(c) 2012 Anel Viz
This year Oslo hosted the Homo Pulcher Stud Show, the most important event of the year for breeders of superlative males of every nation, held the last week of April in alternate years. As usual, the entries were divided into twelve distinct breeds: six “Purebloods” (Caucasian, African, Oriental, Polynesian, Semitic, and Mixed Race, with circumcised entries allowed in the last two groups), and six “Types” (Twink, Buff , Shorties, Body Art, Over Thirty-five, and Under Eighteen), all races accepted. Each breed has its own panel of judges, most of them breeders themselves; no breeder can enter the same contestant in more than one category; and the winner in each category except Under Eighteen competes against the others for Best in Show, a title conferred on an Over Thirty-five more often than one might expect, for these men are the most experienced, with a long history of winning Best in Breed.
The breeders are among the wealthiest men in the world; they have to be to cultivate such an expensive hobby. Not all are homosexual, but the homosexuals’ entries win most often, for these breeders have the best eye and an innate appreciation for male flesh. For this reason, breeders who were not homosexual make it a practice to hire homosexual trainers.
The show lasts a week, and has more components than just strutting around a ring. After the tuxedo, casual and swimsuit competitions, which include walking, trotting and posing, the five in each breed who score the most points go on to the demanding naked events. First they are checked for drugs, implants and other body enhancements, and the runners-up replace those who test positive. Then every body part – chest, waist, hips, arms, thighs and penis, both flaccid and erect – is subjected to scrupulous measurements in order to calculate how strictly they conform to type, which requires the judges to feel their their skin and hair, poke, prod, squeeze, and slip a finger into designated orifices. Next come the demonstrations of strength and skill, including a footrace, wrestling matches and disco dancing. Then scores are tallied, prizes awarded for best smile, pecs, buns, cock, and most promising newbie, followed by a last walk-and-trot around the ring and, punctuated by cries of “Woof!”, the announcement of whose man has won Best in Breed.
To determine Best in Show, the eleven finalists repeat all the unclad competitions except the tests of strength and skill, where which certain breeds naturally have an advantage. In addition, all the men read a short passage in his native tongue, English and the host country language for a machine to register the pitch of his voice.
The prizes are worth millions. The events are broadcast by satellite, people all over the globe watch them on a pay-per-view basis, scalpers hawk tickets for a king’s ransom, and advertisers pay a fortune for thirty seconds of air time. Invariably, the show creates an international furor, not only among the homophobes and religious fundamentalists, but those who object on ethical grounds to what they call “human beings paraded around and treated like animals”. Protest marchers throng the streets, chanting slogans, carrying signs, and calling for boycotts of the cosmetics (male scents), sportswear (Speedo), breakfast cereal (Wheaties), and other companies sponsoring the event. This year’s Wendy’s fast-food chain earned the most virulent criticism for resurrecting its “Where’s the beef?” advertisement.
The fans of Homo Pulcher counter that the men in the show not only enjoy, but revel in the exposure. Moreover, they live a life of luxury, coddled by their owners. They point out that “breeders” is a misnomer; very few are actually bred to participate. The men are recruited of their own free will; every investigation of the industry has concluded there is no basis to the accusation that some have been kidnapped. They categorically deny that breeders pimp their “harems” between shows. They acknowledge, however, that they regularly buy, sell and trade their finest specimens.
Every aspect of Homo Pulcher is strictly regulated. To prove they have not accepted bribes, judges are required to submit a complete inventory of their assets, and a team of auditors goes over their bank accounts with fine-tooth comb. Every night a medical professional swabs the entrants’ throats and anuses for traces of semen and compares what he finds there with the judges’ DNA. As a result of last year’s scandal, the breeders and trainers who came to Oslo show have to submit to the same examinations.
Despite these precautions, the Oslo show had its fair share of scandals. But what’s a stud show without at least one scandal? The public thrives on them, and they keep the struggling newspaper industry afloat.
Shortly after the committee chose Oslo as the venue, it came out that its mayor had secured the privilege at the price of his ass. That surprised nobody; it happened every year, and news that the mayors of a dozen other cities had engaged in identical tactics did much to mitigate his embarrassment and cleared the distinguished committee members of favoritism.
To the organizers’ credit, the most notorious scandal had nothing to do with the show itself. The story broke in Men’s Health two weeks after everyone left Oslo. The representative of a certain sex toy manufacturer had allegedly paid the owner of David Darling-Dix, who won Best in Show, a hefty bribe and unnamed sexual favors for the right to make a cast of his penis. The subsequent uproar mushroomed and came to a head when a blogger claimed that the dildo they marketed was a fake. The company assembled a panel of experts, who tried out the disputed dildos after David had fucked every one of them. Four out of five judged that he was not the model, leading to the recall of several thousand sex toys.
When asked his opinion, Darling-Dix replied that, being in possession of the original, he had not bought the product, and he looked forward to winning in San Francisco two years from now.
Anel Viz – latest novel, Alma’s Will, is available at Silver Publishing.
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