A Scene From A Dream (Somebody Pinch Me!)

[RPM]

(I originally wrote this last Saturday after it happened, but since the forum was down and my computer freaked out before it came back, I'm just posting it now)

OMG! What a morning! It's been a few hours and I'm still trying to catch my breath. OK, calm calm... settle.

Alright.

So the gym I go to has the usual variety of characters that inhabit large city suburbs. I usually go later at night so that there's not an annoying crowd. A lot of other serious lifters dedicated enough to spend their nights lifting instead of partying do the same, so there's quite a load of eye candy, especially in the teen and collegiate crowd. Now, I'm usually focused on the workout and always mind my own business, but there's just some people that are impossible to ignore. They're so phenominal they simply demand all eyes' attention.

One such kid is this highschooler who's been there since I joined over half a year ago.

You probably wouldn't think much of him if you saw him in a baggy sweater and sweatpants. His persona wouldn't indicate any kind of hardcore dedication - he's a quiet, courteous, "whatever" kinda guy. Nor would his looks in such an outfit hint at it - perhaps you could tell by his face that his bodyfat percentage was below 10% (and that he has a great tan), but he doesn't have the thick puffy face a lot of muscle monsters have, therefore the assumption might be made that he's more of a twig than anything, and that shaggy mop of brown curly hair that hangs right to his eyebrows, over his ears and to the bottom of his neck only adds to the lazy presentation.

But put him in the skimpy t-shirt and the little pair of athletic shorts he always wears to workout, and you'll see what I dare call the best body in the entire gym. The kid is the classic "beef on a stick". You can tell he's got an incredibly tiny bodyframe - thin fingers, wrists and ankles most younger children could wrap their hands around, almost no "default" shoulder span or shoulder blade width, and certainly no taller than 5'9" - no doubt he'd be the proverbial 89-pound weakling if he didn't work out.

But he did work out, and he is easily the most phenomenal teen athlete I've seen in person, and could effortlessly compete with my favorite internet boys. The amount of muscle he's packed onto that tiny frame is simply explosive - and I don't use that word lightly.

It describes the quality and tone of his individual muscles: they wouldn't be considered "mature" as they aren't stone-hard quality, rather they're more like "inflated", puffy muscles that visibly react to every electrical pulse that runs through them. "Flexing" and "bunching" doesn't adequately describe them - more like "writhing" and "squirming". Once I saw him wiggling his fingers, and his forearm looked like it was about to burst open.

It also describes his overall physique: the way that, with every motion he makes, the bulbous muscles seem to fight eachother for their allotted space on a frame too small, as if they've run out of space to spread, so now they're just popping out to compensate (this is especially noticable on his back). The ol' "muscles on muscles" deal is realized on this guy.

Really, the kid's a master of proportional illusion. If you took a headless solo picture, you'd think he could be professional. It's only once you see him next to other lifters that you realize he's just a kid. Even though his arms and other measurements may be smaller than the adult lifters there, it's how they proportion with his ridiculously tiny wrists/waist/ankles/etc that makes him look so monstrous by himself, not to mention his intense conditioning and paper-thin skin.

As balanced as he is, if he had a single semi-weak point, his calves are just a bit small compared to the rest of him (perhaps a genetics thing since they don't reach as far down his leg as some other lifters' do), but they're in no way weak in and of themselves and would serve as an excellent indicator to what's above were he dressed in a way that they were the only visible muscles showing. As a single semi-strong point, his ass is 2 bouncy balloons of muscle.

What's particularly amusing is his deferential behavior - he's always moving out of people's ways, giving them his training space, and quick to finish whatever he's doing if somebody ends up waiting on him, even somebody far less advanced. You'd think he never realized he could use that muscle to get a few things, or at least hold his ground. But like I said, he's a "whatever" kinda guy, and doesn't seem too socially adept, so - whatever.

Honestly, he could be autistic for all I care, it wouldn't stop him from being Resident Teen Muscle Idol, and the one who forced me into wearing tighty whities to the gym "just in case".

Whew!

Oh, his training partner's not bad either.

So anyway, I'm doing my Friday night workout. Legs. This kid's there with his buddy, doing some chest and arms stuff. I notice he rarely repeats the same split every week. I haven't noticed any specific pattern to his regimen, so he's probably on one of those week-and-a-few-days splits that you do 3x a month instead of 4x. He also seems to randomly do cardio before or after certain workouts, while his partner merely arrives before or ditches out after weights.

This would be one of those nights where his partner splits and the kid goes on the treadmill for a bit. It's nearing 10:00 PM. There's practically nobody else in the gym. The guy at the desk gives the "10 minutes till close" announcement, so the kid jets, throwing on some sweatpants and a jacket from his gym bag on his way out. Once again, I came a bit late, so I stay a little past the closing time, at which point only some trainers (who clean/close down the gym) and I remain. I'm cool with the front desk guy, so he gives me a nod and I go grab my jacket and head out.

Only 5 cars left in the lot. One is the kid's. You can not miss this thing. It's this ridiculous white Oldsmobile '80's Cutlass-type thing. You know, the big rectangular things with the 2 wide doors that open to both front and back seats. The doors are black, the passenger side is tied shut, the little back window on that side is wrapped in cellophane, there's random graffiti of people's names on it, and the insides have seat foam popping through tears, the upholestry on the door is hanging off, the dashboard is missing some lower paneling, and there's junk piled everywhere. This thing is a dumpster on wheels, and if it were any indicator, the kid is an utter SLOB and once again I would never expect the owner of a car like that to know the meaning of "maintenance" or "discipline".

So as I'm getting in my car, I realize his hood's up and the kid's screwing with the engine. Immediately I regret blowing off my dad when he'd ask if I wanted to help fix the cars he would repair. Still, I had some basic knowledge from a highschool mechanics class, as well as some random discussions from friends who'd dealt with car troubles over the years. I start my car, begin to drive by, take a look at him (who looks briefly at me before back to his engine), slow down and suddenly shift my direction toward him and stop near his front side, grabbing his attention again (as if he wasn't expecting me to drive over). Got out, asked what's up.

Car won't start. He has a very smooth and soft voice, again betraying the stereotype you'd associate with a body like his. The dead engine isn't a surprise though. Forecasters had been warning all Friday that the following Saturday would mark the beginning of an arctic cold wave expected to last at least a few days. The freeze had already been setting in during Friday afternoon, my car had taken minutes to start (after I finally broke the frozen door open) when I left for the gym late evening, and now my beloved town was a freezetank, so a car in the condition of this kid's was obviously going to have some trouble.

This is the first time I had exchanged words with him beyond the monthly "excuse me", "pardon me", and "no problem" that came up when our lifting routines briefly crossed paths. He said the car always had a bit of trouble starting, for various reasons that he had been putting off repairing, but conditions like these could make it near impossible to get going. It didn't help that he had been with some friends in the nearby mall for the entire afternoon and had left his car sitting idle since then. He figured it would have been OK if it had been running just an hour earlier.

Just to keep this short (since I know you're not reading this to see detailed car repairs), we try a few things, one of which has us digging through the trash heap in his back seat and trunk for over 10 minutes trying to find some cables. During the excavation, I found a bottle I had tossed into his open window during summertime. After about half an hour of failed attempts and ever-increasing numbness, he concludes he needs some more advanced supplies. He seems a slightly irritated, no doubt because the parking patrol here is the reincarnation of Drei Reich and the lot has a midnight vacancy limit (no overnight parking or risk a tow). With all auto shops closed by now, this would appear hopeless.

Enter my supply box. I'm a veritable "junk" hoarder, and despite insistence from friends and family to throw out all this stuff I'll "never use", I cart it with me from apartment to apartment, pissing off all my moving-helpers time and time again. Tonight, they all got the most intense middle finger I've ever mentally projected. Years ago, I had taken a whole bin full of stuff that my dad was going to throw out when he stopped repairing cars. I told the kid I didn't know exactly what was in it, but there was a lot. He shrugs and decides it's worth a look. Off to my place we drive.

As I expected, he wasn't a very talkative guy, but he wasn't anti-social either. When we were dealing with the car, he didn't really talk about anything other than the car, never said more than was necessary, and seemed perfectly comfortable with prolonged silence. I've never been much of a conversation starter myself, and don't like to pry too hard into people who obviously aren't in a very talkative mood, but I did fill the ride to my place with a bit of casual conversation (though I did my best to avoid being a fanboy). I got his name, but I probably shouldn't post it, just in case. He lives about half an hour in the opposite direction of the club, and drives so far to train with his oldest friend, who joined there first. He's 18, a senior in highschool, set to graduate in 5-6 months, and has been lifting weights since he was 11. He currently lives alone with his mom, which he seemed somewhat happy about since he's got 3 older sisters (each by 2 years), who I quickly deduced to be screaming banshees and probably a direct influence on his passive attitude. His dad's been gone since he could remember, but keeps in touch and sees him every year or two. He likes watching cartoons, cooking, biking, golfing, camping, juggling, music, and of course exercise science. He plays trumpet in school band and bass guitar on his own time. He says he'd like to play in a band for a living (his training buddy plays guitar), but will probably go to school for fitness training and stuff just in case. Oddly enough, he hates sports and thinks all the football players and other jocks are obnoxious idiots.

However, the biggest shock came when he told me he didn't even weigh 170 lbs. That's about 20 lbs less than me. I just could not believe it. I mean, sure he's got that smaller frame, but with masses of muscles literally exploding all over, I figured he would be at least 200 lbs. He must have insanely light bone structure or something. Though, as I thought about it, both Olympic gymnast Jason Gatson and Russian phenomenon Aleksey Lesukov are measured in the 160 lbs range in the photos I just linked to, so, it's definitely that kind of 160 lbs.

Anyway, we get to my building and go to my apartment for some post workout grub. He was getting bothered about missing his PWO meal, so I did the usual toss-it-all-in-the-blender routine before heading to storage, which proved to be the next obstacle. It was around 11:00 by the time we got down there, and it took another 10 minutes to move all my other boxes of stuff out of the way to get to the auto box. Once we dug out some things he thought would be worth a try and put the rest of the boxes back, it was 11:30.

By now, we were both quite tired. We had just busted our asses training, then froze them off dealing with his mobile dumpster, were now running on a blended paste of assorted health foods, the ride back would take 15 minutes, and repairs with no guarantee of working could take hours. He was already up half an hour past his bedtime, mine was closing in so I couldn't stay for his fix-it attempts, but if they failed he'd be stuck overnight in that weather since he had no way to call home and his mom would have been sleeping by the time he left the gym anyway. So he stares off in thought for a bit and looks up at me. "Mind if I just sleep over?"

!!!!!!!!!!

I'm quite schooled at keeping emotional and surprised expressions in check, but I had to rework my slight shock face into a "I can't imagine why that would be a problem" face, gave a shrug and said "Yeah, I guess so." I told him my living room couch opens into a bed and I had extra sheets and blankets, so we could set that up, no problem. He asks if he could use the shower. "Sure thing." He goes to get his gym bag while I go to the apartment and set up the couch.

A note about my apartment setup: the entry is on the left side of the front wall, and opens up to a wide rectangular carpeted space that passes for the living room. The left wall has windows outside, and another apartment is beyond the right wall. Directly ahead and leftmost is an open kitchen with sink and cabinets on the far wall (opposite the front wall with the entry) - there is no wall between it and the living room, merely a silver strip separating the carpet from the tile. At the far right of the living room is the hallway leading back to the bedroom (directly behind the kitchen) and the bathroom (far end of the hall). The only kitchen "wall" is the one separating it from the hall, and even that has a door in it (for what purpose I cannot possibly comprehend). The couch is placed against the left wall below the windows, armrest directly in front of you as you walk in. TV center is placed across the room against the right wall. Rectangular dinner table is placed at the dividing line of the living room and kitchen. I really hated not having a wall to place it against.

Kid comes back up with his bag as I'm finishing with the couch. I tell him he can use the shower first since he should have been to bed before me. He nods and takes his stuff to the bathroom. I lay on the left of the couch bed (closest to the front wall) and flip on the TV while he begins the shower. Just the thought of that mini-monster naked in my tub washing off his worn out body left me throbbing. I laid back and took a long stretch as I was alternating between watching the news and rubbing my raging boner. Felt those nice prickles running the length of my body and saw my vision glitter in psychedelic colors as it does after a good rush.

Next thing I know, there's soft blue light shining on the ceiling and the TV's off. I blink, but there's crud hindering my eyelids. Soon I realize all the lights are off, and I'm feeling a bit freshened and restored.

Well, shit. Way to fall asleep.

I sigh and roll to my left, looking at the small mountain range of muscle in front of me before realizing what happened last night. Muscle kid had asked to spend the night, and was now sleeping with his bare back to me (he seemed to be holding his blanket to his chest in front, so I figure he probably rolled over during sleep). I couldn't tell how much else was bare, as he had the blanket over him and it covered a little above his waist. It was very tempting to peek, but not knowing how heavy a sleeper he was, I decided it wasn't worth getting caught, so I resigned myself to staring at his back.

It was the first time I had seen his back unclothed, and even relaxed and resting, he retained that "inflated" look of smooth, round, balloon-ish muscle popping in all directions in large quantity. Seeing it so close just made it larger than life. I had to wonder how enormous the back of a pro like Coleman or Cutler would seem in the same situation. I also had to wonder why he decided to share the couch with me. I would assume he didn't feel proper taking my bed, but I'm not that heavy of a sleeper and he could have woken me easily.

Not that I'm complaining! (Although I did have to lay on my stomach to hide the return vengeance of last night's raging boner.)

I spent about half an hour engraving the image in my mind before he suddenly drew a sharp breath, smacked his lips a few times, and began to stir. I decided now would be a good time to be ready to fake-sleep. It wouldn't be hard - I had my blanket almost fully covering me but for some of my head and face. He soon twisted to lie on his stomach as well. I closed my eyes and heard him pause to be sure I was still sleeping, before he let out a breath he may or may not have realized he'd been holding and buried his head in the pillow. I was wondering if he had gone back to sleep when I heard a bit of squirming. I cracked open my left eye to see him very slowly shifting his waist around, occasionally raising his bubble butt in the air and performing an incredibly slow mattress hump. Whatever he was doing was soon interrupted by a grumble from his stomach. He raised himself on all fours and shifted to sit on the side of the couch bed, before finally dropping the blanket and getting up.

And there he stood. Back to me, clad in only an incredibly small piece of underwear that immediately drew my attention not only to his globular glutes, but how well it fit them. The glutes themselves were long and every bit as wide as his waist, and shaped more like... well, globes. Large, elliptical globes, the entire half-hemisphere, coming to a somewhat flat plateau at the center of each. His undies were tighty-whitey briefs, which didn't exactly cover his butt, as much as wrap around it like a sweatband across the forehead. The upper waistband only reached the top of the flat part before the muscles began to curve up into his lower back, and the bottom cut off as the muscles descended to tie into his legs, leaving him with about 2" of uncovered glute on top and about 3" of uncovered glute on bottom. Oh, and a monster wedgie that even partially pulled the elastic waistband into his crack. These things just could not contain those bulbous glutes. "Explosive" just took on a new meaning. (Note: I tried googling for similar-looking undies, these are close.)

So then he spreads his feet, raises his arms, and every last muscle in his backside pops as he forms an X with his limbs and flexes his entire rear. He holds this for about 30 seconds, wiggling about as he tries to hit every muscle, then brings his arms across his chest and does the same for the front side. He lets out a long deep breath and turns left to face the window. As he does, he reveals what I presume to be the reason for the wedgie.

Yep, our teen muscle man has a throbbing morning wood. "Explosive" evolves once more.

Not being able to properly measure, the boner was probably 9" long (definitely larger than average), and it was pointing straight forward. The undies had stretched so far forward to accommodate it that the waistband was stretched at least 3" away from his waist and didn't touch skin until it wrapped around his sides.

He sighs and stares at the window before looking down at his boner. He then grabs the boner, still mostly covered with his undies, and shifts it all the way to the left, holding it horizontally across the top of his quad and pressing it into the muscle for a few seconds before letting it spring back to forward position. He repeats the process for the opposite direction, then points it straight down and lets it pop back up.

As he's standing there, I get a good side portrait of his physique. He has a notable barrel chest, beautifully accented by his thick puffy pecs (which are equally developed top-to-bottom as well as popping off the sides) and a flat abdominal wall of incredibly thick pillow-shaped blocks of muscle angling outward from his waistline to meet his protruding ribcage. Every intercostal and serratus continue the mini-pillow look, and his obliques actually have ridges. As he breathes, his midsection seems to writhe with a mind of its own.

He walks over to the window and rests his hands on the sill as he looks out, his boner pressing up against the wall and the bottom of the sill. As he's looking out, he angles leftward ever so slightly, and starts gently rocking his waist forward and back, rubbing the tip of his boner along the corner between the bottom of the sill and the wall it's positioned on. He occasionally closes his eyes, continuing for a few minutes before another grumble from his stomach reminds him of his purpose.

He briefly looks my way to see that I'm sleeping and continues into the kitchen area in search of breakfast, seemingly unconcerned with his boner brushing and bumping into everything as he searches the cabinets. He eventually finds my bag of steel cut oats, the appropriate pot on the stove, and the milk in the fridge. As he walks back and forth between the fridge and the stove, his boner is pulled from side to side as his glutes flex and pull the undies' fabric back and forth. For the first time, I am so glad the kitchen doesn't have a wall.

Once again checking to be sure I'm still asleep, he repeats the process at the window, this time rubbing the tip of his boner along the underside of the countertop. After a few minutes, once the milk has warmed (and once more checking that I'm asleep), he adds in the oats and continues the under-countertop boner-rub, but this time he occasionally leans forward and presses the boner down between his legs against the lower cabinet doors.

All too soon, breakfast has cooked and cooled. He takes the pot and sits at the table (checking me one final time), facing the far right of the apartment, giving me a wonderful side view. As he sits, his boner angles upward some 45?, pressing against the underside of the table. He begins to eat, and after a few bites, begins sporadically flexing his thigh and butt muscles. I briefly wonder what he's doing, before seeing that he's rubbing his boner against the underside of the table as he eats. I enjoy the rhythmic motion of his ballooning wheels "spinning" for a good few minutes before he ceases the motion and settles for boner-pressing, this time pushing it down into the chair before letting it pop back up and thump against the tabletop. (And yes he's still in those undies.)

About 10 minutes after sitting down, he's finished eating. He dumps the pot in the sink and heads for the bathroom. Soon as the door closes and locks, I jump up and head to my bedroom. My own humble boner had been leaking since he stepped into the kitchen and was now about to explode. I did, however, have to make a slight diversion when I heard some heavy grunting coming from the bathroom. I listened against the door for a moment as he UNF'd and UH'd and URGH'd and GRUH'd and GUH'd his way to pleasure, but it quickly became too much for me. Last night he was naked and showering in my bathroom, and now he was masturbating in it. Soon as I kneeled in front of the garbage can, it was a mere three strokes before my own load filled the can.

I hurried back to lay down on the couch when I heard 3 louder grunts and 1 last long growl. Assuming he had climaxed, I anticipated him heading out shortly, but instead the shower turned on. He was taking another shower. Fine with me - I was still horny and managed to blow another 2 loads before the water shut off. Kid left me with the worst diamond cutter I've had in years!

Now, I gotta admit, I had considered "waking up" during the morning ordeal. If I was lucky, he wouldn't mind and would just keep going about his routine. If he did mind and was embarassed, I would have a one-up on him (not to suggest blackmail... ok, well maybe for little things). However, I'd risk missing the show I'd just experienced, and in retrospect, I believe I made the wisest decision (even if I didn't get to peek down that big gap between his waistband and his stomach).

Anyway, he eventually comes out of the bathroom. Now he's wearing baggy sweatpants and sweatshirt. Show's over, it seems. I, of course, have just "woken up", so I'm beginning to get my own (similar) breakfast ready. We say hey and talk a short moment, planning the day and other quick random items. Trying to keep it casual and seem like I'm not overly interested in his body beyond that it's really impressive for his age - I am a bit older after all, I gotta maintain my age superiority and can't be too much of a fanboy. I told him he should've just woken me up. He just shrugged and said he didn't think he should if it was in my own place, and also didn't mind if I wasn't snoring. So he crashes on the couch and flips on the tube while I shower, then we grab the stuff, go back to the gym lot. Fortunately he wasn't towed or ticketed, which is a miracle in itself. Spend maybe 45 minutes screwing with his car, get it going well enough he can at least make it home - and that's that, and now this is this, and thus ends my unusually exciting weekend!

Whew! Holy hell man, I had to beat it like 4 times putting this together :P

Without a doubt, this is the stuff of dreams. I know it'll be in mine for a long time to come. Perhaps now it'll be in yours too.

[arpeejay]

Great story! Thanks for sharing!

[cesarvillavi]

Thanks for sharing, that was a pretty good story.. How is it that things like that dont happen to me?

[RPM]

Thanks guys, you're welcome! Glad you enjoyed

Dunno cesar - perhaps you don't work out at a yuppie-city gym surrounded by middle schools, high schools and near to the top ranked community college in the state?

[TheMM]

Originally Posted by RPM

Thanks guys, you're welcome! Glad you enjoyed

Dunno cesar - perhaps you don't work out at a yuppie-city gym surrounded by middle schools, high schools and near to the top ranked community college in the state?

In the words of Napoleon Dynamite: "Uhh, lucky!"

[RPM]

Yeh, and for what it costs to live in a place like this I'd expect that kinda "luck" every weekend

[Stoneman]

I always feel like a total creep when I have urges to do stuff like that to guys. I feel like it breaks this unfair rule of masculine friendship. Like, for instance, I don't allow myself to masturbate while thinking about my friends. Then there was this guy that I was totally in love with, and I felt so guilty and terrible for lusting after him so badly whenever I saw him.

[MAZIVKAROLY]

Thanks deeply for detailing this incredibly fortuitous and fantastic foray into a reality that many of us would wish, desire and delight in for days.

Great that you are willing to share this with us all here.

Sproutin' my own, right now, thanks to this slice of reality.

[wires!wires!]

i kind of picture this kid
http://i27.tinypic.com/16a2now.jpg

[RPM]

Pardon this late reply, I've been having internet and other technical difficulties lately and am only now catching up to a few months of messageboards and messages.

Originally Posted by Stoneman

I always feel like a total creep when I have urges to do stuff like that to guys. I feel like it breaks this unfair rule of masculine friendship. Like, for instance, I don't allow myself to masturbate while thinking about my friends. Then there was this guy that I was totally in love with, and I felt so guilty and terrible for lusting after him so badly whenever I saw him.

I understand what you're saying, but personally I keep a rather clear line between thought and action.

Though first, just so you understand what I was saying, I don't like to "take advantage" of anybody (believe me I know what it feels like and don't wish it on anybody), but I do occasionally tease about a lot of things because I expect most people to think "that's so absurd he has to be teasing" and I suppose that doesn't always come across while writing. Looking back, I see I wrote something about "blackmail him" - I was just joking about teasing him into helping me with a lift or something totally light like that, but I realize that could sound malicious for one who doesn't know me. I assure you that's not the case, even with somebody who I'd say has "the perfect physique"; I'm a fan, but I'm not desperate. Apologies for any misunderstanding.

But back to what you said, I'm mostly in agreement. I avoid taking advantage of anybody at all costs, but when it comes to thoughts that simply come to mind, I really don't have an opinion. Everybody gets all kinds of random thoughts from some place or some experience, I think it's how they sort through them and decide how to act on them that makes the difference. I think most of them come from association where certain settings trigger memories involving similar settings; occasionally I'll be holding a kitchen knife at work and imagine going on a stabbing spree (probably a result of reading about a Japanese knife-murderer killing spree in a "ban guns" discussion) though obviously I never do it, and if there's a young hyper-buff guy walking around your place one morning in dinky undies with a boner he keeps nursing then I think the first thing that would come to mind would be other similar fantasies you've had or read. Obviously this one didn't go anywhere like that, but there's no denying what did happen fit my definition of "sexy", and obviously a lot of other people's as well. I guess you could argue masturbation is "taking action", but I don't see it having any direct effect on the subject and don't consider it on the same par with trying to "pick up" a guy or anything. More power to you if you refrain though - it's always nice to be able to honestly answer "no" to a surprise question like "you ever wank to me?", otherwise you could get caught thinking over the answer too long

Originally Posted by MAZIVKAROLY

Thanks deeply for detailing this incredibly fortuitous and fantastic foray into a reality that many of us would wish, desire and delight in for days.

Great that you are willing to share this with us all here.

Sproutin' my own, right now, thanks to this slice of reality.

Noooo problem, the pleasure was mine

Originally Posted by wires!wires!

i kind of picture this kid
http://i27.tinypic.com/16a2now.jpg

Hmmmm.... they might be able to pass for brothers, but that's about it. The guy I know was shorter, bulkier and would probably have a more "cute" face if you asked the girls. Honestly, it's hard to describe his muscles because I've never seen anything quite like them so that's why I opted out of a pictoral reference, but if there was a single picture I would use as a base to describe how he was built, this would be the closest thing I could find. This guy's upper-back and flexed-arm muscles have a very similar puffiness and smoothness to them, but they're not as compact. Otherwise I can give no accurate visual comparison.