(Freddie) All I offer is what you see. Plus my heart, its the best of me. I’m in heaven since you will be There to share your love with me. (Elijah) Built my body to make me king. For lustful sex or a muslced fling. Now your heart tells me you the being There to share your love with me. (Freddie & Elijah) It’s astounds me to find out now That I nev-er knew How my life could not be filled Except by loving you. (Elijah) All this muscle looks so great, that’s sure. But your heart has me in its lure. There’s no doubt now… I know that you’re There to share your love with me … … love with me … (Freddie & Elijah) Yes, … knowing you’re in love with me. "Please, Freddie," Elijah begged as lovingly as he could "may we have sex - just this once. You can feel how much my cock is yearning to be released by you." "Oh, Mr. Elijah, God knows I want that as much as you" Freddie answered "but you know our agreement. No sex until you win the Mr. Galaxy contest." "Once can’t hurt. Freddie." Elijah pleaded. He gently ground his embedded cock along Freddie’s embracing thighs. The enraged cock head tingled with anticipation as it grated along the friction producing roughness of Freddie’s pant legs. Elijah could feel the pressure of his unreleased cum pounding to be released. "We don’t know that for sure, dear one." Freddie spoke directly. " Look at the progress you have made in the month that we have been doing this. There’s less than two months to go. I am yours, now and forever, but we made a pledge to wait and we need to honor that." Without answering, Elijah repackaged Freddie in his loving blanketing of muscle. Consummation would have to wait - painful as that thought was. There was a victory to secure first. Act Two, Scene Four (At the local gym where Zoltan works out that same day.) "I would have brought the Pro Card and the entry papers over to you, Henry." Hugh Pickering offered handing a large envelop to the Professor. "I know, Hugh, but it’s nice to get out every now and again. I had another stop to make first anyway." Professor Higgins smiled back. "I have been becoming increasingly trapped in my own little world of late and think it may be time to explore other parts of the city .. and the world." "If you’re looking for Mr. Dumoor or Elijah’s brother, neither of them is here." Pickerings’ tone shifted. "I have no interest in the whereabouts of Mr. Dumoor anymore." The Professor responded with quick defiance. "I understand that Mr. Dumoor has taken a job as the night Manager at the health club that Elijah used to frequent." Pickering taunted. "But surely you were aware of that already/" "As I said," The Professor retorted sharply "I have no interest in Mr. Dumoor or his disposition." "Sorry, Henry, I just thought that after all those years with you, there might be some desire for contact." Pickering added slyly. "Well, you are wrong, good sir. Anyway, I thought Alfred was under contract to you? Higgins shifted the subject. "I promised that I would give Elijah that I would give him this note if I came across him." "He’s supposed to be but he just stopped showing up a little more than a month after the Nationals - not long after you released Mr. Dumoor." Hugh stated with a harshness in his voice. "He’s apparently moved out of his apartment and I haven’t been able to find out any more about him. I had him training with Zoltan and had great hopes for him." "How is ‘Mr. Galaxy’ doing?" Professor Higgins inquired with a forced indifference. "So, you’ve actually come to check out the competition?" Pickering smirked. "Well, I don’t see any reason to keep his progress a secret like you seem to be doing with your Mr. Dolittle. Honestly, Henry, you’re passing up a lot of free advertising and potential sponsorships by keeping your man so tightly under wraps." "It’s all about money and profit to you, Hugh." The Professor spat back. "This industry would be so much better - and so would all those aspiring young kids - if people like you weren’t so intent on exploiting it for their own gain!" "Henry," Pickering shifted to a much softer tone "let’s not have this debate again. You have your perceptions and I have mine. Let’s just leave it at that this time, OK. At least my Mr. Galaxy contest is giving your methods a public shot for once." Professor Higgins nodded, folded the envelop, and began to push it into his binder. "Zoltan, meet me in the Posing Room." Pickering announced into the intercom system and turned back to the Professor. "Come on, I’ll let you have a small preview of what you’re up against." Pickering led the reluctant Professor through a side door to a small room lined with mirrors and a rack of sound equipment. Shortly after they went in, the hulking figure of Zoltan entered the room cloaked as best as his huge body could be in oversized sweat cloths. "Good afternoon Professor Higgins." Zoltan greeted the Professor politely with his ever-present heavy Rumanian accent. "I heard from Alfred that Elijah had some trouble after the Nationals." "He’s doing fine now, Zoltan, but thanks for your apparent concern." Professor Higgins responded. "Oh, trust me, I like Mr. Dolittle, sir. I like someone who knows the joy of great muscle." Zoltan seemed sincere in his comment. "I just intend to beat your student and secure the record for the most Mr. Galaxy wins by any man - ever." "How about a showing the Professor here a bit of what Mr. Elijah Dolittle will be facing?" Pickering cut into the conversation and then added. "But not too much." Zoltan smiled a nod of understanding and slowly began to lift the bulky sweatshirt from around his torso. Even with the custom made top, the material struggled to clear the rapidly expanding view of the figure below. As the shirt moved higher, it became apparent that Zoltan had a tank top on under the outer garment. "Watch and wonder my good Professor." Pickering proclaimed as the unveiling began. When the hem of the shirt reached the bottom of Zoltan’s huge man-tits and flailing lats the massive projections of muscle refused to let the fabric slip over their bulk without a struggle. An amazing pair of brutally muscled upper arms blossomed to fill the surrounding cloth of the sleeves as they joined into the process of forcing the clinging material over the hardening breasts and wings. "I expect Zoltan to be the biggest compilation of impeccable muscle ever to mount a stage by the night of this years Mr. Galaxy show." With an audible grunt, Zoltan finally tore the overpowered material off and passed it over his head. The high mounding of the muscle mounted atop the bared shoulders hoisted much of the tit-meat up with the last remnants of the encasing fabric. Once released, the gargantuan pectorals flung themselves back down into place protecting the front torso with a shield of muscle more intense than the greatest armored breastplate ever created. "Only the best that chemistry can assemble." The Professor chided back to Pickering. The strap lines of the tank seemed like meaningless strings compared to the size of the muscle they pretended to hide. The scoop of the neck line stretched taunt like a horizontal bridge over the fathom-like depth of Zoltan’s upper line of cleavage. Any fingers silly enough to wander into the cave-like opening between the pecs faced certain destruction or worse if those cliffs of muscle were directed to freeze into the solid rock they promised they could become. "Just the best, Henry. Just the very, very best." Pickering stated refusing to take the bait of Henry’s quip. The lats appeared like giant quarter-rounds of fortified tanned radial tires with surfaces etched in veined reinforcement. Both wheels spun out from hidden obliques whose lined splendor could not be disguised by the skin tight girdle of tank top fabric. Zoltan’s abs billowed in and out under the heavy breathing of his recent struggle each appearing as if a steel saucer had been inserted upside-down under the shirt. "Zoltan is over 340 pounds now, Henry, and I expect that he can add another fifteen to twenty pound before the contest." Pickering proclaimed. "Even from everything I’ve seen and heard about your remarkable Mr. Dolittle, I don’t think you’ll be able to match that come contest night." As the sweat shirt hit the floor, Zoltan’s arms dropped to each side but, because of the expanse of latissimus meat, remained at about a 45 degree angle from vertical. The hugely mounded shoulders retained their enormous proportions curving, line by corded line, up into the wedge of trapezius muscle that guarded each side of the angular neck. "We don’t need to match him, Hugh," Henry assured "we just have to present a better claim to the value of real muscle … and we certainly can, and will, do that." Zoltan raised one arm a began to curl an impossibly thick forearm toward vertical. His bicep swelled as the belly of the head-sized beef rolled both out and up trapped between the vast forearm and peaked shoulder. Lines began to chisel along the breadth and length of the expanding monster. Several of the lines grew deeper as the flesh divided into various individually cut bundles. Professor Higgins couldn’t guess at what the ultimate size of the growing rock formation but placed its potential at well over 30" "That’s enough!" Pickering suddenly interceded. "I think the Professor has gotten the idea. Thanks, Zoltan." "Your welcome, sir." Zoltan smiled as his assemblage of phenomenal muscle relaxed as much as possible and he turned to retrieve his outerwear. "Good day, Professor. See you at the ‘Galaxy’ contest. The behemoth lumbered out. "Good luck, Henry." Pickering concluded. •