Mike's tiny jet form vibrated with life in Jake's hands. "Jake, as much as I dig being an aircraft, this dorm is no place for a fighter jet," Mike's synthesized voice echoed from the plane's speaker system. "Let's switch back. I'm hitting the menu."
"Got it," Jake responded, his voice tinged with a mix of eagerness and regret at losing the novelty of holding a miniature jet.
Inside the cockpit canopy, Mike mentally scrolled through the options, selecting "human" from the "MODEL" sub-menu and dialing in his usual height of 175 cm into the "SIZE" field. He confirmed his choices, bracing for whatever came next.
The transformation began as a gentle hum of energy within the jet's core. Slowly, the wings started to withdraw towards the fuselage, the powerful engine tunnels shrinking into nothingness as Mike's arms began to delineate. The wheels retracted as his feet took shape, lengthening and rounding out into legs.
A gradual enlargement took place, the intricate details of the jet fading as Mike reformed. Each second, he gained mass and volume, the transformation straining the limits of Jake's grip as Mike's body re-emerged within the suit. His arms fully separated, now clearly defined, his fingers wiggling as if to test their reality.
The careful plane markings etched along the fuselage softened and vanished, replaced by the textures of the flight suit stretching over human skin. Mike's head resurfaced from the cockpit's shrinking frame, the helmet visor retracting to reveal his familiar face, a grin of relief and amazement spreading across it.
"What the—" Jake tried to maintain his hold, feeling Mike's weight increase exponentially within seconds. "Mike, you're getting heavy, man!"
"I can't control the speed, it's automatic!" Mike's voice returned to its normal pitch as he continued to grow, the pressure against Jake's palms becoming insistent.
At roughly half his final size, Mike slid from Jake's grasp, his feet touching down and taking his full weight. The rest of his growth was smooth, skin, muscle, and bone expanding until he stood at his full 175 cm. His hair fell back into place, the flight suit adjusting to fit him as though it had been tailored, wrapping his form snugly, both impressive and functional.
Mike flexed his hands and legs, readjusting to the familiar sensation of being human. He laughed breathlessly, running a gloved hand through his hair. "Wow, that was... something else."
Jake surveyed his friend, struck by the oddity and the wonder of what had just happened. "You're telling me. One second you're an F-35, the next, you're back here." He shook his head in disbelief. "This Chronivac is insane."
Grinning with the impish delight of an idea sparking to life, Jake decided it was his turn, but he wanted to keep his choice secret from Mike. Leaning over the keyboard, he surreptitiously entered a new job title into the Chronivac: "Mouse Jet Fighter Pilot." With a mischievous glance at Mike, who was still preoccupied with feeling out the fabric of his own flight suit, Jake hit 'Enter.'
In an instant, Jake felt the first prickling sensations of transformation. His clothing seemed to tighten before expanding into the sharp contours of a pilot's flight suit. It was a deep navy blue, bedecked with badges and insignia that shimmered against the synthetic material. The suit featured a zippered front, pockets along the legs for essential gear, and reinforced panels over the shoulders and chest. It fit him like a second skin, molded to every contour of his changing form.
But there was more. As Jake's attire transitioned into that of an elite aviator, peculiar physical alterations began to take hold. His ears lengthened and rounded out, adopting a velvety gray fur that matched the suit's utilitarian aesthetic. They migrated upward on his head, positioning themselves to capture the smallest of squeaks and whispers as they swiveled to and fro.
Jake's face began to push forward, his nose and mouth extending into a soft, twitching snout, whiskers sprouting with delicate precision on either side. His teeth felt different—a pair of incisors sharpening slightly, a rodent's necessary tools.
A slender tail emerged, growing as a seamless extension of his spine, its length covered in the same gray fur. It moved with a life of its own, balancing Jake as he adjusted to his new form.
Completing his transformation was his flight suit, meticulously adapted to his rodent features. Tailored openings allowed his new ears and tail to poke through without ruining the suit's integrity. The gloves and boots of the suit conformed to his altered hands and feet, now ending in tiny, dexterous claws capable of operating complex flight systems.
Just in front of Jake, a helmet appeared, similar to the one Mike had donned earlier, but slightly different—clearly designed for an anthropomorphic mouse. Its visor was broader, accommodating his widened field of view.
Jake couldn't suppress a sly chuckle as he grasped the helmet. "Look at this," he said, examining it with his new, beady eyes that gleamed with intelligence and a hint of daring.
Mike, now fully human once more, turned to see his friend's transformation. His eyes widened in astonishment. "Jake? You're... a mouse!"
With a nod of satisfaction, Jake replied confidently, "A mouse jet fighter pilot, to be exact." He held the helmet under his arm, standing tall and proud in spite of his rodent visage. "It'll come in handy, you will see!"