You reach into the rack and haphazardly pull out a costume at random. It's a fox costume, and a rather impressive one at that. You'd love to admire the handiwork of it, or wonder how they managed to mold the rubber into that shape so well, but you have bigger things to worry about right now so you wander into the men's dressing room and get ready to put it on.
You'd really rather wear the costume with your clothes on, but it looks far too tight for that to be an option. You briefly consider returning to the costume rack to find something bigger, but you've wasted enough time tonight. At this point, you just want to get home, so you strip and then pick up the costume. It takes you only a second to figure out how to put it on - there's a zipper on the front, easily hidden under a barely visible flap on the belly. You pull it down, opening up the costume's torso and giving you a way to squeeze into it. First, you try to put in your legs, and it's difficult (mainly because the rubber that the costume is made of is fairly frictional, rubbing and squeezing your legs as you try to push them in) but you still manage, and soon the costume hangs limply from your waste. Grabbing its sides, you pull the torso up, finding it far easier to get on thanks to the open zipper, and then try to slide your arms in, which is only a little easier than it was for the legs.
You look over your progress so far. A pair of black "sock" paws are covering your feet, squeaking each time they rub along the floor. Above them, you can see the shape of your own legs through the thin orange latex covering them all the way up to your waste. You can see an embarrassing bulge in the front where your "package" is, and behind is a large chunk of rubber you hadn't noticed before - a tail, on further inspection, a rather puffy one with a white tip. The costume is as form-fitting on your arms as it is on your legs, the wrists and hands encased in a black latex not unlike the black on your feet, apparently trying to mimic the paw look (and actually failing, as your hands still look like... well, entirely like hands). But enough time spent looking things over - you need to finish up.
Grabbing the costume's head, you pull it over your own like a hood. It's a bit disorienting as you're trying to get it on, but once it's in place it's actually fairly comfortable. To finish up, you pull up the zipper, folding the flap over it to hide it. Even you can barely spot it, and while the torso does maintain your proportions it doesn't show any detail in your chest or stomach, giving the overall suit a look that's somehow both realistic and cartoony. You look around the room for a mirror, and on spotting one on the back wall, examine the costume's mask. Its perky, pointy ears stand at attention atop its head, their black backs and white insides matching the color scheme of the rest of the costume. The white coloration on its chest travels up the neck and across the chin, covering the two wide fox-like flares of latex on the cheeks and most of the muzzle, with the top of the muzzle instead covered by the orange that makes up the rest of the face. The nose is black, and the eye holes are surprisingly tight, to the point where you can't even see your face behind them, only your eyes.
All in all, it's a rather impressive product, and you can't help but grin at the fact that you're enjoying it so much. Surprisingly enough, you feel the costume's mask tugging along with your face, and see as the muzzle twists into a grin as well. You experimentally open and close your jaw, and it's met with the same sensation and the same mimicry by the costume's maw. Incredibly enough, it seems to have been designed so that the mouth actually moves with your own! You almost can't believe the workmanship on this outfit... but once again, you recall why you're actually wearing it in the first place. It's nice, but you've only got it on so that you can get someone to tell you how to get home.
Just as you leave the dressing room, you remember your clothing. Can you really just leave it behind? It could get stolen. Then your mind drifts to that bulge where your junk is beneath the costume. That does need covering anyways, you think to yourself. Experimentally, you pull on your underpants. Surprisingly enough, they fit even over the costume. You do the same with your shirt and pants, and again you're happy to find that they fit just as well as they did before you had the costume on. Your socks and shoes are a rather different case, both unable to fit on the puffy fox paws, but at the very least you've got most of your clothing with you.
Now fully costumed and fully dressed, you leave the dressing room and enter the door, finally making your way into the club.