Disclaimer: If you are offended by stories of superhuman
musclemen with superhuman strength, and who use this strength
for violent purposes, please do not read on. This story
is intended for people who like muscle snuff stories. Please
email all your comments on this story to Demetrius, c/o Alex
"THE MUSCLEBEAST"
by Demetrius
PART ONE – THE "ACCIDENT"
I sat in my chair and looked at Brandon, and tears came to
my eyes. Brandon was only 18 years old and already his life
seemed over. Three months ago he was on top of the world. He
had played sports all throughout high school, and this year
had been voted best all around athlete. He deserved it. He is
6' 7" tall and used to weigh 215 before the accident! He was
huge! In another year he was going to enter a bodybuilding contest
and he would have won too! There hasn’t been a kid his size in
a contest yet! But that’s all gone now.
Now I watch him sit by the window and stare out into the street
and wonder what is on his mind. "Brandon," I call, "need anything,
bro?" He turns to me, and he smiles his friendly smile and I know
he needs only to get well. "No, but thanks, Jeff," he replies
weakly. He had wanted so much! He ate right, exercised, slept hard
and studied hard. Things had been going great.
His exercise regimen was ferocious, and he had made incredible
gains since he started lifting at 15. But lately he felt like he
had hit a plateau and he had been talking to the guys at his gym
about taking steroids so that he could get MASSIVELY BIG and then
he might achieve all of his goals. I had been able to persuade him
to stay off of the juice for the past year, but he kept telling me
that all he wanted was to get bigger than anyone else ever dreamed
of being. He had decided to begin taking the steroids and he wanted
me to help. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to help him take a chance of
"hurting" his body. Now look at him! Sometimes I wish I HAD helped.
This disaster began one evening as he was taking his 9:00 PM run
(he always ran after his 7:00 PM workout). He bumped into a gang of
thugs - eight of them - who cornered him and beat him senseless for
no reason! They used pipes, sticks and knives! He was a mess when we
found him. Brandon could probably have taken two, three, or even four
of them by himself. He's fuckin’ strong! But EIGHT!
They were eventually all caught and are serving sentences now. Shit, I
wish I could meet all of THEM in a dark alley - one at a time! That
is - me and a loaded gun! I'm not big...but for Brandon I’d do anything!!!!
He still works out, though. I guess there are some things that are innate
in him, and he's even getting a little bigger. Most of the weight he lost
in the hospital is coming back. The wounds have healed pretty much, but he
has a lot of scars.
"Brandon," I call out like I used to, "show me that muscle!" Brandon
shot me his silly grin and popped me a right arm biceps pose. Man,
it's incredible! He’s huge. "You're Superman, Brandon!" I say, and
he replies "Yeah, thanks Bro." and he smiles. IT KILLS ME! Last night
he came to my room and looked me in the face with a serious expression,
and told me he HAD to get big. He wanted to start taking steroids
NOW! He STILL wants to take those steroids - only now more than ever.
"I want revenge!" he yelled at me! And then he smashed his fist into
his hand – really hard! I shuttered to think what he could accomplish
if he were truly massive. He wants to meet those guys again!
On his graduation night Brandon told me about his plans for bodybuilding.
He wanted to gain at least 50pounds - to weigh 325! He was watching guys
on TV in a bodybuilding competition and he said "I could take 'em by
showing off just one arm!" Like I said, he was ready to do steroids
cause he wanted to make faster, bigger gains, and I talked him out of
it. What about your kidneys?" I'd ask. " Or your heart? And don't you
want to have kids? Won't those things harm you?" He gave me all the
reasons he SHOULD take them, and I told him why not. Now, it doesn't
even matter! The doctors say he'll live into his 30's, but not beyond.
He's incapable of having a family, and if you're not going to live past
40, what good are your kidneys in the long run?
I didn't realize it, but tears were coming down my cheeks. I was
mad at the world, and especially at those morons who did this to
Brandon. The more I thought, the more I brooded, and the more I
brooded, the more I wanted revenge for Brandon. I took him to his
gym today and watched him pushing up 315 on the bench, and I wanted
to do something for him. I wanted to do anything! I watched him
work his muscles and it seemed to be the only thing that gave him
hope or pleasure. That's when I gave in.
The settlement from the families of those punks had been a total
of 8 million. Brandon was rich. We, I guess, were rich. And why
not give Brandon what he wanted. Size! Muscle! The ability to compete!
Why not give him the most massive body ever! He already had a physical
head start. How big could we make him? How massive could he get? How
strong could a guy Brandon’s size become? I knew there were plenty of
growth drugs out there, and with all of this money we could afford the
best.
"Brandon," I called to him in his room. "Wanna' be a "musclebeast?" He
ran into my room and his eyes actually lit up! "What? What do you mean?"
called Brandon, and he grabbed me and lifted me in his strong arms!
"Brandon, you're gonna' be the biggest, baddest bodybuilder ever! Curl me,
man!" And he lowered my 150 lb. body and started doing repetition curls
using me as his weight! "Put me down and how me those arms!" I said. And
he slowly lowered me to the floor, lifted his arms and flexed his 18"
guns and smiled. He actually looked happy for the first time in over a
year and a half. I was going crazy with ideas. But the most prominent of
these ideas was REVENGE! Those guys in prison were going to pay with more
than jail time!
PART TWO BRANDON GETS MASSIVE
Steroids were easy to score. They were everywhere. But that was only
a small part of the battle. We added our own gym to the side of the
house - state of the art. I added a special kitchen and juice bar for
Brandon's meals and supplements, and I even hired a nutritionist to
prepare his food for him. I looked into the bodybuilding field and
heard about this guy who claimed he had the biggest arms and chest in
competitive bodybuilding. He put pictures of himself on the internet
stretching a measuring tape to 26" and his chest was 72"! He was huge,
and it was rumored that he was a steroid freak and wanted only to get
bigger. Maybe I could help him and he could help Brandon.
He was undefeated in his sport and had been taking titles since he was
15! That's who I wanted and that's who I got to train Brandon. I paid
him well, but I told him he'd get a cool million if Brandon accomplished
what he wanted to accomplish. A million plus would buy him a lot of
drugs. I told him about the thugs that had done this to Brandon, and
he got almost as angry as I was! He wanted to see them get theirs’
also! He told me that in a year and a half – by Brandon's 20th birthday -
he'd have him ready to take all EIGHT of them on if he wanted to. Man,
money can get you anything! Including revenge. AND EVENTALLY IT DID!
Brandon took to the training like crazy! Like I told you, he was a
natural athlete and his body just wanted more and more. By the time
a year rolled around he had gained 2 lbs. a week of solid muscle.
Yeah, he weighed 319! He was 6' 7" and weighed 319 and he was only
19 years old!! His arms were 21" by now (almost as big as his trainer,
his chest was 65" and he had deltoids and quads beyond description.
Huge piles of muscles sitting upon muscle. His pecs, though, were the
most incredible. They were a yard across and they were massive granite
pads sticking out inches from his body! They were so big he could actually
hold things in his cleavage!
I went into the gym while he was lifting and watched that massive machine
of a body go through its’ work out. Greg was shouting at him to push
harder and he was grunting and groaning and working his muscles with more
and more intensity. When he had finished Military Pressing 305 lbs. he
threw the weights to the floor and started pacing the room snorting like
a bull! I crossed to him. "Brandon, show me how strong you are!" I yelled,
"Pick me up!"
"Give me something hard!" he said, and he swept me into his arms. "Press me!"
I said! "For how long?" he asked. "I could press your skinny bod all day!"
He pressed me over his head 10 or 20 times! Shit! He was incredible! Then
he held me out in front of him with my feet dangling off of the floor!
"Enough?" he asked, " or do you wanna’ go again?" The steroids were working
fine! He threw me down, and snorting and grunting, continued his pace
only stopping every once in a while to look in the mirror and pose.
"Fuckin’ muscles are comin’ in fine!" he shouted. "More! I want to be
bigger! More! Those fuckheads are going to be sorry they met me that
night!" Then he’d move quickly on. Those steroids were making him mean.
The nutritionist quit after 11 months. He didn't like the "junk"
Greg was feeding Brandon "on the side"AND because Brandon got to
where he liked picking HIM up and lifting HIM as much as he liked
lifting the weights. It was getting so that no one could control him.
I was VERY pleased, and he seemed to be pleased also. "I’m sick of
hidin’ myself here in this house! I haven’t been out in a year!" he
complained. "Let’s get out and stir up some trouble!"
I decided it WAS time to get him out, so I took Brandon with me on
an errand. He decided on his wardrobe. Brandon bounded down the
stairs wearing an old jersey with the neck and the sleeves cut out.
It was so tight on him now that it stretched across his body like
a second skin! He wore a pair of workout shorts that had become at
least five sizes too small for him. Shit! His quads were gigantic!
"Take this musclestud to the mall, man!" he said. I want to attract
a little attention.
I loved the stares he got in the mall. People obviously have no
inhibitions, because they were always asking him to pick them up
or show them his muscles. He loved that! We’d sit at a table in
the food court and Brandon would say, "see that table of girls
over there? I came make them come over here in less than five
minutes!" "Bet!" I’d respond. And he’d yawn fairly loudly to get
their attention. Then he’d draw his arms back behind his head in
a stretch and lower his arms into a double biceps pose. Girls were
a sucker for that one - a lot of guys too!
He’d "shift" into other "unintentional" positions stretching his
quads or showing off his triceps, and he got a big kick out of
flexing his pecs do that they’d dance back and forth! That’s the
one that brought the girls over. He did it in three minutes flat!
The girls "oohed" and "ahhed" over his tremendous body and he’d
always invite them to feel him flex his pecs.
But he treated the guys quite differently. A guy would start to
hang on Brandon and ask him to flex. Brandon would pull off his
shirt exposing those humongus pecs! "Sure, guy! Watch these babies
dance!" he’d brag. He'd ripple his pecs slowly and then he'd place
the guy's fingers between his pecs and let him touch their rock
hard contour. "Like ‘em?" he’d ask. "Here, put your fingers between
these mountains of muscle and feel how deep that ridge is!" Just
when the guy was getting off on feeling the ridge between his massive
pecs, he’s and squeeze their fingers to the point of breaking. He
wouldn’t let go until they'd scream for mercy!
Or, he'd pick them up like they asked, but then he'd suddenly press
them 10 times overhead and then throw them into a fountain or a bush
or something. If they wanted their picture taken with him he'd act
really nice and lift them up and sit them on one flexed biceps muscle.
"Let’s make this a good one," he’d say. "I’ll throw in this other
cannon for free!" He’d flex the other muscle at the camera, and smile.
Then without warning, just before the picture snapped, he'd grab the
idiot and begin curling them like they were a human barbell. They'd
usually scream so long that he’d eventually drop them. That mass of
muscles could curl a 100 to a 160 lb. person for an hour!!
These aggressive acts were only innocent signs of what was to come.
The longer he took the steroids, the more massive – and also
aggressive - he became. He began staring at his reflection in the
mirror on a regular basis. He’d flex his muscles and touch each one
and smile this very weird sort of smile. "Revenge is almost mine!"
he’d say in a low booming voice. "They won’t know what freight train
hit them!"
He and Greg developed this routine where Greg gave him things to
crush to work his fingers, hands and forearms. Greg would place him
in front of the wall mirror and drop an apple in each of Brandon’s
hands. Brandon would slowly grip the apples firmly and begin to
squeeze. Tighter! Tighter! His arms were pumping and the veins would
be standing out. He’d make this loud grunting sound and finally
squeeze the apples until they turned to mush. Greg watched him day
by day and after a while the apples were replaced with small pieces
of wood, then small stones, then larger and larger stones. His grip
was incredible. He could crush a stone to powder in 10 seconds!
Greg would give him the largest stones and tell him to begin squeezing.
Then Brandon would begin his grunting and groaning and his face would
turn red. As he worked the stones, Greg prepared a syringe of the
yellowish liquid. He’d stand behind Brandon and yell, "DO IT, WHIMP!
CRUSH THEM! CRUSH THEM!" Brandon increased his grip and grunted even
louder than before. Then Greg would yell, "I SAID CRUSH THEM!!!"
"FUUUUUCCCKKKK YOOOOU!" yelled Brandon, and Greg would then jab
Brandon with the syringe and thrust the liquid into Brandon’s
powerful body! POW! Instantly he would pulverize the stones
to dust as he watched the veins in his arms get bigger and bigger.
"MORE!" Brandon would shout! "MORE!!" And Greg would give him small
iron bars to bend into rings by repeating the same process. They
were always about 2 feet long, but they were only 1/16" thick at
first. Then they began to increase. 1/8", ¼", 3/8", ½"! A little
bigger each week until Brandon was bending a 2" iron bar like it
was no problem at all! "Bend it, wimp! Bend it!" Greg would shout
at him. "FUCK YOU!" "Bend it!" "FUCK YOU!" "Bend it!! "FUCK YOU!"
"Bend it!!!" "FUUUUUCCCKKKK YOOOOU!" And Greg would jab him with a
different syringe. He bent the bars easily then! It was incredible.
No one could match his strength.
Brandon loved this new body he had. He loved the new strength he
was amassing! He was just a big, hulk of a man - a 19-year-old man - who
loved showing off his body and bending things. But he never lost
sight of his ultimate goal. When the pizza guy would deliver a pizza
for me, Brandon would meet him at the door. "’BOUT TIME, ASSHOLE"
he’d always say, and he’d pick him up and bring him inside to me.
"Did you order a pizza?" he’d ask me, holding the guy like a baby
in his arms. I’d take the Pizza and Brandon usually put the guy on
top of the kitchen table or on the kitchen counter and he would do
a set of poses for him. "CHECK THIS OUT, PIZZA GUY!" And he’d do a
routine that would make the guy almost faint. He’d lift the guy off
of the table and then he’d get down in a pushup position and command,
"GET ON!" And the pizza guy did as he was told.
He would sit cross-legged in the middle of Brandon’s back while he did
100 push-ups. "GET OFF, DUDE! NOW!" he’d bark and the guy did! Then
he'd scoop him up in his muscular arms like a barbell, press him overhead,
and lower him behind his neck to his shoulders. "HOW MANY SQUATS CAN A
MUSCLEDUDE DO HOLDING A PIZZA GUY ON HIS SHOUDLERS?" he’d quizz us. "WHEN
YOU’RE AS MASSIVE AS ME, AS MANY AS HE WANTS TO!!" He’d do 100 squats
holding the guy in his arms. Then he’d carry him and he’d put him back
outside the door. The guy would fall into a heap on the mat and sometimes
stay there all night!
I wanted Brandon to have fun and enjoy his size and strength, but I didn’t
forget why we were doing all of this. Each night about 6:00 Greg would shoot
Brandon full of whatever he was giving him, and as he did I would show
Brandon mug shots of the guys who had hurt him, reminding him of the
pain and suffering he had experienced. Brandon would rage and become
incensed and by 7:00 he was lifting weights and grunting like a mad
man. He would complete a set of repetitions, cross to the bulletin
boards where I had their mug shots pinned up, and punch them out one
at a time> That wall was getting the worst of it.
Then he’d pose eight "most muscular" poses as he went down the line and
looked into their faces. "DEATH TO YOU, DUDE! AND DEATH TO YOU, DUDE!
AND DEATH TO YOU, DUDE!" he’d repeat as he went down the line. Then he
would return to the weights and lift more than he lifted before!
In three months those guys would be out of jail and Brandon would be
ready for them. Three months, 90 injections, 74 pounds, and 72 workouts
later, Brandon was an uncontrollable gargantuan. The day the thugs got
out of jail, Brandon was ready.
PART THREE - BRANDON IS READY!
Brandon now weighed 405 lbs. He was so massive that he couldn't be
called anything other than a "musclebeast." I watched him looking at
himself in the mirror. His attitude had changed. He watched his biceps
as he flexed his arms (now measuring 28"!) and felt his pecs (over 80")
as he crunched them tight and squeezed every muscle.
Our plans for Brandon and the ex-cons included several carefully
rehearsed events. I had Greg work him work on the speed bag an
hour each day. "Faster!" Greg would shout! "EAT SHIT!" Brandon
yelled back! "Faster! You’re a weakling!" "EAT SHIT AND DIE!"
"Faster! Your brother could take you with a punch like that!" I’D
DEMOLISH THE TWO OF YOU TOGETHER!" Faster!" EAT SHIT!" "Harder!"
"EAT SHIT!!" "Harrrdddeeerrr!" and again he’d jab him in his butt
with a long liquid filled syringe! "EEAATTT SHIIIIITTTT!" Brandon
did not stop until he hit the bag so hard it would rip off of its
hook, hit the wall and explode!
He’d give him basketballs which he had to squeeze with his biceps
until they tore into pieces. As they disintegrated Brandon would
yell "I’M THE BIGGEST FREAKIN’ MUSCLE DUDE ANYONE EVER SAW!" and
then he’d usually punch a brick in the wall causing smashed clay
to fly! "YEAH!" he yelled! "MESS WITH ME! I DARE ANYONE TO MESS
WITH ME! BRING THOSE FUCKERS ON!!"
Then he'd climb into the ring and spar with Greg. Greg could manage
to take him for the first year, but now it wasn’t even a fair fight.
No one could take Brandon now. He knew every wrestling hold and he
knew all of the ways a good wrestler inflicts pain. He was doing curls
with 200 lb. dumbbells that were outrageously huge. They were made
from 8-25 lb. plates each (Olympic size) and he could curl them until
Greg told him to stop. He knew no pain! He benched fourteen 45 lb.
plates (675 lbs!) for warm-ups and could do reps for a half-hour without
stopping. Squats were no challenge. He could rack up 1000 lbs and do
deep knee bends for an hour! Greg had trained him well!
It was Tuesday, 3:30 in the afternoon, exactly 2 years after the trial
and sentencing. All eight men were due to be released today. I had
hired a van and told Greg to be waiting outside of the prison when
they came out. He was to tell them that he was a prison system employee
paid to take them to their desired location on the outside.
When they were on their way he would emit gasses into the rear of
the van that would put them to sleep until they had been delivered
to our "gym."
It all went off without a hitch. He met them at 3:30, they fell
for the "ride bit," and 45 minutes later their drugged bodies
were lying lifeless on our gym floor. I had Greg keep Brandon in
the other room. I didn't want the fun to begin too soon. Ever since
Greg left for the prison Brandon had been curling, and pressing,
and squatting, and benching and he’d had three injections not 30
minutes ago! I didn’t know what he'd do when he saw them. That event
would wait just a little longer.
When Greg rejoined me, I had him tie two of the scumbags onto two
reinforced steel speed bag posts. He easily hoisted their bodies
and hung them like meat on a hook. They flailed there with their
arms extended over their heads. Their feet were at least 15 inches
off of the ground. I had him take four of the other men and tie one
each of the corners of the wrestling ring. He easily muscled them
into place and sat them in front of each turnbuckle and tied their
hands onto the ring posts. The remaining two were shackled to the wall
by Brandon's weight bench and dumbbells.
I could hear Brandon yelling in the other room. He was pacing ferociously
and every now and then he’d strike the wall or a door causing wood
and plaster to fly! "HURRY THE FUCK UP!" he screamed!
"Make sure you have them all fastened securely," I told Greg. I'm going
to get Brandon." I took the pictures off of the bulletin board and went
into the hall to prepare Brandon for the "meeting."
He was standing in front of the hall mirror flexing, grunting and in
a rage. He watched his quads balloon out as he made his usual sounds.
"SHIT! I’M HUGE" he screamed. "THIS BATCH OF JUICE HAS ME GOING! I’M
A MUSCLE MONSTER!" He flexed his calf muscles. Then he struck a most
muscular pose and shouted again.
"Brandon," I said. I pulled the photos of the eight men from behind
my back and instantly Brandon went crazy. "These are the men that hurt
you, Brandon! These are the men who made you like you are!" "LET ME
HAVE THOSE FUCKIN’ PICTURES!" he grunted, reaching for the photos.
"No, Brandon! Show me your biceps!" He did. "THERE! All 28 MASSIVE
INCHES OF THEM!" he screamed. "Flex your pecs!" He did. "PECS!" he
yelled. "PECS OF STONE! WATCH THEM BOUNCE AND RIPPLE," he boasted.
"Crush this stone!" I said, handing him a fairly substantial garden
stone. "NO STONE CAN WITHSTAND THE PRESSURE FROM MY MASSIVE HANDS! I
HAVE THE STRONGEST GRIP IN THE WORLD!" He took it in one hand and crushed
it to powder! "Bend this bar," I said, and he took the two and ¼ inch
steel bar from me. "WATCH WHILE I MAKE A FUCKIN’ BRACELET OUT OF IT!"
he screamed. He grabbed it and the contest was on. His massive muscle
against over 2 inches of steel. It wasn’t even a contest. He made a bracelet
out of it in ten seconds! "NOW destroy these men!" I handed him the pictures
and he grunted and snorted and tore the photos to shreds. "BRING THE FUKERS
ON!!" he said. He was on fire!
PART FOUR - MASS KICKS ASS!
Greg came into the hallway and told me that all of the punks were waking
up and screaming like hell. They wanted to know where they were and why
they were tied up and shackled. They were yelling about their rights and
demanding to see a lawyer! I told Greg to stay with Brandon for just a
minute while I "briefed the boys."
He paced the hall with fury - a huge behemoth, almost 7 feet tall,
breathing rapidly. His arms were stretched out far away from his
sides - his lat development was incredible! - his pecs were rising
and falling at a fever-pitched rate. His massive shoulders heaved
high and then low, and about every fifth breath Brandon would punch
the concrete wall and blocks of cement would hit the floor! His eyes
were red and so was his face. He had a crazed look and I couldn't
guess what was going to happen next. I left him with Greg.
"What the shit is going on?" demanded the largest of the group who was
tied to one of the speed bag posts. "Let us down NOW or I'll beat the
crap out of your wimpy ass when I get outta' here!" He was a massive
long-haired 22 year old and he was shackled up by Brandon's weight
bench. I smiled. They were all pretty impressive in size. I'd say 185
to 260 lbs. and 5'10" to at least 6'5". But none of them could even
come close to comparing to Brandon, though.
"Shut up, you scum!" I shouted. "All of you! You are here for a
reason. Two years ago you went to prison for beating up an 18-year-old
kid! A kid who wanted a career as a professional athlete but who
was so intelligent he could have been a professor at any university.
You didn't even know him! You just needed someone to pick on! You beat
him senseless! He barely was alive when he got to the hospital!"
"Well, that kid went to the hospital with broken ribs, broken
fingers, and broken toes! His face was mutilated beyond recognition,
and his stomach and abs took 136 stitches to close properly. His
legs were no good to him for a year! The doctors gave him no more
than 5 to 10 to live, and because of what you did to him, he'll never
be capable of fathering a family at all!"
"BOO-HOO!" yelled the man shackled to the far wall. I crossed and
got up in his face. "He spent a year despondent over all of this,
and I didn't think he'd ever come back from it. But he has! I've spent
almost half of the 8 million dollars your families had to shell out
and I got him the best drugs money could buy. STEROIDS, GENTLEMEN!
The best, the most potent! He's been training endless hours per day
and he's become a musclebeast. You're going to be sorry you ever messed
with this kid! Biceps! Triceps! Deltoids! Quads! Pecs! Abs! All mounds
of STEEL! He weighs over 400 lbs. now, and every night I show him your
pictures so that he won't forget what you did to him! Now he's going
to get his revenge! And I’m going to love watching him do it! Greg, bring
Brandon in!"
Slowly a shadow moved down the wall in the hallway, and then the mass
that made up Brandon’s body stood at the doorway, eclipsing the light
from the hall. Brandon stood there with his lats spread and his muscles
flexed! He stared straight ahead and he looked wild! His breathing was
incredibly rapid!
"Shit!" screamed one of the puny guys tied to a ring post. "Get that muther
away from here! Let us go!"
"Brandon," said Greg, "get busy, muscleman!" Brandon stood in front
of the mouthy guy tied to one of the speed bags pointed to the scar
on his face. "TWO YEARS AGO YOU OPENED ME UP AND PUT THIS GASH IN MY
FACE." Brandon pointed to the scars.
"Shut up, freak!" the blonde spat out. And that was the last
intelligible thing he EVER said. POW! Brandon used the man's head
as if it was a speed bag! His powerful fists were landing blow
after blow in rapid succession. Teeth were flying from his mouth
like pieces of rice. "LIKE IT, TOUGH GUY? EAT THOSE TEETH!" Brandon
screamed. Brandon was pulverizing his teeth into tiny bits! The man's
lips were swelling! They were puffy and bloated! Brandon moved to the
guy’s nose, turning his knuckles so that they could do the most damage.
Several quick jabs later his nose was no longer sticking out of his face,
but there was a crater where it used to be! "I’M GOING EASY ON YOU, GUY!
WAIT ‘TIL IT’S TIME FOR THE K.O!" Next Brandon worked his eyes! In four
punches both eyes had closed. Brandon continued to punch.
His muscles pumped and flexed as his delivered blow after blow. The
man's head bounced left and right and back and forth, and yet he never
made a sound. He couldn't. ‘I WANT YOU TO FEEL THE PAIN I FELT WHEN
YOU KEPT HITTING ME IN MY FACE WITH THAT LEAD PIPE!" Brandon screamed.
"BUT THIS FIST CONNECTED TO THIS 30" ARM CAN DO MORE DAMAGE THAN ANY LEAD
PIPE!"
Brandon moved with speed and agility for several quick jabs and then pulled
his huge right fist back and checked out his incredible right bicep. "NO
MORE PLAYING AROUND! LET’S LET THIS MASSIVE BICEP DO IT’S STUFF! Brandon
gave his arm one last powerful flex and he threw a punch that shoved the
man’s face to the back of his head! It was like those speed bags he had
always punched into an explosion! Brandon clinched his fists and starting
pumping them, forcing the blood to circulate through his arms and across
his chest. His pecs rippled and he exercised them LEFT and RIGHT working
them into a pumped up state of incredible proportions! They were bigger
than I had ever seen them before. What was he doing?
He crossed to the guy’s head and caught it in the huge cavern between
his pecs! "FEEL THE POWER OF THIS HE-MAN!" he said. And Brandon began
to yell! "AHHHHH! AHHHHHH! AHHHHH! AHHHH! as he flexed his pecs together
four times grinding the man’s face between his enormous chest muscles.
Then on the fifth time, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing! He let
out a final AAAAAHHHHHHH! And using only those massive muscles in the
chest he crushed the head in on itself and he continued to worked his
massive pecs together until the head was nothing but mush! "YEAH!" yelled
Brandon. "MUSCLE PECS ON A MUSCLE MONSTER!" He wanted more!
Brandon reached up and with one snap, pulled the body loose from its’
bindings and threw it 10 feet across the room into the ring! It fell
to the center of the mat, and continued to vibrate there as if it was
getting an electrical shock. Brandon screamed a victor’s scream!
"UUUUUGGGGHHHH!" And the flexed his massive muscles and brought his
hands above his head with another shout! "MORE! I NEED MORE NOW!!" He
was ready to fight again!
"Shit!" shouted the man attached to the other speed bag post. "Stay
away from me, freak!"
"WHAT, DID YOU CALL ME A FREAK?" asked Brandon?" I’M THE STRONGEST
FUCKIN’ FREAK ALIVE!" Brandon lowered his fists, and faced the 250-pounder.
The man had a bodybuilder's physique and his abs were incredible. An
eight pack! His biceps were huge and developed. His chest was massive
and he was tattooed all over. Brandon looked at him, never breaking his
stare. "A FREAK? UNLIKE WHEN I MET YOU TWO YEARS AGO, I NOW HAVE 30" ARMS.
(he flexed them). AN 80" CHEST. (he rippled his pecs). A 28’ WAIST.
(he showed off his abs). AND THE BIGGEST FUCKIN’ QUADS YOU’LL EVER SEE!
(he moved his tree trunks into a hardened pose.) YOU CALL ME A FREAK?
THANKS! THAT’S WHAT THIS WAS ALL ABOUT. I GUESS WE’VE ACHIEVED OUR GOAL. "
"Eat shit and die, freak!" the man said. Brandon was on him like a light.
He placed his massive pecs against the man hanging from the speed bag post.
Their pecs met exactly even though the man hung so far off of the ground.
Brandon grabbed him in a bear hug and said, "START PRAYING!" He squeezed
lightly at first. Short little jabs that made the man exhale in short little
breaths. As he squeezed he tightened his grip slowly. "Huh. Huh. Huh. Huh.
Huh. Huh." The man breathed in short spurts as the breath slowly left his
body - little by little. It was like being squeezed by a boa constrictor.
Pecs ground against pecs, and Brandon began to tighten down even more.
"You’re cavin’ in my chest!" the man gasped. "THAT WAS THE IDEA," Brandon
replied. "IT’LL ALL BE OVER SOON." The man began to scream, but the more
he screamed the more breath he wasted. The pressure from this muscle monster
was killing him! "NOW, ON THE COUNT OF FOUR!" said Brandon. "ONE!" He
re-tightened his grip and pulled. "Ehhhhh!" yelled the man. "TWO!" Brandon
squeezed so that he heard the man’s sternum begin to crack. "THREE!" The
bearhug was intense. Brandon’s arms strained and the muscles in his
forearms pulsed. "I’M THE STRONGEST FUCKING HUMAN ALIVE!" Brandon shouted.
"FOUR, FUCKER!" and he drove the man’s chest into his back caving it in
like cardboard!
"Brandon, my man," Greg spoke up. "What about a little guts action?
I wanna’ see some blood. Whaddayasay?" Brandon stared at Greg almost
like he didn’t know him. "BLOOD? NO PROBLEM!" Brandon boasted. Brandon
flexed his fists causing his veins to pop out! Blood was racing through
them wildly. He opened his fingers, straightened them tight, and formed
his hands into two rigid "knife-like" weapons. "TAKE THIS, YOU SHITHEAD!"
JAB!!!!! Went his left hand piercing the man’s ribs. "AND AGAIN!" JAB!!!!!
Went his right, and blood began gushing! Brandon twisted his hands slowly
inside of the man’s torso! Brandon didn’t stop. He removed his bloodied
hands from the man’s body and placed them on the man’s abs, side by side.
Brandon’s hands were so big that he practically covered the man’s entire
mid-section! "Do it, Brandon," called Greg! "Take him to the wall!
"GOT IT, COACH!" Brandon said. "RIGHT AWAY!" "ONE! He got down in a
three-point stance. TWO! He started snorting like a bull! What intimidation!
THREE!" yelled Brandon and he charged toward the wall like a football player
working on the sled! He ran with an incredible force that tore the man’s bonds
right off of the speed bag post with a sudden Rriiipppppp! The freight train
- Brandon! - moved at 150 mph to the wall with the poor slob caught in between
his powerful hands and the concrete wall! There was a horrible squishing sound
and an incredible cracking sound as the man’s ribs disintegrated under the
super force. Brandon’s hands met the wall with an explosion, and he continued
THROUGH it! The wall broke into a thousand pieces as Brandon disappeared into
the hall still moving at an incomprehensible speed. CRAAASSSHHHH! No telling
what he had done to the man’s body when he met the wall at the other side of the
hall. Then there was silence.
Brandon entered the room holding the man out in front of him - his
massive arms outstretched. They were face to face. Brandon surveyed
his work. "THIS FUCKER IS SORRY HE EVER CUT ME IN THE ABS!" Brandon
said as he heaved the lifeless body over his monstrous shoulders in
a fireman’s carry. He turned and slowly crossed toward the wrestling ring.
PART FIVE - "MUSCLEBEAST MAYHEM"
I watched Brandon walk slowly over to the ring. He carried the body
like a trophy. "FUCKIN’ MUSCLEFREAK!" Brandon yelled in victory. "I’M
A FUCKIN’ MUSCLEFREAK!" I was astonished at the way the huge muscles
in his body moved. Now his shoulders looked five times wider than his
waist, and his quads flared out twice the size of his mid section making
him look like a grotesquely unbalanced hour glass. His shoulders were
mounds of muscles packed on other mounds of muscle, and they were thick
as hell! Because his back was so wide, his arms stuck out a foot on either
side of his body and they made it impossible for him to walk through doors
any other way but sideways -and even that was impeded by his huge, hulking
chest. Just imagine the size your body would have to be to force you to
walk into a room sideways, and even then his chest would get stuck!
He stepped up onto the apron of the ring. "HERE’S WHERE YOU GET OFF,
ASSHOLE! KEEP YOUR SCUM BUDDY COMPANY," he said, and he heaved the
lifeless body over his head with just a slight push and it landed in
the center of the mat with a thud! It landed on the other body, and
that one began twitching again! The other men fell silent. Brandon
crossed to the middle of the ring and began to "stretch out." Actually
he was just taking his time having fun intimidating the guys in the
ring. He stretched his lats and flexed his biceps and triceps. He rolled
his shoulders and did a few trunk twists on his 30" waist! They were just
staring! I don't know enough about wrestling to tell you the technical
moves that Brandon made, but I'll describe to you - as best I can - what
Greg and I watched him do.
"OK, PUNY EARTHLINGS!" Brandon chided., "IT’S RECKONING DAY FOR YOU
FOUR POOR SLOBS. LET’S SEE. EENIE...MEENIE...MINEE...YOU’RE DEAD FIRST, MOE!"
Brandon went toward the man on the far side of the ring. "Asshole!"
shouted the huge man tied to the ring post. He sounded desperate. "Make
it a fair fight! You killed my buddies while they were tied to a post,
but what about untying me so I can show you what some real muscle can
do, you pathetic musclehead!"
Brandon liked his style! "NO PROBLEM, STUD!" said Brandon, "IT’S YOUR
GAME! SHOW ME WHAT SOME REAL MUSCLE CAN DO!" Brandon crossed to the ring
post and with one hand, grabbed the thick ropes that bound the man there.
He snapped the ropes like thread! "AND TO SHOW YOU I’M NOT AN ALTOGETHER
BAD "MUSCLEFREAK," I’LL UNTIE YOUR BUDDIES AND WE’LL MAKE IT FOUR ON ONE."
The man stood as Brandon turned and walked away toward the opposite post.
In a flash the man ran at Brandon and jumped onto his back.
"HEY. IF I HAD KNOWN YOU WANTED A RIDE, I WOULD HAVE OFFERED." Brandon
continued as if nothing was happening! The man grabbed him by the neck
and started to squeeze! It was impossible for him to get both hands securely
around this thick, massive neck. "BETTER SQUEEZE TIGHTER IF YOU EXPECT TO
GET ANYWHERE," Brandon said. "I’LL GIVE YOU JUST TWO MORE MINUTES TO TRY."
The man continued to ride Brandon’s back as Brandon released the other
men. The poor sap was sweating and straining trying to choke this behemoth.
Brandon casually proceeded to release the other three men in the same fashion
as the first. GRAB! FLEX! PULL! SNAP!!!! - it was child’s play.
"TIME’S ALMOST UP, MUSCLESTUD!" said Brandon, and the man took both hands
and clamped down on Brandon’s neck with one last effort. He clamped harder
and harder and managed to make his fingers almost meet! Squeeze! Squeeze!
Brandon stopped what he was doing and laughed. "HEY GIRLY-GIRL, IT’S AN
IMPOSSIBLE TASK! GET A LOAD OF THE MUSCLES IN THIS NECK!" And he flexed his
neck with one quick POP and the man’s hands were forced back inches away from
his neck! He looked at his hands unbelieving!
They were all free now. "SORRY, MUSCLES, BUT IT’S TIME TO GET TO WORK NOW,"
Brandon said, and he reached behind him and grabbed the man by the head and
pressed him over his own head in a nicely executed Tricep Press. "CATCH HIM!"
ordered Brandon, and he propelled the man forward causing him to crash into
his buddies standing at the other side of the ring. They did try to catch him,
but the impact sent them all crashing back into the ropes with such force that
their combined bodyweight snapped the far ropes and they all went flying out
onto the floor. "NOPE! NO TRYING TO ESCAPE!" he said to the mass of flesh lying
on the floor. And he stepped down next to them. "HERE, LET ME HELP YOU!" And
he picked up ALL FOUR men AT ONCE and threw them back into the ring! What a
display!
"OK, GIRLS. LET’S WRESTLE!" Brandon waited. They huddled. "MAKE A GOOD
PLAN, NOW. THIS MASS OF STEEL NEEDS A GOOD WORKOUT. IT’S TAKES A LOT OF
EXERCISE TO MAINTAIN THIS MUSCLE!" Brandon said.
All four of them suddenly rushed him. Brandon expected that corny move.
He laughed and simply lowered his mammoth shoulders and blocked their charge
with the most unbelievable set of deltoids on the planet. WHAM!! All four
of them flew backward across the ring and into the remaining ropes. As they
bounced Brandon called, "COME BACK AND GET ME, LADIES!" They were propelled
back toward Brandon at a tremendous speed. First mistake! Brandon did a
Most Muscular Pose and his body became a brick wall! "ROADBLOCK!" Brandon
called out. CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! All four men hit the immovable
object and fell back to the mat on their asses!
"OH! SORRY!" Brandon said, as he "helped" the men to their feet. "I DIDN’T
KNOW THESE "MUSCLEFREAK" SHOULDERS WERE THAT HARD!" He grabbed two of
the men by the neck and righted them with one swift pull. "MAN, I APOLOGIZE!"
he said to the third as he lifted him by the wrist and held him off of
the ground in front of his face. "I’LL GIVE YOU ANOTHER CHANCE! NO KIDDIN.’
TRY IT AGAIN, FELLAS," he said to the group. "I’D SAY YOU WEAKENED ME PRETTY
GOOD," he told the fourth as he grabbed his waist and lifted him overhead
so that he was looking down into Brandon’s eyes. Brandon smiled at him and
put him down. "GO FOR IT AGAIN," he told the group.
The idiots did try again. But this time as they charged him, he ran in
the opposite direction and bounced off of the ropes, turning and heading
back into them! They did the same, bouncing into the ropes, turning, and
heading back toward Brandon. Second mistake! The double velocity was
tremendous. "SURPRISE!" called Brandon. "CLOTHESLINE!" Just as they met
him, Brandon lifted his massive 30" arms and clothes lined the four all
at once. CRACK! It was a massacre. Brandon announced: "FOUR NECKS UP, FOUR
NECKS BROKEN!" Their windpipes shattered and their heads lolled lifeless
on their broken spines.
Brandon was going wild! "WHAT A RUSH!" he yelled. "GREG! JEFF! WHAT A
FUCKIN’ RUSH! MORE!!" He grabbed two of the twitching bodies, with one
in each huge hand, and held them off of the floor at eye level by their
broken necks! These were the fools who had broken Brandon's arms and left
him useless as an athlete! "ARMS! YOU TWO ARE THE GUYS WHO LIKE BREAKING
ARMS! AREN’T YOU?" growled Brandon. Of course they couldn’t answer.
"Ahhhhhhhh!" was all they said as they looked the giant in the face.
"LET’S SEE YOU USE YOUR FUCKIN’ ARMS WHEN THEY LOOK LIKE THIS!" And
Brandon took one man by the left arm and one by the right and proceeded
to TIE THEM TOGETHER in masterfully executed granny knots! Crunch, crack,
smash! "LET’S SEE, IT’S RIGHT OVER LEFT (crack!) OR IS IT LEFT OVER RIGHT?
(crunch!) I CAN NEVER REMEMBER! Their bones cried out as Brandon bent their
arms like pretzels and interwove them together. "MAN, I DID ALRIGHT, DON’T
YOU THINK, GUYS? PRETTY GOOD KNOT!" Their arms were a knotted mass of useless
flesh.
‘WHAT ABOUT A REPEAT PERFORMANCE, GUYS?" They tried to protest. "NO,
NO PROBLEM AT ALL!" Then he took the other arms and did the same! CRUNNNCH!
He was having fun seeing how many ways he could get their arms to bend.
The two men faced each other with their arms tied in knots, broken in multiple
places. They tried to pull away from each other but they truly were tied in
knots!
"OK, YOU FUCKIN’ SIAMESE TWINS, TIME TO DIE...TOGETHER!" Brandon was getting
good at this bearhug thing. He lifted both bodies and put his massive arms
around BOTH of their torsos. "OK, LADIES, KISS EACH OTHER AND SAY GOODNIGHT!"
and he drove their faces together with one swift pull. Their teeth were
grinding against one another, their noses tried to occupy the same space!
"OK, I’M GOING TO TRY AND BREAK MY RECORD OF FOUR COUNTS! WHAT DO YOU SAY
WE TRY IT IN THREE, HUH LADIES?"
"ONE!" The immediate sound of sternums cracking. "FUCK, YEAH! TWO!"
Brandon jumped into the air and landed with the two men under him.
All 450 pounds of him smashing them together. "OH, MAN, I’M GONNA MAKE
THREE! THREE" he shouted, and the ring floor splintered and cracked
and he drove the entangled men through the flooring and onto the floor
below! He released them, and stood over them - a hulking monster
wanting to inflict more pain! "STAY THERE, LADIES, WHILE I TAKE CARE
OF YOUR FRIENDS," he said looking down into the hole. There was no
response. The men were out!
"TWO EXCONS DOWN! ANOTHER TWO TO GO!" called Brandon, as he turned
to the other two. He was breathing harder than ever before. His excitement
was mounting! He was searching for more action! ‘COME HERE, KIDS! IT’S
FUNTIME!" He lifted one of the puny men and threw him into the other.
"YOU TWO ARE GOING TO NEED TO STICK TOGETHER IF YOU WANT TO TAKE THIS
MUSCLEBEAST!" They lay still, looking into his blazing eyes. Brandon
reached out and he took each man by the throat. They screamed in pain.
Their necks had been broken in several places and blood was trickling
from their mouths. Brandon’s muscles tensed. "UP YOU GO, TOUGH GUYS!"
And he lifted them 8 and a half feet into the air! They were dangling
off of the floor, choking from Brandon's grip. His strength was unbelievable!
"TAKE A LOOK AT MY MASSIVE LEGS, ASSHOLES!"
Brandon brought each man's face down to his massive quads. "LOOK!" he
shouted, "LOOK AT THE MOUNDS OF MUSCLE THAT EXIST WHERE YOU ONCE CARVED
YOUR NAMES! YOU TOOK YOUR KNIVES AND CARVED YOUR NAMES INTO MY LEGS! LOOK
MORE CLOSELY AT THE SCARS! And he rubbed their noses in the deep grooves
of the striated muscle that made up his tree trunk legs. He made them
examine the surgery scars where the team of doctors had spent hours trying
to put his crippled legs back together. "LIKE THEM? LIKE THOSE SCARS? WANT
SOME OF YOUR OWN?" He rubbed their faces harder and harder against the
rock hard surface of the legs he had trained so carefully over the past
year.
"ARE YOU READY TO PAY THIS MUSCLEGOD FOR THE WRONGS THAT YOU HAVE DONE
TO HIM? WELL, PAYBACK TIME IS NOW!" Brandon yelled! WHAM! He threw them
to the mat onto their backs, and reached down and grabbed one man by
the left foot and one by the right. He raised them off of the mat and
held them over the concrete floor, outside of the ring with their heads
feet from the hard floor.
"I SAW ARNOLD DO THIS TO A GUY IN A MOVIE ONCE! HELD HIM OVER A CLIFF!
WELL, ARNOLD’S A WIMP COMPARED TO THIS MUSCLEMAN! LET HIM TRY IT WITH
TWO!!" He held their feet like the apples he had crushed so many times
in his exercises with Greg. Their faces were two feet above the concrete,
and they were afraid of falling! SMAAASSSHHH!! They yelled in agony. He
didn’t drop them - he broke their feet! ‘OH, YOU LIKED THAT! I’M PLEASED!
WELL, HOW ABOUT THIS?" All of the bones in each man's foot disintegrated!
SNNNAAAPP! With one swift move he had rotated the feet 180 degrees and broke
them from their sockets. They hung useless.
"MAN, THAT WAS AWESOME, WASN’T IT FELLAS? WHAT DO YOU SAY WE TRY IT
WITH THE OTHER FEET TOO?" Brandon asked. He actually tossed them
into the air and as they came down he caught their other feet - still
holding their heads two feet off of the floor! He had them by the opposite
feet - their GOOD feet - only this time he had an idea. ‘COME BACK INSIDE,
GIRLS. I WANT TO TRY SOMETHING. I WANT TO SEE EXACTLY WHAT THESE HUGE
FUNKIN’ GUNS CAN DO!"
He placed one man’s foot in the cavern that formed between his right
bicep and his massive forearm. Then he did the same to the other man
using his left bicep. Brandon stood up to full height. Both men were
dangling upside down with their feet crunched in his unflexed arms.
"OK, GENTLEMEN. I’M AFRAID THIS IS GOING TO HURT YOU MORE THAN IT’S
GOING TO HURT ME! DOUBLE BICEP POSE........NOW!!" And he flexed his 30"
guns and instantly there was cracking and crunching. Brandon kept tensing
and releasing the huge mound of muscle and as he did the bones in their
feet were ground into dust! "FEELS LIKE YOU’VE GOTTEN PRETTY SOGGY! NO
MORE BONE? AWE!" He relaxed his arms and their bodies fell to the mat.
They screamed in pain. "Kill us! Kill us!" they begged! "The pain! Shit!
The pain!"
"SOON, SHITHEADS! SOON. I WANT YOU TO SUFFER A LITTLE MORE - LIKE YOU
MADE ME SUFFER!" Brandon had no mercy for the two men writhing in pain
at his feet. He reached down and grabbed the first one by the arm and
began to turn in circles holding him out like a hammer used in the hammer
toss. "Ahhh! Ahhhhhhhh!" screamed the man. "YOU CAN FLY, MAN!" Brandon
yelled as he released him and he flew through the air! THUD! Man #1 flew
from the ring and landed against the brick wall 8 feet away! SMASH! "OH,
SHIT. SORRY MAN! YOU MUST HAVE SLIPPED!" The force from this massive
muscleman’s arms was so great that the body crushed flat into the wall
and stuck there! The man’s body was crushed!
"ACTUALLY, THAT WAS PRETTY COOL," Brandon said. "COME HERE, OTHER LITTLE
GUY! HOW FAST CAN YOU FLY?" Brandon lifted Man #2 and he followed. WHAM!
"SMASH!" It wasn’t a pretty picture.
Brandon loved it! "I AM A MUSCLEFREAKIN’ MUSCLEGOD!" he shouted. The
excitement and the rage fueled him on! He crossed to the gaping hole
in the mat and jumped in! "WANNA FLY TOO, MEN? IT’S FUCKIN’ GREAT!" he
announced. And just because he COULD, Brandon picked up man number 3
and man number 4 TOGETHER - one in each massive palm - and held them like
tiny model planes. "ALL ABOARD FOR FLIGHT 356 TO DEATH!" yelled Brandon,
and he threw them 15 feet into the wall across the room! Explosion!! The
impact of 450 lbs. hitting the wall with such force ripped the wall apart!
Brandon stuck out his massive chest, threw his arms up into the air and
yelled "TOUCHDOWN!" and he struck a pose with those 30" guns! "I AM A
MUSCLEFREAKIN’ MUSCLEGOD FOOTBALL HERO!" he shouted at the top of his
lungs.
"GIVE ME MORE! I WANT MORE! PAIN AND MORE DESTRUCTION RULE! WHERE ARE
THOSE OTHER TWO SHITHEADS?"
The two men remaining were shackled to the wall next to Brandon's weight
bench. "I’M COMIN’ FOR ‘YA, YOU BASTARDS! START WRITIN’ YOUR WILLS!"
PART SIX - TOTAL DESTRUCTION
"Six men down. Two to go!" Greg called to Brandon. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,"
Brandon announced, "THE SCORE IS NOW BRANDON 6, PUNKS 0." Brandon began
pacing back and forth wildly in the ring. He breathed giant breaths and
let his pecs rise and fall! He looked like a tiger readying himself up for
the kill. "PEC TIME, AUDIENCE MEMBERS!" he said! "TIME TO WATCH THIS MUSCLEBEAST
STRETCH THESE FUCKIN’ PECS EVEN BIGGER!"
Suddenly he made his move, jumping from the ring and crossing to the weight
bench. He loaded 10 plates on each side of his bar. 945 lbs.!!!! Then he lay
down on the bench and proceeded to do 10 reps with a half of a ton! No one
could match his strength! His massive chest was glowing red from the workout.
His pecs heaved even more! "YEAH! GOOD REPS! GOOD MUSCLEPUMPIN’REPS!" he
shouted. "NEED MORE WEIGHT! MORE FUCKIN’ WEIGHT! GOTTA WORK THIS HUGE
MUSCLEMONSTER’S CHEST!" And Brandon turned to Greg and screamed at him
"AAAAAARRRRR!" He flexed a Most Muscular Pose. "You have enough muscle
there for at least - what do you say? - another 230 lbs?" Greg called out.
"SHIT, YEAH!," said Brandon. "230 MORE POUNDS! BUT WHERE...BRANDON UNDERSTOOD
WHAT GREG MEANT! COME HERE, PUNK," he said to the man shackled to his weight
bench. "I NEED YOUR FUCKIN’ PUNY ASS!"
He grabbed a roll of the tape he used to wrap his wrists when lifting
particularly heavy weights. He crossed to one of the men shackled to
the wall, and grabbed the chain that held him in place. The shackle was
pretty thick - at least 3 inches of solid iron. More than Brandon had
bent before. He pulled. "WHIMP!" yelled Greg. "Break it off!" Brandon
looked at the chain and down at his massive bicep. He was a muscle beast!
No 3" iron chain was going to mess with him! "ARRRRGGGHHHH!" he yelled,
and with one short pull he jerked the man’s huge hand THROUGH the 4" opening
in the shakle! Every bone in the man’s hand shattered! He screamed in pain!
"OH, SHIT! .SORRY! I GUESS I SHOULD HAVE BROKEN THE RING INSTEAD OF YOUR
HAND! MAN! HERE, LET ME TAKE CARE OF THAT! He grabbed the solid iron ring
between his thumb and index finger and squeezed. THEN the iron shackle
shattered. "I GUESS IT WOULD HAVE BEEN EASIER ON YOU THAT WAY, HUH?" Brandon
asked.
"What the shit are you doing?" the man finally screamed. Brandon lifted
him with one hand and brought the two of them eye to eye. Brandon struck
his chest with his free hand. "LOOK AT MY CHEST, ASSHOLE! He yelled as
his mood changed. He indicated the scar from the incision that ran across
his right pec. "DID YOU THINK IT WAS FUNNY WHEN YOU OPENED THAT 13" GASH
IN MY CHEST? DID YOU THINK IT WAS FUNNY LEAVING ME FOR DEAD OUT THERE ON
THAT ROAD?" This man had hurt him badly. Brandon was going nuts. "Screw you.,"
the man whimpered quietly.
"WHAT, ASSHOLE? WHAT WAS THAT? Grabbing the man’s arm he lifted him
into the air as he also gripped him between the legs. "YOU’RE A MAJOR
PAIN IN THE NUTS! OR SHOULD I SAY YOU HAVE A MAJOR PAIN IN THE NUTS!"
Brandon laughed. The man screamed incessantly! "Put me down, you asshole!
Put me down!" Brandon put extra pressure on the man’s balls for good
measure!
"JUST WHAT I HAD IN MIND!" Brandon replied. THWACK! He planted the man
in a prone position across the barbell he had been lifting. "SIT TIGHT,
SISTER! AND DON’T MOVE!" Then he took the tape and began wrapping the
man’s body to the bar. "Let me go, you freakin’ idiot!" the man yelled.
"You moron! I thought we hit you enough times in the head to make you a
retard for life! When we get out of here, we’re going to finish the job
we started!"
"ARE YOU THREATENING ME? ARE YOU?! Brandon fumed and snorted. He quickly
finished wrapping the man tightly to the bar. "GOTTA’ WORK THESE FUCKIN’
MASSIVE PECS! The man was screaming as Brandon applied the last bit of
tape. "Let me go, fucker!" Brandon pulled the last bit of tape from the
roll and placed it firmly over the man’s mouth. Then he turned the man’s
body so that it was facing down TOWARD the bench, hanging at the bottom
of the bar. His body and the bar were ONE thing! The man was a mummy attached
to an Olympic bar loaded with 1180 pounds! No mere man could even hope
to budge this amount of weight. Brandon took his place on the bench.
"GOTTA’ MAKE THESE PECS THE BIGGEST IN THE WORLD! STEEL! FUCKIN’ STEEL!"
he called out. Brandon placed his mammoth hands on the bar and lifted
it slowly off of the stand. Over half a ton! Brandon pressed the bar to
a full arm extension and held it there. He was looking up into the man’s
terrified eyes! "GET READY TO FEEL STEEL! STEEL FROM ABOVE AND STEEL FROM
BELOW. TASTE MY FUCKIN’ PECS, YOU ASSHOLE!" Brandon screamed. "ARRRGGGHHH!"
he screamed, and he let the bar FALL to his chest! SMASH! Bones breaking.
That’s all I could hear - bones breaking! "ONE!!" he screamed as he pressed
the mammoth weight again. "HERE IT COMES AGAIN, ASSHOLE! YEAH! TWO!" And he
let the weight crash into his pecs again. All of the man’s bones must have
been broken inside of all of that tape. "THREE!" screamed Brandon as he
let the weight fall again. It crashed into his chest and pockets in the tape
burst open and slime began to spurt out! Up! SMASH! "FOUR!" Up! SMASH!
"FIVE!" Brandon yelled. "FEEL ME! FEEL MY FUCKIN’ STRENGTH! I AM A MUSCLEBEAST!
Brandon seemed to love feeling the disintegrating body crumble against his
chest. He kept it up until there was literally nothing left under the tape
that resembled a human. There was nothing on the bar but a few fragments of
tape.
His pecs were red and heaving! He stood by the bench with an insane look
in his eyes and began posing! Side Chest Pose! "FUCK THIS CHEST IS LOOKING
GRRRRRREEAAT!" said Brandon. He wanted to do more! Seven men dead and one
still remaining. He paced faster and fasted as his brain worked! "GOTTA
WORK MY TRICEPS!" Brandon showed off his 30" arms which were at least ¾
triceps. They were massive! "OH, LOOKING A LITTLE TINY TODAY. MAYBE A LITTLE
TRICEP PRESS IS IN ORDER!" Brandon yelled.
"FEE-FIE-FOE-FUM! LOOK OUT SHITHEAD! HERE I COME!" Brandon pounded the floor
as the lumbered over to the remaining man. He put his massive mit around
the iron chain that held the man to the wall. "BEEN HERE - DONE THIS!"
Brandon said, and with one tug the shackle exploded it in his hand. CRUNCH!
He screamed. "ARRRGHHHH!" The man was "free." Brandon turned and showed
the man the scar on the left side of his back. "REMEMBER THIS BACK? NO, I
GUESS YOU DON’T. THAT WAS 175 POUNDS AND A LOT OF MUSCLE AGO!" he said. "WELL
THAT’S WHERE YOU PLANTED YOUR KNIFE TWO YEARS AGO."
Brandon grabbed the cowering man and lifted him up by his head only - holding
his head between his massive hands. Then he moved into the 8’ high doorway
that opened into the gym. The steel frame that surrounded the opening was
only 6" higher than Brandon. "TRICEP PRESS TIME! I LOVE THESE! GREAT WAY TO
WORK THE ARMS!" He took three huge breaths and started to perform a Tricep
Press raising the man above his head. The man’s head kept crashing it into
the steel doorframe! "SHIT! I CAN’T EXTEND MY ARMS ALL THE WAY! THAT DOORFRAME
IS GETTING IN THE WAY, PAL. USE YOU HEAD AND THINK OF A WAY TO SOLVE MY PROBLEM,
OK?" Brandon asked. He would need at least an 8’ 6" opening to perform the
exercise properly. "WAIT! YOU DON’T HAVE TO USE YOUR HEAD! I’LL USE YOUR HEAD!"
he shouted. And he lowered the man and pressed him into the air rep after rep,
crashing his head into the steel doorframe.
Brandon’s muscles were pumping and expanding. They were huge! He looked
like he was pumped to 32" at least! He loved it! Each time he raised the
man, he did it with added force. He wanted to hurt this guy badly before
doing him in! "THANKS, MAN! IT SEEMS TO BE HELPING! I CAN EXTEND MY ARMS
EVEN MORE NOW. LET’S GO FOR MORE!" The steel in the frame began to bend
as the man’s skull came into contact with it for the eighth time! CRUNCH!
SMASH! The reps went on and on. The steel frame was being destroyed and so
was most of the man’s head. As Brandon went for the tenth rep chunks of
brick were falling from above the door.
"YEAH!" yelled Brandon. "WE’VE DONE IT! I CAN EXTEND MY ARMS ALL OF THE
WAY UP NOW!" He had completely destroyed the frame using the man’s head!
"THANKS, BUDDY! YOU’VE BEEN A BIG HELP! BUDDY? BUDDY? FUCK! WHAT HAPPENED
TO YOUR HEAD? OH, MAN, DID I DO THAT? SHIT! SORRY!" Now there was an eighth
body lying prone on the floor! Brandon stared at the body and waited for it
to move. It did not. "I’M THE FUCKIN’ MUSCLE KING OF THE UNIVERSE!" Brandon
proclaimed! He looked at the wall where six bodies were embedded in the
brick. Time to add a seventh!
He went to the box where we kept the iron bars for his strength exercises,
and pulled out eight 2" thick bars. Then he crossed to the body and lifted
it into the air. He crossed to the wall where all of the other men were
"displayed." WHACK! Brandon took the piece of iron and jabbed it INTO the
wall about 8 feet off of the ground! It sunk in at least 6"! He held the
man’s body against the wall and with the other hand he bent the bar around
the man’s wrist. It was phenomenal! "HANG THERE FOR A SECOND, ASSHOLE, WHILE
I GET ANOTHER BAR!" he told the corpse. With his superhuman strength he bent
the bars around each wrist, each ankle, each knee, and each thigh. The body
was firmly stuck to the wall held up by the bent iron bars.
He stepped back the surveyed the wall. "DAMN!" Brandon screamed, "THAT FELT
GOOD!" He turned to us. "LOOK WHAT THIS MUSCLEBODY DID!!" he screamed as he
did a double biceps pose. He was happy for the first time in two years. "I
FUCKIN’ LOVE THIS BODY! I LOVE THE DESTRUCTION IT CAN CAUSE! LET’S GET BUSY
AND BUILD IT UP MORE! I HAVE ASSHOLES ALL OVER THE CITY I WANT TO VISIT!" he
shouted as he turned and drove his fist through the abs of the body on the
wall AND he drove the fist six additional inches INTO the brick wall!
"I LOVE ALL OF THIS FUCKIN’ STRENGTH!!" Brandon screamed as he pulled back
his hand holding a brick from the center of the wall! "GET THE STEROIDS READY!"
He stared at the brick and squeezed. It shattered into powder!
"RACK UP THOSE WEIGHTS! I’VE GOT A WORKOUT TO GET TO!" he screamed. He was
already 400 lbs of lethal weapon, more powerful than any other man on earth!
My brother had turned into a 20-year-old musclebeast who only wanted more!
He paced, flexed his muscles, and roared!
"WORKOUT TIME, GENTLEMEN!" And he reached down and picked up a six foot
long marble bench and cracked it across his chest! "I WANT TO BE 500 LBS
BEFORE CHRISTMAS!" He grabbed a ring post and ripped it frrom the mat.
"I WANNA SEE WHAT OTHER FUCKIN’ IDIOTS WOULD CARE TO MESS WITH ME NOW!"
And he tensed all of the muscles in his body and let out a piercing scream.
He placed the six inch thick post behind his shoulders and bent it around
his neck! "NOTHIN!" he shouted, and threw it to the floor.
He dropped on the bench and he began to bench press the 945 lbs. still
on the bar. "ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! - GREG, GET YOUR PUNY ASS OVER HERE
AND GET MORE WEIGHT ON THIS BAR! - FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! I’M GOIN’ OUT ON THE
STREETS AND VISITIN’ THE OTHER ASSHOLES WHO ARE THINKIN’ THEY’RE REAL
TOUGH! EIGHT! NINE! Greg and I looked at each other as we contemplated
what he might do next. "I’M THE FUCKIN’ BADDEST MUSCLEBEAST IN THE UNIVERSE!" .
"TEN!" he shouted! And he threw the bar ten feet across the room and it
landed with a CRASH!!
END
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