(Reprise - to the tune "I’ve Grown Accustomed To Her Face") (Elijah) I’ve grown accustomed to your touch. The way your hands feel so secure. My cock’s become dependent On the way you move and grasp. Only one thing will be better… That’s to feel it up your ass. All this waiting’s almost passed. I pray tonight goes by real fast So I can cum in you at last. (Freddie) I want you more than words can say. We’ve worked so hard to reach today. Just months ago I wouldn’t Even say that I am gay. Now with you I realize There is no finer way. Yes all the waiting soon will pass. Our love is strong and fast. And you will cum in me at last. I never dreamed that there could be Someone as great as you for me. You have a body built in greatness Your muscles have no match. My ass will be your doorway For your cock now to unlatch. (Both) The dice have all been cast. No love has been so vast. And you (I) will cum in you (me) at last. Yes…you (I) will cum in you (me) at last. Act Two, Scene Six (One the stage at the finals of the Mr. Galaxy Contest.) "May I present to you’ the announce boomed over the microphone "the ‘Final Five’. One of these magnificent creatures will soon become Mr. Galaxy." The lights rise as the music moves in to fill the anticipatory silence. The pounding base beat seems perfectly appropriate as the image of five lined-up stupendous musclemen shine into focus. The sharp lighting has been directed to enhance every phenomenal muscular feature on the inhuman creatures. Every one of the nearly naked colossal collections of monumental meat shifts in proud undulating presentation. Clenched fists push lines of corded snakes through thigh-sized forearms and force deeply shadowed separations along and through impeccable bundles of biceps and triceps twitching to display their honed brilliance. Each steps forward as they are announced. "Number Four, Peter Palmer, from Australia." The announcer calls out as the shortest and smallest of the five moves into his personal spotlight. "Pete comes to us this year with an additional 15 pounds on his 5’-5" frame at 240#. This is his fourth appearance at the Galaxy and his second time in the final five." Petes’ crew-cut blond hair stands as sharp and bold as his infamous shoulder development. The prominence of a pair of biceps out-sizing his stature are cautiously presented as his clasped fists move up and cross briefly in front of his lower torso. "Number Seven. Your currently reigning Mr. Galaxy and five-time winner, Zoltan Kuminsky of Rumania." The emcee attempts to broadcast as the noise from the excited crowd grows to a thunderous cry. Zoltan steps into his circle of light with every promise that Pickering made in his last visit from Professor Higgins fulfilled. His 360# mass is almost impossible to describe. The fateful placement of his towering figure next to the 120# smaller Australian only serves to augment the majesty of Zoltan’s muscular development. Each and every muscle is a study in exaggerated human anatomy. "Three-hundred and sixty-pounds of unbelievable muscle, folks." The announce shouts over the cheers. "There has never been a contestant this big. His stats virtually defy belief. Believe it or not, Zoltan is the first contestant to reach the six foot mark in his chest measurement! He is vying today to be the first man to hold the Mr. Galaxy title for six years." At the pronouncement of his upper torso measurement, Zoltan thrust his shoulders forward, arms onto his hips, and forced his heavily mounded abs in as tight as possible. His pecs swelled outward and rounded in infinitely lined fullness forcing his coin-sized nippled tits well down to the under carriage of the mooned meaty vestiges. Lifting his ribcage high and hard, the upper reaches of Zoltan’s amazing pecs pushed their way up into contact with his chiseled chin. The brutal protruding dual masses eclipsed most of the length of his abdominal cavity. Nothing could hide the ever-present enormous triple-defined mounds of balls and cock fighting against constraint within the cloth package of his over-stuffed posers. "Number eight, Hugo Forman, from Germany." Was finally announced after having to wait several minutes for the crowd to come back under control. "There’s 295# of near-perfect meat on that 6’ body. This is the first time this three-time participant has made it to the final five." The huge ebony toned statue gleamed with his always enticing smile as he paraded toward his designated spot. Thighs almost as big as those supporting Zoltan thundered into view. Hugo was known as one of the most accessible bodybuilders as well as one of the most handsome. Rumors and stories abounded about how he could use all that spectacular leg mass to seduce the most demanding of cocks to sensational ejaculation. "Number ten is Dick Anos from the USA." Came the announcement of the four of those in line. "Dick is one of three of the final five coming in at over 300 pounds. This is his fourth appearance in this grouping and the first time his 5’-10" frame carries a massive 310#." Standing next to the German with two inches less height and fifteen pounds more muscle helped increase the perceived size of the intense African-American. Dick had been the "heir apparent" until the advent of Elijah Dolittle. He came prepared and determined to prove that he still had claim to that title - if not the actual Mr. Galaxy crown itself. "Can he finally wear the crown of the bride instead of being the bridesmaid once again." The announcer taunted. Dick’s tiny 29" waist made his extraordinarily developed upper and lower extremities appear even more imposing. Cramping down hard on his razor-sharp abs and obliques as he entered the spotlighted area, Dick dazzled the audience with an initial viewing of intensely crafted muscle. An ever-present array of veins shot across his water-free body like a series of rich rivers and tributaries. "And, finally, our newcomer, number thirteen, Elijah Dolittle from right here in Canada." The announcer screamed as the roar of the crowd rose once again. "This is only the second contest ever for our Canadian friend. After a remarkable win at the Nationals earlier this year, here he is now as a finalist for the Mr. Galaxy crown!" Elijah strode forward trying to hold his entire body in a state of displayed readiness. Every ounce of the twenty pounds he have added in the last eight weeks was additional, rock-fissured muscle. Luck of the draw had made him last, at number thirteen, in the program and his placement next to the win-driven American forced Elijah to have to show his body at its very best. "Mr. Dolittle claims to have produced his amazing 345# body using entirely natural methods." The announcer read from the supplied bio. "However he did it, there’s no denying that it works." The audience was given one final moment to view all five marvelous creatures before the curtain came down in preparation of the individual posing routines. The Australian remained on stage and, with only a short delay while his music was prepared, the curtain opened signaling his routine. "Good luck." Elijah extended to Zoltan in this first opportunity for them to meet, body to body. "You, too." Zoltan smiled back with his Rumanian accent flavoring his words. "You know I intend to win, but I must admit that I am impressed with the body that you have managed to create for yourself in just the past year." Elijah was overwhelmed, like everyone else, at the sheer mass facing him. Zoltan carried more muscle than even the likes of a body as magnificent as Elijah’s could image. Even with 360 pounds of inhuman mass staring at him, Elijah found his eyes drawn to the protruding piling that was Zoltan’s genitals. Noting the shift in attention, Zoltan sucked in most of the girth of his steroid fed lower abdomen. As he did so, the mass of the heavy flesh protruding from his groin pushed the top binding of his posing trunks out from contact as the upper portion of his cock came into view. "You like!" Zoltan noted as he constricted his upper inner thighs and forced his balls to expose a bit more by push the inviting cock higher. "Just like your brother. He liked these, too." Zoltan flexed his monstrous male tits to within a few inches of Elijah’s face. Each was almost as thick as a man’s head and twice as broad. Unlike their female counterpart, Zoltan’s breasts flowed into impossibly hard visions of multiple corded dense beef. As an added inducement, he worked his flex from hidden bottom to chin-rubbing top so that Elijah could enjoy the resulting wave motion of muscle as the flow drew his salivating mouth closer to the exhilarating moving mountains. "You know where Alfred is?" Elijah queried as the impact of the comment hit him. "I know that - and a lot more." Zoltan intimated. "All you need to do to find out is to beat me." Before Elijah had a chance to challenge the comment, the emcee announced the conclusion of the Australians’ routine and began to announce Zoltan’s name. Zoltan moved quickly out onto the darkened stage in readiness. The crowd began to chant his name in anxious anticipation. A single light moved from dim to stark brilliance on the back-facing figure before the audience. At the sound of the first beat of music, Zoltan flew into his well rehearsed routine. Ear-splitting noise rang though the auditorium as the shadowed body sculpted itself into a monument to muscledom. Zoltan forced his clenched fists down hard onto his hips just above the top of his gargantuan upper gluteal muscles and thrust his melon-sized shoulders forward. The action carried his lats out to impossible proportions. Then he shrugged his shoulders still further forward drawing the upper bundling of the lats with them until the winged masses appeared more than four time wider than the shadow enhanced rear waistband. Dropping his hands straight down in forced extension next to the larger lower mounds of his glutes, Zoltan’s triceps exploded into their full memorable multiple headed forms of footballed cables. The perfectly planned lighting turned the indentation of the central horseshoe into a veritable cave of unimaginable depth surrounded by the stony arch of his impenetrable triceps. Turning his head slightly toward the side of the stage on which Elijah stood, the newcomer thought he could read the words "beat this" form on the lips of the performer. Then, Zoltan went for the ‘kill’. His 40" upper thighs folded down in a slight squat on his wide-placed feet while raising to his toes at the same time. Over 26" of calf muscles rose and distended themselves to meet the challenge of supporting all 360#. Next, the paramount ass in the world dimpled itself, layer by luscious layer as two protruding mountain ranges of shifting gluteal rock froze into view. From his position off to the side, Elijah could see the swell in the front of Zoltan’s trunks grow as he aroused himself with the sensations he was deriving from his own offering of this astounding rear gluteal display to the screaming crowd. For a second time, the over challenged upper elastic band withdrew from contact with the lower abdomen. As the material was further and further challenged away from their view, the audience was rewarded with a viewing of virtually all of Zoltan’s greatest muscle accomplishment as the rear fabric was pulled deeply into the unfathomable depths of the rocky central ass crevasse. The hands moved once more time to lay palm-flat against the upper sides of each ballooned thigh. Zoltan’s back carved and chiseled into line after line of fanning muscle. Once the lats and ass were crisp beyond belief, he pushed the great upper bulk down to sit atop his lower back erectors. A tree of many branches decorated the diamond of space between the flaring lats and the undulating rock cliffs of ass. The audience exploded as a number of those present struggled to keep their raging cocks contained and resisted their desire to fire accolades of cum into their own struggling underwear. "Shit, do you believe this guy!" The finished Australian whispered to an awestruck Elijah. Casting a quickly turned nod to Peter, Elijah noted that he had pushed his hand down into his own soaked posing trunks and was pumping furiously away at a solid 8" of wooded cock. Zoltan crimped hard with his forward flung shoulders and locked his preponderance of pectoral muscle into two half round slabs of pure beef. Cord upon cord of richly dense muscle pummeled its way to the arcing surface and rounded from downward balled biceps over to the hand-deep cleavage line. Then he sucked in and cut each abdominal into a set of eight fully prepared plates. Satisfied with the level of perfection achieved, the living muscle statue pivoted on one coarsely locked foot and turned the pre-striated upper torso as his newest offering to the begging parishioners at his ‘Church of Muscle’. In this akimbo position, all 33" of marbled biceps and triceps stood at fully displayed attention to frame the 72" spinning upper torso. Many of those who had still managed to control their desirous organs from erupting lost that battle as the combined site of a creation of muscle never witnessed before came to view complete with a basket of fabric that had been pushed as far from the flattened front abdomen as the mounded glutes extended to the rear. Zoltan’s balls hung in partial view as they straddled the string of elastic that still divided them as it snapped back between the lower reaches of his quaking buttocks. The outline of the expansive pointing cock head was as clear and visible as if it were not covered in the thin coating of blue material. Reaching up into a mind-swooning double biceps pose did nothing to reduce the scale of the genital display. Zoltan went for the last of those in the audience who had not already surrendered their cum by pounding his 33" biceps into multi-separated spheres so high that he could, and did, easily reach down and stroke their upper reaches with the tips of his own admiring fingers. One leg shot forward into its equally intoxicating display of a series of spring coiled muscles overshadowing the kneecap into utter darkness. As the music reached for its final victorious notes, Zoltan swung his arms down bringing his clenched fists to rest against each other just above the beating swell of his still expanding pre-erection and fed the crowd with a last muscle gluttony crab shot. His cantilevered pecs virtually swallowed up any space between the wonderfully balled biceps and the swelled reaches of his writhing forearms. Then the stage went dark and the audience flew into a shouting frenzy. "A-a-a-h-h-h-h-h! Damn, that was amazing!" Screamed the adjacent Australian. Elijah’s attention was brought momentarily back to the nearby bodybuilder. Peter’s excitedly muscled body was ripped with tension and dripped in the newly produced sweat of exhaustion. A stream of white creamy cum ran from inside the out-pulled posing trunks and flowed down the far leg falling thickly to the floor. •