Elvis Presley Imagines

First in line.

|| Hello everybody! A little information before you begin reading: this story will start having the "neutral" pronouns again because I have seen that there are many people reading, including boys and non-binary (used as an umbrella term) people, so I do not want to seem misgendering anybody (that's so bad, I don't get people who do it on purpose) and I will include everyone, as much as I can! Second thing, this story might cross a few borders (sensitivity), so please do not be mad at me, this is done just to entertain. It will be in third person narration most of the time until the very end. Enjoy!! ||

Beverly Hills, California, 1969.

It is a sunny day in 1174 Hillcrest Road. The young man is outside, enjoying the sunlight as the fresh breeze is caressing his face. He looks around, taking a moment to admire all the little details of the house's backyard, it is his favorite part of the place he lives at: he loves to be outside, he always thinks he can be his true self only out of the walls. 

"Baby, Elvis, where you at?" A voice asks, so he turns around and looks at his wife, smiling at her. "I'm here, love..." He shows a soft smile, before slowly standing up from the deck chair and grabbing his yellow shirt, wearing it and buttoning it up. "I booked your appointment for the facelift tomorrow, are you happy?" His wife says, Elvis' smile slowly fading. "What? Why?" He asks, being slightly confused on the reason why she chose to do it. "Well... Because you're about to turn thirty-five, and I don't want my husband to look wrinkly in pictures for the press. Now, go back inside, the sun will burn your skin." She speaks again, before leaving to go to her office.

Elvis looks down at the pavement of the backyard's porch, before slowly lifting up his face to look at himself in the reflection of the window, sighing as he can not see any imperfection, then he takes a deep breath and walks inside again, going to his room and preparing the clothes he needs for the gym, which has been already booked by his spouse at 6 pm this same day. "Why..." He mumbles, before taking his bag and walking downstairs. "Hey, Lorelei... I'm goin' to the gym, I should be back by-" He begins, but the woman stops him. "Not later than 8 pm." She slams the door to her office, leaving him speechless as he goes outside, his stomach growling. 

The man holds a hand on it while he walks to the building, looking around and seeing all the couples sharing kisses, or sharing a burger... he has to stay fit, slim and not touch anything that can make him gain weight. Elvis sighs again, finally entering the tall building that has all those weird-looking machines that scare him every time. He walks to the changing rooms and takes off his black boots, his trousers and his yellow shirt, leaving them on the rack. He feels uncomfortable around other men, because their bodies are in perfect shape. Him... he has an underweight body. The man slips on his blue shorts and a plain white t-shirt, before sitting down on the little bench and wearing his sporty shoes. "Ready to go..." He whispers, before standing up and walking to the main room, exercising as he always does. 

After a hour and a half, already changed, he walks to the little bar that is on the corner of the main room. "Hey, Elvis... the usual?" The bartender asks, looking at the other. "No, Y/N... just water please. My wife wants me to look fit..." Elvis replies, looking down and holding his stomach, which is growling louder than before. "Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?" They ask, and Elvis quickly shakes his head. "No- no... I've got a surgery tomorrow, I can't eat anythin' that has sugar..." The bartender looks down, then back at the man. "I mean, I'm sure it will not do anything-" They begin, but Elvis interrupts them: "Don't you understand? I'm not allowed! I can't gain weight!!" He says before finally leaving the room, running back home. He checks his watch: 7:30 pm. 'I'm on time, phew.' He thinks, entering the house.

It is dinner time, so his wife is waiting for him at the dining room table. "Elvis! There you are." Elvis sighs as he hears his spouse's voice, he clearly does not want to be there, yet he has no way out. The man goes to the dinner table and sits down. In front of his wife there are four plates of food, of all kinds. While, in front of him... nothing. Once again, he has to starve himself. "Baby... I was wonderin'... what d'you think if I joined a volunteerin' company? I mean, the dogs' shelter, for example..." He politely asks, keeping his head bowed down in fear while looking at Lorelei from the corner of his eyes. "What? Elvis, are you nuts?" She asks, burping out loud, invading the room with the smell of onions, making Elvis almost puke. "People like you shouldn't be doing that. Getting dirty and such... you should only sleep, be pretty, go to the gym, get facelifts, repeat. And, before you can say anything, I already booked you a hair transplant on Monday." This sentence makes Elvis' eyes widen. "But- but my hair is healthy... what do I need a hair transplant for, Lorelei?" He frowns, pouting as well. "Ding ding, you're going to be thirty-five, does it ring any bell to you?" Elvis sighs once again, looking down, trying to cope with his stomach growling like crazy.