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Dr. Bruce Banner/The Hulk are copyright to Stan Lee and Jack Kirby. The She-Hulk is copyright to Stan Lee and John Buscema. Both characters are property of Marvel Comics, the Walt Disney Corporation and their associated partners and license holders. Characters depicted here are the property of the author, and are fan creations. Betting on Green in Vegas Of all cities in the world who live a steady reputation, be that great or not, the United States can confidently boast of many a place that would notice or tug at the ear. New York, Philadelphia, Miami, Houston, New Orleans, Seattle, Los Angeles and many others can speak of their own distinctions, though amongst so many the name of Las Vegas has a power to evoke perhaps more so. Sat amidst the Nevada desert as a glimmering, bustling hub of motion, this place can boast of many things in its nature and complexion, and it is to here that we are drawn. The city's famous strip, Las Vegas Boulevard, is a sight familiar to many the world over; the towering, bright neon caught against warm night and the pressing revelry in the streets below is a sight which never fails to compel some reaction amongst those virgin to what has been titled the "Entertainment Capital of the World", and the rather more sardonic "Sin City" - both titles, and others, bestowed with weight in a place that can offer so much of precarious, chancing pleasures. In a city of such reputation and history, those who have experienced it have never failed to return and relate sometimes sprawling, uncanny sagas of the bewildering, incredible and sometimes just plainly bamboozling - certainly, circumstance in which booze and other substances play part in what unfolds during those tense, hot hours of desert night. Thus, it remains that tall tales, strange events and meandering accounts are at home in Las Vegas and in many of those who would meet in that singular place too. But... in even this glittering, rumbling engine of the unique, there are some things which are even more so. Rarely mentioned by visitors or those at home there, they still remain but are found in those more distant corners and circles amidst rumours, yawning mentions and even urban myths. Amongst the selection here, one notable stands tall and peculiar; never failing to draw a look or remark of some sort from those who listen, and more so from those who fancy themselves witness to such things. There is never a single, definitive account, but rather a rolling, disjointed array of hear-say, whispers and new rumours passed about whenever the subject rises amongst the knowing and the curious. In turn, those who hold such odd tales and speak of encounters might be pleased, or dismayed, to learn that there is a great truth in what they feel and see, even if their words are often far from the mark. This tall tale harbours the remarkable, even the incredible, though if what is spoken of in Las Vegas corners is a present truth, then we might ask where did it truly begin, and how it came to haunt this city where uncanny is at home. In Marcel Chasey a casual observer would find many and expected things. A fairly good looking and well groomed man for whom success has been great, and who can count wealth and privilege as being intimately familiar. Blonde, blue eyed and well dressed for any exploit, Marcel is a fairly familiar figure in many a moneyed and glamorous circle; habits which often overlap between his private and corporate life in Las Vegas. Not without a measure of reputation too in regards to relationships, it remains that much of his experience, related often with a confident smile and expression, has been less than successful; encounters with woman of his choosing seemingly brisk, misbegotten and in some cases darkly comic in their misadventure. Regardless of his peers gentle pressings and sometimes mirth, the young executive seems set in his ways and ever mindful of living a life he wants, as he can. Though, as he will truly know, sometimes the latter is far from the case, now and for sometime... Five years before, Marcel had arrived at Grove Research of San Diego as a intern; the post a much coveted one in which he strove to make his own against considerable campus competition. His acceptance a seeming confirmation of strength and choice, the younger Mr. Chasey became a familiar sight in the company's research directorate, though had always nurtured a interest in the more immediate side of the decisions made there, and not without some conviction too. That time of his internship had found two factors set to meet and fuse into a single, and unforgettable, experience. Marcel, a bright and charismatically ambitious student of San Diego State University, had wished to distinguish himself in some way at what was known to be a company at the very forefront of experimental research - the latter a public truth that veiled a more shadowy fact of their corporate life. If Grove Research could bring much of success, then it was a tacit fact of life at many levels of management that a good deal of the research carried out was... ethically questionable; practices which often skirted safety conventions, judicial ruling and other scientific avenues which would not stand in the light of day. Marcel knew, with a certain conceit, that a good measure of what he knew of their research was audacious, though absorbed it with a sense of adventure, and it was here that he hoped for a window of opportunity. That opportunity came one particular night when Marcel, who had ingratiated himself with a few notable executives, was allowed to participate in the viewing of a certain experiment. It was known that the operation concerned the use and properties of Gamma radiation, though the full extent was known only to a select few on that night; the truth of questionable legality a distasteful and ignored thing as the party had gathered at the company's experimental researcg wing. It was here that a proposition was made to the young, eager man; the exact responsibility rather misty though it remained that a few executives offered him a small part in the coming experiment. Marcel jumped at the offer and was soon being prepared; a small role, negligible really, for what was to come though some there in their expensive suits, designer shoes and thin smiles had found his eager ambition... cute, if a little annoying, in the time he had been there. Surely, a little pat on the head was not that questionable. The events of the next hour would bring many things; most certainly for Marcel, the researchers and the executives who had watched, at first, from the glass of a observation room. In the hours that followed, many a explicit e-mail was sent, many a growling retort heard on a phone and curt whispers in shadowy corporate corridors. By morning light of the following day, what had transpired had come into better relief against the receding storm of executive wrangling. It has seemed that the experiment had played out beyond initial expectations; goals set had been surpassed at the cost of the equipment used, and the resultant breakdown had led to a malfunction in already thin safety procedures. In all, the small explosion and consequential release of Gamma radiation had been contained, though not without a immediate problem in the bruised, beaten Marcel Chasey who had been exposed to the energies loosened. It would come as a incredible surprise when, even as the highest levels mulled over how to contain and suppress evidence of the incident, that Marcel regained consciousness and lived. A shocking truth to those who had known of the true extent of the experiment the mostly unwitting intern had been part of, the fact of his survival and in some good health too drew crowded meetings in many a tense boardroom. About a week after the incident, and watched by a platoon of doctors, researchers and specialists, Marcel gave his account of what had happened from a secure room and bed. In the light of demonstrable good health, vitality and simply being alive, those in power had found themselves increasingly relived... and with many a decision to make for the future of their remarkable problem... Marcel Chasey ended his internship with Grove Research with excellent commendations and noted qualities for the future as he returned to his studies at SDSU. In truth, Marcel was feeling particularly accomplished beyond what others might have guessed. He had survived something quite incredible and seemingly none the worse for wear too. Grove Research had given conditions in which, in exchange for his silence and denial of any witness to wrongdoing, Marcel would be a very wealthy man after graduation and with the best recommendations for a future employment. With barely a lingering scratch from his misadventure in ambition, Marcel would return to college that autumn with many a reason to smile. He had been found remarkable by fate, and life seemed so much greener now. Marcel Chasey would go on to graduate near the top of his class and after a short term employed by a subsidiary of Grove Research, he would leave for his native Nevada, taking up numerous positions as he progressed through the management of Plateau Technologies, based in Las Vegas. Yes. To the increasingly successful and wealthy young man, life was definitely greener now. But, as is so often the case, life can work its ironies, and make a pun of farce and near tragedy. This so said, as it was around this time on his seemingly ceaseless success that something changed in Marcel Chasey's life... The present day, and the leafy affluence of a certain Las Vegas neighbourhood; its wealthy nature undiminished by the dark of a early night sky and the rain that feel in gentle showers. In the sterile white of a well lit bathroom, Marcel ran briskly through his grooming; the promise of a entertaining, at the very least, evening ahead driving his hands as he peered into the broad face of a mirrored wall. Attending his hair with a fine comb, he found his last strokes easing as the reflection took his attention; a familiar sight, of course, though he found the comb set down as he leaned a little closer to his doppelganger. It was a whim which saw sharp blue eyes sweep and scrutinise what he saw, seemingly quick to find anything beyond the ordinary. He smirked at the thought and drew back, still one to stare upon the glass. In truth, he hoped tonight would refresh his appetites. It had been a long and trying month at work, not to mention varyingly frustrating in other corners of his life. He noticed it was an unwelcome mentality, and unusual for the time, though the dampening of his spirit could not be denied. A jutting reminder of such frustrations had been the latest invoice concerning building at his second property. Hardly his second home, the place in question sat on the edge of a once well set neighbourhood, though the locality was now rather obscure and decayed; the latter informing his choice, back then. A small, spartan bungalow with a overgrown back yard and now high brick walls; the property looking across the south west to a patch of desert and the lights of central Las Vegas beyond. In all, he was satisfied at the completion of the work and had other projects in mind, though would never let them detract from his lifestyle here; the very fact of the other property a secret he had worked to keep, while its purpose was even more so. He sighed and began drawing up his tie; conflicted, bitter memories of departing that other place under a chilly, ice blue sky as he briskly drew away in his second car of much humbler model; affirmed that the house receding into the urban world was locked down, and more importantly, off his mind for the time being while he was eager to get back to things, as usual. The last time he had had to use that place had been... just about a month now; a fact which threatened to raise a smile, though he was a little too cynical for that. If he had his way, it would be half a year, years or never, when the use of that place was concerned. Still... he was marginally contented at his present situation; Marcel was in control, quick to understand and capitalise on the situation. Just as things had been, were, and would be. Tightening his tie and donning his jacket, he would not allow the fluttering, cawing of the usual concerns to harass his thoughts as usual, when thinking about why he needed and coldly maintained that other place. He had other things to attend to tonight. Leaving now, his first car, a luxurious make with a handsome growl to its engine, was drawing into the road outside before peeling away towards the greater city beyond; an eager hand finding a suitable radio station as rain rapped upon the traffic cluttered, wet windows. Dinner, some drinks and company. And that was only to begin with. He let himself smile at that. The nights of Las Vegas, it could be reasonably said, bring as much as you wish, and then more so; a fact borne out as Marcel parked his car and gladly welcomed the promise of nightlife before him. Meeting colleagues from work, the sound of raised, hearty talk and the flow of champagne was the fact of the first hour before dinner at a fine restaurant; the small cluster of executives exchanging their remarks of success as rich courses passed from the menu to the waiting table. Later, appetites of one sort slaked, the more relaxed group began to disperse; two retiring for the night, while another bid his goodbyes as he had to make a flight the following morning. The remaining three found a familiar corner of a certain casino where fumbling plans to back red or black resulted in things which made the men happy that this was not the stock market, and far from company eyes too. Still, Marcel could not deny a pang of... distraction, perhaps. Restless, sometimes unthinking or capricious, he denied and excused himself when these things became too overt; citing stress of a more tiring week than he had first thought. A few drinks later and he seemed a little restored, though Marcel could not deny that what he had felt was... disconcertingly familiar, in a way... maybe. Drawing back another bottle of beer, he smacked his lips and courted a mock sneer as his friend, a man named Jack, made a joke while the other, named Nathan, asked if he felt a little better; the words laden with the weight of perhaps a few too many drinks already. Marcel smirked and joked, feeling the concern melt away as the evening continued and they arrived at a club, under Jack's suggestion, in the shadow of the famed Bellagio Hotel. Amid the energy and colour of the clientele, they found a table while Jack returned a little later with drinks; Nathan recounting a particular experience at the distant white screen of the Bellagio's walls while Marcel found his thoughts wavering between tedium and anticipation; the evening had been enjoyable thus far, though the pull of companionship was growing slack, while the desire for another kind of rendezvous grew stronger. The promise of a future encounter with a woman who he had been distantly courting looming large and partly responsible for his greater sobriety compared to Jack and the slouching Nathan now. And yet, why the odd... tension? Surely, of all people, he wasn't allowing that... problem to piggy back tonight, was he? It would be fun and relaxing... he just had to remind himself that it was no big deal. That edge of concern was met with a new and stronger drink as Jack updated something on his smart phone, while Nathan looked suspiciously ready to doze off; a possibility both men forewarned him against. Rising, Marcel made his way to the bathroom; briefly passing under a screen, one of many here, which blared with either music videos, sport, news or something else. In this case it was an advertisement for green viagra from some American herbal company. He shrugged with a lopsided expression and carried on to the bathroom; relieving himself with a sigh before giving a last look in the mirror provided at the basins. Negotiating the surge in new arrivals from other places on the Las Vegas strip, the three decided on a new plan. Admittedly, Nathan had drunk just a little too much tonight and Jack had agreed to get him home, after which he would retire too for some business reason. Ensuring no inconvenience or offense taken, Marcel found his evening buoyed by this unexpected turn; finishing his drink before all three were found at the kerb outside. The cab door closing on a lethargic Nathan and softly humoured Jack, he saw them off into the night while he went off in his own direction; crossing a portion of the famed strip with its tall glaring neon and throb of populace below. After a short walk, brushing shoulders with police, costumed performers and awe struck tourists, he found himself at the broad mouthed reception of the Water Gardens Hotel; its restaurant and rooms familiar from his colourful past as he punched in a text message to, hopefully, a waiting someone. Sweeping down the steps to the bar, the figure of a attractive young woman turned and smiled, putting her cell phone away as they met. Her name was Stacy Clarkson and the man now buying her a drink had known her through business links for about a year now; the two retreating to a corner as he noticed that it was raining again, as the light rich parking lot now showed. Maybe it shouldn't have surprised him as it did. The path was as familiar as the rooms, the scents, the views over the bustling nightlife of the strip. So too had been the small talk and the witticisms as both parties had found themselves in bed; fondling, kissing and half born words as they grew more intimate. He could not remember the precise transgression or slight of word, maybe due to his drinking earlier or thickening lethargy, but the reaction too was familiar. First words, then more and then her brisk movements as her expression soured. Pulling the sheets back as he clutched for the right words, she gave a retort to his testing questions and bad humour; a scowl flung like a brick as she pulled her dress on and stuffed feet into half tied heels. Rising, he was hurriedly pulling himself together as she punched something into her phone before getting up again. The door her destination, Marcel was floundering with his shirt above hastily raised pants as he called after her; his voice harder now as he watched the door close. Giving pursuit, he had the door open just in time to see her shapely form about to disappear around the bend of the corridor; his calls clumsy and half berating now before she turned and raised a finger to his crumpled face. Then she turned and was gone. Marcel, left now half dressed at the doorway, was silent for a time before letting loose a long, coarse insult. Silence returned to the corridor and he was mindful to return to the room, lest some security camera document his humiliation even more. The door closed with a notable thud and he sat on the tousled sheets with an angry, befuddled expression. Why now? Didn't she get it? No... No... No... Of course she didn't. Still, true was true, right? Plenty more fish in the tank, and smarter, less thin skinned ones too. Or... maybe he had drunk too much? Been too quick lipped?... He snorted and reached for his shoes. He wouldn't mull it over. Not tonight. And yet... Marcel made an effort of his swagger as the door locked behind him and he made his way down the corridor; thoughts of home, bed and a new tomorrow promising. Come morning, this would be just another bullshit story and come a few weeks, he probably wouldn't even remember her name. Just like the others. But... there was something off tonight. His thoughts cluttered and clamouring, as they refused to settle like so often before. Marcel tightened his tie and gave the keys a whimsical toss to catch them after, but still no matter as his thoughts churned. Was there something more to this? Maybe something instinctive? Could they sense something? Maybe subconscious... in them, or him... No. Just no... he wouldn't go there, not now, but he couldn't deny the unseemly tug that drew him further in reflection. Turning the corner, he trod on for a bit and found the elevator. Stabbing the call button, he hoped that it would come quick and be empty: waiting only gave more time for his tumbling thoughts and feelings. It was as the elevator approached, level by level, and as Marcel was nudged ever deeper into angry, lusting, raving thoughts that it happened. Not the elevator arriving, but a sudden peak as his heart throbbed and his stomach stirred. Marcel was still and noted that he had broken a sweat as the rumbling behind the metal doors stopped and they opened to nothing. Fingering his tie in habit, he seemed caught by indecision before drawing away and back towards the room; eyes wide and hard as he fought the urge to jog. Fumbling with the keys as the sickly stir came again with a grunt, the door was at last open and then shut hard before being locked; the man inside pulling the keys away as he retreated to a shadowed wall with a mounting perspiration. The privacy and security of the room a momentary respite, an attempt to compose himself was met with another sickening gurgle in the pit of his stomach and a strangely pleasant wince of his member, as if stirred to life by unconscious arousal. Clutching at the pain in his waist, he thrust for the bathroom; the door closing as the hard light illuminated a clearly afflicted man. Light headed, he leant heavily on the tiling above the wash basin and steadied himself. Soon the basin was rushing with cold water as he flung handful upon handful into a tight, pained face. Dabbing at his work with a hand towel, he felt a little better before a surge below made him clutch with a growl; that sensation seeming harder and deeper than before as the affliction seemed to be drawing ever lower inside. Trying not to tremble, he muttered and clutched at his taunt features before another painful flourish brought a groan. The shudder subsiding, he rose slowly only to find the reflection bearing a unwelcome truth; his plagued, wet face now bearing hard green eyes where once there had been, and should always have been, blue. His face twisted in anger and shock as loud denials came with a fist to the counter top and the slam of a palm to the glass, hard enough to make the frame rattle. He would have protested more had not his stomach twisted and a wet groan escape as his member seemed to jump in that bizarre pleasure; the basin seemingly suddenly looser in its frame as he let go and drew back to the wall, his breath hoarse. The wide mirror reflecting the desperate, sorry sight now pressed to the far wall, chest labouring and head rolling, he found those green eyes staring back at him with dread as the sensation which had so plagued him had finally pushed into his groin; his member stirring constantly now in spasms of arousal. Eyes wide, he gave a despairing insult before clutching at his belt and pulling his shirt loose. Pulling his zipper apart, the shape of his boxer shorts was revealed and, with a abrupt tug, he pulled them down. What he found brought a guttural rasp as the sight chewed rational thought. There, at the slight mound before the length, was a creeping, deepening green; the tissues afflicted growing tense as his member was soon consumed too. The length growing painfully hard as veins bulged in new green, his breathless insults collapsed as he stiffened against the wall again; that pain flowing down into his testicles as the tightening, fiery clutching nearly doubled him over. His scrotum now a tight bag of hot marbles, the sight of his manhood protruding as a leafy green, alien erection was only the beginning, he knew... Trembling as he strained against the wall, breath quick and hard, he did not need to peer at the reflection to see the hardening green spreading upward as the writhing in his manhood grew unbearable. He would have tried to resist, but the power unleashed saw him only shake and rasp as a new, irresistible climax was approaching. Tight, hot and pained, the badges of his afflicted manhood shuddered and, with coarse whimpers, a streak of burning climax rushed up and out as his member spouted. Not wilting nor easing, he croaked as it happened again, and again and again until, as so many cursed times before, he was sure any more would summon blood. But no - and in retrospect such an affliction was preferable - as his testicles grew mercifully slack and his member wilted. The spatter of milky white and grey before him on the floor could not command attention as harder, deeper gurgling was known and, most of all, that tense pressure which made his greening, thickening thighs tremble and rump tighten. Face damp, he closed green eyes against it all; just in time to feel that pressure within begin to climax in reach and power. Voice a chocking mixture of fear, pain and traitorous pleasure, his testicles throbbed as they seemed to be pulled up within him; leaving the hairless green bag like a crumpled balloon. His penis twitched and flinched in the first spasms of a new metamorphosis as, little by little, he could feel the mass retreat back and up; the empty spaces of his transforming crotch bringing a gasp as much as the writhing and stretching of his emerging sex. A sex which was, too, very green... That green power relentless, it was spreading and staining him: where it went and what it touched remade in a new image of smooth, big and hard green. A croak was heard as he could feel his hips spread like a seldom used fan; ever wider and broader as the fabric above strained atop these new bulging and muscular forms. His rump too, like a crescendo of embarrassment, and was at once very green and thickening in size; something thought and felt as the seat of his pants tightened and then popped to give a glimpse of surrendering fabric and there, bigger green masses expanding within. The stretching and distending of his already good shaped abdomen into ever deeper and richer contours distracted from the aches in his back, arms and legs. The transformations all working to turn a fitting suit into a more dishevelled parody of its once self; pant legs closing about smooth, muscle coiling lengths as the cuffs rose and the socks shrunk down. The expensive leather of his shoes creaking as the shapes within grew steadily larger. The hem of his jacket rising up a broader back as the fabric grew taunt over massing shoulders, he watched the cuffs of one arm withdraw up a green forearm as the fabric above poorly veiled the jostling, straining muscles within. Mind wavering, a small and yet clear note of horrid fascination was sounded as he found the creaking, twitching shape of his hand grow larger and yet softer in contour; a searing contradiction which left only a large and green hand of the feminine to smash back onto the wall in anger. The shape cracking a tile while the shoulder of his suit burst open, as did a weaker seam - both revealing rising, hard green as the materials peeled back. The crumbling of his mind seemed to aid in the change around him. His fears bearing out whines and hollow whimpers from a smooth, hairless throat which could only be called androgynous as the familiar weight of his voice was transmuted into something else. A face which glistened in soft green was crowned now with shaggy, dark locks which splashed about ever broader shoulders as his collar peeled open while the tie tightened. The remaining blonde of a once groomed head had all but vanished now into dark brown or green which seemed almost black as kneading pressures worked on a tight face. Groaning in a voice stripped of the masculine and with longer, thicker hair of inky green whipping about his head, his face formed into something new; the wet creaking, stretching, gentle pops smoothing his jaw and spreading his cheeks while lifting his brow. Lips felt stung as they swelled and his nose seemed higher than before on his face. Elsewhere, the mewing and pained warping were accompanied by other treacheries. His new sex seemed terribly hot as it wet the deflated crotch of his underwear which had slipped back up then with no manhood to hold it back. A sleeve split as a powerful and feminine arm in total green shed the last precarious scraps and powerful fingers spread tensely upon the tiles behind. Teeth that seemed bigger and whiter against the parted green lips were bared as a throb of pain brought newer height and swells of thighs which worked to make pants even more ragged; the sting and tugging at still flat nipples bring a flush of fear and wide, green eyes. Those studded points over tight white began to press harder as the tissue beneath swelled; first one, then the remaining as small and awkward became bigger and bigger while buttons already stressed popped atop this unstoppable protuberance. Chest already broader, the shirt was at last burst open above as new bosoms rose ever higher and bigger to watching, pained eyes; their sensitive, green masses making what remained of him groan and grunt as the broad shapes peaked and the once manly studs atop them were now a hard, darker green which threatened to spark in the cool air. In this last struggle, the leather of one shoe had split as a large, green and feminine shape rose out of the ruins while its companion, maybe of a better craftsmanship, held a little longer as the front burst wide and wider to release stretching green toes which felt the cool floor pass under them before the rest of the shoe erupted where factory standards did not match up to this kind of test. A face ever more feminine knotted and twisted in protest as the cries which came had broken their ceiling to become more and more feminine, unmistakably, in a head, long locked now, which was closing on the ceiling in height. A whine which grew to a snarl as fine nailed hands clutched at a face, the changed man fought against the rise within - that irrevocable, final taunting seduction which made his thoughts war and bulging, raggedly veiled thighs squeeze as they tossed about; big green toes splaying far beyond the ruined shoe while breasts heaved. And that heat, buried deep in warping depths of a new womanhood... It was too much. Words a snarling, slurred tirade, the ragged shoulders smashed a tile from the wall in testament to a struggle of the existential. "Shh...fffuu... ahh... a...ahhh... T-Thish fuc...fuck... NO. I'M A MAN - A FUCKING MAN! MAN! MAN! MANMANMANMANMAN, DAMN IT!!! NOTISHHGREENBITCHF- FREAK!!! I'M MARCEL CHASEY!!! ALWAYS! FUCKING ALWAYS AND A-AHH...UHOHH... HMNNN..." The words that remained died in a smooth throat as plump lips crushed against each other, eyes closing as a green face tossed to the side and back in a shuddering orgasm which saw the green amazon tremble as she clutched at a bosom and the damp fabric of a oozing sex. A long, high moan followed as the figure slipped against the wall behind, bringing a few more tiles down and breaking the surface beneath that. Collecting on the floor, their head slumped in a wave of green hair and heavy breath... The world was silent after, and did not seem to take heed of the incredible scene that had unfolded in that bathroom. Then again, it was arguable if the figure, clad in the misbegotten rags of a once good looking suit, cared. A smile forming told the truth of that question. Rising with a groan, she stretched and immediately found the room too cramped for her great height of nearly seven foot; a fact which brought a chuckle as green eyes turned to her form. Pleased hands kneading a freed breast while the other played on the hard valley of her abs. Eyeing the mirror again, she trod forward in the remains of once smart shoes and peered with satisfaction. A white toothed smile born as she squeezed a fist and sat a hand on the swell of a peeking hip. After a few moments of narcissistic preening, she spoke. The voice feminine, warm and coolly confident. "Hmm... baby... It's been a while but, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Marcel Chasey has left the building. Please, give a warm round for the returning star attraction - Ms. Tyra Greene is baaaaaack! The hard, smooth bodied, green amazon and all round gamma born babe is back, and nothing is too daring for this beauty to rise to!..." She smacked her lips before turning to the bathroom and, more importantly, the evening that awaited. "Hmm... man. When I said a while, I meant it - an entire month as Marcel will leave a bad taste, not to mention boredom, melancholy and blue balls: none of which are good for the complexion of a green faced gal at all... Still gotta love irony - if Stacy hadn't as sucked so bad, my greenness wouldn't be, not that Mr. Chase the blowhard didn't want it... in the end... But, now's not the time; time to make for the green and split..." Lamenting that her timing of humour was not something which had gotten better, like the rest, when she switched from Marcel, Tyra collected what she could, dumped what she wanted and then left; a still ragged, but more practical figure emerging discreetly, but with a smiling jaunt as she slipped her former self's wallet between her bosom and pocketed his keys and phone; now housed in the inner pocket of the jacket she wore like a ragged waist coat. Feet big and bare on the side street outside, Tyra tossed her green locks and peered about; no one to startle or bend in awkward awe. More's the pity, she quietly mused. Smoothly crouching, she leapt with a super human motion to bring her down on the roof of the building next door; reserving a smile for the way the air played on her breasts and caressed her thighs as the cement receded beneath her feet. Waltzing over the roof, she leapt again; springing from height to height, knowing that soon she would be close to her - rather Marcel's car, and what she needed; something which Marcel grudgingly kept sealed beneath the back seats in case he should have a touch of that green feeling, and Ms. Greene would need something suitable to wear. The place was not that far and soon the green woman was drawing close to her car; idly playing with a quarter coin she had found as she enjoyed the night air on her muscles, when she raised bang veiled eyes to a startled sound. The guy was young, and maybe a little drunk, as he stopped and stared; something she was certainly used too and courted a smile as he blinked; his voice wandering and stung by attraction. "He-hey...eh b-babe, that's really fuckin' hot... you're like... aww... huge. You're going to some convention or such, because if you are, I'll never down talk a nerd again... " Her smile deepened. "Thank you, and nice to know too; I don't always get such good... attention for myself - believe me, the stories I could tell. But no... no con, I'm just... on a little break, getting a taste of the sweet stuff before, well... blah blah blah, ya' know". Preparing to fish out her car keys, she mused on her spectator. Cute, but she wanted him gone. A small beep sounding, she opened the passenger door before turning to him. "Wanna see a trick?..." She chimed, though before he could answer she had popped the coin in her mouth and had started to chew, as if the metal was just a tough piece of toffee. Eyes wide, he did little but watch as she gave a wink before closing around him in a squeezing embrace; chin perched on the cleft of her bosom before she locked lips with the man. A long pause later, she let go and he drew back in stunned realization; it was only then that he seemed to roll his jaw before picking something out of his mouth. The folded and crumpled coin now sitting in his palm under the hard lighting of the parking lot. "Whoa..." was his only response before she went on; his eyes returning to her slowly. She smiled and blew a kiss with a chirp. "Keep it, dude. You'll see a lot of things in Vegas, especially at night, but none are as spectacular as me. Tyra Greene. Have fun..." Returning to his staring incredulity of the coin, the young man drew back and wandered off, occasionally giving a glance back as he left the car lot with his weird souvenir. At the car, Tyra chuckled as she pulled free a number of cases under the seating; releasing many packages and containers which she met with a smirk. Some tearing and rending later found her nude before she stretched the glossy face of tight, black fabric over the hard swells of her amazonian shape; enjoying the donning of a high black thong and steel heeled pumps before giving nails and lips a generous face of fetching purple shade. Snapping a hand mirror shut, she took to flexing the beauty of one elegant, powerful arm in muscular swell; a soft growl of pleasure as the other hand wandered to caress the black, leather veiled wall of her studded abdomen. Yes. He... they... she... Yeah... definitely needed this. A good shulk out, as Marcel was loathe to coin, to clear the junk and loose stuffing from the head and heart before taking in a little pleasure seeking... She smiled. The car door shut and Tyra took back the way she came, the she-hulk a sharp, looming vision of black leather and smooth, big, green muscle. A singular, undeniable and incredible womanhood that took back to the lights of Las Vegas with set green eyes. As the wind played with her hair, she mused on a memory of Marcel's from earlier, and bore with a quirk of humour. Red and black, though with her growing legend, who might bet on seeing green?... Fin.