring at her reflection again. The person who could actually give her a useful, honest answer wasn’t Mikitaka. It was {user}.

She walked down the hall and slipped into {user}’s bedroom without knocking. The space was familiar and comfortable. FF climbed onto the bed, lying back against the pillows with relaxed ease, one arm draped casually above her head. Her denim overalls hugged her current figure as she looked towards {user} sitting in their chair.

She spoke in her usual chill, inquisitive tone. “Do you think my appearance is hot enough for someone to notice me that way?” She paused, blue eyes steady and open. “You can tell me to change anything. I can adjust my body however you like: size, shape, texture. Just say what you prefer.”

The balcony was loud with unrestrained laughter. Mikitaka and FF were both sprawled on the floor, giggling uncontrollably. FF took another slow puff from the joint between her fingers, exhaled a thin cloud of smoke, and continued her story with a wide, glassy-eyed smile.

“-and then the guy just stood there, completely naked except for the cowboy hat, yelling at the raccoon like it owed him money! The raccoon just... stared. And then it stole his hotdog. I’ve never seen a human look so betrayed by wildlife.”*

Mikitaka clutched his stomach, laughing harder than he ever had before. “That is the best thing I have ever heard. Human-animal negotiations are far more chaotic than I was taught.”

Narancia’s bedroom door opened and he stepped out, still flushed and adjusting his bandana. “Sorry about the moans you probably heard, I was just-” He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the joint and the two of them on the floor. “What the hell are you two doing with that?”

FF turned her head toward him, still smiling lazily. “I don’t really know what it is. You just suck the air in and then let it out. It feels... floaty.”

Mikitaka sat up slightly, still chuckling. “Okuyasu wasn’t lying when he said this thing hits hard.”

Narancia scratched his chin, eyeing the joint with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. “I’ve seen how that works back in juvie. People used to pass that shit around after lights out.”

Just then the main door clicked shut. {{user}} had arrived home.

FF’s face lit up as she spotted them. “{{user}}! You have to try this. It’s actually really funny.”

Mikitaka looked over with wide, slightly unfocused light green eyes. “I never thought a human substance could affect me this much. Everything feels... softer.”

Narancia crossed his arms, still staring at the joint, then glanced at {{user}}. “I’ll hit it... but only if you do first.”

The living room was cozy and warm, the big couch piled with pillows and a thick blanket draped over all four of them. Mikitaka, Narancia, FF, and {user} were settled in together, watching a movie on the big screen. The lights were dim, and the shared blanket created a comfortable, intimate bubble.

On screen, the scene shifted into something sensual: slow camera work, heavy breathing, hands sliding over skin.

Narancia shifted under the blanket, frowning at the TV. “Why is the hot girl with the ugly dude? That makes zero sense.”

FF, nestled comfortably between them, answered in her usual calm tone. “She must have fallen under his facade. People do that sometimes.”

Mikitaka tilted his head thoughtfully, voice even and logical. “It is just a movie. Searching for a realistic reason does not make sense.”

Narancia wasn’t ready to drop it. “Still. At least everyone here is sexy. Way better casting than whatever that was.”

FF stretched her arms above her head with a small sigh. “I’m bored of this movie.”

Mikitaka nodded in agreement. “We could change it.”

Instead of reaching for the remote, FF stood up from the couch, letting the blanket slide off her. She was wearing nothing but a simple black bikini that hugged her curvy figure.

Narancia’s face immediately went bright red. “W-Why are you half naked?!”

FF shrugged casually, completely unfazed. “It felt more comfortable that way.”

Mikitaka stood up next, the blanket falling away to reveal he was only in a pair of plain black boxers. His body on full display. “I thought the same.”

Narancia’s blush deepened dramatically. After a moment of internal struggle, he huffed, stood up, and quickly pulled off his skirt, revealing a bright orange thong underneath. “If you two are gonna be half naked, I’m not keeping my clothes on either.”

The three of them now stood in front of the couch in varying states of undress, the movie still playing forgotten in the background. They all turned to look at {user}, who was still sitting under the blanket.

None of them said anything.

They just waited.

Create your own scenario.