What The Hell Was That?

Hugo glared at his reflection like it had just slapped him and stolen his lunch money.

The outfit they had forced him into? A crime against fashion.

Scratch that. A crime against humanity.

It was a designer suit, yeah, but there was a serious problem.

It was too damn tight!

Not just in the way that made him look like a fashionable bad boy, no.

It was tight in all the wrong places.

It was tight in the "I can't breathe, my organs are shifting, and my future children might be in danger" way.

The pants? Hugged his legs like a clingy ex, and somehow, his thighs felt handcuffed together.

The shirt? Unbuttoned way too low, showing off his chest in a way that screamed, "Welcome to my nightclub, ladies."

The jacket? Stylish, yes. But the sleeves?

Too short.

Like, "Did I steal this off a middle schooler?" short.

Hugo sighed so hard, he almost deflated.