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So everybody, everywhere Don't be afraid, don't have no fear -Backstreet Boys' "Everybody (Backstreet's Back)"

Drew figured that there was a science to constructing benches for laundromats. You had to make it comfortable enough to sit on for long periods of time, but uncomfortable enough to prevent people staying a second longer than necessary.

He looked up from Angry Birds as the chime on the door jingled. In walked a girl with her hair pinned up, in a "I want to keep it out of my way while I go down to do my laundry" kind of way. On top of her basket, next to the laundry apparatus, was a green drink in a sports bottle. She glanced his way, and Drew looked back down at his phone. Wouldn't do to get caught staring.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman put down her basket near a washing machine, take out her kit and drink, and start loading it.

It involved a lot of bending over.

She was wearing Yoga pants.

Drew's mouth went dry.

She glanced back at him, caught him looking. "Do you like yoga?"

"It's growing on me," someone said with his mouth. When his brain caught up a second later, he was surprised that she didn't mace him, and instead, giggled. Not only that, once she was done with the machine, she sat on the bench next to him.

"Cam." She stretched out her hand and smiled at him.

He took it. "Drew."

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Laundry."

"After that."

"Eating dinner. Why, is there something going on?"

Cam stared at him. Then she took a pointed look at the black and orange Halloween decorations festooning the laundromat. Then she looked back at Drew's face. His completely and utterly serious face.

"Well," she said. "I have an invite to a party and-" pout, pout "-no date."

"Too bad. Know anyone you can ask?" Again, with the complete deadpan.

"Do you wanna come?"

"I'd love to, but I don't have a costume."

"You could go as a hipster."

"I had these tattoos from college, I'm blind without these glasses, and these shorts were the only semi-clean pants I had left."

There was a cheery ding!

"Aaand that's my dryer. Gimme a second."

Stand up. Cross room. Open dryer. Find clothes covered in pink and black goop. Go "What...?"

"Is that gum?" He heard Cam getting up.

"One, it'd be a lot of gum. Two, who ever heard of black gum?"

"Paintballs? Planted by some master ruseman?"

He eyebrowed at her.

"Or someone who thinks they're a master ruseman?" She sniffed. "No, wait, paintballs don't smell like rubber."

Drew pulled out a waistcoat that used to be red. Now it was, well, pied. Like the Piper.

"Well," he said. "This'll be useful if I want to start a career as a gay clown."

"Shouldn't that be dry-cleaned?"

"What? No, it's cotton. Well, it was cotton." The fabric was slick under his fingers. "I don't know what it is now."

"Did it shrink?"

He shrugged, and pulled it on over his t-shirt, buttoned it. "Seems fi- hrrgt!"

"What? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Shrunk," he gasped.

"I thought you said it fit!"

"Did."

"It shrunk...after you put it on?"

The vest seemed to be vacuum-sealing itself to his figure. In fact, it was spreading out over the t-shirt he was wearing under it. And the chest area was swelling. Drew felt weight come out of nowhere as a mound with a rather familiar shape appeared on his chest.

They both stared. The clock on the wall ticked.

"What," Drew said flatly.

"They're boobs," Cam answered, staring. "Big boobs. Boobs under your shirt."

"No, I get that, I mean - what."

"Do they feel like the real thing?"

Drew poked at the mound, gingerly. "I can feel my finger, so - ew." He held up his hand with a digit covered in black goo.

"Vest's changing," Cam announced.

It had somehow...consumed the shirt, and now resembled a short-sleeved black turtleneck, made of latex. Pink was spreading down the young man's arms, turning into a black band when it reached the tattoo on his upper left arm, and a sort of black...sleeve thing at the ink stretching from his left elbow to his wrist.

"Weird."

On the lower end of the shirt, his shorts suddenly _phlumph_ed out into a skirt. A rather girly skirt. Complete with fluffy petticoats.

"Okay," he said, patting himself down with his - sigh - paws, "I think they made my hips bigger too."

"Missing anything vital?"

Oh.

Oh crap.

Drew quickly cupped his - "Yep, still there."

"How about the stuff in your pockets?"

Turned out that the pockets were still there, cunningly concealed in the ruffles of the skirt. Considerate of the magic fetish clothing.

"How about the tail?"

"The what?"

Drew then provided an excellent imitation of a cat chasing it's tail, in part because that's exactly what he was doing.

It was weird. He could feel it. It could feel his hands grasping it, and he could feel it twitching in against his pads-

Wait.

While he hadn't been looking, the black stuff had covered his hands as well, which were growing to exaggerated, cartoonlike proportions. He was already down to three fingers and a thumb on his right, and the black stuff completed its advance across his left.

This was immediately rendered a second priority, behind the black goop creeping up his neck. And over his ears. And his mouth. And his glasses. He was pawing at it, too frantic to appreciate the pun, but it turned out rubber on rubber wasn't very effective.

And then everything went black. He could still move his hands, his feet, his tail, but he couldn't breathe -

And then he could.

Drew sucked in a grateful lungful through lips that felt...odd. He ran an oddly rough tongue over them - the shape was wrong - and flicked his ears at Cam going "-re you okay? Talk to me, Drew!"

"Not sure." He opened his eyes, blinked. The angle was odd. Cam seemed to have gotten slightly shorter. And a lot more worried. "What's the damage."

"Um..." She bit her lip. "Maybe you should see for yourself."

He reached into his pocket - the three outsize fingers were surprisingly dexterous - pulled out his phone, and took a selfie.

"There's a mirror right there," Cam pointed out.

"Sorry, force of habit," he said, as he wobbled over. There was something up with his feet.

"Are you sure you're not a hipster?"

He didn't answer.

The creature that stared at him from the mirror looked...odd. His shoes were still shoes, but they had somehow become knee-high kinky boots, wrapped around pink-clad legs. Between the large paws and the large head - which had moving eyes he could somehow actually see out of - he looked a lot like some kinkster's "sexy" version of a cat mascot.

(Was there such a thing as "kittyplay"? Drew made a mental note to look it up later, then promptly mentally crossed it out and burned the mental notebook it was written in.)

Maybe he could call himself Mew, the sexy mascot for the Pus-

Cam broke in on his thoughts. "Well, at least you have a costume now."

"Seriously? Jokes? When I'm stuck in this fancy gimp-suit?"

"I can see a zipper on the back and - Oh, right, I never told you exactly what kind of party."

Drew stared at her. "You're kidding."

"Nope. Look, the e-vite says 'Plus One'." Cam peered into the dryer. "Think we can sell these to other people?"

"Huh?"

"People who need last minute costumes. I mean, who know what, say, this thong will do?"

"We -" Drew swallowed. "Those were just boxers before."

Cam blinked. "Well. Better test the merchandise. These look about my size. Can you lock the door?"

Drew's petticoats rustled.

ENDF

"Laundry Night" 2013 Eulalie "Nequ " Quentin Creative Commons By-Sa-NC