"...ma..."
Darrell's eyes flickered open, both in response to the sunlight beaming through the window opposite him and to the incessant nagging voice coming from atop him. He groaned. Reaching out his hand, he realised that he was on the floor for whatever reason. A carpeted floor at that, which must've meant he was in the manager's office and not the shop floor where he'd been working on just a few moments prior.
But no, he thought to himself, shaking off the absurd notion, That couldn't possibly work...
"...mma, wake up."
That voice again. He recognised it, he was sure of it.
Something was inhibiting his mental faculties. Some sort of fog, obscuring his perception. Darrell made an attempt to filter his memories into place, a somewhat successful attempt as he could feel the jigsaw pieces slotting back into his head, albeit in a strange, foreign order that didn't make complete logical sense.
"...t's not her, idiot."
Another voice. This one was of a higher pitch, and with a tone that indicated frustration, nagging. This one was unmistakable, he was sure of it.
"...L-Liz..."
Darrell heard a rustle as both voices dwindled into hushed gasps. He could feel the carpet move as their feet turned towards him, the floor creaking as they inched ever closer. They seemed to stop momentarily before they reached him, hesitant almost.
"Who are you?" the first voice inquired, a twinge of uncertainty laced behind his words.
Why are they so anxious? Darrell asked himself in confusion. They continued to wait, letting the silence linger.
They're waiting, he thought. For what?
Darrell huffed. It was a pain to have to take the first initiative. Taking his hand and sinking his polished nails into the carpet, he clawed his way back into a seating position. It was slow goings- for whatever reason, he was feeling so sluggish all of a sudden- but eventually he'd leveraged himself up enough to where his head lolled in front of his torso, so much so that he was practically staring into the crease of the breasts stuffed underneath his white blouse.
"Bloody hell..."
He clutched his forehead as he felt the last remnants of the fog passing over his mind. He whined in relief, glad to be rid of that mild but frustrating haze. Perspiration had begun to slick his forehead so he dutifully wiped it off, pushing back the long dark brown hair that ran just past his shoulders above his collarbone and to the side.
"The man asked you a question, so hurry up and chuffing answer it."
Darrell looked up, acknowledging the presence of the voices' owners for the first time. To the left was Steven, his older bespectacled coworker, looking as awkward as ever with his fingernails trapped between his front teeth. To the right was Liz, the second voice Darrell correctly surmised, a scowl set across her face that was equally apprehensive as it was demanding. Her arms had been crossed over her large bust as she peered down; her 'serious pose', as Darrell knew it by.
"F*ck me, are you two pulling my leg."
His voice came out as a squeak, betraying the nervous humour he'd been trying to express with a quiet giggle at the end. It didn't seem to work, seeing as Liz and Steven seemed unmoved afterwards. He brought his hand up to clear his throat, the charm bracelet on his wrist tinkling with reassuring gentleness.
"Fine," he groaned, his cream glossed lips stretching into an annoyed grimace, "...It's me. Darrell."
Darrell's brow furrowed as he observed Liz and Steven share a shocked expression between themselves. A nervous giggle escaped from Steven's mouth whereas Liz's eyes seemed to double in size, the pupils shrinking as if she were one of those cartoon characters that'd just witnessed their lives flash before their eyes.
"O-Oh..." Steven chuckled meekly, turning back to Darrell and scratching his scalp. "...Right, yeah. Sorry, we were just checking."
Darrell used this tie to push himself back onto his feet, brushing down the dust-covered black slacks that clung tight to his motherly hips and chunky thighs. He almost stumbled as he tried to steady himself on his feet, though he wasn't exactly sure why. The three-inch heeled t-bar wedges weren't nearly as high as some of the heels he'd worn back in his younger days, back when he was still a rowdy and rebellious teenage gi...
Wait, that doesn't compute...
He shook off the strange feeling that'd suddenly gripped his heart, citing it as not important, before relaxing his shoulders and playfully cocking his hip to the side in mock dismay.
"F*ck me, you spend six years working somewhere and your coworkers can't even recognise you..."
He chuckled dryly before a thought suddenly occurred to him. Darrell frowned and pulled at his earlobes. Liz and Steven shivered as a frantic expression raced across their coworker's face, contorting his mouth and crow's feet into a horrifying sight.
"...Where is it?"
"W-Where's what?" Steven quipped, unsure how to react as Darrell desperately began checking his pockets.
"...No, no-no-no..."
Darrell muttered something indiscernible as he peeked into his bust, only to curse and pirouette in a tiny circle. His eyes flitted around the room, searching for something no one else could seemingly see. From the corner of his eye he watched Steven approach Liz, crouching to her level to shoddily whisper something in her ear.
"...Sh*t, do you think he realised...!"
"Realised what?"
"N-Nothing!" Liz spluttered, her hands wagging innocently. "S-Sorry, Darrell...mind me asking, what exactly are you looking for?"
Darrell sighed and placed his hands on his waist, mild annoyance creeping into his soft tone.
"...Only my f*cking earrings!" he whined, flipping his hair out of his face. "...You know them, right? Small, look like raindrops, bright green? Bloody hell, my nan gave them to me when..."
The haze struck once more, causing Darrell to stumble once again from unease. His memories were mixed up, he could tell. Something was causing this, this backlog of thoughts and recollections that seemingly had no origin nor conclusion. Either way, whatever memory he'd been trying to call on, he couldn't remember it clearly. Darrell groaned and clutched his head.
Meanwhile, he could hear the characteristic scrape of jade against wood from a few steps to the side.
"T-These ones?" Steven chirped, holding the fabled earrings within the palm of his hand.
"Yes!" Darrell exclaimed, practically squealing with glee as Steven passed them over. "Where were they?"
"They, er, were on the table. I think Em...you might've left them there accidentally."
"Oh, you're a bloody lifesaver, Steven." Darrell beamed as he looped them through his ears and secured the clasp at the back so as not to misplace them again. Taking the compact mirror conveniently placed on the edge of the desk, Darrell admired how they dangled down to the level of his nape in the reflection.
"...Sh*t, Alisha would've killed me if I'd lost these."
"R-Rightly so," Steven meekly agreed, "...But, and I say this with the greatest respect, aren't you worried it's a little..."
"...Feminine?" Liz snickered, for reasons Darrell wasn't too sure about. Nonetheless, Darrell shot her a toothy grin.
"I'd like to think looking fashionable knows no genders," he replied wittily. "Whether or not the style is normally employed by women doesn't faze me; if I look good in, say...dresses, or skirts, or heels even, I don't care if it seems feminine or not."
He caressed one of the two jade teardrops in his hands, grinning. "...Earrings? Just a little something to add that extra spice, is what I say."
"A noble outlook," Liz nodded, a smile still set across her face.
"Yeah, I'd like to think so too." Darrell blushed, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about his retort, especially since the person he'd personally called out was the assistant manger no less. "...A-Anyways, I think I'll go and head on downstairs."
Liz gave Darrell the once-over. "In that get up?"
Darrell's cheeks flushed. "Sh*t, I forgot to change!"
"No worries," Steven said, already having begun rummaging through the spare uniform in one of the cupboards. "Here's a shirt."
He tossed a red polo over which Darrell caught with ease. Darrell nodded in appreciation before proceeding to whip off his blouse there and then, his male sensibilities making him unashamed to expose his torso to those around him. He was startled to hear a shy squeak from the other side of the room but chose to ignore it for the moment.
Darrell slipped the polo on a moment later, taking care to pull his hair out and flick it down his back. He adjusted the collar somewhat, the abrasion of the rough material there reminding him of the first time he'd ever donned the store's uniform. Looking down, Darrell popped two or three buttons from the top, not wanting his braless tits to suffocate. The sweat pouring down them would be hell to deal with after shift otherwise.
"...You're a lifesaver again, Steven. I might have to thank you properlysomeday."
He shot a coquettish wink Steven's way, to which the man blushed.
"Will the footwear be a problem too, Liz?"
Liz shrugged. "As long as you don't slip and break your neck, it's no sweat off my back."
Darrell nodded his acknowledgement. Taking a brief moment to say his goodbyes, he walked out of the room. Having been left inside, Liz and Steven were privy to overhear the muffled conversation occurring outside the door. Though none of the chat's contents could be deciphered, the both of them grinned in recognition of the second participant's voice.
A moment later and the door opened and shut, a dark paw mischievously twisting the handle shut.
"See," Emma purred, licking her lips feverishly as she pawed her flattened torso. "...Told you it worked."
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