Swimming Team Alison: All seem Ass...I mean

The morning sun glinted off the water as Walter, now perfectly disguised as 18-year-old Alison, stepped onto the pool deck with the true Alison's gym bag slung over one shoulder.

The tight one-piece swimsuit hugged his borrowed body in ways that still felt surreal—every curve, every subtle shift of weight reminding him that he was no longer the 51-year-old man who’d invented the iBod. He’d practiced her walk, her laugh, even the way she absentmindedly twirled a strand of her long blonde hair. So far, no one had given him a second glance.

Coach Ramirez blew her whistle sharply. “Alison! You’re late on deck again. Get your butt in the water—warm-up laps, now!”

Walter winced internally at the word “butt” but flashed Alison’s brightest smile. “Sorry, Coach! Won’t happen again.” His voice came out exactly like hers—light, a little breathy, with that slight Texas drawl she’d picked up from her mom.

Walter-son dove in cleanly, the cool water shocking his new, smoother skin. For the first few laps everything felt normal. His strokes were a little off at first (he had to consciously remember to keep his elbows high the way Alison did), but he was managing.

"Hopefully this gives the real Alison a mental break." He thought to himself, or herself, themselves?

Then, around the sixth lap, he felt it.

A faint, warm tingling deep in his glutes. At first he thought it was just muscle fatigue from using unfamiliar anatomy, but the sensation didn’t fade. If anything, it grew— a slow, steady, almost teasing tickle on the cleft of her ass. With each kick, each powerful dolphin undulation, the tingling intensified. His ass cheeks felt… heavier. Fuller. The swimsuit fabric, which had fit like a second skin when he’d put it on, now seemed to be stretching just a little tighter across his rear.

Walter finished the warm-up set and pulled himself up onto the edge of the pool, water streaming down his lithe form. (S)he sat there for a moment, pretending to catch his breath, and discreetly reached back with one hand under the pretense of adjusting his suit.

His eyes widened.

The once perfectly pert, athletic bubble butt that belonged to Alison was noticeably rounder. Not dramatically so but there was an unmistakable difference. The cheeks had gained a soft, plush layer of volume that hadn’t been there thirty minutes ago. The swimsuit was starting to ride up slightly, the leg openings digging into newly swollen flesh.

“Shit,” Walter-son whispered. “What is this? Is this a glitch?”

(S)he glanced around. The rest of the team was still in the midst of drilling. Coach was yelling at another swimmer. No one was paying attention to him. Good. He still had time.

But the iBod was back at the house, locked in the workshop. The real Alison was safely hidden away at a café across town with strict instructions not to come near the pool. Walter-son wouldn’t be able to leave for at least another two and a half hours. The coach had already announced a full practice session plus video review afterward. Nobody was allowed an early dismal today.

(S)he stood up carefully, feeling the unfamiliar jiggle as (s)he shifted his weight. The expansion was painfully slow, but relentless. Every few minutes (s)he could swear the pressure increased another tiny fraction. The swimsuit was fighting a losing battle; the material was high-quality, designed for competitive swimmers, but it wasn’t built for sudden, magical ass growth.

During the next kicking set on the wall, Walter tried to keep his movements controlled, but each powerful flutter kick sent ripples through his swelling backside. The sensation was equal parts alarming and… strangely sensitive. Every brush of water, every shift of the tightening fabric sent little sparks of awareness through nerves that definitely weren’t his originally.

By the time they moved to stroke work, the change was becoming impossible to ignore. His hips felt wider, his center of gravity subtly different. When he pushed off the wall for a 100 free, the extra padding made his kicks feel more powerful… but also made the suit wedge uncomfortably between his cheeks. (S)he had to fight the urge to tug at it constantly.