You were greeted by the door by a man and a woman dressed in nurse uniforms.
"Hello miss, we're from the Fusion Wave response team. We'd like to ask if you were effected by the wave at all." said the male, a somewhat muscular young man with tan-brown skin and closely cropped hair.
"Yes I was." you reply in your soft new voice, which still sounded oddly familiar to you.
"Please come with us, we'll get you checked out and then we can decide how to move forward from here." said the female, a short blonde with glasses.
The two nurses led you to a white van parked at the motel. You were suddenly very conscious of the bulge under your dress, which as you predicted was now bobbing and swaying and rubbing against your thighs as you walked, your panties at least managing to mitigate most of the movement.
There were several other vans parked there, some in the process of leaving, and others being loaded with newly transformed passengers. You couldn't immediately tell if anything was wrong with the woman climbing into the van to your direct left, but the one to your right was occupied by a humorously conjoined figure: a young man's head on the body of a prepubescent girl dressed in a purple bunny t-shirt and pink shorts. You realized that it probably didn't seem quite as funny to the young man... or the little girl, whichever one was the dominant consciousness now.
Taking a seat opposite you in the van, the young female nurse handed you a clipboard as the male nurse started the engine and began to pull out of the parking lot.
"Before we get to your medical checkup, we just need to to fill out these forms so we can deal with the issue of your identity... or identities. It's important to us that you're able to return to your old life - or new life - as soon as possible." she smiled reassuringly.
You stared down at the form and your heart sank a little.
Depending on how you filled in your answers, you would either go back to living your male self's life, your female self's life, or assume a new blended identity.
There was a space to fill in both of your previous selves' names at the very top, which seemed easy enough.
Under "Name 1" you put Maxwell Jenkins, the name you had grown up with your whole life, and under "Name 2" you wrote Alice Little, the name coming to you in an instant, as if you'd heard it every day
Next the form asked for a brief description of your physical changes and to estimate which identity was dominant and by how much, on a scale of 1-10 between Identity 1 and Identity 2.
This froze you in your tracks.
Your answer here would determine how your life continued. It was no simple choice.
You now resembled Alice almost 100%, except for your eyes and genitals, but your mind was definitely primarily your own. Or rather, Maxwell's.
If you answered honestly about your identity, you would probably go back to your old life as Maxwell, but with Alice's body, mostly.
Could you really live like that? Could you simply go back to your old life with a seemingly normal teenage girl's body, acting as if nothing was wrong? You'd spend the rest of your life correcting people, you'd have to explain yourself to everyone from your old life and hope that they can accept the changed you.
On the other hand, if you answered that Alice was your primary identity, you could probably ease into her life quite easily. The changes to your, or her, eye colour was barely a change at all, and nobody necessarily had to know about the bulging feminine meat between your legs. You had easy access to her memories, which were stored in the back of your mind. Choosing to live as Alice might actually be the easier choice. Plus you'd get to relive high school again, which could potentially be fun.
The third and final option was answering that you had been evenly blended together. This option at a first glance seemed like a tempting choice, but the more you thought about it, the more miserable it seemed. You would potentially be starting your identity from scratch, having to explain yourself to friends and loved ones from both sides of your shared identity. The choice of how to move forward would be complicated and unclear. This actually seemed like the most difficult of the choices.
Biting your lip and anxiously tapping your foot on the floor of the van, you brought your pen up to the form and chose...