Chapter #6swim team onepiece by: Unknown The instructor came back with a folded navy one-piece in her hands, holding it up with a little smile like she already knew how you'd react.
“Here we go. It’s a team suit, girls’ cut, but snug and flexible. Only thing in your size.”
You tried not to make a face. It was dark blue with thick straps, a scoop neck, and very high-cut leg holes. The kind of thing that probably looked great on a real swimmer… but not on a sixteen-year-old boy hoping to survive summer school unnoticed.
“Don’t look so nervous,” she added, teasing. “It’s just me today. I won’t judge. Much.”
You gave her a tight smile and took the suit, ducking into the changing room.
Getting into it was a whole thing. The fabric clung like a second skin. The shoulder straps pulled everything in, and the high cut made you feel like you were constantly tugging at your hips. You adjusted, then readjusted, then gave up. The chest logo—WEST PINES SWIM TEAM—was stretched tight across your front. It didn’t help that the suit gave you a weird, rounded shape.
When you stepped out, towel in hand, she gave you a once-over and grinned.
“See? Fits better than you thought.”
You muttered something that sounded like “sure.”
The lesson itself wasn’t bad. Easy drills. Floating. Some kicks and a few laps. But the whole time, you could feel the suit hugging you in ways nothing ever had. You didn’t even want to know what it looked like when wet. She watched you closely—never cruelly—but with just enough of a smirk to make you feel like the punchline to some inside joke.
When you were drying off after the cooldown, she walked over with something else in her hand.
“Found these in the lost-and-found bin,” she said, handing you a rolled-up pair of black swim trunks. “Your lucky day.”
You blinked. “Really?”
“Yup. Drawstring waist, mesh lining. Probably belonged to someone from last year’s freshman boys group.”
“Might want to hold onto them. Next session, we’ve got two more joining—girls. Didn’t want you feeling exposed.”
She winked and walked away.
You quickly dried off, balled the one-piece into your bag, and held up the trunks. They were plain black, with a slim fit and short legs—way shorter than you were used to. Not exactly ideal... but better than what you just wore.
The changing room was empty. You glanced at the door, then slipped them on to see how they felt.
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