"Pete, where are we going?" Jake asked, his rodent-like eyes flicking nervously around as they left the safety of their dorm and ventured outside.
"We, my cabin boy, are setting sail," Pete replied cryptically, striding ahead with a feline grace, his pirate attire rustling in the late evening breeze.
They reached a secluded and desolate parking lot; the amber glow of the few remaining sodium lights stood sentry in the descending darkness. Pete stopped right in the middle of the open space, his green eyes glittering mysteriously under the hat. He turned around to face Jake with a seemingly serious look on his face, ears twitching.
"Ye see, Jake. We be pirates, aye," Pete began, lifting his chin and chest in a theatrical display of bravado. "But we ain't no ordinary seafarin' scoundrels. The high seas... water... pah!" His joke of a shudder resulted in a shake of his tail, the subtle feline aversion to water adding an extra touch of realism to his new form.
"Water is so... wet," Pete said, pretending to shiver again, flicking an ear in disgust. Jake couldn't help the small giggle that escaped at the sight – Pete, playing his new identity to the hilt.
"So what then, Pete?" Jake questioned, still chuckling. "What do we pirate if we don't sail the high seas?"
Pete shot him a smirk. "The skies, mate. We be the pirates of the skies!"
Jake just stared, his brow crinkling in confusion. His diminutive eyes scanned the empty, star-lit sky overhead and then swung back to his cat-turned-pirate captain. "But how...?" His question hung unanswered in the brisk evening air, the forthcoming adventure promising much more than they had ever bargained for.
Pete led Jake to a surprisingly spacious spot in the parking lot and then spoke with a kind of gravity, "Jake, there's a phrase that'll trigger a transformation in ya. With this, we can soar the skies."
Jake looked up at Pete, rat-like skepticism darting in his beady eyes. "What's the phrase?"
Pete grinned, "It's 'Brainstormer'."
His whiskers twitched, spots appearing and then whirring around at the utterance of the pseudonym. Then, to his complete surprise, he felt his body begin to bend and reshape, warp and restructure at an unimaginable rate. It was an unexpected turbulence of change.
His propeller 'mustache,' began to glow faintly, gradually growing in size. It curved outward slightly, forming the beginnings of a real propeller. Then, with an unusual sensation, a wheel appeared between his compact legs, altering his posture and balance.
As he started to lower himself onto the wheel, he felt his feet morphing into matching wheels too. He could now feel his weight resting on these new wheels, his body shifted and tilted at the unmistakable transformation.
Then, taking a draconian twist, his thighs converged with his central body, which was becoming rounder and more cylindrical. His little rat arms then split into halves at once, the upper and lower halves swelling and extending as they formed a distinctive set of double-decker wings.
Simultaneously, his rat tail began to dissolve, replaced by the elongating and tapering structure of an aircraft tail. It firmly rooted itself onto his rear, perfectly fitting the bizarre transformation sequence.
After a few moments of silence, as he got a grip over his new senses, Jake found himself transformed beyond recognition. He was a living airplane, his face somewhat comically displayed on the front of the fuselage, a nod to the cartoon-like absurdity of his present situation.
"Bloody 'ell, this be unexpected," Jake mumbled, his voice slightly muffled by his new form. "How am I supposed to hold a cutlass with these wings, Captain?" he asked, trying to move his wing-like limbs, a comical tinge to his pirate lingo.