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Dylan Larkin knew he was a good hockey player. He had so far scored a whopping 8 goals in the 33 games of the current season. He had to admit, the Red Wings were sure on fire. They were burning down. In fact, help, someone call the fire brigade, we’re in serious trouble…
Dylan was a hockey player through and through; he was fast, fearless and could throw a punch, or whack a stick in someone’s general direction when need be. However, if there was one thing he knew he had that labelled him a hockey player over anything else; it was his big bodacious hockey butt. God damn, he was thicc and he knew it. Boy, he couldn’t buy a pair of dress pants and expect to wear them more than once.
He knew many hockey men with sizable trunks themselves, but none of them quite matched up to his. Oh, he kept a close eye on the matter, making sure to do some extra reps if it looked like anyone was catching up. Hell, he even refused to eat anything labelled “gluten free” as no; he did absolutely not want to be free of his glutes. He’d get extra gluten if he could.
However, perhaps there was a downside to the derriere extraordinaire. Perhaps pants were supposed to last more than once use, or even out of the bedroom from when he put them on. So he thought about his best buddy, and fellow Red Wing, Tyler Bertuzzi. Unless Dylan was blind, and as far as he could see he wasn’t, it seemed like Tyler wore pants more than once. Or maybe he bought lots of the same pants in one go so that he would have backups. He didn’t know. He must ask.
He cornered lil Bert in the door way of his home. Tyler wouldn’t have been able to leave his house even if he wanted, due to the Larkin sized obstruction in his front doorway.
“Hey buddy, what’s up?” Tyler was happy to see his teammate, but nearly didn’t recognise him due to Dylan not wearing all red.
“I have to ask, Ty, how many pairs of pants do you have?” Dylan thought it might be rude to come out and ask if he went through pants as quick as him, so decided to approach it indirectly.
Tyler ran his hands through his lettuce and thought, “I don’t know dude. As many as the normal guy?”
“But you’re not a normal guy! You’re a hockey player! And I know you don’t have a big an ass as I, but you still have that hockey butt.” Dylan hated to be blatant, but it was true. Tyler’s moons did not shine as brightly as his, but did shine brighter than the average non hockey guy.
“Well, you see Dylan, I get them from a special place that makes pants for professional athletes with extra room in mind.” Tyler flexed a little to show off what he had and Dylan nodded approvingly of how the fabric sat. “It’s stretchy but doesn’t look like lycra.” Which was a shame in its own way, really.
“Will you take me, Tyler? Will you take me to this promised land of appropriately fitting pants? Why I will need to wear something decent when we eventually make it to the White House to present our Stanley Cup and Red Wings Jersey to the President!”
Tyler knew this was a great idea! “It’s a date. However, I’m sure we will have more than enough time to find pants for you before we get anywhere near the White House.”
Dylan was confused. “It’s not that I don’t like dates, but figs are better. I strive to put the ‘fig’ in ‘figure’, myself. In fact I like to thicken up my oatmeal with fresh figs.”
Tyler quickly checked himself in his hallway mirror to ensure he hadn’t lost anymore teeth and gestured the way to his car. “I’m not sure if you’ll fit in my car, Dylan.” It wasn’t just that Dylan’s ass might’ve been too big to fit in Tyler’s car, but that Tyler’s car was chock full of hockey equipment, even the passenger’s seat a big 100 box of pucks sat. “Hang on, I’ll just put this junk in the trunk.”
Just as the boys started to test their puck handling skills, Dylan had a better idea. “Why don’t we just take my car?”
Dylan’s car was far cleaner and they slid in easily. Tyler was initially confused as to why Dylan’s seat was so low, yet he saw over the dashboard no problem. “I have my own booster seat, so to speak.” As a left winger, Tyler was used to being on Dylan’s left. However, as they drove on the right side of the road, he was to Dylan’s right. Once they got used to that, Tyler directed them to the Promised Land; State and Liberty.
Dylan was a moderately good driver, however he often forgotten he wasn’t allowed to check the other team, i.e. other road users, and so the boys had a bit of a bumpy ride to the store. Tyler wasn’t exactly any better of a driver, but he definitely liked to play more physical and knew that if he were driving he’d have taken a more direct route. Finally, they pulled up in front of State and Liberty Clothing; Clothing Co. Athletic Fit Menswear.
Fine pants and suits abound as far as the eye could see, in the very stylish establishment. “Wow…” Dylan gazed over the expansive collection. There must be something for him here. In the corner of his eye, he saw a mannequin squatting in his dress pants and instantly knew he was in the right place.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen. My name is Marque, how may I help you?” The well dressed and bespectacled man seemed like he would know a lot about pants, if judging by his own.
“Hello Marque, my friend here is looking for dress pants he can really move in,” Tyler gestured to his friend, Dylan.
“Yes, I am particularly interested in pants I can wear more than once.” Dylan demonstrated in squatting quickly which unfortunately, but predictably, ripped the seam right out of the seat. “See?”
Marque twirled his finger to indicate Dylan to spin, and as a good team player, he spun. Marque then indicated for him to squat with his back turned, which he did. Marque nodded knowingly. “Sir, may I guess you are a hockey player?”
Dylan gasped in amazement, what a great guess. This man must truly know his stuff.
“I only ask, sir, as you are wearing a shirt that says “Detroit Hockey” and that you have a classic case of Hockey Butt. A very common and unfortunately untreatable condition, though in your can I think it’s very fortunate. You have an ass of the gods. Take off what little there is left of your pants and let me get my tape.”
Marque and Tyler spent the next few minutes marvelling at the impressive stature and dimensions of Dylan’s ass. And not only his ass. His thighs and quads were also sizable, yet his waist tapered. He declined the measurement of his biceps as he didn’t think anyone in the store could handle it.
“You have the Stanley Cup of butts, Dylan. The Stanley Butt, if you will.” Commented Tyler sadly when he considered his own in the mirror, he’d never have a Stanley Butt, the Cup was more likely even considering their current season.
Marque spent a good amount of time threading the measuring tape all around Dylan and his assets. He finally finished when he stood up off the floor where he had been measuring Dylan’s right ankle. “You, sir, have the largest butt I have had the pleasure to measure. Why, when you step off the ice at 7:00, your butt must leave at 7:05.”
Dylan nodded, “yes it does take me a moment to get fully off the ice. The hockey pants don’t help, but do hide the extent of my ass at times so not everyone really understands why or just how big it is.”
“Yes, I can imagine. Now, sir, what exactly are you looking for today. We have such a wide variety that I know you’ll be leaving with the perfect pant for you.” Dramatically, he turned and waved his arm at the miles of pants just waiting to be chosen.”
“I want dress pants I can move in. Preferably with a taper at the ankle, but when I find a pair that fit my thighs, they are a bootcut at the bottom. I don’t want that. I really can’t find an off the rack pair that fit me and in the past, having pants tailored still don’t cover all the bases.” He indicated his sad ripped pants as an example.
Tyler nodded in agreement. “Even when he gets them custom made, he can’t move or stretch in them and it looks like he’s gonna bust the seams, like he did before. Not that I necessarily mind, Marque, but he’s my teammate and friend. I hate to see him like this.” Dylan clapped his buddy on the back, thankful for the support of such a great friend.
Marque had seen enough, it was his time to shine. “Say no more boys, I have just the thing.” He hustled away leaving Dylan pantsless and Tyler pretending it was just another day in the locker room. However, the dressing room here was nowhere near as smelly as a locker room. The scent of clean linen wafted pleasantly. He wrote a mental note to ask Marque where to get a bottle. If he had to smell Bernier’s stinky goalie equipment one more time…
A knock at the change room door indicated that Marque was back and he was bearing gifts. “Try these on. They may be a little long or short, but I want you to get a feel of our pants.”
Dylan took the first pair, a black one, and pulled him up and over his humps. “Wow, stretchy but they look good. Sometimes, I have trouble getting them over but up and over they went.” He threaded his belt through to keep them in place and he posed, placing stress on different parts.
“Do a squat, Dylan.” Tyler nodded as he saw his friend move easily and fluidly. Though slightly sorry he wasn’t gonna see the same seam busting performance as before.
Dylan did the biggest squat of his life, being very surprised when the pants gave and moved with him. He watched himself in the mirror. “These fit and look good, wow. I love the tapered look,” he indicated how well they sat at his ankles by bringing his knee right up to show them. “I like these; I don’t think I’d even have to take these to the tailor.”
“You’re right, Dylan. You could wear this right out of the store. As professional athletes, the most important thing is comfort and fit and I definitely think you get that with these pants.” Tyler ran his hand across the material as Dylan continued to stretch and flex in them.
“I think I’ll take your entire inventory. I definitely get the perfect fit and comfort in States and Liberty Dress Pants than I’ve ever had before.” He joined Tyler’s hand in rubbing over the material. Yes, these very good pants indeed.
Marque sensed an opportunity. “Did you say you were professional athletes?” The bright red Detroit Hockey shirts did give it away, but he had to be sure.
“Why yes, we both play on the NHL team that never disappoints, the Detroit Red Wings. We only needed 6 more losses to make history as the longest losing streak in the NHL, but we successfully stopped it at 12.” Dylan had on one had very sad to be nearing that possibility and also excited for setting a new record.
“Don’t forget the -58 goal differential either. Despite both our efforts and the efforts of the New Jersey Devils, we are just flying away from the other teams.” Tyler added.
Marque clapped, “to have two Wings in my store in Hockey Town, trying on my pants. Amazing, tell me, how do you feel about being in a commercial.” The boys looked quizzically at him. “All I’ll have you do is wear the pants, flex and tell how well they fit you. Without a doubt you’ll gain more fans. Maybe even the motivation to win. The other teams might be in so much awe of your ass that you might score more goals!”
Dylan looked at Tyler and raised his eyebrows in question. Tyler nodded and gestured, ‘why not’ in return. “So it’s settled then,” Marque continued, “let me grab a camera and a stool. Keep flexing!” So Dylan kept bending and stretching, doing everything in his power to rip the seam in the pants.
Dylan he knew he’d finally met his match. These pants were the pants of champions. He knew he would be okay to face the President in the White House to present the Stanley Cup in these pants. He just knew it. He just had to win the Cup first, though, and that presented its own set of challenges. Maybe Tyler knew a place to train as well. One win in a month was a good start, but perhaps another might be nice. But for now though, the only thing he needed to concentrate on was his hockey butt and what a butt it was.