Challenge: Genderfuck challenge
Warnings: Slash (go with it), masturbation and Turnbull
Beta: fleta and shrewreader
Thanks to: torakowalski and buzzylittleb for enabling me. And to shrewreader for much hand holding, and generally letting me babble.
Word count: 4,765 (so so over the limit)
Such a nice young man. It was rare in her line of work to meet someone as polite and genuinely worthy as the Mountie was. He’d gone above and beyond the call retrieving her beloved Sasha from those awful smugglers and even let Sasha wrap around his arms and shoulders.
She smiled pushing a dark lock of hair behind her ear, the other hand stroking Sasha’s silky scales. Something would have to be done to thank him. The two closest to him seemed to be the fair haired man and the dark haired woman.
Ah, yes the young woman who couldn’t keep her hands to herself. “And was so cruel to my baby, wasn’t she Sasha?”
For reasons that will be explored at this time, a young man wearing a dress was standing in one of the consulate sitting rooms. Crying.
“If I knew how this happened don’t you think I’d be doing something about it?” Francesca crossed her arms over her now very flat chest. She was going to skin Turnbull if he didn’t stop staring at her like that. Wasn’t it bad enough she was now a boy in a dress, did she really have to deal with Mr.-ask- her-out-to-a-lunch-date then never call again?
Frannie wanted Fraser, she’d even be happy to see her new bro Ray, most of all she wanted her… “Oh god want am I going to say to ma?” Now she was crying and that was too much on top of everything else.
Turnbull still had that odd look on his face as he put an arm around her shoulders and steered her towards the bathroom. “I--perhaps you would feel better if you freshened up a bit, I will endeavor to locate Constable Fraser and your brother.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, and blushed. “And perhaps locate some more--ah--appropriate clothing, not that what you are currently wearing has anything amiss with it but I have found--.”
Frannie stepped into the bathroom and shut the door in his face. Locking the door behind her, she turned and leaned her back against it. There was a mirror right across from her, and more tears spilled down her face. She looked---she looked--awkward. Still short, with dark short cut hair but the softness of her face had seemingly melted away. There were angles where there once were curves and her chest was very very flat.
Fraser would never like her now.
“This is so un-fair,” She whimpered at her reflection. Even her voice had changed to a deeper pitch. A soft rap-rap came at the door and she jerked it open ready to drill Turnbull a new one.
Only he wasn’t there and she looked around just to make sure. Fraser could appear out of no where and who's to say it wasn’t a thing all Mounties could do.
Turnbull though was no where to be seen but sitting in a neat pile by the door was some clothing. On the top sat a bar of chocolate
Frannie rubbed her hand across her eyes and picked up the chocolate first.
“You know Frannie when you get your bod back, I’m denying this ever happened.” Ray told her, frowning over her shoulder in the bathroom mirror of the Vecchio home. “The other me would kill me.”
Frannie scowled at him, as she took up the razor. It couldn't be that hard after all. “Like I plan to tell Ray I had to learn to shave my face.”
Ray watched her with folded arm. “You’re doing pretty good, when I started shaving I cut myself half a dozen times.”
“I’ve been shaving my legs since I was twelve, this is a piece of pie.” Frannie smirked.
“Cake, Frannie. It’s a piece of cake.” She could hear Ray thump his head against the door.
“But I like pie.”
Turnbull was a nice guy.
He really was Frannie decided one afternoon as they walked through the men’s department at Macy’s. Fraser certainly wouldn’t offer to take her shopping on his afternoon off, at least not for her.
“You should try on this shirt, Ms. Vecchio,” Turnbull held up a nicely cut hunter green shirt.
Frannie frowned slightly. “I don’t know, green has never looked good on me." Her ex-husband had told her once green made her look like fat. "Oh, and call all me Frannie or Fran.” Not only did being called Ms. Vecchio make her feel old but it just didn’t fit with her body.
Turnbull shifted nervously, and Frannie wondered if he felt out of place without his uniform. This was the first time she’d seen him out of it, and well he wasn’t exactly horrid to look at. His jeans did fit rather nicely around his ass and--she blushed. Great wasn’t this embarrassing, her borrowed jeans were getting a bit tight in the front, god she hoped no one noticed and how did guys deal with this?
Frannie glanced at Turnbull but he wasn’t looking at anything but her face. “I believe this color green would suit you very well, Fran. It brings out your eyes.” His arms brushed against her’s, and she swore she saw him shiver slightly. “And please call me Ren.”
“Ren? Is that short for something?” Frannie asked, shifting and you know-accidentally moving closer. Not that she was flirting; after all, he hadn’t been interested when she was a girl so it was perfectly safe.
“Renfield,” Ren seemed almost apologetic. “It is a family name.”
Frannie looked at the green shirt he was holding again, and reached out to take it from him. Her fingers brushed his, long fingers against long fingers. “I think I’ll try on the green shirt, Ren.”
Ren smiled widely and Frannie decided he looked rather handsome.
Or maybe it was just the light.
He was kissing her.
Ren had taken her to dinner. Not any place fancy but a place he liked, a place he was a regular at. No guy had ever taken her to his regular place before.
If she hadn’t have spent a lot of time with him lately, the whole gentleman bit would have worn thin on her. After all she was a guy too now, but it was just how Ren was. He held doors open, looked her in the eyes when he talked to her, and didn’t once talk down at her. They'd talked about their jobs, the curling game that was on that night, and then they somehow started talking about their fathers.
Frannie still couldn’t believe Ren’s father hadn’t wanted him to be a Mountie. He was supposed to have been a scholar like his father but he hadn’t wanted to. She in turn had talked about her father, and maybe it been the wine, but she said more than she’d meant to. Like how her father got drunk once and hit her because she’d come to collect him from the bar. That was a Ray's job, a boy’s job he’d told her. She wasn’t a boy, just a burden, another stupid female.
Ren’s eyes had darkened and his jaw clenched, but the hand that slid over hers was gentle. He’d changed the subject, asking about the classes she was taking at the community college.
Now they were in his apartment, right by the door. They’d had coffee and watched curling, which she found she kind of liked. When the game was over he’d walked with her to the door and was planning on walking her to a cab. Not because she was a girl and couldn’t take care of herself, because she wasn’t.
It was so sweet and so just like Ren that she’d kissed him on the cheek. His eyes had gotten wide and he’d touched the spot she’d kiss, swallowed hard.
Then in a very soft voice, he asked to kiss her goodnight.
That was hours -- or maybe just minutes -- ago, and he was still kissing her like he didn't care she was a guy. She was a guy with all the correct parts and those parts really liked this.
There was a large hand cupping the back of her head, another on the sharp thrust of her hip. Ren didn’t seem to mind that she wasn’t soft and curvy, not with the way his tongue stroked hungrily against her own. Her own hands were bunched in his shirt front, and on a whim, she yanked him forward.
Frannie had the strength now that it actually worked and she pulled him closer. Their hips met and she could feel him through his jeans.
Hard. For her.
With something like a whimper, she rubbed against him and shuddered. She could really get to like this.
Ren’s hands came to rest on her shoulders and gently pushed her away. His breath was fast and he swallowed several times before he seemed to gain control of himself. “I am so sorry--I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have.” He closed his eyes stepping away from Frannie.
The hot molten feeling in her stomach turned to one of Fraser’s ice flows. “Is it because I’m a guy now?”
“No! No--I mean yes but not in such the way that---” Ren’s eyes had flown open, just in time to see the door close as Frannie fled.
He was the most horrible cad ever, Ren decided as he regarded the bottle of whiskey. If he had not his duty to attend to the next day, the bottle would most certainly be empty.
Ren had always liked Francesca Vecchio. She was a bright, funny, remarkable woman; and that had been the whole problem. She’d been of the female sex, and he just did not have any form of feelings towards the opposite sex outside respect and a brotherly affection. After their lunch together last year he’d regret on a number of occasions that she wasn’t male.
She didn’t know that, of course, and he took horrible advantage of her confusion of her new gender. It been like a dream come true: Francesca's wonderful personality in the quite attractive form of Fran, and he’d used every chance he could to be close to her-him.
Ren didn’t know how he’d be able to put on his uniform on the next day after having practical[y forced Fran into that kiss. He moaned slightly at the thought of that kiss, that slim hard body pressing against his as if there was nothing in the world out of place about it.
Perhaps another glass of whiskey, just for fortification, was needed.
“Francesca, come down you have visitor,” Frannie heard her mother call again. Apparently her, ‘Ma I’m going to bed for a week, I don’t wanna see anyone,’ talk hadn’t gotten through.
More likely it had, and Ma was just being difficult. Ma had always been soft on the Canadians.
Frannie pulled herself out of bed and caught sight of her-his reflection in the mirror. At least the ‘just-outta-bed-look’, looked better on a male body. She made a rude face at the mirror.
“--been so nice having another man around the house,” Frannie heard her mother say as she headed down the staircase. She almost groaned, did everyone have to be taking this better than her?
Catching sight of a red uniform, her heart jumped for a moment. Maybe Fraser had come to see her and--she reached the bottom of the steps and saw Turnbull.
Frannie’s face fell and Ren picked just that moment to look up. She could see him flinch at her reaction to seeing him.
Her mother was saying something about leaving the two of them alone to talk, and all she could think was that ma had never left her alone with a man in this house before. So she stood there staring at him.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve.” Frannie sounded whiny even to herself.
Ren stood, griping his hat tightly as he cleared his throat. “Fran--”
Fran’s hands went to her hips. “Yeah, what? You got something to say? Then spill it out. Otherwise get out; I’m tried of you Mounties ratcheting me.”
He looked confused for a moment, and then opened his mouth again. Nothing came out. A flush spread from Ren’s collar upwards. “I did not mean to take advantage of you. I--my behavior the other evening was unforgivable.”
“Take advantage of me?” Fran echoed back almost stupidly.
Ren nodded looking at his feet. “You couldn’t have know that I--” he was flushing almost the color of his uniform now. “I prefer men.”
“You’re gay?” Fran tried pretending that hadn’t come out as a squeak. If he was gay then that meant--oh, oh. She wrapped her fists in her shirt.
Ren nodded, his shoulders were slumped, and the man radiated misery. “I need to--I should be. Ah, Good day,” he stammered and made for the door.
Fran let him.
Fran hadn’t seen Ren in four days. Not that she was keeping track, or that, you know, she missed him.
Because she didn’t, miss him that was. Not the way the skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled, or that his eyes reminded her of the sapphire earrings that she’d pawned to help make a mortgage payment.
No, she wasn’t thinking of any of that. Fran was just lying in bed with a hand on her-his stomach.
She definitely wasn’t thinking about Ren as she explored her body.
Who knew how long she’d be stuck as a guy after all? Might as well get to know what she liked as a guy. Fran’s fingers traced down her stomach towards her erection and she didn’t think of Ren.
Fran didn’t think of his large hands touching her, or what it be like to be hot and hard in Ren’s hand. She bit her lip as ran a finger up her length.
Wow, no wonder men wanted to play with it all the time.
Letting her legs fall open more, she stroked herself with a bit more confidence spreading the fluid that appeared.
Fran’s back would be to his chest, and Ren would be sitting against the headboard. Their fingers would be threaded as he taught her to pleasure herself in this new body. He’d be patient and gentle, whispering encouragements in her ear. Maybe even nibbling on it from time to time.
“Please, Ren. Please,” she whispered closing her eyes tightly.
Ren would stroke her chest, just as she was doing now, showing her how sensitive her nipples still were. Then at some point, he’d take her hand and bring it to her mouth, telling her to taste herself.
Fran licked her palm and came hard, smothering the broken cry of Ren’s name in her hand.
“What?” Renfield Turnbull was quite certain that all the marbles in his bag had just rolled away.
“Dinner. You know, eating?” Fran sounded like he was holding back laughter.
Ren closed his eyes, and forced himself to loosen his grip on the phone. There was no need to cause this phone to need replacement, too. “I am familiar with the term. I do admit a certain level of confusion as to why you are asking me.” He didn’t think he could handle a pity date from Fran. It was near intolerable enough at work that he was forced to deal with--well the less said about it the better, but the last thing he wanted Fran to see him as was pathetic.
“Because I like eating dinner with you.” Fran sounded exasperated, and he could see her in his mind’s eye taping her fingers against her desk. “There’s this place I know that makes the best calzones outside my ma's.”
Oh dear, it was tempting but he couldn’t. Ren’s shoulders slumped and he leaned against the wall in his tiny kitchen. “I--I can’t. I shouldn’t after what I did to you.”
There was a soft sound on the other end of the phone. “Ren, you can’t take advantage of the willing.”
“Oh.” Ren said feeling himself flush. Maybe Constable Fraser was right about his powers of observation; it obviously was a miracle he’d graduated from the Depot.
“So, you’ll have dinner with me tonight?” Fran sounded eager.
Ren couldn’t bring himself to refuse him.
There had to be something wrong with men of Chicago that Ren could kiss like that and still be single, Fran though idly. Ren was stroking her short hair softly as his tongue stroked against her own.
This was good. This was bodice-ripping, trashy romance novel good. Fran didn’t think she’d ever be ever to read a romance novel again without imaging Ren in the lead. Or turning the female lead male.
Oh, that was a thought she didn’t want to look at to closely. Sighing a little into Ren’s mouth, she leaned closer and loping her fingers in the belt loops of his jeans.
They were standing by the couch, having gotten distracted on the trip to said couch. Fran blamed it on Ren’s bare chest. His mouth and long fingers held part of the blame.
Ren made a little sound as she pulled their hips together, and broke the kiss. “Fran,” he sounded a bit winded.
Fran grinned and rocked their hips together again pressing her own hardness towards the answering heat in his jeans. “Ren, do you have a bed?” Fran asked nibbling at what of his neck she could reach. This would all be so much easier if she was a bit taller.
Ren’s long fingers were stroked the bare skin on her stomach. “Do I have a bed?” Ren repeated back, sounding a bit dazed.
Untangling one of her hands from Ren’s belt loop Fran ran her fingers down his chest, fascinated at the sight of her own fingers on his skin. Touching him felt different then touch a man ever had before. “Yeah, a bed.”
A large strong hand closed over her denim clad ass and Ren dipped his head to lick her throat right below the ear. “Are you--please be certain Fran.”
“Ren, I know what I want.” Fran growled as her fingers found the zipper of his jeans.
Ren hissed in a breath. “I could hurt you.”
Fran shook her head, licking her lips without thinking as she pulled the zipper down.
His hand closed over hers stilling her fingers, Ren’s other hand cupped her chin making her look at him. “Please don’t tease me, Fran.” His blue eyes were clouded with old pain.
“I’m not. I want you. I want this.” Fran wanted to close her eyes against the mix of heat and fear in his eyes, but kept them open. Kept his gaze. “You could hurt me, but you won’t. I trust you.”
“Perhaps you would be wise not to,” Ren told her softly, his voice breaking. Fran thought for a moment he’d push her away as if he had before, but he didn’t.
Instead, Ren lower his mouth to hers again, and slowly walked them the short distance to his bed. There was something to be said about small apartments.
It was just before dawn and Ren knew he should try to sleep. Neither Inspector Thatcher nor Constable Fraser would be at all sympathetic should he fall asleep at his post the next day.
Fran’s head rested on his chest, and he petted the dark hair gently. He’d never imagined that Fran would be so responsive.
It would never last, of that Ren was quite positive. After all Detective Vecchio and Constable Fraser were tracking down the so-called Voodoo priestess.
Fran would soon be Francesca again and he’d be---
Well he’d be the backside of jokes as always.
“I thought you’d at least pretend to be happy for me,” Frannie snapped crossing her arms over his chest, glaring at Ren. They were standing in Ren’s small kitchen. Ren had his back to her as he stood before the sink scrubbing a pan from dinner.
He’d started scrubbing it ten minutes ago.
Ren shoulders tensed, she could almost see the tension vibrating up his spine. “You would wish me to lie to you?” Ren’s face was closed off and his voice even.
“I get my body back, my life back! If you cared like you keep saying you do, you’d be happy,” Frannie told him irritated that he was making this into such a big deal. She cocked her had to the side and narrowed her eyes, maybe she should pop him one. Ray, the new one, seemed fond of that solution but then so had her father.
The metal pan clattered against the sink, and Frannie winced. “You wish me to be joyful over the prospect of losing you?” His voice was tight.
Frannie swallowed and looked at the worn brown linoleum on the floor. “Who said you’d be losing me?”
Ren turned his head slightly, those blue eyes colder than she’d ever seen them. “You are determined to be obstinate about this?”
Frannie pressed her lips into a thin hard line.
“To be perfectly crass Francesca, you would be female.” Ren turned his attention back to the pot, and Frannie was surprised his fingers weren’t bleeding from scrubbing so hard.
Her mouth went dry. “That matters to you? I thought you cared about me,” Frannie’s voice was strained. Her left hand was clenched in a fist and hitting him would feel very good. She could even do some damage in her current body. “I thought you cared about who I was. Damn it, if you really cared about me you wouldn’t care what sex I was!”
Ren’s hands came out of the sink so fast, and Frannie took a step back. The large hands, red and raw from scrubbing, griped the edge of the counter. “You should leave.”
“So it was just sex? Men are men no matter what way them pitch, I was just a cute fuck huh?” Frannie knew she was being cruel, but she didn’t care.
“You didn’t say no,” Ren whispered with his head bowed. “Please leave.”
He didn’t look up but his body tensed.
Frannie ran her fingers through her short hair then reached out to touch him. At the last moment, she drew her hand back. She left the kitchen then the tiny apartment quietly.
Ren didn’t move until he heard the door close. Slowly he unclenched his aching hands from the counter’s edge. “I love you,” he whispered to the empty apartment.
“Well, young lady, you do look much different from when we last met,” The red haired Voodoo Lady smiled across the table at Frannie. “Please, drink your tea. I promise Sasha won’t bite. Despite unkind you were to her.”
Frannie looked uncomfortable and had been looking around the small cheerful kitchen again before looking back a bit--upset looking. “You turned me into a guy because I hurt your snake’s feelings?”
The Voodoo Lady laughed. “Oh that was only part of it,” she waved her hand in the air like it didn’t matter. “But you aren’t here about ‘why’, are you dear girl…or should I say boy?” She gave Frannie a speculative look.
“What does that mean?” Frannie crossed her arms and scowled in a good imitation of her brother. “And you never told me your name anyways.”
A sculpted eyebrow was raised slightly. “They call me the Voodoo Lady, and I have a unbreakable five game deal but that isn’t important right now. The question you need to ponder is whether you’d like to stay as you are now?”
Frannie sat back. “You mean if I say I want to be a girl again, you’ll do it?”
“Oh course! I’m manipulative, not cruel.” Sasha lifted her head looking at Frannie with golden eyes.
The Voodoo lady simply waited.
“It’s not that simple, though. There’s this guy--and I like him, but he likes me as a he, you see? But I can’t be a he, I’m a her, I mean, I want to get married and have babies because it’s what Vecchio girls do and….” Frannie went quiet.
“But you’re happier now.”
Frannie nodded miserably.
“If the young man really loves you, gender won’t matter. Do what makes you happiest child, and we both know you were not happy pawing Constable Fraser.”
Frannie--Fran folded up another dress and put it into the box of clothing to donate. She wasn’t really going to need dresses and high-heels since she was staying a guy. Thinking of her self in the male was going to take a bit more getting used to, she--he figured, but it was worth it.
Picking up a pair of jeans that would never fit now, Fran grinned and remembered Ren seeing her that first day and the look in his face, maybe keeping a few dresses would be a good idea. Just for those special occasions.
She picked up one of the full boxes and carried it down stairs. “Ma if you want me to take anything over to Salvation Army, let me know,” She called out. It was kind of nice that her mother let her help more now, though she probably should feel vaguely insulted.
Fran shifted the box so she could see over the top, wondering why she couldn’t have gained height along with all the fun boy parts, and came to a stop at the last step.
Renfield Turnbull stood in the living room in full uniform, hat in one hand and flowers--lilies her favorite kind-- in the other. He was staring intently at his own boots. Fran loved how he looked in uniform; in fact she was quite fond of him out of uniform too.
Fran’s mouth opened to ask why he was there and hadn’t he been the one to hat-out over his ‘Fran’ becoming a Francesca again? The only thing that came out was a half squeaked, “Ren?”
Ren shifted nervously, shuffling from one foot to the other. “I’ve come to apologize for my atrocious behavior to you last night Fran--cesca. It is, as you said your body and I had no right to even attempted to tell you what to --err--do with it.” He griped his hat tighter bending the rim slightly, and Fran realized that he had to be upset to do such a thing. “You have every right to tell me to leave your sight and never speak with you again, but I wanted--I had to tell you that I love you and if you’ll have me I shall endeavor to find someway to deal with--“
“Ren,” Fran interrupted him, sitting the box down. He crossed the room and took the hat from Ren’s hands sitting it on the coffee table. “I love you too.” Fran took the flowers next and held them to his nose. Lilies had always been Fran’s favorite part of Easter, since it was the only time they had them around the house.
Turnbull looked at and swallowed noticeable; once, twice. “You’re still a man.”
Fran nodded smiling widely at him. “Take some deep breaths and think of the color yellow.”
A small smile tugged at Ren’s mouth, as he shifted again. The movement brushed their legs together, their knees knocked slightly. His brain might not have caught up on current events but Ren’s body certainly was and seemed quite happy about it. “I--I--,” Fran watched him close his eyes for moment. “You did not need to make such a sacrifice for my sake, I would have--“
“Ren,” Fran said softly, wrapping a thin muscular arm around Ren’s waist. “Shut up and kiss me.”
Ren looked like he’d just gotten some fancy Mountie badge, and nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, sir. Gladly sir.”
And he did.
“So want to get some dinner?” Ray asked hands shoved deep in his pockets as Fraser and he walked from the station.
Fraser rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb. “We did skip lunch today in our purest of the Voodoo Lady.”
Ray nodded. “Can’t believe she’s actually got that name on her driver’s license. Who calls themself the Voodoo Lady, expect for in weird computer games. Chinese sound good?”
“It sounds excellent, Ray. Shall we dine at your apartment?” Fraser hand touched the small of Ray’s back as the stopped at the GTO.
“Tease.” Ray snorted. “Not like there’s a lock on your office.”
Fraser blushed. “Ah.”
“Knew you’d see it my way.”