New Story: The Recovery of Lost Time

[tekuno]

Originally, my next story was going to be Footnotes From The Unauthorized Version, and that one is still in the works. But I came up with this concept -- which for the first time was NOT based on an existing batch of sketches -- and wrote the ending out while being unable to sleep. Then I started filling in from the beginning, and after a while I was so sorry for Jason that I just couldn't leave the story alone until I had finished it. (Poor guy!)

This is a piece of emotional pornography, really, on the principle that a happy ending (however strange) is made happier by passing through extra trouble on the way. It's "happy misery". Then again, so is most of Harry Potter, and people don't seem to have a problem with that. I may have overdone it a bit, which becomes self-defeating, and maybe the gimmick is a little too obvious, but whatever. I was in a hurry to connect the beginning and the ending, by way of some muscle growth. It IS in there, it just takes some time to reach. If you just want to wank off at some guy getting bigger right away, then this is probably not the story for you.

And I'm planning to amuse myself by sketching a few illustrations from scratch, or at least making the attempt, and if the results are worth viewing I will post them over on FurAffinity when I'm done, and give links in the thread I started here for that purpose. (I'm not a furry artist, but after what Y-gallery did to Rent -- and others -- I'm not going to bother with them, and I've heard that DeviantArt can be a little picky about adult images, so I went with FurAffinity instead.)

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The Recovery of Lost Time

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A shambling dark figure in a dusty, threadbare pair of jeans and a soiled t-shirt walked down the deserted street. Although the figure barely raised his grizzled head, and staggered in the heat of the day, nevertheless he was walking with definite purpose. He had not come to this street, the only street in this town, it seemed, at random. He had a destination in mind.

The man would not have been completely out of place in an urban setting, but in this landscape he looked strange and out of place. His hair and beard were wild, and shot through with gray. He smelled like nights passed sleeping on benches, and occasionally he staggered like a wind-up toy whose spring was nearly wound out.

But this scarecrow of a man showed faint signs of happier days. He was a wreck, but at least he was a magnificent wreck. His frame was large, and even in his shambling, staggering walk one could trace the remains of a long-lost athletic career. He might stagger, but he wouldn't fall. Not yet. Not yet.

The man paused for breath, and reflected bitterly that, of course, the house he wanted was at the end of the street, at the cul-de-sac. The taxi which had taken the last of his money might at least have let him off there instead of just dropping him at the side of the highway intersection. Young people today. No respect.

But then, he reflected, when he was young he probably wouldn't have shown much respect to someone who looked like he now did. With a bitter smile, he looked down at his hands. Once they had been large and strong, a source of pride; now they trembled, and the nails were cracked.

One last push, and he would be at his destination. He could deliver his message, and then he could have a nice sleep. He had a small bottle of pills in his pocket, purchased a month before, which would guarantee the deepest sleep of all. A pity to put an unpleasant burden on someone else, but there weren't many alternatives. At least they wouldn't have to clean anything unpleasant up afterwards, just take him away.

That house looked like a nice place for it, actually. Refreshing and peaceful. Not the kind of place you would expect from the highway. It took up the whole of the end of the cul-de-sac, with a pleasantly-weathered stone wall along the street. He paused at the gate to check the street number one last time, and took a moment to look at the property.

This town must have exceptionally large house lots. Or, come to think of it, the builder must have joined two lots together for this property, one on each side of the street. The house, made of the same old stone as the fence, sat on the other side of a large and green lawn. Around the edges of the yard, tall trees and thick bushes, weighed down with their own verdancy, grew unfettered. From the looks of things they had never been trimmed back, but rather than looking shabby they were comforting, as though in exchange for their freedom they were putting forth their very best efforts. Large beds around the house and at intervals along the walls were filled with brilliant flowers and carefully-trained vegetables.

Even the grass somehow seemed natural and welcoming. Unlike the bushes, it had been trimmed, but it was long and thick and green. It would be pleasant just to sit at the cast iron table with the canvas sun umbrella, and relax, while the yard got on with the slow urgency of photosynthesis. In the distance, the lawn reached a line of trees, and far away in the distance behind them misty purple mountains rose, gently obscuring the horizon. In such a setting, even the harsh sunlight of mid-afternoon, which had seemed to burn the highway, was merely bright and lazy.

Really, it would be nice just to sit. Maybe after he delivered his message, the owners would let him just sit for a while. He wouldn't sleep yet, not here. It would be a tragedy to sleep here, and disturb such a peaceful, beautiful scene with another and less beautiful kind of peace. But he would like to spend an hour or two at rest, watching the birds. One last hurrah to celebrate the end of the quest.

As he made his way towards the house, a man came around the side of the house, manipulating a push mower. On seeing the tattered figure approaching the house, the other man picked up his pace and rushed along the grass.

"Are you all right, sir? Can I help you?"

At the sound of the voice, the old man shook. In a stricken whisper, he said, apparently to himself, "this is it; I have found the right place at last." Looking carefully at the ground, unwilling to look the other in the face, in a louder voice he said "I'm looking for William Frederick, is he here?"

"This is his house, in fact. I'm afraid he has gone out of the house this afternoon, but you're welcome sit and wait for him if you would like. Why do you want to see him? Maybe I can help you."

"Ah, I just have something I need to tell him. Oh, thank you. This is a very comfortable chair, you know."

"Would you like something to drink while you wait? A glass of water, or maybe some iced tea?"

"If you have iced tea, I would like some very much. Thank you, young man."

A minute later, the yard worker brought out a pitcher of iced tea, a caddy full of bright white packets of sugar, a long spoon, and a glass full of ice, and set them on the table. As he filled the glass, he said "I'm afraid I need to get back to work, but you're welcome to rest up a bit and wait."

"That will be fine. Nothing I'd like better, in fact." After a pause, the tattered man put three packets of sugar into the tea glass and stirred before taking a long sip.

The other man returned to his work. The lawn was gradually shortened by half an inch, pass by slow pass. The tattered man looked on appreciatively. It is a cliche, one which seldom manages to survive reality, that men doing yardwork look sexy, but the man pushing the mower had clearly put in a lot of time at a gym. He had a magnificent chest and arms and broad shoulders, and when, after a the heat of the work become too much, he removed his shirt and used it to mop the sweat off his forehead, the tattered man was satisfied to see a tight and firm set of abs as well. A very faint tan, gradually deepening in the sun, complemented the man's build very well. He let off an air of quiet, competent strength. But the tattered man could not bring himself to look straight at his face, although he stole occasional sidelong glances and noted the characteristic Frederick features -- "There are some things the soul cannot do, as the body cannot fly."

The sun had moved on slightly when the man finally finished mowing. He stood and looked around the yard, and you could almost hear the thought "that will do for now" run through his head. He pushed the mower back around the side of the house, and returned, carrying another glass, taking a seat on the other side of table.

"Mind if I share your iced tea? Mowing all that grass is hot work, but it has to be done if we aren't going to live in a jungle."

"Go ahead, it's your tea really anyway. It's very good tea."

"Yes."

The two sat in silence for a while, the tattered man carefully not looking at the other's sweaty, bare torso.

"Do you know when William will be back?"

"Well, he hasn't returned to the house yet, and I can't say exactly when he will. But if you aren't in a hurry, you're welcome to wait. It's lonely here, and I could do with the company."

"I'm not in any hurry, except in a broad sense. There are only two items on my schedule for now, and this one has to happen first if it happens at all, but I don't mind waiting."

"Ah, I'm glad. It's nice to have someone to talk to."

An ironic comment, unintentionally. The two sat in silence, looking out at the lawn and gardens. Finally, the tattered man broke the silence.

"Are you married, mister? You'll pardon my asking, I hope."

"No, never had the pleasure. I never met anyone I really wanted to marry, except a few who didn't seem interested, and couldn't have married me anyway, and I didn't want to be a burden."

"Are there any you wish you had pursued?"

"Oh, sometimes. I told you it's lonely here. Maybe if I had been less shy, I wouldn't be here now. But it's a very nice life here, you know, even if there's a lot of yard work."

"Well, mister, take my advice and follow up now. There's nothing worse than that kind of regret. You let the moment go because you think there will be another one, and then another passes and you think you'll get it right next time, and another and another and then suddenly you're old and gray and running out of moments entirely."

"That sounds as though you're speaking from experience."

"It is. So learn from my example and don't let it happen to you. Go find someone for yourself, before it's too late, and don't waste your life."

"Oh, it can't be so bad as all that."

The old man was increasingly agitated. "No, it's true! The movies, and TV, make it all sentimental, and the movies are wrong! I tell you that if you miss your chance, you don't get another turn! You don't get to ask nicely and roll the dice again! Don't throw away your opportunities! You're still young, and good-looking. Don't waste it! Don't sit around, hoping someone will come to you, they won't! And then you'll be old and tired and wishing you hadn't made so many mistakes!" There were tears in the tattered man's eyes.

"Oh, I'm told that sometimes people do turn up. I'm not in a hurry. But is it really that bad?"

"It is! I'm telling you! There's no despair like knowing that you could have been happy if maybe you had had the courage and acted when you had the chance. That's why I'm here, in fact. I'm looking for Will."

"Er, is this something I should hear?"

"What good are my mistakes if at the very least I can't be a cautionary tale? I hope you have some time."

"I have all the time in the world, mister..."

"Henry. Jason Henry."

"Oh? I've heard that name."

"So Will remembered me? Do you think he is, well, bitter against me?"

"Oh, no. He never said a word against you, not that I can remember."

"Well, I'm glad about that, at least. At least all I can blame myself for is inaction. There are people who do much worse."

"Yes."

The tattered man stared off into the mountains, obviously not seeing them. He was looking straight into the past.

"Will was my first love, you know."

"Really? I don't remember hearing anything about that."

"Oh, I never told him, so he wouldn't know. That's the problem. That's why I'm here. It's years and years too late, but I'm going to tell him. I won't die until I correct my mistake. That's where I went wrong, you know."

"Surely not."

"Well, it's always hard to say. Maybe I wouldn't have been happy with Will. But at least I would have tried. That's where the tragedy comes in.

"It was back in high school. Will was a very unusual person, you know. He was this big guy. Not, you know, big like you. Or even like me. You can't tell from looking at me now, but I was a football player and a wrestler, once. Got a scholarship for it. Will wasn't anything like that. Just big, and kind of chunky. Running to fat.

"People were kind of afraid of him. He had a sharp tongue, and got annoyed easily. But he had a sense of humor about it, too. His insults had their amusing side, which was actually worse -- people would remember his insults because they were funny. I don't think he even really meant to hurt anyone, he just let his tongue run away with him. He didn't just yell at people without cause, and I never, ever heard of him hauling off and hitting anyone, but he could be caustic when he was upset, and he was impatient with stupidity. A lot of people wouldn't stay in the same room with him if they could avoid it."

"Yes, that's Will all right. He's a bit less angry these days."

"Oh, don't think he was just a jerk. He never really ripped into anyone's weaknesses, or focussed on anyone who didn't deserve it. He just had a bit of a cruel sense of humor. You know, a talent for derision. I once read a book where the author said something about 'people talk about a sense of humor as though it excuses everything, but not all humor is a positive thing.' And that's really true. Will had cruel humor. But if he wasn't mocking you, he was a nice guy. Very polite. And he used to mock himself, too, just as intensely as anyone else. As if he knew his own shortcomings and was a little ashamed of them, but just couldn't stop himself.

"I didn't have much to do with him until Junior year. Will was on the academic fast track, and I wasn't. I don't think I had a single class with him the first two years, and he was in clubs instead of sports, so I would just see him around every so often. I was barely aware of him, in fact, until Junior year. Apparently he wasn't so good at literature as he was at math and science, and got dropped back down into the lower English classes for a year."

"Heh. Embarrassing."

"Must have been. But he ended up in my class. In the seat next to mine, in fact. That's how I got to know him.

"He was a fussy guy. I think he was annoyed about all the things that are wrong with the world. If you remember being a teenager, and you had a happy childhood, you'll remember how life at that age provides a steady stream of disappointments as your perspective widens. You look out and see all the sadness and pain and the stupid needlessness of it, and it's not surprising so many teenagers turn into cheap cynics. It's a coping mechanism. Will was the uber-cynic. He was never surprised when something bad happened. Sometimes it seemed like his conversation was one long complaint.

"But he had this smile. You would see it sometimes when he met your eyes in the hallway, or if you told him something that made him sorry for you. He wasn't the best-looking of guys, just your average chunky high school nerd with glasses and medium acne, but when he smiled like that, it could melt your heart. He would have this blank expression, or sometimes a sour expression, like he was waiting for you to get to the point, and then he would smile at you. This funny little smile, like he was in pain, but somehow it was all okay. Like he knew something you didn't, and you were due for a happy ending, even if you didn't know it. Life was throwing everything it could at you, but it was all going to be all okay. People would see that smile, even the people who didn't like him, and feel better."

"Sounds religious, almost."

"I don't think so. Not that I had a lot of opportunities to find out, but he seemed to regard religion as a waste of time. There was this other guy who was a real fanatic, and I remember they had a big argument about it one time when it came up in class."

"Hmmm, yes, that sounds like him."

"It was the smile that did it, really. After a while, I just wanted to hug him. I wanted to make it all really all okay for him. That's not a euphemism for something sexual, I wanted him to smile all the time."

"And he didn't reciprocate?"

"Who knows? He never really opened up. It's not like I ever said anything. And the more time passed, the more distant he got. Towards the end, I think he only had a few friends left. He never showed up at parties or social events, and he was never really invited in the first place. High school kids can be pretty mean about things, and he wasn't popular. I don't think he even dated anyone.

"And I was afraid to approach him. I was the captain of the football team, and the social climate was not forgiving. During our senior year, our school got some kind of gay-and-lesbian support group, but all the members were outcasts. If I had mentioned that I was bisexual, it would have been the end. I don't even know Will's orientation. He wasn't in that support group, although I know he used to hang around with one of the founding members a lot. Then again, she was a girl, so it proved nothing.

"I kept leaving him openings, to see if he would act on them, and he never did. Not even social ones. There was one thing we had in common. The guy was strong. Not as strong as me, or a couple of other guys on the team, but our gym class had a mandatory weight training session -- the school had to justify the machines it bought for the football team, basically -- and you had to have your strength measured at the beginning and the end, so the teacher could claim you were getting stronger. Stupid stuff, really. But he ended up with the third-highest bench press in his gym class, and I think it was something like the sixth-highest in our year. A couple of the guys on the wresting team were in his class, and they were grumbling about it.

"I made an excuse to bring it up, next time I saw him -- this was senior year, so we weren't in the same English class any more -- that maybe he could work out and build on that strength, and he just gave me that smile again, and said he wasn't interested. It's a real shame. If he had lost some weight and beefed up, I think I wouldn't have been able to resist asking him out. It would have been fun to grow together. I think working out with Will would have been a whole different experience; most of the guys on the team spent all their gym time trying to swagger and impress each other, but Will wasn't that kind of person."

"Interesting characterization. But as far as I know, not true."

"Oh?"

"I can tell you that when Will lifts weights, he's very much into showing off, when he can. There's a fairly extensive set of home equipment in the house."

"Oh, so he actually did start working out?"

"Eventually. He took an interest in it in college, then got back into it when he moved out here."

"Did he ever get big?"

"I'm probably not the best judge, but I don't think he was anything special in college. Out here, he's sometimes amazing."

"Mmm, I'm sorry I missed out on that. A great big Will would have been something of a sight to see. You're certainly pretty impressive, so obviously the potential must have been there for Will."

"Maybe so."

"Anyway, as senior year passed, it was like he was tuning out. He spent less and less time being sharp, and more and more time being quiet and looking a little sad. And then we graduated, and I never saw him again."

The two men sat in silence, reflecting on lost opportunities.

"Say, will Will be here soon? It's been really wonderful, sitting here, you've got a beautiful yard, but it's starting to get late. I don't want to miss my chance to tell Will I l- missed him."

"Well, Will hasn't come back to the house yet, obviously, but if you aren't in a hurry you're welcome to come inside and wait there. I'm going to make some dinner, and you can join me if you'd like."

"I don't want to impose..."

"Don't worry about it. It won't be anything special, just some pasta and a salad."

The tattered man was suddenly aware just how long it had been since his last meal. "I won't say no."

The other man smiled, and Jason carefully looked away. "Nice to have a fresh face around for some company for once. Let's go in."

The inside of the house was deceptively large. Jason would never have believed, from the outside, how far back the rooms extended.

"This is a nice place."

"Oh, yes, it's the nicest place I've ever been in. Maybe not very exciting, but there's very little that anyone would want which isn't here."

"Funny way to put it."

"I never found a place which felt like home, the way this place does."

"I kind of see what you mean. Yes, it's got a feeling of home."

"Now, over here is the kitchen and dining area. Why don't you take a seat, and you can talk to me while I cook."

"Thanks. So, I gave you my life story, what about you?"

"Oh, nothing too interesting. I got a degree, was in and out of work for a while, and ended up coming out here because it was cheap, and liked it so much that I stayed. It turns out that the amenities of this place are such that there's really no point in going back. I can stay here comfortably for as long as I like."

"Nice!"

"I think so. But I admit it's a little lonely. Sometimes I'm alone here for months at a time."

"Huh, so Will is a big traveller. I wouldn't have thought it. What do you do to pass the time?"

"Garden, and work out in the gym, and draw, and write, and read. Will inherited a very large library of books. And there's always the Internet if I'm bored."

"Wow, that sounds... idyllic."

"Yes. Very peaceful, and satisfying. So... tell me some more. You never confessed to Will, and you graduated and went your separate ways. What happened after that?"

"Nothing good. I stayed firmly in the closet. I was a college jock, and I joined a fraternity, and spent a lot of time getting drunk, and had a lot of sex which felt good but which I didn't really want. I graduated, let my girlfriend talk me into getting married, had some kids."

"Oh? That's good, isn't it? I mean, it sounds nice."

"It didn't turn out well. I could never forget Will's smile. My wife finally got fed up and left me, because I just couldn't keep up any interest in her when I was thinking about hugging Will. She said she could tell I was thinking of someone else all the time, and we got a divorce, but I don't think she ever figured out that I was thinking of another guy, let alone a guy I hadn't seen since high school. (But it turns out that she was doing the same thing. I found out during the divorce proceedings that she had been dating an old flame for six months before we finally split up.)"

"Well, at least you had kids, right?"

"I had them. And I got custody. And that was enough for me, I swear. And then two years ago, my son Will--"

"Will?"

"I had this funny notion that maybe I could bring up a Will who was happy, and it would make up for not making the other Will happy. And I think I succeeded, for the most part, even if the divorce got in the way. But then Will, my son Will, just dropped dead one day at the age of 35. Happy and healthy, and then one day he upped and died. We talked on the phone about an hour before it must have happened. The doctors said that there had been a weakness in his heart that we never knew about. Probably couldn't have been fixed, even if we had known. Just one day, bye-bye Will, again."

"Oh, no!"

"And if that weren't enough, my daughter Ginny, my other kid, got killed in an accident at work within a month. She was working with a big machine, and it caught her sleeve, and before anyone could even get to her, her arm was gone, and she died of shock and blood loss before the ambulance could get there. One after the other -- bang! bang! and that was that. Nobody left. Neither one had any kids, or was married, or was even dating when they passed away. There was just nothing left of my family, in one month."

"Oh. Oh, Jason!"

"So I gave up. I quit my job and spent a lot of time being very drunk and feeling sorry for myself. And do you know the saddest part? The thing that makes me the most pitiful guy you ever met? The whole time, I just wanted to see Will, not my son, the other Will, smile at me. Somehow, I felt like if Will would just smile at me, all the waste in my life would just be all right again. The world was just as bad as he used to think it was, but somewhere there was something I was missing which would make everything all right again."

"Oh, that's so sad!"

"Yes, I don't deny it. I'm a very sad man. I don't have much time left, you know. I'm out of money, lost the house, the ex-wife won't even speak to me any more. So I came out here. It's too late, now, but I'm going to put right the one thing which I should have done decades ago."

"I really don't know what to say... that's touching."

"It was very difficult to find this address, you know. Will never showed up for a class reunion, never responded to anyone from the school, never kept in touch, even with his old friends. He didn't even seem to leave any public records behind. But these days you can't escape the commercial mailing lists. Somehow they had an updated address, when nobody else did, and I managed to get a hold of it. They'll sell their lists to anyone who has even the smallest amount of cash. And, of course, it was very hard to find this place even with the address. Even the local post office couldn't track it down when I asked. It took me a month to locate, and there were only the smallest references. It's amazing there's a town here at all, this far off the beaten track, even one as tiny as this. I never in a million years would have thought that Will would end up living in a little one-street town called 'Turning Hog', not even if he does do a lot of travelling."

"Yes, it's very difficult to find this place from the highway if you haven't got a guide. Offhand, I can only think of one other person who ever did."

"Who?"

"Will. As far as I know, it was just a case of pure good luck. He found this place, and ended up with this house and land."

"You know, somehow it makes me glad to hear that. Like things do turn out all right after all."

"Yes, sometimes they do. It has been known to happen, although it's rare. I think most people are just too busy living life to see how simple things can really be, you know?"

"You look too old to sound like a college student trying to be profound."

"But it's true! I don't mean that everyone can end up happy, some people start off with too much of a raw deal. But it's amazing how people can avoid looking at the obvious. Take this guy I knew in college..."

"...and he never so much as touched a grapefruit ever again."

"Ha! Now, see, I would have thought the erasers were a dead giveaway, myself."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? But he never noticed a thing."

"Well, isn't that what I was saying? People are just to busy to pay attention. And speaking of being busy, I'm all done. Here is dinner, fettucini with mushroom chicken cream sauce, ? la Turning Hog. And a garden salad with vegetables from the garden, since I did a little harvesting before you arrived this afternoon."

"You don't know how long it's been since I had a meal like this." Jason took a thoughtful bite. "I'm not sure I've ever had a meal like this. I don't recognize the spices at all."

"Oh, they're just the local varieties of the standard run of things. Something about the soil here gives them an unusual effect."

"Well, it's very tasty. And that's not just the hunger speaking."

"I'm glad you like it. I made it, you might say, with you in mind."

"Very considerate."

"Er... I don't mean to be rude, but..."

"Mister, there's nothing you could say to me which I would take offense at."

"Well, if you're going to stick around waiting, perhaps you would like to get a bit cleaned up? I know it must have been a hard trip, and you're probably pretty dusty. I wouldn't mind if you had a shower."

"By which you mean I smell, and you'd like me to stop stinking up the joint."

"No no, I just--"

"There's nothing rude about telling the truth. I don't think I've bathed in four days, if we're going to be strictly honest. After that meal, it would be extra-rude not to take you up on your offer. Especially if Will hasn't returned yet."

"Glad to hear it. You can use the guest bathroom down this hallway. There are towels and things already set up. And you can borrow a t-shirt, workout shorts, and socks while we run you a load of laundry, I'll leave them on this shelf for you. When you're done I'll be in the gym, which is over that way. I hope you don't mind, but I'm used to a workout most nights, and there's no knowing how long you'll be here."

"It's your house, not mine. Thank you. I'll be out in a few minutes."

"You're welcome. No need to hurry, take your time. Take a bath if you like, just don't fall asleep."

With the door closed behind him, Jason shuddered slightly at the double meaning those words held to him. If his host had only known! But that was at an end now. He would make sure. He took the bottle of pills from his pocket, carefully poured them down the toilet, flushed them away, put the lid back on, and carefully dropped the bottle into the wastebasket. It's amazing how much difference a few hours and a good meal could make, to say nothing of being taken seriously as a real human being again. It had been three weeks since anyone had spoken to him as though he were anything other than human refuse.

So much for self-pity! He would find Will, make his confession -- no, not just that, he would give Will a hug, and then he would start his life all over again, and to hell with everything else. People had bounced back from much worse. He might have lost his kids, but at least he still had his memories. And he still had his health, all his teeth, and no drug problems or debts. Maybe he could save a few other people from making his mistakes, and that alone would make an effort worthwhile.

He considered his reflection. He wasn't such a bad-looking guy, even now, under all that shaggy beard and hair. In fact, the gray in his beard and hair was what made him look old. He wasn't old! He'd shave it all off! Bald guys could look tough! Feeling slightly guilty, he dug around in the bathroom cabinets until he came up with an electric clipper, a safety razor, and some shaving cream. In a few minutes of flurried activity, he had his beard and hair trimmed away to stubble, and began to shave it all off with the razor.

There! He looked years younger! Even the bags under his eyes seemed less oppressive, the hollows in his cheeks less deep. Heck, back in the 'heroin chic' days, there were commercial models who looked worse than he did now. Maybe the chocolate milk tone of his skin was drier and less elastic than when he had been a callow youth, but he still looked okay. With a grin, he turned on the shower.

In the steaming, soap-scented water, he gave himself a thorough washing, and found himself wondering about his host. Was this Will's son? A nephew? It had to be a relative. The voice was too similar, and the mouth... maybe the eyes, too, but he had been avoiding looking too closely. He wasn't sure which he was more scared of, that the smile might be a family trait, or that it might not.

With any luck, Will, or this younger guy, would give him some help. And a good lawyer could probably help him get some money back out of the bank. Although he had been avoiding thinking about it, he hadn't been underwater on the mortgage; they probably owed him a substantial amount of money out of the foreclosure.

Humming a little tune, Jason turned off the shower, rubbed himself down with a towel, and considered what he could make out of his reflection in the steamed-up mirror. Well, really, he wasn't so haggard as he had been thinking. There was still some muscle tone there, and he still had fine shoulders, if he did say so himself. Well, it had only been a couple of years since everything fell apart.

He pulled on the clothing, mentally blessed whoever invented the one-size-fits-all elastic waistband, and rolled his dirty and smelly clothing into a bundle. Carrying this under one arm, he headed in the direction from which he heard sounds.

Jason paused at the door to the gym to observe. His host, looking somehow much larger than he had earlier, was adding plates to an adjustable dumbbell.

"Hello, Jason, did you enjoy your shower? Looking good, there. You should have shaved your head earlier."

"I did, for a while back in my 30s. I just decided to take a step back in time. Damn, but this house is huge."

"Yes. Yes it is. And you haven't seen the half of it yet."

"It didn't look so large from outside. The architect must have been a genius. And this is an amazing home gym. I've seen institutional facilities which weren't so well-equipped."

"Well, sometimes you just feel like a good workout. And there was no lack of space to fit this in. Want to try a little workout?"

"No thanks, it's been a long time since I had the energy. I'll just watch you for a bit."

"An audience? Say it ain't so!" He hefted the loaded dumbbell over his head and started doing arm extensions.

Jason did a quick count and some simple mental arithmetic. "Holy shit! That's 220 pounds! Are you sure you can manage that much weight safely?"

The massive man let out a grunt, and answered without stopping the exercises. "Yeah -- in fact -- I was -- just thinking -- that maybe -- I need -- to add -- more weight -- soon." He paused to switch arms. "This -- is really -- only -- a warmup -- for me."

"Good grief! That's amazing!"

"I actually -- was bigger -- a few years -- ago, but -- I decided -- the extra bulk -- was just -- kind of -- a waste." Another pause to change hands. "But now -- I feel -- like it's time -- to get big -- again." A few more reps and he put the dumbbell down. "Now, look at these arms, what do you think?"

"You're huge! My god, how big ARE you? I think you're bigger than anyone I've ever seen in person!"

"Here." He walked to a cabinet, fumbled inside, and brought out a tape measure, which he tossed to Jason, who caught it with surprising deftness. "Why don't you measure me and find out?"

Jason licked his lips. Before dinner, he had been too tired and hungry to react, but this hulk was stirring feelings he thought he had mastered and left behind years ago. And, to make it worse, this was a look-alike for Will. It was like his deepest college-age fantasies being enacted, a giant, hugely-muscled version of Will showing off his size and strength, just for him. He had to fight down a weakness in the knees, but walked over and put the tape around the giant arm.

"That comes to... 25, no, 26 and a quarter inches! You ARE bigger than anyone I've ever seen in person!"

"Ha, I haven't lost it completely, then. Hang on." He pulled off his shirt. "Try the chest."

The view of the shirt removal from up close made Jason's mouth go dry. So much muscle! This wasn't real, this couldn't be real. The pectorals were thick and full and powerful, like sacks of meat hanging on the front of the huge man's torso. His lats flared outward from a trim and narrow waste, bulging curves which Jason longed to touch. As he passed the tape around the massive body, he once again had to steady his knees.

"Looks like... a little under 63 inches! Damn! You beat Arnie's record by nearly 5 inches! No wonder you're so strong! I wonder how much you were lifting when you were at your peak!"

The massive man grunted. "What you just saw wasn't strength! That was just a warmup! I'm not even pumped yet! Watch this!"

With that, he grabbed an empty bar, slammed on TEN 45-pound plates, the maximum which could fit, screwed down the ends, and powered it up above his head. "Now -- THIS -- is -- what -- I -- call -- STRENGTH!" A change of hands. "And I -- could do -- more -- if -- the weights -- would fit." He switched to hammer curls. "I just -- start with -- lighter weights -- to avoid -- cramps." Another change of hands. "Even this -- is really -- nothing -- compared to -- a few -- years ago." He threw the dumbbell down, and let out a roar as he hit a pose, looking almost inhuman. Jason felt his cock begin to stiffen. "Why don't you measure me again?" Jason wordlessly obliged.

"29 inches! What the fuck?! That's impossible!"

"Don't tell ME what's impossible! Let's take another pass at the chest, shall we?"

He strode arrogantly to a visibly reinforced bench. With one massive hand, he slapped an empty bar on the rack, and started loading plates. "These are custom plates" he commented as he loaded them on, "and a custom alloy bar. I got tired of those fucking wimpy 45-pound plates and got hold of 100s. Now WATCH!" He loaded the bar to capacity, banged the locks into place, and dived under the bar into place on the bench.

Jason stared. Each side of the bar held twelve plates. That was 2400 pounds -- and who knew how much the custom bar added on to the total? His mouth dropped open. The superhuman man took the weight off the supports, lowered it to his chest, and with another roar muscled it back up to the starting position. Then he did a set of 20 reps, throwing the weight around as though it were nothing. He clanged the bar back onto the supports, stood up, and did a side chest pose. His pecs were engorged with blood, and massive beyond belief. "HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW?" he roared. Jason couldn't help himself, he fell to his knees.

The massive man walked over to Jason, put one massive hand on the nape of his neck, and pulled him to his feet. Even standing upright, Jason noticed uneasily that his host was looming over him. He pulled Jason's face forward and began to flex his pecs back and forth an inch away from Jason's nose. "THERE IS NO LIMIT IF YOU AND I DON'T WANT THERE TO BE ONE! LOOK!" He tore the tape out of Jason's hand, and wrapped it around himself. "READ IT, JASON!"

"E-eighty-six! That's... oh my god, I... I...!"

"HA! LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE ENJOYING THE SHOW!" The giant reached down and pulled Jason's shorts down. Jason's cock, standing full and hard, bobbed in the air. The giant whipped the tape back off of his own body, and reached down.

"THAT LOOKS LIKE... 8 INCHES TO ME, JASON. NOT BAD AT ALL; WE'LL HAVE TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT, LATER! LOOK AT MINE!" He tore away his shorts, freeing his own monstrous cock. "AND THE TAPE SAYS... TEN AND A HALF INCHES. NOT BAD, HUH? WHAT DO YOU THINK, JASON? I CAN BE THIS FOR YOU, AND MORE!" On the beat of the word "more", the behemoth flexed his arms and torso. All the muscles JUMPED, inflating every measurement by inches, and lost no size as he relaxed. "JASON?"

Jason was stunned. "I... I... I don't want this..." tears welled up in his eyes again. "I don't want you, I want Will! It was Will who was supposed to be my muscle god. It's just too much, I can't... It's turning me on so much, and I want..." he mumbled to a halt, the tears streaming down his cheeks.

Startled, the giant stepped back, and spoke, his tone so gentle Jason could hardly believe it was the same man as the bellowing showoff of the moment before. "No, Jason, don't cry. It's all right Jason. Everything is going to be okay. Really, Jason. I mean it. Look me in the eye, Jason." The titan reached forward, and tenderly brought Jason's face up to look at his own.

For the first time since his arrival, Jason looked full-on at the face of his host. To his astonishment, the man was smiling down at him -- and it was THE smile, the one he had wanted for so long. "I'm sorry, Jason. I just got carried away. It's me, Jason. It's Will. I thought I'd surprise you a little. I never thought you would react that way, I didn't mean to make you feel guilty." He lifted Jason up so that their faces were at the same height, and hugged him. "It's all okay, Jason." He put the man back down.

"But how? Those muscles! And your face! You can't be more than 35! You're my age, Will!"

"Ah, I see you haven't made the connection yet." The smile shifted to something more confident and happy, almost cocky. "This is IT, Jason. This is The Land Of Lost Content. The Land of the Young. You've come home at last. Over here, things are more how we want them to be, and not the way they usually turn out to be. It's a little complicated, but when you walked into town you left that other world behind, and now you're a part of it, too. Here we get what we truly want, when it's possible. I always hoped you would come here someday. I've spent decades learning patience."

"My god, it explains everything! But it's too late! I took too long getting here! I'm too OLD!" wailed Jason.

"No, Jason." Will's smile grabbed Jason's attention and held it. "Look over in the mirror."

Following Will's gesture, Jason looked behind him. He had not noticed, but the wall with the door in it was mirrored. Standing next to Will's monstrous reflection was a powerfully-built, though smaller, man with brown skin and a shaved head. He looked like he was about 30. "Is that me? Really me?" He reached out to touch his own reflection, and looked down at his body as though doubting that all this could really be happening.

"If you want muscle, you just need to want it badly enough, and it will show up, unless you want to grow in response to exercise. I truly love being this big, or even bigger, and you've been fantasizing about a big muscular Will for years, so I was able to pull off that sequence of parlor tricks a few minutes ago. Now, what say we give it another try, but this time you can join me."

Will lifted Jason again, and they kissed. The kiss lasted quite a long time, and when it was done, Jason stood, Will's approximate equal in height, and flexed the giant muscles Will had longed to touch for decades.

He reached down, and gave his erection a slight touch.

"You know, I bet we could get a lot bigger than this if we wanted."

"Oh, yes, I'm very sure we can. And when we're satisfied with our size, and our amazing strength, and want to do something else I've been fantasizing about, I bet that if we looked around a bit, we'd find a bedroom with a great big bed and an extra-large bottle of lube. I can't promise a good night's sleep, though. Even wish fulfillment isn't always perfect."

"That sounds... idyllic. But let's try another kiss first. I've been waiting nearly 40 years for this, you know."

-----

The taxi driver lay in his bed, unable to sleep. For a week, now, he had been expecting a police officer to show up and ask questions. He sighed; it wasn't HIS fault if people wanted to die, a taxi is not a suicide watch. In the morning he would check online and see whether anyone else had ever been charged with a crime for driving someone into the desert.

The old guy was so insistent, though, that he had to get off right there, like any stretch of Route 42 was any different than any other. Just miles and miles of baking sun and scrub and dust, as far as the eye could see. It would be a long time before he would be able to forget the view in the rear view mirror of the old guy shuffling off towards the horizon. But the old guy had only barely had enough to pay for such a long ride out of the city, so he wouldn't be coming back, and taxi drivers have to stay in the city as much as possible if they want fares.

And all the signs were there, too -- the old guy had been so sad and resigned. A suicide case if ever there was one. It's always such a waste, so sad when things turn out that way. The taxi driver sighed again and rolled over in his bed; no use thinking about it. It can wait until morning. Just ignore the damn heat and go to sleep.

A welcome breeze from somewhere came through the window, bringing with it a hint of misty coolness and the scent of freshly-mown grass and flowers in bloom. The taxi driver relaxed; maybe tomorrow wouldn't be so bad after all. As he drifted off into a deep sleep, on the very edge of hearing, he was sure he heard the sound of two voices, laughing in the night.

[cutlerfan]

Wonderful Story! Recaptured youth...a new start...and muscles! Please keep writing!

[tekuno]

It's a bit too maudlin, and I'm the one who wrote it. (And this is after I cut out a few bits.) It was sort of an experiment -- I just got so tired of faintly comic stuff about young guys, and decided to go the opposite direction. Instead of having the characters drawn together by lust, I wanted something more like love. And everyone loves a good redemption story -- although whether you can call this "good" is a matter of personal taste.

The other story I'm working on, off and on, is more the usual kind of thing, although I'm afraid a lot of people here won't like it anyway for other reasons. Then again, I'd like to try a lot of different things, and they can't all be winners.

[Mass Driver]

This is a good story.
You have good instincts when it comes to characters and plot line.
Follow the heart as well as the muscle.
And please do...
Keep Writing.

MD

[tekuno]

I'm glad you liked it. We aim to serve.

But I am just a little bit annoyed -- I have this other story to work on which is light and entertaining, and I'm currently just a little stuck because I'm in the bit in between the extraordinarily outlandish beginning and the dir-- I mean, interesting bits, and I'm bogged down in the swamp of exposition. I wrote this in a big hurry, as an exercise in differentiation from the other one, and thought I'd get back to work.

And up until I saw your reply, I was going to do that.

But I was thinking to myself "I don't really have any other romantic/tragic plots to write up anyway, so it's back to the lighter fare". And then I remembered an adolescent fantasy I used to doodle years and years ago -- so long ago that the pictures are long since gone -- and started to think about how that could be adapted to be a little less like the plot of a cheap "serious" cartoon from the '80s, and now I want to write that instead, dammit. I'm deliberately trying not to do the same thing over and over -- in fact, last-minute revelations are out; between Mike knowing what was happening all along, and Ralph, and the true nature of Turning Hog, I'm going to stay away from this last-minute fix-all-the-problems stuff for a while.

Incidentally, I'm curious: was "Turning Hog" too obvious or too obscure? I can never tell what other people will catch or won't.

On the other hand, it looks like my insomnia is finally breaking up, so there may not be much time to write for a while anyway. We'll see how it goes.

Oh, yeah, the real reason I'm posting a reply: I posted some drawings for this story over in the aforementioned images thread. I'm particularly pleased -- except for the feet -- with how the last one turned out. Practically justifies the whole story all by itself, in my opinion.

[Mass Driver]

I can give you a good example of what you are going through, but you have to look over at O'Melissokomos website under authors and dymondbolt.
The story is "Only Skin Deep" and I had a funeral to get to, but I did notwant to write about Uncle Brian dying. Or how I would depict the characters reacting to how Vince got so big.
It was beneficial cause even when I procrastinated and wrote about something else; that added to the story. Ultimately those side stories and additions lead to me seeing how I want to bring the story to a culmination. Not an end but closer to one.
And sometimes these side stories are due to the characters wanting a few more words than you originaly planned for them. That can be a wonderful way for your imagination to hash out a good way for your plot to evolve.
You have a good handle on characters and plot line.
Go with your gut; its really a pleasure to read your stories.

MD

[tekuno]

Oh, ho ho ho. Be careful what you suggest to me. Now I've started thinking about the story and writing out a few sections, although since I'm finally sleeping in normal quantities again, who knows how long it's going to take me to finish. (It's going to be a LONG one.) And I can promise that there's no happy ending in this one, although I think I can work in some very satisfactory muscle growth along the way. I have selected the title "A Word Out of Place".

I think I'm going to wait until I finish both stories, and post them both at once, because this one is such a downer overall.

[nnnrg]

Actually, I'm not sure that "maudlin" fits. Maudlin is when something deliberately manipulates your emotions by exaggerating suffering and pain and then giving a respite or a reward that wasn't really earned. Maudlin rings false.

And maudlin is sometimes a word used by jaded people to describe emotions that they think are "too soft" or "too sentimental" so they can feel superior to people who have suffered enough cruelty from life to value kindness ... to me this avoided that trap. It felt a bit like one of the Twilight Zone stories, the ones with endings that didn't try to leave you with crawling skin. The characters were real people, the problems and tragedies were real, and the "fairy tale" ending didn't read as 'oh fake'.

[tekuno]

Originally Posted by nnnrg

Actually, I'm not sure that "maudlin" fits. Maudlin is when something deliberately manipulates your emotions by exaggerating suffering and pain and then giving a respite or a reward that wasn't really earned. Maudlin rings false.

Speaking as the author, I can say that Jason's troubles were deliberately heaped on him in order to make it feel better when everything turned out okay in the end. I even remember thinking "I can't leave this guy with any connections in the real world, that might tempt him to go away again, better blot his children out of existence" and thus we have the sudden death of Will The Younger and Ginny.

(I'm having trouble keeping track of names, because I changed them all several times. Thank goodness for find and replace. Both Will and Jason are, in part, pastiches of people I've met in the past, and I kept rejecting names because I wanted to make sure, just in case, that nobody could possibly think I was basing the characters entirely on specific people I know. By rough estimate, Will is 3 guys plus a lot of modification, and Jason is 4. For some reason, when trying to name them, my mind kept feeding me either the names of the guys in question or else names which, I would then realize, were names of old friends from my childhood. Although I've met both a Will and a couple of Jasons, none of them bear any resemblance whatsoever to the characters in the story beyond gender. In fact, the Will I know is kind of the opposite of the one in the story. Based on what I know of his actions, it's hard to imagine him with any sort of introspection or deeper emotions at all, although they're probably in there somewhere, and as for a quiet and peaceful paradise, forget it. Within 24 hours, real-life Will would be headed off to find a sports bar, a stripclub, and -- depending on circumstances -- a drug dealer.)

That's not to say that the sudden death of Will The Younger is entirely unrealistic. Although I never met either of them, relatives of two of my acquaintances basically dropped dead suddenly at about that age, although only one of them was from undetected heart trouble. The other had an inoperable and totally interior birth defect which had been a potential fatality since he was born, and it killed him in his sleep one night. It was extraordinarily sad, even though the family knew about the potential in advance.

And maudlin is sometimes a word used by jaded people to describe emotions that they think are "too soft" or "too sentimental" so they can feel superior to people who have suffered enough cruelty from life to value kindness ... to me this avoided that trap. It felt a bit like one of the Twilight Zone stories, the ones with endings that didn't try to leave you with crawling skin. The characters were real people, the problems and tragedies were real, and the "fairy tale" ending didn't read as 'oh fake'.

Well, aside from the whole "suddenly growing several inches in height, hundreds of pounds in muscle, and an order of magnitude in strength". At least, if you've found a way to do that in real life, please send me a Private Message; I want in.

Just you wait, Henry Higgins. A Word Out of Place will be set against a backdrop of cruelty and compulsion and arrogance and shattered happiness and revenge, although for the most part all of it is happening elsewhere while the main characters go through their relationship, which just happens to involve super strength and muscle growth. If I wasn't building a lot of comedy into Footnotes From The Unauthorized Version it would probably get me down just writing it. There's a vast amount of writing to do, and these two bits may be edited out or changed dramatically by the time I'm ready to post the two stories, but here's a sample from each of the drafts. First A Word Out of Place, which is in a swords-and-sorcery setting:

"I say, Father, that might be going a bit too far. I always thought that the rebels made that story up. Is it true that the parents were not even told where the boy was sent?"

And from Footnotes From The Unauthorized Version, which is sci-fi:

Adrian grinned at Miguel. "Looks like we had better go and rescue our unannounced paparrazo."

"Couldn't you simply order the machine not to harm the man?"

"I'm not totally heartless, Miguel. The computer needs to have SOME fun. And besides, I DID post signs saying 'Private Property, Not Responsible for Personal Safety of Unauthorized Visitors'. He had fair warning."

"I saw. But you posted them on the INSIDE of the walls, Adrian."

[The Pecman]

Jesus, what a beautiful story! Actually romantic, surprising, and kind of a Twilight Zone/Bradbury-esque ending! Good job.

[nnnrg]

Originally Posted by tekuno

Speaking as the author, I can say that Jason's troubles were deliberately heaped on him in order to make it feel better when everything turned out okay in the end. I even remember thinking "I can't leave this guy with any connections in the real world, that might tempt him to go away again, better blot his children out of existence" and thus we have the sudden death of Will The Younger and Ginny.

Ah, but that's the authorial process, and the outcome was not one that said "writer is trying to stop a logical reason for exit" but rather said "this is what drove him to leave the world and go to the meta-world."


It took something that devastating to make him want to uproot himself from the world, and to go do one last thing to make up for the failure he felt his life had been.

In modern times there are three reasons that primarily govern the process of suicide. The first is the cry for help - the despair that is so bleak that the only way to live is to sabotage the act of killing oneself. And sometimes, the sabotage fails, or the despair overwhelms the hope that leads to the outcry.

The second is a true derangement - whether by psychoactive drugs as happened with Newtown or by the kind of despair that comes of the inability to see a positive future at all.

The third is to take one's life to prevent a much worse death. That's fairly rare, but it's legal in my home state, under very limited circumstances involving terminal illness, multiple doctors' concurrence, and a very bad prognosis, and while it does get used, it's rare. (It needs better oversight though.)

The story here was of a man whose despair was of the numb-deadening kind, rather than the excruciating crushing kind, and when his friend revealed himself, and offered friendship and love, it was enough to heal that despair.
Even if it had been a less magical transcendence, he would still have been kept from killing himself.