Downstairs you wander through the various costumes, taking in everything, wondering what you should wear. From Zebra costumes to Iguana Costumes, from Inmate costumes to authentic looking Western costumes, you see every single costume ever made all crammed into your Uncle's basement. And as you look, you ask yourself, "Uncle Jack is only kidding right? There is nothing magickal about these costumes is there?"
Browsing, you're really curious so you select from a rack a costume of a Anthropomorphic Otter. Then an idea comes to you and as you put the costume back, you remove the tail part of it, which is sealed inside a bag.
"If these costumes are really magick, lets see what happens when I mix them up," you think to yourself as you take a pair of ears from a Anthropomorphic weasel costume.
Next you take a pair of whiskers, which affix to the face with some type of adhesive that is already applied to them item, from a costume of a Anthropomorphic mouse. After that you remove the tiny stub of a set of horns from a costume of a marten, which you thought you saw in a book when you where younger, but you can't remember what the book was. The last two things you take are a pair of fairy wings from a fairy costume and a ballet costume, which looks like it would fit a nine year old girl, but has a tag that reads, 'One size fits all', to which you think, "I'll believe it when I see it," and go to look for the dressing rooms.
In the back of the basement you find six stalls that are used for dressing rooms and two signs that read, 'Shop-Lifters are discouraged' and 'The trying on of a costume constitutes the intent to purchase'. Puzzlement crosses your face and shrugging you enter.
Curious on how to put all this on, you lay it down on a bench and after a bit, you decide to try it on without your clothes and begin to strip. Naked, you look into the mirror, take in your fifteen year old frame, wish you where a bit more muscular and reach for the wings first.
You can see that they affix right to your shoulder blades with no adhesive that you can see, which bothers you and instead you set them down and pick up the whiskers, which you attache to the left and right side of your nose and laugh at how comical they look.
You look back at the wings, think about putting them on and instead reach for the horns, which sit right in your hair. After that you put on the ears and then the tail, which easily sits right under your tailbone. Still grinning at how comical you look with the whiskers, the ears on your head, which are buried in your hair along with the tiny stub horns, you twitch your butt back and forth trying to make it look like the tail is twitching.
Not having the result you want, you shrug, reach for the wings and change you mind and instead reach for the ballet costume.
Asking yourself, "How can girl's wear this kind of stuff," you pull out a very, very, very tiny pair of underwear that you quickly realize is a thong and will no be seen through the ballet costume.
Pulling on the thong, you notice that it really doesn't cover much and that the tail is in the way. After a bit of shifting, you manage to settle the panties so that they rest under the tail, but unfortunately run through your butt crack, while at the same time squash your penis and testicles in an uncomfortable position.
After which you pick up the ballet costume and mutter out loud, "What the hell," when you notice something new.
You're not sure, but when you selected it off the rack, you could have sworn there wasn't a hole in the back of the pink tights and leotard. Shrugging once again, you pull on the leotard, afraid that it might be to small, but are surprised that it fits and how easy it is for you to slide the tail through the hole in the back.
Next you put on the tights and sitting down on the bench, you put your feet up on the bench as well, adjust about so that you are not sitting on the tail, and then proceed to lace up the pink slippers, something that also comes to you really easily.
You are about to stand when suddenly a burning pain rips through your body. Bending forward, you feel as if your whole body is not only on fire, but it is also being compressed some how. Looking down, you gasp out as the noticeable bulge in the crotch begins to flatten and as your stomach also begins to flatten, while a ticklish feeling can be felt in your groin and abdomen, you mutter, more of a gasp, "What the hell is going on?"
As the pain recedes, you find that you are able to once again stand, noticing as you do so, you do with grace, almost as if you are gliding about. Looking in the mirror, you want to scream out at what you see.
Reflecting back is a nine year old girl, about four foot four and for some reason you know her weight to be about fifty three pounds. She is really pale with dark Irish red hair that falls down to her shoulders with intense greenish blue eyes. Her ears are located on top of her head, but are for the most part hidden by her hair, as well as two stub horns. Behind her an otter's tail twitches slowly back and forth.
Gracefully you lift up one of your legs and hug it to your body, almost as if you've done this since you where little, something your memories tell you that you have been doing this since you where five.
Taking in the fact that you wear a size one half slipper, you bring your leg down and to confirm what you are seeing is real, you brush the hair off your shoulder, noting how soft it is, touch your face, which is also really soft and then with fear and dread, place your hand between your legs.
Only to take it away as if you've just been burnt. Looking down, you realize that you indeed have turned into a girl and looking back at the mirror, you twitch your button nose and whiskers in mild agitation and turn to look for your clothes, hoping that in putting them back on it will undo what has been done and return you to your previous fifteen year old self, something that is growing harder and harder to believe as you continue to spend time as nine year old girl.
Not finding your clothes, or the wings, you instead find a pink duffel bag, which has a pair of small jeans, a tight white t-shirt and a pair of canvas high-top sneakers inside. Thinking to yourself, "I'm in big trouble," you pick up the bag and reach for the door to the changing room.
Only to pause when you hear your Uncle Jack call out, "John? Did you find a costume?" to which you have no reply.