Rick had just hung up his former teammate turned Speedo, when he heard Bruno lament.
"Oh, no! This totally sucks!"
"What's wrong, Bruno?" Rick asked with genuine concern.
"My Speedo split up the rear!"
"You got more Speedos at home, don't you?"
"Sure, but the scout from Northwestern is here, and wants me to audition for a scholarship for their team."
"We just spent hours in the pool, didn't he see?"
"Nah, he just got here; we had an appointment. I had planned to come back after dinner before Sanchez changed out practice achedule."
Rick opened his locker all the way.
"Here, where my Speedo. It won't mind an extra hour or two in the pool," Rick said with a wicked sneer at the face forming on the pouch of his Speedo before he shook it out. Before Rick handed it to Bruno, he concentrated a strong thought at Chad. It echoed loudly in Chad's mind, "Play dumb, Speedo Boy, if Bruno figures out who you are, he might never take you off."
"Uh, thanks?" Bruno seemed hesitant. Rick was notorious for his pranks. He didn't really have a choice. He peeled off his ruined Speedo, and pulled Chad on.
Chad was horrified. He had to not think. If Bruno heard him, Bruno would never take Chad off. He stared up from the locker room floor as Bruno stepped into him. He stared up the two huge smooth brown pillars that were Bruno's waxed legs. Then there was Bruno's massive cock. It wasn't as long as Chad's but it was longer and thicker than Bruno's. Bruno had shaved most of his dense public thatch. He had trimmed the remaining patch into the shape of numbers, "23".
Twenty three had been Chad's football jersey number, but it was also Bruno's number on the swim team. Chad panicked as he remembered Rick had mentioned he might also wear Chad on the water polo team. It just occurred to him that while the swim team wore plain Speedos, the water polo team had their Speedos silk screened with logos and numbers. Would those translate as tattoos when he was human?
Bruno blinked. Rick was saying something, but Bruno was daydreaming about a blond hunk tattooed with 2 foot tall numbers on his back, and a 6 inch number on his right thigh. He shook his head. He was always fantasizing about hot guys. The guy looked familiar but couldn't place him. Didn't matter.
"Uh, Thanks, Rick," Chad heard Bruno say, and realized the image he let leak into Bruno's psyche. Chad meditated on not thinking.
No itching powder, so that was a plus, thought Bruno without intruding images entering his mind.
"When you're done with it. Hang my Speedo back in my big locker," Rick instructed with big hand gestures pointing, "and be sure to leave the locker door open so that it dries properly. I hate moldy Speedos. And be sure not to rip it, okay? Good luck with your audition, Bruno."
"Thanks, Rick. Thanks a lot."
Sanchez shouted, "Bruno, hurry up. That guy from Northwestern doesn't have all night."