Happy Hunky Hot Himbo Wrestling Team - Part One: Wells Improves the Uniforms
Wells was not supposed to be in the locker room unsupervised.
No one had said that out loud, technically.
But some rules existed because Wells existed.
Today, Wells had a mission.
Not a plan. Plans had steps. Consequences. Thinking.
This had vibes.
He stood in front of the open gear lockers wearing his hot pink HAPPY HIMBO crop top, shiny metallic pink compression tights, black-and-pink trainers, and the bright pink streak Zane had dyed into his hair.
In front of him hung three gold wrestling singlets.
Wells looked at them.
Then at himself.
Pink.
Back at the singlets.
Gold.
Back at himself.
Pink.
“Bro,” he whispered. “Team unity.”
Five minutes later, the gold singlets were hidden safely in Wells’ gym bag.
In their place hung three hot neon pink wrestling singlets, glossy, loud, and aggressively cheerful, that he had ordered after getting home from Zane's the other day. Each one had black varsity lettering across the chest.
HAPPY HIMBO WELLS 58
HUNKY HIMBO TREY 59
HOT HIMBO ALTON 77
Wells nodded proudly.
“Upgrades complete.”
Trey arrived first, opened his locker, and froze.
For three seconds, there was silence.
Then:
“BRO.”
Wells turned. “Yeah?”
“WHY IS MY SINGLET PINK?”
“Because it looked lonely being gold.”
“That sentence attacked me.”
Trey pulled it out. The neon pink shimmered under the locker room lights like sportswear designed during a sugar rush.
He read the chest.
“Hunky Himbo Trey fifty-nine.”
His face went blank.
Then he grinned.
“Actually, this rules.”
Wells beamed. “I knew your biceps would understand.”
Trey had just changed before Alton walked in.
Alton stopped immediately.
“This room has stupid energy.”
Then he opened his locker.
He lifted the pink singlet between two fingers like evidence from a fashion crime scene.
“Wells.”
Wells stood straighter. “Um yes Coach, oh um sorry I mean Alton.”
Alton stared.
Wells blinked. “Sorry. Habit.”
Alton read the front.
“Hot Himbo Alton seventy-seven.”
Wells nodded proudly. “Accurate.”
“That is not the issue.”
Trey slapped a locker. “SOUNDS LIKE APPROVAL.”
“It is not approval.”
Alton inspected the singlet.
“This is neon.”
“Yes.”
“This is metallic.”
“Also yes.”
“This says himbo.”
“Team identity.”
“This says hot.”
“Still team identity.”
Alton’s mouth tightened.
Wells added, sincerely, “The font is really strong.”
Alton paused.
Then looked again.
“…The font is acceptable.”
Trey pointed. “BRO, HE LIKES IT.”
“I did not say that.”
“You font-liked it.”
“That is not a phrase.”
“It is now.”
Alton inhaled through his nose, looked from Wells to Trey, then back to the singlet.
Not approval.
More like stylish surrender.
“If I put this on,” Alton said, “I am making it look intentional.”
Wells nodded. “That sounds right.”
“And I am blaming you.”
“Also sounds right.”
“And if Coach asks?”
Trey interrupted from the mirror. “Coach is gonna short-circuit.”
Wells smiled.
“Bro. Coach is gonna see team spirit.”
Alton muttered, “Coach is going to see a personnel issue.”
But he put the singlet on.
Because Alton was Alton, the neon pink somehow looked expensive.
Trey looked like a wrestling alarm siren.
Wells looked like the problem, the cause, and the promotional poster.
The three of them stood before the mirror.
Three Golden Bros.
Three hot neon pink singlets.
Three terrible decisions in black varsity lettering.
Wells placed his hands on his hips.
“Practice ready.”
Alton looked at their reflections.
“This is not practice ready.”
Trey flexed so hard the room got louder.
“This is domination ready.”
Wells grinned.
“Happy Hunky Hot Himbo Wrestling Team.”
Alton closed his eyes.
“No.”
Trey yelled, “YES.”
Wells nodded peacefully.
The Gold had spoken.
And apparently, today, the Gold was hot neon pink.
Ready to hit the mat in something louder than discipline? Join the Golden Army, trust Wells’ Happy Himbo instincts, and discover why team spirit looks better when the Gold goes hot neon pink: Contact: @alton-gold77, @polo-drone-125
Featuring: @hero21us, @alton-gold77
