Yes

Once class was finished The final bell's metallic shriek still vibrated in Felicia's teeth as she ducked into the alcove behind the vending machines. The hum of refrigerated sodas drowned out the chatter of passing students. She pressed her spine against the wall, the cinderblocks rough through her thin t-shirt.

Michael rounded the corner, his sneakers squeaking on linoleum. He stopped short when he saw her, his breath hitching just enough for her to notice. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting his sharp cheekbones in sickly yellow.

"So," he said, thumb hooking in his belt loop, "you're Felicia." His voice was lower than she remembered, rougher.

Felicia's fingers twitched against the vending machine's cold metal. "Well," she said, tilting her chin just enough to catch the way Michael's throat worked when he swallowed, "we really didn't get a chance to find out the other's new body name, did we?" A soda can clunked in the machine beside them, the sound like a gunshot in the charged silence. "Mary," she continued, dragging the name out like a blade being unsheathed, "or do you prefer your new body name? Michael?"

His knuckles went white where they gripped his backpack strap. The flickering light above them caught the sweat beading along his hairline.

Michael exhaled through his nose, the scent of burnt coffee and vending machine plastic thick between them. "I guess not Peter," he said, the syllables sticking to his teeth. A muscle twitched beneath his left eye as fluorescent light bled across the fresh scar on his jawline pale pink, still healing. "Sorry, Felicia."

The soda machine's compressor kicked on with a shudder, vibrating against Felicia's shoulder blades. She could count each individual eyelash casting spider-leg shadows across Michael's cheekbones when he smirked. "Have fun with Harry Osborne tonight." His sneaker squeaked as he shifted his weight, the rubber sole peeling slightly from the linoleum where someone had spilled orange soda.

The soda machine's compressor kicked on with a shudder, vibrating against Felicia's shoulder blades. She could count each individual eyelash casting spider-leg shadows across Michael's cheekbones when he smirked. "Have fun with Harry Osborne tonight." His sneaker squeaked as he shifted his weight, the rubber sole peeling slightly from the linoleum where someone had spilled orange soda.

Felicia's fingernails dug half-moons into her palms as she watched Michael turn away, the frayed hem of his t-shirt riding up just enough to reveal the faint tan line where his old body had ended.

Michael heads off to football practice as he heads to the male changing room to get ready as Felicia heads to the female changing room to get ready for cheerleader practice as the two are alone in their respective changing rooms but before that really have a chance to think about how odd yesterday and today has been their respective team mates come in to get change

The vending machine’s hum faded behind Michael as he shouldered open the locker room door, the metallic bang echoing off concrete walls. The air hit him—sweat, cheap body spray, the ghost of bleach—as he yanked his t-shirt over his head. His reflection in the scratched mirror showed unfamiliar shoulders, broader than they should be, the muscles shifting like borrowed armor.

Down the hall, Felicia’s sneakers squeaked against tile as she pushed into the cheerleading locker room. The scent of vanilla perfume and hairspray clung to the air. She hesitated, fingers hovering over the zipper of her hoodie, the fabric suddenly too tight.

Felicia sees all the other cheerleaders get undressed and change into their cheerleader uniforms as they wish only a couple days before they change into this new body to be in the girls changing room to see them undressed but now being in there feels different as she nows feels more like she wants to see the male get undressed thanks to her new body's hormones

Felicia's fingers twitched on her hoodie zipper as the locker room chatter wrapped around her like steam. The metallic rasp of cheerleaders undoing their bras ricocheted off the tile walls—a sound that would've sent blood rushing to her cheeks in the old body. Now her pulse throbbed somewhere lower, unfamiliar and insistent.

Across the room, Jessica Price bent to adjust her spandex shorts, the curve of her ass flexing as she laughed at something Stacy said. Felicia's gaze snagged there for half a second before she wrenched it away, only to catch her own reflection in the foggy mirror: wide pupils, bitten lips.

She gets undressed and change into her cheerleader uniform as we cut back to Michael in the men's changing room as he having similar experiences and thoughts as they would love to be in here when they was in their old body but now he wants to see the girls get undressed

Felicia’s hoodie hit the bench with a whisper of fabric, the sound drowned out by Jessica’s giggle as she shimmied out of her sports bra. The fluorescent lights caught the sweat-slick curve of her spine before she turned, and Felicia’s breath stuttered just for a heartbeat before she **** her gaze down to her own trembling fingers. The zipper of her skirt stuck halfway, the teeth catching on the lace of her borrowed panties. A drop of sweat slid between her new breasts, tracing a path her old body wouldn’t have known.

Across the hall, Michael’s jeans pooled at his ankles, the denim scraping against unfamiliar calf muscles.

Michael in the men's changing room as he having similar experiences and thoughts as they would love to be in here when they was in their old body but now he wants to see the girls get undressed once the two was done getting ready they both head out to the football field as the do their respective practice

Michael's hands hesitated at the waistband of his boxers, the elastic snapping back against unfamiliar hipbones as the locker room door banged open. Some freshman stumbled in laughing, their voices cracking mid-joke when they saw him—really saw him—and he caught his own reflection again in their wide eyes. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he turned away, the motion pulling at tendons that still felt borrowed.

Across the hall, Felicia’s skirt finally gave way with a sharp zip. The sound seemed to echo, drawing Jessica’s gaze just for a second before she turned back to her friends.

The shower hissed on as Michael stepped under the spray, the water sluicing over shoulders that still felt like someone else’s. His fingers broader, rougher traced the unfamiliar ridge of his collarbone, but when he reached for the shampoo, his body moved without thought, lathering and rinsing with the muscle memory of a lifetime. The soap slipped from his grip, and he caught it midair, reflexes sharper than they’d ever been in his old skin.

Down the hall, Felicia’s legs folded effortlessly into a split, her new muscles stretching further than she’d ever dared before.

The shower water dripped from Michael's hair as he pulled on a fresh t-shirt, the fabric clinging to damp shoulders. The locker room door banged open again—this time it was Brittany, her manicured nails tapping against her phone screen. She didn't look up as she called out, "Felicia? You in here?"

Felicia froze mid-stretch, her leg still extended in a perfect line. Brittany's perfume something sugary and expensive cut through the steam as she plopped down on the bench beside Felicia's discarded hoodie.

"Oh my God," Brittany sighed, flipping her hair over one shoulder.