Chad felt so empty, he was on his knees in the Field House. He was so horny, but he was too weak to finish jacking off. He was blue. Why was he blue? Why was he shiny? Why was he alone?
He felt so confused and so horny. He looked around the empty field house. Suddenly, he wasn't looking at the field house. The lofty ceiling was gone, it got darker. Light streamed through holes in the metal wall. He wasn't on his knees anymore. He was hanging from the drawstring. He didn't have a cock anymore. He didn't have arms anymore? He didn't have legs anymore? What was he? He was hanging helpless, limp, immobile in a giant metal locker. Through the holes in the wall, he can see giant tiles that look like the much smaller locker room floor. He can see part of an enormous bench. He must be in a locker? Whose locker?
Instantly, he thinks it has to be Rick or Bruno! They both wanted him on the swim team. Wait does that mean he's a swimsuit now? Dang, he's going to be on the swim team- or at least on one of the members of the swim team. Or is it the diving team? The string - the drawstring. He's got to be a Speedo. His skin turned rubbery blue. A blue Spandex Speedo? he wonders.
A shadow blocks the light streaming through the locker door's vent holes. He hears the sound of a combination lock being opened. The spin of the dial one way, then the other, and slowly back again until click, the door opens. The light blinds him and then he sees the owner of the hand reaching for him. It's.....