A/N:

Hey guys! I just wanted to say thanks to everybody who's reading! I'm so glad ya'll like it! Here's a super long chapter for you guys, complete with more Brochester bickering and cranky Dean. Enjoy, and please review! ;)

Chapter 3: Dean's Feminine Side

Dean's mood grew steadily worse as the day wore on. Everything was so awkwardly female about his body, from the way his hips moved as he walked, causing his now baggy jeans to slip way too far down, to the way he was now too short to sit comfortably back in the front seat of the Impala to reach the gas pedal. He could tell that Sam was starting to get over the shock-and-awe factor of Dean's curse, and was beginning to snicker every time Dean got frustrated. Which was about every forty-five seconds.

"Sam, I swear to god, if you give me that little smug face of yours oNE MORE TIME I'M G-"

"Chill, Sis," Sam said, the little fucker. "Bobby said he's on his way to give us a hand, and all we have to do is sit tight for a day or two while he finishes up a haunting."

"Yeah, sure, that's easy for you to say, 'cause you didn't just get TURNED INTO A CHICK!"

"At least that witch made you a cute chick," Sammy retorted, suppressing a grin behind the screen of his laptop.

"Dude, that is so fucking sick, I feel like I'm going to barf…." Dean said, giving his brother a evil look, rendered nearly comical by his softened features.

"Okay, okay, I know it sucks. But there's really nothing else to do. I need to figure out where else our little Sabrina the Teenage Bitch could be hiding, so when Bobby gets here we'll be ready. "

"Uggghhhhhhhhhhhh…" Dean groaned, flopping back on his bed, wincing as he landed. "Are boobs supposed to hurt?" he asked, with a contemplative expression on his delicate face.

"How the hell should I know, Dean?" Sam snapped, clearly tired of dealing with all of Dean's melodrama.

"Oh, I dunno, Samantha," Dean muttered under his breath, reaching a hand up to experimentally caress the offending tissue, "maybe because you have google installed in your cranium…"

"I heard that." Sam said, shooting Dean a glare.

Dean rolled his eyes, and wondered how much worse it would have been if Sam had been the one the witch put her girly curse on. The very thought caused him to shudder. As he rolled over on the bed, he noticed just how baggy his clothes actually were on this new, rather slender frame.

"I think I'm going to go make a supply run, and maybe hit up that thrift store here in town for some new duds, since I seem to have magically lost fifty pounds. Along with my manhood." Dean said, grabbing Baby's keys out of his coat pocket.

"Good, 'cause you kinda look like a hobo." Sam said, not taking his eyes off the screen. "But a vewwy pwetty hobo."

Dean narrowed his eyes and attempted to punch the shit out of Sam's arm as he stormed out, but it ended up making all his knuckles crack painfully while Sam just laughed, Dean muttering curses under his breath.

Driving around town in the Impala, Dean started to feel a little bit more like himself. Well, emotionally, anyway. He still looked like a fucking Miss America contestant. Pulling in the parking lot outside the small secondhand store, Dean flipped Baby's sun visor down and opened the little flap that concealed the mirror.

Jesus H. Christ, Dean thought, I don't even look remotely like me anymore… Well, I guess my eyes are kinda the same…. except… bigger…

Dean sat for a minute in the old car, staring at his reflection and occasionally running his fingers over different parts of his face.

He was paler that he was when he woke up that morning, and his new skin was incredibly soft. He leaned closer to the mirror, and noticed a smattering of freckles splashed across his nose and cheeks.

Fuck…. Have those always been there? I might as well put my hair up in fucking pigtails and call it a day.

Shaking his head and sitting back from the mirror, Dean roused himself and stepped out of the car, grabbing his pants as he stood up.

Here goes nothing, Dean thought, and allowed himself a smirk.

He swung the door open wide and stepped into the store, which was cram-packed with racks upon racks of clothes and shoes. Overwhelmed by the sheer volume of merchandise shoved into the small store, Dean stopped in his tracks and gaped.

"Uh… Can I help you?" a voice said to his left.

Dean whipped his head around, and managed to hit himself in the eye with a strand of hair. Addressing him was a bespectacled woman of about twenty-five, with a brightly colored Avengers t-shirt on under a red sweater, which only seemed to make her flaming ginger hair stand out that much more.

"Oh, no, I'm fi- well…. Yeah, actually, if you don't mind." Dean said, after rubbing his eye and making a snap decision. He clomped over to the sales counter the girl was sitting behind and rested his palms on the surface.

"Sure. What do you need?" the girl asked, giving Dean a quick once-over then returned her penetrating gaze back to his.

"I… uh.." Dean started, making up the lie nearly as he spoke it. "I had to leave home in a hurry earlier… and somehow I ended up grabbing my… brother's… clothes. And stuff. But I can't go back there, so I need some help finding some that fit."

"Oookay…" the girl said, obviously calling Dean's bluff. "Looks like your 'brother' had some pretty awful taste in clothes anyway. I don't blame you."

"Uh… Thanks. I guess." Dean responded, a little surprised that the girl seemed like she was going to play along with Dean's lie. "Cool shirt, by the way."

"Thanks!" the girl replied, visibly brightening. "I love The Avengers. Joss Whedon is fucking awesome." She came around the counter and grabbed Dean's hand, leading him down into the abyss of racks and clothing items. "Black Widow is my favorite," she continued, "she is so bitchin'! I'm Charlie, by the way."

"Yeah, she is pretty bitchin'" Dean said with a chuckle, allowing himself to be pulled along after the redheaded girl.

"I know right!?" Charlie raved, grabbing some clothes off the racks seemingly at random and shoving them into Dean's arms. "People usually don't get it. Black Widow has the same powers as Batman, after all, except on top of all that, she's a freaking spy, too! Plus, you know, Scarlet Johansson…"

"Yeah, totally!" Dean said, maybe a little too enthusiastically, from underneath the mountain of clothes Charlie had thrown at him, glad that they had finally made it to the back of the store. "Is there a place where I can try these on?"

"Oh, yeah, sure." Charlie said. "I think most of those should fit you, 'cause we look about the same size. Just pick out the stuff you like and leave the rest. Do you need anything else? Shoes? Socks? Underwear….?" she questioned, with a cursory glance in the direction of Dean's boobs, hidden under all the garments.

Dean flushed at the last part, and lowered his head. "Uh… yeah.. I guess I shou-"

"Hey, don't worry about it. I'll see what I can scrounge up while you try stuff on." Charlie said, saving Dean the embarrassment of explaining. "Us girls have to stick together, after all," the slender girl said, offering Dean a small smile. "What did you say your name was, again?"

"Oh, it's De…. Anna. Deanna." Dean floundered, mentally chastising himself for not coming up with something better beforehand.

"Well nice to meet you, again, Deanna. Here, let me get the door for you, and I'll just knock when I round up that other stuff."

Dean smiled at Charlie in thanks, and proceeded into the "changing room" which obviously used to be a supply closet, the remnants of shelving still visible on the whitewashed walls. He dumped his pile of clothes on the short bench, and after closing the door, had to take a minute to just breathe.

He must have stood there longer than he thought, because he was startled by a small knock at the door.

"Deanna? I found a pack of underwear leftover from the church clothes drive, never even been opened, and a couple of bras…. we didn't have a lot, so I just brought what I thought would work best. What size shoe do you wear?"

"Uh… This size?" Dean said, slipping one boot off and sticking his foot out underneath the door for Charlie to inspect.

Charlie chuckled, and stuck her own foot next to Dean's for comparison. "You look like maybe a 7 or a 7.5… I'll see what I can do!" And then she was off, diving back into the abyss of the small store.

Dean wondered how on earth anyone ever found anything in this place, it all looked random to him. Charlie obviously knows her way around… He thought, and began slipping his old clothes off.

Dean stood there in front of the skinny mirror hanging on the back of the door and proceeded to inspect his new anatomy.

Hmmm….. He thought, not bad… Rack's a bit on the small side, though. Probably cause I'm so fucking skinny. Dean turned around to inspect his ass. Now we're talking! Baby got back! Dean reached around to give himself a little smack, chuckling under his breath. Okay, let's get this shit over with.

He figured he'd start with the underwear, opening the back and pulling on a simple pair of black boyshorts. Seemingly satisfied, he started flipping through the bras Charlie had brought for him. No… he thought, casting aside the offending pink ruffly garment, bright blue polka dots got a Meh…, and then finally: looks like you're the winner. The "winner" turned out to be a simple black lace number that didn't look too worn out. After struggling for a few seconds with the clasp, he finally managed to get the damn thing situated. These are so much easier to take off…

After giving himself an approving nod in the mirror, he turned to the rest of the stack in front of him, and heaved an exaggerated sigh.

Sam was just about to pick up his phone and dial Dean's number when the devil himself stepped through the door, armed to the teeth with plastic grocery sacks.

"Jesus, Dean, what the hell did you buy?" Sam said, his relief at seeing his brother immediately pushed out by the annoyance that Dean got to go on a shopping spree while he was stuck in the motel doing actual work.

"Oh shut up, Sammy. You know I needed at least a few day's worth of clothes, and I might have been a little hungry when I finally got to the grocery."

"Is this you getting in touch with your feminine side?" Sam asked, intentionally pushing his brother's buttons.

"You are such a fucking dick, sometimes, you know that?" Dean snapped, his face immediately turning stormy. "You don't even deserve the damn strawberry-walnut salad I found for you. Last one, too. I better just go find fucking Bugs Bunny and give it to him, I'm sure he'd appreciate it…"

"Okay, okay" Sam said, holding his hands up, "I was kidding. Let's just eat before my stomach decided to devour itself from the inside out, okay?"

"Fine." Dean said, slamming the salad container and a beer down in front of his dick of a brother. Dean grabbed a double cheeseburger and a beer for himself, and sat down opposite Sam.

"Nice shirt," Sam offered, trying to break the silence.

"Thanks. A girl at the store helped me find everything, thank god. Which is also probably why I ended up with so much. She was cool, though." Dean said, momentarily forgiving his brother for his perpetual douchey-ness. Plus, Dean really liked the Batman shirt and dark grey zip-up Charlie had found for him.

"Cool." Sam said, glancing at the bags suspiciously. "I think I'm going to give Bobby a call, after dinner."

"That's a good idea, and ask what's taking that old bastard so long." Dean said, around a mouthful of cheeseburger.