Robbie's Hypnosis 3: Koloff and the Dean
by BBMSN
Koloff followed the suited man into an office.
"Shut the door, coach," said the man. The office door was marked Dan Mack, Dean of Students. Koloff flicked the heavy wooden door with one finger and it slammed shut. The dean went behind his desk and stood facing the coach. Koloff out-weighed the dean by 150lbs of brute muscle, and was a foot taller. He stood there shirtless, his massive frame exuding more masculinity than Dean Mack could ever dream of.
"Is Koloff fired?" said the burly coach.
"Yes," said the dean, "Koloff is fired."
At that, both men started laughing. Koloff raised his thickly muscled arms and flexed into a double bi. "Fire this," said Koloff. The dean felt his knees nearly buckle, as they did every time he had a worship session with the giant Russian. "Come feel my strength," Koloff said, and Dan Mack obeyed, coming around the desk and reaching up to touch the ham-sized biceps. The dean groaned as he felt the hardness of them.
"You see Koloff toss Snyder around like doll?" asked Koloff.
"Yes, I saw," the dean moaned. Koloff took the dean's hands and placed them on his huge chest. Then he rolled the massive hairy pecs.
"National champ wrestler no match for this," said Koloff, looking down as the dean groped his way around the gorilla-sized chest on the big Russian.
"No match," said Dean Mack weakly. He ran one hand along the deep crevice in Koloff's chest. Koloff flexed his pecs together, trapping the dean's hand.
"Can't pull out, huh?" said Koloff. "Koloff could crush dean's fingers like twigs with huge chest." The dean pushed with is free hand against the giant coach, trying to pull his trapped hand free, but to no avail. "Punch Koloff's gut," said the coach, as if this would help. The dean knew from experience that it wouldn't, that the coach's powerlifter gut was hard as diamond, but he also knew that Koloff got off on getting his gut worked over, so Dean Mack reared back and slammed his fist into the rounded mound of thick muscle. His fist bounced off as if hitting a tractor tire. Koloff laughed, and released the dean's other hand from his pecs. "Use both hands," Koloff ordered, putting his hands on his hips. And the dean went at it, punching and punching the coach's midsection, working it like a heavy bag. Koloff didn't budge, but stood there with a big grin. "Hard like steel," he said. The thudding sound of the dean's punches was turning both men on. Suddenly, Koloff reached out and grapped the dean's head, pushing it into his deep hairy armpit. "Smell Koloff's strength," said the coach. The dean breathed in deep, and nearly gagged from the stench of lockerroom and musk. His eyes rolled back in his head as his face was smashed against the thick pungent fur. Koloff then pushed the dean's face along his arm, rubbing his nose against the thick biceps belly, which hung a good two inches out over his lower arm. "Taste the arm that tosses wrestling champs around like bugs," said Koloff. And the dean tasted and tasted, chewing on the thick power arm of the big Russian. For one brief second, when he came up for some air, the dean said, "That other kid sort of had you going there for awhile." Then he dove back into the quad-sized arm. But Koloff had frozen. He tossed the dean back against the desk so hard, the desk moved.
"Would have ripped kid's head off," said the coach, his face reddening.
"Yeah," said the dean, climbing to the other side of his desk for some protection, "I'm sure you would have. But you didn't. And he's the one that drew blood."
Koloff touched his nose and felt the crusty bit of blood from where Robbie had hit him. He balled his hands into big fists, and his muscles began to twitch with fury all over his thick body. He brought his fists down hard on the dean's desk, crushing all four legs and busting the desk in two. The dean fell back against the wall in both fear and excitement.
"Find me what dorm he lives in," snarled Koloff.
"That kid's not a student, you big ox," said the dean. "I've seen him working at the paint shop up on the highway."
"Where on highway?"
"I'll take you there," said the dean with an evil grin.
Several days later, the two men pulled into the parking lot of the paint store. Dean Mack was driving. The massive Russian beast sat next to him. They parked the car and looked in at the store.
"I will go find the boy, and teach him who is strongest," said Koloff. He got out of the car. He was wearing a tight tee, jeans and shitkicker boots. He was monstrous. Gorilla-like hair jutted out around the collar of his shirt, which was stretched skin tight over his powerlifter torso. He waddled into the store while the dean waiting anxiously. It wasn't long before a ten-gallon bucket of spackle came busting through the plate-glass window of the store, and embedded itself into the windshield of an SUV parked out front. The dean nearly jumped through the roof of his car. Koloff came striding out, holding a piece of paper in his burly hand. He got into the car.
"Here is address," he said.
Meanwhile, across town, Robbie sat sprawled on his couch, his feet on the coffee table, wearing only his boxer briefs. He was finishing off the last of a six-pack of beer, not that his ripped six-pack abs showed any sign of it. He was watching the big game on tv. His mood was dark, and had been since he'd almost been trounced by the big russian coach. He was just about to get up go get another six-pack when there was a knock at his door.
"It's open," he yelled, without turning his gaze from the tv. The door opened tentatively, and Professor Thompson stuck his head in.
"Robbie?" he asked.
"Well, look who it is," said Robbie. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Judy told me you two had broken up since our session. She was worried about you. I thought I'd come by and see how you were doing."
"Oh, I'm doing just fine, Professor. Why wouldn't I be? One quick hynotic trance from you and I've broken up with my girl, lost my job, and nearly got the crap kicked outta me by the sadist nazi wrestling coach. I'm doing great."
The professor made his way around the couch, and got a good look at Robbie.
"Whoa," he said, taken aback by Robbie's muscularity. Robbie never took his eyes off the tv, but his pecs twitched. Robbie's legs were not huge, but were muscled up like a thoroughbred's hindquarters, taut and sinuous, and had become extremely vascular, with veins snaking up and down them. His calves were plumped up full and hard, jutting out from behind his shins even as he laid there relaxed.
"Looks tight as hell, doesn't it? You wanna touch it, doc?" said Robbie, still staring at the tube. The professor stepped between Robbie and the tv. Robbie stopped mid-swig from his beer bottle. "You must want to die," he said slowly, staring straight thru the professor as if he wasn't there.
"I can make you stronger," said the professor.
That got Robbie's attention. He stood up and walked over to the professor and got nose to nose with him. The professor tried to back away but was stopped by the tv. Robbie's muscularity and mood was extremely intimidating. He smelled of beef. He grabbed the professor's belt and curled him off the ground. "How much stronger?" Robbie asked.
"Much. From your initial response, I'd guess at least double."
Robbie pondered that thru his beer haze for a second. "And what do you get out of it?" he asked.
"I get to experiment with my hypnotic powers, Robbie, to test the limits of what the mind/body connection can do."
"Let's do it then," said Robbie.
"Now?" said the professor.
"Fuck yeah, now, dude. Jack me up a couple notches, and I'll show you what I can do."
The professor hesitated for a bit, but then decided that Robbie's half-drunken state might allow him to go into an even deeper level of his subconscious, and tap into even more hidden levels of concentration and strength.
"Okay then, umm, put me down, and let's start."