Fitting In [tg, wg]

[oldar]

Well, it's not the next part of Flashback, but inspiration hit.

Original story idea by Inthecourt.

----

“Don’t worry,” Barry, the regional manager, was saying. “The mall is closing, and unfortunately that means so is this Hot Topic, but we know it’s hard out there, so we’re prepared to relocate you to other, nearby locations.”

Barry—which he insisted his employees call him—had called this meeting shortly after the Layton Hills Mall had announced that it would be closing its doors. Taylor, a young 20 something towards the back of the gathering, had been worried after the announcement. He had only just gotten this job, and finding a job with flexible hours that allowed him to finish his degree at the same time had not been easy in this local economy. Barry’s announcement was a relief.

“Your choices are limited, I’m afraid” He was saying, “so positions will be selected based on seniority.”

This meant that Taylor would get the last pick. He waited in line, attempting to think of all of the malls in the greater metropolitan area, and whether or not they had Hot Topics.

“Lucky you” said Cindy, the HR rep., as he approached the table. “Two great locations are still available; one up in Hill Valley, and the other down in Springfield—that mall is five stories! They’ve got everything.”

“Those are an hour away at least!” complained Taylor. “I can’t commute that long every day! I’ll miss class!”

“I’m afraid those are the closest Hot Topic locations left.” said Cindy. “Everyone else has already chosen closer locations.”

Taylor scanned his coworker’s faces, pleading with them, but most of them just shrugged at him.

“I’ve got two jobs.”

“My mom has to give me a ride.”

Taylor’s shoulders slumped, defeated.

Barry and Cindy conferred for a moment.

“Well,” she said, finally. “You’ve been a fine employee, and we’d really like to help you out. “There is…one other option. An opening has come up at one of our stores down the road at Northridge…but it’s not a Hot Topic.”

“What do you mean?” asked Taylor. “Is it a warehouse or something?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. It’s still retail. It’s just. Are you familiar with the store Torrid?”

“Torrid? The fa—the clothing store? Sure. I’ve seen it.”

“Well, Hot Topic is the parent company, and Barry is the manager of the one down the street as well. We understand if you don’t want it. You don’t exactly…fit in.” she said, gesturing at his lanky proportions. “It’s even closer to your school.” she added, enticingly.

“Wouldn’t that be a little…weird?”

“Oh, no.” assured Barry. “Of course not. We don’t discriminate. That would be illegal. You’ll do fine, it’s the same job; checking people out, restocking racks. Stuff like that. Are you interested?”

Taylor looked around the room, once again pleading with his coworkers; he settled on the teenager that had said her mother still gave her a ride. “Wouldn’t you rather work there? You’d fit in better.”

“Are you calling me fat?” she asked, crossing her arms over her bust and assuming a defiant posture. She was anything but; and, in fact, fit right in at the Hot Topic with her skull covered leggings and plaid skirt. She was also as thin as Olive Oyl.

“What? No! Of course not. I just—“

“Your coworkers have already selected their positions, Taylor.” Cindy interrupted. “We can’t make them swap. Do you want the job at Torrid or will you be transferring to another location?”

——

Taylor stood by the employee entrance breaking down cardboard boxes when Miranda strode briskly through, not stopping to acknowledge his presence.

“Miranda!” he called after her, stumbling over the collapsed corrugated mess at his feet as he rushed to catch up.

“If this is about your hours again, Taylor, I’ve already told you—we only need you to stock on Mondays and Thursdays.” she said without turning around as she made her way to her small office.

Miranda was, if he had to guess, about 5’5”, and he wasn’t very good with weight, but like all of the employees she was not skinny, and he had seen her set aside clothing in the back for herself from a size 14-16. Her long, wine red hair fell in loose curls about her shoulders, with a sweeping bang brushed to the side of her face, perfectly framing her delicately chubby features. Her lips matched her hair, and she had a smoky, yet subtle shadow around her eyes. He had to admit that she was pretty, but he didn’t go for the kind of girls that worked or shopped there.

“That’s just it, though.” Taylor said, matching her stride easily with his much longer legs. “I can do more than stock. I did everything back at Hot Topic.”

“I’m sure you did” she said, stopping finally. “but our customers might be…uncomfortable with you in the store.”

“Uncomfortable?” Taylor protested. “Barry said you don’t discriminate. I could sue!”

A smirk touched Miranda’s dark lips. “I don’t think legal action is your best course.” she said, crossing her arms over her sizable bust. “Especially with all of the complaints of harassment I’ve been getting about you.”

“H-Harrassment?” Taylor stammered. “I never—“

“I’ve seen the way you look at customers and some of the employees. It is not very pleasant. Your attitude towards curvy girls has been noted. Barry doesn’t really like it when people start throwing around legal terms.” she said, leaning in and touching his arm. “It’s a very sensitive subject.”

Taylor glanced around for support, but Cynthia, the only other person in the back room at the time, simply shrugged her shoulders and continued folding clothes.

“I took this job so I could have more hours. This isn’t fair!” he complained.

“Then perhaps it’s time you started looking for another job. Until then, it’s Mondays and Thursdays. This is the last time we’ll have this conversation” she said, leaving him and the door she’d just shut in his face to have an intimate, if awkward, moment alone.

——

He walked aimlessly alone in the mall for his lunch break, as usual. None of the girls had any interest in sharing their breaks with him. He could only assume Miranda had already begun to assassinate his character to them—not that it was very good in the first place. He tried to keep his disdain for larger girls to himself, but occasionally a customer would come into the store and he would be unable to hide his disgust. He was so embarrassed to be working there, in fact, that he had neglected to tell any of his friends, or even his family, and they continued under the impression that he remained employed by Hot Topic. Working in the front of the store was not his ideal work situation, but he needed the hours.

It was during his walk, today, that he stumbled upon a new store he had never seen before. The bright neon sign read “Spells Us”; upon closer inspection one could see that the R had gone out. But what got his attention more was the sign closer to the door that read “help wanted?”.

Inside were shelves covered in dust, with cobwebs beginning in every corner. Light streamed in from an unknown source, lighting up floating motes which danced lazily through the air.

“Hello?” he called into the dimly lit room.

There was a scurrying from behind one of the shelves to his left. He turned to look, but saw nothing, and when he returned his gaze to the front, his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. Standing directly before him was a withered old man. At first Taylor thought the man might have been dead, but then his eyes moved, and, eventually—because Taylor was still clutching a hand to his chest and breathing deeply—even spoke.

“Help wanted?” he asked, in broken english. He seemed foreign, but Taylor couldn’t place an ethnicity.

“Yes. The sign? Are you hiring?”

“Hiring?” the old man asked, confused for a moment. “Hiring? No no! Help you! I help you! Help wanted?”

“Oh…no, sorry, I just thought.” Taylor turned to leave, but was gripped with curiosity about the place and the old man. “What is it that you do here, exactly?”

“Help.” repeated the old man. “I help you.”

“Yeah…right.” said Taylor, still as lost as ever.

“Yes!” exclaimed the man. His hand shot out lighting fast and wrapped around Taylor’s wrist with vice-like strength. “I help!” and he tugged Taylor deep into the store towards the counter.

“No, no!” protested Taylor. “I’m fine, really. No help. Thanks.”

The old man released his grip and turned suddenly. “Stay!” he commanded with authority, and Taylor was compelled to do just that. “I be back! One flash!”

Taylor stayed, though he did not know why. The man had been very convincing, and for a moment Taylor had been truly frightened for his life if he disobeyed.

The man returned with a jovial smile on his wrinkled face, causing, impossibly, even more wrinkles. “Here! You take. I help.” He reached out for Taylor’s hand and deposited into it a plain golden ring. the dim light exploded off of it in a thousand different directions.

“I don’t…what is this for?”

“You take it.” said the man. “You wear it. You fit in.”

“Fit in?” asked Taylor. “What do you mean?”

“Wear ring, be normal. People…treat…normal. Like friend. You wear ring, no one notice difference. Make friends. Good job.”

This was certainly the strangest sales pitch for a ring Taylor had ever heard.

“I don’t need a ring, thank you. I don’t want it.”

“You take!” insisted the man. “I help! You take!”

“I’m not buying a silly ring!”

“No money. No money! I help!” said the man, closing Taylor’s hand around the ring and patting it firmly. He seemed to be growing incensed.

It seemed clear that the man wasn’t going to let him leave without it, and the man possessed a great deal of strength and mental instability. Taylor backed away slowly. “All right. Thanks…for your help.”

The man smiled at him and waved as he left.

Taylor fled quickly, glancing back to be sure the man wasn’t following him. he stuck the ring in his pocket and continued his circuit around the mall.

He took the ring out again and looked at it for a moment, then placed it back in his pocket, without removing his hand from around the ring.

He fingered the ring for some time before pulling it out again, and he looked at it some more.

It was a very nice ring, he thought. Maybe he could get some money for it. He kept it out of his pocket for a while as he concluded his walk, and then, before returning to work, decided to try it on.

The gold was cool against his skin, and, although it was a bit loose, fit okay.

He strode into work, still admiring his new accessory, when he bumped into Cynthia.

“Oh, sorry about that” he said, absently, expecting a catty remark from the chubby young lady.

“No prob, Taylor. How was lunch? You should have told me you were going, I would have joined you. You’ve been here for a couple of weeks now, I think it’s time you stopped eating by yourself.” she beamed at him.

He stared at her in disbelief. That was not the attitude he usually received from her.

Just then Miranda emerged from her office. “Oh, Taylor, just the person I was looking for. Look, Amanda can’t come in on Wednesday, do you mind covering for her?”

“Wednesday? But…you said?”

She looked at him quizzically.

He looked back, more confused than she was, then it hit him. He glanced down at the ring he was wearing. Was that crazy old man…He took the ring off.

“Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to clock back in?” Miranda asked coldly, breezing by him on her way to the front of the store. “Those boxes aren’t going to unpack themselves.”

“Miranda, about Wednesday…”

“I told you we’re not having that conversation. Boxes. Now.”

Taylor scratched his head. He looked at Cynthia for support, but she gave him a dirty look and turned away. He looked down at the ring in his hand.

“No way…”

He put it back on.

“If you want,” Cynthia was saying, “I can show you how to use the register on Wednesday. I know you haven’t used it yet, but it’s really easy. You’ll be a pro in no time.”

He rushed out of the store and back to Spells Us, but it appeared to have been close. The interior was darkened and the gate had been lowered. The old man was nowhere to be found.

[Inthecourt]

Oh man, this is gonna be good.

[1sm3ghzn]

Oh man, this is gonna be good.

I second this emotion. Looking forward to the next chapter!

[oldar]

It was Wednesday morning. Taylor stood outside of the employee entrance rolling the ring around in his hand. He hadn’t worn it since Monday night.

He made for the handle, hesitated, and dropped his hand back to his side.

He rolled the ring around in his hand.

Finally, he opened the door.

Miranda was there. She was not pleased to see him. Taylor slipped the ring onto his finger, and her expression changed immediately.

“Taylor!” she smiled. “You’re early.”

He slipped it off.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped at him, hands on hips.

He slipped it back on.

“Amanda was going to be at the register today, and Cynthia will be on the floor until Jennifer shows up. The three of you should be able to handle the front, it’s only Wednesday.”

A grin spread across Taylor’s face. “Whatever you say, boss.”

——

It was an early Wednesday afternoon, and business was slow. Cynthia had made herself busy with straightening racks and mannequins while Taylor idled away behind the counter.

Jennifer had arrived, and, with no customers to help, joined Taylor behind the counter. “Look at you,” she said, gently pushing his shoulder. “First day up front. Big day, huh?”

“Uh…yeah.” He replied, with no enthusiasm.

“Don’t be nervous,” she said. “It’s no sweat. We don’t usually get very busy during the week anyway.” she glanced around the store, leaning far out over the counter—she’d had to hop to get up to it, given her short height—in search of Cynthia or any customers. Jennifer was on the smaller side of the store’s selection, and it was hard to ignore the way her ass, clad in a pair of skinny white jeans, stuck up into the air. She wore a crop top, revealing a sliver of chocolate flesh between the high waist of her pants and the hem of her shirt. It was not unattractive.

“Pro tip,” she confided, pulling herself back off of the counter. “When it’s really dead like this, you can look at all the clothes you want while pretending to straighten the racks. I bet that’s where Cynthia’s gone off to.”

“Why would I-“

Jennifer cut him off. She was not much of a listener. “The only problem is that I’m in, like, the dead zone for sizes, you know? Everything is too small everywhere else but too big here. Maybe I should just start having cheesecake for dinner—at least here I get an employee discount. Plus, cheesecake.”

A young woman came in, much larger than Jennifer. “Hi! Welcome to Torrid! Is there anything I can help you with?”

Jennifer had never talked to him before today, despite her inability to stop talking ever.

Taylor rang up the customer’s purchase, bid her a good day, and was once again assaulted by Jennifer’s new friendliness.

“I know it’s not much,” she said, “but it’s really great being able to help boost someone’s self-esteem like that. It’s nice to know there’s a place where girls like that can come to feel stylish and sexy.”

“Girls like what? That eat cheesecake for dinner?” Taylor asked.

Surprisingly, instead of becoming offended, Jennifer laughed, and slapped him lightly on the arm. “That’s mean!” she exclaimed, but didn’t stop giggling.

As the two whiled away the afternoon, he had to admit that she was cute, even if she could stand to lose a little bit of weight. She was also a bit short, for his tastes. Still, it didn’t stop him from flirting, and she seemed to be interested, laughing easily at his jokes and touching him on the arm or back every now and then.

“Do you want to go get lunch?” Cynthia interrupted. “It’s getting kind of late, and I’m starving.”

“Are you asking me?” said Taylor.

“Of course! You don’t eat lunch or something?”

Taylor agreed, but was self-conscious as the two made their way to the food court. What if people thought they were together? Cynthia was only a couple inches shorter than he was, and he had overheard her talking to Jennifer earlier about being worried she might have to move up to an 18. She was, at least, dressed well, in a patterned calf-length dress and cardigan, and her pale wheat hair was done up expertly. She was just not the petite girl he would typically go for.

They arrived and sat down with their meals. Taylor, noticing the size of Cynthia’s meal, decided to test the limits of his new toy.

“You know, you probably wouldn’t have to worry about being an 18 if you watched what you ate a little more.”

She looked up at him, mouth agape in mild shock, and then her head sank. “I know,” she said, bottom lip quivering—was she about to start crying in the middle of the food court? “It’s just…I broke up with my boyfriend recently, and I can’t help it.”

“Oh…geez.” said Taylor, immediately regretting his decision. Perhaps the ring wasn’t that great after all. “I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine,” she said, and launched into every single detail of her previous relationship. He had no choice but to sit and listen to her talk.

Finally, she seemed to realize what time it was, and finished her story. “You’re such a great listener. I’m so glad we’re friends.”

“Friends?” Taylor said. They barely knew each other.

“I can tell these things,” said Cynthia. “I’ve got a really great intuition. I’m, like, in tune with the spirit world.”

Taylor stared at her blankly.

“I’m just messing with you.” she said, giggling. “Your face. Let’s get back to work.”

Taylor wasn’t sure how much more of this openness he could take, as Cynthia continued to chat on their way back to work. He was mostly not paying attention, weighing the pros and cons of the additional hours.

——

Near closing time Miranda approached him. “Great job up there today. You really have a way with the customers.”

He couldn’t recall cracking a single smile the entire day. In fact, he had gone out of his way to avoid small talk with them.

“Thanks…” he said.

“How would you feel about working every Wednesday? And maybe Tuesday as well? To be honest Amanda’’s a great worker, but she’s not really a people person. They can’t all be ten hour shifts, because you’d still have to be part time, but that would still work for your classes, right?”

Four days a week was double what he’d been getting, and plenty of hours to pay the bills. “Sure, that would be great, Miranda!”

“All right. Just come in tomorrow at the regular time, I’ll have the schedule out by then.”

Taylor left work happy for once. Sure, it was still Torrid, but being around a bunch of fatties all day was worth it for those hours. He removed the ring and headed home.

[Inthecourt]

Nice pacing!

[Tornasunder]

The tempting details and suggestion had me hooked right away.

You really have a knack for tempting the reader!

[oldar]

Taylor slipped the ring on his finger, and strode into work. Amanda smiled up at him from the pile of clothes she was folding, but said nothing. She was an average height, and she wore her brunette hair in a bob, which framed her plump features. Amanda carried most of her excess weight in her bottom half; her breasts barely pushing a b cup. Taylor returned the smile politely, and moved past her without saying anything.

Miranda intercepted him on his way to the front, her excessive hourglass shape wobbling as she strutted on her heeled shoes. “Taylor!” she greeted him, smiling sweetly. “Good afternoon, how was school last night?” she asked, showing genuine interest.

“Not bad,” he responded, still getting used to her new cordial behavior. “Midterms aren’t for another few weeks.”

“Great. Listen, Cynthia can’t make her shift today, so it’s just going to be you and Jennifer out there. I know you don’t have any experience working the floor, but you’ll do great.”

“Work the floor? But…” Taylor protested.

“It’s fine,” Miranda reassured him. “Just answer any questions the customers have. They’re just clothes.”

——
Business was slow, as usual for a Thursday. Taylor busied himself adjusting shelves and counting inventory. A few customers had been in, but just to browse, before quickly leaving. Taylor was busying himself with with a stack of jeans when there was a tap on his shoulder. He hadn’t heard anyone come in, and it startled him nearly out of his skin.

“Do you work here?” asked a young woman. She was dressed casually in sweats, the seat of which had become filled with her luscious rear.

“Yes.” Taylor responded, hesitantly. “Do you…need help?”

Her face flushed with embarrassment, but under the influence of the ring, she opened up to him. “Sorry, it’s just…I’ve never shopped here before. I’ve…put on a little weight, recently” she explained, sheepishly. “College, huh?” she added, smiling weakly. “It’s just…all of your sizes are so weird. I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Hold on, I’m sure Jennifer can help you.” he said, waving his coworker over.

“What seems to be the trouble?” beamed Jenn. Taylor explained the situation. “That’s no problem,” she said. “Just take her measurements.”

Taylor looked at her blankly. “I can’t…I can’t measure her.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t you think that would be a little…indecent?”

“It’s okay,” said the woman. “I’d feel more comfortable if you did it.”

“But I’ve never…”

Jennifer seemed to catch on. “Oh. Right. Well then today I guess you’ll have to learn. Let’s go get that tape.”

The three stood in the changing room. Taylor held the measuring tape as Jennifer explained the procedure to him. The customer stood only in panties that looked a size or two too small, her chubby tummy forming love handles above the band.

“Measure under her armpits around the shoulder blades, and over the fullest part of her bust. Just like that.”

Taylor found it hard to hide his discomfort as the tape measure sank into the woman’s yielding flesh. He continued collecting the rest of the data, with Jennifer’s guidance; he wrapped the tape around the customer’s prodigious hips. The woman would have been attractive if she were slimmer, he thought. What a shame.

37-32-44. “It looks like you’re about a 12,” said Jenn.

“Thanks,” the woman said to Taylor.

“Anything else?”

“Well…there was one thing.” she said, hesitantly. “Do you know how I could hide…these?” she said, gesturing to hit broad hips. She looked at Taylor expectantly.

He returned her look, blankly, until Jenn nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “Do you think you could help her with that?” she prodded.

“Oh…uh. I don’t really…have any experience with the merchandise.”

“You don’t…you don’t shop here?” asked the girl.

“I…what? Of course not.” he said, gesturing at himself. “That would be really weird.”

Jennifer gave him a bewildered look. The customer placed a hand over her stomach, self-consciously. “I see…” she said.

“Don’t worry” said Jenn, leading her out to the store. “I’ll help you out.” she shot a look back at Taylor as they left the dressing room.

—-

“What we try to do here” explained Miranda as they sat in her office. “Is foster a safe space for these ladies. It’s important not to draw attention to the fact that some of us” she motioned towards Taylor, “have less to worry about than others. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I shouldn’t draw attention to the fact that I am skinny.” he said, exasperated.

“Right.” she smiled.

“Is that all?” he asked, impatiently.

“Well. I was going to wait until you had got settled, but I want you to understand what we expect from our employees and how they represent themselves and this company.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that there’s a different standard of dress when you work out in front. What you have on now is fine for the back, but it’s not really ‘bright’ enough for on the floor.”

“Oh” said taylor, looking down at his black t-shirt and slacks. “I guess I could wear a collared shirt or something.”

“Yes. Well. The thing is, we really prefer our employees, at least while on shift, to feel free to use the stock here. It helps show the clothing in real life, instead of sitting on the mannequin.”

“You…you want me to wear the clothes?”

“Sure. It wouldn’t cost you anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” she said.

“But…I’m a man.”

“Mhm.” she said, not seeming to understand, the ring warping her conception of what was normal. “And?”

“And these clothes are for women!”

“These clothes, Taylor, are for our customers. And showing the customers what they’re looking at is very important to us. Very important.”

“You want me to cross dress? You don’t see anything wrong with that?”

There was a tingling buzz around Taylor’s ring finger, and Miranda’s eyes appeared to cloud slightly.

“See anything wrong with what?” Miranda asked. “You work here. It’s perfectly normal for our employees to wear our clothing.”

His finger was practically vibrating now, and Taylor finally understood what was going on.

“So that wouldn’t be…weird…to you?”

“Of course not.” she said.

Taylor thought of his options. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to transfer to another store now, not after the trouble he had put the company through with putting him there, and getting another job wasn’t exactly an option. He could take the ring off, but the reduction in hours wouldn’t cover his bills. He fingered the humming ring. On the other hand, no one would even notice. He could change over at work and no one would give him a second look.

“Taylor? Do you understand?”

——

Taylor stood in the dressing room, looking at himself in the mirror. He had selected a pair of nondescript gray slacks and a long sleeve button up blouse. The blouse was more sheer than he was used to, and the pants had no belt loops, and flared near the bottoms; the shirt had buttons on the wrong side, and it was almost sheer, but the dark blue color made it opaque enough. He looked ridiculous, as he walked out, constantly pulling at the belt less pants, which hung loosely around his waist. The smallest sizes were absurdly large on him.

“Wow, very professional.” said Jennifer.

Taylor spent the rest of the day self-consciously worrying that the magic of the ring would wear of any moment, and he would be laughed, or worse, out of the mall, but Jennifer continued to chat his ear off and customers came in and out, asking him his advice on articles of clothing and otherwise engaging him in small talk. At the end of his shift, he quickly changed over, removed the ring, and headed for class, not quite believing what he had done.

----
sorry if these updates are kind of short. I've been busy lately. Feedback welcome and appreciated!

[manstein]

An extremely hot story which I greatly enjoyed. I can't wait for the next part (I hope it comes very soon). Thank you Oldar for sharing this with us.

[oldar]

Taylor stood on his tip toes, finger sliding against a box just too far out of reach on the top shelf for him to lift it off. It was Wednesday, and the store had been unusually busy the previous few days, thanks to a seasonal sale they were having. The crowds had finally would down, as the selection thinned, and so Taylor and the girls had needed to begin restocking early this week.

He had spent the last couple of work days listening to a sea of customers tell him how cute his conservative outfit of slacks and blouse was. He had spent the majority of his shifts with cheeks flushed in embarrassment, awkwardly accepting their compliments. He had also spent more time helping customers find their sizes, bringing them different pairs of things and, thanks to “encouragement” from Miranda, complimenting them on their appearance or style choices. He was actually beginning to get an eye for what worked and what did not.

“Need the ladder?” asked Cynthia, noticing his struggles.

“N-no…” he said, hopping a bit to try and dislodge the box. It had been some time since he had worked in the back, but he didn’t remember having this much trouble before.

“Here,” she said, coming over. “Let me help.” She reached up, barely getting a hand on the box, but successfully wrestling it from its position. The two raised their hands over their heads and slowly lowered the bulky box from its perch.

“Uh…thanks.” he said, bewildered as he looked up slightly into her eyes. That was very wrong. He should not be looking up to her. He quickly looked down to her feet. She sometimes wore heels, and a larger one would put her slightly taller than him, but she wore flats.

Taylor dropped the box unceremoniously. “Y-you…” he stammered.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You don’t look so good.”

His head spun. His inability to grasp the box made sense now—Cynthia hadn’t become taller, he had grown shorter—a few inches, at least. He hadn’t been incredibly tall to begin with, but now he was definitely below average. His thoughts were immediately on the ring. This was not natural, and the ring was the only explanation. No amount of hours were worth this. Frantically, he scrambled to remove the ring.

A wave of nausea overcame him as Cynthia’s face dropped in front of his eyes. With the ring removed, he was once again taller than her.

“Geez, be careful with that!” Cynthia said, practically sneering at him. “Oh my god, what are you wearing?” she asked, taking a step away. She looked horrified and disgusted at the same time.

“What? No. This is.” Without the ring, the spell had been broken, and the realization that he looked ridiculous, after getting used to working in these clothes for the last few days. Quickly, he replaced the ring, and Cynthia’s face changed as immediately as it rose in front of him.

Taylor weighed his options. If everything went back to normal when he removed the ring, then he decided he would have to work through this new development.

He returned to the front with the box, and proceeded to transfer the merchandise to the racks.

——

The day was passing without further incident. Occasionally, he would notice the changes, as he had to reach further for certain things. He would pause to observe his hands, which were beginning to appear slimmer; smaller; almost dainty, with the fingers coming to finer points than he remembered. Mostly, though, he tried to remain distracted to his new plight.

It was during this focused state of work, encumbered with clothing to shelve, when he tripped on something, and went sprawling to the floor. Jennifer appeared at his side quickly. “Are you all right?” she asked, concern covered her face. He brushed her off, explaining that he was fine, stood up, and brushed himself off.

“Just clumsy today, I guess.” he said, and started, eyes wide, at how close her own face came to his now. She was the shortest girl in the store, and he stood now barely a head taller than her, when previously he had stood chest and shoulders above her.

“Or…” she started. “Maybe it’s your pants.” she said, motioning to the hem, which now dragged along the floor around his shoes in an excessive pile. “What size are those?”

“They’re…tall” he said, face flushing, clearly nowhere near the tall size anymore.

“Hm. Maybe you should try the regular fit?” she suggested. “Or maybe you could try to wear one of the dresses—you’ve been wearing slacks and a shirt all week. You know how Miranda likes us to mix it up.”

The thought of wearing a dress was too much for him. and he said he would try one of the regular fit pants, instead.

He made to get a new pair of pants, hiking his own up over his shoes, but as he stepped off he nearly stepped out of his shoes.

“Today just isn’t your day, is it? Where did you even get those things? Is your boyfriend a clown?”

“B-boyfriend? I haven’t got…Never mind” he said, flustered, cheeks becoming a deeper red with every moment. He examined his exposed feet for the first time. There was no way they would fit into his shoes. Jennifer was right—they looked like clown shoes on him now.

“Don’t worry about it.” she said. “What are you, like an 8? Here, these flats should work.” she said, handing him a pair of ballet flats he had seen many of the girls in the store wearing before. There was no mistaking their feminine appearance. “I’m surprised you haven’t picked any shoes out before. Most of them are really cute.”

He couldn’t walk around in his shoes, or go barefoot. Reluctantly, he accepted the shoes, and slipped them on. He couldn’t get over how tiny his feet appeared in them.

“I can’t believe this!” he complained, sorting through the piles of pants on the shelf.

“What’s wrong now?” asked Jenn, concern in her voice.

“None of these are in the right size!” he bemoaned.

“We’ll be getting another shipment in tomorrow. Here, this skater skirt would go great with that blouse you have on.”

“I can’t wear a skirt!” he protested, pants being the final vestige of visible masculinity in his clothes.

“Why not? don’t be ridiculous.” she said, holding out the floral patterned, pleated skirt.

The ring buzzed on his finger, and, with the fact that no one would know the difference, reluctantly took it.

He emerged from the dressing room, skirt hanging loosely about his narrow hips, his hairy lower legs on full display.

“Oh.” Said Jennifer. “You should have just said so. Nothing wrong with au natural, I’m all for feminism, but I don’t know if the customers will be super comfortable with that. Here,” she said, tossing him a pack of leggings. “Wear these. No one will notice. It would be easier to shave, but who am I to judge?”

He retreated back into the dressing room, and, after a bit of a struggle, finally managed to pull the leggings on up over his boxers.

He took in his image in the mirror. He had seen plenty of heavy girls use the same look—their legs clad in leggings to disguise the perceived shortcomings of their legs. His petite frame was anything but chubby. His limbs were small, and his hands were dainty. He had to use a safety pin to keep the skirt on his waist. If he had to guess, he would have said he was no taller than 5’5”, and he looked to have dropped a significant amount of weight. His once slender frame was now slight and almost girly, although it retained the lank, skeletal, angular build. Getting used to wearing women's pants was one thing, but adjusting to his new height and additional feminine clothing was taxing his mental state. He sighed in resignation, thankful that the work day was nearly over.

[Inthecourt]

Great work!