A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A SELF-OBSESSED JUICED-UP BODYBUILDER by The Biggest and the Best

SCHMOE®

for gym rats

The Biggest and the Best knew from early on that he was destined to achieve. He first started training on a rowing machine donated to him by Big Bob in the local youth club. It's seat was broken so he couldn't slide up and down on it, and it was stiff. All this made him stronger. He also used to shoulder press buckets of water before he could afford the best dumbells money can buy.

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My alarm clock goes off at 3am. I smash it against the wall to release some roid rage and reach across for my Monster Maxx high-calorie aspartame-free enzyme-activated easy-mixing diarrhoea-inducing isolate-blend whey protein shake. I drink this without opening my eyes, burp, then roll back over to dreamland. My other alarm clock rings at 7am and gets launched at the wall like the other (I go through, uh, let me add it up....erm, it must be about 14 alarm clocks a week). Endorsement perks.

I get up, stretch naked in my garden, full-body shave, shower, splatter the bog, take about 40 different pills with spring water, then BORE MYSELF TO DEATH on the treadmill for an hour. I then put on some sandals, shorts, and a vest, so I can bust into the local tanning salon for some high-pressure bed cooking. Upon return, I’ll fill my stomach to bursting point with an armload of clean healthy food, then watch my own training DVD for 1 hour while it all settles.

By the time I’ve drove to the gym in my ESCALADE (windows down), the blinders are on and I’m ready for battle by booming and smashing all the dumbbells and barbells all over the place like a true warrior. That’s after signing all my fans autographs who HASSLE ME at the doorway, of course. I train for 4 hours (not including posing practice and shower), and immediately gag on another two handfuls of 40 or so pills which make my muscles soak up all the nutrients.

I’LL SHOW OFF IN THE GROCERY STORE on my way back to show regular shoppers what the human body can really look like in its peak condition and tell some more fans about my diet and training routines, which they can’t get enough of. Three times a week I’ll have a deep tissue massage as well, followed by a hot tub, if I can find one big enough to house my enormous bulk.

In the evening I’ll admire my trophies and check myself out in the bedroom mirror to try and spot if I have any weaknesses in my physique, but I never find any.

After filling my face on dull flavourless food again, I’ll be a husband for a couple of hours and SEE TO THE MISSUS, because she has needs like every other woman.

The Biggest and the Best
© Blob of Glob MMX

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another story from TBATB?

http://piebald77.blogspot.com/2010/05/massive-and-huge-by-biggest-and-best.html

MASSIVE AND HUGE by The Biggest and Best

SCHMOE: Fiction Gone Buff

Because a hard body is good to find

Please allow me a moment to impress upon you how huge and big I am. I simply do not know where to start. I will start with my arms. My arms are so big that I cannot wash my hair. They are absolutely massive and pumped and big and thick. When I put on a gun show in one of my tight white vests I can see everyone thinking wow look how awesomely big and thick he is. I love the way my arms attach to my cannonball delts like weapons of mass destruction. I don’t need to mention the delts though. Aw man the delts. Just imagine NFL shoulder pads and you’re halfway there. Then picture steep mountains running up them as my meaty traps ride high into my Mike Tyson neck. Ba-boom!

My chest is just like Arnold’s, if not better; two fat slabs of prime beef stretched across my ribs, a chest that looks even bigger when I wear a shirt. As for my back, well ha, it’s split right down the middle like a wooden table from Ikea folded in half, once again ram-packed full of succulent beef, Christmas tree in it and everything, like the champion Lee Haney. The lats on it defy belief, and are so wide that I often get asked if I can fly. The detail and separation is also first class. Go a bit lower and you have reached my gun-bolt glutes, or gridiron glutes as I sometimes like to call them, all shredded up and ripped like a buncha bananas under my crisp skin. Hanging off of them are my gigantic sweeping hams, which a lot of people say are not even a muscle, but a tendon, but these people would change their mind if they seen mine.

And the fronts of my legs – whoa. Quadzilla big time, and I mean big time. They nickname me ‘The Surgeon’ because of all my deep cuts. They say I look like a walking anatomy chart, only one with king-size portions of premium meat slapped all over it. To round things off at the bottom, I have the old diamond calves going on. Slop a full tin of self-tan on all this, crop of spiky blond hair, white smile, and you are now beginning to get the picture. That’s all folks. I just wanted to share that with you. I just wanted you to know how massive and huge and big I am.

Oh no, I forgot to mention my six pack!

© Ya what, ha? Productions 2010