Wrong Delivery

Travis sat cross-legged on his leather couch, holding two black joy-cons in his hands. He stared at the TV displaying Pokémon Shield mounted against the wall. A few moments later, a sudden pounding at the door broke his concentration. Tilting his head, Travis confusedly began to scratch the back of his head, disturbing his black hair as he turned to face the door. Another knock echoed through the cramped room; this time accompanied with someone angrily shouting “Package! You gotta sign for it, and I’m not leaving till you do! I know you’re in there, pal!”

Muttering softly to himself, Travis finally got up, setting both the joy-cons down on the wooden coffee table before walking over to the door. Opening the chain-lock with a few quick motions, he swung the door open revealing a fat, portly man donning an all brown uniform. Without blinking an eye, they simply brandished a clipboard and pen towards Travis, promptly following it up with “Package. Sign on the dotted line, pal,” in an irritated tone.

Travis stared at the man in visible confusion for a split-second before he managed to mumble the words “I didn’t order anything though…”

The man rolled their eyes, looking up at the sky before angrily glaring back at Travis. “Look pal,” they irritably began through gritted teeth, shoving the label towards him. “I don’t care what you have to say. You see the label? Notice how it has your address on it? It means I gotta deliver this thing to you. I’m also required to get you to sign for it. Now, if you don’t wanna sign for it, that’s fine by me. I ain’t moving until you do. You’d be wasting your time, not mine. I get paid by the hour, so I’ll happily wait outside your house until you decide to sign for it.”

Shaking his head, and looking off to the side, Travis hesitantly reached out to grab the clipboard and pen. Briefly scanning over the fine print, he grabbed the pen and started to sign on the dotted line. Once he finished, he turned to look up at the man, softly asking him “So, do you know what’s inside?”

“No, I don’t. I only deliver the packages,” they angrily replied. With one quick motion, they snatched the clipboard out of Travis’s hands, and thrusted the package into his arms. Without another word, the portly man turned around and left, leaving Travis standing in the doorframe of his house. After a few seconds of silently standing there, he managed to force himself to turn around and head towards his kitchen.

Casually lobbing the package onto his kitchen table—the package noisily sliding across the table—plunged deeper into the kitchen. Quickly opening and shutting several drawers, he rummaged around for a knife. Once he found one, he returned to the package and yanked it towards him. Twirling the blade around in one hand, he theatrically stabbed the blade into the packaging tape, before pulling it towards him. The tape loudly ripped and teared as Travis opened the box.

Leaning forwards, Travis tilted his head as he cautiously stared inside. Lining the interior were bottles and flasks of varying sizes, each filled with a different colored liquid of different viscosities. Travis paused for a brief moment, standing besides himself as he recollected his thoughts. Hesitantly reaching forwards to pick up one of the jars, Travis lifted it up towards the ceiling lights. Written in a hasty script in dark black ink was the word “Raccoon.”

The contents were mostly brown, with some black and tan flecks floating around, illuminated by the shards of light passing through. It was when Travis slowly started rotating the bottle did he finally notice something—a faint crack in the bottle. His attention suddenly focused on it as he softly muttered “What?” to himself. Lifting the bottle up higher, Travis finally felt something cold and slimy fall onto his left foot.

Travis instantly froze, rooted to the spot. Plop. Another drop of whatever was in the bottle fell onto his foot. Plop. It seemed to start spreading along his foot, encasing it within itself. Plop. Whatever it was, it seemed to be leeching the warmth out of his foot as it went. Plop. Travis fearfully started trying to yank his foot up, away from whatever was spreading along it, but instead found it rooted to the spot. Plop. Time seemed to grow slower with each passing second.

Steeling his nerves, Travis forced himself to hastily place the bottle onto the table as he began hyperventilating. Fear and panic welled up inside of him as he watched in horror the mysterious liquid slowly engulfing his entire foot. He frantically turned to look inside the box, hurriedly rummaging around in it, pulling up bottle after bottle—the table violently shaking—until the sound of shattering glass echoed throughout his kitchen.

Instantly freezing, Travis blankly stared into the box, wide-eyed. He slowly shifted his gaze away from the box, and towards where he had just put the bottle. Instead, it was on the floor, shattered, with the brown liquid spilled everywhere. A few seconds later, Travis’s other foot suddenly grew much colder, as something wet and slimy began engulfing it. He slowly looked down at his feet—horrified at the giant blob of brown goo encasing his feet.

The mass writhed around his feet, loudly squelching with every movement. A few seconds later, it felt like someone had suddenly shoved him onto the floor, stomach-first. He laid on the ground for a few seconds until he slowly started to push himself up. As if guided by some unseen force, Travis slowly curled his legs, pushing them tightly against his sides as he splayed his fingers. Lowering his head to look towards his feet, he noticed the slime spreading up his legs in a myriad of gooey tendrils, the bulk of the sticky mass moving away from the furthest point of his toes.

In its wake, Travis noticed his feet—still dripping with slime—were now paw-like appendages, much smaller than what they had been before. His nails were twisted into curved claws, tapering off into a sharp point. Following the progression of the sticky goo as it steadily squelched up his legs, Travis helplessly watched as his legs were morphed, suddenly curving around at a sharp angle.

At the same time, somewhere in the back of his mind, he dully noted the feeling of warmth that was spreading through where the slime had once been—a sharp contrast to everywhere else on his body, which felt like a bitter cold. Lifting his head up, tilting it to the side, a stray thought crossed Travis’s mind. “What if I were to let it happen? Let whatever the slime is doing, do it? How bad could being a raccoon be after all?”

He blankly stared forwards for a second, seemingly entranced by the thought before he violently began shaking his head. Lowering his head down once again, Travis saw as the brown slime slowly overtook his knees, covering them in a dripping coat of shiny sludge. He groaned softly, feeling his mind growing ever-so-slightly number—more susceptible to change—as goo rhythmically splattered against the tile floor.

His eyes twitched softly as the slime surreptitiously squelched, gently forcing its way underneath his beige cargo shorts. Before Travis could even react, he felt the air being forced out from beneath his shorts—the slime rapidly consuming the entire spanse—as a loud ripping sound echoed through the kitchen. Coming to his senses for a moment, Travis worriedly scanned the sides of his shorts. Pouring through the tears was the brown goo.

Grunting loudly, Travis noisily started forcing himself onto his back as tiny flecks of brown slime were sprayed all over his shirt and face as he went. When he finished rotating himself around, he weakly raised his slimy legs up towards him as the slime finally ripped his shorts in half. Excess slime poured over his shirt in waves, seemingly cementing his torso in place. With the last little bit of strength Travis could muster, he grabbed the ripped edges of his pants, and weakly tried pulling them away from the slime.

The frayed fabric didn’t budge however; instead, the more Travis pulled at it, the more the slime seemed to tug harder, until he felt his hands dip beneath the surface. He instantly froze, feeling the slime steadily engulfing his hands with loud squelches. Frantically, Travis started to try to pull his hands out of the goo, watching as more and more slime poured over his shirt. It was only when he felt something start forming around his tailbone did Travis stop struggling.

With a curious look, Travis watched in rapt frisson as the mass slowly started growing in striped columns, alternating between brown and black. The excess slime dripping off his new appendage slowly started trailing upwards, towards the base of his chin. Seemingly effortlessly, he gently pulled his hands away from his slime-coated hips—the slime loudly squelching as a multitude of stringy strands of slime stretched between the two—and towards the gooey appendage.

Before Travis could object otherwise, he grabbed at the slimy appendage, running his gooey paw-like hands along it while he deliriously chuckled to himself. His mind felt simpler—less troubled by everything around him—as the goo steadily began working its way down the rest of his arms, towards his shoulders. At the same time of that, his still-forming tail started to drape onto his shirt, slowly growing towards the very base of his chin.

Within seconds, the excess slime from his tail soon fully coated the entirety of his shirt, leaving no trace of there ever being anything beneath it. Right as it reached the very base of his neck, Travis slowly raised his hands up towards his face. He blankly turned his paws over and over as goo dripped off them onto his face, towards his mouth and nose. Shutting his mouth, Travis felt the slime cement his lips shut and plug up his nose as the goo slowly formed a triangular mound. As it slowly formed the mound, Travis felt the rest of the slime making its way towards his ears.

The slime deafeningly squelched around his ears, seemingly inching forwards little by little until it finally reached his ear. Travis muffledly groaned as he felt the slime slowly covering his ears, as the world around him slowly grew quieter—the constant squelching sound steadily growing louder. Before long, the entire world around him was quiet as he felt a small seam in the slime around his newly formed muzzle. Unsteadily, he opened his maw, the slime splitting apart before it started working its way up towards his eyes.

In its wake, the goo suddenly lurched forwards, coating his eyes with one motion. The entire world went dark around him, plunging him into a stifling limbo. He felt the slime slowly working its way up his scalp and towards the rest of his head that wasn’t yet covered. In its wake, he felt two small ears poking up out of the slime, as the sounds around him slowly returned. Awkwardly pawing around the top of his head, Travis started to try to paw his cap off of his head, as his body slowly grew warmer. He could feel something peeling off of him, revealing fur beneath it.

When he managed to open his eyes again, he shook his head, forcing the cap off of him. It fell onto the ground startling him, as he stepped backwards. He looked at it for a moment, before vehemently hissing at it. He cautiously stepped forwards, batting at it with one of his paws before scampering away, towards the garbage can. With his tiny paws, he pushed open the lid and dove head-first into it, as the front door to his house suddenly swung open, as a figure wearing a white lab-coat stepped in, holding a metal cage.

Travis looked up at the mysterious figure, hissed, and then tried to run away. His efforts failed, as the figure scooped them up with one hand, and shoved them into the cage. Travis hissed once again as the figure locked the cage, turning to grab the opened package. They paused, raising the cage up to eye-level before saying “At least I know the raccoon serum works. Shame you were the one to find that out.”

They gave Travis a small smile before lowering the cage once again, scooping up the package with their other arm. They casually walked out of the house, pretending as if nothing happened, before closing the door behind themselves.

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