New Story: His Own Personal Action Movie

[tekuno]

Yet another instance of something which I came up with whole and decided to get out of my system right away. (Lots of spare time this evening.) This is a little odd, because although it is a muscle growth story, no growth actually happens during the story itself. (So if you're looking for that, go elsewhere.) Also no sex during the story itself, no incest, and no macro stuff. Depending on where you work, it might even be work-safe.

Bonus points for anyone who can guess what inspired this one.

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His Own Personal Action Movie

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The first thing I heard was a hoarse voice, yelling in the distance. It was yelling in a language I didn't understand. Probably, in light of later events, Spanish, but since my Spanish is limited to a few phrases in American pop culture like "me gusta" even now I can't say for certain.

I opened my eyes. I was lying on my side in the grass. It was dark. Close to me there were finished stones. I tried to sit up, and the world swam around me. I fell back and must have passed out again, because the next thing I remember was waking up in the dawn.

I felt terrible. My stomach wanted to crawl up my esophagus and abandon ship. My head was throbbing. I turned it sideways; the ground looked like it was swirling around, so I closed my eyes, which helped slightly. I lay on my back, hoping I would feel better soon.

After a few minutes, or maybe hours, I opened my eyes again. The ground had settled down somewhat. I tried experimentally to sit up. My head throbbed again and I saw stars, but this time it wasn't enough to make me pass out.

I turned my head to the left, and looked straight into the face of a skull. THAT was enough to make me pass out.

On the third try, which the heat told me was a few hours later, I was prepared. I looked before sitting up. On the rock to my left was a bundle of rather goofy-looking skulls, and a skeletal doll, in the center of a bundle of colored paper flowers. The effect was almost as comic as macabre. I looked the other way and saw a carved marble relief of a winged woman carrying flowers. In fact, there were several of them. They seemed to be moving back and forth, multiplying, melting... I blinked a few times and they resolved into a single frieze. As my head swam, I gradually noticed that the stones around me were not connected to each other.

My mind seemed to be working very slowly, as though it were filled with molasses, but I gradually came to the conclusion that I was in a cemetery. That or a Tim Burton movie.

Listening carefully, I recognized the sound of running water somewhere to my right. As soon as I figured that out, I realized that I was desperately thirsty. Very carefully, I sat up, and then got to my feet. Nearly the entire cemetery was festooned with masks, dolls, paper flowers, streamers, and other colorful items. That meant that it must be... must be... something. There was some reason, I knew, why people decorated graves like that. I just couldn't think of it right now.

A few rows of gravestones away, the cemetery ended, and then, after a slight downward slope, there was a stream. I staggered to the river and took a long, long drink.

The water helped clear my head, although the throbbing continued. It was time to take stock of my situation. I sat down in the shade of a tree growing on the bank of the stream, and went over the details.

Here I was, in -- or, at least, next to -- a cemetery. Not one I recognized, though. I was...

I was...

What was I? WHO was I? I couldn't remember a thing. I had a sense of urgency, but I couldn't remember what was so urgent. Any time I tried to think of the past, the memories would melt away.

I felt all over my head; there were no wounds or bumps, and my hands came away with no blood on them, wet or dried into flakes and powder. So much for the convenient concussion theory -- whatever was keeping me from remembering anything, it wasn't a head injury.

Maybe I should seek medical attention? That meant leaving the stream and the cemetery, not that I was upset about either. I looked down. I was wearing dirty jeans. My grotesquely large stomach was covered by a smeared and somewhat bloody green t-shirt. And I had on socks and cheap sneakers. So at least I should be presentable enough to walk through a town without getting arrested for indecency. But I could feel a few days' worth of beard on my face, so I shouldn't push my luck.

Between my enormous gut and my general physical debility, I reasoned, I must be an older guy. Maybe with a family. At the thought of "family" the sense of urgency returned, but I couldn't remember a wife, or kids, or anything like that. Well, if they existed, they were out there somewhere looking for me, I was sure.

I tottered back of the hill and looked around. On the other side of the stream was a somewhat arid stretch of parkland, with low buildings in the distance. The city -- town? -- ringed the park and cemetery all the way. The nearest street was on the side of the cemetery, so I walked between the graves and out onto the street.

There were a few children watching me solemnly from the other side of the street. I approached them, stopping about fifteen feet away when they showed signs of extreme fear, and asked for directions. Whether they didn't understand English or were simply remembering the universal advice of parents and not talking to strangers, they said nothing but stared at me. After a few attempts -- my voice was so trembly and weak I almost had to shout, and at the end I was starting to see stars again -- I gave up and tottered off in the opposite direction.

At the corner, I saw what looked somewhat like a business district in the distance. Probably the best bet if I was looking for help. I set off in that direction, moving slowly. Maybe I could get some food? I checked my pockets -- I had nothing on me, so no food. But maybe some sort of assistance could be arranged? If worst came to worst I could just beg and hope for the best.

As I shuffled down the street it dawned on me that I should have checked my pockets for a wallet earlier, to look for some kind of ID. Maybe it was just the fog in my head, but I think really it's just that people don't reason as clearly and logically in real life as they do in movies and TV stories and stories.

I was just thinking along those lines as I reached the end of the third block, when suddenly I heard voices from my right. I turned and saw a group of large men gathered around a car a block and a half away. One of them was pointing in my direction and barking out what were obviously orders. Two of the men started to run towards me, while the rest quickly got into the car, which they started and drove towards me. Not good.

I started to back away, but weakened as I was, there wasn't much hope. The two men caught up with me and held me tightly, and the others jumped out of the car. Very quickly, I was tied up with a rope and the men were pushing me into the car.

Just as they pushed me into place, I heard a motorcycle racing up. I looked in that direction and saw a man riding a tiny little motorbike, racing towards the car. As he got closer, I recognized the face. It was Ben! Wait, who was Ben?

I felt the car accelerating around me as I passed out again.

*****

I woke up again in a warehouse. I was tied to a chair under a hanging bare bulb. Just great, I thought, first it's Tim Burton, now it's film noir. What next? If Alfred Hitchcock walks in for a cameo, that's it, I'm out.

From outside the open door, I could hear more yelling, and again I couldn't understand a word. The person with the deep, hoarse voice seemed to be really, really angry. Occasional short replies showed that there was more than one person getting chewed out.

I gave an experimental tug at the rope, and much to my surprise, it loosened and fell right off. I smiled -- score one for personal initiative!

I cautiously got up -- I felt a lot less weak than before, and my headache was somewhat less horrible. I could even remember what had happened earlier; that was an improvement. Maybe I would start to remember other things soon. Like my name, that would really help.

I peered cautiously out the door. The voices were coming from another building nearby. The car from earlier was parked next to it. I quietly walked out and around the other building until I was no longer in sight of the doorways. And then I walked as fast as I could manage away from the buildings.

Walking down the streets of the worse parts of a town in a country where you don't speak the majority language while barely maintaining consciousness is an experience, I can tell you. The heat of the day was certainly no help; before long I began to feel dizzy again. Brightly-colored signs revolved around me. Buildings swam past, orphans leering out of windows. Beggars sat in the shade and watched me from all sides.

From behind me, I heard the roar of engines, and then shouts, and then gunshots. Good thing I wasn't there any more! But some more water would really be nice... and maybe some food. Yes, food would help.

The shouting gradually faded in intensity, and then the engines roared again. Most of them headed away in the direction from which they had come, but one came in my direction.

No, two. I was just able to make out two engines. One was a big engine, like a truck, and the other was something smaller and louder. In fact, it was a motorcycle.

I turned. Behind me there was once again a man on a tiny motorcycle. Behind him was an ambulance. Oh, good. That was worth waiting for, I hoped.

The man raced up to me and skidded to a halt. At close range, I could see that this was not, as I thought, a man on a tiny motorcycle. It was a HUGE man on a normal-sized motorcycle. He ran to me and said "Mr. Grant? Are you all right?" His voice was familiar and... alluring. I looked at him more closely, swaying from exhaustion. Pinned to his lapel was an ID card with a photograph, reading "Grant Nutrition: B. T. Hernandez". Then I peered into his face, trying to ignore the glare off his sunglasses.

"Ben?"

The huge man tore his glasses off and looked at me in astonishment.

"Hal?"

Hal! That was my name! At last! Thank god, I knew something about myself at last! And I was apparently safe, too, whoever Ben was. As I fell forward, I murmured "Hallelujah". As Ben caught me, I lost consciousness again. My last thought was "I hope this doesn't become a habit."

*****

When I woke up again, it was dark.

No, it wasn't dark. It was broad daylight -- in fact, it was the morning of the day three days later, the sun streaming in the windows -- but the gigantic man was hovering over me, and he quite literally blocked out the sun.

"Mr. Grant? Are you okay?"

I blinked, and then looked around the room. It was a luxurious-looking hotel room. "Ben? Why are you calling me 'Mr. Grant'? You of all people don't have to be so formal! What's going on?"

"Oh, thank god. You're remembering again."

"Sort of. I remember you, Ben, and that winter, and meeting at the lake, and then I went home and--" I frowned. "And then they drugged me! I can remember it now! How long has it been since then? I must have lost my sense of time; you look like you've spent the last ten years in a gym."

Ben grinned at me. "Sounds like you're on the road to a full recovery. As far as I could tell, the stuff you were on should be nearly all worn off now. The doctors said you ought to be okay, and that it was just something like a big, prolonged roofie. But I was afraid they were just guessing. The doctors pumped you full of nutrients and water via IV, and I convinced them to let you recover in the hotel starting today because there was nothing else wrong with you."

"Well, let's see. I was with my parents in their summer home at the lake for Christmas. And you were visiting your aunt on winter break during your last year of college. And we met, and... uh..."

"And we hit it off really well. We were both shy and introverted pudgy little college students, and it was the first time either of us had, uh..." Ben started to blush; he was so cute when he was shy.

"Yes, 'uh' is very descriptive. And we met during the afternoon as usual and arranged to meet at your house that night. You were going to steal some condoms from your uncle's supply and, er, we were going to use them. And then we went home.

"When I got home, I walked in on a meeting between my parents--"

"Don't just say parents, Hal. It makes my skin crawl to think of you being related to them."

"Fine. I walked in on a meeting between my adoptive parents and a bunch of other people I had never seen before. And I heard them discussing distribution and profits. At first I thought they were just talking about the nutrition and supplement business. But then it dawned on me that they were talking about drugs -- illegal ones, I mean; the big tipoff was when one of them started to complain that the profits from heroin were down since last month -- and I tried to back out of the house. But they heard me, and then they tied me up, and after a while they injected me with something, and that's all I can remember for a while."

"Meanwhile, when you didn't show up that night, I was shaken and thought you wanted to back out of the whole relationship."

"Don't be silly!"

"Hey, I was pathologically shy! I thought there must be something wrong with me. And then I saw you shopping in town with your parents, and you looked right through me and didn't show any sign of recognition at all, so I thought it was all over. I was heartbroken, I tell you. I went back to school as soon as I could."

"I kind of remember that now. It's all vague and swimmy, but they were giving me a bunch of stuff to keep me docile. I really should have guessed that they didn't like me very much. Looking back, I can remember all kinds of things they used to do. I'm pretty sure they were using me to smuggle things through customs when I was young. Anyway, I can remember bits and pieces of what happened after that, but nothing important. I don't even know how many years they had me under."

"Years?"

"Well, I know I'm assuming, but I've got a stomach like this--" I prodded my enormous gut "--and it must have taken a long time for you to get like..."

"Like this?" Ben flexed. There was a tearing sound as his suit came apart across the back and around the upper arms. He frowned. "Whoops; I didn't mean to do that." He took off the coat and took off the shirt and tie. His torso was impossibly muscular. The fat which had been one of the things we had in common was gone, replaced with the best-defined set of abs I had ever seen.

"Yes." Under the bedsheets, my cock was hard. No wonder I couldn't remember a wife and kids!

"Hal, it's only been about eleven months since then. Let me tell you how this happened: when my aunt and uncle showed up for graduation, they said they had a package for me from you. After the ceremony I opened it up and found a smaller package, and this letter." He handed it to me.

It read: "Ben please help me Ben my parents are druging me and holding me prisenor they are drug dealers please help were at the family hose in Houston Im being drugged andd I can't think but they gave me the rong stuff this morning please helpp the stuff in the package will help you I think make sure you have a lot of foood around when you take it please come and help me Ben".

Ben noticed I was blushing. "Hey, don't be embarrassed. Maybe it isn't textbook English composition, but it got the message across. So after my relatives left the morning after graduation, I took a dose of the stuff in the package."

"That doesn't sound very smart."

"I trusted you. Just as well, as things turned out."

"So how DID it turn out?"

"Well, that warning in the letter was a vast understatement. After about ten minutes I started to get hungry, so I started to eat. But the more I ate the hungrier I got. I ate all the food I had around, and ordered food from every restaurant in town, plus I had the local supermarket delivery service send over a huge amount of stuff, too. And it went on for about 36 hours, I just ate and ate and ate. I finally dozed off out of pure exhaustion. But in the morning I was hungry again. I spent the next two weeks doing 36-hour days of nothing but eating, sleeping, and using the bathroom."

"Sorry."

"Stop apologizing! When I finally stopped being hungry, I looked like this. I weighed 344 pounds, and was about three inches taller. Since then I've gained around 10 more pounds, although it seems to have petered out completely in the last couple of weeks."

"Geez!"

"Yeah, instant bodybuilder, just add water. Or vast amounts of food, anyway. So once I was all muscled up, I got a different haircut and some sunglasses and came down to Houston. Either your adoptive parents didn't know about me at all, or they just assumed that I must be a different person with the same name. Hard to blame them -- who would have thought a little shy college student was the same a 300-plus pound giant? Anyway, I showed up at Grant Nutrition headquarters in Houston, hoping to track your parents home from there, and they caught me right away."

"Oops."

"Yeah, I guess it was a little shifty for a great big guy in sunglasses to be staring at the building. But it turned out to be a lucky break. Your adoptive father took one look at me and decided I had come in response to his advertisement for a bodyguard."

"What?"

"Apparently, competition was getting tight in the drug trade, and he was worried. Not that he told me that. I pretended not to know anything about the drug smuggling, and signed on as his bodyguard. When we got to the house, he introduced me to his wife and his poor, mentally handicapped child."

"What?!"

"Yeah, you were pretty drooly by that point. I tried talking to you a couple of times, but you couldn't even talk for more than a sentence at a time by then, let alone recognize me. And you were putting on that stomach pretty quickly, thanks to being totally sedentary."

"Um." I was blushing again.

"Anyway, I started snooping around every chance I got. Since they thought I was some kind of meathead, they never guessed that I was recording phone calls and security footage. Finally, I got what I wanted -- they discussed you while I was recording, so I had proof you were a prisoner and not taking part in the whole thing."

"Wait, why didn't you just take me away from them once you had access?"

This time, it was Ben who blushed. "Well, you gave me a body like this, and I was wearing sunglasses and a suit and spying on people. I just got carried away and wanted it to be more like my own personal action movie." He looked away, blushing so hard his ears were practically glowing with it. "You know, so I could be like a cross between James Bond and Arnold Schwarzenegger. I was going to substitute placebos for your drugs, and then when you recovered consciousness I was going to call in the cops and kick down the door of your room and rescue you. It was going to be very romantic. In my head, at least."

"Oh."

"I got as far as replacing the stuff they were injecting into you with saline solution, and then the next day, the last thing you would ever expect happened."

"What was that?"

"A rival gang of smugglers broke in and kidnapped you during the day, hoping to use you as leverage. I showed up with your adoptive parents just as they drove off."

"Serves you right for making me wait!"

"I followed them in my car, and managed to find out that they were taking you to Mexico. But I have relatives in Mexico, so I just went off for a visit, and borrowed my cousin's motorcycle. This time I didn't try to do it all myself -- at least I can learn from my mistakes -- but it took a while for the cops to track you down. And since the drugs were wearing off, you started to try to escape, which the kidnappers didn't expect at all. You got away from them one night, and then when they recaptured you and took you back to the warehouse you got out again, although they didn't notice. Actually, you were probably safe by then. When we showed up at the warehouse, they were debating what to do with you now that the whole kidnapping thing failed."

"Failed?"

"Oh, I forgot to mention. Look at this." Ben picked up a newspaper from the table next to the bed and held it up. I couldn't read it because it was in Spanish, but there were pictures of my parents on the front page. Mom looked even more rotund and unpleasantly vampiric than usual.

"I can't read Spanish."

"Then let me translate. The headline more or less says 'Vitamin Company Heads Flee Drug Bust'. The story reads 'Late last night, Houston police, acting on information received from an anonymous source--'" Ben's face was wooden "'--stormed the home of Joseph and Anne Grant, owners of Grant Nutrition International, the second-largest nutritional supplement import/export company in America. From evidence discovered in the house, it was determined that the two had been running the largest drug-smuggling operation in the country, and had lately been holding their adopted son hostage under the influence of several illegal substances. The ring used the legitimate business of the supplement company as a cover for the transport of drugs in and out of the country, and were also heavily interested in smuggling weapons illicitly purchased from Texas gun dealers out of the country. Unfortunately, the Grants received warning of the impending police action, and escaped with an estimated twenty-five million American dollars in portable assets. Their whereabouts, and those of their son, remain unknown.'"

"Good riddance!"

"Yes. So..."

"So, Grant Nutrition is gone now?"

Ben flashed a smile at me. "Nope. It's a perfectly decent legitimate business, complete with profits and lots of innocent employees who will be very upset if it shuts down. In fact, it ought to be more profitable now, since nobody will be skimming off the profits or having to pay extra freight to ship drugs with the legitimate cargo. You ought to have no problems."

"What has it got to do with me?"

"Well, the other afternoon while you were in the emergency room and unconscious, I called the main office and consulted the corporate attorneys. It turns out that, once you clear all the legal double-talk out of the way, even if your parents show up again, between the repercussions of their criminal charges and you being their technical next of kin, you are now the sole owner and proprietor."

"Really?"

"Yes, boss."

"Boss?"

Ben's smile widened. "Yep. My employment is with Grant Nutrition. I'm supposed to protect the owners of the company. And it seems you're the only owner there is."

"Oh." Lacking anything to say, I leaned over and picked up the glass of water on the bedside table, and drank it. From college student to drugged prisoner to hostage to successful business owner. Not bad.

"So, can we discuss my benefits now?"

"What?"

"Well, the company is about to get a lot richer, what with their new product line."

"Huh?"

"Oh, did I forget that, too? The package you sent me didn't just have the miracle muscle growth supplement in it. It also had your lab notes in it."

"I reiterate: huh?"

"Hal, stop being dense. While you were drugged, you somehow INVENTED that supplement. I guess that's what happens when you leave a drugged-up genius chem major in a lab used for nutritional supplements. I had the doctors check me out yesterday, and apparently I'm in such perfect health they want to keep me in a bottle to show medical students. They actually insisted on giving me an MRI just to make sure I'm really as healthy as I seemed. How much money do you think you can get from something that gives men perfect health and makes them look like this?" He flexed again.

"Dunno. But won't it have to go through clinical trials first?"

"Sure, and nothing will be better to spread buzz about how effective it is. I already faxed your notes in to the corporate office, and they're working on it already."

I laughed. "Okay, I'm convinced. Whatever we're paying you, you deserve more. So what do you want?"

"Can I have anything I want?"

"Within reason."

"Okay, then, in about half a month, I want to fulfill a certain promise we made last Christmas, because I've been waiting so long." He rubbed his crotch, which drew attention to the size of the contents. Obviously, whatever had happened to his muscles had also amplified him there as well; this was going to be painful, but probably worth it. "And then I want a certain person to come with me to New York so we can get married."

"Well, I'm certainly not going to object. But why the delay first?"

"The package didn't just have ONE dose of the supplement. It'll take a couple of weeks to bring you up to my level."

"Uh..."

He gestured to a camera sitting on the other bed. "I'm going to record the whole thing... to submit as part of the clinical trials, of course."

"Uh, Ben... I'm not so sure I want to start that right now."

Ben gave me his grin again. "Too late. The other dose was in that glass of water you just drank."

Just then my stomach started to gurgle. Ben gave a sharp whistle, the door opened, and a line of hotel employees entered the room pushing carts filled with food.

"I already have more on order."

"Think of everything, don't you?"

Ben's grin was almost as broad as his shoulders. "Most things."

[Rarity]

I liked this a lot. I wouldn't really mind seeing a part 2. But even if you don't it still ended in a way where it's wrapped up nice and neat.

[tekuno]

Originally Posted by Rarity

I liked this a lot. I wouldn't really mind seeing a part 2. But even if you don't it still ended in a way where it's wrapped up nice and neat.

Thanks. But I don't think I'll be writing a part 2. The thing which inspired it -- nobody has even made a guess yet, which means I did a good job of obfuscating it -- is, uh, all used up by the stuff which already happened in the story.

[vga518]

Very great story indeed! I can figure out what inspired it. I want to saw something to guess but since I don't think I'm right so I won't guess. Great Job man!

[chocomus]

nice way of turning a nightmare-ish life into a dreamy one, good job!!!

I LOL-ed at "instant bodybuilder" that's catchy!!!!

[tekuno]

Well, gosh, I just passed a milestone which puts me in company with some of my favorite authors: my thread got a bump from a spammer.

Meanwhile, I have drawn a few pictures of "what happens next", which you can see in my FurAffinity scraps section. (3 of the 4 are specifically tagged as not being at all "mature" so you should be able to see them without an account.)

Still no guesses? I'll post a link on Wednesday, if I remember and feel okay. And then I'll duck, because I have a feeling some people will want to throw things once they find out.

[tekuno]

Okay, I'm up late and feeling much, much better, and it's technically Wednesday, so here we go:

Those of you who are non-native-English-speakers are excused from necessarily having heard this song before. (Although I wouldn't be entirely surprised if one of you spoke up and said "oh, I love that song, it's been my favorite for years", modern music distribution being what it is and people having wonderfully eclectic multilingual taste in music as they do.) The rest of you, I'm amazed nobody guessed. (And don't give me "I'm too young to have heard this song" -- I'm not sure exactly when this song came out, but this is really something from my parents' generation, not mine. You are not excused from cultural literacy on account of being a mere stripling. )

You Can Call Me Al

(Just as an aside, what on earth inspired Paul Simon to have the video be Chevy Chase lip-synching the song? Okay, it's funny at first, but WTF gave him the idea in the first place? Before I saw the video, if I had made a list of possible things the video could have shown, this wouldn't even be on it.)

Hal never actually calls Ben by his initials, which were given on his nametag, or the diminutive "Benny"... either one would probably have given it away immediately.

[nnnrg]

Now that is a VERY cool inspiration.

[tekuno]

Too bad the forum doesn't support transparent as a text color -- then I could write a story based on 4'33".

Edit: Actually, come to think of it, here's a muscle growth story based on 0'0" (see the Wikipedia link above):

Go and eat some protein, and then do a strenuous workout. Now go flex in front of a mirror and imagine how your muscles are going to grow.