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invisibleicewands · 7 months ago

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“If It’s Not Grueling, It’s Not Worth It”: John Cale, in Conversation With Michael Sheen

Michael Sheen heard John Cale’s singular voice for the first time as a teenager in his bedroom in Port Talbot, Wales. “Someone cool must have given it to me,” he says of listening to White Light, White Heat for the first time. “I knew nothing about The Velvet Underground, I knew nothing about anything… Then I hear this voice on the song, ‘The Gift,’ and I’m like, ‘Hang on, that’s a Welsh voice.’” On his eighteenth studio album, POPtical Illusion, Cale, now 82 years old, is still possessed of that distinct, boundless instrument. Its emotional tenor, as Cale points out, is “snide,” and throughout the record, there’s an air of humor but also repressed rage boiling just beneath its poppy surface. The legendary musician wrote most of the album during the first Covid lockdown, averaging three songs a day. “I was really angry,” he told Sheen on a call earlier this month. “But I didn’t want the anger to really predominate.” To celebrate the release of Cale’s new album, the two Welshman delved into their respective creative processes, Cale’s relationships with Lou Reed and David Bowie, and the transformative power of public libraries.

MICHAEL SHEEN: How are you?

JOHN CALE: I’m good. I’m just delivering an album.

SHEEN: I’ve been thoroughly enjoying listening to it.

CALE: Oh, really?

SHEEN: Yes, they sent me a link.

CALE: That’s good.

SHEEN: It’s absolutely beautiful, John.

CALE: Good. Well, are you in Port Talbot?

SHEEN: I was in Port Talbot until the weekend. I’m in London for a little bit now. I’ve just finished doing a play. I’ve been playing Nye Bevan.

CALE: Oh, that’s great.

SHEEN: For the last three or four months, we’ve been at the National Theater here in London. Then we did a couple of weeks in Cardiff at the Millennium Center last weekend.

CALE: Who wrote the play?

SHEEN: Tim Price, the Welsh writer. It’s a new play directed by Rufus Norris.

CALE: Very good. Glad to hear you moving on. I’m trying to remember a photograph of him when I was growing up in Garnant and he was a political heavyweight.

SHEEN: Oh, yeah. He’d started off working down the mines. He was a draft door boy.

CALE: That’s right.

SHEEN: Both of you had fathers who were miners.

CALE: Yes. My dad was a fitter. You know what a fitter is?

SHEEN: No.

CALE: A fitter is a guy who goes in and puts the wrenches and the bolts and everything together. He doesn’t go down shoveling coal or any of that. He just puts gear together.

SHEEN: Well, it’s funny, because listening to the album, I was reminded of a scene in Nye, where you see Bevan as a young boy going into the Tredegar Library. He had a terrible stutter, a stammer. The library gave him the opportunity to increase his vocabulary so he could use different words. Literally, libraries gave him power.

CALE: Listen, the library in Garnant gave me power. It was a little place stuffed with books, but they have these cards where, if you wanted a book that they didn’t have, you could fill out the form and they’d run off and get it. And not only that, they filled out forms for music. The music was attended to by the Marlborough-MA Public Library. If I put down Schoenberg, they would find the book.

SHEEN: Wow, that’s amazing.

CALE: I learned so much from that.

SHEEN: One of the most moving scenes in the play is this scene in the library because, of course, it gives Bevan his freedom. He’s able to talk. And on your new album, a line that really jumped out at me was on “Company Commander,” when you say “right-wingers burning their libraries down.” You think, “Here are the things that gave the working class in Wales power and now we’ve got people, as you describe, burning the libraries down.”

CALE: As a social activist, I’ve watched you approach that subject not just carefully, but penetratingly

SHEEN: Well, that line really jumped out at me. And I think the album is beautiful, disquieting, but I also found it incredibly moving at times.

CALE: Really?

SHEEN: Well, just seeing a song called “Davies in Wales,” immediately my ears pricked up, especially knowing that your name is John Davies Cale. I’ve listened to that a few times today. What was going on there?

CALE: It’s a laugh. You’ve got to have some of that in your life otherwise you’d die of boredom. “Shark-Shark” was one that really doesn’t have any sense to it at all. You just do it as a goof.

SHEEN: Am I right in saying that the very last word on the album is coal?

CALE: Code.

SHEEN: Code, right. See, my Welsh ears heard coal because I couldn’t help but be tempted into thinking of you floating down a river like a magical piece of coal, John. Is it too late to change it to coal?

CALE: For you? No.

SHEEN: But am I right as well in saying that in the space of a year you wrote over 80 songs and that this album has come out of that?

CALE: Yeah. The lockdown took over about a year-and-a-half ago and I just shut the door and took precautions and got on with some work. When I came out of that, there was an album already. At the end of the day, I had 80 songs. This is about finding poetry in the strangest places.

SHEEN: Did the lockdown color the nature of the songs in terms of their tone?

CALE: Yeah, I had a lot of energy. I was really angry. I didn’t want the anger to really predominate. It was really about trying to find out what else there was around you that you considered as part of your persona. If you’re writing lyrics, you start with a lyric and then you go to the music. Or you start with the music, then go to the lyrics. You really don’t want to obey too many of the laws of poetry and rhyme too much. You don’t mind tripping over your own shoelaces. Making mistakes is really important sometimes, and I’m still growing.

SHEEN: Have you carried on writing at that kind of pace since then?

CALE: Yeah.

SHEEN: Wow. That’s an extraordinary creative explosion. Is that just to do with the lockdown conditions or is it also where you were at in your life?

CALE: I think so, yeah. I’ve had enough of certain things. But the whole process welcomed me like, “Hey, why don’t you do this?” You find the rest of your ideas by rifling around all the ideas you’ve had to the beginning of that lockdown and eventually, you don’t have a lockdown.

SHEEN: Well, it clearly wasn’t a kind of creative or imaginative lockdown. Did you know they were always going to be for a solo album?

CALE: No, the collaborations happened on the first of the albums. The rest of it was just me playing with my instruments. I just had a pile of instruments in my studio and off I went.

SHEEN: But this album feels so crafted and so textured. It’s interesting you said that you were very angry because maybe that’s one of the “poptical illusions” of the album, because it doesn’t immediately feel like an angry album. It feels incredibly lush. Even at its most lush, it’s never comfortable. There’s always disquiet there. My hearing is getting worse, and I’ve never been able to hear lyrics very well, so I have to listen over and over to get to the lyrics. As I listened to the songs more and more, you do start to hear the anger. It’s so rich and lush and textured and yet there is a darkness in there as there always is in your work, John.

CALE: Yeah, I appreciate that. “Snide” is an appropriate word.

SHEEN: It’s a good word.

CALE: It’s handy.

SHEEN: We were at a very particular time when we were in those lockdowns. You start to think about the western world over the last 10 years or so, and not only were we in that bizarre situation of being locked up in our homes, but we were also at a time in the world where things were and still are obviously unhinged in all kinds of ways. Is that what was feeding that sense of anger that you were talking about?

CALE: Well, people don’t want to be lectured. You don’t want to say anything because then you’ve got the responsibility of answering the questions. You want to see if you can get away with as much humor as you possibly can.

SHEEN: That’s where snide comes in.

CALE: It’s a good to have a sense of humor with some snide.

SHEEN: Well, it’s funny you talk about your sense of humor. The very first time I heard your voice, I was a young teenager in my bedroom in Port Talbot. I had my first record player. My musical tastes were fairly conservative when I was younger. But somehow I’d got hold of White Light, White Heat. An older cousin must have given it to me or something. Someone cool must have given it to me. I put it on and I’m listening to this album and it seemed like the epitome of the exotic for me. It’s American, it’s the coolest thing ever. I knew nothing about Velvet Underground. I knew nothing about anything, really. Then I hear this voice on the song “The Gift”, and I’m like, “Hang on, that’s a Welsh voice!” I couldn’t believe it. That’s when I discovered you and who you were and where you’d come from and all that kind of stuff. But that dark humor, that was my first introduction to you and dark humor itself.

CALE: When we did that album, people were wondering, “What is this about? What are these guys doing?” I thought to myself, “I have to wait until the end of the album to have a clear idea of where I stood in the European world and where I did not stand in the European world.” Most of the songs on a lot of those albums were reflections of what I was missing about Europe. Those were a lot of loose songs, granted, but a lot of the songs I came up with at the end of that period, like “Paris 1919,” for instance, were written from California.

SHEEN: When you were in New York in the ’60s, did you feel like a European in America?

CALE: I did, but I didn’t have time for it. It’s a weird position to be in. You’re sitting in New York and you’re hanging out with Andy [Warhol] and the factory and all those other characters, all just amazingly brilliant in their own way and full of ideas and kind and gentle. It was a nonstop fountain of inspiration. What am I trying to say? It was an artistic revolution in New York. A lot of it probably came from the sexual revolution that was going on. There was so much of that going on. I was really interested in a very specific kind of music that happened to have been started in 1963 in Stockhausen. But all of a sudden, I was with LaMonte Young in California, where he was a jazz saxophone player. He was moving to New York and he was interested in totally different things about drones. He took that influence with him across the water. Then Viola Monte Young starts introducing droned violas to the Velvet Underground and we have modern music, essentially.

SHEEN: Part of your extraordinary career has been about connecting and working with younger artists coming up, whether it’s The Stooges or The Modern Lovers, right up to Kelly Lee Owens and Nirvana. How do you stay plugged into that? How do you watch out for what’s going on and see who you want to work with?

CALE: It’s pretty easy. It’s all over. With the new technology, you can’t avoid it.

SHEEN: But if you’re writing songs, how have you got time to listen to other people’s music as well?

CALE: That’s one of the problems. It’s just one of those things that you run into in life. You can’t do it all the time. You can’t do it for very long. But it’s just knowing what’s going on, where and when. But the other stuff is, I can just keep going. I’m not fragile yet.

SHEEN: No, you don’t seem fragile in any way, John. Although I have to say, in some of the lyrics and some of the music on this album, there’s a vulnerability there.

CALE: An important characteristic of your creativity is how fragile you are in the process. You reveal more of yourself in that way. I think revealing more of yourself has no limit. I think it’s something you’ve got to recognize in the process.

SHEEN: I was talking about this recently, but when I was a younger actor, I thought good acting was essentially about showing off. I thought it was about working out how to be really entertaining and clever and funny and smart. Then, as I got older, I realized that the more uncomfortable I was when I was acting, that’s actually where the good stuff is.

CALE: Yes, absolutely.

SHEEN: That’s where the magical pieces of coal are.

CALE: Don’t tell anybody.

SHEEN: So a lot of people came out of lockdown having watched a lot of box sets on TV. You came out of it with multiple albums and god knows how many songs. I don’t know about this album, but certainly on the last album, you have a song like “Night Crawling” where you’re going back over stuff with David Bowie. Was there a lot of that happening in lockdown as well? I don’t mean reminiscing in a nostalgic or sentimental way, but a sense of drawing from the past?

CALE: Only when I wrote the song. It was something that happened. I was a little embarrassed about having to have a character in my songs that you can really appreciate for other reasons. I was trying to be kind and generous about it.

SHEEN: You’re bound to be aware. If you are writing a song about something that’s happened to you, and it involves someone that everybody knows, there is an awareness of the weight of that, isn’t there?

CALE: Yeah. You try to be generous with everybody.

SHEEN: If it involves going back to working with Lou Reed and everyone else, do you feel a need to make it slightly more cryptic?

CALE: That happened already. That’s part of history. I dealt with it and I’m satisfied with it. I’m glad that we wrote Lou’s Drella together. When we finished the whole piece, I said, “Lou, we’ve written all these songs and they’re all about all these characters that we know and we love and lived through. But you didn’t write a single verse about the Velvet Underground.” He went away and wrote one and came back.

SHEEN: Well, I suppose it’s difficult. If you’ve lived a life like you have lived and you’ve been around the people, it’s going to be difficult to write any song without somehow involving people that everyone knows in some way or another. Do you remember when I came to New York and when there was that exhibition about the Velvet Underground?

CALE: Yes, that’s right.

SHEEN: You were surrounded by people the whole time, so I didn’t want to bother you too much. But before I left, I wanted to come up and say hello. As I was with you, Laurie Anderson came up to us and I totally embarrassed myself by suddenly going, “Oh, ‘Superman’ was such an amazing song for me.”

CALE: She deserves it.

SHEEN: She quite rightfully paid me no heed and walked off.

CALE: Really? I’m surprised.

SHEEN: I felt so embarrassed.

CALE: No, she’s a kind soul. I’m glad you did it.

SHEEN: More and more now, actually, I feel like I want to tell people when they’ve had an amazing effect on my life. There’s so much shit in the world. There’s so much stuff that makes you feel shitty. And that’s another reason why I find listening to your new album moving, because you are one of those people for me. Are you going to be touring this album?

CALE: Yeah. It’s starting in January. I’m doing a couple of gigs in Mexico. It’ll be interesting now that they’ve got a new Prime Minister.

SHEEN: Indeed. Touring and playing live, is that something that has become more important to you, or maybe less?

CALE: Oh, it’s always been important. It’s been like a life-giving source. You get an audience out there. There’s nothing better than that.

SHEEN: Is it grueling?

CALE: If it’s not grueling, it’s not worth it.

#Michael Sheen #interview #Music #John Cale

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fatteningmenstories · 11 months ago

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Benched part 4

The first biggest challenge was defiantly the walking, under doctors orders the crutches were retired and Devon was instructed to slowly start to move more and more. But even this was challenge, after a couple of steps he was struggling, his legs felt weaker and with every step there was this burning sensation in his bones. He would not even make it halve way through the doctors mandatory excerise routines before he had to call it quits. What was going on, he was a star athlete how was he letting a couple of steps be the boss of him, sure he had been out of practice for a while but Devon was not going to let this stop him. So he tried again and again, until he was blue in the face and felt sweat in places he didn’t know he could sweat and after each routine he felt exhausted but luckily for him the doctor had said nothing about cutting down his food intake, so chief continued to pull out all the stops making sure their employer never went hungry.

The second big challenge came about when it was finally time to start physio, sure Devon had been doing some small exercises here and there but under doctors orders, now that Devon could confidently walk about on his feet it was time for physio, and it was time for Devon to finally leave the house and he soon found out that eating like a pig for the last 6-months of course meant nothing would fit his large over-fed body . He tried fruitlessly but none of his old clothes would even budge, his trousers wouldn’t get past his thighs and his shirts wouldn’t buckle, he was just too big, too round and far too fat. God - he thought to himself this bulk has really hit its limit, he felt enormous and he definitely looked it, his gut was so massive it ripped his shirts into shreds when Ajay tried to squeeze him in it. With the physio waiting across London, he was left trying to fit into Ajay clothes, and even they were a tight fit, there was no way he was fatter than Ajay but alas even in his chubby lovers designer kit he still felt suffocated.

The doctor had organised one of the best physio in all of London, they had all been sworn to secrecy and all that staff and been forced to sign a nda, they were all left puzzling their heads about what could be such a secret, until of course the lift doors opened and outstepped a man who looked like he hadn’t been in a gym in years, let alone the star footballer of one of the country’s most prestige teams. They were expecting a man who was once the most eligible bachelor in all of Europe with he his gorgeous face and ripped muscular body and here stood a man in clothes to small to fit their wearers massive frame, a body that fit a man that looked like he had been done nothing but stuff his face day in and out .

“Alight Devon, lets see what we working with” said the lead physio instructing Devon to the scales

Stepping on them, he couldn’t even see the scales as his gut blocked his view by a good amount of fat ,

“Gosh, I mean uhh 130kg”

“What, are you taking the piss” , that couldn’t be right, the numbers had to be a lie

“Im sorry, sir but that this is one the most accurate scales out there’

Devon was left with no words, he simply mustered by the dirty bulk line and followed the very in shape physio to the changing rooms, compared to him Devon looked massive, almost double the size in width. Finally in the the changing rooms he was finally given some fitting clothes that fitted around his huge fat body, he dared not to look at the size but a small flash of Xs caught his eyes as he grabbed for them with his tubby fingers. Checking himself out in the mirror was a very sobering process, what had he done to himself, he was far form fat and well into the obese relm , looking at his massive gut and wider frame the memories of his once fitter body flooded his mind, however as he felt his fat gut up, prodding it and squeezing it his mind was filled with all the good food he had stuffed into to over the last year and damn did it make him feel hunger.

He was snapped out of the images of plates of food and desserts, when the young fit physio , known as Tom , popped round the corner telling Devon it was time to start. This all lead to the next big challenge, sure walking had been tough but compared to this that was spoonful of sugar, they had started it slow on the treadmill, a good pace was established, but god did it feel different there was so much more of him, he was heavier and massive. From the fat in his gut that swayed with each step to the rolls of fat in his arms that rubbed against his moobs. All over on this this treadmill he felt his fat body coming to alive, and a bit of him enjoyed and he felt he felt his dick stir under his fat balloon gut. But then Tom seeing the grin of Devon’s face took the initiative to to raise the speed a tad , just a bit forcing him to pick up the pace and jog, for the first few seconds as he jumped from foot to foot, Devon felt free, but then it started, the burning in his lungs, the stabbing in his feet, the sweat piling up. He had quickly used up his once amazing stamina and endurance , his fat body was just too heavy, each jog felt like he was pulling tons, before long he was panting for breathe, red in the face. Tom saw how hard his job was going to be right then and therem as Devon collapsed on the floor exhausted.

“Come on big, guy, we’ve still got a good hour left to shift this weight’ Tom chuckled as he slapped Devon’s fat gut that was now exposed form his kit, sweaty and flabby.

Devon couldn’t even muster the breath to tell him to fuck off, but what he hated how much his dick was loving it. What followed was one of the longest training session of his life, everything was reminder of how out of shape he had fallen, sit ups were nearly impossible with his fat gut weighing him down making him have to roll to his side to even get up, and push- ups were far out of the question with his stubby arms not being able to lift his fat body high enough to get his fat gut of the floor, star jumps shook the walls and there wasn’t a bike there he could fit his fat arse onto. The only possible equipment he could fit onto was the bench next to the vending machine, Tom decide to look the over way as as out of breath Devon dropped his blubbery frame on it and popped out a few chocolate bars.

“ Right there big guy , i think that’s enough damage for today” Tom chuckled placing another firm hand on Devon’s ample gut

Devon was furious, partially at himself for letting himself get this bad and also at Tom who seemed to be enjoying this display of unfitness.

“Hold - on “ Devon said in pants as finished off his chocolate bar

He wasn’t going to go down without a fight, I know what to show him he thought , he stepped on the treadmill determined to show Tom that his was still the star athlete he was a year ago

“If you say so”

Starting up, Devon felt confident, he had already lasted longer than his previous attempts, sure he felt on the edge, but he kept jogging. A smirk appeared on his round race, that would show him Tom, who did he think he was talking to. However as he smugness grew, his old confidence grew too, and without thought he went to uped the speed to reasonable run, and the moment he pressed those buttons he knew he had made a grave mistake. The treadmill revered to life, and Devon led on to dear life tried to keep up, he tried to match the pace, but his obese body failed him once again, his belly became like a pendulum swing up and down moving his fat in all directions, his layer of fat pecs followed in motion, followed by every bulging fatty part of his body. He was just too fat, his lungs couldn’t keep up, he was so panting for dear life, all over his sweat greased him up like a hog in an oven. His kit rolled up over his heavy gut and his shorts got caught between his large thighs, he just couldn’t keep up he was just too fat. He felt himself about to collapse again

“Alright tubby, I think you’ve showed us enough” Tom said as he stepped in to Devons rescue pulling the red tag, just in time as Devon was hit with a wave of light headness and when the treadmill finally ceased its run Devon felt it legs give up to and himself collapse on the floor

He lay there on the floor, a doughy mountainous lumps of fat panting for breathe, he couldn’t move pinned done by his massive girth, Devon was humiliated as he laid there sweaty and red, trying to get up was futile with all his energy used up

“Ah better luck next time big guy’ Tom said as he playfully slapped Devons fat gut admiring how it jiggled and settled.

“Come on lets get you up’,

“Wow big guys, looks like I’m gonna need a hand”, Tom laughed as he called over to some assistants to help heave Devon up and of the floor..

What a shit show, in the changing room Devon had retreated to the bench to catch his breath, God I’ve really let myself go haven’t I, he thought as he rested his hand on his gut.

“See you next time’ Tom waved as he left leaving in a tight muscle shirt that showed of his impressive build

“Yh’ - was all Devon got out in-between laboured breathes, he used to have a body like that, now here he was a fat arse on the bench catching his breathe - right he thought to himself this is it the fattest I am ever going to be now, this old gut is going into hibernating .

But those fighting words quickly disappeared when Devon came home, the moment he waddled up the stairs and opened the front door he was hit with the smell of chefs cooking, and like clockwork his thoughts of cutting back where thrown out the window and replaced with whatever delicious food chef had cooked up. At the dining table, he just couldn’t draw himself, dish after dish chief brought out more and more food, that his stomach demanded.

“Alight babe, I think I’ve done enough damage’

“What” Ajay said looking up form his food with a mouth full of pasta

“I mean look at me, I’m not the spitting image of health right now’ Devon empathised taking in his fat body

“Non-sense, your plenty healthy and besides what those that make me then’ - Ajay chuckled as he rubbed his fat rolls

“I think you just need some motivation, and besides after your long day at the gym you need your fuel - And I need my man’

And before Devon could protest, Ajay was on his knees blowing Devon off, sure things were a but different now, with Ajay being blocked fully by Devon’s fat gut, but even with all this new fat they had packed on to each others body it was still as amazing as it was on the first day. Devon could contain himself it was just so good, and just when he thought couldn’t get better, chief brought out dessert - triple coated chocolate cake.

As the weeks rolled on Devon continued to go to his gym session with Tom, but he also continued to pig out just the same way as he always had , he told himself he deserved it, all those gym sessions were just too long and he need his fuel fro his next session of course , but he knew secretly deep down that the food was just to good to quit. Devon was definitely getting his strength back but the fat gut of his was going any where soon, in fact Devon could have sworn it was getting bigger so much so that after a good couple of sessions he found himself needing new kit as gut continued to bulge out and his arse just wouldn’t fit in the old kit, when he asked Tom about it, Tom had told him that of course that was happening he was simply packing on more muscle and that Devon had nothing to worry out in and should continue as normal espially drinking the shakes that Tom left out for him after each session.

After a good couple of months , Devon saw it was only right to get to know Tom better after all they spend sports much time together and he grew fond of Tom’s teasing remarks about him,so he saw to it to bringing Tom ever for a dinner one day.

When the day came Devon saw to it that chief pulled out all the stops, he had told Tom it would just be casual dinner but Tom had somehow talked Devon into making it into a whole formal affair with suits and champagne. Devon knew straight away, that the tens of thousands pound suits he used to stroll round in at balls were long out of question, so he once again saw to it to ordering his tailer over, sure his tailor had not seen Devon since long before his accident but a man of his pay- grade was well known for his professionalism. So as Ajay and Devon stood their fat guts out overflowing in lard, the tailer made no comment and simply dressed them up in the finest suitsm men they size could still fit into.

Standing there in front of the mirror, dressed in the nines in his fine suit, Devon felt confident a confidence he hadn’t felt in a long time, sure the man standing in the mirror was a rounded out ball of fat, but damn the way he filled out his suit made he look good, he was still the handsome footballer just now under many many layers of fat he told himself . And Ajay seemed to agreed, telling Devon he was still the most handsome man he had ever seen, rubbing his hands over his meaty thighs, whispering in his ears but how good he looked. And just when Devon was about to let Ajay get it, the door bell rang - Tom was here.

Opening the door, he was greeted by a very good looking man in suit, Tom had gotten a fresh haircut, shaved his morning stubble and swapped the gym clothes for a very nice fitted English suit, that he filled out perfectly. Devon remembered when he looked that good in a suit, the way Tom’s muscles were hinted at in the suit arms and his square arse filled out the back. Standing there he felt massive, his much bigger frame emphasised different areas of his suit, from his heavyset gut to his double chin poking out the collar.

“Wow, you clean up nicely- huh big guy”

“Thank you, oh this old thing was just sitting in the cupboard’ Devon laughed thinking about how more expensive suits were now that he couldn’t touch his toes

“And you must be the massive Ajay’ Tom laughed going in for a French kiss on Ajay chubby cheeks, leaning over Ajay’s chubby gut which his trim muscular body.

“God, Devon has told me so much about you, you’re even bigger I mean better in person’

After the formalities, small talk was engaged, where Devon learned that Tom had studied nutrition at uni and was freshly in London starting out. Devon and Ajay standing there must have looked like a massive fat hogs next to the lean Tom, Devon thought as Tom humoured Ajay, and if Tom was handsy in the gym he was even more so now, giving their respective guts a good pat and rub after ever joke.

But before Devon could think more about it, the bell was rung and dinner was being served, walking in the dining room had been transformed into a former candlelit scene, it felt very dapper and posh- and God Devon thought he was definietly was going to have to give chief another pay rise for this whole ordeal. Tom was sat opposite them and the two much bigger men dwarfed Tom side with their emmense fatness

And as chief brought out their dishes dinner commenced, the wine was good, the company even better but the food was amazing. Devon and Ajay’s plate were spotless after each course, where’s Tom were littered with remains for the previous courses. But Devon couldn’t care he was founding himself getting more and more aroushed by Tom’s crude comments that he blurted out now and again

“Wow you chief really cooks up some fine grub - no wonder you so got so big’

“You guys really now how to put it away”

“Damn and I thought I ad a big appetite”

Devon didn’t know why what Tom was saying was turning him on so much, but he knew that his devious words were also working on Ajay who had to keep shuffling in his chair to move his tubby gut away from his crotch. Maybe it was because he wasn’t used to being teased like this like this but maybe it was also because of who it was coming from, This fit young lad who had been training him in the gym was now bombarding him with these dirty remarks. And as the courses kept coming, the dirtier they got.

“Hey there tubby, I think you left something on your plate’

“Geez what a fat-arse, leave any food for the rest of us”

“No, go on then you take it, looking at you overweight arse, has taken me of my appetite, besides to fill a fat gut like that you must need a truck load for of food’

Ajay and Devon didn’t know what was going on, but they kept eating more and more, until they were eating more than they had ever eaten before, Tom’s mean and flirty comments made them want to eat more and more. And after unbutton the first couple of buttons on his shirt and taking of his jacket, Tom cockney accent reared its head as he stripped down form his formal attire, and it was all so hot. Devon felt his gut get more and bloated until he felt the buttons tightening and his gut gaping through, him and Ajay were being stuffed to beyond limits by this cockney muscular lad and it all reached its peak, - When a stuffed Ajay couldn’t finish his plate of food

“What tubs, bitten of more than you can chew’ “Here let me help’

And in fine motion, Tom climbed over the table, cups and dishes clattered about as he reached over and grabbed his plate and held it to Ajay fat flushed flash

“Here piggy, eat up”

What was going on, Devon was completely in shock, but seeing Ajay opening his mouth and letting Tom force-feed him the rest of his plates, made his dick hard in way he didn’t know was possible

“And don’t you worry fatty, you time is next’ Tom laughed as he stuffed Ajay tight with food and then ran his tongue down his face. Tom then proceeded to rip Ajay’s shirt of freeing the mountain of brown fat that hid there

“Look at this beauty, ahh Devon where have u been hiding him’

Devon watched in pure lust as he saw Tom explore his lovers fattened up from, slapping his gut and knead it, Ajay of course was in pure heaven

“Here tubby let me give you your just deserts”

And just like that Ajay fell onto his knees, as Tom took down his pants revealing his 8 inch pink cock

“Come on fatty eat up’

Ajay slobbered Tom’s cock up, going to town on all 8 inches

“That right fatty eat up’

“All your good for your now is cock sucking - you fat fuck”

Tom grabbed Ajays rolls of fat and his fat pecs and he came straight down his throat

“There piggy eat up”

Devon couldn’t control himself, letting out a large moan of his mouth followed by larger burp

“Ahh looks like this piggy over here feel negalated, don’t you worry piggy’

“Don’t you worry, I’ve had my eyes on you a while’

Devon was too shocked and stuffed to move

“God look at you, a fat lump of dough, you used to the hottest man in the nation now look at you tubby’

‘ A fat pig ready for the slaughter’

And with that, Devon was lost in Tom’s words, as Toms stripped down to reveal his hot muscular body, Devon was like putty, Tom pushed him out of his chair onto the floor, his fat gut breaking his fall, he felt as Tom stripped down his pants, putting his fatty meaty chunky legs in the air, Tom yanked of his massive underwear exposing his fat arse

“Ahh look at all the fat, man were have you been hiding thi’

Tom chuckled as he slapped Devons hippo sized rear.

An then it all happened so quick, but Devon felt Tom massive cock be ramped up his arse, he felt toms muscular arms grab his rolls of fat and jiggle them and then followed by the thrusting that was so hard it made his whole body jiggle. Devon was in heaven, he was stuffed behind his widest dreams and being fucked by Tom, and then when it couldn’t get any better. He saw Ajay rise up come over and bury Devon his his fat gut, opening in his mouth and showing his brown cock down this throat. He was their pig, fattened up and ready to be fed.

After that night of bliss, what followed next was an even more fattening string of months, Devon was fucked hard all over by of his lovers, at the gym Tom would tease him relentlessly for his out of shape body and lack of fitness, then at night Tom would punish him by fucking him till he couldn’t move. Chief cooked up even more and more food, filling the nights with feasts and feasts, and Devon and Ajay grew fatter and fatter until new dining room chairs had to be ordered and beds installed. It was heaven, but one day as Devon wake up in their now super king sized bed with Tom naked, wrapped up between his two pigs, the phone rang

“Ah Devon, long time no see”

Who was this

“I’ve been told by you doctor that you cast was long off and you’ve been going to the best physio for months- no easier way to say this but we need you back on the team and you must surely be back in fighting state by now ”

What no, what was going on, and as Devon laid there in bed under the mountains of fat he had stuffed onto his body, his feet long hidden behind that mass that was his fat protruding gut, his fat love handles weighing him on either side and his chins swallowing his neck his breathing was struggling to keep up with this dilemma.

“Well come on , champ we need you back asap”

This was going to be the final challenge

To be continued in the final part

#exjock #male gainer #male weight gain #gainer stories #gay gainer #fat

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dickens-daily · 22 days ago

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CHAPTER IX—THE DANCING ACADEMY

Of all the dancing academies that ever were established, there never was one more popular in its immediate vicinity than Signor Billsmethi’s, of the ‘King’s Theatre.’ It was not in Spring-gardens, or Newman-street, or Berners-street, or Gower-street, or Charlotte-street, or Percy-street, or any other of the numerous streets which have been devoted time out of mind to professional people, dispensaries, and boarding-houses; it was not in the West-end at all—it rather approximated to the eastern portion of London, being situated in the populous and improving neighbourhood of Gray’s-inn-lane. It was not a dear dancing academy—four-and-sixpence a quarter is decidedly cheap upon the whole. It was very select, the number of pupils being strictly limited to seventy-five, and a quarter’s payment in advance being rigidly exacted. There was public tuition and private tuition—an assembly-room and a parlour. Signor Billsmethi’s family were always thrown in with the parlour, and included in parlour price; that is to say, a private pupil had Signor Billsmethi’s parlour to dance in, and Signor Billsmethi’s family to dance with; and when he had been sufficiently broken in in the parlour, he began to run in couples in the assembly-room.

Such was the dancing academy of Signor Billsmethi, when Mr. Augustus Cooper, of Fetter-lane, first saw an unstamped advertisement walking leisurely down Holborn-hill, announcing to the world that Signor Billsmethi, of the King’s Theatre, intended opening for the season with a Grand Ball.

Now, Mr. Augustus Cooper was in the oil and colour line—just of age, with a little money, a little business, and a little mother, who, having managed her husband and his business in his lifetime, took to managing her son and his business after his decease; and so, somehow or other, he had been cooped up in the little back parlour behind the shop on week-days, and in a little deal box without a lid (called by courtesy a pew) at Bethel Chapel, on Sundays, and had seen no more of the world than if he had been an infant all his days; whereas Young White, at the gas-fitter’s over the way, three years younger than him, had been flaring away like winkin’—going to the theatre—supping at harmonic meetings—eating oysters by the barrel—drinking stout by the gallon—even out all night, and coming home as cool in the morning as if nothing had happened. So Mr. Augustus Cooper made up his mind that he would not stand it any longer, and had that very morning expressed to his mother a firm determination to be ‘blowed,’ in the event of his not being instantly provided with a street-door key. And he was walking down Holborn-hill, thinking about all these things, and wondering how he could manage to get introduced into genteel society for the first time, when his eyes rested on Signor Billsmethi’s announcement, which it immediately struck him was just the very thing he wanted; for he should not only be able to select a genteel circle of acquaintance at once, out of the five-and-seventy pupils at four-and-sixpence a quarter, but should qualify himself at the same time to go through a hornpipe in private society, with perfect ease to himself and great delight to his friends. So, he stopped the unstamped advertisement—an animated sandwich, composed of a boy between two boards—and having procured a very small card with the Signor’s address indented thereon, walked straight at once to the Signor’s house—and very fast he walked too, for fear the list should be filled up, and the five-and-seventy completed, before he got there. The Signor was at home, and, what was still more gratifying, he was an Englishman! Such a nice man—and so polite! The list was not full, but it was a most extraordinary circumstance that there was only just one vacancy, and even that one would have been filled up, that very morning, only Signor Billsmethi was dissatisfied with the reference, and, being very much afraid that the lady wasn’t select, wouldn’t take her.

‘And very much delighted I am, Mr. Cooper,’ said Signor Billsmethi, ‘that I did not take her. I assure you, Mr. Cooper—I don’t say it to flatter you, for I know you’re above it—that I consider myself extremely fortunate in having a gentleman of your manners and appearance, sir.’

‘I am very glad of it too, sir,’ said Augustus Cooper.

‘And I hope we shall be better acquainted, sir,’ said Signor Billsmethi.

‘And I’m sure I hope we shall too, sir,’ responded Augustus Cooper. Just then, the door opened, and in came a young lady, with her hair curled in a crop all over her head, and her shoes tied in sandals all over her ankles.

‘Don’t run away, my dear,’ said Signor Billsmethi; for the young lady didn’t know Mr. Cooper was there when she ran in, and was going to run out again in her modesty, all in confusion-like. ‘Don’t run away, my dear,’ said Signor Billsmethi, ‘this is Mr. Cooper—Mr. Cooper, of Fetter-lane. Mr. Cooper, my daughter, sir—Miss Billsmethi, sir, who I hope will have the pleasure of dancing many a quadrille, minuet, gavotte, country-dance, fandango, double-hornpipe, and farinagholkajingo with you, sir. She dances them all, sir; and so shall you, sir, before you’re a quarter older, sir.’

And Signor Bellsmethi slapped Mr. Augustus Cooper on the back, as if he had known him a dozen years,—so friendly;—and Mr. Cooper bowed to the young lady, and the young lady curtseyed to him, and Signor Billsmethi said they were as handsome a pair as ever he’d wish to see; upon which the young lady exclaimed, ‘Lor, pa!’ and blushed as red as Mr. Cooper himself—you might have thought they were both standing under a red lamp at a chemist’s shop; and before Mr. Cooper went away it was settled that he should join the family circle that very night—taking them just as they were—no ceremony nor nonsense of that kind—and learn his positions in order that he might lose no time, and be able to come out at the forthcoming ball.

Well; Mr. Augustus Cooper went away to one of the cheap shoemakers’ shops in Holborn, where gentlemen’s dress-pumps are seven-and-sixpence, and men’s strong walking just nothing at all, and bought a pair of the regular seven-and-sixpenny, long-quartered, town-mades, in which he astonished himself quite as much as his mother, and sallied forth to Signor Billsmethi’s. There were four other private pupils in the parlour: two ladies and two gentlemen. Such nice people! Not a bit of pride about them. One of the ladies in particular, who was in training for a Columbine, was remarkably affable; and she and Miss Billsmethi took such an interest in Mr. Augustus Cooper, and joked, and smiled, and looked so bewitching, that he got quite at home, and learnt his steps in no time. After the practising was over, Signor Billsmethi, and Miss Billsmethi, and Master Billsmethi, and a young lady, and the two ladies, and the two gentlemen, danced a quadrille—none of your slipping and sliding about, but regular warm work, flying into corners, and diving among chairs, and shooting out at the door,—something like dancing! Signor Billsmethi in particular, notwithstanding his having a little fiddle to play all the time, was out on the landing every figure, and Master Billsmethi, when everybody else was breathless, danced a hornpipe, with a cane in his hand, and a cheese-plate on his head, to the unqualified admiration of the whole company. Then, Signor Billsmethi insisted, as they were so happy, that they should all stay to supper, and proposed sending Master Billsmethi for the beer and spirits, whereupon the two gentlemen swore, ‘strike ’em wulgar if they’d stand that;’ and were just going to quarrel who should pay for it, when Mr. Augustus Cooper said he would, if they’d have the kindness to allow him—and they had the kindness to allow him; and Master Billsmethi brought the beer in a can, and the rum in a quart pot. They had a regular night of it; and Miss Billsmethi squeezed Mr. Augustus Cooper’s hand under the table; and Mr. Augustus Cooper returned the squeeze, and returned home too, at something to six o’clock in the morning, when he was put to bed by main force by the apprentice, after repeatedly expressing an uncontrollable desire to pitch his revered parent out of the second-floor window, and to throttle the apprentice with his own neck-handkerchief.

Weeks had worn on, and the seven-and-sixpenny town-mades had nearly worn out, when the night arrived for the grand dress-ball at which the whole of the five-and-seventy pupils were to meet together, for the first time that season, and to take out some portion of their respective four-and-sixpences in lamp-oil and fiddlers. Mr. Augustus Cooper had ordered a new coat for the occasion—a two-pound-tenner from Turnstile. It was his first appearance in public; and, after a grand Sicilian shawl-dance by fourteen young ladies in character, he was to open the quadrille department with Miss Billsmethi herself, with whom he had become quite intimate since his first introduction. It was a night! Everything was admirably arranged. The sandwich-boy took the hats and bonnets at the street-door; there was a turn-up bedstead in the back parlour, on which Miss Billsmethi made tea and coffee for such of the gentlemen as chose to pay for it, and such of the ladies as the gentlemen treated; red port-wine negus and lemonade were handed round at eighteen-pence a head; and in pursuance of a previous engagement with the public-house at the corner of the street, an extra potboy was laid on for the occasion. In short, nothing could exceed the arrangements, except the company. Such ladies! Such pink silk stockings! Such artificial flowers! Such a number of cabs! No sooner had one cab set down a couple of ladies, than another cab drove up and set down another couple of ladies, and they all knew: not only one another, but the majority of the gentlemen into the bargain, which made it all as pleasant and lively as could be. Signor Billsmethi, in black tights, with a large blue bow in his buttonhole, introduced the ladies to such of the gentlemen as were strangers: and the ladies talked away—and laughed they did—it was delightful to see them.

As to the shawl-dance, it was the most exciting thing that ever was beheld; there was such a whisking, and rustling, and fanning, and getting ladies into a tangle with artificial flowers, and then disentangling them again! And as to Mr. Augustus Cooper’s share in the quadrille, he got through it admirably. He was missing from his partner, now and then, certainly, and discovered on such occasions to be either dancing with laudable perseverance in another set, or sliding about in perspective, without any definite object; but, generally speaking, they managed to shove him through the figure, until he turned up in the right place. Be this as it may, when he had finished, a great many ladies and gentlemen came up and complimented him very much, and said they had never seen a beginner do anything like it before; and Mr. Augustus Cooper was perfectly satisfied with himself, and everybody else into the bargain; and ‘stood’ considerable quantities of spirits-and-water, negus, and compounds, for the use and behoof of two or three dozen very particular friends, selected from the select circle of five-and-seventy pupils.

Now, whether it was the strength of the compounds, or the beauty of the ladies, or what not, it did so happen that Mr. Augustus Cooper encouraged, rather than repelled, the very flattering attentions of a young lady in brown gauze over white calico who had appeared particularly struck with him from the first; and when the encouragements had been prolonged for some time, Miss Billsmethi betrayed her spite and jealousy thereat by calling the young lady in brown gauze a ‘creeter,’ which induced the young lady in brown gauze to retort, in certain sentences containing a taunt founded on the payment of four-and-sixpence a quarter, which reference Mr. Augustus Cooper, being then and there in a state of considerable bewilderment, expressed his entire concurrence in. Miss Billsmethi, thus renounced, forthwith began screaming in the loudest key of her voice, at the rate of fourteen screams a minute; and being unsuccessful, in an onslaught on the eyes and face, first of the lady in gauze and then of Mr. Augustus Cooper, called distractedly on the other three-and-seventy pupils to furnish her with oxalic acid for her own private drinking; and, the call not being honoured, made another rush at Mr. Cooper, and then had her stay-lace cut, and was carried off to bed. Mr. Augustus Cooper, not being remarkable for quickness of apprehension, was at a loss to understand what all this meant, until Signor Billsmethi explained it in a most satisfactory manner, by stating to the pupils, that Mr. Augustus Cooper had made and confirmed divers promises of marriage to his daughter on divers occasions, and had now basely deserted her; on which, the indignation of the pupils became universal; and as several chivalrous gentlemen inquired rather pressingly of Mr. Augustus Cooper, whether he required anything for his own use, or, in other words, whether he ‘wanted anything for himself,’ he deemed it prudent to make a precipitate retreat. And the upshot of the matter was, that a lawyer’s letter came next day, and an action was commenced next week; and that Mr. Augustus Cooper, after walking twice to the Serpentine for the purpose of drowning himself, and coming twice back without doing it, made a confidante of his mother, who compromised the matter with twenty pounds from the till: which made twenty pounds four shillings and sixpence paid to Signor Billsmethi, exclusive of treats and pumps. And Mr. Augustus Cooper went back and lived with his mother, and there he lives to this day; and as he has lost his ambition for society, and never goes into the world, he will never see this account of himself, and will never be any the wiser.

_____

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#sketches by boz #sbb #charles dickens

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visiondoorswindowsltd · 4 months ago

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glazingworkslondon · 1 month ago

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DIY Hanging Door: Professional Tips for Easy Installation

Replacing any internal hanging door is definitely an uphill task. Here is your guide along with expert tips to make the task easier for you. The actual task..

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atwwoodendoorsuk · 3 months ago

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