Showing posts with label The Scwarzenegger dream. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Scwarzenegger dream. Show all posts

Sunday, May 08, 2011

THE SCHWARZENEGGER DREAM: PART III

FLEX and WOLF squeezed their bulk through the cell door.

"Follow us bro". Oldman got up, still unused to his new weight. He walked behind the two cops into the dimly lit gym.

"You work hard, bro, real hard. Time to see da muscle" Sarge Flex smiled.

Oldman knew what he had been wanting do for the last eight weeks. He grabbed the sweat shirt and tore it off his chest.

The smiling buzzed pinhead perched on top of a v-shaped wall of muscle staring back at him did not shock him. Oldman wasn't even surprised: what he saw suddenly felt natural as he walked towards the mirror, inspecting his melon-sized pecs that reached up to his chin, twitching with every motion. His arms were pushed out sideways by thick lats, his two pumped biceps covered in veins. His bronzed abs were like bricks, with his distended pec beef hanging over his ribcage.

Even his face had changed, but this did not faze Oldman. His mandibles had widened his bearded jaw, now sunk into his even wider neck, all but disappearing into his traps that seem to reach up to his ears. This made his buzzed skull look even more pin-headed. Prolonged roid and GH abuse had swollen his lips, brow, nose and eye sockets, making him look a neanderthal throwback. His hardening cock told him this was the real him, the man he should be, the man he saw in his dreams. Oldman was not shocked, but pleased, satisfied, vindicated.

"What d'ya think Oldman?" Asked FLEX, surprised by Oldman's quiet normality. Usually the guys freak out at their big reveal. "You..DO like what ya see, yeah?."

"Hell yeah, bro - as big as you guys now" Oldman barely smiled as he inspected his new power.

FLEX mimed a most muscular at Oldman: but he hardly needed to ask, as Oldman punched out a double bi like he had learned all those years back from Arnie. Oldman nodded with self-satisfaction at his 20" bis balling up to his ears, crowding his syntholed delts for room.

"What am I now, 240, 250?"Oldman asked, matter of fact...

"255".

"Got more work to do then" grinned Oldman, as he banged out a most muscular, every new muscle jostling for space under his skin, threatening to tear through the gold posing tan. Oldman's skull seemed even more tiny, engulfed by trap muscle right up to his ears. Oldman held the pose, slowly flexing every separate group, savouring his pure mass, as he deserved.

"And the legs man" said FLEX.

Oldman didn't hesitate to rip of the flimsy jogging pants. Oldman was so self-satisfied with his image, so busy inspecting each striation that he forgot, or didn't care that FLEX and WOLF where there or that his pumped 9 inches jutted out over massive quads. Oldman slowly massaged his inches, pleased with the heft of his cock that looked even bigger than before.




"You ready for your passing out, bud?". WOLF asked, realizing that Oldman was more than ready - like he'd been a Cellblock Officer all his life.

"Bring it on bro."

SARGE FLEX opened the gym door, and group of shorter, smaller men - some kind of servants or (cadets, maybe?) in plain black leather shirts and trousers filed in, and stood to attentiotn, heads bowed. Each held piles of clothes or wooden boxes.

FLEX signalled a gauntleted hand to the nearest, who swiftly unfolded a gleaming pair of striped Langlitz horsehide Rangers breeches, with wide legs and even wider "balloons" tapeing to an impossibly narrow waistband.

"Try them for size. You were measured last week in your sleep."

Oldman slipped the cold, stiff leather over his heavy 30" quads. A cadet instantly dropped to its knees to fasten the side-zips. They fitted like armour. However Oldman struggled to cram his cock meat into the satin-thin leather cod.

"Have to leave the top snap open bro"Oldman grinned as his cockhead prised open the fasteners.




"Yeah, that happens a lot". FLEX smiled...

Another servant knelt before him and placed before Oldman a large, heavy gleaming pair of Dehner size 12s, and held them in place with white dress gloves for the cop to step into. The bootservant then quickly whipped out a cloth for a final shine. The bootboy looked up at the musclecop for a sign-off. Oldman nodded approval as the servant backed away on its knees. Oldman was instinctively assuming his natural role, calling the shots...

Another servant unfurled a v-shaped tent of a uniform shirt in the costliest thinly tanned horsehide. Oldman slipped it on, as it snapped neatly round his biceps, already straining the 20" sleeves.

Oldman was then handed an issue Sam Brown, and regulation Glock, PR24 and bike keys to put on the belt. "Your Low-Rider's waiting for you in the pound, Cop".

The two cadets with boxes were next. SARGE FLEX nodded to one, who opened a large box, full of money. "These are your business earnings - let's say from some of your debtors." OldmanB grinned guessing this was from one of the shake-downs he had seen on the CCTV.

FLEX nodded to the other cadet, who opened a large box of
cigars. Oldman chose the largest Martinez, which the cadet asked to take from Oldman, cutting and preparing the fat stick, and offering the stogie back to his Cop Boss, then lighting the big man's gar. Oldman inhaled the costly, chocolate fumes, and felt more and more part of this new elite force, more powerful, more superior with every breath.




Oldman was then handed his Officer cap. "Don't put it on yet, Cop. Now You gonna meet your men."

FLEX signalled for the shutters between the gym and the Mess to be opened, revealing ranks of Officers in full dress uniform each with a cadet by their side.

"I give you Officer BOSS". WOLF announced, handing the newly crowned Officer his badge. The ranks of leather cops hooted loudly in approval of BOSS's newly gained muscle, as he placed the peaked cap on his head, neatly hugging the roll of muscle on the back of his skull, the visor sitting tightly right down on the thick bridge of his nose.

"Come on, Cop, show us ya new beef".

"Yeah, come on, DO IT."

"Flex em COP!"

Oldman banged out a quick, unsmiling most muscular, turning to each side of the Mess to the adulation of his men.

"Fuck Man, awesome" shouted the gang of cop goons.". The thick smokey atmosphere was electric with testosterone. Officer BOSS felt good, hell, he felt like he'd been here on the platform with the men below him all his life.


"Got something here to complete your passing out"WOLF shouted across the rabble. "The final part of your initiation. Know you'll like THIS bro".

Suddenly a path was cleared through the mass of leather uniforms and smoke by the leathered bulk of Sarge FLEX dragging a naked man by a leash, cuffed and hooded.

FLEX kicked the vic up on to the platform with a heavy boot and onto its knees.

"Know you'd been wantin to try ya hand at interrogation."

FLEX pulled the hood off and with one paw round its neck pointed its face up towards its new overseer.

BOSS smiled, as he saw through the cigar smoke, his ex-wife's meathead husband grovelling before his boots, with a jawbreaker clamping his mouth wide-open. The vic, now nowhere near as muscular as BOSS, had no idea who the leatherclad, bearded muscle bully was. BOSS BOSS's transformation, or rather his assuming of the powerful legacy that was rightly his, completely confused the vic, who did not recognise the 255 pounds of ugly uniform muscle towering above him, or what kind of police these were.

The pack of men started to chant. "Fuckthacunt. DO IT COP!!!!! Fuckthacunt"

As the pack of copthugs banged on the floor with their copboots, WOLF grinned at BOSS as he unhooked a tool of his cop belt.

"Use this bud, don't wanna leave any evidence hehe" WOLF laughed handing BOSS a heaby rubber cocksheath.

The newly inaugurated Cop simply nodded back, as he unfastened his cod. His pumped inches jutted up from his breeches.

"DO IT COP!!!". BOSS's men hollered, as he crammed his meat into the heavy cockclub.




As WOLF raped the vics clamped mouth BOSS split the perp's shute with one brutal cockpunch.
The troop of men hooted, cheering their new Officer recruit on, as he pounded the ass of his wife's husband. With every scream, every blow and every mouthful of cigar smoke, BOSS took on more and more of the power that was rightly his, his ego inflating to the natural, pumped, roided, brutal level of an ALPHAMALE and leader of men.

As the cheers and adulation reached a deafening sonic boom. BOSS shot his junk in unison with WOLF. Only the curl of cigar smoke from the corner of his mouth showied he'd cum, that he'd completely humiliated the vic, completely achieved ALPHACOP staus.

BOSS roughly unsheathed from the perp's ass, and WOLF unplugged his weapon from its skull.

BOSS kicked the moaning, broken perp on its back.

BOSS towered above his uniformed troops, more muscular than ever. Through his cigar smoke BOSS looked down, over the top of his pecs admiring the girth of his thick 9 incher jutting out of his leather breeches. BOSS flexed a double bicep to the adulation of his kneeling troops, as his roided semen splashed out of his cock down onto his cop boot and the slave's face under it....






Thursday, April 28, 2011

THE SCHWARZENEGGER DREAM: Part II

PART 2

Oldman looked at his physique in the mirror with disgust. Damn, Mack's new muscle and Hog had put him to shame. Reaching to his bookcase, he picked up Schwarzenegger's Encyclopedia of Bodybuilding, and remembered how he used to follow the exercises in High School to the letter, bulking up for the team. But nothing like the mass Mack had put on. Maybe he had some secret technique...

Oldman opened the first page and read Arnie's introduction:

"When I was young I used to have a recurring dream. I was a powerful leader or dictator. I could see the whole world below my feet...".








Oldman realised that his dream was Arnie's dream, but did not know why it was haunting him now. But Oldman knew one thing - he wanted that dream more than ever. Maybe WOLF might hold the answer...Maybe he could ask him if he comes back this way again.

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Oldman looked at the clock, and realized it was to time lock up. He went out back behind the pumps to put in some work on the wrecked Harley he'd found discarded on the highway. Only an old 1200cc Fat Bob - not like Wolf's 2500cc Low Rider . Damn, everything about WOLF was fukking pumped up. Sweet ride, stacked build, plenty of cash... HE was living the dream.




Just then Oldman heard the recognisable growl of a powerful Harley. Oldman looked up at the Highway and recognised Wolf's Hog. Just then the bike's growl turned into a sputter, as the bike stalled. The bike rolled up and over, throwing the big cop over the handlebars and onto the other side of the highway. Oldman dropped his keys. Damn that transmission: that tank's gonna blow!

He ran out to the road and saw Wolf was out cold. With all his strength Oldman pulled the 300 pound gorilla away just as the bike's exploded behind them.

The sound brought Wolf round. Dazed for a minute, Wolf looked up from the edge of the road at Oldman remembering what had just happened.

"Looks like no bones broken, Cop" Oldman chuckled as Wolf got up and dusted himself off. His leather uniform and muscled frame only had a few scuffs. "Looks like you had a lucky escape from that fukked up transmission".

"Fukk that bike...and fukk that staff mechanic..!!! . Fukk, man - you saved my life. I owe ya buddy. Anythin ya need just name it. Anythin at all."

Oldman knew exactly what he wanted. "Well you can give me your garage work."

"Sure thing bro, that other fukka's gonna get his ass broke".

"But one thing I really want".

"Name it bro".

"I wanna look like you. Hell, - I wanna BE you, man, and join whatever Force you with...".

WOLF looked at Oldman. What the hell, this guy needs a break, and he sure as hell as earned it.

"You sure about that, bro? Means going undercover, outside the law. Turning ya back on all of this - on your life."

"Fuck man i ain't got no life. I don't care what kinda police you are. From where I'm lookin, it looks like the sweet life".

"Only a chosen few can join, and the training's pretty tough - even if I recommend ya. And if you fail, there are consequences."

"Bud, if it's the same training YOU had, then I want it. All I got is this heap of shit - but I AM the best Harley mechanic this side of Santa Fe".

"We can sure use that bud. You got a phone, I'll put a call in". Oldman showed him the office phone.

"You'll have to wait outside".

"Hell, sure thing. I'll bring the bike in".

Oldman got the rescue truck, and loaded up the burnt out Harley off the deserted highway, and dropped the bike in the pound round the back. Locking the gate, Oldman heard the familiar sound of what must be at least two Harleys. Running round to the front, he was confronted with the sight of a blacked out Hummer, and two Harley outriders, ridden by two cops in identical uniform to Wolf. Another huge cop stepped down from the Hummer and shook Wolf's gloved hand. As one the bikercop's dismounted, Wolf nodded to Oldman.

"That one's yours buddy".

"Fukk yeah" Oldman hooted.

"And you'll need this" said the other Cop taking a leather uniform jacket out the back of the Hummer.




Oldman slipped the Langlitz on and mounted the still-running Harley.. "Fuck that's heavy. But it feels good". Oldman

"Get used to it", Wolf laughed, by now on the other Harley. Oldman followed the Hummer and Wolf's Harley down the highway where he was heading before the accident.


Oldman and Wolf followed The Hummer all the way till they arrived at an unimposing suburban brownstone on the edge of town. Bulllitt followed the cops through a side door, past the security desk into what looked like a smokey Officer's messroom. He could only see the backs of three massive muscled uniformed cops stood about smoking cigars.



The largest one approached Oldman and stretched out a massive paw.

Oldman recognised the massive leatherclad V of muscle approaching as a pro-bodybuilder. "You ready to start your training?" said Sarge Flex in broken German tones.



"What? Now?"

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SIX WEEKS LATER

Oldman lay on the bed watching UFC on the tv in the small room that had been home for the last six weeks. He hadn't seen much outside, and had only met a couple of other big cops as he walked into the gym room next to his cell. The tv only showed WWE, UFC and occasionally CCTV of what looked like cop interrogations he realised were taking place somewhere in the police station. On one occasion he recognised Wolf brutalizing a perp. He didn't know on what grounds these people were being interrogated and didn't care. But as the weeks went on, Oldman found this channel more and more interesting, and wanted to join in.

WOLF however had told him nothing more about the covert police force, their activities, who they worked for, and who they were interrogating or why. He didn't even know where this cop station house was, as for the last 5 miles he was told to get off the Harley and blindfolded in the back of the Hummer. He didn't exactly know what he was letting himself in for, but what it had done for Wolf, and the power and cash WOLF enjoyed, he wanted that. Hell, he wanted it more and more every day. One thing was for sure, he was staying on through the training...

The "training" run by Sarge Flex had been like nothing he had expected. He went to the hospital with WOLF for his check up after his accident, but it was Oldman who had a feeding tube and two lines put in. Since then he'd been hooked up to a drip and fed 12 liters bags daily, of protein, amino acids, creatine, fat-burners and growth hormone, and a massive roid stack intravenously. The worst part was being force-fed through a funnel some wierd shakes that luckily he couldn't taste - except when he sometimes vomited. At first he protested, but "Sarge" Flex didn't give him much option, shoving the funnel down his neck.

Oldman could feel that his body was getting bigger and bigger, but was made to be clothed at all times in a loose-fitting t-shirt. Even in the shower he was blindfolded so he couldn't see. "Deprivation inspiration" FLEX called it. He could tell he was already heavier than he had ever been - with only a small roid gut. The mirrors in the gym were covered up though the other cops training felt like double his size and felt heavier as he briefly walked. The weight-training was short, brutal and hyper-intensive - powerlifting with no reps, twice a day, with FLEX shouting orders making Wolf max out on every exercise. He spent only about 3 hours a day awake, knocked out by the carb overloading, training and whatever else they were feeding him. Even during the night they continued to change the drip...

One night WOLF opened the cell door and threw something on Oldman's bed.

"Here use this, it keeps everythin in proportion, if ya know what I'm sayin. ALL the guys use 'em, hehe."

Oldman saw it was a cock-pump. Hell, he'd always wanted, like, 5 more inches...Oldman put on the pump, and fell asleep watching Wolf "interrogating" two skinny perps.

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Oldman towered above his uniformed troops, more muscular than ever. Through his cigar smoke Oldman looked down, over the top of his pecs admiring the girth of his thick 9 incher jutting out of his leather breeches.


Oldman flexed a double bicep to the adulation of his kneeling troops, as his roided semen splashed out of his cock down onto his cop boot and the slave's face under it.

Bulllit woke up and realized he had shot a load into the cock pump he was now wearing for 20 hours a day when not training. Oldman took off the pump, and was tempted to take off his t-shirt...He wakked out another load massaging his growing pex, seeing himself powerful, in uniform, interrogating perps with his cop buddies.


 
This was week 8 and Oldman woke up. He felt his face. The beard he had been ordered to let grow had been trimmed while he was sleeping, or knocked out: sharply and severely trimmed right up to the cheekbones. His head had been buzzed to a brutal hintite, contrasting with his black beard - just like the style half the Officers sported. His feeding tube and lines had been removed. Today must be the day he finishes his training, and joins the Force. Oldman hardened with the anticipation...

Sunday, April 24, 2011

The Scwarzenegger dream: Part I



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...