The Swinger

I know that no one comes to this page solely for realism, but it has me so tickled to know that I barely embellished a single detail when writing this story. The inspiration has happened a few times, but after seeing the video that I have linked in the VIP server, I knew that I had to write my own version.

As I arrived in the parking lot this morning, I was a bit shocked to see the golf course completely full, but then it hit me: this weekend was like the first day after New Year’s when everyone flocked to the gym to start their resolutions. The Master’s had concluded last week, and everyone wanted to put on their little outfits and head to the golf course to show off their awful putts for their Instagram stories.

Walking up to the clubhouse, I told myself that I needed to be less judgmental- I mean, it’s not like I had my name on any of the plaques inside. I was a barely-above-average player, but I’d been coming here with my friends regularly since we met at our company’s orientation over a decade ago. Our boss at the time said that every salesman needed to play golf, and we pretended like all of our professors in business school hadn’t already told us the same thing.

He retired years ago, but we still came to the same course, talking about our kids now instead of the stock market. We definitely weren’t going to talk about the stock market now.

“Mr. Rose, so glad to see you today. We’re just waiting on one more member from your party, and then you can all head to the first hole.”

Rupert had been working at the check-in desk since we first came here, and he knows everyone’s name that has come here more than a handful of times. As I pulled out my phone to show him videos from my daughter’s piano recital, I heard Tucker walk in behind me.

“Let’s do this one for Rory, men!”

He was never not the loudest in any room, so we were glad that he was always the last to arrive. Laughing at the mismatched buttons on his shirt, we grabbed our golf bags and headed out to grab a cart.

There was still a chill in the air as we started our round, but as the sun got higher in the sky, the temperature steadily ticked up. We shucked off our jackets and quarter zips, throwing them on the backseat of the golf cart. The first few holes started off pretty normal, but at the fifth hole, I got two birdies in a row, and that boosted my confidence.

I was honestly having one of the best rounds of golf of my life, and I waited for the other shoe to drop. That didn’t come until the eighteenth hole though, and more than one shoe dropped once it happened. One phone call to Rupert confirmed that a birdie on the final hole would have me on the amateur leaderboards for this club, which would mean that I would finally have my name on a plaque in the main hallway. It was full of names from the past few decades, but the quantity of people that had done it before me didn’t matter- it only mattered that I was on it.

As I stepped up for my swing, I tried to take a few calming breaths before I teed off. The ball went flying into the air straight for the green on the Par 4, and I watched it plop right into the water about twenty feet from the hole. My friends were doubled over with laughter, and I tried to hide my disappointment as we made our way down to the green. They took their shots, and then it was my turn.

If I moved the ball onto the green, then that would add a penalty shot and almost guarantee not getting a birdie. Looking down into the water, I saw that my ball was less than a foot under the surface, landing right at the edge of the drop-off leading down into the pond. It was crazy, but I could make this shot.

Rolling up the legs of my pants, I took off my shoes as my friends incredulously questioned me.

“What the fuck are you doing, dude?”

“You are not Tiger Woods- grab another ball and get on the green.”

All I could see was my name on that plaque though, and I let my left foot sink into the mud. As it went down further than expected, I knew that this plan wouldn’t work, and I stepped back onto the green.

“There you go.”

“It’s too deep- I’ll get my pants wet even if I roll them up.”

And as my friends stared with their mouths agape, I began unbuttoning my pants and pulled them off, making sure not to get the fabric muddy. I was wearing just a pair of white briefs below my pastel pink polo, and even though they were a bit skimpier than I would have liked, I was in too deep now to back out.

Laying my club down on the grass, I stepped back into the water, and my right leg disappeared past my knee. I tested my swing a few times, and I knew that I had a 50-50 chance of this working. I either would hit this ball right near the hole and cement my achievement, or I would knock myself off balance and fall backwards into the water.

“Better safe than sorry.”

Without listening to any declarations from my friends, I pulled the polo over my head and stood there in nothing but my low-cut underwear now. This was absurd, but I had tunnel vision.

Lining up my shot, I said a silent prayer and swung with all of my might to force the ball out of the water. The last thing I saw before my head went under the water was the ball landing blessedly near the hole.

I could hear my friends cheering before I resurfaced, and as I launched myself back into a standing position, I saw a hand reach out to help me up.

“Congratulations Mr. Rose, I decided to come see your achievement in person once you called!”

Grabbing onto Rupert’s hand, I pulled myself up and finally realized what I had done. I was soaking wet and practically naked as I looked down to see my briefs had gone totally transparent. Every facet of my anatomy was exposed, but I couldn’t run for cover yet. I still had to put the ball in, and I did it while shaking from embarrassment. As soon as the ball went into the cup, I saw the flash of Rupert’s camera, and I tried to cover myself up, but it was too late. He apparently was happy with that first shot, and he headed back to his golf cart after shaking my hand once more.

Running back to our cart, I grabbed a spare towel from the back and dried myself off as quickly as possible before getting dressed again.

Two Weeks Later:

“Mr. Rose, I am so happy to report that your name card has been delivered, and it’s hanging up now.”

He started to leave the desk to show me, but he ended up gesturing me to go see for myself after the phone began ringing. Past the bar, there was a hallway running back to the shop, and it was full of floor to ceiling plaques. About two thirds of the way down, I got to the current year and found my plaque above the small seating area.

There on the table between the two chairs was a framed copy of the photo that Rupert took with a small label honoring the newest amateur inductee. I wanted to run away now, but I leaned down to look at how much detail had been captured, and I saw everything. From the blush on my cheeks to the full outline of my cock and balls, I was showing it all.

“Hey Mr. Rose, did his photo come in?”

I heard Tucker before I saw him, and I knew that there was nothing I could do now to hide this photo. I was stuck, and I just resigned myself to my fate as I walked towards my friend who would soon alert everyone inside to come see what I’d done.