The Chase

[giantr]

Everyone in the bar knew Trent, although it was hard not too. Not only was he 6'4" and full of enough muscle to put pro bodybuilders to shame, he also had an arrogant big personality. If he suddenly wanted your barstool, he would like to strut right up behind you, boots booming on the floor with each step until the bar got quiet, heave his enormous pecs, which may or may not have been covered by a thin layer of stretched fabric depending on how much alcohol he'd already taken in (the more beer that runs into him, the less clothes he gets through the night), until you turned around, nose sniffing the crevice between his chest muscles, and run from your stool, if you're lucky. If not so lucky, Trent might pick you up and do some arm curls with your body, or overhead presses, probably culminating in you being on the ground, with 300 lbs straddling your back, and a what is undeniably a long boner running up your spine, until he hits a few poses and gets bored.

Luckily for the bar, Trent didn't come in every night. It wasn't even a weekly deal. He came in perhaps twice a month, a little bit more depending on whatever was going on in his life. He always argued that he couldn't waste his perfection on getting a beer belly like most of the regulars.
So the night after one of Trent's visits, a newcomer came fresh from outside, wearing a business suit, and also about the same height as Trent, perhaps a little shorter, and he was certainly skinny. He had a calming face, with a look like he's ready to be anyone's friend with just a hello and deep blue eyes that seemed like they stared through you as he laughed and talked with you.

He came in nightly, and never drank too much, but visited with all of the regulars until everyone knew him by name: Ian.
Several nights flew by with Ian charming the bar in late summer evenings after work, until one night when Trent did his usual intimidating bursting through the front door, which had to be replaced on occasion due to his strength making it fly off the hinges, and as always, he started out the night in a two-sizes-too-small black t-shirt that had rips in the sleeves and collar to make room for biceps and pecs, and jeans that made his butt pop, especially with every stride.

Ian had been sitting at a barstool, making pleasant conversation with the bartender, until everyone had hushed, and he had asked what was going on. All the bartender said was, "Trent", as if it explained everything. Ian took a glance at the door, snorted, and downed a shot, not swiveling around to stare, as everyone else had, and continued to read the menu. Trent, always wanting to be the center of attention, saw Ian, and made a B-line for him, with his boots pounding the floor, as if he was trying to make the bar's heart beat. He stood behind Ian, blocking out a light directly behind him

"Hey, I don't guess you could move a bit, pal?" Ian asked politely. "Those mozzarella sticks looked delicious, but I can't see the price without any light."

Not a person breathed except Ian and Trent, who was used to everyone being scared of him. It took a second, but he regained his arrogant composure and replied, "Sure, but let me introduce myself first." Ian put down the menu, and turned around, to stare into the bull neck of the monster in front of him. Trent smiled cockily, and Ian smiled politely.

"I'm Trent. I own a gym not too far from here, and I compete in super heavyweight bodybuilding competitions around the country. And, everyone here knows enough to be scared of me," he added, sweeping his python arm around the room to point out worried faces. "As you soon will be."
Ian's smile did not fade. He did stand, however, and luckily, he was just skinny enough to fit between the barstool and Trent's unmoving mass. "I'm Ian," he said, holding his arm in a 90-degree angle in front of him to shake Trent's hand. "I work as a lawyer, I can't put on a pound of muscle to save my life, yet I'm still not scared of men like you."

If it were possible to amplify everyone's heartbeats to hear them clearly, at that very moment, every single patrons' heart raced a mile a minute. They knew that Trent would not tolerate that insubordination. Trent's smile widened, and he suddenly seized Ian's hand with a firm grasp, and clamped, as he said, "Nice to meet fresh meat."

Yes, the pain was there, but Ian did not lose face. "Likewise," was all he said. People began to breathe slowly, and Trent said, "Why don't you and I have a talk over some drinks?"

"Ooh, great, thanks. If you pay for some beers, I'll have enough cash to get some mozzarella sticks after all." Trent's nose flared and lip quivered. He may have offered the drinks, but he rarely paid for it himself. Ian turned around and asked the bartender, "Hey, Walt, could we get two beers and some sticks? If you could heap the plate, that would be great. I'm sure this big fella can eat." The bartender nodded, glancing over at Trent, whose eyes were fixed on the back of Ian's head. He moved slowly at first, then dashed into the kitchen behind to prepare the food.

Ian turned around again. "Oh, could you sidestep a little? I may be skinny, but I'll not be able to squeeze past you. You seem to have blocked me in with a wall of muscle."

At this point, Trent's temper had already been pushed to its limits, and he was ready to explode. His veins began to pop out everywhere, and he grabbed Ian by the scuff of his collar and lifted him high off the floor in front of him. Eyes widened around the room, and gasps were heard, but Ian's face did not turn to fear, even when Trent said, "Little man, if I wanted to I could crush the life out of you, and wouldn't even have a second thought."

Ian shrugged and said, "True, you are four times my size in muscle, if not more. Side note: murder equals jail time. Hell, things like assault or harrassment can equal jail time. I suggest you calm yourself down, and we can laugh about this over drinks."

Trent couldn't believe it. This man could be bent in half and broken like a twig, he could be easily overpowered by all of his massive muscle, and he was in fact, not currently in a position of survival, and he was still politely resisting. Anger boiled through him, he gritted his teeth and roared, and twirled and threw Ian on the ground, knocking the breath out of him. His hands came up to his collar on his shirt, and he easily tore the black off of his perfect body, until he was completely uncovered from the waist up, and he strode over Ian, went to the closest table, which was screwed to the floor, and ripped it up, and raised it over his head. He yelled again, and flung the table hard into the nearby wall, demolishing it. He huffed, and stomped his way toward the exit, and threw a punch into the wall, creating a wide hole, and kicked the door out, making it fly off the hinges again, and left.

After a moment of silence, everyone in the bar, including the bartender, who had returned with mozzarella sticks piping hot, looked down at Ian, who was massaging the back of his head, and he said, "Sorry bout that. Next round's on me."

One patron stood from the barstool next to where Ian had been sitting and bent over, offering a hand. Ian took it, and he was helped up with the words, "No, Ian. I think everyone here is going to want to buy you the drinks tonight." There was a murmur, and then applause. Ian smiled weakly, and felt many, many bruises as he sat back down where he was. The bartender presented the appetizers by saying, "On the house," and once everyone had returned to their evenings, Ian told the bartender, "I know I sounded confident, but I was a second away from wetting myself. That is the biggest man I've ever seen. I need to know more about him."
The bartender nodded, and simply told Ian how Trent was obsessed with size and power, and of his arrogance, and his love of being worshipped.
"Oh yeah," the bartender added. "And he's gay. Something he would never, ever, willingly admit to."

"Awesome," Ian said. "The first and only gay man I've found after moving here, and he's the biggest jerk I've ever known. And also, the hunkiest." Ian smiled, a plan formulating, but he was nowhere near prepared for what Trent had planned.

[Canus]

Nice story, good word flow and the change of perspective are well integrated (I read part 2 as well). i look forward to the next installment (part three I mean).

[RyBearATL]

Nice start - and I read part two also, very good, looking forward to where this goes!