The screen flips, and the stage has been dressed for the next game. Four gunge tanks, in a line, a few feet between each, all currently unoccupied.

Dave appears between the two middle tanks, centre stage alone. He smiles broadly at the camera and extends his hands out either side, gesticulating to the pods, ominous tanks of blue or red gunge above each pod, waiting for their players.

"You like these babies?" he asks the audience. They yell agreement as his smile broadens, the camera seeks a close up of members of the club not appearing. It centres in on Joe, in rugby tracksuit. He turns and talks to a team mate, but we can't hear the comment, the noise is too drowning. The cameras zoom away and in on the full tanks, and down into the pod itself.

"Let's see what we have in store for our players!" He beams, and the screen dissolves into VT

Voiceover man takes over, piped into studio and out of my monitor.

"Each of our contestants, Gerry and Malcolm will attempt to complete two tasks. Each task lasts thirty seconds. If they complete the task within the time they will win five points. During the thirty seconds the vanity screen at the front of the pod will lower. If they have not completed the task within the 30 seconds, before the screen has been fully lowered, the gunge will be released. If the task is completed, the screen will freeze at the point the contestant finishes his task"
The accompanying video demonstrates this, the screen slowly lowering, revealing a trapped Dave, looking up fearfully to the gunge tank above. The video finishes before the panel reaches floor level, an animated clock just about to reach zero, therefore sparing Dave from the deluge of gunge from above.

The VT ends and standing mid screen is David, flanked by Gerry, Malcolm and the two team members. Representing Gerry is Sam and Jon. Malcolm has chosen Mark and Chris, who had showered and redressed since their tug of war failure.

"So how is the confidence on this game?" asks Dave, turning to Gerry, Sam and Jon.

Sam replies for the team, "I think Gerry is well placed to get maximum points. Being in IT, he's obviously a bright guy. I'm really confident"

Jon nods agreement and comically massages Gerry's shoulders, limbering him up like a prize fighter. Gerry seems happy enough to be massaged by a professional rugby player, and smiles back at Dave who turns to the opposing team, "you share that confidence?"

"Absolutely" Mark said confidently, patting Malcolm on the shoulder, "He's a natural problem solver, so I don't think Chris or I are going to be gunged this time"

"So both confident then!" Dave exclaims, then falls silent, pausing for dramatic effect . The audience fall silent in response. He speaks quietly, deliberately, "But are you confident enough to play the game naked?" he asks looking first left to Sam then right to Mark, and back to camera with a wink. The audience erupt, cheering wildly at the sudden upping of the stakes.

Sam pulls Jon aside, and they huddle together, whispering as the crowd bellow for them to take the challenge. Mark and Chris similarly hold conference, quietly debating.
Both teams finish deliberation and return to the line ups.

"Well?" Dave asks, an eyebrow cocked, another wink to camera.

"Damn right" says Sam

"Absolutely" says Mark.

I am loving this, the production is way, way better than I'd hoped. I thought it would be a good production, but this makes everything we have done so far look insignificant. I have a sense of things changing irrevocably. Future productions will be measured by this standard. Up to this point, there was always a whiff of amateurism, hokey acting, the models we had not sitting perfectly with the theme. For the first time we had the perfect marriage between, production, performance, and cast. This could change not just my company but the entire industry, the catalyst that alters the way porn and especially niche porn is conceived and produced. Be that straight, gay, or whatever. The landscape was shifting before my eyes. This was an event that signalled a sea change.

Sam, Jon, Mark and Chris are now in their pods, still dressed, the opaque vanity panel fully up, protecting them.
"Shall we get them naked?" Dave asks the audience. The answer is obvious and unanimous. He spins on the spot facing the pods, "ok you heard them"
The frosted panels obscure the view, but boots are thrown out of the pods, landing heavily on the floor, one sock then the other flies over. It is soon joined by the jersey. The crowd call for more, a frenzy of expectation. Shorts get thrown over before finally jockstraps. Dave clears away the items, perfect comic timing as he sniffs at a jockstrap, the crowd love it. I love it more, Dave did this for nothing, his dreams fulfilled to be master of ceremonies over a gunge session reward enough.

The game is wheeled out. A bending, curly piece of metal, meanders from one side of a box to the other. Attached to the metal is a hooked handle, the bendy metal pole running through the eye of the handle. The voiceover explains the game, simply move the handle from left to right along the length of the pole. If the handle touches the metal, a bell will ring, and the handle has to be returned to the start position before the next attempt to make it across. Complete the distance fully without setting off the alarm within thirty seconds to win five points. Fail to do so, the vanity panel protecting the players will have retracted to the floor exposing the player, and the gunge will be released.
The contestants get ready, checking out the bends in the metal, inspecting the handle.
"Gerry, take position for your first attempt" Dave says, beckoning the black guy forward. If he's nervous it doesn't appear in his demeanour, but then again, if he wins he gets five points and If he loses his rugby playing team member will be publicly exposed then gunged. So not really a loss at all.
Dave calls for silence, the crowd hushes allowing the contestant to steady himself. Gerry approaches the machine, blows out his cheeks, taking a few steadying breaths. He cracks his knuckles dramatically. We see a close up of his face, his eyes following the metal, planning his route, when to change his grip.
"Steady now, steady now," Dave advises in a low voice. He knows how to raise the tension, "when you hear the first bell, you can start. The vanity panel protecting your player will start to fall. You have thirty seconds to complete the task". His voice is almost a whisper.
You could hear a pin drop in the studio as Gerry takes a step forward, licks his lips and grasps the handle. He readies himself and waits for the bell. The tension in the room is palpable. The audience had applied for this moment to witness a production. Luckily for them they were witnessing gunge fetish's finest hour.
A bell sounds, a lone cry of encouragement from the crowd, then a chorus of shushing noises.
Gerry slowly starts to move the handle along the metal pipe. Out of the corner of his eye the panel in front of Sam starts to drop. As he moves the handle from left to right tracing the curves of the bends, Sam's hair comes into view, then his eyes, nose and lips. He stares straight ahead accepting any outcome.
Gerry's handle trembles and the rim of the handle touches the metal. A bell rings out and Gerry returns the handle and starts his journey again. For the first time, we see the tops of Sam's shoulders, defined boulders of muscle, standing proud either side of a wide neck. As Gerry starts again, the panel slides down revealing Sam's nipples, a fine coating of fair hair running across his pecs and down. The contours of his chest are revealed, tapering in to a slim waist.
Gerry is half way across, biting his lip in concentration, his eyes fixed firm on the handles journey, oblivious to the gentle steady reveal of the club captain. The lip of the handle nears the metal, almost touching. Gerry changes grip, his hands shaking with tension.
Sam's navel is revealed, blonde hair snaking down, heading south towards his groin. Gerry's route is steady, he's over half way, the tricky double loop in the way of his win.
The panel is still dropping. Ian commands a close up, and the cameraman zooms in, Sam's toned six packed belly filling the on set big screen and my monitor. My wanking speed increases.
Sam's belly hair widens out, transforming into pubic hair. It's trimmed, tidy, blonde, the skin around it lightening as skin not normally exposed to sun is revealed.
Gerry is two thirds around the loop, his face a mask of concentration. The camera flicks between the images, Gerry's face, his hand steady, the handle making progress. Back to Sam, his pubes giving away to the start of his penis. Each passing second shows more of his cock, one inch, then two, then more. The handle is still making progress. Gerry speeds up slightly, the movement causing the handle to near the metal. It's a millimetre away.
My screen switches back to Sam, the panel is falling, the entirety of Sam's privates are revealed. His foreskin covering the delicate tip, then the balls dangling freely. Wispy blonde hair cover them, the sack wrinkly and soft. Sam keeps his hands at his side, stoically staring forward impassive as his privacy is permanently removed. I am holding my breath, and gently let it out. The camera switches back to full body view and we take in the full beauty of the man. He's perfect. The panel heads south, huge thighs appearing, the skin darkening again, as sun exposed legs are revealed.
Gerry reaches the end of the metal, the final bend navigated safely, and he places the handle on its hook. No bell sounds, and the panel stops, just over Sam's ankles.
The crowd explode in a frenzy, both disappointed that Sam has avoided a gunging, but jubilant that Sam is revealed, fully.
Sensing the panel's stop and seeing Gerry place the hook, completing his task, Sam leaps over the panel and out into the studio. He runs to Gerry and embraces him, completely naked. He bends and picks up the contestant and spins round, revealing his muscular ass to the audience. He puts his contestant down and raises Gerry's arm, like a referee announcing a boxing champ. The crowd salute Gerry for his success and Sam for sharing his body openly.
Dave strides in congratulating Gerry, eventually the crowd settle. Gerry, Dave and Sam stand stage left as Malcolm moves in for his attempt. The camera catches Gerry taking appreciative looks at Sam's nudity as Malcolm prepares. Spooked by his opponents success his hand trembles. A respectful hush descends. A bell rings out and Malcolm wipes his hands on his trousers, drying them. He grasps the handle, as the panel in front of Mark starts to roll down. Within three inches, Malcolm bangs the metal, the bell dings and he's back to the start.
Mark's coarse hair gives way to forehead, then Mark's eyes, slowly revealing full face, a stubble covered masculine jaw, down over neck, his pronounced Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. Malcolm is gaining confidence and speed, over half way along just as Mark's upper chest and nipples are revealed, dark, large standing circles proud on a jaw dropping chest. Mark's perfect body, the fruit of hours spent in the gym.
Malcolm fails to change grip as he approaches the tricky loops. The metal misses by a hairs breadth. The camera picks this close shave and the audience gasp. As the loop doubles back his awkward grip fails him and the bell chimes out. Spitting out a curse he whips the handle back to the start.
Mark's shaved chest has given way to a chiselled six pack, the ridges pronounced and strong. Down passed navel, the oblique muscle tapering in, drawing attention naturally towards his groin. Malcolm is half way across again, rushing. Playing catch up. He bangs the metal once again just as the reveal of Mark's cock starts. Dark pubes, trimmed, millimetres long are exposed then inch after inch of a long, thick cock. The reveal seems to last forever until the end is exposed. His foreskin is intact but not long enough to cover the end. The skin is short and the tip of Mark's bellend is displayed. Tight balls are revealed, drawn close to body. Malcolm is back on the tricky loop, but his eyes keep flicking to Mark's body. We are now watching his thighs then knees revealed down to muscular calves. The bell rings out again, reporting another fail. The handle is slammed back. Mark's ankles are shown, the camera zooming in as time runs out. His feet slide into view, trimmed tidy toenails the last inch to reveal. The bell rings continually denoting time up, and the camera returns to full view, full frontal. Mark is smiling, and looks up just as the gunge is released. Red thick gunge spatters down over his hair, face, body, legs, feet. A torrent, a deluge of red mess.
For the second time today he is gunged, this time naked. The flow increases as the tank releases its load. A curtain of gunge sprays out as Mark's head breaks its fall. As the tank empties the current slows and the gunge coats his face, chest, running down his belly, through his pubic hair and flowing freely over his cock, dripping from the end. Gunge snakes down his legs over his feet. Despite the failure, the crowd go wild, feral as the celebrate the gunging of the player. Mark raises his hands in acknowledgment firing a thumbs up towards the crowd. Sam is dancing a jig of delight at the failure, uncaring that his cock is bouncing around.

Dave emerges from stage left, a mock look of shock, eyes wide, his hand over a hammy, overdone open mouthed gape of surprise. Without a word he runs back off screen as the contestants swap places. The applause takes a while to subside as Mark stands unmoving, the gunge dripping slowly. Despite the red mess over him, the camera picks up his grin, wide, white teeth in contrast to the red gunge.

Gerry repeats the same steady tactics. The bell heralds the start of his final attempt, and the panel in front of Jon falls slowly. The contestants plan of attack is well placed to deliver a successful pass, but likely to end up with the player fully exposed as Gerry intends to take his full thirty seconds to complete his task. The panel in front of Jon slides down. His face shows resignation, he knows which way this is going. The camera cuts to Sam, full frontal, sharing comments with Gerry, both laughing as he watches his team mates exposure.
The hook makes it's slow ponderous journey, as Jon's face is fully exposed, he mouths 'hurry up' to the camera, a ripple of laughter from the audience.
Down over his chest, the hairiest competitor so far. A full rug of chest hair failing to mask his developed muscles. Thick black hair curling around his nipples, his belly hairy, sculpted and toned. Pubes emerge into view as Gerry's pace remains snail paced. Camera cuts to full view as Jon closes his eyes as the thick bush of pubes gives way to a circumcised penis, the bell end exposed. Low hanging hairy balls swung gently as Jon shifted his weight embarrassed as his privates are no longer private, the model release form and payment from Messy Mayham to Pete legally signing away his privacy. Images of his introduction video crosses his mind, his full name, his real date of birth. A quick google search brings up his Facebook, his Twitter. Now joining the social media will be pictures of him naked. Sam looks on, the smile petering off as he sees his teammates grim expression. Mark rubs the gunge from his body as he witnesses the unveiling of Jon.

Taking his time Gerry is on the loop, nearing the final bend. He should meet the time deadline, as the panel makes its decent, hairy muscular calves picked out in close up by the cameras. Gerry is inches from completing as Jon's feet are being shown. His hand falters and the hook brushes the metal. The fail bell rings, and a second later the continual bell of time up.
Jon moves his hands up to protect his hair, but the gunge beats his movement, blue gunge cascades over him, knocking head and body hair flat as it coats him, his heart hammering his chest, gasping breaths in as the gunge hits him.
The crowd go wild, saluting the exposure of a man embarrassed by his nudity, followed by the humiliation of a gunging. The complete degradation, in stark contrast to Mark and Sam who seem completely at ease baring everything.
Jon smooths his hair back, running the gunge off his head, down his neck and back. The tank, above him, spent, dribbles its residue, pattering down over the naked athlete. He stands defeated, and looks over at Sam. The camera is centred on Jon's exposure and gunging, so doesn't pick up Sam's sudden serious expression, the almost imperceptible shallow nod, the minute fist pump towards his player.

I watch the action from my house, and rewind the gunging. The gunge flies back up, in quick time revealing the naked but clean Jon. I press play and Jon is gunged again. I click on the speed of playback button, and slow the speed, prolonging the moment for me again as I watch the blue mess slowly coat the player, the frame by frame decent of the gunge, slowly, unstoppably flattening his hair, running over his face, his eyes scrunching tightly shut as he takes the loss.

I resume normal playback, and it's Chris turn to meet his fate. Malcolm has the hook handle in his hand, poised, waiting for the starting bell. The camera takes a wide pan shot of the studio. Four pods, one empty, the screen fully down, the gunge still in its tank after Sam's escape. One pod, the screen still raised covering Chris' modesty as he waits. Either side of his Pod, two naked athletes stand. Jon, still dripping gunge from his head to feet, pattering down his hirsute body as the slow drip continues. Mark has been standing a while longer so the majority of gunge had already succumbed to the gravitational pull, or he's done his best to rub it off, so it's pooled at his feet. His body is still coated in gunge, thick and viscous, but he's over the worst and stands hands on hips waiting for the conclusion of the game.
The starting bell chimes and the vanity panel moves slowly down. A tuft of black hair, then slowly the face of Chris. He winks at the camera, some of the audience react, and are shushed by others. Malcolm has the tip of his tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he concentrates. The pace is too fast and careless and the bell pings. He slammed the hook back to the start as Chris' upper half is revealed. He is the only player to have a tattoo, it looks like a dragon curled, around the top of his chest. Hairless but toned, and tanned, his skin almost olive. The dragons body is revealed at Chris' belly is revealed. Malcom is making reckless progress the hook speeding across the course and he's nearly there, the brief practise on the attempt that ended in Mark's unveiling giving him skills now serving him well. He slams the hook home just as the panel has dropped half way. The screen stops just under Chris's navel, the tail of the dragon disappearing behind the screen. Drawing the round level at one success each Malcolm turns to the crowd, arms aloft, nodding his head in acceptance of the applause. Torn between congratulating the player but missing the chance to see Chris gunged or at least naked, the ovation is congratulatory rather than euphoric.
Dave strides onto stage, joining the applause. Chris, behind them in his tank, is grinning broadly, and comically wipes nonexistent sweat from his brow in relief at avoiding the gunge.
"What a great game that was, you did amazing there Malcolm. That earns you five points from a possible ten. Let's see what that does to the scoreboard!" he says, voice rising at the end in excitement. The screen flips over and the scoreboard shows the contestants are still neck and neck. The audience applaud enthusiastically as Ian calls for a return to the studio feed.

Beckoning everyone in to line, Dave commentates, "Great game, great game, come on in fellas, let's get you out those pods" Gerry and Sam walk in from off screen and Jon and Mark step forward, from theirs. The audience cry out as Jon slips on the gunge, gripping onto the side of the tank to stop his fall. He steadies himself as Sam runs over to help his colleague, the contrast between the two nude bodies is stark, one hairy, one smooth, one clean, the other covered in mess. They exchange a look, eyes of the captain locking onto his team mates, Sam's broad back protects the camera's relentless intrusion as he encourages his team mate and friend with a brief, mute pep talk from captain to player. As Sam turns back to camera the paternal air is gone and he's back in character, laughing, enjoying his nudity, playing to the crowds appreciation of that.
He sees Chris is out his pod, next to Mark, who's red, gungy footprints lead from pod to his current position. Covering his privates with both hands, Chris fights Mark's attempt to rip his hands clear. The crowd bay for Mark to win and and complete the exposure of all four players. Playing to the crowd, Chris yells for Sam to help, to save him for the attack. It's not the reply he wants, as Sam lifts his hands up, outstretched in a helpless gesture, and looks down at his own naked body, "I won my game too, and look how I ended up" he laughs. The cheers rise, as Mark rips Chris's covering hands away, and his penis flies free. Confirming Jon as the only cut team member his sizeable meat flops down. The dragon tail tattoo nestles in his wiry pubic hair, trimmed but coarse. Giving up the fight he bows to the crowd and they roar back approval. Jon watches on, his face a study of defeat.
Sam draws all three others into a impromptu huddle, arms around each other's shoulders as they face inwards, closing out the crowd, the cameras and intrusion and take a second to regroup. The camera closes in on their asses, loving the unexpected turn of events. This hadn't been planned. From the control booth, Ian dictates camera changes, all five cameras showing the bare butts of the players in close up. Gunge from Jon and Mark streak the clean skin of Chris and Sam. They close in tighter, ears almost touching, the circle of support united and complete.
From inside the circle Sam leads his team, "Mark, you ok?"
The reply is instant, decisive, "yeah man, storming it"
"Good man, good man. Chris?"
"Sure, loving it, more fun than I thought it would be"
"Top man. Jon, you doing ok?"
A moment of silence within the circle, the crowd outside loving the impromptu bonding on stage continue their appreciation. Jon feels a squeeze on each shoulder, one from Mark, the other from Sam, two shows of support.
"I can get this stopped Jon, if you can't do this, I will pull the plug, talk to Pete, and the producer. Withdraw our consent"
Sam feels a shoulder squeeze back, Jon's response. A big blow out of air as he pumps himself up.
"I'm good, let's do this". Jon breaks the circle, untangling his arms from his team's shoulders, the physical support broken, but the mental support unbreakable, the bond that connects these player cemented as he lifts his arms high, and strides to the front of the stage to display himself. The other three join him. The cacophony of the crowd deafens them.

***

Back behind the set, in a temporary shower and changing area the lads wash the gunge from their bodies, as out front, the set is rearranged in readiness for the next section of the show. A blue comedian entertains the crowd, keeping the atmosphere hot. Without him the energy sags and it takes a while to get it back when filming recommences. Their part is small, but vital.
Jez and Kevin sit on a bench, still in kit from the introduction sequence, both engrossed in their mobile phones. The recorded segment in between the two real times games had been their sole appearance so far, and had spent the rest of the time on their phones or watching the feed from the studio on the small monitor propped up on a transport case. Being too far form the benches with a screen too small to see clearly without huddling round it the pair had lost interest and they had succumbed to the pull of their mobile phones. The cheering from the crowd had roused them to check out the screen periodically, as did the arrival of Mark and Chris after the first game, coated in gunge after the tug of war contest. Even then, did they barely look up from their phones, merely pulling their outstretched legs back as Mark strode by, dripping gunge, leaving a pitter-patter trail on the floor behind him. He pulled off his sodden shirt, not bothering to fold it, and rammed it into a bin liner.
"Looking good there, Marky boy" Jez said, smiling, but eyes not leaving the small three inch screen of his phone.
"This is mental, fucking mental" Mark had said, stripping off boots, socks, shorts and jockstrap, gunge running down the side of the bin liner as he unceremoniously bagged his clothes. Chris, down to just his shorts seemed a bit hyper, drunk on the adrenaline of the tug of war contest, "you love it, old man. You fucking show off!"
Kevin laughed, "what pissed you off most about that Mark, being called a show off, or old?".
"Old, of course" Mark snorted, "don't mind being called a show off."

The noise of the playback of the mud wrestle boomed over the speakers as the show resumed in the adjoining set. Mark and Chris headed for the shower, Jez and Kevin headed back to their phones. They raised their hands in a distracted manner as Mark and Chris headed back out for the gunge tank segment. The huge roars from the crowd roused them from their electronics, the cheers and whistles much louder than the first section. They huddled round the monitor as Sam spun a contestant round, the contestant clothed, Sam naked.
"Another fucking show off" Kevin mused.

As the four naked players trooped in, Kevin put his phone down as he pulled his legs back again to let them through. Sam and Chris, naked but clean, save for a few gunge streaks from the huddle, with Jon and Mark tottering in behind them, not so steady on their feet as they slipped their gungy way across the changing room.
"What was the team talk about boss?" He asked Sam, picking up a towel from a folded pile on the table that also doubled as their beer holder. He threw it towards their captain who caught it one handed.
Sam slid his eyes right, towards Jon who was helping himself to a towel. The meaning understood, Kevin didn't push the matter. Changing the subject, he tried to lighten the mood, "That gunge has given you a semi, Mark"
"It ain't a gunge semi sweetheart, it's just your animal magnetism", he replied grasping his cock and helicoptering it around. Gunge spun from it, over Kevin's shirt.
"I'm gonna blow if you keep doing that" Kevin said flatly, feigning a yawn.
All four headed for the make shift shower cubicles, the individual cubicles a step up from the communal shower at the club.
From inside one Chris shouted, "I bet they've rigged the showers up to gunge us and they are broadcasting this out in the studio"
"They better not," Sam called back, "I've got no fucking clothes on!"
Jez, cracked open a beer and shouted back, "since when has that bothered you?"
"Fucking show off!" the two dressed players shouted in unison.
"Yes? You called? What do you want?" Mark called from his cubicle.
Everyone laughed.

Dressed only in towels cinched around waists the showered players had split into groups, Jez and Kevin still dressed, huddled with Mark and Chris, each cradling a beer in folded arms as they waited for the fourth segment currently being prepared next door. There was no point getting dressed, the contract signed with Messy Mayhem had required no nudity in the first game, partial nudity in the mud wrestle, four players fully naked in the gunge tank game. Thereafter the remaining two games would be done with all six players naked throughout. The comedian was back, laughter rippling in from the adjoining room.
Sam popped two beers open, and joined Jon at the monitor who was watching the comedian's routine, the crew moving the set around behind him. Sam nudged Jon's folded arms with the beer can. Jon turned and accepted the offered gift, returning Sam's warm smile.
"You alright kid?" Sam asked, watching the screen but addressing his team mate.
Jon's attention didn't leave the screen, the resolution of the screen rendering the whole set slightly unfocused, a little unreal. It didn't seem possible that only ten minutes before the screen had reported Jon's humiliating gunging.
He took a sip before answering, "Just feels weird bruv"
Sam half smiled, "Tell me about it"
They watched the set being cleaned, a gang of men, and two woman, scooping up the splattered gunge, mopping the floor clean, ready for the next round of carnage.
In their silence, they could hear Mark and Jez taking the piss out of the earlier protestations of Chris not to show his cock.
"What made you contact this...this gunge company, or whatever they are?"
"Me? It wasn't me, it was Pete. The first I heard was when he came out saying he had just taken a call from them," Sam said, taking a sip of beer, "I didn't have anything to do with it"
"So why agree?" Jon asked, eyes still on the clean up operation.
"Well, we need the money. The club is basically knackered without it"
"And you don't mind appearing on screen doing this?" Jon said, using his can as pointer, gesturing towards the monitor.
Sam thought for a second, taking a gulp of beer to buy time, and to order his thoughts. "We've both done worse than this at initiations, the hazings, the stag nights" he said, and chuckled, "Remember Tom's stag do, I'm sure you were giving him a blow job, and those hen do girls were filming it. That's probably on the net as we speak"
"I wasn't blowing him," Jon said smirking at the memory, "I think I just kissed it, and it was for a bet. It won me fifty quid"
"Classy" Sam teased. He turned to Jon, addressing him rather than the screen, "mate, there are millions of videos on line, billions maybe. This one is going to go online pay per view. It's only going to be seen by a paying audience, and they are fans of this kind of stuff. It's normal to them. Plus Gary, the guy who signed us up, said they clamp down on file sharing."
Jon mulled it over, taking a few sips as the comedian ended his latest joke, the crowd responding well. They enjoyed that. Not as much as seeing the guys gunged, but they liked him.
"Anyway" continued Sam, "I can only speak for me, but when my career is over, and I've gone bald, fat and wrinkled I want to look back on my life and say I lived it to the full. I don't want to look back and say to myself, what a waste of a life that was. I wish I'd done this, I wish I'd done that. I'll make mistakes, getting my knob out here may be one of them, but I don't want to risk regretting that I didn't take a few chances. I want to live a life in full, not just watch it go by."
He paused, finishing off his drink, "plus according to those piss takers over there, I fucking love it"
"What about Karen? Doesn't wifey mind?"
"You know Karen, pretty laid back. If it was a porn film, with sex, I'm sure she wouldn't be so chilled. She's knows what I'm like, seize the day kinda guy. Plus it's all blokes out there, and gay, so she's safe"
Jon turned his head and watched Chris and Mark, laughing and play punching each other. Standard horseplay, unusual location. "What about Mark's other half? Nikki isn't it?"
Sam turned his back on the monitor, the comedian starting another filthy joke, and leant back against the transport case. It rocked under Sam's considerable weight, and he changed his mind before he, it, and the monitor toppled over.
"I'm telling you this as I know I can trust you, and it will help put all this, and Mark into perspective"
He kept his voice low, "Nikki walked out on him couple of weeks back, all the talk she was giving him about not having an affair was bullshit. She was just stringing him along until she could move in with that guy"
"Oh, poor fucker. I didn't know"
"No one does mate, only me, and now you. I'm trusting you here." Sam said and turned back to the monitor. "I think all this is Mark's way of coping with it. You know what he's like, you've seen him on the pitch. If something hurts, he goes in harder. We all stop at eight reps on the chest press. It hurts but he pushes out nine or ten. That's why he looks like he does. If it hurts, he does it more. You know his motto, destroy what destroys you. I think he's just raging and Mark being Mark he just runs in headlong. This is him blowing off some steam."
"But this video?" Jon asked, his beer can empty. He pushed the metal in, the tin crumpling with a metallic crackle.
"I gave him the option to pull out, as I did you. Fuck me, it could've been me out there with just Hansel and Gretal over there" Sam smiled, crooking his thumb out behind him towards Kevin and Jez. Jon laughed, and threw his flattened can towards a bin. It missed and skidded away.
"And pretty boy Chris" Jon added
"And pretty boy Chris" Sam confirmed, "Two hulks, one pretty boy and me."
Jon smiled, "I can see why you need me here, to be fair"
"Fuck you!"
"In your dreams" Jon laughed. "Wanna beer?" He reached over to the beer stash and selected two more cans, "Course you do". He popped one open and handed it to Sam.
"I meant it, Jon, if you need to duck out, I'll sort it. Keep you in the tug of war bit, then get you edited out of the gunge tank section. I don't want you getting angsty over this, I need to protect you and the guys more than Pete and his club. I'll speak to the producer now and I'll do extra bits out there to make up for you"
Jon took a long gulp, belched, and rubbed his hand through his hairy chest, "I'm itching like fuck man, bet I'm allergic to that gunge"
"That's the worst bail I've ever heard" Sam said, smiling, a laugh caught in his voice
"It wasn't, I'm not, I mean I was just saying. I'll be fine. As they say, carpe diem"
"Where did you get words like that? You're a rugby player, we all supposed to be as thick as shit" Sam said, readjusting his towel that was threatening to slip.
"Nah mate, we are not all thick, some are pretty wise. And also some are the best mates I could ask for". Jon placed his beer down, finished.
They lapsed into silence, lost in their own thoughts. Finally Jon said, "You know something man, I fucking love you"
"I know, I know," Sam said grinning. He ruffled Jon's hair, pulling him close in a man-hug.
"You ready?" Jon asked gesturing towards the screen. The set was ready
"Are YOU ready?" Sam countered.
Jon started the clubs motto, "Focused"
"Prepared" added Sam
"Triumphant" they said in unison.

Knuckles rapped the changing room door, a female voice called out, "You guys decent?"
"Decent? I don't think I've ever been decent" Mark murmured, raising a smile from Kevin.
"Come on in" called Sam.
The door swung open and a production assistant walked in, clipboard in hand, headphones flattening her curly hair.
"Are we decent?" Mark asked, "have you not seen what we have been doing out there the last hour?"
"Just being polite," she said with a smile "and letting you know we are ready for you in five mins"
She smiled, ticked something off on her clipboard and clicked the door shut behind her.
Sam removed his towel, throwing it in the laundry basket as he headed for the toilet, "Quick piss before we head out, and you two," he said stabbing a finger towards the pair of scrum players, "better get your clothes off"

Behind the screen the hubbub of the crowd filtered through. The lads stood in a line a few feet apart behind the panel that would soon slide apart to reveal the players and commence the fourth segment of the show.
Sam was jumping up and down on the spot, his usual pregame psych up. Mark and Chris were sharing yet another joke. Probably rude, definitely inappropriate. Kevin was cricking his neck, pushing his jaw up with the palm of his hand, enjoying the crack, rotating his head on his thick neck. Jez was pulling at his cock, making sure it was looking it's best. Jon stood silent, looking forward, as if the plain back of the screen held the secrets of life. The background music ceased, replaced with banging dance music. Jon could feel the vibration through his bare feet. He glanced left, Sam was looking at him, the others distracted in their own rituals. His captain mouthed, 'last chance'. He may have said it, but his voice would be lost in the music and the crowds cheer as they sensed the next part of the show was starting.
Jon shook his head, and smiled as he saw Sam do the universal sign of 'I'm watching you', using two fingers to point as his own eyes, before turning the same two fingers to point at Jon. His captain smiled, turned back to face front and did a few more jumps, leaping high, pulling his knees up to his chest as he reached the peak. The screen started to slide apart, and the noise of the crowd bubbled up louder. As one, the players walked out, naked.