Squirreled Away (TF/TG)

 Forty-one-year-old Owen Thomas was single, still living with his parents, and always inbetween jobs. His father and mother were always threatening to charge him room and board, but they never seemed to get around to it. And he was not about to remind them.

He had actually interviewed for a job today, but was immediately turned down as being 'not qualified'. So what did Owen do to feel better?

“It's squirrel time!” he cried out happily, pulling off his tie and tossing it into the front seat of his beat-up old sedan. He headed for the winding road that led through the forest nearby, and began to speed.

The road was curvy and hilly, and Owen did secretly worry he might collide with a deer during his games. But despite how awful people reported it to be, he secretly itched to experience it.

Instead, however, he met with his intended prey. Several feet down the road, a plump squirrel crossed the pavement. “Awesome!” Owen exclaimed, hitting the gas.

As he ended the innocent creature's life, he yelled, “Ten points for me!! Yeah!”

Then he skidded into a tree.

Owen woke up, quite disoriented. He was still in his car, but everything around him seemed different. He must have fallen off his seat in the crash, for he was looking up from the floor of the driver's side. But the seat seemed to loom high above him, and the carpet fibers around him seemed impossibly tall. And how did there get to be so much space between the pedals and the seat?

I must have gotten a concussion, he reasoned. Carefully, so as not to hurt himself if he were injured anywhere else, he tried to sit up.

But something behind him was stopping him.

What the hell?

As he turned to identify the impediment, he saw his body.

It was furry.

He tried to voice his thoughts, but they came from his mouth as an cracked “Eek.” He clamped his hand over his lips, but there was a small snout and whiskers in the way, and the hand was now a paw with claws on it...

Oh holy shit! Holy shit! He tried to grab at his bushy new tail but it swished away as he spun frantically around to view himself. What the hell had happened? He had gotten into an accident, probably getting a nasty bump on the head, and now his brain was making him think he'd turned into a squirrel...

He squeezed his eyes shut several times, but each time they opened on the same slight gray body, and he was still small. I need to get to the hospital... I need a doctor... I need help!

“Help? You don't deserve it!”

Now, on the passenger seat, sat another squirrel. It sneered down at him and spoke again. “What about all of the animals you killed in cold blood? They could have used some help. You killed them for fun! You took innocent lives for fun!”

Owen blinked up at the talking squirrel. It seemed quite angry, and he wondered what particular bizarre fever-dream his brain had fished it out of.

“I'm real, you stupid man,” it spat, and suddenly it grew into a beautiful, goddess-like woman. Owen hardly flinched. Perhaps this was what being on hallucinogens was like.

“And the animals that died instantly were lucky. Usually your crappy driving skills and bad aim left them lying in agony on the pavement for hours. Hours, you stupid, horrible thing!” She kicked at him with her foot, sending him flying painfully against the brake pedal.

“EEE!” he cried indignantly.

“Oh, shut the hell up,” she answered sadly, fishing her hand around the wheel well until it met with his slight body. Lifting him up roughly, she held him before her, squeezing him tightly and making his squirrel-eyes bug out. “This feel real enough to you?” she yanked at his tail for added effect.

That hurts like hell! He winced.

“Sure does, Mr. Squirrel. Because you are now a squirrel. It's real, and you're no longer a stupid human that was injured in a car accident. So get the hell out of the car. Your license is no longer valid!”

Over the next few days, Owen came to terms with his new existence. He really was a squirrel, and he began to feel the instincts that a squirrel would. He found himself gnawing at acorns and burying some for future nourishment. The discovery of a nearby bird feeder provided him with several meals a day. He never imagined birdseed could be so appetizing!

He was able to scale trees with his sharp claws, which was admittedly rather fun. And they certainly came in handy as he made several efforts to fabricate a nest. As he gathered the leaves and grass necessary for his shelter, he found himself coming to grips with the fact that this might indeed be what the rest of his life would be like. And if that was the way it would be, he intended to have a nice house at least. Because this time, there would be no parents to help him out.

He was proud of his finished nest. It was thicker and bigger than any of the other squirrel nests around the woods, and he had seen them all. Nothing was sturdier than his workmanship. It surprised him that he was capable of the intricate work he had accomplished. If he were ever human again, perhaps he could go into carpentry or something craft-like.

Life was not as bad as he had expected; granted there was no more TV or music to listen to, but he was free of any human constraints whatsoever. He ate when he wanted, he slept when he wanted, and, for whatever reason, the female squirrels found him quite attractive. At first he avoided them, but further thought led him to the conclusion that if he was a squirrel, he was entitled to do what squirrels did. Whatever they did. He wondered whether he could father children this way.

And just as he was beginning to enjoy himself even the smallest bit, one day, in pursuit of a particularly stunning female, he ran across the road in front of a carful of speeding college kids.

The impact was indescribable. He felt as if his whole body had been ripped apart and crushed at once. The pain was beyond comprehension, and it continued to worsen until all he knew was endless agony.

As his blood and bodily fluids pooled around his crushed body, he was helpless to move or speak. He felt the liquids seep into the fur he had been so proud of, and he was powerless to do anything but feel the pain.

The sun beat down on him, unforgiving, and if its warmth was the slightest bit soothing, it soon grew murderous as the pavement heated up under him through the day. Now it felt like he was burning alive, and the steam rising from his ruined body only served to establish this further.

He had no idea how long he lay like this, but eternity seemed to describe it best.  His body was now stiff, he still could not move, but somehow, he was crying.

“Crying roadkill. Interesting.”

The goddess-woman was standing above the mess that he was, studying him with an uninterested eye.

Why? Why? he sobbed. Why would anyone do this to someone?

“You did it to my animals, remember?”

I never really thought about it, and I'm sorry.  But this is beyond horrible... Please, can't you just let me die?

Her expression could almost be construed as pity. “Those kids really got you good, didn't they? And they weren't even trying to hit poor defenseless animals like you did.” She picked him up from his dislocated tail and dangled his broken body in the air. Now he didn't feel anything. He wondered if he were finally dead.

“Ever wonder what happens to road kill after you hit it, you horrible person?”

The highway guys clean it up? Owen ventured carefully. He did not want to anger her further and have the agony finding its way back.  The lack of any feeling whatsoever was like a taste of the ultimate ambrosia.

“Sometimes. Usually I come back and revive my poor babies. And that takes work, thus you are creating more work for me. That annoys me, and I don't like it.”

So all of those animals on the side of the road were brought to life again, by–

“Mother Nature. I'm Mother Nature.”

At this point, Owen would believe anything the woman said. And you can read the minds of–

“Of roadkill?” she snickered. “Yes. Especially stupid worthless roadkill like yourself.”

Owen watched some of his crushed guts fall to the pavement with a splat. He wished he could vomit. Not that he had anything of a body to do that with, of course. So you're punishing me for killing things with my car. You could have just asked me to stop.

“Oh, please. Like you would have? This is much more effective.”

Making me a squirrel was bad enough, but now I have to get hit by a car? And be roadkill baking for hours in the sun?

“Yes. Clever, isn't it? So what do you have to say for yourself?”

Like I said before, this whole thing has been horrible, and I can't believe you'd do that to someone. It's simply...inhumane, or whatever the word is.

“Hmm. That's still not quite what I wanted to hear.”

Owen's pulse quickened. I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll never hurt another living thing! Please, turn me back. Can you?

“Well, I'm capable of changing you back, if that's what you mean. But I think you really meant 'would you change me back'. Such poor language skills.” She chuckled to herself. “Well, I'm not done with you yet. See, that original little squirrel you executed with your car was pregnant. I brought her back to life, but I hate that she has to go through the pain of childbirth, so,” suddenly Owen's squirrel-body was whole, intact, and quite large-stomached, “you can have her babies for her.”

What? Owen screamed in his head, but his fate was sealed, and Mother Nature was long gone. And he, female squirrel that he now was, was going into squirrel-labor.

Owen, like any male, had wondered in the past what it was like to be a female. Problem was, this was not quite the way he had pictured it.

The pain came in horrifying waves, and if this was the way childbirth was in a squirrel's body, he could not even fathom what humans went through. If he ever returned to human form, he resolved to be nicer to women. He had a new-found respect for them.

He wasn't sure how long the agony lasted, although it almost could be likened to getting hit by the car. But at some point, he gave life to two pink, hairless, helpless young.

“Congratulations. It's a girl. And a boy,” said Mother Nature, observing as he licked the babies clean. “And what an amazing maternal instinct you've acquired, Owen. Very thorough.”

At this point, Owen was more squirrel than anything else. He looked up, startled by her sudden presence, and momentarily felt the need to flee. But some of his humanity rushed back, and he stopped administering to his young only to say, Well, that's thanks to you.

But this time his words were not accusatory; if anything, they were full of wonder, and Mother Nature was appeased.

Like a good mother, Owen nursed his two children and taught them all they needed to know about squirrel life. Late spring became summer, and the long days were spent in the treetops and below, searching for food and nuts, and protecting his young from danger. Owen remained aware of who he was, but it did not matter. Only the rearing of his children was prime in his largely-animal mind.

As fall approached, his children were ready to leave their mother. As they struck out on their own, Owen felt a large wave of sorrow as they disappeared into the woods. He crept after the young animals, trying to reassure himself that they would be fine, but he quickly lost sight of them. He climbed to the top of a pine, attempting to relocate his young, but they were nowhere to be seen, and once again, he cried.

A hand closed around him, and he screeched and thrashed in fear.

When he viewed Mother Nature hovering beside him, he calmed down, humanity pouring back into his brain. As they descended to the ground, she stroked his back, and he had to admit, it did feel nice.

“See, Owen, you're good for something,” she commented.

I miss my babies, he mumbled in defeat.

“You did a very nice job of mothering them. Transformed humans seem to make impressive animal mothers.”

Owen merely flicked his tail, gazing off forlornly into the distance.

She followed his stare. “They'll be fine,” she whispered staidly, petting his head. She placed him down on the ground, but he did not move. “You're done here,” she murmured.

He glanced up at her, his round eyes deep pools. Yes, I'm done.

This time Owen was awake during his transformation, and Mother Nature did not fail to disappoint. The squirrel watched in awe as his small limbs stretched in proportion to his growing body. He could feel his paws growing into hands and feet, then fingers and toes. Experiencing his long claws retracting back in as fingernails and toenails was quite fascinating. The fur that he had carefully groomed all these months fell to the ground in clumps, and he sadly watched his tail shrink away. He wriggled it one last time before it was gone altogether.

As his face grew more human, he tested his lips and finally spoke. “Oh wow, I– ”

“Sh. You're just about done. Give me one more sec.”

Owen became still as he grew to his original five-foot-eight stature. He ran his hands down his skin, which felt simply...odd. “I miss my fur,” he uttered, looking behind himself. “My tail too.”

Mother Nature smirked. “I can fix that, you know.”

“No, no. I appreciate your changing me back. It was...”

She watched him fumble for the correct response, but decided to cut him off. “I don't think I need to tell you that I'll be watching you.”

He sighed. “You won't need to. I could never hurt a fly after what I just went through. I think I'll join an animal rights group, even.”

She smiled. “Well, you don't have to go that far. Although it's not a bad idea. I love those people. I want to go kiss some of them and grant their wildest dreams. Although there are some crazies there too...”

“Mother Nature, please take care of my babies.”

“I will, Owen. And you take care of mine.”