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A little something based on a news story from a few years ago:

https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2018/feb/16/us-tourist-punched-police-officer-at-buckingham-palace

 

AN AMERICAN IN LONDON

Matt had been an officer in the Metropolitan Police for three years, but he reckoned the most boring patrol was Buckingham Palace.  Nothing but tourists taking selfies; it was just about the easiest shift in the job. Today they were expecting a convoy for some Royal. Matt didn’t care about the details. He just had to make sure the barriers were clear.

“Yo Matt!” said his colleague Rob as they crossed paths. “Any weekend plans?”

“Hitting the gym tonight,” said Matt. “Chest day.” And he squeezed his pecs together.

“Have to say man,” said Rob, “looking fucking swole these days!” He looked jealously at Matt’s 18 inch guns.

At 6ft even, Matt was a solid 225lbs of jacked muscle. In his uniform he was pretty scary: shirt pulled tight around a big chest which balanced out his big arms; traps merging into a thick neck; impressive lats which made his arms stick out slightly for that big-man strut. Out of uniform, it was clear he was serious about bodybuilding: big full pecs hung over a solid six pack; huge quads with impressive sweep and detail which finished off the X shape.

Rob glanced around him before sidling up closer to Matt. “Hey man,” he said under his breath, “you know, if you're on gear…it’s cool. Seriously, it’s cool, man! Maybe…”, and Rob lowered his voice even more, “maybe you could hook me up, bro?”

“Ha!” said Matt, “All natural dude!”, and he bounced his heavy pecs under his shirt as he moved on. He’d jumped on the juice six months ago, and since then he’d exploded. But he wasn't going to tell Rob that. Rob was his mate, they’d had a few gym sessions together, but you couldn't be too careful when you were on the force.

The minutes ticked by. Matt felt like he had an itch he couldn’t scratch: here he was, psyched up for his session that night, all this pent-up aggression inside him, and no way to use it. Just a bit of action, that’s all he wanted: a lad getting a bit lairy with the Palace guards, that would do it. Just a chance to flex some muscle.

Just then, Matt sensed a disturbance in the crowd. Hand immediately on his taser, he looked over to where a group of Australians had been taking pictures. Pushing his way through them was the biggest man Matt had ever seen. He must have been at least 6’6” but his height was the least special thing about him: the guy was jacked. Like, beyond jacked. He was wearing a cheap t-shirt with some band on the front. The arms strained over guns that must have measured at least 23 inches, Matt thought. As the man pushed his way through the crowd Matt got a clear view of him. Jesus, he was built like a fucking colossus! He was about 50 foot away from Matt, but Matt could feel his density. He knew that this man was as powerful as the biggest guys in his bodybuilding gym.

There was something off about the way the man was walking, and Matt could tell instantly that he was seriously drunk.

Christ, thought Matt, what could a fucker like that have been drinking to get so pissed? The dude’s built like a brick shithouse.

The guy was making his way over to one of the Palace guards, right next to where the barriers had been set up in preparation for the Royal convoy. Matt could see that his colleague Rob had clocked him and was stealthily moving towards him in case of trouble. Oblivious, the man continued his drunken swagger over to the guard. Now he was standing right in front of the guard, so close that Matt could see the guard shuffling a couple of steps backwards, clearly intimidated.  The guy made him look a total wimp. With his sideways view Matt could see the thickness of the giant’s physique, the huge capped delts and the thick lats jutting out under the thin material of the tee. Matt felt a rush of envy. This guy was fucking goals.

“Hey dude!” the guy slurred, looking down at the guard. Matt noticed an American accent. “Cool hat, bro!” And he laughed the too-loud laugh of the man off his face and not in full control of his body. “Wanna…wanna lemme try it on?”

The guard wasn’t a small guy – about six foot, more fit than jacked – but he quivered before the huge guy.  The giant made a move towards the guard, as if to grab the hat.

“Armed police, stand still!” As soon as it looked like the guy was about to get aggressive, Rob jumped into action. Matt watched as Rob pointed his taser at the beast in front of him. Rob was a bit of a powerhouse himself, but he wasn't risking anything when dealing with this muscle freak.

The man stopped what he was doing turned his head towards Rob. 

“Now back away slowly sir,” shouted Rob, taser still poised. Adrenaline pumped through his body and he could fee his heart thumping beneath his thick chest. Yeah, it was on.

But instead of backing away, the man started moving towards Rob. As Rob registered the situation, the adrenaline rush gave way to cold terror. He stood rooted to the spot, watching the fabric of the man’s tee jump and twitch. He was bouncing his pecs as he came for Rob. Jesus, how big were those fucking things under there?

“Hey man! You're a cop, right? A little British cop! That's cool man!” Rob backed away as the man staggered menacingly towards him. Little! Rob was fucking packed with muscle! Ok, he wasn’t a freak like this guy… Rob was still trying to process the sheer size of the man in front of him. He, Rob, was big. He knew that. He did know it. So why did he feel small and weak? Why did he automatically back away as the guy moved towards him? Oh Jesus. In a man-to-man fight with this guy, how long would Rob last? Oh shit. Next to this guy Rob was less than little. Fuck, next to his buddy Matt Rob was a little man, and this guy made even Matt look like a fucking shrimp!

Rob kept the taser pointed at the man, but he was now in panic mode.

“A little British cop! Hey, little British cop man, know any cool jokes?!” 

He was practically on top of Rob at this point. “Stay where you are!” Rob shouted again, sweat darkening his shirt around the pits. But the man just smirked, and took another step to square up in front of Rob. Rob was hit by a powerful scent of sweat and muscle coming off the beast in front of him. Whether it was fear or jealousy for the man’s size, something exploded in Rob’s brain. He fired his taser. The electrified prongs buried themselves in the mountain’s thick chest.

By now Officer Matt had caught up with Rob. Immediately seeing Rob had discharged his taser, Matt prepared to cuff the muscle monster as soon as he was debilitated and had fallen to the floor. 

Except the freak was still standing! Matt couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The beast let out a deep grunt as he was hit by the taser’s intense voltage. All his muscles flexed, and Matt fleetingly felt a grudging respect as the superb build of the dude really popped even better under the pressure. Amazingly, he was withstanding the pain! How the fuck was that even possible? The dude must have balls of steel! Incredibly, the beast began to move his huge arm, lifting a massive hand towards the taser wires in his chest. How the fuck could he be doing that? Matt fired his own taser, which landed in the guy’s abdominals this time. Instead of a grunt the beast let out a bellow so loud that Matt felt it in his gut. As he bellowed he clenched his fists and his arms balled up into the biggest, veiniest balls of arm muscle Matt had ever seen. But still the big man didn't go down. After bearing the pain for a few seconds he once more made a move to rip out the tasers from his mighty upper body. Rob and Matt holding the ends of the weapons stood transfixed by the power of the monster in front of them as he tore out the taser prongs with a roar.

“Fuck yeah!” he roared, and threw up his arms into a massive double bi, chin thrust out as he cockily turned his head between each peak. And then with his eyes fixed on Matt’s, he grabbed his own shirt by the collar with a single huge hand and ripped it off his body. He bounced his pecs as he watched Matt – Matt the muscle man, Matt the amateur bodybuilder – eye up his superior physique.

The pecs were huge slabs of muscle, the upper pecs the fullest Matt had ever seen, creating a deep fissure between the chest muscles. The square lower pecs were thicker still and finished off with two large dark nipples. The beast’s eight-pack was powerfully defined, but there was nothing emaciated about the guy’s look. He looked full and dense. His cannonball delts exploded from his shoulders, but they did nothing to hide the immense size and weight of the guy’s arms: biceps thick and veiny with muscle; triceps bulging out the back of the arm. His wide lats were thick and meaty. Matt wanted to grab a handful to see what they felt like. Huge traps and a column of muscle for a neck gave the beast a brutal, caveman energy. Fuck, this dude made Matt look like a little fitness pretty boy!

Then things started happening very quickly. The beast had forgotten all about Rob, but now focused all his attention on Matt. He rounded on the bigger cop, rolling his massive shoulders. Matt’s police training kicked in, and he automatically reached for his baton. But before he could pull it out the muscle monster grabbed Matt’s 18-inch arm, stopping it dead. For a drunk man he was fucking quick! With his big mitt around Matt’s biceps, he squeezed. Matt cried out in pain as he felt his big gun get compacted by strength much greater than his own. He dropped the baton and it rolled away. The big man balled up his free hand into a fist and jack-hammered it into Matt’s gut three times before releasing the officer from his hold. Matt felt like he’d been hit by a tanker. He crumpled to the floor, winded by the force he’d felt through his bullet-proof vest.

As soon as the muscle beast’s attention had switched to Matt, Rob had made a retreat. He immediately radioed for back-up. He felt ashamed that he’d been so easily dominated by a bigger, better man. One pissed-up American roider was all it had taken to trounce two of the biggest guys in the London force. Rob tried to get his head around it: He trained hard at least five days a week without fail; in his normal life he felt like a big, powerful man. But when it came down to it, he was nothing. He was a weak, fucking pussy. He was nowhere near the level of this beast of a man. The fucking chest on the guy! The fucking legs! So much insane density! No matter how hard he worked, Rob knew he’d never be in the big boy leagues. He heard the back-up sirens in the distance. He’d failed; failed as a cop, failed as a man. And he deserved it. Rob knew the experience would change him forever.

Matt lay on the floor, hunched over his battered gut. Where the fuck was Rob? The monster was standing over him, taunting him.

“What the fuck man, I barely touched ya! Jesus, are all you British dudes such fuckin’ pussies? Come on man, get up, show us what you can do!”

Matt looked up from where he lay at the huge beast standing over him. Matt could see the massive overhang of the guy’s chest. The thickness was unbelievable, how much could the guy bench – 450lbs? 500? Why the hell was Matt thinking that?! But he couldn’t help it. The guy had Matt’s ideal physique – it was everything he wanted, it was the reason he trained every day, sometimes twice a day, vomited during leg day, pumped his body with Dbol and test and tren. And he was still nowhere near reaching it. And here was some tanked up Yank, with the physique of a fucking Greek god. 

Matt collapsed to the floor again, humiliated in his defeat. But the big man wasn’t having it.

“I said, get up.” His voice was meaner, and more dangerous.

Matt slowly got up on all fours, alternately dry-heaving and taking in big gulps of air as he tried to get his breath back. Too slow for the big Yank, who grabbed Matt’s shirt by the back of the neck and dragged him to his feet. Matt stood swaying on his feet in front of the beast.

“Let’s see what you got then bro!” said the beast, looking over Matt’s physique. He smiled to himself. He recognised a fellow brother-in-iron when he saw one. “Hey, not bad man! You got some decent size on ya!” Even while he struggled to recover his breath, Matt still felt a twinge of pride that a specimen like this was complimenting his own build. Then he looked over the massive meat of the beast’s upper arms, and his 18 inch guns felt like fucking twigs again. The beast took a step back.

“Now, hit me bro!”

He held out his arms, leaving his torso completely open.

Fuck, Matt wanted to do it so badly! He wanted to see how strong this absolute unit really was. But his professional instincts took over. He reached for his baton. Shit, he’d dropped it earlier. He reached for his handcuffs instead. He spoke, loudly and clearly:

“Sir, back-up is on its way, if you just come quietly no one will get hurt.” His heart was pounding as he fumbled for the cuffs. “Now, put your hands on your……”

“You shit-for-brains or what? I’m gonna fuck you up either way, dude, so just, fucking, HIT ME!”

And the big Yank lurched forwards, still with his arms out and his torso exposed. Instinctively Matt stopped reaching for the cuffs and landed a colossal fist right in the man’s gut.

Oh, fuck!! Pain radiated up Matt’s arm as his fist hit the man’s eight-pack. Oh, shit!! How can any man be as fucking strong as that?! He began to shake out his hand to ease the pain, but the man was on him.

“Fuck yeah! These things ain’t just for show!” And he flexed his abs and cockily strummed his fingers across them, showboating his superior shape before the smaller muscle cop. “Again! Hit me again! Come ON!”

And before he knew he’d done it Matt landed another hit, this time to the beast’s jaw. The big man’s head turned to one side with the impact before slowly turning back to Matt. In disbelief, Matt struck again from the other side. The beast’s thick neck twisted, but again returned slowly to its starting point. Jesus Christ! What was this fucker made from?

Matt had taken boxing classes before making the switch to bodybuilding, and knew how to deliver a textbook punch. Nothing else would do now: this strike would have to finish it. His huge arms flexed to the max, he launched a devastating right, generating power from the shoulder and aiming to follow right through this freak’s solar plexus.

But the big man was done playing. He caught Matt’s fist with a dull thump. Then slowly, he squeezed down on it. Oh fuck!! Matt didn’t even know a human could have a grip like that. He thought he was going to pass out from the pain. The beast started laughing as he overpowered the cop with one hand. He lifted his spare arm slowly into a single biceps flex. Despite the pain, Matt watched the colossal muscle grow. How big was that thing? How did it keep getting bigger?! So hard! How was that much size and vascularity possible?! The beast flexed his cannonball arm directly in Matt’s face, still laughing at the little muscle cop. 

“Yeah man! This is muscle Murica-style! USA!” He mashed Matt’s face into the bigger muscle and then down into his monstrous hairy pit, forcing him to inhale his salty man smell. Fuck, even the dude’s smell made Matt feel small. So fucking big! So fucking strong! It didn’t….. How could….. How was it……..

Matt peed himself. The big guy on the force, the amateur bodybuilder. A fucking weakling.

Afterwards, Matt was told he’d passed out. Back-up had arrived and managed to bring the man down. He was arrested, went to court and got an eight-week suspended sentence. He was asked to pay Matt and Rob £200 each in compensation. Matt refused his. 


SIX MONTHS LATER

The Zoom connection was a bit shaky, but seemed to have stabilised now. Matt stood in front of his laptop in his kitchen, hands on his hips, sweating and breathing deeply. He was wearing nothing except briefs which he’d hitched up to uncover his impressive quads. A voice from the laptop said “Now, go again.”

Matt didn’t move for a few seconds, looking down at the floor as he continued to take deep breaths, his cut abs heaving in and out. The voice spoke again:

“Stop fucking around man, let’s go! Front double bi, now!”

Matt took one last deep breath and faced the camera, carefully planted his feet, rose his arms above him and pulled them down into a massive double bi. 

“Really squeeze. Don’t bring them so far forward.” Matt made the corrections, his arms shaking from the flex. Another drip of sweat rolled down his face. His arms measured at just over 20 inches. A massive improvement, but not enough.

“Ok, front lat spread, let’s go!” Matt adjusted his stance, hitched up his arms and unfurled his colossal lats. His lat development had surpassed even his biceps. But still too small.

“Ok, not bad. Now, side chest!”

Matt carried on through the mandatories. It was the fourth time he’d done them that afternoon, and the sweat was pouring off him.

“Ok, take a breather,” said the voice. Matt pulled up a stool and sat in front of the laptop so he could speak to his new coach. The Big Yank, The Beast, had been Matt’s coach for about six months now.

Ever since that encounter six months ago Matt had been a different man. He thought he knew what power was before, but meeting the Beast had changed that forever. He knew he would never be happy until he had pushed his body beyond anything he’d previously thought possible, until he’d achieved something at least in the same sort of league as the Beast. While the Beast was in custody Matt had paid him a visit. “I wanna be like you,” he’d said. “Tell we what I have to do, and I’ll do it.”

A week or so later, before the Beast flew back to America, he’d gone for a training session with Matt to see what the cop could do. After the biggest chest session of Matt’s life and a flex-off in the posing room, the Beast had agreed to take him on as a client. 

“But you gotta commit 100%. This has gotta be your life now. Ok?”

Matt quit the force the next day. He got a job in a gym, started an Instagram and an Only Fans to help pay for all the juice he would need to take if he was going to play with the big boys. And he trained. He trained with the biggest lads in the gym, and worked so hard he got a reputation as the maddest, hardest worker in the place. He logged all his workouts with his coach, and they checked in every few days for a physique update. The Beast designed his training split, his nutrition plan, and his cycles. And Matt had fucking grown: 275lbs at 6 foot, an absolute monster. But still not big enough.

And now, Matt had just finished another check-in with his coach.

“Ok, decent progress,” said the Beast. “But the delts are overpowering the chest. You need to get your upper pecs up some. No fucking slacking, man! You need to keep pushing!”

“Yeah, I know man, sorry,” said Matt, sheepishly. He scratched his thick pec which twitched with size.

“We’ll get you back on track next week little dude. When are you arriving?”

“Tuesday, 11am.”

“Cool, see you then. Better say bye-bye to those baby muscles bro, cos by the time we’re done you’re going to be fucking next-level!”

Matt was flying over to stay with the Beast. Nothing but food and lifting for a whole month. It was going to be awesome. He couldn’t wait.

And maybe – if it went well – he could stay over there permanently. Every session being the session of a lifetime. Coach pushing him beyond anything he thought was humanly achievable. Spending every minute of his life just doing what Coach tells him to do. Matt flexed his right arm into a single biceps. It was huge. He smiled: He was going to make this look fucking puny.
 

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1 hour ago, Caliban11 said:

A little something based on a news story from a few years ago:

https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2018/feb/16/us-tourist-punched-police-officer-at-buckingham-palace

 

AN AMERICAN IN LONDON

Matt had been an officer in the Metropolitan Police for three years, but he reckoned the most boring patrol was Buckingham Palace.  Nothing but tourists taking selfies; it was just about the easiest shift in the job. Today they were expecting a convoy for some Royal. Matt didn’t care about the details. He just had to make sure the barriers were clear.

“Yo Matt!” said his colleague Rob as they crossed paths. “Any weekend plans?”

“Hitting the gym tonight,” said Matt. “Chest day.” And he squeezed his pecs together.

“Have to say man,” said Rob, “looking fucking swole these days!” He looked jealously at Matt’s 18 inch guns.

At 6ft even, Matt was a solid 225lbs of jacked muscle. In his uniform he was pretty scary: shirt pulled tight around a big chest which balanced out his big arms; traps merging into a thick neck; impressive lats which made his arms stick out slightly for that big-man strut. Out of uniform, it was clear he was serious about bodybuilding: big full pecs hung over a solid six pack; huge quads with impressive sweep and detail which finished off the X shape.

Rob glanced around him before sidling up closer to Matt. “Hey man,” he said under his breath, “you know, if you're on gear…it’s cool. Seriously, it’s cool, man! Maybe…”, and Rob lowered his voice even more, “maybe you could hook me up, bro?”

“Ha!” said Matt, “All natural dude!”, and he bounced his heavy pecs under his shirt as he moved on. He’d jumped on the juice six months ago, and since then he’d exploded. But he wasn't going to tell Rob that. Rob was his mate, they’d had a few gym sessions together, but you couldn't be too careful when you were on the force.

The minutes ticked by. Matt felt like he had an itch he couldn’t scratch: here he was, psyched up for his session that night, all this pent-up aggression inside him, and no way to use it. Just a bit of action, that’s all he wanted: a lad getting a bit lairy with the Palace guards, that would do it. Just a chance to flex some muscle.

Just then, Matt sensed a disturbance in the crowd. Hand immediately on his taser, he looked over to where a group of Australians had been taking pictures. Pushing his way through them was the biggest man Matt had ever seen. He must have been at least 6’6” but his height was the least special thing about him: the guy was jacked. Like, beyond jacked. He was wearing a cheap t-shirt with some band on the front. The arms strained over guns that must have measured at least 23 inches, Matt thought. As the man pushed his way through the crowd Matt got a clear view of him. Jesus, he was built like a fucking colossus! He was about 50 foot away from Matt, but Matt could feel his density. He knew that this man was as powerful as the biggest guys in his bodybuilding gym.

There was something off about the way the man was walking, and Matt could tell instantly that he was seriously drunk.

Christ, thought Matt, what could a fucker like that have been drinking to get so pissed? The dude’s built like a brick shithouse.

The guy was making his way over to one of the Palace guards, right next to where the barriers had been set up in preparation for the Royal convoy. Matt could see that his colleague Rob had clocked him and was stealthily moving towards him in case of trouble. Oblivious, the man continued his drunken swagger over to the guard. Now he was standing right in front of the guard, so close that Matt could see the guard shuffling a couple of steps backwards, clearly intimidated.  The guy made him look a total wimp. With his sideways view Matt could see the thickness of the giant’s physique, the huge capped delts and the thick lats jutting out under the thin material of the tee. Matt felt a rush of envy. This guy was fucking goals.

“Hey dude!” the guy slurred, looking down at the guard. Matt noticed an American accent. “Cool hat, bro!” And he laughed the too-loud laugh of the man off his face and not in full control of his body. “Wanna…wanna lemme try it on?”

The guard wasn’t a small guy – about six foot, more fit than jacked – but he quivered before the huge guy.  The giant made a move towards the guard, as if to grab the hat.

“Armed police, stand still!” As soon as it looked like the guy was about to get aggressive, Rob jumped into action. Matt watched as Rob pointed his taser at the beast in front of him. Rob was a bit of a powerhouse himself, but he wasn't risking anything when dealing with this muscle freak.

The man stopped what he was doing turned his head towards Rob. 

“Now back away slowly sir,” shouted Rob, taser still poised. Adrenaline pumped through his body and he could fee his heart thumping beneath his thick chest. Yeah, it was on.

But instead of backing away, the man started moving towards Rob. As Rob registered the situation, the adrenaline rush gave way to cold terror. He stood rooted to the spot, watching the fabric of the man’s tee jump and twitch. He was bouncing his pecs as he came for Rob. Jesus, how big were those fucking things under there?

“Hey man! You're a cop, right? A little British cop! That's cool man!” Rob backed away as the man staggered menacingly towards him. Little! Rob was fucking packed with muscle! Ok, he wasn’t a freak like this guy… Rob was still trying to process the sheer size of the man in front of him. He, Rob, was big. He knew that. He did know it. So why did he feel small and weak? Why did he automatically back away as the guy moved towards him? Oh Jesus. In a man-to-man fight with this guy, how long would Rob last? Oh shit. Next to this guy Rob was less than little. Fuck, next to his buddy Matt Rob was a little man, and this guy made even Matt look like a fucking shrimp!

Rob kept the taser pointed at the man, but he was now in panic mode.

“A little British cop! Hey, little British cop man, know any cool jokes?!” 

He was practically on top of Rob at this point. “Stay where you are!” Rob shouted again, sweat darkening his shirt around the pits. But the man just smirked, and took another step to square up in front of Rob. Rob was hit by a powerful scent of sweat and muscle coming off the beast in front of him. Whether it was fear or jealousy for the man’s size, something exploded in Rob’s brain. He fired his taser. The electrified prongs buried themselves in the mountain’s thick chest.

By now Officer Matt had caught up with Rob. Immediately seeing Rob had discharged his taser, Matt prepared to cuff the muscle monster as soon as he was debilitated and had fallen to the floor. 

Except the freak was still standing! Matt couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The beast let out a deep grunt as he was hit by the taser’s intense voltage. All his muscles flexed, and Matt fleetingly felt a grudging respect as the superb build of the dude really popped even better under the pressure. Amazingly, he was withstanding the pain! How the fuck was that even possible? The dude must have balls of steel! Incredibly, the beast began to move his huge arm, lifting a massive hand towards the taser wires in his chest. How the fuck could he be doing that? Matt fired his own taser, which landed in the guy’s abdominals this time. Instead of a grunt the beast let out a bellow so loud that Matt felt it in his gut. As he bellowed he clenched his fists and his arms balled up into the biggest, veiniest balls of arm muscle Matt had ever seen. But still the big man didn't go down. After bearing the pain for a few seconds he once more made a move to rip out the tasers from his mighty upper body. Rob and Matt holding the ends of the weapons stood transfixed by the power of the monster in front of them as he tore out the taser prongs with a roar.

“Fuck yeah!” he roared, and threw up his arms into a massive double bi, chin thrust out as he cockily turned his head between each peak. And then with his eyes fixed on Matt’s, he grabbed his own shirt by the collar with a single huge hand and ripped it off his body. He bounced his pecs as he watched Matt – Matt the muscle man, Matt the amateur bodybuilder – eye up his superior physique.

The pecs were huge slabs of muscle, the upper pecs the fullest Matt had ever seen, creating a deep fissure between the chest muscles. The square lower pecs were thicker still and finished off with two large dark nipples. The beast’s eight-pack was powerfully defined, but there was nothing emaciated about the guy’s look. He looked full and dense. His cannonball delts exploded from his shoulders, but they did nothing to hide the immense size and weight of the guy’s arms: biceps thick and veiny with muscle; triceps bulging out the back of the arm. His wide lats were thick and meaty. Matt wanted to grab a handful to see what they felt like. Huge traps and a column of muscle for a neck gave the beast a brutal, caveman energy. Fuck, this dude made Matt look like a little fitness pretty boy!

Then things started happening very quickly. The beast had forgotten all about Rob, but now focused all his attention on Matt. He rounded on the bigger cop, rolling his massive shoulders. Matt’s police training kicked in, and he automatically reached for his baton. But before he could pull it out the muscle monster grabbed Matt’s 18-inch arm, stopping it dead. For a drunk man he was fucking quick! With his big mitt around Matt’s biceps, he squeezed. Matt cried out in pain as he felt his big gun get compacted by strength much greater than his own. He dropped the baton and it rolled away. The big man balled up his free hand into a fist and jack-hammered it into Matt’s gut three times before releasing the officer from his hold. Matt felt like he’d been hit by a tanker. He crumpled to the floor, winded by the force he’d felt through his bullet-proof vest.

As soon as the muscle beast’s attention had switched to Matt, Rob had made a retreat. He immediately radioed for back-up. He felt ashamed that he’d been so easily dominated by a bigger, better man. One pissed-up American roider was all it had taken to trounce two of the biggest guys in the London force. Rob tried to get his head around it: He trained hard at least five days a week without fail; in his normal life he felt like a big, powerful man. But when it came down to it, he was nothing. He was a weak, fucking pussy. He was nowhere near the level of this beast of a man. The fucking chest on the guy! The fucking legs! So much insane density! No matter how hard he worked, Rob knew he’d never be in the big boy leagues. He heard the back-up sirens in the distance. He’d failed; failed as a cop, failed as a man. And he deserved it. Rob knew the experience would change him forever.

Matt lay on the floor, hunched over his battered gut. Where the fuck was Rob? The monster was standing over him, taunting him.

“What the fuck man, I barely touched ya! Jesus, are all you British dudes such fuckin’ pussies? Come on man, get up, show us what you can do!”

Matt looked up from where he lay at the huge beast standing over him. Matt could see the massive overhang of the guy’s chest. The thickness was unbelievable, how much could the guy bench – 450lbs? 500? Why the hell was Matt thinking that?! But he couldn’t help it. The guy had Matt’s ideal physique – it was everything he wanted, it was the reason he trained every day, sometimes twice a day, vomited during leg day, pumped his body with Dbol and test and tren. And he was still nowhere near reaching it. And here was some tanked up Yank, with the physique of a fucking Greek god. 

Matt collapsed to the floor again, humiliated in his defeat. But the big man wasn’t having it.

“I said, get up.” His voice was meaner, and more dangerous.

Matt slowly got up on all fours, alternately dry-heaving and taking in big gulps of air as he tried to get his breath back. Too slow for the big Yank, who grabbed Matt’s shirt by the back of the neck and dragged him to his feet. Matt stood swaying on his feet in front of the beast.

“Let’s see what you got then bro!” said the beast, looking over Matt’s physique. He smiled to himself. He recognised a fellow brother-in-iron when he saw one. “Hey, not bad man! You got some decent size on ya!” Even while he struggled to recover his breath, Matt still felt a twinge of pride that a specimen like this was complimenting his own build. Then he looked over the massive meat of the beast’s upper arms, and his 18 inch guns felt like fucking twigs again. The beast took a step back.

“Now, hit me bro!”

He held out his arms, leaving his torso completely open.

Fuck, Matt wanted to do it so badly! He wanted to see how strong this absolute unit really was. But his professional instincts took over. He reached for his baton. Shit, he’d dropped it earlier. He reached for his handcuffs instead. He spoke, loudly and clearly:

“Sir, back-up is on its way, if you just come quietly no one will get hurt.” His heart was pounding as he fumbled for the cuffs. “Now, put your hands on your……”

“You shit-for-brains or what? I’m gonna fuck you up either way, dude, so just, fucking, HIT ME!”

And the big Yank lurched forwards, still with his arms out and his torso exposed. Instinctively Matt stopped reaching for the cuffs and landed a colossal fist right in the man’s gut.

Oh, fuck!! Pain radiated up Matt’s arm as his fist hit the man’s eight-pack. Oh, shit!! How can any man be as fucking strong as that?! He began to shake out his hand to ease the pain, but the man was on him.

“Fuck yeah! These things ain’t just for show!” And he flexed his abs and cockily strummed his fingers across them, showboating his superior shape before the smaller muscle cop. “Again! Hit me again! Come ON!”

And before he knew he’d done it Matt landed another hit, this time to the beast’s jaw. The big man’s head turned to one side with the impact before slowly turning back to Matt. In disbelief, Matt struck again from the other side. The beast’s thick neck twisted, but again returned slowly to its starting point. Jesus Christ! What was this fucker made from?

Matt had taken boxing classes before making the switch to bodybuilding, and knew how to deliver a textbook punch. Nothing else would do now: this strike would have to finish it. His huge arms flexed to the max, he launched a devastating right, generating power from the shoulder and aiming to follow right through this freak’s solar plexus.

But the big man was done playing. He caught Matt’s fist with a dull thump. Then slowly, he squeezed down on it. Oh fuck!! Matt didn’t even know a human could have a grip like that. He thought he was going to pass out from the pain. The beast started laughing as he overpowered the cop with one hand. He lifted his spare arm slowly into a single biceps flex. Despite the pain, Matt watched the colossal muscle grow. How big was that thing? How did it keep getting bigger?! So hard! How was that much size and vascularity possible?! The beast flexed his cannonball arm directly in Matt’s face, still laughing at the little muscle cop. 

“Yeah man! This is muscle Murica-style! USA!” He mashed Matt’s face into the bigger muscle and then down into his monstrous hairy pit, forcing him to inhale his salty man smell. Fuck, even the dude’s smell made Matt feel small. So fucking big! So fucking strong! It didn’t….. How could….. How was it……..

Matt peed himself. The big guy on the force, the amateur bodybuilder. A fucking weakling.

Afterwards, Matt was told he’d passed out. Back-up had arrived and managed to bring the man down. He was arrested, went to court and got an eight-week suspended sentence. He was asked to pay Matt and Rob £200 each in compensation. Matt refused his. 


SIX MONTHS LATER

The Zoom connection was a bit shaky, but seemed to have stabilised now. Matt stood in front of his laptop in his kitchen, hands on his hips, sweating and breathing deeply. He was wearing nothing except briefs which he’d hitched up to uncover his impressive quads. A voice from the laptop said “Now, go again.”

Matt didn’t move for a few seconds, looking down at the floor as he continued to take deep breaths, his cut abs heaving in and out. The voice spoke again:

“Stop fucking around man, let’s go! Front double bi, now!”

Matt took one last deep breath and faced the camera, carefully planted his feet, rose his arms above him and pulled them down into a massive double bi. 

“Really squeeze. Don’t bring them so far forward.” Matt made the corrections, his arms shaking from the flex. Another drip of sweat rolled down his face. His arms measured at just over 20 inches. A massive improvement, but not enough.

“Ok, front lat spread, let’s go!” Matt adjusted his stance, hitched up his arms and unfurled his colossal lats. His lat development had surpassed even his biceps. But still too small.

“Ok, not bad. Now, side chest!”

Matt carried on through the mandatories. It was the fourth time he’d done them that afternoon, and the sweat was pouring off him.

“Ok, take a breather,” said the voice. Matt pulled up a stool and sat in front of the laptop so he could speak to his new coach. The Big Yank, The Beast, had been Matt’s coach for about six months now.

Ever since that encounter six months ago Matt had been a different man. He thought he knew what power was before, but meeting the Beast had changed that forever. He knew he would never be happy until he had pushed his body beyond anything he’d previously thought possible, until he’d achieved something at least in the same sort of league as the Beast. While the Beast was in custody Matt had paid him a visit. “I wanna be like you,” he’d said. “Tell we what I have to do, and I’ll do it.”

A week or so later, before the Beast flew back to America, he’d gone for a training session with Matt to see what the cop could do. After the biggest chest session of Matt’s life and a flex-off in the posing room, the Beast had agreed to take him on as a client. 

“But you gotta commit 100%. This has gotta be your life now. Ok?”

Matt quit the force the next day. He got a job in a gym, started an Instagram and an Only Fans to help pay for all the juice he would need to take if he was going to play with the big boys. And he trained. He trained with the biggest lads in the gym, and worked so hard he got a reputation as the maddest, hardest worker in the place. He logged all his workouts with his coach, and they checked in every few days for a physique update. The Beast designed his training split, his nutrition plan, and his cycles. And Matt had fucking grown: 275lbs at 6 foot, an absolute monster. But still not big enough.

And now, Matt had just finished another check-in with his coach.

“Ok, decent progress,” said the Beast. “But the delts are overpowering the chest. You need to get your upper pecs up some. No fucking slacking, man! You need to keep pushing!”

“Yeah, I know man, sorry,” said Matt, sheepishly. He scratched his thick pec which twitched with size.

“We’ll get you back on track next week little dude. When are you arriving?”

“Tuesday, 11am.”

“Cool, see you then. Better say bye-bye to those baby muscles bro, cos by the time we’re done you’re going to be fucking next-level!”

Matt was flying over to stay with the Beast. Nothing but food and lifting for a whole month. It was going to be awesome. He couldn’t wait.

And maybe – if it went well – he could stay over there permanently. Every session being the session of a lifetime. Coach pushing him beyond anything he thought was humanly achievable. Spending every minute of his life just doing what Coach tells him to do. Matt flexed his right arm into a single biceps. It was huge. He smiled: He was going to make this look fucking puny.
 

image.png

Damn hot 

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