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Rating: NC-17

Archive: MA

Series: No.

Categories: Q/O, but not how you'd expect. PWP, First time, humor and parody.

Feedback: Dying for it, please. Emails above.

Summary: The universe hiccuped and every male in the Temple lost his Y chromosome.

Spoilers/Warnings: Political correctness has left the building. F/F action (please--how could we not?)

Disclaimers: George owns all, probably including the female incarnations of said Jedi.

/..../ thoughts,

Obi-Wan woke slowly, distantly aware that something was wrong. A ripple in the Force, perhaps, a fluctuation of some kind, or maybe he was coming down with the Ritaxian flu. He rose and padded out of his room and toward the 'fresher, feeling distinctly strange and muzzy in the head. His sleep pants dragged at his hips oddly, and when he tugged at them, they felt--wrong. In fact, his skin felt oddly sensitive, too soft under the clothing.

/Great,/ he thought. /I have a fever./

He got to the 'fresher, bleary with sleep and really needing the toilet. Tugging at the laces on the front of his pants, he reached in.

There was nothing.

Flash-panicked, sick, and dizzy, he yanked the front of his pants away from his body and saw a body that wasn't his.

He might have cursed in three languages if he'd been able to find his voice.

His penis was gone. Instead was soft curve of stomach over russet, curling hair. Disbelieving, he shoved his pants down further, bending from the waist absurdly, remembering at the last second that his padawan braid was about to sink into the toilet. He saw fine, light hair over soft, creamy skin and the smooth, round curves of female thighs.

Aghast, he straightened and turned to the mirror.

The person in the mirror stared back, short red-brown hair in the padawan cut, yes. Gray-blue eyes, yes. Cleft chin, yes. But everything else was wrong. It was off. It was--female.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was a woman.

"What the--" she whispered, barely a breath. She looked closely in the mirror.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was a hot woman.

Shaking her head, she touched her cheek. It was smooth and pale. Her lips were soft and pink, and she swiped her tongue over them, sheening them lightly. She was too astonished not to be excited by the look of it.

An ache started in her lower belly, something strange and yet… familiar.

/I'm a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a woman./

Immediately she yanked her sleep tunic over her head and dropped it absently, watching in the mirror as her own delicate, soft hands cupped firm, round breasts and stroked. She released a ragged sigh as the low ache flared to life, centering right between her legs.

The purely prurient aspect of her nature--kept under strict control most of the time (she was a well-brought up Jedi, after all)--wondered, /Is there a reason for me to ever leave these quarters again?/

Her well-brought-up self bitch-slapped the other. /I'm a woman! Explain this!/

She couldn't. So she bent and retrieved her tunic and tugged it over her head, then left the 'fresher, rushing to her master's room.

She burst in without knocking. "Master, I--" And skidded to a halt.

Qui-Gon stood in the middle of his--her--room. Obi-Wan's master was in her sleep pants and no top, as he had always slept, but this time, there was something there that definitely should have been under a tunic. Obi-Wan's mouth hung open.

Qui-Gon's shining, silvery brown hair flowed as softly as always, but it now framed a soft face, smooth and beardless, with high cheekbones and a delicate tan, contrasting Obi-Wan's own pale skin. The lips were full and firm, the eyes upturned sweetly, still wise under narrow, graceful eyebrows and pretty, thick lashes.

/Well that's a whole new kind of good-looking for him to be,/ Obi-Wan thought, reeling.

Qui-Gon's breasts were larger than Obi-Wan's, but still not large, as breasts went. Her waist was slender, her hips were slim, curving out prettily and swelling tautly against the sleep pants.

She turned to stare at Obi-Wan and her expression went from stunned to dumbfounded.

Stricken expression notwithstanding, Qui-Gon was a hot woman, too.

/Hotter than me,/ Obi-Wan marveled.

"Master?" Obi-Wan said, her voice cracking. No--it wasn't cracking, it was simply a female voice, bearing the same faint trace of homeland accent it always had.

They stared at each other a moment, both of them thinking how remarkable, how incredible, how unexplainable, how sexy it all was. Then Qui-Gon, amazingly, found her voice--or the voice that now resided in her throat, at any rate.

"Padawan." Both sets of eyebrows rose. The voice was distinctly female but like smoked whiskey; more purr than anything else. She cleared her throat and said softly, "I believe we have a problem."

Obi-Wan tried to ignore the insistent, tingling twitch between her legs at the tone of her master's new voice. "We do, Master," she agreed, still looking surprised as her own voice came out as creamy as her new thighs.

Qui-Gon looked at her padawan with something between terror and arousal, distantly grateful that it was only terribly uncomfortable and not tenting her pants. "We must--" she cleared her throat again, as if that would help. "We must find out if there are others like this. I cannot imagine we'd be the only ones."

Obi-Wan stared. /Leave the quarters?/ she thought, vaguely disappointed and sharply nervous about it. "Yes Master," she said, and was amazed yet again at her own voice. She remained in the doorway, staring as her master flexed one foot, examined long-fingered, graceful hands, turned from Obi-Wan to the mirror to examine her face.

"We should get dressed," that sweet, throaty voice instructed, and their eyes met in the mirror.

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan agreed again, not moving, her crass side rearing up once more as she wondered, /How is it he got past his breasts when he woke up?/ Obi-Wan was fascinated, staring at the broad expanse of soft back, strong muscles rippling delicately under the smooth skin, and then at the reflection of perfect breasts and yes, quite hard nipples in the mirror. Trim waist, and--she dropped her gaze lower, feeling the tug of arousal in her belly again. Even under the sleep pants Obi-Wan's master had an indescribably perfect ass.

Qui-Gon noticed she was being stared at. She cupped her hands over her breasts, suddenly modest, and looked at Obi-Wan over her shoulder. "Go change, Obi-Wan," she snapped, prettily.

Blinking, Obi-Wan backed out of the doorway.

Clutching her robe shut around her, Qui-Gon rushed to the com and keyed in Yoda's frequency.

Yoda looked the same, thank the Force, but she burst into decidedly evil and completely unmasterly laughter at the sight of Qui-Gon. "Fine, you are," she cackled in a definitely feminine voice. Another voice broke in from the background, and Yoda replied to it, "Qui-Gon, too. Yes, yes, females we all are. Luckier for some of us than others, this is." She smiled broadly, her eyes crinkling, and then Qui-Gon noticed the faint femininity to Yoda's features.

"Master, what in the name of the Sith happened?"

"Know, we do not. Know only do I that Yaddle came out. Getting laid, I am. When eight hundred years old you reach--" the words were broken off as Yaddle came into view, yanking Yoda into a deep, hungry kiss. Yoda indulged her briefly, to Qui-Gon's utter disconcertment, and then Yaddle broke the kiss and said into the com, "Taking a mud bath we are. Call again you will not, hm?" She terminated the call.

Qui-Gon stared at the blank screen, flabbergasted.

A flurry of questions raced through Obi-Wan's mind as she dressed. Her tunics didn't fit properly; they gapped open around her cleavage provocatively, and she speculated about whether the not-too-large size of her breasts projected something about the size of her manhood.

But her manhood wasn't there anymore. She wondered despairingly if he'd ever have it back. Pulling her leggings on, she squirmed against the fabric. They were too tight across her hips and butt; her tunics were too big, her boots--/Sith hells,/ she thought, slipping her slender leg into one boot and finding that her now-dainty foot floated in it. Desperately she grabbed socks from a drawer and rolled one up to shove in the other boot, testing it, and found that at least it would keep her from sliding around in her own footwear. The buckles fastening the boots up her shins had to be tightened considerably against her slender legs, as did her utility belt and sash: her waist, she found, was quite narrow. She preened a little at the knowledge.

She hid her ill-fitting uniform under her robe, clipping her lightsaber to her belt. She met Qui-Gon in the hallway. At least her master looked sympathetic; they were equally uncomfortable in their own bodies, not knowing what to do with them, and clutching their robes closed across their inappropriately provocative Jedi tunics.

"Yoda's changed, too. Yaddle's a lesbian. My boots don't fit," Qui-Gon complained mournfully.

"Too big," Obi-Wan agreed, looking at her own feet, unwilling to digest the rest of the information Qui-Gon had just laid on her. She shook her head. "We're going to have to borrow clothes from Master Gallia or Master Bilaba. I can't run around like this."

"I have a feeling, Padawan, that we are far from alone."

"Yeah, I have a feeling, too. A bad one. A very bad feeling."

They stood a moment, and Obi-Wan was struck by the elegant beauty her master projected. "You're gorgeous," she said without thinking, then flushed miserably. "I mean--like this, you know--I just thought it might make you feel better to know that you--"

Qui-Gon put a graceful hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, stroking with her thumb. "I know, Obi-Wan, it's all right. There are bound to be some emotions and thoughts that would never occur to us under normal circumstances. I am sure it's all perfectly natural in a situation such as this."

Obi-Wan stared. "How can you be so calm?" she asked as they moved toward the door. "We're women. I don't even know what pronoun to use on you now. I mean--we're still male in our heads, but--" she paused as Qui-Gon palmed the door open and stuck her head out, checking.

They moved into the hallway, carefully holding their robes closed. Belatedly, Qui-Gon tugged her hood up. Obi-Wan followed suit, looking around for other people.

"I think it might be proper to refer to ourselves as women, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon suggested. "We don't know how long this will last."

Obi-Wan mentally tried it out. /She's my master. Her boots don't fit. She's Qui-Gon. Her voice has changed. Yaddle's a lesbian?/

Their normally sure stride was much less certain on this morning, and Obi-Wan found she missed the way she walked. Used to walk. These hips were all wrong. How long was it going to be like this? Surely it wasn't permanent? They reached the dining hall before she was even aware where they were going.

"Oh no. I can't go in there. Look at me!"

Qui-Gon turned to face her padawan, grasped the slim shoulders, and paused. /He's scared, Jinn, say something wise. Or is that 'she's' scared? There's a man in that head, that's who you're speaking to. The man under the woman. Damn, the woman on the outside is hot, though./

He added mentally, /Just as hot as the man was. I wonder what the strut looks like?/

"There are probably going to be many of us like this, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon tried to sound reassuring. "They are all feeling the same insecurities and fears that we are. At any rate, the Council won't take too long, I am sure, to find a --" She paused. /A cure? Can't say that, that's terrible. A solution? Well that implies that femininity is a problem./ She considered a moment while Obi-Wan stared at her impatiently, a mixture of irritation and desire in her eyes.

/She wants me,/ Qui-Gon thought distractedly, utterly pleased with herself, staring into the gray-blue eyes that were still so clearly Obi-Wan's.

"Master," Obi-Wan muttered, uncomfortable under Qui-Gon's gaze. "I know the Council are probably working on a way out of this. Or a reason for it. Or something. But that doesn't mean I want to go have caf with Mace and Bant right now." Suddenly they were both intently curious about what Mace looked like. They turned as one body toward the door, and entered.

The hall was full of women. There wasn't a male in sight, though it was clear which ones had been men: they were the ones looking uncomfortable, embarrassed, or aroused. The women who had always been women were glancing around them, expressions ranging from amused to smug.

The Jedi pair caught sight of Mace Windu, tapping herself a cup of caf at the end of the queue. Hurrying through the lines, the two Jedi took up breakfasts they didn't want and moved to sit with Mace.

Mace was a tall, imposing, Amazonian woman, voluptuous but smooth, with full, pouting lips and angry eyes. She was still, of course, completely bald, but it added something sensual to her appearance, something exotic and lovely.

Obi-Wan brushed a hand over her eyes and sighed, overwhelmed, then absently stroked her own cheek. /Soft,/ she marveled. She glanced over at Qui-Gon, wondering how soft her skin was. /Or is it 'his' skin?/ She tried to keep from wondering what Mace's skin felt like.

None of the three said anything for a moment, they simply stared at each other and alternately toyed with their cups and plates. Finally, Mace spoke.

"I'm in a humanoid lunar-based premenstrual cycle," she muttered low. The voice coming out of her mouth was as smooth as butter sliding down a hot plate.

Obi-Wan choked on her caf. "You're--what?" That was something that hadn't crossed her mind. Qui-Gon looked equally shocked.

Mace nodded miserably, then looked around. "I have to get hold of one of the women." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "One of the real women. None of my clothes fit, and I--" She glanced downward pointedly and let out a pained sigh. "I need a bra, too." She folded her arms under her ponderous breasts. "Everything hurts."

Obi-Wan tried not to stare. Now contrary to his or even Qui-Gon's, as breasts went, the ones on Mace Windu were large. If there was pain associated with them--Obi-Wan suppressed a delicate shudder.

Mace dipped a finger into the filling of her pastry and licked it. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon followed the gesture avidly, shifting on the bench.

"Damn," Mace sat back in her seat. "How hard is it to get decent chocolate around here? Not that I need any--my pants are already too tight." She put her head in her hands.

"Yaddle's a lesbian," Obi-Wan offered, helpfully. Both masters stared at her. She ducked her head and drank her caf.

Qui-Gon cleared her throat. "At least the Order is advanced enough not to require too many policy changes." Her eyes widened as she considered a much larger possibility. "Do we know if it affected other Force-sensitives? What about AgriCorps?"

Mace shook her head. "We don't have any of that information. We haven't even had a Council meeting yet; apparently Yoda has stopped taking coms." She raised her head and stared at Obi-Wan, the statement about Yaddle finally settling in. She groaned and dropped her head again.

"I can't believe this," she said sadly. "I am a Jedi Master, for Force' sake. I'm a member of the High Council. I have done battle and won, both with a 'saber and with my mind. I have saved whole planets as a matter of course for the better part of twenty years. But here I sit, defeated by cramps and bloating."

"Listen, Mace," Qui-Gon said, afraid her friend would start to cry. "We'll get to the bottom of this, somehow. It's just that we're not accustomed to these bodies."

Obi-Wan and Mace stared at him. Obi-Wan said blandly, "I marvel at your grasp of dry understatement, Master."

Qui-Gon sighed and glanced up. "Oh look, thank the Force, it's Adi."

Adi Gallia was moving toward them, glancing around in surprise. "May I sit here?" she asked formally, and, surprised at her tone, Mace scooted over. Adi thanked her politely and sat down. It occurred to the three erstwhile men that she did not recognize them.

She took a sip of tea. "I wasn't aware the Courtesans were tithing today," she said, casually. "Isn't that usually the last week of the month?" Greeted by gaping silence, she glanced around at the three of them, impressed with the high standards of the recruiters who scouted for the sacred Temple prostitutes. The girls coming in these days were simply lovely.

"You know, ladies, it's odd. You look just like three Jedi I know." She glanced down at their uniforms. "You need to be refit, though. Do you know where the seamstress' rooms are? I'll take you there after breakfast, if you like. The Council doesn't seem to be--" She broke off, looking from one to the other of them uneasily.

"We aren't the Temple Courtesans," Qui-Gon corrected her in that husky, com-sex voice, pushing a stray hair behind one ear with long, deft fingers.

Adi looked at Qui-Gon blankly. "Are you not? I'm terribly sorry, there are so many women about today, I thought--You know, I swear you look so much like Qui-Gon it's--" She looked closer, noting the bump at the ridge of the nose, the piercing blue eyes, the hair that was exactly the right shade of silvery brown. "Qui-Gon?" she squeaked, then she looked at Obi-Wan, and then at Mace. She put her hand over her mouth. "What in the--"

"We don't know," Mace told her, and Adi jumped at the sound of her voice. "I am going to have to borrow some--supplies from you, though."

Adi noticed the way Mace's voice dropped. Her eyes, if it was possible, widened. "Oh. No, you can't be serious." She saw that Mace was, and laughed.

"Oh!" she gasped, unable to help herself in the face of Mace's hot embarrassment. "Oh Force. Oh, Mace. I am so sorry but--Sith hells, we thought you were bitchy before--" Her words dissolved in a flurry of giggles.

Qui-Gon leaned forward. "You will stop ridiculing Mace for this." She made a faint gesture with one hand.

Adi's eyes glazed. "Yes, I'll stop ridiculing her for this," she agreed quietly.

Obi-Wan sat back, shocked. She'd never seen her master do such a thing to another Jedi, let alone a Council member. Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan and said, "There's no reason we should have to be laughed at. We need guidance, not an overly prolific sense of humor." Mace looked at Qui-Gon, deep gratefulness in her beautiful brown eyes.

"Kenobi," a familiar female voice called, and Obi-Wan turned to see Bant moving toward them, bearing a teacup and a roll. She sat next to him and looked him over a moment.

"You look good," she commented. "For a humanoid female. Too pale, but good." She patted Obi-Wan's cheek. "You need to drink more water."

Obi-Wan glared at her. "You're taking this pretty well."

She shrugged. "I've been in the crèche since the crack of dawn. There's nothing like twenty-three inconsolable girls--and twelve laughing ones--to show you life is short, and don't sweat the small stuff."

"The small stuff…" Obi-Wan shook his head, incredulous. "It's easy for you, you weren't transmogrified."

She glared. "Well my master was! He's in menopause! He's already had a hot flash and burst into tears laughing. And besides, you weren't with the toddlers, dealing with boys who've suddenly become traumatized, tantrumy girls. I swear! All of them." She raised her tone in a high-pitched mimicry of a child's voice. "'I'm a girl, ew, I'm a girl!' I was hearing that before you were even conscious today, and dealing with my master, who suddenly needs soy, whatever the Sith that is. I don't need whining from you, too." She rolled her eyes, then softened a bit. "The initiates are down there terrified. They believe it was the return of the doggleboggle Sith."

Mace's eyes narrowed. "The--what Sith?"

"You know, 'diabolical.' One of the three-year-olds informed us of that. The doggleboggle Sith put cooties in the food. Cooties lead to turning into a girl, and turning into a girl leads to the Dark Side." She sounded bored. "Well, I'm off. My master is probably wanting a bubble bath and some smut to read right about now. Catch you later, Kenobi."

Obi-Wan wished she had that kind of nonchalance as Bant carried off her pastry and tea.

Qui-Gon turned back to Adi. "Perhaps you could help Mace find some clothes that fit," she added mundanely. She hoped that there was still enough Force left in Adi's head to keep her from laughing any more.

Her eyes cleared. "You're right. The rest of the men will need help finding things to wear, most likely. We have to get the Council together, even if Master Yoda is unavailable."

"Yaddle's a lesbian," Obi-Wan told her. Adi stared.

Obi-Wan was sent, protesting, to the library to look up humanoid feminine physiology and customs. If they were going to be women, Qui-Gon told her, they were going to do it right.

"We had all those classes already, Master," Obi-Wan complained. She really just wanted to go home and try out her new body. Especially the breasts.

"Years ago," Qui-Gon amended. "You forget, the humanoid sexual education classes delivered in puberty were a long time ago for me. So go find out what we're supposed to do with this, and bring back notes. I'm going to try to find Mace some chocolate before she rips my head off."

Obi-Wan nodded glumly, trudging toward the archives as gracefully as she could in her huge, clunky boots. It took her a moment to realize that Qui-Gon had called Mace "she."

Qui-Gon watched her go, transfixed by the smooth roll of hips, the grace, the fluidity in spite of the unfamiliarity of the body and clothing Obi-Wan currently lived in. /Damn,/ Qui-Gon thought, tilting her head and staring. /The strut's still there./

Obi-Wan sat in abject discomfort, reading, occasionally checking over one shoulder to make sure no one could see the material she had pulled up. She'd pored over everything she could find on feminine humanoid life forms. Some of it was simply miserable, especially the parts on menstruation. Cramps, migraines, food cravings, fatigue, acne, irritability. Like Mace needed any more of that. With Bant as a best friend, Obi-Wan had never really paid attention to the complaints of menstruating human females. As far as she knew, Mon Calamarians did not menstruate so much as spawn.

There were hundreds of vague disorders associated with menstruation, ovulation, procreation and menopause; Obi-Wan already hated them all. And she hadn't even gotten to the specific problems of the many sub-species of humanoid yet. She began to have a new respect for the female Jedi around her, walking through their supposedly serene lives with things like "bloat" and "anemia" hanging over them.

Shuddering, she transferred a few paragraphs to her dataslate and moved on to physiology. Most of this consisted of descriptions of things like breast tissue, fat deposits, glands, hormonal systems--her eyes began to glaze till she came to the part about neurological function and the female reproductive system. She read three articles in rapid succession and transferred the data. Then she found one on sexual techniques and the process of the female orgasm. Her body was responding to this one as information that would never have crossed her mind was now detailed explicitly. Squirming in the chair, she transferred more articles on things like the physiology of the clitoris and a half-mythical, elusive thing called a "G spot." Obi-Wan wished she were more sexually aware--she had only had two girlfriends, and neither had ever mentioned these things.

Folklore also seemed to hold the foot in high regard for its speculative ability to gauge the size of one's package. Obi-Wan looked down at her seemingly huge boots, and was glad. Then she thought of Qui-Gon's boots, and was caught between terrified and turned-on.

/He hasn't got that right now,/ Obi-Wan reminded herself a little sadly. /But what do I care how big his equipment is?/ Then she thought about all those hormonal responses she'd just researched, and flushed. She began to think about the male Qui-Gon, from a male standpoint, and felt that aching pulse between her legs again.

/I'm a woman,/ she reminded herself yet again. /My female body wants the male Qui-Gon. My male mind wants the female Qui-Gon. But my male mind wants to be in my male body to have the female Qui-Gon./

Obi-Wan had a headache. And damp underclothes.

"Mace, please, come on," Qui-Gon crooned, soothing her sobbing friend. "I promise you, you do not look fat. You're beautiful. Besides, what does it matter what you look like? You're a Jedi. We are above this nonsense."

Mace jerked away and reached for a tissue, her ample chest heaving with hitching breaths. "It's not nonsense. Don't make it seem like it's nothing! Besides, if I'm beautiful, then it does matter what I look like. Or--maybe it--Force, Qui-Gon, I don't know what to think. I'm level-headed, aren't I? I'm not a hot-button kind of person. This is just completely outside my experience, and I can't find any Sith-damned chocolate."

Qui-Gon couldn't think of anything to say. Mace was hot-button. Highly reactionary, in fact. But given Mace's current mood, Qui-Gon knew the worst thing to tell her would be the truth. She fell silent, stroking Mace's back distractedly and hoping Obi-Wan would get home quickly with some information they could use. Force knew there was no chocolate to be had in the Temple today.

Yoda was still unreachable; the last time Qui-Gon had tried, she'd seen disheveled ears and a sly grin. Qui-Gon had blurted out a question regarding worries about this influx of femininity among Jedi who still regarded themselves as men. Yoda had said something like, "Expected, it is, to feel these things. Yes, yes." Then he'd reached over sideways beyond the edge of the view screen and Qui-Gon had heard a giggle. "Feel them, I do."

The Temple was in chaos. Suddenly the healers were overrun with requests for hormone regulation shots, weight loss supplements, and analgesics. The male-to-female humanoid ratio had been high enough that even though it was a very small percentage of new women needing treatment, the healers couldn't keep up with the demand. The outfitters had been put on double shifts to try to meet the sudden need for female-tailored Jedi uniforms and bras. If some kind of equilibrium wasn't reached soon--well, Qui-Gon didn't want to think of that.

Finally, Obi-Wan came home.

"Master, I've got lots of information here," she said eagerly, her eyes bright and face flushed.

Mace looked up petulantly. "What's she got?" she asked Qui-Gon.

"I sent her on a fact-finding mission so we can learn to deal with it as best we can."

Obi-Wan glared at them. "You know, I can't get behind this whole 'she' business. I'm still Obi-Wan in here." She tapped her temple. "And Obi-Wan is definitely a 'he.'"

Qui-Gon looked up at her padawan. "All right, but it's rather difficult for those of us not always in your head to keep that in mind. We're looking at a petite female form right now." She tried not to stare too hard when she said it.

"There are gender-neutral pronouns," Mace offered.

"I am not an 'it'!" Obi-Wan said, indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest and then adjusting them around her new breasts.

"No," Mace said tiredly. "Hir, H-I-R, being most common, and if you're writing, there's S-slash-H-E."

"'S-slash-H-E?'" Qui-Gon sighed. "Does it matter, really? Pronouns, PMS, body parts… the uniforms, the tissue supply… If Mace's transformation put her in the middle of a premenstrual episode, then what will happen if there are men who are suddenly pregnant?"

Obi-Wan blanched. "Ew."

"I'm only saying, Padawan, we have bigger things to worry about than pronoun usage. You're a great-looking woman. That's what people see. It's hard to think beyond that right now."

Obi-Wan glared. "So it's all about looks. What's in my mind doesn't mean anything to you."

Qui-Gon put her elbows on her knees and slumped. "Obi-Wan…"

"No, that's fine," Obi-Wan said airily. She dropped the dataslate on the coffee table. "You just look through the files that I worked all afternoon on, and why don't I just take my pert little ass into the kitchen and make tea for you, hm, Master?" She stormed out.

Qui-Gon shook her head, flummoxed. "Listen, Mace. I know this is hard for you, but I don't think there's going to be anything I can do to help. Why don't you go back to your quarters, pull some Consular strings to have some chocolate express-shuttled from a vendor locally, and have a hot bath. Take the dataslate and read the parts about menstruation."

Defeated, Mace nodded. A miserable look crossed her face. "Qui-Gon--this doesn't make me a bad Councilor, does it?"

Qui-Gon tried to be soothing. "Of course it doesn't. As you said, it's just outside your experience. If you had to do it every lunar cycle, you'd handle it."

Qui-Gon dearly hoped that if it came to that, they could press the healers to find a cure.

A little heartened, Mace rose, took a deep breath, and then tugged Qui-Gon into a hug. "Thank you."

Qui-Gon nodded, patted her friend's back, gave her the dataslate, and sent her on her way. Then she braced herself and went into the kitchen.

Obi-Wan was leaning one hip on the counter, arms folded over her breasts, glaring at the teapot. "You know, it isn't bad enough that I'm a woman," she started right in, whirling around and facing Qui-Gon squarely. "And it isn't bad enough that I probably have that whole PMS thing to look forward to, plus dealing with you on your cycle until we synchronize. And then won't it be fun to be us when we're both like that." She swept her hand in the direction of the external door, indicating Mace.

"No, as if that weren't enough, I had to figure out all kinds of interesting things today like how much fun it would be to sleep with you if only one of us still had the--the right--if we were--"

She buried her face in her hands and began to cry.

Qui-Gon made a pained face and stepped toward her, gathering her up. She kissed the top of Obi-Wan's head and rocked her back and forth. "Obi-Wan," she said gently. "Is that what you want? Really?"

Surprised, Obi-Wan leaned back and looked up at her master. "Yes," she said, almost reflexively, wiping her eyes. "But--there's too much that goes with it. What happens if we revert back? Then what? I mean--we're men in women's bodies, and if we did this now, it would be purely physical, because we're men in women's bodies, and I--I think I need something more than that." She wondered, suddenly, what the small handful of women he'd been with had thought of him after the fact.

Qui-Gon thought hard, and phrased carefully. "If we did this now, based on our looks alone, it would be no more 'just' a physical exploration than it would be as men. But it's not 'just' about looks. You make a very beautiful person, Obi-Wan, no matter what body you're in. I've always thought so."

Obi-Wan's eyes teared up again. "You have?"

"Yes, although it would be a little difficult if you were, say, a Hutt."

Obi-Wan snorted a laugh, then grew a little uncomfortable. "I've never. Not with a man."

Qui-Gon smiled. "I'm not a man, now, am I?"

Obi-Wan looked with new eyes at her master. She was luminous, beautiful in a way that only Qui-Gon could be. Obi-Wan reached up and touched her cheek, wondering what it would feel like with a beard, then knew it wouldn't make any difference. It was Qui-Gon, all the same.

Qui-Gon bent her head, and Obi-Wan met her lips. They were soft, impossibly soft. The kiss felt different than any she'd ever had. /My mouth is different,/ she reminded herself. She reached up and threaded her fingers into the long hair, thinking of Qui-Gon as he had been. The hair would be the same. The eyes would be the same. The energy that made up Qui-Gon would never change.

Obi-Wan pressed against her master, no longer confused, but thrilled with the crossed images in her mind. As a man, as a woman, what difference did it make? Qui-Gon was wise, witty, exciting, and hot in either incarnation.

Obi-Wan moaned softly, lost in the kiss. She wished she could reach down and find Qui-Gon's erection, and she knew now it wasn't just her female side wanting it, it was the male, too. She shifted her hips forward, thrusting a leg between Qui-Gon's. Qui-Gon gasped and ground against Obi-Wan's thigh. Both of them ached madly, in a way not entirely unlike masculine desire.

The teapot began to whistle.

Obi-Wan broke the kiss and sighed. She turned and took the pot off, switching off the stove.

"Come on," Qui-Gon said softly, holding out a hand. Obi-Wan took it, and they moved into Qui-Gon's bedroom.

Quickly they peeled clothes off, then stopped, naked in the pale light coming in the window. Qui-Gon smiled gently, looking at her apprentice, so different and yet so very much the same. Piercing blue-gray eyes, intent expression, sweet little cleft chin, compact, strong body--all tucked into a soft, warm, womanly form. Obi-Wan stepped forward, growing impatient.

"Did you know the clitoris has as many nerve endings in it as an entire penis?" Obi-Wan asked.

"No, I didn't know that, Padawan," Qui-Gon smiled.

"It's true. And there's supposed to be this place inside that produces the most intense orgasms. It's called a 'G-spot.' Lots of women don't believe in it though."

Qui-Gon cupped her padawan's cheek. "It will be interesting to try to determine its validity."

They stared at each other a moment, then met in a blistering kiss. Obi-Wan was dazed by the feel of Qui-Gon's skin against her breasts. Her nipples began to harden as they brushed against the soft skin, shooting an ache straight to the juncture between her legs. She nuzzled Qui-Gon's soft neck, petting the side of her face and wondering how it would be if a beard were growing on her chin. /'His' chin,/ she corrected, and then just gave up.

She gently cupped a breast and traced her thumb over the hard nipple, enjoying Qui-Gon's gasp. When Obi-Wan bent her head to follow hand with mouth, Qui-Gon moaned and clutched her tightly. Qui-Gon was amazed at the sensation. It wasn't more intense, or less so; it was different, more diffuse, but somehow the same. The center of the pleasure was shifted.

/Quit analyzing it and do something useful,/ Qui-Gon told herself. She pulled Obi-Wan to her, kissed her soundly, cupping her face and brushing her thumbs over the delicate skin. Then she moved them both to the bed, pressing Obi-Wan down first.

It was soft, at first: gentle, an exploration of mouths and breasts and skin. Each of them wondered how much different it would be if the bodies were harder, more angular, if there were hair here instead of smoothness, if it would smell or taste differently. When Qui-Gon slid her fingertips down along Obi-Wan's stomach and between her legs, brushing lightly over her clitoris, Obi-Wan gasped, thrust her hips up, and came instantly, arching into the pillow and crying out.

Grinning, Qui-Gon shifted down and parted Obi-Wan's thighs, settling herself between them. "Nerve endings, indeed," she said throatily, blowing hot breath on Obi-Wan's wet skin.

"I think you might kill me if you do that," Obi-Wan panted, shivering. She raised her head to look. Qui-Gon's smile grew.

The landscape was so different. A gentle swell of breasts, nipples hard and tingling, smooth, flat stomach. Soft thighs, tapering to the knee. And Qui-Gon, right there, slowly lowering her head.

"Ohhhh--" Obi-Wan gripped the blanket and dropped her head back as cold, electric fire shot through her. She couldn't even tell what Qui-Gon was doing down there, but she didn't care, it was unbelievable. Then Qui-Gon did it again, and again, and she realized it was her master's tongue, licking. Obi-Wan thought she could die now, just sizzle up in a flash of Force and be happy to haunt her master forever.

Then Qui-Gon brushed her tongue lower, gathering moisture and tasting. Obi-Wan released a long, low moan as Qui-Gon pressed inside her with long fingers, making small thrusting movements. She resumed kissing, sending those bolts of jarring pleasure through her padawan. Obi-Wan was quite sure, then, that nothing could ever feel this good again. Then Qui-Gon angled her hand and pressed.

"Oh--my--Force," Obi-Wan barely managed, seeing stars. /Now I could die,/ she thought. /There's nothing left to be done, I'm finished with the universe, Light take me now, this is--/

She came, bucking and screaming. Everything she'd read about bright flashing lights, not getting enough air, dizziness and the G-spot was true, and still Qui-Gon did not stop. Obi-Wan was pressing her hips down into the bed to try to get away from that mouth and hand even as she continued climaxing. Then it broke on her again, the rush of pleasure too huge, too bright and amazing under that warm, squirming tongue and the thrusting press of fingers inside her. Still Qui-Gon kissed, licked, nibbled, until Obi-Wan was screaming again, begging her to stop.

Her teeth were chattering, her hands were numb, she couldn't feel anything except that mouth, and then when the mouth was kissing its way back up her body, she was writhing away from it, ticklishly sensitive.

Qui-Gon's grin was very broad indeed. "Multiple orgasms," she observed dryly, cuddling Obi-Wan's shivering body close. "That's regarded as a myth in some sectors as well. You're very lucky."

"Y-you're very g-good," Obi-Wan stammered, still shuddering under the aftershocks.

"Well, I have done that part before."

Obi-Wan tugged Qui-Gon close and kissed her, tasting herself on her beautiful master's soft lips.

"Do--" Obi-Wan said, between kisses, "you--want--me--to--"

"Yes."

"Mmm."

There was just enough time for the Temple to settle into patterns, requisition more supplies, and refit all the women who were previously men with new uniforms. By the time things had calmed, the reversion happened. The healers, the outfitters and the Council threw their hands up in despair and frustration.

Mace had just got over his period. He groused that it was just his luck--males all over the galaxy dream of being female for a while, and his while had been spent bleeding, bitching, and aching. He had a brand-new appreciation for his testicles, and he didn't care if he never saw chocolate again.

Yaddle, who had spent the week in a contentedly oversexed daze, looked on Yoda with new admiration. Adi had smiled and looked suitably impressed through long tales of Yoda's oral prowess, then secretly vowed to requisition Yaddle a girlfriend through the Courtesan Office.

Bant thanked the Force that she was no longer tasked with finding fantasy porn from the archives for her master, although she had to admit she'd rather become a fan of some of it. Who knew there was so much unauthorized smut out there on the Jedi?

Obi-Wan woke with his back against Qui-Gon's, not an unusual occurrence since they'd become women, but it was different now. Firmer. He sat up, uncomfortable.

He noticed the dull throb between his legs and realized with utter, unshakable bliss that he had a morning erection. "Master!" he said, in his own voice, and shoved at the shoulder next to him. "It's back! We're back!"

Qui-Gon turned over toward him, instantly awake. "We are?" He looked at Obi-Wan's unmistakably masculine body and put a hand on his own chest. "We are. Well, by the Force." He sat up next to his padawan.

Suddenly realizing they were both naked, Obi-Wan tugged the sheet over his lap. He looked at Qui-Gon, unspeakably glad to see that familiar male face. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed it. Impulsively, he ran his fingertips through the beard along Qui-Gon's jaw. Forgetting his self-consciousness, he leaned closer, then buried his face in Qui-Gon's neck, inhaling. "You smell the same," he murmured, pleased, and tipped his head up for a kiss.

Qui-Gon stopped him. "You don't have to do this, Obi-Wan," he said quietly. Obi-Wan thrilled to the sound of the voice coming out of his mouth, but the words made his stomach fall.

"What do you mean?"

His master shook his head. "Just because we had that… before, doesn't mean we have to now. It's new, and it's all right if it's not what you want." He smiled a little sadly. "You know everything there is to know about sex with a woman. You have an empathy many men will never attain. You're going to make someone very happy."

Obi-Wan drew in a breath, considering. "You're right. It's too good, I enjoyed it a lot. And yes, I do want to do it again, bring a woman that kind of pleasure, that way."

Qui-Gon nodded, understanding but still crushingly disappointed. Then Obi-Wan's body was covering his, pushing him back onto the mattress.

"Yes, I definitely want to do that again," Obi-Wan sighed, and kissed Qui-Gon's firm, bearded, very male mouth. Qui-Gon, puzzled, nevertheless held him tightly, wondering what his padawan was getting at.

Obi-Wan said, "Yes. As soon as you turn back into a woman, I'll take the first opportunity. Till then…" he shrugged and grinned. "I guess you'll have to teach me all this stuff."

Qui-Gon drew him down, beaming.

End