Ocean stood on his bicycle pedals as he raced away from school. The light flashing up each alternating board short pant leg had a strobic effect. The constant whir of the bicycle wheels, coupled with the strobing lights had a soothing, hypnotic effect on Chad. He zoned out, Ocean's thoughts slid in and out of Chad's mind. Ocean had understood Chad was his Speedo but he justified it not as real but a welcome hallucination. On several levels, Chad had to admit it was cool to imagine you were wearing someone else. Oh, fuck, that was part of it. The memories came unbidden of Ocean being various pieces of underwear. They were Ocean's fantasies. He had been Karen's panties, Chad thought that was hot. In addition, Bruno 's Speedo, and Chad's jockstrap. Vaguely, Chad had wonder if he might have worn Ocean. No, Ocean didn't have the proper memories. He didn't really know or understand of form fitting tightly around a real person's giant groin and ass. But as Chad shared those thoughts they merged and twisted with Ocean's. Chad weirdly imagined that he was wearing himself or was that Ocean's imagination? Did Ocean imagine he was Chad wearing himself, or was Chad imagining that he was Ocean wearing Chad, or-? It was all a jumble. The bicycle stopped, Ocean locked it up. Daylight, Ocean pulled the board shorts off. Chad blinked. Ocean was on the porch of an old house across the road from the beach. The sea roared, the sun shone, birds shrieked, it was truly beautiful.
Then everything went dark. Ocean had stepped into a wetsuit. He pulled it up, zipped it tight. Chad was in total darkness. Soft sturdy neoprene pressed him into Ocean's warm flesh. No outside light. Outside noises muted. Chad's world now consisted of the sound of Ocean's blood rushing through his body, the overwhelming sweet smell of Ocean's sweat, the feel of the contour of Ocean's bubble butt, the crease that opened into his butt crack, the taste of his salty balls, every wrinkle of his flaccid thick penis. This was Chad's new world. He felt warm and safe and snug wrapped around Ocean and trapped in the heavy rubber wetsuit.
Then everything got cold and wet. They were in the ocean. Ocean in the ocean. Chad giggled. If only his teammates could see him now. He was sandwiched between cock, and wetsuit, pressed against a surfboard as Ocean paddled out to sea. Ocean started to get hard. Was he turned on by the waves, the shared thought of Chad's teammates watching Ocean wearing Chad, or was it the physicality of his cock pressing against the surfboard?
When he caught a wave, his heart raced, his sweat oozed, Chad was lost in a dark water park slide. Each wipe out, each wave, Ocean twisted, squatted stood, lay down and tumbled. This was Chad's life as a Speedo. He accepted the exhilaration as he was stretched in new ways.
After a couple hours, the wetsuit came off, board shorts back on. Ocean went home. He ate dinner. Chocolate chip marijuana brownies for dessert clouded Ocean's clearing mind and weird thoughts and dreams flooded Chad's mind. Ocean rinsed off and used a little soap in the shower. He was going to peel off the Speedo. Chad panicked. He remembered how abandoned he felt when Rod discarded him. He pleaded with Ocean not to take him off. Ocean shrugged, toweled off, and went to bed wearing his slightly damp Speedo. He thought something about breaking in his new Speedo. Breaking in. Chad should be breaking in his new baseball glove. He should oil it and put it between his mattresses. Ocean snored. He had an exhausting day bicycling and surfing. Chad's day had been overwhelming too. He'd spent it as a discarded Speedo,then worn by Ocean, the sudden unexpected movements in the dark as Ocean surfed had been exhilarating, and while Ocean was different, he was a good guy thought Chad. He drifted off to sleep. Dreams of surfing the perfect wave merged with playing the perfect baseball game.