Of Mice and Turtles
                                by Greg Rutter

        In a dank, putrid sewer, The Rat King sat in his subterranean lair,
pondering the latest failure in his effort to destroy those blasted
Turtles.  Sitting on a throne constructed of the refuse his rodent minions
had gathered for him, he stroked his chin.  Flickering light from a
candelabra illuminated his massively muscled frame, clad only in a
piece-meal garment of rat skin and tattered rags.  Despite months of
training, he could not hope to equal the thrice-damned amphibians in combat
ability.  He was just a man, and no matter how great his strength or skill,
he could not hope to equal their super-human abilities.  Previous schemes
to overcome that limitation had failed him: despite the hypnotic power he
held over mice and rats, Splinter, their rat-mutant sensei, had been able
to overcome him through the supreme discipline of his ninja mind.  Even
when he had stumbled upon a cannister of strange mutagen that had allowed
him to transform Irma and Vernon from Channel Six into rats, the blasted
Turtles were able to foil his plot.  He needed an edge: a new plan,
something to level the playing field.
        His reverie was interrupted by a loud rumbling sound.  The ground in
his sewer stronghold shook from the force of it, and he was knocked off of his
make-shift throne, crashing to the dirty ground.  His first thought was to
protect his safehold, and he called his rat minions to him, setting off
with a horde of vermin to investigate . . .

                                                *****

        Elsewhere in the sewer, Leonardo was sweating in the practice dojo.
A round stone room that the Turtles had renovated, the floors were padded,
and on the walls were mounted many different types of oriental weapons and
tapestries covered in ancient Asian characters.  The room was warm and
bright, illuminated by torches attached to the walls by wrought iron
holders.   He had run through training regimens using katana, wakizashi,
tanto, and ninja-to, and was turning to his kurusai-gama to continue the
session when the ground began to shake.  A huge crack began to appear at
his feet, but his astounding turtle reflexes combined with his ninja
training to allow him to dive to safety.  When the rumbling stopped, a six
foot deep crevasse a yard wide by ten yards long had appeared in the dojo
floor.  Thoughts of training aside- he left the dojo and headed toward the
living area to try to figure out what was going on.
        Raphael was on the floor, having fallen off the couch during the
apparent earthquake.  His copy of the Art of War had landed across the room.
        "What the hell, Leo?"  He snapped indignantly.
        "I don't know Raph, some kind of seismological disturbance.  I'm
hoping
Don can tell us what's going on."
        As if on cue, Donatello appeared from his room, a small rectangular
box in his hand.
        "Hey guys, any idea what just happened?"
        "We were hoping you could tell us Don," Leo replied.
        "Well, according to my seizmomemter, that wasn't any earthquake.
The readings are more like an extra-planetary impact."
        "Like a meteorite?" Leo asked, as Raphael scowled at the couch that
had betrayed him.
        "Possibly, it would have had to be a huge meteorite though."
        "Why would a meteorite impact cause an earthquake in the dojo?"
        "What?"  Don ran to the dojo to take a look.  "Well, I'll be.
Whatever this thing was, it must have hit somewhere in Manhattan, and torn right
into the sewers.  We should go check it out!  Were's Mike?"
        "Who knows?  Probably out watching baseball somewhere."  Raphael
replied bitterly.
        "Oh, lighten up Raph.  Just because you don't know how to relax
doesn't
mean you have to be down on Mike so much," said Donatello, fastening his
belt over his shell. "The three of us will go look into it.  C'mon."

                                                *****

        A few minutes earlier, Michelangelo sat in a dark corner booth of a
bar on 54th street, hidden beneath a trench-coat and fedora.  April O'Neil sat
next to him, wearing sneakers, Jeans, a grey sweater, and with her red hair
tucked falling out the back of a Yankees cap in a ponytail.
        "Yes!  Go Yanks!" She yelled, as Derek Jeter turned the second base
corner heading for third.
        "Crap," Mike groaned, as the Mets struggled to field the ball and
throw it home.  He loved watching subway series with April, and was glad the Major
Leagues had started inter-league play.  He just hated it when the Mets were
losing.
        Half the bar let out a groan as Jeter slid head first into home,
ahead of the tag.
        "Allright!  Inside the park home run!" April exclaimed.
        Just then, there was a huge crash, followed by a shockwave that
shattered the glass in the bars windows, then the TV screen itself.  Panic and
confusion ensued, although Mike wasn't sure if people were more upset about
the bizarre occurrence, or the fact that they were no longer able to watch
the game.  His thoughts were interrupted by the beeping of April's pager.
        "Hmm, looks like Channel 6 wants me to find out what's going on
Mikey.
I'll catch up with you later," She said, standing, and giving him a kiss on
the cheek.  Mike blushed.
        "That's okay, April.  I better go see if the guys are all right.
They left the bar together, and April flagged a Taxi up town, while Mike walked
south to the nearest manhole.

                                                *****

        The Rat King plodded carefully threw the sewers, familiar with every
twist and turn of his domain.  Still, he had his rats scouting ahead, unsure of
what he would find.  The flickering of the sparse electric lights lent
eerie shadows to every recess, and even though he was undisputed master of
this stretch of the sewer, the Rat King grew uneasy.
        Turning a bend, he came upon a scene of destruction.  A huge hole
was in the ceiling, with concrete dust in the wall and fragments of rock strewn
everywhere.  As he looked around, he saw a huge chunk of rock, the size of
a bean-bag chair, lying in a cesspool ahead of him.  The sewage in the pool
was steaming, evaporating away due to the heat of the object, and he
couldn't get a good look at it.  As he advanced through the rancid cloud,
he saw what looked like a huge chunk of rock.  His rats were sitting around
it in a circle, raised on their hindquarters, their forepaws held perfectly
still in front of him. He gingerly reached out to touch the rock.  The
second his hand made contact, piles of rocky debris fell away, their heat
creating even more obscuring steam.  When at last he could see clearly, the
Rat King was shocked to find a statue of a rat sitting in the pool, growing
glean.  He reached for it, and felt a booming voice in his mind:
        You call yourself the Rat King.  You are but a man.  I can make you
what you wish to be.  I can give you true power.
        The Rat King found himself picking the statue up against his will.
It was searing hot to the touch, but he found he could not let it go.  Nor did he
want to,
        "Yes give me your power."  Without another word, he sprinted back to
his lair, cradling the statue in his arms, laughing.

                                                *****

        Leonardo, Donatello, and Raphael were walking west through the
sewers.  Don was in the lead, with a geiger counter in his hand.  He had an educated
hunch that a celestial impact of great enough size to damage their home
would leave at least a slight trail of radio-activity, and he was right.
As they continued through the maze of tunnels, the blips on Don's counter
became louder and more frequent.  After half an hour of walking, Raphael
stopped and looked around.
        "Hey guys, isn't this Rat King country?"  He gripped the sais in his
belt nervoulsy.  Leo glanced around.
        "You're right Raph," he said, unsheathing his katanas.  "Everybody
stay on your toes."
        Their danger senses sharpened, the trio continued on, cautiously
examining every route they took, but they saw no sign of the Rat King.  Eventually,
they stumbled upon the impact site, and Don's Geiger counter went haywire.
        "Whoa!  The levels are off the chart guys!  But the reading is
really
similar to the radio-active pattern of the mutagen that made us."
        "Holy Shit!  Over there!"  Raph pointed at a huge hole in the ground
that was half-filled with waste matter.  Don carefully walked over and examined
the area.
        "Something hit here guys, but it looked like it evaporated.  Maybe
it got washed away.  Whatever it is, I don't like it.  Let's get out of here.  See
what Splinter thinks.  We don't need to run into the Rat King right now."
        Leo and Raph agreed, and the Turtles headed back the way they came.

                                                *****

        When April arrived at Channel Six, she was instructed to head up
town to the crash site, which was near 96th street and 8th avenue.  She decided
that under the circumstances, Taxis probably wouldn't be able to get near
it, and the subway would be a bad idea, so she headed there on foot.
        When she arrived, she was disappointed to find that a federal NEST
team was already in the area investigating, and they had no comment for the
press.  She was discouraged for the moment, but she knew she would be back.

                                                *****

        Back in his lair, the Rat King worked frantically to construct an
altar.  He used parts of old wooden crates, and eventually had a workable
structure, on top of which he placed the strange green statue.
        Well done.  Now, are you ready for true power?  Do you accept the
sacrifices?
        "I am ready."
        Very Well.
        A beam of emerald energy shot out of the statue, striking the rat
king in the chest.  He screamed in agony, his entire body on fire, and collapsed to
the ground unconscious.

                                                *****

        He awoke later, unaware of how much time had passed.  He was
uncomfortably warm, and itched horribly all over.  He tore off his tunic and his boots to
scratch the worst of the itches, and was astonished at what he found.  His
chest rippled with muscle, far greater than any he had ever possessed.  As
he watched, the itching grew worse, and a small patch of stubble appeared
on his chest, direct between his pectoral muscles.  The stubble grew
longer, thickening, and leaving in its wake a patch of grey fur.
Simultaneously, his bare feet elongated, the nails curling under and
sharpening, the same grey fur creeping up the top of his feet.  He ran to
the tarnished steel panel that served as his mirror and looked at himself.
The patch of grey fur on his chest ran from his neck to the top of his
abdomen.  His eyes had become blood red, and when he opened his mouth to
gape in astonishment, he was that his incisors had become very long and
sharp.  Absentmindedly scratching the new patch of fur on his chest, he
noticed his hands had grown clawed and furred, like his feet.  He turned to
the idol.
        "What have you done to me?"
        You wanted to be the King of Rats.  I have granted your wish. So it
begins.
        The Rat King turned back to the mirror, staring at the strange
reflection that greeted him, wondering how much further it would go.  He smiled, in
anticipation.  At last he would have the power to defeat those cursed
Turtles.  He was tired, and curled up in a ball on the ground to nap.

                                                *****

        When Don, Leo, and Raph returned to their home, they found
Michelangelo had returned, and was watching TV, while splinter read a book of haiku.
        "Hey Mike, you okay?"  Don asked.
        "Oh you mean the meteor?  Yeah, no prob.  I was up in midtown, but
no one really got hurt."
        "How'd you know it was a meteor, Mike?"  Leo asked.  Mike pointed at
the TV, where April was reporting the news.
        ". . . and so, according to Federal Authorities and the Nuclear
Emergency Safety Team, the meteor was large enough to cause a disruption in the
subterranean areas of the city, but did not contaminate the water supply.
There is nothing to be concerned about, and repair work is already under
way.  April O'Neil, Channel 6 News, Reporting."

                                                *****

        As the camera switched off, April turned to Irma.
        "Nothing to worry about my butt, then why was the NEST team there in
full hazard gear?  There was something strange about that meteorite, and I'm
going to find out what."
        "Oh no April.  You know if you go off, you're just going to get into
trouble.  Like you always do."
        "Oh ye of little faith Irma.  If the government is covering
something up, the people of this city deserve to know. I'm going to investigate it."
        Irma sighed.
        "When?"
        "Tonight."

                                                *****

        The Rat King awoke.  His first order of business was to examine his
body, looking for any new physical changes.  Looking down at his feet, he saw
that they had grown longer and wider, and were now completely covered in
grey fur.  The patch on his chest had thickened and spread out, covering
him from shoulder to shoulder and down to his waist.  Grey fur had grown
down his arms, and the fingers on his hands had grown longer, ending in
wicked claws.
        As he stood up, he felt new power in his legs.  They were thick and
corded with muscle, swelling his pants almost to ripping.  On an impulse, he leapt
straight up, easily grasping a pipe hanging from the ceiling twelve feet
above his head.  His arms had grown more muscular as well, and he chinned
up on the pipe fifty times, eventually giving up when he failed to grow
tired.  He released the pipe and dropped back to the ground, landing
gracefully on all fours.  Straightening, he walked over to his mirror to
look at his face.
        Grey fur covered the sides of his face: his forehead, cheeks, and
chin were a solid patch of it.  His nose had become moist and pink, and his face
was beginning to protrude into a snout.  His ears had become rounded and
larger, moving up the sides of his head.  He could hear and smell things
his human senses never detected.  He reveled in his new power.
        I have given you the power to crush your enemies.  Embrace it,
complete the transformation, and you shall be unstoppable.
        "Yessssss. . ."  The Rat King felt a sensation of energy surging
from within, like floodgates opening to release a deluge.  The back of his pants
split open, as a hairless brown tail burst from his spine.  His face
tingled as it pushed forward into a full rat's snout, his ears traveling
even further up the sides of his head.  Staring back at him in the mirror
was a true Rat King.  His heavily muscled body was covered in grey fur, and
his tail flicked back and forth.  His hands and feet ended in wicked claws
that could shred flesh, and his head was almost completely that of a rat.
In less than twelve hours, he had been completely remade, and he wanted to
explore his new power.  With his horde of rodent followers close on his
furry heels, he sprinted off through the sewers, relishing the darkness
that his red eyes made bright as day.

                                                *****

        April O'Neil glanced at her watch as she approached the crash sight.
Four AM.   She was dressed in black jeans, an old black sweatshirt, and her
customary Yankees cap.  Sticking to the shadows she peered around the
corner of an alley way: the crater was cordoned off with police tape, but
there were no guards in sight.  Running bent over to the edge of the hole,
she clipped a climbing rope to a bent steel support protruding from what
had been the concrete street.  She turned on her flashlight and shone it
below her as she rappelled down into the sewers.

                                                *****

        The Rat King smelled something- a familiar scent.  Some part of his
human brain had registered it long ago, but he would never have recognized it
without his new rat senses.  A human woman.  But why so familiar?  At last
he recognized it: the reporter who helped the turtles.  April O'Neil.   He
smiled cruelly, his sharp fangs glinting coldly in the near total darkness.
 He turned to follow the scent.

                                                *****

        April hit the hard stone sewer floor with a grunt, nearly knocking
the wind out of herself.  She shone her flashlight along the walls, looking for
anything out of the ordinary.  The beam stopped on the crater, and she
tip-toed toward it to take a look.  Out of her bag came a small camera, and
she took a picture, the flash illuminating the dark cavern.

                                                *****

        As the scent grew nearer, a burst of light alerted the Rat King to
the woman reporter's presence, silhouetting her against the bare sewer wall.
He dropped to all fours, and approached her, quiet as a mouse.

                                                *****

        April took another picture, then decide she was finished for the
time being.  After a shower and a good night's sleep, she would take the film to
the lab to get it developed.  She didn't see or hear the dark shape
creeping up on her, but some sort of intuition gave her enough warning to
turn around just as it pounced on her, and then she fell unconcious.

                                                *****

        The Rat King carried the woman's prone body back to his lair, and
placed it gingerly in a corner of the room.  He retreated to the opposite corner,
and waited.  It was too perfect.  This would make his revenge on the hated
Turtles all the more sweet.

                                                *****

        April wasn't sure how long she'd been out, but when she came too it
was still very dark, and there was a throbbing pressure on the back of her head
suggesting a blow to the head had rendered her unconscious.  She looked
around but couldn't see a thing, the only illumination in the room being a
very faint green glow from somewhere to her right.  As she was feeling
around for her flashlight, two pinpoints of red light appeared in front of
her, how far away she couldn't tell.  Finally finding her light she
switched it on, illuminating the horrid face of a giant rat.  She gasped,
terrified, trying to catch her breath.
        "Oh my god, what are you?"
        "What, you don't remember me?  I am the Rat King."
        "But the Rat King is human!  You're, you're . . ."
        "I am the Rat King.  And I am going to destroy your precious
turtles, but first I'm going to deal with you."
         The rat-creature advanced on her menacingly.  She scrambled to her
feet, and turned to flee, her eyes finally adjusting to the dim light.  As she
ran, the green light became closer and brighter.  She was forced to stop to
catch her breath, and when she did, she found herself face to face with a
green-glowing statue of a rat.  She could feel heat emanating from it, but
reminded herself she didn't have time to stop to look at it.  As she was
about to turn toward a side tunnel and keep running., she found her wrists
caught by hairy grey paws.  She whirled her head around and found the Rat
King leering at her.  He forced her palms down onto the green statue, and
its searing heat burned her palms.  She screamed and the Rat King laughed.
 Remembering the Judo Mike had taught her, she shot her elbow back into his
stomach, and was rewarded with a *whoosh* as she knocked the wind out of
his lungs.  His grip loosened, and she slipped away, sprinting for her
life.  She glanced back over her shoulder, and saw that the creature that
used to be the Rat King wasn't even trying to pursue her.  He just sat on
the ground laughing.

                                                *****

        April made it back to the crater and up her rope, and sprinted back
to her apartment.  Once inside, she locked and bolted the door, and glanced at the
clock.  It read 6:30, and she could see the first rays of dawn filtering
through her window.  She went to the kitchen and ran cold water on her
burned hands, and then headed for the bathroom, despairing that she had to
be at work in four hours.  She was exhausted, and her confrontation with
the Rat King had terrified her, but she was used to it.  Ever since she met
the Turtles, it seemed her life was full of events like that.  She
collapsed on her bed, not even bothering to remove her clothes

                                                *****

        The buzzing of her alarm woke her after only three and a half hours
of sleep.  Oddly, she felt completely rested.  Not being the type of person to
look a gift horse in the mouth, she peeled off her grimy clothes and
stepped in the shower.  As she lathered herself, she noticed dark stubble
on her legs and under her arms.  Sighing, she grabbed her razor for a quick
shave.
        She had to anchor the One O'Clock News, so she dressed in a
conservative pant suit and white blouse.  She glanced at her watch, and, realizing she
would be late getting into the station and wouldn't have time to get her
make-up or hair done, did it herself.  It was a rush-job, but adequate.
She dashed out the door, wishing she had time to pluck her eyebrows.  They
were getting a little thick.

                                                *****

        She made it to the station just in time, getting a snide comment
from Vernon, her co-anchor, but doing a fine job of the news.  When she took off
her microphone at the end of the broadcast, her nails seemed a little long.
 She decided to file them when she got home.  Finishing her post show notes
took about an hour.  She unclipped her mike, and got up.   As she walked
off the set, Irma appeared with a cup of coffee.
        "How did last night's expedition go?"
        "You're not going to believe it Irma.  I ran into the Rat King."
        "That bastard who turned me into a were-rat?"
        "Yeah, except he's turned into a rat too!   I have to let the
turtles know, but I'm really tired.  I think I'm going to head home for a nap."
She hadn't realized it until just then, but she really needed a nap.  She
thought nothing of it though, figuring it was just the previous night
catching up with her.
        "Serves him right.  You can't just go around turning people into
rats.  Go home April get some sleep.  I'll see you tonight."
        "See you later Irma."

                                                *****

        April got home at four, took off her clothes, and crawled into bed.
She fell asleep immediately.  It was three hours later when she awoke, and she
decided to go to the bathroom and take care of plucking her eyebrows.  She
opened the mirror-cabinet, and reached for her tweezers.  Glancing at her
hand surprised her. Her nails had grown longer, by almost two inches, and
there were dark grey hairs all over the back of her hands.  April's Irish
background gave her pale skin and very little body hair, so the growth was
quite unusual.  Closing the mirror, she reached up with the tweezers to
pluck her eyebrows, which seemed even thicker than before.  It took her a
moment to notice, but her irises had turned blood red.
        "Oh my god," she gasped.  As her mouth opened in shock, she saw that
her teeth had grown very long and sharp.
        "What's happening to me?"  She looked down at her hands, and watched
in horror as the  growth of grey hair there thickened, and started spreading
up her forearms.  Staggering back from the mirror, she bumped into the
toilet and fell on top of it, unbalanced.  Looking down at her long,
shapely legs, she saw dark stubble.  As she looked down, grey hairs started
sprouting from her calves and thighs, and her toenails, sharper than they
should be like her fingernails, grew longer as well.
        The hair grew in thickly all over her legs and feet, and then
started to appear on her stomach.  She shrieked in horror, and got up and ran to the
mirror.  The grey fur crept up her chest, and now covered her entire body
to her neck.  What she saw in the mirror was terrifying.  Her eyes blazed
red, and all of her teeth had grown into sharp fangs.  The fur was now
growing on her forehead and cheeks, and her nose had become leathery and
black.  She watched her ears become rounded like a mouses, and her face
begin to push out into a muzzle.
        ‘My God, she thought.  ‘I've got to find Don, maybe he can help me.'
        Almost as soon as she thought it, another thought popped into her
mind:
        ‘Why do I need help?  This is the way I'm supposed to be.  I have
power now.'
        "Why did I think that?  What's wrong with me?"
         She was on the verge of tears.   Outside the sun was setting.
April ran back into her bedroom, to find something that would cover the horrible
changes while she made her way to the Turtles hide out.  Just then there
was a knock, and she heard the hinges of her door creak as they opened.
        "April?  It's Irma.  I brought you some dinner."
        ‘I need to get rid of her,' she thought, ‘but how?'
        "Uh, just leave it on the table Irma, I'm feeling really sick, and I
don't want you to catch anything."
        "Don't be silly," said Irma as she pushed open the door to April's
bedroom, and then dropped the bag she was carrying in horror at April's
appearance.
        "April!  What happened to you?  You're turning into a . . . a. . ."
        "A rat.  I know." She wailed.
        "We need to get you help!"
        "Why would I need help?" She Snapped.  "This is how I'm supposed to
be! Oh God, I'm sorry Irma.  I don't know why I said that."
        "I do," rasped a scratchy inhuman voice.
        The two women spun around and found themselves face to face with the
Rat King.
        "You!  You did this to me!"
        "Yes I did.  What better way for the Rat King to get revenge on
those blasted Turtles than by turning their pet reporter into his Rat Queen."
        "You'll never get away with this!"  Irma yelled.  "The turtles will
stop you.  The Rat Kings red eyes bored into her.
        "Irma.  I remember you.  The flute I used to transform you was
destroyed, but there is still some rat in you.  I think it's time for it to come out."
         Irma couldn't look away, his eyes held her.  She felt a sudden pain
in her feet.  To her shock and amazement, they tore through her sneakers and
sox, revealing them to be growing long, clawed and hairy.  The same fur on
her feet grew to cover the legs visible below her skirt, and then up her
arms, neck and face.  Her ears shot up and her face exploded into a rat's
snout as her hands became clawed paws, and a tail slithered out from her
skirt.
        "Isn't that better Irma?"
        "Yes, my king."
        "Now, April, my queen, it is time for us to return to our lair."
        "Never!  I'll never be your queen!"  But April could feel her will
slipping away from her.  Imagine the power, she thought.  Looking at her
body, she couldn't help but think it was beautiful.  She was a rat now, a
creature of stealth and grace-
        "NO!" She screamed.
        "Don't fight it April," The Rat King replied.  "It's too late
anyway."
        "No. . ." but the last of her humanity was fading away.  She felt a
tail burst forth, and her face finish its metamorphosis.
        "Yes.  Let us return to our lair my King, and we can at last destroy
the Turtles.  Come Irma, let us go."
        April was rejoicing in her new power.  She loved being a rat.

                                                *****

        Raphael was just returning from one of his customary solitary walks
when he found the note.  He rushed inside the Turtles' den and shouted for the
others.
        "Guys!  Guys!  Look at this!"
        "This" was a note, scrawled on a piece of shopping bag:

        I have April O'Neil and her friend Irma, and am waiting for you to
come get them.
                                                        The Rat King

        Attached to the note was a map.
        "What are we gonna do guys?"   Mike asked.
        Raphael grabbed his sais and tucked them into his belt.
        "We're gonna go get them."

                                                *****

        The Turtles followed the map cautiously, on the look out for
ambushes.  They quickly made their way into the indicated part of the sewers, where it
was pitch black.  Michelangelo called out softly:
        "April, Irma?  It's us.  We're here to rescue you."
        "Who says we need rescuing?" April, who now though of herself as the
Rat Queen replied.
        Harsh electric lights flashed on from overhead, and the turtles
stared in horror at Irma and April.  The Rat King stepped out of the shadows, his arm
caressing April's grey furred shoulder.
        "She is mine now Turtles, and you will die."
        "April, Irma, come with us.  We can help you," Leo implored.
        "You're the one who needs help, Turtle," April spat as she leapt.
Irma and the Rat King followed suit.
        The battle that followed was fierce but brief.  Every time one of
the turtles tried to strike the rat creatures that used to be April and Irma,
they found themselves stopping short.  The rat women had no such
reservations, and their strength and speed was terrifying.  In short order,
the turtles were beaten, lying on the ground the victim of vicious claw and
bite wounds.  The Rat King just laughed.
        "Finally!  Victorious!  All because of the meteorite."
        Don perked up at that, and for the first time noticed the green rat
statue.  The geiger counter that he had never taken from his belt was
beeping ferociously.  With the last of his strength, he hurled his bo staff
at the statue, shattering it.
        "NOOOOOOOOO!" screamed the Rat King, who hurled himself at
Donatello, only to find himself impaled on the end of Leonardo's katana.  Leo pushed him
off and turned to the two women, who had collapsed on the ground and were
shaking.  Slowly, fur, claws and fangs retracted back into their bodies,
leaving two shivering, horrified naked women.
        "Oh guys, what have I done?  I'm so sorry!"  April started weeping,
and Mike went to her.
        "Shh.  It's okay April, it wasn't your fault.  Come one, we'll get
you home."
        They all set off back to the Turtles' place.

                                                *****

        Irma and April recovered from the horrors of their ordeal at the
hands of the Rat King quickly, and Don assured them after quick examinations that
they were fine.  The next day at work, neither of them mentioned it.  After
the show, April headed home.  As she sat down to relax, she looked at her
calves, visible beneath her skirt.  They had a little stubble on them and
needed a shave.  A part of her couldn't help wishing they were still
covered with fur.  She went to the refrigerator to find something to eat,
and settled on a large block of cheese.  After finishing her meal, she
walked to the bedroom.  Holding her clawed hands in front of her red eyes,
she smiled in delight, revealing fangs, as fur swept over them.   The Rat
Queen would live again . . .