The van rumbled over the uneven Appalachian backroad, tires crunching against dirt and gravel as twilight deepened into night. The thick canopy overhead turned indigo, the last vestiges of sunlight filtering through in dappled patches on the ground. Inside the van, Adrien adjusted the rearview mirror with his lithe arm, and flattened out a wrinkle on his voluptuous body. He caught a glimpse of Simon beside him, slouched in the passenger seat, gazing out the window at the rocky, verdant landscape. He still unconsciously fidgeted with the hem of the hoodie that dwarfed his new, smaller frame. Naomi’s old curves. Not that Simon wanted to hide them anymore - he was far past that stage - it was just pretty cold. Adrien scratched the top of his left breast with a manicured nail, smiling at the thought of how his old, towering, muscular frame had been put to good use.
In the back, Alyssa, her head protruding absurdly from chiseled torso, stretched her arms—Adrien’s old prides—and let out a sigh. “God, I still can’t get used to this,” she muttered, tilting her head upward—except ‘upward’ for her was a strange, forward-leaning motion. Naomi, likewise, shifted in place, her head resting awkwardly against Simon’s thigh, as it was now an intrinsic part of his lower body. She exhaled sharply, blowing a lock of hair from her face.
The two "girls" sat "manspreading," leaving ample room to breathe. They had swapped heads with the two boys, but unlike them, their heads and faces were not between shoulders, but plastered to Adrien's and Simon's groins. Specially-cut pants ensured they stayed both warm and comfortable.
The question of genitalia placement can be answered by looking between their headless shoulders. The two got creative with wearing underwear to cover their new . . . equipment.
“Yeah,” Alyssa quipped. Though a little husky now, but she still spoke with poise, her voice still rich and expressive despite her odd predicament. It was as elegant as she could keep her new body - a pretty impossible task. Though she still wore some of her old gothic getup, she was fine with relaxing a bit with it now and then - as well as, recently, dressing a little more masculine. Her wry humor remained, however - “If I never have to see another ‘Fusion Therapy Group’ advertisement again, it’ll be too soon.”
Simon chuckled, his voice softer than before, tinged with the same introverted hesitation he’d always carried, but subtly changed - it was ever so more confident. Since the Wave, he had become even more introspective—but somehow less quiet. An antisocial physics major's head plus a toned, voluptuous, well-endowed, swimmer's body resulted in a more sociable, personable, witty (and, well, *feminine*) Simon. They all had changed - thanks to their new bodies, hormones, and the crazed events of the last year. He cupped his breasts. “At least you don't have these anymore,” he muttered.
The drive had been long but not unwelcome. After months of surviving together—through riots, confusion, and the surreal bureaucracy of post-Fusion Wave America—they had earned this break. A camping trip. Something normal. Or at least as normal as things could be, given their circumstances.
Adrien, once fully male, was a tall bodybuilder and an eccentric philosophy major. After some very stressful midterm tests, he took his ever-stressed, meek roommate - the bookish Simon - out for the experience of a lifetime: He had convinced two gorgeous girls to go clubbing with them. Simon hadn't been to a social engagement since his 10th birthday party, and as he sat at his desk, racking his sleep-deprived mind over questions he was sure he had missed, too stressed to game, Adrien knew he had to get his friend to, for once, relax.
It didn't take long to find two volunteers - Naomi, once a bubbly socialite and Adrien's first girlfriend at the university, had just won a medal at what would unknowingly be her last swim meet. She pulled up to the club to meet the boys with her friend Alyssa, a goth music major. Her experience in the Viola Ensemble having gone sour earlier that day, Naomi had convinced her to come along to ease her nerves.
Adrien's and Alyssa's plans worked for the better part of an hour. The four had just began easing themselves into comfortable conversation - even Simon was chatting-
When the Fusion Wave hit.
They pulled into a clearing beside a sloping valley. The sky, now fully unfurled in cosmic splendor, spread out above them in a perfect tapestry of stars. Fireflies blinked lazily through the thick summer air, and a distant owl called somewhere in the trees. The van sputtered as Adrien turned the key, leaving them in the soft embrace of nature’s nighttime hum.
Setting up camp was an exercise in surreal familiarity. Simon, after some struggle, started the fire, his fingers still clumsy in their borrowed dexterity. He whooped and cheered loudly, waving his arms around wildly as he pranced around the flame, his breasts flopping about under his hoodie, and his cargo pants cupping his prodigious new backside. He was the closest thing to a tomboy in this group, and everyone loved it.
Adrien, despite now possessing the delicate frame of an artful musician, still moved with a quiet, manly, and determined competence, assembling the first of the tents with an efficiency that belied his otherwise elegant new limbs. He hummed as he worked, his dress, which Naomi had helped him pick out, blowing gently in the wind. He had switched to pursuing a degree in Psychology, and was far more refined than before the Fusion Wave, hardly as outspoken and boisterous as before. Thankfully though, he still brought a spirited and lively air to every room he entered and every conversation he enriched - and this air was undoubtedly a little feminine.
Alyssa put her new muscles to work, grunting as she heaved, carried, and pulled the rest of their luggage and equipment from the back of the van. As she placed the last of the rolled-up sleeping bags outside of the girls' tent, she stole a look at her old, dress-clad body. Her cheek smushed against her inner thighs, the fruit's of Adrien's labors - those bulging quadriceps she had been maintaining for her new NCAA Women's Cross Country endeavors - as she gazed on. She smiled, and her phallus between her shoulders stirred - Adrien looked pretty cute like this.
Naomi, as she had long before, filled the silence with lively chatter as she bug-sprayed everyone from head to toe, adjusting to her odd placement in the hierarchy of bodies with a well-practiced ease. Despite her now deeper voice, her choice of wear - a form-fitting puffer jacket and high-waist outdoor sweatpants - still ensure she looks feminine. She unfolded the mats and camping chairs, prepped dinner, and made sure the rest of it was covered so as not to attract pests and the unwanted bear later in the night. Naomi's social status had tanked with her transformation - she had lost over three quarters of her friend group, who were mostly untransformed - even more so than Adrien. Whereas the bodybuilder had build a close a loyal rapport with many of his bros and lady-friends, most of her friends only saw her as a grotesque, masculine freak. It killed her, and the swimmer was gloomy, miserable, and borderline suicidal for most of the lockdown - it was her four new friends that pulled her from the brink. Returning to college, she discovered she had been forced to quit the swim team due to her mutation. With this, she had lost her beauty, her friends, and her future . . . and so she sought a new one. Now a serious major in Political Science and Statistics, her personality is but a semblance of what it once was - it could be said, at times, that she is more antisocial than Simon once was. However, she has been making active efforts to regain her old charm and attractiveness. With the nurturing help of her friends, Naomi has become, little by little, more talkative yet again.
Dinner was simple: charred barbecue chicken for Simon, Alyssa, and Naomi, while Adrien—who had, much to everyone’s amusement, gone vegan post-Fusion—settled for a grilled portobello and roasted vegetables.
“You’re literally still part of your old body,” Simon teased, with a friendly charm and confidence entirely absent just a few months ago. He balanced a chicken leg between his fingers. “How does that even work?”
Adrien shrugged, twirling a roasted carrot between his fingers. “I don’t know, man. Something about changing perspectives. Maybe it’s because I actually have hips now, and they tell me no.”
Naomi snorted, nearly choking on her food. Alyssa, ever the sharp-witted one, raised a brow. “That’s the most philosophy-major excuse I’ve ever heard.”
“Shut up,” Adrien muttered, but he was smiling.
Afterward, they sprawled across a large blanket beneath the open sky, gazing at the constellations. The air smelled of earth and firewood, of distant pine and the lingering scent of roasted food. Somewhere in the distance, a creek babbled unseen, its sound melding with the rhythmic chirr of crickets.
Adrien lay beside Alyssa, their fingers barely brushing, but neither pulled away. Across from them, Simon and Naomi mirrored the gesture—tentative, uncertain, but undeniably there. It had taken months to adjust to their new bodies, their new selves. The awkwardness, the frustration, the strange revelations about identity, attraction, and the fundamental question of selfhood. But here, in the hush of the Appalachian night, it felt—if not normal, then at least right.
“I used to be hate silence before the wave,” Naomi admitted softly, her voice thoughtful. “Always felt like I had to fill it.”
"After the wave - all I wanted was quiet."
Simon turned his head toward her, studying the way the firelight flickered against her skinny features. “And now?”
She exhaled, her breath momentarily warming her thighs. She shifted just enough for their hands to clasp fully. “Now I think I like it.”
Meanwhile, Adrien squeezed Alyssa’s fingers lightly, before they quietly crossed their legs. As they drew close, she felt Adrien rub Naomi's old, smooth, and supple calves against her - and right in front of her face. They chuckled, and blushed - but they couldn't see each others' faces. No matter. This was comfortable.
Above them all, the star-peppered sky stretched on, infinite and unknowable, a reminder that even in the wake of chaos, beauty remained.