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How to Make a Huscoon By Lykanos Wulfheart

Sam stuffed his umpiring gear into the duffle bag on the dugout bench. The softball game had gone a lot longer than expected, so the cooling dusk was a nice change from the dry, windless sunlight. He was satisfied, though. Both teams had put their hearts into the game and kept the scores close until the bitter end.

Finally packed up, he figured he'd change back into some street clothes. After all, he didn't want to get his nice car all drenched in sweat, just like he was. A quick stop at the nearby rest room left him far cooler in his purple tank top and crazy orange athletic shorts. Strangely enough, it looked good on him. For a middle-aged man, he was chiseled like a high school quarter back. His short brown hair and youthful face helped add to his jock-like appearance.

With a confident swagger, he made his way back to his car. Sadly, it was way over in the far lot. Seems a lot of people wanted to see the ballgame this time around. It made sense, what with it being between two of the larger, fiercely competitive schools.

The area was deserted, save for a white van a few rows off and a young man in a blue hoody leaning against the school's sign. Sam didn't think anything of it. "Probably just a local high schooler finishing up his workout," he told himself. As he walked past, the guy tapped Sam's shoulder.

"Hey, man? Got a light?" That was the last thing Sam heard before blacking out. He could feel the pungent rag get pushed into his face, then falling. Falling into darkness.

***

Gary power-walked down the bland, white halls with a bit of concern showing in his jawline. He had been talking with guys in the lab when his research partner paged him. "Bill had better not have screwed up again," he mumbled to himself as he pushed open the windowless grey door, just in time to see Bill hanging up his blue hoody.

"You ready for some fun?" Bill's question was more excitement than curiosity as he was eager to get underway. Taking his seat, he started filling in information on his clipboard. The room itself wasn't all that big. It was mostly just an observation booth with a side room to the right of the control panel. The left had hooks for lab coats and, besides the main door, the back had some very basic racks for supplies, both scientific and medical.

Making his way to the side room, Gary was stopped by Bill's "Hey," followed shortly by, "I already set everything up in there. Just documenting it now. Come on, let's get going!"

With an amused scoff, Gary shook his head. "Man, you love this job way too much." Taking his seat, he glanced over the clipboard before looking through the giant window to the test space. "Raccoon, huh? Haven't had many of those yet."

"Yea, and just wait until you see the guy I got. It's going to be hilarious!" As the wicked glee in his voice peaked, he turned the lights up in the test space. The room before them was large, clean, and all white, save for the black cameras in every corner and the two speakers, one on either side of the window. It was a large square with seats below the observation window and a transparent, circular, almost tube-like, barrier that attached to a sealed door on the back left wall. There was enough of a path to walk all the way around the test chamber, save for where it fused to the doorway. Another entryway, closer to the seats, let observers come and go as they pleased. However, tonight there was no one in the room, save for the brightly dressed jock sprawled out in the center of the chamber.

With a flinch, Sam raised his hand to shield his groggily sensitive eyes. "Wha... what's going on? Where am I?" Still woozy, he stood, nearly falling right back down again. Taking a knee and blocking the light from his face, he tried to scout out his little cage. With no more than fifteen feet in any one direction, he called out again, "Hey! Where am I? What is going on here?"

With a click, the intercom came to life. Gary's voice started out a bit monotone as he gave his usual scripted response. "Welcome sir. You've been randomly selected to participate in tonight's test here at the Experimental Genetic Augmentation Department. For your convenience, we will be leaving the intercom open as much as possible, so feel free to talk. This experiment will be recorded." Personality returning to his voice, he continued in a crisp, confident tone. "So, let's get started, shall we? Your name is Sam, yes?"

Still in shock, Sam slumped over to the glass barrier. Pounding both of his fists against the barricade, he shouted, "What the hell? Let me out of here. Now!"

"I'm sorry sir, but we can't do that. Now, is your name Sam?"

"Y-yes, but..."

"And all the information on your driver's license is correct?"

"Well yea, but." Checking his back pocket, his eyes widened. "The fuck? You stole my wallet?"

Remaining calm, Gary tried to reassure the scared, angry captive. "I'm sorry, Sam, but we had to remove most of your personal belongings, for your own safety."

"What, he can't be that old." Bill had been filling out the forms using Sam's ID when his surprised shout shot across the com. Leaning over, Gary looked at the date of birth. With a hand over the mic, he blurted, "Dangit! You were supposed to get a healthy, young specimen that wouldn't be missed. You got some middle aged guy."

Bill shot back defensively. "Hey, what kind of an adult goes to a softball game wearing, well, that!?"

"Excuse me?" Sam's voice was getting irritated. "I'm only in my mid-thirties, thank you very much! And this is comfortable." Waving his hands down to show off his purple shirt and orange shorts combo, he huffed confidently.

"See, look at that," Bill pointed as he talked. "What kind of adult would wear that? I figured he was just one of the high schoolers, sticking around late after the game. A perfect target."

As the two in the booth bickered, Sam moved to the door, trying to open it with his fingertips. The smooth, sealed surface refused to budge, no matter what he tried. Moving back to face the window, he slammed against the cell. "Come on, this isn't funny anymore. Let me out of here. Right now."

"Looks like everything's ready," commented Gary.

Sam's expression quickly changed from anger to fear. "Ready for what? No, wait! No, you can't do this!"

"Let the fun begin!" yelled Bill in sick glee as he slammed his palm down on the start button.

Within seconds, the vents at the top of Sam's holding cell switched, the fresh air closing as the chamber rapidly filled with a powdery mist. Blue and purple fumes poured out of either side, mixing in the stagnant air around Sam. Coughing, choking on the gas, he clutched at his throat. Everything itched as the gas left a light powdery dusting on his arms, his hair, everything exposed. He could only assume that the same powdery concoction was the cause of his painful breathing. Coughing heavily between words, he barely managed to shout, "Wha- what is this stuff?"

Switching off the microphone, Gary was pissed. Jumping out of his seat at the first sign of two colored gasses, he turned on Bill. "What. The. Fuck? You know we are NOT allowed to make hybrids here. Aside from finding a home for them, which we really can't, we have no clue what it will do to him!"

"Oh, calm down," replied the relaxed man at the controls. "The system was designed for this. Two canister chambers. We always use two, so what's the big deal if they're different?"

His anger only rising, Gary had to fight the urge to punch his coworker in the face. "You want to know why we have two chambers? Back before you joined the project, we planned half doses and full doses. The half dose experiments were horrid failures. The pain that those people endured! That. That is why we always use two canisters, you moron! Not for hybridizing."

Taking his seat once again, Gary tried to steady himself. "If he dies, it's on your conscience."

"Psh," mumbled Bill. "It's not like he's going to be human for much longer anyways."

With a glare, Gary calmly asked, "So, what was the other animal?"

Smugly beaming, the response was far too happy from the resident psycho. "Raccoon and husky."

Flipping communications open again, Gary steeled himself before talking. "Just keep breathing normally. I know, it probably hurts, but you need to keep breathing. Also, please keep us informed of your condition. It will help us answer any questions you may have."

On his knees, one hand on the barrier, the other rubbing his sore throat, Sam spat back with, "Fuck you."

"Let's see how tough you are in a few minutes," snarked Bill as he hit another button. This time, the ventilation switched back, sucking out the remaining vapors and returning fresh air to the chamber.

Putting his hand on the mic for a second, Gary shot a spite filled glance as he spoke. "Shut it, Bill."

Knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere at this rate, Bill raised his hands as if to say he was done, then turned back to the paperwork. He waited patiently to record any changes that might occur in their patient's condition.

Happy to finally have clean air once again, Sam's sinuses still burned from the mist. It left a tangy, almost citrus afterscent. Giving a few hard coughs, he tried to wipe the odor from his nose, still quite aware of the powdery feeling coated on his flesh. With a quick, frantic dust-off, he looked back toward his captors. "So, what -did- you do to me?"

"You have been exposed to a gaseous transformative containing animal DNA. Over the next several minutes, you will undergo changes, both physically and mentally. The goal of these experiments are to create animals with higher levels of intelligence, while, at the same time, furthering our understanding of these species."

Putting his back to the glass, Sam stared at his hands. "This... this isn't real. It's some kind of bad dream." Turning back around, he pointed at the window, fingertip against the sleek surface. "It's some kind of silly mad science. What, is this a reality show or something? Ha ha, you got me. Now let me out."

"I assure you, this is very real. No TV show. And it's safe. You're not the first. We've done this many times before." Glancing at Bill, Gary was still upset about this breach in protocol, as he honestly wasn't sure just how safe this was going to be.

Rubbing his arms, Sam was not convinced. "Hey, come on. No need to raise the temperature in here. And is this powdery stuff supposed to itch like this?"

"I can assure you that we are not raising the temperature. Increased body temperature and hair growth," pausing briefly, to clarify, Gary continued, "that itchy sensation you're feeling, are the first signs of your change. Next is usually digit reconfiguration and minor anatomy changes."

"Digit what? What does that even mean?" Looking over himself, he noticed a lot of short hairs prickling up all over his body, but not much else. That was until his toes started to twitch. His shoes were one of the many things taken from him, and he suddenly realized why. His toes, followed immediately by his fingers, began to reshape. They curled, shortened, and thickened, especially around the pads. As the skin toughened, it rapidly turned a dirty, dark gray. "What's... what's going... on?" Flexing his palms, he could feel his dexterity changing. He also noticed his nails as they became thick, black claws.

"It's a hallucination. It has to be? This just isn't real, is it?" As he talked, his nose and mouth began to ache. Catching a glimpse in the subtle reflection on the glass, his expression changed to terror. His nose was turning black and doglike, slowly pushing forward until it bumped the wall. With a start, he reeled back, moving one of his claws up to his sharpening teeth. As the two touched, his whole body shivered from the strange realization.

In the observation deck, they continued to silently monitor his progress. Bill was deviously excited as he took down the notes, while Gary could only sigh with relief as the changes continued without any negative mutations. Seemingly lost in thought, Gary could only hope for the best while he planned his next move.

With the fuzz starting to thicken into fur, Sam's face finished by taking on a very husky-like shape while keeping a black raccoon mask over the light brown and white that spread out over his face, arms, and legs. His ears stretched and lengthened, rounding at the base like a raccoon, but perking to a point at the tips, proving that he did, in fact, have both sets of genes running through his system. Still human in body shape, he leaned against the slight reflection, taking the chance to pet at his new, soft muzzle.

As soon as he noticed what he was doing, he shook the thought from his mind. "No. No! This isn't, no. I'm not cute and cuddly! Dangit, I'm a human! I'm not some... Monster!" As he finished his thought, his spine suddenly ached.

"GAHH!" As the skin at the base of his spine slowly curled out, fur rapidly covered the newly forming appendage. Brown and black rings coated the springy husky tail. The pain and the weight of this new growth left Sam's palms, or, more accurately, his raccoon-like paws pressed hard into the sleek barrier before him. Panting heavily, his whole body heaved with each breath. For a moment he thought his knees were buckling, as with each heavy gasp, his eyes were lower and lower. His hands started at about chest high, but in a matter of moments, they were up to eye level. "My hands, they're not... Oh God, I'm shrinking!"

Now at the height of his reach, he started clawing at the glass. He thought that maybe if he could get a grip, the shrinking would stop. He was wrong. Paws and claws slipping across the smooth surface, he was about the size of a golden retriever when his spine torqued. No longer able to support him at a full, human stance, he bent over, paws hitting the floor as his cheek planted against the cold wall. He wanted to say "Oof". He really did. Yet all that came out was a pathetically surprised whine.

When the pain in his back faded, he tried to pick himself back up, but the bagginess of his clothing was stifling. Still somewhere between a husky and a raccoon, he was still getting smaller, while his clothes were not. To his surprise, he was still able to balance on his back legs, though it was awkward and a little tiring. Using his thick, dexterous digits, he pushed his way out of the pile of fabric, suddenly aware of his exposed body as he hopped into the open air.

"Churarff!?" Not only was he surprised by his sudden furred nudity, but equally horrified at his cute little bark-chirp. The only comfort was that the shrinking stopped, leaving him the size of an ordinary raccoon, yet with a posture more akin to that of a dog.

Full of so many questions, he rattled out a series of clicks, chirps, barks, and whines. The longer he complained, the fuzzier his mind got. His body language became more prevalent as his mind started to wander off topic. Before, he was focused on his predicament, his captors, his changes, his terror. Thoughts were starting to become more focused. Instead of the myriad of worries, it was shrinking to one at a time. "Where was I, again?" he thought as he looked around. "Why do my clothes smell so weird?" was his next course of investigation as he sniffed the fabric. He thought to himself, "I used to fit these, right? I used to... I... can't remember who brought me here. Why did they do this to me?" Looking to the window, he started to bark. He knew there were people in there with answers, even if he couldn't remember all of the questions.

With the changes finished, Gary pivoted in his seat. "You are so lucky he came out alright." Bill chuckled, the satisfaction lighting up his face. "Oh, I knew it would work. I knew it would! Haha!"

Gary rubbed his temples as if he was getting a headache. Mumbling to himself, he walked to the racks in the back and tossed a collar and lead to Bill. "It's your creation, so it's your problem. Go take care of it." With a brief pause, he continued in a stricter tone. "Oh, and no hurting him. These were human beings. Remember that."

With a smug salute, Bill grabbed his hoody and walked to the door, pivoting to say, "Yes sir," as he disappeared to retrieve some equipment on his way down to the test room.

As soon as Bill was gone, Gary bolted for the microphone. In a kind, calm tone, he addressed the new hybrid. "Hey there little guy, I'm so sorry that this all happened to you."

Sam looked back attentively, listening to the voice. He knew that voice. It wasn't a really bad voice. He remembered it being very helpful when he was worried earlier. Full of information. Tilting his head, he decided to pay attention.

"Good boy. Now, there isn't a lot of time. A very bad man is on his way to get you. I need you to do something for me. When he gets into the room, I need you to run away. Go out the door as fast as you can. Can you do that for me?"

With a nod and a wag, Sam was eager to get out of that place. If he could help the voice and get free, it was win-win. Moving to the back of the room on all fours, the raccoon-dog creature prepared to make an escape.

Moments later the door swished open, revealing Bill, catchers pole in hand and a malicious grin plastered to his face. Sam couldn't help but back against the wall. The blue hoody! He recognized it, and it was not friendly. All of this, it was entirely his fault. Bill fed off the terror. "You recognize me, don't you? That's right. I was the one who knocked you out. The one who brought you here. The one that made you a sniveling little beast!" His laughter was pure evil, keeping his target frozen.

When all seemed lost for the poor little fluffball, the chilling terror was broken by a commanding voice. "Go! Now!" As Bill looked up to say "Yea, yea," Sam ran around the edge, his newly acquired speed keeping him just out of the demon's reach. His focus razor sharp, he shot straight out the door and began barreling blindly down the hallway. It didn't matter which way to Sam, as long as it wasn't that room.

As soon as the curly ringtail left the cell, the door sealed tight. "What the hell?" Bill looked betrayed, pissed, but he kept his cool. "Oh, ha ha. Very funny. Open the door, Gary."

In a mix of pleasure and disappointment, Gary shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that." He then walked over to the side-room, placing two canisters into the system and returning to the microphone. In the meantime, Bill continued to gripe. "Dude, let me out. What the hell are you doing?"

"So, before you paged me, I was talking with the guys in the lab. See, they're in need of more human-turned lab rats. You know, to test retained intelligence." The glee was starting to bring out a smile as he continued to dispense justice. "We've known for a while that you've been abusing the animals."

"Fuck you, Gary. They're just animals. Who gives a shit if I have to get a little rough with them from time to time?"

"They were human beings, you asshole. Just because we turned them into animals, they were still humans once and deserve to be treated as such! So, as you know, since we have the strictest confidentiality agreement, we can't just fire you. This was your last offense, 'bud'. Between the abuse, the lax targeting policy, and, frankly, your general psychotic demeanor, it has been decided that you will be relocated to the labs... as a lab rat."

"But!"

*Click*

Gary turned off the mic as he started the experiment. Waiting until the pink fumes filled the room, he prepared to meet the scared test patient left in the hallway. Before walking out the door, he clicked the fresh air back on. It had been long enough for the gas to work, but Gary wasn't going to stay to watch the change. It was all getting recorded, but his vengeance was complete. To sit and watch would have made him no better than Bill.

Just a little guy in a big world, Sam roamed the hallway, ears flat and back arched. He was scared and had no clue where to go. When the door at the end of the white walkway opened, he froze. A man in a lab coat walked in and trapped them both together. Crouching down, Gary reached out a gentle hand. Still a good forty feet off, Sam was weary. The posture seemed non-threatening, but he wasn't about to take his chances.

"Hey there, little guy." The voice was kind and caring, the tone friendly and calming. "Come on, I won't hurt you. I helped get you away from that bad man."

Still bristled and ready to strike, Sam slowly closed the gap. Ears flat and teeth bared, he shuffled forward.

"We need to get you a name, don't we? And a home."

A look of shock overtook the furry beast. "A name?" he thought. "I had a name... but what was it?" The look of concern took away all of his fight. He couldn't remember who he was, let alone what he had been. He remembered being bigger, fleshier, but nothing else.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. This usually happens to the smaller mammals. Tell you what? Since you're a husky raccoon mix... how about we call you Huscoon? How's that sound?"

It was a good name. Very pleasing. Very fitting. Huscoon's tail wagged affectionately as he accepted the new name. Padding over proudly, he sniffed the outstretched hand and gently pushed it the top of his muzzle. As Gary softly stroked the fur of Huscoon's nose, moving up between the ears, the shear glee lulled the hybrid's tongue out.

"Churrarf!"

"Good boy. Good boy. Now to find you a home. We do have some eccentric clients that could take you..." Huscoons disheartened whine was a definite no to that suggestion. "Tell you what. I could use a friendly face around the house. What do you say? I'd treat you right and keep you safe. I promise."

With an excited yip, Huscoon rested on his back paws. In his cutest attempt, he mimicked a raccoon pleading, paws pressed together as if he were praying. Another little yip was all it took. "I'll take that as a yes, then." With a cheery smile, Gary stood back up. "Alright, little guy. Come on, then. Let's get you some food." With a wag, Huscoon obeyed.