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apocalypsosTitle: This One Time, In a Michelle Pfeiffer Movie ...
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,872 words
Pairing: Sam/girl!Dean, girl!Sam/Dean
Prompt: #11, Castration Anxiety (for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
psych_30)
Spoilers for: "Hell House"
Warnings: Incest, bad language, genderswap
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just like playing with them.
Summary: A curse leaves the brothers in an unusual situation.
Author's note: Well, really. With that prompt, how could I NOT do genderswap? ;)
*****
This One Time, In a Michelle Pfeiffer Movie ...
*****
Sam as a girl is, as it turns out, even a bigger geek than Sam as a boy.
Dean practically has to haul her (Him? Oh, pronouns are going to be a hell of a lot of fun for the next twenty-eight days) all the way to the nearest mall, and even then Sam's got the laptop open and the witch's spellbook perched on top of that. She keeps scowling at the screen and then at the spellbook and back again, this little furrow in her brow that wrinkles her nose up, and Dean hates to admit it but it's the cutest damn thing he's ever seen.
"Find anything yet?"
Sam shakes her head, angrily blowing yet another long dark curl out of her eyes. She's been doing it all morning since the spell's been cast, to the point where it's getting to be a bad habit, and Dean will probably stop smiling when she stops looking so much like an annoyed cocker spaniel puppy.
Probably.
"No," Sam says. "We may just have to ride it out."
"Ride it out?"
"Dean, it's only for twenty-eight days. And you really don't want to know the only solution I can find."
Oh, she has to be kidding. "And I don't want to know because ..."
"Because we have to ..." Her cheeks flush a little as she glances over at Dean, like she knows damn well he's going to take it the wrong way, then sighs and says, "We have to deflower one another."
Dean nearly drives into the wrong lane for the mall parking lot at that, and his grip tightens on the steering wheel of the Impala. "You're right. I didn't want to know that."
Sam rolls her eyes and goes back to flipping through the spellbook again.
So, yeah, now Dean knows. Which means he knows it when Sam's sole acknowledgement to her cute new body is to buy jeans so tight they show off her ass in a way that makes Dean hover behind her the rest of the day to hide it. And he knows it when she spends twenty minutes in the accessories store cooing over how she'll look great wearing glasses (and it turns out she's right, goddamn it). And he knows it when they go to the food court to eat and she buys a thick milkshake that requires her lips to wrap around the straw and suck at it for a good minute straight.
Sam as a girl might be a bigger geek than Sam as a boy, Dean thinks, but Dean as a guy with a hot virginal geek of a little sister has to be a goddamn saint.
*****
Dean as a girl has no sense of shame. Which is no different than Dean as a guy, to be honest, so that's nice.
Sort of.
The two of them duck out of the mall and go to the Impala as soon as they realize the sun will be setting soon, Sam in the back and Dean in the front as both of them strip down to nothing (because hell, like they really know what's going to happen to their clothes if they leave them on). Sam covers herself up with a blanket and Dean just lounges around waiting, and as soon as the sun dips below the horizon there's a bright flash of light and everything's different again.
Sam konks his head off the back window and winces. Oh, switching from petite to tall and back again is going to be a real bitch, he thinks, and he's kind of focusing on that and that alone when a perky, disturbingly naked blonde peeks over the front seat with a huge leer on her face.
"Hey, Sammy, want to see my tits?"
"No!"
Her lips tug downward in this sexy little pout. Dean as a girl is gorgeous, Sam realizes, because life's just not unfair enough already. "Aw, come on, Sam. I got to see yours."
"That was on accident," Sam says through gritted teeth, pulling his jeans on under the blanket as Dean continues to peek into the backseat. For someone so anti-devirginizing his little sister, Dean as a girl is kind of a perv.
Again, not much different from usual.
And Sam can't stop thinking about it, really, but that's all Dean's fault. Dean as a girl bounds through the mall picking out the shortest skirts she can find and modeling them for every guy in a twenty-foot radius, making throwaway comments about how useful this'll be when she's hustling pool. Dean as a girl has some disturbingly good girl-think in her brain that lets her know exactly what size bra and panties she needs and what shade of lipstick goes with her complexion even though she's only been a girl for less than two hours.
Dean as a girl keeps touching Sam, whether she means to or not, and every time she does, Sam gets hard so fast he's probably breaking land speed records.
*****
Sam as a girl doesn't even want to talk about sex. A shame, really, because with a curse like this over their heads, sex is all Dean wants to talk about.
"Why not the waitress?"
Glancing towards the pretty brunette clearing tables across the restaurant, Sam rolls her eyes and says, "Dean, I'm not a lesbian."
"You're in a girl's body, and you like girls. Technically, that makes you a lesbian."
"Sure, when the sun's up," Sam says, looking pissed that she can't actually argue that one.
"Aw, come on," Dean says on the third morning as they're eating breakfast in this roadside diner, not making much of an effort to keep his voice down as he should. "Where's your sense of adventure?"
Sam pokes at her salad and grumbles, "Don't I get enough adventure following you into every demon's lair and ghost's haunt from here to Seattle?"
She pushes her glasses up on her nose, another newly developed habit, and Dean casually focuses on his beer because it's only been three days and those glasses are getting really fucking distracting. They've got green rims and clear lenses and more sex appeal than the cover on Maxim, for some goddamn reason.
If Dean doesn't get a chance to break those glasses in the next twenty-five days, he thinks as he takes another swig of his beer, he's totally screwed.
And so is Sam, if she'll let him.
*****
Dean as a girl is going to get herself in trouble if she keeps doing that shit with her hair.
Dean's hair is the complete opposite of Sam's when he's a girl, shoulder-length and poker straight and honey blonde where Sam's falls to her waist in tight dark brown curls, and it's so fucking soft Sam can practically feel it from ten feet away when Dean lets it swirl playfully around when she giggles. And she does that, too, totally giggles like she's some airheaded cheerleader who'll let you fuck her against the wall in the bathroom if you play your cards right.
So of course Sam's got to hover, you know, because Dean can defend himself just fine when he's a guy, but as a girl she's wearing heels and a swishy black mini-skirt and she's so tiny Sam can practically slip her in his pocket and carry her back to the motel room.
The motel room which Dean's currently paying for by hustling pool, though, so they kind of have to stay.
Dean knocks in the eight-ball smooth as anything, and the redneck she's playing has to rip his gaze away from her ass as she turns around with a triumphant smile and says, "Well, handsome, pay up."
He's got this ominous look in his eyes that Sam doesn't like, and before either one of them know it, the redneck's slipping his big meaty paw onto Dean's hip and saying something about doing something else the redneck can pay her even more for.
Sam shoots to his feet from his stool at the bar, all ready to jump to Dean's defense, but it's a four-point attack that's over before he can blink. Thick end of the pool cue hitting the redneck right in the crotch, thin end whacking him across the face, one quick swipe behind the knees that sends the redneck to the floor, and one hard slam of the pool cue into the palm of the offending hand that sends up a sickening crunch ain't nobody in that bar can miss.
The place goes silent, and there isn't a man in the joint that isn't staring at the pretty little blonde in the black miniskirt with something between fear and awe.
Dean leans down over the guy with both hands on the pool cue, pressing it down with her weight and eliciting a pained groan from him as she says, "You want to try paying up one more time without the ass-grabbing?"
Okay, so maybe she doesn't need Sam to protect her.
*****
Sam as a girl bites her bottom lip and lets the tip of her tongue hold it down like that when she's thinking and it's driving Dean up a fucking wall.
He's not going to sleep with his brother ... sister ... whatever, but Jesus, does she have to do that thing with her tongue? Because they're in Idaho now, see, in the middle of fucking nowhere, and the only girls Dean's seen since they crossed the state border have been beefy farmer's daughters and shy little bookworms. It's probably just bad luck, just not running into anyone pretty enough to tempt him, but as far as he can tell right now, Sam's the prettiest girl in Idaho and he can't have sex with her and it's making things that. much. worse.
So, yeah, he's jerking off in the shower thinking about that thing she does with her lips and teeth and tongue. What of it?
The problem is that it's been eight days and they still haven't gotten over the brothers thing, over the fact that they're two guys and they're brothers and when you grow up sharing motel rooms and bedrooms all the time, modesty and privacy go right out the fucking window.
Which is why Sam walks right into the bathroom without knocking, as a girl, and sees him jerking off.
"Aw, Dean!" Sam says, and slaps her hands over her eyes like that's really going to help.
Which it's not, since Dean's not stopping.
Well, hell, she asked for it, walking in here when he's taking a shower and it's daylight hours during which she has a vagina and boobs for the next twenty days. And Dean wants to stop because this is about as twisted as it gets, but he kind of doesn't because now Sam's making all these disgusted faces with her tongue sticking out and damn it if that's not helping in the least.
"I was here first, Sammy," Dean says, hand still on his cock, and Sam gets this startled look on her face like it suddenly occurs to her that she has the option of leaving and darts out of there so fast she practically leaves a smoky silhouette of herself in the middle of the bathroom.
Hey, at least she isn't a mind-reader.
*****
Dean as a girl has this weird sense of how to even out the score.
"Damn it, Sam, either you do it now or I do," Dean says from the other bed, and Sam doesn't even bother to dignify that with a response. Wasn't it already weird enough walking into the bathroom and seeing Dean with his fingers moving around his erection and not stopping? And Sam might not be a fucking mind-reader (psychic and telekinetic, yes, but a mind-reader ... not so much, thank God), but from the look on Dean's face when he saw Sam walk into the bathroom, Sam gets the impression he knows exactly what -- and whom -- Dean was thinking about while he jerked himself off.
And Sam's still thinking about that when Dean's dainty little fingers wiggle in the air as she flashes him a teasing look and makes a point of rather deliberately sticking her hand under the sheets.
"Dean, don't," he says, but a few seconds later she's making these sweet little gasps that aren't helping Sam's state of mind at all.
He has a hard time believing this is Dean's first time trying out the new equipment since the curse started. But there's this dazed look on her face that makes Sam think that, no, she hasn't done a goddamn thing to herself in the past eight days, and if that's the case then Dean must have an infinite well of patience somewhere inside her that Sam never even fathomed his brother might possess.
Dean makes this whimpering sound, her voice hitting a tone that makes Sam's skin hum from across the divide between the beds, and she whispers, "Not making a run for it?"
Sam wants to say yes, wants to let his only answer be the slam of the motel room door as he gathers up a blanket and pillow and heads out to sleep in the Impala. But then Dean's body shudders in the next bed with this sexy moan that hits Sam hard, and a moment later she's giggling and saying, "Didn't know you had it in you, geek boy," before drifting off to sleep.
*****
Sam as a girl has been holding out on Dean.
Dean finds out the day after they finish the werewolf case in Idaho, when he's packing up the stuff in the Impala and Sam's in the bathroom taking a shower. He's carrying Sam's laptop bag and notes and shit out to the car and some of the papers fall from the front, and when he bends over to pick them up, he notices Sam's neat handwriting on one of the sheets and reads it out of curiosity.
Well, fuck.
Dean nearly stalks into the bathroom right there and then to confront her, because Sam assured him they wouldn't have to invest in tampons but hadn't said why not. Sterile is the big word that pops off the paper like it's lit in neon, sterile when in the opposing form. Damn it if that was the only worrying thing about the possiblity of going anywhere near Sam during this curse.
Okay, that and the brothers thing. But ... but ...
Sterile. Shit.
Like it doesn't even count.
The bathroom door opens, and Dean stuffs the notes into his pocket before Sam can see them.
The motel towels don't cover up enough and they weren't about to invest any more money than they had to in a robe, so they've both been making do with each other's buttondowns. They're small enough as girls for the shirts to cover everything they have to, though not by much.
Sam stands in the bathroom doorway with one of Dean's shirts thrown over her and her long brown curls hanging loose and damp over her shoulders, and it's the sexiest fucking thing Dean's seen in weeks.
"What's going on?" Sam sounds confused, and when her brow furrows, the skin above her nose crinkles and her lips purse.
"Nothing," Dean says.
Somehow, he manages to force a smile, but there isn't anything he can do about the way the words choke out of his throat or the sudden uncomfortable fit of his jeans.
*****
Dean as a girl is on a mission.
"I want to get laid," she declares, and Sam nearly chokes on his frappucino.
"Come again?"
"Exactly," Dean says. "That first time was fun. This time, I want a partner."
She leans across the table at the Starbucks they've stopped at in just the right way for Sam to get an extremely close look at her cleavage. Every top Dean bought when he first turned into a girl shows off those incredible breasts like they won first prize at the state fair, and if Dean masturbating in the next bed over did nothing for Sam's state of mind, watching her flaunt her boobs like this is like annexing Sam's state of mind to the United Republic of Goodbye, Common Sense.
Sam stares at her breas-- okay, at her ... all right, so maybe a little of both, and thank God Dean doesn't seem to give a damn what part of her he stares at, and says, "What, you want me to pimp for you?"
"No!" Dean makes this disgusted face and tosses her hair again, and if she'd stop doing that, Sam would really appreciate it. "Look, remember that redneck guy, right? I don't want that to happen twice. And I don't know about you, but this girl thing? Really not working for me."
She's not suggesting that they ...
Dean's lips curl in this leer when she catches the dawning realization on Sam's face, and Sam shakes his head. "No, not a chance."
"Oh, come on, Sammy," she snaps, and at least she has the decency to lower her voice when she says, "We only have to do it once."
"Each."
"So? I'm game if you are."
Sam's waiting for the punchline, because there's got to be a punchline here. Or hey, maybe Dean's starting up another round of practical jokes and this is the first step. Offer her gorgeous female body up for Sam to do stuff he shouldn't even be contemplating to it, then walk away with a giggle because it's wrong and sick and ...
He looks into Dean's eyes.
Jesus, she is serious.
"No way," Sam says, and he stalks out of the Starbucks before Dean can catch up, and then sunrise is only a half-hour away and they can't really talk about it anymore with Dean's tits interrupting the conversation like they do.
*****
Sam as a girl is kind of a prude.
"I said no, and I meant it, Dean," she says, and damn it if she doesn't have that determined look in her eyes that Sam always gets when he's digging in his heels and practicing that stubborn mule impression he learned from Dad. She crosses her arms and tilts her head just so as she stares Dean down, so if Dean's desperate enough to resort to emergency measures, it's all Sam's fault.
"Fine," Dean says, and whips out a deck of cards. "I'll play you for a kiss."
Sam's lips purse together, but she leans forward in her chair reluctantly, and inside Dean's head he cheers in triumph. "Just one kiss?" she says, like that's all she'll have to do if Dean wins and she can at least handle that.
"Just one," Dean swears. "And I promise not to cheat."
"Yeah, right," Sam says.
"Scout's honor."
"You were never a Boy Scout."
Dean shrugs as he deals out the cards for a round of poker. "Would you believe petty criminal's honor?"
"No, but I guess I'll have to take what I can get," she mutters, picking up her cards.
An hour later, Dean looks up from his cards and nearly contemplates tearing them to shreds. "You cheated," he says, and Sam's grin widens as she dances her fingertips over the royal flush she spread out on the table.
"I never said I wouldn't," she points out, then gets to her feet and walks over to his side. There's this mischievous, calculating look in her brown eyes when she stops beside him, and she leans forward until those adorable glasses of hers slip a little on her nose. Dean has to grab at his jeans to keep from reaching up and pushing them back into place, pretty sure she wouldn't appreciate it. "Just one kiss?" she says, with that serious tone like she's speaking in a foreign language where what she just said translates to, "Will that shut you up?"
He nods, wondering if she's actually going to --
Her lips press against his before he knows what's hit him, soft and delicate and tasting so fucking good he can barely see straight. He nips at her bottom lip, slips his tongue past her lips and his hand up to her cheek before she can say anything. And she doesn't, not really, not unless a breathy little moan that makes him hard in an instant suddenly counts as coherent speech.
He doesn't know how long he's kissing Sam, but the next thing he knows, she stumbles away from him with this dazed look in her eyes, one small hand pressed against the cheek he'd been absently stroking as he kissed her. "Okay," she says, with the firm conviction of someone who's trying to convince themselves of something they don't really believe. "Satisfied?"
Hell, no, Dean thinks, but he's so out of it he nods anyway.
She nods back frantically like some scared mental patient and ducks into the bathroom, the door slamming behind her.
Dean stares after her, trying to shake off whatever the hell just happened, and thinks, Yeah, that worked wonders, with more sarcasm than he was hoping for.
*****
Dean as a girl has no fucking restraint.
They've got seventeen more days of this and they've just finished the job in Duluth -- banshees this time, and it'll be really nice when Sam can hear well in a crowded room again -- and Dean's reaction to the whole thing is to wait until Sam's getting ready for bed to walk out of the bathroom when Sam's only in his boxers while she's stark naked.
"Jesus, Dean," Sam says, and he turns around so damn fast he nearly tips over and falls onto the bed.
Dean's in front of him in an instant, though, because this curse might not have done a damn thing for her strength but it's done a number on her speed in a good way. She's still naked, of course, still flashing a set of perfectly rounded breasts that are just begging for Sam's undivided attention and a pair of legs that --
Oh, for Christ's sake.
"Sam, look at me," Dean says, and she reaches up and places both palms on his cheeks. When she's sure his gaze is locked with hers, she lets her hands skim down his neck, along his chest, down until her fingertips stray at his waist and trace the lines of his muscles. "I don't want to be a girl for the next two weeks," she says, "and I'm okay with this if you are."
That's my cue, Sam realizes, that's my cue to say no.
"We shouldn't," he says, but his head is lowering and he's not doing a damn thing to stop himself or step back, and the next thing he knows, Dean's lips press insistently against his as her hand dips past the waistband of his boxers.
"Fuck," Sam hisses out in between kisses, and if there was any hesitation before, there isn't when Dean's got those dainty little fingers stroking along his erection like that. Dean's pushed down Sam's boxers with her free hand, but the other one's still working him like a Stradivarius, and Sam has to pull her away before she ends this all too fast, before they drag this whole thing out any longer than he can handle.
The next thing he knows, they're on the bed, Dean straddling him as he teases her breasts with his lips and tongue and teeth. Dean as a girl makes these keening noises when she's excited, writhing against him like just touching him makes her nerve endings dance and sing, and anything he asks of her in silence -- move this way, tilt your head just so, part your legs like this -- she does without hesitation.
She's spread out beneath him when he finally takes a deep breath and pushes into her, and he's all ready to ask her if she's okay when he feels resistance and breaks through it, but she practically growls, "You ask me if I'm all right, Sammy, and I'll fucking smother you in your sleep. Now, move."
Sam chuckles at that, thrusts into her with the same wild energy she's giving off like an aphrodisiac, and if Dean as a girl is annoyingly bossy, he has to admit he kind of likes it.
*****
Sam as a girl wakes up at after sunrise with her dark curls pillowing against Dean's shoulder, with a pair of green eyes staring her down like he's been waiting for permission.
Well, of course he's waiting for permission. It's Dean, for God's sake, and ... well, yeah.
Yeah.
"Hey," Sam says, but as she's saying it, Dean reaches up and threads his fingers through her curls and she officially loses all grip on her sanity. They're not supposed to be doing this, but if it would stop feeling so goddamn right, maybe they would stop. Her curls loop around Dean's fingers like they don't want him to stop, either, like they won't let go of him as long as he keeps stroking them with that abject fascination.
"Hey," he says back to her, but it's the look on Dean's face as he trails his fingers through her hair that does it, and he's barely finished speaking when Sam pushes herself up and kisses him.
His tongue tangles with hers in an instant, ravenous like he's been waiting for this for ages instead of for eleven days. His hand slides out of her hair and along her neck, pressing her back, and the next thing Sam knows, Dean's diving under the covers with this wicked smile on his face and a, "Wait right here, and don't go anywhere."
A second later, Sam wonders where the hell he expects her to go, if he really thinks she's going to get up and leave when he parts her legs and swipes his tongue across her in a way that makes her rear off the goddamn bed. He teases her like that for so long she doesn't know what to think or even how to think, licking and sucking until Sam's pretty sure Dean's fried every single one of her synapses.
He gets her right to the edge before moving up her body again, spending a long while leaving hot wet kisses on her breasts before reattaching himself to her lips again. Sam sighs at first contact, savors the weight and feel of his body as he presses her down, and instinctively wraps her legs around him before she can stop herself.
Sam as a girl can't not do this, can't stop herself from sighing with something almost like relief when Dean finally thrusts into her.
A little pain she can take, Sam thinks, as long as the rest of this feels so goddamn perfect.
*****
Dean as a girl would be pissed when Sam's theory about what breaks the curse doesn't work, but Sam fucks her on the hood of the Impala at some rest stop in the middle of nowhere in Nevada on the fifteenth day and somehow that more than makes up for it.
And Sam as a girl would feel depressed on that last day, when she thinks about how it's all going to be over as soon as they turn back for good, if she doesn't save Dean's life from an enraged vampire and get rewarded with Dean pressing her against the door of the vampire's hotel room and thrusting into her so hard they damn near break the hinges.
If they wake up the next morning as guys and are just a little disappointed, there's always the curse to blame for that.
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,872 words
Pairing: Sam/girl!Dean, girl!Sam/Dean
Prompt: #11, Castration Anxiety (for
psych_30)Spoilers for: "Hell House"
Warnings: Incest, bad language, genderswap
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just like playing with them.
Summary: A curse leaves the brothers in an unusual situation.
Author's note: Well, really. With that prompt, how could I NOT do genderswap? ;)
This One Time, In a Michelle Pfeiffer Movie ...
*****
Sam as a girl is, as it turns out, even a bigger geek than Sam as a boy.
Dean practically has to haul her (Him? Oh, pronouns are going to be a hell of a lot of fun for the next twenty-eight days) all the way to the nearest mall, and even then Sam's got the laptop open and the witch's spellbook perched on top of that. She keeps scowling at the screen and then at the spellbook and back again, this little furrow in her brow that wrinkles her nose up, and Dean hates to admit it but it's the cutest damn thing he's ever seen.
"Find anything yet?"
Sam shakes her head, angrily blowing yet another long dark curl out of her eyes. She's been doing it all morning since the spell's been cast, to the point where it's getting to be a bad habit, and Dean will probably stop smiling when she stops looking so much like an annoyed cocker spaniel puppy.
Probably.
"No," Sam says. "We may just have to ride it out."
"Ride it out?"
"Dean, it's only for twenty-eight days. And you really don't want to know the only solution I can find."
Oh, she has to be kidding. "And I don't want to know because ..."
"Because we have to ..." Her cheeks flush a little as she glances over at Dean, like she knows damn well he's going to take it the wrong way, then sighs and says, "We have to deflower one another."
Dean nearly drives into the wrong lane for the mall parking lot at that, and his grip tightens on the steering wheel of the Impala. "You're right. I didn't want to know that."
Sam rolls her eyes and goes back to flipping through the spellbook again.
So, yeah, now Dean knows. Which means he knows it when Sam's sole acknowledgement to her cute new body is to buy jeans so tight they show off her ass in a way that makes Dean hover behind her the rest of the day to hide it. And he knows it when she spends twenty minutes in the accessories store cooing over how she'll look great wearing glasses (and it turns out she's right, goddamn it). And he knows it when they go to the food court to eat and she buys a thick milkshake that requires her lips to wrap around the straw and suck at it for a good minute straight.
Sam as a girl might be a bigger geek than Sam as a boy, Dean thinks, but Dean as a guy with a hot virginal geek of a little sister has to be a goddamn saint.
Dean as a girl has no sense of shame. Which is no different than Dean as a guy, to be honest, so that's nice.
Sort of.
The two of them duck out of the mall and go to the Impala as soon as they realize the sun will be setting soon, Sam in the back and Dean in the front as both of them strip down to nothing (because hell, like they really know what's going to happen to their clothes if they leave them on). Sam covers herself up with a blanket and Dean just lounges around waiting, and as soon as the sun dips below the horizon there's a bright flash of light and everything's different again.
Sam konks his head off the back window and winces. Oh, switching from petite to tall and back again is going to be a real bitch, he thinks, and he's kind of focusing on that and that alone when a perky, disturbingly naked blonde peeks over the front seat with a huge leer on her face.
"Hey, Sammy, want to see my tits?"
"No!"
Her lips tug downward in this sexy little pout. Dean as a girl is gorgeous, Sam realizes, because life's just not unfair enough already. "Aw, come on, Sam. I got to see yours."
"That was on accident," Sam says through gritted teeth, pulling his jeans on under the blanket as Dean continues to peek into the backseat. For someone so anti-devirginizing his little sister, Dean as a girl is kind of a perv.
Again, not much different from usual.
And Sam can't stop thinking about it, really, but that's all Dean's fault. Dean as a girl bounds through the mall picking out the shortest skirts she can find and modeling them for every guy in a twenty-foot radius, making throwaway comments about how useful this'll be when she's hustling pool. Dean as a girl has some disturbingly good girl-think in her brain that lets her know exactly what size bra and panties she needs and what shade of lipstick goes with her complexion even though she's only been a girl for less than two hours.
Dean as a girl keeps touching Sam, whether she means to or not, and every time she does, Sam gets hard so fast he's probably breaking land speed records.
Sam as a girl doesn't even want to talk about sex. A shame, really, because with a curse like this over their heads, sex is all Dean wants to talk about.
"Why not the waitress?"
Glancing towards the pretty brunette clearing tables across the restaurant, Sam rolls her eyes and says, "Dean, I'm not a lesbian."
"You're in a girl's body, and you like girls. Technically, that makes you a lesbian."
"Sure, when the sun's up," Sam says, looking pissed that she can't actually argue that one.
"Aw, come on," Dean says on the third morning as they're eating breakfast in this roadside diner, not making much of an effort to keep his voice down as he should. "Where's your sense of adventure?"
Sam pokes at her salad and grumbles, "Don't I get enough adventure following you into every demon's lair and ghost's haunt from here to Seattle?"
She pushes her glasses up on her nose, another newly developed habit, and Dean casually focuses on his beer because it's only been three days and those glasses are getting really fucking distracting. They've got green rims and clear lenses and more sex appeal than the cover on Maxim, for some goddamn reason.
If Dean doesn't get a chance to break those glasses in the next twenty-five days, he thinks as he takes another swig of his beer, he's totally screwed.
And so is Sam, if she'll let him.
Dean as a girl is going to get herself in trouble if she keeps doing that shit with her hair.
Dean's hair is the complete opposite of Sam's when he's a girl, shoulder-length and poker straight and honey blonde where Sam's falls to her waist in tight dark brown curls, and it's so fucking soft Sam can practically feel it from ten feet away when Dean lets it swirl playfully around when she giggles. And she does that, too, totally giggles like she's some airheaded cheerleader who'll let you fuck her against the wall in the bathroom if you play your cards right.
So of course Sam's got to hover, you know, because Dean can defend himself just fine when he's a guy, but as a girl she's wearing heels and a swishy black mini-skirt and she's so tiny Sam can practically slip her in his pocket and carry her back to the motel room.
The motel room which Dean's currently paying for by hustling pool, though, so they kind of have to stay.
Dean knocks in the eight-ball smooth as anything, and the redneck she's playing has to rip his gaze away from her ass as she turns around with a triumphant smile and says, "Well, handsome, pay up."
He's got this ominous look in his eyes that Sam doesn't like, and before either one of them know it, the redneck's slipping his big meaty paw onto Dean's hip and saying something about doing something else the redneck can pay her even more for.
Sam shoots to his feet from his stool at the bar, all ready to jump to Dean's defense, but it's a four-point attack that's over before he can blink. Thick end of the pool cue hitting the redneck right in the crotch, thin end whacking him across the face, one quick swipe behind the knees that sends the redneck to the floor, and one hard slam of the pool cue into the palm of the offending hand that sends up a sickening crunch ain't nobody in that bar can miss.
The place goes silent, and there isn't a man in the joint that isn't staring at the pretty little blonde in the black miniskirt with something between fear and awe.
Dean leans down over the guy with both hands on the pool cue, pressing it down with her weight and eliciting a pained groan from him as she says, "You want to try paying up one more time without the ass-grabbing?"
Okay, so maybe she doesn't need Sam to protect her.
Sam as a girl bites her bottom lip and lets the tip of her tongue hold it down like that when she's thinking and it's driving Dean up a fucking wall.
He's not going to sleep with his brother ... sister ... whatever, but Jesus, does she have to do that thing with her tongue? Because they're in Idaho now, see, in the middle of fucking nowhere, and the only girls Dean's seen since they crossed the state border have been beefy farmer's daughters and shy little bookworms. It's probably just bad luck, just not running into anyone pretty enough to tempt him, but as far as he can tell right now, Sam's the prettiest girl in Idaho and he can't have sex with her and it's making things that. much. worse.
So, yeah, he's jerking off in the shower thinking about that thing she does with her lips and teeth and tongue. What of it?
The problem is that it's been eight days and they still haven't gotten over the brothers thing, over the fact that they're two guys and they're brothers and when you grow up sharing motel rooms and bedrooms all the time, modesty and privacy go right out the fucking window.
Which is why Sam walks right into the bathroom without knocking, as a girl, and sees him jerking off.
"Aw, Dean!" Sam says, and slaps her hands over her eyes like that's really going to help.
Which it's not, since Dean's not stopping.
Well, hell, she asked for it, walking in here when he's taking a shower and it's daylight hours during which she has a vagina and boobs for the next twenty days. And Dean wants to stop because this is about as twisted as it gets, but he kind of doesn't because now Sam's making all these disgusted faces with her tongue sticking out and damn it if that's not helping in the least.
"I was here first, Sammy," Dean says, hand still on his cock, and Sam gets this startled look on her face like it suddenly occurs to her that she has the option of leaving and darts out of there so fast she practically leaves a smoky silhouette of herself in the middle of the bathroom.
Hey, at least she isn't a mind-reader.
Dean as a girl has this weird sense of how to even out the score.
"Damn it, Sam, either you do it now or I do," Dean says from the other bed, and Sam doesn't even bother to dignify that with a response. Wasn't it already weird enough walking into the bathroom and seeing Dean with his fingers moving around his erection and not stopping? And Sam might not be a fucking mind-reader (psychic and telekinetic, yes, but a mind-reader ... not so much, thank God), but from the look on Dean's face when he saw Sam walk into the bathroom, Sam gets the impression he knows exactly what -- and whom -- Dean was thinking about while he jerked himself off.
And Sam's still thinking about that when Dean's dainty little fingers wiggle in the air as she flashes him a teasing look and makes a point of rather deliberately sticking her hand under the sheets.
"Dean, don't," he says, but a few seconds later she's making these sweet little gasps that aren't helping Sam's state of mind at all.
He has a hard time believing this is Dean's first time trying out the new equipment since the curse started. But there's this dazed look on her face that makes Sam think that, no, she hasn't done a goddamn thing to herself in the past eight days, and if that's the case then Dean must have an infinite well of patience somewhere inside her that Sam never even fathomed his brother might possess.
Dean makes this whimpering sound, her voice hitting a tone that makes Sam's skin hum from across the divide between the beds, and she whispers, "Not making a run for it?"
Sam wants to say yes, wants to let his only answer be the slam of the motel room door as he gathers up a blanket and pillow and heads out to sleep in the Impala. But then Dean's body shudders in the next bed with this sexy moan that hits Sam hard, and a moment later she's giggling and saying, "Didn't know you had it in you, geek boy," before drifting off to sleep.
Sam as a girl has been holding out on Dean.
Dean finds out the day after they finish the werewolf case in Idaho, when he's packing up the stuff in the Impala and Sam's in the bathroom taking a shower. He's carrying Sam's laptop bag and notes and shit out to the car and some of the papers fall from the front, and when he bends over to pick them up, he notices Sam's neat handwriting on one of the sheets and reads it out of curiosity.
Well, fuck.
Dean nearly stalks into the bathroom right there and then to confront her, because Sam assured him they wouldn't have to invest in tampons but hadn't said why not. Sterile is the big word that pops off the paper like it's lit in neon, sterile when in the opposing form. Damn it if that was the only worrying thing about the possiblity of going anywhere near Sam during this curse.
Okay, that and the brothers thing. But ... but ...
Sterile. Shit.
Like it doesn't even count.
The bathroom door opens, and Dean stuffs the notes into his pocket before Sam can see them.
The motel towels don't cover up enough and they weren't about to invest any more money than they had to in a robe, so they've both been making do with each other's buttondowns. They're small enough as girls for the shirts to cover everything they have to, though not by much.
Sam stands in the bathroom doorway with one of Dean's shirts thrown over her and her long brown curls hanging loose and damp over her shoulders, and it's the sexiest fucking thing Dean's seen in weeks.
"What's going on?" Sam sounds confused, and when her brow furrows, the skin above her nose crinkles and her lips purse.
"Nothing," Dean says.
Somehow, he manages to force a smile, but there isn't anything he can do about the way the words choke out of his throat or the sudden uncomfortable fit of his jeans.
Dean as a girl is on a mission.
"I want to get laid," she declares, and Sam nearly chokes on his frappucino.
"Come again?"
"Exactly," Dean says. "That first time was fun. This time, I want a partner."
She leans across the table at the Starbucks they've stopped at in just the right way for Sam to get an extremely close look at her cleavage. Every top Dean bought when he first turned into a girl shows off those incredible breasts like they won first prize at the state fair, and if Dean masturbating in the next bed over did nothing for Sam's state of mind, watching her flaunt her boobs like this is like annexing Sam's state of mind to the United Republic of Goodbye, Common Sense.
Sam stares at her breas-- okay, at her ... all right, so maybe a little of both, and thank God Dean doesn't seem to give a damn what part of her he stares at, and says, "What, you want me to pimp for you?"
"No!" Dean makes this disgusted face and tosses her hair again, and if she'd stop doing that, Sam would really appreciate it. "Look, remember that redneck guy, right? I don't want that to happen twice. And I don't know about you, but this girl thing? Really not working for me."
She's not suggesting that they ...
Dean's lips curl in this leer when she catches the dawning realization on Sam's face, and Sam shakes his head. "No, not a chance."
"Oh, come on, Sammy," she snaps, and at least she has the decency to lower her voice when she says, "We only have to do it once."
"Each."
"So? I'm game if you are."
Sam's waiting for the punchline, because there's got to be a punchline here. Or hey, maybe Dean's starting up another round of practical jokes and this is the first step. Offer her gorgeous female body up for Sam to do stuff he shouldn't even be contemplating to it, then walk away with a giggle because it's wrong and sick and ...
He looks into Dean's eyes.
Jesus, she is serious.
"No way," Sam says, and he stalks out of the Starbucks before Dean can catch up, and then sunrise is only a half-hour away and they can't really talk about it anymore with Dean's tits interrupting the conversation like they do.
Sam as a girl is kind of a prude.
"I said no, and I meant it, Dean," she says, and damn it if she doesn't have that determined look in her eyes that Sam always gets when he's digging in his heels and practicing that stubborn mule impression he learned from Dad. She crosses her arms and tilts her head just so as she stares Dean down, so if Dean's desperate enough to resort to emergency measures, it's all Sam's fault.
"Fine," Dean says, and whips out a deck of cards. "I'll play you for a kiss."
Sam's lips purse together, but she leans forward in her chair reluctantly, and inside Dean's head he cheers in triumph. "Just one kiss?" she says, like that's all she'll have to do if Dean wins and she can at least handle that.
"Just one," Dean swears. "And I promise not to cheat."
"Yeah, right," Sam says.
"Scout's honor."
"You were never a Boy Scout."
Dean shrugs as he deals out the cards for a round of poker. "Would you believe petty criminal's honor?"
"No, but I guess I'll have to take what I can get," she mutters, picking up her cards.
An hour later, Dean looks up from his cards and nearly contemplates tearing them to shreds. "You cheated," he says, and Sam's grin widens as she dances her fingertips over the royal flush she spread out on the table.
"I never said I wouldn't," she points out, then gets to her feet and walks over to his side. There's this mischievous, calculating look in her brown eyes when she stops beside him, and she leans forward until those adorable glasses of hers slip a little on her nose. Dean has to grab at his jeans to keep from reaching up and pushing them back into place, pretty sure she wouldn't appreciate it. "Just one kiss?" she says, with that serious tone like she's speaking in a foreign language where what she just said translates to, "Will that shut you up?"
He nods, wondering if she's actually going to --
Her lips press against his before he knows what's hit him, soft and delicate and tasting so fucking good he can barely see straight. He nips at her bottom lip, slips his tongue past her lips and his hand up to her cheek before she can say anything. And she doesn't, not really, not unless a breathy little moan that makes him hard in an instant suddenly counts as coherent speech.
He doesn't know how long he's kissing Sam, but the next thing he knows, she stumbles away from him with this dazed look in her eyes, one small hand pressed against the cheek he'd been absently stroking as he kissed her. "Okay," she says, with the firm conviction of someone who's trying to convince themselves of something they don't really believe. "Satisfied?"
Hell, no, Dean thinks, but he's so out of it he nods anyway.
She nods back frantically like some scared mental patient and ducks into the bathroom, the door slamming behind her.
Dean stares after her, trying to shake off whatever the hell just happened, and thinks, Yeah, that worked wonders, with more sarcasm than he was hoping for.
Dean as a girl has no fucking restraint.
They've got seventeen more days of this and they've just finished the job in Duluth -- banshees this time, and it'll be really nice when Sam can hear well in a crowded room again -- and Dean's reaction to the whole thing is to wait until Sam's getting ready for bed to walk out of the bathroom when Sam's only in his boxers while she's stark naked.
"Jesus, Dean," Sam says, and he turns around so damn fast he nearly tips over and falls onto the bed.
Dean's in front of him in an instant, though, because this curse might not have done a damn thing for her strength but it's done a number on her speed in a good way. She's still naked, of course, still flashing a set of perfectly rounded breasts that are just begging for Sam's undivided attention and a pair of legs that --
Oh, for Christ's sake.
"Sam, look at me," Dean says, and she reaches up and places both palms on his cheeks. When she's sure his gaze is locked with hers, she lets her hands skim down his neck, along his chest, down until her fingertips stray at his waist and trace the lines of his muscles. "I don't want to be a girl for the next two weeks," she says, "and I'm okay with this if you are."
That's my cue, Sam realizes, that's my cue to say no.
"We shouldn't," he says, but his head is lowering and he's not doing a damn thing to stop himself or step back, and the next thing he knows, Dean's lips press insistently against his as her hand dips past the waistband of his boxers.
"Fuck," Sam hisses out in between kisses, and if there was any hesitation before, there isn't when Dean's got those dainty little fingers stroking along his erection like that. Dean's pushed down Sam's boxers with her free hand, but the other one's still working him like a Stradivarius, and Sam has to pull her away before she ends this all too fast, before they drag this whole thing out any longer than he can handle.
The next thing he knows, they're on the bed, Dean straddling him as he teases her breasts with his lips and tongue and teeth. Dean as a girl makes these keening noises when she's excited, writhing against him like just touching him makes her nerve endings dance and sing, and anything he asks of her in silence -- move this way, tilt your head just so, part your legs like this -- she does without hesitation.
She's spread out beneath him when he finally takes a deep breath and pushes into her, and he's all ready to ask her if she's okay when he feels resistance and breaks through it, but she practically growls, "You ask me if I'm all right, Sammy, and I'll fucking smother you in your sleep. Now, move."
Sam chuckles at that, thrusts into her with the same wild energy she's giving off like an aphrodisiac, and if Dean as a girl is annoyingly bossy, he has to admit he kind of likes it.
Sam as a girl wakes up at after sunrise with her dark curls pillowing against Dean's shoulder, with a pair of green eyes staring her down like he's been waiting for permission.
Well, of course he's waiting for permission. It's Dean, for God's sake, and ... well, yeah.
Yeah.
"Hey," Sam says, but as she's saying it, Dean reaches up and threads his fingers through her curls and she officially loses all grip on her sanity. They're not supposed to be doing this, but if it would stop feeling so goddamn right, maybe they would stop. Her curls loop around Dean's fingers like they don't want him to stop, either, like they won't let go of him as long as he keeps stroking them with that abject fascination.
"Hey," he says back to her, but it's the look on Dean's face as he trails his fingers through her hair that does it, and he's barely finished speaking when Sam pushes herself up and kisses him.
His tongue tangles with hers in an instant, ravenous like he's been waiting for this for ages instead of for eleven days. His hand slides out of her hair and along her neck, pressing her back, and the next thing Sam knows, Dean's diving under the covers with this wicked smile on his face and a, "Wait right here, and don't go anywhere."
A second later, Sam wonders where the hell he expects her to go, if he really thinks she's going to get up and leave when he parts her legs and swipes his tongue across her in a way that makes her rear off the goddamn bed. He teases her like that for so long she doesn't know what to think or even how to think, licking and sucking until Sam's pretty sure Dean's fried every single one of her synapses.
He gets her right to the edge before moving up her body again, spending a long while leaving hot wet kisses on her breasts before reattaching himself to her lips again. Sam sighs at first contact, savors the weight and feel of his body as he presses her down, and instinctively wraps her legs around him before she can stop herself.
Sam as a girl can't not do this, can't stop herself from sighing with something almost like relief when Dean finally thrusts into her.
A little pain she can take, Sam thinks, as long as the rest of this feels so goddamn perfect.
Dean as a girl would be pissed when Sam's theory about what breaks the curse doesn't work, but Sam fucks her on the hood of the Impala at some rest stop in the middle of nowhere in Nevada on the fifteenth day and somehow that more than makes up for it.
And Sam as a girl would feel depressed on that last day, when she thinks about how it's all going to be over as soon as they turn back for good, if she doesn't save Dean's life from an enraged vampire and get rewarded with Dean pressing her against the door of the vampire's hotel room and thrusting into her so hard they damn near break the hinges.
If they wake up the next morning as guys and are just a little disappointed, there's always the curse to blame for that.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2006-04-04 09:13 pm (UTC)You are most definitely my favourite writer in the whole SPN fandom - every single fic is a gem. Bravo!
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Date: 2006-04-05 12:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 09:18 pm (UTC)So not an incest fan, but still... nnnnrgh. Virginal girl curse genderfuckery omg.
Now please excuse me, I have to go beat out the flames in my underwear.
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Date: 2006-04-05 12:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 09:20 pm (UTC)did Sam lie to Dean?
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Date: 2006-04-05 12:49 am (UTC)*giggles* Maybe a little. The world may never know. ;)
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Date: 2006-04-04 09:28 pm (UTC)I love the way Dean loves his studious girlSam and waits for her to come around.
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Date: 2006-04-05 12:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 10:08 pm (UTC)Genderfuck is the best crack.
God. I'm...melted. Fuck. So hot.
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Date: 2006-04-05 12:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 10:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 12:53 am (UTC)And thanks!
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Date: 2006-04-04 10:14 pm (UTC)I loved this SO much and these get to me anyway and then you do such a stellar job. Its just...brilliant. Perfection.
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Date: 2006-04-05 12:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 11:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 12:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 11:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 12:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 12:32 am (UTC)There's nothing better than a well done genderswap to make a girl's day. And this is just that. I like the alternating parts of it, too, and how it went back and forth between the two of them. I love this one all around, and I probably can't say enough good things about it. :)
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Date: 2006-04-05 12:58 am (UTC)And thanks! *G*
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From:(no subject)
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Date: 2006-04-05 12:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 12:59 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 12:46 am (UTC)This fic is so great!! This line
as she says, "You want to try paying up one more time without the ass-grabbing?"
is so Dean I could hear her/him saying it. Brilliant.
And Sammy the prude? So perfect. So hot! Yay!
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Date: 2006-04-05 01:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 12:47 am (UTC)So.good.
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Date: 2006-04-05 01:03 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 01:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 01:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 01:43 am (UTC)Holy crap.
I mean, as though I didn't have a genderfuck kink already - this is awesom, because it's both of them, but at opposing times, and it's over and over and over, and, oh! Did I mention? It's smoking hot. Holy hell.
I'm just going to be...over here. Doing...something else. Yeah. Mmhmmm.
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Date: 2006-04-05 01:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 02:19 am (UTC)And..oh, this was so much fun, and so HOT too :) Me, I have no boundaries whatsoever, but genderswap fic usually leaves me cold...this, didn't :D I like how you switch from one to the other, and yes, Lady Hawk and all that.
Thank you :D
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Date: 2006-04-05 02:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 02:54 am (UTC)Hee. Myself a geek with glasses, I worship you for slapping that quality onto Girl!Sam - and having Dean go for it. It was, like, empowerment for nerd girls everywhere that Sam would be in our ranks, and still be hot.
And Girl!Dean... SO perfect. He, of anyone, would have a blast being a woman for a while, just for the sake of manipulating folks with his tits.
And, um... quite the hike in temperature there at the end. *fans self* I do believe I swooned during the oral sex bit - particularly since we all know that a man with such a pretty mouth ought be able to do incredible things with it. If only to be Girl!Sam right then... *sighs longingly*
You rock the planet, babes. Here, have a cake!
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Date: 2006-04-05 03:40 am (UTC)Excuse me while I fangirl you like crazy.
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Date: 2006-04-05 04:28 am (UTC)Interesting work, I really like the different version of the gender-swap you've created. Really nice. :) You write really well, and this piece is really cool. :D
Thanks!
P.S. Hey, If you're ever interested, I've started a ficathon here. Feel free to sign up, we could use some more great authors. :D
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Date: 2006-04-05 04:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 05:17 am (UTC)You so fucking hard. Oh my god. I cannot... this... omg.
This is so brilliantly awesome and fabulous and just... guh.
And here I thought SGA was the little black dress of fandom. But truly, SPN takes the cake. OMG.
And now, back to Winchester threesome ponderings... :D
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Date: 2006-04-05 06:51 am (UTC)♥♥♥
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Date: 2006-04-05 08:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 08:58 am (UTC)Guh.
Having so much trouble with the talking here... I mean thinking.
Well, ok, I would be incapable talking too - I'm glad this is typing because my throat is all choked up with the hotness and the *glee*! Suppressing big-time giggles here.
Girl Sam's cute, girl Dean fucking *rocks* (poolcue - geeze, she'd go for girls, right? Plz say yes!), and neither of them had a chance.
Ogod, crack!porn fic, I luff you!!!
The end has just the whisper of an owie to it, *wince*, but I choose to believe that while disappointed, they are consoled by the continuing hot!sex.
Yes!
:D