Finnick awakens feeling more refreshed and alert than he has in months. He feels like a new person. Considering the titanic amount of alcohol he consumed the night prior this is an especially welcome surprise. By some unrepeatable combination of factors the fennec fox has dodged the bullet of a crippling hangover and now lays comfortably sprawled within the silky sheets of his bed.

Only, Finnick does not own a bed. His eyes shoot open. With rapidly mounting confusion the fox's eyes take in his surroundings. Finnick is in a large, comfortable bed within a handsomely furnished bedroom that is presently lit by the rays of the morning sun which steal inside through the slats of wooden blinds. The furniture is wooden as well and in a style matching that of the blinds. A set of clothes has been carefully arranged with each of its pieces hanging from a different drawer of a bureau. Paranoid, Finnick freezes in place. He doesn't remember hooking up with anyone last night, biblically drunk as he may have been. Even if he had he doesn't know any ladies with digs as nice as these and he definitely doesn't know anyone fastidious enough to arrange their clothes before going to bed.

After several minutes of frantically trying to make sense of his situation Finnick sits up and feels very odd in doing so.

“Yo! Whe-- what the ….hell?” Finnick says in a voice a timbre apart from his usual one. It is deep, but tinged with an unfamiliar accent. Feeling a sting at the base of his neck Finnick automatically slaps the spot and inspects his hand. Not only is there no trace of an insect, but the hand he sees is not his own. And after a moment of absently twiddling its fingers Finnick begins to panic.

“Aahhhhhh! Wha-what is this? Shhiiiiiiit.” Finnick shouts, as he inspects himself. Instead of his normal, small hand-paws he was met with meaty hoof-hands with sturdy digits. The arms themselves, his own apparently, are thick and sinewy as suspension bridge cables. After swiping away the bed sheets Finnick finds he is, somehow, inhabiting the body of a buffalo and a huge specimen at that. “What is this?!” Finnick thrashes himself free of the sheets and lands with a heavy -clop- on the wooden floor. He stands on short, but incredibly strong legs and looks all about his person. Or the person whose body he is presently controlling anyhow.

“This's got to be a dream. Noooooo way.” Finnick says in the buffalo's slight accent. He had been understandably shocked, but his apprehension is steadily giving way to excitement. Even though Finnick has no idea how he is experiencing what he is at this moment he feels comfortable in an indescribable way. He knows intuitively that he is merely a transient passenger in the burly body and not a permanent resident. At any rate the fox within the buffalo is alert from the nights sleep and bristling with this body's natural strength. And Finnick, though he would never admit this to another soul, has always wondered what life is like for the animals that are orders larger in stature than himself. He clops eagerly to a full body mirror beside the bureau.

“Oh ho ho ho shit! I'm the chief of police? What was his name again...?” Finnick says, scanning the room until his eyes fall upon a pristine blue uniform peeking out of the buffalo's closet. “Bogo right, right. I have no idea what's going … but damn, this guy is just meat. All meat. Yeeeah.” Finnick says, flexing and posing in the mirror. Dressed only in Bogo's tight briefs he finds there is much to bare. The tight curves of buffalo musculature are clearly not the result of biology alone, but also of a lifetime of dedication and upkeep. Finnick grins, an action he assumes the chief does not do often judging by the scowl in which the face naturally sits. Finnick makes a few hops and feels the unseeming adroitness in Bogo's legs. He is a heavy mammal of course. With a heavy step Finnick could rattle the chief's keys on the table across the room. But it is weight with purpose. He throws a few punches and the hardened fists move faster than his eyes can follow them.

“This-this is actually pretty awesome.” Finnick says, looking down at his strong, three-fingered hands. “But wait if I'm here right now, where am … I?” Is his body vacant in his van where he'd passed out? Have he and Bogo switched bodies? In the glaring light of these impossible circumstances truly anything is possible. The fox is understandably clueless as to what he ought to do next. His first instinct is to tell someone, but he quickly realizes that his ravings would be coming form Chief Bogo's mouth and not his own. How would he convince his friends or family of his identity?

“Damn, I wish I could tell Nick about this.” Finnick says slouching Bogo's shoulders. When Finnick's next, genius idea strikes he erupts into a cackling fit that would sound natural in his own body, but coming from the chief sounds awkward and unsettling. “Wait a minute. I'm Nick's boss! Heheheheheh. Ooooooh Nickie boy I'm going to mess with you so good.” Finnick rushes to the bureau where the buffalo had laid out his uniform. His mind races with ideas for tormenting his friend and partner. He emits more awkward chuckles as he slips on Bogo's pants. When he dons the chief's shirt he learns that the broad chest doesn't quite fit so he leaves the top few buttons unfastened which affords a view of the buffalo's enviable musculature.

Finnick has no idea what sort of salary a police chief earns but judging by the buffalo's upscale apartment and the choice view of Savannah Central Square from his bedroom window he has to assume that Bogo either earns a handsome wage or he is uncommonly frugal. The extreme orderliness of Bogo's entire home leads Finnick to make the latter assumption. Finnick locks Bogo's apartment, descends the central stairway with a spring in his step, and soon emerges into the mild day.

“This guy is freakin' loaded.” Finnick says, stumbling onto the sidewalk as he gazes up at the classical architecture of one of Savannah Central's finest residential boroughs. Finnick hardly ever has a pretext to visit Savannah Cetnral. It is usually a scam or hustle that brings him to the ritzy quarter and it's not as though he has time to enjoy the scenery when he's on a job. The fox is soon brought to his senses when he hears a shriek underfoot.

“Hey! Watchit big guy.”

Finnick freezes with his foot in the air and watches as a pair of slinking ferrets angrily pass him by. Only now does it occur to the fox that he is one of the huge animals now. Dodging larger animals as a creature Finnicks size or smaller is a constant concern when commuting. He plants Bogo's foot on the ground carefully and the proceeds in the direction of the Zootopia Police Department with caution. Knowing intimately the frustration of having to avoid larger animals he is determined to be as considerate as possible to the small mammals with whom he is sharing a sidewalk. After Finnick has hit a stride he steadily realizes that being in Bogo's body has other perks. As a fennec fox Finnick is commonly, and to his great frustration, considered cute and harmless. His friends know the fox's true, temperamental nature. In both of these attitudes though there is very little of actual respect. Especially after the Nighthowlers scare which damaged public sentiment toward predators. Now however, in the body of an herbivore and respected member of the community, Finnick is greeted with admiration and respect. Judging by the number of friendly greetings Finnick is forced to clumsily respond to the chief is a far more personable character than one would guess given his coldness. Another aspect of this experience that Finnick cannot ignore is Bogo's palpable sex appeal. He catches the eyes of dozens of females, and males, on his way to the station. Unable to control himself the fox winks at the finest of the ladies while adopting a confident swagger.

The ZPD is a mere twenty-minutes walk from the chief's apartment. Finnick rounds Parkfront Ave. and finds himself in the Square proper with the train station on his left, Mayor's office to his front, and the ZPD looming to the right. Finnick, still brimming with the chief's vigor, strides toward the ZPD. It is at this point that Finnick becomes aware of an unusual sensation. It had been growing since he stepped out onto the sidewalk. The fox is feeling flashes of the buffalo's instincts or memories. For instance when passing a cafe Finnick had the sudden urge to walk inside and order a croissant. The fox has been receiving bits of Bogo's temper at minor annoyances as well. Of course Finnick is known for his temper as well so he didn't notice this mental influence at first. These flashes of Bogo's inner world are surprisingly not alarming to Finnick. Again he feels like the situation should be terribly upsetting, but he can't bring himself to worry.

As the fox approaches the ZPD he catches sight of a few officers sneaking into the building. When they notice the chief approaching they nearly trample one another in a mad rush to the entrance. Finnick shrugs and clops up the stairs. After brushing aside the department doors he is greeted by some saluting officers and by the portly cheetah manning the reception desk.

Startled by the sudden attention Finnick freezes. Bogo's instincts inform him how he ought to proceed. The fox adopts a scowl and walks confidently toward the reception desk. While he may have bits of Bogo's instincts, he doesn't have a command of his memories and therefore has no idea where Bogo's office is.

“Good morning chief!” The cheetah says, waving to Finnick instead of saluting as his peers had. “A little late for the morning meeting huh?”

“H-hi. Ummm, Ben?” Finnick says, regarding the name card on the desk. Finnick realizes he did a poor imitation of the chief when the cheetah is instantly thrown off by the awkward greeting.

“Ben? Woah, you haven't called me Ben in forever, chief.” The cheetah says. The genuine grin that spreads across his muzzle does something to Bogo's body that Finnick has a hard time understanding. “Are we 'first-name-at-work' buddies now?”

“Heh, I-uhh.” Finnick stammers. “Maybe-I'm.”

“You feeling alright Chief?” Officer Clawhauser asks, leaning forward in concern. His long tail swishes . When Finnick accidentally makes eye contact with the cheetah he understands the waves of apprehension welling up in Bogo's body. The chief is aroused. Finnick's eyes widen as he steps away from the Cheetah's inviting gesture.

“Just.. got a bad headache. Hey which way is my office?” Finnick says, averting his eyes from the cheetah's. Bogo apparently has some homosexual leanings or a history with Clawhauser. Whichever the case the fox decidedly does not share these tastes and would like to remove himself from the cat's confounding presence as quickly as possible.

“Uhhhh, up the stairs and take a left.” Clawhauser says, pointing across the lobby. The look of earnest worry on his face does nothing to calm the chief's nerves.

“Thanks. Oh, tell Ni—er Officer Wilde I have to talk to him after the meeting thing.” Finnick says before making his way to the stairs.

“Sure thing. You know where to find me if you want to talk or anything chief! Oh I mean 'Bogo' heh.” Clawhauser says at the top of his lungs causing Finnick to wince.

“That was fuckin' weird. -This- guy's gay? Wow.” Finnick says under his breath. He stows the incriminating bit of information away. Free of Clawhauser's influence the chief's body relaxes relaxes and Finnick shakes off the lingering anxiety. Arriving at a door marked 'Police Chief Bogo' He steps inside.

The chief's office, which would be cavernous for Finnick's body, is roomy even for an animal Bogo's size. The fox shuts the door and walks aimlessly through the buffalo's workplace. A wall-sized map of the Zootopia area adorns the left wall and wide, handsome windows stream in sunlight behind a large desk. Finnick plops into Bogo's chair. With nothing in particular to do until his much awaited opportunity to prank his fox friend he idly searches through Bogo's desk. On its surface are dozens of what Finnick assumes are case files. There is a well-used laptop and a photo of Bogo surrounded by dozens of other proud officers and shaking hands with the former mayor, Lionheart. Digging through the drawers with Bogo's meaty hands Finnick finds a tucked away photo. Eyeing it, Finnick is surprised to see Bogo grinning wider than he would have thought him capable, dressed sharply and embracing a similarly dolled up female buffalo. The couple are young and bright-eyed. The photo itself is quite worn.

“So he's not gay? Damn this guy's got some … stuff going on.” Finnick says, feeling for the first time since waking that he is severely intruding on someone else's life. The fox sits, drumming Bogo's fingers on the table until a knock is heard at the door.

“Wilde, sir.”

A childish grin spreads across Finnick's mouth. He takes a deep breath and tries to put himself back into Bogo's natural carriage.

“Get in here fox!” Finnick shouts sternly. The door creaks open and Nick Wilde saunters into the office looking more unaffected than usual in the face of his direct superior. He bothers with a halfhearted salute that Finnick is sure Bogo would find disrespectful. Nick's unusual cockiness is a welcome surprise to Finnick who is prepared to use all of Nick's private details, revealed to the fennec fox in confidence, to embarrass him as much as possible.

“Good morning to you too sir.” Nick says, slouching a bit. Before adding with a note of sincerity “What can I do for you?”

“Take a seat.” Finnick says, already struggling mightily to hold back chuckles. The red fox hops onto the large chair.

“Officer Wilde. I think it's time we had a little talk.” Finnick says, rising to enjoy Bogo's looming stature over Nick. The fox is unaffected by the gesture.

“You want to talk? That's a new one, sir.” Nick says.

“I've been hearing a few rumors, Wilde. And I been seeing some things.” Finnick says, leaning against the desk before Nick. “This is kind of awkward, but it's time we had a conversation about inter-species relationships on the force.” The instinctual nervous flick of Nick's long ears betrays his discomfort. Otherwise he remains as collected as he was prior to Finnick's statement.

“I'm sorry sir, I have no idea what you're talking about. You don't think...” Nick says “Me and Hopps? Haha. You know, to be completely honest, I was starting to think you had no sense of humor. Like none. Hooo boy.” The fox plays up his humor.

“Come on fox, don't play dumb with me. The whole department can see it. If you and the rabbit are going to be in a serious relationship, in MY department, we need to have a chat.” Finnick says, standing straight which causes Nick to literally squirm in his mounting anxiety.

“It's really, really not like that chief.” Nick says. Butting against Finnick's unwavering grimace he tries another tack “I don't do the whole inter-species thing.”

“Ha-hah. Sure. Totally understandable... Except officer, er, Delgato says he saw you and Judy 'fooling around' after the banquet. Says you two were hugging for a little too long. And kissing?” Finnick says. He brandishes the secret information like an expert fencer would a sword. Nick's eyes widen as he finally loses his cool. He was certain he and Judy had been alone in the parking lot of the Clawson Banquet Hall. Of course she was the one who came onto him with her usual vigor, leaving the fox to hope no one caught them in the act. No one had, but now Finnick is delighting in convincing his friend that his secret is a well known fact in the department.

“I uhh, no. No that's not what happened. There was--” Nick says. Finnick has never seen him so unbalanced.

“There's rumors of you two holding hands around town. It's alright Wilde, no judgement here.” Finnick says. Nick looks up at him with wide eyes. Inter-species relationships are accepted more and more in Zootopia, but systemic prejudice is still very much a thing and especially so in hierarchical career path like law enforcement. If Nick and Judy were to become an item officially it could seriously impact their professional lives.

“But we have to talk about it. I'm on your side, Nick.” Finnick says.

“Uhhhhh, but!” Nick says, staring at the buffalo in overwhelming confusion.

“I'm going to need to know when you and Ms. Judy Hopps started your relationship. I'll talk to her too. 'Who made the first move.?' There's going to be loads of paperwork. Don't worry, I'll help you through this.” Finnick says, placing a hand on Nick's shoulder which, judging by Nick's expression, is a gesture he'd never have expected from Bogo. Exactly as Finnick planned. Nick is clutching his seat so tightly he's probably leaving claw marks.

“She-uhh. Well, OK fine. If you want the truth: she came onto me first--” Nick says, before he is interrupted by the beeping of Bogo's intercom. When Finnick walks around Bogo's desk to tend to the call Nick deflates in relief. It takes Finnick an awkward moment of pressing buttons until the cheery voice of Clawhauser breaks the heavy silence in the office.

“Ahhhhh, hi Sir—Bogo, Sir. There' a fennec fox down here, he says he has to talk to you.” The cheetah says. Finnick's eyes widen.

“Um, send him up.” He says slowly. Over the course of the day he had come to expect that this development would happen. The fox at the desk must be Bogo operating his body.

“Well he actually already headed up. Sorry, Chief, he was really grumpy.” The call ends and both Nick and Bogo jump when Bogo's door is hastily opened. Falling to the ground then, as he had to jump to reach the knob, is Finnick. or the fox's body rather. The little mammal and Finnick lock eyes and it is immediately clear that Bogo is controlling his body. They've switched.

“You're …. me.” Finnick says, pointing. The disgrunted fox in the doorway is similarly stunned.

“Unbelievable.” He says.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” Nick says, addressing the person in his friend's body. The large-eared critter turns slowly to Nick.

“Get back to work fox.” He says calmly.

“What?!” Nick says.

“Get back to work fox.” Finnick says, pointing to the lobby. Nick is more than happy to follow his superior's order and, with the agility afforded him by his species, darts from the room in scant seconds leaving Finnick and Bogo to gawk at themselves.

“We need to talk.” Bogo says, slamming his door shut.

“Yeah. No kidding.”