A Size Problem.

Collins was pounding on Hugo's door, his voice carrying through the thin dorm walls. There was a tinge of excitement and loads of impatience in them. "Come on, Hugo! We don't have all night!"

Inside, Hugo was a man facing a full-blown crisis.

He stood in front of his wardrobe, frowning at every single piece of clothing that, just a week ago, had fit perfectly. Now, everything was either too tight or dangerously close to bursting.

Nothing fit. Not his old t-shirts, not his jeans, and definitely not his favourite hoodie. Heck, not even that lace coat his grandma had given him last Christmas!

Thanks to the Muscle Unlock Pills, he'd grown two whole sizes, and while he was proud of the progress, this was downright inconvenient.

"Perfect. Just perfect," he muttered, holding up a T-shirt that didn't even cover his torso anymore.

Sure, he looked great—like, really great. The pills had done wonders for his physique. But now? He couldn't find a single thing that wouldn't make him look like he'd squeezed into a kid's wardrobe.

The past week had been a non-stop circus of moaning during workouts and nearly bankrupting himself to keep up with his appetite.

Hugo had changed gym 3 times, and he had left them all with his cheeks burning a bright red.

The thickness of his face had grown significantly in those seven days. All thanks to his disturbing workouts.

'At least the "intense hunger" phase is over.' He'd survived, somehow.

His mind? Not quite.

Collins pounded on the door again. "Hugo, come on! We're going to miss prime time at the club!"

"I'm coming!" Hugo called out, frantically trying to find something, anything that fit. 'How am I supposed to get laid if I'm dressed like the Michelin Man?'

This was no ordinary night out, after all. He only had two weeks left to finish his " death mission" or—well, he didn't even want to think about it. The thought of what would happen if he hadn't managed to get laid by then always makes his back chill.

If there was even the slightest chance he'd meet the legendary girl of his dreams tonight, then he had to go all out.

He had to get laid!

He glanced at his phone and scrolled through his texts with Lily. They'd been chatting all week, and he was sure things were going well—except every time he'd asked her out, her schedule was busier than a doctor's during flu season.

'At this rate, I'd have better luck scoring a date with a cryptid.' He groaned. He needed progress now. Real, actual progress that would save his neck.

But first, clothes. He gave his reflection a smirk, admiring the new muscles. Sure, he wasn't Greek god level—yet—but he had the kind of arms that actually bulged.

If he just found the right shirt, he'd be golden.

The problem? He didn't have the right shirt. His last resort? Even worse. It was Collins.

Although he knew this wouldn't end well, he hated to admit it, but he had no other option.

'Okay, desperate times call for desperate measures.' With a sigh, he pushed open the door and called out, "Collins? I, uh… I might need a favour."

_____

Five minutes later, Hugo found himself staring into the mirror, and his reflection was… a lot to take in.

The only clothes Collins had that actually fit him were a truly atrocious combination: a snot-green T-shirt with the words "I Never Shave" printed boldly across the front, and bright pink polka-dot trousers that screamed "party gone wrong."

The trousers were particularly disturbing. It looked like a fever dream, and the hot pink colour was loud enough to be seen from space.

Hugo gaped at himself, mouth open, horror flooding his face. "Oh, this is…this is tragic."

He imagined himself walking into the club like this, watching people slowly back away. "Hey ladies, guess who doesn't believe in personal grooming and raided a circus tent for pants?"

A fresh wave of doubt washed over him. "I cannot be seen in public like this," he thought, groaning. This outfit could cause a traffic accident just from the shock alone.

He was simply compounding his problems if he was seen out like this!

But he was desperate. His life was literally on the line. He could either risk social death yet again, or he could miss out on the opportunity to complete his mission.

He took a deep breath, trying to ignore how the words "I Never Shave" mocked him from the mirror.

"Dude, hurry up!" Collins shouted from the hallway, his voice dripping with impatience. "It's now or never!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming!" Hugo took one last, miserable look in the mirror. "Well, if I'm going down, I'm going down in a blaze of booger-green and pink polka-dots."

He opened the door, and Collins took one look at him, eyebrows shooting up. "Wow. That's… bold."

Hugo glared. "Bold? I look like a walking billboard for personal neglect and a clown convention. This shirt could repel mosquitos from a mile away!"

Collins tried and failed to suppress a laugh. "Hey, who knows? Maybe that's what the 'legendary girls' go for. You'll definitely get noticed."

Hugo slumped, dragging his feet to the door. "Honestly, man, I don't think I want to go anymore. I can't be seen in public looking like this."

Collins slapped him on the back. "Trust me, tonight's going to be epic. If anything, you'll stand out—and that's half the battle, right?"

As they walked down the dorm block, Hugo's mind buzzed with doubts. 'Maybe I should just stay in tonight. Hide from the world. Put this outfit on a bonfire.'

But as Collins pushed open the exit door, Hugo took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. If he was going to do this, he was going to own it.

Tonight, he was going to step out and give it everything he had—even if "everything" included a questionable slogan and pants that looked like they'd been made for a party clown.