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More from JoeStrike
In case you missed them:
Chapters 1-3:
http://www.furaffinity.net/view/8658419/
Chapters 4-7
http://www.furaffinity.net/view/9168601/
More backstory, and then the fun really begins... [My reccomendation once again: download the .docx; easier to read than the tiny type that follows...]
The Incredible Hare
By Joe Strike
Chapter 8
The Mainframe-Up
The sub-basement became Fluff’s home at the lab. When Harold told Cindy Fluff had returned she wasn’t the least bit surprised. “I knew he’d show up sooner or later. That animal has a game plan all his own. Any rabbit in his right mind wouldn’t go near a research lab.”
Harold smiled. “Fluff seems to like it there – he hasn’t pulled any disappearing acts yet. Besides you know the professor specializes in electronics; the last thing he wants is a lab full of animals. Me too, as a matter of fact; one rabbit is more than enough to take care of.”
“Why don’t you bring him home?” she asked. “It’s not like you to take a chance with Burnside.”
Somehow, Harold had never gotten around to letting Cindy in on his plans. He told himself it was to keep her from worrying about him or Fluff, but deep down he was afraid that if she found out she might insist on taking part; it was exactly the kind of situation that would appeal to her inner Power Babe. “Don’t worry,” Harold said. “I keep him way out of sight. He’s good company too – he talks a lot less than the professor.”
Cindy grinned. She didn’t know which she hated more: the way Burnside seemed to bully her brother, or that he never complained about it. Hearing him tweak Burnside was something new.
“As long as you don’t miss Fluff too much” Harold continued, “I’d like to keep him at the lab.”
“It’s fine with me” she answered. “That way I don’t have to clean up after him. Just promise you’ll bring him home for the holidays, okay?”
Harold quickly found all the information he needed to design the Brainstorm to the professor’s specifications. It only took a little longer to write up a few extra algorithms and add a tiny input jack to the unit. He told Burnside the jack would let the Brainstorm translate phone calls and digital recordings as well as face-to-face conversations. Although he had never given a thought to electronic input, Burnside said “well of course Hopper” as if it had been his idea all along. “What good is it if only works in person?”
Harold didn’t tell Burnside the input jack’s real purpose: he intended to use the Brainstorm to read Fluff’s mind. With Harold’s additions the device was now capable of scanning the rabbit’s brainwaves and translating them into English. Harold presumed he would hear simple thoughts or emotions – ‘hungry…nice Harold…play trick’ – that might nonetheless shed some light on Fluff’s uncanny abilities. All the Brainstorm lacked was the extra computing power to boost Fluff’s brainwaves to human level – but that power was already in the lab, waiting to be tapped into.
* * *
Fluffernutter’s ears pivoted at the sound of Harold’s footsteps. The rabbit waddled over the cage’s metal slats to meet his human. Harold let Fluff sniff at his fingers, then stroked its soft white fur. He turned to the machines lining the wall; each one was the size of a large refrigerator, topped by an oversized pair of tape reels that made them look like stern, disapproving robots.
The machines were ‘mainframe’ computers, storage devices dating back to the dawn of the digital age. They had been sitting in the sub-basement, unused and forgotten until Harold discovered them not long after he started working at the lab. When he tried to ask Burnside about the equipment and received only a blank stare in return, he realized the professor had either never entered the sub-basement or was unaware the building even possessed one.
His curiosity piqued, Harold visited the town library and learned that once upon a time the building housed a top-secret government research project. The project moved on and the building stood abandoned until Burnside bought it for $25 at a town auction and opened his laboratory. Harold hadn’t given the building’s history or the computers in its sub-basement a second thought thereafter – until the day he decided to read Fluff’s mind. The computers and their control console were old, but they still worked and (in theory at least) they would provide more than enough power to make his experiment a success.
Harold sat down and put the two plastic cases on the table next to Fluff who hopped out of his cage and gave them a sniff. Harold opened the one labeled PROTOTYPE and brought out the Burnside Brainstorm.
Except for its white color, someone unfamiliar with the Brainstorm might have mistaken it for a larger version of a mobile phone’s wireless earpiece. About 3 inches long and half an inch thick, the unit tapered from an inch wide at its back (where Harold had added the input jack) to a pen-sized front opening containing its microphone
Harold reached into the padded envelope, took out a pair of thin coiled cables – and a second Brainstorm, a scaled-down version of the original. If Harold had his sister’s sense of humor, he might’ve called it the Bunny Brainstorm; in a few moments it would be nestled against Fluffernutter’s ear.
Harold inserted a newly charged battery into each of the Brainstorm units. Next, he uncoiled the cables and plugged them into the console. Technically this should have been impossible. Over the past few weeks however, Harold had managed to rewire the console and install a pair of inputs – one for the original Brainstorm and one for Fluff’s.
Harold plugged the other end of each cable into its appropriate Brainstorm. He put the larger unit on his ear and the smaller one on Fluff’s. He reached across the console and clicked a series of metal toggle switches into their “ON” position, leaving only the last one turned off. One by one, the mainframe computers powered up. Their oversized reels spun first in one direction, then the other, then back again as if they couldn’t make up their minds. The dozens of lights on the console flickered on and off in random patterns. An electronic hum grew louder by the second – but not loud enough to drown out a distant rumble outside the lab.
Harold remembered that thunderstorms – possibly severe ones – had been forecast for that evening. A fluttery sensation filled his chest and he realized he was barely breathing.
A second, closer rumble sounded outside. The electronic hum filling the room seemed to grow more intense. Harold took one more look at Fluff. He pushed his glasses to the top of his nose – and flicked the final switch.
The rabbit blinked as electromagnetic waves gently probed his mind. Harold raised a hand to the device in his ear and waited to hear Fluff’s translated thoughts. At precisely that moment a bolt of lightning found its way to the lab’s lightning rod.
CRAAAACKKK!
If the rod had been grounded correctly the electricity would have traveled harmlessly down a metal pipe and into the earth. However, years ago a workman leaving early for the weekend absent-mindedly connected it to the wrong pipe – the one carrying power to the mainframe computers.
An enormous electrical surge shot through the old machines, burning out every one of their circuits and filling the sub-basement with a dazzling rain of sparks. The next moment a wave of energy slammed into Harold like a giant, invisible hand and sent him flying backwards across the room.
Chapter 9
All Wet
Professor Burnside was suffering from a frostbite-level case of cold feet and enough butterflies in his stomach to keep him aloft after he stepped off the bridge. He had made the mistake of wandering to the edge of the Gorge and glancing down. It was not the modest drop he remembered; right now it seemed almost bottomless, even though the show’s bright floodlights made every rock in the dry riverbed below appear more jagged and dangerous than they already were.
The professor felt a wet impact behind his ear. He jerked upright, afraid he was the victim of a practical joke that would send him tumbling over the railing, but no one was nearby. He began scanning the sky for an inconsiderate pigeon when a drop of rain hit him square on the nose. He frowned, remembering his cold coffee shower back at the lab. Once today was enough, thank you. A moment later a barrage of raindrops pelted his bald head and shoulders. A heavy downpour had begun, drenching everyone and everything.
As if from out of nowhere, sheets of plastic materialized above and around the cameras and monitors, put in place by technicians now wearing yellow ponchos with ‘AMDAS’ stenciled on the back. Large black umbrellas sporting the same initials sprouted like mushrooms over the heads of the show staffers. Without saying a word a young woman sprinting past Burnside handed him an umbrella of his own. The light towers shone on, impervious to the downpour and illuminating the rain into dancing gray needles.
A stab of lightning struck one of the towers, shattering its glass fixtures. An unnerving shriek cut through the air as rain pelted the exposed red-hot filaments.
Burnside turned and headed for his car. He passed a huddle of umbrellas bobbing near one of the trailers. Underneath were Nesbitt, ‘Chris’ Christopher and his staffers planning their next move. Drifting closer, he could make out Chris’s voice: “rain-out… why risk it… cancel the segment… next week.”
I’m a free man! Burnside thought. He sighed in relief, loudly enough for the group to turn to see what the noise was. Noticing their stares, he quickly mumbled “gee – too bad – a rain-out, huh?” He realized he was grinning, and quickly switched to a disappointed frown for their benefit.
The professor continued on his way; he would return to the lab, check in on Hopper and the Brainstorm, then head home. He was about to unlock his car door when he heard Nesbitt’s voice. “Professor? The show’s still on.”
“What are you talking about?” Burnside answered. “It’s pour--” He looked up; the rain had slowed to a light mist.
“Chris can be a little too cautious on occasion,” Nesbitt said, “but I reminded him how much our audience is looking forward to your experiment.”
There was no mistaking Nesbitt’s ‘you’re not going anywhere’ expression. Burnside gulped and nodded meekly. Nesbitt responded with a toothy smile that reminded the professor of a crocodile. Not far away, Chris’s voice reverberated out of a bullhorn. “Get ready people – five minutes to air!”
Chapter 10
A Very Special Episode
A bag of microwave popcorn in her hands, Cindy plopped onto the couch in front of the TV. She brought her foot up over the remote control on the coffee table and daintily pressed the ‘on’ button with her big toe. “… I’m Nicky Nesbitt, welcoming you to a thrill-packed, special live episode of “America’s Most Dangerous Amateur Stunts!”
Just beginning – perfect timing! Cindy’s toe pressed a second button to start recording the show. She was really sorry Harold wouldn’t get to see Professor B’s big moment live.
As always, Amateur Stunts began with clips of its most outrageous moments: would-be hippopotamus wranglers being dragged off by their oblivious prey… barefoot sprinters trying to make it through a field of mousetraps… and Cindy’s favorite: contestants pressing oversized buttons that rewarded them with either cash prizes or smoke explosions. (She loved the way the losers resembled cartoon characters who had held onto a stick of dynamite a little too long.)
The clips gave way to animated gold coins and dancing dollar signs spilling out of a canvas sack, replaced in turn by Nicky Nesbitt holding a slender silver microphone. “There’s a big bag o’ cash in store for the survivor –” he paused and gave his famous wink and grin into the camera “– I mean the winner of tonight’s show! Who will bring home the bucks – and who will bring home the boo-boos? We’ll find out in a minute…”
Four minutes of commercials later, Nesbitt introduced the show’s opening stunt: “Let’s go to Akron Ohio for an attempt to break the world’s record – oh wait, there isn’t any world’s record because no one’s tried it yet – for peanut butter scuba diving!” A few minutes later a steam shovel pulled a dazed, glop-covered contestant to the surface of a PB-filled vat. “Ohh, better luck next time,” Nesbitt commiserated, “but I know you’ll enjoy your consolation prize: a year’s supply of grape jelly!”
Next, volunteers tried to slide down the world’s longest ski jump with bars of wet soap strapped to their boots in place of skis; none of them made it. (“He must be feeling the agony of de-feet just now,” was Nesbitt’s comment after one particularly disastrous attempt.) Then a squad of sumo wrestlers, each inside his own giant plastic sphere, attempted to squash a plucky fellow who managed to elude them – for a while, anyway.
Nesbitt came back on camera. “And later on” – Cindy sighed; ‘later on’ meant they were saving that stunt for the end of the show – “one nutty professor is going to prove the existence of…” He looked down at an index card he was holding, as if trying to decipher it. “– gravity?” he finished in a pretend, this-doesn’t-make-any-sense voice. A goofy sound effect of a plane dive-bombing out of the sky and hitting the ground with a fearsome thud punctuated his sentence. “Ooh,” he grinned. “That’s gotta smart!”
Chapter 11
Strange Changes
As he flew across the basement, Harold saw Fluffernutter leap into his cage. I hope he’s okay, Harold thought; I hope I’m o–
BAMM! Harold hit the wall across from the computers. CRUNNCHH! Its surface was little more than thin paneling that gave way instantly. WHHUMMP! Harold slammed back-first into a pile of plastic sacks filling a forgotten storeroom. FWUPFF! His impact burst the sacks open, unleashing thousands of narrow strips of paper into the air.
A mountain of shredded top-secret government documents had just saved Harold from serious injury. Too dizzy to move, he lay on his back waiting for the paper blizzard to subside and for his head to stop spinning. His inner ear hadn’t been this discombobulated since Cindy talked him into riding the tilt-a-whirl at last year’s carnival. (At least this time he hadn’t made the mistake of eating two chili dogs beforehand.)
Harold squinted through the shredded paper draped over his glasses. There was Fluff, safe and sound in his cage. The sight helped Harold’s head to settle. Aside from an odd tingling in his legs, he felt perfectly fine – energized, as a matter of fact.
Harold frowned. The tingling sensation was growing stronger, and for some reason his shoes felt like they were squeezing his feet. He reached forward to undo the laces, then stopped and stared at his shoes. Something was happening, something weird.
His shoes were starting to expand. He could see the pressure building at their seams, he could hear the leather stretching and creaking. And worst of all, he could feel them getting tighter and tighter.
There was only one possible explanation: his shoes were squeezing his feet … because his feet were growing larger! The pressure turned painful and Harold reached towards his shoes again. He had to get them off right now, before they –
“HICCUP!!”
Harold hiccupped, louder than he ever had in his life. At the same moment his shoes ripped open.
The terrible pressure vanished. Harold looked at his sock-covered toes. They were sticking a good inch or more beyond the shoe’s torn-apart seams.
“Hiccc!”
His feet grew another inch out of his shoes. He realized these weren’t random events. The hiccups were either triggering – or were being triggered by – his strangely swelling feet.
“Hiccup!”
Harold’s toenails ripped through his socks. Only they weren’t broad and flat any more, like normal toenails. They were round and narrow, like tiny claws.
Harold reached out to touch his toes. This isn’t happening, he told himself. It’s a hallucination, I’m not – his train of thought stopped dead in its tracks; some sort of fuzz was growing on the back of his hand, sparse at first but spreading as he watched.
“HICCHK!”
Harold’s socks gave way. His toes, and then the top of his feet popped into view. Their claws lengthened and poked against his fingertips. There was fuzz on his feet too, He leaned forward and took a closer look. It wasn’t fuzz. It was fur.
To be continued...
Chapters 1-3:
http://www.furaffinity.net/view/8658419/
Chapters 4-7
http://www.furaffinity.net/view/9168601/
More backstory, and then the fun really begins... [My reccomendation once again: download the .docx; easier to read than the tiny type that follows...]
The Incredible Hare
By Joe Strike
Chapter 8
The Mainframe-Up
The sub-basement became Fluff’s home at the lab. When Harold told Cindy Fluff had returned she wasn’t the least bit surprised. “I knew he’d show up sooner or later. That animal has a game plan all his own. Any rabbit in his right mind wouldn’t go near a research lab.”
Harold smiled. “Fluff seems to like it there – he hasn’t pulled any disappearing acts yet. Besides you know the professor specializes in electronics; the last thing he wants is a lab full of animals. Me too, as a matter of fact; one rabbit is more than enough to take care of.”
“Why don’t you bring him home?” she asked. “It’s not like you to take a chance with Burnside.”
Somehow, Harold had never gotten around to letting Cindy in on his plans. He told himself it was to keep her from worrying about him or Fluff, but deep down he was afraid that if she found out she might insist on taking part; it was exactly the kind of situation that would appeal to her inner Power Babe. “Don’t worry,” Harold said. “I keep him way out of sight. He’s good company too – he talks a lot less than the professor.”
Cindy grinned. She didn’t know which she hated more: the way Burnside seemed to bully her brother, or that he never complained about it. Hearing him tweak Burnside was something new.
“As long as you don’t miss Fluff too much” Harold continued, “I’d like to keep him at the lab.”
“It’s fine with me” she answered. “That way I don’t have to clean up after him. Just promise you’ll bring him home for the holidays, okay?”
Harold quickly found all the information he needed to design the Brainstorm to the professor’s specifications. It only took a little longer to write up a few extra algorithms and add a tiny input jack to the unit. He told Burnside the jack would let the Brainstorm translate phone calls and digital recordings as well as face-to-face conversations. Although he had never given a thought to electronic input, Burnside said “well of course Hopper” as if it had been his idea all along. “What good is it if only works in person?”
Harold didn’t tell Burnside the input jack’s real purpose: he intended to use the Brainstorm to read Fluff’s mind. With Harold’s additions the device was now capable of scanning the rabbit’s brainwaves and translating them into English. Harold presumed he would hear simple thoughts or emotions – ‘hungry…nice Harold…play trick’ – that might nonetheless shed some light on Fluff’s uncanny abilities. All the Brainstorm lacked was the extra computing power to boost Fluff’s brainwaves to human level – but that power was already in the lab, waiting to be tapped into.
* * *
Fluffernutter’s ears pivoted at the sound of Harold’s footsteps. The rabbit waddled over the cage’s metal slats to meet his human. Harold let Fluff sniff at his fingers, then stroked its soft white fur. He turned to the machines lining the wall; each one was the size of a large refrigerator, topped by an oversized pair of tape reels that made them look like stern, disapproving robots.
The machines were ‘mainframe’ computers, storage devices dating back to the dawn of the digital age. They had been sitting in the sub-basement, unused and forgotten until Harold discovered them not long after he started working at the lab. When he tried to ask Burnside about the equipment and received only a blank stare in return, he realized the professor had either never entered the sub-basement or was unaware the building even possessed one.
His curiosity piqued, Harold visited the town library and learned that once upon a time the building housed a top-secret government research project. The project moved on and the building stood abandoned until Burnside bought it for $25 at a town auction and opened his laboratory. Harold hadn’t given the building’s history or the computers in its sub-basement a second thought thereafter – until the day he decided to read Fluff’s mind. The computers and their control console were old, but they still worked and (in theory at least) they would provide more than enough power to make his experiment a success.
Harold sat down and put the two plastic cases on the table next to Fluff who hopped out of his cage and gave them a sniff. Harold opened the one labeled PROTOTYPE and brought out the Burnside Brainstorm.
Except for its white color, someone unfamiliar with the Brainstorm might have mistaken it for a larger version of a mobile phone’s wireless earpiece. About 3 inches long and half an inch thick, the unit tapered from an inch wide at its back (where Harold had added the input jack) to a pen-sized front opening containing its microphone
Harold reached into the padded envelope, took out a pair of thin coiled cables – and a second Brainstorm, a scaled-down version of the original. If Harold had his sister’s sense of humor, he might’ve called it the Bunny Brainstorm; in a few moments it would be nestled against Fluffernutter’s ear.
Harold inserted a newly charged battery into each of the Brainstorm units. Next, he uncoiled the cables and plugged them into the console. Technically this should have been impossible. Over the past few weeks however, Harold had managed to rewire the console and install a pair of inputs – one for the original Brainstorm and one for Fluff’s.
Harold plugged the other end of each cable into its appropriate Brainstorm. He put the larger unit on his ear and the smaller one on Fluff’s. He reached across the console and clicked a series of metal toggle switches into their “ON” position, leaving only the last one turned off. One by one, the mainframe computers powered up. Their oversized reels spun first in one direction, then the other, then back again as if they couldn’t make up their minds. The dozens of lights on the console flickered on and off in random patterns. An electronic hum grew louder by the second – but not loud enough to drown out a distant rumble outside the lab.
Harold remembered that thunderstorms – possibly severe ones – had been forecast for that evening. A fluttery sensation filled his chest and he realized he was barely breathing.
A second, closer rumble sounded outside. The electronic hum filling the room seemed to grow more intense. Harold took one more look at Fluff. He pushed his glasses to the top of his nose – and flicked the final switch.
The rabbit blinked as electromagnetic waves gently probed his mind. Harold raised a hand to the device in his ear and waited to hear Fluff’s translated thoughts. At precisely that moment a bolt of lightning found its way to the lab’s lightning rod.
CRAAAACKKK!
If the rod had been grounded correctly the electricity would have traveled harmlessly down a metal pipe and into the earth. However, years ago a workman leaving early for the weekend absent-mindedly connected it to the wrong pipe – the one carrying power to the mainframe computers.
An enormous electrical surge shot through the old machines, burning out every one of their circuits and filling the sub-basement with a dazzling rain of sparks. The next moment a wave of energy slammed into Harold like a giant, invisible hand and sent him flying backwards across the room.
Chapter 9
All Wet
Professor Burnside was suffering from a frostbite-level case of cold feet and enough butterflies in his stomach to keep him aloft after he stepped off the bridge. He had made the mistake of wandering to the edge of the Gorge and glancing down. It was not the modest drop he remembered; right now it seemed almost bottomless, even though the show’s bright floodlights made every rock in the dry riverbed below appear more jagged and dangerous than they already were.
The professor felt a wet impact behind his ear. He jerked upright, afraid he was the victim of a practical joke that would send him tumbling over the railing, but no one was nearby. He began scanning the sky for an inconsiderate pigeon when a drop of rain hit him square on the nose. He frowned, remembering his cold coffee shower back at the lab. Once today was enough, thank you. A moment later a barrage of raindrops pelted his bald head and shoulders. A heavy downpour had begun, drenching everyone and everything.
As if from out of nowhere, sheets of plastic materialized above and around the cameras and monitors, put in place by technicians now wearing yellow ponchos with ‘AMDAS’ stenciled on the back. Large black umbrellas sporting the same initials sprouted like mushrooms over the heads of the show staffers. Without saying a word a young woman sprinting past Burnside handed him an umbrella of his own. The light towers shone on, impervious to the downpour and illuminating the rain into dancing gray needles.
A stab of lightning struck one of the towers, shattering its glass fixtures. An unnerving shriek cut through the air as rain pelted the exposed red-hot filaments.
Burnside turned and headed for his car. He passed a huddle of umbrellas bobbing near one of the trailers. Underneath were Nesbitt, ‘Chris’ Christopher and his staffers planning their next move. Drifting closer, he could make out Chris’s voice: “rain-out… why risk it… cancel the segment… next week.”
I’m a free man! Burnside thought. He sighed in relief, loudly enough for the group to turn to see what the noise was. Noticing their stares, he quickly mumbled “gee – too bad – a rain-out, huh?” He realized he was grinning, and quickly switched to a disappointed frown for their benefit.
The professor continued on his way; he would return to the lab, check in on Hopper and the Brainstorm, then head home. He was about to unlock his car door when he heard Nesbitt’s voice. “Professor? The show’s still on.”
“What are you talking about?” Burnside answered. “It’s pour--” He looked up; the rain had slowed to a light mist.
“Chris can be a little too cautious on occasion,” Nesbitt said, “but I reminded him how much our audience is looking forward to your experiment.”
There was no mistaking Nesbitt’s ‘you’re not going anywhere’ expression. Burnside gulped and nodded meekly. Nesbitt responded with a toothy smile that reminded the professor of a crocodile. Not far away, Chris’s voice reverberated out of a bullhorn. “Get ready people – five minutes to air!”
Chapter 10
A Very Special Episode
A bag of microwave popcorn in her hands, Cindy plopped onto the couch in front of the TV. She brought her foot up over the remote control on the coffee table and daintily pressed the ‘on’ button with her big toe. “… I’m Nicky Nesbitt, welcoming you to a thrill-packed, special live episode of “America’s Most Dangerous Amateur Stunts!”
Just beginning – perfect timing! Cindy’s toe pressed a second button to start recording the show. She was really sorry Harold wouldn’t get to see Professor B’s big moment live.
As always, Amateur Stunts began with clips of its most outrageous moments: would-be hippopotamus wranglers being dragged off by their oblivious prey… barefoot sprinters trying to make it through a field of mousetraps… and Cindy’s favorite: contestants pressing oversized buttons that rewarded them with either cash prizes or smoke explosions. (She loved the way the losers resembled cartoon characters who had held onto a stick of dynamite a little too long.)
The clips gave way to animated gold coins and dancing dollar signs spilling out of a canvas sack, replaced in turn by Nicky Nesbitt holding a slender silver microphone. “There’s a big bag o’ cash in store for the survivor –” he paused and gave his famous wink and grin into the camera “– I mean the winner of tonight’s show! Who will bring home the bucks – and who will bring home the boo-boos? We’ll find out in a minute…”
Four minutes of commercials later, Nesbitt introduced the show’s opening stunt: “Let’s go to Akron Ohio for an attempt to break the world’s record – oh wait, there isn’t any world’s record because no one’s tried it yet – for peanut butter scuba diving!” A few minutes later a steam shovel pulled a dazed, glop-covered contestant to the surface of a PB-filled vat. “Ohh, better luck next time,” Nesbitt commiserated, “but I know you’ll enjoy your consolation prize: a year’s supply of grape jelly!”
Next, volunteers tried to slide down the world’s longest ski jump with bars of wet soap strapped to their boots in place of skis; none of them made it. (“He must be feeling the agony of de-feet just now,” was Nesbitt’s comment after one particularly disastrous attempt.) Then a squad of sumo wrestlers, each inside his own giant plastic sphere, attempted to squash a plucky fellow who managed to elude them – for a while, anyway.
Nesbitt came back on camera. “And later on” – Cindy sighed; ‘later on’ meant they were saving that stunt for the end of the show – “one nutty professor is going to prove the existence of…” He looked down at an index card he was holding, as if trying to decipher it. “– gravity?” he finished in a pretend, this-doesn’t-make-any-sense voice. A goofy sound effect of a plane dive-bombing out of the sky and hitting the ground with a fearsome thud punctuated his sentence. “Ooh,” he grinned. “That’s gotta smart!”
Chapter 11
Strange Changes
As he flew across the basement, Harold saw Fluffernutter leap into his cage. I hope he’s okay, Harold thought; I hope I’m o–
BAMM! Harold hit the wall across from the computers. CRUNNCHH! Its surface was little more than thin paneling that gave way instantly. WHHUMMP! Harold slammed back-first into a pile of plastic sacks filling a forgotten storeroom. FWUPFF! His impact burst the sacks open, unleashing thousands of narrow strips of paper into the air.
A mountain of shredded top-secret government documents had just saved Harold from serious injury. Too dizzy to move, he lay on his back waiting for the paper blizzard to subside and for his head to stop spinning. His inner ear hadn’t been this discombobulated since Cindy talked him into riding the tilt-a-whirl at last year’s carnival. (At least this time he hadn’t made the mistake of eating two chili dogs beforehand.)
Harold squinted through the shredded paper draped over his glasses. There was Fluff, safe and sound in his cage. The sight helped Harold’s head to settle. Aside from an odd tingling in his legs, he felt perfectly fine – energized, as a matter of fact.
Harold frowned. The tingling sensation was growing stronger, and for some reason his shoes felt like they were squeezing his feet. He reached forward to undo the laces, then stopped and stared at his shoes. Something was happening, something weird.
His shoes were starting to expand. He could see the pressure building at their seams, he could hear the leather stretching and creaking. And worst of all, he could feel them getting tighter and tighter.
There was only one possible explanation: his shoes were squeezing his feet … because his feet were growing larger! The pressure turned painful and Harold reached towards his shoes again. He had to get them off right now, before they –
“HICCUP!!”
Harold hiccupped, louder than he ever had in his life. At the same moment his shoes ripped open.
The terrible pressure vanished. Harold looked at his sock-covered toes. They were sticking a good inch or more beyond the shoe’s torn-apart seams.
“Hiccc!”
His feet grew another inch out of his shoes. He realized these weren’t random events. The hiccups were either triggering – or were being triggered by – his strangely swelling feet.
“Hiccup!”
Harold’s toenails ripped through his socks. Only they weren’t broad and flat any more, like normal toenails. They were round and narrow, like tiny claws.
Harold reached out to touch his toes. This isn’t happening, he told himself. It’s a hallucination, I’m not – his train of thought stopped dead in its tracks; some sort of fuzz was growing on the back of his hand, sparse at first but spreading as he watched.
“HICCHK!”
Harold’s socks gave way. His toes, and then the top of his feet popped into view. Their claws lengthened and poked against his fingertips. There was fuzz on his feet too, He leaned forward and took a closer look. It wasn’t fuzz. It was fur.
To be continued...
Category Story / Transformation
Species Rabbit / Hare
Size 108 x 120px
File Size 22.5 kB
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