FIC: "Strictly Scientific," Sam/Janet (Janet/Daniel, Sam/Jack mentioned), NC17
Title: Strictly Scientific
Author: geonncannon
Pairing: Sam/Janet (Janet/Daniel, Sam/Jack, Sam/m mentioned)
Word Count: 3,960
Category: Humor
Spoilers: "Holiday," "Foothold"
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Rating: NC17
Prompt: After "Foothold", Sam is testing the boundaries of the duplicating devices and figures out that she can experience sensations on the duplicated skin as if it were her own. She's always wondered what it feels like for a guy... and Janet convinces her to take 'Jack' and/or 'Daniel' for a test drive under "medical supervision" after several margaritas. Written for the sg1_by_hand community. Go check out the awesome ficness happening over there!
Summary: Janet convinces Sam to do a bit of unsanctioned experimentation with the mimic devices.
I should have learned my lesson by now: Never get drunk with Janet Fraiser.
Everyone knows Janet from the base. She's stern, but loving. Friendly, but professional. Everyone loves Janet. Every team feels a little upset if they discover Janet is off-duty when they have to get their pre- or post-mission examinations. And sure, Janet is a great doctor and an excellent friend. All I'm saying is that there's another side to her. And once you get that side drunk, you want your own facilities to be in perfect condition. Otherwise you might find yourself agreeing to... well, to some unusual things.
Things like standing in her bathroom in a pair of boxer shorts and pulling a white T-shirt over your head. The shirt was a little small; it was a man's size, so my chest felt bizarrely constricted. It was for the best, I supposed, since Janet had forbidden me to wear a bra during this little experiment. "That would look a little weird, don't you think?" she had said.
And, after four margaritas, I had to agree with her.
I pulled on the jeans, adjusted the crotch slightly and picked up the box from Area 51. I cannot believe we checked out highly-classified alien technology for this. The Pentagon would have a conniption if they knew what 'real-world research and examination' really meant. I exhaled and pulled out the collar of my T-shirt. "Might as well get this over with," I muttered.
The metal disc was cold against my skin and it stuck with a disgusting, Super-glue sort of texture. I grimaced but, when I looked up, it was Daniel Jackson's face sneering at me in the mirror. "Yeah, yeah," I said in his voice. "I know. I'd sneer at you, too." My T-shirt now fit perfectly, my jeans no longer baggy in the crotch.
And that's where the whole idea had come from.
Janet and I, sitting up late after Cassandra had gone to bed. Janet loved her margaritas, and I loved her company, so I just kept on pouring. And then I had casually mentioned the experiments we'd been running on the mimic devices. About a year ago, the SGC had nearly been taken over by aliens who duplicated key members of the base - including Janet herself - and we had managed to salvage some of the technology. They had been stored at Area 51 and, on one of my infrequent jaunts to the base, I had tested a few of them out to try and determine how they worked. I told Janet I had made a breakthrough, realizing they were more than just a holographic representation of the person, but a full transformation. The tiny devices somehow memorized dimensions and weight of a certain person. Everything was accurate, right down to hair and eye color.
"Wow," Janet had said, brushing her thumb along the salted rim of her glass. "But you're still no closer to figuring out how?"
"No," I said. I was more than a little bit frustrated. "I mean, like the alien impersonating you. It was the same size, same weight and shape of all his friends. But when he was impersonating you, he took up five-feet-three inches of--"
"Four," Janet said quickly. "Five-foot-four."
"My apologies," I smiled. "He stood five-foot-four and weighed... a hundred and ten pounds?"
Janet had smirked around the rim of her glass and said, "Close enough."
"The fact that these discs can alter dimension like that is amazing."
Janet nodded. "So how do the clothes work?" I must have look confused, so she expanded, "The aliens were all nekkid," her voice tended to drift into the Southern part of the country the more tired and the drunker she got, "but they were all wearing clothes that fit us. My uniform, Colonel O'Neill's black shirt, Daniel's blue shirt... how did it all fit?"
"With you and O'Neill, the aliens sent you through the... Xerox... with your clothing on. The machine duplicated your clothes as well as your body. Since Daniel was leaving the base, the alien changed into civvies. Since the duplication process was next to perfect, the clothes in Daniel's locker fit it perfectly."
"So the clothes come with the switch?"
I nodded. "I disconnected the Daniel alien's device while it was wearing his clothes. That shorted something out and the clothes became part of the device's copy."
A wrinkle appeared between Janet's eyebrows. "So... Daniel's clothes just vanished?"
"Sort of. They were stored in the memory of the device. After everything quieted down, I put the device on and took the clothes off, gave them back to him."
Janet's eyes brightened. "So you've seen our Dr. Jackson au naturale."
I blushed. "Well, I didn't examine him or anything."
Janet scanned the wall of my living room. "So... the Daniel machine, the thing that copies him, the one at Area 51? He's naked?"
"Well... the technicians who use it generally wear jumpsuits."
"They'd have to be the same size as Daniel then, right? Or else wear a jumpsuit that would fit Daniel."
I shrugged. "It doesn't seem to matter. Although, I do wear a men's jumpsuit whenever I test one of the guys' devices."
"Why?"
"Women's jumpsuits are like cheap hotels," I said as I took a sip of my margarita. "No ballroom."
Janet had nearly spit her drink across the living room and I had to pat her on the back so she wouldn't choke. "God, where did you get that?"
"Cass made me watch some show called Veronica Mars," I smiled. "Are you okay?"
"Fine." She coughed once more and leaned back on the couch. She crossed her legs, drew her fingertip across the rim of her glass and looked at me through her bangs. I knew right then I was in trouble.
Janet was the reason I got a speeding ticket at three in the morning. Why else would I have been riding my motorcycle at 90 miles an hour down a residential street, if not to appease the cackling woman hanging on to my waist for dear life?
Janet was the reason I got my hair cut so damn short. I had grown it long - so long that I could tell General Hammond was working up the courage to tell me it was against regulation - for the first time in years. I liked it long, I liked twirling it around my fingers when I was stuck at a red light. But I hated the maintenance. I hated stuffing it under my bike helmet every time I wanted to take a spin, and then combing it out so I wouldn't look like a mushroom when I took it off.
So Janet had suggested cutting it short. Really short. Next-to-shaved short. She assured me it would be cute, and it was... for about five minutes.
Janet was the reason I had a navel ring (to match hers).
I could have said no to any of these things. I could have demurred. I could have backed away and ran for my life. But Janet has this power to make everything she suggests sound reasonable and fun. And I have to admit, the memory of speeding around those corners in the middle of the night still gives me a thrill. I still have my hair cut short because, damn it, it is more convenient. And when the one lover I've had since getting my belly pierced ran his tongue over the stud, I... well, let's just say I don't regret getting it.
But still. This was above and beyond everything she'd ever asked me to do. I took a deep breath and finally left the bathroom. The hallway was dark, and the only light in the house was coming from two lamps in the living room. Janet had made more margaritas for tonight's 'experiment,' at my insistence, and I wished I had one right then. I steadied my nerves and headed down the hallway.
I came into the living room behind the couch. Janet was seated at the far end, her right leg curled up underneath her. She held two margaritas; one in her lap, the other stretched out along the back of the couch. I cleared my throat and said, "Hi."
Janet turned and looked over her shoulder at me. She smiled and I stepped forward. "Is that mine?"
She held out the glass and I took it from her. Her eyes were wide and the lamp-light reflected in them like tiny suns. "Wow. This is so bizarre."
I took a drink and walked around the couch. I sat down on the opposite end and looked into the drink. Janet used a lot of tequila, so it wouldn't take long to give me a buzz. I took another drink and turned to look at her.
"You're Daniel, but you're still... Sam. You know? The way you carry yourself and the way you speak. It's uncanny."
I shifted on the couch and said, "Look, are you sure we should be doing this? I feel kind of uncomfortable."
Janet put her glass down on the table. Her demeanor changed from amused to completely serious. "If you feel uncomfortable, we don't have to do anything at all. I mean it, Sam."
I sighed. "It feels weird. Like we're taking advantage of him. There's a mimic device of you, your body," I said. "How would you feel if Colonel O'Neill or Daniel borrowed it and did this with you?"
She lowered her eyes and the seductress smirk returned. "I'd tell them they wouldn't have to go to the trouble of getting the mimic device." She reached out and put her hand on mine. "It's just for fun. Daniel never has to know."
I took a long drink of my margarita and then set it down on the coffee table. "Okay, well... where should we do this? The bedroom?"
"Here is fine," Janet said.
"Here?" I looked around the living room, noting the windows. The front door, so nearby.
"Would you rather in the bedroom?" Janet asked.
I shook my head. No, that would be a bit too intimate for this. I leaned forward and put the margarita next to Janet's. I turned and looked at her. She wore a dark maroon blouse and a knee-length black skirt. I let my gaze linger on her thighs and I felt a stirring in my jeans. God, sure, I'd noticed Janet was a beautiful woman before. But she'd never turned me on like this.
Okay, well, not any time I'd like to talk about right now, thank you very much.
I cleared my throat again and said, "How do I, uh... start?"
Janet turned to face me. She straightened her legs and placed her hands on her lap. "Do you want me to undo you pants? Would it... you know, help?"
"I guess it wouldn't hurt."
Janet slid across the couch and reached for my waist. I leaned back and looked down - so very odd to see a flat plain rather than the top of the breasts I'd seen ever since I turned thirteen.
Janet's hands were phenomenal. Fine-boned, expert, moving with quick assuredness across my belt. I took a breath as she undid the catch, then went to work on the button of my jeans. She tugged the zipper down, her knuckles brushing the denim. She parted the two halves and revealed the boxer shorts underneath. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip and sat back. "There you go," she said softly.
I eased the jeans down on my hips and looked down. I touched the hair on my stomach - another weird sensation, kind of gross, actually - and slid my fingertips under the waistband of the underwear. Janet settled against the corner of the couch, half-turned so she could face me easier. "The physical aspects could prove interesting," she had said that night a week earlier. "I mean... you know... guys..."
And now here I was, wearing Daniel's skin, my fingertips inches from his hard-on. God, this was the dumbest thing Janet had ever asked me to do. My skin was flushed, my heart pounding, I could barely catch my breath. Was it iffy morality of what we were doing? Or just the fact that I had never masturbated in front of someone before? Either way.
Besides, how odd was it, really? Janet had seen Daniel naked before. Countless examinations. That one incident that was bandied about on-base where she had stormed into the locker room when he had left the infirmary without permission. She'd caught him - along with Colonel Reynolds and Major Pierce - in the all-together. She had calmly told him to return to the infirmary at once before she dragged him back there by whatever handle made itself available. This said with a pointed look to his crotch.
So, no. It wasn't the fact that she was going to be seeing him like this causing me concern. It was me, doing this with his body.
"Sam," Janet said softly.
I looked up at her.
"We don't have to. I just thought it might be fun."
I realized I've been holding my hand in position for almost a full minute. My shorts were starting to deflate.
I thought back to when Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c had switched bodies due to Ma'chello's device. I'd found the Colonel - in Teal'c's body - in his quarters, shirt off, flexing his muscles. I'd been greatly amused, and the Colonel had defended himself until he was blue in the face. "I'm a guy, Carter. Teal'c will understand. When guys are given the opportunity to explore a different... terrain, if you will, we'll take it. It's the explorer in us."
"Never let it be said I was against exploration," I muttered. I pushed my jeans down to my knees and then hooked my thumbs in the waistband of the shorts. Janet's eyes widened and I looked down. Wow. Oh, that was bizarre. I curled my fingers on the underside of his cock and I felt lightheaded. Not woozy, just... thrown a bit. The angles were wrong, but everything felt familiar. I swallowed and looked up at Janet. Her hand was pressed between her knees, her eyes fastened on my lap.
"So... what..."
"Give him... yourself... a hand job. You've given hand jobs before, haven't you?"
This time the blush reached my forehead. I suddenly realized I was a brunette and fought the urge to reach up and touch Daniel's hair. I shifted and wrapped my fingers around my penis. Brand-new, straight from the box... I laughed and shook my head. "God, this is so weird."
Janet had dropped her shoes to the floor. She drew one leg up and rested her heel on the couch cushion. She kept her skirt pressed down between her thighs, but I could still see the lacy tops of her nylons. She curled her toes and ran her eyes over my body. Daniel's body. Whatever. She reached my eyes and said, "It doesn't look weird."
I stroked upward slowly, my pinky sticking out like I was some kind of debutante at a tea party. My mouth was dry, my hands were sweaty. My balls were tight, so I brought my other hand up and squeezed them gently. I extended my index finger and brushed the spot between the ball sac and my ass. I shifted and inadvertently thrust my hips up, pushing my cock up through the ring of my fingers.
The electricity of the movement made me shiver and I gasped. I heard Janet make a weak, whimpering sound and I opened my eyes to look at her. She had abandoned the idea of keeping her skirt down, had lost all thought of decorum. Her right leg was still planted on the couch cushion, but now her leg was swung open. Her legs formed a V right in front of me, her fingers rubbing the silk of her panties.
She had her eyes open, and I was glad. In my fantasies (okay, fine, I admit it. I have sexual fantasies where I wonder what it would be like with another woman, and that other woman is always, always Janet), her eyes are always the main focus. I've always been drawn to them. She can shame me, she can prompt me to speak, she can draw out injuries and complaints I wouldn't otherwise bother anyone with just from one pointed look. And now she was looking at me while I masturbated.
Suddenly, I regretted using Daniel's body. But only because I wished it were my own.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, still stroking my cock. Sight, touch, even smell - Daniel's unique, natural musk fills my nose since I didn't put on my own moisturizer after my shower - might be fooled, but my mind was definitely not. As I ran my hand up and down my erection, stroking myself to orgasm, my brain knew something was hinky. I curled my toes and felt my hard nipples against the tight T-shirt, I felt my pussy wet against the boxer shorts.
I wanted to see what happened when I came. Would I come? Or would semen actually ejaculate from Daniel's cock? Would it be my come or his?
Would Janet let me fuck her?
I was embarrassed by this thought, but the mental image that went along with it - me on top of her, her completely naked and wrapped around me as I thrust into her - was enough to push me to the edge. I arched my back and my hand sped up. "Oh, God, Janet... Janet, I'm coming!" I clenched my jaw and my body went rigid. I kicked my heel against the floor and finally sagged against the cushion behind my back.
Sticky, white come was stuck to my fingers. It was glistening all over my cock, darkening against the material of my boxer shorts and lying cold on my thighs.
Janet was breathing hard and I watched as she came. She tensed, her chin digging into her upper chest as a tremor rocked through her from head to toe. Both hands snapped between her legs, clamping down on her pussy. When she finally relaxed with a mighty exclamation and pushed her hair out of her face, I said, "Wow."
She chuckled and fanned herself off. She looked down at me and said, "Uh-oh. Looks like we didn't plan through."
"No," I said with a weak smile.
I grabbed the hem of my shirt to wash the come off, but Janet said, "No, wait." She stood and hurried out of the room, regaining her balance and adjusting her clothes as she went. I watched, trying not to be too grossed out by what was all over my lower body, and waited patiently for her to return. I heard the bathroom sink and, a few seconds later, Janet returned. "Turn this way."
I turned to face her and she knelt between my knees. I was very aware of the proximity of her face to my cock. I swallowed. She held a washcloth in her hands and tenderly began to clean me. She started with my hand, then moved to my thighs. She wrapped the warm cloth around my cock and it hardened against her palm. "Ung," I said.
Janet smiled, cleaned me, and then tugged my boxer shorts up over my semi-hard shaft. She put her hands on my stomach and stretched up. Her blouse hung down and brushed my cock through my underwear as she put her hand on my jaw. She drew my face to hers and tenderly kissed my lips. It was Janet Fraiser kissing Daniel Jackson, I knew that, but at the same time...
"Thank you, Sam," she whispered against my mouth.
I reached up and put my hand on her wrist to keep her from backing away. I leaned in and kissed her again, parting my lips and sweeping her mouth with my tongue. Janet moaned quietly and I felt her tighten her hand on my thigh. Her other hand went to my shirt and brushed up and down, hard, and I frowned into the kiss. Until the heel of her hand caught the mimic device and forced it off my flesh.
I became Samantha Carter again with Janet Fraiser's tongue in my mouth, and the doctor herself kneeling between my thighs.
When I pulled back, I nipped at her bottom lip with my teeth. Her eyes fluttered open and we stared at each other for a long moment. I put my hands on her shoulders and exhaled. "Well."
She pressed her forehead to mine and smiled. "Lot more fun than going ninety."
"And we didn't get a ticket this time," I reminded her.
"Always a plus," she laughed.
I glanced at the clock. "We should..."
"Yeah," Janet said.
"Cassandra."
"Right."
She pushed up on my thighs and stood, holding her hand out to help me up. I looked down at myself, the tight T-shirt and the baggy jeans, and said, "I should probably change."
"Might be best," Janet said.
I stepped away from her and headed down the dark hallway to the bedroom. I could feel her eyes on me the entire way and, for some reason, the knowledge made me smile like a fool.
Much better than pushing ninety and getting a ticket.
-
Two weeks passed. Janet and I were normal at work, but our relationship had taken a definite skew when we were alone together. Grown women, women pushing forty, should not have to call it a 'make-out session.' Sitting alone in cars, going out for pizza... all the terms for it made us sound like fifteen-year-olds with a curfew.
We had yet to repeat the night that brought us together. I was worried about ruining the magic, I think she was worried about appearing too eager.
One afternoon, off-duty and puttering around the house, I started to wonder about Janet. If I could get the mimic devices back would she let me...? Would I want to? I had never fantasized about it before, not even with a strap-on. But with Janet... well, the improbable never really entered into the equation when Dr. Janet Fraiser was involved.
I was planning to do laundry when the doorbell rang. I frowned and checked my watch. Janet told me she'd be stuck at the base doing paperwork all day. No one else was supposed to be coming by. I looked through the glass as I approached the door and saw a familiar outline. I suppressed the urge to groan. If this is some enticement to watch some stupid action movie or Western... I opened the door and forced a smile. "Hi... Sir?"
It was Jack O'Neill, but it wasn't. There was something off about him. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. "Is everything all right?"
"Everything's fine, Sam," he said. He stepped forward, brushing by me. As he passed, he ran his hand along my upper chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps in the wake of his fingers.
My eyes widened and I froze where I was. What the hell is...? I looked outside, maybe hoping for a Candid Camera crew hiding in my bushes. I looked into the park across the street and was about to turn away when something caught my eye. No giant truck parked on the other side of my privacy hedge. Instead, there was a small gray sedan parked in front of my Volvo.
Janet's sedan.
"Got any margarita mix?" 'the Colonel' asked from inside the house.
I was shaking as I closed the door. "Yeah," I said. "Let me get some glasses."
Author: geonncannon
Pairing: Sam/Janet (Janet/Daniel, Sam/Jack, Sam/m mentioned)
Word Count: 3,960
Category: Humor
Spoilers: "Holiday," "Foothold"
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Rating: NC17
Prompt: After "Foothold", Sam is testing the boundaries of the duplicating devices and figures out that she can experience sensations on the duplicated skin as if it were her own. She's always wondered what it feels like for a guy... and Janet convinces her to take 'Jack' and/or 'Daniel' for a test drive under "medical supervision" after several margaritas. Written for the sg1_by_hand community. Go check out the awesome ficness happening over there!
Summary: Janet convinces Sam to do a bit of unsanctioned experimentation with the mimic devices.
I should have learned my lesson by now: Never get drunk with Janet Fraiser.
Everyone knows Janet from the base. She's stern, but loving. Friendly, but professional. Everyone loves Janet. Every team feels a little upset if they discover Janet is off-duty when they have to get their pre- or post-mission examinations. And sure, Janet is a great doctor and an excellent friend. All I'm saying is that there's another side to her. And once you get that side drunk, you want your own facilities to be in perfect condition. Otherwise you might find yourself agreeing to... well, to some unusual things.
Things like standing in her bathroom in a pair of boxer shorts and pulling a white T-shirt over your head. The shirt was a little small; it was a man's size, so my chest felt bizarrely constricted. It was for the best, I supposed, since Janet had forbidden me to wear a bra during this little experiment. "That would look a little weird, don't you think?" she had said.
And, after four margaritas, I had to agree with her.
I pulled on the jeans, adjusted the crotch slightly and picked up the box from Area 51. I cannot believe we checked out highly-classified alien technology for this. The Pentagon would have a conniption if they knew what 'real-world research and examination' really meant. I exhaled and pulled out the collar of my T-shirt. "Might as well get this over with," I muttered.
The metal disc was cold against my skin and it stuck with a disgusting, Super-glue sort of texture. I grimaced but, when I looked up, it was Daniel Jackson's face sneering at me in the mirror. "Yeah, yeah," I said in his voice. "I know. I'd sneer at you, too." My T-shirt now fit perfectly, my jeans no longer baggy in the crotch.
And that's where the whole idea had come from.
Janet and I, sitting up late after Cassandra had gone to bed. Janet loved her margaritas, and I loved her company, so I just kept on pouring. And then I had casually mentioned the experiments we'd been running on the mimic devices. About a year ago, the SGC had nearly been taken over by aliens who duplicated key members of the base - including Janet herself - and we had managed to salvage some of the technology. They had been stored at Area 51 and, on one of my infrequent jaunts to the base, I had tested a few of them out to try and determine how they worked. I told Janet I had made a breakthrough, realizing they were more than just a holographic representation of the person, but a full transformation. The tiny devices somehow memorized dimensions and weight of a certain person. Everything was accurate, right down to hair and eye color.
"Wow," Janet had said, brushing her thumb along the salted rim of her glass. "But you're still no closer to figuring out how?"
"No," I said. I was more than a little bit frustrated. "I mean, like the alien impersonating you. It was the same size, same weight and shape of all his friends. But when he was impersonating you, he took up five-feet-three inches of--"
"Four," Janet said quickly. "Five-foot-four."
"My apologies," I smiled. "He stood five-foot-four and weighed... a hundred and ten pounds?"
Janet had smirked around the rim of her glass and said, "Close enough."
"The fact that these discs can alter dimension like that is amazing."
Janet nodded. "So how do the clothes work?" I must have look confused, so she expanded, "The aliens were all nekkid," her voice tended to drift into the Southern part of the country the more tired and the drunker she got, "but they were all wearing clothes that fit us. My uniform, Colonel O'Neill's black shirt, Daniel's blue shirt... how did it all fit?"
"With you and O'Neill, the aliens sent you through the... Xerox... with your clothing on. The machine duplicated your clothes as well as your body. Since Daniel was leaving the base, the alien changed into civvies. Since the duplication process was next to perfect, the clothes in Daniel's locker fit it perfectly."
"So the clothes come with the switch?"
I nodded. "I disconnected the Daniel alien's device while it was wearing his clothes. That shorted something out and the clothes became part of the device's copy."
A wrinkle appeared between Janet's eyebrows. "So... Daniel's clothes just vanished?"
"Sort of. They were stored in the memory of the device. After everything quieted down, I put the device on and took the clothes off, gave them back to him."
Janet's eyes brightened. "So you've seen our Dr. Jackson au naturale."
I blushed. "Well, I didn't examine him or anything."
Janet scanned the wall of my living room. "So... the Daniel machine, the thing that copies him, the one at Area 51? He's naked?"
"Well... the technicians who use it generally wear jumpsuits."
"They'd have to be the same size as Daniel then, right? Or else wear a jumpsuit that would fit Daniel."
I shrugged. "It doesn't seem to matter. Although, I do wear a men's jumpsuit whenever I test one of the guys' devices."
"Why?"
"Women's jumpsuits are like cheap hotels," I said as I took a sip of my margarita. "No ballroom."
Janet had nearly spit her drink across the living room and I had to pat her on the back so she wouldn't choke. "God, where did you get that?"
"Cass made me watch some show called Veronica Mars," I smiled. "Are you okay?"
"Fine." She coughed once more and leaned back on the couch. She crossed her legs, drew her fingertip across the rim of her glass and looked at me through her bangs. I knew right then I was in trouble.
Janet was the reason I got a speeding ticket at three in the morning. Why else would I have been riding my motorcycle at 90 miles an hour down a residential street, if not to appease the cackling woman hanging on to my waist for dear life?
Janet was the reason I got my hair cut so damn short. I had grown it long - so long that I could tell General Hammond was working up the courage to tell me it was against regulation - for the first time in years. I liked it long, I liked twirling it around my fingers when I was stuck at a red light. But I hated the maintenance. I hated stuffing it under my bike helmet every time I wanted to take a spin, and then combing it out so I wouldn't look like a mushroom when I took it off.
So Janet had suggested cutting it short. Really short. Next-to-shaved short. She assured me it would be cute, and it was... for about five minutes.
Janet was the reason I had a navel ring (to match hers).
I could have said no to any of these things. I could have demurred. I could have backed away and ran for my life. But Janet has this power to make everything she suggests sound reasonable and fun. And I have to admit, the memory of speeding around those corners in the middle of the night still gives me a thrill. I still have my hair cut short because, damn it, it is more convenient. And when the one lover I've had since getting my belly pierced ran his tongue over the stud, I... well, let's just say I don't regret getting it.
But still. This was above and beyond everything she'd ever asked me to do. I took a deep breath and finally left the bathroom. The hallway was dark, and the only light in the house was coming from two lamps in the living room. Janet had made more margaritas for tonight's 'experiment,' at my insistence, and I wished I had one right then. I steadied my nerves and headed down the hallway.
I came into the living room behind the couch. Janet was seated at the far end, her right leg curled up underneath her. She held two margaritas; one in her lap, the other stretched out along the back of the couch. I cleared my throat and said, "Hi."
Janet turned and looked over her shoulder at me. She smiled and I stepped forward. "Is that mine?"
She held out the glass and I took it from her. Her eyes were wide and the lamp-light reflected in them like tiny suns. "Wow. This is so bizarre."
I took a drink and walked around the couch. I sat down on the opposite end and looked into the drink. Janet used a lot of tequila, so it wouldn't take long to give me a buzz. I took another drink and turned to look at her.
"You're Daniel, but you're still... Sam. You know? The way you carry yourself and the way you speak. It's uncanny."
I shifted on the couch and said, "Look, are you sure we should be doing this? I feel kind of uncomfortable."
Janet put her glass down on the table. Her demeanor changed from amused to completely serious. "If you feel uncomfortable, we don't have to do anything at all. I mean it, Sam."
I sighed. "It feels weird. Like we're taking advantage of him. There's a mimic device of you, your body," I said. "How would you feel if Colonel O'Neill or Daniel borrowed it and did this with you?"
She lowered her eyes and the seductress smirk returned. "I'd tell them they wouldn't have to go to the trouble of getting the mimic device." She reached out and put her hand on mine. "It's just for fun. Daniel never has to know."
I took a long drink of my margarita and then set it down on the coffee table. "Okay, well... where should we do this? The bedroom?"
"Here is fine," Janet said.
"Here?" I looked around the living room, noting the windows. The front door, so nearby.
"Would you rather in the bedroom?" Janet asked.
I shook my head. No, that would be a bit too intimate for this. I leaned forward and put the margarita next to Janet's. I turned and looked at her. She wore a dark maroon blouse and a knee-length black skirt. I let my gaze linger on her thighs and I felt a stirring in my jeans. God, sure, I'd noticed Janet was a beautiful woman before. But she'd never turned me on like this.
Okay, well, not any time I'd like to talk about right now, thank you very much.
I cleared my throat again and said, "How do I, uh... start?"
Janet turned to face me. She straightened her legs and placed her hands on her lap. "Do you want me to undo you pants? Would it... you know, help?"
"I guess it wouldn't hurt."
Janet slid across the couch and reached for my waist. I leaned back and looked down - so very odd to see a flat plain rather than the top of the breasts I'd seen ever since I turned thirteen.
Janet's hands were phenomenal. Fine-boned, expert, moving with quick assuredness across my belt. I took a breath as she undid the catch, then went to work on the button of my jeans. She tugged the zipper down, her knuckles brushing the denim. She parted the two halves and revealed the boxer shorts underneath. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip and sat back. "There you go," she said softly.
I eased the jeans down on my hips and looked down. I touched the hair on my stomach - another weird sensation, kind of gross, actually - and slid my fingertips under the waistband of the underwear. Janet settled against the corner of the couch, half-turned so she could face me easier. "The physical aspects could prove interesting," she had said that night a week earlier. "I mean... you know... guys..."
And now here I was, wearing Daniel's skin, my fingertips inches from his hard-on. God, this was the dumbest thing Janet had ever asked me to do. My skin was flushed, my heart pounding, I could barely catch my breath. Was it iffy morality of what we were doing? Or just the fact that I had never masturbated in front of someone before? Either way.
Besides, how odd was it, really? Janet had seen Daniel naked before. Countless examinations. That one incident that was bandied about on-base where she had stormed into the locker room when he had left the infirmary without permission. She'd caught him - along with Colonel Reynolds and Major Pierce - in the all-together. She had calmly told him to return to the infirmary at once before she dragged him back there by whatever handle made itself available. This said with a pointed look to his crotch.
So, no. It wasn't the fact that she was going to be seeing him like this causing me concern. It was me, doing this with his body.
"Sam," Janet said softly.
I looked up at her.
"We don't have to. I just thought it might be fun."
I realized I've been holding my hand in position for almost a full minute. My shorts were starting to deflate.
I thought back to when Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c had switched bodies due to Ma'chello's device. I'd found the Colonel - in Teal'c's body - in his quarters, shirt off, flexing his muscles. I'd been greatly amused, and the Colonel had defended himself until he was blue in the face. "I'm a guy, Carter. Teal'c will understand. When guys are given the opportunity to explore a different... terrain, if you will, we'll take it. It's the explorer in us."
"Never let it be said I was against exploration," I muttered. I pushed my jeans down to my knees and then hooked my thumbs in the waistband of the shorts. Janet's eyes widened and I looked down. Wow. Oh, that was bizarre. I curled my fingers on the underside of his cock and I felt lightheaded. Not woozy, just... thrown a bit. The angles were wrong, but everything felt familiar. I swallowed and looked up at Janet. Her hand was pressed between her knees, her eyes fastened on my lap.
"So... what..."
"Give him... yourself... a hand job. You've given hand jobs before, haven't you?"
This time the blush reached my forehead. I suddenly realized I was a brunette and fought the urge to reach up and touch Daniel's hair. I shifted and wrapped my fingers around my penis. Brand-new, straight from the box... I laughed and shook my head. "God, this is so weird."
Janet had dropped her shoes to the floor. She drew one leg up and rested her heel on the couch cushion. She kept her skirt pressed down between her thighs, but I could still see the lacy tops of her nylons. She curled her toes and ran her eyes over my body. Daniel's body. Whatever. She reached my eyes and said, "It doesn't look weird."
I stroked upward slowly, my pinky sticking out like I was some kind of debutante at a tea party. My mouth was dry, my hands were sweaty. My balls were tight, so I brought my other hand up and squeezed them gently. I extended my index finger and brushed the spot between the ball sac and my ass. I shifted and inadvertently thrust my hips up, pushing my cock up through the ring of my fingers.
The electricity of the movement made me shiver and I gasped. I heard Janet make a weak, whimpering sound and I opened my eyes to look at her. She had abandoned the idea of keeping her skirt down, had lost all thought of decorum. Her right leg was still planted on the couch cushion, but now her leg was swung open. Her legs formed a V right in front of me, her fingers rubbing the silk of her panties.
She had her eyes open, and I was glad. In my fantasies (okay, fine, I admit it. I have sexual fantasies where I wonder what it would be like with another woman, and that other woman is always, always Janet), her eyes are always the main focus. I've always been drawn to them. She can shame me, she can prompt me to speak, she can draw out injuries and complaints I wouldn't otherwise bother anyone with just from one pointed look. And now she was looking at me while I masturbated.
Suddenly, I regretted using Daniel's body. But only because I wished it were my own.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, still stroking my cock. Sight, touch, even smell - Daniel's unique, natural musk fills my nose since I didn't put on my own moisturizer after my shower - might be fooled, but my mind was definitely not. As I ran my hand up and down my erection, stroking myself to orgasm, my brain knew something was hinky. I curled my toes and felt my hard nipples against the tight T-shirt, I felt my pussy wet against the boxer shorts.
I wanted to see what happened when I came. Would I come? Or would semen actually ejaculate from Daniel's cock? Would it be my come or his?
Would Janet let me fuck her?
I was embarrassed by this thought, but the mental image that went along with it - me on top of her, her completely naked and wrapped around me as I thrust into her - was enough to push me to the edge. I arched my back and my hand sped up. "Oh, God, Janet... Janet, I'm coming!" I clenched my jaw and my body went rigid. I kicked my heel against the floor and finally sagged against the cushion behind my back.
Sticky, white come was stuck to my fingers. It was glistening all over my cock, darkening against the material of my boxer shorts and lying cold on my thighs.
Janet was breathing hard and I watched as she came. She tensed, her chin digging into her upper chest as a tremor rocked through her from head to toe. Both hands snapped between her legs, clamping down on her pussy. When she finally relaxed with a mighty exclamation and pushed her hair out of her face, I said, "Wow."
She chuckled and fanned herself off. She looked down at me and said, "Uh-oh. Looks like we didn't plan through."
"No," I said with a weak smile.
I grabbed the hem of my shirt to wash the come off, but Janet said, "No, wait." She stood and hurried out of the room, regaining her balance and adjusting her clothes as she went. I watched, trying not to be too grossed out by what was all over my lower body, and waited patiently for her to return. I heard the bathroom sink and, a few seconds later, Janet returned. "Turn this way."
I turned to face her and she knelt between my knees. I was very aware of the proximity of her face to my cock. I swallowed. She held a washcloth in her hands and tenderly began to clean me. She started with my hand, then moved to my thighs. She wrapped the warm cloth around my cock and it hardened against her palm. "Ung," I said.
Janet smiled, cleaned me, and then tugged my boxer shorts up over my semi-hard shaft. She put her hands on my stomach and stretched up. Her blouse hung down and brushed my cock through my underwear as she put her hand on my jaw. She drew my face to hers and tenderly kissed my lips. It was Janet Fraiser kissing Daniel Jackson, I knew that, but at the same time...
"Thank you, Sam," she whispered against my mouth.
I reached up and put my hand on her wrist to keep her from backing away. I leaned in and kissed her again, parting my lips and sweeping her mouth with my tongue. Janet moaned quietly and I felt her tighten her hand on my thigh. Her other hand went to my shirt and brushed up and down, hard, and I frowned into the kiss. Until the heel of her hand caught the mimic device and forced it off my flesh.
I became Samantha Carter again with Janet Fraiser's tongue in my mouth, and the doctor herself kneeling between my thighs.
When I pulled back, I nipped at her bottom lip with my teeth. Her eyes fluttered open and we stared at each other for a long moment. I put my hands on her shoulders and exhaled. "Well."
She pressed her forehead to mine and smiled. "Lot more fun than going ninety."
"And we didn't get a ticket this time," I reminded her.
"Always a plus," she laughed.
I glanced at the clock. "We should..."
"Yeah," Janet said.
"Cassandra."
"Right."
She pushed up on my thighs and stood, holding her hand out to help me up. I looked down at myself, the tight T-shirt and the baggy jeans, and said, "I should probably change."
"Might be best," Janet said.
I stepped away from her and headed down the dark hallway to the bedroom. I could feel her eyes on me the entire way and, for some reason, the knowledge made me smile like a fool.
Much better than pushing ninety and getting a ticket.
-
Two weeks passed. Janet and I were normal at work, but our relationship had taken a definite skew when we were alone together. Grown women, women pushing forty, should not have to call it a 'make-out session.' Sitting alone in cars, going out for pizza... all the terms for it made us sound like fifteen-year-olds with a curfew.
We had yet to repeat the night that brought us together. I was worried about ruining the magic, I think she was worried about appearing too eager.
One afternoon, off-duty and puttering around the house, I started to wonder about Janet. If I could get the mimic devices back would she let me...? Would I want to? I had never fantasized about it before, not even with a strap-on. But with Janet... well, the improbable never really entered into the equation when Dr. Janet Fraiser was involved.
I was planning to do laundry when the doorbell rang. I frowned and checked my watch. Janet told me she'd be stuck at the base doing paperwork all day. No one else was supposed to be coming by. I looked through the glass as I approached the door and saw a familiar outline. I suppressed the urge to groan. If this is some enticement to watch some stupid action movie or Western... I opened the door and forced a smile. "Hi... Sir?"
It was Jack O'Neill, but it wasn't. There was something off about him. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. "Is everything all right?"
"Everything's fine, Sam," he said. He stepped forward, brushing by me. As he passed, he ran his hand along my upper chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps in the wake of his fingers.
My eyes widened and I froze where I was. What the hell is...? I looked outside, maybe hoping for a Candid Camera crew hiding in my bushes. I looked into the park across the street and was about to turn away when something caught my eye. No giant truck parked on the other side of my privacy hedge. Instead, there was a small gray sedan parked in front of my Volvo.
Janet's sedan.
"Got any margarita mix?" 'the Colonel' asked from inside the house.
I was shaking as I closed the door. "Yeah," I said. "Let me get some glasses."