Back to his mother

Finally, his turn came. Without hesitation, he darted into the changing room and slammed the door shut behind him. His hands trembled as he peeled off the snug black trunks. He reached for the violet pair, sliding them up his legs.

The fabric was smooth—almost too smooth. As he snapped the waistband into place, he noticed how silky it felt against his skin. The tightness was undeniable, hugging his groin and backside even more snugly than the last pair.

He swallowed hard. There was no way he could go any smaller than this.

Quickly, he hung the black speedo on the provided hanger, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Keeping his head down, he walked stiffly back toward his mother and Jenny, tugging the hem of his shirt in a futile attempt to hide the unmistakable bright violet swimsuit clinging to his body.

His mother and Jenny were now casually sitting on a bench near the swimsuit racks, chatting like they had all the time in the world. As soon as they spotted him, his mother’s face twisted into impatience.

"Finally," she said. "Come here."

Glenn reluctantly shuffled forward, standing awkwardly in front of them.