Date: Tue, 23 Apr 2013 02:32:13 -0700 (PDT) From: Alex O'donnell Subject: ultimate muscle hunk challenge 23 All the usual disclaimers apply: *This story is a work of fiction and is not intended to depict any living person. *Do not read this story if you live in an area where it is illegal to do so. This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice. The author would appreciate your comments, pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions. Please donate to Nifty. Your contributions keep the archive free. My thanks to everyone who e-mailed with comments and suggestions, including Kyle, Jake, Guido, JY and Brandon. thanks for your patience waiting for this installment. The Ultimate Muscle Hunk Challenge, Part 23 "Welcome back to the Ultimate Muscle Hunk Challenge," the handsome host Alex said with a sexy smile, as the show returned from a station break. "Now, before the commercial, it was determined that our two remaining competitors, Jack and Rod, will go head-to-head to determine which one can endure the most punishment in our Elimination Round." "That's right, Alex," Scott said. The shorter host was less ruggedly handsome than Alex, but he was still achingly beautiful. "The two remaining contestants will face many challenges tonight as we determine which of these two last challengers is the Ultimate Man, the one man able to ignore a little short-term pain in order to win that half-million dollar grand prize!" "Of course," Alex continued, "on our show, with so much cash at stake, the pain increases with each round, and the men will have to prove their manhood. Gentlemen, let the games begin!" The audience cheered as the cameras panned across the stage, to where Jack and Rod hung by chains from the studio ceiling. Spreadeagled and hard, the two heavily-muscled hunks were quite a sight displayed on that stage there in front of thousands in the studio audience... and millions at home. Their arms were fastened by chains, and their legs spread wide by spreader bars which immobilized them, every square inch of their muscular, handsome bodies on full display for the cameras and the studio audience. "Now," Alex said, "let the Endurance Round begin!" The audience cheered as Scott began explaining the first challenge. "As you know, Alex, a man's pectoral muscles are one of the symbols of his manhood," Scott said. "Thick, striated pecs are the hallmark of any bodybuilder: every man wants them, but only the strongest, toughest men have them. In this round, which we call the 'Titty Twister', both men will endure some slightly painful pec manipulation by our personal trainers, to see which man has the stronger pecs." "Let's bring out our trainers, shall we?" Alex said, eliciting cheers from the studio audience. "John Thomas Johnson and Drill Sergeant Bishop. Come on out, guys!" The audience roared as the hunky John Thomas and Sergeant Bishop were brought out from backstage. The muscular trainers were shirtless, their hunky muscular chests bare. John Thomas was wearing a pair of jeans. He had a whistle on a chain around his neck. He was also wearing sneakers. Sergeant Bishop was wearing camo pants and a military-style cap. The two trainers waved at the audience as the crowd cheered. John Thomas took up position beside Rod, while Sergeant Bishop stood by Jack. "Contestants, as you know, a 'Real Man' should be able to take a little pain. 'No pain, no gain', as the saying goes. Your trainers will now test you to see which of you has the stronger, tougher pecs. The first man to yield will receive zero points. The other contestant will then be awarded ten points, and will thus be ten points closer to that half-million dollar grand prize. Are you ready?" Both Rod and Jack said yes. A buzzer sounded as the round began. The camera closed in on Rod and John Thomas, as the trainer began to playfully slap Rod's pecs. First he slapped the left one, then the right, then back to the left. Rod's pecs bounced a bit as his pecs were slapped. After just a few smacks, Rod's meaty pecs had already reddened. John Thomas then increased the power of his slaps: he was leaving red, angry handprints in Rod's pec flesh as he now put considerable force into each slap. Soon, Rod was grunting quietly with each swing. Still, he looked determined to win. There was a half a million dollars at stake, after all! Another camera now zoomed in on Jack, as the hunky muscleman was put through his own paces by the stern-looking Sergeant Bishop. The military officer and personal trainer had dispensed with pec-slapping and was playfully punching Jack's pectoral muscles. The playfulness, however, soon faded as the drill sergeant's punches quickly grew harder. Soon Jack, too, was grunting as his trainer swung at his pecs. The announcers kept a running commentary during the round, and when the trainers delivered harsher blows, Alex and Scott noted it as they chattered. After a while, John Thomas changed positions, moving behind Rod; from behind the naked and restrained hunk, John Thomas' hands appeared, kneading Rod's now-reddened pec flesh. After stroking Rod's pendulous pecs for a while, John Thomas started playing with Rod's nipples, rubbing them and squeezing them. The nipple play started getting rough, John Thomas twisting Rod's nipples painfully as Rod groaned. John Thomas kneaded and pinched Rod's nipples, alternating as he went: first the right, then the left. Rod groaned, but refused to yield. Nearby, Jack was moaning, too, as his trainer continued punching his chest, alternating between each pec. The pec-flesh was starting to look tenderized as the drill sergeant went to town on poor Jack's muscular man-tits. "And Offerman's pecs are already looking a bit worse for the wear, Alex," Scott said. "You can see his pecs are already starting to bruise a bit. He's obviously in some minor discomfort. I wonder how long he'll hold out." "Well, he just has to last longer than Dixon," Alex pointed out. Cameras then zoomed in on Rod's heaving pecs as John Thomas pinched and twisted his erect nipples, and then grabbed his pecs in a painful clawhold, bringing tears to Rod's eyes. "You like that, bitch?" John Thomas taunted. "You want me to stop? Just say the word." Rod shook his head no. "Okay..." John Thomas sighed, as he mauled Rod's pecs in an especially painful claw hold. Rod screamed in agony, a wordless squeal of pain, but still he refused to yield. "And look at personal trainer John Thomas trying to milk Dixon's tits," Alex said in voiceover, as the cameras showed John Thomas brutally yanking on Rod's nipples. It looked as though he was trying to yank them right off Rod's chest as he impersonated a farmer milking a cow. "Come on, Bessie, give!" John Thomas exclaimed, doing an impression of a redneck farmer trying to get milk out of his cow. "The baby's gotta live!" The studio audience roared with laughter at John Thomas' impression. "And the look on Dixon's face is priceless," Scott said. "He didn't see that coming!" Indeed, it was clear that Rod Dixon had not expected someone to pull his nipples two inches out from his chest, yanking and tugging on them, as he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "FUUUUUCCCCKKKK!" he screamed. But he did not yield, even when John Thomas twisted his nips savagely and pulled them even further. The camera cut back to the announcers. "And so far, despite some somewhat rigorous pec play, both men have been unwilling to yield, Scott," Alex said. "I think you know what this means!" "Indeed I do," Scott laughed. He turned to the stagehands. "Bring out the tools!" From backstage, assistants wheeled out two metal carts with tool bags on them, placing one beside the each of the contestants. "And let's see the first tool each trainer will decide on," Alex said. "It looks like... yes, Sergeant Bishop is going for the brass knuckles!" "A classic melee weapon," Scott said. The sadistic sergeant put the metal knuckles on his fist and wasted no time, as he began pounding on Jack's meaty, already bruising pectorals. "An interesting note, Scott," Alex said, "brass knuckles are illegal in six U.S. states and Canada." "Good thing we're not in Canada," Scott laughed. As the commentators spoke, the hunky sergeant continued pounding on Jack's bruised man-tits, delivering blow after blow. He punched his pecs harder and harder, bringing welts to the once-flawless skin. The punishment continued unabated as Jack, eyes clenched in agony, still refused to give in. Cameras zoomed in to capture every moment of the scene on video. Each punch landed solidly in the middle of each of Jack's slab-like pectoral muscles, the heavy blows now obviously winding the hunk, knocking the breath out of him repeatedly. Blow after blow rained down on him, as he tried to withstand the brass-knuckled onslaught. Then the scene switched back to Rod, the muscle hunk still hanging from his chains, his bright red pecs looking sore and raw after all that pinching, pulling and twisting. A close-up camera shot captured his watery eyes growing wide as John Thomas pulled a nasty-looking tool out of the tool bag. "And it looks as though John Thomas has chosen the needle-nose pliers," Alex said. "Those are gonna leave quite a mark!" Jesus fucking christ! "I yield!" Rod squealed, before the wicked-looking pliers even reached his man-tits. The studio audience let out a collective 'awwwww', although it was hard to tell if they were disappointed that Rod had lost the round, or disappointed that he'd chickened out. "And that means ten points will be awarded to Offerman," Alex said. "And Alex, Dixon's GOTTA be disappointed in himself, giving up so early," Scott said. "He didn't even try those pliers out. You can see the disappointment on his face. He knows he pussied out, and he knows he's going to have to work twice as hard now to make it through to the next round." "Indeed," Alex said. "And our next round will be the 'Calf Strap'. In this round, our two personal trainers have been asked to use standard leather belts to deliver a slight sting to the back of each contestant's calf muscles. The last man to yield will receive fifteen points; the first one to yield, zero. Let's get started, shall we?" The studio audience cheered as Round Two began. The trainers had taken their respective places behind the chained musclehunks as the buzzer signaled the beginning of the round. To be continued...