It had been a long day at work, and Quixote was glad to be heading home. The otter had put in another full day, and was eager to get home. The night seemed unusually quiet as he drove home, the sun already well on it's way under the horizon, the streetlights illuminating the sparse traffic. At any rate, the drive was uneventful, and he was glad to be so close to his room, where his comfy bed and PC lay. The apartment block was quiet, though it was only the middle of the week, so maybe that wasn't terribly unusual. Nobody parties on a Wednesday night, after all.
	As he slipped his keys into the lock and pressed his door open, he was greeted with the familiar sight of his apartment. Maybe it was a little messy. but it wasn't the end of the world. Home was home, after all, and he was no stranger to boxes and mail scattered about the living room. However, there was a package with his name on it sitting on the floor near the end of the counter. While it wasn't unusual to have gotten a package while he was at work, Quix couldn't remember having ordered anything recently. He lifted it up onto the counter, the box about the size of an old CRT television, though definitely much lighter. His curiosity was piqued, but he decided against it. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with a return after just getting home.
	The otter retired to his room, firing up his PC and sitting in his swivel chair, curiosity building up in him. He opened up his e-mails and checked his order history; nothing new. Nothing he had ordered in the past few months even fit the criteria of the mystery package. Maybe it was a gift from some site for being a faithful customer, but even spending 20 minutes following that lead bore no fruit. Whether or not the otter realized it, the package was already slowly working it's hooks into him, the curiosity not entirely borne of just himself. Still, he tried putting it out of his mind, checking out some websites, going through art submissions, and... wondering what was in the box.
	He had only just realized it, but he was rather actively trying to ignore the thing. Odd. Why he should have to put so much effort in ignoring a parcel, he couldn't be sure. Though it left him a bit flustered. He got up, and after a moment's hesitation, he opened his door, the package still on the counter where he left it. There were a few boxcutters laying around, thankfully, and he wasted no time grabbing one in his webbed hand. Almost on instinct, his thumb clicked the blade out to cutting position, and he moved toward the box...
	The plain, white cover was unmarked, save the shipping label, with no return address. The brown masking tape on it looked like any other, and cut just as easily, as he put his other hand on top of the box to keep it steady as he slid the blade through. It opened with no resistance, and nothing spilled out, thankfully, packing peanuts were always a hassle. He looked inside, surprised to find a simple figure. It was just a collection of smooth, rounded edges. Pulling it out, and setting it on the counter, he was able to see the entire figure for what it really was.
	Of all the things it could have been, it was just a simple, vaguely dog shaped figure. It could have been any animal, really, the shape was basic enough, and it's head was so generic as to not even include ears. Something about it was appealing, though he still had no clue why he had received one. The otter shrugged, glad that it wasn't anything too crazy, standing there as he thought of what to do with it. His eyes traced over it's smooth curves, the featureless mutt staring blankly at the wall. Its limbs ended in simple rounded nubs, and it had a short, blunt tail, like a chopped rottie tail stretched into a simple cylinder shape.
	Something about it was a bit mesmerizing, though his train of thought was broken as the lights flickered a bit. Quixote looked up, a bit spooked considering how quiet the night was going, a small gasp coming out of his lips as he involuntarily took a step back. Maybe it was just a coincidence, though he ended up backing into his door, looking back down at the dog figure. He couldn't be sure, but it seemed to have turned to him. Maybe he just didn't remember putting it down like that? Still, it's eyeless gaze was unsettling, and Quix felt a chill go down his spine. With a gulp, he started reaching for his doorknob with one hand, clumsily opening it up, though as he took a step back to retreat into his room, he heard a thunk.
	The thunk registered in his brain, for sure, and he wanted to look at it, though it took a bit of effort for him to tear his gaze away, sighing as he broke it's stare. Though when he took another step back, looking for the thunk, he was surprised to see it was coming from below him. He stepped back into his room and hastily shut the door in front of him, almost tripping as he looked down at his foot. The toes on his left paw were shrunken, and his foot was shorter in length. Even stranger, his fur looked matted, sort of dull, and it's odd weight was probably what the thunk came from. He fell back onto his bed and sat down, heart rate picking up a bit, as he chirped in worry. Something was clearly wrong, though as he kept watching, his foot slowly began to grow, making his eyes go wide, as the toes seemed to reinflate, webbing stretching back between his toes, leaving him with a normal set of paws once more.
	Quixote blinked, and stared at his paws for a few moments, unsure of whether or not he actually saw his toes grow back to their original state. He wiggled them, and even though they responded, it wasn't enough to satisfy him. The way his foot had changed... it looked... familiar. Simpler... rounder...
	Quixote shivered, hugging himself, his train of thought addled as he sat there. Whatever that dog-thing was, he was suddenly unsure if he felt safe with it in the house. Though he also wasn't sure if he wanted to go back out there and pack it up. Where would he even send it? There was no return address. Maybe he could just pack it up and chuck it into a dumpster, forget this all happened. The only thing separating him and the dog was a few inches of wood, and yet he swore he could still feel it's presence... but, it was just a toy, right? Decoration or something, a plastic, rubber toy. Nothing more. right?
	Why was he so scared of it? He stood up, steeling himself, a bit ashamed of having such a childish reaction, and he opened his door. Quix furrowed his brow, ready to jut grab it, but when the door swung open, there was nothing on the counter. The box was still there, but the bright green dog-thing was missing. He stepped out into the living room, cautiously scanning the entirety of it, but was met with nothing but the usual. The lights behind him flickered, making his own shadow dance out of the doorframe, and looking down he swore his shadow looked wrong. Though looking at himself, everything was fine, he was still a cute otter, he still had his familiar webbed paws and thick tail.
	So it was gone. Fine. Still, he gulped, more than a bit unsettled now, mentally making a note to himself to check his lights. He turned to step back into his room, wanting to just forget about it, a part of him also wanting to get out of the living room. This damn dog thing was becoming a problem, but at least it was gone.
	Or so he thought.
	After the door clicked shut behind him, he saw it there. It was standing on his bed, the smooth, featureless mutt looking right at him. Looking through him. Maybe even into him.
	Quix stood there, a cold jolt of adrenaline pulsing through his body, another tense chirp coming out of him. The green dog was intimidating, even though it was only knee height at best, as it stood there, soundlessly, motionless, and yet still exuding an ominous air. Quix took a step back, his foot feeling clumsy, followed by another, his brain telling him that the dog's gaze was still following him. Another step, another, louder thunk. On instinct, Quix was retreating to his bathroom, though each step was harder and more awkward than the last, almost like he was standing on his toes.
	Without realizing it, his feet were changing. The toes were pulling in, the feet becoming shorter as they seemed to suck in on themselves. He stumbled all the way back into the restroom, and pushed the door shut, falling onto his butt and staring at the door. He looked down, eyes widening as he saw the source of his heavy footsteps. His left foot was just a nub, a rounded, rubber dome, like the bottom half of a ball. His right foot was almost as bad, and as he watched, the toes shrank in, shriveling into the flesh, before his pawpads and soles also began to slurp away, his heel absorbing his otter foot hungrily.
	The other gasped. HIs legs ended now in simple, rounded stumps! They were gone! His... his...
	He couldn't remember. Try as he might, the words escaped him. He knew he was missing something, he knew something was wrong with his legs, but what was it that came after the calves? He wiggled his nubs, trying vainly to remember. The information was just gone, though. Quix slowly pushed himself up to his... nubs, using his counter to try and balance himself. It was harder than he thought, his legs not made to balance on whatever his nubs were supposed to be. Walking was awkward, but after a short while, he was able to clumsily hobble around the tiled floor, each thump of his heavy nubs reminding him that he had lost something.
	It was difficult to move, but Quix had to do something. He knew he was wrong, his legs ended wrong, but he couldn't remember what the thing he was missing was called. He knew it was because of the dog, though. He had to get rid of it. But what could he do? As he panted, legs shaky from all the effort of walking, he grabbed a towel. Looking at it was taxing, so maybe he could cover it up? He couldn't think of any other way he might be able to safely head out there... If he looked at it again, it might take more of him away. He didn't want to risk it.
	It was a struggle, but he opened the door, even as the lights flickered again. With caution, and clumsy, thudding rubber steps, he slowly hobbled down the short hall, seeing the shadow of the dog on his bed. The otter tensed his legs as best he could. Then he jumped, holding the towel wide, feeling it drape over something.
	He gave a short, victorious chirp, as he felt the heavy thing in the towel, though as he held it, the rounded limb sticking out of the towel was blue. That was wrong, wasn't it? His was green. No, his was brown. No! His DOG was green! His nub was brown... For some reason, the thought was oddly satisfying, though Quix picked up the toweled mutt, and brought it out, clumsily, into his kitchen. He was huffing from the wobbly walking he had to do, but he also felt triumphant. Even without his normal... whatever they were called, he had beat it!
	Quix was going to chuck it in the trash, chalking the towel up as a loss, though the trashcan was outside. Of course it was. Was nothing easy? But it was only a short way out the door. He only hoped nobody would see him with his strange nubs, assuming they would change back as soon as he dumped the thing. Making his way out, he opened up the trash can, and tossed the dog thing in.
	Success! He had won! The dog statue thing was gone. Quix turned around, huffing, a bit winded from walking on his weird nubs. And he gasped, eyes going wide.
	There were more of them. One of his neighbor's doors was open, a red rubber dog statue in the threshold. A pink one was standing in front of it. At the other end of the hall was the green one, and he swore he felt it seize his vision. Once again, he tried to back away, though his legs grew even stiffer. His knees were locking up! The rubbery texture of his nubs was moving up his legs, the green dog statue glaring silently at him, hungry for more. The otter fell, his legs getting thick and unresponsive, knees permanently locking, as his calves began to slowly ebb away into the cylinders that were his legs. Thankfully, falling on his back made him break eye contact, and he struggled to use his arms to crawl into his apartment, hastily using an arm to slam the door shut behind him.
	More of them. There were MORE of them! How? Where were they coming from? Though as soon as he thought the question up, he looked down and knew where. His legs were... simpler. They were less than half their length, and naked, his thighs abruptly pinching off into simple cylinders, with smooth, rounded nubs at the end... his nubs. His legs were missing parts! But once again, he couldn't remember. He knew, vaguely, that it was wrong. Otter legs weren't just tubes! He rubbed his thighs, whimpering as he felt the fur give way to smooth rubber, though another part of him found it strangely arousing.
	He couldn't believe himself. Here he was, his legs looking like amputated stumps, and he was getting an erection. This was madness. His legs were.... wrong! They were smooth, they were rounded and simple, they were simplistic and sexy.
	He stopped. That last thought didn't even feel like his own. The otter wasn't sure what to do, He could hardly move his legs, and the more he thought about it, the more his cock began to throb. Though he didn't have to think for long. The lights flickered again, and soon, a semi-circle of dog statues had appeared in front of him. In the middle was the green one, and he swore it was mad that he had escaped.
	Once again, his gaze was locked. Though as he leaned against the door, he could see his legs at the bottom of his vision. They were changing again. His thighs were pulling into the tube-shapes like bread baking in reverse, his legs got a bit shorter, as the muscles and fat on them bone all slowly turned into thick rubber. As the muscle and bone disappeared, so too did their names from his mind. And Quix could feel it. The dogs, whatever they were, they were victims too. And the green one was robbing him of himself.
	Despite it all, his cock kept throbbing. Occasionally, he could flick his eyes down for a moment, able to see his legs spreading apart, jutting out to form a narrow 45 degree angle from each other. Nothing was left of them but simple tubes. Unfortunately for him, those tubes were much lighter than his upper body, and he was forced to lean forwards, the rubber legs scraping genlty across the floor, as he ended up on his hands.
	Those same hands began to cramp up, as the claws sank into the fingertips. Soon, the fingers and webbings began to shrink and shrivel away, palms swelling out, as they became formless, rounded nubs too. Quix whined, his cock leaking, as he lost his... things... The dog statue was indeed hungry, and eager to take more of his mind away from him. Soon, his elbows locked up, as his forearms shrank tremendously, losing themselves all the way to the elbow, bringing him eye level with the statues.
	His torso was next, grossly disproportionate to his simple, nubbed limbs, an invisible hand squeezing his belly, compressing it into a thick, rounded cylinder. As each organ and muscle was turned into nothing but solid rubber, his brain slowed down. More and more of him was being... he could hardly tell. Erased, changed, modified, removed? The bones in his tail melted away, as it began to pull in, his belly now just the bottom half of a tube, his cock and balls slurping into the shape with no resistance.
	A weak whimper came out of the otter, as he was nullified. He... he missed his... his... He thought he missed them. Right? He was an otter, after all, wasn't he? A big.... animal? What was an otter?
	His mind was beginning to fail him, as his ribs crushed in, his lungs simply becoming rubber and filling out in his tube of a body, his torso mostly melted away into a simple cylinder as well, as his arms propped themselves apart similar to his legs. His neck was already beginning to squeeze, as his mind raced and slowed down all the same. A final, weak chirp came out of his lips, as his jaws slowly began to curve and smooth over.
	He was... an... what was an otter? What was he? Quixote had... nubs? Who was Quixote? Part of him desperately held on, shrouded in fear and confusion, though even those very emotions began to weaken, as the dog began removing his concept of them.
	Dog. He... he was... he must be a dog, right? His vision went dark, as he lost all concept of vision, eyes sinking permanently into his head, his very brain slowly losing the fight, as his ears went too, along with his idea of sound. His lips became less distinct, muzzle pulling in, til they were nothing, his handsome red hair even disappearing, the last traces of his identity becoming nothing more than rubber, the name Quixote a vague memory locked in a sea of molded rubber.
	Yes. A dog. He was a dog. The thought filled his artificial body with contentment and satisfaction. He also knew what a good dog had to do.
	The lights flickered again. The boxes in the apartment were suddenly filled. The green rubber dog, proud of it's new additions, made preparations. It sat silently in the former otter's chair, and simply stared into the camera, it's strange forces starting video calls with the otter's soon-to-be dog contacts. He was going to be their master soon enough, and he wanted more dogs.
	The brown rubber dog statue that was once an otter found itself in one of the boxes, and with another flicker of the lights, on it's way to San Diego. Soon, he would make master proud.