POP, part 5 added 3/MAR

[Broody]

Trying something a little different here. Basic synopsis: A powerful, dominant serial killer is murdering massive bodybuilders with his bare hands, and a police detective (himself a massive bodybuilder) must track him down while fighting his own lustful attraction to the uber-masculine perpetrator.]

Warnings: Snuff, Gore, Horror

POP

“You’re supposed to wear a coverall, like me,” said Dr Stain, the medical examiner, who in his white head-to-toe gear, contrasted sharply with the slimy red gore that covered the entire apartment.

“And look like a cumshot in a uterus, like you?” said Detective Carnitas. “Not likely, chum. ‘Sides, they didn’t have one in my size.”

“They don’t have doors in your size, Detective.”

“True. Guess I’m just too much man for this world.”

Carnitas did have to turn sideways to fit his 6’6” 450 lbs of swollen muscles through the door of this crime-scene-cum-abattoir. 

“This guy was too. Now literally, I guess. So be careful what you wish for.”

The giant detective looked at the body. It looked like a skeleton wrapped in a bag of oversized skin.

“What the fuck are you on about? This was a fat dude that had some kind of weight-loss surgery.”

“Very sudden weight-loss surgery.” The doctor extended a pair of stainless steel forceps and pulled up the skin of the ragged corpse’s chest. 

“Weird.” Carnitas grabbed the second tool offered by the pathologist and together they raised the pec skin, which had enough area to cover a 60 inch chest. 

“And this surgeon needs to sharpen his scalpel, look here.”

Jagged rends broke the skin at the top and sides of the chest. 

“It’s like the fat just burst outta him,” said the dumbfounded cop.

“Not fat.” The doc pointed at the ceiling, walls and windows. “Look around at all this tissue, it’s pure red meat, no adipose.”

“Are you telling me some perp exploded an Olympia-sized, fully-conditioned bodybuilder in his own apartment? What kind of weapon could do that? There’s no grenade shrapnel or burns.” Det. Carnitas felt his heart racing.

“No weapon.”

“So he took it with him.”

“Nope.”

Carnitas looked askance at the doctor.

“No need to tax your brain overmuch, Detective. There’s video.” The doctor stood and crossed to a desktop computer with a webcam and used his gloved hand to wipe gore off the screen. Carnitas took a sharp breath. It was a freeze-frame shot of a red explosion that was surely the moment of death. But the red burst had a milky-white center. He found himself holding his breath, his heart fluttering as he looked closer. It was a man’s back. Though the man was half the size of the victim, he had the most densely muscled back Carnitas had ever seen. The groove of the spinal erectors in his Christmas tree was deep enough to trap a man’s fingers up to the third knuckle. His lats looked like twin wine barrels tucked under his brawny arms. His massive, tenticular traps formed a monstrous Kraken that seemed to pin Carnitas’ brown eyes with a burning glare. 

“What the fuck?”

The doctor grabbed the mouse to click the symbol to back the vid up ten seconds.

Carnitas gasped when primal sounds erupted from a fully equipped stereo system. The video showed a bloated mega-heavyweight bodybuilder who could have been Carnitas’ twin, held aloft and practically vibrating with lust in the concrete arms of the muscular perp. A high-pitched sexual whine ululated out of the bodybuilder’s cum-covered lips as the perps lats spread to eclipse their view of the vic’s mid-torso. The dominating bear-hug compressed the middle of the massive victim’s physique, swelling the top half of his pecs so much they pushed up into his chin, forcing his neck back til his whole head was obscured by deformed pec-meat blistered with stretch marks. Beastly basso-profundo grunts shot out of the subwoofer as that inhuman back rippled and flexed with incalculable strength.

“Fucking hell.” 

Carnitas was finding it hard to breathe. The grunts got longer, louder and deeper, a counterpoint to the rising tone of the vic’s squeal, which sounded like air leaking out of a balloon.

“No…” burbled the helpless vic, just as his body became a crimson supernova.  Red flesh burst in all directions out of distressed skin as muscles built over years of obsessive workouts splattered like bugs on a windshield against vastly superior brawn.

Carnitas was shocked and bewildered, but what happened next truly turned his world upside down. The perps wordless grunts slid into consonants and vowels as a long lingering…

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHH!!!!”

… vibrated the floorboards. The sheer manly amplitude of the perp’s ultra-deep voice traveled the distance to where Carnitas stood, thundered up his shins, crossed in an X across his 38” quads and locked his groin in a vice. He couldn’t have taken his eyes off of the screen if he wanted to, as the perp turned to the side. The massive arms dropped casually to his sides, and the crushed torso slumped, but still clung goo-like to granite pecs shaped like Atlas stones that now filled the vic’s ribcage where vital organs once pulsed. A pec bounce jiggled the deformed corpse like a macabre marionette, which the perp found amusing.

“HUH-HUH-HUH.” 

His lewd, rumbly chuckle reached out to Carnitas’ bloated prick and blasted the cum out of it like toothpaste from a tube crushed by a fist.

Another pec bounce loosened the vacuum of the vic’s collapsed lungs and the sodden necrotic mess slid to the floor.

As those insanely pumped, veiny boulder pecs approached the camera, the perp wiped the victim’s blood from their curvature, revealing a massive chest-and-abs tatt that penetrated the bodybuilder cop’s brain like an ice pick:

GONNA

POP

U

BITCH

Carnitas blacked out as he heard the perp’s final words:

“WHO’S NEXT?”

[Ro20316]

That was an interesting first part will Carnitas be strong enough to fight this killer who can do horrible things?

Im in for this ride

[Broody]

1 hour ago, Ro20316 said:

That was an interesting first part will Carnitas be strong enough to fight this killer who can do horrible things?

Im in for this ride

Thanks bro! He’s gonna have some trouble thinking on his feet with this case!

[Broody]

[Thanks for all the likes, folks, some gore but no snuff this chapter, and some worldbuilding, with a little office alpha-male dominance thrown in, cause you know I just can’t help myself.]

POP, Part 2

The next morning Det. Steve Carnitas did what he always did when he had feelings he couldn’t explain. He went to the gym. The police gym was a good one. Though he was by far the biggest guy on the force, it had weights enough to challenge him. He trained for size anyway, not strength. High reps to utter muscular failure, twice daily workouts before and after work, pummeling his muscles to grow, grow, grow. “Never big enough,” was his motto, ever since high school, when he shot up a foot in height during freshman year and acquired the nickname “Beanpole”.

Nobody called him that now. Even though he was a fixture at the gym, he still attracted stares when he worked out, and today a gobsmacked recruit couldn’t help but blurt: “Whoa!” every single time he caught sight of Carnitas’ 450 lbs of perma-bulk. He finished his sixth set of bicep curls, and feeling the full tension of the final negative rep, set the bar on the rack and shook out his veiny guns swollen with pump to 28” of bulging meat.

“Fuck yeah,” he said. “Who’s the man? Bam!”

He threw up a huge front double biceps and watched in the mirror as the muscle inflated, peaking level with his wrists. Thanks to a new steroid called athenabol, nicknamed Double-DBol, even amateur lifters like Carnitas who put in the work could slab on mass that would make Ronnie Coleman green with envy. He spied the recruit watching him out of the corner of his eye and twisted a side chest pose just for him. As his monstrous pecs heaved up and out into a Mount Rushmore of meat, he watched the color drain from the musclepup’s face and cum soak the front of his shorts. He chuckled.

“Thank you Double-DBol, for my Double D’s.”

Nothing like demolishing an arm workout and some involuntary muscle worship to buff up the confidence. And he needed it, after that scene last night. 

He’d blamed low blood sugar when Dr Stain had revived him. “I oughta know I need to feed these big muscles,” he’d said. “Guess I’m too much man for this world.”

“Yeah, you said that.” Dr Stain rolled his eyes. “Maybe try cycling off the steroids.”

“All natural, baby,” he’d lied.

Carnitas changed into his work clothes and left the gym for the case room. He shoved his gym bag under his desk just as he saw Chuckie clearing off his, his possessions going into a file box.

“You get fired for snorting evidence again, Chuckie?”

“Naw dog, I’m just the low man on the totem pole, they’re bringing in an SVU guy to work with you on that new case and I gotta make myself scarce.”

Special Victims Unit, sex crimes. Makes sense, thought Carnitas, remembering the cum on the vic’s lips.

“What guy?”

“I don’t know his name but he is the most jacked guy I ever seen.”

“Excuse me?” Carnitas bristled. 

“Naw dog, you’re bigger than him, sure, you’re bigger than anyone I know, but JACKED, you know what I’m saying?”

“Get the fuck outta here, moron.”

“Jeeze, dog, roid rage much?” 

Carnitas banged the drawers of his desk in anger as he collected the files for briefing. He checked his watch.

“Shit.”

Carnitas hated being late. Mostly because ever since he blew past 400 lbs, he knew the other cops saw him as slow. There was a limit to admiration of muscle in cop culture. Once you got to the point where you looked like you couldn’t chase a perp, the compliments stopped, and the insults started.

Carnitas didn’t give a shit what people thought of his body, but he hated that others judged his character based on that. Slow, unprofessional, or the worst: vain. But he knew it was a losing battle ‘cause if there was any people who liked to judge, it’s cops.

Carnitas entered the briefing room. Sure enough the other homicide detectives were already there.

“Get trapped under a barbell, slim?” asked Hamm, the bearish data officer.

“No, trapped under your mama, piglet.”

“No porcine insults, please, in my house,” said Lt Flint.

“Sorry, boss.”

“Get us started then.”

Carnitas waddled to the front of the room and began sticking pictures to the whiteboard. 

Detective Shaw whistled a catcall. “That ass is criminal, sweetheart.”

“Shaw,” Lt. Flint growled.

“Sorry boss, I’ll try to keep it in my pants. But damn, Stevie don’t make it easy.”

Carnitas took a deep breath and let it out. Garrett Shaw was 170 lbs soaking wet but he could get away with shit-talk like that because he was a black-belt in five different kinds of grappling. If you tried to take a swing at him, he’d tie you up in knots, then frog-march you around the case room making you slap your own face.

“The victim,” Carnitas said finally, “is Peter Tinker, a 35-year-old retail manager of a sports nutrition store. Unmarried, no kids, lived alone, no record. Neighbors describe him as quiet and unassuming, remarkable only for his muscular size. Dr Stain’s report puts him at 6’4” and an estimated pre-mortem weight of 410 lbs.”

“Anything else notable in Stain’s report?” asked Flint.

“Some alcohol in his system but no illicit drugs. Antidepressants in the medicine cabinet but not in the bloodwork. Suggests he wasn’t taking ‘em.”

“Off his meds,” Shaw shot out, “coulda been suicidal, hired this guy to off him? Wait a sec, you said no illicit drugs?”

“Yeah.”

“Bullshit. This guys a Double-DBag if I ever seen one.”

Carnitas winced at the harsh nickname. “Athenabol doesn’t show up on tox screens.”

“Guess you would know, Stevie.”

“Shaw!” Flint barked. “If you don’t find your frontal lobes I’m going to find them for you by fingerfucking your brainpan.”

“Geez, boss.”

“Hamm. What have you got on this streaming site?”

“Dark web, robust VPN, so untraceable in terms of a location. The vid posted of the murder has been viewed 100,000 times in the last twelve hours. You can view it once then you gotta pay $10 to download it. Eighty percent of those viewers did so, so the perps made $800,000 already, minus whatever cut the dark-web launderers take.”

“That money’s got to come up for air at some point.”

“I’ll keep an eye out. The other vids on the profile are basic strong-man stuff, starts with bending bars, progresses to ripping the doors off of junked cars and mangling them. I’ll try to match the locations with local junkyards. In all the vids, not much to go on in terms of ID, he wears a balaclava. The tatt in the snuff video isn’t visible in the other vids so it must be new.”

“Shaw, you take the tattoo shops.”

Shaw flexed a 16” bicep with a busting chain-link tatt over its peak. “Sure, boss, I could use some new ink.”

“NOT expensable.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.”

Hamm airplayed his tablet to the room’s wide-screen. “There is one other vid of interest, from a week ago. Hold onto your breakfast.”

Carnitas quickly moved a file folder to cover his crotch as the perp’s ultra-deep voice vibrated the walls.

“FLEX THAT MEAT, BITCH” he said from off screen. On camera, a massive redheaded bodybuilder licked cum from his quivering lips and flexed his right arm into what had to be a 25” gun (at least); he was seated against the backdrop of a plain white wall. “AW, YEAH. GET READY TO POP.”

“Pop me, Daddy, please! Uhhhhh!”

The perp then got so close he must have sat in the big muscle-sub’s lap. The phone camera moved like it was switched to his right hand, and you could then see the perp’s powerfully muscled left arm aligned perpendicular to the redhead’s. Initially the contrast was all in the sub’s favor, his arm was clearly bigger. But then the perp flexed.

“Holy shit!” Carnitas swore.

A cannonball exploded out of the perps arm and instantly deformed the sub’s muscle into a crescent shape molded to the perfect sphere of the perp’s bicep.

“Ahhh… no stop it hurts too much!” cried the sub.

“HUH-HUH-HUH, NO TURNING BACK NOW BITCH, WELCOME TO POP CITY.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” said Lt Flint.

Four tough homicide detectives watched as stretch marks bloomed, then tore and a ragged red ball the size of a rump roast popped out of the sub’s arm, splattered against the white wall and dropped out of sight. The poor sub was shrieking in pain but the camera was on the move, the perp reaching down to palm the bloody mass. Thick fingers closed into a fist and squelched the meat into hamburger. “SWEET.”

Hamm closed the airplay and they sat in silence for a moment before Shaw spoke.

“So? Texas Roadhouse for lunch? Who’s in?”

Carnitas shook his head and found his voice. “Perp’s left-handed, started off filming with his left. And that’s gotta be a one-of-kind injury. I’ll tap my sources at the ERs to see where it came in. That poor dude, if he’s still alive, is our best lead.”

“Agreed. You team up with Detective Brick from SVU tomorrow and find him.”

“Where is that guy? Chuckie said he saw him here.”

“Thanks for the reminder to chew you out for being late,” Lt Flint snorted. “But I don’t have the stomach for it right now. You missed him, he had to leave; some emergency. He’s got your number. He’ll text you later. Team dismissed.”

As they were leaving, Shaw said: “Stevie, lemme ask you something.”

“It’s Steve, you little shi—OOWWW!” Shaw grabbed his hand and cranked his pinky in an agonizing fingerlock, dragging him into the washroom. Shaw shoved Carnitas against the tiled wall hard enough that a few tiles broke under the huge detective’s bulk. He let go of his finger and slipped off his black t-shirt while Carnitas shook out his sore hand.

“Stop this, Garrett,” Carnitas mouth went dry as he took in Shaw’s lean, rugged physique, absolutely ripped to the bone. “This is s-sexual harassment in the workplace.”

“That right, Stevie? Something about this you find sexual? Interesting.”

“I meant—”

“We’re just two friends having a conversation right? What’s sexual about that?” Carnitas stared helplessly at Shaw’s muscular pecs, they were definitely meatier and more defined than the last time he saw them, and still had that intensely sexy thatch of blond hair nestled between them. Shaw stepped right up to him, chest-to-chest, or rather, Shaw’s chest to Steve’s upper abs, because of their height difference.

“So here’s my question. You think the perp is a Steamroller?”

Carnitas scoffed but then paused to consider what was in fact a good question. With the arrival of Double-DBol, there was a backlash against PEDs in the physique industry. Many bodybuilders switched entirely to natural training, saying that athenabol made the sport “too easy”. Steamroller was a mysterious, almost cult-like group, devoted to techniques of boosting testosterone naturally, and developing training methods that prioritized strength, muscle hardness, and tantric-like muscle control. Devotees of Steamroller claimed they could flatten any “lazy-ass Double-DBag” in any fitness challenge, hence the name.

Carnitas looked down to see Garrett eyeing his enormous muscle-tits like he wanted to motorboat them in the worst way.

“Eyes up here, dickhead.”

“Aw, I know exactly where you want my dickhead, Stevie, but we’ll save that for when we’re off the clock seeing as you’re a stickler for HR rules, all of a sudden.”

“So you’re asking if a psychopathic killer could be a member of the latest cult? I don’t see why not, but what’s the connection?”

“Well, maybe it’s easiest if I show you.” Shaw took another half step forward, and flexed his pecs, pinning Carnitas to the wall. The pressure from below bulged up his muscle-tits like a push-up bra.

“Enough,” Steve said, and tried to take a step forward. Shaw didn’t budge.

“What the fuck, Garrett? I’m more than twice your weight and you’re not even bracing your legs.”

“I know, right? And I only joined Steamroller two weeks ago. I’ve had five, maybe six workouts?”

“This is insane.”

“You haven’t even seen the best part yet. Now shut up a second this takes some concentration.”

Garrett Shaw relaxed his pecs but expanded his chest to take a slow deep breath, then again. As he continued to breathe deeply, an equivalent calm came over Carnitas. The huge cop was astonished to realize that his own breathing was yielding to Shaw’s. He was exhaling when the smaller man inhaled, and inhaling when he exhaled. He tried to reverse this, and found he couldn’t. He started to panic, but this dissipated as he matched Shaw’s strong, muscular heartbeat that was thudding against his sternum like it was giving him CPR. 

Shaw locked eyes with him, nodding knowingly, and Carnitas was struck by how ruggedly handsome he was, with his square jaw, thick blond stubble already bristly at noon, and intense green eyes. Steve threw an erection so hard it was almost painful.

Shaw parted his lips and his voice dripped sex as he intoned:

“Let’s go for a ride, baby.” 

Steve felt a band of steel pinch into the groove between his first and second row of abs. Garrett rolled his pecs from the bottom up and Carnitas slid up the wall like he was riding an elevator.”

“Oh fuck, Shaw.”

“Pretty sweet, huh? You like all this muscle? I can feel you down here, seems you like it.”

“I weigh 450 lbs…”

“Really? You seem lighter.”

Shaw switched to a pec bounce and his concrete slabs pummeled Steve’s abs, and the force jiggled his muscle-tits like bongos.

“Aw fuck, Garrett I’m gonna…”

“Hold that thought. So it stands to reason that if I can do this after two weeks, then it’s a good bet our perp is a Steamroller.”

“Yes. Awwww….”

“And that your handsome friend Garrett is both way smarter and way stronger than you?”

“So smart… so strong… so handsome…”

“Cool, now back to you, you were saying?”

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

Shaw stepped back abruptly and Det. Carnitas slumped to the floor in a heap.

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘POP’. But not while I’m here, that would be sexual harassment. Go jerk your little dicklet in the stall, Double-DBag,” Shaw cackled as he swaggered out the door.

The spell broken, Carnitas limply sat up against the wall, he tried to stifle his breathing to calm his erection. He almost managed it when a tall dark-haired man walked in pulling a sweat-soaked wife-beater over his head. His deep, hairy armpits flooded the room instantly with brutal man-stench.

“Eep…” cried Carnitas as a cum-explosion detonated in his crotch.

The man turned around and looked down on him.

“Who the fuck are you?” said Detective Brick.

 

[Ro20316]

So there is a CULT dedicated to strength and one of the cops is part of them that can be both great and dangerous. Carnitas isnt strng enough to take on the guy he said it himself. What can they do agaiuns someone that strong enough to kill a man with his own hands¿?

[DawnFire98]

    1. Awesome to see a continuation to this story. I like how you can kind of tell apart his colleagues, that Detective Carnitas gets owned by Shaw, and am excited about "new guy" Brick. 
 

2. And now a comment from the dude who loves "buff guys and heart"-stuff: "Oh, I definitely know for sure I'm gonna re-read that part a thousand times. GODDAMN, that's a hot description:

7 hours ago, Broody said:

He started to panic, but this dissipated as he matched Shaw’s strong, muscular heartbeat that was thudding against his sternum like it was giving him CPR.

Hope to see more strong hearts, @Broody "
 

[Broody]

3 hours ago, Ro20316 said:

So there is a CULT dedicated to strength and one of the cops is part of them that can be both great and dangerous. Carnitas isnt strng enough to take on the guy he said it himself. What can they do agaiuns someone that strong enough to kill a man with his own hands¿?

Looks like they’ll have to work together. But might be a challenge with all the jockeying in the office for alpha status.

[Broody]

2 hours ago, DawnFire98 said:

Hope to see more strong hearts, @Broody "

Thanks for getting me onto that. Always room for another fetish, lol

[ploder4]

How much you want to bet one of them Steamrollers fills one of them cops with enough muscle cum they POP?

[xmrr20a]

Simply awesome story! I love strength/domination stories where the guy is super strong but looks fit/rather than huge. Can't wait for more.