"Right, lads," he says to the four grinning teens, "I want each of you knock back one of these shots and then face the TV screen." As he spoke, the screen behind him lit up, and so did the guys' eyes. What they were watching was a scene from a hot porno film! Eagerly, they grabbed the glasses from the bartender's tray and downed them in one go. The bartender then told them to line up in front of the screen and lean on the three foot high rail that stood at the rear of the platform.
"Pretty soon you're going to feel something very unusual - something none of you will have ever felt before..."
"Don't count on it!" one guy quipped, flagrantly tweaking the front of his cargo shorts. The others laughed.
"I'm not talking about arousal," the bartender said, "though it's a cert you'll all feel that... No, the aim of this game - quite simply, lads - is to sprout a long, donkey tail without ripping your shorts."
The guys turned to him in amazement. "You serious?" one asked.
The bartender nodded. "The shots you've just drunk contain a special ingredient, which has a very specific effect. In fact some of you may already have started to notice it."
His eyes rested on a dark-haired lad in chino shorts, whose fingers were probing the cleft of his butt.
"A tail..." the guy murmured, but he wasn't incredulous, or scared. Instead he seemed pleased.
"That's right," the bartender said, "And the aim is to grow one without A) ripping your shorts, as I've said; B) using either hand to manipulate it; or C) using any other object to do so. In fact, your hands must stay on the rail at all times."
"Oh man, that's unfair!" said the guy who'd tugged at his crotch, his eyes fixed on the writhing couple on the TV screen. "How am I gonna...?" Sheepishly he broke off, realizing what he was going to say.
"Rub against the rail, dude," instructed the lad next to him, who was wearing grey and white camo shorts. "Pretend it's Josh's pole!" Grinning, he looked past his companion to the boy in chino shorts.
"Oh yeah?" Josh retorted, "Why not yours?"
The bartender smirked. "Where there's a will there's a way... Oh, and one last thing. If you can manage it, you win a six months supply of beer."
"Sounds good to me!" said a blond guy with a surfer's build. Hitching up his all-white board shorts, he turned and gripped the rail. "Let's get to it!"
As the barman stepped down from the platform I surveyed the row of guys leaning on the rail, noting the pull of their shirts over their broad backs, the strong line of their suntanned legs, and best of all, the firm, muscled mounds of their shorts-clad butts, getting set to sprout.
My own tail twitched in anticipation. This was going to be good!