MSCL FORCE: LUCAS TANNER: CHRISTMAS ON MT. HOOD — PART ONE
by Sean Reid Scott
[NOTICE: This story contains vivid descriptions of homosexual encounters. There's lurid, kinky sex here. Homo sex. It's prolly straight out of HELL, if you're inclined to hold the religious perspective. Really, this story is not for those who button the collar tightly. If you can't stomach this kind of smut, skedaddle. Likewise if you're under 18. Additionally, please note that this is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters herein to any person, living or past, is unintentional, coincidental and totally not what the author had in mind.]
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The first story in this series was a four-parter, titled “Off-Base”.
It featured our star, Cpl. Lucas Tanner, as a member of the hyper-elite “Unit 55” Marine force.
Subsequent to that story, realizing that “Unit 55” really didn’t cut it in the descriptive department,
Congress passed a bill that renamed Unit 55 as MSCL Force: Maximum-Strength Covert Logistics.
(“MSCL” is always pronounced “muscle”.)
The general public refers to members of MSCL Force as MSCL Men.
Maximum-Strength Covert Logistics — An ultra-elite unit of the US Marines,
focusing on strength and endurance (among other things, most of which are Top Secret).
MSCL Men are huge and lean hyper-bodybuilders, with unmatched strength.
Cpl. Tanner’s current stats (December 2019) can be found at the end of part one.
Christmas on Mt. Hood
CORPORAL LUKE TANNER, MSCL Force, USMC
HADN’T BEEN HOME SINCE last Christmas, and I was looking forward to this one a lot. Even though my Marines unit has quite a bit of leeway, schedule-wise, I usually didn’t go home much during the year. So I made it a point to get back home during the holidays.
This year, the family would be gathering at my grandparent’s cabin, and I was excited for it. Papa and Gamma’s place—up near ski country on Mt. Hood—is more of a mansion than a cabin: lots of exposed timber beams, huge river rock fireplaces, gigantic picture windows that face the mountain, the whole works. And of course, Gamma always has it decorated to the nines: fir boughs, lights, huge tree…. And don’t get me started about the food. I usually fly back to base with more pounds than when I left. (Fortunately, my MSCL Force protocol ensures that almost all of that weight is muscle.)
This year was going to be fantastic; all of my siblings and all of the nieces and nephews were going to make it. No one was going to the “other” parents (in-laws) this year. I was really looking forward to seeing everyone.
As soon as I landed in Portland and got cell service, my phone lit up with a message from my sister, Renaé: “Gamma made room assignments. You’re going to be with Jett. Hope that’s okay.”
I quickly texted back, “Sounds good to me!”
Renaé’s son, Jett, was 21—majoring in pre-med. I hadn’t seen him in three or four years. He’d spent the last few Christmas’s with his girlfriend’s family. Even when he was a little kid, I could tell Jett was going to be a gorgeous man when he grew up. I’m not in to little boys; that’s not what I’m saying. But even when he was in grade school you could see he was going to be a lady (and maybe gentleman) killer. His eyes were just gorgeous. And I’d been right. As a late teen, he’d grown into a hunky dude. And despite dating only women, he slayed male and female alike.
My brother, Roger, and his new wife, Bulemia, picked me up at the lower level of the airport, and we zoomed off, east, toward Mt. Hood. It was the first official day of winter, and the weather confirmed it. “Supposed to be in the low 20’s (-6 C) overnight,” Roger said as he drove. “…and here in town they’re expecting a little snow. Who knows how much we’ll get up on the mountain.”
Those prospects sat just fine with me. I was looking forward to hours of skiing, reading in front of the fireplace, playing games with everyone, and stuffing myself with Gamma’s home cooking.
The drive from PDX was long—snow and traffic’ll do that—and by the time we got to the “cabin” I was exhausted. It’s funny…a guy can be in MSCL Force, and thus, arguably one of the most fit and strongest guys on the planet, but maybe it’s the psychology of traveling…I was spent. Everyone, no matter how strong, needs rest.
I went straight up to the bedroom. Jett had already thrown his stuff on one of the beds. I dumped my stuff on the floor, plopped down on my bed, and fell asleep almost immediately.
An hour later I was awoken by Jett, who had graciously left me alone while I napped. I hadn’t even said “hi” to him when I’d arrived; he’d been down in the rec room playing ping pong with his cousins.
“Uncle Luke,” he said as he poked his head inside the room, “Gamma says dinner’ll be ready in…” he stopped speaking.
I was stretching and rubbing my eyes, waking up, and I didn’t get why he’d stopped mid-sentence. I rolled over and looked at him—just his head poking through the bedroom door. His eyes were as big as the moon.
I sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. When he muttered, “Holy fuck. Luke?” I figured it out. Shouldn’t have been a surprise; heaven knows I was used to leaving people tongue tied.
“Hey, Jett, long time no see, huh?” I said, smiling up at him.
He didn’t move. His mouth was open.
Like I mentioned, it had been some four years since we’d seen each other, just about the time I’d started in the MSCL Force. Yet even before I became a MSCL Man, I remember Jett being pretty impressed with my bodybuilding physique. The hunk was all about sports and weight training, so he’d made it no secret that he appreciated the change he’d seen in me. Now, though, he was dumbstruck.
I was still wearing the same Marines-issue olive green T-shirt—with the “MSCL Force” logo printed over the chest—and my camo cargo pants.
Jett opened the door and stepped inside. “Holy fuck, Uncle Luke! Just…wow!”
I stood up and gave him a hug. “How you doing, little nephew?” I pulled back and held his shoulders at arm’s length. Damn, he’d grown too. The kid was a bona fide man now. Boner-fide too, although I’d never burden him with my perspective—unless he mentioned it. And given his well-established penchant for desiring the females, I didn’t hold much hope about that. Still, it doesn’t hurt to look, does it? He was definitely a cute, hunky dude.
He didn’t answer immediately, and when he did it was with, “I—I’m great. But damn Luke, you—you look amazing!”
I smiled. “Thanks, man. Wow, it’s good to see you.” I let go of his shoulders and gave him the once-over with my eyes.
He did the same with me. Well, actually, it was more like the twice-over. Probably thrice. “It’s amazing to see you too, Uncle Luke! What the fuck have they done to you?” He pulled back and shyly said, “Don’t tell my mom I was cussing.” He was so cute when he looked guilty.
I laughed. “Hey, I don’t tattle, man.” I stepped back to give him a better view. “Yeah, they work us pretty hard. And there are actually some classified things we do too, to gain strength and stuff.”
“Yeah, I knew you were in MSCL Force, but hell! I had no idea that you had put on so much muscle! I mean, you’ve always been a muscle man, even before you enlisted in the Marines…but just holy hell!” He glanced at my waist. “And fuck! Your waist! You look like you have no fat on your entire body!” Apparently he wasn’t concerned about his cussing anymore.
“Thanks,” I smiled. I looked down at him. He was probably six-feet tall now. “And hell, man,” I added, “you certainly don’t have anything to be ashamed about in the physique department. It looks like you spend all of your time in the gym, Jett. When do you have time to keep up your pre-med studies?”
He actually blushed. “Oh, well…I manage. Thanks. But fuck, I’m like nothing…nothing compared to you! The guys in my gym would kill to see you!”
I chuckled again. “Thanks.”
He looked at my arms and chest. “Shit.”
“So, when did you say Gamma said dinner will be ready?” I asked.
“Oh…um…in a half hour.”
“Sweet. I think I’m gonna grab a quick shower then. You know, wash off the jet lag, change into something a bit nicer.” I nodded down at my Marines’ T-shirt.
Jett just stood there, apparently in a daze.
“So, see you down there then?” I pressed.
“Oh, yeah. Sure. I’ll see you down there.” He turned and left.
Our bedroom had it’s own private bathroom. All ten of the rooms in Papa & Gamma’s mountain “cabin” had one. I stripped down and jumped in the shower. And I gotta be honest, Jett’s reaction to seeing me had had an effect on me. When the warm water hit me I was already semi-hard. When my soapy hand made it down to clean off my personal areas, I couldn’t hold back. Jett’s adorable face and his youthful, muscular build filled my mind. It didn’t hurt that he’d practically raped me with his eyes when he’d talked to me.
Long, thick ropes of cum sprayed onto the tiles while I leaned with my free hand against a side wall of the shower. It wouldn’t be the last time I masturbated to thoughts of Jett during the stay, that was for sure. And as I’d learn later, Jett would likewise do his share of jerking off in the shower—and other places—during the holidays. It was the beginning of what would be a mutually-felt appreciation for each other. But my question was, would it be anything more than just appreciation?
I WAS IN MY FINAL YEAR OF PRE-MED, and the pressure was pretty intense. So I was really looking forward to going home for the holidays. School was going well, but it was a hell of a lot of work. The holidays with the family promised to be great.
The cool thing about this year was that all of my aunts and uncles, and my cousins, and even some great aunts and uncles, would be together up at my great grandparent’s cabin on Mt. Hood. Gamma & Papa were jazzilionaires and their “cabin” at the mountain was actually a ten-bedroom mansion.
The very coolest thing about this year was that my Uncle Luke was going to be there. Luke was a Marine—a MSCL Force Marine. I hadn’t seen him in like four years, and in that time—so I’d been told—he’d become some kind of muscle monster. He’d been a bodybuilder of considerable stature even before he went into the Marines, and so I was really looking forward to seeing how much more muscle he’d actually put on in the past four years. To be totally honest, I’d jerked off to fantasies of Luke too many times to count, back when he was just a “regular” bodybuilder. I couldn’t imagine what he’d look like now.
I’d seen pictures of other MSCL Men on the ‘net, and all of them were just amazing. You’d expect men who weighed as much as they did to be all thick and smooth—roid guts and gross proportions. But the pictures I’d seen were beyond amazing: huge muscle gods, but with unbelievable symmetry, proportions, and well…just gorgeous specimens of manliness and good looks. I’d wanked off to pictures and videos of these guys so many times I couldn’t count. And to think that many of these guys knew Uncle Luke personally…. I hadn’t seen any pictures of Uncle Luke since he joined , so I was looking forward to seeing him. Like I said, even before he was a Marine, he was a walking wet dream, as they say.
When I got to the “cabin”, I was informed that I’d be sharing a room with Uncle Luke. It was a Christmas miracle! Someone “up there” was looking out for me. This was going to be the best Christmas ever! I threw my bags on one of the queen beds in our room, too excited to unpack. What I really wanted to do was to just sit there and wait until Uncle Luke arrived—my Uncle Roger & Aunt Bulemia would be bringing Uncle Luke from the airport later in the day—but I also wanted to greet the other family members. Besides, I needed something to distract me from Uncle Luke’s impending arrival. So I ran downstairs to challenge some of my cousins in some serious ping pong.
It was hard to keep my mind on the game; all I could think about was the fact that Luke and I would be sharing a room together—for over a week! I couldn’t count how many times I’d jerked off to Luke over the past years. Like I said, he was a muscle stud before he became a MSCL Man. Now, though, the reports from my extended family portrayed something of a muscle god, and I couldn’t wait to see what new jerk-off fodder awaited me.
Yet I also didn’t want to get my hopes up. Despite the pictures of Luke’s friends that I’d seen, I couldn’t imagine someone who pushed weight amounts like I’d heard about Luke…well, he had to look more like a powerlifter than a muscle god, right? And the images I’d conjured up of what Luke must look like now just had to be unrealistic. In a way, I was ready to be a bit disappointed; I think I’d built him up to bigger-than-life status.
Too much time elapsed before Uncle Luke arrived. When I heard the commotion, I practically sprinted up from the basement rec room to meet him. But he’d already made a beeline for our room. Aunt Bulemia said he’d planned on getting in a nap before dinner and that I wasn’t to disturb him. At that point I realized that I’d already hardened quite a bit; it was torture to have to tamp it down. I decided to stay in the great room and kitchen on the main floor, and distract myself with conversations: catching up on past-year stuff with the fam.
An hour later, Gamma said I should go up and wake Luke to give him time to clean up before dinner.
I have to admit, I stood outside the door to our bedroom suite for a long time before I finally had the nerve to knock. No response, so I slowly opened it and poked my head inside.
“Uncle Luke?” I said softly. He was asleep on the farthest queen bed. “Gamma says dinner’ll be ready in…” I stopped mid-sentence and gasped. He was huge. I mean, muscularly huge. He was lying on top of the bed covers; he wore a Marines olive green T-shirt and camo cargo pants that…holy hell his legs! How did he ever get pants over those things? His upper-body alone was enough to stop a guy mid-sentence—which it had definitely done with me. His shoulders and arms were thick and ripped. OhMyGod those arms! He was facing away, so the “V” of his back faced me, and holy christ almighty! His waist was tiny, and his tight ass stared right at me. I felt almost nauseous he was so gorgeous.
“Uncle Luke?” I repeated.
He rolled over and looked at me. He sat up slowly, wiping the sleep off his face. Fuck, his forearms were amazing: rippling, thick, and. Just. Fuck.
He smiled at me when his hands left his face. “Hey, Jett, long time no see, huh?” His smile made my stomach churn. How was it possible that a man this big and ripped—bigger than anything I’d ever seen—could be so model-good-looking? His eyelashes were gorgeous. I mean, his face alone was orgasmic.
I just froze, unable to speak.
His dark green T-shirt was imprinted with the MSCL Force logo in black, over the chest—admittedly a huge canvas on which to put a logo. His shoulders, pecs and arms were just scary-ripped and massive.
I finally opened the door all the way and stepped inside. “Holy fuck, Uncle Luke! Just…wow!”
He smiled big and stood up. His massive physique—the one with, like, no fat—fuck his waistline had to be smaller than mine!—approached me, and I felt my knees buckle. “How you doing, little nephew?” Now, I’m only 21, but I’ve been lifting for five years now, and well, almost nobody calls me “little”. But yeah, Uncle Luke definitely had the rights to call me that. Compared to him I was a bean pole. He hugged me, and I’m not so sure that he didn’t have to hold me up. He was warm, and so fucking solid! Just hard everywhere! He pulled back and held my shoulders at arm’s length. Damn, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing!
Eventually I said, “I—I’m great. But damn Luke, you—you look amazing!”
Again his smile. It was bright, and just perfect. It’s just not fair that a man built better’n any other human being should also be so fucking gorgeous. Where is justice? “Thanks, man. Wow, it’s good to see you.” He let go of my shoulders and gave me the once-over with his eyes.
And since he was inspecting me, why should I not do the same with him? I was so hard in the presence of all this unbelievable muscle and gorgeousness, I just couldn’t contain myself. “It’s amazing to see you too, Uncle Luke! What the fuck have they done to you?” I pulled back and said quietly, “Don’t tell my mom I was cussing.”
He laughed. “Hey, I don’t tattle, man.” Then he let go of my shoulders and stepped back—obviously to give me a better view. “Yeah, they work us pretty hard. And there are actually some classified things we do too, to gain strength and stuff.”
“Yeah, I knew you were a MSCL Man, but hell! I had no idea that you had put on so much…muscle! I mean, you’ve always been buff, even before you enlisted in the Marines…but just holy hell!” I glanced at his waist. “And fuck! Your waist! You look like you have no fat on your entire body!”
“Thanks,” he smiled down at me. He had to be half a foot taller than my six feet. He added: “And hell, man. You certainly don’t have anything to be ashamed about in the physique department. It looks like you spend all of your time in the gym, Jett. When do you have time to keep up your pre-med studies?”
I felt my face warm with a blush. “Oh, well…I manage. Thanks. But fuck, I’m like nothing…nothing compared to you! The guys in my gym would kill to see you!”
He chuckled again. “Thanks.”
I think I stared at his arms and chest. “Shit.”
“So, when did you say Gamma said dinner will be ready?” He asked.
“Oh…um…in a half hour.”
“Sweet. I think I’m gonna grab a quick shower then. You know, wash off the jet lag, change into something a bit nicer.” He nodded down at his Marines’ T-shirt.
I couldn’t even move.
He looked back up at me and I was in a daze, just standing so close to all of those muscles. “So, see you down there then?” he prodded.
I blinked myself out of my stupor, and realized he was trying to hide a grin. “Oh, yeah. Sure. I’ll see you down there.” I returned down to the kitchen; I think I probably was acting like some kind of zombie after being spun for a loop by Uncle Luke’s physique.
“Well,” Gamma smiled, “did you tell him?”
“Y-yes…yes ma’am,” I said as I lowered myself into a bar stool.
“So, you saw him then?” Aunt Bulemia smiled with raised eyebrows.
“Y-yes…yes, ma’am,” I repeated.
Bulemia and Gamma met eyes and chuckled. “Evidently he did,” Bulemia said.
I knew I would forever remember those moments when I first saw Uncle Luke upstairs. I knew I would forever return to that image of him—his superior muscle body wrapped tightly in that green T-shirt—I’d masturbate to that moment for the rest of my life. But, to realize that the week was just starting, and that I’d be spending every night in the same room as him…. It was unbelievable.
COMING DOWN THE STAIRCASE, and seeing the lights and tree, brought back a flood of memories. I’d spent so many holidays in this beautiful place. It was still three days till Christmas, but there were already plenty of presents under the tree. Over the next few days the last of the extended family would arrive; I was in heaven. Our family really has fun together, and I was totally looking forward to spending time with them.
I’d thrown on a baggy sweater and some jeans. Pretty-much, the only clothes I could fit into now were ones that were specially made for the MSCL Force. This sweater would have been a 4XL in civilian sizes. It fit pretty well, but it was designed to hide—as best it could—as much of a MSCL Man’s physique as possible. I made my way into the huge dining room. Gamma had the table filled with food. Most—but not all—of the family were already seated. Papa was at one end of the long table; Gamma on the other.
“Okay, everybody,” my brother Roger said when I entered the dining room, “make sure you take a large first helping. With Luke here, I doubt there’ll be any seconds.”
“Holy shit, Luke!” my other brother, Tom, spat out. “What the fuck are they feeding you in the Marines?”
Gamma shushed him: “Thomas. Watch your tongue at the table.” He immediately slumped down in his chair. You didn’t want to get Gamma’s ire up.
“It’s top secret, Tom,” I said. “I could tell you…”
And everyone said in unison, “…but he’d have to kill you.” We all chuckled together.
The last of the empty chairs were filled—and the littles were all seated at the kids’ table—so it was time. Gamma nodded down the table at Papa, and we all bowed our heads. Papa said an eloquent prayer, but gave everyone a chuckle when he finished it with, “…and please Lord, make sure Lucas saves some food for the rest of us. Amen.”
Gamma scoffed at Papa and said, “Oh, you…. All of you need to show more respect to Lucas. He’s serving our country, and protecting us. He deserves our respect, not our teasing.”
“Well, if he’s protecting our country, they could cut our defense budget down quite a bit,” Jett said, “just by getting rid of everything but Uncle Luke. He could probably handle the job all on his own.”
“As long as they send me the balance of the defense budget, I’d be okay with that,” Papa said.
When the food started moving around the table I leaned forward and said to Gamma, at the far end, “It’s okay, Gamma. I appreciate your concern. But truthfully, I take their teasing as respect. It’s just how we get on.” I smiled and added, “Besides, they only say those things because they’re inconsolably jealous.” That brought a roar of laughter. I’d worn the oversized sweater with purpose. It was dinner time; not time to be a showoff. But it didn’t seem to matter. Oh well. I had dressed conservatively. I wasn’t trying to be the center of attention. And truthfully, I did take their teasing in stride. It was a compliment.
I was seated directly across from Jett, and…well, I’d seen it before. The continual looks. The frequent attempts to steal glances. I’d grown used to it, for sure, so I don’t know why I was a bit surprised when Jett did it—and so enthusiastically. I told myself he was just surprised with how big I was; it didn’t have anything to do with desire. Right? The dude gave off absolutely no gay vibes. Except that he apparently liked to look at big muscles. Heh.
But really, Jett wasn’t the only one looking. The littles, especially, were pretty fun to watch.
After dinner, we all spent the evening in the great room, under the two-story Christmas tree, next to a roaring fire. Cookies, charades, hot cocoa, wine, popcorn…. It was fantastic. And, inevitably I suppose, I wound up on the floor tickling and teasing a bunch of the little kids as they all piled on me. I’d play dead, and they’d try to sneak up on me—only to “wake me up” and I’d grab one or two of them and make them squeal in delight. Everybody loved “Uncle Luke” it seemed. And I loved them back.
Also inevitably, bedtime came eventually. I usually don’t make any kind of effort to tone it down, in the “Display Yourself” department, but throughout the evening I’d gotten the distinct impression from Jett that he was having a difficult time with me. He seemed uneasy. As the evening progressed, he withdrew more and more. I felt bad for him. I certainly didn’t intend to make him feel bad, but I think that’s what was going on. Here was this studly, jock dude, probably used to being top dog in his pack, and I’d stepped in and thrown him for a loop. It wasn’t intentional by any means, it just happened. Like I said, I was used to it, but normally it was with a dude who I’d pretty-much never see again. I felt bad that this time, the guy who had had his brains scrambled by my body was family.
Sure, years earlier my four brothers had hinted at the same kind of reaction, but they were all older than me—mature men who had “found” themselves and were more sure of who they were. Jett was demonstrating signs of feeling inferior and inadequate. And I hated that. The dude was so cool—and a real catch for any girl who might come along.
So, yeah, I rarely made any effort to keep myself to myself. But tonight would be different. At the airport, when I read that Jett and I would be sharing a room, I’d looked forward to “guy talk” and maybe even doing a little showing off for him. Just to see his reaction. Yeah, I’m not shy about my physique. It’s a perk of the job, being built like the USS Gerald R. Ford, and I occasionally take that and run with it. But not tonight. I always sleep in the nude, but when Jett was in the bathroom brushing his teeth, I made sure to jump into my bed and pull the covers up to my neck. When he came out, I was lying on my side—fetal position to make myself seem smaller—with only my head showing. I mentioned something about being beat, said goodnight and that was that. Jett jumped in the sack and that was that.
THE NEXT MORNING, THE AROMAS OF Gamma’s cooking woke me up: pancakes, bacon, eggs, toast, and of course, coffee. The smells wafted under the bedroom door.
I opened my eyes and immediately realized that the blankets that had been at my neck when I fell asleep were now all the way down at my waist. And when I opened those eyes, I was looking, smack dab, at Jett’s big eyes; he was staring at my torso. I’d never been self conscious in my life. Truly. But at that moment, I quickly pulled the covers up. I tried to soften my startled expression: “G’mornin’,” I said with a smile. “Sleep well?”
“Yeah,” he said rolling onto his back. He was embarrassed that I’d seen him looking. “You?”
“Yeah. Really well. I think I’ve taken care of the jet lag now.” I also rolled onto my back, and stared at the wood-beamed ceiling. We lay there in silence for a bit, then I looked over to him and asked, “You doing okay?”
He looked at me: “Yeah? Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You just got kind of quiet after dinner last night.”
“Oh. I guess I was just tired. Jet lag too, probably.”
“How’s pre-med going? You’re at UCSD, right?”
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s going well.”
“Not a whole lot of jet lag when you fly from San Diego to Portland,” I noted.
He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess not.”
“I mean, same time zone and everything.”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I dunno. I’m fine. It’s good to get away from school and take the time off. Looking forward to this week.”
I knew his issue wasn’t about school. At least, I knew there was definitely something in addition to school. But of course I wasn’t going to press it. We were going to be together until New Year’s Day—well over a week—so he’d have plenty of time to talk, if that’s what he wanted to do.
After we all cleaned up the huge mess we’d made of Gamma’s kitchen at breakfast, we decided to take our first expedition into the snow. Some pretty extensive cross country skiing tracks run close to the cabin, so we all donned our gear and set out. Well, ten of us did anyway. Including Jett and me.
I was, as usual, the brunt of way too many jokes about my size—and I loved it. When we were about to get going, my brother Roger announced to everyone: “Okay, everybody, I know it’s going to be a challenge for Luke to move all that mass, so we might need to take frequent stops while he catches up with us. Just be patient with him, okay?”
Never mind that I could actually throw all nine of them on a big sled and pull them through the snow faster than they could do it on their own. I liked being teased about it. And I figured that at some point during the week I might just suggest that we do that. A little dogsled adventure, with Uncle Luke as the dog…might be kind of fun!
When we stopped for our first break—no I did not need to catch up; I led the whole time, thankyouverymuch—Jett and I brushed the snow off a log and sat down. We sipped the water we’d packed and gazed out across a meadow full of fresh powder.
“Do you like the Marines?” Jett asked.
“Love it. It’s the best decision I ever made.”
“Really? Why’s that?”
“Well,” I said, “The training is more intense than you could imagine, and the protocol they put us in, it really maximizes and enhances your physical potential.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” he said. “I was wondering how you got so big and lean.”
“Some of it’s just the basics; some of it’s classified.”
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Well don’t tell me. I don’t want you to have to kill me.”
I laughed, then added, “And of course, the camaraderie is awesome. I really enjoy working with the guys in MSCL Force.”
“That’s cool.” He nodded and took another drink of water. “So, what kinds of missions do you go on? I mean, can you give a general idea—without specific classified information?”
“Well, we get deployed in all kinds of situations. Rescues, dark ops, hostage interventions, even some political espionage.”
“Really? That actually sounds exciting!”
“Yeah, that’s the thing I love about it: never a boring day, that’s for sure.”
“I bet you’d love it, Jett. But of course, being a doctor—that’s sweet. Have you decided on any kind of specialty?”
He gave it some thought and said, “I’m leaning toward gastroenterology. It’d be fun to get paid for sticking my fingers up people’s asses.”
I jerked my face toward him with raised eyebrows. He held a serious face for a second and then burst out laughing. “Just kidding, Uncle Luke.”
I laughed too. The kid was so cute. “Actually, you should consider urology, dude. Then you could get paid for playing with guys’ dicks.” I have no idea why I said that. No, scratch that. Of course I know why I said that. It’s just that I surprised myself by actually saying it.
He laughed even more. “Yeah, that’d be a lot of fun!” He emphasized the statement in a way that made it hard to know if he was joking or not. I had no reason to even think about suspecting he was serious, so I laughed it off with him.
WE ALL ARRIVED BACK AT THE CABIN just before lunch, and let me tell you, we were famished. First, though, we needed to stow our skis and shed our snow clothes. Up in our room, Uncle Luke and I changed.
Of course, I had been waiting for the moment when I could see more of the incredible body with whom I shared a bedroom. Last night, despite my efforts to arrange a covert viewing session—however brief it might have been—Luke had jumped into bed before I got to see anything. Damn, the man was driving me crazy. All that unbelievable muscle, sleeping naked (I figured that out real quick), only six or seven feet from me in the next bed…and I hadn’t had so much as a peek at the guy without a shirt on.
My heart was pounding now, though. We were both going to take showers, what with the pretty good workout from cross-country skiing. So now was going to be the time. In the back of my mind, I’d been formulating scenarios where I could grab a look-see at Luke without his shirt on. Ever since I’d first seen him this week, it had become my all-consuming purpose in life.
To my eternal disappointment, while I showered and Luke waited, he only stripped down to a T-shirt and boxers. And while that in itself was beyond fantastic, it wasn’t what I’d hoped for. Regardless, I don’t think I did a very good job keeping my eyes off his torso during the exchange. And those goddam legs! They pressed at his boxers, and I wondered if he had to have them specially-made. Maybe the MSCL Force had special clothing made for their MSCL Men. But what really “popped out” at me was the fuckin’ enormous thing that hung between those massive legs. Luke was friggin’ hung! I mean…holy shit! It’s not like he was getting hard or anything, but even totally soft, his cock and balls stretched his boxers to unbelievable proportions! In fact, the slit in the front of his boxers was actually forced open just a bit, so I could totally see a sliver of his monster cock in the opening. The size of the boxer’s pouch area told a lot: they just had to be custom made. I’d never seen underwear with a pouch that big.
I just know my eyes bugged out. Holy hell, that thing could be deadly!
We did an uncomfortable dance trying to get past each other as I left and he went into the bathroom. Finally we passed each other. He closed the door and I heard him turn on the water.
What I hadn’t seen when Luke went into the bathroom (I was too distracted with his body) was that he’d taken his change of clothes with him to put them on in there. I wanted to cry when he emerged, all dressed and ready to go. Oh well, the week was young. Surely there’d be a chance….
The rest of the day was filled with ping pong, naps, billiards, darts, other games, and lots of food. We all stayed up late into the night. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve.
After Luke and I made it up to our room, we lay in the dark on our respective beds and talked. “So, the past few years you’ve spent Christmas with your girlfriend. Julie, that’s her name, right?”
“Jenny,” I corrected.
“So how’s that going?”
“Oh, we broke up last summer,” I answered. “So, it’s home for the holidays for me now.”
“Oh, I’m sorry about that.”
“Aw, it’s all for the best. It was a mutual decision.”
“I see,” he said. “But still…you were together for a few years, right?”
“Six. Yeah, most of high school and…yeah. When I left for UCSD, the long distance relationship thing kinda got in the way.”
“I bet. Yeah, those can be hard.”
“Yeah.” I stayed silent for a moment. I could say a lot, but I didn’t know how much I wanted to reveal. After a few moments I said, “There were some other issues too though.”
“Oh? …I mean, I don’t want to prod, man. Only if you want to talk about it.”
“No, it’s okay,” I said. “I dunno…I just realized some stuff, I guess. Not sure I have a handle on all of it yet.” More pregnant silence. Luke didn’t interrupt the process I was obviously working through. “I dunno,” I repeated. “It’s all screw…I mean, it’s complicated I guess.”
“Life can be that way. Believe me, I know.”
“You’ve never…I mean, now that you mention it Uncle Luke, you…I don’t remember you having a girlfriend. I mean, not that I would have known. With you being four or five years older than me, we haven’t really traveled in the same circles,” I chuckled.
He chuckled back. “Yeah. But no, I mean I’ve dated a little. Just never found someone I wanted to get serious with though.”
He was quiet
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. None of my business.”
“Hey, man, no problem. I’m the kind of guy that will tell you what I want to tell you. I don’t get offended by questions. Okay?”
“So, I don’t know,” he continued. “Like you said…it’s complicated.”
“Wow,” I chuckled, “we’re a couple of really complicated dudes.”
He laughed. “You got that right.”
We actually had a pretty good talk, late into the morning hours. We definitely did a delicate dance around the main subject, and I definitely got the impression that it was entirely possible that we were doing the same dance—around the same subject. Not that I concluded it was in any way likely that Luke knew the dance I do…but who knows? Could life be so good to me that Luke would end up sharing my orientation? No. No way. He was the epitome of masculine heterosexual.
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked after awhile.
“I think you just did.”
“I’m telling, Jett.”
“I thought you said you didn’t tattle!”
“But if you call me names, that’s different.”
I laughed. “Okay, so I’ll ask you another question then. How much can you bench?”
He chuckled. Again, he was quiet.
“Can’t tell me?”
“Classified,” he said.
I laughed. “Seriously, how much?”
“Seven hundred eighteen is my max.”
“No shit? You’re serious?”
“That’s my PR.”
I was having a hard time wrapping that number around my brain. “Okay, so what’s your personal record raw?”
“Seven hundred eighteen is my raw.”
“Asshole. There’s just no way.”
“Dude. That’s almost a world record for raw. There’s no way.”
“You’re up on your world records for benching?”
Fuck. I felt my face get warm. Why would a guy keep current on bench records if not because he was into muscles and strength? It didn’t occur to me to realize that lots of straight guys keep up on that stuff.
“You don’t think I could do it?”
“Well, it’s not that. I mean, fuck…” I said.
“…it’s just that…I mean, you definitely look like you could bench a locomotive, but that’s not far off the fucking’ world record!”
“Well, this is just between you and me, okay? I mean, it’s not actually secret, but it’s not something I like to bring up. People think you’re bragging.”
“A lot of people don’t believe me when I tell them, and since there’s almost no way to prove it when you’re in a casual conversation, they think I’m making stuff up.”
“I get that,” I said. “Yeah, I can see that. If you’re out on the street and someone asks you, how are you going to prove it. Right, I get that.”
“So I usually just don’t tell people. It’s easiest that way.”
“Yeah. Holy fuck, though, Uncle Luke. That’s just amazing.”
“Thanks.” More silence as we both stared at the black ceiling. “And actually, I’m pretty sure I’ll be breaking that world record within the year.”
“No shit? Are you serious? You’re going to hold the world record for raw bench?”
“Well, it’ll be unofficial. When you’re in MSCL Force you can’t compete in any sanctioned events. So, yeah, I won’t get my name in any record books.”
“Holy fuck. How about…max reps, you know like they do in the NFL? How many reps can you bench at 225 pounds?”
“Well, I’ve done 46 reps.”
“But not at 225 pounds.”
“I’ve done 46 reps at 315 pounds—three plates on each end, not two.”
“No fucking way, Uncle Luke. That’s just not possible!”
“We’re built for strength and endurance.”
I squinted, not comprehending how someone could be that strong. “Wha…? How is that possible? That’s just not possible, is it?”
“You wanna question me?” It sounded like he was grinning.
“Holy fuck. No. No, I don’t want to question you, on anything.” In the dark, I replayed the image of his beyond-muscular body. “I totally believe whatever you say. Shit. So, that’s not because of roids or anything is it?”
“No. We don’t do steroids.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to accuse….”
“No worries, Jett. It’s a logical conclusion for sure. But our protocol isn’t about drugs or any kind of artificial enhancements.”
“I don’t understand. How could you get so buff and so strong then?”
THE NEXT DAY WAS CHRISTMAS EVE, and the last people to arrive were going to be my little sister, Whispy, and her new boyfriend, Connor. They were flying in from Santa Fe. At breakfast we worked out who would drive into Portland to fetch them. It was decided that Jett and I would take Renaé and Yuri’s (Jett’s parents) Suburban into town.
The flight was due before noon, so Jett and I left right after we were done eating.
Although the roads were snow packed all the way down to Sandy, and even into Gresham it was pretty white, everything was passable. Jett and I basically talked about nothing all the way down the mountain. I couldn’t tell if he had pulled back into his self-conscious shell, or what, so I didn’t press the issue.
I don’t think it helped that when we picked up Wispy and Connor—meeting him for the very first time—my sister’s boyfriend turned out to be a pretty muscular dude. And dang if he wasn’t really good looking. About as tall as Jett—six feet or so—he had model good-looks. His jawline was incredibly square and solid—it looked like the shape of a family coat-of-arms shield. So studly. And his blond hair, blue eyes, golden-tan skin and impressive build made him the total package. I immediately saw what Whispy saw in him.
And well, as frequently happens when I meet buff guys, they can be a bit…well, I guess unpredictable would be a good word. It can go either of a few ways. Some guys pretty-much try to ignore me—or they’ll actually become threatened (that’s actually pretty common; guys who are used to being the Alpha in every situation have a hard time adjusting to being second-in-line on the ladder). Those guys just don’t like me at all. Some guys feel threatened, but still lean toward being able to express their admiration more than their fear. And some guys immediately chat me up about my build, clearly not threatened…just totally admiring and liking me. Envious, probably.
And again, as I tell you this little story, please don’t get me wrong. I’m not stuck on myself. I truly take it all in stride. I’m totally in to my Marines career, yes, but I’m not a one-dimensional guy. I suppose you’ll just have to trust me on that one, since, like, this story is actually only about one part of me.
Anyway, Whispy’s Connor, who was admittedly a really buff dude, was definitely in the latter category. As soon as I got out of the rig to help with their bags, he stopped. He looked up at me while Whispy introduced us, and while we shook hands, he said, “Holy hell! Whispy told me her brother was pretty huge, but just holy hell! I had no idea Whispy’s family came with these kinds of genetics! Wow. I mean, I don’t mean to diminish your obvious commitment to the gym, though. It’s not all genetics, obviously….”
And that’s pretty much how the convo went on the way back up the mountain. Whispy and Connor sat in the second seats; I drove; Jett ran shotgun. And Connor was a never-ceasing source of admiration, discussion and whatever…as long as it had to do with weight lifting and such. I got the impression Whispy was back there, sitting next to him, jabbing him with her elbow to let it go. And I could also see that it was having an effect on Jett. Here I’d tried to minimize my physique issue in order to put him more at ease, and then here comes Connor, all chatty and basically impossible to get to shut up.
Whatcha gonna do?
I actually got the impression that Connor might be “into” me. My gaydar was kind of going off—or at least, maybe there was a short in it or something. And by the way, I never got any of these kinds of vibes from Jett. He was a jock, and his demeanor was 110% totally het. Which made him even more attractive to me.
Not that Connor was flaming or anything. He came across as even more of a jock than Jett—bigger and a few years older obviously—and even though he did bend my ear a lot during the ride home, he definitely had totally masculine mannerisms. Which made him even more attractive to me.
WE GOT BACK TO THE CABIN AROUND TWO PM. It’d been snowing pretty hard, and although the ground was a fresh white powder, the skies were gray and filled with more moisture to come.
I don’t think Jett said an entire sentence the whole ride home. But Connor made up for it. He was really a friendly guy, and I liked him a lot. I had a feeling we were going to get along just fine. And hopefully, after Jett dealt with whatever he was dealing with, the three of us might even forge a nice friendship. I’m not talking about a ménage à trois, I’m talking about a genuine friendship.
Little did I know. We still had over a week up there on the mountain.
Whispy and Connor took their room and Jett got lost somewhere downstairs; I assumed he was playing ping pong again, or whatever. I volunteered to help Gamma with setting the table and preparing the food. Christmas Eve dinner was second only to Thanksgiving, as far as big family dinners went. Maybe it was a tie with Thanksgiving. Regardless, the table was one mother f-ing production. (Don’t tell Gamma I said that.)
After dinner, it was time for the Christmas Story in the Great Room. Such memories. Damn, I get choked up just thinking about it.
I sat on one of the couches; Jett sat next to me, and I occasionally stretched my long arm behind him on the back of the couch. I’d worn an oversized wool sweater, so as to conceal as much as I could. Connor and Whispy sat opposite, on the hearth, next to the roaring fireplace.
Then, it was time for Papa to read the story:
“In those days, Caesar Augustus issued a decree
that a census should be taken…”
As my grandfather read the story, I allowed my attention to wander. I looked around the room at each person there, and, well, I probably should’ve been paying attention to the story…. But as I looked at each person I did a quick assessment as to what they’d think when I came out. I hadn’t yet. And many of the reasons I hadn’t were sitting in that same room with me right there.
I was planning on it, though. To be honest, I knew some of them wouldn’t react kindly. My family was pretty conservative, you know? But anyway, I wasn’t planning on coming out during the holidays. In a few months, probably. When the time was right.
“And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby,
keeping watch over their flocks at night.
An angel of the Lord appeared to them,
and the glory of the Lord shone around them,
and they were sore afraid.”
Yeah, afraid. Fear. I didn’t feel it—not about coming out—but I knew some in the room would feel that exact emotion. Fear that I was going to hell. Oh well.
When Papa finished with the story, and concluded our Christmas Eve with a prayer (our family tradition was to open presents on Christmas morning), I lifted my head and realized that as I’d put my arm on the couch-back behind Jett, to stretch out, my hand had ended up cupping his shoulder. And he didn’t seem to think anything of it.
THAT NIGHT, BEFORE JETT AND I HOPPED into our separate queen beds and started listening for reindeer hoof noises on the roof, I decided to give Jett his Christmas present a few hours early. He hadn’t seen me shirtless yet this week.
When he emerged from our bathroom after brushing his teeth and stuff, I was standing there, waiting to take my turn, wearing only a bright white towel wrapped around my waist.
“Gonna take a quick shower before I turn in,” I said. “If I sneak downstairs while Santa is here tonight, I don’t want to be all stinky,” I smiled.
He did his best to not show any reaction. He really did. But in the end, it was a total fail. He froze right there in the doorway. He glued his eyes to mine, and I could almost see him mouthing to himself, Don’t look at his body. Don’t look at his body. That lasted for only a few seconds. It was the first time Jett had seen me shirtless—likely the first time since I’d graduated from high school—definitely the first time since I’d been in MSCL Force.
He looked down at my bare torso: my shoulders, arms, pecs and waistline. “Holy fuck, Uncle Luke.” He blinked his eyes, hard. “Just fuck.”
I gave him a relaxed smile. “Thanks.” I had already determined to make this little accidental display of my upper body a quickie. We still had a whole week up there at the “cabin”. Plenty of time for fun. Plenty of time to torment my poor nephew. I stepped toward the door, proceeding toward my time in the bathroom. He stepped into the bedroom to give way. We came very close to each other, but we didn’t touch. I closed the door and turned on the shower. I’d brought some boxers with me to wear when I emerged back into the bedroom—I’d take them off after I got into bed. Like I said, I sleep nude.
We’d pretty-much established a routine that when the second person came out from the bathroom, the bedroom lights would be off—except for the nightstand light that was between the two beds. But tonight, for some reason, Jett had forgotten to turn off the overhead light. Odd. Regardless, I wasn’t going to extend this out; I walked toward the door to the hall and turned off the overhead light. The nightstand light was still on. When I turned around to walk to my bed, his eyes were glued to me. I chuckled inside, but didn’t let him know of my amusement. Poor kid. I slipped into bed, turning off the nightstand lamp. “G’night Jett. Merry Christmas, man.”
“You too, Uncle Luke. Merry Christmas.”
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow…
…cast only a sliver of light from behind the drawn blinds. After my eyes adjusted, it was possible to make out some shapes and shadows. And well, I’d be willing to bet that it wasn’t visions of sugar-plums dancing in Jett’s head that night. There was definitely an outline of a big bump on Jett’s blankets, right at the middle of his body. And it was definitely moving. We didn’t hear any reindeer hooves on the roof that night, but I can tell you that I did hear some decidedly heavy breathing, and at one point, a muffled groan—and possibly a cuss word—coming from his direction. And then the bump on his blanket went away, and everything was quiet. Well, quiet except for the soft sound of a couple of tissues being pulled from the tissue box on the nightstand.
THAT NIGHT, LUKE AND I took turns using the bathroom before getting into our beds and listening for reindeer hoof noises on the roof. Again, I had hopes of seeing Luke shirtless. In fact, I’d started to go shirtless as much as I could when we were alone in the room, hoping he’d feel like…you know…this is what we do, okay?
I took the bathroom first, brushing my teeth and stuff, praying with every flossing motion that when I opened the door he’d be without a shirt.
Apparently, there is a God in Heaven. When I opened the door to return to the bedroom he was standing there, waiting to take his turn, wearing only a towel around his waist, and a big grin. Both the towel and the grin were bright white.
“Gonna take a quick shower before I turn in,” he said. “If I sneak downstairs while Santa is here tonight, I don’t want to be all stinky,” he smiled. I think he knew exactly what he was doing to me. His expression held a hint of a smirk. But he was actually kind of patient with me, as if he knew it was going to take some time for me to figure out how to process all of his muscles.
I know my attempt to not show any reaction was a total fail. I froze right there in the doorway. I glued my eyes to his, and I kept telling myself Don’t look at his body. Don’t look at his body. My eyes only obeyed my brain for a few seconds, before they started eye-fucking the enormous, ripped mounds of muscle that stood only a few feet in front of me.
You know when I said that I’d forever remember the moment I peeked my head inside our room to wake Luke that first day? How I said I’d jerk off to that encounter forever? Well, this was a million-times more epic. There’s no way to adequately describe the body before me, but I know you’re not reading this story for the recipes, so I’ll give it a try. Just multiply everything I describe by one thousand jillion.
His shoulders were incredible. Round, big, hard-looking deltoids: they were the crown jewel in his physique. I mean, I don’t think I mentioned this before, but Luke’s shoulders were so wide that he had to pivot when he went through most doors. I swear they could touch the doorframe. Now, without clothing covering them, they were so powerful-looking.
Tying for first place—with his shoulders—in Luke’s arsenal of muscle, was the incomprehensible mass and definition of his upper arms. I’m not kidding here, just seeing his biceps and triceps hang at his side nearly made me piss my boxers. That sexy vein that runs down a muscle man’s biceps was more pronounced than I’d ever seen on any man. If I weren’t busy fighting pissing myself, I’d be busy fighting having a spontaneous orgasm.
Then, in yet another tie for best body part, that chest: I had to blink. Twin globes of nearly spherical pectoral muscle protruded toward my face. A canyon of cleavage separated the two biggest plates of muscle you could ever imagine. His chest was so thick and big you could set a dinner plate on top of it. And his pecs were capped with silver-dollar-sized areola, which were crowned with nearly pinky-sized nipples that literally jutted toward the floor because of the mass of his chest.
The man had no fat. I mean, nearly literally, no fat. You could see every vein, every striation, every separate, individual rippling muscle on him. It was insane. And it made me so fucking hard that I wasn’t sure I could control myself. My knees literally buckled. I actually had to grab the door jam to steady myself. He was bigger and more ripped than any man I’d ever seen: live, in pictures, in videos.
I looked at his bare torso: his shoulders, arms, pecs and taut waistline. “Holy fuck, Uncle Luke.” I blinked again, hard. “Just fuck.”
I think he tightened his abs in response to my outburst. He was loving this. He gave me a friendly, relaxed smile. “Thanks, bud.” He didn’t move, and I got the distinct impression he was trying to torture me.
“Your muscles…they’re unbel—unbelievable! I mean…the sepa…the goddamn separation and definition—it’s….”
He smiled; he stood still for a moment, and just let me look. He kind of rippled everything, tightening it and scrambling my brain in the process. “Do you like to look at big muscles, Jett?”
Holy shit. I wanted to die right then and there. At least, I wanted to crawl into some kind of hole and never come out. “I mean…wow…fuck, Luke…yeah, I just can’t believe how big you are—and so fuckin’ ripped. I mean…look? I guess, just because I like body—bodybuilding and stuff. Just fuck, Uncle Luke.” I was embarrassed, yes, but I was so dumbfounded at what I was looking at, my amazement tempered my embarrassment.
He smiled. “Thanks, Jett. I’m glad you appreciate the work us MSCL Men put in. Doesn’t bother me at all, little nephew.” He let me look some more—but he didn’t flex or anything. Just stood there, relaxed. And believe me, that was enough to send me to Pluto—and back. Then he stepped toward me—and the door—obviously ending this little muscle meet-and-greet. I stepped forward and to the side to give way.
We came very close to each other, but we didn’t touch. His ginormous pecs were just right there, staring at me. I’d never seen anything so masculine and so powerful—let alone that I’d never even dream of standing only inches away from it.
All that goddamn muscle just inches from my face….
He closed the door and turned on the shower.
I gathered myself and quickly jumped into bed, pulling the covers up to my neck. I lifted my knees so the sheets would form a tent to conceal the tent pole that had grown at my crotch. And I waited. For an eternity. He hadn’t taken any clothes into the bathroom this time, so I just knew he’d come out with only that towel on again. I was under no delusions that he’d lose the towel altogether and walk out naked. But a guy can hope, can’t he?
We’d pretty-much established a routine that when the second person came out from the bathroom, the bedroom lights would be off—except for the nightstand light that was between the two beds. But tonight, for some reason, I forgot to turn off the overhead light. Odd.
He didn’t lose the towel. Yeah, that was too much to ask for. And realistically, I think I would have probably gone into some kind of grand mall seizure or something if he had. I think he might have known that too. Once he came out of the bathroom, he walked toward the door to the hall and turned out the overhead light. The nightstand light was still on. He turned around and walked to his bed. I know it was more than obvious, but my eyes were glued to him the whole time. Just seeing that body of his move made me sick. So much gorgeous, wonderful muscle working in graceful concert while he walked.
He slipped into bed and turned off the bed stand light. “G’night Jett. Merry Christmas, man.”
“You too, Uncle Luke. Merry Christmas.”
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow…
…cast only a sliver of light from behind the drawn blinds. And well, I can definitely say that it wasn’t visions of sugar-plums dancing in my head that night. I forgot all about listening for reindeer on the roof. Fuck Santa. The most perfect of all possible Christmas presents was naked, in the bed next to me. And I’d just gotten a glimpse of his impossible upper muscle body.
Now that it was dark in the room, I lowered my knees. I wondered if maybe Luke could see, in the murky shadows—now that our eyes were adjusting to the darkness—the tent my cock made. I didn’t care. I was going to masturbate, even if he suddenly turned on the lights and yanked the covers off of me while I did it. There was no choice. The jack-off train had already left the station. My hand was already teasing my cock and balls, fondling and tickling. I was so hard!
I could have come easily, just by flexing my cock and holding it there, but I gave myself a couple of strokes anyway. I had been breathing really hard, and now I was downright panting. A geyser of cum shot out of my cock, wetting the sheet on top of me; some dribbled onto my waist and abs…and my chest…and onto the sheet under me. There was a fucking enormous amount of cum. I know I let out a yip when I started ejaculating, but I couldn’t help it. I think I might have cussed too. Having just seen the best-looking, most muscularly divine specimen of manliness, shirtless, will do that to you.
What a fucking mess I’d made of my sheets! I hadn’t planned ahead. I had no cum rag—no nothing. Fortunately, there was a tissue box on the nightstand; I fumbled in the shadows for it, pulling out a bunch. I couldn’t clean up everything—I’d need the light on for that—but I did the best I could under the circumstances.
END OF PART ONE
More to come
CPL. LUCAS TANNER, MSCL Force, USMC:
STATS as of December, 2019
Note: While these measurements and stats may seem incredible, if not impossible, remember that Cpl. Tanner is in the Top Secret MSCL Force.
Age 25 (Feb. 18, 1994)
Height 6-foot 5-inches 195.58 cm
Weight 304 pounds 137.9 kg
Neck 19.5 inches 49.53 cm
Arms 25 inches 63.5 cm
Chest 61 inches 154.94 cm
Waist circumference 32 inches 81.28 cm
Shoulder span 28.5 inches 72.39 cm
Waist span 14 inches 35.56 cm
Upper Leg 34 inches 86.36 cm
Calf 24 inches 60.96 cm
“Length” 12.5 inches, hard 31.75 cm
Bench 718 pounds, raw 325.6 kg
(315 lbs x 46 reps)
Squat 1,020 pounds 462.6 kg
Body Fat Percentage CLASSIFIED
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©© 2019, Sean Reid Scott
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