Dwarf Muscle 3

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"Kiss this arm, boy. You know how much work it takes to get this python so big and hard? Kiss it and make it grow even bigger, fucker. That's it boy, worship this strength and size. Harder than anything you ever put your lips on. Stronger than anything you could ever dream of."

That was Randy, my freaky dwarf UPS driver. He'd taken a leave of absence from UPS, which wasn't hard for him to get after the holidays, and had been staying at my place for the last three weeks. We were both so into his stumpy, thick, powerhouse muscle that it was a perfect match-up. He'd just come back from a three hour workout, and was showing off his size. Sometimes, after a workout, he'd show off his strength, by taking a piece of my furniture and ripping it apart with his bare hands. Today, he was into his size. And maybe he was more pumped than usual, but I'd swear he'd gotten bigger during his time here. By the time he had stripped off his sweat-soaked gear, his muscles exploding out like swelling boulders, my knees had given out, bringing me pretty much eye-to-eye with him. He stared at me with his big dark dwarf eyes, so deeply aware of his superiority. He continued to stare as he squeezed his arm harder, crunching the biceps higher and higher, until a third peak rose up, a peak that had definitely not been there three weeks ago, and was now as big as a golf ball on top of his already huge arm. He brushed it across my lips.

"Randy, jesssus," I groaned, losing the ability to form a cohesive thought.

"That's right, bud, bigger than ever," he said, all full of himself and his growing muscles. He even seemed taller than before, but that had to be my imagination.

Suddenly, Randy laid down on the living room floor. "Get down here and armwrestle me," he said, plopping his elbow on the floor and raising his forearm. Dressed only in his sweaty briefs, I couldn't help but scan his backside. His quads and calves were so squatty and huge, it was like someone took a good-sized powerlifter and condensed his legs to dwarf size. Even his ankles looked thick and powerful. Each hamstring was as big as my forearm, and stood out like bridge cables. His glutes were mounded up so high, they made his briefs ride up like a thong, showing off his basketball-sized ass cheeks. By the time I got down on the floor with him, I had a raging hard-on.

We'd never done the armwrestling thing, but there was really no question about who would win. Even though my forearm was longer, and I had to angle it in to match up with his hand, his wrists were twice as thick as mine, and his stumpy hand so hardened and strong, it felt like he could punch it through a vault door. We gripped up and meshed our hands together.

"Go!" he said, without much warning, but it didn't matter. I pushed against his hand and he just held it there, letting me struggle. I might as well have been pushing against the side of a building. "Come on, boy, push!" he said. I pushed and pushed, I could feel my forehead veins swelling from the pushing. Then I decided to concentrate all my effort on bending his wrist back, instead of pushing his forearm down. I shifted my grip a little and bore down on the top part of his hand with all my weight. To my surprise, his thick hairy hand bent back some. I was so psyched up that I pushed even harder, leaning my weight against him even more, and his wrist bent back more. Then it stopped. Slowly, I felt him pushing up my entire weight and force with just the strength of his wrist. I felt his power, his steady, steady power, moving me back into place like I was a lightweight. We were nose to nose, and I could smell his strength. His thick neck, traps and shoulders were forged together like iron girders. He saw me looking, and he smirked. It pissed me off, the fucking cocky dwarf. I took my other hand and put it on top of the one fighting him. I pushed down so hard that I almost lifted my entire bodyweight off the floor. I was leaning into his hand with all my strength and weight, and he was holding me there. I began to bounce into him hard, working into the upper part of his meaty palm. I wanted to break his fucking wrist, I was so frustrated.

"You sure you want to play it this way?" he said to me calmly, his voice so deep and ominous, I got a chill down my spine, even as I tried to drive his elbow through the floor. He squeezed down on my hand hard enough that it made me stop bouncing into him. Then he squeezed harder. I was beginning to feel considerable pain. I tried to pull my hand away. He tightened his grip even more. It felt like my hand was in an iron vice. I took my free hand and pushed against his forearm, as I tried to pull my trapped hand out of his crushing grip. He brought his wrist up and slowly reversed the hold I'd had on him, bending my wrist back into an excruciating angle.

"Stop," I said, breaking into a pain-induced sweat.

"Stop what?" he said, "This?" and he wrenched my wrist into an even more unnatural angle. My body flopped around like a hooked fish. The only thing holding still on me was the hand he was crushing.

"Sonofabitch, stop, man!" I yelled. He released a little of the pressure.

"You ever gonna try that cheating crap on me again, shithead?" he said.

"No, man, goddam it," I said, my eyes all watery from the pain. Then he slammed my hand down to the floor, pinning it hard against the hardwood. I was glad that it was over, but now my shoulder joint was at a painful angle, and he wasn't exactly letting go of my hand. He leaned into me close. I could smell his breath, all hot and masculine. He rolled the grip of his fingers up and down my sore hand.

"I could crush your hand like a quail egg, you know that, don't you?" he said to me.

"Yes," I said, nervously. Despite my inability to take him down, his forearm had gotten a wild pump from our wrestling match, with veins as thick as milkshake straws zigzagging all over it, feeding his power. As he rolled his fingers on my hand, his gnarly muscle rippled and bunched. He saw me looking at it.

"Feel it," he said. I put my free hand on his beefed up arm. I felt the muscles tense up and roll as he worked my trapped hand. "Feel the power, boy. It grows every day. Every workout, I feel it getting stronger and bigger. My bones fucking ache from all the growing and lifting, but I don't care. All I want is more size and strength. Bonecrushing strength, boy."

Our noses were almost touching. I could smell his oily sweat, his power, I could feel his heat as he stared at me. He leaned in and locked his lips onto mine. He kissed me hard and worked his muscled tongue into my mouth. I chewed on his tongue and tasted him. His thick, masculine dwarf taste. I felt the strength of him as he leaned into me, his intense, dominate strength. He grunted as he kissed me harder and deeper. I felt a shudder growing up from my toes. He rolled me over and topped me like a tank, still kissing me. I felt his hardness on my stomach, and I came right in my pants. Came like a teenager. I let it go and go and go, it felt so good, his weight pressing on top of me. When I stopped shuddering, he sat up.

"How'd that feel?" he asked me. His hard-on was jutting up out of his briefs, oozing pre.

"Too goddam sweet," I said.

"Let's go shower off," he said, standing up. "I feel like going down to the field and throwing the ball around for awhile."

The freaky little musclejock waddled his way toward the bathroom, jacking himself off as he went.

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