guest

Thanks again!

@Kaytea: I acted on your suggestion and published the whole story in a new thread, just the text.

@Flameboard: I will write other stories about saggers, but the next one will probably a short and simple one.

Part 15

Had I somehow lost my mind? I remembered a time two years ago when I had pretended to live in the Matrix. That film really had impressed me ...And now it was time for my big moment.

The red pill or the blue pill.

Cut the red wire or the green one.

Open the envelope or don't.

For it was an envelope that Max had given me, and I was holding it in my hand right how.

"What is this all about?" I asked, but Max just smiled and didn't answer.

A decision moment wasn't about dialogue, after all. Keanu Reeves hadn't discussed the consequences and side effects of the red and the blue pill.

So I, too, just opened the envelope without further ado. There was a sheet of paper inside and I held it close to my eyes so I could read what was printed on it:

There is no saggers' club.

My heart sank. This was the message that made the matrix disappear, the world in which I had lived, hoped and fantasized the past weeks. There was no climax, no place where the journey in saggerland (or saggerworld?) would end, no time when I would meet all the fascinating saggerboys that I had always wanted to be friends with.

"There is a flip side", Max said.

Yes, there was a good side to this, somewhere. I could focus on more worthy goals now.

"Seriously, turn it around", Max insisted.

There is no saggers' club. We can't repeat that enough. But we give you a chance to become a member anyway. You'll just have to pass some tests. This is the first one.

Read the following instructions and follow them. Don't ask questions.

Instructions:

We have chosen an outfit for you. Put these clothes on immediately. Our messenger will give it to you and he will take your old stuff to keep it for the next 24 hours.

Have fun – or fail. We will win in any case. And don't forget. Eat this letter now.

Oh no, wait. Give it back to the messenger. The paper can still be recycled. Save the earth.

There is no saggers' club.

I couldn't suppress a laugh. Was this really the style in which the saggers' club expressed himself?

But maybe no message of any kind could have lived up to my high expectations. I had fantasized about the club for so long, I had projected all my hopes on it that I was bound to be disappointed.

These were just teenagers like me, after all.

Max had taken some clothes out of his backpack by now. I looked at him a little too long, because I didn't really know what to do. Was I expected to change here, in the street?

"Can I go back to the house to change?" I asked.

"Technically, you're not allowed to ask questions."

"Oh. Right." Ten seconds, and I had already broken one of the rules ... A part of me really wanted to pass this test, however un-romantic or disappointing the club might be.

"But you don't have to tell anyone that I asked you a question", I said to Max.

"That's true. But I don't want to give you an unfair advantage."

"Come on, you're my friend. And why are you here anyway? It doesn't make any sense."

"Are you going to change now or not?"

Max was even stranger than I had anticipated ... And yet, I still liked him.

I took off my backpack and my shoes first. There were no people on the street, but I had the feeling that someone was watching me from one of the windows. I tried to hide behind Max somehow, got rid of my hoodie and my shirt. Shirtless, I took my new clothes from Max and looked for a shirt. Luckily, there was one and it didn't look much too small or otherwise embarrassing. At least not in the dark. I put on the new shirt, while Max seemed to enjoy my discomfort – as usual.

Now came the difficult part: There was a pair of jeans among my new clothes and even a pair of underwear as well.

So I checked the street again for other people. There was an older woman on the other side of the street. I looked at Max.

"Don't wait too long", he said.

A car passed us by now, too. When the woman was out of sight, I dropped my trousers and my boxers and put on the new clothes as fast as I could. I was at the mercy of my new outfit now.

"This is all I asked? No hoodie? I'll freeze to death", I complained.

"Initiation rites are supposed to be hard."

"So, this is an initiation rite?" The words sounded strange from Max's mouth. They were so uncommon, at least in German.

Max didn't say anything, once again.

So we just walked to the tram station side by side and in silence.

My new pair of underwear were boxer-briefs – I didn't know that word then, but I knew this was a type of underwear that I had never worn before. They reminded me of the unpleasant tightness of briefs and therefore of childhood ... It wasn't easy to get used to the feeling, but that was part of the test, I figured.

I actually lifted my shirt now to check the colours and pattern. The boxer-briefs were white with bright red polka dots on them. My new jeans were dark blue and felt tighter than my own clothes, but that was probably a good thing, because there was no belt among my new clothes

And what about the shirt? It was white and there was a drawing of a sagger on it, with boxers sticking out. Beneath it I could decipher the word "sagger".

"Oh great", I mumbled.

"I think sarcasm gives minus points in the evaluation", Max said.

"You really enjoy this, don't you? Have you invented this test?"

"No. It's a long tradition."

"Sure. A long tradition of the club that doesn't exist. That's what you mean?"

"Technically, you're not allowed to ask questions."

I sighed. "Is my sag alright at least? I mean, I should ask before you evaluate that the wrong way, shouldn't I?"

"I think you should look like the boy on your shirt. And he sags a little lower. But since you have no belt, your jeans should slide down all day anyway."

That was true, but I didn't really have time to think about it, because we had almost reached the tram station now – not at my usual time, of course; much later instead. We could hear the tram arriving. Max smiled. "Come on. We have to get it. Let's run."

"We can take the next one."

Max started running and I followed him reluctantly, my shirt flying in the wind and my hands holding on to my trousers. They slid down in the back anyway. But at least we managed to enter the tram before the doors closed.

"Are you still cold?" Max asked.

This time, it was me who didn't answer.

When we arrived at the school Max left me alone. "Someone will meet you later", he announced, "in the first big break."

I went to my classroom where my new shirt got noticed quickly. One of the foremost sagger haters, a girl called Anna, commented on it first.

"Did you draw this yourself?" she asked.

"No. Someone else did it."

"For you?"

I didn't answer.

"Why do you wear a shirt with a picture of a boy on it?"

"It's about the word. Sagger."

"What does that mean?"

"It means someone who looks like that. Someone who wears their jeans low."

"That's called sagger?"

"Yes."

"So you're in love with saggers? That's want you want to tell us?"

"Yeah, right. I'm not gay."

"Who's gay?" another boy asked.

"Nobody."

"Sagger? What brand is that?"

"It's not a brand. It's a name for people who wear their jeans like that."

"Why did you print a picture of that on your shirt?"

"Why not?"

"What's the point?"

"I want to promote sagging, I guess."

"There should be a law against saggers", Anna said. "It just looks ridiculous. And girls don't like it at all. So if you ever want to have a girlfriend ..."

"Some girls like it."

"Name one."

"That's stupid."

I turned around and walked out of the room to hide on the toilet for a a couple of minutes until the first lesson would begin.

I didn't get to the toilet however, because I met Ben in the hallway.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"New clothes?"

"Not really, no. I'm just wearing them today, for this saggers' club ... thing."

"They make you wear special clothes?"

"Today. Yes."

"Are you a member now?"

"No, not yet."

Ben looked skeptical. "I like the shirt."

"Me too."

"Kind of gay, though, if you ask me ... I mean it looks like you're in love with that boy."

"No, it doesn't."

"Hey, you are gay, after all. So why shoudn't you wear something like that."

"It's easy for you to say. You don't have to live with all the comments and stupid jokes."

"Nobody has ever died from words, you know."

"Are you sure?"

"Maybe one or two people. But what are the odds?"

I felt better now. With Ben by my side, I was more courageous and stronger. We were a force to be reckoned with.

When the bell rang and the first break began, I waited for the saggers' club to contact me. Maybe I would meet one of the older members now. Someone who actually had experience with sex and knew the secrets of life (if there were any, but I surely hoped so). Or maybe someone who was gay. Because they had to know about my sexual orientation if Max was so intimately connected to the club. Maybe he actually was a member. But why had he warned me about the club then? Had that all just been part of a big mislead? I didn't get it ...

So I forced my thoughts away from that topic and fantasized about the near future instead. What daring things I would be forced to do? What tasks would I have to complete to become part of the club? I couldn't think of anything in particular, I mostly imagined the excitement. Maybe I'd almost fail, but prevail in the end like any good hero did. And there would be some kind of celebration. A saggers' party. Dancing saggers would be a nice sight, but ...

... back in the present I was still alone and beginning to ask myself whether I had just been forgotten – or disqualified maybe for asking to many questions. I got more and more nervous.

Finally, someone came. A teachter? No, it really was a sagger, and I recognized him at once. It was the boy from the skate park (I still didn't know his name.) I was a little disappointed at first, because I really wanted to meet new people, but come to think of it, it wasn't really so bad to meet this boy again. He was sagging so effortlessly, and he had a slightly bizarre, but unique style.

"Hi."

"Hi ..." I smiled, still tense.

"Are you ready?"

"I guess."

I checked whether my boxer-briefs were visible, since I assumed that was important.

"Okay. Let's go."

I wanted to ask what his was, but quickly remembered that, technically, I wans't allowed to. I really started to take this initiation process seriously.

We went to the entrance area of the school which was full with people now.

Finally, Lee stopped. "Fumble at your shoelaces", he said. "For 30 seconds."

I bent over, thereby exposing most of my boxerbriefs. It was weird because it looked a little as if I took a bow in front of the other boy (he wore Osiris shoes, by the way). I felt uncomfortable with showing off shamelessly. 30 seconds seemed awfully long. And nobody around here knew it wasn't my idea. They probably got the idea that I wanted them to stare at my ass.

Finally, I felt the time was over and raised my head.

"That was fun", the other boy said. "You're not allowed to pull up your jeans until I say so, by the way."

"So, the task is that you can make me do whatever you want?"

"No questions."

"Sorry."

"But yes, I can ... unless you back out, of course."

"I won't."

"Okay."

We started walking again and went out of the building.

"Touch your head with both your hands now", the other boy said. "Make it look casual."

I did what he had told me. The gesture made my shirt rise, of course. My boxerbriefs were probably visible in the front now, too. Some girls in the schoolyard seemed to throw glances at me.

"Can I take them down now?"

"Another question."

"Oh no."

"Okay. Take them down."

We approached a teacher now who supervised some of the playing kids.

The teacher looked at me quite long. I wasn't sure if he could see my underwear of was interested in my shirt. I felt myself blush a little.

The other boy apparently wanted us to take a tour of the schoolyard, so we walked on and on and my jeans slid slowly down until they were hanging below the ass.

That was noticed by quite a few of the older boys whose part of the schoolyard we had now entered.

We finally stopped and I waited for new instructions when the bell rang. This break was over.

"Stay here", the other boy said. "You will be late for the next lesson. That way your entrance will be more effective."

I nodded slightly.

"Actually, this task is over when you catch me."

I looked at him confused while he walked away.

I followed him, but the other boy moved quickly now. That was hard for me to do, because I was in danger of losing my jeans.

So I just walked slowly and pretented to be to cool for this game of catch.

The people left now and some of them stared at me while I walked past of them. Maybe I looked kind of ridiculous now, and my movements didn't make much sense to an outsider either.

Finally, the other boy and me were the only ones still outside.

I lost my nerves now, because not only was the game humiliating, but I also really didn't like to be late for class. So I moved faster.

"We can do this all day", the other boy shouted.

I waited for a while to lull my opponent into a false sense of security and started to sprint then. It happened what had to happen. My trousers fell down.

The other boy laughed triumphantly. I just pulled my jeans up now, even if it was forbidden. I wanted to catch the other guy and hit him, I was so angry.

In the end, the other boy just gave up and stopped where he was. My jeans were already hanging very low again, but I could still move enough to shove the other sagger. Not really hard, though, more symbolically.

"I think you lost", the other boy said.

"I don't care anymore", I said. "Your club is stupid." With these words, I turned around and left - hoping that my determination and superiority were as visible as the red dots on my boxer-briefs ...

What now? I had imagined the saggers' club to be larger than life – and it wasn't, of course. I'd known that for a while now, but had never admitted it to myself. My self-deception had kept me going. And I had come a long way in the past weeks. But there was no wonder cure for my problems, no club that would make me cool and self-confident. Life just went on and on ... and sometimes things improved a little, sometimes not.

I still had Ben and it certainly would do now harm if I concentrated on my school work a bit more ...

But not today. I still couldn't think clearly. And I still stood out in the hallway.

I opened the door and entered the classroom. Everyone stared at me, especially my math teacher. I apologized, but gave no reason for my tardiness.

The teacher asked where I had been. I didn't know what to say and started to stutter. In the end, I just fell silent and waited until everyone had lost interest in me. The discussion of quadratic equations continued.

An hour and a half passed. When the bell rang and I left the classroom, I still feared that somehow the saggers' club was more powerful than I expected. Maybe I should hide? But on the other hand, that was not the saggers' way - and I was still sagging, because it made me feel cool and therefore stronger.

Finally, I saw Max coming toward me. We stared at each other for several seconds. I was determined not to back down. Max looked unsure of himself, almost shy now.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"We need to talk to you."

"About what?"

"I have to explain something to you. Can we meet after school? I still have your clothes."

"I know."

"So let's meet later."

I didn't answer.

"Come on", Max insisted. "Please."

He had actually said "please".

"Okay. When do you want to meet?"

We fixed a place and a time.

When the break was over, I tried to concentrate, but in vain. I couldn't stop thinking about Max and what he would tell me. Had I passed the test? Was rebellion maybe the key to being accepted by the saggers' club? But why had Max looked so guilty then? It didn't make sense.

Maybe Max had lied to me about the whole initiation ... However, I just couldn't find any good reason for that. And there was still the boy from the skate park. What was his role? And what about Ralph and Thomas? They had confirmed that the saggers' club existed. So, maybe it had all been a fake initation and the real club was still somewhere out there ...

After the last lesson I allowed myself plenty of time, because I didn't want to be first at the designated place. I figured that standing around and waiting would only make me even more nervous. Finally, I went to the part of the schoolyard where I had played catch earlier. Max was waiting for me. The other boy was there, too.

I approached them, trying to look cool.

"Hi."

"Hi. So ... uhm ... mabye we went too far", Max said. "Anyway, we should tell you the truth now."

"There is no initiation", I interrupted him. "I know."

"How?"

"That wasn't hard to guess, really."

"Have you known all along?" Max asked.

"No. Not really ... So, is there a saggers' club or not?"

Max hesitated. "No, there is no club", he said finally.

"But how can that be?"

"There was one, a couple of months ago. But it wasn't a success and it dissolved."

"Why don't Ralph and Thomas know that? They told me the club exists."

"Yes, I know. But they don't care too much about such things. They're too old for that, I guess."

"And you ..." I adressed the other boy now "... you're a friend of Max's?"

"Yes. And I was really a member of the club when it still existed. So, when Max told me about his plan ..." I waited, but the boy didn't finish the sentence.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"David."

"You never told me that."

"Sorry."

We fell silent for a while.

"So it was all a prank", I said eventually. "But some things still don't make sense. Didn't you warn me about the saggers' club? That it was full of bullys and so on?"

"Yes, it wasn't really well planned from the beginning ... I really wanted you to lose interest in the whole thing then. But you didn't."

"No, I didn't ... I think you're the best liar I've ever met."

"I don't know if that's a compliment."

"We could really form a club now", David proposed, in an obvious attempt to change the topic.

"I don't know", I answered. "I'm tired of the whole idea right now. Maybe we can just sag together."

"Sure", Max said. "Do you want your clothes back?"

"Yes. Whose clothes are this?"

"Mine actually", David said.

I took them and went back in the building to change. Then I said goodbye to the other boys and a couple of minutes of later I was on my way home.

So, it felt like the end of something now. One chapter of my life was over. But what was the moral of this story? I wasn't sure. Maybe it was a lesson about wishful thinking. Maybe I had been wrong to believe in the saggers' club existence ... But whatever my mistakes had been, there was no real harm done. And at least, it was kind of an interesting story. Something to tell my grandkids. Except that I probably wouldn't have any.

The only problem left was to decide what to do about Max. Could he still be my friend? He certainly wasn't innocent and it would be difficult to trust a master liar like him in the future. But he had told me the truth in the end. And his intention hadn't been completly evil. He had even helped me to make part of my fantasy real ... And he still was a great sagger, after all. That made it hard for me not to like him. I couldn't help it, really.

One chapter was over, but my life went on, like lives tend to do. And some days later a whole new story began. Or maybe the old one hadn't been over yet. Sometimes it's hard to tell. Anyway, it began like many things begin – with Ben, that is. He started a playful fight with me; something that straight boys did with each other, but never with me. Certainly, Ben and I had never done it before. I didn't like fighting and had always avoided it. But maybe to Ben this was a whole new of acting macho. "I'm not afraid of anything, not even fighting with gay best friends."

So we were wrestling a little and our sags became very visible, which made the whole thing even more exciting and I decided to go on with it. A little later I heard Florian's voice: "Look. They're making love." (Or something like that. I didn't hear it very well.)

Suddenly, I felt a kind of rage I had never felt before. I really was in the mood for fighting now. So I shoved Ben away and confronted Florian. "Yes, I'm gay", I shouted. "Ben isn't. Do you get that or should I repeat it?" Florian was too perplexed to say anything. "Go. Tell everybody. Or should I hit you first?"

"Are you crazy?"

"Yes, I am. So be careful."

Florian left. I pulled up my jeans and turned around to look at Ben's face who started laughing.

"Don't laugh."

But in the end, I thought it was funny, too. Pretty soon everybody knew what had happened. I felt awkward the rest of the day, but that would pass. I was proud, too. It was done now. I was gay and I was a sagger and there was nothing wrong with either of it. Everybody would see me now as I really was. I didn't need a sagger club to protect me. I had a friend I could trust, and I had my own strength. I was a force to be reckoned with now.

"So what about that whole thing ... with the club?" Ben asked me a couple of days later. "I totally forgot about that."

"Oh. That. It turned out the club doesn't exist."

"What?"

"Just a game, the whole thing."

"But you didn't know?"

"No."

"So, you were deceived? That's ... weird."

"I know. But I really don't want to talk about it now. I'm done with that. This is a new story now."

"Uhm ... okay. Whatever."

"But maybe we could talk to some other saggers. What do you think?"

"Maybe. But talk about what? Sagging?"

"I guess there are many more saggers who would like to talk to and meet other saggers. And we have to keep the trend alive, of course ... we have to influence people, secretly ..."

"Like a conspiracy?"

"No. Actually, that's wrong. We really should be more open about it." We didn't have to be ashamed about sagging. I didn't have to be ashamed. Sagging was just like being gay. There was nothing wrong with it.

"No", I said. "Not conspiracy ... more like ... community."

So, I asked Ralph and Thomas and even Max, too. In the end, we made flyers and even some posters and we passed the flyers to saggers who caught our eye. Most of the posters were scribbled on and torn down, but we didn't give up. And we really had an effect. I overheard more conversations about sagging now. We had to make this a topic that wasn't taboo.

After some weeks, we had collected some e-mail-adresses, so we invited everyone to a meeting. 15 saggers came, including us. That wasn't much, but it was a start. And I really was a member of a saggers' club now. In a way, it was even better than I had imagined it.

But this is not a fairy tale. Not everyone lived (and sagged) happily ever after. A couple of months after the propaganda for sagging had started, my father finally got his promotion and we moved to another city once again. All my protests were in vain. Running away from home wasn't really an option for me. So I followed my parents – to a city in the the eastern Ruhrgebiet, this time. That meant a new school, of course, and new classmates. Pretty soon, they all knew the meaning of the word "sagger".

Part 12

I had heard some unpleasant rumors about the saggers' club now, but my obsession with the club had not faded. What was so great about it? Why did I still daydream about it so much? I suspected that the club would probably be bad for me – but that was exactly what attracted me. I had been nice and good for so long. While I mused about my future as a juvenile delinquent, I was actually scared of my parents and their judgment, now that they knew about my penchant for sagging.

The next morning, I didn't sag my jeans in front of my mom. This decision to play it safe made me feel like a coward, however and I wondered what Max would say about it. In the end, I dared myself to pull my jeans down before I left. And I really did it. I said goodbye to my mom as a sagger. My jeans hung low, but my boxers were covered, and we could both be happy. I left for school.

***

Ben approached me as soon as I had entered the classroom.

"Can I copy the math homework?"

"Uhm ... sure." I rummaged through my stuff. "Here it is."

"Thanks."

I didn't know what else to say and Ben left. Maybe him and me, we just had to do something together to make things right ...

.

***

"Listen. Maybe we should meet after school", I suggested when Ben returned my notebook.

"Actually, I was going to go to the skatepark today."

"I could come with you."

"You don't skate."

"Not until today."

"Do you even have a board?"

"No."

Ben hesitated. "Okay, you can come."

"Thanks."

"Just don't embarrass me."

"I won't."

"Can you come to my place later?"

"Sure."

I felt full of energy for the rest of the morning – even when our math teacher discovered that Ben's homework was identical to mine.

***

After school, I quickly went to the local skate shop and bought a cap. I had never worn one before, but I felt I needed one now.

"You're later than usual", my mother said, when I finally came home.

"I know. I'm sorry. I talked to some friends and ..."

"You seem to make many new friends lately?"

"Not really. Just two or three."

"Are they from your class?"

"No. Don't be so inquisitive."

"I'm not inquisitive. I just want to know something about your life."

"There isn't much to tell, really."

"You could tell me a little about your new friends, for example."

"They're called Ben and Ralph and Thomas. And Max, but you know him already."

We started eating lunch, while I was telling harmless lies.

"You know you have a appointment with Doctor Kirschstein this afternoon", my mother finally interrupted me.

"No. Damn."

"What?"

"I can't go."

"Why not?"

"We'll have to reschedule ... uhm ... There's this thing ... " My imagination failed me. "I really can't tell you."

"That sounds suspicious."

"It's nothing bad, really. I just can't tell you now. I'm sorry."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No. It's not that."

"A boyfriend?"

"What? No! Please ... just let me reschedule the appointment. Do you have the phone number somewhere?"

***

I felt embarrassed and angry. My mom had actually asked if I had a boyfriend! Maybe she knew that I was gay ... or she suspected it, at least. But I couldn't ponder that now, because there was something much more important to do. I had to try on my new cap. I was conent. It still looked as good as I remembered. Now I just needed the right clothes to go with it.

***

Before I left the house, I met my mother again.

She looked at the cap that I held in my hand like an idiot. She definitely noticed my sag, too.

"Are you leaving now?"

"Yes", I said.

"Will you be back for dinner?"

"I don't know. Probably. If not, I'll phone you."

My mother nodded. "Why are you holding a cap in your hand?"

"Oh ... uhm ... I didn't want to wear in the house."

"Is it new?"

"Yes, I bought it recently."

"But you never liked caps."

"I do now."

"Because your friends wear them?"

"No, because I like them. Period."

"Don't spend all you money on clothes."

"I won't ... and it's my money. Anyway, I really have to go now."

I wondered whether real skaterboys had conversations like that with their moms, too.

***

When I rang the bell at Ben's house, his younger brother opened. He was dressed almost exactly like Ben; the resemblance was almost comical. Finally, Ben himself greeted me and we went to his room.

"That's your board", he said and pointed to the wall.

"My board?"

"Yes. You can take my old one."

"Thanks."

"It'll look better if you bring a board."

"Sure."

Ben looked at the mirror to check his appearance one final time. He was so unashamed about his vanity; it was fun to watch. Finally, we left the house.

I had never owned a skateboard, so I looked to Ben to learn how to handle it right. He rolled down the street for a couple of meters and I watched him. He really started to feel like an older brother to me. Maybe that wasn't so bad; brothers, after all, weren't sexually attracted to one another.

Ben grinned at me (his trademark grin).

"I know exactly why you want to go to the skatepark with me."

"To have fun?"

"To look at the boys."

"No, no."

"Come on. Be honest."

"Yeah, okay. Skaters don't look so bad, but that doesn't mean I ..." I lowered my voice, afraid that other people would overhear the conversation.

"I understand you. As far as I'm concerned, I kind of like to be looked at."

"Oh really."

"As long as you don't get a boner again."

"That was just one time!"

"That's what everyone says – until the second time."

The tram arrived and we got in.

***

The skate park was located in an actual park. It all looked very nice, especially in the sunshine. Walkers would pass by the skaters – sometimes interested, but mostly not. Most people seemed to be more comfortable to pretend that the skaters just weren't there ...

Ben greeted the people he knew and introduced me. We both sat down then, next to the others. I liked that, because it gave me the opportunity to watch what was going on. I had never before dared to spend much time near a skate park, even though I had wanted to. There were five or six boys on BMX bikes and four or five on skateboards. Everybody seemed to be sagging. I even noticed a boy who wore tight jeans very low; I had never seen that before. Tight jeans were gay, after all. But I thought it looked ... interesting. You certainly had to be brave to dress like that.

"... and what about you?" someone asked.

"What?"

"When did you start skating?"

"Oh. Last week. I'm not really a skater ... I'm just here to watch ... to watch and learn, I mean."

I felt embarrassed. But only secons later, I was no longer the center of attention. I watched Ben roll over the asphalt, together with the rest of the boys.

Maybe the skaters here had formed a saggers' club without knowing it. "Skate 4 Life" someone had written on the metal box I was sitting on. If that was really true, if a boy never gave up skating, would he give up sagging then? I hoped not.

"Hi."

I was surprised for the second time that someone actually talked to me here. It was the boy with the tight pants I had noticed earlier. His face did look a little familiar. Maybe I had seen him at school before.

"Hi", I said.

"You know you told me to pull up my trousers once."

"Did I? Sorry. I didn't mean that."

The skater laughed. I suddenly remembered the embarrassing incident from some weeks ago. My first and failed attempt to get to know other saggers.

"We have watched you", the skater said. "At school, I mean."

"Why? What have I done?"

"You should know that."

"Okay, maybe I do."

"Does the name 'Max' ring any bells?"

"He's a friend of mine. Has he told you something about me?"

"Not directly, no."

I tried to make sense of this conversation.

"Are you a member of the saggers' club?" I finally asked.

"There is no such club."

"Oh, of course."

"You don't believe me?"

"No. I know that the club exists."

"Really.

"Yeah. And I'd like to join."

"Why would you wanna do that?"

"You're just the best saggers at our school." I hoped that flattery would work. "And I want to become a better sagger, too."

"But you know, even if such a club existed, it had to be well protected against people who aren't serious about the whole thing."

"Of course. But I am serious. And I'll do whatever it takes to prove it."

"That might be enough – or not."

"Very funny."

"We'll keep in touch."

The other boy got up. At the same time, Ben returned and jumped off his board. He looked angry.

"I'm no good today", he told me.

I felt guilty, because I hadn't watched him most of the time.

"Your skating still looks good to me."

"Thanks. But I'm the worst skater around here. That's depressing. I'm just glad there are no girls around."

Ben sat down and we watched the other boys do their flips and ollies or 360s with their bikes.

"Don't you feel anything if you look at girls?" Ben asked.

"Uhm ... not really. Why?"

"That's the thing I don't get. I mean, I'm a little attrated to skaters or other saggers myself. Not in a gay way, of course. But what I don't get is how you can not like girls. Just look at **** ..."

"Yeah, I can imagine it. Thanks. By the ay, **** are the one thing where sagging is actually bad."

"Very funny."

"Seriously. I guess you can never understand why other people like certain things or don't like others. I mean, I probably wouldn't mind being bisexual, but it just isn't like that. I can't change my feelings."

"Yeah, okay."

One of the older skaters got angry and kicked his board.

"By the way, do you think the boy in the girls' jeans is gay?" Ben asked.

"I don't think so."

"I really think you two would make a cute couple."

"Go away."

"You could wear matching girls' clothes."

I hit Ben playfully on the shoulder. It was the first time I had touched him in a long time. He seemed to realize that, too, but in the end decided that it was okay. We were friends, after all ... once again.

Part 13

There was no sense in stalking members of the saggers' club any more. They had contacted me and would probably contact me again. So I had just wait for their next move.

I wondered whether they really watched me. It sounded like something from a bad movie or something. But nevertheless, I grew a little paranoid. I looked over my shoulder from time to time to find out if somebody was following me. In previous years, I had often the same clothes for several days (except socks and underwear). But now I felt the need to impress possible watchers with my outfit every day. Maybe they'll judge me and my style regularly, I thought. That seemed absurd, but it was certainly not impossible. Sometimes conspiracies actually existed.

***

Max and I almost never spend time together at school. We had decided that it would be a little awkward to explain to our respective friends why we knew each other. After all, Max was one or two years younger than me.

So if we talked at all, we did it over the phone. A week after my visit to the skatepark, he called me again.

"Listen", Max said. "Ralph and Thomas want to meet you again. Is tommorrow after school okay for you?"

I was so surprised that I forgot to ask any questions.

***

We were at the same place where we had met before, but I sagged a little less low this time, because I assumed that the two older boys would like that. (And I was pretty sure that there weren't any sagger club spies around at that moment.)

After a little small-talk, Ralph asked me if I'd make some pictures of myself for their sagger website.

"But I don't have a good camera", I said.

"That's not a problem. We could lend you one."

I still wasn't sure if I should do it. Maybe the club members watched that website. And if the pics were on the net, everybody on the whole world could stare at me – and my underwear ... It was a little scary, but also very tempting ...

"You don't have to do it, of course", Thomas said. "We don't want to pressure you."

"No, no. I will do it."

"Great. If you don't want to take the pictures yourself, you can ask one of us anytime."

"Okay. I'll think about it."

***

After the meeting I had a chance to talk with Max alone. I told him about my talk with the sagger club member at the skatepark.

"Somehow they knew thins about me", I said.

"That sounds strange."

"Have you told anyone about my interest in the club?"

"No. Why should I?"

"He also said they had watched me."

Max chuckled. "And you believe that?"

"Not really. It sounds a little silly."

I still had doubts, however, but kept them to myself.

***

When Ralph lended me his camera two days later, I got so excited about my new toy, I could hardly wait to try it out. Now I would finally be able to see my sag as others saw it. So, right after lunch, I went to my room and tried to make my first sagging pics. It took some time. First, I had to learn how to use the self-timer, then I had to decide where to put the camera, which wasn't easy at all. Finally, I found a position that worked, but the results were disappointing nonetheless. It took a lot of effort just to take two or three photos that looked okay. And even the okay pics were kind of boring, I thought. So I put the camera away, at least for now.

***

But the idea of sagging pics hadn't lost its pull. I called Max.

"Uhm ... I still have the Ralph's camera. Maybe you could take some photos of me", I suggested. "We could photograph each other or something."

Max hesitated and I feared that I had gone too far with this question, but he indulged eventually.

"Why not? Should I come over later?"

"Actually I'd like to come to you this time."

***

It turned out that Max lived in one of the big ugly buildings the local housing association had erected in various parts of town. When I finally arrived on the fifth floor, he stood in front the door, waiting.

"We're lucky", he said. "My mother is gone for a while. She's at the hairdresser's."

There seemed to be no dad in this family. I took the camera out of my backpack and gave it to Max. "Do you know how to use it?"

"A little."

Max checked the camera out while I did the same with his sag. He wore white plaid boxers, a white belt and black jeans today.

"I tried to make some pictures myself yesterday", I explained. "But it didn't really work."

He pointed the camera at me and started to make photos. I tried to smile and then made faces at him.

"Turn around", he commanded. "Let me see your sag."

I did that, but I felt weird.

"Come on, don't stand there so stiffly", Max insisted, probably unaware of the ambiguity (in contrast to me).

"I just hate to pose", I protested. "I suck at modelling."

"Just act natural."

Finally, we went to the kitchen and Max told me to take pots and cutlery from certain cabinets and drawers. I appreciated his cleverness, because I had to bend over and strecht out a lot and my mind was taken off the fact that I was being photographed.

So I started to have fun and I even pulled down my jeans a little to sag lower.

Later, we took some more pictures in the living-room until I insisted that I could watch the photos and Max handed me the camera. At first, I was disappointed again. But some of the later pictures looked really hot and I felt weirdly attracted to myself.

"You're a talented photographer", I told Max.

"Thanks ... Uhm ... Have you brought any more clothes? We could take some more photos in a different outfit."

"No." I handn't thought of that possibility. "Anyway ... I think it's time for a role reversal."

"Nooooo."

"Come on ... It will be fun."

"I don't want to get up."

"You could just lie down here on the couch."

"Mmmm. Okay."

I got up and watched.

"Like that?" Max asked.

"Yes. That looks good."

He lay prone and about half of his boxers were exposed. The sexual undertones were obvious now, but Max didn't seem to mind and I couldn't stop myself.

"Turn around."

Max followed my order and I took more photos. Suddenly, Max jumped up. He almost lost his jeans, but didn't pull them up. Instead, he struck some silly poses with his trousers hanging at his thighs. After a while, he had a laughing fit and sunk to the ground. I still took pictures.

"Stop it", Max insisted.

I turned away from him and held the camera in front of my crotch for obvious reasons.

Max got up from the floor and looked down on himself, before he finally yanked his jeans up. It was the worst kind of teasing and I didn't know how to act. Was he really oblivious or did he all that on purpose?

"I have to take a piss", I said. "I'll be back in a sec."

Actually, I didn't know where the toilet was, but after I had opened the wrong door first, I finally found it. I saw no other option except jerking off immediately. Maybe Max wanted to have sex with me. But why hadn't he initiated it then? He usually wasn't shy ... I needed some minutes to sort myself out. But I knew it would be suspicious to stay in the toilet too long.

When I entered the living-room again, Max was sitting on the couch with a glass of coke.

"Hey", he said. "Why did you take the camera with you?"

"Oh. Yes ... Uhm ... That was stupid."

"Give it to me."

"There you are."

He started to look at the pictures of himself. I wondered whether he understood the situation and just didn't want to talk about it.

"Do you want to drink something, too?" Max asked eventually.

"No, thanks."

"We should go to my room."

"Okay."

We got up from the couch and I followed Max. He opened the door and we entered the room.

"You can sit down on the bed", Max said and so I did that.

The room was small, but cosier and messier than mine. Max put the camera on his desk.

"We definitely have some good examples for extreme sagging now. But I think I'll delete the pictures", Max said.

"Don't."

"You like them?"

"They're funny. Nobody should sag like that in public, but ..."

"But what?"

"But ... uhm ..." I looked for the right words. Max took the camera again and pointed it at me. "If you want to keep the pictures, then it's my turn again now."

"Noooo", I groaned.

"Come on."

"Don't we have enough pictures already?"

"But there's still space on the memory card ... And besides, what else should we do? Play computer games? This is more fun."

I couldn't deny that.

"I've gotten so used to sagging on my own", Max added. "But this is something new."

"You're so jaded ..."

"I guess I am."

"Won't your mother come back soon?"

"Maybe. So?"

"I don't know. She should come in here and surprise us."

"Oh no! That'd be really bad."

I grimaced and Max got up from his chair. Finally, he stood with his back to me to open his cupboard, which stood opposite the bed.

"If you're unwilling, you could at least take some more photos of me", Max said. "I'll just change my outfit."

I just watched as he let his trousers drop to the floor and stepped out of them. As far as I could tell, he browsed through his underwear collection then, standing there, in shirt and boxers ... Finally, he seemed to have reached a decision and took a colourful pair of boxers out of the drawer.

"I hope you don't mind to see me ... strip", he said.

"No."

"I always thought it would be fun to hang out in boxers", he told me. "But my friends would probably think it was too gay ... It isn't really."

"No ... no. But you should really put on some trousers if you want me to take more sagging pics."

"Wait a minute."

Max took off his shirt now, too. I grabbed the camera and quickly took some pictures.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"That could be a nice photo series", I said. "A sagger gets dressed."

"I don't think so." Max put a new shirt on and then jeans as well.

"I bet the shirtless pics would be popular with the girls in your class."

"Come on. Give me the camera ... And actually, it's still my turn."

He attacked me, but I was taller and had longer arms, so I somehow managed to hold on to the cam. All that body contact wasn't good for me, however. But one part of my self was still enjoying itself.

"Come on. Sag for me", I heard myself say.

Max lifted his shirt up, trying to look sexy. I tried to think like an artist not like a sex-starved teenage boy, and took pictures for two or three minutes, until Max let his jeans drop to the ground again. That was the sign to stop.

When I lay down the camera, Max took it instantly and looked at the photos of him. He didn't bother to pull up his trousers.

"Now, it's definitely your turn", he mumbled.

"I don't think there's still time. Your mother ..."

"Come on. Get up!" Max insisted, and he sounded very serious.

I got up while Max was sitting down on his chair again.

"Now. Let's see you sag", Max said.

I didn't know what to do. Finally, I just turned around, pulled my jeans down and bended over, pretending to tie my shoelaces.

"Boring ..."

"What should I do then?"

Suddenly, I heard the sounds of a door and steps. Max's mother!

"Don't move", Max quickly said. "Take your shirt off", he commanded. "I dare you." He had gone crazy. I felt, however, that I couldn't chicken out now.

"What?"

"I dare you. Come on, do it."

What the hell. I got shirtless and posed for the camera. Max casually grabbed my shirt from the floor and put hit in his lap. I suddenly felt the urge to show him that I was crazier than he had expected (although I knew at the same time how stupid it was).

So I took off my jeans as well and threw them at him. He smiled. I heard the noises come ne

Knock! Knock!

What to do? ... What to do? I couldn't dress fast enough. Max had my clothes. How should I explain why I stood here in my boxers? I quickly ran in the corner. There I would be able to hide behind the door.

"Yes?" Max called.

His mother entered the room. I noticed that a pair of Max's boxers still lay on the floor. And what about my clothes? My heart was pounding.

"I'm back now", the mother said. "Everything alright?"

"Yes, sure."

"Where's your friend? Has he gone home?"

"Oh ... no ... uhm ... I think he's ... he's on the toilet right now", Max lied.

There was a long silence. I held my breath. And then, Max's mother just left.

When the sound of her steps had gone away, Max started laughing.

"Give me back my clothes", I said. But Max just ignored my request.

I fumbled around with my boxers, feeling exposed. But the whole situation got me excited again, too.

"Give me my jeans. I'm freezing."

Max seemed to have noticed the tent in my boxers by now. I looked down on me myself. Neither one of us said anything. All the attention made my **** even harder. Finally, I had a full-grown boner. My body had betrayed me again. Max started laughing at me. And he took a picture, too. I grabbed my p***s through the fabric of my boxers and tried to hide the boner with my hand.

"Could you give me my clothes now?"

"Hmmm ... Let me think."

"Please! I'll do anything."

"Okay, okay."

He reached out for my jeans and my shirt and threw them to me.

I got dressed in silence. Then I sat down on the bed again.

"You know ... I think I'll copy the pictures on my harddrive now", my friend said.

He turned his attention to the computer.

"So, you're not freaked out?" I asked bashfully, after a minute or so had passed.

"I'm not freaked out", Max replied. "I'm jaded. Remember?"

Silence again.

The copying of the data took lots of time.

"I gotta ask, though", Max said. "Are you ... gay?"

"Yes."

"I'm not ... I think. Did you assume that I was?"

"No."

"Sometimes, I'm not completely sure. I just like to look at other saggers ... and at myself sagging, too. Maybe, I'm gay for saggers. But I don't really want to have sex with them or ... I don't know. Does that make any sense? Do you think that's weird?"

"No ..." I wanted to say "Who cares?", but for some reason I couldn't. It was so hard to speak about all this.

"Anyway, I've met gay saggers before." Although Max was younger, he seemed so much more experienced. "You're not the only one."

I was afraid to ask for names right away.

***

When I was just about to leave, I finally met Max's mother. I still felt naked and embarrassed in her presence. I wondered whether she could read my face (like my mother sometimes could). Max, however, seemed to enjoy the awkward situation. When I kneeled down to put on my shoes, my boxers were exposed again, but I hardly cared anymore. I seemed to be jaded now as well.

And so I went home.

Part 14

I walked home instead of going by tram, which took me almost an hour, but I enjoyed the cool evening air. All the people who came from work or were shopping for groceries. All that bustle. All the cars that passed me by after I had reached one of the main roads. Some of the drivers probably checked out my sag. I touched my boxers from time to time, just to make sure they were on display, and I was suddenly in a great mood.

Of course, I'd miss dinner and my mom would probably wonder where I was. But I didn't care about that now. I wanted to let my feet and my mind wander.

I remembered my old life, even my obsession with Marc. Feelings that, by now, seemed to belong not to me, but to another person. Many things had changed completely since me and my parents had moved here. I was a sagger now, no doubt about it. Many things that I had deemed impossible were actually possible, and not that difficult to achieve. They just took a little courage.

No, you weren't condemned to stay the same forever, as I had once thought. People could change; I was quite sure of that now. Now the only thing left to figure out was what I wanted to change into. Which kind of person did I want to become? What did really count?

Sagging was certainly important. I had two friends now, and they were at least partly my friends, because they dressed like me. Both were mad saggers, and good-looking as well, and interesting in their own way.

But I wasn't allowed (not really) to touch either Max or Ben, let alone fall in love ... And love had to be even more wonderful than sagging, and more important. At least that's what I thought. Why else would people make all that fuss about it?

Not many boys from my class had girlfriends at the moment. Neither Max nor Ben had one, despite their looks. But that would change – inevitably. And maybe my friends would stop being obsessed with sagging than and focus more on ... something else. Real sex, for instance ... or even love.

It had to be so much easier for them, being straight and all.

Ben probably didn't spend much his time walking around worrying. Actually, I thought that I had him figured out pretty well. It was nice to be him, partly, because I knew what to expect. But Max? Why was he interested in me at all? We had sagging in common, sure. But ... how did explain his behaviour? In general, and earlier this afternoon, in particular. Stripping in front of me ... making me take my shirt off ... Maybe he had suspected that I was gay and had tried to make me uncomfortable. He seemed to enjoy making people uncomfortable.

Yes, maybe there was a streak of evil in him – even if he looked so innocent, and even girlish.

Maybe he was just as horny as we all were and therefore always ready to do kind of sexual things. Sometimes even straight boys humped each other or "played gay". I wasn't sure why, but the overwhelming urge to finally have sex certainly played a role. It shaped our behaviour and it made sagging more than just a cool look – even for straight boys. Or at least I thought so on that evening.

***

When I came home, my mom was alone. That was not unusual, because my dad often worked late. I left my backpack with the camera in my room and went into the kitchen then.

"Have you already eaten?" my mother asked.

"Not yet."

"There's still something in the fridge. Just put in the microwave."

"Thanks."

The house was very dark and quiet, unlike the streets I came from. None of us talked for some time. I prepared my meal (goulash and noodles), sat down and ate quietly.

Something seemed to bother my mother. I just hoped that she wasn't contemplating a big talk about my sexuality or sagging or something like that.

Maybe I could distract her with small-talk.

"How was your day?" I asked.

"As usual ... Why do you ask?"

"No special reason."

"How was your day?"

"Good."

"Which on of your friends did you meet today?"

"Uhm ... Max."

"Ah, right."

"You remember him."

"Of course ... And you just hung out and ... chilled, I suppose."

It was just so awkward when my mom tried to use cool expressions. But at least, the conversation had been harmless so far. "Basically."

"Is he in your class?"

"Max? No. He's not ... He's just the friend of a friend ... who is in my class." I realized that I couldn't really explain properly how Max and I had befriended each other.

"Well, I'm glad that you seem to settle in so well", my mom said. "It's just ... We have moved so often"

"It wasn't so bad."

"But it was hard for you to make new friends each time. You spent much time alone."

"True ... But that's not so bad. And things seem to work out now, don't they? I mean, socially ... This is definitely the best school I've ever gone to."

"Because of the teachers?"

"No ... I mean, the teachers aren't bad either. It's just ... The other boys ... and girls are nice ... in a general way."

My mother didn't look very convinced. Maybe she suspected that I wasn't telling her the whole truth. I felt tempted to just say it. I'm gay. Why was it so hard? And my mom would unterstand. I was pretty sure of that. So why didn't I get it over with?

Just open your mouth and form the words.

I couldn't do it. I was too weak, and the silence continued. Finally, my mom said something completely unexpected: "Your father might have to leave again, soon."

"What?"

That completely made me lose my train of thought.

"I know. It comes very sudden."

"Yes, it does!"

"It's a project in Asia, in the southeast of China. I can't remeber the name of the town right now. We've only known about it for a few days now."

"Okay. And you didn't tell me earlier, because ...?"

"Because your father wasn't sure if he'd accept the offer. The team leader has had an accident or something and they need someone who can substitute her ..."

"Will he definitely do it?"

"Yes, he will."

"And how long will he be away then?"

"Three months. Mabye four."

"Okay." Maybe that wasn't so bad. I mean I liked my dad, but it wasn't too bad just to live with my mom for a while.

"Maybe he will get promoted after that. He could finally get a job at headquarters", my mom said.

"But then we'd have to move again."

"Yes. One last time."

"Great."

"You know. It's hard for me, too ... But you know how important his career is for your father."

"I have no problem with that as long as we don't move again. I want to stay here for the next three years."

"Maybe we will."

"No, not maybe. Definitely."

Another long silence followed after that.

"The noddles were yummy", I said eventually and got up.

"You should pull up your trousers."

"What?"

"You're trousers. Please."

I pulled them up without commenting, and left the kitchen.

***

I was just rubbing the sleep out of my eyes when I saw a familiar hat-wearing shape approach me.

"Ben. Hi."

"I think you're wearing the same boxers as yesterday", Ben whispered.

"You seem to look at my ass a lot."

"Every day. And why should I not? You're such a homophobe. It all makes sense. Homophobes are often gay."

"I don't care whether people like girls or boys or ... I don't know ... animals, teachers. Whatever gets you off. I'm not a phobe of any kind."

"Teachers?"

Another boy approached us. It was Jens, one of the basically average, non-descript kids in my class. He was a little like I had been a year ago, and maybe that made me particularly superior toward him.

"What are you talking about?" Jens asked.

"Sagging", Ben explained.

"What's that?"

"Just look at him." Ben pointed at me. "If you wear your trousers like that."

"That's called sagging? I've never heard that word before."

"It needs a name, doesn't it? And apparently they call it sagging in America."

"Is it called sagging if you can see the boxer shorts?"

"No, that's not necessary. You just need to wear your trousers lower than normal. You're actually already a sagger. You just didn't know it ... Lift your shirt."

"What?"

"Come on. Lift your shirt."

Jens actually did it this time.

"You see", Ben commented. "Your boxers are sticking out above your belt ... And now you lift your shirt." He looked at me and I followed his order, exposing my (kind of dirty) boxers ...

"That's how we do it", Ben stated.

"Okay."

"You could sag a bit more, each day."

"I don't know."

"Just pull your jeans down once", Ben insisted. "Come on. It's fun."

Finally, Jens really did it. Ben's shamelessness certainly had its pay-offs sometimes. Right now, I was proud to be his friend and ready to overlook all that I found annoying about him.

***

And he really could be annoying.

"You should really change your underwear daily as a sagger", he told me, later that day.

"Maybe I just have two idential pairs of boxers."

"Have you?"

"No."

"Did you sleep in these boxers as well?"

"Yes."

"I hope you didn't have a wet dream."

"Could you please stop talking about my boxer shorts? Maybe you should marry them."

"Why are you so touchy today?"

"I am not touchy."

"You are. Dirty and touchy ... And you look very sleepy."

"So what? I didn't sleep well. There's a lot going on at the moment."

"Are you worried about the math test?"

"No, not that kind of stuff."

"Right. I forgot. You're so smart. You don't worry about tests like as normal guys."

"Don't be envious."

"So what is going on with you then?" Ben asked. "Anything I could be interested in?"

"I don't know, I'm about to join a secret club ... a saggers' club." It was probably very stupid to tell anyone about that, but Ben's teasing and the lack of sleep had weakened my self-control.

"A secret club. How old are you? Twelve?"

"No. It's a serious thing."

"Oh. And what makes it so serious?"

"It's not easy to get in. They're well-organized. And they do interesting things."

"Like what?"

"I don't know yet. I've heard some rumors, that's all ... But they're the best saggers I know."

"Better than me?"

"Maybe. Yes. You could probably learn something from them, too."

"Oh my god ... But why do you need a club for sagging. I can do it on my own."

"Isn't it cool if there are lots of other saggers around? The more of us, the better. You tried to missionarize Jens today."

"Yes, that was fun ... But if I want to be around other saggers, I can just go to the skatepark."

"That's a point. I can't do that."

"So you'll have secret meetings then", Ben said eventually. "And you'll sign documents with your own blood. You should really tell me about it. Or is that forbidden – talking to ousiders?"

"Maybe I'll not even get to joit the club after I've talked to you."

"What dou you have to do to get in?"

"I don't know yet."

"I just hope it's something public. That'd be fun to watch."

So Ben didn't really like the saggers' club either. Or at least, he didn't like the idea of it. But that somehow just strengthened my conviction that I had to go through with the whole thing. And I had already spent so much time and energy on the whole thing.

***

The next day, I ran into Max, however. He followed me, so that we could talk in private.

"What about the photos?" Max asked eventually. "Have you decided yet which one we can publish?"

"No, not yet."

Max smiled. "Maybe I should decide for you."

I grimaced. "You're evil."

"Me?" He smiled enigmatically, and I wondered what was really going on in his mind.

"Okay", I answered lamely. "See you later."

"My mom likes you, by the way", Max said.

"Thanks. My mom really likes you, too. She says you got mad style."

"Really?"

"Yes. Her exact words. You should come and sag for her one day."

"I will. I will."

***

My obsession with the saggers' club raised to new heights during the following days, until the urge to act became irresistible. I wandered around the schoolyard and managed to find the boy I had been looking for. He was the one from the skatepark, with the girls' jeans. The only member of the saggers' club I knew personally.

Right now, he was talking to two other boys. All three were a little older than me, maybe a year. The skater's jeans were more loose this time, but still hanging low. I just stood there and stared at him until he and his friends noticed me.

"Hey. What are you looking at?" one of the skater's friends shouted.

I didn't say anything – I just turned around and left.

***

In the evening, I surfed the internet and landed on a site for gay youths. I read some coming-out stories and browsed the forum. I had visited this site before, but had never taken it really seriously. Somehow, I had thought, it was not for me. But my sexual orientation was not no longer in doubt now.

I was excited to find out that there even were some users from my town on the site. Maybe I'd really try to find a boyfriend.

The next morning, I left the house at the usual time and headed for the tram station when I saw someone coming toward me. It was a boy who wore dark clothes and whose head was obscured by a hood. This was a middle-sized town in Germany; people didn't get mugged here. But I was still scared. Then I recognized Max. Or at least I was almost sure it was him. But why was he here? Why hadn't he called me? Before I could greet him or say anything, he handed me something.

"Someone said I should give you this."

I was wide-awake now - and totally confused.

Part 8

Being an atheist, I had never expected much from religion class. Our teacher was well-meaning, but boring, and in the end, some of us pupils got an A and the rest all Cs. Religion class, in general, wasn't really a lot about religion, but more about philosophy. That didn't make it much more interesting, however. Mostly, we just talked. Some of us talked, that is. So, there was a lot of talking, but not much was said, most of the time. And even if someone made a point occassionally – philosophy just seemed so far removed from my own life and my own issues.

Well, I had some questions concerning morality, but I doubted that our religion teacher Mr Sander (or any grown-up, for that matter) could give me the definite answer to: "Is sagging good or evil?"

So, as I said, I didn't expect much. And on religion class this Tuesday I was unattentive and unmotivated as usual. Mr Sander was intent on discussing "goals in life". We started with a brainstorming session (how exciting!). What could one possibly want in life? Hm. I knew what I wanted, but I couldn't talk about most of that in public ... Others seemed to have less dark desires. Or maybe they were just hypocrites when they enumerated the usual things:

• 
  having a good job
  
• 
  starting a familiy
  
• 
  getting rich
  
• 
  becoming famous
  

And so on. You can imagine the rest for yourself. After our brainstorming session, Mr Sander tried hard to get another lame discussion started.What's more important? Material goals or ... let's say ... spiritual ones?

Well, we were in Religion class, weren't we? So the right answer should be very clear, I thought. And indeed, a girl raised her hand and reminded us of the fact that money just doesn't make you happy. I wasn't sure where she had learned that, but she seemed to be very sure of it ... I tried to imagine her poor and starving, in a slum of Calcutta ...

But I had to admit, somehow, the topic had gotten to me. I felt the sudden urge to participate myself, to make my voice heard, my very own concept of the good life ... Finally, I raised my hand, still unsure what it was that I wanted to say.

Mr Sander looked surprised. He probably had forgotten about me already. Or at least, he couldn't remember my name. So he just pointed right at me, like God had once pointed at Adam, at least in a painting.

"Yes?"

"I think money is not the most important ingredient for happiness", I said.

"Go on."

"What really counts is that you act on your desires."

Suddenly, most boys around me were silent. Mr Sander frowned.

"Acting on your desires ... on all of them?"

"Depends. Nobody else should get seriously harmed, of course ... But apart from that. You should just do it, before it's too late. I mean", I added. "We all probably have some things that we would like to do, but ... we ... we worry too much what others will think. What's the harm", I concluded lamely, "as long as nobody gets harmed?"

"That's an interesting position", Mr Sander said. "So, class, what do you think of that?

Silence.

"Well, don't be shy", Mr Sander's encouraged us. Finally, a boy raised his hand. It was Ben.

"I think, he's right", Ben said. "We should really do what we wanna do, most of the time. At least as long as we're young."

"Alright", Mr Sander mumbled. "And do you think that you yourself really act according to this philosophy?"

"My philosophy?" Ben echoed sarcastically. "Yeah, I really try to act like that."

"But what about risky behaviour?" Mr Sander objected. "Maybe sometimes it's wise not to do something even if it appears attrative at the time."

"Maybe", Ben said. "But then you'll just have to live with the consequences."

"Okay." Mr Sander nodded slowly and suddenly smiled as if a great idea had popped up in his mind. I became uneasy when he adressed me again instead of Ben.

"Since it was your idea, can you give us an example of you acting on your desires?" he asked.

"Yes, sure. I had the desire to participate in this discussion and I did it." That sounded lame, so I quickly added: "The way I dress, as well."

"What about that?"

"I like to wear my jeans really low, and I just do it, even if it's not generally accepted."

"Ah, I understand ... I never understood why boys wear their jeans like that. It looks kind of stupid. But I guess fashion really doens't harm anyone. At least not physically." Mr Sander chuckled.

My heart raced. We were actually discussing sagging in class!

"But what about more extreme desires", Mr Sander continued. "What if you suddenly had the urge to ... say ... get naked right here, right now? Would you act on that, too?"

Laughter all around me. I couldn't believe Mr Sander had just said that. He was a religion teacher, not a pervert! I kind of expected him to be a monk.

"Come. Let's see you strip!" some boy shouted.

"I guess I would not do that", I finally said. "But I've never really had that desire."

"But I suppose everyone has some desires that are inappropriate."

Do you? I wanted to ask, but didn't dare.

"Alright", I conceded. "You can't act out everything. But you should do at least some of the things. And that will make you feel better."

"But where do you draw the line?"

"I don't know. Whereever you feel comfortable ..."

"But what about other people and their feelings?"

"I don't know."

"Well, let's leave it at that for today ... Any other opinions? Speak now or be forever silent."

***

After class, I suddenly felt strangely liberated. As if I was free to do anything right now.

And that could only mean one thing – I had to meet other saggers, potential members of the mysterious club.

I rushed across the hall. The first boy in my field of vision who was showing off undies would be my new friend. That was my desire, wasn't it? I just had to seize the moment. Now or never. Philosophy was my excuse.

Finally, I found a boy. He wasn't alone, and that should have discouraged me, but it didn't.

"Hey", I said and stopped abruptly. There were two boys: a blond boy and his taller, brown-haired friend. Both were sagging, but the blond boy was much more daring, his shiny light blue satin boxers clearly on display. I had never seen such sagging in real life before.

But I had to keep focused ... and start talking. Suddenly, I felt inspired: "You know, we're doing this project in religion class about fashion", I said. "And we ... my friends and I ... we have to do a presentation on boys' fashion styles. Uhm ... We're looking for people to use as examples right now. Boys who represent a certain style." I looked at the blond one. "Would you be interessted in helping us?"

"Right now?"

"No, later. In a couple of days."

"Why me?" The boy looked confused.

"I just saw you, and you're such a great example for this special style."

"You think?"

"Yeah. Like ... wearing your jeans low and showing off your underwear. That's what I mean."

Both boys smiled. I had broken the taboo. I had mentioned that you actually could see their boxers.

"That is your style, isn't it?"

"Yes, kind of ... And yours too, it seems?"

"Sure. Mine too."

"And you really want to present that in religion class?" the brown-haired boy asked.

"Why not? Our teacher is cool with that."

"Why don't you just use yourself as an example?"

"We need people to just stand there while we do the talking. And we're supposed to ask people who are not from our class ... So, would you be willing to do it?"

"I don't know", the blond sagger answered. "It's probably very weird to stand in front of the class and get stared at."

"I understand that." I tried to look disappointed. "Can I at leat ask you some quesions?"

"Okay."

"How long is this your style?"

"I've been dressing like that for a year or so."

"And why did you start? What influenced you?"

"I gotta go", the brown-haired boy said. He probably thought that I was too weird or my questions were too boring. I don't know.

"A friend influenced me", the blond sagger said. "He dressed like that and I copied it."

"Ah, okay. And what did you like about the look? Why did you copy it?"

"No idea. It looks daring, I guess. My parents hate it." He smiled. "Basically, it just feels comfortable."

I nodded and decided to push my inbelievable luck. "Some boys wear their jeans low, but they use T-shirts or hoodies to cover their boxer shorts", I said. "I noticed that you don't do that. So, you could say it's part of your style that people can see your boxers?"

The blond boy grinned. "Yes. I like it that way. It's more daring. But you're boxers are visible, too, right now."

"Oh. Are they?"

"Yes, right there."

"How embarrassing! Okay. I confess. I like that, too."

"You know what I'm talking about, then."

"I do ... Do people comment on your underwear, sometimes?"

"No, not really ... sometimes ... why do you ask?"

"I just thought, they might. We will be talking about the reaction to other people's fashion style in our presentation, too ... Disparaging comments, you know."

"Some people don't like it, I guess. But that's not really a problem for me. I have some cool friends."

I nodded. "Maybe you should get to know them, too."

"Me?"

"Yes, if you like. If you're really so into this fashion style."

"I guess I am."

"But they don't like everybody, you know. Maybe they'll talk to you only once."

"I could live with that."

"Okay. Let's meet tommorrow at a quarter past 11. Is that okay?"

"Yes. Where?"

"At the bench, next to the smokers' corner?"

I nodded. "Until tommorrow then." I checked out my sag with my hand and saw that the blond sagger watched me and we both looked at each other like conspirators before we went our separate ways.

Part 9

It all seemed so unreal once again. A cool sagger liked to talk to me and he even wanted me to meet his friends – what should I think of that? Did he somehow trust me, just because we were both showing off underwear? Was it really so easy to get to know other saggers? And if so, why hadn't I done all this years ago?

But mabye it had just been beginner's luck, and everything would turn out much worse than I expected. Maybe the blond boy and his friends would not like me much when they got to know me better. How could they? They sagged in public much longer than me, after all. And then there was always the problem of me being so incurable gay. I couldn't even detect a hint of sexual interest in girls in me. Not even girls who sagged aroused my curiousity. The shapes of their butts were just not right!

The blond boy had been so confident and at ease with his appearance that I felt he had to be straight. All self-confident people were straight, at least, all I had ever met. So, even if the blond boy and his sagger friends liked me, I would only enter the spiral of guilt once again. It was like deceiving Ben, only worse, because more people were involved. Sure, I would love to check out the sags of friends each day. But straight boys didn't sag to have their asses checked out by gays like me! I felt I would somehow violate them just by my looks.

Perhaps my time would be better spent by looking for a boyfriend, I thought, instead of idolizing straight saggers.

***

The next day, however, I couldn't help but feel a little thrill of anticipation. Whom would I meet? What would we do? Would I finally find out something about the saggers' club? Even if there was none yet, maybe the blond boy and me could found one ...

I chose my outfit carefully, as you can imagine. I wore a new pair of boxers, one of the two pairs that I had bought during the shopping tour with Ben. The boxers I wore today, were mostly red and black, and the material felt nice and soft, not as cheap as in the underwear by H&M ... I liked the feeling on my skin and I liked the look of the pattern. In the bathroom, I stared at my own sag for minutes ...

I would not be the only one today, who checked me out carefully. It was such a hot thought. Usually, I almost never caught people staring at my underwear – and certainly not other boys. And certainly not people who appreciated what they saw.

Never had I been more afraid to get a boner in front of my mom than this morning! I just couldn't get all the arousing fantasies out of my mind.

***

In school, time stretched endlessly. Why couldn't we meet right now? Why did I have to wait until 11:15 pm? It was exhausting to be nervous for so long, and I couldn't concentrate very well on the lessons. In a break, Ben came to me. "I liked what you said in class yesterday", he told me.

"Thanks."

"You said it was okay to do what you like as long as nobody got harmed."

"Right."

"So, I intend to act on that."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea."

"Why not? Are you afraid I will go too far?"

"Yeah, I am."

"You're not really communicative today."

"I know."

"What's going on with you?"

"I'm just nervous. But I can't tell you about it."

He grinned. "It's about a girl."

"Kind of."

"Haha. Well ... good luck. I hope she's hot."

"She's even hotter than you." The sounds that formed these words had just somehow left my mouth.

When I realized my mistake, it was too late. ****! I had been so unconcentrated. Now I had failed to censor myself properly. This damn meeting!

Ben looked at me weirdly. "Hotter than me?"

"I mean ... uhm ... from ... from a girl's point of view", I stuttered. And blushed.

Ben smiled vaguely. "Oh, I understand."

"You do?"

"Yes. But I don't think it's possible."

"What?"

"To be hotter than me."

"Right." I grinned uneasily and Ben went away, with light green plaid boxers on display.

***

And then, it was time. I walked over to the bench where the meeting was supposed to take place. No sagger to be seen yet. I waited and tried to strike what I regarded as a typical sagger pose. Most of all, I tried to act if I was completety unaware of my sag.

Some people looked at me, probably because they had never seen me in this part of the schoolyard. It was kind of for older pupils, and I looked really young. After a minute or two, I saw the blond boy and his friends come toward me. There were two friends. Both of them were tall and looked as if they would graduate soon. They weren't as hot as the blond sagger, however, so I felt a little disappointed at first. Reality once again didn't live up to my fantasyland ...

"Hey", the blond boy said, and we greeted each other. I told them my name and tried to memorize theirs. The blond sagger was called Max. His friends' names were Ralph and Tom.

"Let's sit down", I proposed – mainly, because I thought, a little movement would show off our sags better. The others agreed, so we went over to the bench. I had my hands in my pocket, which allowed me to slide down my jeans a little, before I sat sown. Ralph took his seat next to me and I noticed that he didn't sag as low as me. Maybe I had gone too far. I knew that sagging stopped looking good at some point if it was too low, but I couldn't resist the temptation to show off as much of my boxers as possible. Maybe there would be no other meeting like this in my life, ever.

"So", Ralph began. He was the tallest of the three and he wore a striped sweater, dark blue jeans, nothing special. "Max told us about you. You asked him a lot of questions."

"Maybe it was a little weird."

"You seem to be really curious about our ... fashion style."

"Yes, I'm interested in that ... as you can see." I grinned, and the others did, too.

"Are you new at this school?" Ralph continued his interrogation. "I've never seen you before."

"Yes. I'm new. I've been here only since the beginning of the school year."

"What grade are you in?"

"10."

"Oh okay. Max is in 9, we're in 13."

"That's cool. You're not related to Max somehow, are you?"

"Noooo."

"I just thought I'd ask. It's just unusual ..."

"... for us to be friends, I know", Ralph continued my sentence. Others had probably made that observation before me.

"But I think it's really good that people of different ages can be friends, you know."

Everyone was silent and for a moment, I feared that I had said something horribly wrong.

"Max just came to me one day", Tom told me. "And he somehow managed to talk to me about sagging. No one had ever done that. It was just something that boys did, but never talked talked about ... And I was already friends with Ralph, so ..."

I nodded and my admiration for Max grew even more, if that was possible.

"But you seem to have a lot of courage, too", Ralph added.

"Not really", I said. "I just like this ... style so much that I really want to meet other people who feel the same."

"We can understand that."

"Cool."

"They call it sagging in America. This style ..."

"Yeah, I know."

"Good. It helps if you have a word for the thing. We should invent one in German, too. But nobody has any good ideas ... Sagging has just two syllables. That's practical."

We all thought about it for some seconds.

"Do you sag that low all the time?" Tom finally asked. "It looks really low right now, as far as I can see."

The question made my heart beat faster. "It depends on my mood, really", I said. "I really like to show off my boxers. It's just not as much fun without it." I smiled. "But I think various ways of sagging have advantages and disadvantages."

Ralph nodded.

"But there's another thing", I continued. "I would like to ask you something a little ... uhm ... crazy, before the break is over."

"Okay."

"I once saw a group of saggers in the schoolyard. I don't think you were among them, but it made me wonder if there's maybe some club, some kind of meeting-place for all the saggers in this school ... At least, it would be cool if somehting like that existed."

Ralph didn't respond for some seconds. "There actually is a club", he finally said. "Or a clique. Or whatever you want to call it. But we're not a part of that."

"Why not?"

"Oh, well. They don't let everyone in ... And I don't really think I would like to be a member of that ... club" (he pronounced it sarcastically) "right now. I'm just too old for that, I guess. Those guys are mostly 15 or 16."

"Okay", I said, even though I was confused.

"We kind of formed our own club some months ago", Tom continued. "You can tell him about that."

"Yes, tell me."

"Alright. We started a website where we give advice about sagging. There are photos of us on there, so if guys from the school recognize us, they can talk to us ... But it doesn't really seem to work."

"Too bad. I think it's a great idea. The internet should be a place where all the saggers from this school – or maybe even from this town – can connect. The only sagging-related sites I could find are in English. I never understood why. There are so many boys here who sag."

"As I said", Tom replied. "Nobody seems to talk about it."

Finally, the break was over. "What is the adress of your site?" I asked quickly.

Ralph told me and I tried to memorize it. "Do you have internet access at home?" he asked.

"Yes, but it's slow."

"Maybe we can contact each other by e-mail."

"Sure."

We stood up and I yanked up my jeans a little and straightened out my boxers, only too aware of being watched by the other three.

But I wasn't embarrassed. I felt comfortable around them. Mostly, Ralph and Tom, that is. I always got along well with older people. Around Max, I was very nervous, of course, because I feared that I would fall in love with him. He was just so gorgeous.

But when I went back to my classroom, I was even more intrigued by the bad reputation of the saggers' club. Maybe Max would be my key to find out more about that. I needed to know all the rumors, and I needed to know them soon.

Part 10

"What about your girlfriend?" Ben asked

For a moment, I was confused. Then it all came back. Ben's curiosity. My lie. The girl I had invented.

"Oh, right ... I talked to her", I said and tried to sound as disinterested as possible.

"And ...?"

"I don't know. She's doesn't really ... like me."

"Too bad."

"I know."

"You should show her to me. Maybe she'll like me better. I'm way hotter than you, after all."

I made a skeptical face.

"Come on, you can't deny that!" Ben insisted.

"Okay, you're hotter than me. But I bet she's one of the girls who doesn't like saggers."

"Maybe I'll stop sagging then."

"Oh, will you?"

"If she's really hot ... Might be worth it."

"I'll never stop sagging. I want to be loved for what I really am."

"How romantic ... No wonder you're still a virgin."

"Who said I'm a virgin?"

"So you aren't?"

"I don't kiss and tell."

Ben laughed. "I'd really like to have your imagination ... I hope the hot girl is real, at least."

"She is real."

"What grade is she in?"

"9th grade."

"Great. I love younger girls."

"You're disgusting."

"And you're boring ... Virgin!"

I knew I couldn't take this much longer.

"Alright, I'll show you the girl", I finally conceded. "Let's go for a walk tomorrow, in the first big break."

"Okay."

***

My heart was pounding. Maybe it was about time to tell Ben the truth. Maybe I was crazy.

In any case: Didn't my life change far too fast at the moment? I wondered whether adolescence was like that for everyone: long periods of boredom and confusion and then a whirlwind of super-important decisions. It scared and excited me. I just hoped that I wouldn't get crushed between the wheels of the machinery that I had set in motion ...

***

Later, when I was home, I checked out Ralph and Tom's website. It looked home-made, but I liked it anyway. There were several pictures, and it was much more comfortable to look at saggers that way. They didn't move and stare back and you could even zoom in on their boxers, although that felt a little weird at first. I had other sagging pics in my computer, but they showed mostly saggers from the U.S. It was much hotter, though, if the saggers looked like my neighbours, if they were people I could see each day at school.

Finally, my horniness had subsided enough and I started reading the texts. There was so much I had always wanted to know. I wanted to have access to the minds of other saggers and find out about their thoughts and feelings and worries. Were they like mine? Or was my obsession a special kind of crazy? I somehow got that impression.

Ralph or Tom or whoever had written the texts on the site treated sagging as a fashion style, and not as a fetish (a word that still scared me).

That probably made sense if they were straight boys ... What had I expected?

Another disappointment was their advice how stupid it looke to sag too low.

Just wear a shirt that covers your boxers completely as long as you don't move.

It's okay to wear grey, black or white underwear. Bart Simpson boxers make you look ridiculous if you're older than 12 – and maybe even then.

I wore lots of white plaid boxers myself. Such colours probably made sagging more aggreable to others. That seemed to be the point. All in all, the website tried to turn sagging into something respectable – which was probably a good idea. Lots of males could become saggers that way, even if they were shy or careful or didn't care about rebellion. If it reached the mainstream, the trend would never fade.

But I also felt an inner resistance against all that. There were already so many boring things in life. Why turn saginng into another one? Yes, I wanted to grab people's attention with my sagging – yes I was a kind of exhibitionist. I wanted to feel the thrill of sagging low – even if it looked a little stupid.

And I suspected I wasn't the only one who thougt so. There were some like-minded boys in my school. They had to be the ones who had formed the saggers' club. I just hoped that I could somehow have the best of both worlds. I liked Ralph and Tom, too, and admired what they had done. In my naive fantasy, sagging could be provocative and acceptable to many males at the same time. People should be able to sag the way they liked, I thought. But if push comes to shove I'll have to side with the saggers' club.

In the end, I wrote an e-mail to Ralph and congratulated him on the site, and fantasized a little about meeting Max again. Then I forced my thoughts off sagging for the rest of the day.

***

When I met Ben on the next morning, I couldn't look him in the eye. For some reason, he was wearing a black cap that made him look even hotter than normal. In fact, he looked just like the boy I had always wanted to be. A normal, self-confident teenage skaterboy ... I was so envious. I just couldn't take it. But Ben came over to me, so I had to talk to him.

"What do you think?" he asked. "Does the cap suit me?"

"Come on. You know it does ..."

"Right. Do you think I'm vain?"

"No. Not at all. Do you?"

"Yesterday, I looked at me in the mirror for half an hour."

"Oh really. I do that all the time. It's much more interesting than watching TV."

He smiled. "See. That's what I like about you. You're so funny sometimes ..."

"Thanks."

"I just hope your taste in girls is just as good as your sense of humour."

I nodded uneasily.

"You haven't forgotten your promise, have you?"

"No."

"Good. See you later, then."

***

I was so preoccupied with my thoughts about Ben that I sagged subconsciously for the first time. That kind of made me proud, but the feeling didn't last. Just a minute later, I was fully terrified again.

Finally, the bell rang and I met up with Ben.

"So, let's go", he said. "I've been looking forward to this all morning."

"Me too."

"That doesn't sound very convincing."

"No?"

We were silent for a while.

"I like how you're sagging today", Ben finally said.

"Thanks." I stopped.

"Why did you stop?"

"I just can't do this."

Ben laugehd. "You know ... it was just a joke, anyway ..."

"Okay."

"What? Did you think I was serious?"

"No."

"It's a pity though. I bet every girl would love me today, cap and all."

"I don't think you need girls. You might just fall in love with yourself."

"Yeah. I've thought about that, too. But wouldn't it make me gay, to love a boy like me?"

"Maybe."

"On the other hand, the sex would be great. I know that for a fact!"

We both smiled and I imagined Ben having sex with himself. A big mistake, because my **** got hard almost instantly. I just couldn't do anything about it. Unfortunately, it was very noticeable ...

And Ben noticed it quickly.

"Uhm ... Why do you have a boner?"

Some of the people around us heard the question and stared at me.

I was mortified and went red with shame.

"That's not a boner", I stuttered.

"Yes, it is."

Finally, I reached into my jeans and adjusted my p***s so that the bulge was no longer visible.

Ben was laughing hysterically now and lots of younger boys were staring at both of us.

"Stop it!" I said. "It's not funny."

Nothing more humiliating had ever happened to me. This was actually worse than just coming out to Ben! I suffered intensely for another minute or so, then thing went finally pretty much back to normal. (My ****, too, was completely soft again.)

I wanted to leave the place of shame and Ben walked next to me, making fun of me all the time until I interrupted him.

"I'm gay", I said. After all, there was nothing more to lose. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier."

"You're gay?"

"Yes."

"So you're getting a boner talking to me?"

"No ... I mean ... Maybe."

"That's disgusting."

"I know."

I suddenly felt intense pain in my stomach.

But then I saw the smile on Ben's face.

"As a self-respecting homophobe I have to hate you now", he said.

"Of course."

"But I have to tell you: I do'n't know anybody else who makes me laugh so hard."

"Hard's the right word."

We both laughed now and I embraced Ben.

Not for real, just in my imagination, but still, it was one of those moments that I'll nerver forget.

Part 11

Life's not a dream, and if you thought that Ben would simply continue to be my best friend, well, then you are mistaken. We felt weird in each other's presence after my coming-out, so we spent a lot less time together.

I wondered whether Ben had already told anyone that I was gay. After all, Ben didn't strike me as the type who kept secrets for a long time. Probably,everybody would know soon. What then? I would have to endure mockery by people who hated my style and people who hated my sexuality and people who envied my good grades and people who just hated my guts. Great!

The lack of communication between Ben and me had at least one advantage: It was easy for me now to spend time on my own. That way, I could look for other saggers undisturbed. I found quite a few of them. Some of the sags looked amazing ... Everything was so well-matched – or ill-matched, in some cases, but always in an interesting way. I was quite sure that som of those boys belonged to the mysterious saggers' club; sometimes I even saw three or four of them standing together. But I didn't dare approach them. Not until I knew more.

I looked for Max, too. The first time I found him, there were too many people around him, but the second time, I was more lucky. In fact, I was amazingly lucky. He was just tying his shoelaces when I passed him in the schoolyard. Did his shoes really need that much attention? Probably not. So Max was not above using tricks like that.

Oh, and if you wondered, his boxers looked very cute. They were made of cotton, as far as I could tell, and had little ice bears on them.

"Hey."

"Hey." He raised his head and smiled – a smile I could translate easily. He knew that I had checked out his sag.

"Nice polar bears."

"Thanks." He probably thought that I wanted to make fun of him. "I like these boxers", Max added. "Even if they look childish."

"Maybe you want to remind people of the fact that polar bears are threatened with extinction because of the climate change. That's not childish."

"I've never thought of it that way ..." He grinned. "But I guess that's another good reason for sagging. I should get more boxers with endangered species on them."

"Definitely."

"Ralph and Thomas liked you, by the way", Max finally said.

"Really?"

"Why shouldn't they? You're nice. And there's no doubt you're really into sagging. Anyway, we should all meet again soon."

"Let's exchange cell phone numbers", I suggested.

I fished my cell phone from my pocket and we dictated our numbers to each other.

***

In the next few days, I often thought about calling Max, but I didn't want to appeared too eager. I had already scared off some potential friends didn't want to repeat my mistake. Maybe it was the best if Max and I met by accident again ... even I had to make that accident happen.

***

A week passed. Every day, I went to school and waited for something to happen, but nothing changed, except that I caught a cold.

I didn't feel very attractive with my running nose, but being ill and feeling miserable, I just couldn't take waiting any longer. So I finally phoned Max. It took him some time to recognize me; my voice sounded different.

"I don't know if you're busy", I said eventually, "but I thought maybe we could meet after school one day."

"Uhm ... okay." He sounded surprised.

"I'd just like to talk about some things."

"Yeah, no problem."

"What day is best for you?"

"Don't know ... I could come over right now if that's okay."

"Yeah, sure." I hadn't expected that at all.

"Where do you live?" Max asked. I told him the name of the tram station near our house.

"That's not too far. I can be there in half an hour."

After the call, I started to tidy up my room immediately. I hid everything that looked embarrassing t or that could be interpreted as gay. I even thought about having a shower, but decided against it in the end. A change of clothes was inevitable, however.

When the bell finally rang. I rushed to the door, but my mom got their first. She looked at me and her expression was very weird. Probably because I wore different clothes and hadn't told her about Max's visit. She opened the door. Max was sagging – the first thing I noticed – and maybe even a little lower than at school. Light blue boxers were sticking out below his hoodie and his studded belt.

"Come in."

I introduced my new friend to my mom and they shook hands.

"No shoes in the house", I explained and felt stupid while saying it, but I had just internalized my mother's rules so well. Speaking of my mother, I could tell from her face that she had noticed Max's sagging – and probably my own, too. But she didn't say anything about it. That would come later, I expected.

I asked Max to follow me and we went to my room.

"This looks really neat", my friend observed.

"I know. Usually, it's more messy. Take a seat."

Max nodded, but didn't sit down immediately. Instead, he pulled his jeans down a little. "I hope you don't mind", he said, "but it's uncomfortable to sit on a studded belt. So, I prefer to sit on my boxers. I do that all the time at home."

"I don't mind." (Only my nervousness saved me from another boner catastrophy.)

"It's nice that you came over so quickly", I said.

"I didn't have much to do and I like to be not at home, sometimes. So ... what did you want to talk about?" Max asked.

"Yeah ... right. I don't know if it's weird. But I thought maybe you know something about the saggers' club. I know, they are probably a bit like your ... enemies ... or whatever you want to call it ... but I'm just really curious. I've thought about the club most of the time I spent at this new school."

"Really?"

"I know it sounds crazy."

"Not crazy. I was curious about the club, too, a while ago ... But how did you find out that it exists?"

"Oh, I just guessed. I saw a group of amazing saggers on the schoolyard on one of the first school days.I assumed, so many saggers of different ages in one place – that could be no accident. The idea made a lot of sense to me ... for saggers to stick together, to form some kind of club or network or conspiracy or whatever."

"But you could have been wrong."

"I know. I was lucky. I've always been lucky the past couple of weeks."

Except that Ben and I ignored each other now and lots of people had seen me with a boner. "So it would be nice if you could tell me a bit about the club", I concluded. "I'm sure you know something."

Max looked skeptical. "Do you want to join the club?" he asked.

"I don't know. They would probably not accept me, anyway. Have you ever tried to join the club?"

"No. I don't really like the whole ... club idea."

"Why not?"

"I just don't like it. You know ... there are always rules in clubs. I just want to sag the way I like it."

"I get it."

"And the saggers' club is actually much worse than that. Some of the club members are probably criminals. And some are bullys, I know that for a fact. They're pretty condescending toward other saggers, too, and I can't accept that. I think Ralph and Thomas are great, even if they sag in a different way."

"Of course ..." I felt a little hurt by all that criticism, even though it wasn't my club. I wasn't even a member. "You know ... there might be lots of things wrong with the actual club", I replied, "but I still like the idea. I mean, just imagine it, a group of seven, eight saggers. That really gets people's attention, doesn't it? And no single person will tell you to pull up your trousers then. If we stick together, we will be the normal ones, and they the outsiders."

"Maybe." Max grinned. "But I actually like to get comments, even negative ones. Being an outsider is not so bad, either."

"True." I mulled over that. "I like to get comments, too", I finally admitted to break the awkward silence.

"And do you get many?"

"No, not really. Just from some people in my class. They complain from time to time."

"And your parents?" Max asked.

"Well ... I don't really sag that much at home ... yet."

"Okay."

"I basically started today."

"My parents don't care anymore."

"I thought so."

"If I ever want to provocate, I will just stop sagging."

"I bet many people would be annoyed then."

We laughed and goofed around for a while. It was great. But then I felt I had to mention the saggers' club again. I still hadn't abandonded all my hopes.

"Can't you just tell me a little more about it?" I asked.

"Honestly, I don't know that much the club."

"Doesn't matter."

"You're really obsessed."

"I am."

"Okay. But promise me not to pass on what I tell you."

"I promise."

"The club was apparently formed about three years ago, by someone who is no longer at our school. I became aware of the club just like you, because they met on the schoolyard sometimes and I saw them there ... One day, I approached one of the members and asked him some questions, but he denied that the club actually existed. Anyway, a while later, I once saw some club members at McDonald's. They had a video camera and were filming each other, so I guess they made some kind of sagger video. I followed them for a while after they had left the restaurant, but they noticed me quickly and the oldest of them told me to F**** off ... Then, some months later, I met another sagger at a youth centre in our district and it turned out that he went to our school. And not only that, he was a member of the saggers' club, too. He was nicer than the others and told me some things. That there was some kind of initiation, though he wouldn't go into details, and how they dared each and that some of the members liked to do crazy, even criminal things: streaking, stealing, breaking and entering, stuff like that. One of the club members had supposedly stolen a car. I don't know if it that's true or not ... Anyway, I definitely didn't want to join the club any more. I already knew Ralph and Thomas, so I had great sagger friends ..."

I didn't know what to say.

"Are you disappointed now?" Max asked.

"I don't know ... A little."

Max looked uneasy. "Maybe you should try to join the club yourself, just to form your own impression. If you succeed, you can be our spy." He smiled.

"That sounds interesting."

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. I realized that I had completely lost track of time.

"Yes?"

My dad opened the door. Max was sagging crazily low, and I saw that my dad noticed it. But he didn't comment on it, just like my mother. I introduced my new friend to my other parent.

"Uhm ... we're about to eat now", my dad finally announced. "Do you want to join us for dinner, Max? I bet you're both hungry."

My sagger friend hesitated. "I'd really like to have dinner", he finally said. "If that's okay." He looked at me.

"Yes, sure", I said. "No problem."

"Okay. See you two in the kitchen then."

My father left.

"I' m sorry", Max mumbled. " Maybe I shoudn't have said ..."

"No, no, it's okay."

"Your parents seem nice ... compared to mine."

"Other people's parents are always cooler than you're own."

***

Finally, Max and I went to the dinner table, both of us sagging. (I had pulled up my jeans a little, however.) We sat down and everything went well at first. Max was nice and polite and obviously not dumb. But my mother managed to introduce the topic of fashion somehow.

"Marie" (a friend of my mom's) "told me how she was clothes shopping for her youngest son recently. It's become really difficult. Her boys are so particular. Most boys are nowadays, from what I hear."

"That's true", Max confirmed.

"And even the young boys want to wear those baggy jeans now, And they like to wear them low on the hips, just like the older ones. You find that cool, don't you?"

I cringed. "Yes", Max said. "It's kind of cool."

Now we were actually discussing sagging with my parents. My dark secret was in the open. It felt almost like another coming-out (come out to my parents was another thing that I needed to do some day).

"Sometimes I'm afraid one of those boys will completely lose his trousers", my mom said.

"I don't think that ever happens. It has never happened to me", Max replied. "If I'd have to run to catch a bus, I'll just take the next one." He smiled.

"Hasn't the style something to do with those rappers?" my dad asked me.

"Uhm ... not really", I said. "I don't think they invented it. But I'm not sure."

"Well, I hope, this trend doesn't last too long", my dad said. "I don't think it's very fashionable if people can see your underwear. I mean it's called underwear, because it's supposed to be under your clothes, isn't it?"

I cringed again. Why couldn't I just make this discussion stop?

"It's for young people ...", I said. "Rebellious teens."

"I think it's okay to follow fashion", my Mom said. "Boys just shouldn't wear their jeans too low; that just looks stupd; and I think they should cover their boxer shorts, at least in public."

Conversation didn't flow as smoothly now as it had before, but fortunately, dinner was over soon. I felt relieved. And my suffering had not been in vain. My mom actually seemed to be okay with sagging, at least in part. I probably could even talk to her about it now. For that new freedom, I had to thank Max. What I would be able to do in return?

Not to fall in love with him was certainly a start.

Part 1

There was this one boy in my class who sagged every day and didn't seem to care about it. He was very tall, and because of his height, Marc (that was his name) had a good excuse to wear shirts that were too short. As a result his boxers were exposed not only in the back, but in the front too. It seemed more daring to me than coming to school shirtless. It had given me a jolt the first time I had seen it, one and a half years earlier (I changed schools a lot.)

Marc wore boxers, boxer-briefs were not cool at all at our school and at that time. His boxers were unexceptional, white plaid ones from H&M. Many of you will find this boring, but I kind of liked it (like anything else Marc did). Sagging often seemed like a cry for attention, but white boxers were a contrast to that, an understatement. Marc did'nt wear his jeans extremely low either. He did'nt aspire to the macho pride of wearing them lower then everyone else.

Marc's belt weren't flashy either. He used only two, as fas as I knew. Clearly, he did'nt spend that much money on clothes. Maybe he considered his minimalistic style just percect and felt no need for variation. I was happy with Marc staying the same, too. I wanted to see him in certain outfits again ... hundreds of times, if possible, so that I could study every nuance of his looks and movements and memorize it.

The greatest moments were when Marc sat down or bowed down in front of me. He had to know that I stared at his boxers. He wanted us – me – to watch them, watch his ass. That was the fun of sagging; even for Marc, who always pretented not to care.

Equally great, but rare, was the sight of Marc writing on the blackboard. It could only happen in math. He was standing there, and everyone felt free to stared at him, stare at his boxers, undetected. On some occassions Marc would reach up and expose more of his underwear. The teacher pretended not to notice (he was young and of the laisser-faire type). Some girls made disgusted faces – or smiled. But no one said anything. So you could get away with sagging like that. That was what I learned in this lessons - instead of math.

Marc did'nt have a girl friend as far as I knew but no one suspected him of being gay. Almost all of us boys were geeky middle-class kids and insecure about sexuality, so we did'nt really talk about who was gay and who wasn't. I liked boys, of course, but still had some hope at the time that it would go away. After all, I was more interested in sagging than in sex. I did'nt want something in my ass. That really had to hurt!

I sometimes had the urge to touch Marc or strip him of his shirt or something like that but I could suppress that. I just avoided talking to him or interacting with him in any way. It was hard enough to watch other boys secretly, but I couldn't stopd doing that. I needed these mental pictures of Marc to geht through my day: Tall, blond and slender, he was walking smoothly down the hall with just the right amount of his boxers showing ... Not too much. Just perfect.

Okay., I tend to exaggerate. It wasn't perfect and Marc was no teen god, not even the most popular kid in my class. He wasn't funny and he did'nt get good grades, partly becauce you were expected to talk a lot in class and Marc did'nt talk much to anyone. I liked that because it gave me the feeling that I didn't have to change my personality to become like him, to become him. I just had to dress differently and that was'nt so hard, at least for others. Teenagers were supposed to try out crazy fashion styles. However, I coulndn't overcome my fear of being laughed at. I was no skaterboy and would never be one. But Marc was'nt either and he could get away with sagging. But I thought that it would be awkward too, if I just copied his style. Everyone would notice that.

Si I continued sagging in secret. The style didn't come natural to me. I was small and my shirt covered my boxers if I did'nt raise my arms or tied my shoelaces. I wanted my boxers on display the whole time. But in order to achieve that I had to wear my jeans below my ass and to wear them that low felt really uncomfortable – clownish, not stylish (You might not agree, but that was my impression at the time).

Apart from my body there was also the problem of grown-ups, parents especially. I could'nt imagine to sag in front of my teachers. I was a nice kid, wasn't I? Not a budding exhibitionist. I knew I could never sag in front of my parents. I could'nt explain to my mom why my clothes had to be a certain way to sag well. And even if I sagged only in school, my mom would somehow find out about my double life. And what then? Were there any legitimate, reasonable reasons to be an underwear show-off? I barely even confessed to myself that all the true reasons were sexual. Sagging was a guilty pleasure. Something that I would never talk about in public, ever. Or so I thought.

Marc was unashamed about sagging at school, and I figured he wouldn't pull up his pants at home either. Maybe he had very liberal parents or he had convinced them too – like the rest of us – that sagging was just an integral part of him.

But even he had been a rookie someday. Why had he turned himself into a sagger? And if sagging was sexual for him, too, how did he manage to appear so calm? Exposing my boxers gave me a boner and made me nervous. I could think only about my sag (and my ****) in those situations, even if I was sagging in my own room and knew that nobody was watching.

Maybe the road to sagging expertise was like learning an instrument: you had to start at an early age to master the art completely. I imagined Marc habing a sagging teacher, or a role model at least, an older brother maybe. Pull down your pants and become a man, like me. Or something like that.

Of course, in my fantasy world, Marc had a full-size mirror in his room now where he practiced sagging and watched himself every morning trying to see himself as we would see him later.

Then he would leave the house for another day on display.

Sometimes I fantasized about Marc as my sagging mentor. We would go shopping together and try out new clothes at Marc's home where we were alone. We did'nt talk much, because Marc did'nt like that. But it was fun nonetheless. Later, we would play video games and I would let my jeans slide down and sit on my boxers which felt so great. Then I would get up, with an extreme sag and a smirk on my face. I got a boner. Marc did'nt care. Realism was'nt always my strong suit.

Another one of my fantasies was the the school where every boy was forced by peer pressure to show off his underwear. (Maybe girls, too, but I didn't think care about that.) Would sagging lose its appeal if everyone did it? I was'nt sure. But at least it would take some time. Until then I imagined it to be paradise. A game of football (soccer) with lots of teenage saggers. Jeans sliding down continually. Girls watching and giggling and commenting to each other about the boys' underwear.

And fighting saggers, too, giving each other wedgies from time to time ... Or smoking saggers. You name it. It's there.

***

All that fantasizing was bad for me, of course. It would be pathetic to spend the rest of my life like that. It was time to do deal with the real world. The more saggers there were, the better. The style had to survive if I wanted to have something to watch. So I finally convinced myself to start sagging in school.

But it was too late to impress Marc because I had to change schools again. We were moving to another city. My dad had found a new job. One Friday I saw Marc for the last time and I still remeber the boxers he was wearing that day ...

Part 2

Changing schools had lots of disadvantages, but there was an upside, too. Fate had given me a chance to reinvent myself. I just had to show up on the first day sagging and act as if I always dressed like that.

But I still had doubts. Should I really pretend to be someone I wasn't? "Just be yourself." That was the usual advice. The other boys at my new school would definitely find out that I was a poser and laugh and make jokes behind my back.

But on the other hand I knew I would go crazy if I didn't start sagging in public soon. I just had to try it. Maybe I would gradually lose interest in it then and it would cease to be such an obesession.

I went exploring in my new town right after we had moved there. The town centre wasn't big, but there was at least a local skate shop. I went in there ... looking for new clothes and hot skaterboys. I bought a new, slightly oversized pair of jeans, and a new belt with a big buckle.

***

On the first day of school I woke up much earlier than I had to. Being the new kid was scary enough, but today would be even harder. Half-asleep I already thought about the right kind of boxers to wear. As if THAT was important! As if my social success really depended on THAT! But at least it was fun to think about it. What pair should I wear? Nothing childish, but nothing plain white and boring either. I wanted to make a statement. So in the end, I decided on my dark red boxers. The thought of showing them off gave me morning wood for the second time ...

Later, I was eating breakfast with my mom (You should have guessed by now that I was an only child.). She said: „You look ill“. I said: „No, I'm okay.“ Then we stopped talking and listened to the radio and I tried to calm down and think of boring things, like ... dust.

Dust, dust, dust, I thought and took my backpack and left the house.

I had to walk five minutes to the tram stop. After two minutes, I stopped and hid behind a corner. It was ridiculous.

I looked around to see if someone ws watching. Then I opened my belt and pulled my jeans lower. And still lower. And a little up again. In the end, they were half-way down my ass. That felt right. Now I had to straighten out my red boxers again. When reached with my hands in my jeans I saw a man looking at me from the other side of the street ... I pretended not to notice him.

There was no mirror so I had to feel the sag with my hands. Was it okay like that? Don't know. Probably. I tightened my belt. I had to go.

When I came near the tram stop, the tram was already arriving, so I jogged the last metres. Running and sagging, that was nice! My jeans slid a little lower, but not much. (I checked with my hands.) You still could'nt see much of my boxers, just the belt.

There was no free place to sit in the tram. Some adults were standing in the aisle. Some younger kids, too. I decided they should be my first audience so I reached for one of the handles on the ceiling. Now my boxers were definitely exposed. I caught one of the younger boys looking at me. What did he think of me? Did I look cool in his eyes? I couldn't tell. And I knew I had to stop caring about that. Marc (see part one of this story) was still my role model.

The tram stopped in front of the school and I followed the crowd. The others seemed to feel at home. Only I didn't know exactly where to go. But at least there were lots of people around me. After a hundred metres, I stopped and bowed down to tie my shoelaces. The cheap old sagger trick! Marc would've never done that. He was above such shenanigans. But ... to hell with pride. My boxers were on display and I was drunk on excitement.

All these people had seen me and seen me sagging and I had to live up to that image now.

Finally, I found the room number I needed to know and then the classroom. I went inside and said „Hi“ to everybode and nobody in particular. Only half of the pupils (= students) were already there. They ignored me. I chose a place near the door and sat down. The desks were placed next to each other, in the shape of the letter u. I sat with my back to the door and I knew that my boxers were visible again.

Not for the other people in the room, but for everyone who came in through the door.

„Who's that?“

Oh, the new boy.

And he's wearing red boxers ...

First impressions are important, aren't they?

I only had one desk neighbour, on my left side, and I hoped for someone like me to sit down there, someone I could be friends with. Maybe even another sagger, which would be distracting, but really cool.

My hopes were shattered, however. The seat beside me stayed free until the last one of my classmates arrived. It was a girl with acne.

I introduced myself and asked for her name. „Marie“, she said, bored.

Maybe she didn't want to talk to me because I was a boy. Or maybe she had seen my sag and did'nt like it. Many girls didn't like saggers, for mysterious reasons. Or maybe they DID like us, secretly, but did'nt want to admit it. I wasn't sure.

Finally, a teacher came. When he introduced me to the class, I had to stand up and make a friendly face while everyone was staring at me. That was usually the most awkward moment on a first day. But I began to like attention and the situation did'nt feel so bad this time.

After two periods came the first big break, fifteen minutes long. Everyone would meet his or her friends – except me, of course. I wandered around for a while and pretended I had to go somewhere.

Suddenly, I heard someone talking to me from behind. I turned around. It was a teacher.

„What are you doing here?“ he asked.

„Nothing, sir. I'm new in this school.“

„Ah ... Well. Be careful.“

„Why?“

The teacher's gaze wandered down.

„Your jeans look as if they could fall to the ground any moment now. And you don't want that to happen on your first day, do you?“

I smiled and said nothing and did'nt pull my trousers up.

The teacher smiled too, sarcastically.

„Come on. Pull them up, will you?“

This time, I obeyed reluctantly.

My sag was ruined, but I was happy. This was just the kind of conversation I had often fantasized about.

I already started to feel like a real sagger. And the day wasn't over yet ... In fact, it would become really weird soon.

Part 3

No teacher in sight. I pulled down my jeans again.

„Hey!“

Someone had apparently caught me in the act.

„You're in my class, right?“ the other boy said.

I wasn't sure. So many new faces ... And I spent so much time worrying about my own appearance today that I didn't have enough time to observe others.

„I'm the new boy“, I said. That was right in any case.

„Hi. I'm Ben.“

I told him my name.

„So ... do you skate?“ Ben asked.

„Not really, no.“

My heart sank. Now Ben would know that I was a poser. I was sagging without the right hobbies to support it. Had I not always liked rock music better than rap music? And with my lack of criminal skills, I would never pass for a gangster. I was just a shy teenager reaching for the forbidden fruits of coolness. I felt the urge to pull up my pants right now.

„I skate only in my dreams“, I added.

„I do that, sometimes. I can do amazing stuff in dreams, actually. But I skate for real, too.“

„That's cool.“

„I know.“ Ben smiled. „But I've just started, you know, so I'm really bad at it. That's why I'm looking for more experienced skaters who can show me tricks ...I thought if you wear your pants that low ...“

„I just think it's more comfortable to wear them that way“, I lied.

Actually, it wasn't really comfortable. Comfort meant that you didn't have to think about it all the time, that you could just enjoy it, and my sagging experience was still far away from that.

„It definitely looks cool“, Ben said. I saw that his jeans were hanging low as well, but his boxers were covered by a long shirt.

„Yes, definitely.“ I tried hard to sound disinterested.

Finally, the bell rang and I followed Ben to our classroom.

Maybe my reputation would improve if other kids saw us arriving together. Ben seemed to be the kind of boy that everyone liked.

While we were walking I thought about sagging (what else?) and its consequences. I realized I could do things now that the old one had only dreamed of. Ben had been the one to seek ME out, after all – not vice versa. And no skater (not even a bad one) had been interested in me before.

***

I sat down next to Acne Girl again and waited for the lesson to begin. While waiting, I couldn't resist the urge to touch my belt and my boxers. How much of them was on display? Enough? Or too much? The eternal question!

I hoped that Acne Girl didn't realize what I was doing. (And yes, my nickname for her was totally unfair.) I just had to check out my sag sometimes. I had watched many saggers do the same and I had was always liked it because it showed that they were sagging on purpose and knew very well what they were doing.

My boxers were covered almost completely, my left hand found out, and I was disappointed. But nobody would watch me now, anyway. Breaks were the times when things got interesting. Too bad there would'nt be another one on this first day.

At the end of the last lesson I stood up and then bowed down next do Acne Girl to grab my backpack. I hoped that she would someday tell me to pull up my jeans, but she kept silent this time.

I waited for Ben and some of the other boys who seemed like a walking example of „boys being boys“ at the moment. I did'nt feel I could be part of that, but Ben looked at me as if he wanted to include me and so I walked with them to the tram.

I swa that Ben's shirt had slidden up behind his backpack. He didn't pull it down. On purpose? I wasn't sure. He seemed to be straight, but he seemed to like other saggers, too. Maybe my example had encouraged Ben to expose his boxers ... A possibility that made me proud.

Look at us, sagging together now! Just as I had fantasized about me Marc.

And Ben was even nicer than Marc had been, and almost as cute. But I forced myself not to think about him in a sexual way. I didn't want to spoil our friendship.

Finally, we parted ways, because the other boys had to change trams in the town centre and I stayed on the same one.

***

I went home and pulled my jeans up on the way to our house. I didn't pull them up all the way, however because I figured that sagging was acceptable to my mom as long as the boxers were covered.

When I ate lunch with her, I told her I needed to buy some things for school. My mother probably guessed correctly that I was bored at home. And there wasn't any homework to be done on the first day, so she didn't ask any questions.

I went back to the town centre in the early afternoon. My jeans kept sliding down this time, becauce I hadn't pulled my belt as tight as in the morning.

I longed for the thrill of almost losing my jeans. On two or three occassions in the past, I had followed other saggers who had pulled their trousers up every 30 seconds or so. That was ridiculous, of course. People liked to use such examples to make fun of sagging. They had a point. But I found it hot anyway. I could watch their jeans sliding lower in front of me. How long would they wait to pull them up? If only they waited a litlle too long ... Or if they had to run ... to catch a bus. Or if they stumbled ... for one reason or another their jeans could drop to their knees or even to the ground.

Maybe someone would watch me today and think that thoughts about my sag. I wandered around the town centre and tried to give everyone a good show. I looked at the reflection of myself in the windows. I enjoyed the rush of adrenaline. I went in a store and looked at myself in mirrors, more and more shamelessly ...

But the image of Marc kept popping up in my head and it urged me to exercise some self-control. The thrill of all this felt nice enough, but sagging could be more than this for me. I wanted to become a real sagger, an every-day sagger, not an adrenaline junkie. So I finally pulled my belt tight again and bought some notebooks. Then I went home.

On the tram, I saw another sagger, a couple of years older than me, and I caught him looking at me, but we ignored each other after that.

After dinner, I went in my room and locked it from inside and jerked off in my bed to finally stop all my thoughts about sagging and saggers. Enough for one day! There were other things in life, too. Suddenly, I felt guilty and I watched TV to distract me.

***

When I woke up on the next morning I wasn't sure what to do. Should I stop sagging again? At least for some days ... I knew now how it felt. I could relive that experience whenever I wanted to. Maybe that was enough. Or wasn't it? I couldn't make up my mind.

Part 4

I awoke from a bad dream and didn't feel like sagging at all the next morning, so I chose boxers that were much less conspicuous than the pair of red ones I had worn the day before. I even took my least favourite pair of jeans from the cupboard and seriously considered to put them on, just to punish me for my narcissism and exhibitionism ... and all the other ism-sins I had comitted in addition to that. I knew that these jeans did'nt look good if you wore them too low. They were sort of like a chastity belt for saggers.

But in the end, I just didn't have the heart to be mean to myself. So I put on my new trousers again, which left the possibility open for me to change my mind about sagging in school.

When I left the house, only the waistband of my boxers sticked out and my belt was tight. It felt safe. I could run as fast as I wanted, as well as bounce and do karate. My jeans would stay in place.

My boxers would stay hidden. I didn't have to worry about them.

The longer I walked, however, the more I felt strangled by my belt even if it was far from my neck. It just did'nt feel right any more. Without the excitement of sagging, the ride to school would just be boring, the usual mass transport of sleep-deprived, unhappy people and annoying kids.

In the end, I succumbed to temptation, and pulled down my jeans once again. Just a little ...

***

It didn't take long and I caught a glimpse of another, more daring sagger. He was in front of me in the crowd when we left the tram together. I tried to follow him, but there were too many other people around me, so I finally lost him. But I HAD seen an inch or so of the other boy's colourful boxers, and that sufficed to stir my envy.

I had often dreamed about boxers like that, but I wasn't sure what my mother would think about underwear like that. She would see the boxers if she put them in the washing-machine and maybe she would think that I was an underwear fetishist. Or worse: that I was gay. Straight boys ... normal boys didn't care about stuff like that. They were happy with white and blue boxers. (My dad always wore white briefs which my mom bought for him. I felt embarrassed for him.)

As you know, I HAD bought a pair of red boxers. But I didn't want to push my luck.

Cowardice had its price, however. And I had to pay it now in the form of envy. Some part of me wanted to be the best, the coolest sagger in this school. But I would never win against that other sagger ... not with the boring boxers I had to wear on most days.

The other boy had looked so perfect ... Like Marc, only with cooler underwear.

I felt ugly and insecure. And now I had to enter the social arena of my classroom, still the new kid ... still the gay boy who didn't dare to come out of the closet.

I was sure that nothing could save this day any more. Or my life, for that matter.

***

I wasn't the most conspicuous sagger in the classroom on this morning. Ben's boxers were visible all the time and if he moved (which he did a lot) they were exposed almost completely. (I had to avert my eyes because I did'nt want to get a boner.) Another, one of Ben's friends, was sagging today, too.

I was envious again and when the first fifteen-minute break began, I went to the toilet (= restroom) to adjust my own sag. Restraint would only lead to frustration. In the end, my jeans were as low-slung as yesterday.

What now?

I left the school building to search the other boys from my class (and show off my sag). I had wandered around a while when I suddenly saw something that made me stop.

What an image.

It seemed to good to be true.

A group of four … no, five saggers, standing in a circle. All of them sagging low, each pair of boxers in a different colour. I had never seen so many great saggers in one place before. Usually, they did’nt travel in packs, except in skate parks. I was even more surprised, because, judging by their appearance, the boys weren’t of the same age. Two of them looked at least two years younger than the rest. So they couldn’t be all in the same class. Why did they hang out together then? It didn’t make sens. Sagging seemed to be the only thing they all had in common.

Maybe it was a secret society of saggers, I thought. (We had watched “Dead Poet’s Society†together in my old school.) I imagined it to be something like the freemasons, only for saggers. You had to be initiated to become a sagger … and there were lots of secrets, of course … magic potions to make you a better sagger or something like that.

No, that was nonsense. It seemed much more probable that the boys over there were just a group of skaters or wannabe rappers. It was common for friends to imitate each other’s fashion styles. So, no wonder they all looked similar. And why for God’s sake should a secret club meet out in the open, like that?

Whatever the true explanation, I just couldn’t stop watching them. A part of me hoped that they would recognize me as a fellow sagger, a worthy co-conspirator …

I mean … how cool would it be to belong to a group like that!

I’d always have friends then who would support me if I once again doubted my love for sagging.

(And maybe some of them were gay and would make out with me?)

“Hey.â€

I flinched. It was Ben. As usual, he had caught me in an awkward moment.

“What are you doing here?†he asked.

„What am I doing? … Nothing.â€

“Come on, I know you were watching the boys over there the whole time. It’s okay ... you know.â€

„You think?“

„You just like their style. They wearing their trousers like us. I get that.â€

“Thanks“, I said. „I’m not gay … you know.“

I felt guilty, because I lied to Ben about my sexual orientation, and got ready to ramble.

„There’s even a word for that fashion style in Americaâ€, I said. “Did you know that? They call it sagging over there.â€

“Sagging? Sounds weird.“

„I know. You have to get used to it. The person who does it is called a sagger, by the way. I read it on the internet.â€

“You’re really quite the expert.â€

“No … not really. I just think it’s good to have a word for it … I mean, it exists, you can look at it … like a flower or something. So there should be a word for it, right?â€

“I guess … Bot most boys don’t talk about stuff like that, anyway.â€

“Maybe they just need a word … We should invent one in German. Do you have an idea?â€

„No.“

„Me neither. Too bad.“

I wasn’t sure how far I could go without freaking Ben out. Maybe it would be best to change the subject now. But I was still curious about the group of saggers in front of us so I pointed with my head toward the boys.

“Uhm … I forgot to ask … do you actually know them?â€

“No … I mean, I KNOW some of them by sight, ‘cause … basically … I like to watch saggers, too.†Ben grinned. And he had used the English word that I had just taught him. He looked really shy when he said it. I was amazed.

“I never really admitted that to anyone …â€, Ben continued. “But you know what I mean … It’s not a gay thing for us. It’s just … nice to know that we’re not alone, that others do it, too.â€

“Definitely.â€

“But enough of that. Come on now, let’s go.â€

Suddenly, Ben was his confident self again. We went away from the group of saggers who hadn’t looked at us once during the whole episode. They were absorbed in their conversation … or magic ritual … or whatever it was.

I had given lots of money at this very moment to find out what it was they were talking about … or who they were … But I followed Ben instead, and we crossed part of the schoolyard sagging side by side, which was not the secret-society-kind of cool that I secretly longed for, but made me happy nevertheless.

***

Lowering my jeans had raised my spirits, so I kept sagging the rest of the day to keep the gloomy thoughts at bay. I actually looked forward to the rest of the week now. New days would give me new chances to find out more about the saggers at this school ... and what (if anything) it was that connected them.

Part 5

The next morning, I wanted to sag right after waking up. So I jumped out of bed and put on my clothes, a new pair of jeans, slightly oversized, with no belt. Then I went to the bathroom, and after I had showered, to the kitchen, still barefoot, as if I had been too lazy to dress completety. Not only had I „forgotten“ socks, but my belt, too ...

My mum was already sitting at the table and reading the newspaper, when I arrived, so she didn't pay much attention to me. I took a bowl from the cupboard and started to prepare my cereal. Finally, I sat down and ate. I had lost most of my appetite, however, because I was so nervous. But my mother really didn't care about sagging. At least not in the morning. I had learned that now.

***

On the way to school I thought about the fact that nobody had made fun of me until now. So my classmates seemed to be okay with sagging. Or so I thought. I was just about to meet the first wave of resistance, however.

It was Marie, the girl next to me, who complained first. I had just sat down and bent forward to rummage through the stuff in my backpack when I heard her voice. Did she talk to ME?

„Could you please pull up your jeans? I really don't want to see your boxer shorts.“

I sat straight up again and looked at her, guiltily. My guilt stemmed mostly from the fact that I had called her Acne Girl in my thoughts until now.

On the other hand, this was just the complaint I had hoped for. It was part of the fun of sagging, after all, to challenge the rules, and that inevitably annnoyed SOME people.

„Why don't you just look elsewhere?“, I answererd.

„Why don't you just wear your trousers like you're supposed to?“

„I don't wanna.“

„And I don't want to look elsewhere all the time.“

„Why is it so horrible if you can see my boxers? Who cares?“

Actually, I cared. But of course, I had to pretend that I didn't.

„I just don't understand why you have to do it. It doesn't make any sense to wear your jeans that low.“

„It's fashion. I think it looks cool. That's all.“

„It DOESN'T look cool. It makes you look like a clown.“

Others had picked up by now on what was going on. I was scared by all the attention. Another girl, Anna, adressed me now.

Anna: I mean, it's okay to wear your jeans a little low, but if you can see most of the other person's underwear ... that's just too much.

Me: It's a free country, so you can wear our jeans however you want.

Anna (sighs): Sure, if you don't want to have a girlfriend ... ever.

I didn't want to have girlfriend, ever, but I could'nt say THAT either.

I suppose, nowadays, every boy has to have his jeans-below-the-bum phase. You can only hope that it passes quickly.

Me: It's not a phase for me. I will always wear my jeans like that.

Anna: Even if you're at work?

Me: Maybe not at work. But I have some years left until then ... There's no law against it. And a I said, you can just look elsewhere if you don't like it.

Marie: And it doesn't bother you at everyone can see your underwear?

Me: No. Why?

Anna: It's embarrassing. And your boxers are ugly, by the way.

Me: I like them.

Anna: You could buy at least prettier ones if you're so keen on showing them off.

Everyone was laughing now. This discussion had turned into a nightmare.

Ben: Hey. Let him in peace.

Anna: You should pull up your trousers, too, Ben.

Ben: We'll wear our jeans even lower if you keep harrassing us like that.

Anna: Well, then I have a suggestion for you. You could just put on your jeans first and your boxer shorts above them. That way, we could see them all the time and you could still wear your trousers like normal people.

Me: Funny ... really funny.

Ben: You can make fun of it, but you can't stop us.

Marie: Teachers can.

Me: Temporarily, maybe. But not forever.

Anna: We'll see.

The argument was fading out and the spectators lost interest. I was happy to be no longer the center of attention. In previous years, almost everyone had kind of liked me. But sagging had isolated me in this class. I realized that now.

Why found people sagging so annoying?

Maybe on some level, they understood that it was form of exhibitionism, and openly sexual behaviour by males made girls feel threatened.

Or maybe some peolpe just liked rules and wanted to enforce them.

I wasn't sure, but in any case, the whole matter had definitely affected my new-found confidence. I needed support. Ben had helped me, at least, and I admired him for that, but together we were still a small minority.

In the end, my cowardice got the best of me and I decided to give in to the girls just a little. From now on, I would expose my boxers a little less. Maybe it would even look better that way.

Ben, however, went in the opposite direction. He walked around the classroom with his jeans under his bum.

He didn't pull them up when the teacher arrived. On the contrary, he pulled them down even more below his table. Most of his boxers had to be exposed now. I thought it was crazy (it looked as if Ben jerked off in class), but the teacher seemed not to notice it.

***

„Have you seen it?“ Ben asked me later.

„Of course.“

„You should've done it, too.“

„I don't know.“

„Mr. Meyer doesn't notice anything. I think he's half-blind or something.“

„Maybe next time.“

„Come on. Don't be shy. Let's do some crazy stuff. We're teenage boys. They think we're animals anyway. “

I tried to laugh it off, but Ben was serious.

„They'll never accept sagging if we act that way“, I said.

„Too bad. I''ll just do it. I don't care if they like it or not.“

„It really doesn't look good if the jeans are too low.“

„Maybe. But then it's not about looking good. It's about rebellion.“

We were silent for some time.

Part 6

My mom always said that I was still growing and my shirts would shrink in the clothes dryer, so I had lots of oversized T-Shirts. Small, tight shirts ones seemed a little too daring, just like sagging. I was very afraid to look gay.

Secretly, I disliked most of my clothes; the shirts as well as the boring underwear and the jeans that were unfit for sagging. I really needed to buy some new stuff, but I would also need the courage to wear those clothes, otherwise it would be a waste of money. Being a sagger wasn't easy, in many ways.

I wore on my specially oversized T-shirts on the next schoolday, and therefore my boxers were covered at all times now. I just wasn't ready to become as radical as Ben wanted me to be. Mabye Ben considered that boring ... He certainly was more distant. But there were lots of other boys in my class and I still had the opportunity to find other friends.

And maybe it was even wise not to spend much time with Ben, because I feared I would fall in love with him some day, and in any case, I wasn't sure how long I could continue lying to him about my sexuality.

Two days passed and finally, the first week of school was over. Ben hadn't been sagging all that much on Thursday and Friday, either. It was difficult to do it all the time. After all, we were teenage boys and always in danger of getting a boner. Sagging didn't help with that. We were all getting back to normal now. Or so it seemed.

I still couldn't stop looking out for other saggers, however, even though I knew that it would make me feel bad. Some of those saggerboys looked so cool. I experienced almost physical pain just by looking at them. I supposed they were straight (the cool boys always were), so I couldn't have them. The next best thing was to become them, to shape myself in their image, but I had a good idea now how much money, time and mental strength that would cost me ... and I already felt kind of exhausted ...

***

At the week-end, I was bored for hours. I didn't dare to go beyond a shy sag in the company of my parents. I did think a lot about sagging, however, and maybe that's why I had such a weird dream in the night from Sunday to Monday. Like most people with my fetish I had dreamt about saggers and sagging before, but never as elaborately as this time.

Five or six boys were standing in front of me and I recognized them as the saggers from the schoolyard. They were the members of my imagined saggers' club.

„So, you want be a member of our club?“, the tallest boy said to me.

„I do.“

„But you know we don't accept just any sagger.“

I nodded.

„You have to show us that you're serious about it“, the boy continued.

„I AM serious.“

„Yes, but anyone can talk. Only action really counts.“

„Am I not sagging low right now? Look at me. And I have done this since I came to this school. Even in the years before“ I lied.

„And do you sag at home, too?“ another boy asked.

„Not really ... no. But I plan to do it soon.“

„Oh, really. You PLAN to do it.“

„Yes“, I answered lamely.

„Well, actually, you're lucky, because we don't care“, the first boy said. Suddenly, they were all smiling.

„Saggin in school is good enough for us.“

„Thanks.“

„There are much more people in a school than just two parents. And we're all about crowds ... We want to show off our boxers to as many people as possible.You get that?“

„Yes, yes, of course.“

„Good.“

„And we want to show all those people that we really don't care what they think of us. I they hate sagging, we'll do it anyway. And now we want to know if you can do that, too. NOT CARING. Are you ready for that?“

„I hope so.“

„Because ... you know ... it won't be easy. Others have failed before you ... Whatever you will do in the next hour you will do willingly ... Is that clear?“

„It is.“

„Okay.“ The tall boy grabbed something out of a bag. „Then put those on.“ I recognized the item as a pair of satin superman boxers.

„Right here?“

I looked around. We were in a quit side street in the middle of a non-descript town. Quickly, I took off my jeans and my boxers and put on the new pair of underwear, and my old jeans after that.

One of the boys took my old boxers out of my hand.

„Give me your belt“, the tall boy said.

I hesitated for a moment, but removed the belt from my jeans then and handed it over to him.

The satin boxers made my jeans slide down easily. That was the point, I guessed

„Now, let's go ...“ one of the boys said. „Oh, and you're not allowed to touch your jeans with your hands, of course. NOT ONCE.“

„I understand“.

The others started walking and I followed them. My jeans slid down, bit by bit, until I spread my legs and managed to keep my jeans up. But I knew I looked like an idiot, walking like that. I felt I had no choice, however, because I didn't want my jeans to drop to the ground. We were entering a lively area now and there were more and more people around us.

My only solace was that that most people would probably not look at me, but at the other boys who were still sagging low and showing off colourful boxers. That had to be more conspicuous.

Suddenly, the tall boy talked to me again.

„I'll tell you your destination now. It's the fountain at the end of the pedestrian area. Do you know which one I mean?“

„Ehm ... yes, sure.“

„Okay. We'll meet you there. Don't follow us from now on. Just walk straight to the fountain. And don't pull your jeans up or nobody among us will ever talk to you again.“

„Okay.“

The boys walked away from me now. But they still stayed close enough to watch me. I realized that one of them seemd to be taking a video of me.

Being on my own, made me even more nervous than before. I missed the safety of the group. But there were only 400 metres or so still to go.

Then, suddenly, someone bumped into me from behind and my jeans fell to the ground.

I wanted to pull them up immediately, it was a reflex, but I remembered just in time that it was forbidden. ****.

Now I was in real trouble.

People stared at me and my Superman boxers.

I blushed and started to sweat.

Maybe I could push up my jeans again with my legs? I wasn't sure if that was cheating or possible at all. Probably, I would look even more ridiculous if I tried that here, in the town centre, and failed.

I saw one of the boys from the club who went past me. He must have bumped into me deliberately. I understood that now in a flash.

The other boys wanted to leave me only one option. I had to walk through the pedestrian area with my jeans on the ground and my ridiculous superhero boxers on display. It was the most extreme sag possible, but unlike streaking it was not illegal, just very embarrassing. I had to stop wondering about what others thought of me.

That was all. With this in mind, I started walking towards my destination.

Most people just glimpsed in my direction and looked away then. They probably figured that I had lost a bet or something. There were some stronger reactions, too, however. A group of three girls came towards me. I could see them stare at my boxers. They started giggling.

„Sexy!“ one of them shouted sarcastically.

I blushed again, deeply, and almost fell, because I had tried to walk fast to escape all this madness. But walking was difficult in my current condition.

My next ordeal was an old man who looked at me angrily.

I tried to avert everyone's gazes and I silenty prayed that this town was big enough so that I would never meet any of these people again.

The other boys were still watching me from a distance and filming it all. It was certainly a fun day for them.

But it got better for me as well, slowly.

I could see the fountain in front of me now and I thought that maybe I actually looked kind of cool in my superman boxers if I wore them confidently. I had actually even more naked in public many times before, at the public swimming-pool. So, the whole thing here wasn't that big of a deal, if you thought about it the right way.

Someone started to shout things at me now, however.

„Hey, pull up your trousers!“ an older woman told me.

„I can't. It's a bet.“

„That's a silly bet.“

„Maybe.“

I just walked past her and she let me in peace.

Finally, I had almost reached the fountain. The other boys were waiting there. Soon, I would be a part of their club.

But I had someone lost my power now. Every step got harder and harder and I just couldn't reach my destination until finally ... I woke up.

My heart raced. What a dream! If only it would have gone on a little longer ...

I realized I had a boner and grabbed it. The remaining dream images made me come quickly and massively.

During the post-orgasmic glow I wondered whether all this could happen to me (or to anyone) IN REALITY. Did the club really exist? Or had my obsession with saggers made me delusional? There was only one way to find out.

Part 7

On Monday, I was determined to get to know other saggers. I would befriend them and finally they would tell me about their little club, which I would join, and we would all live happily ever after ...

But wait ... had I gone mad? Could you really just speak to another boy whose sag you liked? What if the legendary club didn't exist? What if it was all in my head?

Somehow, I needed to get proof that the club was real, before I made my move.

But how?

I waited some days for a good idea. None occurred to me.

There was only way. I had to ask the right people and take the risk of being humiliated.

Straight boys had to do bring themselves to talk to girls, if they wanted to get laid, and I had to talk to other saggers if I wanted a shot at the things that I desired.

Humiliation is bad, but it doesn't kill anyone, I told myself, and added some other good clichés to my pep talk as well.

Finally, the next day came and during break time, I left the classroom quickly to get away from all the people I knew. I needed to be alone to hunt saggers.

They were elusive prey, however. Five minutes passed, and I found nobody who showed off boxers. Finally, I found one real cool boy, but he was talking to his friends (who were not sagging).

Yes, it was just like in those teen movies, where girls were never alone, always in groups, and giggling as well. I understood now why it was so hard for straight boys to ask a girl out ...

In the end, I gave up and returned to the classroom.

"Where have you been?" Ben asked .

"Just wandering around."

"Alone?"

"Had to piss."

"Oh, me, too. I didn't see you."

"Aw ... did you miss me?"

"Idiot."

"I used the other toilet, on the first floor [restroom]."

"Whatever."

I spent the next 15 minutes of break time with Ben and his friends, instead of stalking saggers ...

In the end, another day had passed - and been wasted by me.

***

The next morning, I took the tram to school as usual, but was unusually lucky. There he was, the boy whom I had watched once before. He was standing some metres away from me, showing off his red boxers. And he seemed to be alone, not accompanied by any friends or classmates. This was my chance! I rose from my seat and went a couple of steps towards the exit (and towards the sagger) as if I wanted to get off the tram at the next station.

In the end, I stood right behind the boy and looked at his boxers.

I hoped he would turn around and meet my glance.

But that didn't happen.

The other boy didn't notice me until the tram stopped in front of the school.

I was desperate now, and I did something stupid. When we get off the tram, I was still behind the other boy and followed him for a short while. "Hey", I said then. "Pull your trousers up!" No reaction. "Pull your trousers up." Now, the other boy stopped and turned around. I had his attention, but everything was wrong ... I blushed.

"Just kidding", I said quickly and smiled awkwardly.

The other boy looked at me confused. I noticed that some of the other kids who passed us by gave me weird looks, too.

I didn't know what to say.

In the end, the other boy just walked away.

I had never felt worse ...

***

I couldn't concentrate on anything during the first two lessons of this day. I reran my conversation with the hot sagger endlessly in my mind, and felt more stupid each time.

Now, one of the coolest saggers in this school thought I was an idiot ...

I had to fight the desire to bang my head against the wall.

There was only one way to cheer me up, so, during break time I went to a quiet corner and adjusted my sag. I was sagging almost below the ass now and very low in the front, too.

The next lesson was chemistry, so I went to the lab, determined not to pull my trousers up till the end of the day. The teacher announced that we could carry out some simple experiments today.

So we formed groups. I was in one with Ben and another boy and we stood around our desk.

My boxers were clearly visible to everyone in the room now, including the teacher.

I caught some girls and even one boy looking at them.

Ben was sagging almost as low as me, and he even slapped his bum playfully once. When I saw that, I almost couldn't believe my eyes. Maybe I was dreaming again ... In any case, my **** got half-hard and I hoped that nobody noticed it.

While I was still embarrassed about my arousal, the teacher came to us to watch how we were doing. We had to measure the pH-Value of acetic acid in several ways and compare the results afterwards.

The teacher watched us silenty and critically.

"Well", she finally said, "that actually looks quite good."

"You sound surprised", Ben said.

"I am surprised, considering the way you're dressed. Wearing your trousers below your bum is usually not a sign of intelligence."

It seemed like everyone was giggling now and looking at my boxers, too, and only my nervousness prevented me from getting a boner. I wanted to vanish from the earth.

"Don't judge a book by its cover", Ben replied cheekily.

"Well, Ben, at your age you might have noticed that people are not books ..."

"So, it's okay if you judge people just by their looks?"

I was afraid that Ben was pushing his luck.

But the teacher didn't rise to the challenge. She just said: "Finish your experiment. Results are what I care about most."

Then she went away to look at the next group's work.

***

After the lesson, I left the lab with Ben.

"That was fun", he said.

"Deffo."

I joined in the laughter, but silently, I kept wondered if sagging really made me look dumb ...

Being smart had always been a major source of self-confidence for me in the past.

I remembered, too, that I had still not made any progress on the saggers' club front. The remembrance of my foolish action this morning returned ... I had to put things right. And I definitely had to find out how strong my sense of reality still was. I wasnt' dreaming now, was I?

Everything looked normal.

If this was real, than I had actually just stood in my underwear in front of my classmates and a teacher, and I couldn't take that back. They would remember it and so would I.

"Hey." Ben was talking to me.

"Yes. What?"

"Wanna go shopping?"

"With you?"

"Are you retarded? Yes, with me. I got some money from my granny, and I need a new jacket."

"Okay."

***

In the afternoon, I went shopping with Ben. We were sagging all the time ... I was watching Ben, he was watching me and lots of people were watching the both of us. I was euphoric.

"Don't you want to buy anything?" Ben asked.

"Ehm ... I need new boxers." I smiled sheepishly. I couldn't belive that I had actually said that. "And a new hoodie, mabye", I added quickly.

"Okay. Where do you wanna go?"

In the end, we went to the skate shop, where I had already bought a new pair of jeans before school had started. They sold colourful boxers, too. I bought two pairs. Ben, too. I still wasn't sure, how I should explain that to my mom, but I didn't worry too much about that now.

This was the best second half of any day in my whole life, and who cared what came after that?

***

As usual, I felt more sober after I had jerked off at home. The more involved I became with Ben, the more likely it was that he would find out about my sexual orientation. And how would he react then? I had cheated him. There was no denying that. And we would still be in the same class for at least a year, so I couldn't avoid him ...

And what if the chemistry teacher told my parents about my sagging?

Or mabye my classmates would tell their parents who would tell my parents ...

Large parts of this day had just been too good to be true, and I saw now what was wrong with it.

Finally, I fell asleep, and I had, once again, a familiar dream. I dreamt about the one thing that could save me from my troubles. The one place where I could be the person that I had always wanted to be.

The saggers' club.

Again, I'm sorry for the delay.

Part 16 (rest)

So, it felt like the end of something now. One chapter of my life was over. But what was the moral of this story? I wasn't sure. Maybe it was a lesson about wishful thinking. Maybe I had been wrong to believe in the saggers' club existence ... But whatever my mistakes had been, there was no real harm done. And at least, it was kind of an interesting story. Something to tell my grandkids. Except that I probably wouldn't have any.

The only problem left was to decide what to do about Max. Could he still be my friend? He certainly wasn't innocent and it would be difficult to trust a master liar like him in the future. But he had told me the truth in the end. And his intention hadn't been completly evil. He had even helped me to make part of my fantasy real ... And he still was a great sagger, after all. That made it hard for me not to like him. I couldn't help it, really.

One chapter was over, but my life went on, like lives tend to do. And some days later a whole new story began. Or maybe the old one hadn't been over yet. Sometimes it's hard to tell. Anyway, it began like many things begin – with Ben, that is. He started a playful fight with me; something that straight boys did with each other, but never with me. Certainly, Ben and I had never done it before. I didn't like fighting and had always avoided it. But maybe to Ben this was a whole new of acting macho. "I'm not afraid of anything, not even fighting with gay best friends."

So we were wrestling a little and our sags became very visible, which made the whole thing even more exciting and I decided to go on with it. A little later I heard Florian's voice: "Look. They're making love." (Or something like that. I didn't hear it very well.)

Suddenly, I felt a kind of rage I had never felt before. I really was in the mood for fighting now. So I shoved Ben away and confronted Florian. "Yes, I'm gay", I shouted. "Ben isn't. Do you get that or should I repeat it?" Florian was too perplexed to say anything. "Go. Tell everybody. Or should I hit you first?"

"Are you crazy?"

"Yes, I am. So be careful."

Florian left. I pulled up my jeans and turned around to look at Ben's face who started laughing.

"Don't laugh."

But in the end, I thought it was funny, too. Pretty soon everybody knew what had happened. I felt awkward the rest of the day, but that would pass. I was proud, too. It was done now. I was gay and I was a sagger and there was nothing wrong with either of it. Everybody would see me now as I really was. I didn't need a sagger club to protect me. I had a friend I could trust, and I had my own strength. I was a force to be reckoned with now.

"So what about that whole thing ... with the club?" Ben asked me a couple of days later. "I totally forgot about that."

"Oh. That. It turned out the club doesn't exist."

"What?"

"Just a game, the whole thing."

"But you didn't know?"

"No."

"So, you were deceived? That's ... weird."

"I know. But I really don't want to talk about it now. I'm done with that. This is a new story now."

"Uhm ... okay. Whatever."

"But maybe we could talk to some other saggers. What do you think?"

"Maybe. But talk about what? Sagging?"

"I guess there are many more saggers who would like to talk to and meet other saggers. And we have to keep the trend alive, of course ... we have to influence people, secretly ..."

"Like a conspiracy?"

"No. Actually, that's wrong. We really should be more open about it." We didn't have to be ashamed about sagging. I didn't have to be ashamed. Sagging was just like being gay. There was nothing wrong with it.

"No", I said. "Not conspiracy ... more like ... community."

So, I asked Ralph and Thomas and even Max, too. In the end, we made flyers and even some posters and we passed the flyers to saggers who caught our eye. Most of the posters were scribbled on and torn down, but we didn't give up. And we really had an effect. I overheard more conversations about sagging now. We had to make this a topic that wasn't taboo.

After some weeks, we had collected some e-mail-adresses, so we invited everyone to a meeting. 15 saggers came, including us. That wasn't much, but it was a start. And I really was a member of a saggers' club now. In a way, it was even better than I had imagined it.

But this is not a fairy tale. Not everyone lived (and sagged) happily ever after. A couple of months after the propaganda for sagging had started, my father finally got his promotion and we moved to another city once again. All my protests were in vain. Running away from home wasn't really an option for me. So I followed my parents – to a city in the the eastern Ruhrgebiet, this time. That meant a new school, of course, and new classmates. Pretty soon, they all knew the meaning of the word "sagger".

Merci beaucoup, Flameboard!

Thanks, the pearcesag! To be mistaken for a native speaker, is probably on of the biggest compliment I've ever got. English is the world language, so I'd like to master it, but you never feel really at home in a foreign language and I often think "That sounds good, but maybe it's too old-fashioned or too formal or somehow wrong". After all, you often speak a language overly correct as a foreigner ... I have gained some confidence, however, by writing this story. Apparently even English native speakers like the style and I was very surprised by that at first.

@Avido: Thanks to you, too, especially since you write a lot yourself and writers usually are jealous of each other, haha. The story isn't completely finished yet. The rest of part 16 will follow this week (I hope).

I really don't want it to end with "lost dreams" ...

Thanks to CosmoBoy, too, of course. The more English I learn, the more French I forget - which is sad, because it's such a beautiful language and French-speaking saggers seem to be something special .

Maybe the story will give some of the readers confidence to sag more and if so, it was well worth writing.

Part 16 (beginning)

What now? I had imagined the saggers' club to be larger than life – and it wasn't, of course. I'd known that for a while now, but had never admitted it to myself. My self-deception had kept me going. And I had come a long way in the past weeks. But there was no wonder cure for my problems, no club that would make me cool and self-confident. Life just went on and on ... and sometimes things improved a little, sometimes not.

I still had Ben and it certainly would do now harm if I concentrated on my school work a bit more ...

But not today. I still couldn't think clearly. And I still stood out in the hallway.

I opened the door and entered the classroom. Everyone stared at me, especially my math teacher. I apologized, but gave no reason for my tardiness.

The teacher asked where I had been. I didn't know what to say and started to stutter. In the end, I just fell silent and waited until everyone had lost interest in me. The discussion of quadratic equations continued.

An hour and a half passed. When the bell rang and I left the classroom, I still feared that somehow the saggers' club was more powerful than I expected. Maybe I should hide? But on the other hand, that was not the saggers' way - and I was still sagging, because it made me feel cool and therefore stronger.

Finally, I saw Max coming toward me. We stared at each other for several seconds. I was determined not to back down. Max looked unsure of himself, almost shy now.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"We need to talk to you."

"About what?"

"I have to explain something to you. Can we meet after school? I still have your clothes."

"I know."

"So let's meet later."

I didn't answer.

"Come on", Max insisted. "Please."

He had actually said "please".

"Okay. When do you want to meet?"

We fixed a place and a time.

When the break was over, I tried to concentrate, but in vain. I couldn't stop thinking about Max and what he would tell me. Had I passed the test? Was rebellion maybe the key to being accepted by the saggers' club? But why had Max looked so guilty then? It didn't make sense.

Maybe Max had lied to me about the whole initiation ... However, I just couldn't find any good reason for that. And there was still the boy from the skate park. What was his role? And what about Ralph and Thomas? They had confirmed that the saggers' club existed. So, maybe it had all been a fake initation and the real club was still somewhere out there ...

After the last lesson I allowed myself plenty of time, because I didn't want to be first at the designated place. I figured that standing around and waiting would only make me even more nervous. Finally, I went to the part of the schoolyard where I had played catch earlier. Max was waiting for me. The other boy was there, too.

I approached them, trying to look cool.

"Hi."

"Hi. So ... uhm ... mabye we went too far", Max said. "Anyway, we should tell you the truth now."

"There is no initiation", I interrupted him. "I know."

"How?"

"That wasn't hard to guess, really."

"Have you known all along?" Max asked.

"No. Not really ... So, is there a saggers' club or not?"

Max hesitated. "No, there is no club", he said finally.

"But how can that be?"

"There was one, a couple of months ago. But it wasn't a success and it dissolved."

"Why don't Ralph and Thomas know that? They told me the club exists."

"Yes, I know. But they don't care too much about such things. They're too old for that, I guess."

"And you ..." I adressed the other boy now "... you're a friend of Max's?"

"Yes. And I was really a member of the club when it still existed. So, when Max told me about his plan ..." I waited, but the boy didn't finish the sentence.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"David."

"You never told me that."

"Sorry."

We fell silent for a while.

"So it was all a prank", I said eventually. "But some things still don't make sense. Didn't you warn me about the saggers' club? That it was full of bullys and so on?"

"Yes, it wasn't really well planned from the beginning ... I really wanted you to lose interest in the whole thing then. But you didn't."

"No, I didn't ... I think you're the best liar I've ever met."

"I don't know if that's a compliment."

"We could really form a club now", David proposed, in an obvious attempt to change the topic.

"I don't know", I answered. "I'm tired of the whole idea right now. Maybe we can just sag together."

"Sure", Max said. "Do you want your clothes back?"

"Yes. Whose clothes are this?"

"Mine actually", David said.

I took them and went back in the building to change. Then I said goodbye to the other boys and a couple of minutes of later I was on my way home.

What can I say. I'm sorry. I know I have kept you waiting far too long and maybe I would never got the next part done if some of you hadn't posted comments. So thanks Flameboard and CosmoBoy and everyone else. Somehow writing this story has stoped being fun and become more and more of a burden, and it's difficult to write when your heart's not in it. It's also not so easy to find a good way to end such a long story. But I'll try to get the rest done quickly. So here is part 15 and the next part should follow soon. Maybe that will be the last.

Part 15

Had I somehow lost my mind? I remembered a time two years ago when I had pretended to live in the Matrix. That film really had impressed me ...And now it was time for my big moment.

The red pill or the blue pill.

Cut the red wire or the green one.

Open the envelope or don't.

For it was an envelope that Max had given me, and I was holding it in my hand right how.

"What is this all about?" I asked, but Max just smiled and didn't answer.

A decision moment wasn't about dialogue, after all. Keanu Reeves hadn't discussed the consequences and side effects of the red and the blue pill.

So I, too, just opened the envelope without further ado. There was a sheet of paper inside and I held it close to my eyes so I could read what was printed on it:

There is no saggers' club.

My heart sank. This was the message that made the matrix disappear, the world in which I had lived, hoped and fantasized the past weeks. There was no climax, no place where the journey in saggerland (or saggerworld?) would end, no time when I would meet all the fascinating saggerboys that I had always wanted to be friends with.

"There is a flip side", Max said.

Yes, there was a good side to this, somewhere. I could focus on more worthy goals now.

"Seriously, turn it around", Max insisted.

There is no saggers' club. We can't repeat that enough. But we give you a chance to become a member anyway. You'll just have to pass some tests. This is the first one.

Read the following instructions and follow them. Don't ask questions.

Instructions:

We have chosen an outfit for you. Put these clothes on immediately. Our messenger will give it to you and he will take your old stuff to keep it for the next 24 hours.

Have fun – or fail. We will win in any case. And don't forget. Eat this letter now.

Oh no, wait. Give it back to the messenger. The paper can still be recycled. Save the earth.

There is no saggers' club.

I couldn't suppress a laugh. Was this really the style in which the saggers' club expressed himself?

But maybe no message of any kind could have lived up to my high expectations. I had fantasized about the club for so long, I had projected all my hopes on it that I was bound to be disappointed.

These were just teenagers like me, after all.

Max had taken some clothes out of his backpack by now. I looked at him a little too long, because I didn't really know what to do. Was I expected to change here, in the street?

"Can I go back to the house to change?" I asked.

"Technically, you're not allowed to ask questions."

"Oh. Right." Ten seconds, and I had already broken one of the rules ... A part of me really wanted to pass this test, however un-romantic or disappointing the club might be.

"But you don't have to tell anyone that I asked you a question", I said to Max.

"That's true. But I don't want to give you an unfair advantage."

"Come on, you're my friend. And why are you here anyway? It doesn't make any sense."

"Are you going to change now or not?"

Max was even stranger than I had anticipated ... And yet, I still liked him.

I took off my backpack and my shoes first. There were no people on the street, but I had the feeling that someone was watching me from one of the windows. I tried to hide behind Max somehow, got rid of my hoodie and my shirt. Shirtless, I took my new clothes from Max and looked for a shirt. Luckily, there was one and it didn't look much too small or otherwise embarrassing. At least not in the dark. I put on the new shirt, while Max seemed to enjoy my discomfort – as usual.

Now came the difficult part: There was a pair of jeans among my new clothes and even a pair of underwear as well.

So I checked the street again for other people. There was an older woman on the other side of the street. I looked at Max.

"Don't wait too long", he said.

A car passed us by now, too. When the woman was out of sight, I dropped my trousers and my boxers and put on the new clothes as fast as I could. I was at the mercy of my new outfit now.

"This is all I asked? No hoodie? I'll freeze to death", I complained.

"Initiation rites are supposed to be hard."

"So, this is an initiation rite?" The words sounded strange from Max's mouth. They were so uncommon, at least in German.

Max didn't say anything, once again.

So we just walked to the tram station side by side and in silence.

My new pair of underwear were boxer-briefs – I didn't know that word then, but I knew this was a type of underwear that I had never worn before. They reminded me of the unpleasant tightness of briefs and therefore of childhood ... It wasn't easy to get used to the feeling, but that was part of the test, I figured.

I actually lifted my shirt now to check the colours and pattern. The boxer-briefs were white with bright red polka dots on them. My new jeans were dark blue and felt tighter than my own clothes, but that was probably a good thing, because there was no belt among my new clothes ...

And what about the shirt? It was white and there was a drawing of a sagger on it, with boxers sticking out. Beneath it I could decipher the word "sagger".

"Oh great", I mumbled.

"I think sarcasm gives minus points in the evaluation", Max said.

"You really enjoy this, don't you? Have you invented this test?"

"No. It's a long tradition."

"Sure. A long tradition of the club that doesn't exist. That's what you mean?"

"Technically, you're not allowed to ask questions."

I sighed. "Is my sag alright at least? I mean, I should ask before you evaluate that the wrong way, shouldn't I?"

"I think you should look like the boy on your shirt. And he sags a little lower. But since you have no belt, your jeans should slide down all day anyway."

That was true, but I didn't really have time to think about it, because we had almost reached the tram station now – not at my usual time, of course; much later instead. We could hear the tram arriving. Max smiled. "Come on. We have to get it. Let's run."

"We can take the next one."

Max started running and I followed him reluctantly, my shirt flying in the wind and my hands holding on to my trousers. They slid down in the back anyway. But at least we managed to enter the tram before the doors closed.

"Are you still cold?" Max asked.

This time, it was me who didn't answer.

When we arrived at the school Max left me alone. "Someone will meet you later", he announced, "in the first big break."

I went to my classroom where my new shirt got noticed quickly. One of the foremost sagger haters, a girl called Anna, commented on it first.

"Did you draw this yourself?" she asked.

"No. Someone else did it."

"For you?"

I didn't answer.

"Why do you wear a shirt with a picture of a boy on it?"

"It's about the word. Sagger."

"What does that mean?"

"It means someone who looks like that. Someone who wears their jeans low."

"That's called sagger?"

"Yes."

"So you're in love with saggers? That's want you want to tell us?"

"Yeah, right. I'm not gay."

"Who's gay?" another boy asked.

"Nobody."

"Sagger? What brand is that?"

"It's not a brand. It's a name for people who wear their jeans like that."

"Why did you print a picture of that on your shirt?"

"Why not?"

"What's the point?"

"I want to promote sagging, I guess."

"There should be a law against saggers", Anna said. "It just looks ridiculous. And girls don't like it at all. So if you ever want to have a girlfriend ..."

"Some girls like it."

"Name one."

"That's stupid."

I turned around and walked out of the room to hide on the toilet for a a couple of minutes until the first lesson would begin.

I didn't get to the toilet however, because I met Ben in the hallway.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"New clothes?"

"Not really, no. I'm just wearing them today, for this saggers' club ... thing."

"They make you wear special clothes?"

"Today. Yes."

"Are you a member now?"

"No, not yet."

Ben looked skeptical. "I like the shirt."

"Me too."

"Kind of gay, though, if you ask me ... I mean it looks like you're in love with that boy."

"No, it doesn't."

"Hey, you are gay, after all. So why shoudn't you wear something like that."

"It's easy for you to say. You don't have to live with all the comments and stupid jokes."

"Nobody has ever died from words, you know."

"Are you sure?"

"Maybe one or two people. But what are the odds?"

I felt better now. With Ben by my side, I was more courageous and stronger. We were a force to be reckoned with.

When the bell rang and the first break began, I waited for the saggers' club to contact me. Maybe I would meet one of the older members now. Someone who actually had experience with sex and knew the secrets of life (if there were any, but I surely hoped so). Or maybe someone who was gay. Because they had to know about my sexual orientation if Max was so intimately connected to the club. Maybe he actually was a member. But why had he warned me about the club then? Had that all just been part of a big mislead? I didn't get it ...

So I forced my thoughts away from that topic and fantasized about the near future instead. What daring things I would be forced to do? What tasks would I have to complete to become part of the club? I couldn't think of anything in particular, I mostly imagined the excitement. Maybe I'd almost fail, but prevail in the end like any good hero did. And there would be some kind of celebration. A saggers' party. Dancing saggers would be a nice sight, but ...

... back in the present I was still alone and beginning to ask myself whether I had just been forgotten – or disqualified maybe for asking to many questions. I got more and more nervous.

Finally, someone came. A teachter? No, it really was a sagger, and I recognized him at once. It was the boy from the skate park (I still didn't know his name.) I was a little disappointed at first, because I really wanted to meet new people, but come to think of it, it wasn't really so bad to meet this boy again. He was sagging so effortlessly, and he had a slightly bizarre, but unique style.

"Hi."

"Hi ..." I smiled, still tense.

"Are you ready?"

"I guess."

I checked whether my boxer-briefs were visible, since I assumed that was important.

"Okay. Let's go."

I wanted to ask what his was, but quickly remembered that, technically, I wans't allowed to. I really started to take this initiation process seriously.

We went to the entrance area of the school which was full with people now.

Finally, Lee stopped. "Fumble at your shoelaces", he said. "For 30 seconds."

I bent over, thereby exposing most of my boxerbriefs. It was weird because it looked a little as if I took a bow in front of the other boy (he wore Osiris shoes, by the way). I felt uncomfortable with showing off shamelessly. 30 seconds seemed awfully long. And nobody around here knew it wasn't my idea. They probably got the idea that I wanted them to stare at my ass.

Finally, I felt the time was over and raised my head.

"That was fun", the other boy said. "You're not allowed to pull up your jeans until I say so, by the way."

"So, the task is that you can make me do whatever you want?"

"No questions."

"Sorry."

"But yes, I can ... unless you back out, of course."

"I won't."

"Okay."

We started walking again and went out of the building.

"Touch your head with both your hands now", the other boy said. "Make it look casual."

I did what he had told me. The gesture made my shirt rise, of course. My boxerbriefs were probably visible in the front now, too. Some girls in the schoolyard seemed to throw glances at me.

"Can I take them down now?"

"Another question."

"Oh no."

"Okay. Take them down."

We approached a teacher now who supervised some of the playing kids.

The teacher looked at me quite long. I wasn't sure if he could see my underwear of was interested in my shirt. I felt myself blush a little.

The other boy apparently wanted us to take a tour of the schoolyard, so we walked on and on and my jeans slid slowly down until they were hanging below the ass.

That was noticed by quite a few of the older boys whose part of the schoolyard we had now entered.

We finally stopped and I waited for new instructions when the bell rang. This break was over.

"Stay here", the other boy said. "You will be late for the next lesson. That way your entrance will be more effective."

I nodded slightly.

"Actually, this task is over when you catch me."

I looked at him confused while he walked away.

I followed him, but the other boy moved quickly now. That was hard for me to do, because I was in danger of losing my jeans.

So I just walked slowly and pretented to be to cool for this game of catch.

The people left now and some of them stared at me while I walked past of them. Maybe I looked kind of ridiculous now, and my movements didn't make much sense to an outsider either.

Finally, the other boy and me were the only ones still outside.

I lost my nerves now, because not only was the game humiliating, but I also really didn't like to be late for class. So I moved faster.

"We can do this all day", the other boy shouted.

I waited for a while to lull my opponent into a false sense of security and started to sprint then. It happened what had to happen. My trousers fell down.

The other boy laughed triumphantly. I just pulled my jeans up now, even if it was forbidden. I wanted to catch the other guy and hit him, I was so angry.

In the end, the other boy just gave up and stopped where he was. My jeans were already hanging very low again, but I could still move enough to shove the other sagger. Not really hard, though, more symbolically.

"I think you lost", the other boy said.

"I don't care anymore", I said. "Your club is stupid." With these words, I turned around and left - hoping that my determination and superiority were as visible as the red dots on my boxer-briefs ...

This sounds delicious. Italian food is great, especially in Italy. You just have to be careful not to get tomato sauce (or soup) on your boxers if you're sagging low.

Well...it just sounds and seems kind of gross, in my opinion.

It is kind of gross, but you'll ignore that, because an orgasm just feels so great. It's probably even better than Apple products. Think about that! It is wrong to pressure people into sex, but nevertheless I'll have to say: You should try it. It's definitely one of the good things in life.

I started masturbating very late (when I was 15), and I regret that. For the record: I usually do it once a day now.

Maybe you're right about the States. But there are enough people in Germany (or Europe) who hate sagging and I highly doubt they're afraid of 14year-old saggers with baby faces ...

Whatever the true explanation might be, sagging has probably more mass appeal as long as boys are not aware of the sexual aspect. So I'll stop talking about it now.

Yes, most people can laugh about sagging, but some can't. Some really do hate it, and they're completely serious about it. I think they're reactions are so over the top that they must have something to do with disgust. And that is caused by the sexual signal.

1. A leather jacket or perfume might make women think about sex, too. That's true. The difference lies in the probability. Just try it yourself. Look at a picture of underwear. What are your associations? Then look at a lipstick or a bottle of perfume or something like that. What are your thoughts now? Not the same, I bet. Things are more or less directly connected to sex and this connection is very direct in the case of underwear.

2. It's not just about the ass. Underwear and exposing yourself can certainly carry a sexual meaning (und usually do).

3. Many things look stupid, but that usually just makes people laugh. Wearing clothes that don't match can look stupid, but I doubt that many people will hate you for that. People start to hate you if they feel threatened or disgusted, not when they think you're a clown (or a penguin).

.

Most of us sag, because it's cool. I don't doubt that at all.

My point was that sagging is a always a potential sexual signal, because it can be perceived as one. Just imagine that you sag and stretch, UBCSagger, and a girl sees your boxers. That might make her think about sex (with you or in general) - even if you didn't want that at all. The sight of underwear makes it likely to think about what's underneath it, after all, and sagging is a kind of stripping.

Have you ever wondered why some people hate sagging so much? Alright, it's against social convention. But why should one make so much fuss about that? As we all know, there are even laws against sagging. But there are no laws against picking your nose or burping in public. Why the difference?

I think people are upset by the sexual connotations of sagging. And those connotations wouldn't go away even if the world was populated only by straight people who sagged because they wanted to fit in with the cool kids.

So, most of us sag mostly, because it looks cool, but that's not the whole story.

Basically, I think, sagging has many meanings: One of them is related to sex (not anal sex or gay sex, but sex in general). That's why boys often become saggers when they hit puberty (or a little later).

Other meanings of sagging include, of course: "I'm cool" and "I'm a rebel" and "I'm like everyone else in my peer group", and these meanings are usually much more important.

What do you think?

I'm gay myself, so I can't speak for straight people, but I have my own opinion about the whole thing. I think you're mostly right dublsagger2damax. On the other hand, I believe that sagging is more than just another fashion style. It is different from just wearing a cap backwards or preferring skinny jeans to baggy jeans or whatever. It does send a sexual signal if you expose your underwear - whether you intend to send that signal or not. It is not just fashion either if a woman wears a dress that allows you to see most of her breasts.

That doesn't make sagging (or an interest in other saggers) gay. A sexual signal can be directed at anyone, of any gender. But it does make a difference. Liking sagging is NOT the same as liking football or basketball. That's probably one of the reasons why sagging has been around for so long now. There has to be an explanation for that.

There are, of course, lots of other aspects that make sagging fun, and I also think that straight people on this site should be treated more respectfully. I'm glad that there are still so many of them here.

Thanks, flameboard!

Writing this part has been difficult and it might take even longer to finish part 15. Please be patient.

Part 14

I walked home instead of going by tram, which took me almost an hour, but I enjoyed the cool evening air. All the people who came from work or were shopping for groceries. All that bustle. All the cars that passed me by after I had reached one of the main roads. Some of the drivers probably checked out my sag. I touched my boxers from time to time, just to make sure they were on display, and I was suddenly in a great mood.

Of course, I'd miss dinner and my mom would probably wonder where I was. But I didn't care about that now. I wanted to let my feet and my mind wander.

I remembered my old life, even my obsession with Marc. Feelings that, by now, seemed to belong not to me, but to another person. Many things had changed completely since me and my parents had moved here. I was a sagger now, no doubt about it. Many things that I had deemed impossible were actually possible, and not that difficult to achieve. They just took a little courage.

No, you weren't condemned to stay the same forever, as I had once thought. People could change; I was quite sure of that now. Now the only thing left to figure out was what I wanted to change into. Which kind of person did I want to become? What did really count?

Sagging was certainly important. I had two friends now, and they were at least partly my friends, because they dressed like me. Both were mad saggers, and good-looking as well, and interesting in their own way.

But I wasn't allowed (not really) to touch either Max or Ben, let alone fall in love ... And love had to be even more wonderful than sagging, and more important. At least that's what I thought. Why else would people make all that fuss about it?

Not many boys from my class had girlfriends at the moment. Neither Max nor Ben had one, despite their looks. But that would change – inevitably. And maybe my friends would stop being obsessed with sagging than and focus more on ... something else. Real sex, for instance ... or even love.

It had to be so much easier for them, being straight and all.

Ben probably didn't spend much his time walking around worrying. Actually, I thought that I had him figured out pretty well. It was nice to be him, partly, because I knew what to expect. But Max? Why was he interested in me at all? We had sagging in common, sure. But ... how did explain his behaviour? In general, and earlier this afternoon, in particular. Stripping in front of me ... making me take my shirt off ... Maybe he had suspected that I was gay and had tried to make me uncomfortable. He seemed to enjoy making people uncomfortable.

Yes, maybe there was a streak of evil in him – even if he looked so innocent, and even girlish.

Maybe he was just as horny as we all were and therefore always ready to do kind of sexual things. Sometimes even straight boys humped each other or "played gay". I wasn't sure why, but the overwhelming urge to finally have sex certainly played a role. It shaped our behaviour and it made sagging more than just a cool look – even for straight boys. Or at least I thought so on that evening.

When I came home, my mom was alone. That was not unusual, because my dad often worked late. I left my backpack with the camera in my room and went into the kitchen then.

"Have you already eaten?" my mother asked.

"Not yet."

"There's still something in the fridge. Just put in the microwave."

"Thanks."

The house was very dark and quiet, unlike the streets I came from. None of us talked for some time. I prepared my meal (goulash and noodles), sat down and ate quietly.

Something seemed to bother my mother. I just hoped that she wasn't contemplating a big talk about my sexuality or sagging or something like that.

Maybe I could distract her with small-talk.

"How was your day?" I asked.

"As usual ... Why do you ask?"

"No special reason."

"How was your day?"

"Good."

"Which on of your friends did you meet today?"

"Uhm ... Max."

"Ah, right."

"You remember him."

"Of course ... And you just hung out and ... chilled, I suppose."

It was just so awkward when my mom tried to use cool expressions. But at least, the conversation had been harmless so far. "Basically."

"Is he in your class?"

"Max? No. He's not ... He's just the friend of a friend ... who is in my class." I realized that I couldn't really explain properly how Max and I had befriended each other.

"Well, I'm glad that you seem to settle in so well", my mom said. "It's just ... We have moved so often"

"It wasn't so bad."

"But it was hard for you to make new friends each time. You spent much time alone."

"True ... But that's not so bad. And things seem to work out now, don't they? I mean, socially ... This is definitely the best school I've ever gone to."

"Because of the teachers?"

"No ... I mean, the teachers aren't bad either. It's just ... The other boys ... and girls are nice ... in a general way."

My mother didn't look very convinced. Maybe she suspected that I wasn't telling her the whole truth. I felt tempted to just say it. I'm gay. Why was it so hard? And my mom would unterstand. I was pretty sure of that. So why didn't I get it over with?

Just open your mouth and form the words.

I couldn't do it. I was too weak, and the silence continued. Finally, my mom said something completely unexpected: "Your father might have to leave again, soon."

"What?"

That completely made me lose my train of thought.

"I know. It comes very sudden."

"Yes, it does!"

"It's a project in Asia, in the southeast of China. I can't remeber the name of the town right now. We've only known about it for a few days now."

"Okay. And you didn't tell me earlier, because ...?"

"Because your father wasn't sure if he'd accept the offer. The team leader has had an accident or something and they need someone who can substitute her ..."

"Will he definitely do it?"

"Yes, he will."

"And how long will he be away then?"

"Three months. Mabye four."

"Okay." Maybe that wasn't so bad. I mean I liked my dad, but it wasn't too bad just to live with my mom for a while.

"Maybe he will get promoted after that. He could finally get a job at headquarters", my mom said.

"But then we'd have to move again."

"Yes. One last time."

"Great."

"You know. It's hard for me, too ... But you know how important his career is for your father."

"I have no problem with that as long as we don't move again. I want to stay here for the next three years."

"Maybe we will."

"No, not maybe. Definitely."

Another long silence followed after that.

"The noddles were yummy", I said eventually and got up.

"You should pull up your trousers."

"What?"

"You're trousers. Please."

I pulled them up without commenting, and left the kitchen.

I was just rubbing the sleep out of my eyes when I saw a familiar hat-wearing shape approach me.

"Ben. Hi."

"I think you're wearing the same boxers as yesterday", Ben whispered.

"You seem to look at my ass a lot."

"Every day. And why should I not? You're such a homophobe. It all makes sense. Homophobes are often gay."

"I don't care whether people like girls or boys or ... I don't know ... animals, teachers. Whatever gets you off. I'm not a phobe of any kind."

"Teachers?"

Another boy approached us. It was Jens, one of the basically average, non-descript kids in my class. He was a little like I had been a year ago, and maybe that made me particularly superior toward him.

"What are you talking about?" Jens asked.

"Sagging", Ben explained.

"What's that?"

"Just look at him." Ben pointed at me. "If you wear your trousers like that."

"That's called sagging? I've never heard that word before."

"It needs a name, doesn't it? And apparently they call it sagging in America."

"Is it called sagging if you can see the boxer shorts?"

"No, that's not necessary. You just need to wear your trousers lower than normal. You're actually already a sagger. You just didn't know it ... Lift your shirt."

"What?"

"Come on. Lift your shirt."

Jens actually did it this time.

"You see", Ben commented. "Your boxers are sticking out above your belt ... And now you lift your shirt." He looked at me and I followed his order, exposing my (kind of dirty) boxers ...

"That's how we do it", Ben stated.

"Okay."

"You could sag a bit more, each day."

"I don't know."

"Just pull your jeans down once", Ben insisted. "Come on. It's fun."

Finally, Jens really did it. Ben's shamelessness certainly had its pay-offs sometimes. Right now, I was proud to be his friend and ready to overlook all that I found annoying about him.

And he really could be annoying.

"You should really change your underwear daily as a sagger", he told me, later that day.

"Maybe I just have two idential pairs of boxers."

"Have you?"

"No."

"Did you sleep in these boxers as well?"

"Yes."

"I hope you didn't have a wet dream."

"Could you please stop talking about my boxer shorts? Maybe you should marry them."

"Why are you so touchy today?"

"I am not touchy."

"You are. Dirty and touchy ... And you look very sleepy."

"So what? I didn't sleep well. There's a lot going on at the moment."

"Are you worried about the math test?"

"No, not that kind of stuff."

"Right. I forgot. You're so smart. You don't worry about tests like as normal guys."

"Don't be envious."

"So what is going on with you then?" Ben asked. "Anything I could be interested in?"

"I don't know, I'm about to join a secret club ... a saggers' club." It was probably very stupid to tell anyone about that, but Ben's teasing and the lack of sleep had weakened my self-control.

"A secret club. How old are you? Twelve?"

"No. It's a serious thing."

"Oh. And what makes it so serious?"

"It's not easy to get in. They're well-organized. And they do interesting things."

"Like what?"

"I don't know yet. I've heard some rumors, that's all ... But they're the best saggers I know."

"Better than me?"

"Maybe. Yes. You could probably learn something from them, too."

"Oh my god ... But why do you need a club for sagging. I can do it on my own."

"Isn't it cool if there are lots of other saggers around? The more of us, the better. You tried to missionarize Jens today."

"Yes, that was fun ... But if I want to be around other saggers, I can just go to the skatepark."

"That's a point. I can't do that."

"So you'll have secret meetings then", Ben said eventually. "And you'll sign documents with your own blood. You should really tell me about it. Or is that forbidden – talking to ousiders?"

"Maybe I'll not even get to joit the club after I've talked to you."

"What dou you have to do to get in?"

"I don't know yet."

"I just hope it's something public. That'd be fun to watch."

So Ben didn't really like the saggers' club either. Or at least, he didn't like the idea of it. But that somehow just strengthened my conviction that I had to go through with the whole thing. And I had already spent so much time and energy on the whole thing.

The next day, I ran into Max, however. He followed me, so that we could talk in private.

"What about the photos?" Max asked eventually. "Have you decided yet which one we can publish?"

"No, not yet."

Max smiled. "Maybe I should decide for you."

I grimaced. "You're evil."

"Me?" He smiled enigmatically, and I wondered what was really going on in his mind.

"Okay", I answered lamely. "See you later."

"My mom likes you, by the way", Max said.

"Thanks. My mom really likes you, too. She says you got mad style."

"Really?"

"Yes. Her exact words. You should come and sag for her one day."

"I will. I will."

My obsession with the saggers' club raised to new heights during the following days, until the urge to act became irresistible. I wandered around the schoolyard and managed to find the boy I had been looking for. He was the one from the skatepark, with the girls' jeans. The only member of the saggers' club I knew personally.

Right now, he was talking to two other boys. All three were a little older than me, maybe a year. The skater's jeans were more loose this time, but still hanging low. I just stood there and stared at him until he and his friends noticed me.

"Hey. What are you looking at?" one of the skater's friends shouted.

I didn't say anything – I just turned around and left.

In the evening, I surfed the internet and landed on a site for gay youths. I read some coming-out stories and browsed the forum. I had visited this site before, but had never taken it really seriously. Somehow, I had thought, it was not for me. But my sexual orientation was not no longer in doubt now.

I was excited to find out that there even were some users from my town on the site. Maybe I'd really try to find a boyfriend.

The next morning, I left the house at the usual time and headed for the tram station when I saw someone coming toward me. It was a boy who wore dark clothes and whose head was obscured by a hood. This was a middle-sized town in Germany; people didn't get mugged here. But I was still scared. Then I recognized Max. Or at least I was almost sure it was him. But why was he here? Why hadn't he called me? Before I could greet him or say anything, he handed me something.

"Someone said I should give you this."

I was wide-awake now - and totally confused.

That's a nice story. I like to read about sagging from the point of view of a straight boy. The next chapter should be even more interesting ...

Usually, you can't tell or at least, you can't be sure. It's probably best if you try to find boys from your school in internet communities for gay people. I don't what the best sites for your region are (I live in Germany), but I guess you can find that out for yourself.

There are definitely lots of gay and bisexual boys at your school; statistics demand that. So you should keep up your hopes. I wish you luck.

Thanks, again, for the comments. It's reassuring for me that straight readers can still enjoy the story. I want to cover as many aspects of and perspectives on sagging as possible.

Here's just a quick update. The rest of part 13.

Part 13 (continued)

Max took the camera again and pointed it at me. "If you want to keep the pictures, then it's my turn again now."

"Noooo", I groaned.

"Come on."

"Don't we have enough pictures already?"

"But there's still space on the memory card ... And besides, what else should we do? Play computer games? This is more fun."

I couldn't deny that.

"I've gotten so used to sagging on my own", Max added. "But this is something new."

"You're so jaded ..."

"I guess I am."

"Won't your mother come back soon?"

"Maybe. So?"

"I don't know. She should come in here and surprise us."

"Oh no! That'd be really bad."

I grimaced and Max got up from his chair. Finally, he stood with his back to me to open his cupboard, which stood opposite the bed.

"If you're unwilling, you could at least take some more photos of me", Max said. "I'll just change my outfit."

I just watched as he let his trousers drop to the floor and stepped out of them. As far as I could tell, he browsed through his underwear collection then, standing there, in shirt and boxers ... Finally, he seemed to have reached a decision and took a colourful pair of boxers out of the drawer.

"I hope you don't mind to see me ... strip", he said.

"No."

"I always thought it would be fun to hang out in boxers", he told me. "But my friends would probably think it was too gay ... It isn't really."

"No ... no. But you should really put on some trousers if you want me to take more sagging pics."

"Wait a minute."

Max took off his shirt now, too. I grabbed the camera and quickly took some pictures.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"That could be a nice photo series", I said. "A sagger gets dressed."

"I don't think so." Max put a new shirt on and then jeans as well.

"I bet the shirtless pics would be popular with the girls in your class."

"Come on. Give me the camera ... And actually, it's still my turn."

He attacked me, but I was taller and had longer arms, so I somehow managed to hold on to the cam. All that body contact wasn't good for me, however. But one part of my self was still enjoying itself.

"Come on. Sag for me", I heard myself say.

Max lifted his shirt up, trying to look sexy. I tried to think like an artist not like a sex-starved teenage boy, and took pictures for two or three minutes, until Max let his jeans drop to the ground again. That was the sign to stop.

When I lay down the camera, Max took it instantly and looked at the photos of him. He didn't bother to pull up his trousers.

"Now, it's definitely your turn", he mumbled.

"I don't think there's still time. Your mother ..."

"Come on. Get up!" Max insisted, and he sounded very serious.

I got up while Max was sitting down on his chair again.

"Now. Let's see you sag", Max said.

I didn't know what to do. Finally, I just turned around, pulled my jeans down and bended over, pretending to tie my shoelaces.

"Boring ..."

"What should I do then?"

Suddenly, I heard the sounds of a door and steps. Max's mother!

"Don't move", Max quickly said. "Take your shirt off", he commanded. "I dare you." He had gone crazy. I felt, however, that I couldn't chicken out now.

"What?"

"I dare you. Come on, do it."

What the hell. I got shirtless and posed for the camera. Max casually grabbed my shirt from the floor and put hit in his lap. I suddenly felt the urge to show him that I was crazier than he had expected (although I knew at the same time how stupid it was).

So I took off my jeans as well and threw them at him. He smiled. I heard the noises come ne

Knock! Knock!

What to do? ... What to do? I couldn't dress fast enough. Max had my clothes. How should I explain why I stood here in my boxers? I quickly ran in the corner. There I would be able to hide behind the door.

"Yes?" Max called.

His mother entered the room. I noticed that a pair of Max's boxers still lay on the floor. And what about my clothes? My heart was pounding.

"I'm back now", the mother said. "Everything alright?"

"Yes, sure."

"Where's your friend? Has he gone home?"

"Oh ... no ... uhm ... I think he's ... he's on the toilet right now", Max lied.

There was a long silence. I held my breath. And then, Max's mother just left.

When the sound of her steps had gone away, Max started laughing.

"Give me back my clothes", I said. But Max just ignored my request.

I fumbled around with my boxers, feeling exposed. But the whole situation got me excited again, too.

"Give me my jeans. I'm freezing."

Max seemed to have noticed the tent in my boxers by now. I looked down on me myself. Neither one of us said anything. All the attention made my **** even harder. Finally, I had a full-grown boner. My body had betrayed me again. Max started laughing at me. And he took a picture, too. I grabbed my p***s through the fabric of my boxers and tried to hide the boner with my hand.

"Could you give me my clothes now?"

"Hmmm ... Let me think."

"Please! I'll do anything."

"Okay, okay."

He reached out for my jeans and my shirt and threw them to me.

I got dressed in silence. Then I sat down on the bed again.

"You know ... I think I'll copy the pictures on my harddrive now", my friend said.

He turned his attention to the computer.

"So, you're not freaked out?" I asked bashfully, after a minute or so had passed.

"I'm not freaked out", Max replied. "I'm jaded. Remember?"

Silence again.

The copying of the data took lots of time.

"I gotta ask, though", Max said. "Are you ... gay?"

"Yes."

"I'm not ... I think. Did you assume that I was?"

"No."

"Sometimes, I'm not completely sure. I just like to look at other saggers ... and at myself sagging, too. Maybe, I'm gay for saggers. But I don't really want to have sex with them or ... I don't know. Does that make any sense? Do you think that's weird?"

"No ..." I wanted to say "Who cares?", but for some reason I couldn't. It was so hard to speak about all this.

"Anyway, I've met gay saggers before." Although Max was younger, he seemed so much more experienced. "You're not the only one."

I was afraid to ask for names right away.

When I was just about to leave, I finally met Max's mother. I still felt naked and embarrassed in her presence. I wondered whether she could read my face (like my mother sometimes could). Max, however, seemed to enjoy the awkward situation. When I kneeled down to put on my shoes, my boxers were exposed again, but I hardly cared anymore. I seemed to be jaded now as well.

And so I went home.

Thanks a lot for the comments!

I don't think I'll ever publish this story as an e-book. Most people who are interested in sagging will find it here.. And before I'd even consider publishing this anywhere else, I'd have to find a native speaker who corrects my English. Sometimes, I feel fluent in English and sometimes I think: "This sounds awkward" or "This can't possibly be right!" I know I don't write badly, but it's not perfect either.

By the way, someone from Saggerworld translated the first parts of the story into French (I was flattered by that as you can imagine) and as far as I can tell, the French version is better than the original, because it's written by a native speaker. If you're French, you should be able to read that version soon on a site called SaggersWeb.

Here's the next part of the story. It's short, but I liked the cliffhanger. I'm a little worried that the story has become "too gay" for straight readers, but maybe that's a misguided fear. Almost all the readers are gay, I suppose.

Part 13

There was no sense in stalking members of the saggers' club any more. They had contacted me and would probably contact me again. So I had just wait for their next move.

I wondered whether they really watched me. It sounded like something from a bad movie or something. But nevertheless, I grew a little paranoid. I looked over my shoulder from time to time to find out if somebody was following me. In previous years, I had often the same clothes for several days (except socks and underwear). But now I felt the need to impress possible watchers with my outfit every day. Maybe they'll judge me and my style regularly, I thought. That seemed absurd, but it was certainly not impossible. Sometimes conspiracies actually existed.

Max and I almost never spend time together at school. We had decided that it would be a little awkward to explain to our respective friends why we knew each other. After all, Max was one or two years younger than me.

So if we talked at all, we did it over the phone. A week after my visit to the skatepark, he called me again.

"Listen", Max said. "Ralph and Thomas want to meet you again. Is tommorrow after school okay for you?"

I was so surprised that I forgot to ask any questions.

We were at the same place where we had met before, but I sagged a little less low this time, because I assumed that the two older boys would like that. (And I was pretty sure that there weren't any sagger club spies around at that moment.)

After a little small-talk, Ralph asked me if I'd make some pictures of myself for their sagger website.

"But I don't have a good camera", I said.

"That's not a problem. We could lend you one."

I still wasn't sure if I should do it. Maybe the club members watched that website. And if the pics were on the net, everybody on the whole world could stare at me – and my underwear ... It was a little scary, but also very tempting ...

"You don't have to do it, of course", Thomas said. "We don't want to pressure you."

"No, no. I will do it."

"Great. If you don't want to take the pictures yourself, you can ask one of us anytime."

"Okay. I'll think about it."

After the meeting I had a chance to talk with Max alone. I told him about my talk with the sagger club member at the skatepark.

"Somehow they knew thins about me", I said.

"That sounds strange."

"Have you told anyone about my interest in the club?"

"No. Why should I?"

"He also said they had watched me."

Max chuckled. "And you believe that?"

"Not really. It sounds a little silly."

I still had doubts, however, but kept them to myself.

When Ralph lended me his camera two days later, I got so excited about my new toy, I could hardly wait to try it out. Now I would finally be able to see my sag as others saw it. So, right after lunch, I went to my room and tried to make my first sagging pics. It took some time. First, I had to learn how to use the self-timer, then I had to decide where to put the camera, which wasn't easy at all. Finally, I found a position that worked, but the results were disappointing nonetheless. It took a lot of effort just to take two or three photos that looked okay. And even the okay pics were kind of boring, I thought. So I put the camera away, at least for now.

But the idea of sagging pics hadn't lost its pull. I called Max.

"Uhm ... I still have the Ralph's camera. Maybe you could take some photos of me", I suggested. "We could photograph each other or something."

Max hesitated and I feared that I had gone too far with this question, but he indulged eventually.

"Why not? Should I come over later?"

"Actually I'd like to come to you this time."

It turned out that Max lived in one of the big ugly buildings the local housing association had erected in various parts of town. When I finally arrived on the fifth floor, he stood in front the door, waiting.

"We're lucky", he said. "My mother is gone for a while. She's at the hairdresser's."

There seemed to be no dad in this family. I took the camera out of my backpack and gave it to Max. "Do you know how to use it?"

"A little."

Max checked the camera out while I did the same with his sag. He wore white plaid boxers, a white belt and black jeans today.

"I tried to make some pictures myself yesterday", I explained. "But it didn't really work."

He pointed the camera at me and started to make photos. I tried to smile and then made faces at him.

"Turn around", he commanded. "Let me see your sag."

I did that, but I felt weird.

"Come on, don't stand there so stiffly", Max insisted, probably unaware of the ambiguity (in contrast to me).

"I just hate to pose", I protested. "I suck at modelling."

"Just act natural."

Finally, we went to the kitchen and Max told me to take pots and cutlery from certain cabinets and drawers. I appreciated his cleverness, because I had to bend over and strecht out a lot and my mind was taken off the fact that I was being photographed.

So I started to have fun and I even pulled down my jeans a little to sag lower.

Later, we took some more pictures in the living-room until I insisted that I could watch the photos and Max handed me the camera. At first, I was disappointed again. But some of the later pictures looked really hot and I felt weirdly attracted to myself.

"You're a talented photographer", I told Max.

"Thanks ... Uhm ... Have you brought any more clothes? We could take some more photos in a different outfit."

"No." I handn't thought of that possibility. "Anyway ... I think it's time for a role reversal."

"Nooooo."

"Come on ... It will be fun."

"I don't want to get up."

"You could just lie down here on the couch."

"Mmmm. Okay."

I got up and watched.

"Like that?" Max asked.

"Yes. That looks good."

He lay prone and about half of his boxers were exposed. The sexual undertones were obvious now, but Max didn't seem to mind and I couldn't stop myself.

"Turn around."

Max followed my order and I took more photos. Suddenly, Max jumped up. He almost lost his jeans, but didn't pull them up. Instead, he struck some silly poses with his trousers hanging at his thighs. After a while, he had a laughing fit and sunk to the ground. I still took pictures.

"Stop it", Max insisted.

I turned away from him and held the camera in front of my crotch for obvious reasons.

Max got up from the floor and looked down on himself, before he finally yanked his jeans up. It was the worst kind of teasing and I didn't know how to act. Was he really oblivious or did he all that on purpose?

"I have to take a piss", I said. "I'll be back in a sec."

Actually, I didn't know where the toilet was, but after I had opened the wrong door first, I finally found it. I saw no other option except jerking off immediately. Maybe Max wanted to have sex with me. But why hadn't he initiated it then? He usually wasn't shy ... I needed some minutes to sort myself out. But I knew it would be suspicious to stay in the toilet too long.

When I entered the living-room again, Max was sitting on the couch with a glass of coke.

"Hey", he said. "Why did you take the camera with you?"

"Oh. Yes ... Uhm ... That was stupid."

"Give it to me."

"There you are."

He started to look at the pictures of himself. I wondered whether he understood the situation and just didn't want to talk about it.

"Do you want to drink something, too?" Max asked eventually.

"No, thanks."

"We should go to my room."

"Okay."

We got up from the couch and I followed Max. He opened the door and we entered the room.

"You can sit down on the bed", Max said and so I did that.

The room was small, but cosier and messier than mine. Max put the camera on his desk.

"We definitely have some good examples for extreme sagging now. But I think I'll delete the pictures", Max said.

"Don't."

"You like them?"

"They're funny. Nobody should sag like that in public, but ..."

"But what?"

"But ... uhm ..." I looked for the right words. Max took the camera again and pointed it at me. "If you want to keep the pictures, then it's my turn again now."

Thanks, kaytea. Your compliment means a lot to me. Here's the next part of the story - and it has some angst, but also lots of skaters in it.

Part 12

I had heard some unpleasant rumors about the saggers' club now, but my obsession with the club had not faded. What was so great about it? Why did I still daydream about it so much? I suspected that the club would probably be bad for me – but that was exactly what attracted me. I had been nice and good for so long. While I mused about my future as a juvenile delinquent, I was actually scared of my parents and their judgment, now that they knew about my penchant for sagging.

The next morning, I didn't sag my jeans in front of my mom. This decision to play it safe made me feel like a coward, however and I wondered what Max would say about it. In the end, I dared myself to pull my jeans down before I left. And I really did it. I said goodbye to my mom as a sagger. My jeans hung low, but my boxers were covered, and we could both be happy. I left for school.

Ben approached me as soon as I had entered the classroom.

"Can I copy the math homework?"

"Uhm ... sure." I rummaged through my stuff. "Here it is."

"Thanks."

I didn't know what else to say and Ben left. Maybe him and me, we just had to do something together to make things right ...

.

"Listen. Maybe we should meet after school", I suggested when Ben returned my notebook.

"Actually, I was going to go to the skatepark today."

"I could come with you."

"You don't skate."

"Not until today."

"Do you even have a board?"

"No."

Ben hesitated. "Okay, you can come."

"Thanks."

"Just don't embarrass me."

"I won't."

"Can you come to my place later?"

"Sure."

I felt full of energy for the rest of the morning – even when our math teacher discovered that Ben's homework was identical to mine.

After school, I quickly went to the local skate shop and bought a cap. I had never worn one before, but I felt I needed one now.

"You're later than usual", my mother said, when I finally came home.

"I know. I'm sorry. I talked to some friends and ..."

"You seem to make many new friends lately?"

"Not really. Just two or three."

"Are they from your class?"

"No. Don't be so inquisitive."

"I'm not inquisitive. I just want to know something about your life."

"There isn't much to tell, really."

"You could tell me a little about your new friends, for example."

"They're called Ben and Ralph and Thomas. And Max, but you know him already."

We started eating lunch, while I was telling harmless lies.

"You know you have a appointment with Doctor Kirschstein this afternoon", my mother finally interrupted me.

"No. Damn."

"What?"

"I can't go."

"Why not?"

"We'll have to reschedule ... uhm ... There's this thing ... " My imagination failed me. "I really can't tell you."

"That sounds suspicious."

"It's nothing bad, really. I just can't tell you now. I'm sorry."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No. It's not that."

"A boyfriend?"

"What? No! Please ... just let me reschedule the appointment. Do you have the phone number somewhere?"

I felt embarrassed and angry. My mom had actually asked if I had a boyfriend! Maybe she knew that I was gay ... or she suspected it, at least. But I couldn't ponder that now, because there was something much more important to do. I had to try on my new cap. I was conent. It still looked as good as I remembered. Now I just needed the right clothes to go with it.

Before I left the house, I met my mother again.

She looked at the cap that I held in my hand like an idiot. She definitely noticed my sag, too.

"Are you leaving now?"

"Yes", I said.

"Will you be back for dinner?"

"I don't know. Probably. If not, I'll phone you."

My mother nodded. "Why are you holding a cap in your hand?"

"Oh ... uhm ... I didn't want to wear in the house."

"Is it new?"

"Yes, I bought it recently."

"But you never liked caps."

"I do now."

"Because your friends wear them?"

"No, because I like them. Period."

"Don't spend all you money on clothes."

"I won't ... and it's my money. Anyway, I really have to go now."

I wondered whether real skaterboys had conversations like that with their moms, too.

When I rang the bell at Ben's house, his younger brother opened. He was dressed almost exactly like Ben; the resemblance was almost comical. Finally, Ben himself greeted me and we went to his room.

"That's your board", he said and pointed to the wall.

"My board?"

"Yes. You can take my old one."

"Thanks."

"It'll look better if you bring a board."

"Sure."

Ben looked at the mirror to check his appearance one final time. He was so unashamed about his vanity; it was fun to watch. Finally, we left the house.

I had never owned a skateboard, so I looked to Ben to learn how to handle it right. He rolled down the street for a couple of meters and I watched him. He really started to feel like an older brother to me. Maybe that wasn't so bad; brothers, after all, weren't sexually attracted to one another.

Ben grinned at me (his trademark grin).

"I know exactly why you want to go to the skatepark with me."

"To have fun?"

"To look at the boys."

"No, no."

"Come on. Be honest."

"Yeah, okay. Skaters don't look so bad, but that doesn't mean I ..." I lowered my voice, afraid that other people would overhear the conversation.

"I understand you. As far as I'm concerned, I kind of like to be looked at."

"Oh really."

"As long as you don't get a boner again."

"That was just one time!"

"That's what everyone says – until the second time."

The tram arrived and we got in.

The skate park was located in an actual park. It all looked very nice, especially in the sunshine. Walkers would pass by the skaters – sometimes interested, but mostly not. Most people seemed to be more comfortable to pretend that the skaters just weren't there ...

Ben greeted the people he knew and introduced me. We both sat down then, next to the others. I liked that, because it gave me the opportunity to watch what was going on. I had never before dared to spend much time near a skate park, even though I had wanted to. There were five or six boys on BMX bikes and four or five on skateboards. Everybody seemed to be sagging. I even noticed a boy who wore tight jeans very low; I had never seen that before. Tight jeans were gay, after all. But I thought it looked ... interesting. You certainly had to be brave to dress like that.

"... and what about you?" someone asked.

"What?"

"When did you start skating?"

"Oh. Last week. I'm not really a skater ... I'm just here to watch ... to watch and learn, I mean."

I felt embarrassed. But only secons later, I was no longer the center of attention. I watched Ben roll over the asphalt, together with the rest of the boys.

Maybe the skaters here had formed a saggers' club without knowing it. "Skate 4 Life" someone had written on the metal box I was sitting on. If that was really true, if a boy never gave up skating, would he give up sagging then? I hoped not.

"Hi."

I was surprised for the second time that someone actually talked to me here. It was the boy with the tight pants I had noticed earlier. His face did look a little familiar. Maybe I had seen him at school before.

"Hi", I said.

"You know you told me to pull up my trousers once."

"Did I? Sorry. I didn't mean that."

The skater laughed. I suddenly remembered the embarrassing incident from some weeks ago. My first and failed attempt to get to know other saggers.

"We have watched you", the skater said. "At school, I mean."

"Why? What have I done?"

"You should know that."

"Okay, maybe I do."

"Does the name 'Max' ring any bells?"

"He's a friend of mine. Has he told you something about me?"

"Not directly, no."

I tried to make sense of this conversation.

"Are you a member of the saggers' club?" I finally asked.

"There is no such club."

"Oh, of course."

"You don't believe me?"

"No. I know that the club exists."

"Really.

"Yeah. And I'd like to join."

"Why would you wanna do that?"

"You're just the best saggers at our school." I hoped that flattery would work. "And I want to become a better sagger, too."

"But you know, even if such a club existed, it had to be well protected against people who aren't serious about the whole thing."

"Of course. But I am serious. And I'll do whatever it takes to prove it."

"That might be enough – or not."

"Very funny."

"We'll keep in touch."

The other boy got up. At the same time, Ben returned and jumped off his board. He looked angry.

"I'm no good today", he told me.

I felt guilty, because I hadn't watched him most of the time.

"Your skating still looks good to me."

"Thanks. But I'm the worst skater around here. That's depressing. I'm just glad there are no girls around."

Ben sat down and we watched the other boys do their flips and ollies or 360s with their bikes.

"Don't you feel anything if you look at girls?" Ben asked.

"Uhm ... not really. Why?"

"That's the thing I don't get. I mean, I'm a little attrated to skaters or other saggers myself. Not in a gay way, of course. But what I don't get is how you can not like girls. Just look at **** ..."

"Yeah, I can imagine it. Thanks. By the ay, **** are the one thing where sagging is actually bad."

"Very funny."

"Seriously. I guess you can never understand why other people like certain things or don't like others. I mean, I probably wouldn't mind being bisexual, but it just isn't like that. I can't change my feelings."

"Yeah, okay."

One of the older skaters got angry and kicked his board.

"By the way, do you think the boy in the girls' jeans is gay?" Ben asked.

"I don't think so."

"I really think you two would make a cute couple."

"Go away."

"You could wear matching girls' clothes."

I hit Ben playfully on the shoulder. It was the first time I had touched him in a long time. He seemed to realize that, too, but in the end decided that it was okay. We were friends, after all ... once again.

Thanks a lot, David and Justin! After such comments, I felt it was my duty to post the next part as soon as possible. So here it is ...

Part 11

Life's not a dream, and if you thought that Ben would simply continue to be my best friend, well, then you are mistaken. We felt weird in each other's presence after my coming-out, so we spent a lot less time together.

I wondered whether Ben had already told anyone that I was gay. After all, Ben didn't strike me as the type who kept secrets for a long time. Probably, everybody would know soon. What then? I would have to endure mockery by people who hated my style and people who hated my sexuality and people who envied my good grades and people who just hated my guts. Great!

The lack of communication between Ben and me had at least one advantage: It was easy for me now to spend time on my own. That way, I could look for other saggers undisturbed. I found quite a few of them. Some of the sags looked amazing ... Everything was so well-matched – or ill-matched, in some cases, but always in an interesting way. I was quite sure that som of those boys belonged to the mysterious saggers' club; sometimes I even saw three or four of them standing together. But I didn't dare approach them. Not until I knew more.

I looked for Max, too. The first time I found him, there were too many people around him, but the second time, I was more lucky. In fact, I was amazingly lucky. He was just tying his shoelaces when I passed him in the schoolyard. Did his shoes really need that much attention? Probably not. So Max was not above using tricks like that.

Oh, and if you wondered, his boxers looked very cute. They were made of cotton, as far as I could tell, and had little ice bears on them.

"Hey."

"Hey." He raised his head and smiled – a smile I could translate easily. He knew that I had checked out his sag.

"Nice polar bears."

"Thanks." He probably thought that I wanted to make fun of him. "I like these boxers", Max added. "Even if they look childish."

"Maybe you want to remind people of the fact that polar bears are threatened with extinction because of the climate change. That's not childish."

"I've never thought of it that way ..." He grinned. "But I guess that's another good reason for sagging. I should get more boxers with endangered species on them."

"Definitely."

"Ralph and Thomas liked you, by the way", Max finally said.

"Really?"

"Why shouldn't they? You're nice. And there's no doubt you're really into sagging. Anyway, we should all meet again soon."

"Let's exchange cell phone numbers", I suggested.

I fished my cell phone from my pocket and we dictated our numbers to each other.

In the next few days, I often thought about calling Max, but I didn't want to appeared too eager. I had already scared off some potential friends didn't want to repeat my mistake. Maybe it was the best if Max and I met by accident again ... even I had to make that accident happen.

A week passed. Every day, I went to school and waited for something to happen, but nothing changed, except that I caught a cold.

I didn't feel very attractive with my running nose, but being ill and feeling miserable, I just couldn't take waiting any longer. So I finally phoned Max. It took him some time to recognize me; my voice sounded different.

"I don't know if you're busy", I said eventually, "but I thought maybe we could meet after school one day."

"Uhm ... okay." He sounded surprised.

"I'd just like to talk about some things."

"Yeah, no problem."

"What day is best for you?"

"Don't know ... I could come over right now if that's okay."

"Yeah, sure." I hadn't expected that at all.

"Where do you live?" Max asked. I told him the name of the tram station near our house.

"That's not too far. I can be there in half an hour."

After the call, I started to tidy up my room immediately. I hid everything that looked embarrassing t or that could be interpreted as gay. I even thought about having a shower, but decided against it in the end. A change of clothes was inevitable, however.

When the bell finally rang. I rushed to the door, but my mom got their first. She looked at me and her expression was very weird. Probably because I wore different clothes and hadn't told her about Max's visit. She opened the door. Max was sagging – the first thing I noticed – and maybe even a little lower than at school. Light blue boxers were sticking out below his hoodie and his studded belt.

"Come in."

I introduced my new friend to my mom and they shook hands.

"No shoes in the house", I explained and felt stupid while saying it, but I had just internalized my mother's rules so well. Speaking of my mother, I could tell from her face that she had noticed Max's sagging – and probably my own, too. But she didn't say anything about it. That would come later, I expected.

I asked Max to follow me and we went to my room.

"This looks really neat", my friend observed.

"I know. Usually, it's more messy. Take a seat."

Max nodded, but didn't sit down immediately. Instead, he pulled his jeans down a little. "I hope you don't mind", he said, "but it's uncomfortable to sit on a studded belt. So, I prefer to sit on my boxers. I do that all the time at home."

"I don't mind." (Only my nervousness saved me from another boner catastrophy.)

"It's nice that you came over so quickly", I said.

"I didn't have much to do and I like to be not at home, sometimes. So ... what did you want to talk about?" Max asked.

"Yeah ... right. I don't know if it's weird. But I thought maybe you know something about the saggers' club. I know, they are probably a bit like your ... enemies ... or whatever you want to call it ... but I'm just really curious. I've thought about the club most of the time I spent at this new school."

"Really?"

"I know it sounds crazy."

"Not crazy. I was curious about the club, too, a while ago ... But how did you find out that it exists?"

"Oh, I just guessed. I saw a group of amazing saggers on the schoolyard on one of the first school days.I assumed, so many saggers of different ages in one place – that could be no accident. The idea made a lot of sense to me ... for saggers to stick together, to form some kind of club or network or conspiracy or whatever."

"But you could have been wrong."

"I know. I was lucky. I've always been lucky the past couple of weeks."

Except that Ben and I ignored each other now and lots of people had seen me with a boner. "So it would be nice if you could tell me a bit about the club", I concluded. "I'm sure you know something."

Max looked skeptical. "Do you want to join the club?" he asked.

"I don't know. They would probably not accept me, anyway. Have you ever tried to join the club?"

"No. I don't really like the whole ... club idea."

"Why not?"

"I just don't like it. You know ... there are always rules in clubs. I just want to sag the way I like it."

"I get it."

"And the saggers' club is actually much worse than that. Some of the club members are probably criminals. And some are bullys, I know that for a fact. They're pretty condescending toward other saggers, too, and I can't accept that. I think Ralph and Thomas are great, even if they sag in a different way."

"Of course ..." I felt a little hurt by all that criticism, even though it wasn't my club. I wasn't even a member. "You know ... there might be lots of things wrong with the actual club", I replied, "but I still like the idea. I mean, just imagine it, a group of seven, eight saggers. That really gets people's attention, doesn't it? And no single person will tell you to pull up your trousers then. If we stick together, we will be the normal ones, and they the outsiders."

"Maybe." Max grinned. "But I actually like to get comments, even negative ones. Being an outsider is not so bad, either."

"True." I mulled over that. "I like to get comments, too", I finally admitted to break the awkward silence.

"And do you get many?"

"No, not really. Just from some people in my class. They complain from time to time."

"And your parents?" Max asked.

"Well ... I don't really sag that much at home ... yet."

"Okay."

"I basically started today."

"My parents don't care anymore."

"I thought so."

"If I ever want to provocate, I will just stop sagging."

"I bet many people would be annoyed then."

We laughed and goofed around for a while. It was great. But then I felt I had to mention the saggers' club again. I still hadn't abandonded all my hopes.

"Can't you just tell me a little more about it?" I asked.

"Honestly, I don't know that much the club."

"Doesn't matter."

"You're really obsessed."

"I am."

"Okay. But promise me not to pass on what I tell you."

"I promise."

"The club was apparently formed about three years ago, by someone who is no longer at our school. I became aware of the club just like you, because they met on the schoolyard sometimes and I saw them there ... One day, I approached one of the members and asked him some questions, but he denied that the club actually existed. Anyway, a while later, I once saw some club members at McDonald's. They had a video camera and were filming each other, so I guess they made some kind of sagger video. I followed them for a while after they had left the restaurant, but they noticed me quickly and the oldest of them told me to F**** off ... Then, some months later, I met another sagger at a youth centre in our district and it turned out that he went to our school. And not only that, he was a member of the saggers' club, too. He was nicer than the others and told me some things. That there was some kind of initiation, though he wouldn't go into details, and how they dared each and that some of the members liked to do crazy, even criminal things: streaking, stealing, breaking and entering, stuff like that. One of the club members had supposedly stolen a car. I don't know if it that's true or not ... Anyway, I definitely didn't want to join the club any more. I already knew Ralph and Thomas, so I had great sagger friends ..."

I didn't know what to say.

"Are you disappointed now?" Max asked.

"I don't know ... A little."

Max looked uneasy. "Maybe you should try to join the club yourself, just to form your own impression. If you succeed, you can be our spy." He smiled.

"That sounds interesting."

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. I realized that I had completely lost track of time.

"Yes?"

My dad opened the door. Max was sagging crazily low, and I saw that my dad noticed it. But he didn't comment on it, just like my mother. I introduced my new friend to my other parent.

"Uhm ... we're about to eat now", my dad finally announced. "Do you want to join us for dinner, Max? I bet you're both hungry."

My sagger friend hesitated. "I'd really like to have dinner", he finally said. "If that's okay." He looked at me.

"Yes, sure", I said. "No problem."

"Okay. See you two in the kitchen then."

My father left.

"I' m sorry", Max mumbled. " Maybe I shoudn't have said ..."

"No, no, it's okay."

"Your parents seem nice ... compared to mine."

"Other people's parents are always cooler than you're own."

Finally, Max and I went to the dinner table, both of us sagging. (I had pulled up my jeans a little, however.) We sat down and everything went well at first. Max was nice and polite and obviously not dumb. But my mother managed to introduce the topic of fashion somehow.

"Marie" (a friend of my mom's) "told me how she was clothes shopping for her youngest son recently. It's become really difficult. Her boys are so particular. Most boys are nowadays, from what I hear."

"That's true", Max confirmed.

"And even the young boys want to wear those baggy jeans now, And they like to wear them low on the hips, just like the older ones. You find that cool, don't you?"

I cringed. "Yes", Max said. "It's kind of cool."

Now we were actually discussing sagging with my parents. My dark secret was in the open. It felt almost like another coming-out (come out to my parents was another thing that I needed to do some day).

"Sometimes I'm afraid one of those boys will completely lose his trousers", my mom said.

"I don't think that ever happens. It has never happened to me", Max replied. "If I'd have to run to catch a bus, I'll just take the next one." He smiled.

"Hasn't the style something to do with those rappers?" my dad asked me.

"Uhm ... not really", I said. "I don't think they invented it. But I'm not sure."

"Well, I hope, this trend doesn't last too long", my dad said. "I don't think it's very fashionable if people can see your underwear. I mean it's called underwear, because it's supposed to be under your clothes, isn't it?"

I cringed again. Why couldn't I just make this discussion stop?

"It's for young people ...", I said. "Rebellious teens."

"I think it's okay to follow fashion", my Mom said. "Boys just shouldn't wear their jeans too low; that just looks stupd; and I think they should cover their boxer shorts, at least in public."

Conversation didn't flow as smoothly now as it had before, but fortunately, dinner was over soon. I felt relieved. And my suffering had not been in vain. My mom actually seemed to be okay with sagging, at least in part. I probably could even talk to her about it now. For that new freedom, I had to thank Max. What I would be able to do in return?

Not to fall in love with him was certainly a start.