The Doberman is in my body… What's up with all this butt-sniffing?
I won't lie to you. The universe probably shouldn't trust me with this kind of power. The only thing keeping me from blowing up the earth or at least displacing it for a few million light-years so it collides with that huge chocolate syrup waterfall is my own ignorance of how my powers even work.
Most of it seems to be willpower-based. I think, therefore I am… upside-down with my head stuck in a bathtub of ice cream while my socks transmute into gummy slugs. The universe serves Prussia because Prussia is too advanced and majestic a being to serve the universe. Either that, or the universe doesn't care one bit about Prussia, and so Prussia's really just falling down through the endless void, only to attract endless weirdness at his heels. Over time, I've learned a fair bit about the science I use, and the not-science, and the straight-up magic. Each weird push or pull of reality has a certain feel to it.
I've learned to be gentle so I don't hurt anyone, save Germany, who was blasted into a pile of chocolate candies again last week. What a freaking mess. I had to freeze the dogs in time so they wouldn't eat him. Even after I transmuted the chocolate back to flesh, I still had to mold him into the shape of Germany again. All the while his consciousness was in nation limbo, thinking I had stabbed him as an act of war.
Some of my powers are involuntary, like when I forget to stabilize my 3-D form in the mornings and I appear to Germany as a giant, poorly-rendered sock puppet. He says I don't look like a sock puppet, but he still stares at me when it happens. I at least look transparent or shifty to his mortal eyes.
But as long as I know how to reconstruct my body parts, or cells, or atoms, or Platonic concept-matter, I'm good as gold for blasting myself into oblivion when my powers go awry. My consciousness cannot be tampered with, and the most basic sparkling elements of Prussia, even moreso than regular matter, are absolutely indestructible.
It's the Alien Ladies' decree: If I'm destroyed, I rebuild myself. If I die, I come back good as new.
Of course, it's not the Ladies' job to get me out of hairy situations, like when something feels just off, but I can't remember exactly what I did. Right now, for instance.
I breathe in through my nose. It sounds all snuffly, and I sneeze. This… this doesn't feel or smell like my bed. It smells like damp meat.
Crap, I sleep-teleported again.
I open my eyes, then shift myself over. Or at least try to. My shoulders feel all bent and misshapen. I pop them forward with two awful CRACKs, but then my neck is all stiff. Not right, not right. I pop them back into their bent positions. Maybe if I just scoot my legs, nope, those are misshapen, too. My feet are all stretched out, and my toenails feel way too long.
I yawn, and the answer is right in front of me. My tongue lolls out of my mouth like a big pink slobbery slug, and my nose wiggles when I move my head. Black and fuzzy, with a wet black button on the end. I reach up my hands to feel it, but I no longer have fingers — only these stubby swollen toes that end in manicured claws.
I try to speak, but my voice is a growly whine. Four limbs pop me up, and I'm soon spinning in circles chasing a docked tail that won't quit its wiggling! My back is all sleek and furry. I can feel my ears twitching. My teeth are all sharp and vicious in my mouth.
I trot to the mirror and take in the reflection of a certain Doberman Pinscher.
Berlitz.
I possessed one of the dogs. That's all right. I've been practicing my possessions. If I'm correct, I should be able to feel my idle body attached somehow. Either inside the belly, or hovering around the skeleton like a gas, or fused with the skin in a jelly-form, or… this doesn't seem right. I can't sense my body at all! It's somewhere else!
My consciousness hopped. And that means I'm probably still down in the basement. If I could just… heh, nyeh! Boof-woof!
Nope. Can't get the door open.
No worries. Germany will let me out. I scamper over and bound up on the bed with an effortless five-foot leap. My nose darts into the covers, wriggling all over Germany's disheveled hair. He's cuddling with a pillow. I have to be very careful because sometimes if I disturb his sleep, he punches me.
"Bark-boook!" I cry in his ear. My tongue dips out of my mouth automatically, and I lap at his exposed ear.
"RRRRarrr-rar! RRRRar!"
The covers beside Germany jump, then blow off completely, and up rises the vicious guard-dog form of… me?
Wait, wait, I'm in the Doberman's body… no… impossible… the Doberman is in my body?
I watch as my tongue spills from my mouth, all fat and slimy. Then my red eyes go all narrow and steely, and my lips ride up over my teeth, and I'm clawing forward on the bed with a throaty growl that quite honestly scares me. I bolt from the bed, and my body follows, nipping and barking. Berlitz stumbles when he realizes his legs are too long now, but that won't deter him. He chases me to the door, then clamps down hard on my scruff and shakes his head from side to side. I let out a loud squeal, then whip my head around and bite a flailing arm. No, not too hard! Can't injure my body, but damn, fick, this hurts!
Germany's up and out of bed. Aster, the blonde Hovawart, gets up off his feet and follows him to the door, where he wrenches me away from Berlitz. He slaps my head with his meaty hand, then punches the other right in the ribs. Berlitz slides down against the wall, whimpering.
"Why are you in here terrorizing the dogs!?" He erupts at the puppylike image of my body. I scoot back, inching for the door, but he grabs my scruff and pulls me forward. Berlitz licks his chops the way he does when he's nervous.
"You apologize to Berlitz and pet him and give him a kiss."
I'm placed before my body, who gives a clueless cock of the head and a throaty howl up to my brother. I bark in laughter, then break into anxious spinning again. Why won't that damn tail stop wiggling!? It's nothing but a nub! It should stay stationary and silent, like every good Prussian soldier! Don't you dare disobey me now! I'm not afraid of skewering my own men in the name of discipline!
Berlitz has forgotten his shame and darts out to bite me again, but Germany stops him with two great muscular arms around his middle. He growls and sputters, but he knows better than to sink his teeth into the one who gives him cuddles, so when Germany throws him over his shoulder, he complies and goes limp, only wiggling his butt.
Out the door we go! Though I have no reason to be in the basement now. How did I end up switching bodies with the dog? Was I trying to possess him? I must have been in Germany's room last night, and that's how Berlitz took his usual position under the covers next to Germany.
I meet the third member of the furry family, Blackie the German Shepherd, at the foot of the stairs. He's older and prefers to think of himself as the perfect guard dog, so he always sleeps on the living room couch. He jumps down from his perch and swings around to sniff my butt. Offended immediately, I feel my lips ride up to reveal my gleaming teeth. I growl at the old man until he folds back his ears and finds his way to Germany, who's trying to plop my body down at the kitchen table.
"Prussia, just sit, will you? Brother! It's too early in the morning for games! You're not a dog!"
Meanwhile, Berlitz is snarling and wriggling out of Germany's grip. He falls out of the chair and crawls on four limbs to his food bowl, where he plops his butt down and gives his expectant look for breakfast. He peers down at his paws-turned hands, then flexes and wiggles the fingers, utterly fascinated.
"You want to eat out of the dog bowl. I'm not sure Berlitz would appreciate that."
I don't have time to appreciate it because Blackie is sniffing my butthole again. Seriously, I thought I'd be done with the butthole jokes, but it seems the more I ascend into omnipotence, the more I regress into childishness. Must be how the cosmos keep me balanced. I become a dog, I have to sniff butts.
"But I'm not sniffing your butt," I tell Blackie, though it comes out as "Graarr-rARRRr-grar."
I scamper over and stick my nose into Germany's pants, which I know will smell chemical fresh, since I have taught him to be a squeaky clean boy. There, cosmos. Two seconds. It's enough for Germany to kneel down and pat me on the head. Over in the corner, Berlitz is struggling to stretch my short neck down far enough to snap up the eggs and toast in his bowl. He finally discovers how the joints of his limbs work and lowers himself on his belly, kicking his legs out behind him. One foot whaps Aster in the face as she leans into her own food bowl.
"Brother, quit that. Explain yourself. I'm not taking any of your 'ascended being' crap this morning. There's absolutely no reason for you to be spooking the dogs."
Berlitz says nothing. He's focused on evolving. He wobbles at first, but slowly pivots on his feet until he's standing up on two legs. His hands dangle uselessly at his sides, and he shuffles over to the table. He sees the chair and knocks it out with his elbow, then awkwardly seats himself. At Germany's questioning gaze, he spits out his tongue and draws up his lips to smile.
"Were you always this weird?"
I take a seat at the table, too, since I'm the one who's still hungry! Berlitz leans forward to sniff me, and I lean forward to sniff him. My face looks all cute and babyish with those wide eyes and wriggling nose. Berlitz must realize I smell like he's supposed to because he jumps back in his seat and yelps, flailing his arms. I try flailing my arms, too, only to fail at sitting on my haunches and tumbling off the seat. Germany's shaking his head at the oven range. I bark at him, my tongue all hangy and my tail, oh, that tail, I'm going to—
Woah… what's that smell?
My doggie nose… it's so powerful that every sweet, salty, juicy, mouthwatering droplet of scent streaming from the stove is enough to make me jump up and back-flip a couple times. Flavor explodes on my palate without even tasting what I know is coming. It bursts into being under my Doberman fangs, and my nubby tail is now absolutely unstoppable.
That stuff's bacon.
Germany finishes frying it and brings it over to the table on a plate. I jump up and weave around his legs, whining and half-howling for a taste. Berlitz, though his nose is weaker, can also tell what delightful treat this is. He repeatedly slams his hands on the table and growls, narrowing snowy eyebrows.
Baconbaconbaconbaconbacon! My mind is on overdrive obsessing over bacon! Every old memory of Fritz is replaced with bacon! Every battle command. Every French poet. Every nickname for Austria, (even Edel-swine,) is utterly obliterated by bacon!
"No, Berlitz, down. You have your special diet food. Berlitz — brother!"
Berlitz tastes first blood. He snatches a strip of bacon off the plate when Germany isn't looking and greedily wolfs it down, realizing he can use his fingers to hold it as he chomps away. I clamber up onto the table and munch my own hot, salty prize. I savor the flavor even more with my big, broad tongue!
"Will you two cut this out!? The bacon was for me, and for Prussia if he decides to be a human today—"
Oh my GOD! MAKING THE DOGS HUMAN! THAT'S WHAT I WAS TRYING TO DO! I stare Berlitz right between the dopey red eyes. Our gazes lock, and I push my consciousness forward, warping the world in that same tug I felt last night.
Dogs are dogs. Dogs are Dogs. Dogs are dogs!
FLASH! SHEE-BAM!
My eyes roll up in my head, and my vision goes white before my body goes totally limp. Then my limbs are all tingly and cold before I lift my head and shake the grogginess from my brain. My chin is all slobbery.
I look at my hands and smirk.
"Good bacon," I tell Germany. "Yeah, I switched bodies with the dog."
"So it was you sniffing my butt?"
~N~
Prussia barks.
Updated by Syntax-N FanFiction . Net 16 June 2020. Reposters dust the piano room.