Curse of the Were-Beaver

November. The Beaver Moon. Oh, what a horrible night to have a curse.

I wasn’t quite sure what caused the curse, but I sure knew when it began that night…

* * *

Body burning up, fur growing, my hands seized up as they began to change… nails sharpening, fingers cracking… w-what is going on..?

* * *

Thick, brown fur only seemed to spread like wildfire as my hands and feet changed; becoming less human by each passing second. Labored groans turned to whimpers as I felt something behind me– something extending outward… Longer and longer it grew; flat, and covered in a dark, scaley texture. At its base: thick brown fur. A tail. MY tail. The tail… of a beaver. The new appendage wiggled to life as I felt the fur spread upward. My claws tore at my shirt…

* * *

With my shirt off, the thick brown beaver fur swept upward unhindered. Before I could even make any cry for he— C-C-C-C-CRACK! S-SNAP!

Whines and groans escaped my maw as my jaw jutted forward, teeth growing more buck, nose becoming more rodent-like. I began to double over in my seat; chirring and whining loudly; eyes darkening, ears shifting, fur spreading…

* * *

The room rapidly grew around me as I shrank. I fell over into my shorts; whining and whimpering as I became more and more beaver, and not just in body. With my necklace still around my furry next, I inched out of my former shorts– there was a… fog, beginning to move into the back of my mind. Thoughts… instincts… everything seemed… d-different… n-new…

* * *

And at last, the confusion and panic subsided; the new beaver dropped to the floor. He sat atop his former clothes as his racing mind began to slow. Any worry he had just a few moments ago was gone; he only thought of chewing, of swimming, of what a beaver would. First things first, he needed a safe place to call him! He’ll make a fine lodge and dam, but first… to find some trees…