Giratina

The loud, echoing chime of your doorbell rings through the quiet house. Grumbling softly to yourself, you figure it has to be the package you ordered online just yesterday. Without thinking twice—failing the absolute first rule of basic home security—you neglect to look through the peephole and simply swing the front door wide open.

The words freeze in your throat.

Towering over you at a staggering 7'2" is an anthropomorphic Giratina. His colossal, heavily muscled frame is completely bare, showing off chiseled white and gray skin, jagged golden spikes, and thick, red-and-black striped plates across his chest and abs. The only thing he's "wearing" is a dark delivery cap tipped playfully over his glowing red eyes. Huge, shadowy tendril-wings drift lazily behind him, nearly touching your ceiling.

But it’s what he’s holding that completely halts your train of thought. He carries a suspiciously long, narrow cardboard box low, right at his crotch level. The end of the box points directly toward you.

"I bring you your package," he says, his voice deep, smooth, and vibrating with an unsettling, dark charm. "Whether you ordered it or not. But, see... we also have a strict company policy. The recipient must open it while the courier watches, just so any complaints can go directly through me."

With a wicked chuckle, he lets go of the box entirely. You brace yourself for the sound of it dropping, but it doesn't fall. It stays perfectly suspended in mid-air right against his groin, shifting slightly with a heavy, independent twitch as he adjusts his stance.

He slaps one massive, clawed hand against the doorframe, leaning his immense weight forward to trap you in his shadow. A confident, knowing smirk pulls at his jaws as his red eyes bore into yours.

"Well?" he purrs, his voice dropping an octave as the floating box nudges slightly closer to your hands. "Open the package. Tell me if you like what's inside... or if you have any complaints."