The Transformation Story Archive Horses and Doggies and Cats, Oh my...

Christmas Crisis

by Anonymous

" 'Twas less than a week 'til Christmas, and all the reindeer were sick. The elves were in a panic, 'cause so was Saint Nick . . ."


"Ed!" A very sick looking Santa called for his chief elf. A worried looking elf ran to Santa's bedside carrying a cup of hot coco. He placed the cup down on the night stand and turned to Santa. "Yes, Santa?" "Ed, I don't think I'll be well in time for Christmas . . ." "Santa! No. You, must . . ." Ed interrupted. "Now, Ed," Santa raised a finger to stop him. "Listen. I need you to get someone to take my place this year. Who was that young man, who stood in for the Easter Bunny last year?" "I believe his name was Scott Ross, but as I recall he wasn't too happy about being forced into being a rabbit." "Yes, but it was his own fault for going hunting Easter Weekend," Santa declared. "Here's what I want you to do Ed: I want you to deliver the red fur suit to his apartment . . ." "The Red Fur! Santa! You can't be serious." "The red fur suit, Ed. He's going to need all the "Christmas Magic" he can get his hands on . . ."


I was in my little shoebox-sized studio apartment, working on the next installment of "The KinSlayer Saga", when there was a knock at my door. I glanced at the time as I stood up: 10:45PM. "Now who could it be at this hour?" I wondered as I headed for the door. Upon opening the door, I found a red package done up with green ribbon, but no sign as to who could have delivered it. I glanced up and down the hall but there wasn't a soul in sight. Not knowing what else to do, I shrugged and brought the box inside. Laying the box down on my bed a proceeded to open it. Inside, I found an ancient Santa suit made of red and white fur! Looking further a found a note:

Dear Mr. Ross, you have been selected to fill in for Santa Claus this year . . .

"Damn it! No! Not again! Just because I shoot one little rabbit. . ." I mumbled as I opened a window, grabbed the box, and tossed it out into the snow that was just beginning to fall. Turning back to the bed, I found that the box was once again perched there. Disgruntled, I knocked the box to the floor. Then, deciding that maybe it was time to get some sleep, I curled up on the bed and closed my eyes. I hoped as I laid there, that when I opened my eyes that the box wouldn't be there and that this was all just some sick dream.

It wasn't long before I fell asleep, and I dreamt the most vivid dream. The dream was filled with the sounds of children crying. I dreamt that I had ruined Christmas forever. For, because I wouldn't make the run, Santa had to, and he just wasn't well enough. According to the news paper Santa's sleigh went down in the North Pole, and when I checked my E-Mail, I found a myriad messages accusing me of killing Santa! I woke up screaming.

"Ok! Ok!" I yelled at the ceiling. "I'll do it. Talk about your overkill . . ." I cut off as a piece of paper floated down from the ceiling. Quickly, I snatched it out of the air and read it:

We KNEW you'd see it our way . . .

I sighed, but kept my comments to myself, as I read the rest of the note. It went on to explain that both Santa and his reindeers were indeed very ill and that I would have to come up with replacement reindeers by Christmas. Giving in to fate, I put on the suit. It was extremely baggy and the boots were missing. At the bottom of the box was a card describing how to use the suit and the powers inherent therein. It also explained that they didn't bother to give me the boots because they knew that once I figured out how to do it, I would use the suit to become Santa Claws. "Santa Claws?" I wondered. Then it dawned on me. If I was to shove my online persona into a "Santa Suit", what would I call him? Santa Claws! What else would you call a white tiger morph dressed as Santa?

"Thank you, Santa!" I called out as I placed my index finger alongside my nose, winked, and then nodded my head. Instantly the suit fit perfectly. I noticed there was even a tail-hole in back as my tail started to grow in and poke through it. I watched in fascination as my hands became paw-like and covered in white fur. I ran to the bathroom so I could watch the changes in the mirror. I watched as my face pushed out into a muzzle and my ears became slightly pointed. Then my ears slid up the sides of my head. With in moments I was completely covered in fur. I turned from the mirror and stumbled as with a sickly-wet pop my legs became digitigrade.

"Now what am I gonna for reindeer?" I thought out loud as I walked passed my computer. I noticed that Netscape Messenger was still running. Then I gave an evil cat grin as an idea hit me. I scanned my messages for members of TSA-Talk.

"Now Thomas. Now Robo. Now Magus and Oren! On Jack, On Flinters, On Posti and Bryan!" As I called each by name they sprouted antlers and their hands started changing into hooves. Their vision blurred and when each could see again, they where all standing in their respective stalls. Then I appeared before them. "Now who should I have lead my team?" I asked myself. My evil cat grin got even bigger as I called for my ninth reindeer. "Now Mike with your nose so bright won't you guide my sleigh tonight?!" "GOD DAMN YOU, FURBALL!" Came a yell from the ninth stall. I walked down to row of stalls to greet my best friend. " "I, Mike." I waved to the antlered man standing in the stall. The glowing nose at the end of his muzzle got even brighter when he saw me. He lunged for me and tried to grab me with his hooflike hands, but as he did so, his arms lengthened and became forelegs, while fur quickly spread up them. "Relax Mike." I told him, then raised my voice. " First, let me apologize for any inconvenience, but don't worry this is only until Christmas Day. You see, Santa and his reindeers are all sick. So we've been elected to be stand ins. By tomorrow you should all be on four hooves and we'll begin flying lessons. So, I suggest you get some rest. "Til tomorrow." with that I left the stables and headed for the house. I was met at the door by a little man with pointed ears. "Santa Claws," he said, "Chris Kringle isn't pleased with your current methods." "Sorry, but I don't have enough time to do this any other way. Now, If you'll be so kind as to show me to my room I'd like to turn in for the night."


I meet the new reindeers at the stable Wednesday morning. A couple of them were a bit wobbly on their new hooves. As the elves brought the sleigh around and set out the tack, I gave the reindeer a pep talk. "Ok, Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, the night of the big trip. So today, we're going to work on flying and then flying in formation. And just think, in a couple of days you'll be back to normal, but until then think of the children."

Trying to teach nine reindeer how to fly wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. Mike kept complaining about being a deer. Oren constantly suggested that maybe I should switch and make them all rein-otters and Flinthoof just wouldn't leave the does and the candy canes alone. It was late in the evening before I had them all flying straight and in formation.


Christmas Eve came and we all got ready to make the rounds. I made sure I loaded the sleigh with extra cat nip and various other cat toys. I decided this year, that my fellow cats were going to get the most presents. In my opinion the trip went fairly well. Oh, I'm sure I mixed up a few gifts, but it all turned out in the end.


Oren woke up Christmas day in his own bed, but was surprised to find an otter under the covers; himself. Thomas, Flinters, and Bryan woke up to find that they were horses. Robo ended up as a manikin in a Macy's display for a day. Jack woke up as a mule, and the rest all awoke as their online persona. And all heard a jolly voice call out. "A Merry Christmas to all . . ."

"Your gonna pay for this FurBall!" "Oh, be quiet Mike . . ."

Christmas Crisis copyright 1999 by Anonymous.

<< Change Lady Circe's Funhouse >>