Zombie Muscle - Part 2

[Massivebdy]

Zombie Muscle - Part 2

He was dreaming again, the same one he had so many nights. There was a woman, pretty, long brown hair, and kids, three girls and one boy. He dreamed about them all the time, but wasn't sure who they were. His wife maybe? The kids were probably his, but he didn't know any of their names, or if they were for certain his family, because the views of them never lasted for long, soon they were driven from his mind by darker images, visions that gave him nightmares. He often woke up suddenly, with a start, sometimes in a cold sweat. This night was no exception, but when he woke at dawn he found his arms were wrapped around someone, cradling them against his chest.

It took awhile for him to remember, and then he did, knowing the kid who'd found the warehouse today was now with him. They'd had frenzied sex, the kind that only came after months of abstinence, and he'd found that he had to hold onto this younger man with a need that almost frightened him. Human, living, breathing? a connection that had been missing. He felt possessive, that this kid was already his property, that he was bound to take care of him, to protect him, to keep him close and safe.

Rays of morning light were starting to hit the mattress on the floor of the warehouse's second story office and he realized that once again he was hard. He couldn't control his desire for the kid, and he didn't see any reason why he needed to. Instead he turned the boy over in his arms so that they were facing each other, and he slid down easily to the kids crotch. He pulled out the sleeping kids soft dick and took it in his mouth. He needed it, and he needed it now. He worked the shaft expertly, making it respond to his will, and he heard the kid moaning in a half sleep/ half awake limbo, but there was no resisting the passion of the big mans aching want for cum, and when the kid erupted he gulped it down with an almost crazed longing.

"What was that?," the kid mumbled rhetorically, not even opening his eyes.

"That was you, giving me what I want," he stated as he pulled the kid back into his arms and held him tightly again. He stared down at his sleeping bed partner, still tired and spent from their long night and he wondered. Should he tell this boy the secret. Could he risk it again? Having a partner, a true equal, it could be amazing. But was it worth the chance. Would he grow? Not everyone did.

He held him, debating with himself, tossing the idea around in his head until he felt himself becoming restless. It was happening. The need to expel the energy, the aggression that built inside him, he needed to release it. He pulled himself off the boy and left the office, pulling on some dirty underwear and his combat boots.

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"What the hell is that noise?" the boy thought hearing the steady pounding of metal thumping. He sat up on the mattress turning his head around, scanning the little room and remembering where he was. He got up and as he stood he felt the floor under him moving. He pulled on his pants and walked through the office door and down the metal staircase to the warehouse floor. He turned back around towards the noise and saw that Sir was hanging from a steel rafter underneath the loft space, facing away from him and his arms spread far apart. He was doing wide grip behind the neck pull ups, 12 feet off the floor. Nothing was below him, and the boy wondered how he'd jumped up that high to grab the bar, but he was too distracted by the site of the mans working back muscles to give it much thought. They were a vast plain of hills and valleys, peaks of bunched up muscle rising and falling with each rhythmic contraction as the heavy body rose and fell with every repetition. He wasn't counting, he hadn't thought to, but he already knew that Sir had done a staggering number, at a steady and unchanging pace, like a perfectly working machine that knew no fatigue but just plugged away.

He'd just been sucked off minutes ago, and he was getting hard again watching this. Sir's massive back, shoulders and arms, now glistened with a sheen of sweat as they worked. He's started counting reps quietly to himself, and when the number went past one hundred he wondered when this muscle machine was going to stop. But he didn't, Sir just changed exercises as he lowered himself from a pull up, he hung suspended for a moment, then swung his legs up to where his hands were and hooked the toes of his boots over the steel rafter. He let go of his hands now and hung upside down, then slowly and with absolute precision began to contract his long sleek abs and bend himself into a perfect letter "U", raising and lowering himself with the same bottomless pool of stamina. He lost count.

Maybe after what had to be at least four or five minutes Sir bent himself up, took the bar in his hands again and unhooked his feet, then with a close grip he did chin ups with his two legs held straight outward in front of him at an exact perpendicular angle. All this time Sir had no idea that the boy was standing behind him, watching him in utter disbelief.
But when he finally finished up the last long gravity defying set, he released his grip and dropped to the concrete floor, only to hear the sound of the boy stroking his once again blood engorged penis.

Sir smiled at him, pleased at the reaction he was causing, but he wasn't done yet, he'd only started to take the edge off his pent up need to exert himself. He turned from the kid and surveyed the factory floor of the warehouse for his next toy. The boy looked around now more closely and realized that this warehouse must manufacture or repair some kind of heavy duty oversized farm equipment. He saw partially assembled tractors and combines, other machines he didn't know, all at a scale that dwarfed what he thought of as normal farm machinery. When Sir walked over to a five inch thick iron bar it took him a minute to recognize it as an axle, with two enormous steel wheel housings on each end, like some ridiculous cartoon version of an Olympic barbell, exaggerated at five times the size. The boys eyes widened as Sir went towards it as if to pick it up. He couldn't possibly?

Without hesitation Sir attacked the giant bar and his skull crushing grip seized onto the thick steel shaft and snatched it over his head with a crazed exclamation.

"Oh fuck yes!," he screamed out and started cranking out reps with the unknown amount of iron weight. With each press upward he grunted out a single word, " I "? "Need"? "A" ? "Fucking"?. "Pump"?. then with a final burst of power he threw the huge axle across the factory floor, slamming it into a wall of steel rebars stacked randomly against a column. The ringing of iron was deafening as the rods crashed and fell to the ground, but Sir just calmly walked over to them and picked up a bar, at least half an inch thick, maybe three quarters, and he looked straight into the boys eyes as he twisted the thing like it was made of rubber. He flung the curly Q of steel over his shoulder, looking pissed off that it hadn't posed more of a challenge, and he walked towards an iron anvil bolted to the floor behind him.

"This isn't possible," the kid thought and watched in utter disbelief as Sir took a moment to study what had to be a 500 pound anvil and then with what could only be described as contempt for an inanimate object trying to defy him, he tore the enormous chunk of steel from the ground, snapping the bolts off like they were paperclips and ripping the anvil away from the ground. He tossed it in the air and grabbed the pointy end with one hand, then holding it like a bouquet of flowers in a clenched fist he extended his arm completely straight out, locking eyes once again with the kid and then releasing his grip and letting the anvil fall to the floor where it crushed through the concrete slab and embedded itself at a cock eyed angle.

"Holy mother fucking christ." the boy said simply.

Sir's pumped up body didn't move, it was as if his muscles were still twitching with pent up aggression that still hadn't been released.

He spoke, "Time to find us some more zombies."

The boy watched as Sir headed straight for the big sliding door, knowing he was about to yank it open and go out on a little hunt.

"You coming?"

The kid shook his head 'no' emphatically. This time, the big man didn't give him a hard time.

"I'll close the door. You'll be safe," he stated as fact.

When the iron door slid back into place with a bang, the boy shuddered, it was the sound of a prison door slamming shut, like you'd hear in the movies. Only this wasn't any movie. This was the freakish nightmare he'd been living for the past 3 years, along with the rest of the world, or rather, what was left of it. He stared up at the huge 20' x 20' door and was grateful for the steel. It was like a prison here, and that door kept those things out. In fact this entire building seemed like it had been designed for just this kind of dire scenario. That was what had drawn him to it yesterday, when he saw it sitting isolated up on top of the hill. It was an iron box, with only a row of small windows up on the second story at least 18' off the ground, and doors that were steel walls and with them closed it seemed impenetrable. Not only that, the parking lot and property were surrounded by a 10' chain link fence, a second protective barrier, although when he got nearer the building yesterday he saw that sections had been torn apart. He assumed the zombies had done that, but after seeing Sir twisting rebar like it was licorice he wondered.

The kid turned and surveyed the buildings interior a little more closely. He tried to put a square footage on its size, but drew a blank, it was so vast a space. A football field would easily fit inside, but it was probably even bigger than that. Along the southern wall he saw another entire second story level, far longer and more expanse than the little office he'd slept in last night. He walked over to it and climbed the staircase up. The first part of the room had large work tables, drafters plans littered on top, and he noticed the sky lights now that ran all across the ceiling of the building and flooded the entire structure with natural daylight. Past the tables were office desks, several rows, and smaller rooms along the back wall. Printer, xerox, paper storage, all your typical office supply. Further down a conference room, and piled in half the room were huge bottled water containers. Next to those he saw boxes stacked to the ceiling, and reading the sides they told him the contents, food rations. He ran for the nearest box and tearing into it pulled out the foiled military style packets. Food, and water, it was the most pressing need, and he ate ravenously. Had he eaten at all yesterday, he had to think? He'd had some cold canned vegetables from the last of his stores before he'd set out. The last of his food supply had been his only reason for traveling at all. Now, seeing the mountain of food boxes he allowed himself a moment, an internal sigh of relief.

After he ate, he explored some more, and discovered the bathrooms. Another luxury, and even though there was only cold running water, it was still incredibly welcome. He washed himself as best he could in the sink, lathering up with the handsoap and trying to wash the bulk of grit and grime away as best he could. He wondered if they used hazardous chemicals at all down on the floor, and thought there might be a first-aid emergency shower. He made a mental note to remember to look for one later.

A sound outside made the boy turn to look out one of the windows. He already guessed, before he looked, what was causing it, and one glance across the back lot confirmed it. Sir was there, near some outbuilding surrounded by waist high steel drums that were stacked on palettes. The kid knew they weren't empty, he was just sure of that by the way Sir picked them up, his muscles compressing in as he hoisted the tremendously heavy missiles up over his head into a launching position and then hurled the half ton drum effortlessly down the hillside into a small zombie horde that was already partially decimated by previous projectiles. He felt his cock once again stiffening in his pants at the sight. The pure animal brute strength, the extraordinarily muscled body in just some underwear and black combat boots, the unmatchable display of power and all of it right there, in one man.

The kid turned from the window, his dick was raw, he couldn't take another stroke session and in all likelihood Sir would be ready for another round at anytime, and he wasn't the kind of man to take no for an answer.

There was still another long row of smaller offices continuing along the south wall. The kid took his time now, going room by room. Here he started to find the remnants of all the other people who must have shared this space after the plague began. Some rooms looked like they were shared, twin mattresses sitting on office desks, maybe kids had slept there? Other rooms looked like one person had holed up inside, the bigger ones might have had random groups or families. It was hard to tell much, there wasn't a lot in the way of personal items and everything that was there had a layer of dust on it. The boy sat down on one king size mattress because a framed photo was sitting on the corner of the bed. He had to brush the glass clean to see the picture, but it was a nice family portrait, the kind you'd get at Sears or Walmart with a cheesy background, but on it a husband stood smiling, his hand on his wife's shoulder, kids standing all around them. The boy smiled, briefly remembering his own lost past, then he set the picture back down, seeing an entire photo album sitting on the floor beside the bed. He picked it up and started thumbing through the pictures. A birthday party, a family vacation, a kid on a water slide, close ups of each child, the parents with heads together behind a table grinning at a big cake in front of them. The next few pages showed dad was a marathoner, his pale skinny little body in a pair of running shorts, a number pinned to his back. The finish line, with a banner across the street naming the race and showing the date, three years past. The kid flipped the page and looked at the dad, standing proudly with his 'finishers' medal held to the camera, and that was when the album fell to the ground.

The kid stood up and ran from the room, confused. The album lay in the dust on the floor, the photo facing up was the thin little man, narrow shouldered, bony chest, nerdy wire rim glasses askew, a hundred and twenty pounds on a good day. It was a photo of Sir.

[iceman75]

Wow! Great stuff here, love the strength that Sir displayed, always a fan of feats of strength in a story. And very interesting twist at the end.

[Yachirobi]

Why doesn't the kid have a name?

[Lucas88]

You've got me hooked! Great story and POWER!

[portamivia]

Boy, can you write! Awesome. We're all here panting, slack-jawed, waiting for more. Exactly like zombies.

[WrapClampCrush]

You moved me to tears man. That was incredible! I finished chapter 1 seriously worried about Sir; how so much close contact with Zombie blood, bone, and violence was going to get Sir contaminated and we're all so fucking doomed if he's contaminated. Now the haunting undercarriage to the story, as any survivor story will have, is so amazing. This story is already my favorite here.