violent Fistfight stories: Josh vs Adrien Brody part 1

[Mack33]

Hey folks didn't have much luck getting a response to my stories on Tumblr, think it's more visual.  Hope you like it, will post the conclusion soon.  Let me know what celebs you want to see in my fistfights.

 

Josh was fuming as he called for a set break. Fuck! This music video he was directing had become a nightmare since Adrien Brody had horned in.  The tall lanky actor, insecure about his relationship with his model girlfriend Monica, had shown up on set and kept interrupting with unsolicited advice – like he knows anything about fucking music videos .  He was also staring daggers at Jet, the band’s lead singer who is the object of Monica’s affection in the video.  Jet was a sensitive soul and was intimidated by the actor who was half a foot taller and ripped from honing his body for another Predator sequel.  Brody, in a tight black tee, would stand with his burning gaze just to the right of Josh’s camera, his long muscled arms folded over his chest.  Jet’s concentration was shot and the takes Josh filmed were useless, hence his call for a break.

 

Josh hit the can and glanced in the washroom’s mirror as he washed his hands.  You look, stressed, kid, he thought, gonna have to have a motherfucker of a workout to forget about this day. His hairy lean forearms rippled as he quickly lathered and rinsed in the sink.  The gym was his release from the pressures of the Hollywood rat race and he never missed getting his pump on.  “POW!” he sneered, as he snapped his arms up into an impressive double biceps, his baseball sized peaks stretching his Black Flag t-shirt’s sleeves.  Fucking jacked!  Some cocky flexing always went a long way to boosting his confidence. Josh knew Brody got pumped for his movie over 3 months with a million dollar personal trainer, but he’d be back to his regular diet of booze, cigarettes and cocaine the day filming wrapped on the shirtless scenes. For Josh though, fitness was an obsession, and a necessary way to manage his volatile temper.  His ferocity in the gym was legendary, and he had the respect of the muscleheads at his hard-core gym even though the place had dumbbells that weighed more than his 145 lbs.

 

Recharged, Josh left the washroom and made his way down the hall back to the studio.  When he turned into the next hall, he saw Brody had Jet cornered by the fire exit. Brody pressed up against the wall, a hand on either side of Jet’s head as the slightly built singer tried to flatten himself backward.  Josh could see Jet was trembling. “I don’t want to see you even looking at her, you hear me punk?”  Jet burbled something incomprehensible as he tried to avoid Brody’s malevolent stare only to find himself gawping at the brooding star’s flared triceps. Josh shook his head.  You clueless moron.  Josh knew that Jet was gay and he was far more likely to stare at the pale skinned, dark haired hunk than his girlfriend.  In fact he was probably speechless being this close to Brody, in this position, the short sleeves of his black tee rode up, exposing the curve of his rounded delts and tufts of black pit hair.  Given that they had all just been sweating under hot studio lights, Josh knew Jet – such an armpit whore – was probably weak in the knees from Brody’s man stench.

 

Easy Joshie, deep breaths.  As he approached the pair, Josh tried to control his temper. He was still trying to make a career in LA and flipping out on a Hollywood star was the last thing he needed.  “Okay folks, back to the set.” He announced in non-chalant fashion to the hallway, as if it was filled with crew.  With relief he saw Brody turn away.  He turned himself to reach for the studio door but froze when he heard the tall star sneer: “Just fucking remember what I said, faggot.”

 

Turning back, Josh slowly shook his head and rubbed his stubble-bearded jaw. “Aw. You really shouldn’t have said that, asshole.”

 

Brody looked down on the much shorter director and laughed derisively. “Yeah, squirt? And what are you gonna do about it?”

 

Josh looked up into the actor’s eyes with a cold, deliberate glare, then spread his lean muscled arms wide, only to snap them closed like the jaws of a steel trap. Brody cried out painfully as strong hands clamped onto his arms just above the elbow, forcing them into his flanks. Josh’s delts bulged menacingly as he raised the lanky actor into the air.  Brody gaped in disbelief as he felt his feet leave the floor.

 

“Guess you’re about to find out, prick.”