Marooned 4: The Pirates' Arrival
Paolo climbed the trunk of the palm tree like a great ape. As a kid in Brazil, he had learned to scale trees to collect coconuts, and could scurry up the trunks like a little monkey. Now, with his tremendous gain of solid muscle mass, the trunk of the tree groaned and swayed under his weight. Unlike when he was younger, and the tough bark cut into his feet, Paolo found that he could easily snap off chunks of the bark with his big muscled feet. He got to the top of the tree and looked out to sea.
"Can you see them?" hollered Tim from the beach.
"Yes, they're headed this way," Paolo replied, referring to the three skiffs full of Somali pirates speeding across the smooth water.
"How far away?"
"Less than an hour," said Paolo. He could hear the tree's trunk creaking under his weight, so he climbed back down. About half way down, he jumped to the ground, landing with a heavy solid thunk, his quad swollen and tight from his climb. He waddled over to Tim. Both men were wearing only their worn-out briefs, the only clothes they had that still fit them, and even these were clinging skintight over their massively rounded glutes. "We should get off the beach so they don't spot us," said Paolo. "They have high-powered rifles.
"OK," said Tim, looking out to sea. "Not far from here is an outcropping of coral rock. We can climb to the top of it and watch them from there without being seen."
The two big men made their way into the underbrush, and headed toward the outcropping. When they got to it, the wall of coral was higher than Tim realized, maybe 20 feet straight up. The coral was rough and sharp, with few places for even a finger-hold. Tim looked for a way up, and finally noticed a thick vine hanging down from the top. He went over to it and grabbed it. The vine was about 6 inches thick. Tim tugged down on it to test its strength. It held pretty solidly, so he said to Paolo, "I'm going up." He pulled himself off the ground, and braced his feet on the sharp coral. Then he began to shimmy up, one big arm over the other. The vine twisted and strained under his 380lbs of surfer dude muscle, but held him. Paolo watched from the ground as his friend scaled the wall. Once he reached the top, Tim waved down to Paolo, who repeated the climb, his powerful arms lifting his heavy body up the vine with ease. From up here, they had an amazing view of the surrounding sea, and several places where they could crouch down to be hidden from sight.
"Dude, look at my fores," Tim said. He made a fist and flexed it downward. Even the short climb up the vine had made his forearms swell with size, and when he flexed, the veins popped out like a roadmap of a busy city highway system. "Suckers must be 20"s," he said, flexing his fist down hard, forcing the base of his thick forearm to swell out with solid gnarled muscle. Paolo stepped up beside him and held is forearm next to Tim's. He made a fist and flexed it down to match Tim's. It swelled with size just like Tim's.
"Fuck, bro," said Tim. "So huge." Then he flexed his arm up into a biceps shot, and watched as the peak rose up to 28". Paolo flexed his arm next to Tim's and their twin peaks matched each other in size. They began a posedown for each other, and with no trees to shade them from the tropical sun, they were soon drenched in sweat, and huffing from exertion, their 8pak abs heaving in and out. Their hardons were about to rip out of their briefs when they realized that they were supposed to be watching the pirates as they headed toward their island. They walked to the end of the bluff closest to the sea and looked out. The skiffs were making quick progress across the water, heading right for the beach where Tim and Paolo had landed.
"You think they saw us?" Tim asked.
"I don't think I care," answered Paolo, as he rubbed the sweat into his massive torso.
"Me either," said Tim. "I'm so fucking horny. What do you think it'd be like to beat the crap out of a crew of pirates?"
"I think it'd be a fucking rush," said Paolo, looking down at his arms as he flexed them.
Both of them had precum staining their briefs. They forced themselves to turn their attention to the pirates, whose skiffs were entering their cove and were slowing down as they approached the beach. Two pirates jumped out of each skiff as it got to shallow water, and pulled them up onto the sand. Then the rest of the men jumped out, and they pulled the skiffs up to the palm tree that Paolo had climbed earlier. They made a half-hearted effort to camouflage the boats under the big spreading vine underneath the tree. Then they walked back out on the beach. They seemed to be talking about the mast that was sticking out of the water from the fishing boat that Tim and Paolo had commandeered and ridden to the island.
"Let's go down," said Tim.
"I'm with you," answered Paolo.
They went over to the vine and climbed back down. Again, the short climb pumped them up rapidly, this time in their upper backs, and in their legs, as they used them to rappel down the coral wall. Once on the ground, they sized each other up.
"Jesus, your traps, man," said Tim.
"Yours too," said Paolo. Both men had veins snaking their way across their traps, which now rose up so high, their earlobes were resting on them. Both of them rolled their shoulders and flexed their traps up even more. "Godddam," snarled Paolo, as he felt the power of his ox-yoke traps.
"Let's go introduce ourselves to some pirate dirtbags," said Tim.
They headed toward the beach. By the time they got to the edge of the jungle, the pirates had built a small fire on the sand and were beginning to cook some food. When Tim and Paolo stepped out into the sunlight, it only took a few seconds for some of the pirates to notice them. They fell back into the sand, in awe of the behemoth musclemen standing at the beach's edge. Then the other men turned to see what the commotion was about. Soon, all the pirates were facing toward Tim and Paolo, most of them with mouths agape. They were a ragtag group of men, all lean, but some more sinewy than others, and except for the 2 or 3 who appeared to be the leaders, they appeared to be mostly in their late teens to early 20's. There were about 15 of them in all. They had left their weapons in the skiffs, except for the one leader, who pulled a pistol out of his waistband. Even with the gun, he looked uneasy as Paolo and Tim approached him.
"Who are you?" demanded the leader, in shaky English.
"We're sailors who got marooned here when our ship was taken over by you pirates," said Tim, who was realizing for the first time just how huge he and Paolo had grown. The pirate leader was about 6 feet tall and weighed around 180. He wasn't even half as big as Tim.
"Ha," said the pirate, emboldened by his pistol. "So now we will take you hostage and demand ransom for you both. Get them and take them to the boats," he ordered his men. Four of the pirates walked hesitantly toward Tim. As they got close, Tim flexed his arms into a most-muscular pose. His massive traps rose up and up, veins snaking across both sides. His deltoids rolled with deep striations of muscle. His granite pecs crunched together, forming a deep fault line of sweat-drenched shredded muscle. Two of the pirates fell to their knees. Tim towered over them and flexed even harder, grunting as he commanded his muscle to ripple.
"Idiots!" yelled the leader. He ordered two more pirates to get Tim to the boats. The six men split up, 3 on each side of Tim, and grabbed him by the arms. They tried to move him, but Tim didn't budge. He knew he had many times the strength of all 6 of them, and they knew it too. He felt them trying to get his arms to move, and using only a fraction of his strength, he held them still. One of the young pirates put his hands on Tim's side and tried to push. Tim looked over at him and grinned. "Hold on, little dude," said Tim. "Let me give you more to work with." With that, Tim flared out his lat. The young pirate felt the slab of beef growing under his ebony hands. He'd never felt anything like it, and began to rub his hands up and down Tim's 12" thick lat muscle. The pirate started getting hard as he grope the huge muscleman. Despite the men holding his arms, Tim put his fists on his hips, and spread his superheavyweight back muscles out even wider. The little pirate shuddered in awe, let out a grown, and came in his pants. He never knew he had feelings like this, and after 3 weeks at sea, he exploded with such ecstasy that his eyes rolled back in his head. Tim laughed and said, "Nice." Then he raised his arms into the air, lifting the 5 pirates that were still holding onto them. Tim held his arms out straight to his sides, the pirates clinging and pulling downward. Tim began to curl them up and down. "Oh YEHH," he snarled, feeling his arms swell up with power and size. Paolo and the 6 pirates holding onto him watched as Tim pumped out 20 reps, then shook out his arms, sending the pirates flying. They landed scattered around the beach. Tim began to pose, hitting flex after flex, turned on by his own size and power, and by how easily he outpowered 6 men.
Meanwhile, Paolo, spurred on by Tim's show, grabbed 3 of the pirates surrounding him into a massive bearhug. He lifted them off the ground with ease. Two of the other pirates grabbed his tree trunk thighs and tried to knock him off his feet. The other one jumped on Paolo's back and wrapped his arm around Paolo's neck, trying a choke hold. Paolo squeezed his bearhug so tight, the 3 pirates passed out. He felt them go limp, and dropped them to the ground. Then he reached down and grabbed the 2 men at his legs by their necks, and lifted them high overhead. He reared back and tossed them across the beach, knocking them into Tim's pirates. The guy on Paolo's back was trying valiantly choke him, but his lean arms were no match for the 24" iron-hard Brazilian neck muscles of the huge Paolo, who simply reached back, grabbed the guy, lifted him up, did a handful of overhead extensions with him, then flung him clear into the middle of the lagoon.
Suddenly, the leader fired his pistol into the air. "Enough!" he said. Unfortunately for him, he was focused on Paolo, and Tim took the opportunity to tackle the pirate, catching him by surprise. It was like a rag doll getting hit by a freight train. The pirate flayed back as Tim hit him, his pistol flying into the air and landing by Paolo's feet. Paolo leaned over and picked it up. With Tim straddling the leader in a mound of sand, they turned to watch as Paolo bent the barrel of the pistol in two with his bare hands.
"Get the other weapons," the leader yelled out. Tim cuffed him upside the head, but it was too late. Several of the pirates were headed toward the skiffs under the palm tree. Tim stood up, and he and Paolo ran toward the skiffs, their monstrous glutes and legs propelling them thru the sand with thunderous speed. They knew they had to get to the boats first, or they would become the next pirate hostages.