Speedo bulges

So, I went to the beach to try to pick up girls. I didn't have any luck and ended up wandering into a surf shop. I talked to the guy there and told him about my dilemma.
He told me that the women on the beach are shallow, and I should buy a Speedo swimsuit and go out to the snack stand, buy a giant pickle on a stick and place it down my shorts. Then I could get women's attention. I was on my own after that. If they could see the bulge, at least they would be interested.
So, I did exactly what he said, but every time I approached women and made sure they saw the bulge in my swimsuit, they would say "Ewww... Gross!" Or "Get out of here!" or just leave. It was worse than before.
After an hour or so of getting rejected, I went back to the surf shop.
The guy who gave me the advice said "Dude. The pickle goes in FRONT."

Hey everyone
I'm looking for advice on which goggle type to try next after a failure with the first pair. I got the Speedo Hydrospex Classic goggles (outer eye fit), but I don't think the fit is for me?
Should I try goggles with either inner-eye, middle-eye, or mask-eye fits?
Context:

• I'm using these for adult swim lessons.
• I have a non-existent nose bridge with eyes that are shallow-set (?). They're 100% opposite of deep-set eyes, so maybe eyes that protrude a bit?
• I may have high cheekbones which is common for Asian people.

Things I've tried:

• Pressing in the goggle for a tight suction seal makes my eyes bulge a LOT. After loosening the straps, it becomes becomes too loose.
• Lightly pressing in the goggle for a lighter suction seal still makes my eyes bulge a bit. Loosening the straps still makes it too loose.

Thank you
Edit: Forgot to mention that the goggles are very tight/constricting around my eyes, which is causing the bulge. It's very uncomfortable and makes my vision slightly blurry from pulling on the eye socket area so much. Almost feels like my eyes are about to pop out.

I dreaded entering the classroom for my Male Masochism in Medieval Literature class on Monday morning, as it would be my first time teaching the course since my shameful visit to Paul and Anna‘s condo. They had, of course, promised to keep my subservience to them a secret. However, could I trust them? Could I trust the people who were essentially blackmailing me? In addition, as a close friend of Paul’s and Anna’s, Kelly was also well aware of the situation. If you recall, the enrollment in my class was largely due to her personal intervention with her friends after she and her boyfriend had encountered me washing Luke’s truck in my driveway wearing a pink speedo. Kelly was friends with at least two thirds of the class, and she struck me as a very social, gossipy girl in general, which was not reassuring. However, she had promised me at the Ren fair not to tell anyone about the humiliation I endured there. Paul assured me that she would honor their pledge of confidentiality in return for my servitude. He also suggested to me that she would be an active participant in it.
From my podium, I scrutinized the faces of my students to see if I could discern anything about what they did or did not know. Several of them were exchanging grins and whispers, but that was really no different than usual. Part of that was probably simply a reaction to the article of feminine attire that I was required to wear to each class. That morning, Brooke had fastened a choker collar around my neck. It was a simple, unadorned piece of leather with no metal or anything that overtly suggested a slave collar. Brooke assured me that male chokers had become fashionable. That may have been true for young, edgy GQ models in New York City, but I sincerely doubted that was the case on my college campus, especially for a professor approaching 40. In any case, the choker got a number of stares and double takes from both students and my fellow faculty members that day. It was to become a regular part of my wardrobe, nonetheless, as Brooke was quite fond of the look. My hope was that people simply viewed me as an eccentric, bookish guy with a surprisingly daring sense of style. Being truthful with myself, however, I thought that was pretty unlikely.
It seemed to me that Paul exhibited even more swagger than usual, again arrogantly resting his feet on the desk in front of him. Anna had a subtle, self-satisfied grin on her face as I lectured. Kelly was her usual bubbly self. However, I interpreted everything differently since the Ren fair and since my first visit to Paul and Anna’s home, and was now always on edge. I found it exceedingly difficult to concentrate on my lecture, the subject of which was the liberal use of public humiliation as a form of penance for sinners and criminals in 13th century Europe.
My loss of command of my class only seemed to be accelerating following my own public humiliation. The following exchange during my lecture that morning was particularly distressing:
“Public shaming was sometimes so intense that it was seen as a sufficient form of punishment, so that flagellation was not always considered necessary. Yes, Paul, you have a question?”
“Were pillories commonly used in public punishments in the 13th century?”, he asked with a smirk.
“Yes, they were quite common in the public square. Public shaming events were announced widely so that as many people as possible would come to see the penitent, thus maximizing his humiliation.”
“But wouldn’t the criminal or sinner who was locked in the pillory also be beaten?” asked Paul. I heard Kelly snigger.
“Frequently, yes, of course. But my point was that the public shaming itself was often so severe that flagellation on top of it was considered overkill. Yes, Kelly, you have a question as well?” The two of them rarely asked questions in class, so their inquisitiveness that afternoon was highly suspect.
“Yes, professor. Did public shaming sometimes include the penitent being forced to wear humiliating clothes?”
“Yes, Kelly, sometimes.”
“Were the male sinners sometimes forced to dress as women as part of their public shaming?”, asked Anna. I believe this was the first time she had ever asked a question in class. I heard a few scattered snickers in the room.
“Not to my knowledge. In Germany, shame masks, or schandmaskes as they were known, were frequently used, but more often for women than for men. Such as the scold’s bridle, used to punish, shame and silence mostly lower class women. So really not pertinent to our class on male masochism.”
“What about the cucking stool? Was that when cuckolds were humiliated by being dunked in the water? As if being cucks wasn’t humiliating enough,” asked Paul with a snide chuckle.
Paul was a very bright young man and almost certainly knew that that was not what a cucking stool was. It was clear to me that the purpose of all of these questions was to humiliate me. However, I took some comfort from the fact that all of them came from Paul, Anna and Kelly. I hoped that it was sort of an inside joke between the three of them, although I’m sure other students were picking up on subtexts. As they typically do.
“Of course, not. You know better than that Mr. Betz, I’m sure. Cucking stools, also known as ducking stools, were generally used for scolds or gossips, typically women, in which the penitent was strapped into a chair that was dunked into the water. It was sort of a precursor to waterboarding. Sometimes dishonest tradesmen were also subject to this punishment, but it certainly had nothing to do with cuckolds, despite the name.”
Paul glared at me. I realized too late that I would probably pay dearly for correcting him the way that I did. But what was I supposed to do? I did have a class to teach, after all.
Paul replied icily, “Well, it’s too bad that they weren’t used to dunk cuckolds. They certainly are a lot more deserving of humiliating punishment than gossips or scolds, if you ask me.”
I took notice of his use of the present tense. “An interesting perspective. Well, class is over. I’ll see you all on Wednesday,” I said, eager to bring the class to a close.
Like I said, it was highly distressing. Paul dropped a folded piece of paper on my desk as he and Anna exited the room. I opened it with trepidation: “Had to be cute. Bring 200 additional lines + toothbrush + Johnsons’ furniture polish.” Just cryptic enough to be useless to me as any kind of evidence of coercion. But the message was clear enough to me: I was being punished for having corrected Paul in class and was expected to complete an additional 200 punishment lines that night as well as to buy furniture polish tomorrow. The toothbrush part was a mystery to me. I had managed to complete 450 of my 500 lines so far. It helped that we had just had a long, holiday weekend and that Luke was not around for part of it; even so, I had to do some of the lines in my office at school and some after Brooke and Luke went to bed on Sunday night. Now, I had to complete another 250 lines in just over 24 hours. My fingers ached at the mere thought.
After class, I had a light lunch in my office and knocked out 50 punishment lines before hurrying off to my next trial of the day: washing and detailing Kevin‘s truck.
Because it was early December, I would mercifully not be required to wear a speedo. That said, Luke had instructed me to bring along a pair of light grey yoga pants and my cuckold horns T-shirt to wear while undertaking my chore. I had no doubt that Kevin, snitch that he was, would tell Luke if I wasn’t attired as directed. I really hated the light colored yoga pants in particular, because the bulk of my chastity cage and the small protrusion of my undersized balls (pushed upwards and outwards by the ring of my chastity device) were so obvious through the light, clingy fabric. I considered changing in the restroom of one of the fast food restaurants on the way to the house, but decided against it. I just couldn’t bring myself to face the humiliation of walking through the restaurant back to my car. So, instead, I chose the humiliation of changing in the bathroom at Luke’s mother‘s house, where Kevin still lived. Such was my life now: choosing the lesser of two humiliations. When I had any choice at all, that is.
Luke’s mom lived about 10 miles from campus in a rural area. I pulled up to the curb around 1:15pm and saw Kevin’s truck in the driveway. Apparently, Monday was one of his days off. The truck was indeed filthy; it looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks, if not months. A hand-me-down from Luke, it was not the behemoth that Luke’s truck was, but was still an oversized pickup with four doors. Washing and detailing it would no doubt keep me busy for several hours. I thought it was unlikely that I could finish before sunset. Unsure what Kevin would have on hand, in the trunk of my Prius I had brought with me a vacuum, a bucket, sponges, brushes, wax, leather conditioner, wheel guard and rim sealant, a detail spay, VRP rubber and vinyl shine/protectant and microfiber towels. Not being a car person, I had never done more than a cursory washing of my own car a few times in the pre Luke days. But having washed and waxed his truck at least a dozen times — followed by inspections and immediate sessions with the belt, strap or cane to address any shortcomings —I was now quite the expert in how to do so properly and thoroughly. Still, I had never faced anything remotely as filthy as Kevin‘s pickup.
I approached the front door tentatively, carrying a bag with my change of clothes. Before I could even ring the doorbell, the door was opened by a tall, attractive woman with long, brown hair, probably in her late 40s or early 50s. My guess was that this was Luke’s and Kevin’s mother; there was a clear resemblance.
“Who are you?”, she asked.
“My name is Walter. I’m here to see Kevin.”
“Oh, you must be Brooke’s new husband, right? She certainly didn’t upgrade, did she?”, she laughed derisively. “I never thought she was as smart as she pretends to be. My name is Darla. I am Luke’s and Kevin‘s mom.”
“Yes, I’m Brooke’s husband. It’s nice to meet you.” I started to raise my hand uncertainly.
Rather than respond to me or shake my hand, she simply turned her head into the house, and yelled, “Kevin! Luke’s latest lackey is here to see you.” She then looked at me and said “See you later,” and got into a car parked next to Kevin’s truck. I heard her drive off as Kevin came up to the doorway.
“Hi Kevin, I’m here to wash your truck.”
“Good. It can really use it, as you can see. Luke said he wants you to call me ‘sir’ when you’re working for me. He also said that he wants me to start helping him look after you and Brooke when he’s busy or traveling. So you probably should just start calling me ‘sir’ from now on. He says the two of you are always trying to get away with shit, like disobedient brats. When they were married, Brooke sort of babysat me a couple of times, even though I was in my early teens and didn’t really need one. It’s pretty funny that the shoe’s gonna be on the other foot soon.”
“Yes, sir. I better get started on your car because I need to be home in time to fix Luke and Brooke dinner. May I change in the bathroom?”
“It’s down that hall. When you’ve changed, come see me in the living room before you start.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
As I was changing in the bathroom, I marveled at what a surreal, absurd situation I found myself in. Here I was, a nearly 40 year-old, tenured college professor under the control of an 18 year-old plumber, the younger brother of my wife’s lover. I felt resentment bubble up inside me. Surely, I could use my superior intellect, my maturity, my experience to intimidate this young man somehow or, at the very least, to reason with him, and make him understand the absurdity of him ordering me around like a servant, the absurdity of him acting as a babysitter of sorts for Brooke and me, as if we needed one.
But I have a shameful confession to make. As I pulled the yoga pants up my freshly waxed legs (I had gotten a full body waxing on Friday) and over my panties and chastity cage, any thoughts I had of trying to assert myself with Kevin quickly evaporated. There is just something about the feel of nylon or spandex clinging to my legs (or, when uncaged, to my cock) that almost instantly triggers profound feelings of submissiveness in me. It is really quite remarkable. This is especially true with pantyhose and tights; the lighter the weight and more sheer the fabric is, the greater my docility and meekness. Even the comparatively thick material of the yoga pants —some type of nylon/lycra blend— was more than sufficient to quell any fleeting feelings of assertiveness I may have had. I am quite certain that Brooke, and Luke, were well aware of the intense psychological effect that sensual, feminine clothing has on me, and took full advantage of it (and that was before I started being required to dress as a sissy maid, which took my feelings of submissiveness to an entirely different level altogether). The combination of the sensual material and the humiliating way it exposed my body (and its deficiencies) was a powerful one two punch (especially when I was the only one dressed that way, which was usually the case).
Thus, my rebellion was over before it even began. As I walked to the living room to face Kevin in my humiliating attire, I instead kept telling myself “go with the flow,” Brooke’s mantra for getting through particularly challenging or demeaning situations. In the living room, I found Kevin sitting on the couch with his girlfriend, Kaylee, playing a shooting video game on an enormous television screen. I had met Kaylee once before during the fall at Luke’s house. I had been raking leaves when Luke, Brooke, Kevin and Kaylee came outside to throw a football around. She barely acknowledged me at the time. Why would she? I was clearly nothing more than a worker or servant, certainly no one worthy of her attention.
I stood awkwardly before them for a couple of minutes as they played, awaiting Kevin’s instructions or at least his blessing to begin my task, but fearful of interrupting their game. The same type of insufferable, resentment-filled country music Luke favored was blaring out of a portable speaker. Kevin eventually paused the game they were playing on his wireless controller.
“Hi, Kaylee, we met in October at Luke’s…”, I ventured, before she rudely cut me off.
“Hi, loser. I remember,” she replied, looking at me with a mixture of contempt and amusement.
“Walter, if you call me ‘sir,’ you can’t call my girlfriend ‘Kaylee’. You need to show her respect too.”
“Would ‘Miss Kaylee’ or ‘Miss’ be accceptale?”, I asked, figuring they could always come up with something worse, so it would be better to preempt them.
“What do you think?”, Kevin asked her.
“That will work, I guess. At least until I think of something better. What do we call him? It doesn’t seem like we should call him ‘Walter.’”
“How about ‘Wally’?” Kevin could not possibly know how much I despised being called Wally. Rather, he seemed to share his older brother’s innate, intuitive talent for humiliation.
“That’s better. Although I might just call him ‘loser.’” She laughed.
As I mentioned before, Kevin bore a strong resemblance to Luke and was only slightly shorter. While not yet the intimidating physical specimen Luke was, he had bulked up considerably even in the five months since I had met first him; clearly, the weightlifting was having an impact. About 5’6” tall, Kaylee has short, dark brown hair and a tomboy appearance, but is by no means unattractive. Both of them were wearing jeans and T-shirts.
“What the fuck is that bulge under his leggings? I know it’s not his dick. And what’s the deal with that shirt?”, asked Kaylee. I was to learn that it was a distinct characteristic of Kaylee’s to almost always speak of me as if I wasn’t present.
“I’m pretty sure that’s his cock cage. Luke tells me that he locks up his cock and that he has to beg him to unlock him so he can beat off.”
“That’s fucking pathetic. You mean he doesn’t even get to have sex with his wife anymore? What’s her name? Brooke?“
“Yeah, Brooke. Maybe sometimes he can, if Luke gives them permission. Luke let him of cock jail on Thanksgiving only after he promised to clean my truck today. You know, Brooke used to be married to Luke. He’s hung like a horse. She must’ve missed it. Wally here is what’s called a cuck. That’s short for cuckold. Someone who gets off on his old lady sleeping around on him. I’m pretty sure that’s what those horns on his T-shirt mean.”
“My mom cheated on my dad, but he didn’t get off on it. He practically killed the guy. He practically killed her too. I don’t think she’d ever dare try it again.”
“Well, your dad’s not a real cuck like Wally. Luke says Wally gets off on the humiliation. He actually watches the two of them have sex. He even writes books about it and shit.”
“He really IS a loser, isn’t he? Isn’t he some kind of professor or something?”
“Yup. Luke calls him a professor of cuck studies. Makes me realize that my mom is right that college is a total scam.”
“Hey, watch it now!”
“Sorry, honey, but you’re studying accounting at community college, which is practical. He teaches at that bullshit liberal arts college. The tuition there is like 50 grand a year. And this is what you get for your money?!,” Kevin said, pointing at me and chuckling.
“Can I see his cock cage? I’ve never seen one before.”
“Pull down your pantyhose, Wally, and show Miss Kaylee.”
“Yes, sir.” I pulled down the yoga pants to my mid thigh, revealing my chastity cage, barely concealed by a pair of sheer, bikini style panties.
“Fuck, he’s wearing panties!”, said Kaylee, laughing. “Look how red his face his.”
This particular chastity cage consisted of a series of metallic rings surrounding my cock, the flesh visible between the bars. Kaylee walked over to me and crouched down to get a closer look. After lowering my panties, she tapped the edge of her plastic gaming controller against the metal of the cage, creating a pinging noise.
“It’s so tiny. And so are his little balls. I guess they make him shave all of his hair off. He’s hung more like a mouse than a horse. I can see why Brooke missed your brother. Check it out, his little cock is twitching! It’s trying to get hard, but it can’t, the poor thing.” She giggled.
Indeed, she was correct. This degrading inspection and conversation was causing my cock to throb painfully against its confines.
“I got no interest in seeing that,” said Kevin, to my relief.
“Sir, miss, may I please be excused to clean the truck now? I have to be home by 6.”
“Bring us both a glass of sweet tea from the fridge first. Then you can get to work,” said Kevin.
After I served them their glasses of tea, Kevin made sure we entered each other’s numbers into our iPhones. He wanted to be able to summon me if they needed anything. Afterwards, they sat back down on the couch, propped their bare feet on the coffee table and resumed their game.
One good thing about them living out in the country was that there was no one nearby to witness my humiliation as I worked. I started off wearing a hoodie over my T-shirt, but the forecast Luke had read last week was accurate. When I checked my iPhone, it was 69 degrees, which is absolutely insane in Ohio in December. I remembered with annoyance his dismissive remark about climate change. Luke is one of those guys who would deny climate change even if (or perhaps I should say, when) palm trees and sunflowers started popping up all over Greenland. In any case, the vigorous scrubbing required to remove the embedded grime on Kevin’s truck caused me sweat quite a lot, so I removed the hoodie. It was so hot that part of me wished I was wearing a speedo. Not only was the outside of the truck a mess, but the inside was full of old bottles, coffee cups and fast food containers.
About an hour into my work, I heard my phone ping from where it was lying nearby (one of the things I hated about the yoga pants Brooke bought me was that they had no pockets). I picked it up to read the following text from the most recent addition to my contacts: “Bring us more tea and a snack. There’s microwave popcorn in the pantry.”
This was unbelievable. Here I was, cleaning every inch of his truck, and he actually expected me to stop, clean my hands, and prepare and serve drinks and snacks to him and to his equally lazy girlfriend. A power play, pure and simple, right out of Luke’s playbook. What nerve! I rubbed my hands briefly against my bottom; the feel of the lycra helped adjust my attitude. I then swallowed my resentment and did precisely as commanded.
Neither of them even bothered to look up as I placed the popcorn and drinks next to their feet on the coffee table, so engrossed were they with their game. I worked on the truck for another 90 minutes or so, but was probably only about two-thirds done by the time the sun set. Not only did I need to be home to fix dinner, but I needed sunlight to finish cleaning properly. When I went back into the living room, quite remarkably Kevin and Kaylee were still absorbed in the same game, with the same type of obnoxious music blaring.
“Sir…”
“Shut up, can’t you see we’re in the middle of a game?!”, Kevin snapped.
“My apologies, sir.”
I stood next to them silently for about five minutes before watching one of the figures on the screen collapse to the sound of furious shooting noises.
“Bastard. He got me,” said Kevin.
“I’m done for, too,” said Kaylee, and a minute later, her figure was also apparently shot.
“What was so important that you had to interrupt our game?,” Kevin said to me.
“Again, sir. I apologize, but it’s almost dark and I haven’t been able to finish cleaning your truck. I need light to finish, and I also need to get home to make dinner. I can come back tomorrow to finish up, sir, if that is acceptable to you. I probably will need two more hours.”
“I have a job at 10:30, so need to leave by 10. I’m busy the rest of the day. So you’ll need to be here by sunrise.”
I was completely exhausted, and faced an even more daunting day tomorrow when I had to make my second appearance at Paul’s and Anna’s condo. But what choice did I have?
“Yes, sir. I will see you bright and early.” I then rushed home to begin dinner. I also had 200 more punishment lines to complete.
December was off to a pretty busy start as well. My new normal, apparently.

I have an average sized cock ~5 inches and when I’m in my speedos sometimes I feel like a Ken doll as it completely flattens my front. Other guys at the beach have really nice bulges which sometimes elicits twinges of jealousy. So I got a couple cock rings which I sometimes use when topping and I like the nice push up effect it has in my briefs, which made me wonder whether the same effect would work at the beach. So I wanted to ask if you Gaybros had any experience wearing a cock ring under your speedos or know if this is an acceptable practice.

So my school friends have been teasing me because I haven't gone through puberty yet.
At the school pool we had to walk past the girls from Saint Teresa's who were waiting to do thier bronze medallion.
Anyway it was cold. Really cold. And I was wearing speedos.
My poor little willy looked like so small in my trunks. I could feel the eyes of every girl looking at my non existent bulge.
Anyway I went home and prayed and prayed and prayed for the lord to give me my puberty.
Then I thought about the time I accidentally bumped into my auntie and touched her bosom. How it felt like a bag of sand.
Well..
It happened.
I have a bulge now. And some hairs too.
I hope the girls will be at the pool on Wednesday.

Hi everyone, have a bit of a niche topic to ask about. I was a swimmer my whole life, but obviously as a girl and I had to wear a female bathing suit for practice. I would love to join an adult team again (I'm in my 30s) and I've put it off until I could get top surgery, which I just had a month ago. As far as swimming for leisure, I'm planning on wearing some trunks, but those don't exactly work in a competitive setting, but I don't know how I feel about speedos (due to a lack of a bulge) or jammers (don't think they'd be that flattering). Does anyone else swim competitively? What do you wear and how did you find it?

Great way to get glitched out cars with extra pieces, normally unobtainable and commonly referred to as "bodystyle 255.”
Founder: u/AwkwardCake72
Steps:
- Move the car that you want to add pieces to into an apartment garage
- Start Auto Shop contract - ECU Contract Finale from the board (note: Starting from playlist will not work and will crash your game upon entering the garage)
- Drive to the APT garage where you have your car stored, and enter the garage on foot
- Drive out the vehicle you want glitched
- Damage said vehicle by shooting it
- Select Support - Quick Fix via interaction menu ($5k charge)
- Drive vehicle into the repair wavepoint and wait until it goes *poof* and gets repaired
- Drive vehicle back into APT garage
- Edit: You can either quit out of mission or do this glitch to more cars using vehicle organization
Worked for me to get the following (all considered “unobtainable”):
- Stratum -> all extras
- Regina -> glitched full luggage
- Stainer LE Cruiser (marked) -> (1.) all of the emergency lights added at once AND (2.) if you select “no emergency lighting” for emergency lights you will only have unobtainable valor emergency light
- Speedo (custom) - adds bullbar if you have scoop
- Faction (regular) -> bulge hood & glitched roof (unobtainable hood modification for regular faction)
- Sadler - all extras
- Stallion - double roof
- Voltic - double roof (painted trapezoid on roof)
- Mamba - double roof
- Coquette Classic - double back
- Peyote (Worn red gang variant) - adds roof (only unique for this specific variant)
- Ruiner - triple roof
- Chino Custom & Buccaneer Custom - glitched roof
- Faction Custom & Donk - glitched roof
- Journey II - both closed & drawn curtains at the same time plus extras such as rear ladder.
Works, but requires prerequisite:
- Banshee & Banshee 900R(top with chrome bars) - use a topless banshee and do the glitch
- Patriot - may require a specific variant for all pieces. An example of one that worked for me (notice dual side exhausts, 1 additional side exhaust, bullbar, roof lights, sidesteps). You can grab ones from the street during mission until you find one that works - I am not sure why it works for some and not for others
May work, not tested:
- Buccaneer Custon - wheelie bar
Unsure:
- Brickade 6x6 - adds all pieces but I can’t figure out how to make it stick
- Ruiner ZZ-8 - adds roof panels. Haven’t figured out a way to glitch the roof
Doesnt appear to work to get the following:
- Ruffian - 3 headlights
- Bodhi - bear
- Vader - quad exhaust. I tried with both exhaust variants, couldn’t get 4 exhausts
- Paradise - cannot get both open & drawn curtains. Tried with both variants
- Minivan - Does add secondary color to bumper. Does not add spoiler OR roof rack. Cannot get all extras using this glitch
- Beejay Xl - glitched blanket in backseat
Works, but already obtainable
- Stinger (topless) - adds soft top
- Coquette Blackfin - adds top
- Bobcat XL - adds all three pieces
- BF Surfer - adds surfboard to top
- Blazer (lifeguard) - adds lifeguard box
- Mesa (regular) - adds roof

Have a '21 CX-9 Touring that is in the shop for the valve seal leak issue (burning oil, hopefully not screwing up other parts). While in the shop, dealer gave me a '24 CX-90 Loaner. Not sure of the trim, but definitely lower end with the inline-6T. Was really excited; have been drooling over the newer, more powerful engine and improved transmission. Yes, of course the drool goes more for the higher end 340 hp tune, but alas, this had to be the lesser version.
Didn't get a chance at the higher end trims, nor the PHEV.
First, the pros:

• At speed, the I-6T engine is great. Assume some of the noise is artificial, but does sound excellent.
• Like the heavier weight of the steering, a lot
• Fuel economy is improved
• Wireless CarPlay - oh, nice
• The heads-up display is quite nice, especially when running nav

​
Then, the cons (granted this was definitely a base model, and unknown if some of these improve on higher-end versions):

• Off-the-line torque and acceleration are less than the I-4T. What the what? and with a battery boost?!?!
• Drives HEAVY - you definitely feel it.
• The lesser (half analog, half digital) gauge cluster is crap. You either get a faux analog gas gauge or only a distance to empty. and I much perferred the old version where the left the speedo and tach untouched, and toggled through a screen only for the other information. Would like to compare to full-digital.
• a LOT of wind noise at highway speeds. wow.
• This one is unreal: door flex. I tend to drive with my left elbow on the window sill and my fingers fiddling with the weather stripping at the top of the window. In this car, especially at highway speeds, you can literally feel the top of the window frame flexing in and out. That is just freaking weird, and assume it means there is a lot of chassis flex.
• Is odd to feel the regenerative braking on a vehicle that isn't really considered a hybrid
• The A/C button is so ridiculously far away from the driving position. And overall, the buttons are flashy, but much less functionally simple than the CX-9.
• The noises. For f's sake, the noises. Dings for just about everything. And then the turn signal click - which really sounds oddly cheap.
• The seats are waaaaaay less comfortable than my current. Don't hug you like you expect in a Mazda, and are hard. My kids said the middle row ones were uncomfortable on the bottom. Dual meaning there.
• The under real storage bins are now an upgrade? Freaking really? It's so high, there has to be room underneath... and this model didn't even have the sub.
• The stock stereo is not in any way good. Of course, my comparison is the Bose in my 9. Which is pretty dang good.
• The infotainment stick/knob in the new one is too dang low, and just not as simple to use. The width doesn't make up for this.
• The center console is.... just oddly big.
• 3rd row seating is better, but still not adequate for adults. With all that added length, still?
• Cargo capacity is barely improved. Still meh with 3rd row down, and nearly nothing with it up.
• I think the previous generation exterior styling, even at 10+ years old, is more aggressive and attractive than the new version. Especially the rear bulge. Someone mentioned an old Taurus, and yeah - bubble butt.
• The front dash just does't have the same elegance as the old. A lot of open, clean space. But, like the rear end, oddly bulbous.

​
I've only had the loaner for two days, so may start to like some of these, and find other irritants. But, truly, aside from the powertrain upgrades, prefer my old CX-9 by a large margin. Was not expecting that, at all.

When I was growing up short shorts for men were in fashion and so everywhere I looked I got glimpses of men's bulge sticking out if they were sitting or exercising etc. At school I would play rugby with the other boys so I could catch a glimpse. I would watch NRL on tv so I could see up men's shorts. Also at the beach men were very scantily clad in speedos. Now as an adult Ive had this fetish my entire life. Speedos underwear and shorts turns me on more than sex. I like men to sit in front of me with a bit sticking out or squat on my face in speedos while I jerk off. If it's sweaty even better. I dont wanna get fucked. I just want to feed this endless craving while I jerk myself. Commando is good too but different coloured underwear excite me more. I try look for porn but it's very difficult to find anything I like.. It's been kind of hard because most gay men just want vanilla type oral and anal sex which tbh really bores me. Oral is ok as long as there's underwear shorts or speedos. Anyone else have fetish like this?

Something you'd do, or a certain way you'd behave. For me, it was the constant worry of a bulge. Jeans always had extra fabric around the crutch that'd raise when sit, and I would always be worried about someone mistaking it for my penis. I needed to go to the pool with boxers over to press it down, and never used speedo for that same reason. How about all of you?

ok second year and NO SPEEDO BULGE. what is smilegame doing? i play lost ark one year, no bulge, second year? no bulge. i NEED THE BULGE to be BIGGER, please !!!! every day i open lost ark, no bulge, open lost ark, no bulge. can smilegame DO SOMETHING ???

Aight soooo I’m going to preface this with - wear whatever you want and makes you feel comfortable!
BUT, I have a burning question. If you see a guy in swim briefs (more cloth than speedos, less than normal trunks) but he doesnt have a raging bulge- is that a turn off?
The water is COLD. And I’m just curious what others thoughts are. Obviously we all are going to look, but if you don’t see an outline- is it an automatic “he has a small penis”?
Again, wear WHATEVER makes you comfy. I’m secure I myself and my endowments, but I NEED to know what other people think 🤣