DUMB MEATHEAD - Tumblr Posts
Pledge
He didn’t remember what happened last night. He didn’t remember how he got there. All he knew was his head was killing him, and his whole body ached. He groaned.
“Bro, what the hell happened last night?” He blinked in surprise. Had his voice always been so deep? He felt the warmth of sunbaked stone beneath his arm and turned his head as he stretched one of his arms up to his head and felt the fabric of his snapback. He didn’t remember putting it on.
A big house stood in the distance. Someone was standing on the porch. His sleeveless muscle tee clung to his gigantic pectorals, and his square jaw accented the broad shoulders and clenching abdominals of his torso. A few seconds later, his chiseled features blocked out the sun as he peered down at the prone figure.
“You seriously fall asleep out here, lil’bro?”
The man on the grass blinked blearily. His bicep tingled as he stared up at the behemoth looming over him. “I, uh ... I guess?” He furrowed his brow. “I ... don’t really remember, bro.”
“Big.”
“Huh?”
“It’s Big Bro. You’re my lil’bro, and I’m your Big Bro.” He lowered a hand. “Got it?”
“Uh ...” He seized the hand. “I ... guess.” He was on his feet in seconds. “Thanks, uh ... Big Bro....” He shuddered, then groaned as his eyes rolled back in his head. Wave upon wave of pleasure plowed over his body. “Uhhh.. Huhuhuhuh....”
“That’s right, Lil’bro.” The big man twisted the cap around so the bill sloped down Lil’bro’s neck and exposed his face. He sneered as he watched the man’s legs swell in the boxer shorts he was wearing. The fabric creaked as a distinct swelling began in the crotch, and a full beard grew in on the man’s face as the hairs thickened on his swelling pectorals, then spread down in a treasure trail through the shallow trench that was the beginnings of a defined six pack. “Just enjoy the ride. Let it happen.” He rubbed the man’s growing bicep and grinned. “Damn, you are gonna be huge. Think I’ll call you Swole. How’s that sound, Lil’bro?” he asked as he curled an arm around the man’s shoulders and led him closer to the house.
“Swole....” he parroted as his swelling feet smacked against the stones leading up to the porch.
“Just a big, dumb, swole bro, Lil’bro.”
“Yuh....”
The big man grinned as he pulled his hand aside to reveal a large 86 on Swole’s bicep. He flexed his own bicep to show off the giant 01 that had been inked there and watched in satisfaction as the light left the half-naked man’s eyes. “Yeah, you’re gonna fit right in, Pledge.”
“Whatever you say, Big Bro....”
The frat president sneered as the front door creaked open to reveal row upon row of muscle men posed in identical double bicep flex to salute their president, each sporting a large number on their left bicep. “Damn straight. Now go join the line.”
This deserves a reblog. What an excellent beginning of a deeper introspection to his original meathead tattoo story. I can’t wait to see where it goes. Well done, BODriver! Well done!
It was a stupid dare, and you were a dumbass to go through with it… But college is the time to do stupid shit, right?
“Are you serious?” said Rhys, giving your unassuming, un-inked body a once-over. “Sorry, I don’t touch the face, neck, or hands unless you have at least a few pieces already. And honestly, you’re gonna have a hard time finding any artist who would.”
“Wait,” said your friend Jake, who was sitting beside you. “Would you change your mind if we told you it’s for a dare, and he’s gonna get it lasered off after a month?”
“That makes it even worse, dude,” said Rhys, as he started getting up. “I’m serious about my art, and I’m not gonna purposefully give someone a tat he doesn’t really want—”
“—How about I throw in an extra two thousand above your normal fee?” said Jake, nonchalantly.
Before Rhys could even protest, Jake threw two thick stacks of 20s onto the table. You saw the tattooist mouth something in bewilderment before he sat back down. After a few seconds of pondering Jake’s offer, he looked back at you.
“You and your friend have more money than sense, but I need a new set of tires, so… I’m just gonna take this,” he said.
“Oh it’s all Jake’s,” you replied.
“Just to make sure I got this right… You want a thumb-sized tattoo—chosen by your bougie friend—right on your forehead… And you don’t want to see it until it’s done?”
“That’s right,” you responded. Nerves had your stomach feeling all knotted up, but in your head you knew Jake’s crazy shenanigans always turned out fine in the end. College had been a blast ever since Jake had entered your life.
“And even though you’ve never gotten a tattoo before, you’re gonna be fine with the pain of me repeatedly jabbing needles into your face, and you promise that you’re not gonna bitch out?”
“I promise.”
Rhys sighed.
“Fine, I’ll do it. But if your friend asks me for any hate symbols, I’m gonna kick his ass. Also, he can’t ask for any colors since those are harder to erase. And I’m diluting the black to about a 75% grey. And I’m using a light touch. It’ll start fading right away and probably end up looking like shit, so don’t you ever tag me or this place in any pics online, and don’t tell anyone I did this for you.”
“Deal,” said Jake, before you could respond. “Now let me show you the design…”
After looking at whatever was on Jake’s phone, Rhys quickly led you and Jake to the back and sat you on a chair. After disappearing for a few minutes, Rhys came back with a stencil.
The first 15 minutes of inking felt like an eternity. You focused on keeping your breath steady as the searing pain and the buzzing of the gun pounded your skull. You remained silent as you listened to Jake and Rhys chat on how exactly did you end up in that tattoo shop, on the last Sunday before classes started, with this crazy idea.
Jake, being his over-talkative self, started by explaining how, way back last year, he’d gotten himself an entire house right off campus, where he’d first met you during one of his infamous keggers (the next of which Rhys was totally invited to, by the way). It didn’t take long for Jake to bring you into his crew, and take you on as his next “project.” To like, get you to come out of your shell. Eventually his housemate would move out, which was a bummer, but that meant the room was wide open for you this year.
And it was yesterday morning while you were moving in, when another of Jake’s friends mentioned the new tattoo removal clinic that had opened over the summer. And you guys were curious about it, even though no one in the group had any tats. (But Jake totally would’ve tatted up by now if his dad wouldn’t disown him.)
So you volunteered to get some ink. And not just anywhere, but right on your forehead, and you’d keep it there for four weeks until you started getting laser treatments to get rid of it. Cuz you’re crazy like that.
Wait, was that really how the conversation went? You could’ve sworn it was Jake’s idea…
Jake—being in his “comfortable” financial situation—would pay for the tattoo, and then for the removal. And if you went about your college life without covering up the tat or holing up in your room while you had it, you could choose any tattoo that would stay on Jake’s ass until graduation. Sure, the whole plan sounded like something straight out of Jackass, but college is the time to do stupid shit, and maybe this shit could get you famous on Youtube or something.
You broke your silence by telling Rhys you needed a breather. The pain had been making you clench all over.
After Rhys stepped out of the space, Jake took out a pair of wireless Beats from his bag.
“Hey, champ, you did great. You’re a beast,” Jake said, flashing a mischievous grin.
“Thanks Jaker. I had no idea it was gonna hurt that much. I was afraid I was gonna move… What’s that for?” You pointed to the headphones.
“I just remembered I brought these, so maybe you should listen to that playlist you like so much… You know, to distract from the pain.”
“You mean your weird take on ‘lo-fi chill beats to study and relax to?’ Don’t get so full of yourself, I don’t like it that much, haha.”
“Woww…” Jake pulled back his wavy dark brown bangs as he feigned offense.
“That hurts, bro. You know how much of my heart and soul I put into updating my playlist… Actually, I’m not at all hurt cuz I know you’ll beg me to put it on for you, and you’re gonna love it and thank me for its healing power—”
“—OK, OK, that’s enough. Just put the headphones on me. My hands are all clammy and gross.”
“Sure thing, bro,” said Jake, with a strange twinkle in his hazel eyes.
As soon as Jake sat back down from putting the headphones on you, you saw Rhys return, donning fresh gloves. You closed your eyes as the familiar music enveloped you. It was the soundtrack of the many late nights you spent with Jake in his room. Sometimes you really did your studying to it. But other times, you’d *relax*, talking with Jake about everything and anything, but mostly you and the potential he saw in you. Listening to the playlist often took you back to the first time you’d met him, during that fateful party almost exactly a year ago.
He’d been standing out on the balcony, watching the full moon. You’d asked him what he was listening to, and with a smirk, he’d wordlessly stuck both earbuds into your ears. At first you were confused by the silence but then you picked up on the beat… And the two different voices, split between both ears:
“Trust me,” sang the left, with heavy distortion.
“Lose control,” sang the right, sounding slowed down.
“TRUST ME.”
“LOSE CONTROL.”
“TRUST ME.”
“LOSE CONTROL.” The music started to speed up.
“TRUST ME. LOSE CONTROL. TRUST ME. LOSE CONTROL…” This song always took you back… But this time, as you were listening to it in the tattoo parlor, something was different. A third voice, evenly spread to sound like it was stalking you from behind: “This is the next phase. Become the new meat.” “This is the next phase. Become the new meat.” “You are the meathead,” the voice approached closer.
“You are the meathead,” closer.
“You are the meathead,” closer.
I AM THE MEATHEAD, you replied with the whole of your being, before being awoken by a hand tapping your shoulder.
“Hey, wake up, Champ,” Jake said as he took off the headphones. “You’re all done.”
You were confused.
You’d thought the tattoo was gonna take at least an hour, but after just one song on Jake’s playlist, you were done already. At first you were tempted to feel concerned, but you remembered that Jake had said it would distract from the pain, and he was right. He was always looking out for you.
“Well,” said Rhys, handing you a mirror. “What do you think?”
You looked at your reflection. There, right in the middle of your forehead:
🍖
The meat emoji. A cylinder with two ends of a bone sticking out of it. Really? You were surprised, but relieved that it wasn’t something obscene or gross. Little did you know that it unlocked the next phase of Jake’s plans for your development…