The Youthnage Experience 3: At The Hotel

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After Jack checked in, we went up to his room. We were at a swanky hotel, and I had heard the clerk tell him he was on the concierge level, so I figured his room would be nice. And nice would be the word. He had a huge suite, with floor to ceiling windows in the living room, a full kitchen, and massive bedroom with a marbled bathroom almost as big to match. Life as a superstar, I thought to myself, as I looked out over the city. A hell of a lot better than anything my company had ever put me up in. Although when Jack asked me what I thought, I said "It's ok. I've seen better."

"Oh yeah?" he said, "better than this?"

I turned toward him as he was pulling his shirt up over his head. His thickly muscled torso seemed to expand once it was free of the shirt. He didn't look this big on the tv screen. I stepped back in awe, and stumbled onto the couch.

"Nothing to say now, smartass?" he said, rippling his torso in a tremendous display of muscle control. Every muscle stood out thick and hard. He flexed his etched granite 8-pack abs. He was known for his ab development, as well as strength, and up close I could see they were better developed than any bodybuilders. His obliques stood out like ropes.

"How much you weigh?" he asked me.

"About 170," I said.

"Thought so," he said."I got 100lbs on you, little man."

"You weigh 270?" I asked him. Don't get me wrong, he looked big, but I wouldn't have guessed him that heavy.

"I'm very dense," he said.

I bit my tongue. Hard. I'm sure I drew blood. And Jack noticed. He stepped over to me, towering over me with his big pro wrestler body. Close up he was big. Big as Poppa Pump. His massive, hairy forearm hung down, thick with veins.

"Someone needs to teach you a big fuckin' lesson," he said. He wrapped his left hand slowly around my neck, and lifted me off the couch, straight-armed. He pinned me up against the wall and banged me against it a couple of times, so hard the wall cracked.

"Feel that?" he asked, smirking at me.

"'uck you," I choked. He slammed me again, harder. Then he took his right hand, balled it into a fist, and smashed it through the wall, an inch from my head. I was dazed, my eyeballs were popping outta my red-faced head, but I still managed to sputter, "Dun't mak' me 'urt you."

Jack looked at me blankly, then started laughing. "You are the craziest guy I've met."

Jack let me slide down the wall onto the floor, then stood looking at me, studying me. My guess was he didn't meet too many people who mouthed off to him. I wasn't sure why I was doing it either, exactly, except that it was hot as hell to see him get all riled up, even if it did mean being manhandled like a ragdoll.

Then there was a knock on the door that separated Jack's suite from the one next to him. Jack opened his side, and I heard him talking to someone.

"What's all the ruckus in here, Jack?" asked a voice.

"It's nothing, boys. Come on in." Jack stepped back, and two guys came into his suite. Two very big guys. I recognized them quickly as the tag team that had been on our flight. I knew them as the Swedish Lumberjacks. On TV, they wore blue jeans and sleeveless flannel shirts that showed off their huge arms. They were two of the biggest wrestlers in their league, and they were standing in Jack's room wearing only boxer briefs. Both had huge meaty bubble butts that were stretching out the seams of their sweat-soaked boxers to the max. From my view on the floor, the whole room seemed to be filled with butt muscle.

"We just got back from working out. I didn't know you were over here till I saw your fist come thru the wall." They looked like they had just worked out too. Their blond hair was wet thru with sweat, and their flawless, satiny skin was bloated and flushed with pump. Their cheeks were rosy, and their deep blue eyes sparkled with youth and strength. In their early twenties, the both weighed in at over 300lbs of bulked up, pro wrestler muscle. I knew they weren't really swedish, in fact I had heard that they were both from the midwest somewhere, but it was cute watching them put on a fake dopey accent in their wrestling interviews as Sven and Olaf.

"I was just showing my buddy some wrestling holds," said Jack, indicating me. The two huge wresters noticed me for the first time.

"That little guy?" said Sven, as if I wasn't even in the room. As he turned back toward Jack, he caught his reflection in a big mirror on the opposite wall, and forgot all about me. "Yeah, look at these hogtits, Jack." As Sven rolled his massive chest in the mirror, Olaf stepped up next to him and flexed his own enormous set of pecs in the mirror. The two sets of mounded slabs bounced and rippled. Both wrestlers had pecs that were twice the size of Brock Lesnar's from the WWE. They looked like they could break him like a doll. "We were moving tons of weight with these monsters today, Jack," said Sven. "Too bad we never get to wrestle, cause I'd be showing you some holds."

I saw Jack tilt his head a bit before he said "Really?"

"Yeah, man. Too bad I'm in a tag team, and you're solo. Would love to pin your ass to the mat."

"Show me right now, fat boy," said Jack, big arms cocked at his side. The two big boys stopped flexing out. Sweat poured down their pumped up pecs as they looked over at Jack. Their expressions darkened. I could see where this was going, and could picture everything in the suite being smashed into pieces by these huge men going at it.

"Right here?" asked Sven, sizing up the room. Then he looked at Jack hard, and said, "This room ain't big enough for me to trounce you like I could."

Jack started toward him, when I yelled out "Hey!" He stopped and glared at me. "Why don't you armwrestle?" 

They looked at me for a second, then Sven said "Good idea. I'll crush you down in under three seconds." He reared his arm up into a bicep shot, bunching the muscle into a huge peak, with a deep split jutting across the middle. What I didn't know was that Sven had been state armwrestling champ of Oklahoma when he was just 17 years old.

Jack agreed to armwrestle, and we set a table up in the middle of the room for the battle. Jack and Sven glared at each other across the table as they put their arms up. Sven's arm was swollen and bloated with power, much bigger than Jack's, but Jack's arm was tighter and harder looking. They clamped hands together, and I held them to the count of three, then said "GO!"

The whole table jumped a bit as they started. Sven's huge arm and shoulder flexed and reddened as he fought. His thick lat bulged out on his left side as he pushed with all his might, trying to bend Jack's wrist back enough to take him down fast. Jack didn't appear to be struggling all that much. In fact, he leaned in a little bit, grinning. He held Sven's big arm in place as he asked,"You ready to start yet, boy?"

Sven looked at Jack, wild-eyed. He'd never fought a man so strong. In fact, he'd usually won all his matches faster than this. He pushed harder, veins popping out on his forehead. Jack said, "That all you got, pussy?" Sven raged against Jack's arm, and even began to lean into him with him massive shoulder, but to no avail. Jack's boulder of a bicep was unmovable. He said to Sven, "Why don't you try using both arms?"

"No way," grunted Sven. No one could be that impossibly strong, but he wasn't getting anywhere this way, so he put his other arm up against Jack. He pushed and pushed against Jack's hand, bearing down full force with all his might. Jack yawned, and continued to hold his arm up perfectly straight.

"Goddamn you," gritted Sven. He could bench 900lbs. for reps with his arms and chest, but he couldn't budge Jack's arm an inch!

"Why not ask your partner to help?" said Jack. Sven looked at him, crazed, then motioned to Olaf to move in and help. Olaf stepped up and put both his big hands on Sven's, thinking he would just push hard and end this fast. Except when he did that, nothing happened. Jack held them both up with one arm. The whole table was shaking hard, and Jack was now straining to hold up the two powerful bulls, but he managed to hold up his free arm and flex his bicep at them. "YEAHHH boys, look at this POWER." Then he twisted his torso HARD, and SMASHED the Swedish Lumberjack's arm onto the table, breaking the tabletop, and knocking the two big fighters onto the floor.

Jack stood over them, looking down, and said, "Game Over."

Sven and Olaf lay atop each other on the floor, a mountain of tangled muscled limbs and size, their Nordic skin all ruddy from straining against Jack's mindblowing arm strength. Jack towered over them and said "Now you boys run on back to your suite. Maybe I'll be over later for you to service me. Right now I got some business to tend to." The two big wrestlers got up and lumbered back to their room, Olaf saying "You're so weak, man, I can't believe you couldn't take him." "Shut up, asshole," replied Sven," you didn't exactly kick ass either." They shut the door between the suites, and Jack and I were alone again.

I looked over at him and swallowed, hard. His upper torso shimmered with a patina of sweat from the armwrestling match. His right arm was pumped up so tight with muscle and veins, it didn't look like it could bend. But he bent it alright. Raised that arm up slow, then squeeeezing hard. Then rolling his fist around at the top, making his brutal powerhouse forearms thicken and bulge. Arm so packed with strength, he just threw two 300lb pro wrestlers across the room with it.

"You like that, boy?" he asked me. Hell yes, I liked it, and apparently, so did he. There was a rockhard flagpole rising up in his jeans, leaving a dark stain of precum in the heavy denim. He saw me notice, and said "That big horsecock is as strong as the rest of me, little man... check this out." He began to flex his cock, and the jeans bulged out at the zipper. He flexed his huge python even harder, and the top teeth of the zipper broke out. Then the rest of them gave in, and out popped his engorged meat, free from its constraints, and looking hungry. Jack stroked it a couple of times, then said, "I'm gonna take a shower, and when I come out, you and I are gonna get to know each other a little better."

He stripped off his jeans and tossed them into the corner, then walked into the bathroom with the cocky strut of a supermuscled uber-jock. He stuck his head out briefly and said, "Don't you even think about leaving, punk." I heard the shower turn on, and the door slide open. When I heard the door slide shut, I got up and left.

I headed to the elevators as fast as I could. Not that I didn't want to stay, but I'd lose my job if I missed my conference, which was at my hotel, only a few blocks from here. Plus, I was more than a little scared of Jack. He was intensely powerful, and maybe a little crazy. Who knew what might happen if we got into something I didn't want to get into. The big bastard could just rape me up and down, then break me apart just for kicks. I had to use my head for once, and not the one at the end of my penis. I had just enough time to check into my hotel room, maybe grab some room service, and get to my presentation. Now if only the fricken elevator doors would open. I kept hitting the button, over and over. I know, it doesn't help, but everyone does it, and it helped kill time while I was freaking out. Finally, they opened, and I got in. Just as they were about to shut, I heard a room door open down the hall. Or was it being ripped off its hinges? Hard to tell, but I was safe.

I made my way to my hotel in no time. Check-in went quickly, and I went to the elevators. As I turned to wait for the elevator to close, I looked out into the lobby, and there he was. Coming in from outside, looking wild and plenty pissed off. People stopped and stared at him, his hair soaking wet, his tee shirt wet, his jeans, zipper-less. I tried with all my might to become invisible, but that never seems to work. He looked over at the elevator, and our eyes locked. He sneered slightly, then raised his hand up and pointed at me. Then he put his finger to the side of his thick neck, and pulled it across his throat in a slicing motion. That can't be good, I thought, as the elevator door shut.


My room was on the 13th floor of the hotel, which sounded a little unlucky to me, but what could happen? I had registered under my real name, Tom Vargas, but Jack didn't even know my name, had never asked, the big bastard. I got to my room and ordered room service immediately. I had just enough time to stuff some food down before my presentation. I worked for a company that made nutritional supplements, and we specialized in products for the elderly and people with challenged immune systems. Our newest product, the one I was here to promote, promised to reverse bone-density loss and muscle loss. One can a day, that's all it took. We had been testing it on volunteers for the last 6 months, and while I had never met any of these volunteers, the lab results were impressive. Getting backers was going to be no problem. I was rehearsing my talk in the mirror, when I heard someone knock on my door and say "Room service".

I opened the door. A big kid, who looked around 19, pushed the cart into the room. His head was buzzed, his blond hair just a thick stubble, and he had a closely trimmed goatee. And a thick neck. And big brawny shoulders. He had a Polish look to him, his face round and fair, his skull heavy with bone. He had on the standard uniform of the hotel, and his name tag said "Sam". He handed be the bill to sign and said "Here you go, Mr. Vargas".

I took the bill from him, signed it, and handed it back. "Just a second," I said, going to get my wallet for a tip. As I handed him the tip, I said "That uniform looks kind of tight. You a weightlifter or something?" I know, lame as hell, but I had to speak to him.

A big smile lit up on his broad face. "Yeah. You can tell? That's cool." He straightened up some, and pulled his shoulders back with pride, making them even wider, and straining the seams of his jacket.

"You've got remarkably broad shoulders, Sam. Were you a gymnast?"

"Yeah, I did that for awhile in high school. But I was too strong for that."

"Too strong?" I asked.

"Yeah, it was all too easy. You know that iron-cross move they say takes so much strength, I could hold that for over an hour, no problem. So I dropped gymnastics and started on the wrestling team. Only thing is, I beat the crap outta everyone at my school, including the coach. Felt so good pinning down that big ex-Marine. So then I went over to the university to fight the guys on their wrestling team, but they said I was too young. I told them, let me fight Trey Gruber, if he wins, I go away, if I win, I stay and workout with the team."

"Who's Trey Gruber?" I asked.

"He was a senior, and a major hot-shot in college wrestling. He'd never lost a match, not even in high school. Eight years straight wrestling, and four national titles. His teammates set it up for me to fight him, like as a joke. Got together with them after their practice one day. Thing is, I ended up pinning him in under three seconds. Then I made him get up, and I pinned him again. Did that to him ten times. It was a rush, but pretty much destroyed his confidence for good. He dropped outta wrestling, and so did I. I went right into powerlifting after that, with some marial arts thrown in. Been making some great gains in size and strength."

"It sure looks it," I said.

"You wanna see?" he asked.

"Sure," I said, my heart blasting away. He took off his jacket and vest, and unbuttoned his shirt. The room filled with the smell of teen muscle. He stripped off his shirt and stood there, all proud of his thickly muscled torso, hard as diamond and ripped like only a 19 year old can be. His milky skin was nearly translucent, highlighting a network of snaking veins.He looked down at himself as he flexed one muscle after another.

"You kinda like this, don't ya, Mr. Vargas?" he said, motioning to the growing pup tent in my pants.

"Uhh, yeah," I managed to stammer.

"Yeah, I get that reaction alot." He turned around and showed off the most remarkably V'd back I'd ever seen. I put my hand on the nightstand to keep from falling. "You know what really freaks people out though?" he said.

"What's that?"

"My grip strength... I've been working it hard since I was twelve. Sometimes I even amaze myself. Watch this." he said. He put his hand over the domed silver cover to my lunch. He palmed it up into the air, and held it out, straight-armed. Then he began to squeeze. The metal crumpled under his thick muscle fingers like cheap aluminum foil. His fingers dug in, and pulled the bending metal into his fist. He crushed it harder, shifted his fingers, and crushed some more, squeezing and squeezing until the silver cover was compacted down to the size of a golf ball. "Ya like that?" he said, grinning widely.

I couldn't speak, so I shook my head yes.

"You wanna touch this?" he asked. Only more than life, I thought to myself. But then there was a loud knock on the door. "I'll get it," said Sam. It took me a second to focus, but just as I said "Wait," Sam opened the door, and there stood Jack. Our eyes locked up, but then he looked from me to Sam, then back to me again.

"You don't waste any time, do you, dead man?" he said to me. In a moment of sheer insanity, I felt my hand go up, and my middle finger rising, flipping Jack the bird. Jack's expression darkened.

"This guy giving you some trouble?" asked Sam. I shook my head yes.

"Get out of my way, bellhop," growled Jack.

"Hey, aren't you Jack Calhoun," said Sam. That broke Jack's smoldering focus on me, and he looked at the kid. "That's right," he said.

"I've always wanted to kick the crap outta you," said Sam.

"What the fuck did you just say, boy?" said Jack.

"My name's Sam," said Sam, holding out his hand. "Shake?"

Jack looked down at Sam's, and said, "I'll break every bone in your hand, punk."

"Let's see," said Sam.

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