Posted Wed Jul 1, 2015 | 316 Words | Tagged story

The boxing gloves looked amazing. I was staring at them in the gym changing rooms, waiting to see if anyone wanted them. It was late and the gym was about to close so I was waiting to see if anyone came in.

I saw a guy in shorts and t-shirt with the gym’s logo printed on walk in and told me to leave. I picked them up and stuffed them in my bag and apologised for taking so long.

Back at home I was amazed at them. I put them on and they felt massively too big. I looked at myself in the reflection of the glass as it was a summer’s evening this was still possible. I pretended I was someone who could actually box and did a punch but it didn’t look right or cool.

I kept them on for a little while and kept trying to make myself move like a boxer. I decided after my hands were getting really hot and sweaty that was enough and one more go would be enough.

I punched the air and it felt strong and powerful and even looked kinda cool in the reflection. I was amazed and got myself pretty worked up and bounced up and down.

I held up the gloves as if to block someone and I felt my muscles cramp in my arms, I must have overdone it. But I didn’t want to stop. I looked at myself seriously in my reflection and noticed the sweat off my head seemed to be pooling off, but also my head was reshaping.

I had a stern masculine face now, and my overgrown hair was thinning out, even almost disappearing on the sides and all of my muscles pulsated and stretched causing insane levels of pain. Pain which masked the pushing of thoughts into my head. I was a… tech…. boxer. I AM A BOXER.