Tex practically purrs, “Yes, Santa,” and Mandy nearly breaks character.
The photographer captures it all: Tex in Mandy’s lap, tugging on the leash with one gloved hand; Mandy towering behind him, one eyebrow raised like he’s about to punish the North Pole,or whoever signed him up for this. There’s a shot of Tex bending over a pile of presents, blowing a kiss at the camera while Mandystands behind him, arms crossed, looking like he’s about to revoke everyone'sholiday cheer.
It’s chaos and camp and pure, filthy Christmas magic.
Later, while reviewing the proofs, McCormick mutters, “This is why Jesus doesn’t return our calls.”
“Pretty sure that’s not the only reason why,” Mandy mutters.
Tex leans over Mac’s shoulder and whispers, “You’re just mad because I look better in fur trim.”
Margaret Anne simply wipes a proud tear from her eye and declares, “This is going on my mantel next to baby Jesus.”
And so December closes the calendar with jingles, joy, and exactly the kind of holiday spirit that BALLS was built on.
Calendar Release Party
The BALLS gym has never looked this fancy. Which is saying a lot, considering last month the locker room caught fire because Rhett tried to microwave a protein bar wrapped in foil.
But tonight, the basketball court has been transformed. Twinkle lights are strung from the rafters. There’s a red carpet (donated by the local theater, still slightly sticky), a sparkling cider fountain, and a huge banner that reads:
“BRAWN FOR A BETTER TOMORROW: The Official BALLS 2025 Charity Calendar Launch!”
Each of the calendar photos is blown up to poster size and mounted along the walls like a museum of crimes against modesty. West’s satin ribbon smolder. Jax’s deranged Cupid cosplay. Pharo’s furious leprechaun. Stiles’s latex Dracula. McCormick has already autographed his with a Sharpie and the words“Relish Me.”
The guys mill around in slightly nicer versions of their usual clothes. Mostly. Brewer outclasses everyone, as always. Mandy’sgot on a Santa hat. Brandt refuses to take off his aviators. Rhett brought a sharpie and is signing random people’scollar bones.Valor the cat is here in a velvet vest, sleeping in a box labeled “Donation Raffle.”
Margaret Anne floats through the crowd like the queen she is, hugging necks, crying ateverything,handing out laminated bookmarks made from rejected calendar proofs. “Look at my boys,” she sniffles, dabbing her eyes. “Mybeautiful, courageousboys.”
The calendar sales table is a war zone. People are buying three, four copies. One woman offers to trade her Honda for a signed December page. Another faints in front of Riggs’s thighs. Stiles helps her up and whispers, “It’s the oil. He’s greased like a Christmas ham.”
Mandy walks past Tex’s life-size cardboard cutout and mutters, “That outfit is why Santa started screening his letters.”
Tex beams. “You loved it. I saw the way you looked at my elf ears.”
“I was wondering how much you paid for them.”
“Lies,” Tex says. “Youlusted.”
Mandy leans in and whispers, “I wasn’t looking at your ears, Dynamite.”
In the corner, McCormick is standing under a balloon arch with his arm around Stiles’s waist, grinning at a poster-sized version of October. “I’m framing this,” he announces, gesturing to Stiles’s vampire smirk and glittery bite marks. “It’s going over our bed.”
Mandy walks by, sipping spiked eggnog. “What is this new trend of framing shit over our beds? It’s got to stop.”
By the end of the night, they’ve raised more money than any of them expected. Enough to fund gym scholarships for teens, new equipment, and a community outreach program Margaret Anne wants to call “Sweat Equity: Redemption Through Thirst.”
No one argues.
The guys linger after the crowd thins, lounging across gym mats and leftover tinsel. “You know,” Margaret Anne says, slipping one final calendar into her purse, “next year’s themecouldbe ‘BALLS in the Wild.’ You know—outdoor adventures. Wilderness. Less clothing.”
McCormick bolts upright. “YES.”
Everyone groans. But no one says no.
Because somehow, against all logic, all shame, and all fashion standards, the boys from BALLS have created a calendar that’s not just hot—it’s heroic.
And next year?
