Practice Gymnastics

At 2:30, Jeff calls you to the front door. He's holding a duffel bag in one hand and keys in the other. "Ready to go, sport?"

You put down your duster and nod. You'd been dreading this ever since Jeff popped the news that you'd be joining the two athletic teams. You had no idea what to expect, but you knew you wouldn't enjoy it. So it's with a heavy heart and a dragging step that you follow Jeff to the car and get in the passenger seat.

The drive over is pretty quick. Jeff barely talks except to ask if you're excited. You lie and say "Yes, Sir..." It's bad enough having to go. But it's worse knowing that your step-dad will be there, watching like a helicopter parent. It's technically a local club team, but they advertise heavily at your school, so it's likely that the other people there might go to your school. The thought is mortifying.

You arrive and go through the check-in process, then get rushed into a changing room. When you're finally alone, you feel oddly nervous. You're no longer in your comfort zone. You almost miss Jeff's presence, as strange as it sounds. At least you knew him and got to interact with him at home where you felt comfortable. You weren't exactly a social butterfly, so this whole situation gave you anxiety.

You open the duffel bag, expecting to find sweat pants or athletic shorts - assuming Jeff had raided your closet for some appropriate attire. Instead, you find a unitard. A very short pink unitard, with a pattern of swirling sequins up the torso which culminate in a sparkly heart design on the chest.

Where the heck had this come from? You couldn't actually be expected to wear something so embarrassing... could you? Was this the club's uniform? ...Or had Jeff picked this himself...

No. You were sure there had to be an explanation. Maybe it was... cool. Like a new style or something that male gymnasts were all about these days. You would be hip. Trendy, even. And other guys would be wearing something similar. You were sure you had no reason to be embarrassed.

You were wrong.

You quickly slipped into the form-fitting uni, noticing how it squeezed everything so you only had a small bump between your legs, and went barefoot onto the gym floor to meet with the rest of your class.

Not only was your outfit one of the most flamboyant, but you were also the only male there. The entire rest of the club were girls in comparatively tame leotards. They all smile and a few chuckle when they see you coming.

The teacher, a twenty-something blonde that looked like she walked straight out of a sorority house, motions for you to join their circle on a large mat. "Oh, you must be our last arrival. Aiken, right? I was under the impression that you would be a... uhm, well, never mind. Everyone is welcome here!"

Some of the girls chuckle again. You burn with embarrassment. You recognize a couple of them from your classes, and more from other classes at your school. You look over at the stands and see Jeff grinning at you. He meets your eye and gives you a thumbs-up.

The class starts with a lot of stretching. Solo and in pairs. Every little movement makes your unitard ride up and up your thighs. It feels like every few seconds it slides up until you're sure it must look like a girl's one-piece swimsuit, and you have to tuck a finger into the spandex and tug it back down. You can barely look the girls in your club in the eye, and spend most of the lesson keeping to yourself, hot with embarrassment.

Luckily, the first lesson mostly involves stretching and practicing some basic floor exercises that look like complicated dance moves. You even get to do some fun stuff like jump on an Olympic-grade trampoline and into a big pit filled with foam blocks. It was an 18+ beginners class, so thankfully everyone was basically at the same skill level.

When class is over, you start for the changing rooms, but Jeff calls you over. You make your way to the stands, in front of all the other parents there - most of whom were just arriving to pick up other students, or there supporting their kids in the younger classes. A lot of eyes glance over at you when you approach and you gulp. You can't believe Jeff is making you do this.

"Hey, sport! How was it? You looked like you were having a blast out there!"

"Uh, yeah... a blast..." you say, trying your best to cover up as much as you could while in front of all the other parents.

Jeff raises an eyebrow and says a little too loudly, "Yeah? Or..."

You groan internally. Girls from your class were coming out of the changing rooms already. "Y-yes, Sir..." you mumble.

"What was that?"

"I said Yes, Sir!" you say louder, instantly regretting it as the eyes of two popular girls in your class dart over to you.

"Good boy! Now come on, let's go home so you can start dinner."

"But, I need to change..."

"Eh, you'll be fine!" Jeff opens the little half-door to the gym floor and pulls you by the wrist all the way to the car. He opens the door for you and swats your butt playfully when you get in. "Good work out there. I think you're a natural. You looked very... flexible in that outfit."

You bury your face in your duffel bag the whole ride back, trying hard to hide your shame.