Beauty Standards

[reality warp]

[A wish makes changes the world so that bodybuilders are considered "out of shape" while slender and chubby physiques are now the gold standard.]

Dax woke up on the couch, his lower back groaning as he realized his large frame had been curled up in the fetal position for hours. He groaned as he finally rose, heartbroken to realize it was 6 AM.

The candles in the kitchen had burned all the way down, their wax running in hardened rivulets across the nice tablecloth Dax had set out. The last Dax remembered, Theo was running late but would get there as soon as he could. Dax had to charge his phone for minutes in order to finally receive his boyfriend’s last few messages:

SORRY BABE! Work just got crazy. Keep dinner warm, I’m coming!

Dang, babe. I am SO sorry to do this, but I have to cancel. Let’s just do dinner out tomorrow night. Somewhere nice. I’ll make it up to you!

Dax sighed and headed into the bathroom. The mirror was still covered, as his therapist had requested, but neglecting to check his weight left his morning feeling unfinished. The scale was in the closet (and not, as Dr. Madison had requested, thrown away). Dax clicked his tongue and considered the fact that he had only gone four days without weighing himself. That wasn’t too much of a reset. He could get back up to four days, and beyond. Had he enjoyed a nice dinner–and some nice sex–with his beautiful boyfriend the night before, he could easily keep up with his “self-care” orders.

But he could always start again tomorrow.

He gritted his teeth when the digital scale finally stopped blinking: 271 pounds! He groaned as he hopped off. Maybe it was incorrect? He popped out the battery, slid it back in, then climbed on again to receive the exact same result.

For weeks he had been eating a vegetarian diet, eight small meals high in fiber but low in carbohydrates and protein. He’d been taken his testosterone blocker medication, walking three miles on the treadmill twice a day, plus hitting the sauna at the gym. How the hell was he not shedding weight?

Since he’d already failed by weighing himself, he opened the bottom drawer under the sink and pulled out his measuring tapes. “Fuck,” he said as he measured his arms: 24 and 23.5 inches, respectively (his right arm had always been bigger). Even though Theo had laughed at him, he’d ordered “arm slimmer sleeves” and worn them every night. The tight compression had done nothing to squeeze down his bulky, absurd looking muscles.

He groaned as he yanked the towel away from the mirror, wincing as he got a look at his big, bulging body: pecs bigger than any woman’s breasts, shoulders so wide he couldn’t walk through doors, a cobbled abdomen so absurd he looked like something a child had built out of clay. No animal in nature was this rock-hard, this bulging.

Dax spent the next twenty minutes sipping his breakfast broth and staring at pictures of male ballerinas on twitter. They were so lithe, so flexible! Dax couldn’t even see his feet past his pecs. He scrolled past pictures of men with tiny buttons for penises, then reached down and grabbed the ludicrously hefty tube of flesh between his legs. Who the hell could love a man with a cock that big?

“Theo loves me,” he reminded himself, then reminded himself again. It had been weeks since they’d had sex. Last week, Dax had gone through Theo’s phone and found that his boyfriend followed a Tumblr blog called “NFL Kickers.” Men were complex, though. Theo could be attracted to bigger men–and, of course, they had dated for two years. Theo was attracted to the man Dax was INSIDE this big, bulky suit of awkward flesh.

Dax’s therapist had established that the less confident he felt about his large, muscular body, the more he draped himself in oversized clothes to mask his size; however, the oversized layers simply exaggerated the appearance of his huge frame, drawing more attention to him. He reflected on this as he pulled a huge jacket over his sweatsuit and headed out the door, turning sideways as he stepped through.

A woman walking her dog scrunched her face and looked away as he passed. The bus arrived at the stop and Dax froze; it looked pretty packed. The last thing he wanted to do was to climb aboard and listen to all the groans as he struggled to find space for his unwieldy body. He ordered and Uber instead. The driver whistled as Dax approached.

“DAMN, boy, how many bowling balls did you swallow for breakfast?” the driver–Tod–chuckled.

“I don’t understand the question,” Dax said, his lips tightly pursed.

“I dunno if you can fit in here!” Tod said.

“Of course I can,” Dax said quietly.

“You fucking bodybuilder guys should have to pay for TWO seats. I swear, all that weight is gonna ruin my suspension!”

Dax ignored the comments as he squeezed into the car. “I’m not a bodybuilder,” he added.

‘Yeah, right,” the driver said. “You look like you’ve got two steroid needles in you RIGHT NOW.”

“I have a pituitary malfunction,” Dax explained.

“YEAH RIGHT!” Tod whistled. “All you big beasts say that. I bet you swallow cats and lift cars for fun.”

As Dax climbed out of the car, Tod asked, “Make sure you rate me good, got it Godzilla?”

Tod shook his head and lumbered away.

Later on, Tod reluctantly took off his shirt at his doctor’s office. He shivered as his thick torso was exposed. He wanted to cover his nipples, even though he was alone in the room. If he could squish his pecs in with his hands, he would have done it. Just the way the table creaked as he climbed up made him feel ashamed.

“Still not dropping weight, are you big fella?” Dr. Simmons asked as he moved his stethoscope around Dax’s massive chest.

“I’m doing everything I’m supposed to,” he said. “I’m even taking a testosterone blocker–”

“That over-the-counter stuff never works,” Dr. Simmons said, rolling his eyes as he held up his blood pressure cuff to Dax’s enormous arm, then realized he would need a bigger size. “I can prescribe you one that should totally shut down your anabolic processes. There’s a new one that is supposed to really amp up your metabolism too, but it can cause some heart dysfunction. We’ll need to do some tests. I’m guessing, big fella like you, your heart isn’t exactly tip-top.”

Dax nodded. “I think it might be good,” he said. “I eat very healthy, and I exercise a lot.”

Dr. Simmons nodded. “Well, ALL my big muscled patients say that to me. If you guys were actually doing half of what you said you were, you wouldn’t have all these problems.”

“What about my stomach problem?” Dax asked. “Still getting really acidic stomach at night. Sometimes I can’t sleep.”

“Listen, Dax, just drop all this unnecessary muscle, got it? I guarantee, once you slim down to a reasonable size you’ll be shocked at how much better you feel. I’d be fine with you getting fat, even!”

Dax considered getting an Uber to the gym, but realized it was a nice day for a walk. The extra cardio would be good. He had an extra salt cube in his pocket, great to tamp down his appetite between meals.

Dax’s heart fluttered as Damien, his personal trainer, approached him in the locker room in his tight pink leggings. Damien was GORGEOUS–long, thin limbs, narrow shoulders and hips, even a chubby belly. He was the perfect package! Word on the street was he had been hired for another modeling campaign–this time with Under Armour. Dax’s greatest fear was that Damien would hit it big and move on, leaving Dax and his oversized butt behind with no hope of ever getting smaller.

“You ready bud?” Damien said, giving Dax an enthusiastic pat on his ass. Dax’s heart fluttered at the contact.

“Y-Yes, absolutely,” he said. He followed Damien out of the locker room onto the gym floor, where the big man’s body suddenly tensed. He tried to look down, knowing his hideously shaped body was no doubt garnering attention from all the REAL athletes with their slim bodies or their sexy, chubby paunches.

“What’s the matter bud?” Damien said, noticing Dax’s tight posture and his eyes locked on the floor.

“It’s, I just… feel weird… looking like this, in a gym.”

“EVERYbody is welcome in the gym,” Damien said, giving Dax’s big biceps a squeeze. The bigger man jerked away from the contact, wishing he could wrap himself in a sleeping bag. He passed by a balding man with a hefty gut sauntering along on a treadmill.

“Get a load of this freak,” the man said, pulling out his phone and taking a picture. “Fuck, put your arms down, roidhead!” the man called.

“Ignore him, skinny,” Damien said. “You’re perfect. This is a process. Not everyone can be small! Right now, you’re just on a journey. Accepting your muscles is important to the process. Love your body no matter HOW big it is.”

Dax started doing his stretches on the mat as Damien walked away to gather some equipment. As he stretched, he noticed a thickly built man nearby who was struggling to do a toe-touch. Dax immediately looked away when the man made eye-contact, sneaking furtive glances as Dax tried his best to stretch his beefy arms with his protruding pec shelf getting in the way.

“I-is that blonde guy your trainer?” said the man in a deep, gruff voice–the kind of voice most guys made fun of… the kind of voice Dax spoke with when he didn’t do his best to pitch it up when he was in public.

“Yeah,” Dax said.

“He’s so hot,” the man said, his blocky face turning rosy.

“Y-yeah, he is,” Dax said. “That’s why I hired him.”

“Can you imagine being that slim? I mean, what is it even like to walk around without your big quads getting in the way?”

Now it was Dax’s turn to blush. “I wouldn’t know,” he said. He waddled over to the man and extended a beefy hand. “I’m Dax.”

“Mason,” the man said. Dax took a moment to look directly at the man now: a thick neck that nearly swallowed his head; shoulders that seemed to rise up as high as his ears; arms as big around as Damien’s waist, with legs more than twice their size. Every man in that gym was working to avoid ever developing a body like this. Mason was one of the first people Dax had allowed himself to meet who actually understood what it felt like to be big and strong in a world that hated those qualities.

Damien returned with some inflated balls and some light bands. He smiled at Dax’s new friend. “Hey there! How are you? I’m Damien. How’s your fit journey going?”

Dax recoiled at Damien’s obvious business pitch, but allowed the thinner, more intimidating man to continue.

“Well, as you can see, not good,” Mason said, rubbing a hand on his bald head (with some struggle, as his corded biceps got in the way). “I can’t even scratch my own back, and buying pants is… pretty difficult…”

“Well, you’re in the right place! If you hired me, the first thing I would do is look at your diet…”

Dax walked away from the two, hoping desperately that Mason would hire his trainer. Maybe they would be paired up for workout sessions? Above all, it was just good to see another big man at the gym. Most guys with big muscles stayed away from gyms, afraid of being ridiculed (or accidentally building up more size).

Dax had made an explicit agreement to Damien to never check his phone during their sessions, but since his trainer was otherwise occupied, Dax unzipped his bag and fished his out.

There was one new text message:

I get that this is a shitty way to deliver this news… but things with us just haven’t been going right for awhile. You know it, I know it, and… I’ve met someone else. It’s not fair for me to sacrifice my joy with him while keeping you from finding joy of your own. I’m really sorry, Dax, but I just need someone who I can get my arms around… someone who can fit in my car. Someone who can get on a plane with me without worrying the whole time about fitting! I hope you understand and wish you the best.

Dax was teary-eyed when Damien returned. The small blonde man reached up and wiped Dax’s eyes, gently patting his big shoulders. “See? That’s why we don’t check our phones in the gym. Because it’s all about YOU, not others.”

“I… I don’t think I can work out today,” Dax sobbed. He glanced behind him, worried that big Mason had seen him. Luckily the bald tank of a man had waddled away.

Damien let out a deep sigh. “Shit,” he said. “This isn’t what I wanted for you at all.”

At that, the damn burst, and Dax fell into the smaller man’s shoulder, crying so hard he nearly knocked his little trainer over. “It’s okay, big boy, let it out… let it out…”

When he opened his eyes, Damien handed him a tissue. In the other hand, he held a purple jewel the size of a jelly bean.

“I didn’t believe this thing would work,” Damien explained as the jewel glinted in the light. “My grandpa left it for me, said it would grant me three wishes before it crumbled to dust.”

Dax was confused. What the hell did this little jewel have to do with him? WISHES? Was Damien making fun of him? He froze as a couple gymbros–5’1, 130 pound STUDS, the kind of guys everyone wanted to be or wanted to be with–pointed at him and laughed.

“Why’s the big Kong crying, y’think?” one said loudly, clearly hoping Dax would hear.

“Probably because his cock’s so huge and fat,” the other said. They both made a “gross-out” face and then laughed, high-fiving. Dax readjusted his position, trying to stuff his big cock between his legs to reduce the bulge.

Damien gave Dax a big hug. “Damn, man. I didn’t want this, I really didn’t. See, this stone is one of those ‘careful what you wish for’ deals. Cuz the first thing I wished was that I’d have your undivided attention, and then it made you my personal trainer!”

“Made me… YOUR… trainer?” Dax said, confused. He wasn’t following, but at least the confusion distracted him from his heartache.

“I was hoping it would make us boyfriends or something… so then, y’iknow, I just wished the world would treat ME the way it treats YOU, figuring I’d turn into a muscle hunk like you were or something, and then… POOF. THe whole world changed.”

Dax shivered as a vague whisper of a memory started to form, then evaporated. “I… the world… changed?”

“I swear I didn’t want this. I mean, it’s really weird… skinny guys, even chubby guys, are the male standard now. Who would have thought? But guys like you… god, I’m sorry, Dax. This was all stupid and selfish.”

Dax wasn’t entirely sure if he could believe what he was being told, but he had a sudden memory of standing on a stage in tiny underwear, parading his big body around… he had spent years building that body… he was so PROUD of it! People were CHEERING for him. Men admired him, desired him. Life was AMAZING!

He shuddered at the idea. It turned his stomach, the idea of being THAT naked, of showing his awkward musculature off to a CROWD. That sounded like a nightmare.

“So… I have one wish left…” Damien said.

Dax shook his head. “This… this is unbelievable… you’re really saying things used to be different?”

“Yes,” Damien replied. He held the jewel to his forehead, his eyes closed.

“And you could just wish it back that way?”

“I could,” Damien said, pausing.

Dax had another flash of memory, this time of a photo of himself on the wall of that very gym, proudly flaunting his muscles. He remembered Damien, vaguely–just a skinny gym amateur who stared at him all the time. Good god, the idea seemed impossible… but if it wasn’t, they were just one wish away from going back to that!

“Wish… wish it back…” Dax said weakly. “Wish it back!”

“I could,” Damien said, “But… dude, it’s so nice for me here. You have no idea! I didn’t want you to get punished, but there’s got to be a way I can stay here while you get a good life too…”

Dax reached for the jewel, but Damien jerked his hand back. “Ah-ah, big man,” he said. “The wish is mine and mine ONLY. So, let’s see…” He took a deep breath.

“I wish Dax could find happiness in this world,” he said. The purple jewel flashed. It crumbled to dust. Dax leapt to his feet, terrified about what might happen.

Nothing seemed to change… everything was the same. Then, a moment later, he forgot all about Damien’s wishing stone, the memories of the “other world” entirely wiped away.

“You good, buddy?” Damien asked. Dax nodded. He had been crying, but he couldn’t remember about what.

Mason approached. He had a wad of cash folded in his hand. “I was wondering… if I could hire you… today?” he said to Damien sheepishly. The skinny man smiled and took the cash.

“How about this, tiny,” he said. “How about I pair you up with Dax here? I think you too would be a GREAT team in trying to achieve your slender goals.”

The two hulking men blushed as they realized they were both about to spend a lot more time together.

“All right, let’s get started! Those muscles aren’t going to shed themselves!”