"Remind me why we're holed up in the warehouse again?"
Ryan rubbed his hands together feverishly as he spoke, a feeble attempt to warm them up within the insulation-less warehouse storage closet. It was midwinter after all, a period where employees smiled and waved, and danced merry little jigs in order to avoid the dreaded warehouse shifts and the plummeting temperatures. Ryan had never been particularly good at being such a suck-up and, as such, was forced to work the aptly named 'suicide shift' today.
F*cking hell though, he mentally groaned, shivering as he muttered an incomprehensible curse under his breath, Even Liam did a better job at kissing up than me.
He looked across the little closet and scowled at his coworker standing opposite him, a particularly smug looking Stuart, his back resting against the barren brick and one of his arms tucked behind. It wasn't out of any real sense of malice; he just despised how cheery someone could look so cheery at nine in the morning during these horrible conditions.
"We're here, my cute little hetero friend," Stuart chuckled, seemingly unfazed by the cold as he folded his arms and effeminately cocked his hips to the side, "Because I have something to show you!"
"Couldn't you have shown me...whatever you plan on showing me, inside the bit of the store with the central heating?" Ryan groaned audibly, dragging his face down with his hands. "Surely if it's that important you could've at least waited for someone else
"Well, to be frank, you weren't exactly my first choice, honey." Stuart shrugged, still grinning profusely despite insulting Ryan to his face. "But hey; beggars can't be choosers."
"How kind..."
"Aren't I just?" Stuart giggled at his own smug remark, the pink-varnished nails of his right arm moving upwards to tenderly stroke the few remaining wisps of hair protruding from the base of his chin. "Anyways, you seem the open type."
Ryan furrowed his brow. He cast a furtive look to Stuart and instinctively covered his crotch as he said, "Meaning..."
"...Meaning," Stuart sighed, rolling his eyes that Ryan had even considered that he was making a pass at him, "You'll believe me when I say that this..." he smirked coyly and gestured over himself, "...Isn't my body."
Ryan paused, hardly believing what he'd just heard.
"Isn't your...?"
The corner of his mouth twitched, instinctively contorting itself into an awkward smile to attempt to diffuse the awkward tension that'd suddenly settled into the quaint little closet.
"You're pulling my leg, ain't you?"
Stuart rolled his eyes and groaned, albeit a tad playfully, his fingers drumming an impatient canter rhythm on the wall.
"On the contrary, Ryan," he corrected the confused boy with a smirk. "I mean, don't you think it's a tad weird for me to look like this?"
Ryan blushed profusely, more out of sheer shock, admittedly, but also because there was an element of truth laced behind Stuart's words.
Truthfully speaking Ryan hadn't put much thought into Stuart's appearance much before. Sure, Stuart's dress sense had always seemed a bit...off to Ryan, but Ryan had always pinned it down to the man being 'comfortable in his sexuality', or something along those lines. Today, for example, Stuart had chosen to wear a flowing Wilko blouse, slightly dipped on his right shoulder (as-per-usual), as well as a super skinny pair of black jeans, and a matching pair of black leather pumps with 3-inch heels.
These were female clothes, indisputably so, but the whole getup seemed to look almost natural on Stuart's body. He was in good shape, at least for a man that was supposedly nearing thirty, with a slim abdomen, plump thighs, and a narrow waist that allowed him quite the appealing hourglass figure. On Stuart's torso sat a well-sculpted set of mammaries, much larger and perkier than his own girlfriend's, so much so that, on the offhand occasion that Ryan's eyes may've landed on them, Ryan had often had daydreams of walking up and smushing his face into those...
Oh God, Ryan thought, his cheeks going red once again as an all too familiar stirring began within his boxer briefs. Stop f*cking thinking about your male coworker's tits!
"What's, er...wrong with you looking like that?" Ryan replied, his voice wavering as a single trickle of sweat ran down from his brow.
"Who's pulling who's leg now?" Stuart snorted.
"W-Well, we've all known you're a bit less...physically masculine, what with your build, and your...boobs, and well...your..." He coughed bashfully. "We just...never say anything about it, y'know?"
"God, you boys and your fragile masculinities," "I'd be offended by the disinterest if I didn't know all your memories with me in this form are fabricated."
Ryan's face darkened in confusion. "W-What?"
Stuart clicked his tongue, as if this was the stupidest question he'd heard all day. "All these memories of me, looking like this, inside your head," he continued, gesturing expressively in the air with his dainty hand, "They're all fake."
"You're sh*tting me, aren't you," Ryan said, his mouth now emitting an awkward chuckle of its own accord. "Yeah, I can tell."
"F*cking hell, are you really this dull?"
"Is this some type of English humour that is just lost on a poor young, Irish lad like me? 'Cause, believe me, I ain't f*cking laughing."
"Oh, poor you," Stuart mocked.
He sighed wistfully before he began rocking back and forth on his heels, thrusting his camel toe into Ryan's line of sight over and over again.
"Maybe you're right- perhaps if I'd waited until break time I could've found someone else that would've been really interested in..."
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