Carefully, still adjusting to the unusual weight and sensory experience of your newfound facial features, you reach for your phone. With a curious mix of pride and disbelief, you snap a few images of your transformed visage, fascinated by how you can still see your eyes, your expressions through this disguise of painted metal and hum of dormant power.
Once the pictures are snapped, you choose one – displaying the cheeky grin at its best – and send it to your friend, Paul, almost challenging him to believe your outrageous escapade. His texts arrive almost immediately, amused emojis dashed with pinches of shock and confusion. He doesn’t require much convincing to rush over.
Paul arrives, breathless and excited, spouting a steady stream of intrigued questions as he hovers around you, admiring the transformation with wide eyes.
"Dude, is this a joke?" he asks, clearly startled by your altered face.
"Feel it," you reply, motioning towards your aircraft-inspired nose and metal face, "It’s real."
"I don't know what you did,” Paul says, shaking his head in disbelief, “but it's absolutely insane!"
Before you can share more, however, you feel the familiar tingle of change again – this time in reverse. It begins at your jaw, your metal skin warming, softening, shedding its hard exterior. Each passing second sees your skin reclaiming its usual texture while the painted features fade like chalk art in the rain.
"Dude, you're changing back!" Paul exclaims. You can only nod in response, your mouth currently engaged in the process of de-transforming.
The cylindrical engine winds down to a contented hum, resonating against your cheeks before following suit, your cheeks becoming softer, retreating to their usual position. The painted, grinning face slowly disappears as your mouth regains its mobility, re-forming into your usual lips.
"Wow, that's... wild," Paul murmurs, leaning in to inspect the transformation better, "Does it hurt?"
“No, not at all…” You respond, the sensation like a soothing cream being applied, "It feels odd, but not painful."
Finally, the propeller tenses, the blades straightening and merging into your rendering nose. The transformation is complete. You are entirely human again.
Paul laughs, although there's an edge of relief in it, "Well, that was fun while it lasted. You all good now?"
“Yeah, I am…” you touch your face, affirming the stage of humanness, "It’s good to be back."
An awkward silence lingers between you and Paul, filled only by the soft rustling as Paul turns the can over in his hands, his brows furrowed. You gaze at the transformation spray, your air of nonchalance slightly cracked by the curiosity of what may follow next.
"Hey, did you see this?" Paul breaks the silence, squinting at the microscopic print etched at the bottom of the can. The whir of his surprise hangs in the air, a clear signal that the adventure might not be over just yet.
"What does it say, Paul?" you ask, leaning in to peer at the tiny letters that you had failed to notice earlier.
"Apparently, multiple applications can extend the effect. A second layer would give you two days as a biplane… a third layer, it lasts two weeks,” he pauses, swallowing hard before delivering the last part, “And with a fourth spray, it’s permanent.”
"Permanent?" your voice cracks slightly, "You mean I could stay a biplane forever?"
"Yeah, mate. Forever," Paul replies, staring at the can with a mix of intrigue and trepidation.
You both sit in silence, evaluating the meaning of the information. The idea of zipping through the sky, embodying a living, breathing part of a vintage machine – it’s as tempting as it is unnerving. Could you really pull something like this off? Should you?
"You know,” Paul's excited voice cuts through your musings, “we could actually try this. Not the permanent thing, of course, but… a weekend maybe?"
You never thought you'd be considering spending a weekend as a sentient biplane but between your curiosity and Paul's enthusiasm, it just might happen. And you know Paul. He’s equally adventurous, yet responsible.
"Where?" You ask, already brainstorming possibilities. "You know how odd it would look if a biplane suddenly appeared in our neighborhood?"
Paul grins, a lightbulb moment just around the corner, "I know a place. An abandoned desert a few hours away. Nobody would suspect a thing there."
You glance at the can, then catch Paul's eager expression. "Alright, let's do it. A weekend getaway to remember - or forget, depending on how things turn out."
The can of transformative spray feels heavier this time, loaded with anticipation and a hint of trepidation. The journey by car to the abandoned airstrip is a quiet one, punctuated only with small talk about traffic, weather, and anything but the prospect that looms ahead.
Upon reaching the deserted location, you notice the abandoned hangar loom in the distance, its rusty steel skeleton a testament to years of disuse. A sigh escapes you, half nerves, half anticipation as you step out of the car and towards the hangar.
Inside is a drafty, shadow-filled expanse, filled with the musty smells of old oil and aviation fuel, a playground to plenty of wind-blown sand and debris. It feels, however, like the perfect cocoon for your unusual transformation.
Before Paul can offer up a questioning look, you start undressing. "If I really change into a biplane, my clothes certainly won't fit," you explain with a sheepish shrug.
Paul grins, agreeing with your argument, “Can’t have a plane ripping at the seams.”
Handing the can to Paul, you step into the center of the hangar, barefooted and more than a bit nervous. No turning back now.
"Start with my face," you instruct, trying to keep your voice steady. The air grows still, the silence breaking only with the hush of the pressurized can as Paul applies the spray.
Within moments, the familiar sensation of the transformation stirs. Your face stretches, your cheekbones smoothing out into a brightly painted red metal nose. The sprouted propeller proudly boasting of aeronautic elegance while the hum of an engine comes alive underneath.
"Whoa…" Paul's eyes widen as he watches your transformation, awe painting his every feature.
"Move on to my back and stomach," you tell Paul, his curious touches helping to guide the spray as they change next. Each fresh spritz beckoning a strange sensation as your back arches, your shoulders, stomach, and chest elongating and expanding into the broad, wide wings of a biplane. Your back starts hardening and the canopy of the cockpit forms, following your spine, becoming a rounded bubble of transparent glass. It sits against your broadening back, like a giant eye giving a clear view of the inside.
"Phew, I can see right in!" Paul exclaims, peering into the canopy with wide, curious eyes as your weight morphs. No doubt by now, the transformation is kicking your growth hormones into an uncharted overdrive. You've grown taller, wider; the addition of new components and the extension of your frame push your body down, forcing you to lie flat on your belly.
Beneath the unfamiliar weight and rough desert sand, you sigh, feeling strange yet exhilarated. The first part of your transformation is complete, and now the next step awaits. You close your eyes feeling the curious sensation of being at peace.
As you find your equilibrium in your new, extended form, it's clear that the hard part isn't over yet. A quick glance up at Paul and you’re ready for the next part.
"Do my legs now," you command, partly intrigued by what comes next.
Paul kneels by your legs, wielding the spray can like an artist his brushes. As it hits your skin, the transformation is swift. Your legs shift downwards, muscles and bones restructuring and merging, extending into a sturdy landing gear. The solid structure props your elongated body, your belly off the ground for the first time since the transformation began.
Your feet are the last to change, ballooning out as they transform into a pair of sturdy, rubber tires. The feeling is odd, a mixture of firmness and comfort, as the cool desert sand gives way underneath your new wheels.
"That's ready for take-off," Paul comments, his hands hovering over your outstretched arms, "Wings next?"
With a small nod, you prepare for the upcoming change. The first touch of the spray has goosebumps prickling along the length of your arms. They seem to ripple, like the surface of a still pond broken by a pebble. Your arms, now a quartet, stretch outward, morphing, widening into the shape of aerofoil wings, ready to slice through the skies.
Your transformation is nearing completion, the symphony of change gradually coming to an end. You feel the rough sand under your belly, the cool desert breeze blowing.
"Last part, Paul. My... backside," you call out, your words laced with the slightest hint of embarrassment.
At your words, Paul grins both in amusement and awe before he moves onto the final modification. From beneath, you can feel your hindquarters reshape, a plane tail taking form right in place of your backside, rooted firmly to your fuselage, complete with the rudder and elevators, controls etched into the steely surface with familiar efficiency.
"Wow, you're a total biplane!" Paul motions around your transformed body, awe clearly evident in his voice.
You echo his sentiment, a strange sense of wonder and accomplishment flooding you. Yet, the concept of flight, of flexing your wings to catch the wind and soar in the sky, doesn’t feel right just yet. You’re not ready to fly, not quite yet, even if your body yearns to join the gusts of wind that rustle through the hangar every now and then.
"Feels a bit... odd," You finally confess, “I’m not sure I’m ready to fly yet.”
Paul offers a comforting look, "Maybe it takes some time. You look perfect, though, for what it’s worth.”
Paul circles around you, his gaze falling on the transparent canopy along your backside. "Mind if I check the inside?" he asks, a shred of genuine curiosity etched in his voice.
You shake your head, an odd sensation forming in response – "Be my guest," you answer, half intrigued and half nervous.
But Paul's already moving, a softened rustle providing the only evidence of his movements. He gingerly ascends your frame before resting along the glass-rich canopy. With a brief pause, he unlatches and opens the cover, revealing the cockpit.
As he sinks into the interior of the cockpit, his movements sending gentle shivers down your fuselage, you feel a strange mix of curiosity and apprehension. It's not every day someone climbs into your body and starts checking you out.
His expressions shift rapidly, showing evidence of his findings; from fascination to surprise, occasionally turning to you as if to confirm if all he's seeing is true.
"Amazing… it looks just like a classic biplane’s cockpit, " he exclaims, fingers tracing over the intricate details, the gauges and dials, throttles, control stick, everything functioning as if it were those of a genuine vintage plane.
"Can you feel this?" Paul asks as he extends his hands around the controls, touching different parts gently.
"Oddly, I can!" you respond, explaining that it feels like a soft tickling, a sensation that brushes over your awareness like whispers. "A gentle tingle, to be precise. Rather pleasant, actually."
Paul chirps in laughter, his eyes twinkling with excitement, "Flying you is going to be a thrill." A statement that hangs in the air, marking the start of an unforgettable weekend adventure.