Patrick’s eyes focused entirely on the television. It was the best time of the year to be a college basketball fan, with conference tournaments reaching their boiling points and March Madness right around the corner. And right now, the coyote was watching a thriller.
Twenty seconds left, shot clock off, the underdog with the ball, down two with a chance to tie or win the game and pull out the upset.
Patrick didn’t even particularly care about either of these teams — he just liked watching good basketball. And so he was completely focused on the final play of the game, unaware of the transformation that had begun to take place.
Ball inbounded. Eighteen seconds left. Patrick’s nose twitched. His whiskers lengthened. The point guard dribbled the ball over half court. Twelve seconds. The coyote’s tail flattened out. The fluff receded, and the tail thickened with fat and tissue. Patrick shifted instinctively to the edge of his seat. The center set a pick. Nine seconds. Patrick bit his lip nervously. His fangs receded, while his front middle teeth lengthened. The guard drove the lane. Five seconds. Patrick’s hair changed color from pink to brown; his tan fur also darkened. The defense committed to stopping the layup, but the guard kicked it out to a teammate in the corner. Three seconds. He’s wide open. Patrick’s feet shifted from digitigrade to plantigrade. The shot goes up. The buzzer sounds. It’s good!
Patrick leapt from his seat in celebration. In that same moment, a sudden burst of size shot through him, causing him to grow hundreds of feet larger in a matter of seconds. He leapt not only out of his couch, but out of his apartment, and suddenly found himself outside with a body changed in both size and shape.
He looked around, confused. What happened to the game? What happened to his apartment? He turned back toward it and caught sight of his new tail for the first time. Wait, what happened to my tail???
The coyote was a coyote no longer, and instead had become a giant beaver! In addition to his whiskers, teeth, paws and tail, the rest of his body had thickened, going from a lithe predator to a stocky rodent built to survive harsh South Dakota winters.
Patrick wiggled his toes. The sensation of turning into a completely different mammal was certainly odd… but not unpleasant. He slapped his tail against the ground a few times to see how it felt. Nearby, a price sign at a gas station wavered and fell from the shockwaves. “Oops!” Patrick said. “My bad!” He hadn’t yet realized just how powerful even his simplest actions could be at this size.
The coyote — er, beaver — surveyed the landscape around him. He had never mistaken Sioux Falls for a massive city, but from this perspective it looked downright minuscule. Even the river looked like a tiny stream snaking along the horizon.
The river! Something triggered in Patrick’s new beaver brain. He found himself bounding toward it, unable to stop his thick, strong legs from carrying him across the city with remarkable pace.
He didn’t want to pay a sudden visit to the Big Sioux River, but his castorid instincts had fully taken over. There was flowing water, and Patrick had to build a dam for it.
Patrick headed directly for Riverdale Park, where there was a bend in the river lined with copious trees. He set about working quickly and diligently, uprooting entire trees, removing their canopies and gnawing them down to be suitably “stick-sized”, then piling them up to block the river.
People began to gather, trying to get the oversized anthropomorphic rodent to stop disrupting the park. But the beaver had a one-track mind, furiously assembling tree trunks as twigs and slapping them firmly into place with his thick tail.
Soon enough, Patrick had completed his task and was finally able to relax in his makeshift lodge — albeit a bit sheepishly, as he realized what exactly he’d done to make it his own.
He couldn’t deny that his new digs were surprisingly comfortable, however. They suited his new beaver body just fine. Now, if only he could find a television big enough to watch the rest of the basketball games…
This project is free, but if you enjoyed reading it, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi.
Or, consider asking about a commission. Stories like these typically cost $15-20.