Sketch by  SKY3
Dies was dizzy. The awful sweet smell of chemicals was soaking into him and his head was swimming. "H-Hey!...wha-what did you...? What i-is this stuff?"
Dies had just been walking along in his suburban neighborhood and had just passed a big white truck with a trailer behind it when he had suddenly been blasted with some kind of hose. Whatever was in the liquid worked quickly on Dies and his clothing. His face pushed out into a short round muzzle. Webbing grew between his fingers as his nails shrank and extended into claws. "Why's it so-ort- hard to-oooort... to think -ORT?" Meanwhile his clothes were shifting in strange ways. The sleeves of his jacket dissolving below his biceps, the leather and zippers blending into his t-shirt to make a more knitted look as the buckle of the attached collar frayed out into the wide soft collar of a white polo shirt. His jeans changed from dark blue into light khakis. His shoes blackened and turned rubbery. All this was giving off steam that formed a haze around Dies, outwardly reflecting the haze that was in his mind. He clutched his head, not even realizing the baseball cap that had materialized on it. He wasn't just having trouble organizing his thoughts, he was having trouble having any thoughts at all. For example, the constant squeaking of rubber and bubbling hot pressure coming from his toes should have him concerned but all that came to mind was Work boots on. I've got a job to do.