Admittedly, have been sitting on this idea for a little bit, and I'm so happy I finally got to work it into something. I'm really really really happy with this one, and I hope y'all are, too.

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October 8th, Sometime After All The Other Nonsense

Sam, Lyna, and Hannah all stood idly at the drop-box by the side of the one road that led out of town. Mail Day in The Woods, where the sole mail truck that serviced the are would swing by once a week for anyone that managed to order a package to the remote town.

Lyna leaned against the box, inspecting and cleaning her nails. Wanting to make a good impression for Hannah's first mail day, she wore her “professional” outfit that she wore for tours. Namely, an over-sized, royal blue, unbuttoned men's button-down over one of her white camis, and a pair of khaki cargo capris. Sam called it her “adventure outfit”. Sam, meanwhile, in his usual casual outfit of a leaf-patterned tank-top and sweats, did some stretches off to the side.

Hannah, in the slightly-too-small overalls and pink t-shirt she'd found somewhere, stood between the two, slightly confused at the rabbit's calisthenics.

“Why are you doing stretches?”, she asked.

“Gonna be a little tiring.”, he answered cheerfully, “Mail Day always is.”

Hannah just furrowed her brow, more confused. She turned to the ferret, searching for some other answer to her question. Or additionally, why Lyna wasn't at all preparing for the supposed rigors of Mail Day herself. But the brief Lyna shot her suggested that she already knew what Hannah was about to ask.

“...I'm here for moral support.”, she added, “And to remind Sam what mail he needs to get. He forgets.”

“I do forget sometimes.”, Sam nodded, fully agreeing, “Especially when it gets a little dicey in there...”

“In... there...?”, Hannah clarified, “Isn't it just... delivery...?”

“Oh! Here it comes now!”, Sam interjected, spotting the mail truck through the thicket of trees. The ever-familiar purring of your typical engine closed in, as an otherwise ordinary mail truck rounded a bend in the road. The slightly scuffed, white vehicle pulled up in front of the trio, the engine lowering to a gentle purr as it stopped.

But as Hannah peered closer, she immediately noticed something very curious, and perhaps even a bit concerning. There was no one in the front of the vehicle. She fixated intensely on the deserted cabin as the other two approached. Not only did Sam and Lyna not seem at all perturbed by this, it seemed practically normal to them, the rabbit rubbing his hands together in anticipation as he approached the side door.

As Sam approached, the door slowly slid open, a light fog pouring forth from the interior of the mail truck. A low, bestial exhalation accompanied the vapor, with a soft, abyssal red glow shining forth from inside. Sam poked his head inside the truck to look around inside. Hannah leaned over to Lyna in the meantime.

“...Where's the mailman?”, she whispered in the ferret's ear, “There's no one in the truck. We don't just... grab it, do we?”

“We do just grab it...”, Lyna sighed, “No one can, like, leave here once they come here. So they had to figure something else out. And no I don't know who they is...”

Hannah returned her attention to the truck, more questions than ever. Sam finally withdrew his head from the interior, raising his eyebrows as he turned back towards his companions. He and Lyna shared a look; She nodded, Sam nodded, and he reached down and pulled his shirt over and off of his head.

“Yeah, it is muggy in there today...!”, he offered, as if someone had just asked him what the weather was like outside. He began to slide out of his sweatpants next, leaving him clad only in a red pair of boxer-briefs, “Hannah? What did you get delivered again?”

“Pajamas... that's... that's it...”, Hannah sputtered out, not at all flustered, but rather thoroughly perplexed by each subsequent moment of what she thought would be a routine mail pickup, “I should... probably grab it myself, I think... Do I have to take my clothes off to go in there?”

“I mean, I would.”, Sam suggested, gesturing at his half-nakedness. Hannah just shrugged and began to undo her overalls, to Lyna's surprise and Sam's comradely approval, “It is hot in there today... and wet... and a little sticky...”

Losing her overalls, Hannah approached the door of the truck with Sam in only her under-sized tee and her floral panties. She nodded at Sam seriously, he made a fart noise with his mouth. As the two took a step up onto the truck, Hannah glanced back, wordlessly asking whether Lyna'd join them. Lyna furrowed her brow and crinkled her nose, shaking her head like that was the dumbest question she'd never heard out loud.

Accepting her answer, Hannah turned and entered, a step behind Sam. The muggy, humid heat of the mail truck's interior hit her instantly, as if she'd submerged herself in a tank of liquid air. She felt sweat begin to percolate with each breath she drew. As she took a step forward, her bare footpaw touched against a slimy layer of viscous saliva that clung faintly to her pawpads like a weak glue.

“This is... disgusting...”, she put bluntly, running a hand over a somehow pristinely couriered package. She tensed up as she heard a low, rumbling growl fill the compartment. She heard Sam gasp, and she pulled her hand back. She looked over to see him gesturing for her to stop, his eyes wide.

“Tampering with mail... is a crime!”, Sam spelled out clearly, carefully. He didn't even flinch as a small string of mail truck spit dropped onto his shoulder, “A federal crime! And this mail truck... this one in particular... does not take well to tampering... at all! You get me?”

Hannah nodded obediently, matching the gravity of his explanation. She shuffled a couple of sticky steps away from the package, and went about searching for hers. She watched Sam dart from package to package, scanning each label intently and scooping up what ones he was dead certain were for him, Lyna, or anyone else who asked. As she scanned the shelves, she searched for any package vaguely shaped like what she'd ordered.

Finally, tucked into the back of one of the shelves on the wall, she spotted a potential match. Stepping agonizingly over through the slime on the floor, she scanned the label on the first of a stack of two packages. The first read: “LBJ's Foodstuffs”, sent to Chad Laurentius. Not her package, but alphabetically close. She lifted it up, and read the label for the other one, that being, “Lanky Pajamas”. She smiled, having indeed found her delivery.

To her dismay, however, she spasmed as a large glob of spit fell from the ceiling and landed on her lower back. She slipped, tumbling backwards and dropping the first package as she fell, landing squarely on it and crushing it. Sam, already halfway towards the exit with two armfuls of boxes, froze. He met Hannah's apologetic gaze with a look of abject terror the likes of which she'd never seen on the usually unflappable bunny.

He flicked his eyes at Hannah's package, communicating to her that she needs to hurry the fuck up and grab it. He waddled hastily with his arms fully of boxes towards the still-open door as, suddenly, the compartment began to rumble, the low growl of the living vehicle ascending. She picked herself up, clinging to the quickly moistening shelves, and grabbed her package. Then, she noticed the deluge of spit from the ceiling.

What before was a few drops, a few strings here and there, had become steady streams and globs cascading and splatting against the already slick, sticky interior. She rose fully to her feet and trudged through the suddenly shin-deep pool. Like wading through glue, she was shocked at how suddenly cumbersome the trip to the door had become. More and more warm, stickiness poured down onto and coated her head and shoulders, weighing her down as she focused intensely on reaching Sam. The rabbit had by now tossed all of his packages out of the truck, and now clung onto the sliding door. The door which, at this point, had now begun to slowly shut.

“Lyna! Come help me keep the door open!”, he cried out. In seconds, Hannah saw the ferret's chestnut-and-cream colored hands latch onto the door from the outside and start to pull.

Disaster, as Hannah felt an enormous orb of slime plop down onto her head, sending her off-balance and falling forward into the gunge mere feet from Sam. She held her package to her while desperately trying to pick herself up. But the mounting layer of saliva overwhelmed her, consuming nearly all of her save for her snout. She gasped for air under all of the weight and the heat of the truck, reaching out a slime-covered hand to what she hoped was forward, her vision now obscured.

She felt a grasp, and a forward pull as she began to slide slowly towards what she hoped was daylight, a teal blur ushering her along as she was nearly buried alive by demonic digestive juices. She detected the transition to the considerably cooler outside air as her upper body emerged from the door, Sam making sure to clear her before allowing himself to leave. She flopped awkwardly, clumsily out of the truck, landing with a loud splat on the forest floor, package clutched tight to her chest.

Hannah safe, Sam toppled off of the truck next, falling on top of her. The slime-soaked pair panted and wheezed, exhausted, as the door of the truck slammed shut. The engine came to life, and the wheels screeched as the truck angrily peeled off, flinging itself around the next bend and disappearing into the trees.

Lyna organized the boxes in an array off to the side. She read and inspected every label as Sam and Hannah recuperated. Having completed her mental checklist, she strode over to the two and knelt down. She swiped some of the goo from their brows.

“Hey...! We got everything this time! Great job you guys!”, she announced cheerfully, “And you got away with a federal crime! Now let's go get the hose.”

Lyna went off to do just that. Meanwhile, Sam and Lyna lay next to each other, covered in slime and taking a well-fought, well-earned break.