A Family of Muscle


By Demetrius

They took their time driving, and arrived only minutes before showtime. The tent was packed with muscle wanna-be's. Ralph smirked. "Front row seats, Paul?" asked Ralph. "If you don't mind, Ralphy," said Paul. "Easily accomplished," replied Ralph, even though the only seats still available were somewhere near the back of the huge circus tent. Ralph calmly walked up to the center of the front row, grabbed two geeky 165 pounders and lifted them from their seats by their collars, holding them at eye level. They stared in astonishment at Ralph's massive arms and chest. He spit out two words, "move, NOW!", and dropped them to the ground. "Yes, sir," they said, as they moved quickly away. "Thanks a lot, guys. We really appreciate it," Paul called out. And he shot them a broad smile. The musclestuds laughed as they took their front row seats, ready for the show to begin. Ralph glanced around him and surveyed the crowd. There were some big guys present, but he knew that he and Paul could match anyone there. Glancing around, he noticed the guy on Paul's right. "Paul, the guy next to you is staring at your arms. Do your stuff. Give him your show. Make him come!" Ralph said. And, of course, Paul did.

Paul turned slowly to the guy and looked into his eyes. He smiled the Paul Truman tanned and buffed lifeguard smile. The silly runt was obviously aroused. "Really bright in here, isn't it?" remarked Paul, as he shaded his eyes with his arm, making sure to flex his right bicep. He pretended not to be aware of what he was doing. Instantly a mound of muscle as big as a medium sized grapefruit appeared on Paul's arm. The guy was transfixed. He couldn't look away. And the second the mound lept up, the guy left a wet spot all over his jeans.

"Oh, hey, dude! What happened? You're all wet!" Paul pretended concern. "Oh, wait," Paul said sheepishly looking at his bicep. Did THIS make you do that?" he asked innocently. "I'm so sorry. Guess you'll have to see a drycleaner, huh? But wait, let me help you a little." And he reached over and rubbed the guy's pants really long and really hard, as if he were trying to wipe the stain away. The more Paul rubbed the bigger the bulge in the guy's pants became, and the bigger the stain got, too. "Look, Ralph, I think this guy likes me," said Paul, as he put his huge arm around the guy's shoulder, nearly squeezing the wind out of him. "You like me, little guy?" asked Paul, squeezing harder. "Ralph, why don't you see what he thinks of you." The sap couldn't move.

Ralph slipped quickly into Paul's seat and sat very close to the helpless man. "Hey, little man!" Ralph said, "you like my friend Paul? I hope you'll like me just as much." And he took the guy's hand, and placed it on his right pec. Ralph knew the power of his pecs. He did this to the girls all the time. He took in a deep breath. "BOOM!, said Ralph," and he flexed the massive mound, firm and rock hard. Of course the guy instantly came again. "Oh, man! Sorry!," said Ralph. "That stain on your pants is getting even larger. Let me help you."

And before the man knew what Ralph was up to, Ralph took both of the man's hands, placed them on both of his pecs and as he flexed them in slow succession, he quietly murmered to him "BOOM! BOOM!". It was all the man could take. He shot his load. "Oh, man, look at this poor guy," Ralph said, pretending concern. The guy had swooned forward and landed in Ralph's lap. "Sit up, little fellow," Ralph said, as he held the man up with one massive hand by the back of the neck. He smirked as he propped the man up on the bench, totally out of it, and turned back to watch the show. The guy just blankly stared into space, as Ralph pretended to ignore him. But when Ralph noticed out of the corner of his eye that the man had begun to stir, he turned to him, flexed his pecs again and said "BOOM!." The poor jerk came again and passed out on the bench for good. Ralph gave Paul a high-five and they laughed. He loved doing that to people. The power he had in his studly rippling form! "Man, what a specimen I am!" he said.

Suddenly there was music and lighting effects, flashes and rotating colors, and the show was on. From the far side of the tent, the first to enter were the 11 brothers - the elders of the troup. They were everything the paper described. The crowd yelled and cheered. "Unreal, freakin' unreal" screamed Paul," as the Magnificent Eleven crossed the tent. The smallest had to be 260 lbs. and Paul estimated that the largest must tip the scales at at least 300. The men walked silently and proudly to the front of the crowd, arms spread, lats flared, muscles flexed tautly under their skin-tight leotards. Roars of approval came from the crowd. Stopping in front of the main reviewing stand, the men faced the crowd, and stood quiet and still.

Then as a horn sounded, they all went into a double biceps pose showing off their arms. 22-inches! 23.5-inches! Some at 25!

The crowd cheered as the mass of muscular flesh passed in review. One by one they watched 22 to 25 inch biceps, 56 to 65 inch chests, quads that could crush a horse, shoulders so big they had to be a yard wide. Waists that couldn't be more than 30 inches on any of them! Abs that defied description. Each of them wore a cape around hs neck with his name printed on the back.

As they concluded their circle, Ralph said, "Paul, do you get the impression that they keep looking at us?" "They know prime beef when they see it, Ralphy Boy," said Paul. But Ralph wasn't sure that that was what the looks meant. Somehow he sensed trouble - like the kind he loved giving to other people.

The men formed what could only be called a "wall" at the middle of the ring. It seemed they weren't going to be part of the show. They were there just to oversee the proceedings.

The music changed to a military march, and from the far end of the tent where the elder family members had entered, a parade commenced of 60 males of various sizes. They were dressed in posing briefs. Practically bare bodies of incredibly huge proportions. Each was wearing what looked like a lifting belt around his middle. They ranged in age from 9 to 30. "The boys had never seen so many muscles. "And, look!, called Ralph, "that kid in the front, his looks maybe nine years old. But he has such freakin' huge muscles!"

Picture a 9 year old head on the body of a Mike Matarazzo, but at 4' 3" tall! Perfect pecs, perfect abs, perfect arms and legs, and a neck as thick as his head! He even had Mike's flat military haircut! His arms were forced out eight inches from his sides to accomodate his unbelieveable lats! Nine years old! And he was only the first! They only got larger! They ranged from 4' 3" to 6' 10", seeming to increase 1" every pair of men. They varied in weight from 135 lbs. to 435 lbs., each pair increasing by exactly 10 lbs. Unbelieveable! Each arm a little bigger than the one before it. The phenomenal 9-year-old had arms that looked 17 inches! And each pair of arms increased by at least one-half inch up to the oldest son who had an arm thickness of what must have been 30"! Each chest was a little more developed than that of the brother or the cousin ahead. It was incredible. The crowd screamed.

The lights in the tent dimmed. The spotlight in the center of the ring came on. Then, from the center entrance of the tent, a chariot was approaching. The crowd gasped as they saw the Hercules coming toward them. •

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