You face me wearing a pair of tight y-fronts, your muscular body having just completed a chest workout. At 5'7", you are compact and built like a tank, your pecs are slabs of muscle, your broad shoulders are round, beefy and sport veins that connect from your chest to your bulging biceps. Your traps rise sharply from your shoulders to your thick neck. Your stomach is flat and contoured with a rippling six-pack. Your legs are pillars of steel, quaking with power, deep cuts defining the separation of each muscle and tendon. You turn and flex your arms in the mirror. You move closer to the mirror in the change room while you flex. You flex your chest and feel the striations that make your chest so visually pleasing. You feel and look at the overhang of your chest and are taken aback by the difference between your flexed and non-flexed chest. "I am getting HUGE! One day, l'll be so fucking huge, your ultimate fighting machine." "Scott, keep the noise down, we don't want Matt to hear you." l said, as l reach for my training bag. "Come over here and have your injections." I pull two syringes from my bag as you approach me, a look of anticipation on your face. "Once l get these into you, you'll be ready to fight. Now remember, Matt has locked up the gym and its now closed and he's having a workout. We'll go down and you know what you've got to do." You turn around and lower the back of your y-fronts, "I'm gonna crush that fucker, destroy him with my bare hands." I inject both syringes into your body and you feel a buzz almost immediately. "I should also mention the syringes contain growth hormone and protein, enough to feed your growing body." You lean against the wall and your muscles tense and relax, the liquid moving throughout your body. Your post workout pump has now been replaced by a bigger pump, one that make you feel bigger and bigger again. "Oh yeah, feel the pump.........oh yeah, l'm so massive." You feel something stir in your groin, but are too mesmerized to do anything about it. You go back to your arms, flexing them over and over, obsessed with the difference with your outstretched arm, and double bicep pose. You feel your left bicep with your right hand, tracing the shadow beneath the bicep, the clear lines of your tricep, and the split peak of your bicep. You bring your arm closer to your face, moving your left hand to the back of you head. You then proceed to give your massive ball of muscle a tongue bath. You push your tongue against the striations, feeling the power and hardness of the muscle. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and moan audibly. Your arm looks massive. You flex it again. Muscle push veins to the surface of paper thin skin which displays cords of thick muscle fibres. Your massive pecs sit low and heavy across your deep ribcage, two swollen mounds of densely packed muscle - fuller and deeper than l have seen before on you. I reach across and slide the palm of my hand under the curve of the left pec, feeling its weight and the warm satin-smoothness of your skin. I pinch hard at the skin and find no fat. I trace my finger around the outer edge of your left pec, then grab a handful of the bulging, relaxed muscle. I quietly marvel at its size, shape and density, and then give it a good, hard squeeze. In response, you contract your pec and the muscle solidified like concrete under my touch. Both of my hands find their way onto each of your huge pecs. You flex again, "Relax them!" l order and suddenly my fingers sink deep into the chest flesh, kneading and probing the depth of each pec. "Come on muscleboy, time to head downstairs and find Matt." You follow me down the stairs to the hallway which leads into the gym. Standing at the entrance, l look out over the weights area in the semi-darkened room and see Matt doing a set of benchpresses on a smith machine. He is nearing the end of his set and you can tell the fatigue is setting in as he pushes the final rep out. He latches it back to the rack and sits up. He is topless, his meaty pecs engorged with blood, pumped up like two melons. He looks down at the floor, unaware of our presence. l lean over to you and whisper, "When he starts the next set, go over to the machine and when he tires push down on the bar and crush his chest." A wicked smile forms on your face, "Oh yeah, gonna crush that fucker!" l take hold of your shoulder, "I want you to break every bone in his body, destroy him piece by piece with your roided muscles." Lust forms in your eyes as you envision your muscles breaking him down and l notice the front of your y-fronts stretch some more. I notice Matt commencing another set and turn to you, "Go now, stay behind the machine so he can't see you." l watch as you silently move across the floor to the back of the smith machine. As Matt approaches his 8th rep, you notice he is tiring again, his pecs beginning to tremble with fatigue. As he commences his 9th rep, you step in close and place both hands on the bar, pushing down, combining your weight with the 200lbs that is already on the bar. Matt looks up, a look of surprise on his face, and sees you, "What the fuck.............let go" he screams as the bar lowers towards his bloated pecs. He pushes harder, his pecs fighting gravity and the pressure you are applying. "Ahhhhh, fuck!!!!......." he screams through oxygen starved lips as he tries to stop the bars steady progress towards his tiring pecs. The bar is pushed lower, finally reaching Matt's pecs, his ability to push back up restricted by the angle of the bar. You grunt as you push harder down on the bar hoping to crush his pec meat. You adjust your footing and push harder, Matt feeling the bar starting to push down through his muscle meat. Matt curls his body suddenly and brings his foot smashing into your jaw. You stagger back, letting go of the bar and smash into the back of the machine. Matt quickly raises the bar and rolls out from underneath. He stands up and faces you whilst rubbing his sore engorged pecs. He watches as you shake you head and rub your jaw and climb out from within the machine. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, you fuckin' idiot?" he yelled. You smile again and rub your jaw, your massive muscles bulging with each movement. "I am here to break you into small pieces with my bare hands." Matt sizes you up, looking you over from head to foot. Anger clouds his judgement, "Well come and get me your roided musclefreak." You and Matt step closer towards each other. Matt lashes out, his fist smashing into your muscular abs. You bend over, allowing Matt to bring both his fists down hard on your back. You stumble forward, landing on all fours. Matt is now cocky, "Yeah come on, musclefreak." Matt flexes his pecs at the mirror and blows himself a kiss, "I might not be as big as you, but this body is ALL muscle." Matt sends a kick into your body, sending you sprawling onto your back. He follows up, dropping both his knees into your midsection, forcing oxygen from our lungs, momentarily stunning you. He climbs to his feet and drops both knees again, forcing more oxygen from your body. Matt climbs to his feet and draws a deep breath to expand his big chest, then twists his upper body to see himself in profile in the mirror. He has had a punishing workout - the best kind - working out the fibres of his muscles down to the very finest threads. The deepest cords of his bulging body had been alternatively contracted and stretched, strained and relaxed, squeezed and pulled to the limits of his endurance. His club-like arms hang at his sides. He inspects them, admiring the swollen muscles as he pretends to do some curls, flexing the biceps into hard mounds. Veins popped into view. The flesh quivers with the intensity of his squeeze. You climb to your feet, breathing deeply to replentish your oxygen starved lungs. Matt turns to face you and beckons you to fight him, his arms outstretched, his torso unprotected. You move closer and throw a right punch. Matt sidesteps and as your follow through, he sends a punch smashing into your unprotected abs. "Ooommphhhh!". He then smashes his elbow down on your shoulder sending pain shooting through your upper torso. You step back rubbing your shoulder, the force of the blow causing a temporary restriction in movement. Matt lashes out, his right leg smashing into your powerful left thigh in rapid succession......one, two, three, four times. He uses his left leg and repeats the process, hoping to weaken your massively build thighs, the foundation for your muscular upper body. Your thighs absorb the blows and you lash out with a quick right, catching Matt in the jaw. He flies back into a weight machine behind him. He rubs his jaw, his bicep bunching with each movement. With rage, he flies back at you, his shoulder smashing into your pecs and carrying you backwards. You smash into the smith machine, your back taking the full brunt of the charge. You grab your lower back as pain shoots up your spine. Matt uses the opportunity and sends punches raining in on your exposed torso. You're trapped against the smith machine, unable to move as the blows smash into your chest and abs. Matt steps back, "Oh yeah, love destroying your muscles........." Mat moves in to attack you again, he throws a solid right punch which you catch in the palm of your hand. In a show of strength, you stop the blow in mid-flight and begin to squeeze, your muscles bulging as you apply raw power. Matt grabs his wrist trying to pull his trapped hand away but you hold on. As you grasp his hand, you send your foot smashing into his abs. "Oooopphhhhh!" You pull his arm out and smash your elbow into his bicep, once twice then three times, each blow breaking away at the muscle. You push Matt up against the wall, your hands clamped to his pecs like vices in a pec claw. Matt grunts and flexes his engorged pecs, confident he can withstand the pressure you are applying. You squeeze harder, your fingers squeezing the muscle fibres and tendons. Matt flexes harder, beads of sweat starting to appear on his forehead. Using your additional musclebulk, you let out a grunt and lift Matt off the ground, your fingers starting to break through his flexed pecs. A brief look of surprise flashes across Matt's face as he feels himself lifted off the floor. You pour on the power, your fingers starting to bruise his pecs. Matt keeps flexing but his pecs are starting to cramp and hurt as your fingers dig deeper. He grabs your wrists trying to pull them away, but you are too strong and his pulling on your arms, only adds to the pressure being applied to his pecs. With a sudden burst of power, you throw him to the ground and bring your leg up to stomp down hard on his pecs. With your full weight behind it, you smash you foot into his left pec, adding to the damage your pec claw has made. Matt groans in pain as you repeat the same thing to his right pec. You drop both knees and feel the pecs start to give, as your continued assault starts to break away his muscles. You grind your knees into his pecs, forcing your weight into his muscles. Matt groans in pain and tries bucking you off, but you're too strong and heavy and continue to exert control. I yell at you, "Finish his pecs off.........remember, they're his pride and joy........destroy those mothers!" You straddle his torso and start pounding his pecs, each blow causing Matt to bounce from the ground. You feel your groin stir as you feel his muscle weaken under your continued pounding, "Oh yeah, so fuckin' strong........l'll destroy these fuckin' pecs", you think to yourself. Matt's pecs are now red and bruised and your blows are turning his pecs to jelly. You climb to your feet and survey the weakened Matt on the ground. A sinister smile forms across your lips. You reach down and pull Matt into a seated position. Matt's pecs balloon with a bulging overhang to his torso below. You kneel down and send a spear punch, your fingers driving into the muscle overhang over his left pec. The force of the blow forces the pec upwards, your fingers tearing into the muscle tendons and fibre. Matt screams in pain, the karate blow having an obvious effect. You marvel at all the chest exercises which have been done to develop such a pair of muscle tits, but they're now at your mercy. You lift his left arm and deliver a similar blow to the side of Matt's pec, again eliciting a scream from Matt. You let go of his arm and he slumps to the floor nursing his battered left pec, rolling into a foetal position. You walk over to the weight rack and grab four 50lb weight plates and walk back over to where Matt is prone on the ground. Before he realises what you are doing, you push him back with your foot and load the weights onto his chest. He looks up wild eyed, his breathing shallowed, as the weights dig into his weakened pecs. “Augghhhhhh! ……..please stop…………please!” Matt tries to push them off but you kneel on top of the weights, adding your 210lbs to the weight already pressing down on his chest. Matt screams in pain, his fists thumping the ground in agony. You climb to your feet, you movements adding pain to Matt's chest. With a sudden movement, you jump, both feet landing on Matt's unprotected stomach. Air explodes from his lungs with a giant whoosh. He tries to role into a foetal position but the weights pin him to the ground. You turn your attention to his injured arm and drop your knee onto his unflexed bicep. His head jerks up in pain as your knee grinds away at the muscle, damaging tendons and muscle fibre. You continue to apply your full weight to the bicep whilst pushing down on the weights on Matt's chest. He's moaning in pain, your knees starting to crush the bicep. He tries flexing it but it doesn't respond due the damage already caused. You turn Matt over onto his stomach, forcing him face down on the floor. You grab his arms and hold them straight up, twisting them at an unnatural angle. Matt's feet kick the ground as you almost break both arms at the shoulder. Almost, but not quite. After 3 minutes of intense pain, you release the hold and let Matt rise to his feet. Matt stands there, a pained expression on his face, as he massages life back into his arms. You grab one of his arms, put it in an armbar, flipped him over, and put him in body scissors. Matt yells as his ribs are crushed. You then lock your ankles together and flex your powerful quad muscles, almost cutting Matt in two. Matt wheezes as every last molecule of air is forced from his lungs. You smile as Matt's hands grip your slab-like quads, trying to part them. You could have snuffed Matt at that moment with just a twitch of your thighs, but you could see l wanted Matt to suffer much more than this. You suddenly flex your vast quads, and Matt feels four ribs break. Matt's face is a mask of pain. You shift your grip, sliding your thighs down and around Matt's hips. You apply a choke hold, rolling Matt over as you did so. Matt screams silently - he has no air to make his vocal chords work. You are now beneath Matt, your legs crushing Matt's hips. You lift Matt's arms, apply a full nelson and lift his hips. Matt's spine was bent backwards. You pull hard, sending spasms of pain down Matt's back. After two minutes of bending his spine, you open your legs, release Matt and roll to your feet. Moving quickly, you grab Matt's ankles, flip him onto his chest, then stand upright, lifting Matt. You drop into a horse stance, bending Matt into a boston crab. Matt's fists beat the floor as you bend his body like a bow, finally sitting on the small of his back. "Aaaaarrrrrr!" Matt screams. Just when Matt thought it couldn't hurt any more, you stretch his spine back even harder. You release him and rise to your feet, watching as Matt clumsily climbs to his feet. Matt clutches his back and rolls his shoulders. You come at him again, your formidable legs launching a series of flashy kicks. Matt ducks under one kick, jumps over another, and then he threw a high spinning kick which hit you in the jaw. Your head is thrown sideways. Matt follows it up with a second kick and a flurry of punches. You stagger backwards, dazed, but kick out with a front snap kick. It hit, throwing Matt backwards onto the floor. Still somewhat dazed, you stumble after Matt and pick him up in a upside-down bearhug, crushing his abs and back, pain from his broken ribs tearing through his body. You release your hold, lift Matt's body, find two of his broken ribs and punch them. Pain explodes in Matt's head. Spit mixed with blood sprays from his mouth. You let the body fall to the ground. You look down at Matt's muscular back and drop down, your elbow smashing into his upper back. "Aaagh!" Matt slumped further. Two more elbows to Matt's back sent further spasms through his muscles. Matt was barely conscious, his body shutting down from all the punishment he's received. You watch as Matt tries to move to all fours, his movements shaky and uncoordinated. You send a kick into Matt's abs lifting his whole body off the ground. Matt moans and rolls into a foetal position. Matt finally climbs to his feet. He is barely able to stand, his eyes glazed over in pain, his body battered and bruised. You grab his wrist and bound him to the smith machine, leaving his body fully exposed. Matt's head hangs low, blood continuing to ooze from the corner of his mouth. You send three sidekicks to his oblique muscles on his left side, and follow up with three to his right side. Each kick sends further spasms through his body, his muscles convulsing. Three straight kicks followed by a number of kneekicks smash into Matt's gut just below his belly button. His abdominal muscles offer little resistence, tendons and fibres either partially or totally destroyed. Satisfied Matt's abs have little more to offer, you send a series of punches into Matt's unprotected arm pits, taring at what remained of his pec muscles. Matt's body jerks back and forth with each blow, his head rolling with each punch. No definition remains in his pec muscles, the muscle now destroyed and like jelly. l come over to survey the damage close up. I put my hand on your muscular shoulder, "Nice job, you've worked him over good and proper." I reach into my shoulder bag and pull out another syringe. Throwing caution to the wind, l inject you again, knowing your lust for muscle growth dismissed any risk of carrying 3-4 times the daily roid dosage in your system. Your eyes glaze over with lust for growth and your muscles begin to twitch and convulse again. I turn towards you and say, "Finish him off!". You turn towards Matt who is now semi-conscious and struggling to breath, his breaths coming in short, sharp rasps. Shaping your right hand like a spear, you drive your fingers into the remaining left pec overhang, your fingers destroying muscle and tendons with such force, it causes a temporary disruption to Matt's heart beat. Matt jerks and convulses against the constraints holding him his wrists. You untie him and prop him on his feet. You apply the same karate blow to his abdominals, the force of the blows rapturing his internal organs, causing the blood to increase and flow from his mouth and nose. Matt is barely alive, his youth and strength, keeping his heart barely ticking. You stand in front of Matt and deliver two spear blows at the same time to each pec, his destroyed muscles offering no resistance. The rib cage and sternum explode on impact destroying the very organs they were designed to protect. Matt drops to his knees, his body shudders and with one last breath, he falls forward, dead.