Not that it’s uncharacteristic of fraternities in general, but a full book could have been written on the homoeroticism of this one party. It was my junior year of undergraduate; I was an outsider still and beyond desperate to salvage whatever possibility remained for a college social life. What better—or really, worse—way than to try to join a fraternity?
Nick sneered when I expressed interest, but glanced over with an expression of pronounced struggle that I imagined could only be indicative of him having a thought. An abrupt, and obviously sinister, change of heart on his part left me with a time and date for the frat’s next party.
Like so many heroes before me, I knew I was walking into a trap but walk into it I did. But an underwear party was a more devious invention that I had thought possible. What better way to conquer my social anxieties than to be mostly-naked in front of a crowd of mostly-naked brutes and their intimidatingly-hot sorority counterparts? Any way. Literally any way would be better.
But I was more afraid to walk back out into that lonely world than I was to step inside this horrifying nightmare. If Nick was willing to invite me—even if in jest—then I would not shy away from the challenge. I stripped down to my polyester blue boxer-briefs and went to find him.
Like a fish out of water—struggling to play it cool in a den of snakes—I might as well have been a different species as I walked through the room. Where I was still a short, smooth, and skinny boy, these frat “boys” were undoubtedly men in body, if not in mind. It felt like every other guy was a tall, hairy-chested, muscular god whose mere existence put mine to shame.
And that wasn’t even to speak of the obscene size of some of their bulges—no doubt a focus of their pre-party preening.
My heart was racing, but it sped to its apex when I found Nick and—with as much confidence as I could muster—strode up to him. He was chatting with two beautiful sorority girls, but his attention instantly shifted to me. He busted out in laughter when he looked at me, and I shrank when I looked at him.
He was a stunning specimen of manhood, and I felt something unfamiliar stirring inside me when I looked at his proudly displayed body. But the way my mouth watered when I caught a glance at his bulge, larger even than the brutes before, turned something inside me on like a light switch. With the size of his bulging underwear, I imagined the idea for this party originated with him.
Nick and his female companions had quite a laugh at the sight of me, though my fascination with his body had distracted me from the bulk of it, before he said, “Welcome to the party, Ning. Glad you could make it.” His tone was bizarrely friendly, and even seemed authentic when he stepped up and put an arm around my shoulder.
Guiding me around, he graciously introduced me to everyone as a potential pledge—almost protective and encouraging like the older brother I’d never had. In the back and even front of my mind, I knew not all was well here, but it was difficult not to be caught in the spell. Nick seemed to know exactly the acceptance and camaraderie that I desired; he was seemingly happy to give it to me, albeit paired with a healthy portion of mockery.
But all good things must come to an end, and an abrupt shift in Nick’s expression told me that time had come. Standing together in the most crowded room in the house, he loudly asked, “Hey Ning, how about a beer?”
The room went quiet at the booming sound of his voice and I froze. I knew something was wrong, but it was clearly too late now. So I timidly stuttered, “S-sure.”
A grim grin spread across his face as he popped open the can and leaned back, pouring the contents down across his hairy chest and soaking his strained briefs. The pour was slow, making a gurgling noise with every surge of brew as the whole world looked on. The last drops looked to me like the last grains of sand straining through an hourglass. The time for action had come, and I just froze.
"Well don’t be rude, buddy," he spoke more to the crowd than to me, slapping his soaked belly as he continued, "I poured you a beer and you won’t even drink it?"
It seemed ironic that, even as I was on the verge of a panic attack, the one thing I clung to was how the sight of his now-soaked bulge made my mouth water. I wanted to drink it, but I couldn’t admit it. But then I wondered, did he know that I wanted to?
Ultimately, it didn’t matter when one of his brutes came up behind me and grunted, “He just needs a push.” The man put a solid hand on my back and bent me over to bury my face in Nick’s hairy stomach. The beer clinging to his gut drenched my face before I looked up at him.
My tormentor had a smug smile as he looked back at me, winked, and whispered, “Lick it up, kid.” He knew I wanted it. But, more importantly and unexpectedly, he wanted me too.
I was fortunate enough to meet and photograph James who was handsome, bright and charming. I think the images really reflect his strong presence and character. You can see more on the Mascular Studio page.