The Zeke Chronicles
Chapter Six-- Officer Colma, part one
by Aaron Strong a.k.a. Sean Scott

Foreword: Note: The stories in this series are purely fictional.

* * * * *

Officer Rob Colma racked the barbell loudly. He sat up, then stood up, almost in one motion, He turned around and eyed the barbell, and its many discs.

Five hundred pounds. The Herculean cop had just benched three reps of five hundred pounds! Some of the cops in the police gym stared, their eyes wide, mouths gaping.

Colma ripped his shirt off, and his physique glistened with fresh sweat. H e tightened into a most-muscular pose and yelled in victory. His muscles rolled in ripples. His traps swelled. He was the best-built man many of his fellow cops had ever seen. Indeed, Colma was one of the best built men anywhere.

Most bodybuilders would die for a physique like his.

A few cops came up to Colma and gave him some high-fives. He grinned. Some of the cops stood in the corners, quietly trying to hide the bulging hard-ons in their gym shorts.


Zeke walked down the sidewalk, toward his car, turning heads and causing near chaos on the street. Cars often collided when he walked down the street. Men walked into parking meters, women tripped on curbs, little boy s stared with wide eyes and open mouths. The body worshippers virtually line d the street, gawking and gasping as they saw him.

His white cotton tank top did little to hide his proportions. For some, the cotton was an incredible turn-on. His jeans bulged with each step. His fire-red hair electrified the city.

Zeke's body was freakishly huge. Yet it wasn't just size for the sake of size. His unbelievable mass was shrink-wrapped in a vascular, muscular network of veins and rippling sinew that truly would have been freakishly overpowering if it weren't for his perfect symmetry. It was his proportion s that made him so awe-inspiring.

His muscles were huge, yes. So huge that a cursory glance might leave one with the impression of a cartoon or maybe an Internet-dwelling Morph. But upon just a slightly longer examination, Zeke's sensual powerful perfection was obvious. His individual gigantic muscles were perfectly balanced with each other, combining to form such a visage of masculine beauty and-- in a very real sense, wholesome good looks-- that even the most jaded straight man found his stomach wrenching with envy and his cock stirring with desire.

Much of his appeal must have been due to his waistline. Its svelte, diminutive dimensions stretched all credulity. How a man could sport arms that big, and shoulders that wide, and pecs that thick, with legs that gargantuan, and ye t have a waistline so taut and miniscule in girth, caused much consternation among his worshippers.

Of course, the question begged to be asked that regardless of the size of t he waist, how could any man sport arms that pushed the tape past the 25 inch line. And yet, despite his freakish proportions, Zeke was a lesson in symmetrical beauty. He fit. Every one of his body parts tied together wit h the whole, so that none of his proportions seemed out of place. His muscles seemed to flow. He was fluid, yet hard as steel. There was an uncanny balance between his muscles that often made his overdeveloped body seem like it belonged on the front of GQ instead of Freaky Muscle Monthly.

He slid into his convertible and started the engine. He pulled into traffic and headed for Dr. Kerr's office.

At the intersection ahead, the light was red. Zeke pulled his car to the light, in the right lane. At his left was 36 year old Officer Colma, waiting for the light in his police cruiser. Colma, a massive black bodybuilder, was just getting o ff shift and heading back to the station. He looked down at his 22 inch arms as his hands rested on the steering wheel. His huge black guns rippled and he smiled. His five per cent body fat and 260 pounds of hard, black muscle caused many people to mistake him for the Mr. Olympia from Texas; he, too, being a cop.

Indeed, many people had suggested that Colma enter competition. But he balked. "Contests are for fags," he'd say. "I ain't gunna strut my stuff while some homo glares at me and dreams about jackin' off at me." But secretly, Colma loved the feeling he got when some guy looked at him. He got off on making other guys feel small next to his huge musclebody. He knew, and even enjoyed the fact that many guys got hard whenever he walked by, although he would never admit taking pleasure in that fact, even to himself . Even some of his fellow cops sometimes looked at him a little longer than normal, especially while he worked out in the police gym. And truth be told, he liked it. If a guy went home and got off on him, so much the better.

But he was a true ladies man, Colma could have any woman he wanted. And he wanted. He had an insatiable appetite for sex, but only for sex with women. And they gave him what he wanted, because they loved his huge, ripped muscle body.

And he loved his body probably more than anyone. He was so hopelessly into himself, so in love with his own sense of power and muscle that he rarely thought of anything else.

Zeke pulled alongside the police cruiser. Colma looked over at him, and did a double-take. Zeke looked straight ahead.

Colma's stomach immediately tightened as he examined Zeke's unbelievable arms. The black cop had rarely, if ever, been intimidated by anyone. But for the first time in memory, Colma felt a sense of awe as his eyes drank in Zeke's arms and shoulders. Shit, this kid's forearms alone were enough to blow Colma away! He couldn't believe the definition! An army of muscle fibers danced with an army of veins. It was unreal!

The light turned green. Colma's eyes were transfixed on Zeke. Zeke turned his head slowly to the left and looked at Colma. The redhead smiled, raising only one corner of his lips in a smirk, half admiring the cop, half grinning that the cop was outdone. He tensed his huge arms just a bit, his hands resting on the wheel. His 25 inch guns tightened and grew,. Colma's eyes widened.

Zeke looked forward and pulled his car ahead. Colma followed in his cruiser.

Zeke watched through the rearview mirror as the cruiser tracked him. He turned right, down a long, dusty dead-end road. After about a quarter mile, the lights on the police cruiser came on. Zeke smirked just a bit, not slo wing down. "Not quite yet, musclecop. We need to get a little more privacy," Zeke whispered to himself. He drove farther, the cruiser on his tail. They reached a secluded spot and Zeke slowed down and pulled off to the shoulder.

"Did I do anything wrong officer?" Zeke asked as the huge cop stood at the side of his car. He kept his hands on the steering wheel, giving the polic e officer a prime view of his vascular, gargantuan arms. He squeezed the wheel, causing his biceps to thicken and the muscle fibers to ripple.

"I'll need to see your license, son," Colma said. His game face was stern.

Zeke pulled out his wallet and handed his driver's license to Colma. The c op examined it, then looked at Zeke. "Says here you're 18 years old," Colma said.

"Yes sir," Zeke said.

Colma looked at Zeke's arms. "How the hell does an eighteen year-old get arms that big?" Colma said.

Zeke looked at his arms and smiled. "I lift incredibly heavy weight," he s aid.

Colma stood erect. "Yeah?" he said. "How much you bench, son?"

Zeke hesitated. "Well, sir, if I told you, I doubt you'd believe me."

Colma checked out Zeke's thick chest. "Try me, son."

"Well, sir," he said smiling up at Colma, "I can bench over twice what you can," he grinned. "Sir."

"Shit, kid," Colma said. "Your mouth is almost as big as your chest!"

Zeke smiled.

"I'm afraid I'm going to need you to step out of the car, son," the officer said.

"What did I do?"

"Just step out," Colma said.

Zeke unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door. He stepped out of his ca r and stood up. Colma took a step back and had to stifle an almost involuntary "Holy shit." The teenager was a half-foot taller than the cop, and he had nearly one hundred pounds on him.

"Turn around and put your hands on the car, son," Colma said.

Zeke furrowed his eyebrows, but did as the cop said.

Colma's breath was shallow. He looked Zeke's back side up and down; rippling muscle packed on top of beefy-hard mounds of muscle. His lats were far bigger than Colma had ever dreamed of having. His arms defied measurement; the bulges of his triceps causing the cop to stare. But Colma's eyes quickly found their way down Zeke's backside and onto his tight, taut musclebutt. And, supported by those unbelievable legs, that ass was the most astounding thing Colma had ever seen.

What the fuck? Why was he feeling this? He was no fag. Yet, no matter ho w hard he tried, he couldn't get enough of that ass. Colma's cock even seemed to tighten and thicken in response to Zeke's taunting, hot glutes. Colma just stood there, experiencing feelings for a man-- feelings that were so frightening and so foreign that he was frozen, mesmerized. He stood there, nearly gasping at the incredible beauty and muscular development of the kid.

He caught himself holding himself, nursing his thick cock through his unifo rm. He pulled his hand off and shook his head as he came out of the trance.

"What did I do, officer?" Zeke asked innocently.

"I'm going to have to search you for drugs," Colma said. "Suspicion of steroids."

"Steroids?"

"Anyone with a body that huge has to be on something," Colma said. "Your muscles alone are just cause for a search. Spread your legs."

Zeke smirked and tried to keep from laughing as he obeyed the musclecop. He spread his legs and widened his hands on the car's hood, displaying his body in a position that would be sure to get Colma's fires going.

And Colma was indeed on fire. His hardon was a raging tree branch, ready t o burst. He soaked in the taut, huge muscleteen body. He grabbed his own crotch once again, unable to keep his hands off himself. His mouth went dry.

Slowly, Colma put his hands on Zeke's lats. Holy shit, the kid was as hard as a statue! He moved his hands up and around the edge of Zeke's lats, taking in all the mass and hardness. "Holy fuck," he whispered. His fingers squeezed the hard muscles. They didn't give. He moved his hands up and down Zeke's back. He moved them in toward the center. Shit, he could actually feel the muscle fibers under the tank top. Colma moved his hands around to the front of Zeke's torso and began feeling his chest.

Zeke remained still, his cock hardening as Colma's strong hands felt him ou t. This was no ordinary frisking. Colma moved his hands onto Zeke's shoulders, even though there was nothing to frisk there, because Zeke's shoulders were bare. Nonetheless, Colma placed his hands on Zeke's inhuman deltoids and then his traps. He leaned forward and allowed his cock to push on Zeke's butt as his hands moved down onto the redhead's gargantuan, rock-hard arms. Colma was hot with envy as he felt Zeke's triceps; he was hot with desire as he pushed on Zeke's ass. His hardon was ready to go into action.

Colma pulled back.

"You sure you felt everything you need, officer?" Zeke taunted.

"Turn around, kid." Colma ordered. As Zeke moved to turn, Colma slapped a handcuff on Zeke's wrist, twisted him hard around and shoved his arms behind his back, clicking the other handcuff on his other wrist. Zeke stood there, his hands trapped behind his back.

"What the..." Zeke said. "Why are you doing this?"

"Shut up kid," Colma said. "You're obviously a danger, why those arms of yours could be classified as weapons."

Zeke just stood there.

Colma looked Zeke up and down. His eyes glimmered and he had a slight smile on his face. He moved close and started feeling him again. His breathing was heavy. He put his hand on Zeke's pec and pressed his palm against it. Zeke danced it.

"You must like that," Zeke smiled.

Colma pulled the fabric out and stuck his hand inside, playing with Zeke's nipple. The muscles rippled.

"Shit," Colma whispered.

By now both men had erections that could only be classified as two-by-fours in their pants. Colma's touch was like nothing Zeke had ever felt.

Colma moved his hand down onto Zeke's cock. "Oh my god," the officer said as his hand squeezed the fabric covering it.

"Please don't do that," Zeke said. "I'm not that kind of guy."

Colma ignored him and kept feeling the tree branch in Zeke's pants. Colma moved closer and brushed his cheek against Zeke's face. It was getting very intimate.

"You think you can do this, just because we're all alone out here?" Zeke whispered.

Colma smiled.

"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, officer. I'd advise y ou to take your hands off me right now."

"Or what," Colma grinned. "You're handcuffed, kid."

Zeke moved his arms just a bit, tensing the metal cuffs and clanging them.

"You keep touching me and I won't be handcuffed for long."

Colma smiled. "I'd love to see you get out of them." He almost started laughing.

"As you wish," Zeke smiled. The huge kid tensed his arms. Colma stepped back, surprised. Zeke closed his eyes. His arms grew. His triceps ripple d with veins and they got bigger. His shoulders thickened.

Colma's eyes grew bigger.

Zeke started to take deep breaths as he tensed his upper body. He gritted his teeth. Then, like some animal, he groaned and began to strain against the cuffs. He shook with power.

Colma gasped.

Zeke's brawny body tightened and grew into such a freakish display of raw, feral strength that Colma nearly stumbled as his knees buckled at the sight. Zeke's arms rippled more, and suddenly the handcuffs snapped. He panted as he recovered, his wrists each adorned with a shiny metal bracelet.

Colma's eyes were red with fear. Zeke took a step toward the officer and glared at him. He whispered, "I'd say you just lost control of this situation, officer." He smiled.

Colma immediately reached for his gun, but Zeke was too fast for him. He grabbed the gun from Colma and threw it into the brush with one almost blindingly fast motion. Colma stepped back, but Zeke moved close. Colma threw up a punch. With speed and strength beyond belief, Zeke grabbed Colma's fist in midair and held it there. Colma winced and tried unsuccessfully to move it. He slugged his other fist at Zeke, but again, i t was intercepted, almost effortlessly. Zeke held both of Colma's fists in his h ands and Colma shook as he tried to move the teen.

Zeke smiled.

Colma kicked Zeke and hit him in the balls. Zeke winced and his eyes watered, but his grip didn't loosen. Colma kicked again. Zeke looked down at his nuts, then up at Colma. His face grew serious. He tightened his gr ip on Colma's hands, and the cop's eyes grew wide. Searing pain shot down Colma's forearms as Zeke crushed his wrists in his iron grip. Colma's knee s buckled and he started to fall.

Zeke relaxed his hands. "I wouldn't try the knee to the nuts move again, officer," he said.

Zeke grabbed Colma and turned him around. The cop struggled and tried to grab Zeke. Colma's back was now against Zeke's chest. His huge black hands were all over Zeke's face and head. It was a gallant struggle to break free, but Zeke just patiently held him there until he tired. Zeke put Colma's arms down.

Zeke held Colma's arms behind his back with one hand while he grabbed Colma's spare set of handcuffs with the other. They were the plastic kind, meant for temporary restraining. But they would do the job, even for this powerful man.

Colma struggled again, trying desperately to break free. But after a few seconds his face took on a fearful, helpless expression, and it almost look ed as if the huge musclecop would cry. Then a panic came over him. As Zeke snapped the plastic rings around Colma's thick wrists, the huge cop's eyes watered and he jerked his body in a last-ditch effort to break free.

But his feeling of panic was nothing compared to the overwhelming fear that gripped him as Zeke moved in front of him, eyeing him up and down and smiling. Zeke slowly lifted his tank top up, revealing first an inhumanly defined set of abs. Then the shirt went higher, up and over his head, dropping to the ground.

Colma nearly emptied his bladder at the sight. Zeke grinned. "This is going to be fun," he said.

Colma struggled against the cuffs. Then he bolted. But Zeke grabbed Colma's shoulders, then swung him around and slammed his back against the driver's door of the car. Zeke spread Colma's legs with his own and pressed his cock against the cop's crotch. Colma looked up at Zeke with wide eyes, almost quaking in his shoes, not unlike a professional wrestler trying to beg off the dreaded proverbial chair slamming.

But Zeke had no intention of hurting Colma, at least in that way. If perhaps later Colma suffered intense pain at the penetration, well, that might be unavoidable. But Zeke didn't want to hit him.

"You might need a little lesson about exactly who you're dealing with here," Zeke said. "Escape is impossible, officer. But just in case you might have a question about who's in charge of this little traffic stop you think you initiated, let me give you a little demonstration."

Zeke reached out and grabbed the side mirror of the car. He tightened his grip on it. His arms rippled. The mirror and it's chrome housing snapped off the side of the car. Zeke pressed his cock against Colma to hold him in place while he used both hands to take the mirror glass out of the housing. He tossed the mirror part into the brush, then gripped the chrome with both hands and started crushing it. His cock grew as it pressed against Colma and his arms bulged. The veins pulsed, feeding the massive muscles as they crushed the metal. Zeke held it right in front of Colma's eyes and manipulated the shiny chrome like it was clay. It smashed into tiny pieces.

He grinned and tossed the metal aside, giving Colma a soft nudge with his cock. "Need more?"

Without waiting for an answer, Zeke stepped back. He reached down and grabbed his tank top and tied it around Colma's ankles. "Wouldn't want you to run off anywhere."