[identity profile] annabeth.livejournal.com in [community profile] osgood_asitgets

It hurts, the first time. She knew it would, but still, when Nick grinds up against her, his dick rubbing over her lips and her most sensitive parts, she gasps and arches back against him, loving the hand kneading her breast, the moist, hot breath at her ear.

And then he wraps an arm around her slender waist and lifts her just enough, using his other hand to guide his cock up into her channel. And oh, but it aches at first, a burning sort of stretch she's not used to, and why would she be?

Chris has been through so many things in her career as a goalie, but this? Turned into a girl, fucked by her captain for the first time in her new state... it does hurt, but Nick goes slow, careful, tender. So deliberate and exact, just like in everything else he does, and soon the ache fades, the stretch becomes less uncomfortable and more pleasant, and pleasure begins to ripple in parts of her body where it never did when she had a dick of her own.

"Do you like that?" Nick murmurs against the shell of her ear. "Feeling me deep inside you, like this?"

Chris tries to nod, but Nick moves just so and she winds up with her head thrown back against his sweaty shoulder instead, her lower lip bitten between her teeth and her lower body literally dripping in ways it certainly never did before.

Maybe it's Nick, she thinks briefly, his pre-come slipping out of her; just as quickly she remembers that things are different now, she's got a whole new set of toys to play with, and these ones come self-lubricating.

Nick has one hand still tight around her, shoving her new breasts upward, and he slowly begins to tease one nipple, pinching it gently between his fingers, making all sorts of new sensations flow through her body. Her nipples had been sensitive before, but not like this.

Nick seems to know this, too, because he plays with one, then the other, teasing her, tormenting her, until his cock makes wet sounds each time it draws from her body—wet sounds because she's so wet, soaking her thighs, his cock, she has a moment to question whether doing it on the stool in front of Nick's locker is a good idea before he thrusts up, jolting her body and driving all thoughts out of her head.

"Nick, ahh," she pants, head practically glued to his shoulder. She moves with him as best she can, as he shoves into her hard enough to make her breasts bounce with the upward motion of her body.

"Ozzie," he answers, voice a low rumble, the vibrations of which she can feel thread through every nerve as he presses his damp chest to her equally perspiration-clad back.

She writhes on his cock, loving the feel of his hard chest against her spine, which more curvy and soft than it used to be. It's a novel feeling.

He pushes up inside her, breathing heavily into her ear, and she gasps and pants, sweat trickling down her temples into her now much-longer hair.

Nick runs one hand down over her belly, which is faintly rounded now, the skin unbelievably soft, and he pauses at the juncture of her thighs for just a moment, before he presses his thumb against some part of her that makes lightning flow through her.

"It's like... when you go... inside," she stutters, and Nick seems to know just what she means, even though he doesn't reply, just starts rubbing in a circular motion until once again her mind blanks out into white-space.

It doesn't help that he's still got his other hand on her breast, still squeezing her nipple gently, as he fucks his cock up into her and makes her body thrum with sensation with his thumb.

"Ah, God," she manages, body still spinning higher and higher; she might burst apart from the pleasure. "Just like when you used to fuck me in the—Ah!—ass," she gasps. Nick pinches her nipple almost hard enough to hurt; it gets her attention in a hurry, even though his thumb hasn't ceased its merciless movement.

"You always talk too much," he tells her, and Chris tries to nod, forgetting that her head is plastered to Nick's shoulder and she takes a shuddery breath, turning her face into his strong, muscled neck, the sweat on the skin there finding its way onto her parted lips.

She reaches behind him, palm over the back of his neck, and just hangs on as he gently twists the flesh between her legs, pausing in his circles to rub his fingers down over her drenched lips where they part to allow his cock access.

His dick is huge and persistent inside her, thick and heavy and pulsing against her insides. Chris moans and Nick hits the spot again with his thumb—which is soaked with her own juices—and she doesn't mean to, but she clenches her fingers against the skin of Nick's neck, undoubtedly leaving half-moon shaped marks in his flesh.

Nick doesn't seem to mind, though, he just keeps up his pace—and boy, if she thought it could be frustrating as a guy, her girl-parts really hate the delay of each thrust. Nick is fucking her slow, and he must know a little something about sex with a girl—he's married, after all, and he certainly knows a lot about sex with a guy—and it's doing wicked things to her body.

The slower he goes, the more anxiety unravels within her; her flesh quivers and her new hole drip, drip, drips; Nick slams home into her, but even being filled so thoroughly isn't everything that she needs.

She has to do something about it; she can tell there's more than this pleasure over the horizon, and she wants it. She wants to know what it feels like to come—to come as a girl, anyway. Jenna always says it's different, and finally Chris has the opportunity to find out what it's like, however weird the situation is.

But Nick is being absolutely infuriating, pounding his cock into her with regularity and force but not fast enough, not hard enough, just not... enough.

"God, ah, you bastard," she says, scoring the back of his neck on purpose this time. "Fuck me harder."

"All in good time, sweetheart," Nick replies, his voice still even and steady without the slightest quaver to suggest he's buried balls-deep within her this very moment. She pokes him for calling her that—"Just because I'm a woman now doesn't mean you can bandy those words around!"—and shifts on his lap, as if that might help.

It's not that Nick's not breathing harshly, raspy, or that he's not feeling it, but he could answer his phone right now and talk on it and probably the person on the other end would never know he was fucking someone at the same time.

That makes Chris wonder if she's ever spoken to Nick on the phone while he was fucking his wife. Or another teammate? The thought sours her somewhat, but Nick reads her mind per usual and speeds up just enough to bring her attention back to him, and back to the feel of his dick stuffing her as full as can be.

It's strangely different, this way. Her body has a stretch to it that she's not used to. Nick can push as much inside her as he wants and he doesn't have to be as gentle or as careful as he would've been if she were still a guy.

Chris doesn't know how this happened, but she kind of likes it. Sure, she wants her dick back eventually, but for now, she's really enjoying the freedom of this form.

Except for the fact that Nick is taking shameless advantage.

"Oh my God, would you hurry up? C'mon, Nick. Please."

Maybe Nick likes begging, because he finally changes pace; the rhythm alters too and suddenly there's a brand-new vibration flowing through her body.

Nick's thumb circles, his cock fills her up, and the fingers on his other hand are splayed over her super-sensitive breast; sweat is forming at the bends of her knees, the back of her neck, her forehead; higher, wilder, something is coming for her, like a train full-speed and she only hopes the ensuing trainwreck will be one of unbelievable pleasure.

And then, holy hell, it is. The tremors of her orgasm start in her clit—the muscles contract once, then release and pleasure floods her, the muscles release and contract over and over and it overwhelms her entire body. Vaguely, she's aware of Nick fucking her hard and fast, lifting her and jamming her down onto his cock more urgently, but she's pretty much too far gone to really pay attention.

It is amazingly different, this climax: it flows through her whole body, heating her blood, every limb trembling, her body shaking, her mind emptying out like bathwater down a drain. Eventually her muscles begin to twitch more slowly, and Nick stops rubbing at her, and she can barely breathe as she tries to come back down to earth.

Her heart is pounding so hard it feels like it will burst out of her chest, and as her orgasm recedes, she realises that Nick is no longer lifting her up; she's against his thighs, his cock spasming inside her, and his come is so hot and slick against her walls.

So he came too. It's surprisingly anti-climactic—she snickers at her own cleverness—and she wriggles around on his lap, still impaled on his stiff flesh.

Then he lifts her up and plants her on the floor, which is kind of a bad idea, because her knees immediately go loose and she almost tumbles to the ground. He catches her and steadies her, and she glances down, only to catch sight of Nick's lap.

His softening cock is glistening with their mingled fluids, and his thighs are obviously wet, the hair there and at the base of his cock kind of spiky with moisture, and even as she realises this, she realises that she is actually dripping quite a lot down her leg.

A drop splashes against her foot and she grabs for a towel before she christens the locker room floor with a mixture of her own wetness and Nick's sticky come.

Pressing it against her opening, she finds herself staring at Nick, suddenly bashful. Sure, he was into it, and he didn't turn her away even though she's currently a girl, but... what if she's not very pretty? She swipes at herself between her legs and then holds the meager towel up to try and cover herself.

Nick has gotten a towel of his own and is drying off his softened dick. Chris feels a little bit guilty, which makes no sense.

As if Nick has once again read her mind, he meets her gaze, pausing in what he's doing.

"What's the matter, Oz? Why so shy all of a sudden?"

"Nick, do you... do you find me beautiful?" Oh, it's a stupid question, oh, what vanity. Has she lost her mind? She covers her mouth and bites against her palm.

She's never before questioned her attractiveness to him, so it must be a girl-thing. Maybe her brain really does work differently—a scary thought, considering that till now she just figured she was herself, her own male brain in this eminently female body, but maybe that's not the case.

"Of course," says Nick easily, as if this question isn't a weird one. "I'm going to have to beat the other guys off with a stick."

"But you wouldn't do that," Chris says. "If I didn't want you to."

Again Nick pauses. "What do you mean?" he asks carefully.

"Well," she says, "we weren't exclusive before and—"

"We are not having this conversation," Nick interrupts. "I do not want to know whether you've fucked only me or the entire team. It's just not necessary information."

"Well..." Chris swallows. "Okay, then. I'm just going to... uh, take a shower."

Nick nods and begins to wipe down his stool. Chris shakes her head, grateful they didn't get caught, even though most everyone's already gone home.

She's on her way to the showers when she changes her mind. It's after hours, late even, and she might as well shower in her own bathroom. So she wanders back to her locker and dresses, but her mind is far away; like a moth trapped in a jar, her thoughts won't stop flapping around and around.

They've never been exclusive, but she also never thought that mattered to Nick. Why should it matter now? All the times she's been almost caught, with McCarty, or with Malts, or hell anyone, and Nick has never seemed bothered by it at all, but suddenly in this new guise, he minds?

With a mental shrug, Chris tries to unscrew the lid on the jar and turn her mind to other things, like the fact that she's going home to her wife and Jenna might be just a little... surprised... to find out her husband has breasts.

Chris wonders if her wife is at all inclined towards women.


"I really can't explain it," she's saying later, sitting on their bed with one leg tucked beneath her, Jenna standing against the wall with her arms crossed. "I woke up from my pre-game nap this way. You were out with the girls at the time, and so I went to practise in a sweatshirt and tried to..."

"Chris," her wife says slightly less-than-patiently, "I don't know how you could hide those." She nods to her breasts. "You've got to be a D-cup now."

"Can I borrow a bra?" she asks, and Jenna rolls her eyes.

"None of mine would fit. We're going to have to take you bra-shopping, especially if you think this change is gonna last."

"I don't know what happened, so I don't know if I should expect to go back to normal the next time I sleep, or what. But..." Chris makes some waggly eyebrows in her wife's direction. "You feel like doin' it?"

Jenna crosses over to the bed and sits down on the edge. "Chris, my love, you no longer have a dick to do it with."

"There's always toys?" she says hopefully.

"And the girls are in their rooms doing their homework," Jenna adds with a raised eyebrow.

"C'mon, babe, I know you're kinky. After they go to bed? I mean, you're a yoga instructor..."

"And you're a goalie, which makes you weird," Jenna responds. "Actually, being married to a goalie makes you less surprised when your husband comes home with breasts. And other girl parts?" she asks.

"Yeah, I have the full complement," Chris says with a grin. "You want to see?"

Jenna pokes him in the bicep. "Baby, I said—"

"I know, I know. I'm just gonna get a nap in, then. Who knows, I might wake up with my dick back."

"If you do," Jenna says smoothly, "I'll be all over that."

She gets up and heads off towards the kitchen, maybe to make the girls their nighttime snacks, but Chris is disappointed as she lies down and closes her eyes that her wife doesn't apparently think having sex with another girl would be hot.


She's woken by soft lips at her collarbone, drawing down towards the vee of her shirt, where her breasts are all scrunched up together. Chris isn't used to the funny ways that they move yet, but she can definitely get on board with where this is going.

Stretching, and rolling onto her back, she lets the gentle kisses trace over the swells of her breasts. She knows that if she had a mirror, she'd be able to see all the fine green veins running through, her skin is so pale and milk-white.

Chris opens her eyes, and she moans when she realises it is Jenna who is kissing her, Jenna whose hand is sliding over her groin and rubbing just lightly at first. Then Jenna cups her completely, and her body throbs with heat against her wife's hand.

Jenna lifts her head and licks up over her chin. "I can't believe how soft your skin is, like this," she murmurs, and then finally she finds Chris's lips and begins to kiss her passionately.

It's unbelievable. It's familiar—she couldn't forget what it's like to kiss her wife—but at the same time, it feels different. There are tingles in places that never tingled before, and her own lips feel light and soft.

Jenna kisses her for a long time, and it takes her awhile to realise that Jenna is rubbing her through her pajama pants, moving her hand up and down.

Chris tears away from the kiss and says, out-of-breath, "Is this like what you'd do to yourself?"

Jenna sits up and wipes her mouth, but not like she's disgusted; it's just because her mouth is damp from their kiss.

"Would you like to watch?" Jenna asks, but Chris shakes her head.

"I've seen you," she mutters, "but I'm wondering if you're using that as the basis for—"

"I messed around in high school," Jenna says, effectively cutting her off. "I know what I'm doing. Besides, you're my... spouse... I still want you."

"Things you learn when you've suddenly been transformed into a girl," Chris says with a quiet laugh. Jenna covers her mouth with her hand.

"Enough talking. More doing." She cups Chris hard this time, and she raises her hips to get closer, her lower body throbbing, her breath coming short.

For some reason, this is really doing it for her, even more, maybe, than fucking Nick had done. She's completely breathless and panting and Jenna's stroking her through her pants, which really need to come off right the fuck now.

Jenna seems to know exactly what she wants, pulling the pants down over her belly, then over the new flare of her now-womanly hips, and then off... Chris wriggles against the bed, feeling her lower lips plumping up and getting ready and then Jenna's sliding down the bed, hands on her thighs, prising them apart.

Okay, this is new: Chris has, of course, been on the receiving end of oral sex before, but all of those times, she had a dick. So this feeling, and this idea, hadn't even occurred to her. But Jenna seems to not only know what she's doing, but to enjoy it.

Chris fists the sheets in her hands, feeling her body arch, her toes digging into the mattress as Jenna's tongue works at her.

Sweat blankets her as she pants, unable to catch her breath, sensations running through her entire figure at a rapid pace and in a way she's never felt before. If her orgasm with Nick was shocking and new, this is even more shocking: Jenna's tongue on her, Jenna's fingers slipping in and out of her... it's bringing her to that peak a lot faster.

Plus, Jenna doesn't seem to be trying to tease the way Nick had done. Jenna is just going for it, and maybe it's the new parts, or whatever, but Chris fists the sheets so tightly she can feel her nails bite into her palms, can hear the sheets tugging away from the mattress, and gasps, choked noises escaping her throat as the contractions begin, starting in her lower body and spreading out through her like a wildfire.

Jenna stops, and kisses the inside of her thigh.

"I just thought you should experience that before you change back," she says, a bit bashfully. It's about then that Chris realises she slept—but she didn't return to normal.

"Do you want me to—" but Jenna pinches her lightly, stopping the flow of words.

"What was it you said about toys?" she asks, lifting an eyebrow as she regards Chris.

Well, this could get very interesting, Chris thinks.


"It was so cool," Chris is saying to Nick the next morning, in the dressing room. Even though she's a girl—and her teammates have definitely noticed—she's determined to play nonetheless. She can hide her breasts and everything under the padding, and hopefully no one that would stop her from playing will notice. "Jenna was really into it. I really think I like these new parts."

"I know I do," Nick murmurs, leaning close; if Chris didn't know better, she'd say that was a leer on his face. Looking more closely, she decides that yes, for Nick Lidstrom, that is definitely a leer.

"You had your chance," she says coyly. What she's not going to tell Nick is that the appraising look Drapes directed at her gave her immediate chills. She has to experience that soon—she's always thought that Drapes is probably an awesome, attentive lover when it comes to his wife, and she wants to know what it would be like to sleep with him with this new figure.

Her breasts tingle and feel heavy at just the thought of it. Drapes is at his stall, adjusting his shoulder pads, then reaching for his elbow pads, and she can see the muscles in his side through his UnderArmour shirt and her mouth goes dry.

She kind of forgets that she was talking to Nick until the captain jabs her in the ribs.

"If you keep staring at Drapes like that, I might be jealous," Nick tells her.

She drags her eyes away. "I just can't help it," she says. "It's like my eyes see differently now."

Nick laughs. "Ozzie, you liked guys when you had a dick, too. I don't think anything's actually changed, other than your physical form."

Chris turns back to Nick and swats his arm playfully. "Maybe later we can test your theory." She goes up on her tip toes just long enough to brush their lips together. Nick jerks back, obviously afraid someone might be paying attention, but what Nick doesn't know is that half the locker room has been the subject of Chris's advances before.

They're not going to blink an eye at what could just be a friendly kiss.

"Anyway," Chris continues, "I know I shouldn't kiss and tell, but wow, what a difference to sleep with a girl when you're a girl too! I think I want to become a lesbian."

Nick rolls his eyes. "Oz, you can't be a lesbian. Right now, you'd more accurately be described as a gay guy in a woman's body."

"My wife is hot," Chris says defensively. "I could get behind her any time."

"I bet you could," Nick says, and that was absolutely, undeniably, an eyebrow waggle.

"Oh, stop," Chris says. She finishes up tightening her leg pads and then gives a final tug to her skate laces. "Nicky, can you tell that I'm a girl under all this?" She yanks her jersey over her head and then spreads her arms out, putting herself on display for Nick's inspection.

"Well," Nick says, "not really. But you don't look entirely like yourself, either. Your jaw's more feminine, and your hair..."

Chris had forgotten about her hair. She fists it in her hands and tries to figure out how to get it subdued so that she can stuff it into her helmet so that it won't look so long.

"Do you have..." she pauses, remembering who she's talking to—the father of four boys. "Wait, nevermind, I'll ask Drapes."

Crossing over to his locker, where her friend is running his fingers through his own hair, she says,

"Hey, Drapes, do you have an elastic or something?" She's still holding her hair up.

"Use hockey tape," Drapes says with a snicker.

"Very funny," Chris snorts. "I need something, c'mon, I know you have two little girls."

"You think I keep hair elastics in my locker?" Drapes asks with a lifted eyebrow.

"Drapes, check your jeans' pockets."

Drapes quirks his eyebrow again, but fishes through his jeans pocket until he finds a pink, sparkly hair elastic.

"Here. Have fun with that."

Chris is tying her hair back with the elastic when Drapes lowers his voice and says,

"I saw you kiss Nick just now."

"Did you see me staring at your ass?" she asks, and Drapes breaks out into laughter.

"I didn't. Were you, indeed?"

"Couldn't look away. You should meet me later, after everyone's gone."

Drapes glances around. "All right, if you're sure Nick won't kill me."

"What Nick doesn't know, won't hurt him," Chris whispers. She straightens her jersey. "I think we'd better get out there."


Trying to make saves as a girl is really hard, it turns out. Her center of gravity is all off, and her balance is nowhere near as good as it used to be. She finds herself lunging to make saves and overcompensating, and usually winding up on her face.

But at least, not too many pucks get past her, so if her style looks a little bit different than everyone is used to, well, so far no one has said anything.

Besides, her teammates know, so she's really only trying to keep it from Babs and the coaching staff and trainers. She's not really sure how she's going to hide it from Piet when she needs a leg flush or any other kind of attention, but she's trying not to think about that.

Babs probably wouldn't let her play if he knew the truth. So yeah, she likes her body the way it is now, but there are just so many reasons she also hopes she's going to change back soon. She can't stay a girl forever, can she? And it's almost playoffs—if she gets caught out now, the team is going to have a big problem.

They could wind up in the Stanley Cup Final with their third string goalie, Joey MacDonald, as the backup for Howie.

Chris doesn't want to see that happen—besides she belongs out there! It's still at least partially her crease. She's been the Wings' goalie for a long time, and it's still hard to get used to the fact that Howie is now the number one.

Though she'll be the first to admit that he's pretty cute. That thing he does when he's nervous, wiping and rubbing at his nose till it turns red, really turns her on. It always has, but she has an advantage over her teammates now: even the straight ones might sleep with her in her current condition.

She can't wait till practise is over and she can corner Drapes somewhere alone.


It doesn't work out quite the way Chris planned, however. Nick finds her first, and is kissing her possessively when Drapes walks in on the two of them.

Drapes says, "Oops, sorry," and wanders back out, and Chris doesn't think he's upset about it, but she pulls away from Nick.

"This is too public," she says. Nick only shrugs.

"You kissed me in front of everyone," he points out. She hates when he's right.

Either way, she wants a taste of her best friend, and while Nick is awesome, he's just not what she wants on her plate right now. So she shakes off his hand and makes her excuses; tomorrow they're flying to Colorado, and since it's a road game, she'll have a hotel room.

The trick will be getting her roommate to look the other way while she hangs the sock on the door (metaphorically speaking) so that she can get laid.


"Ah, yes, ah!" Chris is experimenting with all sorts of new positions in her new body. Drapes is kneeling between her legs, his cock sliding in and out of her with an amazing amount of slickness—will she ever get used to the magic of spontaneous lubrication?—and she's got her hands beneath each thigh, holding her body up for Drapes.

He shoves a pillow under her hips to make a more acute angle, and this time when he slams home, his cock strokes over something amazing inside her; Chris mumbles something, releasing a huge gasp, and her thighs tremble under her hands. In fact, the more he drags his cock over that spot, the more trouble she's having holding her legs up for him.

But Drapes must know exactly what's happening to her, because he grips her thighs and yanks them up again, and Chris is free to raise her arms above her head, arching her body.

It feels so different to have her breasts bouncing almost painfully against her chest with each stroke, sweat pooling in between them in a way that never happened when she was a guy, and Drapes just keeps worrying at that spot with his dick.

Chris almost bites through her lip as the sensations intensify, as the spark between her legs turns into a supernova, and she doesn't even realise she's tossing her head on the pillow until Drapes lets go of one leg and leans over her, contorting himself so that he can put a hand on her face, turn it towards him, and kiss her fiercely.

Chris can barely concentrate on the kiss, because despite Drapes's tongue in her mouth and the fleeting thought that he is, in fact, a masterful kisser, her inner muscles are actually trying to force Drapes out with the strength of her orgasm.

But Drapes doesn't stop kissing her, and he doesn't stop moving inside her, he just keeps pace. Chris grabs for his shoulders, trying to anchor herself in the wildstorm of her climax, only vaguely aware that Drapes has switched up the angles again so that now he's not hitting that spot anymore.

He pauses in kissing her to pant, "Tighten your muscles, c'mon," and she's not sure what he means until she recognises that her body has stopped responding without her conscious choice and now, she discovers she can bear down and clench her muscles around the hot, sweet thickness of his cock.

He grunts and his head tips back as she does it, so she does it again, and then again and again as he speeds up, obviously searching for the same pinnacle she'd just reached a few moments ago.

He releases her thighs and rubs her nipples with his fingers as he strives to reach the heights of ecstasy. And then he hits that place within her again and she gasps and cries out.

"Drapes! Oh, my," she says, and her body convulses all over again. Wow, this is new! She understands that women can have multiple orgasms, but she didn't even need any recovery time: one jostle of those nerves with the head of his cock and she's gone careening back over into pleasure all over again.

"Yes, yeah, like that," Drapes mumbles, and then she can feel him, his cock jerking, shooting inside her.

She doesn't mean to, but she scratches his ribs with her nails as she feels him going off.

Drapes kisses her again, and slowly he pulls free, and she can feel her lower lips clinging to his damp cock as he draws it out of her; it's like her body doesn't want to let him go.

She doesn't want to let him go yet, either, but they're both done, and even though she thinks she could probably come again, she's having a hard time catching her breath and Drapes is rolling off to the side.

"As soon as I can move," Drapes says through shallow, jagged breaths, "I'll move to my own bed."

She'd lucked out; they were roommates on this road trip. But she doesn't want him to leave her.

"No, don't," she says, rolling towards him, and her breasts shift and pull a little heavily against her chest. She's not sure she'll ever get used to all that extra weight there.

"I have to," Drapes says. "Anyone could knock on that door, and I don't think we should advertise that I'm banging you."

"I want to do it again," Chris says. "That might be difficult to do if you're in the other bed."

"I need time," says Drapes, and he takes her hand and puts it over his chest, where his heart is thudding forcefully against his ribs.

"So stay," she says. "As long as we mess up the other bed, no one will know but the maids, and they'll just assume one of us brought a girl back to the room."

"Your body is amazing," Drapes says, still holding her hand over his heart. "Maybe I shouldn't admit to this, but your personality... I always had a little bit of a crush, but I just didn't think I could get it up for a guy. You think you're stuck like this for good?"

"Considering I don't know how it happened, I can't say for sure," says Chris. "But I intend to enjoy my time like this to the fullest. Now c'mere."

Drapes doesn't argue this time. He just presses a hand between her legs, and then he swipes a glob of his come where it's oozing out of her, and holds it to her lips.

"How kinky are you?" he asks as she takes his finger—and his come—and swallows around it.

It might just be time for round two.


Oh, Chris has fucked up big time. She can't believe she didn't think of this—she's just lucky Jenna's been preoccupied with work, leaving Chris to herself in the mornings.

Actually, it might be worse than all that. Chris leans over the toilet again, retching and pouring her stomach contents into the bowl until her muscles ache. It's been going on for weeks now—and at the Joe, it's even harder to conceal.

Babs still doesn't know about her transformation, and pleading a case of the flu is only going to get her so far. She's barely been able to avoid the trainers as it is. Her teammates, if they realise, haven't confronted her about it—at least, not yet.

But... Chris sits back and wipes at her mouth. This can't happen. This just cannot be happening. Chris scrubs her hand over her face.

She's been trying to deny it for a couple of weeks already. The word slips in the back of her mind like a delinquent teenager, but she pushes it back, always afraid... but pretending is not going to get her much further. She's going to have to admit it—pregnant—and go see a doctor.

And then figure out a way to hide who she really is, because there is simply no way to explain her current situation.

Gasping, she lunges for the bowl again. When she can get her stomach to settle a little, she needs to call and beg off the morning skate. And practise tomorrow. And anything hockey-related for the foreseeable future, because she's much too exhausted, sore, and sick to play.


Chris looks up and the world swims around her for a minute in her haste. Jenna is standing in the doorway, one hand on the knob, Sydney close to her legs.

"What's wrong with Daddy?" Syd asks in a small, worried voice. Jenna smoothes a hand through her fine blond hair.

"Can you go play in your room, sweetheart?" Jenna asks, and Syd nods once, slowly. "Daddy's fine, I promise."

Syd nods again and creeps down the hall, almost as if she's afraid to make a sound.

Chris is kind of thankful for that, because all of the throwing up has given her a horrific headache. But the expression on Jenna's face tells her the jig is definitely up.

"You do know..." Jenna sighs, then takes a deep breath. "How long have you been hiding this from me? And don't say it started today."

"Just... a few weeks?" Chris gathers up her hair in one fist and hacks a little, wondering if she has anything left.

"Honey, listen, I don't know how this happened—" the fact that she knows Chris must have slept with someone besides her is clear but unspoken "—but the signs are all there. We need to take you to a doctor. Apparently you're suddenly going to have a long-lost cousin, babe. C'mon, brush your teeth."

"No, no," Chris whimpers. But how long can she evade the truth, really?

And at what point does she start making the list of people who could have... could be responsible... could be the father?


Jenna insists that Chris tell Nick first. He's the captain, he needs to know, she'd said with perfect logic, and unfortunately, Chris can't argue with her. She has no solid ground to stand on. How often Nick has had to bail someone out of a sticky situation, Chris isn't completely sure, but she is sure that this will be the first time one of his teammates has sought him out to tell him that she's... pregnant.

But she can't do it in the locker room, which is why she's standing, freezing, on Nick's doorstep, trying to work up the courage to ring the doorbell. Nick knows she's coming over, and it's a lucky thing, because he opens the door after another minute or two, clearly having heard the car pull up.

"Ozzie," he says warmly, "come in. Do you want some cookies? Annika and the boys have been baking them for Christmas."

Her stomach roils unpleasantly. "No, thanks, Nicky. Um, I don't think I could—" Could what? she asks herself. She hasn't told him yet.

"Oh right, the flu! I'm sorry. Hurry up and come in," he says, holding the door wider open. Chris steps through and is immediately warmed by the fire in the fireplace.

Nick shuts the door; if he's peeved that Chris was standing there like a statue letting the winter air in, he doesn't show it.

"You've been sick for a long time," says Nick next, sounding concerned. "Are you sure that—"

"I'm not sick—" Chris bursts out with. "I'm pregnant."

The unflappable Nick looks very flapped at the moment. His blue eyes have gone quite wide, and his mouth is open just a little, but enough to tell it's in surprise.

"You're..." he stops and lowers his voice. "How is that possible?"

Chris shrugs miserably. "How do you think? The way it always happens."

"But it shouldn't even be possible," Nick says, a thread of panic there. Annika is bustling around the kitchen and the house smells way too much like dough and baking cookies. Chris might throw up on Nick's carpet if she's not careful—and the last thing she wants to do is stand here too long, and have to bolt for Nick's bathroom.

"I guess when I got the good parts, I got all the rest of them too," Chris says in a rush. "I gotta go."

"Wait," Nick says, putting out a hand, reaching for Chris's shoulder. "I'll—"

Oh shit, moment of truth.

"Nick, listen, I don't know who... well, I know you said—"

"You mean." Nick swallows thickly, audibly. "We're about to have that unnecessary conversation."

"Yeah," Chris says. "But this time it's necessary."

"I can't believe you," Nick says. He's angry now, Chris can tell. "Just... find out."

"I can't," Chris says. "Not till... after."

"So it's not mine."

"I don't know," Chris says helplessly. "It could be yours. It could be..."

"I don't want to know," Nick mutters. "When you find out, that's all the information I really need."

Chris walks to the door, hand outstretched for the knob. How is she going to explain to Babs? Because turning up pregnant is going to cause a lot of questions for the organisation.


"What are you doing, Daddy?" Syd asks, trying to see what Chris is writing down. When she looks over, her little girl is on her tiptoes, her blond hair full of static from a combination of the dry air and knit winter hats, and it's so precious she just wants to give her a cuddle.

Unfortunately, she's reminded by Syd's question that at this rate, there's going to be another baby. Jenna comes into the dining room, arms full with a basket of laundry, and says,

"Syd, love, come with Mommy and help me fold these."

"But I wanna stay with Daddy," Syd protests. Chris folds the sheet of paper in half. She waits until Syd trots out of the room, then puts her head down on the piece of paper.

Hiding the fact that she's a girl from her daughters is one thing, but how to hide the pregnancy from them? She can't, so she's got plenty of hard decisions to make.

When Jenna walks through the dining room, arms now full of folded towels, Chris stops her.

"Jenna, I think I need to stay somewhere else till the baby's born."

Jenna puts the towels down on the table and studies her. "The girls," she says, face worried. "This is getting... complicated."

"I can stay in a hotel," she says. "I'll go to the appointments and I'll keep up with you; maybe we can tell the girls I had to go away for work..."

Jenna frowns. "They know that no road trip is going to last nine months."

"I don't know," Chris says helplessly. "That's still easier to explain away than a pregnancy."

Jenna pushes her fingers through the nap on one of the towels.

"How do we explain the new baby?" she asks reasonably, and Chris hates that her wife has taken all of this in so easily.

"You're going to have to pretend to be pregnant," Chris says, and flops her head down again, nose first this time. It hurts, but she figures she deserves it.

"Daddy?" Syd says in a tiny voice, standing in the doorway. "Are you sick?"

Chris raises her head and gives Jenna another helpless look. Luckily her wife is brilliant.

"Syd, hon, Daddy's going to be fine, but he needs to spend some time getting better."

"I don't want Daddy to leave," Syd says, and Chris's heart breaks. Why didn't she consider this when she was busy getting boned by everyone in the locker room?

"I will be back," Chris promises. "And I'll call every day."

Syd comes over, raising her arms to be picked up, but Jenna steps around the table and lifts her up instead.

"Let's go play in your room," she says, turning Syd so that she's balanced on her hip.

Syd watches Chris with wide blue eyes the whole way out of the room, lower lip pushed out, clearly unhappy.

Chris returns to her list. Abby, who fucked her against a wall in the apartment he shared with Helmer. Bear, who played with her ass the whole time. Val, who was sleepy and soothing and let her ride him. Howie—and wow, that had been an experience, the hero-worship almost overwhelming. Nicky, of course, more than once.

She wishes that knowing she'd fucked Nick or Drapes more than once could be an indication of who the baby belongs to, but she can't fool herself. She knows that it could be any of them. Who knows when it took, or why.

Hell, she can't even pin down a possible father by the date the baby was likely conceived, because she did them all within a few days of each other.

Kronner's probably not the father, she thinks with a slight bit of humour. Kronner did her in the ass, and didn't play with her tits once—she has her suspicions about him, that's for sure. But she puts her face in her palms when she remembers that they did it doggy style, and some of his come could have slipped down and gotten inside her.

What would Kronner do if he realised he'd knocked her up?

Then there's the five minutes she had with Helm...

part two
Anonymous( )Anonymous This account has disabled anonymous posting.
OpenID( )OpenID You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address. Sign in using OpenID.
Account name:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.


Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.

February 2014

345678 9
10 111213141516

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags