The Singlet

By The Great Story Teller: https://thegreatstoryteller.tumblr.com

@soul-controller Merry Christmas! For the 4th Annual Story Exchange, enjoy your singlet!

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It was another Christmas for Nate. After being away so long for his graduate studies, his parents were happy to have him home. Or at least to an extent.

While his mother was happy to prepare a welcome home feast and presents, his father Scott had a one track mind of asking Nate about sports and Nate’s distinct lack of athletic ability.

“And how’s the wrestling team doing over there? I hear that your school might go all the way to Nationals. A few of your guys have even been scouted on the Olympic level!” his dad said.

Nate just sighed politely as he tried to get through dinner. “I-uh. I don’t know dad. Maybe? I’m way too busy with my dissertation these days to keep up with some of the sporting events… I think we had a basketball game… that our team won? I think. I don’t know, can’t we just relax? I’m so tired from all my studies.”

Unfortunately any attempt to appease his dad seemed to merely stoked the flames of argument and anger. There had always been a rift that had separated the two. While Nate grew to a respectable 5’11, he never seemed to grow into the passion for athletics that his father lived for. If something wasn’t football or wrestling related then it wasn’t worth much of his father’s time.

“All I’m saying is, you’re young and studying all those nonsense things. Our family has got good genes. If you worked out a little you’d know.” Scott said angrily, chewing his food mouth open. Nate’s sighs were turning into full on eye rolls at this point. One look at his dad’s physique and he knew that the man may be right. With a powerful barrel chest, thick arms, and broad shoulders, his dad’s body was physical evidence of what a man in their family could look like with enough gym time. Sure he’d gained a bit of a gut over the years, but that just made the man sturdier, if also a little more stubborn.

“Come on dad. You know I never took to anything athletic in my entire life. I appreciate you trying, but I’m an adult who can make their own decisions now. Let’s just… talk about something else.” Nate said, trying to diffuse the situation. He didn’t need to relive the embarrassing memories of high school gym class or his dad’s trips to the gym where he couldn’t lift a thing.

Scott’s voice grew more stern as the conversation led on. “There he goes again. Excuse me for trying to talk to my son! Nate you can’t keep shrugging off conflict. One of these days you’re gonna have to face them head on and confront stuff. But it’s the holidays so I won’t make a big deal about it. You’ll see things my way soon enough. Now finish your food and get to bed. We’ve got a big Christmas tomorrow and I need you well rested.”

Nate was thankful that it seemed to mark the end of his father’s one tracked conversation. He headed back to his old room, curious as to what his dad could mean by wanting Nate to be “well rested”. However, the exhaustion for the night was more than enough to set his tired mind at ease as he drifted to sleep.

When Nate awoke he was surprised to be met with a box at the foot of his bed. It was red with one of those pre tied ribbons at the top. He’d recognize the lazy gift wrapping anywhere. Why had his dad left him a present before they even met by the Christmas tree. Too tired to see reason, Nate simply slid the lid of the box off and was met with a surprise.

“You gotta be kidding me. He better not expect me to actually wear this.” Nate gasped aloud. Inside the box sat a neatly folded red wrestling singlet. A small flag was adorned on the front with some Asian or African flag Nate couldn’t recognize. The bright redness with the small green and white areas of the singlet made it seem festive. If not for the sheer audacity of his father, Nate may have even considered this as a funny gift.

“If he thinks for one second this is going to change my mind about anything then he’s got another thing comi-” Nate began to growl until he saw a small note inside the box.

“Hey sport. I got you this so we could be closer. Try it on and I promise I won’t hound you about wrestling ever again.” - Dad

The young man couldn’t believe his eyes. This kind of promise was never something his stubborn dad normally made. Could this be a trick? Could he be for real? Perhaps it was Nate’s kind heart. Maybe it was his optimism around the holidays. Whatever it was, made Nate remove his pajamas, look at the singlet one last time, and finally put it on.

It was the first time Nate had ever worn something like this. Part of him wondered if it was supposed to feel so loose in certain areas. He looked at himself in the bedroom mirror and gave an awkward grin. Could this truly be worth it to get his dad to stop hounding him? Maybe he should take it off.

But as soon as he reached his hand out to remove the first strap his body froze. Each joint and muscle locking into place, unable to move even a single inch. It would’ve been completely frightening to Nate, if this process had not already knocked him completely unconscious. Instead he was now in a strangely pleasant dream where he was doing some stretches. On the outside his static limbs began to pulse and writhe. As if breaking free from invisible restraints, his fingers began to expand and pulse, inching larger and larger. They were becoming part of an ever growing hand, with small dark hairs lining along the knuckles. Hands perfect for grappling an opponent. In his dream Nate began to lightly stretch his fingers and hands. Rotating them, applying small pressures to release tension. Had they always looked so big? So hairy?

His dream continued as he stretched out his arms raising them to the sky. It felt nice to feel his joints loosening up around his shoulders too. Meanwhile, his arms were breaking free from stasis as well. They grew longer, stronger, and hairier all at once, becoming thick unbeatable columns of strength that could subdue the most unruly opponent. The skin along his hands and arms also grew a shade more tan. Something that occurred simultaneously to the bone breaking sounds of Nate’s shoulder’s widening. He had the wingspan to wrap around the largest opponent in unescapable holds. Holds that would be against a solid chest that was inflating by the second with hefty muscle. The breathing inside his dream quickened at this point. Nate felt heavy in his mind. Like he should be sinking or falling into the cloudlike area his mind had created. He even felt a minor falling sensation, which was the result of his legs lengthening and thickening. His feet followed suit as they widened with the surface area necessary to support the two tanned columns of flesh his legs were becoming.

With one large roar, dream and reality came colliding together. The ensuing awakening allows Nate to feel the final changes to his face begin. His once smooth pale skin darkening with both hair and a light brown tint. His weaker jaw sharpening and becoming more prominent. His meager brow becoming more intense as his eyebrows coming in. His hair becoming short and organized in an effortless style. Finally standing in Nate’s room was a new man indeed.

Downstairs Scott was buzzing with excitement. He had spent quite a pretty penny on the TF Threads Wrestling Singlet. He’d admit technology was not his strong suit, but when it’s as easy as pointing and clicking at the first singlet he could find, then he knew he’d done good. Any minute now Scott would see his son wearing the new reality enhancing outfit that TF Threads promised would “change lives”.

A reality altering pulse throbbed through the room. Scott looked eagerly to see what had changed. Academic ribbons seemed to disappear from the shelves, being replaced with large bulky trophies with small golden wrestlers atop them. The father beamed proudly at his handiwork, not paying attention to some subtle details on the new trophies. He didn’t even realize the childhood photos were being removed from the walls or the car that Nate arrived in becoming a new make and model.

No. All Scott was concerned about was the heavy thuds that were descending the stairs. “Hey son! I… uh… I uh…. I… is that you? Na-Natha-Han-Hassan?”. Scott immediately put his hand over his mouth. Descending the stairs was a large, handsome, and imposing Iranian man. At first he recognized this man to be a stranger, but that wasn’t true. Not in this new reality. No. Now Scott knew this man as Hassan Yazdani! The Iranian transfer student to the local university. The young man who he’d acted as a host family for as he completed his studies in the U.S. Hassan was a wrestler who enjoyed talking about his matches and his training! A wrestler who even made it to the Olympics and won gold back in 2016! Pride certainly swelled within Scott seeing this man who he’d treated like his own son. Confusion was still there though, right next to that pride.

“Hassan! Wow…. you… you look great!” Scott cheered with a hint of confusion.

“بابا چیکار کردی?” Hassan spoke, but much to his and his father’s confusion he paused. Then with accented English he slowly said, “Dad! What did you do?”

“What the hell did you just say a second ago?” Scott scrunched his face in confusion. “And why do you look so different? The clothes were supposed to change you into a wrestler. Thought it would change your mind too, but nothing like this.”

Hassan rolled his eyes. At least this part of him still felt familiar. “I was speaking Farsi dad. Persian! Because that’s my mother language now. And I knew it! That singlet did this to me. Turned me into this Iranian Olympic wrestler!”

“The Olympics! Well done son!” Scott grinned proudly.

“No! Not well done. I’m not even your son anymore. Not biologically! I’m gaining all these memories, but losing all my intellect. I don’t even remember what I was in grad school for. All I remember is partying in school throughout America, staying over here during winter since you helped coach me, and working out!” Hassan complained, pacing around the house, seeing how everything around the room changed, from pictures to newly formed workout equipment. The urge to workout filled his mind with each step.

Scott shrugged callously. “You didn’t need all that stuff Hassan. You’re a wrestler now. Finally you can understand why the sport meant so much to me. You know what it feels like to be a champion! I’m getting these new memories too, but hey. Small price to pay right?”

Hassan wasn’t sure if it was his lowering intelligence or his pity for his father, but he could understand what he meant. His head was filled with the pride of winning a close match, of exerting his strength to the fullest extent, and of talking to everyone he knew about wrestling! He could recall the last time he had a big match at a university, and how he partied so hard right after. Memories of being in Iran and telling his bros about all the fun he had in America, became super important to him. Being introduced to wrestling by someone else… that wasn’t Scott but his real dad back in Iran.

“Damn it dad… I do… I get it now. I love talking about wrestling and showing off. Sharing all my wins with my family and working out… It all feels great,” he begins to flex. “I… I think there’s something wrong though… I’ve got this memory… of heading back to Iran after the holidays. I’ve got to… get home for a match… Scott! Bro! Why did you turn me into someone that’s gonna be leaving soon!”

“Leaving I didn’t… I wasn’t trying to…” Scott fumbled his phone open and saw the receipt in an email from TF Threads. He’d bought the “Wrestling Singlet: IR”. He squinted and saw one small bolded text.

“Warning: Individuals that try any clothing from the international editions of our clothing may find reality altering your country of origins. Side effects may include home life relocation, cultural attitude changes, and alteration of family origins”

“Oh no… uh… I can call the place I got the singlet. I can get it returned… they can reverse this stuff. Don’t worry! I can fix this.” Scott said frantically trying to get a hold of the company on his phone. However it was Christmas and he only got a machine.

He looked over to Hassan expecting him to be panicked too, only to be met with a dumb grin as Hassan was flexing in front of a mirror. “Hey Scott! Thanks again for hosting me man. You’ve been a great host! Think we can run a few moves before your wife comes down? I missed my morning workout.”

Scott was dumbfounded. He found holding on to the memory of his nerdy son getting harder and harder. Throughout the rest of the day he spoke with Hassan about wrestling, his upcoming match in Iran, how much fun he had in the states, and how excited he was to return home to Iran to tell all his friends about his triumphs. “And my English. It’s getting pretty good now. Thanks to you Scott. I’m not so smart in the uh… up here” Hassan said gesturing to his head. “But you! You my friend, best coach ever! Teaching me moves and words at the same time!” Hassan hugged Scott who nodded along as they ate Christmas breakfast. His wife laughed at their antics, but Scott felt a hollowness about not having his actual son there.

They all exchanged gifts, had a nice Holiday, and a few days later Hassan was waving goodbye to Scott as he departed back to his homeland. “Bye Mr. Taylor! If I’m ever back to the states I’ll say hi!”

Scott tried his best to hold back tears. He didn’t realize he’d miss his son so much. He knew he’d find a way to be in his life one day.

Epilogue

Hassan hadn’t been to Canada before, but he was happy to be coming for a match. He knew that there’d be guys from all over the world coming to compete. Part of him hoped he’d recognize a few guys from the U.S.A. team, maybe relive some party days after the match. His first match ended up being against someone from the states, but his mind was fuzzy on if he knew him. “Hassan! It’s so good to see you again!” The wrestler from the U.S ran up to him and hugged his arms around Hassan.

“Oh… hi. Did we meet before at a university or party?” Hassan asks hesitantly, unsure as to why this random American was hugging him.

“Right… you won’t remember… I’ll uh tell you after the match. Let’s wrestle!” the man says. The American was clearly eager or excited about something. Nothing Hassan could determine especially when they took to the mat.

Once the match began it appeared they were evenly matched. The guy seemed to know every move Hassan would make before he made it. Blow for blow, grapple for grapple, and hold for hold, the two fought it out in an endless struggle for control that was gettin Hassan pumped! A few minutes later the match ended in a draw, but not before Hassan got one good throw in.

“Those were some crazy moves out there! You knew exactly what I was going to do!” Hassan spoke through baited breath, exhausted.

“That’s because I taught you all those things…gosh you probably won’t believe this… so let’s just say we… got into wrestling in a similar way. I’m Dave Taylor… now” He says tugging at his singlet. “I’d… love to hear how you’ve been Hassan. You know, catch up?”

Hassan lets out a low dumb laugh. “Sure man. We can party it up after the tournament. I’d love to figure out the best place in Canada to go!” They shake hands appreciatively and then hug.

“Great! And your mo- I mean… my boyfriend would love to meet you too.” Dave gestures to another muscular young man on his team that he waves to. Hassan waved to him as well, noticing how happy seeing these two strangers made him feel. In fact talking to them felt… familiar.

“Sure thing bro! I love talking about all the fun I had with people back home. You two seem pretty cool, like I can finally relax, you know?” Hassan said for once rather thoughtfully.

With that the new trio of friends walked off to enjoy a few wrestling matches, eager to party once this tournament was over. Scott, or rather Dave now, couldn’t wait to finally speak with his son. Even if he had to give up his life as an old wrestling coach, and convince his wife to become a hot male wrestler, he knew it was worth it to get his family back together again, even if it was as friends. As they left he dressed in his normal non magical red singlet, and was happy the three could finally be reunited.