Oldman exhaled a plume of smoke as he looked down along the shaft of the cigar that jutted out of his mouth and over his massively muscled pecs, bursting out of a straining uniform shirt. He looked triumphantly down over the platoon of men below him, with a slave's neck under his boot. The troops bowed in worship of Him, their Commander, saluting his Muscle, his Power and his Authority...
Oldman woke up from his recurring dream with a raging hard-on. He Jumped out of bed in front of the mirror. With the image still fresh in his mind he jacked out a hot load over the glass, roaring with arrogant satisfaction - then disappointment. Dammit, that fukking dream again...
Oldman showered off, and looked at his body in the mirror in the full light of day. He no longer owned the show-off muscle of the jock stud he used to be in high school. Life had taken a toll on his pride, his wallet, hell, even on his physique. He'd spent a spell in the big-house after he went into partnership with his team buddy and best friend in a chop-shop, who then framed him for tax evasion. And to top it all that bitch of a wife divorced him to marry the meathead bastard. Oldman's lean quarterback's frame had given way to a skinny pot-belied frame ravaged by the worries of time.
Oldman went downstairs to the gas station he slept over. Fukk, another day pumping gas for ungrateful customers on this piece-of-shit highway...
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Oldman looked up from the under the hood of the Chevy at the recognisable growl of a souped up Harley approached the gas station. As the massive gleaming musclebike pulled up to a pump, a massive musclecop in gleaming black uniform unsaddled heavy leathered quads over the ironhouse. Fuck, that cop's built thought Oldman jealous as hell. Damn sweet ride too. Bigger than the old Fat Bob I've been renovating for years out the back...
The cop's heavy boots crunched on the asphalt as he slowly strode up and stood in front of the Chevy. Oldman had turned his head away pretending at first not to see the cop. But the massive muscled Officer's frame shadow loomed above Bulllit, his wide bulk blocking out the sun. The cop's thick pecs jutted out of a straining open-necked leather uniform shirt, a thick stogie jutting over twitching pecs as the Law Enforcement Officer looked down the shaft of the cigar on Oldman. The cop's black leather uniform wasn't like anything Oldman had ever seen before, Maybe he was from that vigilante police force he'd heard about somewhere downtown with Mob connections. Maybe this meathead's one of them...
"Fill her up, boi" the Cop grunted, not bothering to extinguish the stogie he was chewing, or to take off his cop shades. "Sure Boss" replied Oldman, reluctant to serve as it went against the grain, but hell, a buck's a buck. Fuck, Oldman wished HE was a big muscle show-off again, riding that Hog and calling the shots.
"I can fix that transmission for ya buddy" Bulllitt added. "Sounds like it's about to give up on ya".
The cop, surprised to be addressed out of turn, raised a heavy muscled arm to take off his shades, glaring at the station attendant for a few seconds, deciding whether or not to whack the cocky fukk. But free bike service might be cancel that out.
"Not what our Station mechanic said".
"Anyone can hear it bud" replied Oldman, who took the opportunity to stand up and get a closer look at the cop's badge. As he looked at the muscled cop without his shades, Oldman thought he recognised him under the heavy beard and peaked cap. Looking at the Cop's name badge Oldman's suspicion's were confirmed. Could this muscleman really be "WOLF" Mack from his high school, the reserve quarterback. He remembered he had a good lean physique, but fukk, nothing like the bull standing before him.
"WOLF?". Oldman asked reaching out an oily hand. The cop peered back at the greasemonkey in recognition.
"I was the quarterback for the Rangers, buddy!" Bulllitt continued, sucking in his stomach and puffing out his chest and laughed. "Yeah, that was a long time ago. Say hi to ya brother Mike from me". WOLF vaguely remembered the quarterback who was pals with his brother, but hell, he was better built back then. They had been on the team and friendly. WOLF could see things hadn't worked out for the quarterback since then.
"Fukk, you bulked up since then bud, and didn't know you'd joined the police" replied Oldman, fishing for information. Oldman noticed the expensive watch WOLF was sporting - hell the fine Cuban he was smoking would cost Oldman a week's wages "If ya wanna a good price for a service for the bike let me know bud".
"Cheers, er Oldman. WOLF got back on the bike, not wanting to talk about the Cellblock. "Well good to meet ya again - I'll get back to ya on that service". WOLF reached into his breast pocket and peeled a $100 bill from a roll, handed it to Oldman and kick-started the Hog and roared off back down the highway...
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Oldman saw himself, commanding his men, standing tall in full black leather uniform stretched over straining, twitching pecs. Blue cigar smoke obscured his face, hidden by cop shades and a thick dark beard, the visor of a high-peaked cap pulled right down over his roid-thickened nose. Oldman looked down on the face staring up from under his boot - it looked like his wife's husband...
Oldman woke up as he shot his load immediately into his hand. Fukk I gotta find WOLF and find out about that Police force...
Great start of the story, Sarge ... let's see what happens!
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