"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 get harder than you've ever got in your entire life..."
"I'm there already!" one guy quipped, flagrantly gripping the front of his khaki cargo shorts. The others laughed.
"And when you have," the bartender went on, "you're going to sprout tails... Long, donkey tails to be precise."
The guys turned to him in amazement. "You serious?" one asked - a fit looking lad in snug jean cutoffs.
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. "It'll make you cum like crazy - a real donkey's load..."
"Fuck..." someone breathed.
"So are you up for it?"
There was an immediate chorus of "Sure!" "You bet!" and other expressions of agreement.
"The rules are quite simple. You've got to punch a tail through your shorts, watching the action, without creaming your pants... And don't think you can dodge that by hauling it out and shooting. It's not allowed."
"Shit!" muttered the guy in cargo shorts, eyeing the writhing couple on the TV screen, "I'm done for!" Abruptly he blushed, realizing his words had carried,
The bartender smirked. "Where there's a will there's a way... And for the winner, there's 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!