(FGO TGTF, F French Saint to M American Flag Bearer, F French Witch to F American Hat Wearer)

“I do not see ‘ow this firework is supposed to make me feel… American.” A hint of Jeanne D’Arc’s French accent slipped into her voice as she inspected the rocket. It was half red and half blue, with a cute picture of an elephant on one side and a donkey on the other.

No reply came from her partner, and she looked up curiously. Jalter, who’d long since given up trying to get people to call her Jeanne Alter, had her arms folded. She stubbornly looked away from her twin. It was bad enough that they both had to be French, but also they had to look just like each other – though Jalter was much paler, with shock-white hair.

“Ahm,” Jeanne began.

“Not your sister!” Jalter snapped, before blinking. “Whoops. Reflex. I meant to say: What, are you waiting for me to say something? Because you know I hate talking to you.”

“That… Probably sounded better in your head, no?” Jeanne giggled.

“Damn Christians. You’re so good at turning the other cheek, they could probably use you to power a turbine.” Jalter folded her arms and huffed.

Though the two were mirror images of one another, they didn’t have a thing in common. Jeanne was a literal saint, the kind of sweetheart who blushed everytime someone swore in her presence. Jalter found herself far much more interested in the rebellious side of life. This rebelliousness gave her a demented idea.

In what she thought was an extremely subtle maneuver, Jalter folded her arms, pointed under one armpit at the firework’s fuse, and conjured a small flame. She was the Dragon Witch after all, and nothing brought her more joy than fire. Except maybe manga.

Jeanne, meanwhile, saw the entire thing happen, but was much too innocent to act on it. After all, in her mind, why would her sister ever decide to light a firework she was currently holding? As a result, despite plenty of evidence to warn her, she was equally surprised by the firework’s sudden detonation.

Despite the frailty that came with being French, both of them also happened to be reincarnated heroes from the past. As Servants, they had a superhuman level of physical endurance. Sadly for them, this trait didn’t extend itself to mental endurance. By the time either of them would be able to shore up their mental defenses, it would be far too late.

The two coughed, waving their hands to clear the smoke. Their armor was slightly singed, and it looked like more damage had been done to their hair than anything else. Jeanne now sported locks that were as pink-and-blue as cotton candy, while Jalter found herself as blonde as her sister had been.

“The hell was that!?” Jeanne shouted, startling both of them more than the firework. “Oh! Um. I mean, sorry about that, but…”

“But what?” Jalter stomped a foot on the ground, searching for words to explain why she was so upset. “Don’t you know that… You shouldn’t just toss around words like that?”

“Words like what?” Jeanne blinked. She tilted her headeyes crinkling slightly as she felt something… Odd. It was like a bit of pressure between her legs, but it was faintly pleasurable at the same time.

“You know! The one that’s the opposite of heaven?” Jalter scoffed matter-of-factly. It didn’t sound quite right to her. She’d been birthed by the place, for God’s sake. And for that matter, since when did she leave anything up to God’s sake?

Before she could focus too much about that, she found herself distracted by her twin’s arms. They looked… Slimmer, but yet less feminine at the same time. Jalter learned in, tilting her head.

“Uh, is something wrong?” Jeanne asked, curious about why her pulse quickened from Jalter’s presence.

“Yeah, something is…” Jalter reached up to scratch at her now-blonde hair, only to discover her headdress had turned itself into some kind of fabric. She quickly tugged it off of her head, finding a red hat with the letters “M F G A” on it. It looked like the “F” was originally a different letter, but someone had hastily scribbled over one of the letters in red ink.

Jalter stared at it for a long moment. “What in the H-E-double-hockey-sticks is this?”

It sounded so natural to her, and she didn’t even notice anything was wrong until Jeanne nearly doubled over with laughter.

If either of them were in the right mind to care, they might have noticed that Jeanne’s laugh was a deeper bark of mirth than usual. They might also have noticed freckles and sunspots working their way across Jalter’s normally pale form. They might have had time to slow, maybe even to stop whatever was happening.

Instead, Jalter fumed. “Oh, gosh darn it! Wait, can I not swear anymore?” She blinked. Ironically, despite technically being younger than Jeanne, she’d always been smarter than her twin. Perhaps that was why the next part affected her just a little less, at first.

Jeanne moaned, hand flitting towards her head. Something felt wrong. Why was she into guys? Well, she should have been. She was a woman after all. Except…

Her hand dipped towards her legs. Thanks to her thin dress, there was very little doubt in her mind anymore. The blonde saint had a penis, so… Why on Earth was she into guys? Shouldn't she... But on the other hand, she still felt like a woman...

Jeanne's hand brushed again against the new growth, and she shuddered. No, he definitely felt like a man. But not much of one. He was the kind of guy who dreamed to have a tall, muscular man hug him protectively and tell him everything was going to be okay.

On the other hand, Jalter felt that absolutely nothing was okay. She shoved the red cap squarely back on her head, eyes crossing slightly as the motion cost her a few IQ points. Was it the act of wearing a hat, or was it the hat itself?

Such philosophies were far beyond her. After all, they weren't in the Bible. Which... Hold on, she was a rebel, she'd never read the Bible!

She adjusted the hat slightly, and her plumping thighs squeezed against one another. Another few precious IQ points went the way of the Dodo - killed by God-given hunting, none of that made-up global warming.

She giggled vapidly, unsure about why she'd ever doubted reading the Bible. Of course she read it, as long as it was the real one and none of those other Bibles. That said, she definitely still was a rebel, and proud of it. "Ain't nothing wrong with bein’ a country gal," she drawled.

It took both of them a long moment to react to that, unsure whether to snicker or panic. The parts of their minds that could have helped them had already been eroded, but a bit of an instinct told them to fight back.

“S-something’s wrong. I’m starting to sound like… Well, like one of the people who’d worship you!” Jalter shivered in fear. It was bad enough that she could sometimes feel herself getting dumber, but the thought of being normal scared her more than anything else.

Jeanne found himself host to a different slew of worries. He’d always been carefree, trusting that God had chosen a path for him. But now without that, he was excessively self-conscious, horny, and self-conscious that Jalter had noticed how horny he was.

Of course she had – it wasn’t like Jeanne was doing a good job of hiding the new bulge he sported. It was a sin to touch it, after all.

“Hey, you hear me? Ah said, ah’m startin’ to sound lahk ah’m gonna ramble ‘bout country pride!” Jalter drawled, only to squeak at a sudden pain in her teeth. A new memory planted itself in her mind of getting kicked in the mouth by a donkey she’d tried to milk as a child. She played her tongue along what was once a perfect smile, feeling a bit of a misshapen overbite.

Jeanne’s new brain triggered on that last word, spurred on by the contemptuous need to ‘um actually’ everyone in sight. “Country? I don't think that's on the alphabet...” He held up his fingers curiously. “There’s L, G, B, T... No C though... I think?” His brows furrowed for a moment, then the skirt he wore tightned around his pitifully small package.

It grew as if in rebellion to this, and the sudden pressure was pleasure itself. An embarrassingly male gasp slipped from his lips, which he corrected with a blush and a cuter squeak.

Jalter was good folk, so she didn’t call out the slip-up. That would be petty, and it would be far better to laugh about it on BookFace later. Instead, she decided to reply with good grace.

“Uh, ‘course it is?” Jalter rolled her eyes. Her armor loosened around her chest into a horrendously revealing top patterned after the American flag. A remade lifetime of burgers and milkshakes gave her a pleasing, if excessive chest. “All them letters’re in the alphabet.”

Jeanne’s lips quirked slightly. One unexpected side effect of this change was that he’d found himself far more well-read. Not anything useful, of course. Mostly fanfiction and unfortunately a childhood following those wizard stories which hadn’t changed one bit yet were somehow offensive to him now. But he was at least intelligent enough to recognize when his ‘sister’ was being exceptionally silly.

“What’s the smile for?” Jalter tilted her head. She wobbled a little bit, off-balance. Maybe there had been some side effects to her momma smoking while she was in the oven. Only she didn’t have a mother, she was spawned from the depths of the bad place itself. Right?

“Well, what color’s your flag?” Jeanne ventured. He toed at the ground, a little curious. Not in that way. Maybe in that way. A lot in that way. He couldn’t help it, blondes were just his type. There was something in him that screamed they were… Natural? Why did that feel so…

“Red, What, n’ Blue, duh.”

Jalter’s drawl scattered Jeanne’s thoughts. “Ooh! Like France?” He clapped eagerly, a teasing smirk on his face. Shame, Jeanne was hoping for something a bit more purple.

“... Them’s fightin’ words. Yer lucky yer cute.” The words slipped from Jalter’s mouth before she realized was going on. “Not that ah’d ever find a gal cute! That kinda thing is… Ah mean… It just ain’t natural!”

Jalter was conflicted. On the one hand, there was a woman turning into a man... Well, ‘man’ was a bit of a stretch but God certainly made sure he wasn’t a woman. The Bible was pretty clear on that. Mostly.

On the other hand, the president - the real president, not counting fake elections - was pretty fine with that sort of thing. A bunch of other things, too, if Jalter wanted to think about it. Which she tried to. To her credit, she really tried to. Unfortunately, the firework had been as damaging to her as a road trip listening to Luke Bryan. Her train of thought was more like a horse-drawn carriage, where the horse had slipped its reins.

While his ‘sister’ was lost in thought, Jeanne seized the initiative. He pressed his chest against hers. He moaned lewdly as the fat from his breasts squished into his chest, leaving him almost flat as a board. His ass and thighs found the lost weight, and jiggled as he squirmed.

Sufficiently distracted, Jalter grabbed a handful of Jeanne’s ass. “Listen here. I ain’t like you, into them kids. So to me, there’s nothing femboy about you. Got it? You’re gonna be a femman.”

Jeanne giggled, twirling a finger through the blue streak in his hair. “Sounded better in your head, huh?”

Jalter flushed. She hated how much she liked that smug look on his face. She hated how much Jeanne looked like a girl, and how that made her feel all sorts of funny thoughts. But she loved the way those funny thoughts made her feel.

Jeanne leaned in, her black lipstick leaving a small trail on Jalter’s neck. “But if it makes my Mommy scream my name...” She hadn’t even noticed the new shade of lipstick, nor did she notice the dark eyeshadow or her new choker. To her, they were always there.

Jalter’s heart threatened to stop, sure as a night of deep fried Twinkies. But she had dreams of another Twinkie inside her. Damn, she really did need to start thinkin’ more. That there was just downright shameful, is what it was. “Duhm.” She replied eloquently.

“Hey, you know what’d really turn me on?” Jeanne moaned, nestling into Jalter’s arms. His ears jingled with new piercings as he did, and he felt a faint pinprick in his nose. Piercings really were the best way to show he was as unique as everyone else who had the same piercings. “It’d really turn me on if you still drew…”

Surprisingly, the change didn’t take that from Jalter… Mostly. Instead of drawing full manga storylines, Jalter had taken on a new skillset of drawing the most excessive furry porn known to man. But that was to be expected of any Christian-raised horse girl. “Yeah? Keep goin’.”

“…Because, you know, there’s this one cartoon I really like-” Jeanne yelped as Jalter pushed him away. “Hey, the fuck was that for!?”

“Language!” Jalter tutted, shaking her head and tousling newly-curly locks. “But more importantly, them cartoons is kids shows! Y’all’d better not be one o’ them groomsmen.”

Jeanne scowled. To even be lumped in with that kind of person, the nerve! At least he wasn’t actually into kids, just into two-dimensional ones. That made it all okay, right? No, he had to focus! He had to defend himself. “What? First off, the characters might be twelve but you can just age them up-”

“NO! Absolutely not, Ah don’t even need to hear the second bit!” Jalter glared. Her heart raced despite herself. There was something adorable at how her former twin looked so defensive. She wanted to smother the boy’s face between her breasts…

Except for the fact that the Bible- Hm. Actually, the first chapter of the Bible was all about kinfolk getting’ it on. And technically, the kinfolk were spawned one from another just like Jeanne and Jalter, or those dinosaurs in that one movie. That was a good movie.

Jeanne noticed Jalter’s eyes glaze. “You need a map? Because you’re lost in thought.” Jeanne explained his quip, more than a little condescendingly. It was hard not to be condescending though, especially when he was the smartest person in the room.

Fortunately, at this point Jalter was much too far gone to catch onto the tone. “Y’all ever read the book of Genesis?”

Jeanne almost rolled his eyes, then saw his way back into Jalter’s good graces. “Well… If you want me to be your Eve, I’ll definitely let you be my Adam.”

Jalter could have protested that. She was a country girl, through and through. Even if she felt like taking this short cute man and plowing him until he needed to pee sitting down, she didn’t like being compared to the first man. She also didn’t entirely like the idea of locking lips with another woman.

But in spite of those thoughts, he was also as American as could be. And nothing, absolutely nothing, was more American than a mad crush on your not-related-by-blood-technically sibling.

The space between them was eaten up by a hungry embrace, Jeanne and Jalter clinging to one another tightly. Then their lips crashed, with all the force of the passion conflicting ideologies could bring.

The two moaned into each other’s mouths, and a very curious change met their tongues.

Jeanne felt a sharp pain for just a moment as a stud pierced its way through his tongue.  For a moment, he panicked. A bit of the saint wormed her way back into his brain. His body was a temple, wasn’t it? And God...

GOD, Jalter was good at kissing... Jeanne quivered, his arms snaking around her waist, pulling her closer.

Jalter, meanwhile, found her tongue stretching just a little, getting more and more flexible. Years of practice worked their way into her mind. As far as she knew, since she was old enough to serve, she’d practiced on hot dogs, bananas, and the kinds of hot dogs you were supposed to put ketchup on instead of a leash. It was all in hopes of finding a traumatized war Daddy who she could suck start back into the American dream.

A tiny, edgy voice in the back of her head screamed in revulsion, but then Jeanne bumped his erection against her and her head was full of stars. And a few stripes.

Super Bunyan strolled through the halls, eyes on her phone and a happy hum in her throat. Her Musker binged with every like and remusk, fueling her with a bit more patriotic spirit. She hummed the National Anthem as she walked, only to hesitate.

Did she forget to bring a firework back into her room?

She retraced her steps, pausing at the sound of a wet, passionate liplock. She would have dropped her phone if she wasn’t an American girl who treasured it more than her life.

Before her were the Jeannes, paragons of France’s tradition and rebellious spirit… Or they used to be.

Jeanne was now as twinkish as a femboy could be, and nearly a head shorter than Jalter. That didn’t stop him from standing on his tip-toes, hungrily slobbering into her mouth. He sported gym shorts clearly meant for someone five sizes smaller than himself, and a cropped black top with a pentragram on one side and a flag on his sleeve that magically changed every time Bunyan looked at it.

One second, it was a pride flag, the next it was from that one wartorn country, the next it was from that other wartorn country that everyone had forgotten about, the next it was that other other wartorn country that people weren’t even talking about… Huh. There was a lot of war going on that America really needed to get involved with.

And on the note of America, who could ever look at Jalter without thinking of the greatest country on Earth? Gone was the gloomy girl with a temper. Instead, she was a passionate and energetic bimbo, with toned muscles from working out on the farm. Said country girl was enjoying herself a little too much.

Bunyan stared, mouth agape, as Jalter lifted a muscled leg, using it to mash her twink lover closer. Somehow she found a way to work a Southern drawl into every moan she made.

It was clear as day that they’d set off the firework and had been made into the most defining portrait of America that Bunyan had ever seen. At this point there was nothing that can be done for the two… Except to share their new bodies online with as many viewers as possible. She flipped her phone’s camera around, beaming as her phone lit up once more.

If she got enough views… Maybe she’d have to set off a few fireworks herself.