The Youthnage Experience 5: The Meeting

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As I shut the door to my hotel room and headed down the hall, I could hear the battle starting inside my room. The noise reminded me of being at the rodeo, and hearing the big bulls slamming against their metal pens. I caught an elevator and headed to the 3rd floor, where my conference was being held. I found the room, and Tina, my trusted assistant came running up to me. She had gotten here a day earlier than me, to set things up.

"Where have you been!?" she asked me breathlessly. "Everyone's waiting, and you're on." She led me up to the front. There was a raised staging area across the front of the big room, with a podium on each side."You have your notes?" she asked me.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm all set," I lied. Get it together fast, I thought to myself as I stepped up onto the stage and made my way to the podium. There were about 100 people in the audience, potential sponsors of our new product, hinging on our presentation today. I was here to smooze them with my eloquence, to convince them that it would be in their best interests to let us have a big chunk of their change to get this product off the ground. I gave loaded them with a bunch of BS about how glad we were to have them there, our company's high standards, and what this new product could mean to them in terms of their financial growth. It was basically the same speech I gave investors for any new product, and I'd just substitute the new name wherever appropriate. Fortunately, I would not be the one answering questions today, we had our R&D guys here for that, because I knew next to nothing about this new supplement drink, Youthnage. I had been tied up with other projects the past 6 months, and this one had been shrouded in mystery from most of us at the company. I finished my speech to polite applause, and stepped to the side of the stage where Tina was waiting.

Our head R&D guy, Dr. Abrams, was up next, and he explained how our new supplement was formulated from totally natural products to reestablish the hormone balance of an aging 60 plus year old, to that of a 25 year old, thus diminishing, eliminating, or even reversing any signs of aging or decline. As he explained the scientific mumbo-jumbo about how it worked, I leaned toward Tina and asked,"Who named this stuff anyway?"

"I think Mr.Jenson in PR."

"You know what it sounds like, don't you?"

"Yes," she whispered,"now be quiet for once!"

Dr. Abrams seemed awfully excited as he projected a slide showing a 65-year old accountant named Karl Jakoffski.

"Talk about a bad name," I whispered to Tina.

"Shhhhh!" she said, but she covered her mouth to keep from laughing.

The slide projection showed a slight, almost frail, 65-year-old with thinning hair, fairly unhealthy looking skin tone, sallow eyes, and potbelly. Dr Abrams described his bloodwork as the epitome of decline, and that Mr Jakoffski had been losing muscle mass at a slightly higher rate than most men his age. Now, said the doc, after 6 months on our regimen of 16oz. a day of Youthnage, his bloodwork was that of a man forty years his junior. "And just look at the results," said Dr Abrams, signalling the lights to come up on the darkened left side of the stage.

There was a collective gasp in the audience, as they focused in on the man behind the other podium, shining in the spotlight. He was big and looked very strong. Standing tall and broad, he glowed with confidence, and looked like Brock Lesnar with silver hair...thick wavy silver hair that glistened with health in the bright light. "Ladies and gentlemen,"said Dr Abrams, "may I present Mr Karl Jakoffski."

"Are they sure that's the same guy?" I asked Tina, then I used my finger to push her jaw back up, closing her gaping mouth. She slapped my finger away, and said "Of course it is... I guess.. my god..."

"Why don't you show our audience what you've got, Karl?" said Dr Abrams. With that, Mr Jakoffski stripped off his shirt, and pulled his shoulders back proudly. He was huge. And thick with pro bodybuilder-quality muscle.The old man must have gained 100lbs of muscle, and was gloating in the attention. He looked down at two of the women in the front row, and winked. Both women fainted, and more than one of the men were covering their crotches with our company brochures. Karl raised up his arms into a double-bi shot, and crunched up his ripped 8pak, creating more gasps, and cries of "holy shit" and "ohmygod".

"Need to wring out your panties?" I said to Tina.

"No more than you need to shake down that bad boy," she said, nodding to my crotch, which had indeed responded a bit to Mr.Karl. Tina then looked at her watch and said, "Oh shit." She stepped up to the second podium and announced that lunch was laid out in the room across the hall, and for everyone to meet back here in an hour. She then began to lead everyone out of the conference room. I continued to eye old man Jakoffski, and our eyes met just as Dr.Abrams asked him if he wanted to join him for lunch. Karl said he'd be over in a few minutes, and Abrams left. Karl walked over to me and stood before me. He was huge. I could feel his gravity. He just stood there for awhile, neither of us speaking. He knew he had me, knew I was in awe. He reached out and grabbed my wrist. He pulled my hand against his stomach and rubbed it up and down.

"Hard as diamond, huh?" he said. And it was. He had clenched his gut hard, and each ab was ridged and thick. It was like rubbing cobblestone. As I rubbed my finger along one of the ridges, he clamped down hard, trapping my hand. "Can't get out, can ya?" he said, smirking. He let go of my wrist, and I tried to pull my hand out, but couldn't. "I can snap pencils in there now," he said, bearing down a little harder. I was getting nervous, and pushing against him with my other hand, to no effect. Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist again, and freed my hand. "Now I'll let you feel something really hard," and he pushed my hand down to his groin, rubbing it against his hard-on. And "hard" would be the word; it was like touching steel, and it was big. "Been growing everyday since I started your stuff," said Karl."And so strong now, I can slide three 25lb Olympic plates on it and bounce them up and down like nothing. Imagine how hard I could fuck."

Okay, now he had me real nervous, and I tried to pull away hard. This made him mad, and he said, "Where the hell do you think you're going, weakling?" His eyes glazed over. He put his hands under my pits and lifted me like a feather. His hands were huge, and I could feel them crushing into me. "Daddy's meat is hungry, and I need to release it ten or twelve times a day now, or I have wet dreams all night long, and I'm sick of changin' sheets. My guess is, pretty boy like you's got a nice tight hole." He pinned me up against the wall, then held me there with one hand. He undid my belt, and shoved his massive hand into my pants. He muscled his hand under my crotch, and was working his way to the back. His index finger was as big as a penis, and it was this index finger than found the prize it was seeking. "Ahhh," he said, "just like I thought, nice and tight. But Daddy could rip that open with one superhuman thrust." He began to work my hole, which I was clamping as hard as I could. Just as he was about to bust through, I said,"Take it easy, grandpa." Oops. That stopped him. He brought his face in close to mine and snarled,"Who the fuck told you to talk, ant?" He pulled his hand out and pressed me overhead like nothing. He reared back, then hurled me through the air. I landed halfway across the stage, then slid the rest of the way, crashing into the podium and knocking it on top of me. He stormed over, lifted the podium off me, and crumpled it into kindling with his mighty hands. Then he crouched down into my face again.

"You know what it's like being Karl Jakoffski your whole fuckin' life? Being the biggest wimp in school every fuckin' year. Being called "jack-off" every chance they got. Then growing up to be a fuckin' wimp accountant, leading a pathetic life of nothingness. My guess is, you don't. But now I got a second chance. Now I'm the one with the power, and I've got alot of it. And I'm going to use it. Who knows, maybe I'll go out for the NFL and break some bones."

"Why not pro wrestling?" I offered.

"Did I just hear you speak, little zero," he snapped, and raised his massive fist into the air. Then he stopped. He hovered over me, hulking and strong, and if I didn't know better, I'd say he was even bigger than ten minutes ago. "Pro wrestling, huh? That's not a bad idea. I could beat the piss out of any of those fakers with ease."

"That's right,"I said, encouraged."You could. And I have a contact who could set you up with a try-out."

He looked at me and lowered his hamhock-sized fist. "You bullshit me, you die slow," he warned.

"No bullshit, man, meet me down here in an hour, I'll set it up."

Just then, Tina came into the room. "Everything alright in here," she asked.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine," I said, standing up and brushing myself off. I hurried over to her, and took her arm, leading her back out. "Time for lunch, Karl, meet you back here in an hour."

"Before the day is out, son, that honey-pot of yours is mine," he said.

"What did he mean by that?" asked Tina, as we went into the hallway.

"Nothing. But you have to find Abrams. We have a big problem. A big, scary problem. Tell him to meet me here in fifteen minutes."

"OK, but where are you going?"

"I have to talk someone into being my bodyguard," I said, heading back to my room.

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