The Zeke
Chronicles
Chapter Eight
by Aaron Strong a.k.a. Sean Scott
Foreword: Note: The stories in this series are purely
fictional.
* * * * *
It had been two weeks since Troy had joined the station,
and he had assumed the position of musclestud to beat all
musclestuds. News of his shattering of Glen's 500 pound
bench press quickly spread throughout the whole fire
district.
Troy had been out on three calls since coming to the
station, all of them car accidents. In this town, that was
the usual call for a fire truck. Not really many fires.
Troy and Mark had quickly become best friends, for reasons
that were only obvious to themselves and the reader of this
little tale. But unknown to Mark, Troy had also taken a
liking to Glen, a man whom Troy was slowly forcing to
reckon with his own, previously un-admitted, desires for
musclemen. Glen found himself drawn to Troy like he had
never been drawn to a person before, not even his own wife.
The two men spotted each other in the gym, and afterward
while they showered in separate stalls, Glen found himself
unable to suppress his infatuation with Troy's muscular,
perfectly proportioned, superhuman body. The more he tried
to stifle his animal attraction to Troy, the more Glen
found himself blowing harder and harder wads in the shower
and in bed.
It was late afternoon when the call came in. A car accident
on Seneca. The men jumped in the fire truck and the EMT's
led the way in the rescue car.
It was one of the worst scenes Glen had ever seen, in all
his years of firefighting. A car had spun out of control at
a pretty high speed, swiping three other cars before
flipping over and coming to rest upside down against a huge
metal sign standard-- one that held a highway sign that
spanned the whole road, anchored on the other side of the
highway by an identical standard. The three cars in the
wake of the perpetrator were badly damaged, each one with
injured inside. The EMT's got to work quickly, and as the
men moved to the cars, two other engine companies and a few
more rescue cars arrived, along with the police and
multiple ambulances.
The most severe situation was obviously the car by the
pole. Resting half on its roof and half on its side, it was
crushed against the sign pole and also flattened against
the cement wall that had helped to stop it. There were two
people inside.
When Troy and three other firefighters got to the car, it
was obvious that there would be little hope of survivors
inside. The top of the car was nearly flattened down to the
top of the doors. It was wedged in against the pole in an
awkward position, crammed in between the pole and the
cement wall that lined the highway. One firefighter climbed
on top of the car to check the people inside.
"They're alive!" he shouted, surprising everyone.
"Holy shit," Glen said. "How could anyone survive that?"
"We're going to need the Jaws of Life," the fireman on top
of the car shouted. Quickly, Kevin ran back to the engine
and grabbed the necessary equipment.
It took a few minutes to get the Jaws set up. Once
positioned, Kevin started them up. Metal scraping against
metal produced a horrifying scream as the car buckled and
jumped, fighting against the cement wall and the pole which
held it in place.
The car roof moved only a few inches. The Jaws creaked and
groaned. More horrendously loud screaming of metal.
Finally, the Jaws buckled and snapped.
"Holy fucking shit!" Kevin yelled as the Jaws broke. "This
isn't going to work! The car is wedged too tight here!
We're going to have to pull it out before we can get these
people out!"
"There isn't time for that," the guy on top hollered, his
arm inside the car, taking the pulse of one of the injured.
"This man is going into shock! We have to get them out of
there NOW!"
Immediately Troy jumped on top of the car. "Step aside," he
told the firefighter.
"What are you doing?" Kevin demanded.
"Stand clear of the car!" Troy ordered.
The firefighter on top jumped off. He could see Troy was
determined, and there was no way he was going to argue with
a man that size.
Troy bent down and put his hands on the car-- one hand on
the roof, one on the door pane. He molded his hands to the
car and set his eyes on his work. He began to pull on the
car, trying to separate the roof from the cabin of the car.
There was a loud popping sound as the car fought against
Troy's strength. The car barely budged.
Troy, now panting and sweating, stood up and took off his
coat, throwing it down quickly to the ground. He was now
just wearing his dark blue firefighter's T-shirt and red
suspenders holding up his too-big yellow pants. His
physique, now outlined by the cotton shirt, astounded the
men. Muscle upon muscle bulged. His suspenders were pushed
out wide by his gargantuan traps, hugging a deep valley
between them and his seemingly- basket ball-sized deltoids.
The Herculean physique bent down once again and
repositioned his hands on the car. He began pulling on it
again. The car protested against his mighty strength, but
as his rippling, vein-crossed forearms and biceps began to
shake, there was a loud BANG of metal giving way. The roof
raised a few inches, affording Troy a better grip now. He
once again wrapped his hands around the metal and began
pulling the car apart. The steel creaked loudly, moving
very slowly under Troy's power.
"Motherofgod," a firefighter from another station said,
mouth open wide. "The Jaws of Life snapped in two, but that
guy is pulling it apart with his bare hands!"
The pole holding the highway sign started to move as Troy's
boulder-like arms continued to pull on the roof of the car.
There was nowhere else to go, but to move the pole.
"You're going to tip over the sign!" Kevin shouted.
Without looking up from his work, Troy yelled "Then make
sure the road is closed!"
Traffic had barely been moving, because of all the
emergency vehicles. But now the cops closed down the road
completely.
Troy's gargantuan arms and shoulders bulged and grew. His
face was contorted. Occasionally he dropped his head back
and bared his teeth, groaning and growling as he forced the
car to open up so the men could get at its contents.
Another loud bang of metal, and a few more inches. Veins
bulged on Troy's neck.
Glen standing only a few feet away, touched himself under
his long fireman's jacket, squeezing his hardon through his
pants, lusting over the inconceivable demonstration of
muscle power.
The sign and poles swung with each victory of Troy's arms.
His back, rippling with iron muscle, looked like a human
wall. He yelled out in one last exertion of inhuman
strength. "Aaarrrrrrrrgh!" The car roof snapped open on the
rear end. Then, as Troy raised his trembling right arm and
pressed farther, the front support of the roof snapped off
as well.
"Shit on my mother," Kevin said. "He pried that thing open
like it was a bag of candy!" The pole stopped its swinging,
and immediately the EMT's jumped inside the car and started
treating the two occupants.
Troy jumped down. His pumped muscles were swollen with
blood, oozing with sweat. He panted hard, his thick chest
rising and falling and his sweaty shirt sticking to the
individual mounds of his abs as they expanded and
contracted. The sleeves of his T-shirt had torn about an
inch or two from the hem, unable to contain the expanding
biceps and triceps muscles in their care. Troy wiped the
sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, and his lat
muscles flared like the wings of a manta ray. His pumped
legs filled out the baggy fireman's pants.
Glen watched him, silently.
The overhead door closed loudly as the firemen got down off
the truck. It hadn't been a physically exhausting run,
except for Troy; but the scene had taken its toll on the
men mentally and emotionally. They were spent. They slowly
cleaned up their gear and one by one they made their way
upstairs to the kitchen for some well-deserved grub.
Troy, however, elected to hit the showers. Glen followed.
"I gotta admit," Glen said as Troy undressed, "I've never
seen anything like what you did out there. You have the
strength of a dozen men!"
Troy smiled and undid his suspenders. He looked at Glen.
"Just doin' what had to be done," he said. He slipped the
suspenders off his shoulders and they hung next to his
pants. He unzipped his pants and let them fall down to the
floor. He was wearing boxers. "I'm going to hit the
shower," he said.He slowly shrugged his shoulders,
stretching his muscles out, raising his mammoth arms out to
his sides, then down again. "Too bad we don't have money
for a masseuse here at the station," he smiled.
Glen took off his boots. "Well, as a matter of fact, I've
taken some massage classes," he said, looking at the floor.
"No shit?" Troy said, lifting his shirt off.
"Yeah," Glen said, looking up. It was all he could do to
not stare at Troy's powerful, muscled body. There couldn't
have been one per cent of fat on his physique. Glen's gut
actually began to hurt. The sight before him was so
compelling, so powerful, so utterly beautiful that he
immediately sprouted a steel-hard boner. Shit, Troy was
perfect. Better than perfect. The absolute epitome of a
musclegod. His traps, bigger and wider than most men's
deltoids, nearly jumped off his shoulders as he slowly
shrugged again, first his left one, then the right, tilting
his head back as he stretched them out.
"You willing to give these tired ol' muscles a rubdown when
I'm done showering?" Troy asked innocently.
"Sure, kid," Glen answered. "After what you did out there,
I imagine your muscles are pretty worn and tired."
"Well," Troy said, stretching them out, rolling them in
ripples of striated power, "a little hand motion wouldn't
hurt." He pulled off his boxers; Glen forced himself to
look away. Oh it hurt to look away! Troy turned and stepped
into the shower and closed the frosted glass door.
Glen watched as Troy's silhouette filled the shower door,
being careful to not get caught looking. Whenever Troy
turned to face the glass, Glen quickly averted his stare.
But when he was able to watch, his cock tightened so much
it hurt.
Whether Glen just wasn't thinking or whether he was just so
enthralled with being with Troy, he absentmindedly took off
his shirt and pants. He was wearing only his Hanes briefs.
Not a good idea with a 9 inch long erection.
As Troy turned off the water, Glen realized how obvious his
boner was and he quickly threw a towel around his waist
just as Troy stepped out of the stall. Troy dried himself
off. Glen walked over to a padded table that was near the
wall.
"You ready to give me that rubdown now?" Troy asked as he
wiped down his chest. He shook his head like a dog,
splashing water everywhere. He smiled at Glen. Shit, he was
cute!
"Sure," Glen said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic
about it. He patted the table. "Why don't you lay down
right here and I'll get started.
Troy walked over to Glen, spreading the towel on the table.
Before he laid down, he stopped, facing Glen straight on.
"Do you think, before I lay down, you could do a little
work on these traps of mine?" he said, scrunching up his
shoulders. His traps rose into the air like two hot air
balloons.
Glen obediently put his hands on Troy's traps and squeezed
them. Shit. They didn't give! Glen squeezed harder, and
Troy relaxed, lowering his shoulders. "Oh that feels good,"
Troy said closing his eyes.
Glen's forearms were tired within half a minute. His
fingers couldn't penetrate those mounds of muscle for
anything! His hands up on Troy's shoulders, he had no way
of making sure things didn't get out of hand underneath his
towel. And they WERE getting out of hand.
Finally Troy laid down on his stomach. Glen reached over
Troy's back and started moving his hands up and down the
mounds of muscle. Glen's cock ached. He rubbed and squeezed
for a few minutes before Troy suggested that he climb up on
top and sit on his butt while he massaged. Glen obeyed
without arguing.
The warm, hard muscles gave only minimally as Glen massaged
them. Glen's ass sat on top of Troy's, the towel spread
wide by his legs. The only thing separating their butts was
the thin cotton of Glen's briefs. Glen continued to rub.
Holy shit, this guy was inhuman! His muscles rolled under
Glen's hands. No fat anywhere. His back was a relief map.
Glen moved his palms down and out to cup Troy's wide, thick
lats. Troy seemed to be comfortable with whatever Glen did.
Glen's hardon poked up his right hip, wetting his shorts.
He tightened his cock, and brought himself dangerously
close to climax, just sitting there on top of Troy. He
leaned forward and massaged Troy's delts and traps again.
As he leaned forward, he unknowingly popped above the
elastic of his briefs. His purple, wet head started to
dribble precum on the small of Troy's back. Glen kept
rubbing.
Muscle fibers danced and rippled under Glen's strong hands.
He tightened his cock once again. That was enough. Without
thinking, he instinctively bucked his hips just a bit,
pushing his balls into Troy's butt. He grabbed onto Troy's
lats again, and tightened his grip. The first salvo landed
smack dab in the middle of Troy's back. Glen's legs
convulsed, tightening on Troy's waist, then relaxed. The
second jerk was even harder, and Glen's long, ropey glob of
cum plopped onto Troy's back again, this time a little
higher and to the left.
Troy turned his head as he lifted it. "You okay?" he asked.
Glen didn't answer. His legs tightened and released on
Troy's torso with each ejaculation; his jizz splashed out
steadily now. Glen sat up straight and his milk spewed all
over his own penis and briefs, dribbling onto Troy's lower
back.
"What the..." Troy turned farther and upon realizing what
was happening, his face immediately turned sour. He jerked
himself around and off the table, standing back. The quick
motion nearly sent Glen onto the floor, but he caught
himself and instead sprawled out on the table top. He clung
to the table, trying to force his jizz to stay inside, but
a few final squirts popped out and squirted the table. Glen
quickly put his cock back into this briefs and stared,
aghast up at Troy.
Troy didn't say a word. He looked at Glen. His face was
stone. His eyes were large, but not in the surprised sense,
in the angry sense. Still, no words.
"Oh shit," Glen whispered.
Troy reached down and grabbed his towel, a corner of which
was under Glen's leg. Troy yanked it out from under Glen
and threw it over his head and, grabbing an end in each
hand began rubbing it back and forth on his back to get the
cream off.
Still, no words. Troy stared at Glen with a haunting, cold
look. His eyes widened as he finished wiping. He turned and
pulled on some pants, then grabbed the rest of his stuff
and walked out the door.
"Oh
shit,"
Glen whispered again as the door slammed.
•
* * * * *
Okay... Did you shoot, or come close to shooting during the
reading of this story? If so, I'm glad I had a "hand" in
your pleasure. If you received any kind of pleasure from
this story, PLEASE let me know. No payment is requested;
only that you contact me and TELL me that you enjoyed the
story. I PROMISE a personal response! Thanks!
Sean
sean@buffmuscles.com