Gender Bender

Gender Bender
A One-shot by Ellipsis the Great
Summary: “And for your information, if I really wanted to I could make such a good looking woman that even an ass pirate like you would want to fuck me!” Spirit Week will never be the same…Seiner
DISCLAIMER: Kingdom Hearts and everything affiliated with it belongs to SquareEnix and Disney. All I own is the plot…
Rated: M for adult content.
Theme: 67. Lace

“Did you ever see the world around you change before your eyes? The people you ignore before they took you by surprise. Then you look at me, and I start to see, that something happens when I'm next to you. Wake up, who knew, it's me, it's you get a clue.” –Prozzak, ‘Get a Clue’

“So, so, so? What are the days this year?” Olette asked as the themes for Spirit Week were finally posted.
And don’t give me that look; it isn’t as weird as it sounds. See, my friends (Roxas, Olette, and Pence) and I got really pumped up about Spirit Week. We had decided upon entering high school three years prior (we were in our senior year during this story) to continue a tradition that my older sister Rikku and her friends had started back in their ‘glory days,’ as they called them. Every year we drew lots for a day—well, for Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday. And whatever the theme was for that day, that person had to go all out for it while the rest of us got to half-ass it if we wanted to. Then on Friday (which was always ‘School Spirit Day’) we all decked ourselves out in the most school-spirit-esque clothes we owned and just generally made fools of ourselves.
This year, I had drawn for Monday, which was traditionally the most garishly themed day of the week. And, scrolling down the list, I wasn’t disappointed.
“Gender Bender Day?” I groaned, making a face. “You’ve gotta be shitting me!”
“And yet we aren’t.” Pence laughed without remorse. “Ooh, sweet, Tuesday is Pajama Day! Win!”
“Camouflage Day?” Olette looked at her allotted day (Wednesday). “Looks like I’m stealing your pants, Hayner.
“And I got Cowboy Day.” Roxas sighed. “Axel’s gonna have a field day on Thursday.”
Axel, Roxas’ boyfriend, dressed outlandishly no matter what day it was (and I’m not just talking about Spirit Week…I’m talking every day). For example, last year for ‘Blast From the Past Day’ he dressed up as Jesus and went around sprinkling ‘holy water’ on people. Not even Roxas was brave enough to ask what the holy water actually was, though.
Yeah. He’s fucking insane.
“At least you don’t have to dress up as a girl.” I grumbled.
“Again.” Olette added helpfully, earning herself a nice little bird from me.
In our freshman year my day was ‘Dress Like Your Parent Day.’ Now normally, people dressed up as a parent of the same gender as them. Unfortunately for me, my dad passed away before I was born, which left me to dress up like my mother. I.e. I spent the entire day in a gaudy pink, yellow and orange dress, yellow high-heeled shoes, and hair curlers.
…Yeah, I know. My mom’s insane, too.
“You should be happy, lamer.” A deep voice behind me said. “You finally got a day dedicated to you.”
“Fuck off, Seifer.” I said, turning on my bully of a rival, who was flanked by his two lackeys Rai and Fuu.
“Then again, as I recall you make one ugly bitch.” He continued, ignoring me.
“I said fuck off!” I snapped, hands balling into fists at my sides. “And for your information, if I really wanted to I could make such a good looking woman that even an ass pirate like you would want to fuck me!”
The entire hall went quiet at my proclamation, and my cheeks reddened as Seifer’s eyebrows rose upward, a spark of interest flaring in his eyes.
“Oh, yeah, chickenwuss?” He put his hands on his hips. It should’ve looked incredibly gay, but somehow there was no question from his stance that he was a completely masculine presence. A completely dead-sexy masculine presence, which for some reason made me glad that the redness in my cheeks could be blamed on the staring crowd and adrenaline. “Prove it.”
I pulled on the aforementioned adrenaline to push away the sudden fluttering feeling in my stomach.
“Fine.” I snarled. “I will!” Then I slammed my locker shut and stormed off down the hallway, not heeding my friends’ yells for me to wait up.
“Hayner! Hayner, I said wait up!” Roxas called after me.
“He pisses me off so fucking much!” I all but roared, banging my fist against the door as I entered my next class. Luckily the teacher wasn’t there yet, but the few students who were there got quiet and carefully avoided my gaze.
“Why do you let him get to you like that?” He asked, slipping into a seat beside me.
“I don’t know!” I said, throwing my hands up and then letting my head fall to my desk with a frustrated sigh. “He just makes me so mad!”
“It’s sexual tension.” Olette said sagely as she sat in front of me.
I choked on air and gaped at her as Pence made a face, sitting behind me.
“Don’t even joke, Olette.” Pence said. “Even if it wasn’t Seifer we were talking about…I already have one gay friend. My head’ll explode if Hayner’s gay, too.”
“Don’t be silly, Pence.” Olette rolled her eyes. “Hayner’s Seifer-sexual.”
“What the fuck does that even mean, ‘Lette?” I demanded, caught somewhere between furious and embarrassed.
“It means that Seifer’s the only person you’ve ever been interested in as more than just a friend.” She said matter-of-factly.
“We hate each other.” I said, voice deadpan.
“Sexual tension, I told you.” She said. “Lots of people pick on the person they like, right?”
“You’re just saying that because you’re a fag hag.” Roxas said.
“Am not!” She said. “Look, Seifer has always—always—picked on Hayner more than he does anyone else. He doesn’t even pick on Leon that much, and those two have hated each other since before they could talk. And did you see the way he looked at Hayner just a minute ago? He totally wants him!”
“That doesn’t mean Hayner wants Seifer.” Pence said, on the verge of panic. Poor guy was mildly homophobic due to some bad experiences as a child (nothing like molestation or anything though, don’t worry). He’d only just gotten comfortable with the idea that Roxas was gay, and Roxas came out to us in seventh grade.
“Don’t mind her, Pence. She’s just a fag hag.” Roxas said.
“I agree.” Axel sank into his seat beside Roxas in a way that left no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was a flaming Homo. “She got a taste of it with us, and now she wants all of her hot friends to be gay.” He slung an arm around Roxas, giving his boyfriend a sultry look. “Not that anyone could be as hot as us.”
Roxas shoved him back without any pomp and circumstance. “No molesting me in public, Axel, I’ve told you a thousand times.”
“Mhm.” Axel turned to me, used to the rough treatment Roxas gave him. “So I heard you’re gonna let Seifer fuck you if you can get him hot on Monday.”
“What?” I screeched, attempting to backpedal in my chair but only managing to fall out of it.
“That’s what Dem-Dem said when I talked to him a minute ago.” Axel said, and started to elaborate, but then the teacher entered the room and called the class to order.
I sank back into my chair, the movement mirroring the feeling I was getting in my stomach.
Part of me wanted to just fake sick on Monday and pretend none of this had ever happened. Another part of me wanted to go beat the shit out of Demyx and everyone else in the grapevine, but that part was quickly squashed by thoughts of my mother. She had threatened to force me to move in with Rikku if I got into one more fight at school.
But the biggest part of me—the proud, masculine side of me that always ended up getting me in trouble—knew that in the end I only had one choice:
I was gonna have to ask Rikku for help, and I was gonna knock Seifer dead.
…Preferably before he fucked me.

(PAGEBREAK,YO)

Monday came along far too quickly for my liking. It felt kind of like God wanted to see me make a fool out of myself and sped the weekend up just for his own fucking amusement.
God damned…God.
Rikku, of course, was completely ecstatic about getting to dress me up. Somewhere from her babble I was able to come to the conclusion that I had deprived her of such joys by being a boy, so she would finally get to pretend she had a little sister.
Surprisingly, the torture was over pretty quickly. She had opted out of seriously cracking down on my hair and makeup, supposedly due to time constraints but mostly because she was lazy. In the end, she just brushed it, and gave me a light dusting of…some sort of makeup.
The outfit, however, was hell. Unfortunately for me, my sister had a weird fetish with those stupid sexy Halloween costumes. That, of course, meant that I had to try them on. All forty-seven of the fucking things.
In the end she settled on the ‘Miss Mafia’ suit, partly because it came with a fedora to hide my hair, and partly because, according to her: ‘the pinstripes help hide the fact that you have no boobs.’ Also, unlike most of the other outfits it had a flared out skirt, which disguised my ‘manly bits,’ as Rikku called them (and, I reasoned, it also hid those damn lacy pink panties she’d forced me into). But mostly, she said, it was because the Mafia moll look would appeal to Seifer’s street gang tastes—like that makes sense.
So once I had slipped into the mini dress and she had stuffed the top, I put on the pink tie and cufflinks (which were detached from the rest of it), the fedora, the fishnet stockings and garters, and those weird high-heeled boots that only come up to your ankle. Those were the only shoes she had that fit me—and that was only because she accidentally bought them a size too big and lost the receipt, and my feet are small.
Finally finished, Rikku gave mer her official thumbs up of approval, and Mom giggled and told me to make sure the pitcher was wearing a glove, whatever in the hell that was supposed to mean.
And then, with only minimal difficulty due to the heels (whatever bull Rikku spews about not having a baby sister to pamper, she used to dress me up all the damn time), I went to school.
The halls were suspiciously quiet as I entered, and it took me a moment to realize that it was because people were gaping at me. I thought at first that it was because of my rumored bet with Seifer, but the whispers started up and I overheard them—they thought I was hot. Dead sexy. Gorgeous. Other synonyms for the first three. Etcetera.
I forced myself to keep walking so no one could catch sight of my blush as I passed, looking for Seifer so I could get it over with.
“He’s over there.” Olette giggled when she caught sight of me staking out the drink machine. She pointed, and I saw him standing with Rai and Fuu, hands gesticulating as he spoke, his usual infuriating smirk on his scarred face. I started toward him, pausing when I heard what he was saying.
“…Bet he shows up in that nasty shit he had on in freshman year. Dumbass probably doesn’t even know what girls really wear.”
My eyes narrowed. Time to pull out the big guns—I knew I hadn’t grown up with a pushy, boy crazy older sister for nothing.
I tapped Seifer’s shoulder softly, folding my arms behind my back and giving him the shyest, most innocent look I could muster—complete with wide eyes, light blush, and a soft bite on my bottom lip.
“So? Wanna fuck me?” I asked coyly, letting my head fall to one side.
He didn’t move, eyes a fraction wider than normal.
I jutted my bottom lip out into a deep pout, then stepped closer to him, putting my hands on his shoulders and going up on my tiptoes so I could look him in the eyes (how in the fuck was he so goddamn tall?).
“I said: do you want to fuck me, Seifer?” I asked, placing my mouth perilously close to his as I spoke. Assorted noises of astonishment sounded around us at the spectacle, but I paid them no mind.
I squeaked when he suddenly grabbed my waist, pressing me close to himself.
Oh, holy shit, that was definitely not a pencil—he was glad to see me.
“Go to the Sandlot after school, lamer.” He whispered into my ear in a deep, husky voice I had never heard him use before. Then, before I had quite recovered from the shiver he’d sent up my spine, he pulled away and walked off.
My face was burning, I knew, far hotter than I’d ever felt it before.
“Dude, even your legs are blushing.” Roxas said as he and the others approached me. “What’d he say?”
I started to shake my head, and then that proud, manly part of my brain kicked in and I scowled.
“That…that—! He thinks he can tell me what to do! I’ll—” I ranted, but was stopped from going on a rampage by the bell.
For the rest of the day, I was out for blood. Usually I wouldn’t have been quite so bothered by him, but this time I was holding on to my anger in order to push down the other emotions that had arisen. I had always been a bit adverse to emotions, but this time I was actively, resolutely avoiding them.
But my bloodlust was not to be sated—I didn’t see Seifer for the rest of the day. We didn’t share any classes, and our school was fucking gigantic, so I managed to miss him during all of the between-class breaks, as well.
Screwing up my courage, I resigned myself to the fact that there was only one way to settle things—I had to swallow what pride I had left, follow Seifer’s orders, and go to the Sandlot.

(PAGEBREAK,YO)

“Where are your sidekicks?” For once, them not being around gave me the feeling that this confrontation was going to go worse for me.
“Where are yours?” Seifer pushed off of the wall, which he had been leaning up against, hands shoved in his pockets.
I frowned. “I asked first.”
“I told them I wanted you all to myself.” He smirked, mouth stretching a little wider when I flushed. A-fucking-gain.
“They had other shit to do.” I mumbled my own answer, crossing my arms over my chest, then pushed my anger back to the surface. “And I wanna know where you get off trying to—”
I let out a muffled yelp as he grabbed the front of my shirt, jerked me forward, and pressed his lips against mine. I tried fighting him for a minute, but then he practically shoved me into the wall, our lower extremities rubbing against each other. I gasped at the feeling (when had I started getting hard?), and he pushed his tongue into my mouth. I almost melted, then, as his hands grabbed my ass and squeezed, and his tongue did this wicked trick with mine, before my brain started kicking in.
I put my hands on his shoulders and shoved him away, breathing hard.
“Who the hell gave you permission to kiss me?” I demanded through gasps for air.
He moved one of his hands around and pressed it against the tent in my skirt. “Doesn’t seem like you have a problem with it to me.” He said, his face close to mine.
I glared at him, forcefully quelling the shudder that tried to run through me at the sudden, delicious pressure.
“F—” I let out a shuddering gasp when he squeezed lightly. “Fuck you.”
He laughed. “The plan is to fuck you, Hayner.”
I whimpered—it was a good thing he had never actually said my name in public, because if it always sounded like that coming from him I would’ve done what I was about to do a lot sooner. Then I practically attacked his mouth with mine, our teeth and noses clashing together painfully.
“Eager…are we?” He asked between kisses, moving down from my mouth to my neck, though the pressure stayed rough the whole time.
“Yeah, well…you aren’t—hahh—fucking me…here.” I stopped his hand from going any farther up my skirt than it already was, returning his disgruntled look with a stubborn one of my own.
His eyes narrowed for just a moment before a rather impish light came to them, and suddenly he picked me up, throwing me over his shoulder. The fedora fell off, but I hardly noticed. Hopefully Rikku wouldn’t kill me for that later.
“What the fuck are you doing? Let me the fuck down!” I bellowed, beating my fists against his back and kicked my feet.
“Quit acting like such a damn pussy—I’m just taking you to my apartment.” He said.
I froze. Holy fucking flamers, Batman, this was really happening, wasn’t it?
“…Hey, chickenwuss?” Seifer asked as he started walking. His hand was rubbing smooth circles on my thigh, and I was almost beginning to wish I hadn’t been adamant about moving out of the Sandlot.
“Y-yeah?” My voice was breathy as his hand inched higher.
“Are you wearing lacy pink panties?” He asked.
My first instinct was to blush and stutter, but luckily I overcame it with indignation. “You’re carrying me around on your goddamn shoulder, in a fucking dress, to your apartment so you can try to fuck me, and you’re worried about my underwear?” I asked incredulously.
“I am going to fuck you, lamer. And I’m not worried; I think it’s hot.” He said as we reached his apartment (it was no wonder he was always in the Sandlot, with his place so close).
“And again: you can try.” I said. “And you have some of the weirdest goddamn kinks—”
He set me down as we entered his bedroom, cutting me off by grabbing my skirt and pulling me forward again. “Did you not see the way everyone was looking at you today?” He asked, arching an eyebrow at me. “Everyone has this kink.”
“Nobody else saw my underwear.” I pointed out dryly.
“Let’s keep it that way.” He hooked his arms under my legs, picking them up and wrapping them around his waist, carrying me to the bed.
“Selfish bastard.” I hissed as he dropped me on the bed, legs and arms sprawled out.
“Mhm.” He crouched over me and kissed me again.
Still disgruntled by the drop and the sudden possessiveness, I decided that he was wearing too many clothes for my tastes. I tore his beanie off, tossing it away and tangling one hand in his short, surprisingly silky hair while the other went to work on that damn sleeveless coat thing he always wore.
Sometime while I was doing this he undid my garters, then stopped what little progress I was making (it’s fucking hard to get a jacket off of someone who’s moving against you, okay?) by yanking the dress up and over my head. After throwing that away, he shrugged off his coat and gave it the same treatment. Then he pulled his shirt off and did the same thing with it. I gulped as I took in the sight of his bare chest, forcing myself to look away when I caught him smirking at me.
He leaned down and let his lips ghost over mine with surprising gentleness, then moved down to press open-mouthed kisses on my jaw, then my neck, and on down until he reached my nipple. I let out a choked sound and arched up, squeezing my eyes shut when one of his hands reached up to tease the other nipple. He pulled away and switched, pinching me as I bit my lip to stop from crying out.
“If I wanted you quiet, I would’ve gagged you.” He murmured as he started moving down again.
I wanted to retort—I really, really wanted to retort—but the wily son of a bitch had started fingering the edge of my underwear, and his tongue had dipped into my bellybutton (it’s sexier in real life than it sounds, I swear). Then I let out a loud, humiliating moan as he kissed me through the pink material hiding my manhood, my hands flying to his head.
“Much better.” He pulled the panties off in a fluid motion that should have been impossible but wasn’t, and blew on me. A strangled whimper tore from my throat, followed by a short shout when he finally took my head in his mouth.
“Fuck, please!” I sobbed as he started bobbing up and down, slowly at first but faster as he figured out how much he could take at one time without gagging. I tried to thrust, but his hands were holding my hips down roughly. “Seifer—ungh—Seifer, I—aah!”
He hummed, the vibrations of his mouth around me bringing me to the brink.
“I’m com—guh, God, I’m coming!” I gasped, and then the world exploded around me as he just sucked powerfully in response to my statement. I think I might have yelled, but at that point I couldn’t have told you my own name. I did, however, open my bleary eyes in time to watch him lick the last of the cum off of me. His eyes caught mine and held them, so I almost missed the smirk that had returned to his face.
Looking rather like a cat stalking a mouse, he crawled back up my body, capturing my lips in yet another kiss. He tasted salty with cum, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about that or much of anything else until he pulled away with a loud smack.
“Lube’s in the top drawer.” He said as he stood up off of the bed. I stared at him at first, but quickly turned to grab the stuff when he said, “If you don’t want it dry, you’d better get it.”
When I turned back, he was kicking his pants, and my breath hitched at the sight of him in all his glory. Inwardly I let out a short, relieved sigh—he wasn’t as big as the locker room rumors had boasted. He was a little longer than me, I noted, but soothed my ego by also noticing that I was thicker.
“D’you have condoms?” I asked.
He blinked, apparently not having expected that question, then put a hand on his hip. “Worried I’ll get you pregnant, chickenwuss?” He sneered.
“Of course not! I’m a virgin, not stupid.” I snapped, then slapped a hand over my mouth.
He stared at me for a minute, and I gulped as my skin got hotter and hotter—from mortification or arousal or both, I wasn’t sure.
“I don’t know where that has been, though.” I said, breaking the silence as I pointed to the ‘that’ in question. “So where are your condoms?”
“That is called a penis, cherry boy.” He said. “And that is perfectly clean. Whatever you’ve heard, I’m not some sort of slut. I’ve only slept with a few people and I made sure all of them were clean and protected beforehand.”
“So why shouldn’t I make sure you’re clean and protected?” I demanded.
“Because I already told you I’m clean.” He said, beginning to lose his temper. “And I haven’t seen any need to stock up when I’m planning to stick with you for a while.”
“Yeah, well, you—wait, what?”
And suddenly he was the one blushing. “I said, I—”
“I heard what you said. The fuck do you mean?” I asked.
“I meant exactly what I fucking said!”
“Oh.” I tilted my head to one side.
“Oh? What does ‘oh’ mean?” He asked.
I grabbed his hands and pulled him forward, wrapping my legs around him so our half-hard erections rubbed against each other.
“It means: get your naked ass back in bed, dumb fuck.” I whispered into his ear.
He did just that a moment later, taking the lube from me and slicking up three of his fingers. I grimaced as he found my entrance and poked the first finger in, the squicky sensation making me wonder if this was such a good idea. Then he was kissing me and adding another finger, and I wanted to protest until he suddenly brushed up against a spot that made the breath catch in my throat and spots enter my vision.
“Found it, did I?” He asked, going after that spot with a will.
I writhed with pleasure, pressing myself into his fingers and barely noticing when he added the third. My eyes snapped open to give him a disgruntled glare when he pulled his fingers away, then stared as he poured more lube into his hands and touched himself, eyes fluttering closed as he pumped his hand a few times so it was well coated.
“For your first time it’s—ah—best to do it doggy style.” He said, peeking one eye open to look down at me.
I snorted; my pride had been rankled enough as it was. Then, before he could stop me, I pushed myself up and pushed him onto his back, effectively reversing our positions. Without giving myself any time to think better of it and back out, I grabbed him and sank down onto him. I kept my eyes open by sheer power of will against the pain so that I could watch the awed and overwhelmingly aroused expression that accompanied the gasping, moaning noise he made.
Trying to relax so I could get used to the feeling of him filling me up and breaking me apart, I picked up his hands and put them on my hips, keeping a tight grip on one but putting my other hand on his chest to brace myself.
“Shit, you’re tight.” His voice cracked halfway through, and I almost laughed except my ass was burning.
“Yeah, well, we can’t all be as big an asshole as you.” I gritted out, tears pricking at the corner of my now closed eyes.
He laughed a little, but trailed off into another moan as the sound jolted our connected lower halves. Then I felt him reach up and wipe away the tear streaking down my cheek.
“Relax, lamer, it gets better.” He whispered, his gruff voice surprisingly reassuring.
“Doesn’t stop it from hurting now.” I said, then sucked it up and lifted myself up, thrusting back down before he could slide all of the way out.
“Ah!”
We set a pretty slow rhythm at first while I continued to get used to everything, but then he somehow managed to hit my sweet spot again. After that it became erratic and sloppy and deliciously messy, and over way too soon as I proved myself a virgin by coming shortly after we had picked up the pace. I know I yelled the second time, his name spilling from my lips as he spilled into me.
I slumped forward onto my hands, looking up drowsily as he brushed his hand across my cheek again and then through my hair.
“I guess Spirit Week isn’t so bad.” He said after he’d caught his breath.
I tried to laugh but couldn’t quite manage it, slipping off of him and to one side and humming happily when he put an arm around my waist and pulled my back to his chest. “Yeah, well, we’re gonna get sent right back home tomorrow.”
“Oh?” He asked sleepily.
“It’s Pajama Day.”
He was quiet for a while, then shook his head. “Guess we’ll have to stay home, then.”
“So troublesome.” I sighed sarcastically.
“Go to sleep, Hayner.” His breath tickled my ear.
“Nn. Fuck you.”
“I thought I already told you: the idea is to fuck you.”
“Hmph. Just because you got your way this time doesn’t mean you’ll get it next time.”
He made a noise that made me think he didn’t believe me.
“Just go to sleep. We’ll have all day tomorrow to work this out.”
“Longer than that, I hope.” I blurted.
He snorted. “Yeah, lamer. Longer than that. Now go the fuck to sleep or I’ll have my way with you again.” A pause. “On second thought…”
I pretended to snore, and ignored him when he laughed at me.
All things considered, at least I’d been proven right in the end.

The End!