all_inclusive | Dude looks like a lady

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Dude looks like a lady

While the thought of Bucky and the continued fruitlessness of his search for the man weighed heavy on him, there was little different in the routine Steve had taken up in being reintroduced to the hotel. Rising at dawn for a quick, but calorie-laden breakfast, the usual morning run out on the grounds for endurance, time in the gym for strength and flexibility, followed by the insistent growl of his stomach that demanded he rush through his shower before heading back to the Bistro for a second breakfast. All simple, already familiar, and done before nine in the morning.

What was neither simple nor familiar was what happened when he stepped out of the shower with no thought other than that he needed to towel off and dress before he could go out and public to sate the near constant hunger in his belly. He dried his hair with a quick scrub of a towel, wrapped the towel around his hips and padded through the door between bathroom and bedroom with every intention of following exactly that plan. He did not, however, intend on stumbling, thrown suddenly off balance by the length of his legs and the width of his hips and the entirely unfamiliar balance of his body.

He crashed unceremoniously to his hands and knees, shaking his head against the disorientation only to find a cloud of blonde hair in his face. Even as he swept it back with a pass of his hand, wondering at the length of that hair as it fell long past his shoulders, he found himself staring at the delicate and most assuredly feminine hands he held out before him.

Steve looked down at his body as he knelt on the floor, only to just as suddenly jerk his head back up as he flushed red with embarrassment, pulling at the towel around his (too round) hips until it covered him more...more, just more. He didn't want to think of what or how it covered him. There he scrambled for his clothes, hurriedly trying to find something of the too large, wrongly fitted things that could fit over the shape of this too body. A shirt that fell to the top of his thighs and swamped him, a pair of boxers rolled at the waist to fit less precariously, a leather jacket he zipped up over the unfamiliar terrain of his chest, and Steve rushed out the door in the hopes of finding someone he knew or someone who could fix...whatever this was.

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It had not escaped Sif that the lady in front of her seemed to be observing herself quite the same way she had felt her own new body only a few days ago. She looked about as bewildered as Sif herself had been and given she had not been the only one this had happened to it was more than a little curious. This could be no coincidence. Especially because at first, she seemed to not think Sif was addressing her.

Once the lady replied Sif paused to consider whether or not to comment on the staggering beauty of her face, immediately deciding this poor person (man or woman) needed none of that nonsense at the moment. She feared her reply had been an understatement, if it was indeed that she was having the same sort of day Sif had had upon receiving a burly, taller, sharper lined body. "I apologize for the question in advance, my friend, but would you happen to be a man? Or have been one, physically, until very recently? Minutes perhaps?" Momentarily Sif couldn't help but imagine what this person looked like as a male. No less pleasant, surely.

How much of his attention was devoted by the twin goals of coordinating his limbs and attempting to ignore the breasts that lay beneath his shirt, and failing both in equal measure, left nothing of his attention to wondering exactly how he had been turned into a woman, our even whether the shape change was one temporary or permanent. Breasts and the ability to think straight had never gone well together. Apparently not even then being his, for the moment, had changed that equation.

He stared at the (other?) man with something like relief as any thought that might have risen in his having to argue the point of his gender was put to rest before it could do much as settle. "Yes!" He looked a second abashed as the word had burst from his lips, taking a breath before he nodded and continued in a more even tone. "That's exactly what happened. How'd you know?"

While Sif doubted this would make the woman - man - in front of her feel any better, from what little she could see of her breasts they were worth limb discoordination and a scattered mind. Of course she made no mention of it out loud, as that would be unhelpful and lecherous of her. She had to be thankful that her good sense remained intact even with a man's body.

The expression of relief on this poor sod's face earned him a smile of commiseration out of Sif, who put a much too large hand on his shoulder, squeezing with what she hoped was moderate force. "Because, my good man, I am a woman." She replied, smile turning humorless. "I stepped out of my room one evening, and lo, I was a man. We are not the only two to whom this has happened, either."

The acknowledgement that he wasn't hallucinating it, as far as he could tell, did nothing to temper Steve's embarrassment over having found himself in a shapelier, smaller body than he had showered in, but that the man standing across from him understood was relief enough to allow him to forget for a moment that he was standing in clothes that were in no way suitable for that body.

No matter how the jacket fell loose across his shoulders and hung over his hands enough to have been more than a little annoying had he been thinking in more than emergency terms.

Overpowering though his relief was, even allowing him to smile for a moment in reply to the man's words, the disorienting need to look up to meet his eyes aside, it faded somewhat as the stranger continued. "One evening?" That sounded nothing like 'just now' or 'I promise, it's temporary and will never happen again' and was as such dragging questions in the wake of those words. Only-

Steve had no more than opened his mouth to ask a question when the puzzle pieces slid together into something like a picture. That cadence of speech, the formality of those words, the dark hair and hazel eyes put into the context of belonging to a woman, rather than the man he...she was then. "...Sif?"

Embarrassment wasn't something Sif traded in, generally, and so she only found herself discomfited by her newly acquired body because of how unsubtle it was in its reactions to certain stimuli. And, apparently, those happened often. She had not been conscious of this before, perhaps because as a woman Sif perceived those stimuli mentally rather than physically - most of the time, anyway. It still wasn't embarrassing, more...unusual. Uncomfortable. As unsubtle as her fighting style.

The man-with-a-female-semblance's question, his expression, only gave Sif an apologetic one. She had tried not to concern herself with how long this would last, if not forever. Sif had told herself that the hotel was a tricky thing, prone to mischief as Loki in his best years, but it was momentary. It ought to be. Oh, she hoped it was. "Roughly a week ago, yes." It was so long. Even Sif was starting to let panic dominate her slightly upon realizing.

It wasn't often that Sif saw someone piecing thoughts together in their minds without knowing that was what was happening. People got a distinct look about them then - furrowed brow, mouth agape, wide eyes - and this not-quite-a-lady had all the signs. The silence gave it away as well. Upon hearing her name from such a mostly unfamiliar face, Sif regarded the lady carefully, eyes narrowed. It stood to reason that the coloring - if not the facial shape entirely - was the same despite translation; however, this did not sound like Thor upon speaking, and he was reacting in a much less violent outrage than Thor would if such a thing happened to him. Furthermore, Sif had not met many men she had not known before in this place, and only one of them was blond and on good terms with her.

"Captain?" She finally called, one eyebrow arched.

Edited 2014-04-28 22:06 (UTC)

Without time enough to take a breath and attempt to figure out what had happened to him, how it had happened, or even what he felt about being remade into the shape of a woman, Steve had to admit that he hadn't yet thought of whether or not the change was permanent. The woman-in-male-shape's answer set nothing of his mind to ease on the latter question.

Imagining even a week of being in the softer shape he stood in then was hard to grasp, the thought that he had nothing that fit a woman' body the first (semi-illogical) fear that came to mind. Then came the consideration that the center-of-balance of his body made female was all wrong, his shoulders far too narrow, muscles sleek lines rather than bulk, pelvis too wide to walk in a familiar pattern, let alone manage the fluidity of movements as he was used to running through them. His head spun with the implications, the questions of whether he could defend himself if he needed to, of whether his enhanced metabolism or healing had been mitigated or full out nullified.

Oh god, and then there was the need to shower. Color crept into his cheeks at the thought and had him wishing distractedly that his family had had a little less Irish blood in its background.

Recognizing the Asgardian woman no matter her form was a touch more relief the situation was in dire need of, and while it meant that nothing of the situation was resolved, he knew he was not alone in it. He nodded emphatically, paused to brush his hair back out of his face, and answered. "Yes!"

Sif had lived countless years, she had lived through ages - not a hyperbole, actual ages - and amidst the numerous things she had had to consider and adapt to, switching genders had never crossed her mind. There were no contingency plans in the back of her mind, and thus none to offer the Captain. She could imagine it was as off-throwing to him as it was to her, in any case. Noticing the sudden heat rising to the Captain's face, Sif's brow furrowed in worry. "Are you well?" She felt his forehead with the back of her hand. "Within reason, I mean."

The way his hair fell over his face as he nodded made Sif's lips curve slightly into a smile. "Remind me to lend you a hair-tie." She told him. Upon his final and verbal admittance to being who she thought he was, Sif's smile grew, and she squeezed his delicate shoulder again with the hand already on it. "Oh, Captain." She sighed in sympathy. "This provides you no comfort but you are as impressive in your lady's body as you are in your man's one." It needed to be said.

Steve had thought he had grown out of the habit of blushing, but it seemed as if he had only managed to stifle in in his own body, not in the new strange chemistry of the one he stood in then. He blinked as Sif laid a hand on his forehead, eyes feeling as if they could not go any wider before he attempted to rein in something of his reaction. "No, no, I mean- sure, yeah. Fine."

He registered with something like relief that there wasn't that same knee-jerk reaction to this Sif's smile as he had gotten from Sif as a woman. Not for, even he had to scramble to think, a fear that he might've...expanded his territory, so to speak, but as he did not think he could deal with the bottom of his stomach dropping out on him just then on top of everything else. The idea that flickered through his thoughts for a second of what his reaction might have been had he run into Sif's other form made him blink, unsure if he was more confused or intrigued by the concept.

And there, had he thought he could not have felt more awkward in that moment, receiving Sif's compliment about him as a woman (and the connection of him as a man) certainly put that foolish notion to rest. "Uh, thanks? I mean, thank you. You're very-" he waved a hand toward Sif and her broad-shouldered and extremely masculine body as she stood over him (and wasn't that strange, having to look up to meet her eyes) before finishing lamely, "-handsome."

Steve sighed, wondering if he wouldn't be better off just crawling back into bed and hiding from the world until the whole...woman-thing wore off. Tempting though the thought was, the loud grumble of his stomach and the belated reasoning that he still would need to find suitable clothes crossed that option off the list. "Do you think you could help me find some clothes?" He pulled at the bottom hem of his shirt, then added "That fit?"

For her part Sif made an effort to only fluster in the heat of battle - or by having the blood of her enemies splattered upon her cheeks. Anything else was unacceptable and juvenile, though her skin's coloring certainly seemed reluctant to abide. She only realized that the heat on the Captain's cheeks was no fever but embarrassment of sorts well after she had removed her hand from his forehead. Stiffening a laugh, Sif nodded, satisfied with his answer.

While the Captain might have no strange sensations upon seeing her, the same could not be said of Sif. Sif liked what she liked, and after centuries upon centuries of knowing herself, she had come to understand that she liked very specific things about a broad array of people. What she did not like about herself at the moment was how, like a pre-pubescent boy, a change of wind might give her body signals that she definitely liked something. Trying to ignore those for the time being, Sif smiled proudly down at the Captain. "I am aren't I? A good translation if I do say so myself. Much like yours!"

The poor Captain was clearly in no mood for courteous complimentary exchanges, and how Sif understood him. "Of course, yes. I have my shift and leather under-armor, if you like, and some items Natasha has loaned me. The ones you have met me in as well as a long sleeved shirt and a hooded jacket. They are small on me, but I was going to ask where I could purchase more when this-" she pointed at herself "-happened. All my clothes are clean, however, I made sure of it not two days ago."

She looked at him again, pulling away for a wider view. "Though really if Ruby is any indication, all you need is a pair of trousers and you will be all right, just do this-" She reached for him and tied his shirt into a knot at the beginning of his hips, making him as a whole a lot more shapely as the excess fabric was sucked into the knot. "-yes, it is the Midgardian fashion these days, it appears. Not the men's undergarments, however."

At the invitation to look, Steve did look closer at the shape of the face Sif then wore. When he thought to strip away the more masculine features (the dark shadow of a beard not shaved in a few days being one he thought particularly defining as such), attempting to redraw the sharp lines and hard features into softer definitions, he thought he could very well see how the translation had worked between the feminine and the masculine.

The translation was far from exact, of course, and while Steve could not then see his face, he suspected the same had to be true for him. The nose was sharp and thinner, rather than the rounder shape he remembered belonging to Sif's. The chin was broader and cleft, but the jaw was similar, as were the high sweep of her cheekbones.

It was a strange thing to see the woman he had met not long before within that far more masculine face, beneath those heavy brows and mouth that looked as if it were meant to be downturned at all times, but then smiled toothily at him.

"I would appreciate that," he nodded gratefully, at the offer of clothes that would better fit the body he wore then. Although even that thought had him pulling up as his chin dropped and he looked down at the body he stood in then with nothing like discretion. Despite the fact that there were feminine curves there he would have very much liked when they belonged to anyone other than himself, Steve's cursory inspection was no more lecherous than he supposed (likely wrongly) that Sif would have done with her own new body. When he lifted his gaze to the woman across from him again, it was with the awareness that he needed to find the most politic way to say that he doubted her clothes would fit him well, and why.

He froze as Sif instead reached for his shirt and tied it at his hips, not knowing quite sure what he was supposed to do with himself, let alone his hands, through the task. "I, uh-" with a look down at Sif's work, he couldn't deny that the shirt fit a little better, though to see so much bare thigh and it not be remotely familiar was disorienting. "I might have to borrow something...loose. Until I can find something better fitting. You're-" and the question of the hour, could Steve Rogers find a way to tell Lady Sif of Asgard that he had a more curvaceous body than her without offending her and learning whether it felt the same to be popped in the mouth when their genders were switched?

"-slimmer."

While the Captain observed his own newly acquired body Sif did the same to his face, amused. It had to be a hard thing to stomach - Sif had only been able to because of copious amounts of drink and her new friend Ruby coming to the rescue when the diminutive bathrobe was about to fail her. Taking a step back after she tied that knot on his oversized shirt Sif bit her bottom lip as her eyes roamed the top half of the Captain's new body. "You need breast support." A bra, Ruby had called it. Sif called it breast harnesses or corsets, depending, but it was all a matter of jargon. "It will do you no good to walk around with things bouncing about the place. And believe you me, you shall have that problem such as I never have."

As it seemed Steve had found himself a tiny bit tongue-tied, which was only natural after all, Sif tilted her head while waiting for his sentence to make sense. And make sense it did. She raised an eyebrow at first, then chuckled, looking down at her feet. "I am, aren't I? You have the most impressive hip-to-waist ratio. As impressive as your shoulder-to-waist one, in fact." she mused trying not to leer again and focus on the task at hand. My, but her male sensibilities proved distracting more often than not. "But the training trousers Natasha let me borrow stretch, even if they might be a slight bit short on you as well. And you can use that shirt. We would only need to find you breast support. Though I saw something about yoga pants at the shop, would that work for you?" Sif had no clue what yoga pants were, but she knew Americans called trousers and breeches pants so those might be what Steve was looking for.

Alcohol had, as it were, abandoned him too fully for it to so much as occur to Steve that it might have been an option then. He did not consider muscle to fat ratios, that the metabolism he had grown so used to might have been altered by biochemistry or that the sheer size difference between the shape of himself he had grown used to and the one he stood in then might have changed the equation enough to have allowed him to feel more than the very edge of alcohol's effects. Perhaps if it had, he might have headed straight for the bar he had avoided for the whole of his stay (both stays, rather) in the hotel and ordered a bottle and a glass and reacquainted himself with what one could forget with enough whiskey.

Anything but comfortable with both the recognition that the changed shape of his body came with soft shape of breasts beneath his shirt, and the fact that as he crossed his arms across his chest, they were put into greater prominence, Steve wanted for (more than) a moment to turn on his heel and hide again in his room. Without a clear figure to blame for the transformation or any understanding of how or why it had come about, he felt as if he floundered where he might otherwise have dug in his heels and leapt into the proverbial (or literal) fray.

Although he did not know her well, and did not know her current face at all, Sif's easy assurance did allow him room enough to breathe. While seeking out Natasha would have been his first option otherwise, he instead nodded and took her help gladly. "It would. Thank you, Sif," he told her, reaching out to lay a hand on that unfamiliar arm. "Really, I appreciate it."

As Sif's conversation with a female-looking Captain Steve Rogers went on, she was left more divided between amusement and compassion over his visible struggles with his new, more feminine attributes. It was humorous yet endearing, and Sif had to remember that it had to be a nightmare. It wasn't one for her now, but then, she had drank copious amounts of alcohol that first night strictly in order to get - and stay - drunk. There was a reason for that.

Nodding once more, Sif smiled widely at the Captain, even more when he laid a small hand on her much larger arm. "Warriors help each other. So do friends. Now come, we make for my room for Natasha's clothing, then for the shop. I do not believe they have undergarments, but they might have bathing attire that can make for such things."

Steve could be nothing less than grateful that in the unreality of the situation, he had run into someone he knew at least as well as Sif. That he hadn't been left to flounder on his own without someone there who understood what had happened to him and was more then willing to help him where he would not have known even where to have started. Had it been a battle, an ambush, a siege, he would have understood, but to have lost the shape of himself and left quite literally stumbling out his door with no idea of what had happened to him, he might have ended up planting himself on the floor and been no use to anyone. Let alone himself.

He nodded at Sif's words. "Lead the way."

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Dude looks like a lady

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