#Black thespians | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

originalfatfiction · 8 months ago

Text

All the World's a Stage

I was your typical drama-geek, though a lot more subdued—hopefully. I prayed I wasn’t as obnoxious as those kids on TV shows about high school students. I wasn’t constantly giving long monologues about the idiocy of mainstream culture or strumming a guitar singing covers of Bruno Mars songs. I just highly valued theater as an art form. Man, that seemed kind of pretentious, but it was true! As lame as it may have sounded, theater was honestly my life. I had been in every production since freshman year—the fall plays, winter dramas, and spring musicals.

Sure, I was a good student, but that wasn’t fun. And it wasn’t like I was athletic or exceedingly popular. My passion was performing on stage, no doubt about it, and it was a surprise even to myself. I didn’t talk much, and I dreaded holding conversation with people. When I was in the fall play freshman year, it was the first time many of my peers heard my voice. I will say as I’ve matured, I’ve become more willing to speak up for myself, but four years ago you couldn’t pay me to answer a question in class, even if I was a hundred percent sure of the answer.

I worked hard as a member of the Jackson High Thespian Troupe. I was incredibly dedicated to all of our productions, and I had even gotten the lead role in two separate shows. I was hoping to get the lead in the fall play this year, which would be Of Mice and Men. It was the story of the big, lovable oaf Lennie and his cynical pal George during the Great Depression.

The Troupe had absolutely no clue who our Lennie Small would be. Nobody in our productions stood any taller than six feet, which was nowhere near as imposing as we needed our Lennie to be.

I was short, only about 5’6” and slim. Most of the drama crew was pretty small in terms of stature and weight. Everyone was really body conscious in the drama club. Most people didn’t outwardly speak badly of our larger members, but there was always an underlying negativity.

I was black, mostly. My dad was half-white, but for all intents and purposes, I was black. I thankfully had some natural muscularity, so I wasn’t all skin and bones. As I’ve said, I wasn’t much of an athlete. I couldn’t do anything involving balls, bats, or racquets. Running and swimming I was okay at, but other than that I was hopeless. My dad had been crushed by the fact that I couldn’t even get a hit playing T-Ball. I’d close my eyes every time I swung the bat. I was a regular Hank Aaron (I knew he was good, but I couldn’t for the life of me tell you when he played or what team he was on. My dad loved the guy, claiming he was one of the greats). Thankfully, my younger brothers were already showing signs of being potential MLB all-stars. I’d just have to accept that I would never meet my father’s expectations.

We were in the second week of September (we had been in school for about three weeks) and the weather was still fairly hot. I loved warm weather and the sun and the beach. I was still rocking my summer skin tone, so I had a golden-brown complexion. I’d get lighter as we went into the colder months, but for now I had a beautiful healthy glow. I hated winter. I was my worst self in layers and layers of clothing.

We’d had auditions last Thursday and after the roles were cast, the production would move next-level fast. It happened with every production; there was never as much time to prepare as we thought there’d be. I had auditioned for George. I went to the school’s bulletin board right outside of the main office that Monday to see if I had been cast. I was so nervous. The Troupe had become my whole life.

George—Kyle Donnelly

Candy—Hallie James

Curley—Jimmy Ignacio

Curley’s Wife—Jane Kingston

Slim—Raul Mota

Crooks—Richard Smith

Carlson—John Waterson

The Boss—Ken Ortega

Whit—Holden Sanders

Lennie and Candy’s Dog—TBD

I couldn’t believe it. I’d been cast as Whit. How in the hell was I cast as Whit? I mean, come on! He had fewer lines than Candy’s dog. I almost cried right there, and then I felt really silly about crying publicly over a high school adaptation of a John Steinbeck novel. I held back my urge to sob and made my way to the bathroom. I locked myself in a stall and let a few tears escape my eyes. Sure, it was silly, but it still meant a lot to me. This would be my last fall play ever. I was eighteen years old and graduating from high school in less than nine months. I had to make the most of every day I had left. I balled my hands into fists and closed my eyes. But wait! The worst part wasn’t even the fact I was cast in a role that could be performed by a mannequin—no, the worst fucking part would have to be that the lead went to Kyle Donnelly, who was a terrible actor and a total ass. His vibes were way harsh. I knew I didn’t like him, and he’d pissed off numerous members of the Troupe, but he was still an integral member (his parents donated a lot of time and money to the drama club).

I had to calm down. This was no time for a meltdown. There was still the winter drama and spring musical.

I exited the stall and headed to class feeling worthless. I almost considered dropping out. I swear, if I didn’t get the lead in the musical, I’d blow my brains out. I had Spanish IV first period, followed by AP Calc and AP Bio. English IV was fourth period, with the head faculty director Mr. Murray.

I didn’t want to see him. He and the student director, Eva Porter, were the ones responsible for casting me as Whit. I’d spent the first three periods of my day hearing about how crazy it was that Kyle would be the lead. It’d been brought up numerous times in shady remarks that Kyle and Eva dating probably played a major part in him getting the role of George. I wanted to believe Eva had integrity, so I ignored the gossip.

Mr. Murray was one of the oldest teachers in the school. He was pushing seventy, and nobody understood why he hadn’t retired yet. Kids said it was because he never got married or had children and that he wouldn’t know what to do with all that time to himself. Sometimes I thought I might end up like him, and it freaked me out. He was totally a latent homosexual. He mentioned women sometimes, but in a half-hearted way that made it seem like he was covering up something. (“Oh, that Saoirse Ronan is a beauty. If I were her age, I might be willing to settle down.”)

But at the end of the day, I was gay—and I was sure people knew it. Most of my closest friends in the Troupe knew. I didn’t try to act all manly and stuff to hide who I was; I wasn’t that type of guy. But still, even though I was doing my best to be true to myself, I still worried about what people thought of me. Did I speak too girlishly? Did I move my hands too much when I talked? Did it ruin my chances of playing some of the great roles in theater history?

I sat at my desk as class started, totally disinterested in what Mr. Murray was talking about until he started a class discussion. This old queen was ruthless during class discussions, going out of his way to pick on the unprepared and the distracted. He wasn’t about to catch me slipping.

“We’ve just discussed some of the context of the poem, which now gives us an opportunity to analyze it further,” Mr. Murray said, looking from face to face of each of my classmates, deciding who he’d engage with one-on-one. “Why does this poem relate to life even today?” he asked the class as a whole. A couple of kids shrank back into the seats of their desks, some stiffened up and stared straight ahead. Mr. Murray was scanning the room, like some sort of rogue robot from the future trying to determine which life form would be most beneficial to exterminate.

I looked at Mr. Murray, who had his sights set on Gregory Williams. He was the worst English student ever. Hell, he was probably the worst student ever. Gregory nervously flipped through his notebook, which looked packed with information. Who had written that stuff down for him? It probably wasn’t even notes for this class. He was probably one of those students who used one notebook for all seven periods.

But still, I couldn’t stand to see such a big lug in distress. I had to intercept Mr. Murray’s attack. The poem was fairly simple to understand, and hopefully my analysis would appease his bloodlust. I raised my hand quickly, trying to help, but as Mr. Murray and I made eye contact, he smiled and said, “What do you think, Gregory?”

Gregory sat up, no longer flipping through his notebook. He looked petrified. This happened every time he got called on. I felt bad for him, but then I remembered how easy he had things. He had straight C’s because he was gigantic. He was on the football, wrestling, and water polo teams. And I meant it when I said that he was huge. At 6’4” and at least 280 pounds, teachers wanted him to be able to play so our school would win.

I didn’t have a problem with Gregory Williams—he was so my type—but the whole “he’s a jock, pass him” thing sort of pissed me off. I worked hard to do well in school and manage extracurricular activities, why shouldn’t he?

“I—I didn’t get it,” he said finally. He was embarrassed. “It was stupid.”

“It was not stupid, Mr. Williams.” Mr. Murray chastised, obviously dismayed at such a lackluster response. “It was an artistic exploration of an important theme in African-American culture, which I would love for you to tell us about. Try again, perhaps discuss some of the figurative language.”

“I—I couldn’t find any,” Greg said, his face falling. I glanced at his desk; the printout of the poem was annotated extensively. All he had to do was look at his notes! Why was he so afraid?

“We can wait,” Mr. Murray continued, pressing him further and further. “Take your time.”

Time began to move in reverse, I swear. Greg looked at the poem, scanning each line with his thick pointer finger, reading it soundlessly, though his mouth was moving. I couldn’t stand this abuse of power. Some of the other students in the room snickered. I didn’t consider this teaching. This was capital punishment. “Hey Greg,” I said, not one to normally speak in class myself. “Do you remember what an extended metaphor is? Mr. Murray went over it in that PowerPoint last week.”

Yes, Mr. Murray still used PowerPoint.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at Mr. Murray. I could tell he was upset by the exasperated sound he’d made when I spoke without permission. I just focused on Greg, in the row to the right of me, two seats up. I watched his wide back in his plain, black t-shirt. He shifted in his seat, turning to look at me. His eyes were so desperate, and it made me feel terrible. This was probably killing him.

He held his notebook in his hands, shaking slightly. “It’s ‘wh—when a comparison between two unlike things continues throughout a series of lines in a poem.’” He’d read it with minimal trouble, then looked up at me.

“Yeah,” I said. “This poem is basically one of those completely. What do you think is being compared?” He turned quickly, grabbing the printout. He turned back, looking at me again. Having his attention like this was strange. He’d hardly paid me any mind before. Him looking at me like that, with his scared brown eyes. I wanted to protect him at all costs. I wanted to make sure this never happened to him again.

I was getting ahead of myself.

“Maybe this crystal stair is being compared to life,” he started. “The mom is talking to her son, and she’s saying that life hasn’t been no crystal stair. So life is hard, I think. And Langston Hughes is using a bunch of stair words to talk about how hard life is, especially for black people.”

“Yeah, what words make you think that life can be hard?” I asked, pretty sure I should have shut up two questions ago.

“It says there are splinters and boards that are torn up and—and uh, no carpets.” I could sense he was feeling more confident now. He smiled at me gently before turning forward in his seat. He looked at Mr. Murray before speaking again. “And the mom in the poem knows life is hard, and she’s letting her son know, so he never gives up. That’s how it can relate to today. All parents know stuff their kids don’t, and they’re just trying to guide us through the hard times.”

“Quite the analysis,” Mr. Murray said, turning to the front of the room and walking towards his desk. “I’d love for you to locate another piece of figurative language Mr. Ignacio—with no assists please.” He’d finished with his torment of Greg, and class went on this way for another twenty minutes before the bell rang. Mr. Murray made sure to have droned on and on all class period. He told Greg to wait behind. I grabbed my books and went off to gym class. I was afraid I’d gotten him in trouble. He’d probably be more upset now. And what was worse was that he’d probably be upset with me for opening my mouth when I should have just minded my own business.

I rummaged through my bag. I couldn’t believe my luck. I had forgotten my gym shorts again. What a way to start the week. I was the last guy in the locker room, and Coach White would be so angry. He told me if I were too much of a pussy to participate in gym class, the least I could do to get a decent grade was change. He’d yell at me in front of all the other guys. It was going to be awful.

One would think the school board would frown upon a teacher calling a student a pussy, but Coach White had tenure and multiple state championships in football and basketball. He made our school look good, so there was no way he was going anywhere for harassing the feminine kid who opted out of participating in shooting hoops or serving volleyballs.

I couldn’t help that whenever someone tried to pass me a ball my first instinct was to cover my face. It wasn’t my fault that running and dribbling at the same time was a skill that had overlooked my entire bloodline (yeah, even my dad. That’s why he stuck to baseball). I felt awful that any activity we tried, I failed miserably at it. My track record was not pretty.

Softball—I sucked.

Badminton—I sucked.

Basketball—I sucked.

Volleyball—I sucked.

Kickball—I sucked.

Floor Hockey—I sucked.

I turned, my back against the cold metal of the lockers, and sank to the floor. I sat there for a few moments as I considered my options. I could hear the Jeopardy! music in my head, getting faster and faster as my time to find a solution dwindled.

I was screwed, that was all I had.

I’d just have to take the zero for today’s class period. I hadn’t noticed Greg changing until I stood up. I was so gay sometimes that I felt like they should create a new word for the intense levels of homosexuality I was experiencing.

He wasn’t some fitness model, but he was incredibly handsome. I liked bigger guys, and he was a big guy. He had a gut, but it was hot. I liked looking at it, and I wanted to touch it. I wanted to make it bigger. Oh God, I was such a freak.

He peeled that black t-shirt he’d been wearing over his head, standing there in just his baggy blue jeans. His back was to me, and what a back it was. He looked as wide as at least two-and-a-half of me. His dark skin looked smooth, and he had some faded circular scars that ran across his shoulder blades. I noticed he had some stretch marks on his love handles, but they were just as faded as the scars on his back. He undid his belt buckle and leaned forward slightly so he could pull those jeans down. The main attraction had been unveiled. He had a large butt that jutted out far behind him and massive thighs. His jeans must’ve been huge in order to camouflage those assets. He wore a pair of spandex underwear that all the athletes loved. The fabric was only a little darker than his skin, so for a moment it felt as though he was standing there in front of me completely naked.

He tossed his regular clothes into the locker after removing his gym clothes. He closed the locker and turned around, our eyes meeting. My first instinct was to sprint out of the locker room, out of the school. I could be out of the tri-state area by dinner. I must’ve been examining his body for a good forty seconds. I could’ve looked at him like this for at least another decade. Instead of running I looked away quickly, hoping he wouldn’t say anything.

“You’re not changing?” he asked as he pulled on the gym shorts. My shorts looked kind of normal, but they were like something out of the seventies. The uniform had been like that for as long as I could remember. Maybe they’d ordered way too many skimpy shorts fifty years ago and we were stuck wearing outdated athletic gear. Greg looked great in the shorts though, so there were no complaints from me. They came about halfway up his thickset thighs and hugged his ass perfectly.

“I forgot my shorts,” I said. He opened his locker again and tossed me a pair of his.

“Wanna borrow a pair?” he asked. As conflicted as I was on Greg’s academic success, that didn’t negate the fact that he wasn’t a jerk. He was actually a really decent person. He didn’t mess with people like some of the other douchebag athletes.

When we were working on our production of Little Shop of Horrors last spring, they buried a couple of members of our cast in soil. I was lucky to have avoided that punishment. Oh, and who could forget the time when during our production of Dracula a few of the meathead jocks pulled a Carrie and completely ruined the performance by dumping “pigs’ blood” on us during opening night. It was only melted strawberry ice cream with extra red food coloring in it, but the show still had to be cancelled. Some of those guys actually got suspended for that one, surprisingly. This was all on top of the day-to-day book checks (knocking books out of our hands, but lunch trays were a common variation) and being pushed up against lockers.

“I know they’re gonna be a little big, but you just sit in the bleachers, right?” I fought the urge to bring his shorts up close to my face and give them a big sniff. He was still looking at me, and I was not about to be the weird gay guy going around sniffing other guys’ sweaty shorts.

“Yeah,” I said. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” He pulled on a tight white t-shirt that showed off his large, burly arms and broad shoulders. “Thanks for your help in class,” he said, tying the shoelaces of his Nikes. “We should probably get to know each other a little better. Since I’m gonna be Larry or whatever in the play.”

“You’re going to be Lennie?” I asked.

“Yeah, that’s what Mr. Murray said,” he replied, sighing. He adjusted the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down slightly. “I need the extra credit he’s offering to pass his class. No football for me this year.” He left the locker room and went into the gym.

I was too nervous to bury my face in his shorts, not wanting to be caught, so I just got changed quickly and hurried into the gym. I sat in the bleachers and watched as the more athletically inclined ran back and forth playing basketball. Damn Greg was fast for such a big guy. He was aggressive too. It was kind of scary how intense he was—but then it was hot.

It was like a freaking mythical beast was going up for a rebound. He bumped kids around. He moved so heavily, like he was really solid and sturdy. His thighs looked ridiculously beefy, and the shorts rode up as he ran. They’d ridden up his ass, separating each cheek, highlighting the meatiness of his backside. I was glad his shorts were like a hundred times too big, because they were helping me cover up a pretty gigantic erection. The uniforms were definitely the one thing I liked about gym class.

All of these interactions with Greg today had me feeling aroused, but on top of that they had me developing a major crush. I hated it. Nothing good could ever come from liking a straight boy, especially one that could break my face with the flick of his finger.

I changed quickly, shoving the shorts into my bookbag. I’d wash them and return them to Greg tomorrow. At lunch, everyone was talking about Greg being in the play, and it wasn’t all good. Kyle was furious. He said he didn’t want to be in a production with such a “big, fat idiot.” I thought Kyle was a bitch, so it shouldn’t have mattered.

We went to the school’s auditorium after classes ended to run the lines and sure enough Greg showed up, although about ten minutes late. A little after that Coach White flew into the auditorium in a rage and he and Mr. Murray got into a huge argument. They walked away from us students and continued bickering.

Coach White was towering over little Mr. Murray, but he backed off when Mr. Murray started telling him off. They both moved animatedly, pointing and gesturing. They were just outside of the far doors, so we couldn’t actually hear what they were saying. We watched as Mr. Murray walked the length of the auditorium to where we all sat in a circle on the stage.

“Gregory,” he said, his voice feigning calmness. “Coach White and I have worked out a schedule for you, okay?” Greg nodded. “On Mondays and Wednesdays, you can go to football practice, and when you have games on Fridays you don’t need to be here. However, during tech week and all performance days you must be in attendance, understood?”

“Yes Coach,” he said, nervously tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. Kyle scoffed loudly and rolled his eyes. “I mean, sir—Mr. Murray.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Mr. Murray said, joining us on the stage. Gregory stood, towering over all of us as we continued to sit, and gave a slight wave goodbye before making his way down the stairs.

“See you tomorrow!” I called, not entirely sure why I had opened my mouth. Everyone looked at me like I was deranged, but Greg turned and smiled at me.

“Yeah,” he called, his voice deep. “Catch you later, Holden.”

That night, I thought about Greg saying my name over and over. He said that he’d catch me later. He knew I existed, and maybe I could exist to him as more than the weird guy who was in his English class.

I was ashamed to admit it, but I smelled his shorts. I had to force myself to stop smelling them and to put them in the washing machine. They smelled so good, like sweat and laundry detergent and some sort of cologne. While they were in the washing machine, I walked to the gas station and bought a candy bar—a Twix, to be more specific. The king of chocolate candies if I were to be honest. They were my favorite.

I made my way back home and grabbed a piece of white copy paper from the printer in the home office. I sat at the desk in my room, thinking. I had to be friendly, but not too friendly. I didn’t want him to think I was weird. I was just polite, raised properly.

I wrote a simple message. It read:

Hey Greg,

Thank you for lending me a pair of your shorts. I washed them, and as a token of my appreciation, enjoy this candy bar.

I signed it with just my first name, Holden.

Before I went to bed, I made sure to put my gym uniform, his shorts, the letter, and the candy bar in my bag. I didn’t want to forget anything tomorrow. I felt off that night, kind of nervous. I was starting to feel like it was a bad idea to do something so formal for being lent a pair of shorts for fifty minutes. A normal guy would’ve just tossed them back to him, nodded their head, and kept it moving. He probably didn’t even remember lending them to me. It wasn’t a big deal to him, so it shouldn’t be a big deal to me.

I still brought everything along with me, but I was conflicted about following through with the plan. I couldn’t do it in the locker room with all the other guys around. It’d be stupid to return them after gym class. Before I knew it, we were in English class, and I was walking to his desk. We had about a minute before the bell, and it was now or never. I stood next to him, and he looked at me. “What’s up, Holden?” he greeted me.

“Hi, uh, thanks,” I replied, so inarticulately that he’d probably think I was abandoned in the woods as a child and learned to speak from the animals of the forest that raised me. I was Jackson High’s very own Nell. I placed the stack (shorts on bottom, letter in the middle, Twix on top) on his desk and returned to my own. He didn’t touch it but looked back at me as I returned to my seat. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, and he smiled awkwardly, as if to say, What a fucking weirdo.

He turned back to the stack and opened the letter. He read it, turned back to me, and gave me a thumbs up. I sighed with relief, signaling a thumbs up in return.

He ate the Twix during class.

The first rehearsal with Greg that afternoon went okay, but in the long run the scheduling situation proved to be much more difficult for everyone than anticipated. Greg needed more time with the whole cast to better practice his lines, so those two to three days we lost every week were definitely determinantal to our progress.

It had been two weeks of line practice, and it was a Tuesday.

“Gregory, it’s your line now,” Mr. Murray said, not looking up from his script. Kyle sighed and mumbled something about Greg being an idiot. Greg frowned and said he didn’t remember it. Mr. Murray tried to get us off script as soon as possible, but Greg was new to this world. It was incredibly hard to remember all our lines, even if we spent hours every night practicing. I bet he had a lot going on outside of this production that he was forced into. I wanted to say he should be able to use his script, but I didn’t want to appear meddlesome. Kyle groaned impolitely and said he needed a break. “Okay everyone, take ten.”

I remember on the second day, parents started bringing food. It was like this every year. Early on in the productions it was small stuff, like juice boxes and potato chips, but as things got more serious there’d be pizzas and sandwiches. I thought it was adorable how excited Greg was.

“You guys get food?” he asked me. I told him nobody ate much, so it usually got tossed out or given away to different sports teams. After that he took to eating all practice. It seemed to calm him, so I was glad there was something helping him.

When I was cheated out of a role, I took on extra responsibilities. Usually that meant that I was in charge of wardrobe. I was to take measurements and get clothes from thrift stores and costume shops using a portion of the money allotted to the drama club.

So today I was doing my second job and it was Greg’s turn and we went into the gigantic prop closet, and I started measuring him. He was wearing his freaking football sweats and they were grabbing onto his thighs and butt, and I was getting a major erection.

“You can do everything,” he said, and it didn’t come across as sarcastic in a way that some others would say it. “A poet, an actor, and a tailor.”

I laughed, flattered that he thought I was capable of tailoring clothing. “I’m no tailor,” I said from behind him. I knelt down to measure the size of his thighs, my eyes level with his ass. I looked longingly at his underwear, the sweats sagging down slightly from the weight of his cellphone and wallet in his pockets. “I only send the measurements to a costume shop or try to find pieces at the thrift store.” He was wearing these blue spandex boxer briefs and it was killing me. He was actually an inch taller than I thought, standing at 6’5”.

I measured around his stomach next, followed by his waist. I placed a little stool in front of him and stood on it. It made me nearly as tall as he was. I had to measure his neck, and I swung the tape measurer over his head. “It’s nice to see you at eye level,” he said, laughing. “Short Stuff.”

I tried my hardest to focus on the task at hand, bringing the tape measurer taught around his thick neck. He was so handsome. His skin was darker than mine. If I was the dough of a cookie, he was a chocolate chip. He had large lips and white teeth that were kind of large. I noticed he rarely smiled showing them all, but he’d recently been smiling at me in the hallways or at the end of rehearsals. It gave me butterflies thinking about how seeing me could elicit a smile from him. He had short hair and deep waves. I could see him brushing his hair and putting his durag on before bed every night. His nose was cute, kind of wide, but not so big that it took over his face.

“I’m Short Stuff?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. I removed the tape measurer, stepping down off of my stool. He crouched down, spreading his legs and bending his knees. “How’s the weather down here?”

“Very funny, Gregory.”

“Ooo, using the whole name,” he said, standing up straight. “I’m in trouble. Why not throw in the ‘Deshawn Williams’ for the full effect?”

“I’ll remember that for the next time.”

“I wouldn’t want that,” he said. “I never wanna make you mad at me. I like you too much.” He smiled, and then I smiled. It was nice but filled with so much one-sided lust that it was almost sad. Kyle entered the prop closest, attitude set to eleven.

“How long does it take to measure one person Holden?” He took in Greg and stifled a laugh. “Oh, never mind. I imagine it can take quite a while, actually.” Greg tugged at the hem of his shirt, his face falling.

“I’ll talk to you later, Short Stuff,” he said. “Thanks for the measurements.” He went back over to the parent-supplied snack table. I saw him grab a Ho Ho and open it embarrassedly, shoving it into his mouth.

He could have picked Kyle up and snapped him in half, Bane-style. I wouldn’t have said anything, and when authorities asked what happened, I’d say, with tears in my eyes, “He slipped, Officer. What a freak accident, truly.”

“This is going to be a disaster,” Kyle said. I had the measuring tape around his neck now, trying to get through these measurements as quickly as possible. “I wouldn’t have wanted the lead if I knew I’d be working with such an absolute idiot.” I considered choking him.

I was moving as fast as I could, but he continued to bad mouth Greg. It was really upsetting me. I didn’t know if it was because Greg wasn’t around to defend himself, or because I had such a major crush on him, but Kyle was pushing me to my limit. He had totally killed any signs of an erection, which I guess was good because I wouldn’t want people knowing I was some pervert getting erections while taking measurements.

“Eva is devastated. Her first time as student director and this is what she has to deal with.”

“Kyle, you aren’t as talented as you think you are, so you need to shut the fuck up.” He laughed casually and walked towards the door. I wasn’t even finished taking his measurements. He always had to do the most.

“Who got the lead?” he asked rhetorically. He left the room, walking towards where Eva and Mr. Murray were helping the stage designers with a backdrop. I felt my face go hot and sat down. This was not how I imagined this year to be. I knew it would never be perfect; I didn’t set unrealistic expectations, not wanting to be let down, but I never thought things could suck this much. I had my eighteenth birthday a week before the school year started and I had spent a portion of my summer in theater camp in New York City. This was supposed to be my year.

“‘Who got the lead?’” I mimicked in my best Kyle-voice. I pulled the tape measurer as taut as I could, struggling for a moment before giving up the effort. My mom would say not to let someone like Kyle get under my skin, and she’d be entirely correct, but I wasn’t as patient as my mother. I wanted to take action and kick him in the throat.

We started rehearsing lines again after I finished measuring the last cast member. Obviously, I was sick and tired of Kyle, who continued to harass Greg. I knew this was going to sound totally lame and cliché, but the Troupe was like a family, so when he bad-mouthed Greg, it was like he was harassing his own family.

“Uh, George—I did—didn’t me—mean nothing by it, honest.”

“Oh my God!” Kyle howled. “Learn your fucking lines and stop stuttering.” I noticed Greg close his eyes—his head bowed, his fists clenched. Would this be the moment I’d been waiting for my entire life? Would one blow from the mighty Gregory Deshawn Williams finally be what vanquished the foul Kyle ‘Bitch Boy’ Donnelly? To add insult to injury, Kyle kept going. With enough weight I thought I could see the words travel across the circle, Kyle said, “All you’re good at is eating. Do you even know how to read? You fat fuck.”

This felt more intense than ever. I could feel Greg’s energy from across the circle. He stood up, and everyone’s eyes followed him. He didn’t walk towards Kyle. He left the stage and then exited the auditorium. Kyle was too bad of an actor to be such a goddamn diva.

Mr. Murray was saying something to Kyle that likely wouldn’t stop his bullying. Everyone else on stage began to murmur amongst themselves. Wasn’t anyone going to see if Greg was okay? Mr. Murray and Eva were in charge of this production, so they should have been doing everything to make sure every actor was being treated fairly. Nobody was moving. Didn’t anyone care if he was okay? I couldn’t take it. I’d check on him and try to get him to come back. I jogged out to the parking lot, looking for Greg. He wasn’t very hard to find.

I saw him over by his truck and went up to him. It was an old Ford F-150. It was green, and it really suited Greg. “Hey, Greg,” I started, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Leave me alone,” he barked.

I hated to see him like this. He never did anything to anybody. He was one of the gentlest, nicest guys I’d ever met. “Greg, it’ll be okay,” I said, grabbing at his arm, trying to get him to open up to me.

“I said go the fuck away,” he roared, his voice deep and surprisingly angry, vibrating in my chest. He brought the weight of his large arm down into my face. It wasn’t even his elbow, but his upper arm. It was solid, very solid, and I’d hoped to feel it, but not in this way. I fell back onto the gravel. I noticed red droplets on my shirt before I felt the fountain that was my nose overflowing.

I was bleeding, but thankfully it didn’t hurt that badly. I thought he liked me. I thought we were friends. He turned around and I noticed he was crying. He was crying. “I—I’m so sorry,” he said as he wiped his eyes on his forearm. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. Holden, are you okay? I’m sorry.” I stood up, holding my nose, trying to stop the bleeding.

“It—it’s fine.” He walked towards me, and I instinctually took a step back. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I knew he didn’t mean to hit me, but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t know what else to do, so I smiled, trying to let him know I was okay.

“Oh God,” he said, reaching for me again. I suddenly realized that had been a terrible idea. The blood spilled over my top lip, covering my teeth. It probably made me look like I was in a worse condition than I actually was.

“I think I’ll just go back inside.” I ran back towards the building, blood dripping onto my shirt. He started kicking his truck angrily.

I’d gone straight to the bathroom to clean myself up, and when I arrived back in the auditorium everyone was still waiting for Greg to return. He didn’t come back inside, so after thirty minutes Mr. Murray dismissed us for the day.

I still couldn’t believe he’d hit me in the face with his freaking Hulk-strength and I was alive to remember it. If he could do this to me without even trying, I could only imagine the damage he could do on purpose.

I didn’t know if we were avoiding one another or not, but I didn’t talk to Greg again the next day until lunch. The incident hadn’t left me with any swelling or bruising, so that was something to be positive about. I sat at a small table near the trash cans. I was sitting alone because I needed some solitude. Kyle was talking about how stupid Greg was and it pissed me off. I just couldn’t take it anymore, and my retaliations never seemed to faze him. Nobody else ever tried to call him out either, which only added to my aggravation.

I swirled a spoon around in my cup of yogurt and granola disinterestedly. I hadn’t started on my turkey sandwich or potato chips yet, and I wasn’t feeling very hungry. “I’m sorry again,” Greg said, looking down at me. I hadn’t noticed him come up, which really showed how out of it I was. He was damn near impossible to miss. He looked at me so seriously. It was making me uncomfortable. “I didn’t try to—to hit you in the face like that. I don’t like hitting people. I don’t want you to think I’m that kind of person.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Apology accepted. And I definitely don’t think poorly of you.” He smiled uneasily.

“Can I sit with you?” he asked. I looked at him. He was so freaking handsome. His eyebrows were thick and had a natural arch to them that made him appear somewhat angry. He had that look from shaving, like someone who had to shave on the regular. Not like me, I only had to shave once every two weeks. I’d heard he was a year older than everyone, but I didn’t know for sure. I went to a different middle school, so I didn’t know much about Greg before high school.

“Yes, of course,” I replied. He smiled again, this time more comfortably, and sat down. He had one of those lunch bags that could be carried around every day. His was bigger than they usually were, and it was green. Maybe green was his favorite color. He had a bunch of food in there—three sandwiches, a couple bags of chips, a water, a juice, cookies, two bananas, and an apple. “You feeling better than you did yesterday?” I asked.

“I feel lame as fuck,” he said. “You probably think there’s something wrong with me.”

“A big guy like you crying is definitely out of the ordinary.”

“You probably think I’m a pussy,” he said, shifting his gaze from me. He looked down at his massive spread, grabbing one of his sandwiches.

“Absolutely not,” I said. “I cry much more often than I’d like to admit.”

“Really?” he asked, looking up at me sheepishly.

“Yes, really.” I started stirring my yogurt again, nervous at the thought of talking about these things with him. I wanted him to like me, not pity me. Hell, he might even think I deserved the things that made me sob. “I’ll share three things.”

“Okay,” he said, smiling timidly.

“One, The Princess and the Frog.”

“The Disney movie?”

“We got a black princess, and she was so hard working.” I could feel myself tearing up, only at the thought of the film. “She achieved her dreams. I want that.”

“Aww,” he said, laughing. “We’ve got to watch that together sometime. Just so I can see the waterworks.”

“Never.”

He laughed again, harder this time. He took another large bite of his sandwich, speaking with his mouth slightly full, he said, “What else?”

“Two, just three weeks ago when the cast list was posted for the play. I had to lock myself in a bathroom stall so I could cry. I was so disappointed.”

“You didn’t get the part you wanted?” he asked, frowning.

“I auditioned for George,” I said, finally eating a spoonful of my yogurt. “But you know how that turned out.”

“Sorry Holden.”

“It’s fine, honestly. I’ve accepted it.” We sat in silence for a little while after that. He powered through his lunch, and I watched him, impressed. Sexuality was such a fucked-up thing. What had occurred in my life that made me this way? He was eating his potato chips and it felt like things were moving in slow motion. He chewed, putting more chips in his mouth at one time than anyone I knew would. The oil from the chips left a glossy sheen on his full lips and I wanted to kiss them, to taste their saltiness.

“You never told me the third thing,” he said finally. I jumped slightly, like a total dork. I had to stop staring at him.

“Oh, well, uh—last year, in October, we were getting things ready for the fall play. I—I was one of the last people still here, and when I finally left it was just me and one other girl. We waited for her mom to pick her up and after she’d gone, I went to the parking lot. My mom had let me drive her car to school that day, so I was feeling pretty good.” He was looking at me so intensely. I was regretting choosing something so serious for this, but I wanted him to know I wasn’t messing around about crying being okay. “I guess football practice got out later than usual, but a couple of those guys were in the parking lot.” His jaw tensed, and he stopped eating his lunch. All he had left were the bananas. “Long story short,” I said, trying to get through this as quickly as possible. “They pushed me around a bit, calling me names and stuff. I cried on the entire drive home.”

“Who was it?” he asked angrily. My intention wasn’t to get him riled up. I didn’t think he’d even care this much to be honest. It was a couple of guys who graduated and one or two of the guys still on the team, but I wasn’t going to get Greg involved in something that didn’t matter anymore. Did I still think about them calling me a faggot over and over? Yes, absolutely, but I had been a convenient target. Normally they left me alone because I faded into the background, but that day I’d been the only drama-geek in the line of fire.

“Yeah, no,” I said. “This isn’t what this conversation is about. We were just being open about our feelings. I’m not looking for retribution.” He angrily peeled open one of his bananas. He didn’t get this upset over Kyle taunting him, so this reaction was entirely unexpected. “So, what about you? Was it what Kyle said that made you feel so upset yesterday?”

He looked at me and I realized I had been much more direct than I’d intended to be. He finished his first banana, sitting up straight. His belly looked satiated, but I bet he could’ve eaten way more. “I don’t like when people call me stupid,” he said. “I know I’m not smart, but I hate when people call me stupid.”

“You’re definitely not stupid,” I said.

“Sometimes I think I am,” he said. “I don’t try to stutter either, but when I’m nervous it just happens. I didn’t even want to do this, but I need the extra credit. I study so hard, but I still barely pass.” He studied? I felt guilt in the pit of my stomach. I had made unfair assumptions about him. I just thought teachers passed him. I had no idea he actually took his education seriously. “You’re really smart Holden. I wish I was smart like you.”

“You just need help,” I said. “Sometimes I get overwhelmed by my classes too.” He ate his second banana in three bites. I was so hard that it was distracting. I was confused. We’d covered so much ground in one lunch period. I’d experienced such an array of emotions that I was sure we’d be bonded together forever.

“I’m—I’m a year older than everyone,” he whispered, looking down. “It’s because I’m dumb. Who has to repeat the sixth grade?”

“No,” I said gently, wanting to come across as sincere. “I don’t think you should feel that way at all. You just have to keep doing your best and trying to improve. School can be really hard and you’re still hanging in there! Besides, I’m glad that means we get to be in the same grade—.” I had started rambling. I was officially embarrassed. I’m glad that means we get to be in the same grade? I’d actually said that to him.

“I’m glad we’re in the same grade too,” he said, looking at me kindly. He wasn’t smiling at me with his mouth, but with his eyes. Tyra Banks would be proud. Things were silent for a minute or two after that before he spoke again. “Man, I hate Kyle,” he said.

“Ugh, me too,” I said, sounding too much like Cher Horowitz in Clueless for my liking, but it had already been said. “He is a total bitch.” Greg looked over at me and laughed.

“Yeah, he’s a total bitch.” I could feel my face get hot. I’d been more honest with him than with a lot of my friends in the Troupe. He wasn’t making fun of me, thankfully, but I tended to say a lot of stuff I didn’t mean to actually say. That was why I preferred not talking. That was why I preferred acting, because I had pre-written lines. I got to play a role, and I didn’t have to be myself, because when I was myself, I felt like a freak.

Lunch was almost over, and I’d forgotten to give him something from my bag. I leaned over, grabbing my bookbag and setting it on the seat next to me. I opened the front pocket and pulled out a king-sized package of Twix bars. “I meant to give these to you,” I said, sliding the candy towards him. “Chocolate always makes me feel better.” He laughed, and it was low and deep. I felt like I’d made some sort of faux pas. “I guess it was kind of silly.”

“No,” he said, smiling at me kindly. “I fucking punch you in the nose and you bring me chocolate. You’re not like a regular guy. I’m glad I’ve got a friend like you, Holden.” He opened the package and handed me one. We sat together, me eating one of the Twix bars, he the other three, until the bell rang.

After that, he started eating lunch with me every day. I was ecstatic about this development in our relationship. It was nice spending more intimate time with him, and less time at the Troupe’s lunch table with Kyle the Unbearable.

I was enjoying gym class even more too, and Coach White’s attitude didn’t detract from it one bit. Greg seemed to be filling out his shorts even more, and I knew it had to be from the snack table at rehearsals and the fact he practiced two times less a week.

We had been playing floor hockey recently. Watching our classmates jump out of Greg’s way or bounce off of his solid body was the highlight of my day. He didn’t try to knock people over, but I mean, if they were running full speed into a brick wall, they couldn’t expect to stay standing.

“It’s getting hard to manage everything,” he confided in me one day during our lunch sessions. “It takes me so long to practice the lines at home, I don’t finish my homework until almost one in the morning.”

“You do have a lot going on,” I said, wanting to help him in any way that I could. “Do you want to run lines together? And we could study too if you want?”

“Do you have the time to help me?” he asked, smiling shyly. “I don’t want you to get stressed out because you have to help my dumb ass.”

“I’ll help you,” I said. “But under one condition.”

“Yeah?”

“You aren’t allowed to talk bad about yourself. You aren’t dumb Greg, so I don’t want to hear you say that you are. Didn’t you tell me you hated when people call you stupid, so why is it you can do it to yourself?”

“I—I don’t know. I guess I just feel like maybe I am. I’m sorry.”

“So, we’ve got a deal?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Coach Sanders.” We both laughed at that and continued eating our lunches.

The next day I waited for him to get out of practice. He said we could study at his place and that he’d give me a ride home after. The thought of being in his bedroom was enough to have my stomach in knots the entire day. He came and found me in the auditorium after he was finished, and we walked out to his truck.

“How were rehearsals today?” he asked.

“They were fine. Kyle was just as obnoxious as usual.”

“I’m glad I didn’t have to deal with that today.” Walking next to him sure was something. I knew I wasn’t the tallest guy, but he made me feel microscopic. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. He had a duffel bag and his regular bookbag. “Thanks again for coming to help me out.”

“I’m happy to,” I said. “It’s good practice for me too.”

“But don’t you only have like fifteen lines?” he asked. I knew he was genuinely asking and not trying to be mean.

“Throwing shade,” I said jokingly. “You’ve been around Kyle too much.”

“I—I’m sorry,” he said, stopping in his tracks. “I just meant—it must not be—I wasn’t trying to be a dick.”

“I was just messing around,” I said, in disbelief of how cute he was. “I got my lines down in the first week. And it’s even sadder than just having fifteen lines. I have twelve.”

“I wish we could trade.”

“Don’t say that. You’re going to kill it.” We started walking towards his truck again. It was almost six o’clock. I told my parents I probably wouldn’t be back until around ten. “With my help you might even be nominated for a Tony.”

“What’s a Tony?”

We had a lot to go over during the car ride to his house.

The conversation in Greg’s truck didn’t make me feel awkward or nervous and it never felt like he was judging me or what I had to say. I was so at ease around Greg. When we pulled up outside of his place, I was kind of sad. I could’ve ridden around in his truck talking to him all night.

Greg’s house wasn’t the largest; it was built in the bungalow style. The whole thing was one floor. His room was towards the rear of the house, through the living room and kitchen. Ms. Williams was busy in the kitchen when we arrived, unpacking loads of grocery bags. She was about 5’1” and large. She had the Mary J. Blige cut circa 2009 and wore navy blue scrubs.

“Greg,” she said, looking at me excitedly. “Is this your friend Holden?”

“It’s nice to meet you Ms. Williams,” I said. “My name is Holden Sanders. Thanks for having me.”

“Greg, he’s so polite! And handsome too!” I laughed. I was really flattered. I thanked her for the compliment. “He mentioned you’d be coming over tonight. Are you staying for dinner?” she asked.

“Only if you wanna stay,” Greg added. He was so fucking cute. If I got to be around him, of course I’d stay for dinner. “It’s nacho night.”

“Sounds great,” I said, smiling. Ms. Williams then complimented my smile. She was gassing me up. I needed a hype-woman like her in my life.

We went to Greg’s room after that, and he asked if I’d be okay while he went to take a quick shower. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I said.

He pulled off his sweatshirt and tossed it in a pile near the opening of his closet. I held my breath in anticipation of how much he’d take off in front of me. I should have looked the other way, but I didn’t want to waste this opportunity. He kicked off his sneakers and pulled off his socks, adding them to the pile before slipping on a pair of Nike slides.

He grabbed some items from his dresser and walked over towards his door. He turned back towards me, and I took him in again. He filled the door frame with how broad he was. Greg was at home and still seemed too big to be entirely comfortable. I wondered what showering was like for him. I hoped they had a detachable shower head so he wouldn’t have to struggle rinsing himself off. What I wouldn’t give to be in that shower with him.

“I’ll be back,” he said, walking away.

No longer entranced by Greg’s gorgeousness, I was able to take in his bedroom. There wasn’t much in terms of interior design, but he had his huge bed, a desk setup, a TV with a gaming system, and lots of different sneakers in their original boxes. He was such a guy.

A few minutes went by before there was a knock at Greg’s door.

“Um, come in!” I called. Ms. Williams entered.

“Do you need anything?” she asked. “Dinner won’t be ready until around seven-thirty.”

“I’m all good,” I replied. “Thank you for being so nice.”

“Oh, of course baby!” she said cheerily. “I am just so excited to meet one of Greg’s friends from school. I was worried he didn’t have any. He never brings anyone by to hang out.”

“I’m sure he has lots of friends on the team,” I offered.

“Maybe,” she said. “But he’s always been such a sensitive boy. I don’t think those boys really understand that.” She came further into the room. She seemed like she really had something to share with me, like this was confession in church, and I was the priest. “He was born premature, and I was terrified I was going to lose him. His dad was never the best and even when Greg was in the NICU fighting for his life, he rarely visited.”

“That’s awful,” I said, knowing my emotions were showing on my face. I could feel a huge frown fixed on my mouth.

“He never understood Greg. He was a terrible man.” She came closer, sitting on the bed next to me. I’d barely said two words to the parents of my other friends in the Troupe and I’d known most of them for over three years. Now here I was with Greg’s mom having a whole therapy session.

“Greg must not like him very much.”

“He was very hard on him.” She paused, like there was more to be said, but not like it could be shared at this moment. “I don’t think he could like his dad after how he was treated by him.”

We sat together in the silence before she chuckled under her breath. She looked over at me, smiling wide. She and Greg had the same megawatt smile.

“When Greg was a little boy, he loved Clifford the Big Red Dog. The boy was obsessed! He had all the books and the pajamas and the bedspreads. I think because he loved it so much, it’s the reason he grew as big as he is now. He was copying that damn dog!” She laughed loudly, playfully patting me on the shoulder. I laughed too, thinking about Greg not being absolutely gigantic.

“I don’t think Greg would ever tell me any of this,” I said, still laughing.

“Oh, he’s going to be a little Mr. Grumpypants when he finds out I’ve been in here talking to you.” She sighed. “I’m just so happy he’s becoming close to someone. His dad really instilled some negative things in him about his self-image. We got divorced when Greg was starting middle school.”

“He hasn’t really told me about it,” I said. “Maybe one day he will.”

“I think he might,” she said. “You’re all he ever talks about. ‘Holden is so smart, mom. Holden said I need to watch Dreamgirls. Do you think Holden would want to come play video games? Holden this and Holden that.’ It warms my heart, honestly.”

“I didn’t know he thought of me as such a good friend.” I smiled at her. “I’m glad though. Greg’s really cool.”

That’s when Greg came back to his room, stopping in the doorway when he saw his mom on the bed next to me. He groaned loudly. I could tell he was embarrassed. “Mom, please leave him alone. He’s gonna think there’s something wrong with me.”

“If your friends can’t talk to your mom, they shouldn’t be your friends.” She stood up from the bed and walked towards the door. “I’m going to go finish slaving over your dinner. Bye Holden-sweetheart.”

After she left it was just Greg and I in his bedroom. He didn’t say much for a while, and I think he was actually really embarrassed by his mom having been talking to me. He was wearing another pair of sweats now; they were black Adidas sweats with the white stripes up the side. They weren’t as baggy either, so I was able to see a better outline of his legs and butt. He also wore a simple gray t-shirt.

“Your mom is so nice,” I said, trying to alleviate some of the awkward tension.

“She told you the Clifford story, didn’t she?” he asked, certain his mom had gone into detail about his love of the big red dog.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” I said, feigning seriousness. “I know about the Clifford story. I would like to confess my obsession with Cyberchase.”

He laughed. I laughed. We laughed together and things began to feel less uncomfortable.

We got started running lines after that. We stood in the middle of his bedroom, both holding copies of the script. I didn’t need a copy. I’d committed the entire thing to memory, but it was important I was able to help Greg if he made a mistake. He played his one role, and I played all the other characters. He thought it was funny that I had different voices for everyone. His favorite would have to be when I did Curley’s Wife. He relaxed a lot when I did that one. He also thought it was amazing I had memorized everyone’s lines along with mine. I had a crazy good memory when it came to scripts, but a month after the show I wouldn’t even remember half of these lines. Hell, maybe it should have been a two man show.

He was fantastic when he was at ease. He had great comedic timing and he knew exactly when to play up the serious scenes. We’d gotten through a majority of the script when his mom called us for dinner.

We ate and talked. After dinner we worked on homework and did a bit of studying. He took me home before it got too late. That had been one of the best nights I’d had in a long time.

We kept up our mini rehearsals every other day for about a month and everyone was amazed at how well he was doing when we got together after school. I was proud of him, and it made me feel good to know I was the reason he was improving. It felt good to know that he was my friend, even if I was still incredibly attracted to him.

The play was a week away, meaning we’d entered tech week, so Greg was officially done with football until after Thanksgiving. At that point they’d be in the playoffs.

I’d bought everyone costumes and I liked to think that I did a fantastic job. Everyone tried on their stuff last month when I first bought the clothes. Nobody had gotten any bigger or taller, so I was sure everything would fit.

Well, almost nobody had gotten bigger.

“Holden,” I heard Greg call. I walked over to the door his head was peering out of. It was the small bathroom behind the stage. He stepped back to allow me to enter and closed the door. “My costume, uh, it—it doesn’t fit anymore,” he said. He was right. It didn’t fit. The hooks of the overalls wouldn’t even meet the front part. His belly was too big. His thighs filled out the overalls completely. They were the biggest thighs I had ever seen and all I could think about was my head in between them with his dick in my mouth. “I ripped out the back too.” He turned around and I saw a very large rip down his meaty backside.

“Well, I could—.” I was thinking. I had no idea what I could do, not in this very moment at least. “Just wear your regular clothes and tell him you can’t find your costume. Take it off and give it here,” I said. He pulled off the denim fabric and I almost passed out from how quickly my penis stiffened.

Those big beefy legs—oh God. I couldn’t help but imagine them bucking behind me. He unbuttoned his plaid shirt as well. He was standing in front of me wearing nothing but his underwear. He pulled on his jeans and put on his sweatshirt.

“Thanks for not laughing,” he said as he walked by me to leave the bathroom. I was so enamored that I hadn’t covered my crotch. I prayed he didn’t feel my erection as he walked by me. If he did, he didn’t say anything.

I measured him again later and when I went to hunt down some more overalls, I went up a size larger than I thought we’d need. They were huge, but hell, I thought the last pair of overalls were enormous. I saw him the next day and told him that I had bought him a new outfit and he thanked me again.

It made sense why he needed a new costume. I was pretty sure Greg was a nervous eater. But then again, I noticed he also ate a lot when we rehearsed at his house, and he didn’t seem nervous at all then. Maybe he just ate a lot, and he didn’t need a reason besides liking food. I liked that he liked food. It just made him all the more attractive to me.

The football team did not like Greg missing two weeks of games. They’d gone into overdrive in regard to fucking with us drama-geeks. I noticed they didn’t really mess with me though. I think it was because I was always around Greg now. I heard a rumor that they planned on convincing everyone not to come and see the play. I hoped that wasn’t true.

So things kept moving forward. Sets were built, costumes were finalized, mics were assigned, and blocking was underway. The play was in three days, and we stayed and ran through the entire thing twice every day.

I could tell the fact that things became more fast-paced had started to get to Greg. I knew he liked to eat, and it was really cute how much he enjoyed all the cast food, but every spare moment he was munching on something. He’d even ended up on stage with food in his mouth a few times. The new overalls were holding up okay though. I wanted to ask him how much he weighed. I really wanted to know.

“Hey, how much do you have to weigh for wrestling?” I asked one day at lunch. I figured he was going to wrestle once the play was over. I saw it once and it looked hard, but he looked amazing in the singlet. It was like the gym uniform, only better.

“I don’t think I’m gonna wrestle this year,” he said, sounding really self-conscious. “I barely qualified for the highest weight class last year—and that’s 285 pounds.” He placed his large hand on his even larger belly as he munched on some potato chips. “I’ve gained a lot of weight recently.” Oh, and I’d noticed. “I’m probably up 60 pounds from last winter.”

When he said that, I—of course—got an erection. I was a freaking sex fiend or something. I needed to calm down.

“Cool,” I said. Cool? What was so cool about it? I didn’t want to say anything stupid, and I ended up saying the absolute dumbest thing in the world. He just laughed and kept eating.

“I’m way more invested in football,” he said, still eating. “I’ve got college scouts coming to see me play in the playoffs. I just wish I’d been practicing more with the team.”

“I’m sorry Greg,” I said. Mr. Murray and his determination to get us a Lennie could have fucked with Greg’s collegiate dreams. Football was his future, not acting. It was way more important than Of Mice and Men.

“I’m not,” he said seriously. We were alone at our table. I’d grown accustomed to us living within our own bubble. Just me and him. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’ll be doing another play, but I’m getting B’s in all my classes and I’m getting to spend time with you. You’ve helped me do stuff I never thought possible. It makes me think that maybe college won’t be so bad. I figured the only way I’d make it through was because I was gonna be playing ball, but maybe—maybe I’m smart enough too.”

“It sucks to think we just got to know each other this year,” I said. “You’re one incredible person Gregory Deshawn Williams.”

“I thought it’d be scary having you say my full name, but I like it when you say it.” He looked down at the food he had left, selecting his next delectable morsel. “It’s cute.”

I just laughed. I didn’t know what else to do. His mom had said he was sensitive, not gay. Greg was probably just a guy that didn’t embrace toxic masculinity. Him saying that I was cute didn’t mean what I wanted it to mean. I didn’t want to harm this friendship. I’d rather have Greg as a friend than not at all.

Opening night caused the most anxiety ever, for anyone. I put on my jeans, flannel shirt, cowboy hat, and cowboy boots backstage before putting on a light layer of stage makeup. I did Greg’s face too, but his was even lighter. He was sweating so much I didn’t want his face to look runny.

“Calm down,” I said. “Your energy can throw off the entire show.” His eyes widened and I knew I’d chosen the wrong way to phrase that. Theater people were a little blunter than I think he could handle. “Greg, you’re going to do great. Just imagine it’s me and you up there.” He stopped fidgeting after that, taking a deep breath.

“I’m so nervous I haven’t eaten since lunchtime,” he said. That was all I needed to hear. If Greg had skipped dinner, he must have been terrified of going up there.

“We’ll eat a whole bunch after the show,” I promised.

“My mom’s here,” he said. “She said that she was glad I was doing something more intellectually stimulating.” He sighed. “She probably thinks I’m stupid too.”

“She doesn’t,” I said, quickly defending Ms. Williams, my number one fan. “You’re not stupid. You’ve never been stupid. And you know your mom would kill you if she heard you talking like this.” I knew he needed more support. This was his very first show ever! I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tightly. I could feel his warm hand on my back as he hugged me in return. We stopped embracing one another and he smiled at me. He could do this. I knew he could. The opening music started, and Kyle took his place next to Greg, rudely bumping me out of the way in the process. “Break a leg,” I whispered as he walked on stage.

The show moved along, and I went out four times to deliver lines. I was only in two scenes with Greg, but I made sure to give him a discrete thumbs up. He nodded slightly and smiled. He did really well. I was definitely a Greg stan, but he killed it out there on stage! He remembered all of his lines, he made all of his position marks, and got a ton of laughs. I was so happy. Kyle flubbed twice, and I reveled in his mediocrity.

Afterwards, Greg and I found Ms. Williams. She told me I did a fantastic job and that I was very handsome on stage. I noticed she nudged Greg in the side slightly when she said that I was handsome. “You are going to be the next Michael B. Jordan,” she said. “When you’re famous don’t forget about me!”

She turned to Greg, tears in her eyes, and hugged him. She was so proud of him, and it showed. It was making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He’d worked so hard, and it was paying off. “You liked the show?” he asked.

“I loved the show,” she said. “I loved seeing you up there.”

My mom and dad and brothers were here too. They made their way over to where I stood with Greg and his mother. My family met Ms. Williams and they chatted for what felt like hours. While our parents talked, the twins joked around with Greg about how big he was. My brothers, Charlie and Sammie, were ten.

“You could be in WWE,” Charlie said.

“It’d be so cool,” Sammie added. “You could probably lift both of us at the same time!”

“Yeah!” Charlie added enthusiastically. “Holden never plays WWE with us.”

“Well, if I was on a team with Greg I’d play,” I said. “You guys kick my butt when it’s two-on-one.” That started an argument between them. They both wanted to partner up with Greg and they were debating who’d be stuck with me. Greg just laughed and laughed. I was worried he’d be annoyed by my kid brothers, but he was handling them really well.

Standing in a cluster, Greg towered over all of us. My mom was 5’2” and my dad was the same height as me. The twins were still growing, but I doubted they’d grow much taller than me or my dad. And Ms. Williams was tiny as well. He was truly a giant amongst men.

Everyone talked a little while longer, but the auditorium began to clear out aside from Mr. Murray and the rest of the cast and crew. We cleaned off all the makeup and changed clothes. We gathered in a circle for post-show notes. It was just observations that Mr. Murray and Eva noted during the performance that could be improved upon in the next show. Greg was the only one who didn’t have something to improve on. It killed Kyle, who’d been reprimanded over his missed lines and incorrect positioning on the stage.

Unfortunately, the cast party was going to be at Kyle’s house. I wanted to go because opening night deserved to be celebrated, but I was likely just going to head home. I was sure the Troupe would be upset if I didn’t go, but Kyle’s attitude was going to be a lot to deal with. I was the only one who ever called him out and that meant I was the one he was going to take his aggression out on.

“Are we going to the cast party?” Greg asked once we made our way to the parking lot. He’d told my parents he’d give me a ride home. I wondered if he actually wanted to go or if he was suggesting we go because he thought it was what I wanted.

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Only if you don’t mind going. We don’t have to stay long.” It was about nine forty-five and really nice for November. I sat in the passenger’s seat, and we drove to Kyle’s house. It was an older house and really big. It looked kind of haunted.

We saw Jane, who played Curley’s Wife, and we all went inside together. There were thirty people involved with the production and they were all here. Greg and I talked about the performance, sitting at a table alone just like at lunchtime. A bunch of the Troupe were drinking and smoking and making out. Drama-geeks were just as debaucherous as all other high school cliques.

He said that he was so nervous at first, he thought he was going to throw up. “You can just feel the audience when you’re up there,” he said. “It’s almost like we’re animals in a zoo.” I laughed.

He was munching on those little sandwiches they have at parties. He must’ve eaten half of one of those huge trays by himself. “Hey, quit eating all the goddamn food,” Kyle said, walking over to where we sat away from everyone. He’d been so loud that nearly all the partygoers looked over at us now. My face was so hot it felt like someone had a spotlight on me. “I mean, I doubt you had to gain any weight for this role, idiot.” Greg stopped eating.

“And you, I bet you loved when I messed up, didn’t you?” Oh my God. I was so mad. He wanted to start some shit? It was one thing to fuck with me, but to constantly belittle Greg? I had been waiting to go off completely on Kyle for weeks.

“I did,” I said honestly. “I told you that you couldn’t act.”

“You’re fucking Whit, Holden. You aren’t Broadway material.”

“Neither are you!” I could feel my voice becoming shrill, but I had adrenaline pumping through my system and I wasn’t going to stop. “You spent months talking mad shit about Greg and he stole the whole fucking show. You should be thanking him for making you look halfway decent.”

He glared at me for a moment before slapping a cup full of soda into my lap. What a bitch move.

“How’s that feel? Figured you could use a drink from how thirsty you are for Lennie.” I was mortified. He didn’t have to say that. I couldn’t even bring myself to look in Greg’s direction.

“You’re a real bitch, you know that right?” I asked rhetorically, standing. He shoved me hard and I stumbled back into my chair, banging my head against the wall of his basement.

Greg stood up and grabbed Kyle by the collar of his shirt. I could see he wanted to knock Kyle’s teeth to the back of his throat, but he was able to restrain himself. He shook Kyle violently. “Say you’re sorry,” Greg boomed.

“No way,” Kyle said, being very bold for someone who could potentially meet Jesus in the next thirty seconds.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Greg barked, pushing Kyle so hard he fell on his ass. “You either apologize to Holden or I’ll bash your fucking face in.” I was living! I wanted nothing more than for Kyle to reap what he had sewn for weeks. I looked over at Greg and I could tell he was having a hard time; he didn’t want to do this, be the type of guy to hurt someone else. That really put a damper on how Kyle was getting his just desserts. Greg was breathing really heavily, and I knew that if he started in on Kyle nobody would be able to stop him.

“Fuck him,” I said, standing again. “I don’t need his apology. Let’s just get out of here.”

Greg looked over at me, still breathing heavily. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell he was starting to soften again. After a few more seconds, he just walked away. He left the house and I followed. Even his exit was totally badass.

I caught up to Greg as he left the house. He wasn’t nearly as angry as he’d been a few seconds ago, but I could still feel rage radiating off of him. I appreciated him standing up for me even though he preferred avoiding confrontations.

I wished my jeans weren’t so tight. They weren’t skinny jeans per se, but they weren’t as loose as some guys liked. The wet spot on my crotch had soaked through into my underwear. I hated how it felt, all damp and sticky. I wanted to go home so I could change, but I didn’t want that to mean we’d be done seeing one another for the evening. We walked to his truck and got in. He was still really upset so he hadn’t said anything.

“I’ll take you home,” he said finally, sitting back in his seat, a scowl on his face and his hands in fists. It made me feel like he was upset with me. Maybe he didn’t like that I’d put him in that situation. I shouldn’t have antagonized Kyle. I should have followed Greg’s example and ignored trivial bullshit.

“I’m really sorry about what happened in there,” I said, hating the idea that my pettiness could have completely ruined the vibe we’d built up. “I shouldn’t have said those things to Kyle. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in that drama. I’m not usually a messy person.”

“You’re always standing up for me and treating me like I have something to offer besides playing football.” His voice was deep and clear. He looked over at me, his eyes watery. “I’m not as strong as I look. Kyle talking to me like that just makes me think of my dad. I’m just—I’m so angry Holden and I don’t like it. I don’t want to be like that.”

“You could’ve hurt him, but you didn’t. I’d be lying if I said that in that moment I didn’t want you to let him have it, but you have real strength Greg. You are constantly surprising me with how kind you are. I admire you a lot.”

“Thank you,” he said, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“If you take me home, would you want to hang out for a bit?” I asked. “I—I’m not ready for the night to end yet.”

“I’m not either,” he said, laughing, looking over at me in my soaked jeans. “You could take off your pants if they’re bothering you. I wouldn’t mind. I can crank the heat.” He wasn’t coming on to me, I had to remind myself. That didn’t stop me from thinking about sex and getting a boner. I was so embarrassed. I needed to learn to control my sexual urges. I wasn’t twelve anymore and these constant erections were so juvenile.

“My underwear is wet too,” I said. He rummaged through the back seat before handing me a pair of his gigantic sweatpants. “Well, if I get out to change, will you watch to make sure nobody is coming?” Being naked in front of him was bad enough, but I still had a semi-hard penis in my pants. I’d just have to move quickly and keep in mind he wasn’t interested in looking in my direction.

“Yeah, of course.” He coughed slightly. “I’ll be lookout.” We both got out of his truck, and I walked to the driver’s side, which was facing the street. I held his sweatpants in my hands as I looked up at him. We just stood there looking at one another until he finally said, “Oh, sorry, I’ll turn the other way.” He shifted his body, so he wasn’t looking in my direction.

I removed my sneakers so I could take off the jeans. Then I peeled off the moist Calvin Klein briefs. I could feel the cool November breeze on my ass and balls. My heart was beating out of my chest. I wanted him to look at me and like what he saw. I wanted him to rip my shirt off so that I was completely nude in front of him. He could push me up against his truck and do whatever he wanted to me. Fuck. I had fallen for him hard. I pushed my fantasies to the back of my mind, finally pulling on the sweats and slipping my shoes back on. I could fit in one of the pant legs comfortably if I wanted to. I had to hold the waistband in a ball so they wouldn’t fall down.

“All good,” I said.

Once we were back inside of his truck, he started the engine and drove to my house. It was about a twenty-minute drive. It was nearly eleven at this point, and my parents would likely have an issue with Greg and I hanging out in the house so late when everyone else was sleeping.

“Where are we going?” he asked, whispering, following me into the backyard.

“My secret fort,” I replied.

We walked quietly for a few moments before coming to stand before a quaint wooden structure in our backyard. It had been here for nearly ten years now. My dad had built it for me, and now the twins played in it from time to time. It was a fairly simple design. It had one large entrance and two small windows. It sat on top of a large wooden base.

“I don’t think I’m gonna fit in there,” he said, laughing.

“You can fit,” I said, not entirely sure if that was true. I entered first, filling the space away from the door. There was plenty of room left, I thought. I watched him through the window. He crouched down, his body filling the entire doorway. Shit, maybe he wouldn’t fit.

He turned slightly, sucking in his stomach. He sat next to me, both of his legs hanging out of the door. “I guess we can count this as me fitting.”

“Is this how Emily Elizabeth feels dealing with Clifford?” I asked.

“Shut up,” he said, laughing. I laughed too and it just felt so right. Everything about being with him felt so effortless. I was falling in love with him. I was suddenly very sad. I couldn’t sit here and fantasize about Greg. He wasn’t interested in me, and I was deluding myself hoping for anything more than being friends. I had to stop hoping for a relationship more romantic and physical in nature. I had to be appreciative that I’d gotten to know such a kind and gentle person.

He lifted his arm and placed it around me. “Sorry, it’s a bit of a tight fit in here.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” He just needed to get more comfortable. He wasn’t making a move on me. I looked up to see if I could tell what he was thinking. I could barely see his face in the darkness, but it didn’t seem like he was feeling what I was. We sat in the dark like that for a while, just existing with one another.

“Holden?” he called, his arm still around me.

“Yeah?” I answered.

“Are you gay?” I couldn’t look at him again, and even if I could, it wouldn’t have made it any easier to understand what he was thinking. I could feel my chest tighten, my heart beating a mile a minute. I wanted to hop out of the playhouse and run as far away from here as possible, but I couldn’t just leave him out here. I also wouldn’t be able to get out of here with him blocking the door. Maybe I could squeeze through one of the tiny windows. “I mean, I don’t care if you are. Because I—I—I like you Holden. I really like you.”

“I am gay,” I said shakily. “I really like you too.” He looked down at me. I looked up at him. It was so strange how much better I could see him now.

He pulled me closer. I could feel his body heat. I could smell him. He smelled like aftershave and stage makeup and faintly of party sandwiches. His massive arm pulled me closer still. His large hand held the back of my head.

He kissed me and I kissed him back. This was nothing like kissing boys at parties this past summer at theater camp. “I gotta be honest,” he said, pulling away. “I was checking you out earlier tonight. You got a phat ass, Holden.”

He’d been looking at me? And he liked what he saw? I couldn’t believe it. I kissed his face softly, enjoying how smooth his skin was.

“Well, I’ve got to be honest with you,” I whispered. “I’ve been checking you out all year.” He smiled, his teeth bright in the night. He pulled me even closer. I could smell him even better; feel his warmth on my body. I placed my hand on his stomach, enjoying the heft of it. Greg was a fucking ten.

The patio light came on and we both jumped. “Holden?” my father called. He could probably see Greg’s legs sticking out of the playhouse.

“Yeah dad! It’s me!” I responded. “And Greg!”

“Well say goodnight and come inside. It’s getting late.” He wasn’t coming outside. He probably assumed something way raunchier was going on inside of the secret fort. “You get home safe Greg!”

“Yes sir, I will,” Greg replied. We heard the sliding sound of the patio doors. Greg shimmied his way out of the playhouse, thankfully not getting stuck. I followed and then walked him to his truck.

“Text me when you get home,” I said.

“I will.” He smiled at me. “Thanks for everything tonight. It was definitely memorable.”

He wasn’t wrong about that, and I was happy. I was so incredibly happy.

After all of that we still had seven shows to do. Kyle skipped like an entire section in the second show and Greg totally saved him by inventing new lines to get us back on track. When Kyle came off stage his face was so red! He couldn’t tell Greg he was stupid then.

I hadn’t looked directly at Greg since that night in my secret fort. I was too nervous. It had been two days and I assumed we were still, like, together, but we didn’t say anything about it. It was kind of weird. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t. I had no lines to recite.

The morning of our third show, Kyle quit the play. I thought it was hilarious, but Mr. Murray didn’t. He was freaking out about how we still had six shows to put on. Greg told him I knew all the lines. I didn’t even want to be George anymore, not like this anyway. I had wanted to earn it.

“You can do it? You know the lines?” Mr. Murray asked frantically. I told him that I did, and he told me “Whit has nearly no lines, somebody else won’t have a problem with the role.” After that I was George.

My family came back to see the show, and Ms. Williams had been to see every single one. I got to act with Greg, which went absolutely amazing since we had been practicing together. He seemed to be doing even better with me as George instead of Kyle.

The final show actually sold out all three hundred seats. It was a Sunday matinee, and the entire football team was there—even Coach White! I couldn’t believe they all cheered for us, louder than any applause I’d ever experienced. They hooted and hollered for ten minutes, chanting Greg’s name. I think it meant a lot to him. This was some serious High School Musical-Troy Bolton-“Breaking Free” shit.

We walked out after changing and went over to Greg’s truck. We had started talking more and more. “Do you want to come over, maybe?” I asked. “My mom and dad are out of town visiting my grandma with the twins.”

“Yeah, I’m down.” He hadn’t gotten to see the inside of my house last time, so I gave him a quick tour. It was pretty big, like Kyle’s haunted mansion, but a lot more inviting. It had two floors, a basement, and an attic. My room was in the attic, which I had entirely to myself.

We entered my bedroom and I flicked on the overhead light. He looked around and noticed my bookshelf. It had mostly plays and classic literature on it. I took my bookshelf very seriously, but I swear I wasn’t pretentious about it. “Jesus, look at all these books,” he said.

“I try to read a new play every week,” I said. I sat on my bed, and he sat next to me. I leaned on his shoulder, and he moved his arm around my waist and pulled me a bit closer. I loved when he did that. “I have some I think you’d really like if you want to borrow one.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Can I kiss you?” I asked. He nodded and I got on my knees in my bed so that we were at a more even height. We kissed for the first time since the night in the playhouse. It was amazing. His lips were so soft and smooth. He pulled at my shirt, and I helped him get it off. He touched my chest, and I could feel every hair on my body stand on end. It was euphoric, yet strange, to have somebody else touch my body. I had never been touched like this before.

I pulled off his sweatshirt and my already erect penis stiffened even more. I was so glad we had the house to ourselves. He was so big. His gut was round and meaty. He had hair leading down from around his belly button to his pubic area. I finally got to feel it.

He undid his pants button at the same time I undid mine. I was so excited; I thought that my heart was going to beat out of my chest. My pants came off and I was in my black briefs. He was standing, and I was on my knees in the bed facing him. I kissed his chest. It tasted good, like clean and sweat at the same time.

“Do you have any lube?” he asked.

“It’s in the top drawer of my dresser,” I said, pointing across the room. He sauntered over to it, his back looking ridiculously sexy. I wanted to touch every part of him. I wanted to leave no area unmarked by my hands (and mouth). His jeans sagged down in the back and the slope of his lower back to the top of his ass was so extreme. I wanted to see him completely naked.

He walked back over to me, lube in hand. He stood before me again and pulled off the rest of his clothes. I reached out, touching his stomach before my hand traveled down to his dick. It was thick and long. He had to be at least nine inches. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Me too,” he said. “We can stop if you want.”

“No, I don’t want to stop. I want to do this with you.” He smiled, his large hand pushing me onto my back. He put on a condom from his wallet. He grabbed my underwear and pulled it down. My penis bobbed freely from its confine. He covered his dick with lube before gently massaging my hole with lubed up fingers.

He got on his knees as he continued massaging my hole. He brought his face close to my penis, licking the shaft. He grabbed it with his free hand and stroked it a few times before popping the head into his mouth. He sucked on it greedily, like it was some sort of tasty treat. I was so excited I thought I would cum any second.

“Greg,” I managed to get out. “You’ve got to stop or I’ll cum too soon.” He ignored me, continuing to take my entire dick in his mouth. I thought for sure it was all over, but he stopped just in time. There were no words to describe the way I was currently feeling. This was unscripted. I just had to enjoy the moment.

He stood, removing his fingers from inside me, and positioned me so that I was close enough to the edge that he could still have access to my ass. I was on my back; my legs were in the air and kind of on his chest. He bent his knees, trying to guide his penis inside of me, but he was too tall. I grabbed a pillow and placed it under my lower back, which helped considerably. “You better let me know if it hurts.” Even now he was concerned with hurting another person. I loved this guy.

He slowly entered me with the tip of his dick. He kept it there for a few moments, allowing me to get used to it before pushing more and more of himself inside of me. “It—it feels good,” I moaned. I was feeling bashful, so I covered my face with my arm.

He thrust his hips and I could feel his belly on my penis, shifting back and forth as he moved. “Move your arm,” he said assertively. “I wanna see that cute face.”

I did as he said, looking up at him. He licked his lips and it just turned me on even more.

“Fuck—,” he groaned, moving more slowly, switching up the rhythm. His belly had been rubbing me off, and I came after a few more minutes. Cum spurted on my stomach and partially on his gut. He wasn’t done yet, and he kept pushing into me at a steady pace. I was still rock hard and enjoyed the ride until he finished about a minute later.

“We’ve got to do that again,” I said, panting. I stood, my legs wobbly, and grabbed a towel from my closet so that I could clean us up.

“We most definitely do.”

We even took a shower together after that. It was a good thing we had a detachable shower head because it did make it easier for him to rinse himself off. We were both hard the entire time, and I knew we’d be very busy the rest of the night.

In the end, Greg and the rest of the football team made it to state, even taking the title. My entire family and Ms. Williams wore jerseys with his number on it. The scouts had come out to see him play and he killed it. He’d gotten multiple offers, but he was going to commit to the school closest to mine. Our campuses would only be a thirty-minute drive from one another. Greg wasn’t able to go back to wrestling. The coach, he told me, was extremely shocked by how much weight he had put on. He was well over 360 pounds, which was more than seventy pounds in a year. He spent the winter eating and conditioning and growing stronger. He may have had a belly, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a ton of muscle.

I ended up getting a substantial role in the winter drama and the lead in the musical, so there was no more crying in the bathroom stalls for me. But honestly, even if I had been cast in a Whit-like role, I wouldn't have cared because Greg and I were together.

Kyle didn’t audition for the winter drama or the musical. It was awesome; both shows went so much more smoothly without him.

I’d been reading the play As You Like It and Shakespeare was really on to something when he said all the world’s a stage. I didn’t have to wait for lines, and I didn’t need to shrink into the background. If my life was a production, I had to make sure it was Tony-worthy. And I knew Greg would be one hell of a co-star.

The End!

#gainer stories #gainer fiction #gainer story #fatfiction #gainerfic #gainerstory #gay feeder #gay feedee #weight gain

44 notes · View notes

sketchfanda · 2 months ago

Text

A Little Moxxie Love Party:Helluva Halloween

An Imp & a Vampire

Moxxie and Millie didn’t usually have much reason to go up to th living world around this time of the year but ion this occassion, they’d decided to take a date night on Halloween up to the surface to see an incredibly rare blood moon. The pair just making their way through the streets and having a nice time overall, it was small wonder most demons took advantage of this event to walk around freely without the need for disguises. However Millie was starting to get "hungry", her studly hubby recognising that distinct gleam of lust in her eyes, always a good indication just how much she needed him then and there and so the two decided to head to an old local haunted house to sate her appetite. The two sneak into an abandoned home, ready to start making out to build up the mood but when an unexpected sound gets their attention, they split up to find he source.

Now you can’t really blame the two for missing the distinct common red flags in horror movie tropes, after all they were demons, not drugged up or drunk horny teenagers. Besides which and yes this may sound ironic, it wasn’t like this place could actually be haunted. Yes obviously the concept of heaven and hell validated the existence o souls snd the afterlife with limbo in between so as far as Moxxie was concerned, how could there be ghosts to haunt the land of the living? So as far as the thespian possum was concerned, thinking to himself as he searched in on his side of thing, this was likely some idiot pulling hoax like in those old HB cartoons or some noisy squatted.

Suddenly Moxxie hears a scream and runs towards to find Millie, looking unharmed yet just standing completely still, staring vacantly into space. As he began trying to get her out of this state of paralysis, he senses a presence, turning to see what could only be described as Elvira, mistress of the dark if she were a thicc sexy black woman, standing on the ceiling. And damn did she have quite the figure on her with the way her dress really hugged that body and yet all Moxxie could think was….that he really wondered if maybe an actual ghost might’ve been easier to handle. Suffice to say, he had a feeling that this was going to be one of those sort of nights.

??:”Hey there cutie, name’s Wilhamena, nice to meet’cha…..”*She playfully spoke, greeting him before she pounces from her spot on the ceiling, pulls him into her arms, gives him a big kiss, and smothers him with her amazing breasts. After a brief bout of putting him through marshmallow heaven & hell, she pries the impboi from her chest, her red eyes twinkling with a recognisable glow of hazy lust, glowing violet and pink hearts fading in and out as she spoke up.*”A little forward I know, it’s just that during a blood moon a vampire's desires shoot through the roof and my husband and daughter have gone away, putting as much distance between me and them as possible. Now her desires have gone wild and she needed to be sated with some erotic passion.

Moxxie knew this was a rock and hard place sort of situation, the easy way or the hard way sort of thing but agreed to oblige the vampiric MILF if she freed his wife from the hypnotic stupor to which she smiled and promised she will do so at sunrise. With that all said and done,she took Moxxie with her as she flew off down towards the basement where a king sized coffin bed waits, throwing the little possum on over snd causing him to land in the the comfy mattress. The imp shaking his head before looking at the MILF vampire as she stripped naked, eyes widening at the sight of that exotic mocha complexion and that thicc, curvy body being laid bare on display. The horny bloodsucking bitch in heat sensually giggling as she shit a wink and a smile, blowing a kiss his way as she struck a pose in her spider-web style lingerie before that too was soon removed to give Moxxie a grand view of her in all her nude glory.

Wilhamena:”I’m flattered you definitely like what you see handsome but seems unfair for me to be the only one naked, don’t you think?”*Soon as she said that, she made her way on over to him, looming like a predator set to corner snd toy around with their prey. Licking her lips erotically as she grasped and started to strip Moxxie of his adorable little outfit, which she had to say made him look oh so dapper. Looking eager like she was unwrapping a present with every layer removed, the boxers left for last as she peeled them off his well toned legs. A gasp of sensual delight as she laid her crimson eyes on his erect cock, looking owl ready for her personal pleasure and to think she would find a little fellow like this to be as well endowed as her husband and thst man was a beast, literally!!*

The next thing Moxxie knew, Wilhamena was all over him as she caressed his thighs while she went all in on performing intense fellatio. Her blood Ruby red eyes glowing with pink lust hee arts as she deepthroated his shaft, licking and sucking as she made the tiny gentleman feel like her mouth was an oral pussy. Her tongue licking away at the length and girth as she played kisses at the base, her arousal being fuelled by the taste if his pre on her tongue. Which only made her want to have this imp fuck her all the more as the blood moon shine through the windows, bathing the basement in quite a sensual crimson glow.

But of course any awkwardness or hesitation on Moxxie’s part crumbled away against the onslaught of Wilhemena’s foreplay, leading him to return the favour. The vampiric hottie feeling like she was seeing heaven as she laid on her back, grasping the imp’s horns as he had his face between her juicy thighs with his mouth latched onto her snatch. His quite gifted tongue working its way into her folds as he drank up her love nectar, making the bloodsucking babe curl her toes and arch her back. Orgasms surging through her as her already high level of arousal skyrocketed, making her want him all the more to make some sweet, hot fuck.

But of course once the mutual foreplay had concluded, she and Moxxie proceeded to get down right to business in cleaning her of her blood moon heat, the sounds of the vampire's scream and moans keeping away any passers by who overheard them. The women among them and the neighbours within the area sighing in envy at how good the MILF must be getting it right now and why the men in their life couldn’t be that good. Some of the younger ones simply thought it was just the haunted looking house proving it was indeed so, but hey ignorance is bliss, right? Especially with all those sounds like a poltergeist was trashing the place but ooh if they knew the truth….

It was more precise to call it a poltergasm and a sexorcism as the basement echoed with the primal rhythm of a vampire woman and her little imp man making red hot fuck. The undead MILF clasping hands with her little gentleman as she rode him cowgirl style, tires bouncing snd ass jiggling to me his thrusting hips. Her dark skin glistening with a sheen of sweat as she and Moxxie showed no signs thus far of slowing down at the slightest. Leaning down to kiss the gifted little love machine passionately before they shifted into another position in their bloodmoon rut marathon.

It was in the midst of their fuckathon that Millie found the hypnosis stun wearing off, the wrath shortstack wondering what happened before she picked up the sounds she knew all too well. Following the noise to the basement where she found her husband balls deep in Wilhamena as he fucked her doggy style, the vampire sex bomb looking her way as she was clearly inviting her to join in. An invite Millie gladly accepted as she stripped and got right into the fray, making it a full on threesome. The vampire MILF drowning in ecstasy as she became the chocolate cream filling in a red imp sandwich going all long into this crimson light soaked night.

By dawn, the sun slowly rising to peek over the skyline, clad in a bathrobe, fully satisfied and back to her more cheerful casual self was sending the exhausted but happy imps on their way, with some new contact information provided to them and Moxxie's face covered with lipstick marks. Suffice to say she already looking forward to the next time around, especially if they knew any ladies her husband could enjoy. Which reminded her, she was definitely going to tell him all the juicy details soon as he and Enid got home. That man could really get going once you got him all riled up.

to say nothing of some of her lady friends who she knew would looove to meet and get to know her new imp friends. Especially Moxxie, who now that she thought about it had seemed quite familiar somehow. As back in her basement boudoir, in a coffin style book case could seen a few dvd and Blu-ray titles which bore the logo of a certain hell based porn company. Proudly stating their main star, known only as….Mysterious M….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lust Resort?!

On this fine halloween night, we find our trio of misfit killers for hire in the living world out on another job, which has them checking out this old abandoned multi-story resort. Their client, a ghost hunter so he claimed, was killed there and wanted revenge thinking it was his partner responsible for sending him to death and who is said to still be holed up there. All the same Moxxie was just looking to get this over and done with, since as has been mentioned before, he doesn't believe in ghosts. There is heaven or hell, there is no in between except the limbo of neither world where you had to do your time as a civil servant….long story there but point was that dead was desd and souls went on rather than linger on The mortal coil.

All the same Moxxie just wanted to get the job done so he and Millie could go enjoy their more personal fun, especially if Blitzo would start making wisecracks about any so called haunting. Honestly it was as disturbing as it was annoying how the guy could take anything and make sexual remarks about it. As they check out the place, floor by floor searching for the guy, they do notice some unusual happenings, something suddenly knocked over, a sudden whisper or howling breeze, but Moxxie brushed them off, this was an old place after all.

Part way through their search, the IMP trio opted to cover more ground by splitting up and looking through sections of the hotel. When he reached what had once been the main office of the manager, Moxxie suddenly found himself grabbed by the hand of an actual ghost!! Suffice to say the little possum was no doubt going to have to reevaluate his world view quite a bit after this as he found himself thrown to a seat which spun around a bit before it settled down. Having face none other than the spectre…herself?!!

Her indeed as Moxxie beheld the transparent ectoplasmic lowing form of a very curvy female ghost who was rocking a hairdo that woild make Marge Simpsons and the bride of Frankenstein blush. Introducing herself as Hellen Gravely, she explained how she was once the chief receptionist of this resort, until she’d died after her husband caught her having an affair with a bellhop. Not her fault the blowhard was a failure in bed and didn’t hold a candle compared to that cutie. Who she felt Moxxie rather reminded her of and how it’d been far, far too long since she felt and enjoyed the touch of a real man….

Moxxie knew a red flag when he saw it as he shot up out of the chair and scrambled for the door only to find it was locked and soon gets grabbed by Hellen once again who proceeds to get right into have her wicked way with moxie. Using her powers as a ghost, she telekinetically stripped his clothes off and mounted him to start getting down on him like a carnival ride. Meanwhile, IMP’s target hears Helen's moans and goes towards the source, getting caught and killed by blitz and Millie who ambushed him as they throw him down an elevator shaft. Listening as he fell down the shaft screaming until he hit the ground with a distinct splatter and crack, signalling the deed had been done.

Once that had concluded, Millie went to go find Moxxie while Blitz in one of his few instances of forward thinking goes to destroy any security cameras that might still be working. He didn’t want a repeat encounter DHORKS if thy so much as caught a hint of evidence they’d been around here and thinking they were planning weird shit with ghosts. Following the peculiar haunting moans, Millie found the manager’s office and found the door locked, much to her annoyance. A quick pick of the lock with one of her knives, she’d kicked it open to find herself witnessing quite the show before her.

Right then and there was her husband, balls deep in a Quite sexy as fuck ghost woman of all things!! Her beehive like hairdo becoming an undone mess like she’d just been soaked in shower, her ectoplasmic face an expression of raw primal ecstasy. It was clear they’d been going at for quite and Millie had come right into a point wherein Moxxie has finally managed to turn the tables on Hellen. Having her bent over the desk as he plowed her plow like the bitch in heat she pretty much was at this point and oh it was clear she was loving every moment of it.

How she was loving it indeed, feeling the raw passion and pleasure she’d not felt in forever since her tragic demise. Those wild, intimate encounters in the arms of her beloved bellhop, that boy had the face of an angel but the cock of a sex god and the drive of a wild beast. It’d had all been such a wonderful thing until that fat lazy bastard had to go ruin it all and kill her to boot!! The sweetheart survived of course but now here she was stuck hanging this place and along came this sweet little possum. So very much like her boy toy and ducked just as good….

Millie knows she should intervene but this wasn’t exactly a life or death situation happening right here. No sir, this was her man once again stepping up like the stud she knew he could be, so Damn good that even the soils of the horny dead wanted some from him. Sensually biting her lip as she shamelessly played with herself, cheering her man on as he kept rocking Hellen’s afterlife. This was definitely Something to share with the gals on the group chat but getting them to believe her was a different story……

Every second and minute passing on with no signs of stopping, the walls and floors were becoming soaked with a different sort of ectoplasm. The ghost woman screaming with wanton abandon as she relished this one final moment of true, intimate sexual passion. And then it finally happened as the imp stud finally came inside of her, his man juice becoming energy which filled snd flowed inside of her. It was truly as a climax Helen finally lets out a rapturous scream as she began to fade away out of existence as if she suddenly seemed to pass on.

Moxxie wasn’t sure if that had all been just a dream, all he knew was that he was naked, covered in Somethjping wet, warm and slimy and oh hey there was his wife. Who of course pounced in him for sloppy seconds, licking and sucking him off clean, all horny from her voyeurism show of her man fucking a ghost woman into the great beyond. The imp couple having a quickie before they were presentable again, Meeting back up with Blitzo who wondered where they’d been. Suffice to say, hey felt it no needed to tell him about wha happened, woild he eben believe it? Back in Hell, sometime after that quite eventful Halloween, Moxxie and Millie were just enjoying some R&R in the office when suddenly get a call on the IMP phoneline. Answering it only to be greeted with the voice Helen herself asking for some more fun. Yeah figures given the circumstances and tricky issues with souls and how they lived and died, she wound up in Hell. Not that she minded since it meant a chance to meet Moxxie again.

It so happened she licked winding up in Pentagram Town where she was now working as assistant manger at the Happy/Hazbin Hotel. Seems Charlie felt she was a good candidate for redemption plus her experience working at a resort made her ideal for such a job. Truly Hell I what You make of it and Hellen was proof of that. How sweet it is….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drain-dead 13?!

Moxxie would say this about Mr.Sketch among a couple of things was that he was a damn better boss than Blitzo and knew how to ensure fair treatment of his employees. Be they part of the production crews or among the many men and women who made up his talent roster, the flaming skull-headed Enigma liked to see those under his wing were taken care of hence why the studio grounds had a wealth of leisure facilities on hand. From a well stocked and catered cafeteria to an Olympic sized swimming pool, even a full on hair and make-up salon with a bevy of beauticians able to make even a haggard Frankenstein's monster looking hoe look like a Franken-FINE!! It was during his first ever trip to said salon of course that he would meet one of its workers, a vampiric Vixen by the name of Vivi whose Wrath sounding accent certainly accentuated her exotic, stunning good looks. Frankly Moxxie should've known it was a red flag when Mr.Sketch, who'd brought him over here personally to get him looking good and prepped for one of his first shoots as a new SFP star, had seemed annoyed that she was among the few available to do the deed.

so of course Sketch had to relent and leave Vivi to handle the job of prettying Moxxie, not that he wasn’t already good for a camera of course but show biz ya know? Shooting her a quick “I’m watching you” gesture, he took his leave as he had other matters to attend to while Moxxie sat in a styling chair to await Vivi getting to work. Suffice to say, he had a feeling she was going to make the most of this opportunity if that big smile on her Ruby red lips was anything to go by. Her sharp fangs gleaming as she licked up a comb and scissors snd got right down to work.

So far so good of course, nothing too out of the ordinary as she started off with a little shampoo and conditioning. Followed up with a simp,e trim and cut of his well styled hair, even giving his horns a little polish an filing for good measure. Then doing the same to his hooves and nails, she was certainly being a professional and doing a damn good job of it. It made him wonder what Mr.Sketch had been so concerned about with the vampire, she seemed friendly enough and that accent of hers reminded him of Millie.

Vivi then instructed him to close his eyes as she draped a warm towel over his face, telling him to relax as she was now going to give him a massage. Seems she was also a spa masseur if that was anything to go by, as she gave his feet a quick rub then moved along his legs. THEN came the every telltales of the zip of his fly being undone, his cock clearly being fished out of the confines of his boxers snd engulfed in Something very wet and warm. Muffled moans vibrating around his shaft as he recognised the distinct sensations of fellatio being done to him.

Yes indeed with the warm towel as a makeshift blindfold, Vivi was indeed sucking Moxxie’s dick, her blue face flushed with a blush of arousal and her Ruby red lips wrapped around his shaft. Eyes glowing with clear lust as she bobbed her head up and down like a lewd metronome. Lipstick marking rings around his the length and girth as she got deeper until she was fully deepthroating him. Purring with delight as she felt the imp’s hips buck out of reflex, working snd riling him up with the need to rut.

The next thing Vivi knew, to her shock and surprise, Moxxie grabbed her Afro like mane of hair and was suddenly piston pumping his hips like a jackhammer. The vampire southern Belle clearly not having expected such a cutie to be such a beast and yet here she was feeling him penetrate her throat. His balls smacking her chin as it seemed her little oral surprise had flipped a few mental switches. Snd yet he had only just begun….

Many of the salon workers simply shook their head in bemusement as they heard Vivi’s sensual cries and moans through the doors of her private parlour. It wasn’t often Vivi had the tables turned in her but would serve her right after how she often had her way with the newcomers. There was a reason why Mr.Sketch had been wary about her, oh she was a talented stylist but she was also still a horny bitch of a vampire. And Moxxie wasn’t the first or last guy she ambushed but he about make her the victim for a change.

Indeed within the parlour, Vivi was getting her unlike world rocked six ways to Sunday, her and Moxxie both naked as he had bent over the make uo counter. Fucking her from behind as Moxxie was grunting nd growling like an animal, grasping those luscious hips of hers. Her blue skinned booty jiggling and clapping with the impact of their loins smacking together. Her face and titties pressed and rubbing up against the mirror as her hair was a mess and her mascara ran like black inky tears.

And how she loved every damn second of it, it wasn’t often Vivi found herself topped like this. She was used to being the predator and the new boy toys hired on the studio her prey, especially the ones who seemed still like inexperienced virgin boys. But this was no scared little vanilla boy here, he was a red velvet devil’s food cake with some major cream filling. And she was about to get a real good taste of it all.

Every few seconds passed into minutes as Moxxie kept fucking her from having her up against the wall to making her bounce in his lap as he sat back in the styling chair. The sugar and honey smooth vampire stylist looking more whorish and slutty than the porn stars when they were in action for a scene, her blue undead booty sporting red handprints from Moxxie spanking it. Orgasms hitting her one after another until she howled as she felt a big one hit from him blowing his load inside of her, chasing her to fall into a naked, sweaty and cum soaked slump on the floor. The imp recovering in the afterglow as he looked at the results of his handiwork, wondering if he’d be in trouble.

Moxxie wouldn’t have to wait long for an answer as the door to the private parlour unlocked and opened, revealing the salon receptionist and Mr.Sketch along with his personal assistant. Deadpan expressions in their face as they glanced down at the shameless, pleasure overloaded vampire. Yeah it was clear they had a feeling she would pull a stunt like this, wasn’t the first or last time. The flaming skullheaded Enigma looking his way as he snapped his fingers.

Sketch:”Pam, get a towel and take Moxxie to the spa, get him showers,then bring him back here and make sure it’s Cathy whi takes care of his styling.”*The assistant nodded as she did just that, leading the towel clad imp off and away, reassuring him he was just fine. The skullhead then looked to the receptionist and instructed her in turn.*”Have this mess get cleaned up then take this treacherous little hoe off to the punishment room. You hear that Vivi? You’re getting a train run on you!! I give you one job and you can’t help yourself can you?”*He threatens the vampire with was clearly going to be some erotic torture. Call it futilebut it was either this or kill her and good stylists were hard to come by.*

Vivi of course considered it totally worth it after a lay like that but she definitely needed another dose of Moxxie love after that. Maybe getting into Mr.Sketch’s good graces would help if she offered the security footage of their rut? As for Moxxie, there was no further incidents after that little Salon liaison but Something told him encounters like that would happen plenty of times. But hey at a porn studio when wasn’t it likely, right?

19 notes · View notes

matchagyudon · 9 months ago

Text

Tokyo Revengers, CIRCUS IN THE DARK - Shuji Hanma English Lyrics Translation

TL Notes: 1. 37564 is a great example of play-on-words in Japanese. To read this correctly it’s “Mi, Na(na), Go, Ro(ku), Shi”. “Minna goroshi” or “kill everyone.” So in reality, that line “We’ll 37564 the whole audience” translates properly to “We’ll massacre the whole audience”. It’s the same with MNGRS, just with the first letter of each word.

A hazy silhouette in the fog, my way is like a coiling snake This listless white-and-black board game is no more Another stalemate

Laugh, joker, and I’ll juggle as you wish We’ll 37564 the whole audience Now ring the starting bell

We’re gonna paint this circus a crimson red

Dance like a thespian, as if you’re a clown Wave your baton in the dark night Ah, grim reaper, carve this epitaph Let’s put on a show for this main finale CIRCUS IN THE DARK

A deadly mistake A numbing bad end Once more the canvas is clouded and monochrome A broken paintbrush

Sing, jester There’s been no color since then Everyone in sight will be massacred A gate opens in the fog

With this scythe, I’ll reap everything in my own way And I’ll juggle nevertheless

We’ll decorate this world with our heaps of lies It’s checkmate when the fog clears away And your head goes rolling with a swing of my scythe “Show Must Go On,” now, dance

Come now, thespian; as if you’re a clown Wave your baton in the dark night Ah, grim reaper, carve this epitaph Let’s put on a show for this main finale CIRCUS IN THE DARK GRIM REAPER IN THE DARK CIRCUS IN THE DARK

CIRCUS IN THE DARK - Shuji Hanma EN TL @MatchaGyudon (google.com)

#tokyo revengers #tkrv #MatchaGyudon #translation #english translation #Shuji Hanma

30 notes · View notes

juliaprecourt · 1 year ago

Text

Perfect Blue, Black Swan, and Birdman

It is common knowledge that Perfect Blue and Black Swan have cinematic and thematic similarities. I'd like to argue Birdman (2014) shares just as much with these other two films. Outlined below are some of the most notable commonalities.

The Art Imitates Their Real Life:

This is the major narrative device shared by all three films. The protagonists are all artists playing a role in a performance; Mima: a TV actor, Nina: a ballerina, and Riggan: a thespian. They are unaware of how closely the plight of their characters mirrors their own struggles. While pushing themselves to perform better, the line between their reality and the story they are performing starts to blur.

-Perfect Blue:

The Reality:

Mima is trying to make the leap from pop idol to actor. She has a “bit part” at first in the TV show Double Bind, but her manager Mr. Tadokoro campaigns for her to have more screen time. The producers agree, but it involves taking on a role that exploits her sexually. Mima's conflict with her old self and new self tear her apart. Those working on the show around her start getting murdered.

Notable moment: This scene especially highlights the overlap:

Mima is sitting in a chair with the doctor, it appears they are shooting a scene in Double Bind.

Doctor: Can you tell me your name?

Mima: Me? I'm Mima Kirigoe.

Doctor: Okay. And what do you do?

Mima: I'm a pop idol... no, an actress.

Doctor: That must be hard work.

Mima: It's hard, but it's what I chose to do.

We pull back to see detectives watching through a double-sided mirror.

Detective: She thinks she's a new young actress named Mima Kirigoe.

The doctor comes out and joins the detectives.

Doctor: Dissociative Identity Disorder. In other words, "multiple personality syndrome." All those crimes took place when she was some other persona.

Detective: So where's the persona of the original Yoko?

Doctor: Yoko Takakura, the original persona.....is nothing more than a character in a drama for her. Being a "normal" girl... how she was raped in a strip club. Everything happened as part of her drama series. By doing so, she salvaged her heart.

Mima presses her face into the mirror.

Mima: That's right. I'm an actress.

Director: Cut!

The footage rewinds. Mima is sitting in a chair with the doctor, it appears they are shooting a scene in Double Bind.

Doctor: Can you tell me your name?

Mima: Me? I'm Rika Takakura.

The doctor comes out and joins the detectives.

Doctor: The original persona, Yoko Takakura, no longer exists. By killing, and later becoming, her sister the top model, she salvaged her heart.

Mima presses her face into the mirror.

Mima: That's right. I'm a model.

-Black Swan:

The Story:

Thomas: We all know the story: virginal girl, pure and sweet, trapped in the body of a swan (Odette). She desires freedom, but only true love can break the spell. Her wish is granted in the form of a prince (Sigfried). But before he can declare his love, her lustful twin, the Black Swan (Odile) tricks and seduces him. Devastated, the White Swan leaps off a cliff, killing herself. But, in death, finds freedom.”

The Reality: Nina is auditioning for the lead role in Swan Lake, a dual performance as White Swan and Black Swan. In an out-of-character moment, she wins over the director Thomas, and lands the role. A fellow ballerina, Lily, visually similar but a dancer in every way Nina is not, catches the eye of Thomas and to a lesser extent, the man playing the actual prince. Nina isn’t interested in the prince, but it’s still a blow to her ego. At the end of opening night she likely dies of a self-inflicted wound.

Notable moments:

1) In the ballet (but not featured in the film’s adaptation), there is a ball for the prince with all the eligible bachelorettes in the kingdom. At this point, the prince has already met Odette at the magic lake, but before she can arrive, Rothbart's (Evil Sorcerer, the reason Odette is a swan) daughter Odile appears disguised as Odette and tricks him into falling in love with her.

In the film, this is recreated by Lily stepping in for Nina when she oversleeps one morning. She plays Nina’s role beautifully, and Thomas finds himself moved by her performance. When Nina arrives and takes back performing her role, she sees Thomas’s eyes stray from watching her to look at Lily.

2) Thomas shouts this to Nina as she rehearses the finale:

Thomas: The Final Act. Your Final Dance. You’ve tasted your dream. Touched it. Only to have it crushed. Your heart is broken, wounded. Your lifeforce fading. The blood drips. The Black Swan has stolen your love. There's only one way to end the pain. You're not at all fearful. Filled with acceptance. You look down at Rothbart, and then at the Prince, and, yes, up at the audience...And jump!”

This is foreshadowing the finale of the ballet and the events of the film. Nina, in full delusion, thinks she’s tussled with and killed Lily in her dressing room, but has actually stabbed herself with glass. With the shard deep in her own belly, Nina performs the finale, gracefully gesturing to her prince, Rothbart, and her mother, every line Thomas shouted to her all the more true. Then she jumps.

-Birdman

The Reality: Riggan confuses adoration with love, but in many ways so do his fellow actors, all craving a similar validation through acting. Off the stage, their lives are messy, especially their romantic ones. Most off-stage conversations are often philosophical ones.

Riggan's is the least obvious because the source material is lesser known and less developed to the audience, but the story he's performing as a whole doesn't matter so much. Mike even comments in a fit during their first preview about how Riggan's adapted the work. (Riggan is the writer, producer, and star)

Mike: This is Carver, man! The guy lost a piece of liver every time he wrote a page! If I’m supposed to drink gin then bring me fuckin gin! I mean, you fucked the time period! You took all the good lines for yourself!"

The scenes chosen for us to see demonstrate the clear overlap between “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love" and Riggan's life.

Notable examples:

1) Riggan’s girlfriend and fellow performer Laura’s character has a monologue in the play:

Laura: In the days before Nick’s depression really started to eat away at him, he had no idea I was pregnant. And I never intended on telling him. I guess we make choices in life, and we choose to live with them. Or not. I didn’t want that baby... Not because I didn’t love Nick. And not because I didn’t love the-- The idea of it. But because I just wasn’t ready to love myself.

Before we see her perform this the first time, Laura tells Riggan she might be pregnant. The second time is after she confirms she is not. Laura wants a baby, but based on Riggan’s reaction he isn’t into it.

2) Riggan (as Ed) barges in on Lesley (as Terri) and Mike (as Mel) in a hotel room. Terri left Ed for Mel and Ed has hunted them down to confront his ex.

Riggan: What's wrong with me? Why do I end up having to beg people to love me?

Lesley: Ed. Eddie. Please... Give me the gun. Just look at me. I was drowning. I was not capable of-- You deserve to be loved. You do.

Riggan: I just wanted to be what you wanted. Now I spend every fucking minute praying to be someone else. Someone I'm not. Anyone…

This scene from the play is portrayed as the finale, and we see it performed three times. Riggan is desperate in his quest for love and validation, unaware that he is searching for it in the wrong places, like chasing after an old lover. It's relevant that Mike is his ex's new lover (in the play). Riggan is envious of him, his acting ability, and the respect and notoriety he has in the industry. Also, how he can quickly connect with his daughter (who Riggan is somewhat estranged from).

In the play, Ed at first wants to kill his wife's lover Mel, and maybe his ex-wife, but in the end he turns the gun on himself. On opening night Riggan uses a real gun and shoots himself in the head.

The Shadow Self:

-Perfect Blue: A pop Idol was something Mima strived to be, but her group CHAM is stagnant. Mima, with the encouragement of one of her managers, decides to change careers to be an actress. It’s unclear how much of it was Mima’s idea, but she commits. Mima privately struggles through this change, and the chorus of upset fans and doubtful industry folks don't help. This triggers Mima’s "old self” AKA "Pop Idol Mima" to start appearing, often during moments when Mima struggles with the sexual aspects of her new career. Pop Idol Mima is forever in her frilly pink get-up from the opening number of the film, frozen in time, perfect and pure. Pop Idol Mima resists and criticizes Mimi’s changes.

It isn’t revealed until the end of the film that Mima’s “shadow�� is one of her agents, Rumi. This is in regards to the “Mima” that is communicating to her stalker and controlling the content of the website “Mima’s room.” Together they post intimate details and thoughts from “Mima” herself. The apparition of Pop Idol Mima she sees following her is only Rumi some of the time and mostly is Mima hallucinating in moments of emotional distress.

-Black Swan: It’s not a coincidence that Nina, dressed in pastels and a white feathery scarf, spies a woman on the train who looks just like her, but in black, on her way to the first day of the new ballet season. We are actually seeing Lily (Mia Kunis, a fellow dancer) for the first time on the train, but this is also the moment when Nina sees her first glimpse of "Black Swan Nina", the part of herself that she is not in touch with.

Nina is challenged to find her inner black swan, because as the lead she must play both the white and black swan characters. As she pushes herself, she sees Black Swan Nina inflicting self-harm, on the faces of other dancers or Lily. The lines between Lily and Black Swan Nina are often blurred, but there is doubt as to whether she's even seeing Lily during Black Swan Nina moments.

-Birdman: Right away we hear the gravelly voice of Birdman talking to Riggan, but we don’t know who it is yet. Birdman is the superhero character he is most famous for playing. Birdman berates him over his choice to leave the role behind throughout the film, enticing him to get some plastic surgery, work out, and get back into the suit to start making real money again. Birdman openly acknowledges that he is a voice in Riggan’s head, only physically appearing twice in the movie in moments where Riggan is most in his delusions and imagining he can fly.

The Rival / The Double:

-Perfect Blue: Mima’s rival is mostly her shadow self, Pop Idol Mima. In the acting world, she has no one she is directly competing with. Her former bandmates are doing better since Mima left, and that wounds her, but she is trying to leave that life behind. As mentioned, Pop Idol Mima is sometimes Rumi, who is competing with Mima. Rumi is envious Mima got more famous than she ever did as a pop idol, and links Mima's success with her own, so when Mima decides to leave being a pop idol, Rumi takes it as a very personal betrayal.

-Black Swan: It’s a new season and Lily, a dancer in the ballet who possesses similar physical attributes to Nina but embodies the effortless freedom Nina lacks, joins the troop. Nina has struggled for everything she has achieved. We see how regimented her life is, how micro-managed her eating is, and the physical toll ballet takes on her body. Whereas Lily comes in late and doesn’t need to warm up, even after a night of partying. She climbs up the ranks quickly with her magnetic ease.

Lily becomes all the more a threat when she is made Nina’s understudy. When Nina is late, she steps in and performs both parts in a way Nina could only dream of. Lily catches the eye of the director Thomas and the man playing the part of the Swan prince. Nina is more upset about Thomas, but she is frustrated because she has no chemistry with her prince whereas Lily does.

-Birdman: After Riggan’s co-star gets hit in the head with a stage light (maybe on purpose), Mike, (Edward Norton) is brought onto the project, injecting excitement into the crew and prospective audience. Mike is renowned in the business for eating, sleeping, and breathing “the stage.” Life is a stage to Mike, and he may just be full of shit, but he is what Riggan wants to be seen as.

Mike gets more interested in the project and even helps Riggan punch up the script, but it quickly becomes clear Mike is in it for himself. In the first preview Mike throws a drunken tantrum when Riggan takes away his real booze on stage. During the next performance Mike tries to have actual sex on stage with his girlfriend and has a very real boner for all to see in the last scene. He even steals Riggan's tale of why he's doing this play (a childhood encounter with Carver) and tells it in an interview.

The Antagonist:

Who is pushing our protagonist, and who doubts them?

-Perfect Blue: Mr. Mi-Mania is Mima’s biggest fan. When Mima makes the career change, he does not accept it and is encouraged by the “true Mima”(Pop Idol Mima) to save her from the industry folks pushing her on the new career path and tarnishing her image. He does this by murdering some of the people working around Mima.

-Black Swan: Thomas, the director, would have chosen Nina to be the star if she was only playing the white swan. Nina does sway Thomas to give her the role, but he relentlessly pushes Nina on and off the stage to give him the unrestrained performance he wants for the black swan.

-Birdman: The critic Tabitha Dickinson is the word in theater, with her opinion making or breaking a play. She loathes Riggan for thinking he can just waltz onto Broadway from playing a superhero in order to write, produce, and star in his own production. She vows to write a bad review regardless of what she sees opening night.

The Old You:

Perfect Blue and Birdman are more obviously similar because their “old self” was a very different public persona. Mima was a pop idol, and Riggan was a blockbuster superhero. They were so well known for these roles and the image associated with them that they struggled for their professional peers and fans to see them in a more serious light.

Nina is staying within her profession, but she is trying to make the move from being a girl in the chorus to playing the lead. And this year the lead ballerina must play two characters who are in stark contrast with each other. Nina is perfect for the innocent White Swan, but she must also embody the seductive Black Swan. Her colleagues are doubtful she can play the Black Swan, a temptress who steals the prince away. Her mother also wants to keep her in "White Swan Mode" as a completely codependent child, lamenting "What happened to my sweet girl?" at one point as Nina begins to rebel, exploring independence and sexuality.

-Perfect Blue: Pop Idol to actress.

-Black Swan: Chorus to star / White Swan to Black Swan.

-Birdman: Action movie star to stage actor.

The Death Bow:

-Perfect Blue: Rumi, in full Pop Idol Mima delusion, hunts Mima down to kill her because there can only be one "Mima." After a brutal struggle in an alley, Rumi is stabbed in the stomach by a glass shard while retrieving her wig. Rumi then staggers into the streets and puts her wig back on. An oncoming truck's lights deceive Rumi into thinking she's in the spotlight with all her fans cheering. Envisioning herself as Mima, she joyfully soaks it in, before the real Mima pushes her out of the way to safety.

-Black Swan: Opening night, Nina performs the finale perfectly, but we see in the climactic moment before she dives off stage that the wound she inflicted on herself is very real and all the more fatal because of her strenuous final performance. After she dives onto the mattress everyone rushes to her side to congratulate her. The crowd cheers, and her colleagues come to congratulate her. They notice her injury and are distressed. Nina doesn’t care, she looks up into the stage lights, blissed out, everything goes white. Perhaps she is starting to pass out or die. The cheering continues.

-Birdman: Riggan’s character Ed is in utter despair after breaking into his ex-wife's hotel room and finding her with another man. She says she doesn't love him anymore. Throughout rehearsals, Mike has pressed Riggan for realness, complaining about everything from the booze to the gun on the set being fake. On opening night Riggan has a real gun. Ed is supposed to turn the gun on himself, but Riggan hasn’t made up his mind on who to shoot yet. He feints shooting Mike, then the audience, but he settles on himself. The audience at first is blown away by his performance, giving him a standing ovation only to realize it's very real.

Mortal Wound:

All three protagonists are severely wounded. Nina and Riggan's "mortal wound" leads to their “death bow”, but in Perfect Blue it is Mima's “double/shadow-self” manager Rumi who is deluded in that final moment.

-Perfect Blue: Rumi tries to kill Mima, and stabs her in the side with an umbrella. Mima is only saved after tearing off Rumi's wig. Distressed, Rumi bends over broken glass to retrieve it, stabbing herself in the stomach.

-Black Swan: Nina tussles with Lily in her dressing room, thinking Lily is trying to take over the lead role. They shatter a mirror, and Nina stabs Lily in the guts with a big shard. However, it was all a hallucination: Nina stabbed herself. The show must go on, so Nina finishes the performance brilliantly. We don't know what happens to Nina afterward.

-Birdman: Riggan is supposed to pretend to shoot himself in the play, but on opening night he intentionally uses a real gun. This doesn't kill him, but in the hospital Riggan likely commits suicide by jumping out a window.

Hollowness Of Fame:

-Perfect Blue: The world of pop idols was just as critical of a woman's appearance and behavior as it is for actresses. The constant feedback from the public's expectations of who she is and should be almost causes Mima to completely lose her sense of self.

-Black Swan: All the girls in the troop want to be the prima ballerina and once Nina has this part she sees the dark and fleeting side of this coveted role through the character Beth. The audience wants someone new and fresh and when they are tired of you or you're considered too old, you are quickly cast aside.

-Birdman: Riggan is desperate for public recognition. How he wants to receive it has changed. It used to be through his blockbuster movies, but now he wants to be seen as a stage actor. He values fame over his relationships. In a scene where his ex-wife comes to talk to him about their daughter, Riggan gets sidetracked telling this story: RIGGAN: The last time I flew here from LA, George Clooney was sitting two seats in front of me. With those cufflinks, and that... chin. We ended up flying through this really bad storm. The plane started to rattle and shake, and everyone on board was crying... and praying. And I just sat there-- Sat there thinking that when Sam opened that paper it was going to be Clooney's face on the front page. Not mine.

What Do You Really Want?:

The three protagonists are trying to achieve "greatness" in their career field, but what deeper need is this success trying to fill? What does the character actually want?

-Perfect Blue: Mima wants to find herself.

Mima doesn't start the film wanting this, but when she starts to lose her identity she realizes how important it is to her. The finale scene of the movie catches up with Mima sometime in the future. Her hair is longer and her clothes more fashionable and mature. She has just finished visiting Rumi, who rarely returns to that personality. Two nurses whisper that the person they see looks like the actress Mima Kirigoe, but that she has to be a look-a-like. Mima gets into her car, looks into the mirror, sees her reflection, and to the audience says, "No, I'm real!"

This is a hard-earned moment because Mima lost her sense of self. It was only until her final struggle with Rumi that she realized:

Rumi: We don't need two Mimas!

Mima: I AM MIMA!

Rumi: That's funny! Mima is a pop idol! You're just a dirty old impostor!

Mima: LIKE I CARE! I AM WHO I AM!!

Mima in this moment finally stops attaching her sense of self to her career.

-Black Swan: Nina wants to be perfect.

Nina starts the movie and ends the movie with this desire. When Nina finally ”kills" the part of her holding herself back and finds the black swan, she dances uninhibited and free as both the black and white swan, a performance unmatched. She takes her final leap as the white swan. This may be Nina's last performance because she has severely wounded herself. “It was perfect” is the last thing she mutters. Nina learns, tragically, what it takes to be "perfect."

-Birdman: Riggan thinks he wants fame and adoration, but it’s actually love.

Riggan is addicted to these two things. They are his biggest temptations to play Birdman again. Birdman is constantly pointing out which celebrities are doing superhero movies and how much money they are making. But Riggan resists, hoping to get the fame and adoration he craves through the theater instead, an art much more highly regarded. Before Riggan's opening night, his ex-wife points out that he confuses adoration with love. At the end of the film, in the hospital where Riggan is recovering from shooting himself on stage, he at last has the fame and adoration he was desperate to gain. However, it doesn't heal him because it’s not actual love.

Delusions:

Along with “seeing” their shadow self, each protagonist has another destructive delusion.

-Perfect Blue: The lines between the murders occurring in the show Double Bind and the actual deaths of those involved in the production get very murky. Is Nina dreaming she's killing people or is she actually the culprit?

-Black Swan: Nina’s coping mechanism for the emotional and physical stress she endures is picking and scratching at her skin. As she loses control more and more, her picking becomes more intense and the reality of what's going on with her body gets murky. What starts as a little picking at a hangnail turns into Nina pulling the skin off down her finger. The itchy skin on her back turns into budding feathers. Is she turning into the black swan?

-Birdman: The opening shot of the film has Riggan sitting cross-legged in his underwear meditatively floating. Throughout the film Riggan imagines he has telekinesis, bringing objects closer to him and possibly making a light fall and injure the costar he wanted to get rid of. In one scene he runs off a rooftop and flies away, landing outside the theater. An angry cab driver yells at him to pay his fare.

My Music:

Our three protagonists have and are aware of their leitmotifs.

-Perfect Blue: Mima is going to make a special appearance with CHAM, but before the event she has a shoot with a photographer who presses her into a much more revealing session. This causes Mima a lot of distress, so Pop Idol Mima appears and says she’ll take over. She joins CHAM dressed in her frilly outfit and does the choreography and lip sync for "Angel of Love" (The CHAM song the movie opens with) instead of performing the actual song being played.

It’s a little different from the other two films, but Mima is synonymous with"Angel of Love." It’s also blasted on a boombox when the writer for Double Bind is murdered.

-Black Swan: Nina oversleeps for rehearsal and her mother doesn’t wake her up. When she arrives, she hears the white swan's music playing, commenting to herself “My music?” and is startled to see Lily has stepped in to perform her part. It wounds Nina to see another girl dancing to her music.

-Birdman: After Riggan spends a drunken night on the street he wakes the next morning to Birdman pumping him up. Riggan imagines he’s in a Birdman movie and blockbuster explosions and a giant bird robot appear in the background. He makes it to a rooftop and he cues the music by muttering “Music.” As his overture starts to play, Riggan, lost in his delusions, “flies” off the building.

Who You Could Become:

Should the character fail or lose their way, there is a reminder or warning of what their possible future could look like.

-Perfect Blue: Rumi, a bitter ex-pop idol turned agent who never got over her “failure” to make it to the top. Rumi projects herself on Mima, seeing her as everything Rumi had hoped to be. Rumi takes Mima's career change as a personal betrayal.

-Black Swan: Beth, the former Prima Ballerina whom Nina looks up to. She was Thomas's star, his "Little Princess," but the industry is cruel and women age out of "star" material quickly. Heartbroken by the forced ending of her career and loss of Thomas’ affection, Beth self-destructs.

Nina's mother is another glimpse at her possible fate. Her career was cut short because she got pregnant, but we don't know if she was ever on track to being a star. Nina's mother put all her energy and hope into her daughter's career as a ballerina, but also resents her successes.

-Riggan: There is not a specific character in Birdman who represents the fate that could befall him, but the threat of failure is just as present as in the other two films. Riggan’s play could flop, no one could take him seriously as a stage actor, he could lose all the money he invested, his daughter could lose even more respect for him, and he could become more of a has-been than ever.

A Sapphic Element:

Take this one lightly, but all three have it! Black Swan explores this in much more depth, whereas Perfect Blue’s and Birdman’s have it just kinda tossed in.

-Perfect Blue: During the initial scene discussion of Mima’s career change it starts with a clip of Mima acting. She is in bed, another woman in lingerie crawls towards her, and Mima then anguishes "I can’t do this!”

-Black Swan: Nina has been kept a child by her mother. As she dances the Black Swan more and more, she starts exploring her sexuality. While she is attracted to Thomas, she is also drawn to Lily. Does Nina want to be Lily or be with Lily? Nina even has a wet dream about the other girl.

Birdman: Laura, Riggan’s girlfriend and fellow actor, comments that their co-star Lesley has a perfect ass. After Mike tries to have sex with Lesley onstage, a distressed Lesly is comforted by Laura, who makes a pass at her which isn’t rebuffed.

Some Birdman and Black Swan only:

Birds:

A bit obvious, but Birdman and Blackswan both reference birds in their titles and stories.

-Black Swan: Nina is performing the story of Swan Lake, which is about a pure maiden who is transformed into a swan. Nina can easily play this part; her transformation is in embodying the black swan. Nina begins to have hallucinations that she is physically becoming the black swan throughout the film: pulling feathers out of her back, her legs bending wrong, and her neck growing into the shape of a bird's. When she finally finds the character in her performance, Nina envisions herself growing black wings, the transformation complete.

The narrative embraces the symbol of flight and freedom associated with birds. In one scene Riggen looks to be attempting suicide from the roof of a building, and we see him run off and fly away. He lives in the moment, soaring over the city and touching down in front of the theater. At the end of the film, Riggan does jump from his hospital window, but his daughter looks up to the sky and smiles as if he truly took flight. Also noteworthy: after Riggan shoots himself in the face, blowing his nose off, his face cast looks similar to his Birdman mask.

The Protagonist Catches Their Double Coping A Feel Backstage:

It’s their big night, but the double is having all the fun.

-Black Swan: It’s opening night. Nina and her Prince do an elegant performance together but as soon as they reach backstage the Prince immediately distances himself from her. There is no affection between them. While Nina waits for her next moment on stage she sees the Prince with Lily, and Lily cops a feel of his package.

-Birdman: Riggan is preparing to go on stage. He spies Mike coming to the back of the stage, Riggan’s daughter Sam in his arms. They are happy and at ease in each other’s arms, and they kiss.

Hope you enjoyed my little comparison! Let me know what ya'll think!

Thank you Cal for editing!

-Julia

#black swan #birdman #perfect blue #comparison #Darren Aronofsky #satoshi kon #movie comparison #essay #Alejandro González Iñárritu

52 notes · View notes