The fluorescent lights softly buzzed overhead as Dylan drummed his fingers on the counter and surveyed the empty convenience store. It was 2 in the morning, about an hour away from closing time. In only a few hours, he could get to sleep. Finally.
When he'd started working the late shift, he'd done so largely because (a) he was already a night owl and (b) the pay was a little better. That had been a mistake. It turned out that (a) he wasn't as much of a night owl when he was having to do manual labor (as opposed to chatting with his friends and playing video games) and (b) the extra pay was far outweighed by having to work under Alanna.
"Have you finished mopping the floor?" Alanna said behind him. He practically jumped right out of his skin. Speak of the Devil. "Uh, no, ma'am," he said. "You see-"
"I don't need to hear your excuses again," she said, glowering down at him. "Mop that floor."
"But the mop
broke
!" he cried. She frowned, and he led her over to where the mop lay, handle snapped clean off. "You see?" he said, gesturing at it.
"Go get the duct tape and put it back together the best you can," she replied. "That'll do for tonight, and we can replace the mop tomorrow." She walked off and he grudgingly obeyed, shuffling back over to the counter to get out the duct tape.
Just as he was about to step out from behind the counter, the front door whooshed open, and a man entered. He wore blue jeans and a faded green hoodie with the hood pulled up over his face. Dylan returned to the register, ready to help.
"Go fix the broom," Alanna told him. "I'll handle the customer." Dylan obeyed, carrying the roll of duct tape.
He picked up the two parts of the mop handle and fit them together as best he could, then began smothering the fracture in duct tape. Soon, there was a giant mass of duct tape over the break, and he carefully tested it against the floor. That would probably hold for the rest of the shift.
***
Alanna stood at the register and watched the lone customer browse. It wasn't that she didn't trust Dylan to handle a customer, it was that she trusted herself more. He wasn't a bad kid, but he was more than a little spoiled, in her opinion.
He'd just finished college, and was thinking about his career options, he said. And she did kind of resent him for having that chance, since she'd had to start working here immediately out of high school, about a decade ago.
But she'd been a hard worker, a persistent worker. Now she was the late shift supervisor, which was a supervisor job, even if it was the lowest management level of the gas station's little hierarchy. She was showing that she could work independently, and that might lead to a promotion very soon.
She reached back and ran her fingers through her short-cropped brown hair. The customer was browsing the candy aisle right now. Candy. Sweets. She wasn't exactly the sweetest person, she knew. It was hard to stay patient with other people, sometimes. She held herself to a pretty strict standard, and she couldn't expect everyone she met to be as rigid.
In fact, maybe she didn't need to be quite as strict with herself. Some of the time, at least. It wasn't wrong to have some fun. And she could be having all sorts of fun. She was still pretty young. She could be partying with hot guys and girls. She could be having fun sex with them. She could be enjoying life, instead of slaving away in this dumb gas station.
Alanna giggled, then sighed. It seemed like she was just missing so many chances to have a good life. A beautiful life. A life that was free of all the obligations and difficulties that weighed her down. A life that she could just enjoy.
If only she could just be carefree.
***
The more time Dylan spent mopping, the more his frustration mounted. This job was just a dead end. It was completely enervating, sapping the energy from his soul.
And then there was Alanna. Why was she in charge of him? If anything, he should be in charge of her. He was educated, he was gifted. He was entitled to run this place. He was entitled to run his own life.
As he squeezed out the mop, he growled quietly. He was a man. He deserved to run things. He deserved to be dominant. Not some weak nerd, some spineless, noodle-armed nobody. He ought to be the strong one!
With every sweep of the mop, he grunted, and as he grunted, he grew. His posture straightened, his height increased, his width widened. His muscles grew into massive, powerful machines. His pants strained as they attempted to contain his massive erection. His grunts grew deeper and deeper.
He pushed the mop again, and felt it hit something hard. Blinking, he realized that he'd mopped his way across the room, up to the drink fridges. "Whoa," he said, then jumped in surprise at how gravelly his voice was.
Looking to his left, he saw the customer, with his green hoodie still pulled up over his eyes, standing at one of the other fridges. The customer was ignoring Dylan, stroking his chin as he stared at the contents of the fridge in front of him. But Dylan still felt like the customer was watching, somehow. The customer drifted away, and Dylan looked down at his chest, where his tight uniform shirt outlined a huge pair of pecs.
***
Alanna didn't remember her clothes feeling this tight. But somehow, they were. Her boobs felt really bad, cooped up in a bra that was obviously too small for them. But she'd felt fine when she'd come in at the beginning of her shift. What was going on here?
