DISCLAIMER: Murder in Suburbia and its characters are the property of ITV. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Trancer kindly explained the term were-peen to me yesterday, and I couldn't help seeing the funny side, and inflicting it on poor Ash and Scribbs. This is very PG, which probably disgraces it in the eyes of other were-peen fics, but it is what it is... silly. Thanks to Ann for the beta.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To ralst31[at]yahoo.co.uk
"We've been together eight months, Ash, don't you think it's time you got over your 'visit from Aunt Flo' squeamishness?" Calling a halt to all forms of physical contact, including pecks on the cheek and hand holding, for two days a month was extreme, even for someone as uptight as Ash. Scribbs could understand not wanting to get your freak on if you were feeling bloated and hormonal, but Ash's moratorium on cuddling had taken things too far, and she wasn't going to vacate her spot outside the bathroom door until she made Ash see the error of her ways. "I give great back rubs," she coaxed.
"Go away Scribbs." The door muffled Ash's voice but it in no way lessened the steel underlying her words. "This matter is not open for discussion."
Scribbs ignored the warning in Ash's tone, as per usual, and continued to argue her corner, "'cause it is." She thought about mentioning that being able to talk about 'women's issues' was one of the perks of being in a lesbian relationship, but Scribbs had the feeling that would lead to a two hour lecture of some kind, and she didn't want to be side-tracked. "We talk about everything."
"Not this." A sob sounded from behind the door. "Please, just go away."
"Ash? Are you okay?" Scribbs had read an article about a woman who'd turned homicidal due to overactive hormones; she couldn't remember if the hormones were menstrual or postnatal, but either way her husband had ended up with a six inch kitchen knife sticking out of his skull. "Open the door." A knife wielding Ash was better than a crying one, at least to Scribbs, and if that made her a bit loopy she could always blame her own rampaging hormones.
"Please, Scribbs, just leave me alone."
Normally, Scribbs wouldn't have been able to ignore such a plea, but the anguish in Ash's voice was too much for her to ignore. "Ash, you either open the door or I force it open. It's your choice." The second option would requite a trip to B&Q and three hours arguing about the best way to re-hang a door, so Scribbs wasn't too surprised when the door reluctantly began to swing open.
"Don't look at me," Ash instructed.
The words alone were enough to make Scribbs look but the strange bulge in Ash's jeans was what caused her look to turn into a stare. "Ash, are you wearing a strap-on?" Her partner had always been vehemently against using marital aids, as Ash called them, so the thought of her hiding away in the bathroom with one strapped on beneath her clothing was a little weird.
"No!" The truth rushed from Ash's lips before she could even consider the benefits of a lie. "I told you not to look."
Scribbs couldn't look away even if she tried. "If it's not a strap-on, what is it?" She reached out to touch the protrusion only to have her hand violently slapped away. "Hey!"
It was the moment Ash had been dreading for the last eight months and the reason she had waited over three years to act on her attraction to Scribbs. It would mean the end of everything; their relationship, her career, possibly even her sanity, but her secret had become too big of a burden to carry alone, and so with trembling fingers, Ash lowered the zip on her jeans and, squeezing her eyes tightly closed, waited for Scribbs' reaction as the jeans fell and her secret shame was revealed.
Silence descended on the bathroom for all of three seconds before Scribbs asked quizzically, "You had a sex change?" The penis jutting from between Ash's legs looked real, but its existence made absolutely no sense. She looked at the still prominent bulges in Ash's T-shirt. "Don't they usually start with the top half?" Scribbs had seen a documentary on Channel 4 about gender realignment surgery, and she was sure they required the patient to dress and act as the appropriate gender for months before they'd even consider surgery; Ash might have been overly fond of her power suits, but they were hardly manly.
"I have not had a sex change." Ash's words faltered. "Not in the way you mean." It had taken a team of doctors and two very freaked out parents to explain the situation to Ash when she was thirteen and even then she hadn't fully understood until well into her twenties. "Every twenty-nine days, I grow a penis."
"You grow a penis?" It sounded almost horticultural. "I don't get it."
Here begins the horror and revulsion, Ash thought, but there was no going back now. "Every twenty-nine days, instead of a period, I grow a penis, and then after nineteen hours my body reverts to normal."
"What happens to the penis?"
Ash shrugged. "It just disappears." She could furnish Scribbs with reams of technical data on the subject, but, in essence, that's what happened. "I'm a freak of nature," she choked, the tears that had been threatening since Scribbs' first knock were suddenly let loose and years of shame and self-hatred came pouring out.
In a single stride, Scribbs traversed both the physical and emotional gulf between them and swept Ash up into her arms. "There, there, no need for tears." The words might have been banal, but Scribbs' embrace was reassurance personified. "So, you grow a penis, at least you don't snore." She waited a beat. "I hate snorers."
Ash slapped her gently on the shoulder. "Be serious." As sweet as Scribbs was being, Ash didn't fool herself into thinking things would work out. "You think I'm a freak, don't you?"
"Of course." Holding Ash at arm's length, the smile on Scribbs' face was at odds with her words. "You have fifteen rules for using a public convenience. If that isn't freaky, I don't know what is." She looked down at the rather happy looking penis jabbing her in the thigh. "As for Junior, yeah, it's weird, but it's not exactly a deal breaker."
Scribbs smiled. "I love you, stupid, and I'll be damned if I'd let some dick get between us." She looked down at the still proudly erect penis. "At least figuratively." Her brow suddenly furrowed. "Is it always that happy?"
It was Ash's turn to smile. "Only when it hears your voice." The reaction had started the first month Scribbs had joined CID, and it had been a constant source of frustration and embarrassment ever since, but strangely, now that everything was out in the open, Ash was oddly proud of the little guy for having such good taste.
"Really?" Scribbs beamed, her thoughts turning lecherous. "Say, Ash, have you ever taken it out for a test drive?"
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