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SEAN'S MUSCLE STORIES

MSCL FORCE: LUCAS TANNER: CHRISTMAS ON MT. HOOD  —  PART TWO

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.]

 

This story is also available as a PDF document. Actually, I think it's easier to read as a PDF.
You can download it, and save it to your (ahem) Hard Drive by clicking HERE.

 


  

MSCL Force

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. 

 

 

 

 Christmas on Mt. Hood

SrSWreath

PART TWO

 

LUKE TANNER

 

 

j

HE MAYHEM OF CHRISTMAS MORNING was a few hours behind us. Gamma had yet another big meal planned for this evening (yes, big dinner on Christmas Eve, big dinner on Christmas day). But for now, most of us were sprawled out throughout the house, recuperating from the major Christmas breakfast she’d made. No one could accuse Gamma of starving us.

Some of the kids were playing with their new remote control cars, or drones or whatever. The adults were resting, talking, or setting up the new Kindle or iPad they’d opened earlier. Outside, snow was falling. Inside, hearts were aglow and tummies were full.

Jett, Connor and I found ourselves in the loft that overlooked the great room, relaxing on the couch and overstuffed chairs. Jett was setting up one of the aforementioned Kindles he’d gotten from his parents, Yuri and Renaé. Connor was fiddling with the Leatherman that Whispy had gotten him. As for me, I was reading the PDF document instructions for the Flight Simulator game that Race had bought me; I’d downloaded the game, and was just reading how to get the damn plane in the virtual air.

“Hey, big guy,” Connor was relaxed deep in the couch, pulling out the various tools that were part of his new knife. He’d taken to call me big guy after I put the kibosh on the moniker, Muscles. It just seemed over the top. So anyway, he continued, “what’s it like…to be you?”

I looked at him. “To be me?”

“Yeah. I mean, you obviously won the genetic lottery, just by being born. And then you took that and leveraged it to become one of the best-built dudes anywhere. How does that feel?”

I looked down to my laptop. “Good. It feels good.”

Jett chuckled behind his kindle.

“I know they train you to the extreme, but what are the requirements to get into MSCL Force in the first place? Gotta be able to bench a car?”

“Yeah, well the requirements, even to apply, are pretty stringent, yeah. And then, after you’re in, you definitely build on the base that you bring to the Force.

Connor nodded. “…‘they teach you secret defense techniques?”

Jett lowered his Kindle and looked at me over the top of it. He turned to Connor and said, “Dude, he’s a MSCL Man. It’s more elite than the Navy SEALS. I wouldn’t mess with him if I were you.

Jett was right. The MSCL Force had pretty-much overtaken the Navy SEALS as the elite US Military unit for Special Operations. Our moniker MSCL stood for Maximum-Strength Covert Logistics, and well, the SEALS had been relegated to second-rate status, to be honest. 

There wasn’t a force on Earth—US or otherwise—that could match us. MSCL Men were stronger, faster, smarter, more resistant to corrupt influences, and had more endurance and stamina than any other humans. Not to mention the powerful presence we projected due to our nearly fat-free muscle bodies. And that was with purpose too. Overwhelming an enemy combatant with your strength and unbelievable body had its advantages. There were also classified psychological and physiological protocols that had to do with projecting sthenolagnia onto opponents, pheromones to neutralize resistance and enhance that sthenolagnia, and other operational advantages our big muscle bodies gave us—even over and above simply being stronger than any powerlifter, Ironman, or “World’s Strongest Man” competitor. As for Connor’s question about self-defense, let’s just say…well, yeah. All forms of martial arts, wrestling, boxing, MMA techniques, fighting strategies…basically you name it, we lived and breathed it 24/7.

I glanced at Jett, then Connor, expressionless. Connor didn’t seem impressed. “Yeah, as a matter of fact they do,” I said, getting back to my laptop.

“Even against a black-belt Ninja?” Connor asked.

“Dude….” Jett’s voice was cautionary.

“I think I can handle myself,” I said. I was used to guys acting like jerks in front of me. I didn’t know how much Connor fit into that category.

We all got back to our specific, individual tasks, and it was quiet. Until Connor said, “How much can you bench?”

I glanced at Jett and winked. “Ah, the age-old question,” I said to Connor.

“Yeah, I bet you get asked that a lot.”

“Yep.” I’d finally figured out the difference between yaw and roll. 

“And?”

“It’s classified.”

Connor snorted. “Yeah, right.”

I glanced at Jett again; he was smiling at me over the top of his Kindle.

I shifted my position in my big chair. “Tell you what, Connor. If you can beat me in pull-ups in the family Boxing Day competition tomorrow, I’ll tell you how much I can bench.”

Connor smiled. It was a big grin. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. But if you can’t do more than me, I’m pinning your ass to my bed upstairs and tickling you till you cry.”

Connor raised his eyebrows. He was intrigued. “Hmmm….” He eyed my physique while I poured over my laptop. “It might not be a contest at all. How much do you weigh?”

“Three-hundred-four.” He was right. It’d be no contest at all.

Connor scratched his chin with thumb and forefinger, thinking. “That’s a lot of weight to pull up to the bar.”

“Don’t do it, man,” Jett cautioned.

“Oh, come on, Jett, let him make his own decision,” I smiled. “He might have a point. I’ve easily got nearly 100 more pounds to lift than he does. You never know.”

“Okay,” Connor said, apparently convinced he’d prevail. “Deal.”

Jett was looking down at his Kindle again. Without looking up, he sang softly, “You’ll be sooooooorr-y.”

I chuckled and returned to my computer.

 

Holly

 

THAT NIGHT, FILLED WITH FOOD and fulfilled Christmas wishes, Jett and I prepared for sleep. And call me devious, but I decided it was time to give him some more bare-skin muscle viewing time. It was all going to be low key; nothing show-offy. 

We’d both been in bed, reading. I got up, pulled off my “T” and pushed my pants off (that’s never an easy maneuver). When I stood erect, he was staring at me with an open mouth.

“Holy fuck,” he said. “Uncle Luke…just holy fuck! I—you—just wow. I don’t get how you can be so big and ripped—and strong—like that!”

I gave him a polite smile. “Thanks.” I inhaled deeply, allowing my chest to expand, then I exhaled slowly. Then, just for fun, I twisted at my waist and stretched out. Up, over, to the side…. Those pesky kinks, you know? I was so mean.

He tried so hard—in more ways than one—so hard. I should have been ashamed of what I was doing to my nephew. 

Jett was blinking and cussing. “Sorry, don’t tell my mom. But fucking shitting fuck.” He blinked his eyes and shook his head.

I smiled. “I can wait till I get into the bathroom next time—if it bothers you.”

“What?” his eyes widened, as if I’d just said something heretical. “No. It doesn’t bother me at all! I mean…damn, if I were built ten percent as good as you, I’d go around the house naked! All the time!”

I chuckled. “Well, when I’m at home, alone, it’s not uncommon for me to do just that. But here…no.”

He chuckled back. “Yeah…might not be appropriate.” He was checking out every single ridge, bulge and mound of muscle on my body. “But damn!”

I was patient. I found my suitcase and slowly looked for my shaving kit. He stared at me the whole time.

“Holy fuck, your legs are gigantic! Everything about you is gigantic!”

“Thanks,” I smiled.

“I can’t believe you, Uncle Luke. I’ve never seen a man with a body like yours. And I’ve been to quite a few bodybuilding shows. I mean, my workout partner, Ned, he’s one badass buff dude, but he’d be blowwwwn away by you! You look like some kind of morphed Internet picture—but even though you’re gigantic, you’re all symmetrical and proportional!”

“You must like bodybuilding, huh?” I decided to press the issue as far as I dared: “You like looking at big muscles?”

“Yeah. Well, yeah, I’m always trying to get bigger,” he said. “So, yeah, Ned and I go to shows every once-in-awhile. But seriously, you are in an entire different league, man!”

“Thanks.” I bent over and rooted through my suitcase. “I’m looking to make sure I brought my posing trunks.” I looked up at him and added, “In case you wanted me to hit some poses. Maybe not tonight, but  a little later.”

“Holy shit, yeah!” he said. “Really? that’d be awesome!” He cleared his throat. “Why not tonight?”

I resumed my search. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m actually a little tired. Maybe…but going through a whole posing routine is actually a kind of workout in itself, you know?”

“Oh…yeah, those guys on stage really work hard.”

“Found em,” I said pulling them out of my suitcase, standing up straight and holding up the small bit of royal blue fabric that comprised my trunks.

“Do you usually bring your posers? Wherever you go?” he asked.

I shrugged, “Usually. You never know when you’re going to run into someone who likes to look at big muscles.”

“Yeah…I g—guess,” he said, managing a nervous smile.

I held my posers at my waist and smiled at him. “And yeah, I’m glad I brought ‘em this time; I get the impression you like looking at my muscles.”

He let out a combination laugh—grunt—sigh. It was a nervous response.

“No worries, Jett. I get it. To be honest, I think we’re a lot alike.”

“Yeah?” he kind of choked on the word.

“Yeah, man,” I reassured. “I mean, I used to love to watch muscle men flex and pose. Still do, actually. But back in the day, it was the whole reason I started to like bodybuilding. It got me into the gym, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, yeah….”

“I mean…to work out, and shit. I guess I kinda idolized the big, good looking guys. So I’d go to work out, for sure, but also just to see those bodybuilders work out. It was pretty…inspirational, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah….” He was fussing with his blankets now. I kept my smirk to myself. I was getting the guy hard, just by standing there shirtless. 

“I can’t believe you weigh over three hundred pounds…and you look like you have absolutely no fat.”

“Well, everyone has to have some fat,” I said. I was making like I was intent on my posers, trying to get them right-side-out or whatever. “But yeah, MSCL Force has special methodologies and techniques to keep body fat at lower levels than most people can achieve. That’s because our bodies have adjusted to burning fat for energy, even more than carbs. MSCL Force has developed a system that allows us to utilize fat much more efficiently, so much less is needed.”

“Wow. It’s working, whatever it is. But…is that actually healthy? Like you said, everyone needs some fat.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, it’s healthy. They have a butt-load of doctors and nutritionists who study all this stuff—and they monitor our bodies constantly.”

“I can’t imagine,” he said. “I’d kill to have a body fat percentage as low as yours.”

I looked up at him. “How much do you weigh?”

“A hundred pounds less than you, Uncle Luke,” he said with a grunt.

MSCLForce19 1212 AI smiled. “Well, you pack it around really well, Jett. You are taking the family genetics and working it real good.” I eyed his shirtless body lying in bed. His blankets were down low enough to expose all of his torso. He was well muscled—and cuter than a bunny, to boot. Jett had taken to lounging around our bedroom without a shirt; it was so cute. He was obviously trying to get the idea out there that we really didn’t need to wear our shirts when we were in the room. During our time together, I’d held off joining him in that, knowing he was probably simmering underneath: When is he going to take his shirt off?! Dammit, Uncle Luke! Just take it off!

“Well, I’m gonna floss and brush,” I said.

To be honest, I was getting pretty hard by the time I made it into the bathroom. Just watching Jett get all aroused by my body was a heavy-duty turn-on. While I brushed, I tried to settle “Little Luke” down (I’m actually the only guy who ever called it “little”). I’d decided I’d change into my posers in the bathroom and see what might happen. Fortunately, my MSCL Force training came in pretty handy. We’re conditioned to control ourselves; it’s kind of our “prime directive” to use Star Trek lingo. If you can’t control your own body and mind, you’re not going to be able to control your adversary. It’s something all MSCL Men are trained in, from day one. 

So I got myself limp—well limp enough—and I slipped into my posers, stuffing everything into the pouch, and emerged from the bathroom. Now, Jett could see everything: upper body, and my legs. And the feedback I get from most people is that even though my upper body is kinda mind-boggling, my quads, hams and calves are pretty mind-numbing. Only thing that wasn’t in Jett’s full view was my privates. But to be honest, my oversized-pouch wasn’t quite oversized enough, so it consequently left little to the imagination—Visible Penis Line and all.

Jett’s mouth dropped when I came out. Understandable reaction, but to be honest for some reason the blown-away reaction was ten times hotter coming from him. I’d never really got this feeling when I showed other guys my physique—at least not a intensely. But where Jett was concerned, damn, it was a turn-on to see him gape at me. I think I was getting some feelings for my nephew.

“I—I—I—don’t believe what I’m ssss—see….” He didn’t finish his sentence.

“Thought I’d give you a little look,” I said nonchalantly. “Is that okay?” I tossed my clothes and turned to face my admirer.

“Unc—Lu—I just can’t believe it. I mean, I just don’t see how you can be so goddamn huge, and so fucking ripped!”

“Thanks,” I said. I stood there, still, for a moment, then decided to fry his brain a bit more: I slowly flexed my arms—at my side—then my shoulders, and then my pecs, rolling them just slightly. I made a whole-body “muscle wave”, moving the ripple from my pecs down to my abs, then down to my legs. It was my signature move, to just stand there and scramble guy’s heads like that.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” Jett whispered. He fidgeted with his blankets some more.

“You okay?” I cocked my head to the side.

He didn’t answer.

“So, I can give you the standard routine—you know, all the compulsory poses they do at a bodybuilding competition—or I can give you something more personalized if you want.”

“Pers—personalized?”

“Yeah. Up close and personal, as they say.”

He didn’t respond, so I took that as a yes to the personal approach. I moved to the side of his bed. He got flustered; I could tell he was worried I’d see what was going on under his covers. Dude, I already know, okay? Admittedly, it had to be pretty scary for him. I mean, there I was, mostly naked, and my cock and balls were hanging at his eye-level, only inches from his face as he lay on his bed.

“So what do you want to feel first?” I asked.

He didn’t respond.

I bent forward into a Most Muscular Hands on Hips Post, and let everything bulge.

“Fuck!”

I transitioned into a single biceps pose, holding my right arm in its flexed position while I systematically “pumped” the peak higher and higher. After I rotated my wrist a few times, and straightened my arm a few times, I had my 25-incher peaked like the Matterhorn for him. The peak on my biceps was freaking amazing, and the only thing that made it even more amazing was that there were two very distinct split heads. I’d gotten myself off, many times, just by doing this.

Jett was beside himself with awe and amazement.

“You can feel it if you want, buddy,” I coaxed. 

He didn’t move. Well, he did move his hands under the blankets, but that was a clear signal that he didn’t want to sit up too straight. I imagined he had a pretty hard erection going on there, and well, he undoubtedly didn’t want to let that little fact out.

So I knelt down and leaned forward. I positioned my arm close to his face.

Hesitantly, he withdrew a hand from under his covers. It trembled in mid-air while he moved it onto my biceps peak. “Holy hell, Uncle Luke!” He squeezed it and ran his hand all over it while I continued to rotate it and pump it up. His fingertips paused and played with some of the distended veins. He cussed a few more times.

I stood up tall and looked down at him. His crotch bulge was impossible to hide. “So what do you think?” I asked.

“Wow. Just fucking wow!”

I turned around slowly and flexed a few muscles for him. “So, you’ve been to a bunch of bodybuilding shows, right? Do you think there’s anything I need to improve on?” When I turned completely away from him so he could see my back side—and my ass (my posing trunks had no back side to them; they basically just had a single string that ran down from the small of my back, into my ass crack and under my perineum to connect at the bottom of my pouch. So yeah, from the back, I looked basically totally naked.

He just cussed some more.

I chuckled to myself. I kept facing away for a moment; I got the distinct feeling he was wanking while I was looking away. I gave him a back-double-biceps, and was rewarded with a loud percussive gasp from Jett’s open mouth. Damn, if the kid didn’t quiet down soon, my posing trunks were going to have a problem with “containment”.

I turned around, and sure enough my suspicions about him rubbing himself under his blankets had been right. But he quickly lifted and ruffled the covers and tried to make all cool and collected. Funny thing was though, I could actually hear his cock slap against his abs when he let go of it. Fuck, the dude was so freaking hard over me.

“Here,” I said. “Have a gander.” I started giving him a look at my enormous quads: each one is bigger in circumference than my waist. I rolled one of my legs back and forth, then abruptly hardened it into rock. The mounds bulged all over; the network of veins ran everywhere. No fat. I relaxed, then did the same flex with my other leg. While Jett watched, unable to look away, I lifted my arms behind my head, expelled the air from my lungs, and shrink-wrapped my entire body in fat-free skin. Everything receded into only muscle—especially my abs and quads. When I whooshed the air out and held it here, Jett yipped and groaned. I’m not sure, but I think his eyes almost rolled back into his head.

“Holy…fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck….”

He was coming.

I bent at the waist a little and rotated my hips. I crunched down on my abs; this angle now pointed my eyes downward, not far from his crotch. He bent his knees to make a bigger tent, and it was all-too-obvious that he was orgasming. It was the coolest thing ever.

He winced with his ejaculations. He was panting. He was really making an effort to control himself, but his orgasm was obviously pretty intense.

I hit a few more poses, just to, you know…help him finish his orgasm. Then I stood tall and just watched him squirm; he tried to make like nothing had happened. He was nervous and scared, but he tried valiantly to settle down. He said, somewhat deadpan, “You are phenomenal, Uncle Luke. Just unbelievable.”

I smiled down at him and tightened my quads; he stared at them while I flexed them—innocently, I assure you. “Thanks, Jett.” I expanded my chest with a big breath, then sighed, giving him a bit more time to gather himself. But just to twist the knife in the embarrassment-wound I smiled down at him and said, “I guess you really liked that, huh?” I gave him a smirk while I looked at his waist area. His knees were still bent, but come on…it was obvious. His face was flushed and he was breathing hard.

“I’m sorry?” he asked innocently.

I turned and walked to the bedroom door and turned off the overhead light; the bed stand light was still on. “Oh, nothing. I just thought you might have…oh, never mind.” I moved toward the duffel bag on my bed. Having just watched my nephew just have an orgasm while I flexed my muscles for him, I was getting hard again. I called on my training again and willed myself to get limper. Of course, even though it was disappointing to do, it was just a matter of technique.

I arrived at my bed and bent over my bag, fiddling with its contents—the result of which was that my bare ass and huge hams were just there, waving at Jett. I tossed my bag on the floor at the foot of my bed. I decided to give Jett one more special treat; standing back tall, still facing away from him, with only the single bed stand lamp giving light, I pulled down my posing trunks. I forced them over my quads, bending forward again, tightening my glutes and hamstrings again, then stood all the way up and stepped out of them. I flicked them up to my hand—still facing away from Jett. I was totally naked now. I turned around and faced him; my naked muscle body must have been overwhelming, because he opened his mouth and just stared.

My 12-inch-plus cock was a show-stopper, I know. (Again; just fact, okay?) But I think the entire display—my totally naked muscle physique combined with my genitals—was frying the dude’s brain. He stared at my muscles; he gawked at my cock and low-hangers. I didn’t pause for long; this was going to be just a teasing peek. I tossed my posing trunks right at his face, and since his hands were still under the covers, it took him a second to get a hand up to pull them off his eyes.

I didn’t say anything.

He pulled my posers off his face and left them on the pillow next to his head. Of course, as soon as I turned off the bed-stand lamp I knew he’d pull those things under the covers. Neither one of us said anything as I bent over and turned off the lamp.

I pulled my bedcovers back and slipped into bed in the darkness.

We lay in silence: Jett not wanting to mention what had just happened, nor what he was now doing with my posers, nor why I had tossed them to him in the first place—especially since I’d given him no explanation for my actions; me only wanting to torture the kid with my silence. Yet I didn’t want him to get the idea I was angry or even aware of the fact that he’d just come because of my muscles. So I eventually offered up some innocuous convo: “This was a good day,” I said. “Best Christmas Ever,” I added with a chuckle to note the old cliché.

“Best Christmas ever,” he repeated. I couldn’t tell from his tone what he was feeling.

The room was pitch black. Our eyes hadn’t adjusted yet. I was laying on my back; I turned my face toward him: “Did you get what you wanted for Christmas, bud?” It was an innocent enough question, but I have to admit ulterior motives concerning the gift of muscle I’d just given him.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah,” he answered. “Totally.”

I chuckled to myself. “What was it? The present you wanted?”

He paused. “Oh, I don’t know. Just…you know…everything.”

I didn’t respond.

“And you know…just being up here with the whole family, you know,” he added.

“Yeah. It’s been a great time so far. And to think we still have a whole week left….”

“Yeah. That’s sweet.”

He seemed to be settling down. After another moment of silence I said, “Well goodnight, buddy. Merry Christmas.” I rolled onto my side, facing the wall.

“Goodnight, Uncle Luke. Merry Christmas.”

 

 

JETT

 

THAT NIGHT, FILLED WITH FOOD and fulfilled Christmas wishes, Luke and I prepared for sleep as usual. I’d definitely gotten what I wanted for Christmas, but that present was opened the night before—when Luke let me look at his upper body. I could go forever, never getting a Christmas present again, and it’d be okay.

Well, that’s a blatant lie. All I could think about was seeing more: more skin, more muscle, more time with just his upper body and my eyes. Anything that had the words Luke and More in the same sentence would do just fine.

So there I was, just minding my own business, reading a book in bed while Luke read in his bed, when all of the sudden he got up, pulled off his “T” and pushed his pants off (the act of pushing his pants off was quite an undertaking. Those quads were enormous!) He stood up, erect—his body, not his shaft—and there he was: muscle upon muscle, wearing only boxers. I couldn’t believe how huge his upper legs were. Each one had to be bigger in circumference than his waist!

I was dumbfounded with what I was looking at. He looked like one of those morphed pictures you see on the Internet. “Holy fuck,” I said. “Uncle Luke…just holy fuck! I—you—just wow. I don’t get how you can be so big and ripped—and strong—like that!”

I think he was really enjoying this. He gave me a polite smile. “Thanks.” And then, as if to twist the knife in the wound he’d made in my muscle-worshiping psyche, he inhaled deeply, causing his chest to expand, then exhaled slowly. Then, to really scramble my brain, he twisted at his waist and stretched out. Up, over, to the side…. What the fuck was he trying to do? He had to know how I’d react. 

Muscles gave birth to new muscles. He rotated his stupefying upper body at his waist, lifting his arms, slowly torturing me. Then he stood straight and looked down at his legs. He lifted the hem on the left leg of his boxers—so I could see what was about to happen—and then began to flex, harden, loosen, tighten, and all-around drive me over the edge, with a display of quadriceps muscle that defied belief. Then he did it again. He relaxed his quad, and with his hand, rolled the incredible mass of lean beef back and forth. Then: BAM! He tightened the whole thing and it erupted with hardened, solid, steel muscle. It made me dizzy.

I blinked and cussed. “Sorry, don’t tell my mom. But fuck.”

He smiled. “I can wait till I get into the bathroom next time—if it bothers you.”

“What? No. It doesn’t bother me at all! I mean…damn, if I were built ten percent as good as you, I’d go around the house naked! All the time!”

He chuckled. “Well, when I’m at home, alone, it’s not uncommon for me to do just that. But here…no.”

I chuckled back. “Yeah…might not be appropriate.” I was totally checking out every single ridge, bulge and mound of muscle on his body. “But damn!”

He just stood there, letting me look. I didn’t think about it at the time, but now that I remember it, it’s kinda strange…that he’d somehow known that I wanted him to just stand there and enjoy his muscles. He grabbed his duffel bag and started rooting through it. He kept trying to tamp down a smile, but wasn’t totally successful at hiding that he knew I was totally soaking in his physique.

“Holy fuck, your legs are gigantic! Everything about you is gigantic!”

“Thanks,” he smiled.

“I can’t believe you, Uncle Luke. I’ve never seen a man with a body like yours. And I’ve been to quite a few bodybuilding shows. I mean, my workout partner, Ned, he’s one badass buff dude, but he’d be blowwwwn away by you! You look like some kind of morphed Internet picture—but even though you’re gigantic, you are all symmetrical and proportional!” I was running off at the mouth now. I needed to pull it back.

“You must like bodybuilding, huh?” Then he asked, “You like looking at big muscles?”

Fuck. Why did he ask me that? He had to know. He just had to. “Yeah. Well, yeah, I’m always trying to get bigger,” I said. This was a normal thing to say, right? “So, yeah, Ned and I go to shows every once-in-awhile. But seriously, you are in an entire different league, man!”

“Thanks.” He bent over and looked through his duffel some more. “I’m looking to make sure I brought my posing trunks,” he mumbled. He looked up at me and added, “In case you wanted me to hit some poses. Maybe not tonight, but  a little later.”

Where is my heart medication? Do I even have heart medication? Well, I’d need some in a second. “Holy shit, yeah!” I said. “Really? that’d be awesome!” I cleared my throat. “Why not tonight?”

He resumed his search. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m actually a little tired. Going through a whole posing routine is actually a kind of workout in itself, you know?”

“Oh…yeah, those guys on stage really work hard.”

“Found em,” he said pulling them out of his bag, standing up straight and holding up the small bit of blue fabric that comprised his trunks. Well, the fabric was small—except for the pouch. Again, it just had to be custom made. No one had posers with a pouch that big.

“Do you usually bring your posers? Wherever you go?” I asked.

He shrugged, “Usually. You never know when you’re going to run into someone who likes to look at big muscles.”

“Yeah…I g—guess,” I said. I smiled nervously. He had to know He just had to. But I pressed on: “I can’t believe you weigh over three hundred pounds…and you look like you have absolutely no fat.”

“Well, everyone has to have some fat,” he said. He was intent on his posers, trying to get them right-side-out or whatever. “But yeah, MSCL Force has special methodologies and techniques to keep body fat at lower levels than most people can achieve. We basically change our physiology to make our bodies run on fat, instead of carbs—at least more on fat than carbs.”

“Wow. It’s working, whatever it is. But…is that actually healthy?”

I chuckled and tossed the posers back into my duffle bag. “Yeah, it’s healthy. They have a butt-load of doctors and nutritionists who study all this stuff—and they monitor our bodies constantly. They’ve developed a system that allows us to utilize fat much more efficiently, so much less is needed. It’s actually an amazingly comprehensive protocol.”

“I can’t imagine,” I said. “I’d kill to have a body fat percentage as low as yours—not to mention, all of your fucking mass.”

He looked up at me. “How much do you weigh?”

“Well, let’s just say you have more than 100 pounds on me,” I grunted.

He smiled. “Well, you pack it around really well, Jett. You are taking the family genetics and working it real good.” He eyed my body lying in bed. My blankets were down low enough to expose all of my torso. He sighed and said, “Well, I’m gonna floss and brush.”

As soon as he closed the bathroom door behind himself I pushed myself into the pillow. I almost let out a loud groan. I’d just seen Uncle Luke’s enormous muscle body—shirtless and in only his boxers—for the first time since he’d become God’s gift to humanity. I was dizzy with lust. And hard with arousal. I couldn’t believe what I’d seen—and what I’d be able to see for the next week. Yes, hopefully Luke would feel more free to just walk around our bedroom with his shirt off. Please.

When he emerged from the shower Luke was wearing the posers. Only. His six-foot-five, no-fat, 304-pound body of pure, manly muscle was fucking freaking beyond belief. His broad, round shoulders, mammoth pecs and leg-sized arms were just stupendous. And all of that upper-body muscle narrowed down to a fat-free waistline that was adorned with obliques that had to have been a gift from the gods. His cobblestone abdominals—an eight pack—were surrounded by intercostals that formed diagonal ribbons of cock-hardening muscle stripes.

And then those stupefying legs: they looked like boulders more than legs, long and big—bigger than possible. But the give-away clue that they were indeed carved from sinew and muscle—not rock—was the give and take when he walked, and the veiny interstate map system that fed them. Just astounding.

And at Luke’s core, his posing trunks barely contained his obviously elephantine genitals—even though they certainly had to have been custom-sized to hold that thing. Yet even with the extra size of the pouch, his python cock overwhelmed it. It pulled the top of the pouch down, and out, from his waist, offering my lusting eyes a small teasing glimpse at his dark pubic hair. Holy hell. Holy shitting hell. And oh…did I mention the VPL? Yeah. Holy shitting fucking hell.

I just couldn’t help but let my jaw drop when he came out. For an instant I felt self-conscious about it. But I immediately figured that my reaction to his nearly naked, extremely perfect physique was something he’d seen before. So I left my mouth open. He did give me a slight smile; I loved it.

“I—I—I—don’t believe what I’m ssss—see….” I didn’t finish my sentence.

“Thought I’d give you a little look,” he said nonchalantly. “Is that okay?” He tossed his clothes and turned to face me.

“Unc—Lu—I just can’t believe it. I mean, I just don’t see how you can be so goddamn huge, and so fucking ripped! Your muscles…I’ve never seen muscles as big and defined as yours!”

“Thanks,” he said. He stood there, still, for a moment, then slowly tightened his arms—at his side. Muscles rippled. Then he tightened his shoulders, and then his pecs, rolling them just slightly. He made a whole-body “muscle wave”, moving the ripple from his pecs down to his abs, then down to his legs. Just standing there like that, he was scrambling my head.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” I whispered. I had gotten steel-hard before Luke had gone into the bathroom, and now, I felt like my cock would shatter if I even touched it. I tried to hide my “condition” under the blankets, keeping my knees bent in order to provide my erection with plenty of room so it wouldn’t tent the covers.

“You okay?” he cocked his head to the side. Damn, how was he so cute on top of muscles?

I didn’t answer. I thought if I said anything, I’d inadvertently gush out something like, “Fuck, Uncle Luke, I’m so hard right now. Could I jerk off while you pose for me?” Yeah. That’d be kinda uncomfortable.

“So, I can give you the standard routine—you know, all the compulsory poses they do at a bodybuilding competition—or I can give you something more personalized if you want,” he said matter-of-fact-like.

“Pers—personalized?”

“Yeah. Up close and personal, as they say.”

I couldn’t respond; the concept of up close and personal, applied to Luke’s nearly naked body…it left me speechless.

Apparently, he decided to interpret my silence as a “yes” to the up close thingy. He moved to the side of my bed—only inches from my face. I felt my throat constricting. I mean, fuck—his gargantuan muscle legs were right there next to my face. And between them, that enormous cock and balls just hung there, VPL and all. I felt like I was going to choke on my own tongue.

And of course, right under my blankets, my cock was screaming with its pent-up discharge. I know I fidgeted with the covers, way too obviously, but honestly, I didn’t know what to do. I felt like each panting breath I took might be my last.

And yes, I was starting to pant. Had to try and push that down too. I was toast.

“So what do you want to feel first?” he asked.

What? Feel? We were going to do some feeling? Had this been established? I mean, going through a posing routine is normal stuff for any bodybuilder…but assuming that your audience wants to—and would be willing to participate in—feeling said muscles…. When did we move from posing to touching? Was it possible that the gods were looking on me with that much favor?

He bent forward into a Most Muscular Hands on Hips Post, and let everything bulge.

“Fuck!” I actually was choking now. I barely got the cuss word out.

With the grace of a gazelle, he transitioned into a single biceps pose, holding his right arm in its flexed position. He was beyond comprehension: Muscle and grace. More muscle than was possible. And such fucking beautiful grace. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Then he began to “pump” the biceps peak in his arm. He rotated his thick, veiny forearm, slightly straightened his arm, and pumped it higher and higher. It was indescribable! I’d never seen a biceps peak that high! I have no more words! Well, that would make for a boring story, no words, so here’s some more: The peak looked a lot like pictures I’d seen of the Matterhorn in Europe. The thing had to be 25 inches or more! It was freaking amazing, and the only thing that made it even more amazing was that there were two very distinct split heads. I seared this moment into my brain. I would jerk off to this moment for the rest of my life.

“You can feel it if you want, buddy,” he coaxed.

I froze. Well, I did move my hands under the blankets, but that was because I was trying to situate everything down there. I couldn’t just sit up and let him possibly see the huge hard-on I had.

It almost seemed like he understood my plight. He knelt down and leaned forward; he positioned his arm close to my face.

And there it was. The biggest, most ripped arm this side of the Mississippi. And the other side. Both sides. The thing was so incredibly hot and powerful looking. And despite my frail disposition—lying right here with that dang boner, staring at enough muscle to make me come spontaneously—I pulled my trembling hand out from under the blankets. I could actually see it shake. I finally got it to land on Luke’s Matterhorn. “Holy hell, Uncle Luke!” I squeezed it and ran my hand all over it while he continued to rotate it and pump it up. It grew harder and higher. The separation of the peak was so incredible! My fingertips paused and played with some of the distended veins. I think I cussed a few more times, but I can’t remember much other than that glorious, huge, rippling arm.

He stood up tall and looked down at me. My crotch bulge was impossible to hide; I just know he saw what he was doing to me. “So what do you think?” he asked.

What do I think?! What in hell COULD I think? “Wow. Just fucking wow!”

He turned around slowly and flexed a few muscles. “So, you’ve been to a bunch of bodybuilding shows, right? Do you think there’s anything I need to improve on?” 

When he turned completely away from me, to show me his back side—and his ass (thankfully, his posing trunks had no back side to them; they basically just had a single string that ran down from the small of his back, into his ass crack and underneath to connect at the bottom of his pouch in front. So yeah, from the back, he looked basically totally naked. And wasn’t that just amazing!

I just cussed some more. Um, no, Uncle Luke, I can’t really put my finger on anything that needs improvement!

He chuckled to himself. He kept facing away for a moment; He gave me a back-double-biceps pose, and I just couldn’t help but gasp. It was then I realized that since he’d turned away, my hand got the immediate message that it was save to start pleasuring myself. I was actually jerking off under the covers while my very own MSCL Man was flexing his muscles for me in a very private muscle worship session.

wreathHe turned around, and sure enough he locked his eyes on my crotch. There was no denying it: I was fapping like there was no tomorrow. But although it might have been a second or two too late, I quickly lifted and ruffled the covers and tried to make all cool and collected. Unfortunately, when I let go of my cock, the thing was so damn hard that it made a loud thwap sound when it hit my abs. Only a deaf, blind moron wouldn’t know what was happening here. Fuck, I was hard.

“Here,” he said, as if nothing was wrong. “Have a gander.” He started giving me a look at his enormous quads: each one was certainly bigger in circumference than his waist. He rolled one of his legs back and forth, then abruptly hardened it into rock. The mounds bulged all over; the network of veins ran everywhere. No fat. He relaxed, then did the same flex with his other leg. While I watched, unable to look away, he lifted his arms behind his head, expelled the air from his lungs, and shrink-wrapped his entire body in fat-free skin. Everything receded into only muscle—especially his abs and quads. When he whooshed the air out and held it here, I just yipped and groaned. I’d never imagined a man could look so muscularly perfect and hot.

“Holy…fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck….” I hadn’t grabbed my cock again, but that little fact seems to have not connected with Jett Jr.

I was coming!

Without provocation—not to mention permission—my shaft starting throwing repeated volleys of jizz onto my abs and even my chest. I think my eyes might have rolled back into my head. I have no idea if I was able to hide this mortifying, uncontrollable reaction to Luke’s muscle body. I couldn’t tell you. All I know was that I was coming, only a few feet away from my muscle idol.

Luke bent at the waist a little and rotated his hips. Then he crunched down on his abs; this angle now pointed his eyes downward, not far from my crotch. Instinctively, I bent my knees to make a bigger tent. But it was all-too-obvious that I was orgasming—at Luke’s muscles. It was the most humiliating thing ever.

I know I winced uncontrollably with my ejaculations. I was friggin’ panting, for crying out loud. I really was making an effort to control myself, but there’s just no way he didn’t realize that I was squirting all over hell.

He hit a few more poses, just to, you know…help me finish my orgasm. Thanks for that, Uncle Luke. Then he stood tall and just watched me squirm; I tried to make like nothing had happened. I was horrified. Still, I tried to be all relaxed and everything: “You are phenomenal, Uncle Luke. Just unbelievable.”

He smiled down at me and tightened his quads; they must train MSCL Men in torture techniques. And Luke must always pass those classes with flying colors. Because he was truly torturing me.

“Thanks, Jett,” he said all friendly.  He expanded his chest with a big breath, then sighed. But just to twist the knife in the embarrassment wound, he smiled down at me and said, “I guess you really liked that, huh?” 

Please God, don’t let him kill me.

He gave me a smirk while he looked at my waist area. My knees were still bent, but come on…it was obvious. My face was flushed and I was breathing way too hard.

“I’m sorry?” I asked innocently. Thank God for drama class in high school!

He didn’t say anything. He just turned and walked to the bedroom door and turned off the overhead light; the bed-stand light was still on. As he walked back toward his bed—again, wearing only those posers, with all those muscles just freaking me out— he said, “Oh, nothing. I just thought you might have…oh, never mind.” He moved toward the duffel bag on his bed.

He fiddled with the contents of his bag—the result of which was that his bare ass and hams were just there, waving at me: Hey Jett! This do anything for you?

He tossed his bag on the floor at the foot of his bed. It was then that I seriously considered the idea that I was actually no longer alive—in the sense of actually being…you know…alive. I don’t know how to adequately describe what happened next. My words will be totally inadequate.

He obviously knew what he was doing. I mean, we’d been dancing around each other ever since we arrived, all not showing me his muscles, and all making like he’s afraid to show me skin. And then tonight, he goes all in and nearly renders his favorite nephew a mushy pile of…well…mush, just by flexing in front of me. And he totally had to know that I’d just jizzed my sheets over him. So yeah, he knew. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Standing back tall, still facing away from me, with only the single bed-stand lamp giving light, he pulled down my posing trunks; he wasn’t looking at me—he was still facing away. He was just getting ready for be is all. Uh huh.

Yeah, he knew exactly what he was doing.

He forced them over his quads, bending forward again, tightening his glutes and hamstrings again. Then he stood all the way up and stepped out of them. With ease, and a casual demeanor, he flicked his posers up to his hand—still facing away from me. Lucas Tanner, MSCL Force, USMC, was totally naked now. In a bedroom, with me. Only me. He turned around and faced me; his naked muscle body was truly overwhelming. I opened my mouth and just stared.

I’d suddenly been transformed from nirvana to…to whatever level was above that. Might have to come up with a new level. Yeah.

Like everything else on Luke, his genitals were nothing shy of astounding. His cock was thick, and holy-fuck-loooooooong. The thing had to be over a foot! And not that I could ever hope to peel my eyes off of that thing—once you see it you can’t un-see it, and you’d never want to anyway—his totally naked muscle physique combined with his genitals—was frying my brain. I’d need surgery.

I stared at his muscles; I gawked at his cock and low-hangers. But Luke didn’t pause for long; this was going to be just a teasing peek—yep. Then, in a move that brazenly told me he knew what was going on here, he tossed his posing trunks right at my face. Apparently the game was over, no?

Since my hands were still under the covers, it took me a second to get a hand up to pull them off my eyes.

But he didn’t say anything. Doesn’t that kind of action beg for an explanation? Evidently Luke didn’t think so. The message was pretty clear, I guess.

I pulled the posers off my face and left them on the pillow next to my head. Of course, as soon as Luke turned off the bed-stand lamp he knew I’d pull those things under the covers. Neither one of us said anything as he bent over and turned off the lamp.

I heard him pulled his bedcovers back and slip into bed in the darkness.

We lay in silence: Me not wanting to mention what had just happened, nor what I was now doing with his posers, nor why he had tossed them to me in the first place—especially since he’d given me no explanation for his actions; him only wanting to torture me with his silence, apparently. 

Eventually Luke offered up some innocuous convo: “This was a good day,” he said. “Best Christmas Ever,” he added with a chuckle to note the old cliché.

“Best Christmas ever,” I repeated. You have no idea.

The room was pitch black. Our eyes hadn’t adjusted yet. I heard him rolling, turning his face toward me: “Did you get what you wanted for Christmas, bud?”

Fucker. “Yeah. Oh, yeah,” I answered. “Totally.”

“What was it? The present you wanted?”

Stop. Just fucking stop, Luke. “Oh, I don’t know. Just…you know…everything.”

He didn’t respond.

“And you know…just being up here with the whole family, you know,” I added.

“Yeah. It’s been a great time so far. And to think we still have a whole week left….”

“Yeah. That’s sweet.”

After another moment of silence he said, “Well goodnight, buddy. Merry Christmas.” He rolled over, facing the wall.

“Goodnight, Uncle Luke. Merry Christmas,” I said. And how in hell am I going to clean all of this up without you catching me? Without thinking, I had been rubbing Luke’s posers all over my cock. Damn, I never wanted to give them back. 

 

 

END OF PART TWO

More to come 

  

   


 

 

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