By Voyager

Chuck backed away, flexing his arm to regain some feeling in it, I could only guess. I picked myself up and tried to gain some composure. I could see him psyching himself up, getting himself angry, regrouping his power. Though it was just for a moment, I could have sworn I also saw him grow. Just slightly, just a fraction, almost like something going out of focus and then back into focus. I thought it was my eyes…with all that had already gone on, I figured the blood still needed to return to my head.

I tried my next gambit. “Okay”, I said to his wide back, “I have learned my lesson. You are a muscle god. I’m sorry for ever doubting you.” The mass of muscle on his back began to move, and I realized it was from laughing. Without even turning around, he replied, “Oh no, your lessons are not done yet. Not until you fully understand that I am one of the most powerful men on this planet, that I have no limitations, that I am capable of being infinitely strong. We will continue your humiliation in a moment.” Inwardly, I wondered how such a nice kid turned into SUCH an egomaniac. Outwardly, I remained silent, knowing that silence was my best option.

Chuck turned around and looked at me. “I have not shown you just how powerful I am. Why, my one arm is more powerful than your entire body”, he began, flexing one of those truly powerful arms. “Why, only one part of my arm is more powerful than your entire body.” With that, he put his hand on his bicep, flexing that mountain slowly, a thought forming in his head. “Yes, that is how I’ll show you”, he said.

He walked up to me, taking some mental measurements. “Hmm, you come just about to my breastbone.” He held is arm vertically out, seeing the clearance of my head to his arm. If he had been a couple of inches taller, his arm would have cleared my head completely. He was being kind…I was looking away from his body, since armpit hair was not ever a pleasant sight, at least to me. Putting his trunk of an arm down, he explained to me what was going to happen, whether I liked it or not.

“I am going to extend my arm”, he began, “and when I do, you will wrap your hands around my upper arm, like you were going to hang from it. You are then going to hang from my arm. Then, I begin flexing, showing you that my one bicep is powerful enough to be able to lift you up and down.” I just looked at him. Was he crazy? I mean there was ego and there was EGO. My thoughts must have found a passageway to my mouth, for before I knew it, I had blurted out, “Oh come on, you can’t possibly hold my entire body weight with your one arm”. Too late, I clasped my hands over my mouth, not knowing what that would bring about.

What it brought about was a deep, guttural laugh. “No, huh?”, he asked, “because I am so weak and puny?”, he asked, grabbing my shirt with one hand and lifting me enough so that my toes were the only thing touching the ground. “Never, ever doubt your muscle god, or you will be punished”, he said, looking down at me, “Now do it.”

Enjoying things like breathing, I complied. He held out his arm and I clasped my two hands together over where the bicep would have been, if his arm was flexed. I then bent my legs, so I was dangling from his one arm. From that angle his tricep development was intense. It scooped out from his arm a good four inches and was rock solid, holding steady, even with my weight. “Couldn’t do it, you said? Never doubt your muscle god.” He was right, his arm quivered slightly at the first press of my body, but rebounded quickly, holding me there without the slightest indication of strain.

“Get ready for a ride”, he said, as he began pumping his arm. I could feel the bicep forming under my clasped hands, growing inexorably, reaching skyward. I could also feel my body being raised up by the growth in his bicep. We got to his peak, and Chuck’s tricep was many inches closer to my head than when he had begun. I had not had a chance to experience his muscles this close. The bicep was rock hard without any give, more of a mound than a peak, which allowed my hands to stay clasped. And it was big…I wondered even with two hands I was feeling the whole territory his bicep took up.

Like a carnival ride, before I knew it, he was straightening out his arm. Awash with the sensation of power I received in the first flex, I forced myself to focus on Chuck. There was a slight bit of strain, but not much. He was even able to talk during his flexing, going on with an endless stream of superlatives about himself.

“Feel that power, little man, coursing under you. No one, NO ONE could move you with one simple bicep curl, no one except your muscle god. Witness the strength, the power, the ferocity that I have in each curl, my arm getting larger and stronger with each pump. Feel the force of that bicep, raising your entire pathetic body up by itself. It is hardly a challenge, but it will do to show you that I am a muscle god. It will show you who you are to worship. It will show you never to insult someone so vastly superior to you…” This went on an on, a steady stream of words as his bicep methodically rose and fell.

I also noticed this stream of words was coming more belabored, more erratic. Sweat was forming on his arm and his bicep, causing me to have to hold on even tighter for fear of my hands sliding off. I felt his breath laboring once more. He was getting tired. Even this so called ‘muscle god’ could not do this indefinitely. I also felt a vibration in him, as if his whole body was being racked with some force. Looking up at what I could see of his face, I noticed a pleasurable sensation overcome him, much like one when I go into the bathroom with the Victoria Secret’s catalog. Whatever it was, this sensation was crescendoing in him, as the shaking got more violent. A quick look down at his shorts showed no wet spots, so I ruled that out. Finally, with one large grunt, he flexed me once more and then dropped me to the ground.

Almost with a growl, he walked away, stretching out his whole body and commented, “What a rush!” and then, looking at me, “I want more. My other bicep will not be neglected the pleasure of humbling you.” Without another word, he flexed his other bicep, pointed to it, straightened out his arm, and I climbed aboard. Once again my whole body was elevated by a simple flex of his arm, another stream of superlatives left his lips, another tremble, another drop. But I swear, before I dropped, I went higher. No, not from a flex of a bicep, but like his whole body just…grew. I filed that away and steeled myself for the next onslaught from the muscle god. •

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