The Beachwear Blowout
Every summer, Zach and his circle of friends threw a party that made waves along the coast—but this year, they wanted to make a statement. No more hiding behind board shorts or baggy tanks. It was time for a celebration of pride, beauty, boldness, and the sexy swimwear that too many people were still too shy to wear.
The idea came one late night while lounging at Ethan’s apartment after a few too many cocktails and a few too many scrolls through Koalaswim.com. The room was full of laughter and playful jabs as they ogled at the most outrageous micro swimwear: thongs barely the size of a credit card, ultra-high-cut bikini briefs with MTF pouch fronts, and shimmering fabrics in wild colors.
“We should all just throw a beach party wearing these,” joked Ty, the sassiest of them all. “A real gay men’s swimwear celebration. No rules. The skimpier, the better.”
Zach’s eyes lit up. “Yes! We’ll call it The Beachwear Blowout. Guys only get in if they’re wearing micro, femme, or unapologetically queer swimwear. No boring trunks allowed. And if girls want to come, they’ve gotta match our energy—micro bikinis only.”
The group loved it. Within a week, the invites were out. A flyer featuring a muscular guy in a metallic MTF camel-toe suit said it all: “Gay Swimwear. Micro Sizes. Femme Fantasy. One Beach. No Shame.”
On the big day, they took over a quiet, tucked-away stretch of beach near Laguna. A rainbow flag flapped proudly above the cabana while speakers pumped out glittering pop anthems.
The guys arrived in waves—some in strappy, metallic thong bikinis; others in ultra-micro spandex briefs, shiny latex-look suits, and a few in full-on Koalaswim MTF transformation bottoms with puffy camel-toe fronts that erased everything male. The mood was electric. Confidence radiated off of everyone, skin shimmering in the sun, tight pouches and bold cuts on full display.
One group of boys wore matching white micro-briefs that went semi-sheer when wet and paraded down the shoreline together, hips swaying, getting plenty of admiring looks and camera flashes. Ethan had on a bubblegum-pink MTF-style suit that hugged him like a second skin—he’d never looked so femme, so fabulous, and so free.
Then came the girls.
Some of their girlfriends had shown up to support—but they came ready. Each one had honored the “micro only” request: thin triangle tops, bottoms that were more string than fabric, cheeky cuts that left nothing to the imagination. One girl wore a high-leg one-piece that looked painted on, and another had on a sparkly monokini that dipped so low in front it might as well have been a necklace.
“Damn, y’all weren’t playing around!” one of the girls shouted, eyeing the pouch on Zach’s shimmering lavender thong. “Is that even legal?”
He winked. “Barely. That’s why it’s perfect.”
As the day heated up, the drinks flowed, bodies mingled, and inhibitions melted in the sun. They played beach volleyball in thongs, had water gun fights that turned into flirty chases, and lounged together under umbrellas where flirtations quickly turned into something more heated. Sunscreen application turned sensual. Compliments became kisses. One couple snuck behind a dune, moans lost in the ocean breeze.
By sunset, the beach glittered with skin, sweat, and laughter. No one wanted it to end. A final group photo captured the magic—rows of beautiful bodies, in every shape and size, wearing the gayest, most fearless swimwear imaginable. Some femme, some butch, some everything in between.
The Beachwear Blowout had done more than throw a party—it shattered the rules. Gay men, femme boys, and proud allies had rewritten what it meant to be sexy at the beach.
And next year? They were already planning something even smaller… in fabric, that is.