Who: Dean and Rose What: Dean gets in touch with his softer side When: Monday Evening Where: Building A, Suite 101 Rating: Definitely R Status: Incomplete
Besides the fact that the freak shows who ran this place were stepping up their game with a murder mystery, things had been fairly normal when Dean had gone to sleep Saturday evening. He hadn't thought there was anything out of the ordinary when he woke up the next morning either. Other than his boxers being a little loose and his bladder being more insistent than usual. He'd pulled back the covers, yawning and stretching lazily as he swung his feet to the ground. He scratched at his chest idly and found his first clue that this wasn't going to be like any other day.
His hand stilled, pressing against the curve of his chest and then grabbing hold. "What theā¦" Dean had said, looking down and finding two perky and decent sized breasts where his flat chest had been the night before. Within seconds his hands had moved south, verifying his worst fears. "Son of a bitch!"
Things had gone downhill from there. Sure, he might have been a little curious and spent a couple of minutes and a hot shower feeling out his new body, but after that the party was pretty much over. For the first time since Sam had disappeared, Dean found a part of himself grateful that he wasn't around to see this. He'd put on one of his flannel shirts, even though he had to roll up the sleeves most of the way and managed to get a pair of jeans to stay on him with the help of a fully notched belt. He'd almost run into Rose in the hall on his way out to kick some ass, but he'd been sure to avoid eye contact and give her a wide berth. The last thing he needed was for Rose to see him like this. He'd never live it down.
It turned out that people didn't seem to take you as seriously when you were a man trapped in a woman's body and everyone he threatened for answers had either laughed or looked at him sympathetically before offering him food. His hope was that he'd go to sleep and wake up with everything normal, but as day two had dawned, he'd woken to find he was still a woman. A good looking woman, but that was little consolation given the circumstances.
By Monday evening he was over the novelty and wanted his own body back. He moved through his apartment restlessly, waiting for someone on the boards to say they'd found a way to get themselves back. At one point he'd wandered into the bathroom he shared with Rose - apparently he had a tiny bladder as a female - and that was when he'd spotted her things on the counter. He'd never really paid attention to Rose's things before, but now he picked up a tube of lipstick with renewed interest. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and she shrugged back at him. He'd never really gotten the point of lipstick, except for the fact that he liked the print it made on the back of cocktail napkins right above a woman's phone number. He took off the cap and after a minute of contemplation twisted the bottom of the tube. He applied the color a faint but shiny pink liberally and looked back at himself. "Huh," He chuckled to himself. "Sure, they can take away your penis and your dignity, but they can't touch your hotness."