The underground pool at Far Horizons always felt slightly unreal to me. I had just been here, earlier last week, fleeing Angie after the bomb scare evacuation. Today things seemed much more normal - the lights were on, for one - but still I was uneasy.
The air was thick and humid, heavy with chlorine and warmth. Sound behaved strangely down here - footsteps echoed too long, water lapped against tile in soft, hollow slaps, fluorescent lights hummed overhead like distant insects. The blue tiles reflected everything in wavering fragments, bending the world into a distorted versions of itself. Maybe I’m being dramatic, but it struck me as creepy.
Melissa held my hand as we walked in. Not loosely.
Her fingers wrapped around mine, around my whole hand, with casual certainty, like she was guiding me somewhere important. She hadn’t changed out of her gym clothes. The pink fabric still clung to her, stretched tight across muscle that seemed fuller than it had even last week. Her shoulders were broader, her hips stronger. Plus I was shorter. Walking beside her, though, I felt smaller in a way that had nothing to do with height.
“There she is!” Melissa said brightly.
The lifeguard chair creaked as a young blonde climbed down.
I’d been told we’d hired a teenager from a local high school as a lifeguard, evenings and weekends. She was taller than I’d expected…though everyone looked tall to me, these days. I don’t think I was even four feet tall, at this point, and she was maybe 5’9”. The girl had dirty-blonde hair that fell loose to her shoulders, still slightly damp from a recent swim, and was fresh-faced in a way that felt almost deliberately wholesome. Her navy swimsuit - one piece, cut high in the legs, white piping, and a white “LIFEGUARD” printed boldly across her chest - fit her snugly and professionally.
She moved with quiet athleticism. Strong legs. Confident posture that - when she’d seen Melissa - she straightened instinctively. “Hi, Ms. Monroe,” she said first.
Melissa immediately corrected her, told her to call her by her first name.
Then the girl’s eyes moved down to me - her waist was just about eye level to me - and brightened. Melissa introduced me as “Jay”.
“Oh yeah, yes of course I know Dr. J,” the blonde smiled brightly - maybe a bit too brightly. “It’s really nice to finally meet you.” She leaned in towards me, hands going to her thighs. I struggled not to look down into the over-full top of her suit.
Melissa squeezed my hand once, amused. “Jay, this is Tia. She’s working with us as a lifeguard on weekends and some evenings after school. She’s also a patient of ours now, isn’t that right?”
She looked at Tia, who straightened back up in posture and answered, with a definite note of pride in her voice. “Yes, right, wow. I just got enrolled in the Elite Girls’ Academy Program here,” she said, a bit breathless, almost shyly, “I just started but it’s incredible. The training. The classes. The…structure.” She hesitated slightly at that word, like there was more she wasn’t saying.
Though no one had really explained it to me, I had heard enough about the program to understand what that meant. Medication regimens. Physical conditioning. Leadership seminars. Mentorship. It was designed, if you read the pamphlets, to shape the young women of today into tomorrow’s leaders. If you read between the lines it was something more…formidable.
Melissa smiled, as if herself proud for the young woman. “And one of your teachers at school - history, right? - is one of the patients here, getting the test product,” she continued, casual but pointed, “She’s been…” At this point, Melissa looked the tall blonde girl up and down, head to toe. She really was a physical marvel, if a still developing one. Narrow waist, racehorse legs, and a bustline that would put most grown women to shame.
“...she’s been a good influence.” Melissa smiled lightly at Tia, “You’re responding good, right?”
Tia’s cheeks flushed faintly, though whether from the humidity or Melissa’s attention and praise, I couldn’t tell.
I did, though, understand what Melissa wasn’t fully saying. Tia was part of another group, a hive - loosely formed, centered around a pheromonal effect from her Product-enhanced teacher. Details unclear. Reach uncertain. Melissa didn’t fully control it - whatever was going on, stemming from her - but she was watching.
“So,” Melissa said, turning back to me, “You had asked for this. Tia’s going to teach you to swim again.”
The word ‘again’ settled heavily between us.
Remember, dear reader? A few weeks earlier, I’d nearly drowned in the private pool at Melissa’s mom’s house, that early Sunday morning. I still didn’t remember exactly how it had happened. Just that at some point I’d realized I didn’t know how to move in the water. Panic. Sputtering. The awful, humiliating certainty that I was going under.
Melissa had pulled me out easily. Effortlessly.
Later, in quiet moments, I’d begun to suspect that my sudden inability to swim hadn’t been accidental. That something in me had been…adjusted, like so much of my body had been, to suit Melissa’s need for me to become dependent. I hadn’t confronted Melissa about it, but I had told her I wanted to learn to swim again. At the very least, I didn’t want to be dependent on her for that.
“If we’re going to be near water - like if I take you away for vacation, or to the lake,” Melissa agreed, “it’s a good idea that you’re safe.”
I wanted some small piece of autonomy back. And this was her, in her own way, even if it was little, justifying giving me some of that. She had listened. That mattered.
I cleared my throat. “I appreciate you setting this up, Melissa” I said carefully.
Melissa tilted her head at me, smiling in a way that was both warm and knowing. “Of course I did,” she said, eyes glittering in a way that made my knees melt, “You asked.”
Tia’s smile was equally warm and adorable as she watched us. She stepped in slightly closer, her presence filling more of the space between us. “Some independence around water is important, for safety,” she added lightly, “Right?”
“Right,” Melissa agreed. It was difficult to tell whether she meant it as reassurance or reminder. “Swimming lessons will be good for you.”
Tia shifted her weight, eager to be useful. “Well, I’ve taught adult learners before,” she said quickly, “And with you, maybe it’ll be mostly muscle memory. We’ll just rebuild it. Start with breathing, floating, basic strokes. Nothing intense.” She beamed down at me, leaned in again. “Nothing too scary.”
Melissa nodded approvingly. “Tia sounds very capable,” she said, turning to the girl, “I remember looking over your resume, and the letters of recommendation. ‘Top of her physical assessments’. ‘Strong in the water’.”
Tia ducked her head modestly.
“I’m on the swim team in school,” she admitted, “and already the Academy, and the medicine’s been…enhancing things.”
‘Enhancing’ - another word that carried weight.
Melissa finally released my hand. The absence of her touch was immediate.
“Well, Tia’s gonna take good care of you, for the next hour” Melissa said, her tone bright but edged with something proprietary. She got down into a crouch, so she could better look me in the eye.
Oh my god I have to look up to meet her gaze, I realized, in a moment that was shocking in its own right. Just a bit, but up.
“Be good for her, baby.”
The term of endearment - her voice had a depth, and was thickly husky - landed softly, but it echoed, and made Tia’s gaze shift between us, curious but disciplined enough not to react.
Melissa leaned in and kissed my forehead, gentle and possessive. “Don’t be shy,” she teased. “Tia’s super sweet.” Then, quieter - for me alone: “Mommy’ll be back soon.”
My stomach tightened despite itself.
Melissa stood up, stepped back, already shifting gears mentally. I looked up at her, neither of us saying anything, but I could see it in her - the subtle recalibration. Some new security guards were arriving today, Melissa had told me, and though she downplayed it I knew it was some larger step in whatever Far Horizons was becoming. She would be there to welcome them. She would be at the center of it.
“Big day today,” she smiled.
They were all big days.
She reached down, ruffled my hair, and turned. Both Tia and I watched her walk away - it was hard not to. Those hips were a gravity sink, and even in her trainers her footfalls shook the pool deck and rippled the surface of the water. Then she paused near the exit door. She looked back at us, assessing the tableau - me, wide-eyed. Tia, the water. She was satisfied.
She nodded once, and blew me a kiss. Even that echoed through the room, off the tiled walls. “Have fun,” she said, and then she was gone.
The heavy door shut with a soft, hydraulic sigh. The echo lingered but then it was, for a moment, just the hum of the lights and the gentle ripples of the pool’s surface fading in the Amazon’s wake.
Tia looked at me, and then me at her.
“She’s something, huh?” I said, as wryly as I could manage.
Tia giggled.
Then she stepped forward, professional again. “Ready to get in the water?”
I was, yes, already in my trunks. Built for a second grader, maybe, but they were thankfully pretty plain. Melissa had picked them up for me and somehow steered herself away from any cartoon characters or dinosaurs. Another little victory, I guess - though she had insisted on dressing me herself into them, in the gym locker room after her workout. They slid on easily after she’d hand-jobbed me all over her face - holding me in the air with one hand under my butt, the other one aiming my ejaculate mouth-ward but missing as she laughed and laughed and laughed.
“How about we get you out of that shirt, first?” Tia asked, breaking me out of my reverie and - before I could tell her no I can do it myself - grabbing the shirt by the hem and peeling it up over my head. Underneath, I wore a tight short-sleeve swim-shirt that Melissa had bought me. It had a picture of a cute little whale on it.
“Omigod that’s adorable,” Tia giggled.
“Thanks.” I felt even more exposed than if I was shirtless.
Anyway, I watched as Tia tossed the t-shirt aside. Then I looked at the water. It freaked me out.This was supposed to be a step toward independence - a way to stand, or float, on my own again - but my fear was pretty deep-seated. That Sunday morning? I’d nearly drown!
Tia watched me, and must have seen it on my brow. She cleared her throat. “So,” she said gently, offering me a reassuring smile, “why don’t we start in the shallow end?”
“Yeah good idea,” I nodded, but I could feel myself hesitate - and heard the tremulousness in my voice. It’s three and a half feet deep. But what are my alternatives? So I stepped toward the edge.
“We can go in by the stairs,” she urged me, a large warm hand on my shoulder, guiding me to where I could get in step-by-step. She backed in herself, and on the bottom step she reached out towards me, to help me in.
“C’mon Doctor,” she urged, water up to just past her mid-thigh. It would be a lot higher on me. “Come on in...”
Her smile was bright and patient, the kind you give a nervous kid on their first day. Her torso was leaned in, now, towards me, arms outstretched, the white “LIFEGUARD” lettering on her suit stretched taut across the overly generous swell of her chest. Every small movement made the suit pull and shift, her bosom rock back and forth, taut fabric clinging to curves impossible to ignore.
“C’mon sweetie,” she coaxed again, voice soft and encouraging, like she really was talking to a four-year-old. She held both hands out, palms up, waiting. “One step at a time. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you fall in, I promise.”
I stared at the water. If I did fall in, my head would barely clear the surface. My heart hammered so hard I could feel it in my throat. The pool lights danced across the surface in broken, wavering lines and the chlorine smell was suddenly thick enough to choke on.
I was able to take a breath, though - shaky - and moved my foot towards stepping onto the first submerged stair.
The thought of the first step into the water made me shiver. Not because it would be cold, temperature-wise - the pool was heated, felt pretty warm - but psychologically. My foot hovered over the submerged tile longer than necessary. Tia now stood a couple steps below me, already almost in the shallow end, water rising to her hips. She extended her hand upward, patient.
“You’ve got this,” she said softly. “It’s only three and a half feet here.”
‘Only.’
The word echoed in the cavernous room.
I swallowed and placed my foot down.The water was warm, shockingly so, and it climbed over my ankle, then my shin and calf like a slow, living thing. Once it touched, and I started to put weight on it, my foot slipped a fraction on the tile: I panicked. I gasped. I grabbed the rail. Tia’s hands were instantly there, steadying my elbows, gentle but firm. She smiled at me, casually reassured me. Everything’s fine. My other foot joined the first, on the top step.
“That’s it,” she murmured, “Nice and slow. Good job.” She looked me in the eyes; hers were so blue. “That was the first step. Try another?”
My pulse thudded loudly in my ears. I felt not just absurd but absurdly aware of everything - the slick tile beneath my toes, the dampness creeping higher, the humid air clinging to my skin.
And her. I was alone with this girl. And she was so pretty.
I refocused. Another step. Water was above my knees now. The lower hems of my swim trunks floated strangely around my legs. I felt ridiculous - small, exposed, every inch of bare skin prickling under the humid air and her gaze. I’d never met this girl before today and here I was, feeling half-naked, being coaxed into a pool by her like I was terrified of bath time.
Up close, the navy fabric of her suit clung to her in a way that was impossible not to notice. She was athletic. Full. Young. The white piping traced her shape with clinical clarity. I hated that my eyes registered it, how generous her enhanced puberty had been to her, before my brain could redirect them.
She noticed. Not disapprovingly - just aware.
“I’ve heard so much about you, Dr. J,” she said, almost shyly, as if trying to ease the tension, “From Melissa. From some of the people at the clinic, at the Academy.” She bit her lip, looked at me. “I didn’t know if I’d actually ever meet you.This is kinda… cool.”
Cool.
She urged me to take one more step. The water reached my hips, flowing into my trunks and bathing the enormous unit I’d done my best to conceal within. It was flaccid but, oh god no, I felt the first hints of swelling.
“What exactly have you heard?” I asked, attempting steadiness and failing. I knew that I’d found some celebrity online, as ‘Dr Vulni’. I was loathe to think that she’d seen me there.
She smiled, a little bashful. “They say that you helped build this place. That you’re brilliant. That you’re…important.”
Important. Standing there half-submerged and trembling: important.
“That’s generous,” I muttered.
“It’s true,” she insisted gently, “And it’s gonna be fun, today, here with me. We’ll take it slow, I promise. Let’s take another step.”
Another step down and the water wrapped around my waist, up my abdomen to my lower chest. My breath shortened automatically, my body remembering panic before my mind could intervene.
Tia moved closer.
“Hey,” she said, softer now. “Look at me.”
I did.
Her expression wasn’t mocking. It wasn’t patronizing. It was focused. Encouraging. There was excitement there too - the eager energy of someone entrusted with something meaningful.
“I won’t let you drown,” she said simply.
That shouldn’t have been as reassuring as it was, but it got me to step off the last submerged stair.
The water went above my chest, my collarbones, my neck. My chin skimmed the surface; I had to tilt my head back to keep my mouth clear. Tia crouched a little so we were closer to eye level, her breasts hovering just above the waterline, the suit’s fabric dark and slick, clinging to every curve. I tried again not to look. I failed.
She laughed - soft, almost shy. “You’re doing great, Dr. J. Really.”
Great. Right.
She guided me forward until I was in the shallow end proper, water lapping at my jaw. My feet barely touched the bottom; I had to tread lightly to keep my nose and mouth above the surface. Tia stayed close, one hand gently on my shoulder, the other hovering near my back in case I slipped. The pool floor felt uncertain under my feet, even though I could stand. My body wanted to tense, to prepare for disaster.
“Okay,” she said, bright and gentle, clapping her hands lightly once, the sound echoing. “Let’s start with floating. Super easy. All you have to do is lean back and let the water and me hold you. I won’t let you sink, okay?”
She positioned herself behind me.
I nodded - too tense to speak. Her body heat cut through the water. Then both hands slid under my shoulder blades, warm palms supporting me.
“Lean back,” she instructed. “Trust me. I’ve got you.”
I hesitated.
My head went under for a split second and panic flared - old, instinctive, the memory of that near-drowning flashing bright, flailing in Melissa’s pool: lungs burning, limbs useless. It screamed hot and humiliating through me.
I flailed once, arms windmilling.
“Easy, easy,” Tia soothed, pulling me up so my face cleared the surface. My feet left the ground for a moment; she was holding me. “Breathe. Just breathe. Look at me.”
I did: up and behind myself. Her face was close, a lock of wet hair clinging to her cheek, eyes wide and earnest. Her breasts were right there as she steadied me - full, buoyant, the suit’s fabric slick and stretched tight.
“There you go,” she smiled, wrinkling her nose down at me, “Good job, little guy. Breathe.”
‘Little guy’?? Oof. I forced myself to relax. My shoulders eased. My head tipped back until it rested against something, something soft…the upper swell of her chest - warm, pillowy, rising with her breath and-
Immediately my muscles locked. The contact was electric. Soft. Overwhelming. My cock twitched hard in my trunks, shame flooding my face even as arousal burned low in my belly.
“Shhhh….tension makes you sink,” Tia murmured, “Just breathe.” She adjusted her hold, hands sliding to cradle my upper back more firmly, fingers splayed wide. At her instruction I forced myself to let my upper body tilt even further backward. “There you go. You’re safe,” she said again, more firmly this time, “Lean back into me. Let the water take your weight. I’ve got you.”
Her hands beneath me were steady and warm. Water lapped at my ears as I leaned further. Her breasts cushioned the back of my skull like the softest pillow imaginable, the faint scent of skin moisturizer and chlorine mixing with something sweeter - her skin, her warmth.
For a terrifying second, I felt the loss of vertical certainty. Then buoyancy caught me, keeping me afloat.
I was horizontal. Floating.
Her forearms supported me now. She leaned forward slightly to stabilize my balance, her body close enough that I could feel the heat of her through the water. The proximity made my face flush hotter than the steam in the room.
“See?” she said, smiling down at me, “You’re doing it.”
I wasn’t doing anything. She was.
My eyes fixed on the ceiling lights, long white bars blurring through the shimmer of humidity from the surface. Every instinct told me to curl inward, to sit up, to grab something solid. Instead I lay there, supported. Supported and small.
“You’re still really tense,” she observed gently, “Try unclenching your jaw. Let your arms drift out.”
I obeyed mechanically, warmed water sloshing up from inside her suit where it cradled the back of my head. Her hands and upper arms remained under me, under my shoulders and back, steady as anchors.
“You’re doing great,” she continued, her tone bright with encouragement. “Seriously. Most people fight it way more.”
A strange mix of emotions churned in my chest - shame at needing instruction, gratitude for her patience, a flicker of something darker at the vulnerability of it all. The awareness of how exposed I was. How easily this teenage girl controlled the situation. How Melissa had orchestrated this entire scene and then removed herself from it. I couldn’t stop thinking about how she or any of the others would see this, how I would look right now.
They’re all somewhere upstairs, I thought, on the floor above the ceiling I’m looking at. I wasn’t sure if I’d want to be able to see through it. Doors were probably opening for the new security team. Boots on polished floors. Introductions being made, instructions given. Melissa would be at the center of it, growing into something larger by the hour.
And I’m here, learning how not to sink.
Tia adjusted my posture again, patient and close. “You’re doing good,” she murmured.
I didn’t know if that was true.
Down here, in the steam and blue light, I swallowed a mouthful of chlorinated water and coughed.
Tia steadied me again. “You’re okay,” she told me.
I nodded, choosing to believe her. I closed my eyes. The world narrowed to the gentle lap of water, the steady rise and fall of her chest under my head, the squishy, enveloping pressure of her breasts against my skull. My breathing slowed. My body floated - weightless, safe, cradled.
“You’re doing great,” Tia repeated, voice soft and proud, “Keep breathing. Nice and slow.”
I did. And for the first time in weeks, the water was starting to feel like less of a threat. It felt like a cradle.
“Just keep breathing,” Tia said, “In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”
I focused on that, and not on how my cock throbbed again, harder this time, a wave of shame and thrill washing over me and slushing together until I couldn’t tell them apart.
She didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she did, and she didn’t mind
Breathe, Jay. Air in. Air out.
The water held me. Her hands held me. Her chest held me. The fear had receded by a fraction, and in its place was something more complicated. This was independence? Maybe, but it felt sort of like surrender. It also felt nice.
Tia shifted slightly beneath me.
“Okay,” she said gently, though there was a little spark of pride in her voice. “That’s floating. You did it really well. Now let’s try treading water. It’s the next step. We’ll see if you can keep yourself up.”
My stomach tightened.
She eased one hand away from my back, and immediately my body dipped an inch lower.
“Don’t panic,” she said quickly. “Just bring your knees up a little. Move your hands like you’re pushing the water down.”
“I don’t-” I started, but swallowed the rest.
She guided me upright. The waterline climbed from my ears to my chin as I struggled to find my footing.
“Let’s go just a tiny bit deeper,” she said, “You’ll have to tread, but I’ll stay right here.”
Before I could object, she took my wrist - not forceful, just steady - and walked us two careful steps forward, guiding me out of the very shallowest end. The bottom sloped down under my feet. One step. Two. Then nothing. My toes brushed empty water. Panic flickered instinctively, but her hands were still there, steady under my arms.
The bottom had disappeared. My toes searched and found nothing. A spike of cold fear shot through me.
“Tia-”
“I’ve got you,” she said firmly, quickly, sliding one arm around me to stabilize me. “You’re not going under. Just kick. Little kicks. Like you’re pedaling a bike. Slow circles.”
I obeyed awkwardly. My legs churned clumsily beneath the surface, more splash than rhythm.
“That’s it,” she encouraged, “Hands too. Push down, then sweep out. Like this - ” She demonstrated with one hand, a gentle scooping motion. “It’s called the eggbeater. Easy.”
I tried, I tried. My legs churned, clumsy and frantic at first. Water splashed up my nose. I coughed, flailed once, and immediately felt her pull me closer - she scootched down so her body pressed against my back again, breasts soft and buoyant against my shoulder blades. My breathing grew uneven.
She kept one forearm lightly across my chest not lifting me fully - just enough to prevent disaster. Enough to remind me I wasn’t actually in control.
I was struggling.
“Easy,” she soothed, her other arm now wrapping loosely around my waist from behind, the other still under my chest. “You’re okay. Just slow it down. Small kicks. Small circles. Like this.”
She moved with me into a bit deeper water, so she could tread water herself. Her legs began kicking in perfect rhythm beside mine, her breasts rising and falling against my back with every breath. The suit’s fabric was slick and thin; I could feel the warmth of her chest through it, the gentle give of her curves every time she adjusted her hold. My cock strained painfully against my trunks, trapped, and I prayed she wouldn’t somehow feel it.
“You’re doing it,” she insisted.
I wasn’t convinced. After a few moments that felt like a full minute, though, my movements found a kind of rhythm. Not graceful. Not confident. But functional.
She slowly reduced the pressure of her arms. “You’re holding yourself up right now,” she said quietly. Her voice was near a whisper but proud and a little breathless from the effort of holding me steady. “Look - you’re treading. You’re keeping your head up all by yourself.”
I was. Just barely. My chin skimmed the surface, water lapping at my lips, but I wasn’t sinking. Her arm stayed around my waist, though - loose but there. A safety net I both needed and hated needing
“This is probably the last thing you want to be doing,” I said between breaths, trying to sound light, “Giving swimming lessons to a…...to an old guy on a Sunday.”
She giggled - soft, genuine, surprised sound. “You’re not old.”
“I feel old.”
I felt her tilt her head behind me, studying me in a moment that was more thoughtful than teasing.
“You actually kind of remind me of my dad,” she said.
I chuckled, maybe sounding nervous. “What do you mean?”
Her breasts shifted against me again - soft, buoyant, and if I didn’t know better I’d think it was on purpose - and I felt her pause for half a heartbeat, like she was noticing something herself.
“Well, like,” she said quietly, almost to herself, “my dad, recently, gets… kind of nervous around me too, like you are.”
“Wh-what do you mean?” I repeated. Definitely more nervous now.
“Like he doesn’t know where to look.” A tiny, shy laugh escaped her. “I used to think it was just me, seeing things, but…I’m starting to think it’s more than that.”
She didn’t elaborate. Didn’t need to. I also didn’t want to unpack it. The words hung there, though, light but loaded, and I felt a strange echo of my own humiliation ripple through me. Tia didn’t seem embarrassed by it - more curious, almost pleased. Like she was still figuring out the shape of her own power as a woman.
“Why do you think he looks at me like that?” she said, casually, “The way you were before, earlier, when you were looking at my swimsuit?”
That stopped me. I almost sank. But she caught me again immediately, reflexes quick, adjusting her hold slightly, one hand sliding under my lower back, the other steadying my shoulder.
“Sorry!” she said, half-laughing, “I didn’t mean - I just mean…haha…”
Those tits were definitely squeezed against me more tightly now. Slowly, she loosened her grip.
“You’re doing so well kicking.”
“I’m not sure that’s comforting,” I managed.
She grinned. “Oh, c’mon, it’s okay. I don’t mind, It’s not a bad thing. It’s just…different.”
Different.
I kept treading, arms sweeping water in clumsy arcs, not knowing what to say.
After a moment, she added, quieter, “I know things are changing. For you guys.”
“For…...‘us guys’? Like your dad and me?”
Behind me, she nodded. “All guys. My history teacher talks about it all the time. She says we’re living in a pivot point. Like…generational tectonic plates shifting.” She adjusted her position slightly, letting me bear more of my own weight now. “She says my generation of girls is going to grow up expecting something totally different.”
“Diff…...different how?” I asked.
She didn’t hesitate.
“Less apologetic,” she said. “Less accommodating. Less… centered around you. Around guys.”
There wasn’t cruelty in her tone. Just fact.
I kept kicking.She kept treading.
“And that’s good?” I asked.
“For us? Girls? Yeah.” She shrugged lightly. “We’ve been raised watching women run everything anyway. Schools. Companies. Politics now. And now we find out for sure - we kinda knew this anyway - that girls are going to grow up taller than boys,” She gave me a small, almost sympathetic look. “You guys - guys your age, my dad’s age - were told you were supposed to lead. Now it’s different. Guys don’t think that anymore. And girls? We’re being told we don’t have to, like, wait.”
I didn’t know how to answer that.
My legs were burning.
“Don’t stop,” she said quickly, noticing the falter, “Keep moving.”
I clumsily reached for her arm for balance. She let me, steadying me with one hand at my side.
“I don’t think anyone told me I was…...supposed to lead,” I said after a moment.
She smiled faintly. “Maybe not directly. But the world kinda did, right?”
Upstairs, somewhere above the ceiling I couldn’t see through, Melissa was probably shaking hands with armed women who answered only to her. Down here, I was clinging to an overdeveloped high school student so I wouldn’t sink.
Tia paused. She kept us treading, legs moving in sync, her big breasts pressing rhythmically against my back with every breath
“Earlier,” she said carefully, “you said Melissa was… a lot.”
I winced. “Did I?”
She nodded. “You did. And she is. She’s kind of incredible. Intense.” A small pause. “You’re so different from her. Smaller energy. Fragile where she’s…not.”
I didn’t love the phrasing.
“How do you handle it?” she asked, genuinely curious, “Being with someone like that?”
I swallowed water, coughed, kept kicking….though my rhythm faltered again. She tightened her grip just enough to compensate.
“I…I don’t know,” I admitted. “Some days I think I’m adapting. Other days I think I’m just…... being carried along.” I paused, treaded. “I just…try to keep up. Try to be useful.” Why was I telling this to this girl I barely knew? What was it about this moment that made me open up? Was I feeling that vulnerable? All these questions should have rang bells in my belfry but if they did, dear reader, I didn’t hear them. “I know she’s…she’s becoming something bigger than me. Bigger than all of us, maybe. I’m just trying to…I dunno. Help.”
She considered that.
“My teacher says that’s going to be normal,” she said thoughtfully, nodding against my shoulder. Her voice was soft, almost reverent. “For men. Not bad. Just different. She says a lot of boys in my generation are going to have to figure out how to exist and help without being in the center. That the dynamics between guys and girls are changing so fast, so dramatically, that everything’s going to look different soon. Like… the rules are being rewritten while we’re still learning them.”
Whoah…this was being taught in high school? Were her friends - girls everywhere - being told this?
“And you?” I asked, not sure if I wanted the answer, “What do you think?”
She surprised me by answering immediately.
“My friends on the swim team - we talk about it sometimes,” she said, “How some of the boys are already smaller than us. How some of them seem…so calm about it. I mean, they probably grew up thinking they were going to be taller than us, stronger than us, but then it didn’t happen. But they’re not upset, it’s like they expected it.” She paused, and was obviously considering what she wanted to say. “It’s like they’re waiting for us to take over. Like they…like they want us to.”
Oh my god.
Her voice dropped, almost shy. “I think…I think that’s kinda sweet. In a way. That they’re going to let us be in charge.” She paused again. Then her tone turned darker, for just a moment. “Not like they’d have any choice.”
I kicked harder, trying to focus on the water, on breathing, on anything but the way her words sank into me. “A-and you..?”
“The world’s going to need women who can take care of things. Boys certainly do already. They’re so…helpless. We outscore them in tests, they’ve got no executive functioning, they don’t exercise. How do they expect to grow up and have real lives? They’re going to need us. I think it’s kind of exciting,” she said, “And it’s not like we want guys to disappear. We don’t. But it feels like we’re building something new, for everyone. And you - guys like you, my dad, boys and teachers at school - you’re not…resisting.”
I gave a short, breathless laugh; best thing I could do. I couldn’t speak for anyone else but I knew what was happening to me. “I’m treading water. That’s about all I can manage.”
She grinned, I felt it. Heard it in her voice: “Exactly.”
My arms were tiring, legs slowing, trembling now. I reached for her arm again, more deliberately this time. Tia noticed immediately, and didn’t pull away. Instead, her hold tightened, pulling me closer, breasts pressing firmly against my back, a life preserver made of flesh.
“You’re getting tired,” she said gently, but with a new edge to her voice, “It’s okay. Lean on me. I’ve got you.” She shifted me so that I could rest my weight against her, letting her tread water for the both of us in the deep end. Above us, the lights hummed. Below us, the water held. And somewhere between dependence and effort, between humiliation and progress, I realized I was learning more than just how to swim. “You don’t have to fight it,” she whispered, “Not with me. Just let me hold you up…Daddy.”
‘Daddy’?!?
“Eh-what?” I stammered, voice cracking, barely audible over the lapping of water.
Tia’s arms stayed wrapped around me from behind, steady and warm, her breasts pressed firmly against my back like the softest, most buoyant life preserver ever made. The word still hung in the humid air between us, sharp and electric, and I felt my whole body jolt - shock, humiliation, something darker and hotter twisting low in my gut.
She giggled - soft, almost shy - but didn’t let go. If anything, her hold tightened just a fraction, pulling me closer so my head nestled deeper into the plush valley between her breasts.
“Oops,” she whispered, lips brushing my ear, “Slipped out. Sorry…not sorry.” Her voice had that same playful edge, like she was testing how it felt on her tongue. “You just… feel the same. Sweet and awkward and needing someone to take care of them. Like my mom does with Daddy.”
My face burned so hot I was sure the water around me was steaming. My cock throbbed painfully against the inside of my trunks, and I knew - god, I knew - she could sense it now. At the very least she could feel me trembling. The shame was overwhelming, but so was the sensation of being held, of not having to fight the water, of letting her do the work.
Before I could stammer anything coherent, she shifted her grip.
“Okay,” she said brightly, voice back to swim-instructor mode, “let’s move on to kicking. You ready?”
I nodded mutely, too flustered to speak.
She turned me around so we were facing each other in the water. My feet couldn’t touch bottom, or anywhere near it. I had to tread harder just to keep my chin above the surface. Tia floated effortlessly, water beading on her skin, navy suit clinging to every curve like it was painted on. Her breasts floated just at the waterline, full and buoyant, the white “LIFEGUARD” lettering stretched tight across them.
She reached out and took both my hands in hers - her fingers long and strong, easily engulfing mine.
“Hold on,” she instructed. “I’m gonna pull you forward. Just kick your legs. Try to keep your head up.”
She started moving backward, towing me gently through the water. Her arms extended, breasts bobbing and jiggling with the motion, right at eye level. At some point she reached shallow enough water so she could touch, and continued by walking me around the shallow end, my legs kicking behind me like some toddler. I tried to focus on my kicking, on breathing, on anything but the way her breasts swayed and bounced inches from my face - soft, heavy, glistening with water, the suit fabric dark and slick. But every kick I made sent little ripples toward her, splashing softly against the undersides of her chest.
“Good,” she praised, voice warm. “Keep those legs moving. You’re doing it.”
I was. Barely. My thighs burned, arms aching from holding on, but I was moving forward - being pulled forward - by her. My cock pulsed hard beneath me, thankfully still covered; instead of swelling down my thigh where it would almost reach my knee, it had pushed itself up past the waistband of my trunks but underneath the stretchy spandex blend of my tight swimshirt. It rubbed my belly, almost my chest. Even though it was still concealed, shame was flooding my face as arousal burned hotter.
“You still need me to hold on?” she asked, “Or do you want to try to swim yours-”
“No!” I exclaimed, suddenly panicked.
She laughed.
The thought of her letting go of my hands, me having to stroke my arms and kick and keep myself afloat? Terrifying.
“Haha that’s okay,” she giggled, more ripples in the flesh that bulged above the neckline of her suit than in the surface of the water, “ I like knowing I have to take care of someone. Like right now - I guess I’m literally keeping you from sinking. Here, c’mere…”
She tugged me a little closer, until her breasts brushed my chin - soft, slick with warm water. Deliberate?
“...hold on.”
My arms went instinctively around her lower ribcage, below the surface of the water.
She smiled down at me, eyes bright and a little mischievous. “I’m keeping you afloat, like your big blow-up pool toy,” she said, deep dimples crinkling, “And you don’t seem to mind, do you?”
I couldn’t answer. My mouth was full of water and shame and plastered against her youthful bosom.
She pulled me in a little closer, in an embrace around my upper back, and walked us around a bit through another slow lap, breasts jiggling with the rhythm against my flushed cheek.
“Let’s try the arms now,” she said. “I’ll show you the stroke.”
She released her arms from around me and let me hold on to her myself, clinging to her. She began to demonstrate - long, graceful reaches, shoulders rolling, breasts thrusting forward with each extension. The motion made her chest rise and fall dramatically; I watched water streaming down the deep valley between them.
“Like this,” she said, peeling me off of her, but now starting to guide my arms through the water in between us. “Reach… pull. Reach…pull. Make sure to breathe.”
Her body stayed close. Every time I reached, and then pulled, my hands would brush the sides of her breasts. Her chest, water dripping from her collarbones, suit clinging transparently in places, was right in front of my face.
“You’re getting it,” she encouraged. “Keep going. Reach… pull…”
Reach, pull, reach pull. Was I learning to swim again?
Tia next spun me around so my back was to her, and now as she helped me my elbows would bump into her breasts and I would feel the soft give of her curves against my forearms.
Eventually, my arms faltered. My legs slowed. I was exhausted, overwhelmed, maybe not underwater but still drowning. Tia noticed my fatigue immediately. Her arms wrapped around me again, pulling me flush against her - breasts squishing warmly against my chest, nipples hard through the thin suit fabric. We were maybe in four feet of water; she could stand, I could not.
“You’re tired,” she said gently. “It’s okay. Lean on me. I’ve got you.”
I did. My head dropped to her shoulder, face half-buried in the crook of her neck, her scent - chlorine, moisturizer, girl - filling my lungs. Her breasts cradled my chest like pillows made for me and-
My cock, through my spandex shirt, pushed against her upper belly.
I began to pull away, but she held me fast.
“Shh, it’s okay, don’t worry about it,” she murmured, “Just rest. Let me hold you up.”
“Yeah, let her hold you,” came a voice from the pool deck, “She looks like a natural.”
MELISSA!!
My whole body locked up. Tia’s arms stayed wrapped around me, breasts squishing warmly against my chest, but I twisted my head toward the sound.
Melissa, my giant brunette girlfriend, stood at the edge of the pool - pink sports top and leggings hugging every curve, still vibrant from her own workout, arms crossed casually under her massive chest. She’d clearly been watching for at least a minute, maybe more. Her golden-green eyes sparkled with possessive amusement, lips curved in that knowing smile that always brought the butterflies back to my stomach.
“How… how LON-g have you been there?” I managed, voice cracking.
“Just the last bit,” she said, shrugging like it was nothing, “Long enough to see you’re in good hands!”
By god the woman can make earthquakes with her footsteps - and can also sneak in so…sneakily??
Tia giggled nervously, but didn’t let go of me. Her hold actually tightened a fraction, like she was proud to be caught helping.
Melissa crouched at the pool’s edge, big thighs flexing, mighty, as she lowered herself. “Come here, baby,” she said, reaching out towards us with both hands, “Tia, you can hand him up?”
Tia walked me through the shallow end - water sloshing around her waist, breasts bouncing with each step against me - until we reached the side. Melissa’s hands slid under my arms and lifted me out effortlessly, water streaming off my body as she set me on the tile beside her. My swimshirt clung to me, spandex plastered tight, my erection painfully obvious - pinned upward against my abdomen by the wet fabric.
Melissa noticed immediately. Her eyes went down, then back up to my face, smile widening.
“Looks like you liked your swim lesson a little too much,” she teased, voice low and amused.
“Yeah huhuh…” I acknowledged, embarrassed but able t-
WAIT WHAT
Melissa quickly hooked two fingers under the hem of my shirt and peeled it upward - quickly, decidedly, before I could protest - until the stretched spandex snapped free. My cock sprang out, hard and flushed, bobbing in the humid air.
I gasped, hands flying to cover myself, but Melissa caught my wrists gently, pinning them to my sides.
“Shhh, no hiding,” she giggled. She turned slightly toward Tia, still waist-deep in the shallow end, eyes wide and cheeks pink. “See what you did to him, Tia? Look how hard you got him.”
Tia’s mouth parted. She stared - openly now. I was a skinny guy less than four feet tall and my erection was one-fifth my full height. It probably looked stronger than my arm, and was for sure quite the sight to anyone, let alone a highschooler.
The girl giggled, shy but thrilled, eyes still goggling at me and obviously proud of the helpless response I’d had to her body. “Oh my god…yeah.”
Melissa came to a full kneel on the pool deck, back facing the water, thighs spread for balance. She lifted me by the hips like I weighed nothing, turning me to her. My cock hovered inches from her chest - low-cut pink sports top stretched tight across her massive breasts, the deep valley between them glistening with faint sweat and pool mist.
She looked up at me, eyes glittering. “Mommy knows exactly what her little swimmer needs.”
Then she pulled me forward, guiding my hips until my cock slid between her breasts. The warmth hit me like a shock - soft, heavy, enveloping. She pressed her arms together, trapping me in slick, plush cleavage, the sports bra’s fabric rasping against the lower length of my shaft as she began to move.
Even though we were not alone, we had this young girl watching us, I could not help myself. I leaned in and wrapped my arms around her head for balance, fingers twisting into her thick, plush hair. My hips jerked instinctively, thrusting shallowly into the tight, warm channel she’d made.
“Look at Tia,” Melissa whispered, voice husky, “She’s watching you.”
I did. Tia still stood in the pool, water lapping at her waist. Slowly, tentatively, she reached up and peeled the straps of her navy swimsuit down her shoulders. The suit slid lower, half-freeing her full, buoyant breasts, skin glistening with water. She cupped them gently, pushing them up between her arms like an offering, mesmerized eyes gleaming and locked on my face.
I couldn’t look away.
Melissa’s strokes quickened - pushing me in and out by the hips so that my length slid in and out, up and down into her chest in long, firm glides, the friction exquisite, overwhelming. “There you go. Look at the pretty girl. Look at the pretty girl with the big, big boobs. You’re so small,” she breathed, “So perfect. She could hold you like a little baby, huh? Teaching my little boy…he’s learning how to swim.”
“Oh…m-my god…”
“Yes yes yes…Tia’s so nice,” Melissa purred, “But now let Mommy take care of you…come for me, baby.”
I couldn’t hold back. Eyes still locked on Tia’s chest, my hips bucked hard, cock pulsing between Melissa’s breasts. Climax hit me in hot, helpless waves - spurting thick ropes into and up out of her cleavage, soaking myself slickly, some hitting her neck, dripping down her chest. I groaned - long, muffled, broken - face buried in her hair as shame and ecstasy crashed together and the ‘Bliss’ flowed from us and out into the women everywhere.
“Oh, god…yes…” Tia gasped - was she feeling it herself? Watching me come, watching my face contort and my body spasm in Melissa’s embrace, she seemed transported.
“There you go…” Melissa purred. She held me through it, rocking gently, whispering praises against my chest. “That’s it…give it all to Mommy, and to Tia, to all of us…good boy…such a good boy…”
When the last shudder left me, I collapsed against her - limp, spent, trembling. She lifted me easily, cradling me against her chest, one hand supporting my back, the other stroking my hair.
“Did Mommy’s little swimmer have fun?” she whispered, lips brushing my temple.
I couldn’t answer. Just nodded weakly, face buried in her neck. I realized, with a dark, thrilling terror, that if I thought what I was gaining was independence, that I was mistaken. This was something else entirely. Something deeper, maybe something sweeter, thick like bee’s honey. Something I might never escape.
Melissa carried me away from the pool - picking up a towel and draping it over us both - but paused, turning back toward the shallow end.
Tia still stood there, still watching us and waist-deep, suit straps still lowered, breasts nearly bare and glistening. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her eyes, lips parted, like she couldn’t quite believe what she’d just witnessed.
Melissa smiled at her - warm, approving, but unmistakably possessive.
“Good job, Tia,” she called softly, superhuman voice carrying across the water and bringing new ripples to its surface, “You did so well with him. He really needed that lesson.”
Tia blinked, then smiled shyly, ducking her head. “Th-thank you, Ms. Monroe.”
Melissa adjusted her hold on me, lifting me higher against her chest like a trophy. “We’ll definitely have to do this again soon. Maybe next weekend? I think he could use more practice - and maybe you need more time together.”
Tia’s eyes lit up, cheeks flushing even deeper. “I’d…I’d love that.”
Melissa nodded once, satisfied. “Perfect. I’ll text you, and I’ll give you his number too…” she said, a weirdling timbre magnifying her voice for a moment, “...and welcome to Far Horizons.”
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