You try to shout as the shirt you’ve idiotically put on, despite not knowing where it may have come from, begins to turn to goo, covering you. It slides down your skin, sticking to it and melding into it. Your cries for help become muffled noises as the slime covers your mouth, melting it closed before spreading higher.
What almost looks like stitching sprouts from the ooze, it once again starting to solidify into cloth. Your hands have long since changed to paws, sleeves turning into velvety arms. You feel like you’re stuffed full of hay, itching as your body changes. Your legs have bent, turning digitigrade, and your ears have lengthened and changed into a more triangular shape.
Yet you can’t make a sound, only muffled squeaks escaping from your mouthless face. You look like some sort of living plush, visible stitching and stubby paws and all. Not a way you thought your journey would end, but, well, it’s not a bad feeling either…