You relax in the passenger seat as Colby drives. You look out the window as the suburbs give way to trees and hills. A part of you feels anxious for deceiving your parents like this, but a larger part of you is excited to spend an entire summer away, doing whatever you want. No longer do you have to have people scheduling your life for you, determining what you can and cannot do. Now it was your turn, and you were itching to get started.
George leans in between you and Colby. "Um, Colby? You do know the way, right?"
Colby smirks and nods, tapping the side of his head. "It's all in here. If I concentrate, I think I can recall some of your uncle's memories, kind of like how I got his driving skills. As long as I focus on it, I can remember the way to the cabin. So, it's probably a good idea I stay as him the whole way up there."
George nods, looking a little relieved. "Good. I was going to say, if you needed some help, I got my dad to give me some directions, just in case."
You pull out your phone. "And, just in case, we've also got the address, so I could just use my Maps app."
Colby rolls his eyes. "I'll be fine, guys. Trust in your ol' Uncle Colby."
You watch the countryside pass by. You and George try putting some music on, but Colby complains that it's too loud and annoying, and changes the radio to an oldies station, which George finds utterly bland and boring. Instead you all talk about the various things you want to do once you get to the cabin.
"I want to try on all the shoes I brought at least once." George leans back, a faraway look in his eyes. "I want to try out all the different bodies. I got a bunch of the shoes from Goodwill, so they could by anybody!"
You grin as you proclaim your own fantasies. "I just want to be able to let loose and do what I want, you know? You said there's a lake at the cabin? I'd love to go skinny dipping. And I want to eat whatever I want when I want. Pizza, cheeseburgers, ice cream, you name it! No more broccoli and cheese casseroles for me!"
Colby smirks and shakes his head. "Is that all you guys got? Come on! Think bigger! I mean, the food thing's a good start, but really think hard about it. We're going to be full grown men, or women, I guess if you really want to. What are some things that men can do?"
You shrug. "Shave?"
Colby rolls his eyes. "Here's a hint: I borrowed your socks and turned into my brother yesterday so I could buy as much beer as I could fit in the back."
You look wide-eyed at your currently middle-aged friend. "No way! I didn't see any when I put my stuff back there."
He grins. "I put a blanket over it. There's also enough to fill the entire third row of seats and leave just enough room in the back for our bags."
George nods. "I thought it looked awfully cramped back there..."
You can't help but feel a little concerned. "What if we get caught?"
Colby laughs. "What? Three grown adults drinking beer on their private property? What are they going to do? Come on! You wanted to get away to do whatever you want without restrictions, then by all means, let's do it!"
George fist pumps the air. "Yeah!"
A few dozen miles later, Colby pulls into a rest stop. As he shifts the vehicle into park and cuts the ignition, the turns to the two of you. "I gotta take a wicked piss. Do what you guys want, but let's not take too long. I'd like to get to the cabin as soon as possible." Colby then hops out and makes his way to the restroom.
You turn in your seat and look back at George. "So, you wanna change?"
He grins back at you. "Heck yeah, I do."
The two of you hop out. You open the back door to grab the socks and your dad's shoes. Now that Colby's mentioned it, you do see a large, lumpy mass covered in a blanket that closely matches the color of the upholstery. George rifles through his own bag, which looks to be mostly filled with shoes of various sizes, colors, and styles.
"Geez, George. Did you bring any clothes?"
He shrugs, still searching through the shoes. "I brought a couple sets of sweat suits. There's a town not too far from the cabin we could buy more clothes at if we need to. You go on ahead, I'll be right behind you."
You grab the socks, your dad's shoes, and a set of your dad's clothes and make your way into the rest stop. There are several people wander around, so you decide to change in one of the restroom stalls, away from prying eyes. As you walk through the swinging, restroom door, you can see Colby standing at one of the urinals, a look a relief on his round, bearded face.
"Man, this guy sure can piss," he mutters.
You step into the handicapped stall, giving yourself the most space without being seen. You strip off your clothes and pull on your dad's clothes. Now that you’re practically swimming in cloth, you pull on the magic socks and your dad's shoes. It's not long before the changes start. First your feet fill up the shoes, your body quickly progressing in height to match. Then you feel your frame slowly expanding, your muscles increasing in size to fill your clothes. You lift up your shirt to see a patch of hair appear in the center of your chest. It spreads out, quickly covering your new pecs in dark hair. It then spreads downward, overtaking your new abs as it shoots down past your waist. It wraps up around your shoulders, down your arms and your back. Your chin tickles as facial hair begins sprouting, pushing out of your follicles. As your jaw shifts into a more masculine and mature shape, a day's worth of unshaven stubble sprouts up along it. The hair on your upper lip grows out and joins with the hair on your chin, forming your father's goatee. You look down at your hands as your fingers become blunt and calloused, and man's hands. You feel a sudden weight as your abs soften and extend into a beer belly. The flesh under your chin sags slightly, not quite becoming a second chin. Speckles of grey appear on your chin and at your temples as your hair recedes a few inches and lines etch themselves into your forehead and around your eyes. You have become your dad.
You step out and examine your reflection in the mirror. You weren't bad looking if you said so yourself. You could do without the gut, though. Though, as the thought passes, you've already grown used to it. You find it hard to imagine yourself without it, really. You carry the extra weight well, and can even make you look more intimidating when used in conjunction with your muscles.
Colby steps into view behind you. He looked at least a decade older than your 40, his remaining hair and beard dominated by gray. His round face matched his round body, his belly threatening to hand over his waistband. Heck, if you didn't have the muscle you did, you would probably look a lot like him.
Colby glances at you with a smirk. "Are you done admiring yourself?"
You turn to look at yourself sideways. "You know, when I grow up for real, I kinda want to turn out like my dad."
Colby pokes at your beer gut. "Are you sure about that?"
You try to suck it in, not fully succeeding. "Well, we'll see what I can do about that."
George enters, carrying a pair of black tennis shoes and a set of sweat clothes. He eyes the two of you. "When you guys are done making out in the corner, I'd like to have the socks, please."
You roll your eyes at the kid and his juvenile humor. You remove the socks, replacing them with your dad's socks, and toss them to him. He retreats into the handicapped stall and you can see his legs as he changes into the sweat clothes.
Colby knocks lightly on the stall door. "Hey, Georgie. We'll be waiting for you out in the lobby, alright?"
You watch as he slips on the socks and slides his feet in the much too large shoes. "Alright," he replies.
You follow George out into the lobby. You study a state map with him for about a minute as he explains to you the route he plans to take to the cabin. You make your way over to the vending machines and pull out the wad of cash you had saved up. You begin feeding bills into the machines and buying everything you think looks good, slowly building a treasure trove of cookies, chips, candy, and an assortment of Hostess snacks. Your parents would have never allowed the expenditure of money on such a scale to amass so many healthy foods. Your rebellious act, though small, gives you a twinge of excitement.
You return to Colby, who's sitting on a bench and double-checking his route on a fold-out map.
"George said these shoes were a few years old," Colby mumbles to himself. "That must mean the memories I got from his uncle are a few years old, too. Some of these roads look different than I, er, he remembers. If we took these bypasses we could easily cut an hour off our time, maybe more." He turns to you and stares at your barely contained armful of forbidden treasure. "What did you do, rob a grocery store?"
Using one hand and your teeth, you rip open a Hostess fruit pie and greedily bite into your prize. "Something like that. Want one?"
He looks over your selection before grabbing a pair of cookies. He's in the middle of opening their packaging when the door to the men's room opens and a man you don't recognize steps out. He's about as tall as you are now, but looks a little wider. He has an impressively muscular form, mostly hidden by his gray sweat clothes. His thick neck leads to a chiseled jaw and a cocky smile. He has rich, brown hair, unkempt but stylish. His eyebrows are perfectly sculpted and, even though he's standing twenty feet away, you can tell his eyes are a brilliant blue. His face is wrinkle and blemished free, and he appears to be either in his late twenties of early thirties.
You can't help but stare at this muscled man as you sit; half slouched on the bench, your gut sticking out, and a fruit pie sticking out of your mouth. "George?"
He smiles with perfect, white teeth and strides toward the two of you. "Hell, yeah! What're you two old guys doing?"
You hold up a Hostess snack at the muscle man, your own fruit pie still in your mouth, muffling your words. "Fruit pie?"
He chuckles, taking the fruit pie. "So, what's the plan?"
Colby stands up, attempting to fold the map, but ultimately failing. He instead ends up half folding it, half crumpling it, stuffing the mess into his back pocket. "Same as before. Go to my cabin and have the best summer of our lives. You're looking good by the way, Georgie."
George flashes another brilliant smile before biting into the fruit pie. "Thanks."
You stand up, managing to keep hold of your stash. "Then let's get a move on," you declare, you mouth still full of pastry.