October 23, 2001
pairing: 2x1
notes: there are more notes at the end of the fic, but i'd just like
to note that inspiration point came from the jc and the pussycats
series. nsync slash is delish.
It was really amazing how some things changed overnight, entirely out of the blue. Like the way red-flavored Jell-O grew mold after one night in the back of the refrigerator, or the way Heero went to sleep after an argument over the remote with Duo and woke the next day having sprouted breasts. He thought "sprouted", because that was what it was: he'd grown breasts the way bread grows fungus and cheese bacteria.
Well, maybe the argument with Duo didn't have anything to do with it, but Heero was pretty sure that it did. Most of the things that were hot and strange, imbued with a kind of purposeful life of their own, originated with Duo. As he stared down at the two soft mounds that were permanently fused to his skin as if they'd always been there, he wondered if it were one of Duo's sick jokes that no one else ever thought were funny.
Then he thought about calling Duo, calling for help of any kind, but immediately decided that was a big _no_. Heero could almost imagine the look on Duo's face when he opened the door and saw that instead of smooth, flat flesh, Heero had these _things_ that he really didn't know what to do with.
He considered binding them flat, but even after he'd used almost thirty yards of medical gauze and tape, they were still round beneath his tight green tanktop. "God," he groaned, resisting the urge to bang his head repeatedly against the wall.
He turned to check out his silhouette in the mirror and nearly fainted when he saw that there was a loose flap of spandex at the crotch. It was one thing to have an addition to one's body, but a detraction that severe was another thing entirely. It was manhood and it was sex and normality, all the things he'd come to know as the male domain. Even if Heero hadn't partaken of all those things, he had lived since birth with the knowledge that he would, one day.
Slowly, he tugged the waistband of his shorts out and looked down.
That was when Heero just gave up and decided to panic.
Relena groaned as the phone rang bedside, nearly jumping off the hook with the knowledge of the caller's anxiety. Allowing herself to rub her thighs against her lover's buttocks, she answered it without bothering to disguise the annoyance in her voice. Who in their right mind would be calling at that hour? "Hello?" she said, smiling as a mischievous hand slipped between her legs and began to stroke her sex.
"Relena?!"
"Who is thi--Heero!" She blinked at the strange tones of his voice; it sounded like he had laryngitis, or maybe had been kicked in the family jewels by an irate woman. Even Heero must have days when his testosterone levels got too high, making him a bear; it was inevitable, sort of the way a woman's PMS was inevitable. "Heero, you do know that it's six o'clock in the morning?"
"Not important," said Heero impatiently. "Look, you've got to come over right away."
Relena sat straight up in bed, knocking Dorothy with her elbow. The other blonde let out a frustrated mew and crossed her arms beneath her round breasts.
"Is there an emergency?" she said, already sliding out of bed. "Are you all right? Is Duo all right?" She winked at Dorothy, who was trying hard not to smile, despite her ire. They had both decided that Heero and Duo were gay, and gay together, a belief that had only been deepened when the boys decided to share an apartment after the war.
"Duo's fine," said Heero distractedly. "Look, could you just come over, please? And don't let Duo know that you're here. Throw a rock at my window or something and I'll open the back door for you."
"What is going on?" demanded Relena, but Heero hung up the phone before she could extract more information.
Heero had crept into Duo's room and stolen an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of baggy black pants. The looseness of the cloth made him feel a bit better, but it was still odd to have straining pressure on the front of his chest. "Breathe," he told himself, sinking onto his bed with suddenly weak knees.
He didn't know why it had happened and he definitely didn't know how. It had, and he had to deal with it. Heero closed his eyes, but that only made him hyperaware of his own body's form. He hadn't exactly been in love with his normal physique--it was just a shell, after all--but it had been comfortable. It had been familiar. He'd known its little quirks and antagonistic places, like the big muscle in his arm where Duo had shot him on the pier a lifetime before. He couldn't strain that muscle too much, or it ached when winter settled in.
He knew those things. He didn't know this body. Its fast- twitch muscles were extremely undeveloped, as if the former owner had sat around all day eating potato chips and never lifted a finger.
Which he knew wasn't the case, as the calf muscles were slightly curved with slender muscle, the kind that he sometimes, if he were going to be truthful to himself from now on, envied on women. A man's bulky muscles were sort of unattractive, the hard lines of them and the constant rippling, demanding attention like primadonnas.
He found himself in front of Duo's full-length mirror, one of the few items that really revealed the full length of Duo's vanity. Duo took pride in his appearance, making sure that he looked casually tousled, a bit scruffy on purpose.
His face was a bit softer around the edges, his pointy nose molded into something that rounded off neatly. His lips were fuller, a bit more condensed, still a pale pink color. His breasts were relatively small, a fact that almost felt disappointing. That's because they're made of fat, he thought, and you don't have body fat. You work out too much.
"Shit," he whispered. His voice sounded pretty much the same, only a little higher and without the diaphragm _push_ that he'd had before. Like someone was squeezing him tightly as he tried to talk and kept his lungs from releasing all the air.
He blinked, startled out of his reverie, as a large rock struck his bedroom window. He clambered to the window, nodding at Relena. She was dressed in an inconspicuous black sweater and blue jeans, holding the hand of her less-low key girlfriend. Dorothy wore five inch black stiletto heels that laced up to mid-calf.
I'm coming down, he mouthed.
Duo had left less than five minutes after he'd called Relena. Heero had forgotten about Duo's business trip to L2. He was setting up a charity there that would endow Lower L2 with the money to begin reconstruction of its neighborhoods and wanted to oversee the project himself.
Not that Heero could blame him. If he'd had a place to call former-home, former anything, he would have done the same. Now, sitting in the kitchen, the three stared into their coffee cups without speaking.
Dorothy broke the silence with an obnoxious cough. "So."
"Um," said Heero, and maybe the wavering of his voice tipped them off. Maybe it was just women's intuition, how they always know when tears are coming and exactly what to do about them. Relena stood and wrapped her arms around him. He could feel the heat of her arms, her body against his side, and it was almost comforting.
"You can tell us," said Dorothy, whom he hadn't really bargained for when he called Relena, but seemed more like a free gift with purchase the more he thought about it. "Does it have something to do with the reason why you're wearing Duo's clothes?" she asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.
"Yes," he mumbled. He knew his cheeks were flushing slightly, he _just knew it_, and it was too mortifying to be believed. Once, he told Relena silently, I would have saved you and now it's the other way around.
"I knew it," said Dorothy, raking over his slumped form with an appraising eye. "It was so obvious." Heero groaned and laid his head on the table. "Right, Relena?"
"Well," said Relena, clearly agreeing and not wanting to be a bear about it, "I suppose so. You're not very good at hiding things like that, Heero, but don't worry. We won't judge. We _can't_ judge," she added, sending a very predatorial grin to Dorothy.
"So you don't think it's weird that I'm a girl?" he blurted out.
Relena paled.
"A girl?!"
Several cups of coffee and two secret conferences with Dorothy later, Relena was feeling considerably calmer about the situation. "Oh you poor thing," she kept saying, which was making Heero mad, because he was still _Heero_, and he could still take her out with one blow of his little finger if he wanted to. "Poor thing," she said, kneading his shoulders with strong hands, and suddenly he wasn't very angry with her at all.
"That's so funny," said Dorothy, ignoring the electricity crackling in Heero's eyes. "Are you sure you were a boy before? I mean, things like that just don't happen." She laughed. "Except in bad soap operas where the guy changes back eventually and gets the girl by displaying a newfound appreciation of femininity."
"Thanks," said Heero. "I'm relatively positive that I was a guy and then suddenly I wasn't." He was close to tears again, which he blamed on the body and not on the sudden shock of reversing genders.
"There are some who would pay good money to have what happened to you happen to them," added Dorothy, pouring herself another cup of coffee. They'd brewed over four pots, and instead of wiring them to the teeth, it seemed to have a calming effect. "Cheer up, Heero. Maybe you'll learn to like it after a while. There are tons of advantages to being a girl."
"Like what?" said Heero, glaring at Relena when she stopped rubbing his back.
She giggled and clapped her hands. "Do that again!" she said. "That was absolutely adorable. Heero, you've got the cutest glare I've ever seen. I mean," she added, going what Heero called 'completely girly', "it was so scary before, but now it's just cute. Like puppy cute, or baby kitten cute."
"A kitten is already a baby," snapped Heero. "Now you're being redundant."
"Now you're being a bitch," said Dorothy. That made Relena laugh again, an awkward sound that helped Heero understand why she always tried to remain so calm, even under extreme pressures. "Advantages," she said, trying to steer Heero's ire back to his unfortunate circumstances. "Advantages like...free drinks."
"I don't see where you're going with this," said Heero, but they ignored him.
"You go to a bar with your friends. You have no intentions of actually putting out, but you've got five dollars in your purse and you've promised to buy a round for all your friends to celebrate..." Dorothy trailed off, nodding to Relena. Heero buried his face in his hands. They were _tag-teaming_ him.
"...A birthday," said Relena, not missing a beat. "You sidle up to a guy in the dark, flash your boobs and a little smile, and voila! He gets his friends and you get your friends, and, as gentlemen, they pay all night."
"Real women don't go dutch," said Dorothy. "Make 'em pay." Heero had a sudden inkling that Dorothy was slightly bitter about men. "But it's not just free drinks. It's power. You know." She shrugged. "Men are intimidated by beautiful women."
"I'm not beautiful," said Heero.
"Beauty is a state of mind," said Relena, with such confidence that Heero thought, even if only for a moment, that she could be right. Then she added, "And talent with a mascara wand." Seeing Heero's look of distaste and horror, she laughed. "You don't have to wear makeup. Besides, this is probably only temporary. Who knows? You might go to sleep tonight and wake up tomorrow sans cleavage."
"I can only hope," he said.
But Heero woke the next day and found that nothing miraculous had happened. He groaned, resisting the urge to tug the covers over his head and sleep the day away. Maybe it was a virus. Yeah. A virus that changed the gender of its victims and imbued them with the deadly power of self-loathing. He'd made plans with Relena to go out with them, nowhere specific, just a "night out with the girls", but now he felt like cancelling.
He called her, but there wasn't anyone home. Either that or they were having sex, both being equally as likely. "Insatiable social butterflies," he mumbled, jumping as the vid-phone's monotonous tone rang throughout the empty apartment.
It was Duo. Heero was very thankful that he'd thrown on a sweatshirt moments before--was it just him, or was it suddenly very cold in the apartment? He'd never noticed it before--as the image of his smiling friend appeared on the screen. "Duo," said Heero, trying to keep from showing how affected he was by the sight of his best friend.
It should be him going through this, he thought, almost absently. He's the one that looks like the girl, with that braid and those long limbs. But that wasn't really true, the more Heero thought about it. Sure, Duo was long and lean, but his face was decidedly masculine, as were his large hands and feet. Duo tugged on his earlobe distractedly, bringing those long, tan fingers into view.
"How ya be, Heero?" said Duo, reaching out to adjust the zoom of the small camera. When he was done, Heero could see Duo from the knee up, hands jammed into his pockets. "You miss me yet?"
"No," said Heero, feeling the need to be belligerant.
"Good," chuckled Duo, "because I'll probably be here a lot longer than the week I thought. The red tape is giving me a headache the size of God." Duo liked to compare things to God. Heero had once thought that it was because Duo was in denial about his own faith and figured that reducing it to useless similes was the best way to go about it. He never told Duo that, though, because despite the fact that Duo was a cool guy and had a wicked sense of humor, there were things that he didn't tell anyone. Not Heero, not Hilde, not a living soul.
"That's too bad. I know you wanted to get the organization up and running quickly," said Heero. He bit his lip, debating whether or not he wanted to tell Duo about his...condition. That was a good word for it; it implied temporary circumstances. Heero didn't want to think about what would happen if it were forever.
Duo frowned at the screen. "Crap, Heero; I'm sorry. I've got another call, probably from the mayor. She's supposed to get back to me about getting a permit to build an office in a residential area. I'll be sure to call tomorrow, but you'd better start missing me by then or I'll be hurt." He grinned at him; Heero felt his heart skip a beat and swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.
"Right," he managed, hating how thin his voice sounded in comparison to his old low tones.
"Get some rest, too," said Duo. "You sound like the living dead."
The moment Relena and Dorothy appeared on the sidewalk below his apartment, he felt troubled and anxious. They both were wearing tube tops and slick stretchy skirts. Glitter dusted their bare shoulders, sparkling in the streetlights.
Heero looked at his own loose t-shirt and baggy jeans and shrugged. It wasn't like he was going in order to find guys or even to drink for free. But he didn't think too long about that; if he had, he might have questioned exactly _why_ he was going out. "Hey," he said, sticking his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt.
"Hey sweetie," said Relena, kissing his cheek. It felt odd to have her kissing him, especially now that he was a member of the sex that she was attracted to. "Ready to have some fun?" Heero rolled his eyes as the two women had a quick giggle at his expense.
"Lead the way," he said, groaning.
He made sure that he walked between Dorothy and Relena, sort of hidden between their long graceful limbs and tight skirts that bunched around their thighs. The bar was pretty crowded, so no one really paid them any mind until Dorothy went to get them beers and balanced one of them in her cleavage.
"Oh you," said Relena, giggling as she stirred the foam away with her finger. "You just love the attention." She nodded at Heero, smiling with teeth that seemed glossy in the yellowish light. "Drink up, Heero. I have a feeling you'll need it."
"Don't look now," muttered Dorothy, making a show of lifting her chin and looking away to prove her disinterest. A group of young men, college age or older, meandered over, sitting at the next table. Dorothy flicked her pack of cigarettes open with her thumb and lit up with practiced ease. Heero strongly suspected that she'd gotten that practice with something stronger than tabacco.
"They're looking at us," said Heero, blushing as he was caught staring by one of the older guys.
"Of course," said Relena, blowing a ring of smoke into the air. She'd schooled her face into one of nonchalance, her eyes hooded, revealing the streaky blue eyeliner bumping along her lashes. Her mouth was pursed into a perfect 'o'; all she needed was a mole near her mouth and she'd be a beautiful girl in a Paris café, whiling the night away.
Heero stared at his drink and tried to look extremely bored.
"Hey." Heero blushed as his head shot up; Relena slowly tipped her head back, blowing a bit of smoke into the invader's face, a lazy smile spreading across her face, even as Dorothy paid him no attention. He was good looking, taller than Duo, but definitely bulkier in the arms--
What the hell? thought Heero, blinking. Heero, you're not into guys. You're definitely not into guys, and when did you notice how big Duo's arm muscles were?
"Hey," said Relena, her voice slightly hoarse. "Care to join us?" The boy, his blonde highlights glinting, grinned a shit-eating grin and Heero groaned internally.
An hour and two shots of straight vodka later, he was feeling pleasantly tipsy, enough so to actually engage in conversation with one of the guys that Relena and Dorothy had hunted down for him, saying that he needed practice. It was sadistic the way they flirted and toyed with the men, knowing exactly with whom they were going home later that night.
"So," said the man, who seemed a pleasant sort. He had strange eyebrows that lifted in surprise no matter what emotion he was currently expressing. "Are you from around here?" Heero winced inwardly; even he wasn't lame enough to use a line like that, and he'd never tried picking up a girl before.
"No," he lied, clearing his throat slightly. Was it just him, or had the temperature in the bar gone up several degrees in the past few minutes? The man--Peter, his name was Peter van Something, like a musical that Duo'd made him watch once, only he couldn't. quite. remember--touched his shoulder hesitantly.
"You look...flushed," he said, tugging at the hem of Heero's sweatshirt. "You should take this off. You know. Cool off a bit."
"No, I'd rather not," said Heero, slapping at the man's hands, but Peter didn't let go. "Stop. Now."
"Come on," said Peter, withdrawing as smoothly as he'd advanced, "don't be that way. I'm just kidding around." His eyes told an entirely different story, one that probably ended with Heero sprawled naked on a bed beneath him, the sheets tangled around their entwined bodies--
Jesus! thought Heero. You're really losing it now.
"Oh," said Heero, when he really wanted to punch Peter into the next century. They chatted for a few more minutes, but when Peter's hand, hot even through Heero's clothes, found its way to the curve of his back and began sliding lower, Heero decided that enough was enough.
"Don't touch me," said Heero loudly, trying to draw Relena's attention. She patted the cheek of her boytoy in apology and wandered over, surveying the situation with a critical eye. Peter jerked his hand away from Heero as if Relena had threatened silently to cut it off.
"Heero, you look exhausted, sweetie," she said, touching his cheek. Her hand was cold, burning him like dry ice. "Poor thing. We should get going anyway." Then Relena wandered away to round up Dorothy, leaving him alone with Peter.
"You're pretty cute, you know that?" he said, touching his cheek. "Not the same as other girls. I admire that." He stroked his thumb over Heero's lips; Heero had to fight the urge to open his mouth and bite his fingers off.
"Let's go," said Relena, taking him by the arm. Heero wasn't even disappointed when Peter headed up to the bar and began chatting with another girl, one dressed properly with large blue eyes. "You okay, Heero?"
"Yes," he said, letting himself be led to Dorothy's car. "I'm fine."
But he wasn't fine the next night when someone at a bar, the disco kind that attracted the college kids, had the audacity to ask if he were a lesbian. Dorothy and Relena snickered behind their hands, but he was utterly mortified, sputtering some kind of evasive response. What was he, anyway? Heero was pretty sure that he'd been heterosexual before, but did that mean he was still the same now?
"Don't avoid the question," said Mark, the kind of guy that girls either hated or loved with all their beings. He was good looking in an athletic, sporty way, even though his face looked a bit squashed because his nose had been broken playing hockey too many times.
But he was obnoxious; he obviously, thought Heero as his face reddened, enjoyed tormenting girls who weren't attractive, and would never be.
"Are you, or are you not, a lesbian?"
"I don't know," he blurted out, horrified when Mark grinned, leaning closer.
"Well, have you ever thought another chick was hot--"
"That's enough," said Relena, looking crabby as she pried Heero from Mark's clutches. "Let's go. You guys are real assholes."
"You've really hurt me, babe," he said, laughing as the three girls exited the bar quickly. The cold night air bit his skin even through the thick sweatshirt. "Struck to the heart!" he called, his voice eventually dissolving into the clinking of glass beer bottles.
They walked in silence for several blocks until Heero, overcome with guilt and a kind of shame that was making him sick to his stomach, said, "I'm sorry."
"For what?" said Relena, smiling tightly in a way that said she was a little annoyed. "It wasn't your fault."
"I just--"
"Some guys are assholes," said Dorothy, taking his other arm. "I guess that's just one of the shitty things about being a girl, kind of like shaving your legs or bikini waxes. You have to put up with that shit, or else you're a lesbian bitch."
"Like you," purred Relena, and then the two blondes exchanged a quick kiss across Heero.
"Yeah," said Heero, like he understood, but this time, he thought that he might have.
The next day, Relena and Dorothy came over with shopping bags full of assorted clothing. "I don't know," said Dorothy. "How busty is he? Maybe your shirts won't fit." She held up her hands in a square, as if measuring the exact volume of each breast.
"Jesus," said Heero, crossing his arms over his chest. "Stop." His eyes dropped to the bags; he seized upon the opportunity to change the subject. "What's in the bags?" As soon as Relena snickered, Heero became convinced that he really didn't want to know after all.
"Just consider it," said Relena reasonably, and that was when Heero began to grow nervous.
"Come on," said Relena from beneath a pillow. "We're not going to laugh or anything." Beside her, Dorothy made some unintelligble sound that signaled her agreement. They were both banned from looking while Heero wrestled with Relena's bra, a hot pink lacy one with a plastic front clasp bought from a Victoria's Secret catalogue.
"Got it," said Heero, tugging on his tanktop. He'd dug out loose boxers with a plaid pattern that looked ridiculous in combination with the bra, but he didn't care. The underwires cut into his skin uncomfortably, and he was convinced that he still hadn't gotten the clasp right, but at least he'd figured out where to put his arms.
"You've got lines," said Dorothy, shaking her head.
"Lines?" Heero blinked as she pointed to his chest, where his shirt had been stretched too tightly over his chest, creating ripples between his breasts. "I don't care," he said.
"And you'll need panties," added Relena, eyeing his comfortable, _familiar_ boxers with disdain. "Cute leopard print ones."
"You're both evil," he said, but they ignored him and grinned at each other instead.
"Let's go shopping!"
He eventually threw on a pair of Relena's "fat days" jeans over his boxers, ignoring Relena's warnings that there were boxer lines showing. Lines, he thought bitterly, ignoring the limousine driver's wink, are for girls. And I'm not a girl.
He paled as they pulled into the mall parking lot.
The mall was a zoo showcasing people, girls in tight tube tops and glittery jeans, boys in Timbs and Fubu, the young and old, all milling around with a certain purposefulness to their step. They had all gone to sleep the night before and woken up this morning as the same person.
Heero secretly hated all of them, and discovered that letting his vengeful emotions get the better of him made him feel a lot better in general.
He told Relena this, and she smiled as she sipped a strawberry smoothie. "Welcome to the world of PMS," she said, patting his back gingerly, as if she didn't want to touch his bra strap and make him remember that he'd willingly put on one of those contraptions. And how could he forget? He felt like a freakshow, like everyone knew that he walked with his legs slightly further apart than necessary because he didn't want to get used to walking without a dick.
"She's experiencing penis envy," said Dorothy to Relena as they caught Heero staring at the crotch of another young man. Heero tried to pretend that he hadn't heard them.
"Do you think she's still attracted to girls, or does the sexual preference swing with the body?" said Relena, licking her lips.
"I don't know," said Dorothy, winking at her partner in crime, "but I'd love to get a chance to stick my--"
"All right, STOP," said Heero, and gulped when they did.
"We're here," said Relena, grabbing one hand. She blinked as the uncallused palm slid into hers, so much softer and smaller than his hands had been before
"You'll learn to love it," said Dorothy, taking his other side. Together, they dragged him into Fredericks of Hollywood and, or so it seemed, into a mountain of silky lingerie that had no sane end.
"I'm not carrying this," said Heero, glaring at the innocuous white bag that had "Fredericks of Hollywood" scrawled across it in big, loopy letters. The boxers had been casually discarded beneath a Victorian-imitation stool inside the large dressing rooms.
"You should," said Relena. "I wouldn't want people thinking that it's my red patent leather thong in there. I'd never shop in a place like this."
"Neither would I," said Dorothy. "But it was quite amusing to make you do it."
After clothes came makeup, and that was almost as humiliating and painful as clothes. He was convinced that the artists at the MAC store they had dragged him into were doing horrid things to his face; they put so much _stuff_ on him, as if he were fatally plain by himself.
"That's not true," said Dorothy when he complained to her in between eyebrow plucking sessions. "You're a very pretty girl. All girls do this shit." When he opened his mouth again, she shoved a cigarette between his lips and lit it.
"Don't inhale," she said. "Hold it in your mouth or you'll start coughing up a lung."
He did so, and he could have sworn that when the makeup woman came back with a bottle of tan foundation that there was a glint of new respect there.
They were finished at five o'clock, just in time for dinner. They hadn't let Heero look in the mirror, even going so far as to make Heero ride back to his apartment blindfolded.
"Damn," said Dorothy, licking her lips. "You look--"
"Okay?" said Heero.
"Sex on wheels," said Relena, making the victory sign, and he didn't know if she were just making fun of him or if--
"Good enough to eat," said Dorothy, traveling up the long expanse of tanned leg that was exposed with the obscene hemline of his dress, and he kind of trusted Dorothy to know what was sexy and what wasn't, so that calmed his nerves a bit. Still, the predatorial gaze was a bit disconcerting, so when the vid-phone rang, he jumped up and ran to answer it, but Dorothy shook her head.
"It's probably Duo. I want to introduce you." Heero's eyes went wide at the thought and he dove behind the couch, curling into a little ball to reduce the chances that Duo would see any random edges of his dress or the point of his heeled shoe.
"Hey," said Duo, his picture blinking onto the screen. "How's it--Dorothy? What are you doing in our apartment?"
"I have a right to be where I want to," said Dorothy. "Do you want to talk to Heero? Make it fast; I'm on a schedule." Duo held up his hands in mock surrender, smiling a bit.
"Whoa--and it's my phone too," he added, shaking his head. "But yeah; is Heero around? I would kinda like to talk to him, you know. See how he's doing." He scratched his nose, embarrassed. "Why am I explaining myself to you?"
"I have no idea," said Dorothy. "Here's Heero--"
"No!" hissed Heero. "Heero's in the bathroom!"
Dorothy blinked. "Never mind. Heero's in the bathroom. He can't come to the phone."
Duo pouted. "Are you sure? I'm pretty sure I saw him hiding behind the couch. As far as I know, there's no toilet behind the couch, or there shouldn't be. Heero!" he yelled. "Why are you hiding? What's going on?"
"Tell him to go away," said Heero. "_Please._"
"Go away," said Dorothy. "Please." Duo blinked.
"Now I know something's really wrong. I'll catch the next flight back to Earth."
Then Duo clicked off, and no matter how many times they called him back, they couldn't get a hold of him to tell him not to. "Oh my God," said Heero, holding his side. "I can't believe this is happening. My best friend is coming back and I'm still a girl. I'm a girl and I have on makeup and a dress. I have on a dress."
"A sexy slinky red dress," added Relena.
"A dress," said Heero, whimpering.
"Yes," said Dorothy, stroking his back. "You do."
"This is not happening," said Heero, but it was.
End Part One
Bianca
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