The moment Drew zipped up the costume, he regretted everything.
The blue latex clung to him like it was painted on. It was cool against his skin at first, but then it seemed to breathe with him—stretching and squeezing in a way that felt unsettlingly natural. It left nothing to the imagination: every contour of his borrowed body, from the shallow ribs to the wiry cords of muscle in his legs, was on full display.
"This definitely belonged to Tommy," Drew muttered, tugging awkwardly at the hem. The material snapped back with a quiet ping, stubborn and elastic. “God…”
His arms looked so thin, but they flexed with a surprising grace when he moved. There was muscle there—trained, sharp, refined. Every step he took felt balanced, coiled. His body wasn’t just small—it was engineered.
He caught himself in the mirror again. The shimmering costume, the tousled blond hair, the bright, almost ethereal face—he looked like he belonged on a poster for a junior national team. Like a boy about to perform on the biggest stage of his life.
And then Kate walked in.
She was still adjusting the way her jeans hung on her new hips, arms folded as she stared at herself. Her fifteen-year-old frame moved awkwardly—too lanky for confidence—but she was slowly getting used to it.
When her eyes met Drew’s, she froze.
“Wow,” she said in that still-cracking teenage voice, grinning as she stepped closer. “That suit fits you way too well. You look like you’re about to win gold or something.”
Drew frowned, pulling his long hair behind his ears. “Don’t stare. It’s... weird.” His voice, high and musical, betrayed him—light, perfect, and unmistakably Tommy’s.
Kate laughed softly, lifting her hands in mock innocence. “Sorry. But I mean, come on. Look at you. You’re adorable.”
She dropped her gaze for a second, her eyes flicking down to her jeans, and Drew’s face darkened.
“Seriously, Kate,” he said, turning his back to her. “Don’t do that. You’re a guy now. It’s... it’s creepy.”
Kate rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “Right, right. Just... curiosity. Still getting used to the equipment, you know?” She gave a short laugh. “But hey—how about we go skating? I wanna see if you’ve got Tommy’s skills to go with that look.”
Drew glanced over his shoulder, his brows raised.
“You want to skate?”
Kate nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! I mean, you’ve got his body. Might as well see what it can do, right?” She grinned, pressing her palms together and gazing down at him dreamily. “Plus, you’re just so cute when you’re flustered.”
Drew groaned. “You do know you’re a teenage boy now, right? It’s weird when you talk like that.”
Kate just shrugged. “Maybe. But you still sound like a Disney Channel heartthrob. That voice is unreal.”
Drew looked down at himself again—the gleaming costume, the smooth legs, the way the material shaped around him like he’d been born to wear it. The idea of skating... actually didn’t sound terrible. His body wanted to move. He could feel it in the way his toes flexed, in the way his arms hung—tense and precise.
He sighed. “Fine. But I don’t know. I don’t feel like Tommy. I still feel like... me. Drew. Assistant manager. Guy who hands out skates and runs the Zamboni.”
Kate beamed, practically bouncing. “Sweet. This is going to be so much fun. You're like a plushie with blades.”
Drew groaned again and turned back toward the changing room, trying to ignore how his hair bounced against his cheeks. He found the skates he'd used—the ones that had transformed him—and stared at them with newfound understanding.
They weren’t just random rentals. These were his. Well, Tommy’s. The pair they kept for the kids’ club regulars. Of course he’d grabbed them. He hadn’t even thought. And now...
He slipped them on.
They fit perfectly.
With a final glance down at his delicate, athletic reflection, Drew straightened his shoulders and stepped out.
Time to see what this body could really do.
