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The biggest news of Carson Holt's life came as he lay face-down on the floor of a thrift store.

His prone position was the lead guitarist's idea. Ryan Shelley held a phone, camera pointed downward, as Carson pretended to sleep and a number of shoppers looked on skeptically. It was a half-joking attempt at generating some content for the band's social media accounts, which ranged in reach from thirteen to sixty-one followers.

Latvian Biker Wedding was roughly Brooksburg's ninth-biggest active rock band, ranking behind several temporary outfits made up of college students, as well as the group of middle-aged dads and uncles who covered 70s hits on Wednesday nights at the Log Cabin across town. They had played exactly two shows to that point, reaching a combined audience of twenty-seven, one-third of which were directly related to one of the band's four members.

A buzz began to sound from Carson's front pocket as he lay on the ground, and he signaled to Ryan to stop filming.

"I'm getting a phone call, cut it there."

Ryan swiveled his phone before stopping the video, leaning in to try to hear what was on the other end of Carson's call.

"Hey, this is Carson."

"Hey, Carson."_The voice was one that Carson recognized - it was one of the guys who ran The Den, a midsized concert venue near Brooksburg's modest downtown. _"I've got a question for you."

"Yeah?"

"So, I've heard your band before. I like your band. And I've got an opportunity."

"Go on."

"You probably know that Give It Your All is playing here tomorrow. Well, one of their touring openers dropped out, and we need to fill the bottom of the bill. Could you..."

_ _ "Oh my god, yes," Carson almost shouted. "Yes, we'll do it."

"Do what?" Ryan asked before Carson stuck out a hand to stop him.

"No question. Just tell me where we need to be and when."

"Okay. Doors open at 6, show starts at 7. You're on first. Arrive as early as you think you need but make sure you're there by half past six at the absolute latest."

"Yes sir. No problem."

"Cool. See you tomorrow."

Carson hung up before slipping the phone back in his pocket, beaming.

"What was that?" Ryan asked, an intense look on his face.

"We're opening for Give It Your All tomorrow night."

"What?" Ryan spat, incredulous. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope!" Carson waved over the band's other two members. "Their first opener dropped out and the guy at The Den asked if we could fill in."

"Oh shit," Jake, the band's drummer, mumbled under his breath. "I think I have to work."

"Call in sick. I'm sure the Shop+Save'll survive without your presence." Carson laughed. "Guys, this is our big shot."

The faces of the four twentysomethings making up Latvian Biker Wedding were alternately excited and apprehensive as they huddled for a few seconds longer in the aisle.

"We gotta bring our absolute best." Ryan said as he looked around at his bandmates. "We're probably not getting another opportunity like this anytime soon."

"Agreed," Carson responded. "We'll practice extra tonight and tomorrow. For now, though," he continued, gesturing at Ryan's phone, "let's keep working on this video."

The band's members fanned out through the thrift store, Ryan finding Jake reading out loud from a steamy romance novel one moment and then faux-interviewing the band's bassist, Alex, about the store's cassette selection the next.

After he'd put together a few minutes of footage, he went to track down the lead singer.

Carson had found himself perusing the store's selection of men's jackets. Most of them were worn-out windbreakers in various gaudy colors, with some dirty denim thrown in as well.

As Carson felt through the rack, his hand brushed against a smoother, cooler material, the touch sending a shiver down his arm and causing him to lose focus for a second. He pulled out a black leather jacket, feeling the material both inside and outside and examining a couple of worn-out spots in the elbows and shoulders.

It looked a size or two too large and pretty beat-up, but something about the jacket pulled Carson in. The label was torn out, and something had been scrawled on the inside of the neck long ago, but it was smudged to the point that he couldn't make out anything beyond an "F". A vaguely musty smell floated off of the jacket, forcing a sneeze as Carson turned the jacket around in his hands a few times.

Before he could slip it on, Ryan came barreling down the aisle, pointing his phone camera directly into Carson's face.

"Whatcha got there, Carson?"

"Oh, uh, it's a jacket."

"Looks like it's seen better days," Ryan laughed, pointing the camera at himself quickly. "A long, long time ago."

Carson forced a laugh. "Yeah, I guess so," he mumbled, putting it back on the shelf and pretending to look through a few more garments.

Soon, the group left the store, empty-handed apart from a couple of CDs Alex had picked up on the way out. Carson stayed quiet, his mind wandering back to the jacket he'd found.

Ryan was right,_he thought. _It's in rough shape. Something about it, though...

He looked back towards the entrance as the four young men climbed into Jake's van and pulled away.

I'll check it out later. Alone.

* * * * *

Carson stepped back into Uptown Thrift at four-thirty the afternoon of the concert, looking around to make sure nobody he knew was already there.

Soon confident in his anonymity, Carson made a beeline for the rack of jackets, praying that the garment he'd found the day before hadn't been picked up by someone else. The rack was a disheveled mess - a couple jackets had fallen to the ground and more than a few of them appeared misplaced - but it took him just a few seconds to find the jacket he was looking for.

Ryan's words echoed in Carson's head as he grabbed it. "Looks like it's seen better days."

That's true. But...

His feelings didn't make much sense. It was a crappy, worn-out jacket, the same kind of jacket one could find in any thrift store or dumpster in the country. Hell, Carson had multiple nicer jackets sitting in his apartment closet.

This one, though...

Carson couldn't keep his eyes - or his hands - off of it. He didn't slip it on, though - something about that felt wrong. Not here, not now.

He quickly balled up the jacket in his hands and moved towards the registers, only to stop suddenly when something caught his eye on another rack. A pair of pants - black, smooth, much like the jacket he now gripped tightly. Carson took a few sharp steps towards his find.

They're...

The design, the placement of zippers and buckles - the jacket and pants had to be a single item. Carson felt at the material, registering the same sparking shiver that the jacket had caused. He grabbed the pants, not even stopping to check the size, and investigated the waistline.

This one read "FO" in very similar handwriting, the next few letters once again worn out by time and repeated use. The pants were just as patchy and dingy as the jacket, a couple of stains and torn seams standing out as Carson turned them over in his arms.

Jeez, these might be worse off than the jacket. Carson motioned to put them back on the rack, but something in the back of his mind stopped him. Still, though...

Carson looked around before quickly grabbing the pants once again and moving up towards the front of the store. He slumped awkwardly as he handed the ensemble to the disinterested cashier.

"These for a costume or something?" she mumbled.

"Oh. Uh. Yeah, something like that."

"Huh. Well, hope you like 'em."

"Thanks," Carson offered, but the cashier had already turned around to chat with a co-worker. He sheepishly grabbed the plastic bag containing the pants and jacket before exiting the store.

An hour or so later, the four members of Latvian Biker Wedding packed into a cramped fast-food booth, a modest spread of fries and burgers in front of them. The group kept up their typical high-energy shouting and joking, earning a few annoyed glances from other diners, but Carson sat quieter than usual, his mind drifting to the plastic bag he'd stashed under a seat in Jake's van.

Ryan's sharp voice soon snapped Carson out of his thoughts.

"Hey, you okay?"

Carson blinked a couple of times. "What? Oh, yeah. Just nervous is all."

"I mean, that makes sense," Ryan responded. "This is a huge deal."

"Yeah." Carson shifted his posture, straightening up a bit and turning towards his bandmate. "This is way bigger than anything else we've ever done, and I guess I'm just..."

"No, yeah, I get it." Ryan waved a hand towards the group as a whole. "You know what might help, though? Figuring out just how we're gonna put together this setlist."

"Yeah. We've got what, twenty minutes? That's five or six songs if we cut the stage banter."

"Lucky for us, that's about how many songs we have rehearsed right now," Ryan laughed. "What do you wanna start with?"

"Probably 'Pine Tree'. It's high-energy, and I think at least a few people like it. Not that our previous crowds are gonna be the same as the people who are there for Give It Your All or anything, though."

"Nah, I agree," Jake chimed in from across the table. "We can do a bit of a singalong with it too, if we're feeling good going into the bridge."

"Ooh, yeah, I like that," Carson said with a smile.

The band spent the next ten or so minutes hashing out the grand plan for their opening set, finally settling on a song order and deciding against the stage dives Alex had suggested.

"Oh, shit," Ryan half-shouted, checking his phone. "It's 6:15. Better get going."

With that, the band got up and left, dumping the remnants of their meals into a trash can by the restaurant's front door. The four young men piled into the gradually-rusting van, Carson sneaking a hand under the front seat to confirm that the bag still sat there as Jake began to pilot the band in the direction of The Den.

Well, here goes nothing.

* * * * *

The backstage area at The Den was just as grimy as the rest of the venue. The four members of Latvian Biker Wedding each staked out their own small corner of the room, Carson commandeering the space next to a dirty mirror and a small shelf.

Ryan looked quizzically at the frontman as he gingerly set the plastic bag down on the floor.

"What's in there?"

Carson stopped for a second. "Oh, uh..." He scratched nervously at one ear. "Remember that jacket I found at the thrift store?"

"That ratty, torn-up one?" Ryan laughed. "Don't tell me you bought it."

"Yeah," Carson forced a chuckle. "I don't know, something about it..."

"You're gonna look like shit up on stage, man."

"I think that's a bit harsh."

"Nah." Ryan grabbed the jacket out of the bag and unfolded it as Carson winced. "It could've been cool. Thirty years ago, when it was still new."

"Hey, don't..."

"It's not even the right size, is it?"

"Well, not quite, but..."

"Whatever," Ryan mumbled, returning to the other side of the room and forcing open his guitar case. "Wear what you want. But remember, we're probably never gonna get another shot like this."

Carson exhaled as his bandmate turned away, thankful that Ryan hadn't noticed the matching pants in the bottom of the bag. Nobody knew about those, and Carson knew that there'd be even more mockery headed his way if anyone saw them.

Maybe Ryan's right. It's a cheap, shitty jacket. Carson looked in the bag again, sighing. I look fine like this.

Wearing a white v-neck shirt and jeans, Carson didn't exactly look out of place with the rest of the band, although Jake and Alex had both thrown on flannels for an extra layer. They looked exactly like anyone would have expected a small-time band of twentysomethings to look.

And that's why I bought these, Carson mouthed to himself. I don't want to just look like everyone else.

Jake's drums were already set up on stage, so he was the first to depart the backstage area. Next was Alex, cursing at his bass as he twisted the tuning knobs. Soon, Ryan picked up his guitar, gesturing towards Carson.

"You ready to go?"

"Not quite," Carson responded. "Actually, I had a cool idea."

"Yeah?"

"Well, like, usually we just head out there, warm up a bit, then play. But I thought if we made it a bit more dramatic, that'd be cool."

"Dramatic how?"

"You guys go out there, get yourself set up, whatever. Then when I give you a signal from backstage, start playing the intro to 'Pine Tree'. I'll jump in right when I'm supposed to start singing."

Ryan stood there for a couple of seconds, a bemused expression on his face. "That sounds like a recipe for disaster."

"Sure, it could be a disaster, but if we pulled it off it'd look really cool. Probably hype the crowd up more too!"

Ryan thought for a few more seconds, then laughed. "Sure, whatever. I'll tell the other guys."

"Awesome!"

"Just don't take too long. And make sure we can hear the signal. Or see it. Or whatever."

"Don't worry, I'll make it obvious."

With that, Ryan exited the backstage area.

Carson waited for a few seconds before exhaling sharply. "Okay, let's see how these look."

He carefully pulled the matching black leather jacket and pants out of the bag, setting them on the shelf. He grabbed the pants first, shaking off his shoes and tossing his nondescript blue jeans aside.

The leather was cool as it slid up his legs, and he shivered a bit at the sensation. As he fastened the button, he was reminded that the pants were at least a size too big, as they slipped slightly down his hips with each movement. He groaned and took the belt off of his jeans, working it through the slots in the leather pants and tightening it until the new garment fit properly around his waist. He then slipped his black Chuck Taylors back on before taking a look at the whole ensemble.

"These...aren't great," Carson mumbled, noting a couple of paint stains of indeterminate color on the front of the pants, as well as the extra length bunching up by his feet. "Maybe I should just..."

Something in the back of his mind stopped him. At least see how they look with the jacket.

Carson grumbled as he grabbed the jacket, nearly opening up a new hole in one of the sleeves as he slipped it on. The leather was almost completely worn through in a couple of places, and the ends of the sleeves extended past his hands.

Shit, they're both too big! Carson thought to himself. How'd I screw THAT up?

Defeated, Carson zipped up the loose jacket, taking a look at himself in the mirror.

God, I look like an idiot.

The whole outfit was baggy and tattered, and no matter what pose Carson struck, it didn't look good.

Well, THAT was a waste of money, Carson thought, his hand moving towards the zipper on the jacket. Before he could take off the jacket, though, a strange sensation started building in his chest.

He stopped, looking down at the jacket, which almost looked like it was vibrating.

"What..."

A sharp wave of tightness, coupled with a quiet sound not unlike a muffled vacuum, rippled through Carson's upper body. The jacket shrank in front of his eyes, pulling inward and pressing against his skin.

"What the hell?"

A sudden burst knocked a sharp breath out of his mouth. The jacket was skin-tight now, hugging his torso and crushing it into a thinner shape. Carson struggled to breathe as his lungs were squeezed inward.

After a few seconds and a few gasps, the tightness finally subsided, and Carson looked down.

"How-"

The jacket no longer looked at all like the ratty one Carson had bought from the thrift store. It was jet-black and tight, nearly shining as it pressed against Carson's skin. He made a few experimental movements, and the jacket moved with him, somehow not constricting his arms or torso at all despite its new tightness.

Stranger still, Carson snaked a hand under the chest of the jacket to find that his undershirt had disappeared, leaving only smooth, bare skin to rub against the softness of the leather. He shuddered at the touch of fabric to flesh, losing focus for a second before quickly zipping the jacket back up.

"Holy shit, this is-" Carson started, before being interrupted by another feeling of tightness, this one coming from lower on his body. "Oh shit."

The sound and the feeling came again, as the loose leather pants suddenly pulled themselves inwards, sticking themselves to Carson's legs. A slight moan escaped his lips as the fabric pressed tightly into his crotch, a strange but not altogether unpleasant sensation that lasted only a few seconds but felt much longer.

The fabric had changed itself again, smooth and sleek and leaving no shape to the imagination. Carson stared in wonder, bending his knees and taking a few steps to test the pants. Again, his limbs moved much freer than they should have been able to, given the size and material of the outfit.

"Wowwwwww," Carson drew out, looking at himself in the mirror. He looked like a whole new person, the tight leather showing off his body and matching his jet-black hair, and he couldn't help but run a hand along his hips and ass. "This is..."

Suddenly, a pulsating pressure began to build, originating from the base of Carson's spine. He turned around, finding a small bump pushing against the back of his pants. The growth twitched as he watched, pulling at the fabric and constricting his crotch ever so slightly.

A soft moan escaped from Carson's lips as he felt at the bump, turning his body to look at his rear more closely in the mirror. With each passing second the bump grew, Carson involuntarily crouching slightly as a result. He felt at the lump again, his hand going numb as it met his rear. His nails caught on the fabric slightly, and he pulled his hands back in front of his face in surprise.

The back of Carson's hands was quickly becoming covered with fine black hairs, not unlike the color of the leather that clung so tightly to his arms. He pressed his knuckles against his face, feeling the fur spread as it tickled his cheeks. The sensation sent a shudder down his spine, pushing the lump out ever further and straining the seat of his pants to an absurd degree.

Turning his hands over as he crouched, Carson watched the skin of his palms swell and darken, creating a sort of pad that he explored with his fingers. As he did, the fingers themselves swelled up slightly, his nails darkening and sharpening into steadily lengthening claws.

"Oh shit," he groaned, feeling at his face again. His still-human cheeks and nose were absurdly sensitive to the touch, sending more waves down his spine. The numb, prickling sensation that had overtaken Carson's hands soon shot up his arms, the feeling of leather on flesh replaced by something much more alien.

The bump pushing out from Carson's spine extended ever further, the fabric audibly straining against the growth. Carson had begun to suspect what the end result of this growth was, and a final, relieving RRIPPP soon proved him right.

A bright red tail unspooled through the cleanly torn slit, the fur thickening as Carson watched it grow to its full length. The new appendage curled itself around one leg, the feeling of fur on leather eliciting another wordless sound from the young man's lips.

Warm, crackling waves of pure tactile sensation bolted down Carson's leather-clad legs, coating them with a rapidly growing layer of fur that pushed against the skin-tight pants. A sharp CRACK sent Carson to the ground, the wave reaching his feet and pushing against the confines of his canvas shoes.

Carson watched, sprawled on the ground, as his changing feet pushed at both ends of the Chuck Taylors. The toe on the left shoe went first, claws poking sharply through the reinforced tip before the whole of the shoe's front tore open.

Carson's growing footpaw twitched as he watched, clawed toes splaying outwards and digging into the grimy wooden floor. At the same time, the heel of the shoe strained in the opposite direction, Carson sticking his leg into the air in an effort to release the pressure. After a few interminable, painful seconds, the fabric finally burst, giving the young man a closer glimpse at the changing, decidedly animalistic shape of his lower leg.

The process soon repeated on Carson's right side, the heel giving first this time. His legs still twitched subtly as he stood up, gingerly shifting to a digitigrade stance that made him appear slightly taller. The remnants of his shoes clung to each foot, and he bent over to dispose of them, tossing them to the side as he took a few experimental steps, alternately shuffling and hopping as he did.

This is fucking incredible, Carson thought to himself, hardly noticing the warmth growing steadily in his chest. Wait. Shit. Arms, legs, tail, what's left?

As if to answer his question, a quick burst of pressure ran down Carson's torso, forcing his upper body into a nearly cartoonish triangular shape as his waist tightened. A rapid itching spread upwards, culminating in an outward burst that forced the zipper of Carson's jacket roughly halfway down, revealing a thick shock of white and red fur poking out as it overtook his chest and neck.

Carson felt at the thick chest fur, his hypersensitive paws dancing over his collarbone as he exhaled with pleasure, a noise approximating an animalistic whine escaping as he closed his eyes. His foray was quickly halted, however, by a sneeze that overtook his face, flaring his nostrils outwards.

His fingers now explored his nose, which had opened itself to a variety of scents in the Den's back room, not all of them savory. He sneezed again, the force pushing his nose and mouth outward a good inch and eliciting a series of popping sounds from his jaw.

Carson shuffled up close to the mirror, intently examining his proto-muzzle as it pushed ever so slightly forwards, accompanied by a collection of fine black whiskers beginning to emerge from the sides of the developing snout. A growing canine tooth pushed against his lower lip, prompting him to open his mouth and reveal the sharpening rows within. His tongue, lengthening and thinning as he watched, flashed against his top lip hungrily, brushing against a whisker and sending a shuddering sensation through his face.

The fur that had overtaken Carson's chest now spread onto his neck and chin, a bright white that stood out against the pure black of his jacket and transitioned suddenly into a familiar burnt red as soon as it hit his cheekbones. His nose blackened as it continued to push outwards, nearing its full length as Carson let his tongue loll out of one side of his mouth, easily reaching past his chin.

A pinching sensation in the tips of his ears brought Carson's attention to the sides of his head. His ears soon tapered to a point as they moved up his head, following the upward flow of red fur. A sudden burning sensation forced Carson's eyes shut for a moment and a half, and he reopened them to find that a creamy yellow-orange-gold had overtaken the white and hazel colors he'd been used to seeing in the mirror. He blinked in surprise, barking sharply under his breath as his now fully-furred ears slid up to the top of his head, pushing against his somehow-unchanged black hair.

No sooner had Carson noted the continued presence of his very human hair that it started to change, the roots blending into the yellowish-red fur that coated his sloping forehead. Carson half-expected the hair to simply disappear or fall out, but instead it grew, pushing out into wavy locks that fell asymmetrically over one side of his head and temporarily obscured his left eye.

He pulled a strand back behind one ear, looking at himself in the mirror. The long black hair was the last physical suggestion of Carson's humanity, yet it somehow didn't look at all out of place topping his new vulpine form. His tail waved behind him, curling around a leg once again, as he tested his new face, opening his mouth to reveal a full maw of intimidating teeth and a tongue now unfurled to its full length.

Holy shit.

Carson danced in front of the mirror, hopping from one footpaw to the other, before another thought broke into his mind.

Can I still talk?

"Hello world," he droned experimentally. "Hello. Hello." Satisfied, he hummed a few bars to himself before questioning himself again.

Can I still sing?

He ran himself through a couple of vocal warmups, left over in the recesses of his brain from high school choir classes, before testing out the first few bars of one of his band's songs.

Oh, yes, he could still sing. Not only could he still sing, he'd never sounded better, the tone clear and pure and his range wider than ever on both ends, a fact he demonstrated giddily by rapidly jumping between octaves.

Shit, this rules!

Carson goofed around for a few more moments, adding a mock-opera affect to his voice and laughing to himself, before remembering why he was in the Den's back room in the first place.

Oh. Yeah. That.

Carson knocked hard on the door to the backstage area, coupling it with a shouted "Let's go!" He heard mumbling from the other side before the band launched into a particularly spirited instrumental.

The young man - now a young fox - took stock of himself in the mirror one more time, taking a few slow breaths as he ran his paws up and down the black leather. He brought the jacket's zipper down slightly, revealing more bright white fur, before twisting his muzzle into a sharp grin.

Let's fuck this place up.

Carson burst out of the door, eliciting several shocked gasps from a group of concertgoers that had staked out space close to the stage. Jake saw him first, doing a triple-take and dropping a drumstick, eliciting a quick laugh from the fox.

"Don't worry, it's me!" Carson shouted, drawing the attention of his other two bandmates as he jumped onto the stage and danced around an amplifier. As he neared the front of the stage, he twirled himself around to face Alex and Ryan.

Neither could muster more than a slack-jawed stare, both somehow maintaining just enough composure to continue playing their instruments as Carson grinned.

"Pretty cool, huh?" he stage-whispered before turning to face the crowd, at least a couple hundred strong, which had been stunned into near-silence. Carson knew he held the whole audience in his paws, and he laughed as he jumped forward to grab the microphone.

"Hey! We're Latvian Biker Wedding, and this one's called 'Pine Tree'. Y'all ready??" Carson shouted. He turned around again and waved his arms at the rest of the band, each member breaking into a goofy smile as they kicked into the first verse of the song. The fox in the front bared his teeth, licked his lips, then stepped forward and started to sing.