Passing the Storm

By Happy Endings
published July 7, 2018
1877 words
Summary

A young man enters a store to escape a storm and gets sorted out

Author’s Note: Just a short story to tide some folks over. Enjoy!


A crash of thunder made me yelp and I quickened my pace to try and escape from the thunderstorm. Just my luck that the one day I try to finally go to the gym and improve myself the heavens decides to open up and unleash fury upon me. Typical.

I started to pant, my own body mocking me for being so out of shape, as I ran across campus back to the dorm. No way was I going to the gym, with my clothes all wet and sticking to my pudgy frame. I could sense all the eyes of the jocks on me, their judgment raining down on me just like the drops of water pelting my body. No, this plan was a bust from the start, and now it was officially over.

I scowled at the clouds above, squinting against the pouring rain, cursing myself for daring to hope I could become a healthier person. It had been my dream in high school to join a professional college soccer team, but I just had to have one too many drinks with my friends the night before to calm my nerves. Overslept, hung over, and completely out of sorts, I made a fool of myself during tryouts. Ever since then I let myself wallow in despair, not having touched a soccer ball in ages, and over time I saw the effects of my laziness take hold of my once slender frame.

Another flash of lightning and peal of thunder brought me out of my self-loathing. Yup, gotta focus on getting home. But wait…where was I? I stopped and looked around, wheezing through the burning in my chest. Did I miss a turn towards my dorm building? Shit shit shit!

I walked around, trying to find a road sign so I could regain my bearings, but the rain was coming down so thick that I could hardly see ten feet in front of me. More lightning, more thunder, and I knew I had no choice but to try and find any shelter I could until the storm passed. From the edge of my limited vision I could see a light coming from a building; it looked like a store. Well, any port in a storm.

I rushed inside, the door giving a light ‘jingle jangle’ of bells to mark my entrance. I wiped the water from my eyes and looked around. I seemed to have stumbled into a sporting goods store, just my luck. There were rows upon rows of cleats, jerseys, and shorts, intermingled with towers of socks, mitts, and more. Great, just my luck. The heavens really were against me today, weren’t they?

I wiped my feet respectfully on the doormat and made my way inwards, trying not to look at the taunting gear. I settled by the window and looked out, waiting for the storm to dissipate.

“Can I help you?”

I yelped in surprise and turned around to find presumably the shopkeeper standing with his arms across his chest. He was decked out in full soccer gear, from the red and white Arsenal jersey, to the black Arsenal athletic shorts. He was wearing shiny, new, traditional black cleats with white stripes, with black Nike socks pulled all the way to his knee. He had the typical soccer player pomp hairstyle, and I could see creeping out from the jersey tattoos down his arms. He was giving me an appraising look, eyes looking me over from head to foot. I shuffled uncomfortably and jerked my thumb towards the rain.

“Uh…just uh…waiting for the rain to pass. Sorry if you’re closed.”

“Nah mate, door’s open for a reason. Take as much time as you need.” I noted his distinct British accent and wondered what someone like him was doing over here. Still, no need to judge someone offering me a kindness. He nodded and went about tending the store, making sure every piece of gear was neatly presentable for customers. The rain didn’t seem to be letting up, and I decided to pace around the store. I found myself lingering around the soccer jerseys, and I heard him walk up to me, his cleats making distinct footfalls against the hard wood.

“See anything you like?” he asked, “We have a sale on football gear if you’re interested.”

“Huh? Oh, no, more of a soccer fan myself.” I mumbled in response, looking away sheepishly.

He blinked, then chuckled, “That’s what I meant, mate. Sorry, not used to American terms yet. You interested in the sport, then?”

“Well…kind-of. Wanted to be a player in school, but I did something…well, stupid, and now look at me.” The warm, dry environment of the store was making me relaxed, and I was surprised that I wasn’t shivering from my soaking clothes.

“Oh that’s alright, I think we could make a player out of you yet.” He gave me a wink and looked through the various jerseys. He selected a similar Arsenal jersey to his, and held it out in front of me, tilting his head, “Hmm…yeah, I think this’d look good on you, mate. Not biased, I swear, I just think Arsenal’s a good fit for ya.”

“I…look, I’m flattered, I think? But I’m not looking to buy, and I already determined I’m not ever gonna play soccer again in my life so I’m just gonna wait by the win–” He pushed the jersey closer to me, and the moment the silky fabric touched me it was like a spark went off in my head. I shivered, and not from my damp clothes.

I gingerly took the jersey off the hangar and held it in my hands, running the fabric between my fingers. Was it warm in here, all of a sudden? I was shivering just a moment ago, now all of a sudden I felt like there was a burning from deep within. “I uh…guess it wouldn’t hurt to change. You said these were on sale, right?”

He smiled and nodded, “Of course mate, I’ll even throw you a rainy day discount on top of it…if you get the full kit.”

I opened my mouth and nearly found myself agreeing, but I shook my head and sputtered, “Uh, m-maybe just the jersey for now.” I wandered over to a mirror and, with no shame, peeled my soaked t-shirt over my head. I grimaced at my portly frame and slipped the jersey on over my head. Immediately I grabbed a nearby rack for support, I felt so light-headed. I glanced at my reflection, noting how unbelievably tight it looked against me.

I turned to the shopkeeper with a furrowed brow, “Uh, you sure you got the right size?”

The shopkeeper returned my confused gaze with one of his own, “Of course! Fits you perfectly!”

I looked back to retort but for some reason, my reflection looked different…or did it? It defined my chest nicely, showing off my pecs and perk nipples. I could see the faint outline of the abs I’d worked so hard on all these years of train–wait, what was I thinking? This wasn’t right…But I looked so good, and how could a mirror lie? I popped a flex, and admired how the sleeves rode up past my bulging biceps. I continued staring as I saw the reflection of the shopkeeper walk up with a pair of shorts.

“And now these,” he said as he hung the pair over my biceps. Like before, the moment they touched my skin I felt a warmth. To my embarrassment, I felt my cock begin to jump in my loose running shorts I had selected for the gym. Still, I didn’t want to disappoint the shopkeeper, not when he was being so nice. I slipped off my shorts and put the new pair on (were my calves always so toned?), marveling at how they fit so snugly and looked so neat when paired with the jersey. I flashed myself a brilliant smile, the kind I liked to give the photographers when they were taking my picture for the school sports column…hold on…

I blinked. Something wasn’t right. I felt like I was supposed to be this chubby college student, yet when I looked at myself in the mirror all I saw was…me, a successful student riding on a soccer scholarship. Right, that’s what I was…wasn’t it?

“You seem confused, mate.” I heard the shopkeeper say into my ear. He was right up next to me, leaning down slightly and giving my reflection that same appraising look as before.

“Something’s…not right…I’m not a soccer player, am I?”

“Nah mate…you love football. You got your footie kit almost ready for the pitch. Isn’t this what you always wanted? To be a star athlete?”

“Y-Yeah…yeah it is…” His words were like honey to my ears. It really was everything I wanted, that I couldn’t deny. Memories of being chubby seemed to melt away with the rainwater, but something still seemed..

“Missing…yeah, something is missing mate.” He handed me a pair of black socks and clea–boots.

“Thanks mate…” I found myself muttering as I sat down on a bench, still gazing into my reflection. I saw myself grab the socks and slowly pull them up to my knee, then taking the boots and fitting them snuggly on my feet. I laced them up and stood back up next to my good mate. I turned and viewed myself from different angles, noticing how the kit seemed to show off my fit frame. I was sexy as fuck, and I knew it, from my fresh kit to my styled blond hair. I flashed my sexy smirk and held my hands behind my back at attention.

“That’s a good lad.” He pat me on the back and I felt a familiar shiver, one that I knew was associated with his praise and knowing I did a job well done. I had needed a new footie kit for ages, dunno why I took so long in getting one. I’m thankful I stumbled upon this shop, perhaps my mates would want to swing by here too.

I gave my mate a good handshake, “How should I pay you? Card? Cash?”

“Nah lad, it’s free today. Just go out there and…maybe get me some referrals, yeah?”

“Course!” I gave him a smile, and he gave me a smirk of his own. A thought popped into my head, perhaps after the game I could pay him a visit and ask him out. A couple of footie lads like us, we’d be a great couple.

I felt myself blushing and sheepishly turned away, “Hehe, well, off to the pitch for me then. Cheers, bruv.” With one last high five, I left the shop into the beautiful summer day and made my way to the pitch, where my teammates were waiting for their star player.

Hot
Mind control
Wanking material
Writing
Idea
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