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"Guys, I don't think the witch actually hit me with the spell!" You argued as the three of you began cleaning out the Impala. Grabbing your trash along with your bag, you turned to see both Sam and Dean staring at you.
"Y/N, we literally saw her through the orange powder into your face." Dean insisted. Sighing, you placed your hands on your hips.
"Who says it was a spell? For all we know it could have been Tang, or whatever that nasty old powdered drink was." You muttered. "But whatever. I'm calling it a night. See you guys in the morning. And first one up has to cook bacon!"
Hearing them grumbling behind you, you strode down the hallway, slamming the door behind you. "I hate witches." You muttered, stripping clothes as you went. You wanted nothing more than a hot, steamy shower, before you crawled into bed and slept until the smell of bacon woke you in the morning.
Staying in the shower until your fingers turned prunish, you climbed out, slipping into your favorite pajama's which included a stolen shirt of Dean's, along with a threadbare pair of shorts. As you finished off your nightly rituals, you took stock of your body. Nothing seemed weird, or off, like the spell was starting to take effect, and you began to wonder if it was a dud. If the witch had no clue what she was doing, or since she was dead it was no longer powerful.
Cuddling into bed, you couldn't help but be grateful that the spell hadn't taken hold. Having no idea what it entailed, you knew it would have been no fun for you. Especially since each of the spells she had cast on her victims had included playing with their heart. Until their heart gave out.
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Waking up in the morning, you stretched as you smelled the wonderful aroma of bacon. Knowing that Dean was cooking breakfast made your mouth water. He always made the best breakfasts, and you couldn't wait to stuff your face full of bacon and whatever else he managed to make.
Standing up, you couldn't help but notice that you felt differently. Your skin felt taunt over your muscles, almost too tight. Your hands were clammy, your face flushed and warm. A heat settled low in your gut, a feeling that only came when you were aroused. Shaking off the unsteadiness of your legs, you made your way into the bathroom, unsurprised to see your pupils blown wide, your cheeks rosier than ever. Your breasts hung heavy underneath your shirt, aching and tender.
"What the hell?" You wondered out loud. You weren't even close to your period, so these feelings weren't connected to that at all. Still, you reached into your medicine cabinet, taking out the bottle of Midol, hoping it would kill some of these uncomfortable feelings before they became worse.
Dressing was a chore. Every item of clothing seemed to chafe at your skin, aggravating your already sensitive skin. Sighing, you decided on a simple cotton shirt, your bra brushing against your sensitive nipples, making you want to take it off right away. Simple leggings slid over your legs, settling tight against the juncture of your thighs, where the aching seemed the worse. "Maybe I should just climb back in bed." You muttered, but the smell of bacon was too much, and you followed your nose to the kitchen.
