A Non Batb Story - To his acute embarrassment a father becomes the centre of attention during his family’s Swimathon at the local pool.

Believe it or not this is a true story – as far as the swimming trunks are concerned and it all began one evening when the entire family made their usual Tuesday visit to Peterborough’s diving pool



We’d been swimming regularly for about three years and it had become a wonderful way to spend time together or with friends. The diving was an additional bonus for a few braver members of the family, though I wasn’t one of them, and my husband was extremely good at it. However, not only was he good at it, he also knew that he was good at it and therein lies the difference. He had become a bit of a poser with his beautifully toned body, trim waist, hips and bulging biceps and triceps and revelled in the attention he received from the female members of the diving club, to the point that he would on occasion go alone to the diving pool, laughing when I protested by reminding me that after thirty years together I should be able to trust him. Yet knowing how the ladies liked to see him flaunt himself upon the fifteen-meter board I was naturally inclined to doubt that, after all there’s always a first time.
However one particular evening, I had the last laugh.

We’d been shopping that afternoon, and my husband had purchased several pairs of very revealing swimming trunks in various colours. He pranced around the sitting room when we returned home putting on his fashion parade for my eyes only and asking which ones I thought suited him best. At that particular time he also had a thing about having an all over suntan and therefore I favoured the white trunks. I thought they enhanced his tan to perfection. Agreeing wholeheartedly with my choice he put the white trunks and a towel into his swimming bag and anticipated the evening at the pool in his new swimwear.

I’d grown used by then to watching him strut his stuff on the top of the fifteen-metre board, still I liked to watch him. I have to admit that the wolf whistles he received from some of the ladies and the suggestive comments that they made alongside me, not knowing I was his wife, did make me feel very proud that he was mine although I do admit to being peeved when he so obviously lapped up all the attention.

On our arrival at the pool that evening one of the first things we noticed was a huge poster announcing the upcoming National Swimathon. I was excited for I’d always wanted to enter one of those and raise money for charity and pointed out to my family that it would be fun to enter it. They readily agreed and we picked up the entry forms on our way to the changing rooms, filled them in and returned them after swimming. It was going to be great, I would have to swim two thousand meters over three days, which I knew I was capable of, the children had pledged to swim one thousand metres each and my husband the strongest swimmer among us chose to swim five thousand. We knew we would need a lot of practice on the lead up to the Swimathon but we looked forward to that immensely. Consequently at the pool that evening I didn’t take as much notice of my husband’s diving skills as I usually did, concentrating as I was on my swimming.

Therefore, the first thing I noticed was the shrieks. I’d ignored much of what was happening around me as I swam up and down counting my time and counting the lengths when suddenly loud and raucous laughter had me stopping and treading water to see what was going on. All around me people were laughing and pointing. I followed their direction and after a gasp I too, started laughing.

My husband standing on the fifteen-metre board was blissfully unaware that his beautiful white trunks became see-through when wet.

Oh, how smug I felt, deliriously so. Oh what a ribbing I would give him on the way home. He’d never live it down!

I watched him dive into the pool and climb out, take the stairs to the top of the board again, strut around, wave to the cheering crowd and take his time diving into the water, all the while giving his audience an eye full. I could see by his face that he was loving every minute of the attention and true, his diving was very entertaining however, when he positioned himself into a handstand at the edge of the board the crowd went wild. Due to the restriction of his trunks, gravity was denied and a certain aspect of his anatomy looked exceedingly funny at that angle. What made the moment even funnier was that a lifeguard walking along the edge of the pool and looking up to see what had everyone’s rapt attention was so shocked by what he saw that he stumbled and slipped one foot into the pool managing only by sheer good balance to prevent the rest of his body from following it.
Okay, I thought, enough is enough, and I started waving at my husband in such a way that I thought he would know that I was signalling that something was wrong. He didn’t. He just grinned from ear to ear and waved back at me, before perfecting his handstand once more and finally letting his body drop into the water. When he came up, the lifeguard was waiting for him and with one short whisper in his pearl like my husband moved like greased lightening without looking back straight toward the changing room. But if you think that was bad enough for him, wait till you hear about the Swimathon.

This took place five weeks later at our own local pool some thirty miles closer to home than the pool where the diving boards are. Not one to throw anything away, my husband still had his faithful white trunks, but by then his mother had very kindly sewed a liner inside them. Neither of us thought much about the liner, only that we felt assured that in his own town his modesty would stay intact. Here people knew him, and here with so many sponsors to watch us we each made certain that our swimwear did not receive more attention than our swimming did.

Everything was fine we swam together, and due to the various lengths we had pledged we finished at different times. It was when we got out that it happened…or more to the point when my husband got out.

Imagine the scene…the pool full of swimmers the spectators area full of people and this male entrant of the Swimathon leaving the pool in what? A pair of ladies pink panties!!!

Oh why my mother in law had sewed a pair of her new pink panties inside the white trunks I will never know! The white trunks had still become transparent leaving my husband seemingly wearing pink ladies knickers!
At the sound of applause and laughter he looked down horrified and dived for cover! Back into the pool for the Swimathon?

No…to the changing room - very definitely...Swimagon!!!



The stories found within this website have been written by and for lovers of the American television series Beauty and the Beast and no infringement upon the rights held by Ron Koslow, CBS, Republic Entertainment, Witt-Thomas Productions or any other Copyright holder to Beauty and the Beast is intended.

Furthermore all the stories found on this website belong to Wendy Tunnard de-Veryard, are protected by copyright and none should be copied, added to or subtracted from or altered in any way, without the prior authorisation of the author.