Work Text:
Lance woke slowly, which wasn't inherently abnormal for him. He'd always been slow to wake, enjoying the warmth of the sheets around him, and the sun streaming in on his face, warming everything around him. The sound of his family moving around him would filter in equally slowly, and when his mind was finally less fuzzy, he'd get out of bed and start his day. Lazy mornings were his favorite way to wake up. He sighed when his mind became more active, reminding him that there was no sun to stream in, no family to hear, and there wouldn't be time to laze around much longer. A yawn escaped him slowly, his throat releasing a very feminine sound, which considering yawns were more or less a releasing of oxygen, slipping easily past vocal cords, it should've sound soft and high pitched. Thus Lance was still not alerted to anything being especially wrong.
Lance stretched languidly across his bed. He relished the feeling of the soft mattress beneath him. It would forever surprise him that Alteans understood the necessity of comfortable mattresses, when usually military beds were hard as rocks. The sheets were just slightly too stiff to be luxurious, but were still much better than the rough, almost threadbare sheets of the Garrison. Lance released his stretch, letting his arms fold downward and hands rest naturally on his chest. This was when Lance noticed there was something incredibly wrong with his body.
When he had gone to bed the night before, his chest had been a smooth plane, not particularly soft with fat, but not especially firm from muscles the way he thought a more fit man's might be. Now there where two distinct lumps of fat over his chest. They were too large to be tumors, and fell to the sides of his chest as naturally as he'd seen Hunk's chest fat do. Oh god, had he suddenly gained a bunch of weight from eating space goo?
Lance pulled his hands away from his chest to lift up his shirt so he could look down at his body. Indeed, he had suddenly gained distinct breast fat. He groaned in agitation before getting up. He hoped he hadn't gained so much weight that he his sleep clothing didn't fit anymore. He slowly rose from the bed, realizing that his sleep pants had suddenly gotten a little too tight overnight, or at least, around his lower stomach, hips and butt it had. The pants still fit comfortably around his midsection, which was odd. A flash of insight came to Lance. He stripped himself before the full length mirror he had sneaked into his room. It took a moment for his mind to process what he was seeing before he released a very high pitched scream.
Shiro woke with a start, the cries of agony and the roar of an unseen audience dying as the waking world came to him. A cold sweat traveled down his back. Trauma, he told himself, took many forms. As he rose from his bed, he told himself that it was okay to not be alright just yet. He didn't believe himself. Shaking the thoughts from his head, he grabbed his towel and headed for the communal showers.
He had gotten used to not looking at himself in mirrors even before Kerberos. Adam might have helped him to feel better about his body beginning to fail him, but a deep seated self-esteem issue never really goes away. He hadn't been able to bear seeing his arm slowly lose muscle mass and feel it become more and more numb as time went on. Now, he didn't want to see all the spots where the Galra had affected him. He knew scars littered his body. From his face were a scar cut across his cheeks and nose, to the bottom of his left foot where an alien's fang had cut him. He especially didn't want to look too closely at where his fleshy stump of an arm met the metal of his new prosthetic.
That's why it wasn't until he was in the shower and had begun to wash the night's terror away from himself that he noticed there was something wrong with the way it looked. He did not scream, nor did he show any outward signs of panic. He instead continued through his routine like nothing was wrong. And if he felt that his clothing fit him wrong when he dressed for the day, he decided that he'd just have to deal with it until he got some answers.
Kieth instantly knew there was something not right with his body. It wasn't unusual for him to wake up feeling aroused. He could never quite remember what he had dreamed about, but arousal was usually the first thing he felt upon coming to consciousness. And indeed, he woke up feeling aroused. But something about the way his crotch felt was wrong. Normally he'd be able to feel his erection against the soft fabric of his boxers, the sparks of arousal soaring through his body has he ground his hips against the bed. Now he just felt... wet. He still felt aroused, but there was an off feeling about it.
Keith didn't give it the second thought it deserved as he reached into his boxers to play with himself. Normally he would enjoy the feeling of touching himself, would imagine someone else was pleasuring him. And when he was done, he'd get out of bed and get cleaned up for the day. Now though, there was nothing but air where his dick should have been. The feeling of nothing being there killed any arousal he had. In panic, Keith began to feel himself, searching for any sign of his genitalia. What he found instead gave him pause before he shuddered in disgust of himself.
Scowling, he left for the showers, day thoroughly ruined before it even began.
Pidge groaned in pain as she woke. She had passed out over her laptop, leaving her back screaming and her screen proclaiming a long stream of very excited looking 'y's. She supposed that the universe was indeed asking her why she was bothering to do anything. As she stretched out her back, trying to ease the pain from having been curled up in an awkward position, she realized that a second pain she'd been expecting didn't exist.
Pidge knew deep within her soul that she'd never trade being a female for anything in the world, but she also knew she wouldn't mind trading cramps for something else. When her thoughts ran away from her after downing some very strong pain pills, she'd think about trying to trade period cramps for bird chirps. It would be equally annoying, but much less painful.
This was how she was first able to decipher that something was very wrong with her. She'd never not had cramps, and while the previous day had brought the pass-out from pain kind, today should have still been it's own special kind of torture. Instead, she felt nothing from where her uterus should have been. No shooting pain which would make her dizzy, no relief from it abiding under the sweet relief of medicine, nothing. Not even the subtle wetness that usually comes from blood and the other gunk her uterus was supposed to be releasing.
Pidge counted to ten in binary slowly in her head before chancing a look into her shorts. What she saw made her pause, and count to ten once more in binary. In this way, she forced herself to remain calm and pushed the strangled scream of shock down. If she had been moody before, it was nothing compared to the frigid anger that was slowly consuming her form. Somebody, she told herself, was going to suffer for the crime which had been committed against her.
Hunk was sick of constantly waking up sore. Before the Garrison he'd been working alongside his father in the repair shop. And then in the Garrison, it hadn't been mandatory for him to gain any muscle mass. He was on the Engineer track, and nobody really cares what an engineer looks like so long as they can fix whatever needs fixing. But now he was part of a war that was over ten thousand years old, and he needed to be able to take down anything he came across, be it with his new gun, or with his bare hands.
With a long groan Hunk sat up in bed. His abdomen was killing him from all of the jumps he practiced yesterday with the team. They were still quiznaking awful at working together. Lance was still to eager to turn everything into a competition with Keith, Keith was still too easy to rile up, Pidge was usually distracted and yesterday had been completely out of it, and Shiro still wasn't able to guide them. Hunk didn't blame Shiro for it, of course, getting to know people could be hard, and understanding how to motivate the team and stop in fighting before it happens wasn't a skill most people had. Hunk wondered for a moment if there was some way he could stop Lance from picking a fight before he could rile Keith up.
Hunk slowly left the comfort of his bed. His body felt like one massive bruise, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to move at all today. But he had too. Who else was going to make sure Coran didn't accidentally poison the team? Who else was going to make sure Pidge was okay? Who else was going to keep Lance from killing Keith? Well, maybe Shiro would do the last part, but Hunk wasn't going to bet that less than one person would be needed to keep an eye on the two.
Hunk began to practice those yoga poses Lance had shown him the other day. Just the ones that didn't require too much balance but still stretched all the sore muscles in Hunk's body out. It was at this point Hunk realized an issue with his body. His chest had never been flat, but now it was far more rounded than it had any right to be. His... chest... hung down uncomfortably, pulled by the weight of gravity in a way that did not feel particularly pleasant. Standing straight up didn't help much either. A new pain was forming in his back, one that had nothing to do with the exercise from yesterday.
“Everyone to the bridge,” Allura's, admittedly deeper sounding than usual but still unmistakably her, voice called out through the over-com.
Well, Hunk thought as he quickly changed into more appropriate clothing, at least the ship wasn't on fire.
Lance hated how attracted he was to the distinctly more feminine looking Coran. Oh sure, he stilled looked like a goofy space uncle, but now his suit clung to his every curve in a way that Lance was desperately trying to tell himself wasn't hot. His body had other ideas about it though, a flash of arousal sparked somewhere low in him. God, he hates himself for thinking anything dirty about poor Coran.
Allura just got hotter too. Where she'd normally be all enticing curve and toned muscle, she was now broad chested, and wasp waisted, and Lance doesn't even care that waisted isn't a word because wow. And now Lance is starting to understand why everyone thinks he's an idiot. He thinks he's an idiot for how mushy his brain turns whenever presented with a hot person.
Lance hates that all of Allura's explanation for what's happening is just going over his head because he's too busy checking his teammates out. I mean, seriously, the only one who didn't somehow get hotter was Pidge, and she was too young for him to start with. Lance had always admired how smart she was though, and feared how dark her face could go when insulted. Lance really does think that if he hadn't covered her mouth back in the Garrison she'd have been kicked out before they could have started this crazy adventure and everything would be terrible and...
Lance is called to attention by Allura leaving. God, her butt still looks incredible as a dude.
Lance quickly draws his gaze away from Allura's form. He makes eye-contact with Shiro and a flush rises to his cheeks. He knows his grin is sheepish, and he's quick to try and change the topic from what has happened to them (he thinks Allura's explanation could be summarized as bullshit space puzzles), to what they're going to do. He's distracted by his own thought of how awkward using the bathroom is going to be. He feels a pang of sympathy for Pidge. Gender dysphoria is hard, but he can't imagine having to touch something that feels like it doesn't belong on his body any time he has to use the toilet. Not directly, anyway. Maybe nobody should drink water for a while? That's a stupid idea, even for him.
Hunk leaves, and Lance thinks he's going to the kitchen. Everyone might have suddenly changed genders, but they all still had to eat. Besides, Lance thinks he knows Hunk pretty well. Cooking is what he does to distract himself from things going pear shaped. Or from stress. Pidge is at her console, and Lance is positive she's looking up how to get out of whatever quiznaked up part of space their in faster. Keith makes an excuse about going to train. Shiro goes with him. Lance can feel jealousy pounding in his chest, echoing his thudding heart beat. He refuses to acknowledge that he wants Shiro's praise and attention which he gives to Keith so easily and heads towards the kitchen. Hunk always appreciates help, and it'll keep Lance distracted from the glaringly obvious problem he has. Besides, Hunk always gives him attention and praise.
The day had been trying for everyone. Hunk can clearly see it in the way that Pidge's tear tracks can be easily traced with his own eyes. He can see it in the way that Shiro's face has become pure stone, cold and emotionless. He can see it in the way that Keith gulps water, gasping for breath. Sweat still trickles from his hairline down his face. Hunk can see it in the way way Allura looks like she's ready to pass out from how hard she's been pushing the ship. He can see it in the way Coran tells wild stories about his family, trying to distract everyone from how terrible everything feels. Hunk can see it in the way that Lance, his absolute best friend, tries to hide his flushed face behind the guise of eating.
Nobody is really eating though. Even Hunk plays more with his food than actually putting any in his mouth. He's a little disappointed by it too. He'd managed to turn some of the goo into a loaf like structure. It's not meatloaf, but it's not goo either. Honestly, the texture is what's saving it. The flavor is still that of cardboard. Maybe Hunk should see if there's Space Ginger. Then he could try to turn the goo into gingerbread and that would be better than whatever it currently was.
Hunk is so worn out that he doesn't even notice when he falls asleep in his food goo. Nobody bothers to wake him. When Hunk wakes up the next day, back to his normal self, he decides that everyone else was too worn out to try. And if nobody mentions what happened to them again and Allura is more careful with navigating the castle, nobody says anything.