Bodybuilder Family Feud ~ Chapter 1

	WARNING: This story may contain lots of violence and brutality. Even by the pretty illiberal standards of this website. There’s also almost certainly going to be some intergenerational incest mixed in with the rough stuff, so gird your loins if that sort of thing upsets you. Actually, if intergenerational sex and violence disturb you, you’ve really wandered into the wrong place and should probably just leave now and forget you ever heard of JagoBC. You HAVE been WARNED! Proceed at your own risk.

	Bodybuilder Family Feud! Chapter 1

Granddad and I met a little after midnight, on the football field behind the high school. We had both been star quarterbacks there once upon a time, though, as he was fond of saying, his star always outshone mine by more than a few magnitudes. He was right, of course. He’d been a huge deal in his day, not only quarterback but team captain. His team had gone the entire season without a single loss. They won the state championship. And, as he was also fond of saying, they did it all without the pansy-ass padding we use today.

For the record, my team had done well enough, winning most of our games, but not quite making the finals. Of course all of that was years in the past. I’d just come back to town after graduating college, and he’d only just retired after spending forty years driving a forklift. We aren’t particularly close, Granddad and me. After my parents passed away, he refused to take me in, even though he got all the insurance money and had plenty of room. Instead he sent me to Saint Venerable’s Home for Incorrigible Boys, to toughen me up, he said, since my parents had clearly been too soft on me and he wasn’t going to have some pansy-ass for a Grandson. He was right about it toughening me up, but it also made me hate him with a burning passion.

I didn’t see him again until I graduated high school. He had heard I’d been accepted to the State University and wanted to be sure I knew he wasn’t going to support me while I wasted my time pursuing some pansy-ass degree. In case you haven’t guessed, pansy-ass is Granddad’s go to term. He uses it for pretty much everything he dislikes or disagrees with: innovation, higher education and, most of all, yours truly. Even after surviving St. Venerable’s, I’m still his pansy-ass grandson. About the only contact Granddad and I had while I was growing up, were the annual letters he sent me on his birthday. He was required, he wrote, by his own noble nature, to remind me what a failure I was, what a disappointment, and what a burden, though as far as I could see the only effort he made on my behalf were the letters he wrote complaining about me. Of course, he also regaled me with tales of his own accomplishments, which, admittedly were many. True, he’d worked the same factory job year after year without a single promotion, but he’d also managed to achieve a certain amount of fame as an amateur bodybuilder. He’d won more championships over the years than any other competitor in the state’s history. Each May, along with his letter, he enclosed a photo of himself, on stage, holding a trophy triumphantly above his head. And though I never much cared what became of his epistles, I treasured those pictures.

	And maybe, just maybe, they had something to do with the fact that I soon took up bodybuilding myself. You see, me and Granddad actually do have a few things in common. We both favor crewcuts. We’re both gay. And we’re both amateur bodybuilders. And the Tri-State finals were underway. The first day of competition had ended with me taking the top honors in the Junior category (ages 20 to 23) and him earning a win over the other Grand Masters (ages 50 to 59). That meant tomorrow we’d be going head to head in the All-Around, a sort of Best in Show for Bodybuilders. Only we weren’t about to let a few judges decide between us. No sir! After some heated debate and lots of name-calling (mostly on Granddad’s part), we’d arranged to meet on the football field and settle the question mano-a-mano.

	TO BE CONTINUED...