Date: Tue, 23 Apr 2013 02:32:13 -0700 (PDT)
From: Alex O'donnell <alexodonnell99@yahoo.com>
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
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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...