Windfall: An Otter-Body Experience

by Tempe O'Kun

  She watched the trees crawl past. “You’re going like ten. It’s gonna take us forever to get home.”

  He downshifted to first. “At least we’ll make it there.”

  As they turned a corner, the sparkle of the Atlantic broke through the trees. “Sheesh, Maxie: just drive it into the sea.” She swept a paw toward the ocean, whacking her fingers on the window pane. “Maybe you’re better at steering boats.”

  Hunched down over the wheel, he grumbled a convincing otter mutter and trundled on. “Plan.”

  “Yes?”

  “First, we go home to regroup.” He threaded the car down rutted back roads, wincing whenever the undercarriage bottomed out. “Then, until we figure out how to switch back, we lay low and act like each other.”

  “Why?” In her mind, the path to validating her family’s past opened up before her. “I was thinking more of a ‘tell the whole world’ plan.”

  “Because people are going to think we’re liars or nuts. We’re not even the most convincing act in town.” He used the turn signal, even though no other cars were visible. “And people being wary of us won’t help with finding a cure.”

  “You’ll have to go to work as me.” She fought to buckle the seatbelt over her barrel chest. “Shane might have more info.”

  He chanced a glance at her. “I’m not sure I can act like you.”

  “You know me really well. Just don’t swim into shark territory. You’ll be fine! You’ve known me forever!” Kylie bounced and smacked her head on the ceiling’s steel support rods again. Wondering if she had a bruise, she rubbed a paw between her ears. “How hard can it be?”

  They drove through town, surrounded on all sides by the faintly surreal. In one yard, an extended family of foxes chatted casually around a giant metal horned skeleton sculpture. Fruity smoke rose from its blackened helm. A vixen in an apron opened a panel on its armor to remove a rack of exquisitely-smoked ribs. The fox kits cheered and scampered around the offering in a swirl of wagging orange-and-white tails.

  As they neared the house, the faint voice of her mother muffled through the windows. In the porch light, Max stopped his girlfriend and brushed off her bulky frame. “White fur shows any dirt you get on it.”

  Glancing down at the twigs and dirt she’d accumulated, Kylie tried to help, but soon became distracted. “Whoa.” She rubbed up and down her forearms. “I am so fuzzy.”

  “Quit it.” Max hissed, reaching for the door. “Your mom’s going to think we’re on drugs.”

  “Are you sure we’re not on drugs?” Her paw raised with the question. “I don’t think we’ve ruled that out. Might be more likely than body-switching.”

  Hand on knob of the screen door, he paused in thought for a moment, then turned to her. “I can’t think of a way to disprove that. If we’re drooling on the ground next to a shed, I can’t do anything to address that. But if we’re not, and this is real, we lose nothing by trying to address it.”

  Just as he was about to open the door, her paw lifted again. “What if we’re hallucinating, but walking around?”

  “Then your mom will check us into rehab…” He cast her a sidelong look. “…which may solve the problem.”

  “Ah, the Hollywood lifestyle.” She nodded. “We never had a chance.”

  Heading inside, they found Laura in the kitchen, phone cradled against her ear. “No, we can’t title it Police Lion: Do Not Cross.” She grabbed a leftover shrimp cocktail from the fridge, then swatted the door closed with her tail. “Look, we can put it on a character poster.” Tiny shrimp in paw, she waved to the pair before tossing the morsel in her muzzle. “Comedic expectations are lower there.”

  Max managed a weak wave, like he’d only ever heard of the gesture. He noticed Kylie staring, then looked down at himself. They might be in different bodies, but they were no less on the same wavelength. He slackened his posture and donned on a smarmy smile. His eyes even darted to her, eyebrows subtly raised, like they were back on set and he was checking if she needed to direct him.

  Her mother chattered on, eyes out the kitchen window. “If the part calls for a zebra, hire a zebra. I don’t care if you have a horse in the running.” She poured herself a glass of water. “I’m sure she’s great at painting on stripes. It’s the 21st century. Hire a zebra.” She waddled back upstairs. “Audiences have never been stupid. They just have social media now, so they can complain to their friends and tank the movie…”

  Kylie let out a long breath. Then she patted Max on the back, nearly tipping him over “See?” She smiled down at him. “We’re fine.”

  Kylie hustled him to his room, then into the adjoining bathroom. “Still think it’s decadent to have a toothbrush in both our bathrooms?”

  He snorted, amused. It came out as more of a squeak.

  The toothbrush felt tiny and fragile in her huge hand. Being in Max’s body unlocked the “destroy object” option in pretty much any context.

  A light high noise she soon recognized as an otter throat being cleared. Her throat. She’d only ever heard it from inside her body. Only this time it was her boyfriend trying to get her attention

  He offered her his toothbrush. Discomfort contended with resolution on his face as he shrugged.

  Trading, she studied the somewhat-larger brush. The bristles sprouted out at slightly different angles, with the idea it had been designed to better clean canine dentition. That’s what the TV commercials claimed, anyway. She glopped a bunch of toothpaste on it and got scrubbing. Having someone else’s teeth in her mouth was super distracting. Brushing her teeth only brought that fact to the forefront. The husky’s mouth had a lot of acreage to cover. In reaching the back teeth, she poked herself really hard in the cheek, then overcorrected and choked on the brush head.

  Watching in mild judgement, Max brushed his borrowed teeth with care. His gaze dipped to the sink before it could cross his own reflection.

  Her eyes flicked to the mirror. An involuntary twitch of her eyebrows caught her intention. Realizing she had the power, she started contorting his face into every expression she could think of, brushing all the while.

  She caught his reflection staring. He raised his ears at her.

  “Wha?” She spit an impressive volume of foam. “I get to make all new faces with your face.”

  A deep sigh stretched his supple body. She marveled at how much it made her body stretch, even with Max’s formal posture.

  Once they rinsed and spit, they padded back out into his bedroom.

  “So we’re just going to bed now?” He lifted his palms.

  “I think we should.” She pulled her shirt off. “It’s tiring to stay in character as you.”

  She watched her boyfriend hop in place, over and over, trying to reach a pair of pajama pants.

  “Why do you let me put these PJs on this shelf—” He jumped again, again failing to snag the PJs. “—if you can’t reach them?”

  “Because I know you’ll be there.” She reached up and gathered the garment in one giant paw.

  He accepted it.

  “If we only used shelves I could reach, the top half of each floor would be empty.” Lifting his scrawny arm fully, she drew an invisible line to the same height on the wall. Then she stretched to see how far she could reach. “Oh man, I can touch the ceiling!”

  “How are you okay with this?” He crossed his arms. “It’s scary.”

  “It’s fun!” She poked the ceiling again, tiny crumbs of plaster falling where her claw punctured it. “That’s the opposite of scary.”

  Wilting with irritation, he cast her a weary look. “That is a very lutrine attitude.”

  She took a deep breath, examining her emotions. “Scary would be if you were missing or something.”

  A long moment passed. “Let’s just go to bed.” He sighed. “Maybe this will have worn off by morning.”

  They climbed into bed.

  Max lay on his back. Freed from the swimwear bra, his breasts spread to either side. He kept tr
ying to push them upright, only to have them droop back to the sides. It was pretty amusing to watch.

  She snickered, which came out unusually deep, almost a growl.

  His webbed hands flew from his breasts. “I’m not just playing with them.”

  “That’s the main thing I do with them.” Kylie flung the covers off. “Ugh! I suddenly don’t need a blanket. It’s like a season change.”

  “And your shoulders aren’t in the same zip code.” She tried to wriggle her body into a more comfy position, but without a powerful otter tail she just ended up falling face-first into a pillow.

  Her boyfriend squeaked with the bedsprings as he was flung halfway out of the bed.

  “Sorry.” She pulled him back up by the tail. “How are you supposed to sleep on your side?”

  “By stacking pillows.” He tried to wrap his arms around her, but found they were far too short. “Or supporting your head with your arm.”

  She nodded and rolled to her back. Using one of her gigantic arms, she scooped him toward her and held him against her broad chest. They lay in silence. Sleep took forever to arrive. Probably couldn’t find her new address.

  2

  The next few hours passed in a montage of inconvenience.

  Max slammed his tail in a door.

  Kylie whacked her head on the doorframe.

  Max couldn’t type with webbed paws.

  Kylie dropped her phone for the tenth time.

  Max knocked over a cereal box atop the fridge.

  Kylie opened the cereal too hard and detonated it across the kitchen.

  Max couldn’t reach things in his own bedroom closet, which he put there 48 hours before.

  Kylie could be tracked through the house, since she barked at every zap of static electricity.

  Unsure what to do with himself, Max padded into the kitchen, smacked his tail on a chair, and then glared at his own rudder. “My butt’s going all sorts of places I didn’t tell it to.”

  “Yeah, just wait until you walk past a table full of breakable stuff.” His girlfriend dumped most of a bowl of cereal into her muzzle. “You doing okay?”

  He shrugged, then panicked a little when the motion translated down his entire form. These shoulders felt way too light, flying around even as he tried to emulate her body language. “Can’t get comfy.”

  “What’d ya mean?” She waved a spoon at him as she put the empty bowl in the sink. “That body’ll morph onto just about any surface.”

  His ears flicked down modestly. “I keep laying on my breasts.”

  Kylie barked a huge laugh. “Be nice to the ladies!” She grabbed a small, frost-tinged box from the freezer. The slogan “Eel Good, Feel Good” adorned the cardboard. She attempted to open the package with her claws, like normal, and destroyed it. The frozen pie clattered to the countertop, rattling like partly-dried clay. She tried to catch it and smacked her watch on the stove.

  Max winced at the antique clank.

  A whirl of activity, she tossed the pie in the microwave, then set it droning toward warmth. With a quick glance around, she seized a pickle jar from the fridge and popped it open with ease. “I could unscrew every lid in this kitchen.”

  He propped his hands on wide otter hips.

  “I won’t!” She rolled her eyes as she tried to puzzle her way through getting her hand into the jar. After many arcane gestures, she secured a pickle. She nudged the fridge door shut, clattering the wristwatch on the steel surface. “I’m just saying: how do you contain this much power?”

  “Practice and worry.” Max waddled forward and gestured for her hand. Upon getting it in his webbed paws, he took his his watch off her wrist.

  She munched through the whole pickle she’d thrown in her muzzle. “Sorry.”

  He stashed the timepiece in one of the fishing vest’s myriad pockets.

  “Hey, my life isn’t smooth sailing either.” She stroked his hair. “I keep finding new ways my nuts can get squeezed between my thighs.”

  A small chuckle rose from him.

  Setting down the pickle jar, she rinsed her damp hands. “I did figure out how to wash my hands.”

  “I just did too.” He jerked a thumb back at the bathroom, only stretching his webbing a little. “Did you just take a shower? The curtain’s wet.”

  “I had to pee. I’m scared to pee standing up, so I’m practicing in the shower.” She pranced in place.

  Max pressed tiny paws to his face. “It’s point-and-shoot.”

  “Boys aren’t user-friendly!” The microwave beeped. She retrieved a steaming pot pie and set it on the counter, only firing a small volley of eel gravy. “Your hands are heat-resistant, though, so that’s nice.”

  The scent of hot eel filled the kitchen. He handed her a fork and took a seat at the counter. “Cereal and pickles and eel pie?”

  “Mom used to make this when I was a kid. It’s a comfort food!” She scooped up a massive bite, forked it into her smiling muzzle, and became disappointed.

  Max sat up and looked at her. “Are you not comforted?”

  She slid it toward him. “I’m going to need you to eat this eel pot pie and tell me how nostalgic it tastes.”

  He broke off a bit of the crimped pie crust and a quick nibble confirmed its tastiness.

  “Your body’s a bonfire.” Her heavy hands flailed in the air, much less responsive than otter ones. “I just keep throwing food on the fire. Dunno how you have time to do anything but eat.”

  Max speared some chunks of eel meat and ate them while giving her a weary look.

  “Are you getting a mystical sense the mojo will wear off?”

  His small ears popped up readily. “No?”

  She half-frowned. “Neither am I.”

  He continued eating the pie, which turned out to be warm, savory, and comforting. “What should we do?”

  She shrugged. “Wanna watch cartoons?”

  “How will that help?”

  “I dunno. Can’t hurt.”

  He smashed the top layer of pastry and pushed it into the pie filling. “Fine, let’s watch cartoons.”

  She grabbed his pie for him and they headed to the living room.

  He spied the remote control under the sofa, but failed at lifting it to reach the device. “Agh, this is frustrating! Your little noodle arms can’t lift anything.”

  Kylie scampered up next to him, beaming an otter’s smile with husky teeth and hefting the sofa with one paw. She cackled maniacally: “Bwahaha! I am the god of upper body strength!”

  He snatched the remote off the floor and made a mental note to vacuum up the dust when he got his body back. “Put that down.”

  She lowered the couch too fast, slamming it on the carpet, then plopped down on it, slamming it against the wall. Her thick paw grabbed him by the tail and hauled him onto her lap.

  He briefly traded her the remote for his eel pie.

  Together, they navigated through the menus to find a suitably distracting cartoon. A heavy metal intro shot lightning across the title sequence, which was composed mostly of graphs and charts.

  “We should get groceries later. I want to try out more foods with your tongue.” She stuck it out a short distance.

  He shook his head. “If we go out, people are going to notice we’re acting weird.”

  “Everyone in town acts weird.”

  He crossed his arms at her, swishing his breasts in the process, then uncrossing his arms to glare down at them. For being so sensitive, these things got in the way of a lot of gestures.

  Kylie woofed. “We can’t just stay in the house forever.” She spread a giant paw at the manor. “I’m going stir-crazy.”

  He nodded. “We can’t let this derail our whole lives. Tomorrow morning, I’m going to go for a run.”

  Creaking down the stairs, Laura breezed into the living room. “I want you both to know that yours truly has written an exemplary script for In Brief.”

  The younger otter perked up. “That show’s still on?”
>
  Max’s eyebrows rose. “I guess I haven’t seen it.”

  “That’s because we don’t watch TV.” Kylie pointed at him. “The main character only designs men’s underpants, so he has lots of time left over to get into wacky situations with the other characters at the company who all design ladies’ undergarments.”

  “You’re just cranking out a generic script, then?”

  “No, no, you don’t call Laura Bevy just to write any old episode. I’m making it a great callback to all these unresolved plot threads.” Pride gleamed in Laura’s smile. “But I didn’t want to watch 100 hours of middling sitcom just to get the canon right.”

  “So, what? You used the show’s fan wiki?”

  The middle-aged otter shook her head, whiskers swaying over a smile. “It doesn’t have a wiki, but it has something better: underpants perverts.”

  “Seriously, M–?” Kylie’s muzzle snapped shut halfway into the word “mom.” She cleared her throat. “Mz. Bevy.”

  “Yes, Mr. Saber.” She winked at her daughter, who currently inhabited her daughter’s boyfriend’s body. “Perverts are actually quite knowledgeable. And they’ve been very helpful to me in writing the script.”

  “We’re living in a golden age for talking to anonymous hornballs online.” His girlfriend rolled her eyes.

  The plump otter waved her glasses back and forth in one paw. “Most of them want to remain anonymous. A few have asked for their real names to be used.”

  Max brushed back the long reddish hair that kept falling in his face. “Good for them, owning their perviness.”

  “You said it, hun.” The older otter slid her glasses back on. “Gotta love yourself.”

  “There’s some good advice.” Kylie cast a wolfish grin at her boyfriend.

  Max’s tiny ears gave a bashful dip. “I don’t know why we should be surprised by any of this from Mom.”