Tighty Whities Virus: Kids Table

“You promise, mom?”

“Yes, Nate. For the millionth time, yes! I promise that I spoke with your aunt and you’ll be sitting at the grown-up table this year.” He grinned. “I don’t know why it’s such a big deal.”

“I’m almost fourteen, mom.”

“Oh, I’m aware. I was there when you were born, you know.”

“Real funny.” He rolled his eyes.

“You’ll be bored, I bet. Your uncle Jimmy always tells a thousand golf stories. And expects us to laugh at every one.”

“He tells those stories all the time.”

“Yeah, but when you’re captive at the table, it’s worse.” Mom said, her eyes twinkling. “Alright, we’re here. Be sure to hug Muriel before you disappear with your cousins.”

“As long as she doesn’t kiss me.” He said, knowing that it would happen no matter what.

Sure enough, Muriel not only kissed him, but she pinched his cheeks and praised him for getting so big as if he was half his age. He squirmed, but grinned and beared it.

He finally made his way through the sea of relatives and escaped to his cousin Andy’s bedroom. He walked in without knocking and Andy barely looked up from his video game. He was only about six months younger than Nate

“Hey”

“Hey.” Andy said. “Wanna play?”

“Sure.” They fell into silence, interrupted only by the little cousins bursting in to ask to play until they were ushered away by one aunt or another.

Before they knew it, Andy’s mom knocked on the door, poking her head in to let them know dinner would be ready in twenty minutes.

“Are you at the kids’ table this year?”

“Yeah.” Andy said in annoyance. “Mom said the only way I can get to the grown-up table is if you agree to sit at the kids’ table.” Nate shrugged.

“Maybe next year.” Andy smirked.

“This year.”

“What? No freaking way, dude.”

“Let’s see who’s more grown up. We know from last summer that we both have armpit hair, so…” he shrugged. “I’m in boxers. Are you?” Nate scoffed.

“Since I was like nine.”

“Prove it.” Andy’s voice was strangely mild, as if he knew he had already won. Confused, Nate reached for his belt, but then stopped.

“Why should I prove it?”

“Just give me a glimpse and, if you are in boxers, you can sit at the grown-up table and I’ll just deal with sitting at the kid table again. Like you said, we’ll probably both be at the grown-up table next year.” Nate nodded, still unnerved by how Andy was acting. “Come on, do it or I’ll tell my mom you agreed to let me sit at the grown-up table. She thinks I’m a perfect little angel and you’re a bad influence on me, you know.” He grinned wickedly and Nate felt that it was the other way around.

“Fine, I’ll show you.” He conceded. Standing, he undid his belt and lowered his slacks just enough to show the waistband of his green checkered boxers. Andy smirked and, lunging forward, pantsed his cousin. “Hey! You didn’t believe me.”

“Naw, I just wanted to see it when that happens.” He pointed to Nate’s boxers, which were rapidly moving up his legs as they tightened around his butt and crotch. He gasped, transfixed as the color faded from them and they became a pair of white cotton briefs. The designer waistband was gone, replaced by Fruit of the Loom. They were exactly like the tighty whities he remembered wearing as a kid. “Awesome.” Andy said, cackling. “This is so awesome. Guess you’ll be at the kids’ table, huh?”

“You cheated. Change them back!” He could not believe that this was happening or even what was happening. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Hey, watch your language. Do you really want my mom coming in here with your pants down? Pull your pants back up.” Nate could not even make sense of what had happened, so he numbly pulled them back up, redoing his belt. Andy grinned. “God, this is just perfect. I can’t believe it worked.”

“What did you do?”

“Don’t worry about it. We need to go out to eat.”

“I am not sitting at the kids’ table.”

“Yeah, you are.” Andy said so self-assuredly that it sent a chill down Nate’s spine.

“I’m older than you.”

“And you’re in tighty whities. We both saw them.”

“You did… something.”

“You can’t prove anything. Just like you can’t really prove you were in boxers. Can you?” He smirked, the very picture of confidence. “C’mon.” Grabbing Nate’s wrist, he pulled him toward the door before Nate could break free.

“Fix this.”

“After dinner I will.”

“But” Andy grabbed him again and pulled him out of his bedroom.

They walked out into the swirl of relatives going all directions at once, but Andy held firm to Nate’s wrist. In all the din and chaos, no one seemed to notice as he all but dragged Nate over to the kids’ table.

“You’re going to sit here.” He said with a smirk, shoving Nate into the chair against the wall. “And to make sure you stay” before Nate could even comprehend what was happening, Andy had grabbed the waistband of his new tighty whities and, yanking it up, pulled it over the back of the chair. Nate groaned loudly as the wedgie set in, but it was unheard over the dozen conversations going on around them.

“Andy, please.” He pleaded, but Andy just shook his head.

“Sorry, they need me at the big table. You stay right here and enjoy your Thanksgiving, kay?” He walked away, leaving Nate there, but making a point to whisper the secret to each and every little cousin he passed.

With his back to the wall, none of the adults seemed to notice, but each and every one of his cousins could peek over his shoulder and see his white briefs stretched up over the back of the chair, as if to signify why he was still sitting at the kids’ table. By the time they were eating, Nate had learned that every single one of the cousins half his age or older had left tighty whities in the past. Andy’s brother, the oldest one other than Nate at the table, even felt bold enough to reach behind him and give his underwear a tug, tightening the wedgie and his exposure even more. By the end of the meal, he had lost his status as one of the cool big cousins and his new position as the dorky cousin in tighty whities had been cemented.