A Collection of Elton John Fanfictions

Muscle Man

Circa 1990, England

Elton walked over to the weights and gave a long look at them. He didn't really want to work out this morning, but he knew he had to keep his schedule on track. He went to bed at 9PM last night and got plenty of hours of sleep, but he just couldn't pinpoint why he was still feeling unmotivated this morning.
He turned his head and peered out the big, open windows of his exercise room. The tips of the blades of grass were wet from the morning dew, and the grass appeared yellow from the rays of sun. A morning pigeon perched on a tree branch from his oak tree sapling he planted last year. It chirped for a little bit, then looked up at the vast, clear blue sky. Elton's eyes followed the bird's, and he met the sun with surprise.
"Damn bright sun!" He squinted and then shielded his eyes from the warm, creamy yellow rays that pierced through the window. It was too much light to take in early this morning, but it sure was beautiful outside.

After one more long stare at the pigeon on the branch, it flew away and he turned back to his weights to begin his routine. But he stopped in front the mirror beside him instead.
He gave himself a serious, brooding look.
"If only I can lose 30lbs by next week..." His arms crossed as he criticized his appearance. He feared that he would put himself to shame if he failed.
"I'm an ugly man." He muttered to himself, pulling his arms through the sleeves of his shirt and taking it off,  revealing his heavy dosage of chest hair that probably added 3lbs to his weight. His hands reached up for his chest and he touched it gently, with a sigh of despair.
He looked up at his head- which coincidentally didn't have much hair at all- and sighed.
He had come to realize that he was coming of age. But he didn't want to live a lifestyle like that. He was determined to get fit.
He rubbed his chest hair around in circles, and then moved down to his stomach, and touched himself a little more. He didn't like the body that he saw. He glanced down at his waistline and began to drown himself in self-pity.
"I wish I didn't look like this. Fuck myself." He moaned, an burning, aching feeling in his chest just to change himself. He was well aware that he would always be loved by others, no matter how much weight he gained or lost. But he craved that personal satisfaction of feeling young again and having a sexy, fit body. He was dying for that young man physique he had in his early twenties. That feeling alone that rushed through his veins gave him enough motivation now to push on. He just wouldn't let his body and passion rot in root anymore.
Elton curled his fingers under his pants and began to pull them down, feeling his legs as he dropped them to the floor.
"At least..." he shrugged, "I have good legs."
Tall and lean, his legs were very pleasing to stare at. He always thought he could wear a pair of pants damn good. Suddenly, he began to chuckle, remembering his wild past. He would wear the tightest, brightest, most colorful pants that squeezed and hugged his legs like women's nylons. He laughed some more as remembered how he would dance and thrust on top the piano until all the girls in the front row would scream and faint. He didn't care much these days about dancing, but he did feel warm and fuzzy reminiscing about it.
He picked up his pants from the floor and changed them for a pair of shorts- bright blue and white. He put his feet through the holes and slipped on the shorts carefully. He felt around his hips and waist some more, and then touched in between his legs. He just didn't understand how his body worked sometimes.

At last he finished changing and was finally ready to begin.  He stared at the weights again and almost became hesitant, but he pushed through.
He started with hand weights first to take it easy. He bend down and grabbed the handle firmly in his hands, then picked it up slowly. With another sigh, he began to pump his arm back and forth, back and forth, until he could start to feel the muscle in his arm being put to use.
Elton closed his eyes and felt his arm move deeply. The muscles down in his wrist felt tight, tense, and he felt the thick blood flow up to his biceps as he worked his arm harder. His shoulder felt bigger, his elbow felt looser. The more and more he used his arm, the more his wrist began to relax, too. He figured that the tightness in his wrist was from all the piano playing he did.
He finally stopped to crack his wrist a few times; the tension in each bone and vein being relieved instantly with each "crack". An overflow of warmth and numbness soon took over his body. His hands felt a lot better after he cracked them.