The Writer and The Bodybuilder

[cesarvillavi]

Well this is a one shot story I had in mind all the afternoon and finally came alive. Basically this story is just an experiment of the narrative of a story, so it's a really weird, but I wanted to try some new elements in my stories. This story involves a lot of change in the POV and may be a little strange, but I'm a weird and strange guy, so I don't understand why my stories gotta be normal.

As I said this is an experiment and I'd like to know what you think about the story so: comments please! Well here goes the story:

The Writer and the Bodybuilder

Streets of New York are giant mazes of pavement, asphalt, concrete and people. Mazes where two lost souls try to find each other. Every day they go out following their routine, wearing their everyday clothes, eating their everyday food, trying to find something out of the routine, trying to find someone that takes them out of the routine. But those streets are tricky, and a wrong turn may mean getting lost in a place far from home. That?s why those lost souls can?t find each other, because in the maze of New York it?s almost impossible to even find yourself.

The writer sits on his studio. He looks through the window to find a depressing view of New York. He is an artist, a poor artist whose work in the local Newspaper is just not enough for him. He wants more. He wants to write books, create fantasy. He wants to be read. Maybe have a best seller one of these days, but he just can?t find the inspiration to begin writing. He has all of these stories in mind, but none of them takes a shape at all.

?Maybe I shall begin with something small? he says to himself ?Something for the forum, something about muscle growth? he then proceeds to disconnect the internet connection, he knows that when writing in a computer nothing can be as distractive as internet. And after a long breath, he stares at the blank document in front of him, waiting for words to take shape through his fingers? and then he finally finds it? his muse. He starts writing the story of the bodybuilder. The bodybuilder is in his gym. He is young, but he has won several bodybuilding shows. He also lives in New York, but he is not like the writer, he is a model, he?s got sponsors, he lives in a better neighborhood. ?Does he live alone?? wonders the writer ?Someone like him shouldn?t live alone? maybe he lives with a boyfriend? but then? what?s his motivation?? and in that process of creative thinking the bodybuilder begins to take shape.

The bodybuilder trains in his private gym in his apartment. Once he leaves the bench press he admires himself on the mirror. He flexes his huge chest, admiring the muscles he has been working. His chest is big, wide, it reflect the power contained in his 6?2??frame. He flexes his biceps, admiring the huge peaks. His face is perfect, beautifully sculpted by the hand of god, a manly face that evoked respect. The body of the bodybuilder is a godly body. He had the perfect genetics for bodybuilding, and you could see that on his big chest that jutted inches away from his body, casting a shadow over his eight pack abs, abs so developed you could stick the tip of your finger between them. His shoulders were wide, so wide he was now almost as wide as the door, with huge arms attached to those shoulders. His biceps, even relaxed, were so big and defined that he now had to buy special clothes or get his suits tailored, because otherwise his sleeves would tore easily. And it was the same thing for his colossal legs. With thighs bigger than his 33? waist it was hard to find trousers that fit.

The bodybuilder rested a little. He cleaned the sweat from his face and heard a voice from upstairs, probably his boyfriend. His boyfriend was a rich man, the one who paid for most of the bodybuilder?s clothes, specially his tailored suits. If there was something the bodybuilder hated was wearing those constricting clothes, but he had to, for he had to go out with his boyfriend to all the events he always had. His lover was a busy man, a big entrepreneur whose life was his work.

Now as the bodybuilder was drinking his protein shake he heard his lover going down. ?Hi there? said the boyfriend, looking at his lover with lustful eyes. It?s been long since the love has left their relationship, but neither of them had said a word. They both needed each other, the boyfriend needed to satiate his lust, while the bodybuilder needed his biggest sponsor. So their relationship evolved to a silent pact, a silent contract where love was left behind.

?Where you working out, big man?? said the boyfriend as he lustfully got closer to his lover ?I?ve been looking for you.?

The bodybuilder knew what his boyfriend wanted; it was the same thing all the nights. He would have sex with his boyfriend just to wake up with a total stranger absorbed in his business. His boyfriend loved his body, but he always considered working out a waste of time. Many times had the bodybuilder had to cancel his workouts to go out with his lover to expensive dances or restaurants where he felt uncomfortable. ?You are big enough already? used to argue the boyfriend whenever the bodybuilder argued about going out on the days he had to work out or prepare for a competition ?Why would you keep training if you are just big enough? You shall leave that hobby of yours and get a real job? that comment would hurt the bodybuilder because his lover didn?t understand the desire he had, the need of growing bigger and bigger, but he knew that if he wanted to get a job, there were many companies that would hire him to announce their products. But he was now too used to this life, to the passionless sex at night, to being left second place for his lover?s work. He knew he could survive without this passionless relationship, but he was so used to the life he had now?

The writer stopped and read again what he wrote. He was tired, but the inspiration kept flowing. He looked at the clock in his computer, reading 12:00 am. He knew he had to work early tomorrow; he cursed his luck, took a shower, and prepared to sleep. He fall asleep, thinking about how the bodybuilder would for once realize that he was better off without his boyfriend, and how he would leave his boyfriend behind to start his life again, and it was at the same time, at 12:00 am, on the other side of the city, that the bodybuilder couldn?t sleep that night. His lover was now too exhausted from sex, but the bodybuilder still had a little energy to go. He tried to sleep, but even the finest pillows couldn?t help him conciliate Morpheus enchant. And during all the insomnia he thought about his boyfriend, about the lustful and passionless sex, about how his career wasn?t as good as it was before. He was bigger, more defined, more experienced, but there was still something missing? and while looking for this missing piece in the puzzle he dozed off without noticing, and in his dreams he saw the writer and his frustrated attempt to write the story, and he saw him on the computer typing his story (The bodybuilder?s story) until he stopped, turned around, and asked him how the story shall continue? and the bodybuilder was surprised because he couldn?t find an answer to the question.

?My relationship has become everything but a relationship? said the bodybuilder.

?I know? said the writer ?And I also know that your boyfriend can?t understand your desire of getting bigger, but that doesn?t answers my question: What?s next??

?Maybe I should look for someone else? said the bodybuilder as he sat by the bed that groaned under a weight it wasn?t used to hold. ?Maybe someone who will understand me and will support me? how do you feel about muscles??

?I?ve always thought two things? said the writer ?The bigger the better, and there?s nothing such as big enough? then the writer stop to think about the bodybuilders answer, and he found himself pondering about it ?What about love??

?What about it?? answered the bodybuilder.

?You said you would look for someone to understand you and support you? but what about love??

?I think that I need somebody to love me, understand me and support me? corrected the bodybuilder. ?but I?ve got to leave my boyfriend behind first??

?Then do it? said the writer returning to his work.

?But how?? asked the bodybuilder for he knew the writer the answer, partly because the bodybuilder was created by the writer, and partly because the writer was the subconscious creation of the bodybuilder?s mind.

?Maybe you shall begin like this? said the writer as he stood and walked directly to the bodybuilder, kissing him in his lips. The bodybuilder answered the kiss by removing the writer?s clothes, or more like ripping them with the sheer strength he possessed, but the writer wasn?t going to be left behind because he found himself unbuttoning the bodybuilders shirt sliding his hands from his big muscular pecs, feeling the weight of each hard orb of muscle, sliding down to his hard and defined abs, and when his hands reached his belt, he started to unbuckle it as well, but as fast as dreams go by they were now both undressed before the belt was completely off, kissing passionately on the bed were once the writer spent so many nights alone.

And this part is the part where both the bodybuilder?s and the writer?s dream converge, the part where the writer begins to kiss, lick and worship every single each of muscle in the bodybuilder?s body. He licks every striation, every square inch of skin that is impossibly stretched all over the colossal muscles underneath. He licks his dollar sized nipples with pleasure, and licks the enormity of the biceps that are as big, if not bigger, than his head. He explores the bodybuilder?s legs and back, which flow like an ocean of muscle with the slightest movement, and just when he was about to worship the bloated cock the writer wakes up.

The first thing the writer notices is his hard on, which he promptly takes care off. He thinks about his dream, about the bodybuilder. He tries to keep the image in his head, but the harder he tries to remember his dream the faster it vanishes. Surrendering to the volatility dreams own, the writer decides to shower, and just when he changes in his clothes for work he realizes the computer is on. It?s still early for work, and the inspiration of the morning may help him finish the story, and just as if the dream materialized back into his head, the writer begins to write about how the bodybuilder decides to leave his boyfriend to begin a life by himself.

The bodybuilder argues with his lover about how he is leaving. But his boyfriend won?t let him go so easily, he tells the bodybuilder that he loves him, and that he needs him. He asks the bodybuilder how will he live without a job, how will he train, and who will pay for his clothes.

?With this body? says the bodybuilder flexing his right bicep, stretching his sweatshirt to the limit, the taunt almost ripping from the growing mountain of muscle ?I could get a job anywhere I want to.? And so the bodybuilder decides to leave his former boyfriend behind. Looking for the long lost passion to came back to his life. He decided to go and look for a new life? for a better life outside of the former boyfriend, outside of passionless sex and pointless relationship, and as he goes out of the building entering the labyrinth of that form the oceans of asphalt, concrete and people of New York, in his mind he quotes the writer of his dream ?What?s next??

The writer takes a minute to appreciate his work before realizing the time. Now he is running late and has to hurry to take the subway. He will have some coffee on the office, for he has no time now. He quickly goes outside and directs towards the subway, taking his everyday route, making his everyday stops, following his everyday routine, but this time as he ponders about his story he just wrote, he knocks against a wall, falling in the hard sideway. He looks up to find no wall, but actually a huge bodybuilder who helps him gets up.

?I?m sorry? said the bodybuilder, looking at the writer?s eyes, feeling he has met him before. But the fresh image of the dream from that morning had vanished already.

?My bad? said the writer, thinking about the perfect specimen of man he had in front of him, even blushing slightly as he felt overwhelmed by the bodybuilder?s presence.

At this point the bodybuilder and the writer shared a moment on the maze, finding each other at the exact moment at the precise time, but the accelerated rhythm of the city won?t let the moment last long.

?Sorry? says the writer as he smiles to the bodybuilder, thinking how much he looks like the one of his story ?I?ve got to go? I?m running late? he says as he apologizes for his clumsiness, and before something else could happen the bodybuilder and the writer find each other walking towards opposite directions, thinking about the other, wondering if they will meet again, but in the maze that has become the city of New York it?s so hard to even find yourself.

And with every step they take forwards they can?t help but sighing and thinking ?If only we could meet again.?

[theardes]

I loved it. :-)

[dolphinbad]

Your story is very interesting, very different from the usual, made me remember the series "The Twilight Zone" (the title here was "Al?m da Imagina??o" - Beyond the Imagination in English).

Great job, keep writing!

[philat99]

I liked your story. Quite different from your usual work. It sure captured the frustration with the maze and impersonality of the Big Apple.
Mike

[cesarvillavi]

Originally Posted by theardes

I loved it. :-)

I'm glad you like the story. Thanks for being my first post.

Originally Posted by dolphinbad

Your story is very interesting, very different from the usual, made me remember the series "The Twilight Zone" (the title here was "Al?m da Imagina??o" - Beyond the Imagination in English).

Great job, keep writing!

Thanks. I'll try to keep writing in my spare time. Also, as weird as it sounds I didn't really thought about the Twilight Zone while writing the story. I just sorta got the idea from the concept of interchanging the main characters POV in the story without actually marking a division in the story.

Originally Posted by philat99

I liked your story. Quite different from your usual work. It sure captured the frustration with the maze and impersonality of the Big Apple.
Mike

When I read this I screamed out loud: OMG! I have usual work? I don't really feel I have posted that many stories, but I think you are right, this is quite different from everything I've tried before...

[tojfs7931]

Interesting premise... I liked it very much.