Wild Thoughts About Fruit

At that moment, Rocket Raccoon had a bit of baby fat.

Having only just completed the conversion, his skin was incredibly smooth and rosy, making him especially adorable.

Yet his expression and gaze retained the world-weary air of his raccoon body.

He looked like a brat in desperate need of a beating.

Rocket Raccoon stretched out his chubby little hand and touched his body. When he spoke, his voice was still smoky. "Tang, did something go wrong?"

"No. The conversion was a success."

"Why am I so small?" Rocket Raccoon pointed at the "child" in the bio-pod. "I wanted to turn into a handsome adult like him."

Raccoons only lived for a dozen or so years. At eight years old, he was already middle-aged by raccoon standards.

Apocalypse shook his head. "Your raccoon body was only eight years old. After conversion, your human body is correspondingly eight years old as well. You're right at childhood."

Rocket Raccoon cried, "Why didn't you tell me earlier? How am I supposed to pick up girls looking like this?"

Then he pulled open his pants for a look and sighed. "Even if I picked one up, it'd be useless."

This was Apocalypse's first time using a Purple Potion to help someone convert their body, so he had gained some experience.

Apparently, racial conversion was calculated according to actual age. Eight years old meant eight years old.

By proportion, an eight-year-old raccoon was roughly equivalent to a forty-year-old human.

All he could do was comfort him. "Eight isn't bad either. At least you've gained a few extra decades of lifespan."

Nebula walked over and vigorously ruffled Rocket Raccoon's hair. "Hahaha, whose kid is this? You want to pick up girls? Grow another ten years first."

"Don't touch my head."

"I'll touch it, touch it, touch