"I guess I'll be a skater boi," Andy said, "Might as well be creative." The amulet on his chest glowed brightly for several seconds, then subsided.
____________
At his office on the other side of town Mitch was putting the finishing touches on his presentation before heading to the meeting with management. Before long Mitch began to notice that despite his best efforts he could not keep himself focused on his work for more than a few seconds. He would find himself staring out the nearby window or day-dreaming about his favorite skate park… then it hit him… “skate park!”… he hadn’t touched a skateboard since he was twelve, and even then only once (he’d fallen off… or did he… ) memories vivid only a second ago were rapidly becoming fuzzy…
Mitch had always prided himself with what he called a “perfect mind.” He’d maintained nearly perfect grades all the way through college. He’d never had problems keeping focused and had even shunned drugs and alcohol for fear that they would cause him to loose his clarity of thought for even a moment. Mitch believed his “perfect mind” would allow him to scale the corporate latter in no time flat, but as he sat at his desk staring blankly at the screen what felt like a massive wad of cotton began to push down into his brain and tickle his cerebellum… He panicked…
Mitch ran to the restroom (taking his brown leather briefcase with him just in case) hoping beyond hope that he was simply having some reaction to the stress. “After all,” he reasoned “I’ve been staring at a computer screen for 12 hours straight.” Though, as he processed this thought, a tiny voice in the recess of his mind seemed to tell him that there was no way he could sit in one place for a whole hour… much less twelve. At this, the panic Mitch had been feeling set in full force. His defenses fell and his transformation accelerated.
Mitch had arrived at work wearing traditional business wear: black suit, black tie, white dress shirt, and shinny black dress shoes. He was clean shaven and his short trim non-descript brown hair was parted neatly to one side, but, before his eyes, the two halves of his dress shirt began to fuse together down the center. The buttons fell from the shirt one by one and disappeared with a slight pop as they hit the ground. The expensive Egyptian cotton fabric of his shirt began to cheapen, but Mitch was more distracted by the movement beneath the sleeves of his suit jacket. The sleeves of his shirt slowly retraced until after about 30 seconds the shirt had become short sleeved. Mitch looked in the mirror and found himself wearing a cheap white cotton t-shirt. The shirt started to feel warm and before his eyes it began to brighten to an almost obnoxious highlighter yellow color. “Element Skateboards” along with the logo and the words “earth wind water fire” emblazoned themselves boldly across the front of his new t-shirt. Finally, with a sound like tearing fabric it shrunk to become a slim-fit size small hugging his body tightly. Mitch’s silk black tie began to squirm around his neck as the lower half began to inch upwards before splitting down the center. As the two halves of the tie reached the bottom if his neck they began to round and garden. The rest of the tie began to segment and a flexible metal bar formed beneath the fabric. The back most section began to thicken before the fabric became leather padding. The rest of the fabric began to harden and then lighten shifting into a metallic grey plastic. A complex series of hinges grew accompanied a series of loud cracks at the point where the band met the lower halves of the “tie” each of which had grown a circle of padding on one side. At the center of these circles tiny holes formed in the shinny new plastic discs and with a deafening “zap” a speaker formed in each disk and wires wriggled their way through his new low-rider headset. A long black cord shot-out of one side. Finally, a stylized skull appeared on the back of each headphone and the brand name “SkullCandy” formed on the plastic arms.
Suddenly Mitch felt a slight tugging sensation at the back of his neck. As he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror a lime green cotton hood with a black interior grew out from the back of his suit jacket.
“Oh course!” the increasingly powerful voice told Mitch “I’d never go anywhere without rock’in my favorite hoddie!” “But wait,” he thought “I wouldn’t be caught dead in a “hoodie”! He’s always worn sweater vest or cardigans… hadn’t he? Once again as his focus slipped his transformation accelerated.
Just like his shirt, the two halves of his suit jack grew together before fusing down the center. He watched (with terrified expectation this time) as his suit buttons fell off and disappeared with the same “pop” as they hit the bathroom floor. Meanwhile the lime-green color oh the hood had begun to spread to the jacket it like a virus taking it over. As the color changed so did the material of the suit. Just like his dress shirt turned T he was forced to watch as the expensive wool became basic cotton. He felt movement beneath the suit, especially along his now bare fore-arms, as the inner silk layer degraded becoming the black cotton inner lining of what his was really starting to think of as his favorite hoodie. The fabric at the front of the hoodie raced upwards pulling the two halves together till it reached the base of his neck leaving only the neckline of his T visible. In the mirror he observed a large pouch form over the lower half of the hoodie and a long green drawstring with metal tips pop out either side new hood and hang down unevenly toward the pouch. As the lime-green reached the bottom of his sleeves (now the only part which bore any resemblance to the fine wool suit it once was), Mitch felt the cuffs begin to constrict around his wrist becoming elastic. The cuffs then moved forwards to around the base of his hands. A small section of each cuff tore open with and audible “ripp,” and then mended itself about his thumb. The fabric around his thumb did not “heal” completely and several loose threads were still exposed… he could tell that he torn out the thumb holes himself, but what frightened Mitch was that in the recesses of his mind he could vaguely remember doing it! Out of nowhere something white appeared and flew at him hitting him square in the chest. Looking down, Mitch noticed the object was a relatively thick white fabric “ZY” and that had quickly begun to stitch itself on to the front of his lime-green hoodie. Unbenouced to him the intertwined “ZY” and the brand name “Zoo York” had stitched themselves into being just above his left cuff as well. The new voice in Mitch’s head told him that something still wasn’t quite right about the hoodie… as if on cue, the cuffs became slightly soiled and several tears and stains appeared in various locations (trophies from failed stunts.) Finally the entire hoodie seemed to “grunge” becoming worn and faded from years of use. The old Mitch was disgusted at the realization that he was wearing something so “filthy” while the voice was massaging his brain - adjusting his preferences - telling him relax and feel completely comfortable and “at home.”
Mitch felt movement around his waist and lifted up his new hoodie in time to watch as his shinny silver belt buckle grew in size dulled down until it was about two inches long and had settled on a sort of matte black finish. This change was accompanied by the sounds of scapping metal as the closure mechanism shifted from a tradition ring and pin style to a more contemporary clip style closure. The element logo embossed itself into the center of new buckle and brightened to an electric blue. His waist began to feel less constricted as the expensive Italian leather of the belt degraded into a generic canvas weave and the color quickly brightened becoming pure white. With a “click” a black fray-stop formed over the end of the belt. As if pulled by an invisible hand the excess length of the belt began to remove itself from his belt loops before dropping down to hang loose between his legs.
As Mitch starred downward his suit pants seemed to come alive, squirming about. Once again he watched as the wool became cotton. He noticed the material had actually thickened slightly and that the paints began to feel a great deal heavier. The color lightened a little to a deep blue and Mitch realized with some apprehension that he’d soon be wearing a pair of dark wash jeans, but a growing part of Mitch told him that was cool. The squirming pants pulled themselves about halfway down his ass. Worried they were going to fall off Mitch quickly pulled them back to his waist, but when he released them they pulled themselves back down to what the voice told him was their proper resting place. His new Element canvas belt tightened ensuring he would not lose his new low-riders. By this point the pants had fully transformed from wool to denim and the front of the legs had lightened slightly to give them the typical worn look. Mitch began to feel as if there were more room to move around within his pant legs as they went from slim fit to somewhere between straight and baggy.
“Just the way I like them...” he said to himself.
“No! No! No… that's not me!”
Mitch scolded himself for allowing this new part of him to take so much control, and he vowed to fight this unwelcome presence.
Returning his attention to the changes, Mitch noticed that his new jeans had grown even longer and had actually pooled around his ankles obscuring most of his now out of place dress shoes. The changes to his pants quickly concluded as a number of brass rivets appeared and as, with another tearing sound, his two back pockets pushed themselves out shifting from the inside of the jeans to the outside.
Mitch felt more movement about his loins. He lifted up the bottom of his “new” t-shirt and hoodie to identify the source. Just as his white briefs came into view (largely exposed by his low riders) they began to shift and change… almost as if they had been waiting for Mitch… wanting him to experience fully every moment of this unwelcome change. The waist band of the briefs began to scrunch-up and his junk started to feel less constricted. Various shades of purple began to join the white of his undergarment and the pattern quickly settled on a new purple and white plaid scheme. His briefs started to become baggier and baggier gaining excess material and the waist started to bunch up in the back as the elastic wore out from years of use. Now Mitch was wearing a pair of beaten and worn Vurt boxers… his cock and balls allowed to hang loose, barely contained by baggy shorts.
“Fuck yea man!” he shouted to no one in particular. The new Skater Mitch excited that is junk, his fuck stick in particular now had some room to breathe. The old Mitch, still mostly in control began to cry. He was terrified as this new presence creped forward. He could feel it. He knew it was happening. This new skater persona… maybe, he thought, even an entirely different person… was beginning to eclipse the old him.
Mitch stared downward with a mixture of dread and expectation at the one major item of clothing yet to succumb to the transformation. He pulled at the legs of his baggy jeans and his $200 Italian leather dress shoes came into view… shinning under the florescent lights… With a “creeeaaak” the transformation started…
The leather at the toe of his shoes started to glow brighter, but now it was more than just the reflection of bathroom lights. The black leather was actually shifting to an orange color… and not just a shade of orange… the leather of his shoes was changing consistency becoming bright “kill-me orange”… “pleather.” At that moment… as that word passed through his head… Mitch realized something which shook him to his core… his political views were… changing. Really, he was just starting to care less. “Why should I care,” the new Mitch chide in, “It does make a fuck’in difference.” “Besides,” he reasoned, “Politicians were just a bunch of fuck’in pricks who only cared about themselves…” There was one thing he was sure of though… the one thing which had brought him to this train of thought in the first place. He wouldn’t be caught dead wearing any kind of animal skin, leather included. It just seemed “cruel.” His attention was drawn back to his shoes as they began to expand, becoming significantly thicker, gaining layer after layer of padding especially in the tongue. With the new padding and “phat” tongue his feet were sooooooo much more comfortable. At this Mitch’s defenses dropped again the skater took control. His expression of fear and horror quickly shifted into a satisfied grin. With more creaks and groans a dense silver mesh started to overtake parts of his shoes covering the sides, reaching towards the back, and crawling up the sides of the new thick tongue. He felt slightly off balance for a moment as the heels of his shoes merged with the rest of the soles and as the soles themselves became slightly softer and more rugged… much better suited for gripping a board. The back of the shoes reached up around his lower ankles and became black suede. With another “riiiiip” the insides of the shoes gained an additional layer of material. The new layer brightened to purple as he felt further changes occurring around his feet, his new “skaties” gaining layers of foam needed to provide the proper cushioning for when Mitch landed a sick trick. Finally, the name “Etnies” stitched itself in purple onto the back of each shoe, the Etnies “E” appeared boldly on each tongue, and with several final groans a more stylized “e” made from black suede and outlined in the same “kill-me orange” pushed out from the silver mesh on the outer sides of each shoe. Skater Mitch’s grin grew into a cheeky smile as he admired his brand new, super fresh Etnies Adapts… The old Mitch began to scream again internally and fought viciously to regain control.