Disclaimer: I don't own Dexter. This is a fanfic. BEWARE!
"Who the fuck are you?"
I blinked, not the slightest bit clear what was going on. My sister, Debra, was staring down at me as if she didn't know who I was. I'd been having nightmares ever since I killed my brother but this unusually vivid. "Huh?"
"Did you break in?"
I frowned. Was that some sort of metaphor.
"Damn, you're high, aren't ya," said Deb. "You're sweaty as a motherfucker, just how high are you?" I blinked again. "Tell me who the president is."
"Deb, it's me. You know me."
"Pretty sure I don't. How do you know my name anyways." Not looking away from me she backed up and grabbed her handcuffs off the counter. I was starting to get worried. "Damn, you do look vaguely familiar. Did I arrest you back in Vice? Oh shit, you're a hooker aren't you. Did Dexter bring you home? God, I can't BELIEVE him."
"Deb, knock it off, you're acting crazy." Noticing my voice sounded funny I cleared my throat.
Her hand went to her hip. "Bitch, I'm not the drugged up hooker that broke into a cop's house to sleep."
I didn't know what kind of crazy role play this was or if Debra was having some sort of ice truck killer flashback but this had gone on long enough. She couldn't even seem to keep her lines straight, going between accusing me of bringing home hookers to talking about home invaders. "You're out of your fucking mind." Shit, I hadn't meant to say that out loud. She was right about me being sweaty. I was thirsty and hot too, though I didn't feel sick precisely. I hoped I didn't have a fever, I had a big day planned.
"Yeah, well, we can sort out who's the crazy one down at the station." With strength I didn't know she had she grabbed my arms and lifted all 180 pounds of me straight up off the coach. "Shit, put some clothes on."
She'd never made an issue of me wearing boxers to bed before. I'd given her the bedroom, I deserved a little clothing comfort to make up for what I lacked in bedding. Frankly after a month of her crashing at my apartment I was going a bit spare. Her habit of drinking straight out of the carton was particularly annoying. "You do realize this is my house right?"
She rolled her eyes. "Hard way it is." Before I knew it she'd turned me around and slammed me against the couch, fabric rough against my skin. I started to struggle but my limbs felt weak and uncoordinated. Seconds later the handcuffs were securely around my wrists. Hair fell in front of my eyes as she pulled me back up. It was an odd occurrence since the last time I'd had long hair was back in college. The purple hue reassured me that it was a wig, though I couldn't imagine why I was wearing one.
I stumbled as she hauled me into the bedroom, sight going dark as she pulled a sweater over my head. Even before she finished tugging it down I could tell it was her date sweater. Fine black wool weaves with generally red flowers and green vines embroidered across its surface it was actually more of a dress/sweater combo. I'd only ever seen Deb wear it once during a midwinter date that ended in a breakup. I assumed that Miami's weather and the bad memories associated with the outfit had kept her from donning it again. Unfortunately she seemed to have no qualms about forcing me to crossdress in it. Considering my hands were cuffed and trapped inside the sweater behind my back I wouldn't be getting out of it until she allowed it.
The sweater-dress was tight around my chest and hips which was to be expected considering Deb was skinny as a weed. Strangely though it hung a bit loose around my waist, wind bobbing it against my stomach as she marched me to her car. She'd had a little more meat around her tummy before her recent manic exercise spree but not that much.
It didn't say much for my investigative skills but it wasn't until she had me in the back of her car that I noticed something far stranger than my hair. The sweater hung way out in front of my chest, as if two grapefruit-sized balloons were stuffed underneath it. I bounced in my seat a couple times as Deb started the car and the mounds followed me on a slight delay. They had weight, inertia, they definitely weren't balloons. Even more disturbing was that I could feel them. Not only the tug on my chest where they were attached, but also the touch of the dress against them. I couldn't imagine how it was possible outside of a dream or psychedelic drugs but as I watched and felt two nipples tent the fabric I began to wonder if life wasn't stranger than I'd ever imagined.
"Deb, I'm seriously freaking out." Debra ignored me, but I couldn't ignore my voice any longer. It wasn't something that could be fixed by simply clearing my throat, my voice had to be a full two octaves higher. "Deb, it's me, Dexter. I went to sleep and I woke up looking like this." She didn't believe me, but she was listening. I had to sell this. I still wasn't convinced all of this was real but it was prudent to act as if it was, and that meant I absolutely couldn't get stuck at the station. If they thought I was missing they'd go searching my apartment. Blood slides, knives, dna evidence… it wouldn't look good. Even if my body changed back my life would be over.
"Debra, sis, I'm telling the truth. I can prove it." Summoning up memories through the haze of dehydration I started off easy. "Dad used to call you Pumpkin. Your favorite animal is the unicorn. You wet the bed until you were eight. You gave your virginity to Noah Br-" The tires squealed as she brought the car to an abrupt stop in the breakdown lane.
"What the fuck. Why would Dexter tell you those things… Christ, is that his shitty pillow talk you're spouting off?"
"I am Dexter." I shifted in my seat, but conforming to the cushions in an unusual manner. "Can I get some water? Oh, and I think I need to pee."
"Do you or don't you?"
"I'm not sure," I replied. There was some pressure but I didn't feel full exactly. My heart fluttered - something it hardly ever did - as I surmised that things down under had probably changed as well. I squeezed my legs together and encountered no obstruction.
"Shit," said Debra. Deb turned up the radio to avoid further conversation but pulled a U-turn so it seemed I was getting through to her. I hadn't realized just how foul-mouthed my sister was. Well, I sort of knew, but I'd gotten so used to tuning out the swears that typically my brain only registered words from her that carried actual content. Now her words sounded sharper, my ears picking up tiny inflections I'd never noticed before that made it impossible to ignore anything she said.
Once we were back inside the apartment I looked longingly at the bathroom. "So, can you uncuff me?" Noticing the direction of my gaze she sighed.
"Fine, but if you run I will run you down." She would. Deb was a scary good runner and even in my normal body I wasn't sure I could beat her on the long haul.
Remembering at the last moment to sit down. I did my business with a sort of shocked calm. Finishing up I stopped to guzzle greedily at the sink faucet. Thirst partially vanquished I smoothed out the borrowed thigh-length dress and went out to face the music.
She was taller than me now. It made me wonder why the dress didn't hang lower. I felt like I was showing even more leg than she had despite her having at least six inches on me. 'Oh.' It was my curves that made up the difference, both front and back. Convinced of the reality of the rest of my body after the bathroom visit I tugged at the indigo locks brushing my cheek. 'Not a wig.' I wished I'd stopped to look in the mirror in the bathroom but at the same time I was glad I hadn't.
"Stop doing that," she said. I looked at her questioningly, hair twirled around my finger. "It's freaking me out. This whole thing is crazy, there's no way you can be Dexter."
"Well, I am."
She poked my boob before jumping back as if burned. "If this is some sick prank this is your last chance to fess up."
"You used to lick the cream out of Oreos and hide the crackers behind your ears."
She sighed and rested her head on the kitchen counter. "This is so fucked up."
"You're telling me." Feeling the grip of hunger I grabbed Deb's chocolate milk out of the fridge. I didn't normally go for something so sweet but I felt a craving for a glass.
"I've got to work," she said dolefully. "You've got to go to work. What are we gonna do Dex?"
It was the first time she'd called me by name since I woke up. It was nice to know that even in this body she still looked up to me as her big brother that could solve everything… even if she couldn't literally look up to me anymore. "Well, I have a ton of sick days and vacation days saved up. I can't call in with this voice but you could tell them I have laryngitis or something. Maybe I'll change back tomorrow."
"Right, sure," she replied, only halfheartedly hopeful. "I'll see you tonight." She left with a thousand-yard stare, pointedly not looking back at me as she closed the door behind her.
A/N -
Some of the ages I found in the wiki seemed unrealistically old. So instead I'm pegging Dexter at 27 and Debra at 25. A google search said mid to late 30's for Deb but she seems too motivated to still be working Vice after so many years. She acted young as well.