#inflatable tf

   The sweltering summer heat encompassed Mike’s form as he made his way across the vast beach. Stray beads of sweat dribbled down the young man’s head and the warm air lapped at the skin of his arms thanks to the short sleeves of his button-up. Adding to the mild levels of uncomfortableness he was experiencing he could feel sand in his shoes. At least it was relatively early in the day so not many people were around, much less near where Mike was making his way towards.

   As he walked he gave his phone a cursory glance, one of many he's had since he got here. He had constantly been looking back at an e-mail he had received regarding an application he had sent in a short while back for a voluntary lifeguard position. It was a rather unorthodox choice for Mike seeing as he was generally not the most into outdoor activities or interaction with others on a frequent basis. But also he knew he had to work on his people skills some more and this felt like a good way to do so. Plus it came with free on the job training!

   As for the e-mail he received it was fairly standard, even if it was entirely in lowercase. Mainly just an indicator that he had been accepted for the position and that he started on what is now the current date. He was also given the location of the employee specific beachside changing booth, which was why he was checking his phone so often. Although in truth that didn't help much since the stretch of sand-covered land looked the same everywhere. But hey, he was starting to see a row of wooden-lookings off in the distance, so that meant he had to be closing in on it.

   Mike’s pace quickened by just a little bit, the young man casually wiping his forehead of some sweat as he did so. “Glad that e-mail said they'll be giving me something different to wear. The sand in my shoes is starting to kill me actually… actually wait, will I have to go barefoot for this-”

   It didn't take very long for him to arrive at the row of changing rooms, Mike having spent the minute or so of his walk dwelling on stray thoughts and concerns about his future job. Once he had gotten there however he was surprised to find a severe lack of other lifeguards around, alongside noting a massive tower of some kind that was roughly thirty or so yards away. He didn't focus on the tower much though as he was thinking that even the head lifeguard should be somewhere nearby to greet him, especially if this was where the employees usually hung around.

   “Maybe I'm early?” Mike reasoned, glancing at his phone yet again to confirm which booth his stuff should be in. He nervously followed that statement with a concerned, “Or maybe I'm late…”

   The hinges of the wooden booth’s creaked as Mike opened it. The insides of it was basically what you'd expect from a beach changing room. Wooden, rectangular, a raised portion in the back of it that presumably functioned as a seat, plus a metallic bar screwed to the leftward wall to hold for balancing. Atop the seating block was an open cardboard box with Mike’s name written on it.

   “These things are not claustrophobia-friendly,” Mike joked to himself as he fully stepped into the booth. He listened to the door behind him creak shut, the room now illuminated by sunlight pouring through a rectangular slit that was situated high above the apex of the door.

   The relatively small size of the changing booth meant that the contents of the cardboard box was spoiled to Mike in just a few seconds. Although it would be more accurate to say there was a lack of contents within the container since it only had a single object in it.

   “Hm?” Mike outstretched a hand to pick up the item and bring it up towards him. It was a pure white metallic cylinder, the material of it warmed by the summer heat. Turning it around also revealed the actual contents of said cylinder, the wording seemingly hand-drawn. “Poolguard-Grade Compressed Air…?”

   And beneath that was just a simple sentence that said, ‘Apply any amount anywhere.’

   “Uhh, what is… huh??”

   Mike was confused to say the least. He knew was going to be provided with some kind of job package, but this was not on his list of expectations. He was expecting sunscreen, some kind of uniform, maybe a pair of sandals. Perhaps even a booklet that went over some basics he'd need to know before training. Nowhere in his mind could he fully grasp why a canister of compressed air would be useful for a job like this.

   “This is so weird- and apply it??”

   The more irrational side of his brain wanted to say that this was some kind of special waterproofing or something. But such a prospect was an absurd thought even for him. Especially since, again, he wasn't given anything else!

   Mike let out a sigh as be came up with one last potential answer. “Maybe this is just some kind of stupid prank.”

   He wasn't sure if he should be happy or annoyed about the prospect of signing up to work alongside a bunch of beach bros if that's the case. It could go either way depending on their personalities he presumed. Although the prospect of being surrounded by a bunch of beefy guys…

   He shook his head. “You haven't even met them yet you shouldn't be… augh, whatever. If it's a prank I guess there'd be no harm in spraying some on me for fun or something.”

   Mike stared at the can for another few seconds. “Maybe make it a, ‘haha, you got me,’ moment!” He then started to shake it, mainly as a force of habit with him and containers. “Cement myself as a fun guy. Yeah, that could work!”

   After a few seconds of shaking and talking to himself, Mike was finally ready to apply air to his body. He slipped the canister down in his hand so he could position a finger over the trigger of it. Then, with only a moment of hesitation, he pulled it.

   The feeling that ensued was… just that of having some air blow over the skin of his arm. That was it really. No ‘surprise it was something else entirely’ or anything like that. It was quite literally just compressed air.

   “...does feel kind of nice though,” he admitted, continuing to spray air up and down his arm and hand just to feel the very small breeze the nozzle created. After a few seconds of doing it to his right arm he switched hands the canister was in so he could spray his left one as well, all just to balance the sensation of it. “Man this looks stupid, eheh.”

   Another more few seconds passed before he finally lost the sensory enjoyment of spraying air on his body. That and he was starting to realize his finger was feeling a little stiff. It was an odd feeling since he was only holding the trigger for roughly ten seconds, but he still decided this was body telling him that he should probably stop. However the stiffness didn't end even after he put the canister down. If anything it felt like a majority of his fingers on both hands were being filled with this sensation.

   Curious why he was feeling such a thing, Mike looked down at his hands. Once he did so he would begin to bear witness to something very, very strange. “Jeez, what the hell is going… on… uhh…”

   In that instant Mike was granted the sight of the fingers on both hands swelling. Each digit seemed to just grow thicker in front of his very eyes. That hadn't even been the only thing that happened to them either as the wider each finger became, the smaller the gaps between them got. And the smaller the gaps got, the more his fingers pressed up to each other. They had practically been squeezing into each other as four fingers on each hand (the thumb not being included) had seemingly merged with each other.

   Once the merging had commenced it was becoming evident to him that something else was happening as well. A different shade of color was entering into his skin, his typically ivory-leaning pigmentation rapidly shifting to a more tanned appearance. All the while it seemed as if his flesh was altering by rapidly smoothing over. The texture of it was heavily altering beyond what could be considered skin anymore. This would be further accentuated by the fact the only indicator his mitts had ever had separate fingers were a series of lines that ran down the upper portion of them.

   Many of these changes were running down the rest of his hands as well. Tan and texture enveloping as his palms bloated up more and more. This had seemed to cause some kind of increase in length and width within each hand, alongside by certain thickness. This was also when Mike finally took notice of a rapidly budding hollowness within his hands as they continued to lose their fleshy appearance. This was coinciding with the fact that the more his changes seemed to go prominent the more it seemed as if they were inflating more than swelling. Something proven by the way his thumb finally fattened up and altered to fit the rest of these massive mittens he now called hands. Just inflating to become a massive tanned sausage of a digit, gaining somewhat of a roundness as it did so.

   “W-what happened to my hands!?” Mike exclaimed out of shock and concern. He held out an arm and backed up a little bit before bumping into the door. “They’re huge, a-and it's-” he used the other hand to just rub the outstretched one, “...made of plastic?”

   He wasn't sure if that would be correct really. Barring the fact he was surprised he still had a sense of touch, the actual texture of them felt more akin to that of a pooltoy. A smooth, plasticky vinyl texture if he wanted to try and take a stab at describing it. Although he didn't have much time to focus on that as his peripherals caught on to the sight of his arms beginning to thicken up.

   “Crap, it's spreading-”

   In truth this spread was happening to a rather lengthy segment of both arms. Every spot where the skin was exposed was swelling up as the tone of it all yet again took on the same tan his hands had. The weirder part was despite the complete smoothness his arms were taking on, the effects of inflation had a certain appearance it seemed to be attempting to emulate. This was a bit more tangible on his forearms, their skinniness subsiding rapidly as they got consumed by a bloating that was almost akin to a spontaneous growth in muscle. A presentation that was so thick and bulky, and yet it had a sensation of being relatively light in weight. He had also taken note of a series of lines etching on the new materials of his arms. There were four lines, and all of them had varying lengths. They also had a clean painted linearity that was rather similar to the makeshift finger dividers on his hands. Although the lines on his forearms looked like some attempt at mimicking arm hair more than anything.

   As for the rest of his arms…

   The jointedness of his elbows was something that remained constant. Even as the nigh-emptiness filled the region and the skin got transmogrified into something clearly inorganic. Meanwhile the alterations in his upper arms had been mimicking that of the limb’s lower half. In this case however it would seem the changes were not just constrained to the exposed parts of himself. This was proven by the fact that as both areas inflated it was very rapidly filling out the short sleeves of his shirt. The shifting skin pressed up tight against the white fabric, and said fabric was smoothed out before promptly getting tighter over his arms. 

   Mike got clued into this rather quickly, his attention diverting to witness his shirt’s sleeves attempt to contain his swelling form. He could already tell it was going to be futile, though. The diameter of both arms was increasing well beyond the capacity of what his sleeves could contain. Especially with how much his shoulders were broadening from this transformation, which was causing even more stress on the material of his shirt. It only took just a few seconds after his sleeves had initially filled before splits and tearing ran vertically and horizontally across each one. They could just no longer contain his now ‘beefier’ arms.

   Mike let out a panicked squeak at the sound of his shirt tearing. The sight of his tanned ‘skin’ swelling through it was not necessarily pleasant for him. Especially since he was trying to register some way to potentially end the transformation. The rate of change was rather quick for him though, and he could already feel an odd pressure in his chest as the front of his shirt began rising.

   “Fuckin’-” his voice cracked for a second, followed by a cough to clear it. “What was in that canister!?”

   He took a step away from the door with the intent to inspect the compressed air can again, but a sudden dizziness caused him to quickly lose balance and stumble forward a bit. He managed to take hold of the metal beam on the booth’s side before he had the chance to slam his head onto the sitting box though. “Damn it- A-at least I still have flexibility in my hands…” He glanced at the one holding the bar, then looked away and at the floor after realizing how weird the mitt looked curled around it. 

   Looking at the floor made him realize two things though. One of those things was that his chest was bigger to the point the buttons of his shirt were beginning to strain in their eyelets. The other thing was…

   “Is the floor gettin’-” another cough. “-farther? A-and did my voice… ugh, what's happening to me!?”

   Evidently, a lot was happening! Especially since the transformation jumping to his torso was also proving to have some interesting effects on his body. Even if there wasn't too much that was different about the execution of the changes.

   This was evident with what had been going on with his chest. The region was inflating in the same manner as to how everything else had been, swelling larger and pushing what had once been his pectorals forward with each passing second. The smoothness remained all-compassing as whatever cleavage Mike could've had was filled as his internals hollowed out and filled with something that continued his form’s constant inflation. However the concurrent shifting of his skin was undergoing a rather different change in comparison to what happened to his arms.

   While his skin’s composition still took on the plastic-vinyl form, the coloration of it had shifted even more drastically. Instead of taking on a tan complexion it developed an unnatural bright red hue. This shade of red was quick to wash over his expanding chest, and it was easily wrapping itself around his back at the same time. Mike was even taking notice of it once his chest finally got larger enough to break two buttons off his shirt. Although the sight of it had effectively stunned him, subduing a proper reaction immediately.

   His gaze just stayed fixated on his chest. More and more buttons scattered as the sides of his shirt slowly split open to reveal his smooth, red body. He had even realized that a small bump was rising from something that was beneath his shirt. This bump was positioned in the upper region of where his left pec was, and with the placket of his shirt steadily being pushed towards it by his still-inflating torso it wouldn't take too long to reveal just what it was. He just had to wait a few… more… seconds…

   Then a few more seconds of stunned silence as the nature of the bump was finally revealed to him.

   “…is that a pooltoy valve?”

   Sitting on what had been Mike’s left pec was indeed the plastic, white, called nozzle of a pooltoy valve. The weirdness didn't stop there either as a white, plus-shaped marking had seemed to form on the ‘skin’ surrounding the valve. And now that his shirt had been fully busted open and his chest was at full view he could fully see one other very noticeable to the area. Painted across his chest in bold, white lettering was a single word: ‘LIFEGUARD’.

   “Bro…” he whispered beneath a breath in astonishment. He then blinked a few times in confusion at the statement, but disregarded it for the time being. Mainly because his brain was focused on the fact he was apparently becoming some weird inflatable lifeguard thing! 

   “I-I didn't sign up for this! Nor would I want a uniform stuck to-” a sudden cough interrupted him for a second before he continued, “-my bod, man!”

    The changes still showed no sign of stopping either. He watched the floor get further away as more inches continued to pile onto his relatively short stature. He could feel the lower half of his button-up strain against his body, his torso seemingly catching up in its inflation process as well. The confirmation that his organs were being atomized into air was not exactly the most comforting of thoughts to him either as he felt that.

   It was unavoidable, though. Even more buttons broke away from his shirt, the thin plastic discs hitting the floor constantly as his swelling torso destroyed what had remained of his shirt’s placket. The same red that tinged his chest enveloped the increasingly inorganic ‘skin’ of his torso. At the same time the entire region seemed to flatten, and this flatness created somewhat of an incline that led up to his chest. The most overt change came to his belly-button however as once the inflation kicked his navel just filled, in a way. The internals of it rose until it was at the same level as the rest of his torso giving it a proper consistency. This had also been accompanied by more hair loss around the region as the wave of polyvinyl rushed further down his body.

   This meant the button of his jeans would begin to strain, the circumference of his waist becoming wider to fit the rest of his hefty body. However the sensations that caught Mike’s attention the most were those happening directly below the waist. Most specifically on his groin and on his rear.

   This was already becoming quite tangible as a roundness had begun to formulate in the front end of his pants, and the fly of his legwear noticeably split open at the pressure this was creating. The sensation that accompanied this had forced a flush in Mike’s cheeks as he felt the nerves in his crotch get stimulated by this. It wasn't the most intense feeling though as whatever went on down there was causing a mixture of strange sensations. As if his external organs were being squished together and meshed into one, almost a similar feeling of pressure that had encompassed his hand prior. Although it only facilitated more growth as his groin became one singular object, the roundness of it furthering in prominence to such an end that the zipper initially holding his jeans shut finally snapped open. The front end of underwear still held together though, but he could already tell that he was sporting quite the bulge now.

   Meanwhile his backend was changing at the exact same time. The seat of his pants was getting noticeably smoother, his rear swelling up as air got pumped into it. Rounder the region had become as well, and some kind of fusing occurred as the crack that bisected his buttocks seemed to seal itself shut. This had prompted the roundness to become singular rather than double as the two cheeks merged into one. Of course much like his frontend, his rear ended up developing a prominence on his form extremely quickly. The size of it would even cause a small rip to tear down the middle seam in his legwear alongside a mixture of pressures causing the behind of his undergarments to rip as well. This revealed more of the same red, semi-plastic material his skin had become.

   “Dude, that's…” he blinked a few times. He was still flustered, a certain level of eroticism present now. He didn't want to let it become overwhelming though and there was something in his brain telling him not to. Focus on something else, anything else. “W-wait, my voice…”

   It's not like he hadn't noticed it in the past few minutes. Those little bits of deepening that had been occurring little by little, the odd laid-back tone that was layering onto it, the fact he kept adding little bits of vernacular that he had never used unironically once in his life. It's just now it was finally dawning on him just how prominent it was getting. How frequent these shifts in his voice were becoming as it was practically overtaking what had been his former meek and somewhat nasally vocal pattern.

   “How much of me is gonna change from this, man!?” he exclaimed in frustration. Such a tone sounded oddly out of place for the vocal cadence he was being forced to adopt. He could already sense something in his brain telling him to chill out and just let all of this pass its course. Such a notion still felt odd, but it's not like he knew any way to put this to an end.

   His thoughts then broke at the sound of his pants tearing some more. Looking down again he held his leg out to inspect it. Unsurprisingly, even more inflation. It also seemed like that sensation of height gain was speeding up by just a little bit more as well. “At least I’m gettin’ taller, heh. No longer gonna be a little bro~”

   For once he didn't grimace at his usage of the term bro. Although he would still end up grimacing anyway as his ears caught the sound of what seemed to be two voices approaching the booths.

   “You remember which booth he said he put the new guy in?”

   “Three, probably.”

   Another squeak escaped Mike’s throat. Did the guy that hired him send some people to check on him? And why do their voices have the same beach bro tone that he was adopting!?

   Another series of rips pierced the air of the booth. Of course the changes weren't stopping! He could practically feel the sheer nothingness enveloping the entirety of his legs the more he just stood around and talked to himself. His eyes were still fixed to his legs too, so he could see just how much his pants had filled up by the swelling in his legs. There had also been so many tears in his jeans by this point as well that it allowed him to get some kind of visuals as to what had become of his legs. The same red of his ‘uniform’ having overtaken the upper portion of his thigh. What seemed to be white markings on the outer ends of his thigh which he realized were plus-shaped as the holes grew larger in size. There seemed to be a white line that formed across the middle of his upper legs, and everywhere below that line his PVC-ified skin had gone back to the tanned tone it had on his arms. The tears over the crus of his legs got more prominent, and the bottom ends of his pants had risen up his legs quite substantially that they were now halfway up the region. This allowed him to see the series of diagonal brown lines that inked his lower legs to mimic leg hair.

   “C’mon, calm yourself down, dude-”

   Then came a knock on his booth’s door.

   “Ey, is anyone in there?” a voice called. Deep and laid-back, eerily similar to his own although the tone was just slightly off enough to differentiate.

   Another voice then spoke up. “We’re just here to pick up a new recruit-” a pause, “Mike?”

   Multiple thoughts ran through Mike’s mind at an impossible to describe rate. Were these other lifeguards? Do they know this is happening to him? Would this be a good time to try and get some help from them!?

   “Gimme a sec, bros!” he suddenly blurted out with a level of confidence he knew he didn't have. “Still gettin’ ready!”

   A few seconds of silence from the other side of the door, then the first voice responds. “Sounds good, dude! We’ll just be waitin’ out here~”

   “...isn't that a little weird to do, bro?”

   “C’mon, man, someone’s gotta show ‘im the ropes!”

   Mike already started to tune out their conversation from that point and began to whisper to himself, momentary panic inciting within him. “Fuckin’ hell, why did I say that!? I-I need to- aurgh…”

   The hand holding the metal bar clutched it harder as the transforming man brought his other hand to the side of his hand. He was beginning to feel a bit woozy, an odd haziness steadily enveloping his mind with each passing second. 

   “Chillax bro, it'll be-” he started to say himself, a cool grin forming on his face for a few seconds before breaking as he stopped himself from finishing that sentence. “N-no, wait, I- fuck…”

   He blinked a few times, his thoughts getting increasingly more scattered as time passed. “Why can’t I… think straight…?” A few more blinks. “Feelin’ fuckin’ weird, dude…”

   All while this occurred the changes were overtaking Mike’s feet. The rapidly grew in size as air coarsed beneath the shifting skin. A tone of tan continued to cascade across the plastifying flesh as its gain in size forced it to press up against his shoes. There was a feeling of pressure in the footwear as it did so, both shoes trying to contain his inflating feet. This had resulted in them bulging out in all directions. Notably was the bulge in his toecap, which was shifting from five bumps to three to one rather quickly. This was mainly due to the fact that as his toes bloated up they had merged in a similar manner as his fingers had earlier. This had even included a series of lines where the toe divisions had once been.

   The weirdest part of his feet’s changes, however, was what happened in his soles. The bottom of his feet puffed out as a bright red overtook them alongside a series of thin lines that ran horizontal etching across them. This was accompanied by a bold black line running across the top of his feet. Particularly at the border between his toes and foot bridge, only seeming to break its straightness to create a notch in between the border of his big and index toes. By this point his shoes could no longer hold his much larger feet. Black cloth broke apart to reveal the now thick, perma-sandaled extremities, which had also put an end to the transformation on the lower half of his body.

   Meanwhile the changes were finally rising upwards and inching up his neck. Tanned PVC overtaking everything and the diameter widening thanks to the air that practically spilled out his now non-existent respiratory tract. His new neck size had clashed with the choker that Mike had usually worn, the leather band straining to keep itself strapped to it. Unfortunately since the neck accessory was only held by a simple buckle it wasn't that hard for it to just snap from all of the pressure. Once it did so, the sound of the choker clattering to the ground had simply just echoed through the booth.

   Mike seemed to not have noticed though. The fog in his brain had basically overwhelmed his mental state to the point his thoughts just constantly slipped from his grasp the moment they materialized. Or, more accurately, the thoughts that had leaned more towards associating with Mike. The ones that did remain were thoughts that had been extremely different from his usual ones. Most notably those heavily associated with that lifeguard job he signed up for. Although whatever was happening to his mind was scrubbing away the fact he even signed up for this job. This was coupled with the knowledge needed for this profession being dumped into his brain as well to a nigh-professional proficiency.

   “Uurgh, why’s it feelin’ like I was made for this now? I thought I… uh…”

   He continued to hold the side of his head in confusion. It was the one part of his body that seemed unchanged to any degree, still containing the human visage that was Mike. Then the changes in his skin started to creep onto the sides of his face. Layer onto his cheeks, beneath and onto his jaw, everywhere.

   The transformation enveloping his head was perhaps the weirdest segment of the entire series of bodily shifts. It did increase a bit in size to be more in-proportion with his larger size, and as the PVC took it over it seemed to take on a new shape. His jawline managed to chisel itself out a bit, angles reshaping under the material to become more square-like in appearance. Meanwhile the actual shape of his head seemed to lose some level of human-like definition as the structure seemed to completely smooth over. This had the most prominence with the appearance of his face from the front, it becoming increasingly more straight at the sides which gave it a more rectangular look.

   What had been the strangest of the changes was how it all affected his actual facial features. When everything had been smoothed over by his shifting skin, that included just about everything on his face. Polyvinyl cascaded over his mouth, the once open orifice getting replaced with a perfectly painted mouth that somehow managed to retain the expressiveness of his formerly organic one. A tan enveloped his nose as it practically shrunk—flattened—right into his face, only leaving an outline of a nose in its wake. His ears protruded prominently out the sides of his head as they inflated with the air that was rapidly filling his whole head. What had happened to his mouth had also happened to his eyes, painted PVC overwriting them to make them large circular additions to his flat face. 

   Then there was the last of his hair. It was already obvious that it was going to become artificial, especially considering the various lines of alternating length drawing themselves onto his jawline in an attempt to emulate stubble. The hairs of his eyebrows practically sunk into the new material of his ‘skin’, brown fuzz becoming black ink with ease while they maintained some level of thickness. There were also the thin sideburns that inked onto the sides of his head.

   Meanwhile, the actual hair that adorned his scalp was more properly assimilated into the new material of his form. His hair lost its prominent fluffiness as well as all the follicles got properly merged into the PVC. Coloration was severely shifting, brown tone being almost completely overtaken by a blonde one. Although the areas that closely bordered his ‘skin’ retained their brownness.  It also seemed like his hair lost the initial style it had previously possessed, the thick mess seeming to be forced into a strange attempt to replicate a more swept-back style. This had resulted in it taking on the same flat smoothness the rest of his body had, with one exception being on the back of his head over his neck’s nape where instead a few brown bumps inflated in an attempt to at least try and retain some level of his hair’s previous fluffiness. There had also been a single clump of hair that curled over his forehead which would end up getting rapidly inflated. This caused it to obtain a more balloony appearance, transforming into quite the thick attempt at recreating the hair curl with PVC.

   And all while his head morphed, his mind had been altering alongside it. The constant amount of air surrounding, replacing his brain was doing a number on his thought process. And that number was probably zero for the amount of brain cells he was about to have…

   “I was panickin’ over somethin’, right?” he muttered. “Can't remember what though, man…” 

   So much concern and worry was just being washed away and replaced with a calmer mindset. A calmer personality even as all that reserved neuroticism that he had once possessed was dispelled into nothing but the air in his body. Instead it had been replaced with a loud, confident extroversion that completely contrasted who he had been before.

   Then there came another knock at the door. “Doin’ alright in there, Mike-bro?”

   “Mike…?” the sentient inflatable repeated. His identity felt just as scattered as everything else had been, but something about that name just felt off to him. Incorrect. 

   He was prompted to try and piece together something at that moment. All his mind could properly revolve around was an overwhelming duty towards his job as a lifeguard. There was a sensation of that being his only purpose in his life now. His personality was modeled around it, his very identity was modeled around it. The air in his head could only really register a mindset of a beach bro with a goal to help others. That was all it seemed to have in there, anything that existed prior having effectively been dispersed into the nitrogen and oxygen that composed of his insides. He was a poolguard after all!

   And the moment he came to that conclusion was the moment he turned around to open the door. A cool, confident grin was plastered on his flat face as he hung out the doorway. “The name’s Mick, broskis!”

   Outside the door of the newly minted poolguard's booth had been two other poolguards. Right outside of it was one wearing orange-tinted sunglasses that barely concealed that fact they were missing an eye, alongside possessing thick ‘hair’ whose blondeness faded into a deep purple. Meanwhile a few feet away and standing on the beach was one with noticeably blue irises and hair inflated in such a manner that it mimicked a manbun.

   “Ey, this bro turned out to be quite the cutie, Preston!” the purple and blonde haired one exclaimed.

   The manbunned one, Preston, seemed to nod in agreement. “Can't disagree with you there, Austin-dude.”

   Austin let out a low chuckle. “So you're the newbie we've been sent to bring in?” 

   Mick stared into Austin’s eyes (or well, crossmark and eye) for a few seconds. He can't remember shit right now, so... “I think so, bro!”

   “Well then why don’t’cha get your butt outta there?” Austin rhetorically asked, his smile having that same chill aura as Mick’s. He then continued to speak as he stepped away from the threshold of the booth. “Gotta bring you up to the tower to get some photos of ya’!”

   Mick walked forward, his PVC sandals leaving the wood of the changing room and stepping into the beach’s sand. “Sounds great, dudes! Mind showin’ me around as well?” He then let out an oddly relaxed laugh. “No matter how hard I think I just can't remember anything!”

   “Of course, bro!” Austin agreed as he slung his arm around Mick to pull the other towards him. “We’ve all been there! That's why we were sent here to getcha~”

  Mick nodded. “Dope!”

   Austin led Mick away from the booth and towards the tower that was positioned at the furthest end of the beach. Preston was about to follow, but noticed something on the floor of the now open changing booth. He stepped up to the structure and stretched out a hand to pick up the object. “Ey, Mick!” he yelled, “This thing yours, bro?”

   Mick and Austin stopped to turn to look at Preston. Mick specifically squinted in order to see what Preston was holding. It was some kind of collar thing with a gold buckle and a red jewel dangling from a ring on that buckle.

   Mick had probably spent a good thirty seconds just staring at the object as it glistened in the late morning sun. But no matter how long he stared at it he just couldn't dredge up any sense of familiarity or attachment to it. “Heck if I know, dude. Thing looks nothin’ like anything I've seen!”

   Preston nodded. “A’ight, a’ight,” he then gently threw the collar thing into the box that was already in the booth. “Another dude’ll get it,” he said to himself before turning to join Mick and Austin in their trek to the tower.

   It had only been a three minute walk from the changing booths to the towering structure that had resided at the beach’s end. The short trek was filled with a surprising amount of conversation between the three poolguards as Austin and Preston gave Mick the rundown of his job here at this beach. Not that the newly minted guard didn't have the knowledge for the position, but he sure was oblivious in regards to the overall area. At least for the time being.

   “-most of the beach’s visitors are on the other end,” Austin explained to an eager-looking Mick. “And we’ll introduce you to some of your fellow bros soon- some of which are over there!”

   Standing a few feet outside the tower entrance were two more conversing poolguards. One’s hair was inflated to appear like a mohawk which also seemed to have noticeably green highlights at its base. The other was wearing a normal pair of glasses, his hair somewhat spiked with a noticeably higher amount of brown than blonde in its coloration.

   The trio walked up to the duo, Preston being the first one to walk up to them and speak. “Hope you two aren’t slacking off, dudes,” he stated, an uncharacteristically authoritative tone in his voice.

   A momentary pause filled the air as the three looked at each other, then it was shattered as they all laughed. “Like you'd care about that, dude,” the mohawked one retorted.

   “Yeah, you're right!” Preston replied with a smile. He backed up to regroup with the other two.

   Austin then brought Mick forward. “Brock, Gabe, say hello to today’s newbie!” 

   Mick then calmly waved. “Hey broskis.”

   The green and blonde haired one, Brock, walked forward to also stand beside Mick while stretching an arm to clasp his shoulder. Meanwhile the bespectacled one, Gabe, just waved back.

   “Wasn't aware we were gettin’ a new guy!” Brock exclaimed, casually flicking his gaze up and down Mick’s form. “Man, now I won't be the only one with a forehead curl.”

   “Preston’s right there, Brock, you never were the only one with that,” Gabe pointed out.

   “Yeah, but look at how thick the new guy’s is!” Brock playfully flicked Mick’s hair curl with a thumb. 

   “I'm a little surprised it doesn't just go over my eye, heh,” Mick remarked.

   “That would be Austin’s thing,” Preston said, eyeing the poolguard in question.

   “Bro’s doesn't bend over that far either,” Gabe corrected.

   Austin rolled his eye. “I'm tryin’, dudes!”

   The five of them laughed in unison at their riffing before Mick steered everything on track again. “Austin said I had to get some pics taken or somethin’.”

   “Yeah, Mick here needs to get an ID!” Austin said, lightly squeezing Mick’s side as he spoke. 

   Brock unhanded Mick and started to speak while walking back towards Gabe. “Our bro Gabe here should be able to handle all that stuff!”

   “Yup!” Gabe nodded affirmatively. “Just need an ID, a whistle, and you'll be good to go, bro!”

   Mick beamed. “Awesome! Thanks a ton, dudes!”