Ok, I have to say, I couldn’t come up with a good title, no matter what I did. So, I’m stuck with the crappy title.

Anyway, no smut for a while. It’s gotta build up tension, you see (and I need to take some time writing it ‘cause I’ve never written anything like it before). So, please be nice. It’s my first ‘Rillaz fic, my first solo fic, and my first smut-fic but some constructive criticism would be nice. Do ya understand me? PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW... or I might not want to continue. And it’s un-beta’d, so if anyone would like to be my bitch, I er, mean, beta, just leave me a note in the reviews or e-mail me. I’ll give free pony rides to anyone who wants to help me out.

So, yeah, the Gorillaz © to the Gorillaz Partnership and not me! (tear) I’m just gonna mess with them for a while until I get bored then I promise I’ll give ‘em back! (crosses fingers) (evil grin)

Prologue: Hands

The morning alarm went off like it always did. A soft, staticy radio playing heavy metal rock from the ‘80s stirred Stuart Tusspot from a deep, comfortable sleep. A hand slowly reached out to the night table, clicked the “Off” button and then came back to rub the sleep from his eyes. He groggily opened one and then the other and scratched his nose. Somehow, though, it didn’t feel quite right.

His nose, though still upturned, seemed smaller but he didn’t really give it much thought. Sleep was still ruling his brain and until he had some caffeine not much was going to register in his consciousness.

His large plasma-screen t.v.s were still on waiting for a game of pong to be played and they emitted a soft glow in the windowless basement. It was by this light that Stu, known worldwide as 2D, the singer from the Gorillaz, noticed that something wasn’t quite right about the hand lazily examining his face. The fingers seemed too short and the palm was too small. He dismissed the strangeness of it as nothing more than being half-awake and not being able to make things out clearly.

So, he sat up and hung his legs over the edge of his warm bed. His mind still being slightly blurry and his eyes still half-lidded, he barely regarded the fact that his legs weren’t as they had been when he went to bed the previous evening. They were shorter and the thighs were thicker. But all 2D thought was, “Coffee.”

He stood up, not nearly as tall as before, though he didn’t notice, and stretched his arms high into the air releasing the tension that had built up from sleeping in the same position for most of the night on a slightly too springy mattress. His arms lowered as he emitted a high-pitched yawn (higher than usual) and scratched his sides. His hands, through the shirt, began to feel things that certainly weren’t there the previous day. Even if his brain hadn’t woken up, his fingers certainly had and they roamed his sides, taking in the recent addition of curves. His hands grew more curious and bold as they moved to his front, where through his baggy shirt, he hadn’t noticed that his small but muscular pecs were gone and had been replaced by-

“WOT!” the singer asked to no one in particular as he grasped his new breasts. With his arms shaking, he pulled the shirt up to see that his hands were not deceiving him. There, on his once lank chest, stood two proud and perky boobs. This is when he nearly panicked and hastily stuck a hand down his boxers to see if anything else was different.

It was.

He didn’t need that coffee anymore.

(So, please lemme know what you think. Should I even bother continuing? It’s all up to you guys.)