The Regular Show Muscle Man Novels & Stories

Taking advantage of my distraction, the muscle man kicked me to the ground. I fell hard, and the muscle man elbowed me. "Let me go; stop touching me!" Sasha screamed. The man touching Sasha was being lewd, grinning, and trying to grope her. Sasha was on the verge of tears. Seeing her in such distress only fueled my rage. I charged at the hefty man, grabbed him, and broke his arm without hesitation. "Ow—" The man howled in pain. I was beyond furious, attacking him relentlessly until he was on the ground, unable to move.

Dean Jessop stood over Chris Brooker, spotting the man as he lowered three hundred and fifty pounds towards his chest. Chris handled the weight easily, lifted it, lowered it again. By the ninth press, Dean saw the strain begin, and he leaned over his friend. “You got this, man. Three more.” Chris’ massive arms shook, every muscle defined and cut. He did two more reps, struggled on the last one. Dean helped him set the bar back on the holder and Chris sat up, stretching his chest.

I grabbed on to the trolley and clenched my teeth. I grunted and groaned as the strap on filled me. I breathed heavily as the sensation was too much to handle. The first push was gentle as the dildos filled my ass but the hunter was not going to go easy on me. I looked up at her gleeful butch face she grabbed my ankles and began to pump me hard. Her tits swayed with the motion and her face was filled with determination. The trolley rattled and crashed as she thrusted into me. She pushed hard and deep. A quick pummelling motion. Many of the women were eating the pastries and watching intently. The biker girls who had now recovered leaned against the wall slowly masturbating at the spectacle.

Then the crowd reacting in that particular way they did when something was genuinely impressive, not polite impressed, actually stunned into it. We got close enough to see. There was a man in the middle of the platform. No shirt. Sweat running down his chest and over a torso that was all muscle and ink, tattoos crawling up his ribs and across his shoulders and down both arms. Four men were around him, or what was left of them. Two were already on the floor. One was swinging and missing. The fourth hung back like he was reconsidering every decision he had made tonight. The man in the middle moved like he wasn’t working hard at all. He caught a punch, turned it, put the man down in two moves t

His arms flexed as he lifted, the muscles bunching and lengthening in a mesmerizing display of raw power. He wasn’t just muscular, he was carved, each muscle sculpted to fit his frame like a work of art. His broad shoulders led into a defined chest that rose and fell with every measured breath. His back was a map of strength, each muscle working in harmony as he moved through his reps. The fabric of his shirt clung to his torso, damp with sweat, emphasizing the rigid planes beneath. I'd only ever seen Justin in his suits tailored to perfection, never like this.

His muscles rippled under the moonlight, each movement a graceful display of power. "Skyla?" someone to the right gasped, their voice vaguely familiar, but my eyes were somewhat distracted by strong abs and tanned skin. "That's me," I admitted with a lopsided smile, seeing the eyes of the shirtless man watching me with amusement. "Want me to put a shirt on, sweetheart?" he laughed, the muscles in his chest rippling under the motion. The way he called me 'sweetheart' made my somewhat icy heart swoon.

It's a video. My jaw dropped at the sight of a perfectly sculpted man doing pull-ups in just sweatpants, showing off his back muscles. A tattoo of a snake is carved on his back with something written on the side. Sweat bids roll down his back as he continues with his workout. I was about to scroll up when he stopped and turned to grab a water bottle, revealing his face. Carlos DeLuca What a show-off. ‘If I had muscles like that I'd show off too’ Inez says, absolutely blown away by his hotness. I have to agree he is undeniably hot. How much does he work out to maintain such a shape?

“Trigon, you are up next.” At this moment, a bare-chested man slowly walked out from the side of the ring. He was in his thirties. Trigon was not that tall, about 160cm at the most, but his body proportions were pretty balanced. At the same time, the muscles on his body were as hard as steel, especially the lower half of his exposed calves. He was ripped, with muscles as taut as a snake’s coils. The moment this man showed up, he gave off an imposing aura that seemed to press down on everyone present.

Maybe he had come back early! She frowned when she saw the muscled man standing by the boom box, grinning. He was pumped with huge swollen muscles. His head was shaved and he had striking blue eyes and a blondish goatee. He stood at about 5'10" and wore lycra workout pants and a sweat shirt with arms cutout. It said USMC just like Christopher's shirts did. Her attitude perked. Had his troop returned, after-all?

I frown and try to help him up but Russo steps in between us, shaking his head. “You’re out kiddo,” Russo kneels on one knee facing the man, “You won’t be able to shoot.” Dread fills the man’s face and he shakes his head vehemently. “No…I can do it..” he moans, attempting to get up but failing miserably. Russo pokes at his thigh and the man lets out a blood piercing howl. “See? The muscles in your leg have been damaged.” Russo’s eyes fall on the man once more and for the first time since I came to know Russo, gentleness weaves its way into his voice and he gives a fatherly pat on the man’s quivering shoulder.