A sportswear store grabs your attention as you reckon you will need new gear if you’re going back to the gym. You lumber in and start browsing the shelves.
You scan the store and notice that it seemed pretty quiet.
“Can I help you?” you hear behind your back.
Somewhat startled you turn round to face the source of the rumbling voice. You note the attendant’s name badge, which just said ‘Marco’ whilst you sized him up. You guess he has in his erly thirties, standing 5’9” with a medium build. He has a toned physique which however was slighter than your new bulky muscular frame. That said he still had a couple of inches of height over you. He is wearing a uniform consisting of a black polo shirt with the shop’s logo on the left side and plain black exercise shorts as well as branded sneakers.
From his Italianate-sounding East coast accent, his name and swarthy looks you surmised he had to be of Italian descent. His olive-tone skin and deep brown eyes leave you little doubt about that. He has an enviable bone structure with a strong nose and a defined jawline. What intrigued you the most however was just how hairy the man is. He has a full head of thick raven-black locks at the top which fade into a sharp buzz cut at the sides and back. His buzzed sideburns fade into the thick stubble over his cheeks, jaw and upper neck. Sprouting from his shirt’s neck hole was a forest of dark chest hair. Likewise his bare arms and legs are coated by thick whorls of unruly black hair.
Realising that you were staring you clear your throat, noting how your voice contrasts against the man’s deep bass.
“I’m looking for some new workout clothes.” You eventually reply.
“What do you have in mind?” he counters with a grin as he tries to get out from you something a bit more specific.
“I guess a top and shorts for the gym.” You answer back.
“Follow me.” He retorts curtly.
You follow him around the shop and he takes you to a section that may have what you are looking for.
You see an outfit consisting of a black sleeveless shirt and tiny exercise shorts with lime green linings on a mannequin which piques your interest. Normally you wouldn’t consider something that showy with your skinny frame, but now that you were much beefier, you felt like flaunting your wares. You go through the pile of sizes in the nearby shelf looking for your size. You are about to grab a small, as you usually do, when Marco calls out from behind you.
“I guess you must be a large with your frame. Let me help you out.” He moves in and takes over the pile, your arms brushing against each other briefly in the process. You blush as you feel his bristly toned arms against your own.
He notices this and grins, making you blush even more. You inwardly curse against your pale complexion which always gave you away whenever you felt embarrassed. He hands you the correctly sized top.
“Thanks.” You reply meekly whilst trying to avoid his direct gaze. “Where are the changing rooms?” you add, your voice breaking.
You head to the changing room in your now familiar waddle and draw the curtains behind you. You strip down to your boxers and slip on the skimpy outfit.
It fits you like a glove. The showy kit highlighted all your muscular contours and makes you feel like a stud. You turned around in the small cubicle admiring your physique from all angles in the full length mirror. You are definitely getting this outfit.
You change back, being careful to put on your cap before opening the curtains, lest Marco find out about your thinning scalp. You notice that Marco had waited for you close to the changing rooms, tidying a pile of clothes in the meantime.
“So how is it?” He asks you with a disarming smile.
“Yeah it’s great.” You manage to spit out. “I’m taking it.”
“Great!” he replied unusually chirpily in his deep bass. “I’ll ring it up for you.” He continued as he extended his arms to take the outfit from you. You give him the outfit and once again your hands brush against each other. You instantly blush causing a restrained chuckle to escape from the otherwise composed Marco.
He turns and heads towards the cash trying to move past the awkward situation. Still blushing you follow him back towards the front of the store. On the way you pass by the underwear section and you hastily pick up a box of black large stretch-fit boxers.
You head towards the cash and place the boxers on the counter for Marco to also register. He scans their bar code and plops them in a bag where you deduced your outfit already was.
“It’s $125.55 in total.” he said passing you the bag as you fished in your wallet for your credit card.
You hand him your plastic and he swipes it. The bill comes out of the register and you extend your hand to take back your card and the receipt but he turns the receipt over and scribbles something on it before handing it to you.
You look what he had written and you realise it was a phone number.
You look at him, somewhat dumbfounded. He smirks condescendingly at you before calmly telling you “Call me.”
Caught off guard you blush once again before mumbling thanks and walking out of the store. You smile at yourself when you’re out of sight of the shop. Apparently with your new beefy frame you didn’t need much effort to get attention.
Flattered by your recent encounter you think about what to do next.