Sarge Flex Masterclass

MASTER CLASSES

Each of the Sergeants brought to The 'Block a specialist technique, and were promoted to the rank of Sergeant on the basis of their expertise in these areas.

Interrogation: Sgt "ACE" Amberson
:Finance: Sgt "CHIEF" Schulz
Physical training:: Sgt FLEX
Combat:: Sgt "WOLF" Mack
Security:: Sgt HOODER
Motorbike Training: Sgt "BEEF" Horst
Equipment: Sgt "PROSECUTOR"
Incarceration: Sgt
Surveillance: Sgt BULLITT

Some of these areas could be described as "grey" - euphemisms for some of the murkier activies of The 'Block. Some were merely hobbies the Sarges had more than a natural interest in.

New Officers could pay for one-on-one seminars, with lucky sub "clients" (paying) used as material for masterclasses in these disciplines.

On an occasional basis the Senior Officers would give Masterclasses in their given technique for new Officer members of The 'Block. Sgt "ACE" Amberson's workshops were mandatory, and ranged from subtle mindgames, to waterboarding and out-and-out station-house rape..

Tonight Sarge FLEX was rehearsing his pre-contest posing routine, for the inspiration of the rookies, before The Masters contest next week. Strength training programmes, professionally designed by the IFBB Pro in Residence, who was always an honorary Sarge., were mandatory for all Officers.


Flex had been massing AND cutting up, following an experimental stack and feeding routine he had tested on Officer Jerry.

As a single light came on above the platform, even the senior ranking Officers drew breath as a massive shadow was cast, filling most of the stage.



Even the Sergeants, all amateur competitive bodybuilders as Cellblock rules demanded, were shocked by the amount of new muscle the mature pro had managed to amass in secret.

After a stunned silence, the crowd roared triumphantly at FLEX's new inhuman gains. The Sergeants sitting at the front, in high-back director chairs each with a cocksucker servicing them, led the cheering, with the rookie Officers standing, their cocks in their gauntlets, jacking and hooting the musclecop on.

FLEX was sitting astride a Harley hoisted onto the platform., wearing Dehners, cop belt, and tiny black rubber posers. FLEX's pinhead hintite made his barn shoulders stretch out into the distance, looking anatomically unfeasible. He was twice the width of a normal human.






His head looked like an afterthought, an evolutionary anomaly to the superior aerodynamics of the vast yoke of muscle drowning his skull... The evolution of his anatomy had long dispensed with the need for a neck column, as his skull was now sunken into the two menacingly large traps that bulged as high as his ears, each one bigger than his skull. His head looked like it was being squeezed off his shoulders, useful now only for feeding, and the production of hormones. And smoking cigars of course.




FLEX's double-dark posing tan displayed the razor-sharp contrasts of his skin-tearing definition.



And his metallic Russian posing shine glittered on his diamond cut intercostals. FLEX's shine hurt the eyes of the crowd sitting in the dark, shards of light flashing off his burnished steel contours.



He was a living granite megalith.



FLEX had put on so much muscle his entire body shape had now changed. His anatomy had evolved alongside horizontal lines to accommodate new muscle growth.. FLEX's bulging lats and intercostals grew out sideways, forcing his heavy arms out a 45 degree angle.




Broad pendulous pecs hung, distended, over the edge of his rib-cage, touching the top abdominal, his nips invisible, pushed under and out to the side by the weight of his pec beef.



FLEX"s outstretched his arms, and his tris hung heavily underneath, elbow joints disappearing under thick muscle attachments as he lifted them upwards, nodding in arrogant rapture.





On cue, the paper-thin rubber poser suddenly ripped open as his 10 inch pumped cock bloated up, tearing the poser as it burst through, dripping arrogant pre-cum.



FLEX then rehearsed his routine mandatories, dominantly and aggressively, each pose made cock-centric by incorporating cock-stroking into every pose.



Unfortunately he would be obliged to perform these IN a poser for the contest. And without stroking.



Then the lights dropped again. The Senior Staff Officers hooted, knowing the freestyle COP routine was coming.

A routine that he would never be allowed to perform in the IFBB, and that he REALLY wanted to do.

A rank of volunteer pain subs appeared lined up behind the monster.. FLEX, was massive next to these worms, three times the mass and three times the man of each of them. With a massive paw the muscleman lifted one sub up by the neck, and held it away at arm's length, its feet wriggling. Turning to his audience, FLEX nodded and then slowly flexed the other bicep, and smiled at the crowd; naked, erect, dominant and arrogant. The crowded hooted and punched the air. The sub passed out and was dropped on the mat.

Flex grabbed another sub and flipped it over his shoulder, its head dangling in front of his abs. FLEX then rammed its skull down onto his rampant cockhead. The crowd hooted as the sub choked on the bulbous helmet breaking its jaw. With the inverted sub mouth still impaled on his cock, FLEX walked along the line of quivering subs, and tossed another over his other shoulder.. With both subs dangling face first, FLEX grabbed their skulls and, alternately rammed them on his erect musclepole, with trademark bodybuilder crowd smile, finishing of with a lat-spread, a worm on each shoulder.



FLEX pulled their mouths off and, steadying his massive weight on his quads, pressed each sub from the shoulder with one arm, his cock rising triumphantly in tandem as he pushed them up over his head.

Some of the cheering newbies shot their loads into their gauntlets at this point.

FLEX then threw the subs from a great height behind him over the side of the platform.

Only four subs remained. Two were slightly stockier, and were known pain pigs.

The pigs moved forward and stood next to each other sideways to the crowd, FLEX facing them, bloated cock visible side-on to the crowd..



With a sudden crushing swing, Flex alternately punched each one in the gut with each fist, increasing his force with escalating brutality. As the blows reached a constant rhythm, FLEX pumped out jizz in controlled shots in time with each punch. The crowd went wild cheering with congratulation at the musclecop's arrogance, vanity, cock control and power.

FLEX then selected a pocket size skinhead, a known bucketfanny, and bent it down in front of his massive 33 inch quads, each one the size of the 7 stone fucktoy's chest. FLEX forced his massive pole into its pussy, as the skin screamed with ass-tearing agony. The gang of cop thugs laughed as FLEX grinning then pulled the squirming meatpuppet fully onto his 10 by 7 inch pole.

Then with one upward move FLEX lifted the screaming skinhead off its feet with his cock inside it. As FLEX took one hand off the fucktoy, he leaned back to flex the other bi, supporting the sub's entire weight with the musclelimb gouging its hole

".MUSCLESNUFF!! MUSCLESNUFF!!" hollered Sgt Amberson, baying for FLEX's trademark finishing shot.

FLEX pulled the little sub off his pole, and shoved his cock right down its throat till it started suffocating. Then the last two pigs knelt either side of the big man, as FLEX wrapped his 24" guns round the two pain pigs pencil necks, smiling and crushing, till they were also flopping, passed out.



As the crowd erupted all three subs dropped away lifeless from the musclemonster, as he then raised up towering above, inflating his pumped cock AND triumphant lat-spread simultaneously, showering his roid-load over their broken bodies, the spoils of a deserving VICTOR and leader of men.







"FFFFFFUUUUUUKKKKKKK!!!!!!! SGT Amberson and SGT WOLF roared with approval, shooting their delayed loads into the throatpussy kneeling between their breeches, high-fivin each other as they thrust the last drops down the subs necks

"And THAT's how you do it". FLEX growled into the dangling boxing-ring mike, squeezing a final most muscular, flex-waves passing down from his traps through to his pendulous twitching beefpecz dripping with roidload.




SARGE 'WOLF' MACK ON THE CELLBLOCK DUTY DESK.