So this story is for my bi anon who wished for more wlw content in the fandom and I wholeheartedly agree like so much. Since I tend to be a one-OTP-at-a-time writer though, this is still Usamamo, I'm so sorry it's not better representation! (HaruMichi writers, where you at right now? We need you!) Anyway, I offer you my humble version of a sexy genderbender trope story! (And in that, it's much more BI and gender-is-a-spectrum than it is strict wlw, so maybe that's a bonus? I don't know? You decide!)

GIANT thanks to my beta, Uglygreenjacket. Thank you for sticking with me even for things that aren't quite your thing! I appreciate you hard!

Either way, this is a Mamoru-with-a-female-body genderbend, and if you're not into that trope, the back button is on the top right, and I'll catch you in the next story!

To be absolutely safe, I'd also like to include a content warning for people who experience gender dysmorphia. This fic very explicity includes a male with a male gender identity in the body of a female.

Anyway,

Bi anon, this is for you!

Mamoru, My Girlfriend
A Short Story in the Lemon Tree Series

When it came to sex, as in many other aspects of their life, there were a lot of things they'd sometimes idly pictured. What would it be like to experience things just a little differently? Not that they felt there was anything much missing, but more because curiosity was a strong kind of force. And well, they lived a life where the impossible sometimes became very, very possible.

"Shit," Mamoru cursed, his voice a cadence higher, yet somehow still rough, still his, and was followed by a smash.

Wider hips had knocked into a terracotta pot filled with growing basil, and it fell to its demise on their concrete balcony. And yet, the curse wasn't elicited by the crash at all. In fact, Usagi was pretty sure Mamoru hadn't even noticed. No, instead, it was elicited by her hand down his pants as she pressed him against the balcony door.

The glass behind his back screeched a little under the tuxedo fabric moving against it - it sounded a little like glass tended to do when you cleaned it with the rubber end of a wiper.

Usagi grinned, yanked his neck back down and swallowed the next curse.

Her hand was finding damp underwear instead of hard bulge, and even through the glove of her fuku she could feel the exciting shape and flushed heat of his new hardware.

Mamoru whimpered. The sound soft and broken and rough and needy to her ears, and Usagi flushed hot and fast with a tingle that ran from the tip of her spine down to the ends of her toes, and had she ever been this excited to experience anything this much?

Unchanged tuxedo lapels clawed into by white gloves, Sailor Moon pulled. The boots of her fuku clicked on the concrete and Mamoru's cape dragged along the ground just enough to make a sound, and while Usagi firmly and absurdly frantically attached herself to those soft, soft, familiar lips, their feet stumbled a bit over the catch in the threshold.

Usagi whimpered right in answer, catching him where he was suddenly so soft, and pulled a little harder.

He was moving a little clumsily, eyes a little startled even when his lips remained fixed to hers, as if every clumsy bump into the plants, the balcony door, the couch was a little shock. Ever so slightly wider hips and wider thighs and clothes stretching and billowing in new places, he navigated his subtle, unexpected change in bodily dimensions a little like he had her father's slightly bigger car that one time two or three years ago, when they'd borrowed it for a trip to IKEA, and he'd driven more timidly and awkwardly than ever before simply because he was not used to the change in vehicle at all.

It was adorable, and her skin was breaking out in goosebumps without a single touch.

And Mamoru whimpered again, this time when the back of his new knees hit their bed and he fell against the mattress with wet, kiss-bruised lips that he bit, and wide eyes that looked up at her in midnight blue hunger.

It caused a shiver to run through her that was pure need. He was the goddamn most beautiful woman Usagi had ever seen. She couldn't have looked away to save her life.

Not that Mamoru wasn't always beautiful. Stunning. Elegant features and soft skin, narrow hips and pretty lips. Always.

Honestly, it was so stupidly unfair he could pull off both.

And so, when she crawled on top of him, boots and fuku and all, and he arched his back and pulled her back towards those soft, red lips with such impatient hands, too?

Well, she wasn't going to pretend this wasn't like the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her.

And then he made that noise again and flicked those stupidly pretty lashes back open mid-kiss and found hers, so close, so stunning, painted in the most flattering shadows by the stunning backdrop of a color-splashed sunset through the window by their bed, and it all left Sailor Moon completely, stupidly breathless.

God.

Yes, her man had always been so softly beautiful. Narrow body, impossibly long limbs, pretty, pretty features. Turns out, as a woman, he was a fucking goddess. He was endless legs and lean muscle and strong beauty. He was fucking Gal Gadot with mildly shorter hair. He was soft lips and high cheek bones and piercing, midnight blue eyes that looked black as he harshly panted up at her, moving soft mounds under a pristine white magical dress shirt with every harsh breath he took, lips just so slightly open, just so slightly blood-shot, just so slightly wet.

For just a little bit, Usagi had a girlfriend, and she wanted to devour him.

"So, uh, how do we turn...um… her back?" Mako-chan asked Sailor Mercury with a side-eye to Mamoru, who was lifting his top hat and running a gloved hand through the end strands of his hair that now touched his chin just a little more into his face.

Mamoru rolled his eyes. "Software's still the same," he said, trying to eye his hair, then dropping it. "I'm still me."

"Him, then," Sailor Jupiter corrected herself, and then blushed when her eyes fell to Mamoru's new chest.

Mamoru's eyes flicked downwards immediately, eyes wide as if he hadn't noticed those before.

He probably hadn't.

Usagi couldn't keep her eyes away. It was mesmerising.

Really, out of all the things that had happened to them in battle, this was perhaps the strangest.

Of course, over the years, here and there, they'd encountered genius loci before. That in itself wasn't the strange part. From before Tomoe and his daimons until well after Galaxia, they'd popped up in infrequent regularity, never really a threat itself, not really, just kind of a, well, nuisance.

From time to time, they'd stumbled upon places whose spirits were enraged. Like that time Ami made the genius loci of that cram school mad, because she'd had the audacity to want to study just to beat a boy's test scores, because she'd been just that little bit in love. Or the time Mako-chan was lured by one with scones and sweets, or the one that had lived in the well of Rei's old school and possessed her only when Minako made a dramatic mess of using her old Sailor V compact to transform herself into a student there.

What this genius loci had been so mad about in the first place, they didn't really end up finding out. But it had pounced on so many men in that garden it seemed to be protecting, that the Sailor Senshi belatedly had to show up, and when Tuxedo Mask had made his entrance on a lamp post across the street just after Usagi had been struck, he'd waxed poetry about how beautiful women should not be harmed but handled with utmost care instead.

"No!" the genius loci had screeched, a spirit that looked like it was neither male or female and dressed in a kimono so beautiful and colorful it was almost moving to look at. "That's not how it works, either!"

And then, a ball of sparkling, glittering energy flying from their fingertips, and Sailor Moon had howled as it had struck Mamoru.

"I am Aequitas," the genius loci had announced, "the spirit of equality, and you are all in need of learning," they had hissed, then disappeared.

At first, Usagi had freaked out. Surprisingly (or maybe not so much to anyone else) not about the new set of boobs attached to her man, though.

"Do you know who I am?" had been her first breathless question when Mamoru's eyes had flicked back open in Usagi's lap, and she'd been panicked.

She'd had to re-acquaint herself to her man quite a number of times in her life(s) already, and it really took a bit of time to get him to admit to like her back every time, and frankly, she was terrified one day he would just … not.

Also, there was the fact this memory loss stuff was traumatizing for him.

And so, she'd collapsed in relief first - when his brow had burrowed and his hand had slipped against her cheek and into her hair like he tended to do, and he'd told her a tender, "I'm fine, Usako," and then took a double take at his own voice - and really started to get horny only second.

And so, Ami's hypotheses were quickly run through while Usagi's eyes shamelessly roamed, Usagi's first assumption wholly nullified (that female Mamoru equals new and memoryless Mamoru), Rei's too (that female Mamoru had all the same memories but thought he'd been a girl all along), and Minako's dismissed with a long hard look (that maybe he turns back into a boy when we splash him with hot water.)

"Nope," she'd said perhaps a bit too gleefully, a bit too fascinated, shaking her head and popping her p, running a full body scan. "Same person, just a woman's body now. It's a sex change, really. Not a gender one."

"That's what I already said," Mamoru had said with a roll of his eyes and crossed arms under boobs, but was totally ignored.

Ami had pointed her Mercury computer and holographic goggles at Mamoru, asked question after question and rattled out answer after answer. Same exact age to the second, same blood levels, same bone density, same metabolism, same scars, same memories, same gender identity, same crystal, same roses. And the things that were different? All traceable to the fact that the concentration of his hormones were now shifted to the cocktail that an average biological woman had, and it came with more fat and less muscle, with less testosterone in the bloodstream but more testosterone receptors in the brain, with a higher voice and slightly rounder features and less body hair.

He was exactly the same height, maybe just a centimeter or two shorter. His previously broad shoulders just a bit narrower, his waist just that bit tinier, his formerly so narrow hips far wider than they were not half an hour before, but all the proportions of it still kind of the same. His hair touched a bit further to his shoulders but only because his head was a miniscule bit smaller, his neck a tiny bit more slender due to less muscle in it.

And he was fucking hot.

"Maybe this is your uh...punishment?" Mako threw out as a suggestion, gloved hands at her chin, eyes at her man's tits, and Usagi glared a little.

"To be a woman?" Minako hurled out. Appalled. Scandalized. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Well, really. Not much of a punishment at all. How utterly absurd.

Mamoru melted under her. His own lips that frantic, clumsy urgency that he only sometimes got. Moving with her, all needy whimper and chasing her mouth, whenever she moved to break the frenzy way more often than she usually would.

But she had to see.

He was the kind of ultra turned on that was strung so tight it came out in noise and shivers, in deep, deep, tongue and captured lower lips, and in those blue, blue eyes and the way they looked at her in utter worship and surrender. And while this wasn't new at all, it felt that way, like this.

So fucking, deliciously, excitingly new.

Exhaling harshly she kissed down his newly baby smooth jaw, but his hands came up to grasp her face and yank it back to his mouth until she gasped for breath, and she cursed her gloves for the millionth time because they weren't that good at blind undressing.

Wrenching herself free to a protesting noise from his throat, she sat up and smoothed her hands over his white shirt, mesmerized even when his hands grabbed for purchase at her straddling thighs around his hips.

Usagi loved his hips. She'd always loved his hips. The sharp hip bones and the perfect dip beneath, the strongly pronounced 'V', the sexy, black line of soft happy trail leading to his fun bits. She loved it. All of it was gone and she somehow loved it too. Gone was sharp, protruding bone, replaced with soft, smooth, wide hip.

Usagi moaned as she yanked his shirt from his pants to see that sliver of hip naked. He was so fucking beautiful.

He squirmed, sighing, tried to move up, but Sailor Moon would not have that. Hands flying up, she pushed him back onto the mattress by his shoulders, and he bounced back off it from the force.

Mamoru's shoulders were still wider than his hips, he was still skinny and muscly, he wasn't suddenly a different person, a different body. He was Mamoru. Exactly as Mamoru would be had he been born as a girl instead. And she wanted to know this body as intimately as she did his other one. Desperately.

Leaning down, her eyes were a crazed journey across him, across his pitch black shiny hair fanned across the stark white sheets bathed in sunset. His new shape was so beautifully contrasted against the bed, it was wasted to her eye instead of that of an artist.

She bit her lip with perhaps a too wanton sigh, and drowned in beauty until her eyes landed back on his lips. They were wet.

He exhaled in a puff against her gloved finger when she drew her thumb across his plump lip, moving it ever so slightly.

"I want you to come apart under me, Mamo-chan," she whispered down at his lips, and received an answering shudder, and then a bite to her glove.

Her eyes flew up the short distance to his eyes - so black now, framed by a face so feminine - and he buried his teeth into the magic fabric until she pulled.

Her glove slipped off her arm as if it were mere cotton. And when he moved to spit it out and it dropped disregarded to the floor, his hair moved across the sheets like the silky ends of an artist's brush.

Chucking the other one herself, Usagi stroked her knuckles down soft, soft, precious, slender neck and sighed as she felt him swallow, felt his skin react in goosebumps. It elicited her own full-body-shiver. She was just so fucking excited.

"Make me," he begged, voice rough, and it drove into Usagi like a jolt. Leaning down to press her lips back against his, she sighed at the way the tender skin slipped open so seamlessly, drawing her inside, wet and tender and impatient.

But she ripped herself free again, and he groaned in helpless protest, pinned to the bed by her clamping legs as he was, her pretty, pretty prisoner.

With a reverent touch, she moved her bare palms down his white bow tie and trinkets, down his collarbone, down his chest until they cupped two perfect, round breasts free of any sort of bra, kept away from her by that fancy-pants dress shirt only.

"You're enjoying this way too much," he said half-heartedly, way too aroused himself.

"Oh, I really am," she answered with a helpless nod, and proceeded to rip at all the doo-dads decorating his tuxedo.

Oh, and how she was enjoying this.

Ami said the effect could last hours or weeks, and if it was only hours, she had to enjoy it while it lasted.

And so she gasped a little as, underneath, she found outrageously soft, gorgeous boobs shaped like perfect teardrops, a smooth little wrinkle underneath full, bouncy skin underneath the white fabric.

Fuck.

It had been Mamoru then, leaning up, abdominal muscles crunched, who frantically tried to shed the tuxedo off himself fully while Usagi helplessly stared at the wriggle of frankly unfairly perfect boobs.

Frustrated, he de-transformed, and Usagi howled in protest as his clothes shifted from formal evening wear back to black tank top and sweatpants - what he'd been wearing as he'd studied at home before this all started - and while it was easier to remove, it covered his chest.

And so he leaned back off the mattress and the shirt flew across the room until he arched his back some more into her mesmerized touch.

Soft. He was so fucking soft like this.

Usagi smirked, spread her legs a little wider to sit on him a little higher, the skirt of her fuku brushing at her thighs and his belly, and bent her mouth to pluck a dark and pretty nipple with her mouth. With a needy sigh, she ran her tongue against it before she grazed it with her teeth. Just like Mamoru did to her so very often. Just like she loved it.

But when all that came of it was a little jolt from him, and his fingers brushing away the fringe from her hair like he always did whenever he wanted to see her mouth do things to her, she frowned, and threw him a look.

He shrugged, licked his lips. "Tickles," he explained, breathless and worked up, and Usagi pouted and released the perfect, dark, little pebbled nipple with a pop. Ah.

What a disappointment. Just the same as always. Mamoru's nipples weren't all that sensitive to begin with and apparently that didn't change.

He bit his lip, inhaled through his nose. "Maybe… try… lower?" he breathed out on his exhale, moving his body towards her lips.

Usagi smirked into his skin, kissing up between the soft valley of new boobs and not down. Another thing that didn't change. He still got beet red when he attempted to use his words during sex.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you," she purred, and then leaned back down to brush her nose against the sensitive column of that slender, pretty neck, hooked a finger into the waistband of his pants, and let it snap.

"Yes," he moaned in a wrecked shiver when her lips wrapped around the sensitive skin on the junction of his neck and she sucked.

He gasped.

Nope, yep. That still worked. No change there, either.

And so only after leaving a small mark on his squirming, pretty body, she finally drew her hands back down his torso, stroking the soft sides of his new breasts, down the muscle of his belly, and he inhaled sharply in anticipation. He quivered.

Really, afterwards they should probably discuss why this whole thing was turning them both on so ridiculously much.

Nothing she whatsoever cared about right now, of course, as she lost herself in wide-eyed wonder. She knew his skin couldn't be softer this way. It was the exact same soft, smooth skin she liked to stroke so much, she knew she was telling herself that. But it kinda was. More roundness. Less corded muscle directly underneath, like a soft sheet of soft in the way between them.

Especially the precious new roundness in his hips.

Biting her lip, she caught the waistband of his sweatpants, again, knowing there was no more clothing underneath, and pulled.

"Do you wanna know what it feels like to come like a woman?" she asked with a tilt of her head and a smirk on her lips, and he exhaled harshly.

"... god yes."

When they'd long retreated from today's particular battlefield, and the ravens hawked to the slowly reddening sky above Hikawa shrine, they'd already tried some stuff. Apologizing to the absentee spirit. Ofuda to the boobs. De-transforming and transforming and de-transforming and transforming. Healing him with some good old Starlight Honeymoon Therapy Kiss. Praying. Vowing to never say anything remotely sexist again. Calling Setsuna, who arrived with Michiru, who arrived with popcorn and a snicker.

"I mean, worst case, you're a girl now?" Minako said with a shrug, accompanied by Michiru's apparent amusement. "Would that be the end of the world?"

Usagi frowned - not at the girls, but at Mamoru, even if not at all directed at him, simply because she really, really was unable to take her eyes off him.

And Mamoru went to answer, but Ami interrupted with a scolding. "It is a big deal," she said. "Being in the wrong body in contrast to your own gender identity is a big thing. There is a reason why transgender people suffer under the sex assigned to them at birth!"

"Right," Minako conceded with a chastised huff.

Was Mamoru's hair really longer? He'd been a month overdue for a haircut anyway, being in the middle of an extensive exam period. But god, now, his jaw no longer so strong, his features softer, it fell into his face and to his shoulders distractingly prettily and—

"Well. Speaking of…" Makoto threw in. "You could just tell your coeds you're transitioning?"

"That fast?!" Rei answered this time before Mamoru had a chance, receiving shrugs all around.

How was it that his eyes stood out so much in that softer face anyway? Had they always been that friggin blue? And the curve of his neck disappearing so prettily into the now too large tuxedo, and the way his hands were just a little bit smaller and his fingertips peaked just so from the suddenly too long sleeves, all the shoulder's width fault—

"Hey, this might be a nice scholarly opportunity!" Ami told him with an encouraging smile. "See what life is like presenting as a woman for someone who experiences life as a man underneath? This does have research potential!"

And the way his lips formed that pretty little sigh as if on cue (what had Ami been saying?), as he opened his mouth again, tried to interrupt, and she was so friggin occupied with watching how those pretty lips did that, how they moved, if it would feel any different to—

"Oh, there's different research potential you're totally forgetting", Michiru said with an amused smile, chin in her hand, elbow on her dangling crossed leg from her seat on the platform edge of the shrine, and looking pointedly right at Usagi's distracted state. "Let me tell you."

With a sharp inhale, Usagi's eyes widened, and snapped, for the first time, away from Mamoru, and to Michiru, and back to Mamoru. Who was, finally, looking at her wide-eyed, too. Blushing.

God, he looked pretty when he blushed.

But before he could answer again, Ami cleared her throat, "Well, but…"

She wondered how far down exactly that blush went, and whether he'd let her see it, and if—

"Hey," Mamoru finally interrupted, cheeks red and voice too high. "You're all talking over my head. About me."

Ami blinked, visibly embarrassed, and so did the others. A beat of silence, another amused smirk from the peanut gallery at the platform edge dangling her shoe, and a hawk by one of the birds, until Mako-chan clamped a heavy hand on his shoulder with a knowing, comforting pat. "Ah, your first lesson," she said with a wink. "Welcome to the club, girl." she joked.

And while Usagi was still rendered speechless, in particular about what Michiru had been insinuating, and that this might be the one chance she had to… to…

Around her, the chatter erupted again. "What?!" Mamoru asked in utter confusion, Minako snickered and made a joke, and Rei turned to Ami with a frown.

"Well…" Rei said, "this might be a problem regarding Chibiusa if it's permanent."

With that all chatter stopped again as both hers and her future royal husband's pretty, pretty face whipped to Ami in terrified shock at the news.

"Eh," Ami grimaced, tapping at her computer, but Setsuna just rolled her eyes, and licked at her ice pop.

"It's not permanent," she gracefully announced.

Something that Ami had gladly confirmed a bit later. Something Usagi didn't understand about magic signatures and time traces and the healing powers of the Golden Crystal and anyway. She did snap back when they started to estimate times when it would run off.

Usagi's wide-eyed gaze landed on her man's new butt in absolute, terrified fear of missing out. "When?" she screeched and it came out as a demand.

Vibrating in place, she almost couldn't take the debate. Couldn't take Setsuna's refusal to give them a definite answer, couldn't take the hours to minutes, and finally, Mamoru caught on to her look.

His mouth snapped open in wonder and surprise and then he caught on, eyes darkened, eyes roaming her as they did whenever he did. Just that now it was a female version of her man who was checking her out and getting horny over her horny.

And so she kinda acted on impulse, took her boyfriend's hands, didn't say goodbye, left them all there. Michiru called an amused "Have fun!" after them, before Sailor Moon dragged him straight home via rooftop express and pressed him into their fucking mattress.

No WAY was she gonna waste this opportunity.

He really hadn't seemed to mind. In fact, he'd seemed impossibly eager.

Usagi hooked the waistband of Mamoru's trusty, ratty old pair of sweatpants - made of softest Nicki velours fabric the color of his eyes - around her wrists and stroked her palm against his skin to drag them down.

She held her breath when it finally gave way and snapped down his legs, gave way for familiar coarse black hair framing unfamiliar bits between his legs, and two limbs that were suddenly shaped just that tiny, tiny bit differently, just that tad less muscular, and yet every last birthmark sat in the right place.

She exhaled noisily, followed every curve with the stroke of her fingers, caressed his thighs, his knees, his calves as she dragged the fabric down as slowly as if she were unwrapping the most precious kind of gifts, then sat back on the cold material of her boots and admired her present, letting her eyes roam.

It was when she pounced again, leaning down to drag her tongue all over him, when he stopped her.

"Wait," came the breathless plea, and Mamoru pushed his elbows up and craned his neck to watch her hands first, her eyes later, full of brimming anticipation. "I want to see."

And gosh, Mamoru's eyes. Wide and swimming and framed in those same ridiculously pretty, long eyelashes, and always so fucking expressive because with her, Mamoru did that, always. But even though they had not changed a single bit, the effect threw her so much seeing those open, vulnerable eyes she was so very used to, set into that slightly rounder face, those slightly softer features, that ever so slightly more rose-y teint, or did she imagine that?

She licked her lips and held Mamoru's gaze and nodded, and when she sat up, swinging her legs off his new hips, his eyes furrowed and his hands fluttered up and the look he gave her screamed all the, 'well, I didn't mean for you to stop—'

But Usagi grinned, let her fingertips skim down his arms - less sinew-y, less muscle-y, ever so slightly more delicate even when they were still so decidedly bigger and stronger and more muscly than hers - down his biceps and the ticklish inside of his elbows (hadn't changed!) and the sensitive, paler skin on the inside of his forearms to his wrists, and when her fingers arrived at his hands, she curled them into his and gripped tight, pulling.

He was yanked off the mattress with a rough-sounding 'oof' - how was Mamoru's voice so sexy like this? - and his eyes were so bewildered before they widened in understanding.

When Usagi - no, Sailor Moon, still fully transformed despite the loss of her gloves- pushed him in front of the tall stand mirror at the foot of his bed and his eyes flashed when he found a stark naked woman in its reflection.

Usagi shivered, when she found his transfixed gaze checking himself out, when his eyes roved from limbs to cheekbones and from lips to lips, from pebbled nipple to pebbled nipple, dark and brown on softly bouncing breasts with every sharp intake of worked up breath, mesmerized and curious. Shivered again when his eyes - dark and turned on - flew to where her bare hands grasped his hips tightly.

But this wasn't good enough. Determined, she walked around, moved Mamoru, moved the mirror into a different angle, so that it faced the bed, and when she climbed back on it, knees on the mattress, chest to her currently feminine man, she smirked at his look.

Kneeling on the bed behind his standing, naked body, for once in their life, she towered a little over Mamoru in the reflection, her wings behind them both.

And she shivered again, when his gaze fluttered from his stark naked form to her fuku, and back.

Surely, this was the fantasy of many a person in Tokyo and beyond. The powerful, beautiful Senshi of love and justice in bed with a naked amazon of a gorgeous woman. Surely, it was one of his fantasies, too, even if he'd never admit it, but his eyes spoke volumes. And here it was, and he was her.

A startling gift never meant to be a gift at all, in the form of angry-spirit-magic.

His eyes jumped, so easily startled, so easily distracted by her touch, and Usagi curled her fingers and brought them to his shoulders, and smoothed them down his skin ever so lightly, only so that the backs of her knuckles brushed down both sides of Mamoru's arms again, the outside of it now, and she felt every stroke tingling along her skin and reacting off of his. Slowly, slowly they inched down soft arms, and when she reached her goal, she grinned a smug grin when it made him shiver again as she laced her fingers through his. Splaying them wide, leaning forward, her fuku pushing into his naked shoulder blades, she pushed his hands to catch on the cold glass of the mirror, boxing him in against his own reflection, caged by the heroine of Tokyo.

She grinned, smug and proud and heaving, turned on breath, her eyes fixed to his shiny new feminine reflection and his eyes when she brushed her nose against his sensitive neck and breathed against the shell of his ear.

"Now you can see," she whispered smugly, eyes on his in the mirror, even more smug when her words seemed to whoosh through him and he exhaled noisily, eyes flashing.

Shifting on her knees, the hem of her fuku brushed against Mamoru's naked butt, and judging by the way he inhaled sharply and bit his lip, and how his fingers twitched against the glass, his butt was still the same sensitive as it was before.

It was, however, considerably plumper now. Rounder via the new wider width of his hips, and Sailor Moon's reflection in the mirror bit her own lip when she checked said butt out very shamelessly right in front of her.

Mamoru moved his butt, arching his back to push it out towards her, and when that didn't help, he moved to lean back, mouth first, parted and wet and wanting, and Usagi tutted, leaned back into him, around him, knees on the bed and torso wrapped around him, and slammed his hands back against the glass, covering his.

"No, no," she smiled too cheekily, "keep them there," she ordered.

And what was this? Sure, she was often ballsy in the bedroom, was often the one who took the reins, but never like this. What was it about him looking like a woman right now that made her want to do this?

Mamoru's eyes flew back forwards to catch hers in the mirror and they were wide, so wide, his lips trembling. Usagi bit her lip again when, after a bit of loaded silence, he shifted those pretty, pretty legs apart ever so slightly.

And she could just barely suppress the moan when Mamoru's voice was weak and rough and breaking when he spoke, his eyes begging even harder than his words. "Touch me," he pleaded, breathy and aroused.

And so she did, and his eyes followed her hands with a startling suddenness as if there was no way that he could not.

She did touch him, then. Followed every curve, trailed every line, with the tips of her fingers and the tip of her tongue, from the plump cheeks of his butt to the wrinkle beneath those pretty, pretty boobs, whispered her fingertips from his navel to his hips and from the inside of his wrists to the side of his breasts. Trailed her teeth along his neck and her tongue along the shell of his ear, she touched. But never where he so obviously wanted her to.

He growled. It was a shiver of delight, and yet a growl.

He cried out when her hands finally slipped between his legs, his own eyes transfixed there in the mirror. And there, where she was used to seeing something altogether different, were dark and swollen lips and folds, framing a tiny little bud of a red and swelling clit almost prettily, so surprisingly different from her own in shape and form.

Usagi didn't even notice that she was biting. Her teeth dug into his shoulder as she reached down and around to drag the very tips of her fingers across the swollen outside of his outer lips. Up, then down the other side, as if framing what was very, very special right about now.

"Hgnn," Mamoru made, and wriggled. Wiggled so that the soft, damp skin moved underneath her fingertips, trying to get her to touch somewhere else, somewhere more needy.

Not unlike she tended to do with his fingers when positions were still very, very changed.

But no, no. Mamoru didn't know what was good, yet. He needed to learn.

And so instead, she continued her lazy strokes, around and around, through soft and coarse black hair and touching only the rim of swollen skin.

"Usako," he gasped, and it was all exasperation.

She feigned all innocence with a smile bitten directly into his shoulder. "Hmmm?"

"Fucking touch me," that new but still so familiar voice growled at her, and Usagi bit at her own grin to keep it from widening even further.

"No," she said with a flick of her amused eyes up to his gaping ones, and drew another circle.

"No?" he cried, his chest rising in agitation.

She only smiled, and brought her other hand around him, and it caused her whole body to align flush with his, naked skin pressed against the whole front of her fuku, and pulled at one of his legs to pull them apart a little further. He complied as if he hadn't even noticed he was doing it, his eyes on hers, still full of accusing appallment.

And so she couldn't keep her grin in check and it slipped free just when she stroked her second hand down to the other side of his inner lips, spreading him wide open and for her to see and him to see and for the air to hit him.

He moaned. And he was soaked.

"No," she promised with a smirk and held him open, her thumbs brushing down and closer to his opening.

He groaned. Black, inky hair fell plush and soft against her when the back of his head lulled back against the crook of her neck, his cheek tipping against her chin, absolutely lost.

"Please," he begged.

Thumbs moving up in wide orbits around that shiny new clit, she made a vow.

"Mamo-chan," she brushed her lips against his ear and he shivered, "I promise, the first touch is so much better when you wait for it."

She could see the effect her words had on him. How goosebumps formed on his skin and pebbled dark nipples, how his legs shivered just that little bit and she drew one finger just ever so slightly closer to that delicious space between clit and vagina that she liked - and apparently, for once, so did he.

She was starting to catch slick wetness with her fingers that glistened and waited and built, and she had no way to compare the two, of course, but she was sure if he were hard, instead, he would already be weeping precum. The shivers were the same.

"Please," he begged again, his lips turned to catch against her chin pitifully, his ears the same tipped pink as always. "I wanna know how it feels."

She held his eyes, smiled. "Then try," she said.

Of course, he understood right away. And yet, he held her eyes in the mirror for five seconds more before his hand started ever so tentatively to move, and Usagi held her breath.

Because damn was that an arousing sight, watching him touch himself, and he kind of noticed the effect on her and smirked.

It was a bit like magnetism. She couldn't look away as these hands - still so much bigger than hers - went directly for his opening, and he gasped.

And then he frowned, after just a little while, surprised.

With a laugh, Usagi leaned over, took his hand, laced her fingers through his and dipped his finger in the so, so soaking wetness, before she brought his fingers up - to his shiny new clit. His very, very swollen new clit. And the gasp there? His eyes were so wide in surprise.

And god, did that look hot in that mirror. Sailor Moon - fuku and boots and wings that framed them both in their reflection - and this dark-haired, naked goddess that was her boyfriend, guiding him to spread the wetness around, and around, and around, until he was trembling and gasping and moving his hips against their joined fingers.

"This is so weird," he gasped out, and he sounded so close, eyes on the mirror.

"Good weird or bad weird?" came Sailor Moon's own worked up reply.

"Oh, I'm not so sure yet," he breathed a weak chuckle, biting his lip, and then whined, because Usagi, furrowed brow and all, moved their hands fully away.

"Usako, don't stop—"

But she pulled him back and he fell with that bouncy, hot bum back on the sheets, and with a flap of supernatural speed, Usagi had switched their positions and was kneeling in front of the bed, in front of his spread legs, in a way that he could see, and she could see he approved by the way his eyes flashed.

"Oh god," he said before she'd even done anything, fell back on the bed, elbows propped up, straining to keep his eyes on the mirror.

She could only imagine now what he saw. Her own butt as she pushed it out against the mirror, wings falling to either side, big bow on the small of her back, and the skirt of her fuku riding up, as she moved her face so much closer between this fucking hot woman's spread legs.

He shivered so hard when her breath first hit the wetness there, when her fingers moved to spread his inner lips open, and he whimpered so fucking hard.

Then she stopped. Frowned.

"What?" came his breathless, utterly preoccupied reply.

"I don't know what to do?" she admitted sheepishly, and looked up.

"Huh?"

He looked utterly, totally confused, and it confused her that he might be. Obviously, she'd only ever used her hands to pleasure herself.

"I've never done this before," she said with a pointed look.

"Excuse me?" he snorted. Because well, yeah, they did have a few years of oral sex under their belt.

"With a woman," she rolled her eyes.

And finally it clicked, with an 'Oh'- face, and she wondered if for a second he'd forgotten in that aroused brain that that was what was happening here. Even as he'd literally been staring at them in that mirror and where had his mind been?

And then his look slowly morphed into Mamoru-baka's most shit-eating smirk.

"Well, I have," he drawled.

She slapped his thigh, and he laughed.

"Do you want to?" he made sure, and she smiled. There, that's her boy.

"Really badly," she promised, stroked her hands back into the wetness, and he jumped, bit his lip.

He smirked again, she threw him a look.

"Baka." She rolled her eyes, again. "Any pointers?"

And really, she should have known better, because his smirk was never bigger.

"Oh, stop the gloating. I mean it. Any tips?" she tilted her head, looked back at her target. He was glistening. Was she ever this wet?

Besides, it wasn't like she was wrong here. Just because she had one didn't mean she knew how to pleasure one. Or did he automatically know how not to have a gag reflex while sucking a dick?

And yet, his answer was totally disappointing.

"Not really," he said with a shrug.

Not really?!

"Just try it out. You're different day to day, Usako. I just… always test it out?"

Right. Huh. She frowned.

And then she dragged her thumb shallowly around his opening, careful and light, and he groaned, his neck falling back.

"You…" he tried, but Usagi flicked her thumb higher, and he faltered. "You like slow licks. Not directly onnnn —oh, fuuuck."

Usagi couldn't help but huff a smile. She had leaned in and directly sucked on his clit. Figuring, maybe he just liked here too what he liked when it was his dick. And well, yup, jackpot, and apparently, unlike her, he did like it directly on the clit.

She smirked, let go with a noisy pop and wet lips, and looked up, and he was looking down, his face so surprised and aroused it almost looked like horror.

Perhaps she was winning the smirking tournament, now. "Are you going to whimper under me, hmm, Mamo-chan?" she purred, and, eyes still on him, leaned back to suck his clit again.

He, unlike her, didn't give her any crap about any smirks. Instead, he just proved her right, collapsed on his back finally, turning his head in one last attempt to see the mirror, and whimpered away.

And judging by the completely surprised noises he made as he fell absolutely apart, building and building, closer and closer, the experience seemed to be a new one through and through for him. As he thrashed and keened and dribbled wet down her fingers and her chin as she tried out any little thing she could think of, over and over, and he yanked at her hair and pushed her closer to him and his hips came altogether off the bed.

And god, was she proud when he came, wide-eyed and shocked, two fingers inside of him only two knuckles deep, and her tongue in slow, almost lazy circles directly at his clit, exactly as she would have done to the head of his cock.

He looked exactly the same when he came. That wide-eyed shock, that open mouth, that silent scream, before he grit his teeth and scrunched his eyes shut and started to shudder uncontrollably, and Usagi had never been so wet.

Damn, did she want to get inside of him. Turns out, while he was learning just how sufficient the damn clit was in getting things done as is, apparently she learned how much she was starting to get the urge to penetrate.

"So? Is it different?" she asked, licking him clean slowly.

His voice hadn't fully returned, he was still panting, still disoriented. "The orgasm?" he asked after a beat.

Usagi nodded, stroking, and he sighed.

Flicking her eyes back up his body, past pretty, lifting and falling boobs as he tried to catch his breath, he struggled a bit, deep in thought. "It's... not. ... not really?" he told the ceiling and then her. "I mean yeah it is. Like. No pulling sensation, no ejaculation. But... I…" He stopped, tilted his head in puzzlement. "I don't know," he settled on with a frown.

She smiled. "Maybe you wanna try again, see if you see a difference if you pay attention?"

He blinked, confused. And then his eyes widened. As if, right, he'd only now remembered that some lucky women could go on and on if they wanted, and he had a woman's anatomy now, and could try and test it out whether or not he counted towards the lucky few.

And then, he bit that lip again, weak and horny.

God, she wanted to fuck him.

And apparently she'd said that out loud, because his panting answer was, as he sat up with a flash and flipped her over, wings and all, climbing on her and coming for her throat,

"You could."

And she whimpered, detransformed, and did just that.

He didn't want a dildo, decided he didn't need one, whispered in her ear he wanted her to make him come exactly like she wanted him to do it for her sometimes.

It was many, many orgasms later for both of them, when Usagi, sweaty and breathless and in strong arms, looked at the ceiling and blinked.

"Wait," she asked, "Are you, like, a virgin now?"

He snorted, the idea ludicrous, they'd been having sex for years, and yet, after a moment, he faltered, turned his pretty face to her, and then he blinked, thoughtfully.

Technically, they hadn't… done anything that… had they…

"I … don't… Um." he started, then frowned. Yeah, that suddenly felt like a weird, weird concept. Especially after three and a half orgasms on his side of this very exciting experiment.

Next morning, Usagi woke up to a hard, firm chest and smooth pectorals, and pouted. She squeezed her eyes shut stubbornly and let her hand wander, and when it had successfully snaked down between his legs and stroked down a semi-flaccid cock, she pouted a little harder, just as a warm hand snatched hers up and stopped her from groping him any further.

"Yes," he said, and his voice was all chuckle and also that rough morning voice that was even lower than his usual one and definitely male, "everything's back in its place."

She grunted into his chest and finally opened her eyes. He was smiling down at her and his features were harder again, edgier again, his jaw more pronounced, his nose bigger, stubble on his chin. He was the most gorgeous man in the world, perfect in any body he inhabited, and even if she was a bit disappointed to have him back so soon, she was relieved to see him.

"I take it you're not all too happy about that," he told her, but it was playful.

She shrugged, her cheek moving against his naked chest. "I wouldn't have minded to keep you as a girl just a little longer, no."

He chuckled, ran his fingertips down her arm absentmindedly in soft strokes as she snuggled into his chest.

"Sorry to disappoint," he joked.

Usagi frowned deeply though, appalled, hoping he didn't mean that at all. "You could never disappoint, Mamo-chan."

And the way he smiled down at her then, cheeks soft and sleep-swollen and precious, they shone in a way that she was glad that she said that.

"I liked it, too," he said after a while, his cheek against her hair, and it pinked adorably when she shifted up to look. God, she loved that precious man.

She tilted her head up, watched him. "Would you have liked to try it out, too, if the spirit had changed me?" she asked.

And to her utter, utter surprise, he flushed. And then his cock jolted, and she gaped.

His flushing, stuttered answer wasn't even necessary anymore. "I… would. Yes."

She licked her lips, stared at him, started to flush, too, because… damn.

"You… would?" And yeah, she was definitely aware that her voice was giving her fully away.

He shrugged, pretty, pretty cheeks so pretty, pretty pink. "I've wanted you across centuries. I'd want you across genders. I don't care what you look like. And it'd be…" he trailed off, licking his lips, and shrugged again.

His words hit her hard. Both straight into her chest and straight into her panties, and leaving her disorientedly affected. Because same. And as if on cue, her mind started to run away from her in order to promptly imagine any possible impossible scenario.

"Such a shame we can't do it over and over. Like, any way," she mumbled, testing the waters, tried to refrain from groping him again because, because… damn.

And he flushed even harder.

"Like, you know, if the spirit would do it, uh… again?" she probed. Shifted a little more, fully studying his every last facial reaction, and rambled on to justify going there again right now.

"I mean," she continued, full side-eye. "Technically, we didn't even do what the spirit wanted, I think? Really?"

He licked his lips.

"We could, you know, be fair and go back and tell them like, that we need another go at getting this exactly right. They're still, like, there. I'm sure you can like, compliment me outrageously hard enough some more to make them angry again, or something."

His look at her was infuriatingly steady. Infuriatingly unaffected.

"Or you know, I do it."

His lips quirked into a smile, just barely. And then he had the gall to get up, the absolute ass.

"You know, for personal growth, and stuff."

This time, when he shimmied that perfect butt back into his dark blue Nicki sweatpants, he chuckled.

Usagi glowered a little at that ridiculously beautifully muscled bare back of his, but he kept going, and he walked over to the open kitchenette and switched on the bloody coffee machine.

"Or you know, other...growth."

He lifted an eyebrow at her across the gurgling machine.

"Or, you know—"

"Usako," he interrupted, threw her a look and a small, amused smile. "You have the disguise pen. You don't need angry spirits."

Usagi froze. The comforter dropped from her shoulders and pooled in her naked lap.

"Technically, you could do that all along," he continued, and put a mug under the machine as if he hadn't just said what he'd just said.

And so he also didn't have the time to react when Usagi bolted from the bed, ran to her purse like the naked Flash, and thrust one shiny pink, red-jeweled pen into the air, yelping. "Turn me into a handsome me-man!"

He really only had time to facepalm.

"So…" she drawled. Naked and just the tiniest ever bit taller and wider than before and surprised at her own voice. "Wanna let me teach you how to give me a blowjob?"

Aaaaaand, that's it!

A little note on Mamoru's gender. It didn't change, his gender identity stayed the same. So technically it's wrong to call him Usagi's girlfriend, and terms like that are disrespectful to people who are any form of genderqueer and have set a pronoun for themselves if it doesn't fit to that term. However, I've aimed to portray that these two are both really, really into living out this fantasy - of Mamoru, right now, being a woman to his girlfriend, so, they're rolling with it as some highly advanced form of sexual roleplay.

Also, the genius loci thing is canon, tho some of you might not remember it. They popped up in the manga short stories a lot (which I referenced in here), one of which is of course Ami's First Love.

So anyway, this is my LGBT offering, and I know it's no perfect representation in any way, but I wrote my OTP into the best version of it I can think of. This isn't heteronormative and some will not feel catered to who usually do by me, but for those of you who did enjoy it: reviews are love, and I'd appreciate the back-up as I hide from the angry anons lol.