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The character in this story is loosely inspired by last year’s Russian Kyokushin board breaking champion, Maksim Shcherbina. Sergey crouched at the edge of the rooftop, staring down at the seemingly abandoned warehouse below. A few armed men were milling about outside, illuminated by the sole light above the entrance and the dim shine of the moon. Clearly they were on guard duty. He watched them in delight. His balls pumped testosterone, his bare toes flexed on and off in excited anticipation, the concrete from the ledge cracked from the grip of those toes. With the gracefulness and silence of a cat, he jumped high and landed hard on the pavement, drawing the attention of the guards. But he himself paid them no attention. He rolled his already calf-height white gi pants to just under his knees. He then started calmly did his stretching routine in the typical Karate and Taekwondo style, causing some of the mercenaries to snicker at him. They received intel they were about to be intercepted, maybe by a Russian special force, or maybe a rogue Ukrainian faction. "Look at this pretty boy!" one of them jeered. "What’s he doing barefoot and dressed like that?" Maybe a stray martial arts competitor. The dork was too damaged by CTE probably, they amusedly speculated. But Sergey was much more than that. For one, he was densely muscled, but his muscularity was hidden by his 7 ft tall stature, a lanky yet proportional build typical of a striking-dominant martial artist, the angular yet disarmingly youthful features of his face betrayed the mere 18 winters he’d passed which hid both his muscularity and imposing height. One of the jeering men finally went up to him, intending to send him off, maybe intimidate him a little bit. Sergey stood tall and the man’s underestimating smile faded a bit, his weapon at ready. Before he could say anything, Sergey’s foot shot up in a blindingly fast outward crescent kick. The bare foot caught the man’s neck like a hook, flipping him along its movement and, adding more force by shifting his weight on his foot-blade, crushed the neck flat on the ground. Instant death. The other watchmen’s mocking mood turned 180, now they were on alert. Sergey charged against them, zig-zagging erratically to avoid catching the bullets and confusing their aim. Some struck his gi, but it was enhanced with spider web silk, as makeshift Kevlar. Some struck his flesh, his superhumanly dense musculature and tough skin, enhanced even more by his years of brutal Kyokushin and Muay Thai training, reddened but not injured. His hand shielded only his eyes. He crouched down and swung his leg, swept at the closest soldier, breaking his legs, and then grabbed him, using him as a living club. Knocking down all of them, he immediately battered them with his bare feet. A stomp broke past a man’s rib cage, stabbing his heart and lung. Another stomp caught a skull, flattening it, brain matter poured out. Another he soccer kicked, turning the neck so violently, it snapped. The man he used as a bat crawled away behind him with his arms. Sergey calmly approached him, casually flipped him on his back with his foot and hovered it above the man’s face. From down below, the last image that haunted his eyes was the wide foot cocked over him, as intimidating as an elephant’s stride. One downward motion, the end. (To be continued)

This story is set in an imaginary Cape Cod small town where anything can happen. I have written a lot of stories about things that happen there. *** There was a thunderous crash, and the whole house shook. Nate looked up from his manuscript, startled. Then he sighed, smiled to himself, and wondered what piece of mythology or literature had come to light this time. He listened intently, but there was no sound from outside. Cautiously he rose from his chair and moved slowly toward the door, not quite afraid, but wary of the peculiarities of Powamet. The outside yard was dark, and the trees were swaying dimly in the silence. But there was something, or someone, lying near the road outside. Nate came closer, and heard a quiet moan. He took another step and saw a man - a huge man - lying moaning in his yard, face down. He was hurt, and barely able to move. Nate hurried back into his house, fumbled through the bathroom closet until he found bandages and antiseptic, and carried them back out again. Another groan greeted him, and a turn, and a thrash. It’s okay, Nate whispered. I just want to help you. He soaked a cloth in the antiseptic, laid it on the man’s arm, and watched him twitch, then calm. He continued salving and bandaging for a few minutes, trying to do what little he could, and only half understanding what was going on, and at length he could tell that the huge man was noticeably eased. He relaxed after a bit, and his moans became quieter, and his breathing eased.. Nate managed to get the huge man to his feet, panting. He was well over six feet tall, and hugely broad and muscular. He was able to walk, but he was staggering, and Nate could tell that the behemoth was barely conscious. Nate led him into into his house. I’m gonna try to make you comfortable, Nate said to the giant. The huge man looked down at him uncomprehendingly - But he touched Nate’s face very gently, then took his hand away. You are much too big to fit in the guest room, Nate said softly. Is this couch okay for you? The big man nodded wearily. Nate fetched some blankets and pillows. Suddenly the big man groaned: What - where - Those were his first words and Nate was glad. The huge man was conscious, and able to speak. You need to rest, I think, Nate said. I think you’re probably okay otherwise. There was a long pause. The big man reached out one big hand and touched Nate’s face again. Okay, he whispered. Nate watched for a while, and saw that the big man seemed - really - okay. His bruises were already better - could that be? - and his breathing slowly turned to a low sleepy rhythm. Nate sighed finally, and went to bed. He woke suddenly during the night. The huge man was standing beside his bed. He looked up at the big man, and the big man looked down at him. They were both sleepy and half-aware. Finally Nate pushed the sheets aside a little bit, and the big man reached down and pulled them down a little more, and crawled down into bed with him. They cuddled one another. The big man was very warm. He put both arms around Nate - very strong, but very gentle. Hmmm, he growled, but softly and without menace. With a few quick movements he twitched off his trousers, and Nate could feel the big man’s huge hard cock under the sheets. They played and slept and drowsed like that for the rest of the night. Nate woke suddenly in the morning to find himself staring into angry eyes. He struggled a little, but the big man just growled and pulled him closer. I’m all healed now, the big man said in a subterreanean voice. Look at me. He looked down at his own bulging arms and chest, and pulled Nate into an even tighter embrace. You helped, he whispered hoarsely. Why did you help? You were - hurt. I tried to make you better. The big man shrugged and tightened his huge grip. Better now. I always get better. He paused. But you helped me. The big man’s grip was so tight that Nate could hardly breathe. Nate gasped: I tried to help - The clench loosened. Sorry, the big man rumbled. I don’t mean to hurt you. He rolled back, his grip more gentle. I really don’t want to be mean to you, he whispered in Nate’s ear. Got to be careful. He squeezed Nate’s body against him again, not painfully, but warmly. You helped me. He released his grip slightly, but Nate felt the big man’s chest expand, his abs harden into granite. I’m stronger than you are. You sure are, Nate said. Yeah, the big man said. So don’t try to get away from me. His tone was light, almost joking. Nate said, finally: Let me touch your chest again. And your arms. Okay, the big man said. Do you like that? Oh, yeah, Nate breathed. His arms and hands freed from the huge man’s crushing grip, he explored the big man’s massive powerful torso, his amazingly developed arms. Daring himself, he lowered his head and kissed the big man’s armpit, in a place where the muscles joined and knotted together. And the big man groaned and sighed. They spent the morning and afternoon together in bed. The big man, for all his strength, was wonderfully gentle. He groaned with pleasure when Nate touched him, and he was careful when their play became more animated. He seemed especially to like being on the bottom, on his back, with Nate lying on top of him, rubbing his torso, kissing him, massaging his cock with his hands. As the evening deepened outside, they retreated under the sheets, holding one another. But very distantly there was an occasional thundering noise: a faint BOOM. Nate didn't notice it much, but the big man stiffened. Something’s coming for me, he grunted. I gotta go. Hey, Nate said sadly, quietly, as the giant unfolded himself from the sheets and stood up. You can stay here as long as you like. Yeah. The big man listened to the noises outside for a moment, then turned back to Nate with a sad smile. I’ll come back when I can. I like you. I don’t have very many friends. He tugged on Nate’s hand. Come outside with me. The big man pulled on his ripped trousers, and Nate put on his clothes, and they went outside in the twilight. BOOM, something whispered far away. I gotta go, the big man said urgently now. I don’t want this guy to come here and find you. Okay? He wrapped Nate in an urgent powerful hug. I’m your friend, he said. I’ll always be your friend. Okay? And he drew back, and LEAPT - And he was gone. Eh, Nate muttered, and was startled to find that his eyes were watering a bit. And then he muttered to himself, very quietly: He’d better not forget he said that. The big man did not forget. It was a month or two later, early evening, a still evening in early autumn with a hint of moisture in the air. Nate was lost for a moment watching the stars come out one by one, when a BOOM happened, and the ground shook. Nate turned, and there was the big man, strong and happy and gentle and smiling. I don’t have many friends, he said. I gotta keep the ones I have. He scooped Nate up in his massive arms and carried him into the house. You bandaged me up, the big man said quietly. You brought me into your house and gave me a blanket and a pillow. He carried Nate up the stairs, smiling down at him, brought him to the bedroom and laid him down on the bed. I thought about you a lot. I thought about how you were nice to me, and you didn’t even know who I was. And then I got in bed with you - like this - The huge man straddled Nate, his gigantic hands holding him gently, and looked down at him. Just like this. And you trusted me, and we held each other. He moved his hands to either side of Nate’s head. His chest, his arms, his shoulders, were enormous. You weren’t afraid of me. And you trusted me. You’re brave. And I thought about you, and I came back to see you. The huge man smiled almost timidly. Are you glad to see me? Yes, Nate breathed. He put his hands up on the huge man’s shoulders. Thank you for remembering me. You’re welcome, the big man said simply. The big man rolled over, and they were together, and there was a happy silence for hours, with only quiet breathing, and an occasional sigh, and a moan . . . I know about you, Nate said later. I knew who you were right away. Yeah, the big man said slowly. I thought you didn’t like people very much, Nate said. That was the only reason I was a little afraid. The big man was silent for a moment. Then he said: I don’t like being around people when they’re afraid. Maybe you were afraid, but I couldn’t tell. I was tired, and you were helping me. And then you brought me into your house. You were nice. And then I woke up, and I was cold, and alone, and I found you, and you were there, and I got into bed with you. Like now. I held you, and you trusted me not to hurt you. Even though you knew I could hurt you. And - Long pause again. And Nate finished simply: And it was wonderful. And I love you, big man. The man folded him into his huge arms and pressed him tightly. I like that name, he said. Big Man. I’m very big. He sighed suddenly, almost wistfully. I just want to be nice sometimes. Not always hitting and smashing. Sometimes I just want to use my muscle to do good stuff. And sometimes I like to make somebody like you happy. He leaned back, his arms folded behind his head, and his biceps were huge, and his shoulders bulged enormously, and his chest was a brick wall, and his abs were like stone. He looked at Nate innocently, lazily, with a smile. Do you like that? I came shudderingly, just looking at him, my hand on my crotch. He laughed, and grabbed me, and held me, and kissed me deeply, and I came again. You’re funny, he said. You do just exactly what I like. He pulled me into himself and kissed me again, deeper. You are so fucking sweet. So are you, I gasped as we pulled apart. Strong and nice and sweet. He reached down, pulled on his own enormous cock, and closed his eyes. His huge pecs and abs flexed, and I felt him suddenly cum against me, in a gigantic pulse. Jesus, he said, tensing against me, his muscles corded and incredible. I wish I could come inside you. But I think it might kill you, little man, if I did that. I wish I could feel it inside me too, big man, I gasped. He pulled me around to face him, and - We both laughed. He comes around more often now. He’s gentler now. He likes to show me the place on his chest that I bandaged that first night, and I always kiss it, and he growls with pleasure. He hugs me so warmly and powerfully, and we love kissing one another - he’s a great kisser. But there’re always that damned thunder that makes him get up and move to the window, and then leave. Someday I’m gonna have a word with that thunder guy, I said one evening, cuddling my big guy. I hate him taking him away from you. And suddenly I heard a BOOM outside. BOOM BOOM BOOM - Hey, sweetheart, my big guy said, kissing me on the cheek. I think you are going to get your wish. And I gulped.