The accolades kept mounting as he walked across the hallway after closing from school. Any ego-caressing name with G was good enough for him. ‘Big G!’, ‘G-ray!’, ‘Tough-G!’… He was now the single most popular guy around. He had made his name in academics, and had cemented it with his latest found, his sugar, his squeeze!
Only a year ago his nickname was Skinny George. The more he tried to shake that name off, the harder it stuck – he thought it would go away if he gave them repeated warnings, but no. He thought it would go away if he gave up wearing glasses, but no. He thought it would go away if he could change his clothing style, but things got even worse. Some people even thought Skinny was his first name. All this continued until the arrival of a blessing named Xenopia.
Xenopia was the girl of his dreams. A must have. Her height, her charm, her smile – the young gentlemen of the college could not think straight; her lips, hips, indeed well endowed in rare permutation; her complexion, her soft curly hair – in fact, another essay altogether. Vivacious magnetism!
The beautiful part of it was that none of the guys could approach her, except Skinny George. Why? She spoke the finest English, and with a heavy British accent, exposing the inferiority complex that lay beneath the petulance of those who taunted George. This emboldened him. In a matter of weeks the pair were the best of friends. Yes, his new name was G-Prime! One would think that George had finally arrived. But he had other ideas.
George found the gym. It was slow and painful, but he persevered. His main motivation was the look on her face when she would someday see his gift of a body to her. For months, the results were laughable. George was genuinely discouraged, until an instructor introduced him to Body-Mash.
In a matter of weeks he attained what he had dreamt of months ago. Xenopia seemed happy. He was overjoyed. The name was now G-Major. Those who feared him simply called him G. Even the lecturers liked the new look of their brightest. And with Xenopia strutting along his mighty arms, he was the complete man, right? Well, maybe, but George had other ideas.
She loved him. She really did. Even when others made fun of him, she saw someone special. Even when her girlfriends mocked her choice, she chose him over them. Xenopia never understood why George had to go to such lengths to please her. She genuinely preferred him macilent. She preferred the nerd, the geek, the physics freak…
G’s neck was as thick as six rolls of POP; his chest was so broad that he couldn’t use public transport anymore – other passengers complained too much; his arms, large! – he couldn’t even swing them; his abs were sumptuously designed like fresh baked bricks; his legs were rock hard and imposing, like gifts from Eusebio; his entire wardrobe needed replacement.
But he wanted more! George needed Xenopia to make him a real man. He needed to taste of the forbidden fruit. G-Man wanted to break the G-string. He would rock her world, split her in half, hold her petite frame against the glory of his conquest. She would scream for mercy, but ask for more…or so he thought.
He had kept doors open for her, held her handbags and followed her around campus, and had paid for countless meals and snacks. He had kept her numerous secrets, given her a shoulder to cry on and was there for her when she felt lonely. He had taught her all his math secrets. He was not even counting the numerous gifts he had doled out, including his body! She had even slept a full night at his end in preparation for an exam. Surely, this request will be nothing compared to all he had done for her. Right?
The gym soon became his only friend, and Xenopia, territory waiting to be explored. He could spend hours on end there. With Body-Mash, the dumb-bells soon felt too small for him. He needed more.
On Christmas Eve, G-Major worked out for twelve hours, and he could have done more, if Xenopia hadn’t called. Tomorrow was the day of action. Tomorrow bells will jingle! He had to be at his best. He was going to blow her mind. No hesitation. The day had been thoroughly planned out…from church to the movies, to eating out, then their usual stroll, then…
And tomorrow came. Santa had already given him his gift. He just had to open it. Xenopia was acting extra naughty, just the way he liked it. They made their rounds, and finally ended up in his bunker.
Sexy-G had conditioned the room for the occasion. The lights had been dimmed purposefully; classical music murmured. G-Sharp!
Xenopia didn’t want to hurt him. She knew it when words could not convince her boo. But inside, she was not ready. She watched him, bemused, as he took of his shirt, purring the cheesiest and most demotivating, uninspiring and unarousing lines she had ever heard. It was while he took off his underwear that he froze.
‘BAD BOY’, a familiar voice spoke to him, as though from behind. He wriggled out of the bed and strained to hear better…
‘SHAME ON YOU!’, this time several voices said in unison, a mixture of men and women. George looked straight at Xenopia,”Did you hear that? Was it you?”
Where Xenopia lay was now a pulsating fireball, hovering back and forth and spreading all over the mattress, with a rattling and hissing sound heard from it.
‘SO YOU WENT TO CHURCH AND THE MAN ON THE CROSS COULDN’T SAVE YOU’, the voices continued…
‘YOU WILL GO TO HEL…’
“Stop, stop!”, George started screaming, sweating, as he dressed up in a frenzy and hurriedly left his cubicle. Every now and then, along the corridor, he would stop to respond to the voices, which kept growing in number and tormenting him. He looked miserable. They were spirits, demons…sent to stop him; or so he thought…
Xenopia zipped up and dutifully followed her deluded hunk, who was visibly terrified, by something only he knew. Soon the attention of other flatmates had been drawn.
Down at the gym, an instructor routinely concealed the label on the product, Body-Mash, which formerly read, ‘For prescription use only.’
– Unwrapping Xenopia : It’s Not by Might
– Steroid Induced Psychosis
– Exercise Addiction