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The Magic's Gone (But Only Figuratively Speaking)

You look down at your pocket watch and see that it is almost nine o'clock. "All right," you tell Fred, "you do have a point. Just be considerate about it and let me loosen my tie first."

Fred waits as you loosen your tie. When you have finished, you give a little whistle and extend your left arm. Fred trots over and bites it, licking the wound clean afterward. You loosen your shoelaces as you wait for your transformation to begin.

After several minutes, fur begins to appear everywhere that your flesh is visible: even between your fingers. You roll up your sleeves and watch as your arms bulge with new lupine muscles. Your hands grow, too, but their structure changes more than their size. The most notable addition is not claws, but dark pads, as you could have predicted.

Your muzzle is the last thing to take shape, but nothing about it surprises you. In fact, the transformation is kind of a disappointment, considering all the hype accorded it by the mass media. Feeling world-weary, you stretch and lie down for a minute on your altered limbs. "What now?" you ask Fred.

"You're no fun at all," he grunts, a tone of resentment in his voice. "I guess I'll just have to handle the next transformation myself." Having said that, Fred shuts his eyes very tightly and says something in a foreign language. Before you know it, his fur gives way to fluffy white feathers. "You may have read about this in books," he tells you, "but you probably haven't seen it with your own eyes before."


Written by Joey Liverwurst (edited by phaedrus)

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