All seemed to go well until the moment when Feckless had to decide whether to go for a goodnight kiss on a first date. The Feghoots have never been known for reticence (let alone any shred of good sense), so Feckless decided to try for it. Alas for Feckless's reputation and peace of mind, he was betrayed at that point--thanks to the machinations of his father Ferdinand. As soon as Feckless had returned from his mission, Ferdinand had snatched him off across time lines to one in which a powerful were-magician practiced.

Feckless had watched in fascination as were-preying mantises had preyed on their insect adversaries, and were-sloths had hung upside down in contented slothdom, and were-muttaburrasauri had brayed and trumpeted as they'd rampaged across the landscape and joined battle with their were-stegosaurus counterparts. "Great!" Feckless had shouted. "Can I be a were-dinosaur, too?"

Alas for Feckless's hopes of a were-ego trip, he'd turned out to have no talent whatever as a were-dinosaur. Instead, he'd had to be content with being a were-seal. Swallowing his inevitable disappointment, however, he'd practiced diligently at being a were-seal in an ocean furnished by the were-magician for the purpose. By the time he'd returned to our time line, he'd become a quite accomplished were-seal.

Now Feckless was so excited that he unintentionally switched modes in mid-kiss. His date opened her eyes from a long, passionate smooch to discover that she'd been kissing a bewhiskered, rubbery-skinned, fishy-smelling sea-beast! Needless to say, she screeched as if she were trying to raise the dead. Then, as Feckless changed modes again and shambled off in humiliation, his distressed date's roommates gathered around to find out what was wrong. That put-upon woman, however, was too distraught to describe her just-concluded traumatic experience. All she could do was to groan, over and over, in utter dismay: