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Inspired by ‘The Man And The Stolen Swimsuit’ by Megazone23pt2. Link in description.

The coast is clear. Everyone has left the changing room. I peer through the slats in the locker door. The last of them had disappeared 5 minutes ago, and I haven’t heard a sound since then, besides my own heavy, echoing breaths.
Now is the time to move.
Slowly pushing the door open, I wince as the hinges creak, so loud in the silence of the girls changing room. None of them would have heard that, I reassure myself, They’ll all be poolside by now, the noise in there will be more than enough to drown out any noise I make.
Still I tread carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible, just as a precaution.

A part of me still can’t believe I managed to pull this off. I was so nervous that something was going to go wrong, yet sneaking into the changing room had been miraculously easy, and finding an unused locker even easier. I’d barely managed to keep quiet when the girls had started walking in and stripping down. I almost thought I’d somehow been caught at one point; spotted by that weird new girl. I mean, she looked right at me!
But then she’d just smirked and looked away again. I guess she’d been staring into the middle distance thinking about something.

I knew what I was doing was wrong. I knew it was perverted. But... the prospect of seeing all these attractive girls from my year, in the nude, got my teenage blood pumping. Being the start of a new year, lots of people were trying out for new sports teams, including the women's swimming team. And this was too much of an opportunity.
And now that I've achieved this, I just had to escape. But… there was something else… a nagging feeling in the back of my mind, only now making itself known.
I pause in the middle of the changing room. Now that I’m here, it would be a waste to leave empty handed. I needed to take a memento. A souvenir. Anything would do, just something to remember this day by.

Does that make me even more of a creep? Probably…

Looking around the room, my eyes land on the perfect candidate; a handful of bright red, spandex swimsuits, the white logo of the girl’s swim team stretched across them from bust to belly button. And they’re just laying there, left on one of the benches.
They’d never notice if one went missing…
Creeping silently over, I carefully pick one up, holding a strap in each hand to let it unfurl. Whoever this was for, they had some considerable boobage, I think curtly, picturing the body that'd fit inside it. A sly grin spreads across my face as I make a move for the door leading away from the pool, glancing over my shoulder in a silent farewell.

Abruptly, in a sudden flurry of activity, the swimsuit vanishes from my hands. My eyes shoot down to my empty hands, then to the floor, then finally to my chest as I spot the bright red spandex wrapped around it, the material stretched tight in some places and sagging in others.
“What the…?” I curse under my breath. Not only is the swimsuit somehow now on me, but my real clothes are nowhere to be seen. I’m stuck in the girls changing room, wearing nothing but the girl’s swim team swimsuit.What the hell?! Can this get any worse?!

As if on cue, a bolt of energy shoots up my spine, before my skin begins to tingle beneath the swimsuit, like thousands of ants are crawling across my skin. God, am I having an allergic reaction to it or something?!
I try to pull the straps off my shoulders, but a feeling clouds my mind.
“Urgh…” I groan, rubbing my brow with my hands until the feeling dissipates.
The pins and needles spreads down my arms and legs, and I watch with growing apprehension as things begin to quickly unravel. I halt my struggling when a cramping in my gut draws my attention. A growing tightness in my chest joins in, and a building pressure between my legs, like someone is slowly pressing a fist into my crotch, makes the hat-trick.
A long, low groan escapes my lips, and I clutch at my gut as all the sensations build towards… something. I can feel it; a limit, a pinnacle, a breaking point; whatever it is, its approaching quickly. I screw my eyes shut and tense for it’s impending arrival.

Like an eruption, I feel the built up pressure break free, channeling outwards from my core and down through my limbs. The energy dissipates, leaving my nerves tingling all over. My body feels strange, raw and sensitive. But at least the cramps and tightness in my chest have gone.
I breathe a sigh of relief, but the action feels odd. Heavy, like I’ve got a…

“F**k!” I exclaim, jumping a mile as I bear witness to the generous breasts, wrapped snugly in red spandex, upon my chest. Breasts that I’d been lewdly commenting on only a minute prior. Before I can react further, the strange feeling abruptly returns, drawing back into my centre. All the energy concentrates into my core, only for it to immediately release again in a second explosion. This time, the eruption fires upwards, eliciting a loud “Eep!” from me as it blasts through my hair.

Again everything dissipates, the skin on my face tingling slightly and something tickling the little patch of exposed skin on my lower back. Apprehensively, I open my eyes, only to discover a head of long hair framing my face and spilling down my back. I grab a handful and pull it in front of my eyes. Long, straight, caramel blonde hair is presented before me.
“No, no, no, no!” I begin pleading, “This can’t be… f**k!”
I grab hold of the shoulder straps, intent on pulling this swimsuit off me, even if I need to rip it apart with my bare hands. However, I can barely get my fingers underneath before a sensation overcomes me. I try to pull the straps off my shoulder, but the sensation in my mind flares brighter, contests it. I find myself compelled to keep the swimsuit on, despite my mind screaming at me to take it off.
“F**k! F**k! F**k!” I curse repeated, “Come off!”
Despite my pleading words of encouragement, the internal battle within me remains in a stalemate. Cursing colourfully, I try ripping the straps off completely, but encounter the same problem. Before I can think of any more creative ways of removing this cursed thing, the door to the pool opens with a loud squeak.

I look up in shock to see the new girl standing there, looking straight back at me. My body freezes up, icy tendrils of fear locking me in place. A million excuses pass through my mind; excuses as to why I would be stood in the school changing rooms, wearing the team swimsuit, cursing and shouting to myself. My mouth opens and closes as if to speak the words, however I can’t seem to get my voice to cooperate.
“C’mon sis!” she beckons for me to follow, “Everyone's waiting for you!”
“I… wh…” I splutter, thrown off by her apparent familiarity. She thinks I’m her...

Seeing that I’m not going to budge, the girl rolls her eyes and strides over to me, grabbing my wrist and pulling me towards the pool door.
“W… wait!” I pull back, “You don’t… you see… I can’t…”
Just before we reach the door, the girl, my supposed sister, stops and leans in close to whisper in my ear, “I understand perfectly, you perverted little peeping tom. You wanted to see girls in the nude? Well now you’ll see one every single day, every time you get changed, every time you step out the shower...”
“Wha…? No! Change me back! Please!” I plead, digging my heels in harder, “I promise I’ll never peep in the girls locker room again!”
The girl smiles harshly, “Sadly, I don’t believe you. Nevertheless, there is a method that might change your ways, and that’s a healthy dose of perspective, mixed in with some humility. So, go out there and behave yourself, and you might get to see your little johny again. Misbehave, and you can say goodbye to that for life”

“Out… there?” I look at the door, the swimming pool just beyond, “But… I can’t go out there” I whisper meekly.
“You can, and you will. Unless you want me to use compulsion on you again?”
My mind flashes back to the battle of the shoulder straps. “That was you? Y… you can do that?” I whisper, fear making my voice waver.
The girl smiles, her eyes flashing bright for a split second, “Let’s see, shall we, Isabelle?”
The feeling in my mind returns, but doesn’t go away this time. It lingers at the back of my head, like a poised cat, ready to strike. I look back at the girl, “What did you just do?”
“Gave you your cover story” she replies matter-of-factly.
“My what?”
Another eye roll, “What’s your name?”
“Isabelle Porticue” the answer is leaving my lips before I even realise, the sensation flaring up and overriding control of my tongue.
“Where were you born?”
“St Julliet’s Hospital, Suffrimore, Missouri”
“Why did we move to California?”
“Daddy’s new job as a senior architect”
I slap a hand over my mouth as soon as the words stop pouring, eyes wide as the compulsion retreats back to the corners of my mind. “Wh… you just…”
“Just a little taste of my powers. Plus, now our stories won’t contradict each other. We can’t have that! Now let’s go Isabelle” she demands and pulls me through the door.

The smell of chlorine hits me as I’m all but dragged out onto poolside. A group of familiar faces, all stood in identical swimsuits, turn to look at us as we approach.
“Sorry Ms Sanders, Izzy was dithering”
“That’s alright Olivia” the girls swim teacher, Ms Sanders, assures her.
Olivia. So that’s her name!
Ms Sanders fixes me with a warning stare, “Just don’t make a habit of being late”
Cheeks burning red, I stare at the floor and nod. I can already tell this is going to go poorly. I never was any good at swimming.
Ms Sanders turns away to start instructing the group. “Right, that all twelve of you. That means two per lane” she explains, her voice carrying across the large room, “Everyone take a swim cap and line up in twos”.
I’ve never been taught by Ms Sanders personally before, but I’ve heard the stories. I’ve heard she can be quite strict, and won’t take s**t from anyone.
Everyone does as instructed, lining up along the poolside in groups of two.
Naturally, Olivia and I are a group.

After being instructed to, we all climb into the pool, and I suck in a breath as my lower half is submerged in the cold water.
Olivia slides into the pool next to me, quickly ducking her head under the water before reemerging. Wiping the water from her face, she begins stretching the rubber swimming cap over her head. Glancing my way, she takes one look at my posture, my shoulders tight and arms raised out of the water, and smirks, “Afraid of the water Izzy?”
She keeps her voice in check, quiet enough that only I can hear her.
“No” I scowl, matching her hushed tone, “I just don’t much like the cold”
Her smile widens, “You sure you had balls before I came along?”
My scowl deepens, but before I can respond, I feel a presence behind me.
“Anything the matter ladies?” Ms Sanders asks. Turning to face her, I instinctively back away from her frosty gaze.
“Nothing Ms Sanders” Olivia replies flippantly. I realise I’m the only person that isn’t ready; and everyone is looking at me. Almost subconsciously, I sink into the water to detract attention from myself, and instead work on getting my swimming cap on over all this hair. Olivia surprisingly comes to my aid, twisting my hair into a loose bun that I’m able to get into the cap.
I fiddle with it a bit, fidgeting and trying to make it sit more comfortably while I wait for Ms Sanders’ next instructions. I glance up at her, only to find her looking right back at me, her frosty stare piercing right through me.
“Is something the matter Miss Porticue?”
I shake my head, averting my eyes, “No Ms” I stammer, cheeks burning red, “It’s just… cold”
Ms Sanders scoffs under her breath, spinning on her heel. “Well then, let’s get warmed up! Breaststroke, 10 lengths; that’s one length there, one length back” the teacher bellows, blowing hard into her whistle.
Olivia raises an eyebrow at me, as if to say ‘You always this good at making friends?’.
I just stare at my feet, wishing I could just turn invisible. Olivia pushes off the wall, taking the lead and setting a moderate pace. I follow, happy to stay behind and remain inconspicuous. Oh yeah, because I’m doing SUCH a good job so far.

Turning my mind away from the subject, I focus on the swimming, learning how to swim again without smacking the sides of my boobs with each outward thrust of my hands. Damn things keep getting in the way…
We reach the end and start the return journey. As we go, I slowly start to find a rhythm that doesn’t incorporate any boob smacking, and by the second return length, the stroke feels almost natural. I guess it doesn’t feel THAT different from swimming as a guy, not that I would pick it given the option...
Another length.
Wait, no. What am I saying?! I hate this! Everything about this is awful and wrong!
Another length.
I can hardly wait to get out of this dumb body, and away from that cursed witch that keeps calling herself my sister.
Another length.
How long will that be though? Olivia hasn’t actually said when she’ll turn me back. In fact, she was particularly vague about that...
Several lengths pass where I just silently brood over this situation, when a new thought crosses my mind.
For that matter, why has nobody questioned my sudden appearance? Has Olivia magiced ‘Izzy’ into everyone's memories?

I look up to see Olivia has reached the end and stopped. I guess that’s warm up over. Was that really 10 lengths? Huh, that wasn’t nearly as grueling as I remember...
Joining her against the poolside, the other pairs aren’t far behind us. As the last girl reaches the end, Ms Sanders steps forward, “Right everyone!” she bellows, “Time for some front crawl! 10 of them!” she blows her whistle again.
Again Olivia goes first, setting a brisk pace. Pushing hard off the wall, I power after her. My arms and legs soon start to protest, but I ignore the burn and chase after her, the competitive streak in me not allowing myself to get left behind. All too soon, she is stopping again. So soon? Was that really 10 lengths?
Leaning up against the poolside, I try to catch my breath. Through my deep gulps of air, I quickly notice something; All the other swimmers are still nearly a full length away. I glance at Olivia, but she is looking elsewhere.
Were we really that much quicker?
After this, we are instructed to do 10 laps of backstroke. Again, Olivia and I finish surprisingly quicker than everyone else in the pool. This time when I try to catch Olivia’s eye, she seemingly ignores me and looks elsewhere again.
She’s ignoring me intentionally, isn’t she? But, why now?
I’m still dwelling on this when Ms Sanders booming voice breaks through, “Well done everyone! Good efforts all round. Isabelle, Olivia; you two have a competition between you or something?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Olivia’s lips twist up into a sly smile, “Something like that”
“Hmm, so I can assume you two would be interested in joining the team?”
Olivia shoots a glance at me, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she stares into mine. My eyes widen, like a deer caught in the headlights, as Olivia looks back to the teacher and replies, “Absolutely! Count us in”

Us?!
I nearly explode right there, nearly grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she takes the words back.
Ms Sanders moves her attention to the rest of the group, so I grip Olivia on the arm and turn her to face me, “What do you mean us?” I hiss under my breath.
“What? You seemed to be enjoying yourself there”
“That doesn't mean I WANT to stay like this!”
“Well, tough s**t, looks like you are”
“What do you mean?! You said you'd turn me back if I behaved!”
Olivia shakes her head, “I never said that; I said if you behaved, you MIGHT see your old self again. Besides, this is much more fun than I thought it'd be” she flashes me that wicked smile.