Please note: possibly not for work consumption. A lot of things in this story are totally impossible. But this is Paragon City, after all.
Lindsey stepped out from behind the counter at Icon in Founder’s Falls and stifled a yawn. Some heroes were so boring. They usually wanted the same costume they had on, sometimes reinforced in places, or they wanted the one they had on sewed up. Or they would paw through the rack and pick up whatever was there, expecting the seamstresses in the back to get it fitted to them NOW.
The sad thing was, she had just started her shift and she was already bored. She had taken care of one person, who merely wanted street clothes.
She went to straigthen out one of the dummies on display when a deep-voiced man said, “Excuse me, miss?”
She turned around and looked right at a man’s crotch, encased in very tight sweatpant material. She blinked, then jerked her head up to look at his face, seconds after her mind registered his size and a little voice in her head made lewd suggestions. The man was barechested, a scorpion tattoo on his chest, with tattoos of snakes going down his arms.
“I seem to have a problem,” he continued. God, he has beautiful blue eyes, she thought, shoving down the voice. Yes, think blue eyes, uh huh.
“Yes, sir?” She smiled up at him, and stepped back to assess him. He was over seven feet tall, hugely muscled but he still had a neck. He looked like a seven foot tall buff man, as opposed to some of the out-of-proportion creatures that sometimes came in, also being seven feet tall.
“I seem to’ve outgrown my clothes.”
She forced herself to look down. He had sweats that came to his knees, and she realized that was probably the only thing that fit him. Sort of. “Had a growth spurt,” he continued.
“Oh, I see.” She knew from experience that he seemed a little old to be exhibiting a new mutation, but she no longer questioned why things happened in this town. For all she knew he got caught in the Terra Volta reactor and it activated something. “Of course I can help you. Are you a hero?”
“Yes,” he said, and stuck a hand in his sweats’ front pocket. She had hoped that that was what the bulge was near the side of his leg. It wasn’t. He pulled out his wallet and flipped his hero ID at her.
She gave it a precursory glance just to note his name. “All right, Sergeant Blackhawk, I’ll take you to the big-and-tall section right here.” They wove through the racks to a large men’s section in the back. “Do you know what size you are?”
“Not anymore,” he said.
She brought him to the measuring section, a place where there was a foot-high block in the floor. “I’ll have to measure you then, sir. Can you please step up here?” She pulled out a stepstool that the shorter tailors used for just this occassion. Then she set it up behind him, and measured him from head to heel. “Eight feet, three inches, sir.”
“Goddamn,” he muttered.
She stayed on the stool and measured his neck. “How tall were you before?”
“Six two.”
“How much did you weigh?”
“171.”
“You’re probably at least half as much more now, sir.”
“I was off the scale at home.”
“We have a scale back here. Neck is 32 inches.” She continued to measure him. Bicep, 33 inches. Forearm, 29 inches. Chest, 64. She moved downward and couldn’t help but glance at his crotch.
He yanked and held up his sweat pants past his waist as she moved. She could see the size of him, and the girth of him, and almost asked if he had stuck a 2×4 down his pants. It was straight up, pointing at his abs. “Excuse me,” she said, and tucked her hands between his as he held up his pants.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“These pants are a little small, I understand.”
“You can tell, huh?”
She smiled, and kept her head bent as she continued to measure. Waist, 52; Hips, 58.5; thigh, 41; calf, 33. Then she went to her knees to take the inseam, and she had no choice but to be at head-level with his crotch.
“Y’ain’ gonna cop a feel, are you?” he asked with a grin.
“I am entirely professional, sir,” she said, all humor gone from her voice. That made her focus. Inseam, 46. She got up from her knees, an angry look on her face. Angry because of him seeing through her thoughts or herself because of having them, she wasn’t sure.
“I’m sorry, sweets, it was just a joke.”
“Let me find you some sweatpants, sir. Do you still do heroing?”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding a little disappointed.
“Do you wear a spandex costume? We have a new material that can expand and contract with your body as it changes shape. We have many shapeshifters here.”
“No, I don’t wear that shit.”
She frowned, and looked around. “Let’s see what we can find at the shapeshifter rack.”
“I jus’ wear t-shirts an’ jeans.”
“With all due respect, sir, a hero must have a proper costume.”
“Spandex is kinda, revealing, doncha think?”
“We have cups, even for your size,” she said, and blushed at his chuckle, buring her head into the shapeshifter rack. She found a pair of pants with denim-like material, that when she pulled them out, looked like they would fit a normal man. “Here, try these on.”
“Sweets, those are kinda–”
“Trust me. Go on in the back.”
“I, well…outgrew the underwear, too.”
“Oh, dear.” She went back to the big and tall section and got a package of briefs that had his waist size. She tossed them to him when she returned.
“Jus’ white? You got any colors?”
She gave him a mock glare.
“Okay, okay, I’m goin’.” He retreated to the fitting room. She looked through more racks and found more pants of the same kind of material. She glanced back to see him coming out of the dressing room.
Damn, he looked hot, only in a pair of blue jeans, barefoot and bare chested. The jeans were tight, showing off his package as well as spandex ever could. She looked up. Blue eyes, blue eyes.
“What do you think?”
“They fit. They din’t look like it, but they do.”
“Well, that’s because it’s made out of that material I mentioned. Here are some items that would fit your present size, made out of the usual denim and whatnot. I would suggest getting at least one pair of those, in case you have another growth spurt. Then you won’t be so embarrassed.”
“How much are they?”
“Two hundred fifty.”
“Are you fuckin’ serious?!”
Other people looked their way. “You get a 30% discount, sir,” she explained patiently.
He looked down at the pants. “Jesus Christ.” Then he held his hand out for the other items. “Lemme go try those on.”
She handed them to him, and watched his tightly enclosed butt retreat. She couldn’t see his blue eyes from there.
When he returned, she had found some t-shirts and a couple of button-downs for him. They were pretty plain. He tried those on without going into the dressing room. “The pants fit; a little short, but that’s okay, I usually wear boots.”
“Oh, yes, we need to get you some footwear.” She measured his foot (17 wide) and headed in the back.
Priscilla was back there, her eyes wide. “That guy’s huge!”
She nodded, looking at the shoe boxes for a pair of motorcycle boots in his size. “Yes, he is.”
“Is he big down there, too?”
“I honestly didn’t look.”
“Oh, come on, Lindsey. You had to have measured him, right? Don’t tell me you didn’t at least breathe on him.”
“Priss!” She turned to glare at her, blushing.
Priscilla laughed. “You thought about it!”
“He was alr–” she stopped herself.
She laughed again. “You DID look! So does he have a monster in his pants or what?”
Lindsey grabbed a box and stormed out of the room. He looked up at her entrance from the back room, flushed and angry. “Everythin’ okay?”
Without looking at him, she flipped open the box and realized she had the wrong boots. These were combat boots.
“That’s all you got, huh?” He picked one up, turned it over, then stuck his arm in it. After pulling out the cardboard and a bit of paper, he felt around. “They got steel toes; I’ll try ’em.”
He pulled them on and laced them up, tucking the shapeshifter jeans into them. He stood up and stomped once. The boom echoed throughout the store.
“Yeah, these’ll work.” He looked at Lindsey, a little concerned. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, sir, I’m fine.” She gathered the box and the papers.
“Something I said?”
“No, sir, not you.”
“Who did?”
“It’s all right, sir,” she said, plastering a smile on her face. “I’ll take care of it.”
“If somebody’s botherin’ you, you let me know, ‘kay, sweets?”
Heroes often said that to her, then promptly forgot, going off to do their thing. She looked at up at him, looked into those ocean blue eyes, and she knew he sincerely meant it. She tore away from his gaze and started gathering his things.
“One last thing,” he said. “Leather jacket.”
“Trench or simple leather, biker or–”
“Biker.” She brought him to the outerwear and pulled out one of the size 68’s, since they usually ran small. He shrugged into it and nodded as he moved around in it.
“Okay,” he said, and took the items from her. “I’m ready for the damage.”
“You need a cup.” She brought him to a section for that, and she said, “You wouldn’t happen–”
“I have an idea.” He rummaged through the larger sizes and came up with one. She glanced at the size, and it seemed the 2×4 idea wasn’t too far off. “Now, I’m ready.”
She brought him to the cash register. He nearly fell over when she totaled it all up. She applied the discount, but that didn’t seem to make him feel better. “How will you pay for this?”
“Cash,” he muttered, and pulled out that wallet again. He counted the money out to her, shaking his head. “Lorenco’s gonna either kill me or rahh–” he coughed.
She bagged the items and handed the bag to him over the counter. Then he handed her a one hundred dollar bill. “For your trouble.”
“Wh…why, thank you, sir.” She’d never gotten a tip like that before. She blushed and took the money.
He smiled, and tipped his head. “You have a good evening.”
Early the next morning, after her shift, Lindsey woke up in bed. She had the strangest dream of being brought into a dark alley with the huge man, being wrapped in his arms, while she was able to see his actual size.
A 2×4 was too small.
Words: 1810
Inspiration: Continuation of RP, Sunday night; story on Literotica of a superhero whose size changed to impossible proportions when aroused.
Research: Measurements are possibly correct; taken from a website of average 6′ males and converted to stay proportionate. Bomber’s larger than average even before these changes.
Music: Love Gun – Kiss