Chia Pet Hell

1

Chia Pet Hell

By Tam

Xavier woke up to a pounding headache. He didn’t even open his eyes. What the hell had he done last night? How much had he drunk? He lay there for a moment. At least it didn’t seem light out yet. He thought he had to be on the photo shoot on the beach at 8:00, maybe he’d have time to recover. The booze down here in Guatemala seemed to pack a vicious punch. He never got this hammered, especially not when was working. He groaned and shifted. He suddenly realized he was not on a bed, wherever he was lying was rock hard. Oh god, please don’t let him be passed out in the gutter. His agent would kill him if that got out to the media. If he ever wanted to work for A la Mode magazine again, he’d better not be in the street. But it was quiet, so not likely the gutter. Why couldn’t he open his eyes? He moved his hand around. Hard and smooth, not rough like the street and it seemed clean. Okay, that’s good. Maybe he passed out in his hotel? No that was all carpeted. Someone else’s place then. He must have gotten drunk and picked someone up. Please, please, please, let him have used a condom. He couldn’t remember having sex, but then he didn’t remember anything after leaving the restaurant last night. He wiggled his hips. His ass didn’t hurt, that was a good sign. Or not, depending on your point of view he guessed. He took a deep breath and tried to open his eyes. Shit, what was wrong with them? He lifted a hand to his face and realized there was something tied over his eyes. Oh crap. BDSM? That was so not his thing. What had he done? What if he was in some guy’s dungeon? Oh god oh god oh god. Maybe he was a slave; he’d have to do weird shit like kneel at some guy’s feet all day naked. He was never drinking again. He reached under his head to untie the blindfold and winced as his fingers touched a huge lump at the base of his skull. Okay, maybe that explained the not remembering. He didn’t feel sick to his stomach like he usually did when he was hungover. Did he fall, hit his head and was at the hospital? No, a hospital wouldn’t blindfold him and there’d be a bed. It also occurred to him with a flash that he was naked. The dungeon idea seemed to be getting more and more of a realistic option. He slowly opened his eyes and looked up. All he could see was green leaves, like he was in the jungle. He blinked a few times to focus and slowly sat up. He seemed to be in a large circular greenhouse. The glass panels were almost entirely obscured by plants, there were huge palm trees with leaves nearly covering the ceiling and tall ferns and vines lower down and shelves running all around with plants on them. All he could see through what space remained was a web of metal covering the glass and more green beyond that. Was there a botanical garden in San José? No way. It was just a dinky little tourist town full of hotels. There wasn’t anything like that. The floor was dark brown tiles, which explained the hardness. He slowly got to his feet and grabbed the nearby shelf as a wave of dizziness hit him. Damn, he must have really taken a knock on the head. He could tell it was daylight, the light was strong outside, but it was cool and shaded in the greenhouse. It smelled damp and green, like plants, which he supposed made sense. He had definitely missed the photo shoot. Carmen was going to kill him. Maybe he could explain.

He looked around; there was a metal door to his left and besides a small table and a sink the room was nothing but plants. He made his way cautiously to the door and tried the handle. Locked. He may not be the smartest supermodel in the world, but he pretty much knew he was fucked. He started to have a closer look around hoping to find something he could use to escape. He looked on the shelves and realized that they weren’t potted plants, they were all chia pets. What the hell? He’d had one of those as a kid, they never grew properly but these seemed to be thriving. He looked closer. Was that a Hitler chia pet? Oh my god, it had a plant moustache. That had to be Elvis, look at those side burns. Certainly not when he was in his prime, he snorted to himself. He continued along the row. Ohhh, those delicious lips, had to be Jim Morrison given all that hair it had going on. No way, Ronald Regan? Where did they get all these? Must have been ebay. You could find all kinds of weird shit on there. He was pretty impressed by how lifelike they looked. Oh look, that woman had a crown, had to be Princess Diana. He nearly laughed. Definitely John Lennon with the glasses. Oh shit, Michael Jackson post nose-surgery. There were several other faces he didn’t recognize and the only animal, a cat seemed particularly large compared to the others and it had a healthy growth of greenery on it. He reached up to touch it but something made him pull back. Okay, he was trying to get out of whatever weird chia pet hell he was in, he wasn’t here to admire the scenery. He once again started looking for a weapon or something to get him out. He heard the lock turning on the door. He looked around frantically. There was no where to hide. Crouching under the table wouldn’t help and there was nothing he could do but stand there and watch as the door opened. Maybe he could overpower them? The door swung outward and Xavier’s eyes widened even more. Into the greenhouse strode a tall muscular man who locked the door behind him with a key he put in his pocket. He must have been 6’4” and had shoulders like a linebacker. His eyes were dark, almost black and he had a neatly trimmed moustache. Xavier figured he must be Guatemalan. He had dark hair cut super short like the military and was completely dressed in black. Oh no. Maybe he’d been kidnapped by some kind of renegade rebels. But maybe they’d ransom him. Carmen would pay to get him back? Wouldn’t she? She got 20% of everything he made and he was at the top of the modeling game in Europe and the US, she’d pay. The man smiled broadly at him. “Beunas dias Señor Gibson. ¿Cómo estás?” Xavier merely stood there staring at him. “Tú no hablas español Señor Gibson? Xavier wasn’t exactly sure what he was saying. Oh he knew beunas dias and even cómo estás. He could even say una cerveza, por favor but that was about it. Oh yeah and adiós

and asta la vista thanks to Arnold Schwazenegger. What did one say to your captor anyway? “Ah Señor Gibson. You disappoint me. I thought perhaps you were more intelligent than your pretty face would predict.” He ran his gaze down Xavier’s naked form. “Perhaps not just a pretty face either,” he paused “although you are really not my type.” Xavier wasn’t sure whether he was relieved to hear that or not. Finally he licked his lips and sputtered out, “Who are you? You better let me go because Carmen will kick your ass when she finds you.” The guy threw back his head and laughed. “I am uncertain who Carmen is, but I highly doubt she can kick my ass as you quaint Americans put it.” Oh, this guy had never seen Carmen when she thought she might not be getting her 20%. She was like a pitbull on crack. He lived in fear of the woman and she was only 4’11”. “As to whom I am, you may call me Carlos. I am the man who will make you immortal.” Xavier wrinkled his brow. He was already thirty feet tall looking over Times Square in his skivvies. He WAS immortal. Was this guy with a rival modeling agency? “You look confused señor. Have no fear I will explain. But first I will have someone bring you something to eat and allow you to use the facilities.” “Where are my clothes?” “Oh, you’ll have no need of those soon, no one here,” he waved his hand grandly around the greenhouse, “has need of clothes. Don’t you see?” Xavier thought he must have been hit harder on the head than he thought or the guy was on drugs. There were lots of drugs in Central and South America. Maybe he was hopped up on something. Maybe when he came down he’d let him go. “I can get you money.” He blurted out. “Lots of money. I’m rich and Carmen will pay to get me back.” “Ah, the adorable Carmen. I must meet her some day. But no, I have no need of your money. I have all the money I need to keep me happy for many decades to come.” He backed toward the door. “Someone will be along shortly. Never fear Señor Gibson. You will appreciate everything I am doing when you fully understand.” What the hell? Appreciate being held naked and hostage in a freaking greenhouse? There wasn’t even a bathroom. He heard the key again and the door opened. Two large men also dressed in black, but looking a hell of a lot meaner than Carlos, came in. One immediately crossed the room and grabbed his arms handcuffing them behind his back. The other set some kind of tortilla wrapped sandwich on a paper plate and a plastic bottle of water on the table. “Vamos!” the guy holding his arms growled.

Vamoose? Isn’t that what cartoon characters said? He stood staring at the guard who finally yanked on his arm and yelled “Caminar!” He still had no clue what that meant exactly but he clued in and stumbled after the guard out the door. There was a long hallway and about ten feet down the guard opened the door to a small bathroom and shoved him inside. Xavier looked back and wiggled his arms “Hey! Take these off. How am I supposed to do anything handcuffed? And you are not holding my dick.” The guy muttered some more in Spanish and the door slammed in his face and he heard the lock turning. There was no window in the small bathroom, simply a toilet, a small shower and a sink. He sighed and resigned himself to sitting. He finished and tried to wash his hands and stick his head under the tap but it was difficult to manage with his hands behind his back and he realized he’d never get any paper to dry off. He was standing there with his face dripping when the guard opened the door again. “Carajo!” He grabbed Xavier by one arm and grabbed some paper towels with his other hand and wiped his face. “Hey, hey, easy. That face earns me money.” The guard grabbed his arm again and dragged him back to the greenhouse. He undid the handcuffs just inside the door and pushed him across the room before he could try to escape and slammed the door. He heard the key in the lock. He sighed and looked at the food on the table. He was tempted to toss it just to be contrary but if he wanted to get out of here he was going to need to keep his strength up. He carefully opened the sandwich to see what was in it. Ewwww. Guacamole. Ugh. It was green. He did not eat green food. But he was starving and there really wasn’t anything to scrape it off with. He closed his eyes, held his breath and took a bite. Okay, not bad, he could do this and not throw up. As he went to take a drink of his water he heard a thump behind him and spun around. Holy shit! There was a gorgeous naked guy standing there. He screamed, like an eight year old girl at a Justin Bieber concert, and leapt back. He knocked over the water and quickly whirled to pick it up. He knew better than to drink tap water in South America. He’d learned that the hard way on his first international shoot. He straightened the bottle and turned back. “How the hell did you get in here?” He hadn’t heard the door open and there was no way the guy was hiding. He was gorgeous though. He was tall and thin but with long beautiful muscles. His skin was a gorgeous dark brown and you’d think he’d have dark brown eyes but they were the color of whiskey. His hair was cut super short. Maybe he was a model too. No, his nose was a bit too wide for commercial modeling and his eyes maybe a bit too almond shaped. Agencies wouldn’t like that. But that mouth, wow, that was a thing of beauty. Were there lip models? He didn’t think so. It was perfect though.

He blinked and pulled his focus back to the situation at hand. “Who are you?” The guy seemed to swallow a couple of times and waved his hand towards the water bottle. Xavier didn’t want to be a bitch and hoard but it was all he had. He finally sighed and handed the guy the water. “Don’t drink it all. It’s all we’ve got and I have no idea when Heckle and Jeckle will come back with more.” The guy took a few swallows and sighed. “Their names are Alejandro and Jesus.” “Yeah thanks, but somehow I don’t think I’m going to be hanging with them socially.” He rolled his eyes. “Who are you? And how did you get in here?” “I’m Donovan Stewart.” He had the most amazing British accent. Xavier was always a sucker for a guy with an accent. Xavier wrinkled his brow. The name sounded familiar, he thought for a minute and remembered. “No way. Donovan Stewart died in a boating accident six months ago. Right after the Olympics.” The guy grimaced. “Really? That’s what they said? Well, obviously not.” Xavier’s eyes got wide. “Holy shit! Did he kidnap you too? Oh my god, do my family and Carmen think I’m dead?” Donovan shrugged. “I don’t know. I presume eventually they’ll assume you’re dead. Everyone else in here is assumed dead.” What? Everyone else who? They were alone. “Ummm. Are you on drugs too? Is there something in the water? Oh shit, have I been poisoned?” Donovan sighed. “No, I’m not on drugs, I never used drugs. Carlos will explain.” “No no, you will explain. Who the hell is this Carlos guy? Is he the leader of some kind of rebel group?” “First, who are you? I heard him call you Señor Gibson, but who are you? Why are you here?” Xavier looked at him stunned. Who was he? Everyone knew who he was. “Xavier Gibson? The model? Biggest thing since Cindy Crawford but with smaller boobs and a nicer ass?” Donovan simply raised an eye brow. Xavier sighed. Lord save him from the pop culturally ignorant. “I guess that explains it then. Carlos likes to collect the best of the best.” “What? The best of the best chia pets? Does he have a direct line to ebay? He must one hell of a buyer rating looking at all these things.”

“Don’t you think they all look familiar?” “Well yeah. I’d seen the Obama ones after the election but I have to say Hitler and Elvis are original.” “You don’t think there might be something in common with them all?” “Ummm, they’re all heads? Hey, where did that cat one go? Okay, there was a cat, maybe they took it out when I was in the bathroom. It was cute.” Donovan rolled his eyes. “Amelia Earhart, Elvis, Hitler, Jimmy Hoffa, Michael Jackson, Princess Diana, John Lennon …” he went around the room pointing. “Do the words conspiracy theory mean nothing to you?” “They mean Carlos is seriously unhinged?” “Well yeah, but let’s just say, maybe the conspiracy theorists are a bit more accurate than everyone gives them credit for.” Xavier’s stared. “No way! Are you saying Carlos killed them all? He wouldn’t even have been born when Hitler died.” Donovan nodded. “Mmmhmmm.” “I call bull shit. That isn’t possible. Hey, how did you get in here? There was no where to hide.” “What did you say is missing?” “The chia cat.” He paused. “I call double bull shit because there is no way you are a chia pet. I think I can tell the difference between a smokin’ hot naked guy and a chia pet.” Donovan looked him up and down and licked his lips. Oh yeah, that did it for Xavier. Wait, he was kidnapped and stuck with a crazy man, now was not the time. Okay, a crazy hot man who just happened to be an Olympic marathon gold medal winner, with abs to die for and gorgeous eyes. But still, a crazy sexy guy. He heard the keys in the door and whirled around. Carlos entered and he turned to see what Donovan was doing and found nothing but the chia cat sitting on the floor behind him. What the fuck! No freaking way. Uh uh. The food must have been drugged, or he was crazy. Wait, maybe it was a dream. “Well Señor Gibson. I hope that you are feeling better now after your meal.” He saw the cat sitting on the floor. “Ah, I see you have been looking at my collection. He gently picked it up and put it back on the shelf. “Please be careful however, my collection is very rare and one of a kind, they can not be replaced. You can not be replaced.”

“Don’t bet on it. Carmen will find the next big thing in a second if I don’t come back.” He laughed. “But you are unique.” He walked around Xavier and stroked his hair. He’d been letting it grow and it was chin length now and Carmen had made him get those auburn streaks in it. He thought I looked pretty damn hot. But this guy touching him like that was giving him the creeps and he shuddered. “You’re eyes are a very unusual color.” What could he say? He’d inherited them from his mother. They were a weird shade of pale green. He’d hated them as a kid but he found out they came in handy in modeling, especially after he had his nose shaved down. “I think you will be a great addition to my collection.” Xavier took a step back. He wasn’t sure what that meant but he was pretty sure it meant not getting the hell out of here. “I will explain now.” Carlos said with a flourish of his hand. Oh yay. He nearly rolled his eyes but didn’t want to antagonize the man. His need for self-preservation over-rode his need for intense sarcasm usage. “I first came to Central America, to Guatemala now, in 1763.” Okay, Xavier rolled his eyes at that. The guy was seriously whack. “You don’t believe me.” Carlos tsked. “It matters not, you will see.” He started pacing. Xavier eyed the chia cat on the shelf but it hadn’t moved. He must be going crazy himself. “I met a Mayan priest who had harnessed the cyclical nature of time.” He heard Xavier snort. “You may not believe now, but it is true. He had been alive for centuries and through human sacrifice had managed to keep moving forward in time, however he was starting to weaken and he chose to pass those secrets on to an apprentice. I wasn’t exactly an apprentice but let’s just say, he didn’t complain when I explained the alternative.” Xavier could believe that. The guy was a psychopath and being in the modeling business he’d met a few in his day. “I was content with accumulating wealth and enjoying life for many decades and then in the early 1900’s I got bored with that and I remembered the small clay sculptures that the priest had used for growing greenery. Looking at the documents he left me I found that he had been able to turn humans into these beautiful oddities,” he waved his arm around the room, “and I decided to follow in his footsteps.” Xavier couldn’t hold back. “No freaking way. The Maya did not invent chia pets!” Carlos laughed. “Oh my friend you are so amusing. Of course they did, I did mange to sell the idea to several companies and profited handsomely from it, but that was not my

main goal. I started to collect those that I admired, those who made great strides, even if controversial, in moving the world forward.” “Michael Jackson? Seriously? What was his stride? Excessive plastic surgery? Pedophilia? “Ah now Señor Gibson, that was never proven. He was a musical genius.” Xavier snorted. Yeah, and OJ was found innocent. Everyone knew how that worked in the US. He did have to grudgingly admit that Thriller was a great album. “So I have learned, that over a period of seven days, using the formula devised by the priest, I can turn humans into life-like chia pets. You are to be next. You will forever be immortal next to greats like the beautiful Princess Diana and your fine President, Ronald Regan.” “What are you going to do? Cut my head off and shrink it down like the tribes in the Amazon?” “Of course not. That is very messy. There is a series of prayers I will say along with some herbs you will ingest.” Xaver shifted uncomfortably, okay, it was better than having his head cut off, but herbs? Oh god, the guacamole. Could he go seven days without eating? Would Heckle and Jeckle force it down his throat. What had Donovan said? Alejandro and Jesus? Wait, “What about that cat? Are you collecting animals too?” Carlos frowned. “No, something went wrong there. It should not look like that but don’t worry. I am quite sure you will look as beautiful in clay as you do in life.” “Gee thanks.” He muttered. “I must go. Someone will be back later with more food and to take you to the facilities.” He swept out of the room and locked the door. He walked across to the shelf and was examining the chia cat up close when suddenly there was a shimmer and - whoof - he was knocked onto his back with an armful of gorgeous man. Donovan pushed up a bit blinking and looked a bit stunned. “Um, sorry.” Xavier coughed. “Yeah, no problem.” He could feel Donovan’s dick against his hip and involutarily pushed up against it. Oh shit, not only was he about to die, but he appeared to be a total slut while doing it.

Donovan gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. He cleared his throat attempting to untangle his legs and get up and turned his back on Xavier and appeared to be taking deep breaths. Xavier looked down and saw his prick starting to wave hello. Modeling might not teach you a lot of useful skills, but he had developed the technique of quashing a boner on demand pretty much. Nothing worse than ruining a shoot with a woody. He focused for a minute on dead baby ducks and voila, gone. But my, Donovan did have a divine ass. “Would you mind explaining to me why you can leap off the shelf but Jimmy Hoffa is stuck in cement, I mean clay, shoes?” He heaved his shoulders and turned around. “I’m a shifter.” Xavier just stared at him. “You know, like in movies, werewolves, etc.” No response. “Hello, are you alive man? Brain damaged? I know you’re a model and everything but you did seem capable of speech.” Xavier blinked. “Hey! Low blow. You’re a werewolf?” He screwed up his nose. “No. I’m a cheetah, well a cheetah shifter and no, I don’t change when there’s a full moon.” “As an elite athelete, isn’t that kind of cheating?” “I don’t turn into one during a marathon. I think someone would notice that. It’s not like I can help it, it just is. Not my fault.” “Hmmm.” Xavier looked sceptical. “Can we save the ethical discussions about my career for another day. We need to get out of here.” “Why don’t you just change into a cheetah and attack Carlos. Easy peasy.” “I can’t. Whatever he did to me only lets me change into a chia pet now.” “Oh that’s got to be useful.” “Shut up! There’s two of us now, so when he comes back we can jump him or the guards.”

“I hate to break it to you Donovan, but I’m a model, I’m a lover, not a figher, yada yada. Have you seen how big those guys are?” “You can hit them over the head.” “With what?” “I don’t know? Hitler? He was an arsehole. Ronald Regan?” “But then they’ll be dead.” “They are dead! You’re not very bright are you? It’s not like they can come back and Hilter would be a hundred years old or something. So he’d be dead anyway.” He chewed on his lip. “Okay, I’ll try but if this goes to shit and I end up getting my nose broken Carmen will make your life a living hell. I paid a fortune for this nose.” Donovan cocked his head and looked at his face. “It’s a lovely nose. But if we don’t get out of here it will be forever imortalized in clay. You up for that?” “No.” He looked down. Donovan had a point. They sat on the floor talking after moving the table over and placing some of the chia pets on it. Xavier made sure they were those he felt worthy of being smashed, not Princess Diana. Never. Every now and then he found his hand on Donovan’s thigh as they talked or he would touch his arm to make a point. Xavier knew he was touchy feely but Donovan didn’t freak out and move away so he figured maybe he had a chance. Yep, super slut. Let’s think about sex in the face of death. Oh wait, he thought he read somewhere that was normal response to stress. That’s good then, maybe they’d have time for a quickie? Just as he prepared to make the suggestion to Donovan, they heard a noise outside the door and they quickly took up their positions on either side. Hitler and Michael Jackson poised over their heads. The guards came in, one carrying another meal and the other with the handcuffs ready. They looked around briefly and then saw Donovan and Xavier with their raised chia pets. The guard looking at Donovan completely froze and Dovonvan brought Hitler down with a crack. The guard went down, still with a stunned look on his face, and the chia pet burst into dust. Donovan looked up to see Xavier having significantly more trouble trying to bash the guard with Michael Jackson. The guard had him by his arm and was trying to wrestle the chia pet away. Donovan shook his head, grabbed Jimmy Hoffa and bashed the guard on the head. He too went down. Xavier was about to bean him again with Michael Jackson but Donovan grabbed his arm. “No need to go overboard.”

Xavier was panting, the adrenalin racing through his body. He couldn’t help it, he grabbed Donovan and laid a wet one on him. Donovan froze for a moment then kissed him back. Oh damn, this was good. Xavier hadn’t been with anyone for weeks, he supposed longer for Donovan who’d been missing for months. Just when he started thinking maybe there’d be a happy ending to this little clinch he heard one of the guards moaning. He pulled back and looked down, then looked at Michael Jackson. “Can I?” Donovan sigh dramatically. “Go ahead mate, have at it.” Xavier brought the statue down on the guards head, gave a satisfied grunt and dusted off his hands. They manoevered the two guards over near the sink and managed to handcuff them together around one of the pipes. Unless they could get free no one would find them until they checked on Xavier. They grabbed the keys and locked the door on their way out. “We have to find something to wear.” Hissed Donovan. They started down the hallway and tried the different doors. While Donovan took a quick stop in the toilet, Xavier kept quietly opening doors. He found something that looked like a locker room and waved Donovan down. There were several comoflage uniforms hanging on hooks. “Put these on. Quick. We might not have much time.” “Camo? No way. I am not wearing camo. It’s so not in this season.” “Xavier, I will so kick your arse if you don’t put on those clothes. Or better yet I’ll leave you here. I’m sure your hair will look great curly and green.” “Fine.” He pulled on the clothes which were not his size, they looked like flood pants and muttered “I was hoping you’d do something else to my arse.” “I’ll do that too if we get out of here alive.” They found some boots and grasping the keys made their way further down the corridor. Finally there was a door leading outside and parked right outside was a jeep. No freaking way, it couldn’t that easy could it? They quietly opened the door only to have an alarm suddenly start screaming. Shit! They made a dash for the jeep where amazingly the keys were in the ignition. Donovan leapt in the passenger side. “You drive!” “Me! Why me?” “Because the steering wheel is on the wrong bloody side. Just drive!” Xavier got in and took off. He had only driven a standard a few times and he was sure he’d have whiplash before this was over but there seemed to be only one road leading out so he floored it.

Behind them they heard a roar even over the sound of the engine and then the sound of breaking glass. Oh oh, looked like Carlos was pissed. He must have really been a Jackson fan. There didn’t seem to be anyone following them and eventually they reached a highway. The sign said they were about 200 kilometres from San José. Xavier didn’t know how far that was but he didn’t care. It was freedom. “How do you plan on explaining this?” he asked Donovan. He shrugged. “I guess I’ll just say I was kidnapped and then you were kidnapped. Really, if you tell anyone about the shifter thing they’ll think you’re mad you know.” He raised his eyebrows at Xavier. “Yeah whatever. You can’t shift now anyway.” “True. That sucks.” “I imagine it does.” “It’s going to take forever for me to contact the Embassy and get a passport and stuff.” Xavier looked over and grinned. “I have a really large hotel room?” “Big enough for two people? Are you sure the bed is big enough?” Donovan was grinning just as widely. “Oh yeah. I think it will be just the right size.” Donovan reached over and gave his thigh a squeeze. Xavier grimaced and flipped his hair back. “I just pray to god no one takes my picture in these clothes. I’ll never live it down that I wore camoflage after 2008.” Donovan laughed. “You are going to be quite the princess aren’t you.” Xavier winked. “You have no idea, but it will be so worth your while.” He made a lewd motion with his tongue. “I think it most definitely will.”