slut boy
He did the pictures as sort of coming out, an attempted separation from his boy band beginnings. It was a far cry compared to the photos that had graced the cover in past times, but this slightly unclothed former boyband member was sure to raise eyebrows.
The photographer went over the vision he wanted to capture with him. Justins’ face lit up with delight as he learned of the simplistic backgrounds and the freedom he would be given for improvisational poses. Deciding to catch the general public and even his family and close friends off guard, he kept the shoot content to himself.
In preparation for the shoot, months were spent working out hoping to sculpt his abdomen to his likeness: faint lines outlining the square like muscles, deep lines to the sides of his pelvis producing an angular V shape. By the time the shoot had come his stomach was ripped to his standards of perfection.
Barechested and lightly rubbed with baby oil, he fashioned himself to the photographers request and let his body move where ever it felt comfortable for he felt at the epitome of ease. Reluctance vanished even as the possible reactions of parents, music execs, and critics flew around inside his head. There he stood, chest and stomach bearing, standing tall with his hip sticking out in a diva like pose. He hung widely from a bar like a chimpanzee and flexed his toned arms to show off his hard work and dedication. Nothing compared to this moment for it was the first time he felt free to express himself without the regulations associated with the “perfect image” he had been advised to present his whole career.
On the cover he stood, big orange letters spelling out Rolling Stone and article snippets were his backdrop. Inside, more shirtless pictures decorated the thin paper pages around his featured interview. He loved how the ending result was presented: pure, simple, and unforgettable. The outcome depicted a boy becoming a man. Despite his confidence he was ill prepared for the reaction of the man, the love that had impacted his life the last two years.
Handing the crisp unread magazine to the brunette he studied JCs’ blank, unreadable face. The muscles in his jaw tightened as his bluish green eyes were filled with the image of his half naked boyfriend on the cover of the popular magazine. Leaning his head forward, brown curls dropped down the sides of his face creating a lion like mane, his eyes narrowed as he found more offensive images. Patiently Justin stood, a mix of excitement and nervousness enclosed around him as he waited to hear his lovers’ response to the depiction of his independence. JC closed the magazine, his face as emotionless as it was before. He thrust the publication into Justins’ unprepared hands and turned to leave, no congratulatory remark or praise followed. Before he could leave the room Justin called after him,
“What did you think?”
Stopping mid-step, JC turned back around, his flustered face staring back at Justins’,
“You look like a slut, boy,” he replied, his words spiteful, the boy uttered purposely to create an air of superiority.
Once again he turned to leave. Justin stood, stunned at the statement concerning his supposed effort towards self-reliance. The wonderful feeling of accomplishment had begun to fade as shame for participating in such a production overtook him.
He looked down at the magazine still in his hands. Feeling disgusted at the sight of his shirtless snapshot, his hands quickly took themselves out from under the magazine. It felt to the floor producing a plop sound as it met the hard floor. He stared at the glossy magazine as if it was a horrible masterpiece. As he walked away, leaving the publication, he convinced himself to believe what JC had stated: he was a slut.
