Chapter Text
Stiles stared into the mirror.
A pretty doe-eyed brunette stared back.
He raised his right hand to touch his long hair, whimpering as the mirror image did the same thing.
The physical touching of said hair was freaking him out. He was deathly afraid to lift said hair into his actual line of sight because his peripherals were insisting the hair was really there.
Stiles did not want the hair to be real. Because if the hair was real, the boobs were probably real as well.
Just the thought had him glancing downwards, his eyes closing on a whimper at the confirmed fullness of his previously flat, very male chest.
A new thought occurred to him, had him fumbling for the ties of his pj pants frantically, silently praying.
The pants dropped and Stiles was ninety-nine percent sure the whole campus heard his silent scream of mental anguish.
Oh God – his penis. His penis was missing, MIA, absent without leave – fucking not there.
A knock on his dorm room door had him jerking backwards, startling himself into falling because his pants were still around his ankles.
“Fuck!” He cursed loudly and with absolutely no remorse, swearing some more when the knocking persisted.
“I’m coming, I’m coming – Geezus Christ. Godamnit. Fuck.” Pulling up his pants, Stiles sort of wheezed as he tied them again, stumbling out of the bathroom in a daze and pulling the door open with an overwhelming sense of hostility at the world in general.
“What?” He demanded loudly and angrily, his anger disappearing in pure relief at the sight of Scott.
“Sorry,” Scott hastily apologized, staring at him in wide-eyed surprise. “I didn’t know Stiles had company and you’re not Lorelei. Does Lorelei know you’re here?”
Scott peered nervously down the hallway, as if the mere mention of Stiles on-again, off-again girlfriend could conjure her presence.
“Thank fuck,” Stiles ignored Scott’s questions, reaching out and hauling him inside his room. Scott surprised yelp didn’t even register as Stiles slammed the door behind him, dead bolting it in place before whirling around to face a very startled and wary Scott.
“Scott,” Stiles started, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “I know this is going to sound absolutely batshit crazy, but –“
“Stiles?” Scott interrupted him, squinting at him with an absolutely adorable expression of pure confusion. “When did you turn into a girl?”
“ – I got turned into a girl. Wait – how?” Stiles gaped at Scott, who was wrinkling his nose now.
“You kind of smell the same,” Scott stated, rubbing at his nose absently. “But girly. Like…”
“I swear if you say flowers I’ll beat the shit out of you,” Stiles promises, brushing past Scott and heading back into the bathroom to gape at his reflection some more.
“Lemons,” Scott finished, coming to stand in the doorway, trying and failing to keep his gaze on Stiles face.
“For fucks sake,” Stiles muttered, catching sight of the dopey look on Scott’s face. “They’re boobs – you’ve seen thousands before. Stop staring at them.”
“They’re so perky,” Scott craned his head to the side a little, as if staring at them from a different angle somehow made them more magical.
“Huh,” Stiles glanced down at his chest, studying it carefully for a few moments before nodding his head with speculative optimism. “Yeah, they are pretty perky. Awesome. I have a great rack. Nice.”
Stiles tried to keep his optimism up but his boobs suddenly reminded him of his penis and suddenly he was sad again.
“What’s wrong?” Scott asked, smelling the sadness and raising his head in alarm.
“My penis is missing,” Stiles replied glumly, staring at himself some more.
“You lost your dick?” Scott’s voice sort of squeaked at the last part and Stiles winced.
“No, I didn’t lose it. Somebody stole it.”
“Who?” Scott asked. Stiles whirled on him in a fit of anger.
“If I fucking knew who, I’d be out there murdering them right now instead of talking to you.”
“Okay, okay,” Scott backed up, eyes wide with obvious panic. “Calm down. Don’t freak out on me!”
“I’m a fucking girl, Scott! What the fuck am I supposed to do?” Stiles could feel a panic attack coming on – he was light headed and trapped and the air was getting thinner and thinner and he couldn’t fucking breath.
“Here,” Scott jammed something under his nose and Stiles ending up getting a big whiff of potpourri that had him choking for a whole new reason.
“Goddamnit, Scott!” He swore, coughing and shaking his head to get the gadawful smell out of his mouth. “God, that’s nasty. What is it? Where did you even find it?”
“Lorelei’s drawer,” Scott supplied helpfully. “She always keeps weird smelly things there.”
“Lorelei has a drawer in my apartment?” Stiles blinked in surprise, poking his head out of the bathroom to peer around the corner, padding out to stand in front of said open door. “How did I not know this?”
“I told you,” Scott stood behind him. “She’s been trying to move in here for months.”
“Geezus,” Stiles rubbed his hands over his eyes, mind tangoing with the whole new realization that he was in a borderline serious relationship and he didn’t even know it.
“Crap,” a whole new realization took hold, along with a vague sense of hope.
“Do you think Lorelei will break up with me for turning into a girl?” Stiles couldn’t keep the hopeful note out of his voice. Scott blinked at him.
“Maybe?” He hesitated before offering. “I don’t know. She’s kind of possessive, if you haven’t noticed. I’m not sure turning into a girl will change that.”
“One can only hope,” Stiles pondered, dropping his hands to his sides with a tired a sigh. “So what do we do now?”
“Deaton might know,” Scott offered. Stiles visibly perked up at the mention of the witchy doctor.
“You think?” He asked, ever the optimist. Scott stared at him for far longer than was appropriate and Stiles ended up flushing awkwardly under the gaze.
“What? Is there something in my hair? Did I grow a third boob? What?” A glance down and a tug at his shirt confirmed it wasn’t the latter. Stiles sort of lost his train of thought then, staring down at his boobs and feeling vaguely turned on.
“Stiles,” Scott interrupted his staring, his tone strained.
“What?” Stiles asked, jerking his head upwards but not releasing his shirt.
“I can smell you,” Scott tapped his nose pointedly before wrinkling it. “Could you just…not?”
Scott gestured at Stiles boobs and Stiles glanced down again, this time with a frown.
“Right. No fantasizing about my breasts. Got it. Can we go now?”
“Go where?” Scott asked, face faintly tinged with pink as he now refused to look at Stiles.
“Deaton, you idiot,” Stiles started for the door, opening it and jiggling impatiently when Scott simply stood there, staring at him.
“Well?”
“Stop jiggling,” Scott replied, voice strained. “It’s making your…chest wiggle.”
“Really?” Stiles glanced down again, admiring the bounciness of his perky boobs. “Damn, you’re right.”
Scott made a groaning sound in the back of his throat and Stiles glanced up at him.
“What? You’re the one who pointed it out.”
“Please let there be a cure,” Scott muttered as he moved past him, staring upwards with a hint of desperation. “Oh god, let there be a cure.”
“Amen,” Stiles muttered, locking the door behind him.
“Stiles,” Scott pointed to his feet. “Shoes.”
“Fuck ‘em,” Stiles was in no mood for footwear. “We’ve got more important things to worry about.”
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“Dr. Deaton?” Scott called out as soon as they entered the office.
“In the back!” Deaton called out. Stiles went through the gate first, jiggling again. He was wearing a jacket and shoes because Scott was so girly about the weather and Stiles impatience was at its peak.
“Hey Doc,” Stiles entered the back with a nod, scowling at the way his hair swished over his neck. As soon as they got back to his apartment, he was grabbing a pair of scissors and chopping the damn stuff off. He didn’t care how pretty it made him – it was fucking annoying.
“Hello,” Deaton straightened from the cat he was looking at, frowning faintly at Stiles. “Have we met before?”
“Hello?” Stiles waved a hand. “I mean, yeah I’m a girl now, but seriously, I can’t be all that different that you don’t recognize me. Scott recognized me.”
“I smelled you,” Scott pointed out, sliding past him to stand next to Deaton.
“Stiles?” Deaton’s eyebrows arched in surprise as he looked at the former boy. “What happened?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out, Doc,” Stiles jiggled impatiently again and Scott made a whimpering noise in the back of his throat causing Deaton to turn his head to stare.
“This isn’t exactly my area of expertise,” Deaton stated slowly, giving Scott another odd look before turning back to face Stiles. “Gender morphism is incredibly difficult to successfully accomplish.”
“Well, let me tell you Doc, whoever did this must be a freakin’ genius, because I’ve got all the girly bits if you know what I mean.” Stiles cupped his breasts pointedly and Scott groaned in actual agony, dry heaving a bit as he turned away.
“Squishy,” Stiles narrated, squeezing his boobs again and gaining a sick sort of fascination when Scott curled up some more. He halfway hoped his balls had crawled back into his body by now. If Stiles didn’t have a penis right now, Scott shouldn’t either. It had to be part of the bro code or something.
“Fascinating,” Deaton interrupted, his tone and his eyebrows making it clear he wasn’t the least bit swayed into the emotional. Deaton’s emotional states were eerily similar, but Stiles was starting to get the hang of telling when he was amused and angry. He didn’t seem to be leaning in any particular direction at this moment, except maybe faint disapproval.
“I’m assuming your penis is gone, then?” Stiles paled at the words, feeling nauseous.
“Oh God, don’t say that,” he muttered, eyes wide with panic.
“Say what?” Deaton was confused now, a subtle furrowing of his brow.
“Gone,” Stiles squeaked out. “I mean, it sounds so final. Like part of some bad country song where gone is synonymous with never coming back. And I want my penis back. Immediately, if at all possible.”
“I’m afraid it’s not the easy,” Deaton stated, walking around the table to stand in front of Stiles with a frown. “This kind of transformation can only be accomplished by a very powerful witch.”
“Fantastic,” Stiles growled. “So I’m assuming that means it’d take another powerful witch to undo it?”
“Perhaps,” Deaton was frowning in earnest now, studying Stiles in a purely clinical way.
“What do you mean, perhaps?” Scott asked, recovered now from his ‘best-guy-friend-turned-into-a-girl-getting-turned-on’ fit.
“It may be possible for the spell to wear off on its own,” Deaton answered. “Or it could require a trigger.”
“Could it,” Stiles swallowed, eyes rolling in panic. “Could it be permanent?”
“Unlikely,” Deaton turned, heading for his cabinet in the corner and rummaging through it. “Nature requires balance in all things. You violate those principals like this.”
“I’m violating nature,” Stiles repeated dutifully, rolling his eyes when Scott snorted at that.
“Grow up,” he snapped before turning back to Deaton. “What kind of trigger are we talking about?”
“It depends on the witch who cast the spell and what they want,” Deaton pulled a jar of something out of his cupboard, shaking some on his hand before blowing it on Stiles.
“Ulgh,” Stiles closed his eyes, fanning the air in front of him with a cough before squinting at Deaton.
“Definitely a spell,” Deaton confirmed, frowning at him. “And a very powerful one.”
“Fantastic,” Stiles’ shoulders slumped. “So I’m stuck as a girl.”
“Unless you can find the witch who did this and have them undo it,” Deaton confirmed. “Otherwise, you’ll just have to wait for it to wear off.”
“And how long do you think that’ll take?” Stiles asked hopefully. “A couple of days? A week?”
Deaton squinted at him a moment.
“A year,” he stated after a moment. “No longer than two.”
“A year?” Stiles and Scott screeched at the same time.
“I told you,” Deaton turned to put the powder away. “It’s a very powerful spell.”
“So,” he continued after he had locked the cabinet again. “Pissed off any witches lately?”
“Only my girlfriend,” Stiles replied absently. “We had a fight last night.”
“About what?” Scott asked, curious. Stiles and Lorelei fighting was nothing new, but the subjects of their arguments were varied, from politics in the middle east to pokemon to the mating habits of tree frogs.
“Babies,” Stiles reported grimly. “Lorelei said she wanted me to have her children. It came as a bit of surprise to me because, hey, we are still technically broken up and I didn’t really think are relationship is healthy enough for us to survive it, let alone children, but that’s Lorelei.”
“Batshit insane?” Scott offered gamely. Stiles shot him a sour look.
“Unique.”
“Which is code for crazy,” Scott translated, glancing over to Deaton only to find him frowning off into space.
“What is it?” Scott asked. “You’ve thought of something.”
“You said your girlfriend wanted you to have her children?” Stiles nodded and Deaton narrowed his eyes. “In those exact words?”
“Yes?” Stiles thought about it for a moment before paling and stumbling backwards. “Oh God, it’s Lorelei.”
Scott’s eyes bulged with shock.
“Seriously?”
“Fuck,” Stiles swore. “My girlfriend turned me into a girl so I could bear her children. Wait.”
Stiles blinked a few times before looking at Deaton.
“How exactly is this supposed to work, then? I mean, last I checked, Lorelei doesn’t have the required parts for the necessary half of the baby making process and the bitch stole mine. So…how?”
“It could be she’s infertile,” Deaton hypothesized. “And she chose you as her surrogate.”
“And turned me into a girl?” Stiles motioned to himself. “I mean, why can’t I be the baby daddy? Why did she have to make me her baby momma?”
“It’s possible she’s already found the perfect male donor,” Deaton mused.
“So why didn’t she just take him and some other chick? Why am I girl now?”
“Attachment, maybe,” Deaton continued with his theorizing. “It’s possible she didn’t want any actual female involvement. Does she have possessive tendencies?”
“Yes!” Scott hissed out before Stiles could respond. “She wouldn’t let Stiles come play with me anymore.”
“Are you pouting?” Stiles squinted at Scott.
“No,” Scott sulked. Stiles rolled his eyes.
“She’ll probably be looking for you shortly,” Deaton went back to gathering things. “I suggest you get to someplace safe. Here.”
Deaton shoved a bucket of mountain ash into his arms. “This’ll help.”
“How?” Stiles muttered, grimacing under its weight and the unwanted pressure against his boobs. “I’m still a girl.”
“She’s probably still weak from the spell,” Deaton ignored him to continue on. “When she regains her powers she’ll gather the two of you together and probably perform a fertility rite.”
“Fertility?” Stiles sort of wheezed, his eyes growing glassy. “As in babies?”
“Yes,” Deaton answered succinctly. “Go. I’ll contact you when I have more information.”
“Go where?” Stiles muttered.
“I have an idea,” Scott stated, drawing Stiles attention to his solemn face. “But you’re not going to like it.”
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“This is the worst idea ever,” Stiles muttered, staring up at the house in front of them. It looked better now – rebuilt and imposing as fuck. Still creepy, though, even when you didn’t factor in the fact that it was occupied by a pack of werewolves.
“Come on,” Scott ignored him, hopping out of the jeep. “You’ll be safe here.”
“Physically,” Stiles agreed, climbing out of the drivers door. “Mentally? No fucking way.”
“Scott,” Derek greeted, walking out from behind the house. “What are you doing here? And who is this?”
Derek’s nose wrinkled slightly. “And why does she smell like Stiles?”
“She is Stiles,” Scott replied. Derek shot him a dark look before smoothing his expression over into his ‘dealing-with-women’ face.
“Oh put it away, sourwolf,” Stiles grunted, shoving his hands in his jacket pocket. “I need a place to hide from a possessive witch and her man stud.”
Derek blinked at him, genuine surprise unfurling on his face leaving him looking distinctly gobsmacked.
“Stiles?”
“Surprise!” Stiles waved his hands above his head in physical sarcasm. “I’m a girl!”
Derek’s nostrils flared again, confirming what his ears were hearing and his scowl returned as he looked over at Scott.
“How did this happen?”
“Witch,” Scott supplied helpfully.
“Crazy witch,” Stiles elaborated as Derek turned to look at him again. He smiled gamely at the werewolf. “What do you say? Help a girl out?”