Chad undulated across the cement floor leaving damp residue in his wake. He had to get away before-
A hand closed on him and picked him up. His captor hurried disappeared around the bank of lockers, and headed for the toilet stalls. Chad couldn't see anything in the sweaty palm of his captor. He heard the toilet stall door close and latch. Then the hand opened. He recognized his kid brother's face. It was Dickie, who was only 10 months younger than Chad. The grin on his face didn't inspire confidence in Chad. Dickie pulled off his pants and underwear and hung them on the back of the stall door. He looked down at Chad, and he whispered.
"Bro, I followed you to the field house, and saw what happened," Dickie explained.
He sat down on the toilet, and lifted his legs, and pulled the Speedo over his shoes and up and his legs. He didn't want anyone to see the Speedo under the door. Then he put his underwear and pants back on. He left the stall, and started whistling, as he headed for the exit.
"Aren't you forgetting something, Dickie?" asked Coach Sinclair.
"Huh?" said Dickie turning around to face the coach. Did he know about Chad?
"You just used the toilet, but I didn't hear you flush and you didn't wash your hands," Coach Sinclair snapped.
Dickie headed back into the stall where he put Chad on, he flushed the toilet, and went and washed his hands, while the coach stood in the doorway. Then he exited.
"Fuck, where is it!" Rick shouted, as the locker room door closed.
Dickie started to run. Chad was screaming, Dickie was bigger than Rick or Bruno- at least around the waist, and Chad was straining to contain him, as he ran.