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Freaker2

I Must Die

1A1

It was 2 weeks ago when my whole world changed. It started in the middle of a dimly lit area of my gym's car park. When I collided with a huge, handsome, pumped muscular man. I was leaving gym after my usual 4 times a week 2-hour workout that I perform almost ritualistically and as regular as clockwork. Am I addicted to bodybuilding? Well, I guess I am addicted to bodybuilding. But who wouldn't when you get to enjoy the results as I do.

At first I only caught a glimpse of him as he walked towards me through the darkness to an also dark area where my car was. It must have been the way he walked (given there was just enough light) to see he was huge and 100% prime lean A-grade pumped muscle. Yeah. I could tell. It was obvious, given my considerable experience that his legs were really pumped, and for just a moment I had to look away to avoid stepping into a dark pot hole. Then, suddenly, he was on top of me. And he baulked first as if he hadn't seen me. But I was sure he could see me.

"Sorry", he says in a deep yet teenage voice, and compliments me. "I can see you have a good pump going. You did arms and chest, hey"? ..."Yeah, I did", I say noticing how pumped my Pecs and biceps actually feel. Then, for what seemed a long moment he just stares at my body as my eyes adjust to the darkness. Suddenly I can see just how truly massive he is, under his tight fitting long sleeve t-shirt as he just stands there as I adjust to this unprecedented reality. Time and space then seem to warp to fit the whole of his huge massive body into view. Then I feel myself falling. It's like his mass has created a weird gravity well sucking me in. AND HE KNOWS. 

"So what do you think of my Muscular Development", he asks almost coyly? But I'm simply frozen in total awe because on the one the one hand, one of my calloused muscular paws from lifting dumbbells, I didn't know where this extremely hot young handsome bodybuilder came from or where this encounter is going. And on the other of my strong muscular hands, I very much instantly loved what I was staring at. Naturally I wanted him to stay where he was and didn't care about where he came from. I just wanted to keep staring at him.

"But hey! How can you tell"? And continues, "When I have all these clothes on"? Suddenly I could tell he was acting coy, and I finally realise he's as big or bigger than Ronnie Coleman (my standard reference bodybuilder). Even at Ronnie's absolute peak muscular development. Then what was left of his modesty evapourates when he smirks, and looks down at his Pecs. Then starts looking at them one side at a time. And he does it several times before hitting a quick most muscular pose with flashes of distant light from his brilliant white perfect teeth set in a very friendly, even inviting smile. He then transitions into a Lats' spread and finally inflates his huge chest. I stand and stare and hear the loudest ever in-rush of air through pursed lips ever. Immediately I need to kiss those lips. To kiss him as I look up into his ultra clean nostrils momentarily lit by a distant car's headlight. It's the most astounding Lats' spread I have ever witnessed. And his arm pits are huge. I could probably fit my entire head inside each of them. And even in the dark, wearing a tight fitting t-shirt, I can see way too much for my brain to handle as his magnificent body tests my ability to contain my lust flushed as it already was from my erogenous post workout pump.

My "known" strong heart is being tested by my watching his inflated chest continue to inflate. It's a huge turn-on for me, and as his chest continues to inflate I can hear his t-shirt slowly, little bit by little bit starting to rip. Suddenly 2 louder rips when he sucks in 2 quick gulps of air. I can tell by those sounds where the stitching has just ripped as I stare at what must be a 65 inch chest packed with muscle stretching his t-shirt way beyond its limits. And the fabric becomes pleated as it stretch inside his arm pits! Yet as it stretches it also hangs loose like a curtain from his Pecs and covers his Abs. But it also rides up enough I can see his lower waist is so waspish the sight of it makes me stagger in disbelief. I mutter, "You're not real", just before my legs go weak, and I think "How can I be afraid of him? He's either not real or he's as huge as a Mr. Olympia, if not bigger and he's looking at me. He obviously has come to meet me".

Then I become completely fascinated by his sexy handsome smirk. A smirk that shouts "I'm a friend", and I have no choice. I involuntarily surrender to him - without a second thought.

I mean his face is so masculine and it oozes egalitarian friendliness. And he also exudes normality - even here in the dark! But my timidity holds me back as he proudly rotates his torso and displays his amazing Lats development. They move from side to side, and into my face. This helps my timidy disappear. So when he verbally invites me to feel his Pecs my hands go for it. I reach out and grab the extreme sides of his Pecs. I cup them with both palms and squeeze hard. Instantly I faint when it hits me. His Pecs are so hard and solid, yet I know he isn't flexing!

When I wake he's kissing me. Sucking and massaging my tongue and holding me up by my Lats. My feet off the ground, and as my eyes widen he stops, smiles, and asks, "Feeling better"? I start blinking and he says, "Watch this", and when my feet touch the ground and I stagger at first, he re-supports me until I regain enough composure, and starts grunting as he hits a most muscular pose. Flexing and reflexing and smiling and staring into my eyes as he bites his lower lip as he flexes.

Then he pokes out his pink tongue, just a fraction, making me want to suck that tongue. But I think how can I? Compared to this marvel of muscular magnificence, I'm just an old man. Well, 50 actually. But hey! I still look 35, so people say, with a body fat less than 8%. So maybe he thinks I'm under 30 because it is pretty dark around here?

Whatever he thinks about me he lifts his tight long-sleeved tee-shirt over his head. Then gets stuck. This exposes his amazing Abs. And they are absolutely stunning. Protruding deeply forward with cleavages. It's a 6 Pack! No! An 8 Pack after I do a double take. And he starts to struggle. Or is he acting? So I'm about to lend a hand when I'm shocked by another louder sudden tearing sound. It distracts my gaze from his incredibly narrow waist up to his armpits. "Darn, I did it again" he mutters behind the fabric covering his face. "Oh well", he says and inflates his chest some more. Then there is another tear. And it really scares me because his shirt almost completely disintegrates and releases mounds of thick and very solid shoulder and Pec muscle that bursts from their confinement. As does his face. And his chest now seems like 70 inches.

"I expect you like what you see", is he says with a big smile? "I hope you do", he adds. But his torso is still constrained by a short sleeve tee shirt. It remains in place! But it doesn't stop him. He immediately hits a magnificent double biceps pose. And it forces his short sleeves to ride up his biceps into his huge Deltoids, and he stares at his left arm and gives it an extra flex. That instantly tears it as well. And allows his biceps to reveal their final peak. Making my eyes light up and so wide they could pop.

"Look at your arms", I blurt out. "They have to be at least 26 inches". And he then adds, in a matter of fact voice, "And my biceps are not even pumped like yours, my friend", and he kisses his peak with a loud self-indulgent, and clearly self-satisfying suck. Making a deliberate pop that matches the complete naturalness of his self indulgence. And that really made my heart skip several beats before it started to pound. And pound so hard my gym-pumped arms and Pecs started to feel like they might explode, and he turns his head and just "pops" his left sleeve the same way and the pump in my arms instantly doubles! And my heart feels like its about to burst out of my chest as he stands there facing me, almost pressing himself into me. Looking side to side at his arms, "I love my arms", and sucks and kisses them as if he knows that sort of self worship turns me on. As it does.

He then gazes into my eyes and I realise I'm about to faint again! But somehow I manage to shake my head, deliberately, and instead take a long deep breath and realise I've just inflated my chest too. This really makes him smile, and I suddenly realise I've inflated my 49 inch chest reflexively, without even thinking. Because I feel so simpatico with this young muscle God who exudes a massive and relaxed confidence I've never seen before. So suddenly feel both excited and in control. And I find this situation both impossible and totally real.

"But who wouldn't love those arms", I ask myself as this incredibly young yet muscularly mature boyish man continues to kiss each of his biceps' peaks proudly, confidently while exaggerating the sucking sounds as his self-loving lips pop off the top of his high-rising biceps' peak making them darken in the darkness. Then his lips make a particularly sharp popping sound. That means his biceps have to be as hard as granite. Then he struggles to reach into his back pocket? It isn't a lack of flexibility. He seems to have great flexibility. It because his back pocket is so tightly closed because his bulging butt and thigh muscles stretch his pants so much. But eventually he manages to hand me a card, and says, "Call this number".

As I look at the card he embraces my shoulders with his powerful paws and kisses me, turning my legs to jelly, so when he lets go I fall to my knees! And as soon as I look up all I see is a gorgeous arse vanishing into the dark. And suddenly he's gone!

I call out, "What's your name", and from the darkness he calls back, "Eighty Three".

I'm puzzled but distracted by impulses of erotic love. And I'm on my knees, unable to move with a heart pounding so hard I'd faint if I stood up - after witnessing what feels like a wonder of the World. So I stay there for maybe 20 minutes until my heart finally slows, plus another 10 minutes for my mind to recover. Then I stagger slowly into my car where all I can do is sit there for a good half hour. And just staring at the card.

Though I could have sat there longer. But the phone number and the number 83 suddenly disappears! Completely vanishes. So when I'm home I try heating it - Nothing. Wetting it - Nothing. Even shining ultraviolet light. Nothing works. But it doesn't matter as I can never forget that phone number. And what does he mean, "83"?

The next day I make the call. It gets redirected to who knows where and an answering machine. I leave my email address and the number 83. Within 10 minutes an email arrives and after 3 sleepless nights my remaining days on Earth are decided. I commit to a one-way ticket to Fort-M. It says you are 117. It also says travelling to Fort-M is like moving to Mars. There can be no turning back.

This ignites my personal rocket. But my immediate priority is to work out how to kill myself. Because I must die.

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Ro20316
43 minutes ago, Ogun said:

Huh? Dies he mean erase his life?

the continuation of this is on the blogs part of the forum

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Freaker2
16 hours ago, Ogun said:

Huh? Dies he mean erase his life?

He's no long officially alive. Presumed dead by a Coroner and his Will can pass probate and get settled. And everyone can carry on living. In Fort-M he's probably going to be born again! 

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Freaker2

Rendesvous

Today is D-day. Departure day. A full 2 months preparing. Writing my Will mainly. And being a now single gay man I give half my wealth to my Ex. Even though he left me for a younger Twink. And half goes to a charitable foundation. It's purpose is to covertly benefit Fort-M.

It's a day when the surf waves are high, and tonight there will be no moon. Of course I make sure I talk to the Life Guards before I make my way into the surf late in the afternoon. So they remember me entering the water. They know me as I body surf here regularly on my days off from gym. And do I now care if I attract just a little bit more attention to myself than usual by turning around as I enter the water? And once I get noticed, hit a double biceps. And just to make quite sure all the eyes watching me remember, I give my right biceps a suck and redouble my attention seeking antics with a Lat spread. Someone wolf whistles and someone yells something abusive. I just turn my back, do another Lats spread then enter the water. I think to myself there's no contempt for muscle to muscle sex where I'm headed. Fort-M. Or so I expect. And this makes me all the more determined to end my life by accidental drowning. Death by misadventure is what the Coroner will conclude.

So I swim out beyond the breakers, powering through the water with an unusual sense of adventure. I can almost taste this adventure. But it might just be the salty water. Ha! It almost feels like I haven't actually been alive until now. As my solid 18 inch Biceps and solid Lats seem to drive me through the waves with unstoppable power. And my 25” thighs make my swimming seem effortless. Obviously its the excitement of knowing what I'm going to do, and not really knowing where I'm going. And my mixed emotions includes a fascinating sense of invincibility. So once beyond the break I give my guns a good feel, and imagine how they will grow when I get to Fort-M.

I put on a pair of small goggles I've tucked inside my speedos, and soon locate my stash of scuba gear 75% buried in the sand last night pretending to be boat fishing. I strap a small air bottle to my upper arm, which helps me again notice my 18 inch arms, and a warm erotic sensation course through my body as I flex, and suck them until the next big wave appears. I catch it and let it dump me and yelling as loud as I can as if I'm about to die. But I'm used to being dumped by large waves. You just curl up and often get driven into the sandy bottom on your back. I've always found it fun. But this time I don't reappear. Officially, I've just drowned. Probably broke my neck. So they will assume. And it has been known to never find the body.

The small air supply is more than I need to re-find my scuba. So as the sun starts to set I put on the tank and flippers and swim as planned with the tide running parallel to the beach. I turn over, hugging the sandy bottom and check to see if anyone is nearby. It's all clear so my air bubbles can't give me away. And I feel good about the plan. I even laugh a little to myself under water as I hug the sandy bottom and the breaking waves. I even see a pod of 3 dolphins. They come by, circle me wondering what I'm doing before powering ahead and disappearing. Yes, everything is working to plan. And about 2 kilometres down the beach I put my head out to get a bearing. Looking for that pine tree.

I soon reach the isolated sandy spot where I buried some black cloths, and a torch. It's always deserted around here. But still, I wait 'till it gets a bit darker before leaving the water. Yes, it's summer, and after I bury my scuba gear I walk home with the torch wearing black trousers and long sleeve black t-shirt. Well, of course. I take a track home through surrounding bush/forest, and later drive back unseen to pick up my scuba gear. Although my house has no immediate neighbours, I still kept the curtains drawn and the lights dimmed as I refill the scuba tank so they will appear unused. I store everything away, hide the keys in the usual hiding place, in a pot plant so when 00:30am comes I simply lock the back door and leave. Still dressed in black.

At 1am a black car pulls up at the designated dark isolated pickup point, within plus/minus a metre using satellite navigation, I'm sure. Surrounded by trees and bush at the end of a dark dirt loop road, about 700 metres from the nearest paved road the head lights go out and the driver's window lowers leaving only a single light inside the car to illuminate my driver. And my heart stops. Even the dim light is more than enough to see he's out of this World. And when he turns his head I'm just blown away. He's exceptionally young. He's just like 83, the first Fort-M muscleman I met in the car park 2 months ago. He's also a teenage, and he's also a humongous bodybuilder! No. He's a behemoth. And at first glance he seems so handsome his face restarts my heart. And when my eyes eventually bring his masculine features into focus, I find he's even more overwhelmingly handsome than 2 seconds ago. And I really need to kiss him!

When my hands automatically grip the car door to steady myself, his face seems to glow. It must be his youthful teenage complexion. But he's way too solid for his age. He's packed with way too much muscle, and it seems way too dense for a teenager. And he's really way too big for the car. Then he rests his elbow on the car door between my arms, and casually displays his upper arm. It looks bigger than his head. And when he raises his forearm and grips the top of the car window, all I can do is stare for what was probably 20 seconds. But it felt like several minutes. And in that time I might have even sucked the knuckles of his fist. I can't recall. Time is a blur. I could have, and should have licked and kissed his smooth rippling forearm. After all, it was right there in my face looking at least 3 times the mass of mine.

So he offers his outstretched hand, and when our fingers interdigitate he starts crushing my hand. But his powerful grip eases up just in time. Just before he does me any damage. Then my eyes and my faltering consciousness notice his short light brown, almost blond hair. It compliments his light brown flawless skin making his solid masculine head with high forehead shimmer in the dim light emanating from inside the car. My heart starts pounding so loudly I can hear it in my head and then he turns off the engine. And my heart pounds louder. He raises his other (right) arm, and gives me a good look as he flexes it. And although it's a bit far away it still looks the biggest and most shapely in the World without any doubt. And all I can do is gaze bug-eyed at his amazing Biceps' peak, with his massive forearms in my face with deeply striated corded bands of exploding muscle running their full length from wrist to elbow. And so easy to identified each muscle attached to each finger and wrist. And as his grip slowly tightens I'm again scared he might crush my hand as he flexes his Biceps. But he doesn't. Instead, he just smiles.

Then I notice his fists are only about 33% bigger than mine, making him seem even more extremely muscular. While my first guess is he's 4” taller. About 5”11”. say 1.8 metres! But my eyes and mind are drawn back to his face. It only takes a glance to confirm he must be 19. Because his cheeks have the flush of youth. And he slowly winks and flashes a big friendly smile that slowly becomes a very sexy smirk. Yet a smirk that seems like an apology? For what? For being so massive? Maybe for being more handsome than he is muscular, solid and massive? But then he contradicts my suspicion by dropping his gaze. I realise he's just trying to help me adjust to his shockingly morph-like musculature, and his matching unbelievable handsomeness that combines extreme youth and considerable muscular maturity all wrapped together as a take it or leave it offer. Like his jaw muscles are so massive! And I think, “He's aware he could easily overwhelm me. And he is overwhelming”. But I've already prepared myself for this meeting. I've rehearsed in my mind to expect another overwhelming display of muscular perfection like I encountered 2 months ago. So I expect to encounter overwhelming masculinity. I'm prepared for a specimen of masculine muscular development not known to be humanly possible – especially at the apparent age of 19.

I've also rehearsed how to exert maximum control of myself simply by expecting to be confronted by nothing less than his surprising hyper-masculine qualities. Superlative muscular development. And I am not being disappointed. He's still more than I imagined. So mentally I over exaggerate my own self image. I pretend to myself I'm twice as muscular than I am. Three times so I can hold my own. As if I've been living at Fort-M for a year and I have gained a sufficient amount of muscular development to hold my own among the behemoths of muscular magnificence I expect to discover at Fort-M. I expect they proliferate throughout Fort-M. And then I realise, to get me through this momentous muscular encounter I need to imagine my driver's muscular development is, for me, an every day experience. That if I've seen one, I've seen a hundred.

All I have to do is take him for granted. Nothing to see here, attitude. All I need to do now is avoid getting overwhelmed by his shockingly huge muscular development so I can objectively marvel my way into Fort-M, and not faint. Or worse, die of a heart attack. Unlike my cock. It's already experiencing the full effect of his primal presence. It started getting hard as I was walking here. Actually, from the moment I locked the house. Now it's so hard it's hurting. And I'm trying to ignore it as much as possible. But now he's here my cock has become trapped down the inside of my trousers! And it's so hard I suddenly realise it has to be under the control of my Subconscious, which must be the source of my uncontrollable lust for muscle, and all things driven by testosterone, as he looks “me” up and down. And then he looks me straight in the eye, he speaks!

"I'm 86. And you must be”, he asks with a friendly relaxed smile. All I can do is stutter, “I can't..re..member”. So he offers me a hint “One”, followed by a wink. “Hundred”, followed by a raised eyebrow. “And”? Letting me finish with, “seventeen”, and he looks at me with a serious yet somewhat bashful expression. Looks up at me, and says, “Well, One-seventeen, would you like to kiss me”.

hen he looks down and then slightly to one side.

5 seconds later he lifts his head, instantly causing our eyes to lock, and I'm staring into his deep blue eyes. But soon I'm distracted by of all things, his lips. Such fabulous, youthful, solid manly lips. I could suck them all night, and they look so firm even as they form a slight smile, and I notice his strong body odour. It's the odour of lean clean bodybuilder covered in fresh sweat. Some turning to steam. Almost thick enough to cut the odour with a butter knife, as it wafts from the car's window. And as my nostrils automatically flare I sense he's a little nervous as I shake my head slowly side to side expressing wonder and disbelief. I'm sure he sees how amazed I am. But then he recovers from his apparent nervousness by giving me a broad smile. A smile that becomes a totally handsome smile with a delicious small dimple on his strong chin. Plus 2 more in his cheeks that grow larger the broader he smiles.

This both reassures and scares me because he's so incredibly handsome. With a face so smooth it's almost as though he has never shaved in his young life. And yes, his dimples are to die for. With a masculine solid head composed of bold if not slightly Neandertal thick eyebrows, and straight well proportioned Germanic nose with a pair of wide powerful and muscular jaws. A head of thick short light brown hair, with pinned-back almost elfin pink small ears that slightly stick out at the back. His thick and slightly darker eye lashes are set on a smooth yet expressive Hungarian forehead. Not a single wrinkle. And I realise another reason 86 rattles me. His has a shocking youthful bloom in the middle of his cheeks denoting he's 18. Maybe 19, which is when a young man's cheeks get flushed with capillary blood vessels that in 86's case mysteriously contrast with his air of maturity. Again, this relaxes and scares me. While the expression on his face reads, "Welcome to Fort-M. You're already one of us"?

Suddenly I absolutely need to kiss him.

But 86 starts to survey his torso as he sits in the car. Then slowly flexes both Biceps and looks at them too. But they're covered by a long sleeved dark green t-shirt that appears plastered to his skin by copious fragrant sweat. It's thin and probably deceptively strong because it has stretched, and now conforms to the shape of his bulging muscles. It reveals a torso that has to be as big, if not bigger than that first man from Fort-M. The one I met in the car park 2 months ago. And 86's magnificent torso bulges so much even his tight t-shirt can't obscure his astounding proportionate musculature. So it's only his shear muscular size that makes him seem unnatural. No. That's wrong. For his age, 86 is supernatural as he glances up and says, "I'm too hot".

With both hands and a smile to die for, 86 pulls his t-shirt up over his head. But in 5 second he's completely stuck. Unable to lift, unable to pull his shirt back down. With the shirt covering his head he laughs, and says, “This has been happening since I moved to Fort-M a year ago. I keep under-estimating how much muscle I've grown”.

Straight away I can see where the main problem lies. It's his Lats. And then it's also his massive upper Back muscles. No. It could be his huge pair of Pectorals. And what about those arms? OMG. It's all the above, and the harder he lifts his shirt the more stuck he gets. And the louder he laughs. "Give me a hand", he calls out as he twists his torso towards me at the car window. And all I can think about is his dimpled chin. And those lips. And those deep blue eyes. God! The whole package. And it's also the way his chin is now imprinted through the shirt. And the solid imprint of his solid lips. And as his beautiful lips hold my attention, he mumbles, “Or would you prefer to kiss me now”?........ “Kiss you now” I blurt, and I kiss him despite the shirt.

86 stops pulling, and our lips press together so firmly I'm instantly in a place I have never been before. His lips are not just hot. They're hot and as firm as his muscles. They're beyond my wildest dreams. Yet soft. But also not soft, as I try to wrap my arms around him, and feel his muscles - for the first time! Instantly discovering muscles that are so hard and so hot I start to tremble. I'm flooded by unbearable desire. Even more so because our tongues are being frustrated by the thin fabric. Yet I can still taste him. And I want more. “You can pull now” he says with no sense of urgency. And I snap back to reality.

As I tug, his shirt doesn't move. Not at all, but he says, “You'll need to pull harder. Maybe it's my Lats that have grown. I brutalised them 2 days ago. I did drop sets for 3 hours. I did 6 cycles from super heavy to almost no weight, and each cycle had at least 8 sets. After all, there's nothing a Fort-M bodybuilder loves more than being worshipped at the end of a drop set. Have you ever fantasised having your Lats kissed and sucked as you force them to contract and they're full of lactic acid and totally pumped”, and he chuckles to himself, and I feel a powerful flex in my cock hearing him recall those hours of brutal drop sets with muscle worship. “All my life. But I've never had the opportunity” I honestly admit. “I'm now going to try harder”, I say, and I give it what I think is a good tug, suspecting his shirt is indestructible. And it doesn't budge. “Pull a lot harder if you can”, he says.

So I pull as hard as I can while 86 twists and wriggles until finally I'm about to faint. Partly from the after effects of watching his massively muscular torso moving, and kissing and tasting him. And partly from noticing the power in his muscle, and partly from sensing how the weight of his muscles just seems to him to be as light as feathers. But mostly from looking forward to watching 86 doing a brutal workout and worshipping his pumped muscles.

Then, suddenly for an obvious reason I imagine him disco dancing with all that muscle. No! Stop it!

I take stock and see his t-shirt looks like it could explode from the astonishing lateral stretching being imposed by his Immense over-abundant muscular torso. It's a struggle between an immovable object, his huge torso of muscles, and an elastic shirt that has already reached its limit. And the shirt has no intention to give in as 86's massive muscles continue to flex and bulge, and I find myself shaking my head again, thinking 86 is more than absolutely massively huge. His muscles are more SOLID than anything I had ever imagined. More than anything possible - for a human musculature. And I start to worry he could suffocate. And of course only I can save him.

So I turn my Back to the car and lift the shirt over my back. I flex my Abs to add maximum force. I engage and apply my 6-pack Abs to the task. They add much needed pulling force. The same Abs I've worked so hard to develop all my life. Plus I add power that comes from my pretty strong shoulders, if I can boast. And after 10 contractions I feel my Abs are getting a good workout. “Harder. Keep pulling” he calls as my 6-pack Abs warm up. I feel them starting to get a pump. And it's one of my favourite pumps. “Keep going. I feel it's working”, he calls out as I recall the probable hundreds of good solid Abs pumps I've had, and how afterwards, laying in bed on my back I flex my Abs until they cramp. Imagining my hard cock would reach my lips. And then I'd hit my solid Abs with my hard spring-loaded cock, and hit them with clenched fists, shouting “More muscle! Never too big.

Yeah, there's nothing more romantic than lifting weights surrounded by like minded men also lifting heavy weights, because they understand and share the need. And they love building their muscles in a well mirrored, well equipped gym. Especially when some of them are bigger than me, and we all love to grunt as we lift and do drop sets. And now I'm starting to sweat from all this exertion. Plus I'm getting even more painfully horned just anticipating the sight of 86's naked massive youthful thick torso that's about to be exposed to the cool night air.

So I keep contracting my Abs. And hard. Really hard. I keep on pulling until I feel his shirt inching its way up. A quick glance back and I see a shirt stretched to breaking point. I take a breath and PULL. Suddenly it slips over his massive Lats, Pecs and Trapezius muscles, and I fall on my knees still holding the shirt over my shoulders. Then there's a loud rip.

In the time it takes me to turn around 86 is already out the car standing right next to me, and the first thing I see is an awe inspiring Cock. Smack bang in the middle of my face. Huge and flaccid and hot. And beyond it is a muscular, extremely naked extreme huge very smooth fatless very tight thin skinned bodybuilder. And his cock is the most beautiful, hugest LIMP circumcised dick I have even seen.

Radiating immense heat right in my face while the cool night air helps my lips, nose and cheeks feel that heat radiating from this extraordinarily beautiful manhood. I tilt my head just a little and see a thick urethra and at the end a piss slit that's slowly opening and closing. Overall 86's flaccid cock looks solid with a huge vein. While his dickhead flares with a corona that looks highly erogenous, and I gasp so much I swallow some of the dickhead. Followed by a sort of panic and pull back because at first sight it frightens me! But I quickly remember I'm not going to be shocked. I'm going to face 86 like a MAN. At least tonight....9 or more inches and LIMP. That's my estimate! Maybe 10.

Then I hear 86 take a deep breath, and I look up. But I can't see his face. His huge Pecs now loom so large and majestic as they ripple and exude power. And to me it's all to beautiful. Protruding way forward of his upper Abdominals, which themselves look like solid boulders wrapped in glad wrap for skin. As I gaze up I see Pecs spreading super wide, and I imagine his sweet lips are pursed, ready for me to kiss as he sucks in a huge volume of air to fill his huge lungs. And as I gaze at his manhood, and his Pecs, both at the same time, my mind pictures how voluminous his lungs must be to support those wondrously protruding pair of smooth and glistening Pecs. Pectorals that look like they have been sculpted - by me for me to worship. But it isn't just their size that makes them seem beyond human. It's their shape that makes them look super human. And every muscle that composes his torso seems to compete to show off its striated power.

His Pecs seem to be filled by “extrovert” striations. It's the way they pop in and out of view in orgasmic waves of superfluous Pectoral mini contraction when 86 speaks. “So good to be standing” he says as he stretches his arms wide and yet his Pecs stay protruding. He then he lifts his arms overhead as his legs spread out enough to gain a rock solid stance so he can touch his toes. Which he does using the back of his palms. Effortlessly. He even rubs his chin against his right knee to stop an itch. Then rubs his face and lips side to side across his monstrously bulging Tear Drops before he sucks them one at a time making deliberate loud sucking popping sounds and added auto-erotic gasps of relaxed satisfaction.

When he comes back up he smiles, flexes and animates his Pecs to look like ocean waves. Tossing bundles of striations up and down and especially where his Pecs muscles anchor into his sternum. And where they create a cleavage so deep it's simply unknown to mankind......at least that's what my jaw believes because it drops!

Every muscle group I can see shouts “Look at us”. While every thick bundle of striated muscle shouts, “Look at me” louder. And his torso is so hypertrophied the thick muscles have probably conspired the day 86 arrived at Fort-M to deliberately create 2 huge arm pits. And I am now happily being forced to gaze up and into as 86 poses for me in a Lats spread that's so stunning I can safely say there has never been anything on Earth so far that matches this Lats spread.

It's as if his torso muscles have conspired to create 2 enormous cave structures - aka armpits - with ceilings neatly decorated by a fist sized tuft of dense, short and straight light brown carpet. And his carpet is wet and dripping fresh sweat sweat. While his Lats are simply super-wide wings of desire. Big enough to turn 86 into a glider. If he should jump off a cliff. So all of his muscles come together in this Lats spread pose and creates 2 cavernous armpits with thick spreading Lats forming cave walls, an entrance partly blocked by huge overhanging Deltoids, and super-thick super-wide spreading Pec masses then collide with his super bulging Biceps. Together they create an almost enclosing roof to these armpit caves, and I realise where I am is the best place to view 86's arm pits. On my knees knees and looking up.

And because of my vantage point, I can see his array of large tendons covered in thin tight skin dripping with sweat under tension connecting his massive Pecs to his super wide shoulders. And capped by indescribable massive bulging powerful Deltoids. And in my opinion, if his Pec muscles grew much more with some new muscle fibres, the entrance to his arm pits could become so restricted only my current view looking up would reveal the true power of his torso.

So there he stands. Over me. Completely naked. Bulging muscles covered in fatless tight smooth skin. Holding a commanding pose. Making this the perfect introduction to Fort-M – for me. And I'm completely in love. And of course this first pose had to be a Lats spread. Making it my first orientation lesson upon join Fort-M. And as my cock pounds, a wave of pride flows through me. It hits me suddenly in the head and the hearty. Making me more proud of him, and by implication Fort-M than anything I have been proud of in my life. And they've sent 86 to welcome me to Fort-M! I'm so honoured I have no words to match his magnificence. And all I want to do is embrace 86! But then I feel incredibly happy as well, knowing this is what I will also become. A fucking muscle monster. The Muscle Man of my dreams. And after having been a zealous bodybuilder all my life.

But after this wave of pride subsides and I'm able to study my driver, I realise 86 has so much muscle, he's way bigger than Ronnie Coleman. Even when Ronnie was at his peak. And yet 86's muscles are relaxed! Yes he's now just standing there. Like a most handsome bodybuilder on stage at a bodybuilding contest. Arms relaxed. But at first glance he appears to be flexing. So when I see through the illusion, reality overwhelms my sense of reality. Every bulging muscle in his body is relaxed and yet is FIRM. Each muscle is beautiful and thick in its own right. So he's so massive, and so dense he appears to be constantly flexing. And from any angle. And I might never get used to this.

So as I take all of him in, I think about his Abs as he's grips his narrow waist. They look like they're smooth boulders and large stones. An 8-pack column of 6 rock hard boulders and 2 smaller stones at the base. Fully cleavaged and separate, they look invisibly packed together as they taper to a very narrow waist. Wow! As narrow as a 14 year old's. And then a penny drops. He has ripped his pants off as if they were made of tissue paper. That's what caused the ripping sound.

Then, as my gaze and mind returns to his cock, he says, “Any way, we never wear clothes at Fort-M. Or would you prefer I put them back on”? ….... “No”, I beg. “That would be criminal”......And he adds, “So you don't agree when they say clothes maketh the man”? And at first I just look up and smile. But then I add, “I've never agreed with that”, and we laugh.

When we stop laughing, I'm still staring at 86's cock, and Abs, and Lats, and arms, and arm pits and forearms, and Pecs, and he puffs out his chest. And his face disappears, again. But he slowly leans forward while FLEXING every muscle in sight, and when his beaming face rises like the moon over his mountainous Pecs I study the perfection of his handsome masculine face. And faint. 

 

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