My Fair Man: A Muscle Musical


By John

Act Two, Scene Five (In a private dressing room at the Mr. Galaxy Contest.) "You better believe that Pickering had something to do with the way things were set up at the Preliminaries!" Professor Higgins proclaimed as he, Freddie and the dripping figure of Elijah returned to their private prep room once again. "You would think that he would want everyone to see Mr. Elijah and Zoltan together." Freddie inserted still confused by the process. "Of course he does." The Professor acknowledged. "At the finals. That’s when he’ll have all the media good and worked up. There’s a lot more publicity in keeping them apart until then. That’s why he staged it so the two of you weren’t called out together." "All I know is that these preliminary rounds are brutal." Elijah gasped. "I bet I lost five pounds out there this afternoon." Freddie pulled a cool bottle of Gatorade and a power bar from the small refrigerator in the room and carried them over to the virtually naked lumbering God-like creature. Unlike Elijah, Freddie had seen Zoltan during his preliminary posing segment and knew that this contest was going to be quite a battle. "He gets two bottles of that stuff and three bars. No more." The Professor directed visually scanning the astounding body his program had sculpted. " Try to make it last until a half hour before the Final Posing routines. Then he can have one more bar and a bottle of plain water." "Are you sure that will be enough to carry him?" Freddie quizzed. "He’s lost a lot of water already." "That’s all he gets." The Professor retorted sharply. "The point is to keep his body in primed condition. No need to get bloated now. Since his program has been entirely natural, Mr. Dolittle will be able to handle it better than the rest of that chemically created line-up." "Yes, sir." Freddie apologized. "Good." Professor Higgins concluded. "And I want him to keep doing light reps. Work everything. (Turning toward the heaving muscle conglomeration.) Change those trunks before the finals. I need to go get your posing position." The Professor exits closing the door behind him. Elijah downs half of the first bottle before Freddie grabs it away and warns him to take it slow. Freddie picks up a towel and begins to smooth the sweat stained oil and tanning solution covering the colossal body. "God, you feel so hot and so hard." Freddie observes as he relishes his task. "The crowd loved you during the preliminaries! There’s a ton of hunky and horny men out there in the audience and they all want you. Do I need to be jealous?" Swinging around, Elijah plants a gentle, light kiss on the small figure and sweeps him up into his burgeoning arms. Freddie all but disappears in the smothering muscle. Elijah weighs more than twice Freddie’s weight and all of the difference between them is densely packed muscle. "And you are ‘hot’ to me." Elijah whispers. "Its all of those ‘hunky’ guys who need to be jealous, not you. Now, lets get started with those weights." Freddie is reluctantly released from the sarcophagus of muscle and brings back a pair of thirty pound dumbbells. He hands them to Elijah and signals him to do some biceps curls. Elijah stands waiting for a moment. "Aren’t you forgetting something?" He asks. "Not here, Mr. Elijah, not here!" Freddie admonishes. "Someone may walk in on us." "Let them! Let them come see what real muscle is all about." Elijah insists. "Either you do it or I will." Left with no choice, Freddie reaches in toward the breathing muscle shrine. Slowly he slips the sweat soaked posing trunks down unveiling the only previously unexposed muscle on the gargantuan body. Elijah’s cock and balls immediately flush fuller once freed from the tormented pocket of fabric. "Tonight you are mine!" Freddie addresses the hugely arcing organ directly as he pushes the tiny posers to the floor over Elijah’s fighting thighs. "…and tonight you are mine!" Elijah assures. "No matter what, I will have you as my love trophy tonight.!" For almost two months Elijah has remained true to his promise. His cock feels heavy with refreshed virginal anticipation. Elijah’s balls have grown from lemon to orange size with their collection of waiting cum. His cock is in a constant state of willing preparedness. As his sex-denied body grew, his longing cock seemed to fill to correspondingly larger proportions. "OK, let’s get pumped!" Elijah insists running his gaze over the plethora of muscle gathered on his amazing frame. He begins a series of slow upward curls and equally slow negative movements. At the bottom of each extension, Elijah pushes the weight and his extended arm back so that his triceps can enjoy equal participation in the process. "Rub them, Freddie." He orders. Freddie slips both hands around the nearest of the monstrous upper arms and sets his well-trained therapist hands to work. He knows that, in spite of the fact that, even with the greatest grasping pressure he can muster, he is unable to dimple or dent the intensity of the meat assembled in the mass of the biceps and triceps. "How’s that?" Freddie asks as the great ‘show muscle’ rounds to the size of his own head. Freddie’s fingers dig into the only permeable attribute of the rocky membrane as they push the ejected rope-sized veins around over the surface of the marbled meatball. His sensitive fingers can feel the pounding of each beat of the heart feeding the demanding muscle. At the same time, Freddie does his best to stretch his thumbs down onto the pulsing triceps. As the biceps lengthen on each stretch, the corresponding opposing muscle forms into a series of steel coiled ribs. Freddie thumbs trip from hillock to hillock of cabled muscle. "That feels wonderful, Freddie." Elijah moans. "So wonderful!" After about eight reps on one arm, Freddie takes several steps to get around behind the working giant to the far upper arm. He repeats the same manipulation. Without looking, he can sense the various channeled separations between different segments of the enormously balled masses. The thin, thin skin seems only to exist to serve as a silky casing on the purest of muscle. "I think we have company." Freddie observes. Elijah tries to glance down over the immense swell of his contorting pecs but can only see the smiling reddish head and a small segment of the sausage tube of his fully aroused cock saluting the joint assault on his arm muscles. "Yea, that feels good, too, Freddie." Elijah smiles back. "Why don’t you go say ‘hello’ to our friend." "Are you sure it’ll be OK?" Freddie queries. "I’ll be good. I promise." Elijah assures him. "I’ll let you know if it gets too tough.." Freddie makes one more trip around to the front of the tower of writhing muscle and kneels down next to the horizontally mounted flag pole of meat cantilevering from Elijah’s impossible strong, flat loins. Though he has come to know this image all too well over the past couple of months, the vision never ceases to amaze him. "It’s as beautiful as the rest of you, Mr. Elijah." Freddie speaks dreamily. Freddie gingerly reaches up to the broad, pounding 11" member. It bears the same consistency of hardened fortitude as its brother biceps and triceps. The gentle webbing of veining on Elijah’s cock beat to the same heart-fed rhythm as those bolstering the meaty arms above. Heat radiates from the immeasurably strong shaft warming Freddie’s loving fingers as they slip pettingly along the intoxicating length. "It’s yours, too, Freddie." Elijah assures. "It’s waiting for you." "Soon, my pet, soon." Freddie speaks at the magnificent cock as his hands fully palm the shaft and tighten their contact. The cock responds by fleshing out to more than 2 ½" in rock hard diameter. Elijah shifts to overhead dumbbell pumps to feed the shoulders, traps and upper pecs. He moans joyfully at the feel of blood surging into all the begging meat - all of it. The light drifting down from above onto Freddie and his object of attention moves from filtered to brilliant as Elijah’s monumental pectoral development is lifted and spread out by the pulling shoulder muscles in the overhead movement.

"I Will Cum"

(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. •

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