Wrestler vs. Bodybuilder

[AT2000]

 

 

Hello all.

 

Found this story on an old computer.  If I remember correctly, it was inspired by a story about the wrestler Scott Steiner taking on a bodybuilder from the 80’s.  I can picture the bodybuilder, but for the life of me I can’t remember his name.

 

Anyway, here’s my story inspired by the theme.  It’s way over the top and fantastical.

 

It’s unfinished so feel free to add (and share) your own ending.

 

Wrestler vs. Bodybuilder

 

Scott Samson made his way to the ring with his trademarked air of utter confidence. Standing in the ring, shaking himself out, the renowned professional wrestler glared at the entryway, awaiting his opponent as he removed his robe to reveal skin tight, mid thigh length black lycra shorts.

 

The man was massive. His fans roared their approval when he unveiled his hugely muscular physique. They could hardly wait for the spectacle of this huge man  flexing and posing. His signature post introduction routine always drove his fans into a frenzy.

 

This special exhibition match was going to be unique.  Samson, arguably the greatest wrestler ever to prowl the squared circle, would be taking on one Matthew Robert Horn. Horn was bodybuilding's current Mister Olympia and had won that title consecutively more than any man in history.

 

To make things even more interesting, The massive Mr. Horn was fresh off winning one of the year's major grand champion titles in Mixed Martial Arts, the first professional bodybuilder ever to do so.

 

Horn appeared and a stunning sight he was. He appeared to be in the best shape a human specimen could be in, even bigger than most fans remembered.  He wore black and yellow striped, square-cut posers and nothing else aside from a black, rubber wrist band with the slogan “No such thing as too big!” printed in yellow letters.

 

Almost as wide as he was tall, the first thing that dropped jaws was the size of his upper arms. He had an enormous overall build, but his arms stuck out in particular, the triceps and biceps bulging out without even flexing them.  His signature single biceps pose was so awe inspiring that it had earned him the nickname “Matterhorn” in the elite professional bodybuilding circles.

 

Horn stepped into the ring and the two opponents glared at each other as the ring announcer made the introductions.

 

Samson raised both his arms in a double biceps pose and as he’d expected, the fans roared their approval as the two guns peaked into their full physical majesty.

 

Horn didn't flinch. He slowly raised his right arm and flexed his own massive biceps. A hush came over the crowd as the mass of his biceps and the thickness of the triceps combined to make an unbelievable sight.

 

Horn smirked at Samson for having the nerve to keep flexing in the face of such sheer muscle size and power.  Horn moved his forearm back and forth, accentuating his muscle and turning his wrist to add to the definition, expanding that massive forearm in the process.

 

Samson continued flexing and the ref appeared in the ring, a tape measure trailing behind him. "Looks like these two have something to prove.”

 

The fans loved this and roared with approval, the prospect of these two behemoths engaged in a flex off prodded them out of the stupor that the shock of Horn’s sheer size had put them into.

 

The ref placed the tape measure around Horn's right bicep.  The big bodybuilder steadied his flex at maximum so that the ref could get an accurate reading.

 

The referee’s eyes went wide with shock. After a moment of being struck speechless, he managed to read the measurement aloud:  “Twenty-four inches”.

 

These were wrestling fans.  Samson was their guy, but the sheer mass of Horn’s biceps stunned the crowed.  Many were shaking their heads in disbelief.

 

The silence was broken by Samson.  He said nothing, merely clapping his hands slowly in mock applause as he smirked at Horn.  The big blond wrestler then raised his left arm but rather than flex that massive biceps right away, he merely snapped his fingers to get the ref’s attention.  Tearing his attention from Horn, the ref moved to measure Samson's left biceps which loomed huge even relaxed.

 

Samson turned his wrist in and his forearm bulged huge with thick veins everywhere. He brought his wrist out straight and then flexed that muscle up high and huge. The ref wrapped the tape around the wrestler’s bulging upper arm and carefully took its measure.

 

“I don’t believe it Ladies and gentlemen, Twenty-four huge inches!”, the referee shouted. “The Matterhorn has met his match!”.

 

The crowd erupted in a frenzy of cheers and applause!

 

Samson merely raised an eyebrow as he directed his gaze from his flexing biceps to Horn who was gaping at Samson's arm, then back at his own.  “I-It’s as big as mine?!” Horn stammered, clearly shocked that a mere wrestler had been able to match him. “A tie”. He said, absolutely stunned.

 

Samson’s expression changed to a slight knowing grin.  “Nah, ties are boring.” Bearing down, Samson forced his biceps to bulge still larger.  The tape measure slipped in the ref’s fingers from twenty-four to twenty-four and one quarter!

 

Twenty-four and one half!

Twenty-four and three quarters!

 

When that awesome arm reached Twenty-five massive inches, Horn's jaw dropped.  He slowly lowered his own arm, no longer eager to see the enormous muscle he’d spent years sweating for in the gym get ever more dwarfed in comparison to Samson’s

 

As the wrestler’s biceps just continued to bulge larger, Horn shook his head in abject disbelief.  “You’re...HUGE!” Blurted the big bodybuilder. He then glanced around, embarrassed that in his shock he’d exclaimed his awe aloud.

 

Samson smirked at Horn’s dumbfounded remark and brought his right arm up, going into a double biceps pose.  “Matterhorn, say hello to a couple of Mount Everests.”  He laughed with smug satisfaction as he continued pumping those mountainous muscles larger, the tape measure reading inexorably increasing as Samson flexed.

 

Twenty-five and one quarter!

Twenty-five and one half!

Twenty-five and three quarters!

Twenty-six!  Samson’s mighty arm was utterly dwarfing that of an Olympia class bodybuilder!  

 

Its sheer mass was making Horn feel queasy. He felt himself sway unsteadily on his feet.  He had to concentrate to maintain his balance as he wiped at the cold sweat that had broken out on his brow.

 

Samson smiled as he surveyed the massive peak that was straining the referee’s measuring tape .  “Think I’ll stop right there.  Looks like I'm making the muscleman go a little bit green around the gills, wouldn't want to make him faint dead away before the match even starts”.

 

Deafening cheers drowned out the announcer who was attempting to call the measurements.  The announcer moved for the mic.

 

"And your winner, Scott Samson with 26 inches!”

 

The crowd went wild as the announcer continued, "We know who's bigger now, how's about we find out who’s stronger”.

 

Through his astonishment, an explanation for Samson’s impossible mass suddenly  occurred to Horn.  He'd seen it all in his career, the myriad of ways unscrupulous competitors used artificial shortcuts to achieve fake gains. Samson must have cheated his way to such implausible massiveness.

 

Whether it was implants or some kind of injectable, Horn didn't know.  The technique might have been flawless but faking size was one thing, strength was a different story.

 

Horn was determined to crush Samson’s superficial bulk, arm to arm. He'd show this preening faker the power within true, hard earned muscle.

 

The crowd roared their approval.  The ref had an armwrestling table brought into the ring.  As soon as it was set up the two muscle gods charged the table and crashed their mighty guns together.

 

Samson pressed ahead three inches and Horn pushed him back to center. Horn tried an offensive thrust but Samson didn't budge, a big smile on his face as he held Horn, at bay.

 

Horn sneered.  “Get ready to have that stupid smile wiped off your face.  I'm gonna give you until the count of three, then I’m going to snap this puny, puffed up arm of yours like the little twig it really is!”

 

Samson smirked.  “Not sure a muscle-head like you can count that high, so allow me.”  Samson began to count aloud.  "One", he called and he pressed Horn’s gigantic arm four inches past the neutral position.  

 

Horn’s mighty arm flexed to new heights as he struggled to regain lost ground but he couldn’t budge Samson’s enormous arm.

 

"Two", Samson took Horn down 4 more inches, four inches closer to defeat, like the other man wasn’t even there, even as he increased his mighty effort to resist Samson’s powerful onslaught.

 

Horn’s arm began to tremble, every vein and fiber of muscle present on the big bodybuilder’s arm was visibly straining in an all out effort to resist Samson.  At that instant, Horn’s biceps seemed beyond the size that any human muscle should be able to attain.

 

But Samson’s big, rock-steady, mountain of a muscle totally absorbed all the incredible power Horn’s massive, straining biceps could muster.

 

Samson grinned cooly.  Then, he flexed his mighty biceps up to new heights.  The sheer size of it was astounding and the move demonstrated that he had been able to drive Horn to the verge of defeat with only a fraction of his biceps true power.

 

Horn’s biceps quivered and quaked with strain as it was utterly dwarfed by Samson’s even larger muscle.  

 

Eyes wide, Horn could only shake his head in disbelief.  In all his years of bodybuilding, he had never seen an arm so huge. He'd been sure such size couldn't be real. But the wrestler’s strength was all too real.  He knew what was coming.

 

“Three.”  Samson declared and with almost casual ease, he finished Horn off, slamming his arm to the table with a loud thud that seemed to reverberate throughout the stadium.

 

Samson’s huge biceps had put Matt`s massive peak down for the count, literally.

 

"Your winner…..Scott Samson!" The ref lifted Samson's arm in Victory for the crowd’s approval.

 

Humiliated, Horn hurled the table aside and charged.  He was going to enjoy taking this smug bastard apart with his peerless MMA abilities.

 

The two opponents  started trading blows. And not just any blows. These were mountain crushing roundhouse rights that came fast and furious, each opponent alternately delivering one to the other.

 

First Samson’s massive, balled fist plowed into Horn’s thick chest with a resounding thump. Then Horn let fly in return with his own haymaker that landed against Samson’s chiseled abs with a teeth rattling thud.

 

A huge one from Samson pummeled Horn’s abs in return. Horn shook it off with a grunt and his careening fist pounded Samson’s bulging pecs with a sound like a sonic boom.

 

Feeling his battle lust rise, Samson laughed heartily as his powerful body shrugged off Horn’s punches.  He focused attention on that perfectly developed bodybuilder chest of Horn’s, wanting to pit himself against the muscleman’s strongest attribute.

 

The two titans continued to take each other’s measures with probing punches, testing for weaknesses that could be exploited.

 

Horn decided that it was time to take the wind out of Samson’s sails.  Clasping both hands together into a club-like double-fist, he brought down a devastating blow just above Samson’s solar plexus.  The plan was to stagger his opponent with the devastating hit, then follow up by pounding his vulnerable midsection, reducing him to a breathless sitting duck to be finished off at Horn’s leisure.

 

Instead, Horn’s opening punch merely bounced off Samson’s chest as the wrestler anticipated Horn, flexing his pecs into the incoming punch.  Those granite-hard muscles deflected Horn’s fists, the recoil causing the bodybuilder to stagger backwards.  Horn struggled and managed to recover his balance enough to follow up with his planned assault on Samson’s exposed eight-pack but the way all his power had just bounced off Samson’s thick pecs unsettled Horn.  The wrestler had to be putting up a front. No one could absorb such a blow without feeling it.

 

Horn roared with fury as his powerful right found its mark, pounding Samson’s abs.  Still roaring, Horn pressed his assault, landing one devastating punch after another against Samson’s gut.  It was like punching a brick wall, but given enough time, Horn knew that even a brick wall would crumble before the titanic muscular power he’d worked so hard in the gym to acquire.

 

Horn looked up to make sure Samson didn’t slip in a lucky punch and interrupt the rhythm of his onslaught.

 

Horn expected to see Samson’s face contorted with pain, his limbs flailing uncontrollably as he was battered so relentlessly.  To his shock, he was met by a big grin of amusement as Samson stood tall, bouncing massive pecs that made even Horn’s renowned chest development suffer by comparison.

 

“Careful there Matt.  Ya never know when I might decide to flex the old beer gut.  Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

 

Horn struggled not to show his shock at Samson’s imperviousness to his punches.  

 

‘Beer gut?’

 

Samson was mocking him, he may have been a mere wrestler but the man had abs that could hold their own on any bodybuilding contest stage in the world.  And what did he mean ‘might decide to flex’, Horn wondered as he reluctantly marveled at Samson’s mid-section.  Those abs...those obliques, the way his fists were beginning to throb with pain as his mightiest punches bounced impotently off them....Samson had to be at full flex.

 

“Not...gonna psych me out.  No way you can take much more of this.”  Horn growled as he intensified his attack, strengthening his punches and increasing the speed with which they came.

 

Samson's face changed, the grin was gone, replaced by cold glare. “Not calling me a liar now, are ya Matt?”

 

When Horn drew back for his next punch, Samson put both massive arms behind his head and with a sneer of contempt at Horn’s puny punches, he crunched down hard, flexing his abs into super-defined columns of muscle that looked like a wall of cinder blocks.

 

But cinder blocks would have yielded more beneath Horn’s fist.  Horn’s battle roar transmuted to a howl of pain as his hand nearly shattered against Samson’s abs.

 

Horn clutched his battered fist as Samson held his pose, flexing his impervious abs. The cocky wrestler even gyrated his hips, taunting Horn.  “Why are you stopping muscleman? Thought you said this ole boy’s Bud belly couldn't take it. Surely you’re not gonna wimp out just because of a few bruised knuckles.”

 

Horn gulped at the diamond hard cuts of muscle undulating powerfully over every inch of Samson’s  midsection.  He fumed at the patronizing way Samson kept using phrases like beer gut and Bud belly to describe abs that put Horn’s own to shame.

 

“Or maybe you’re just mulling over some advice to give me; help me whip this gut into shape like you muscle show boys do.”

 

The bodybuilder’s face burned red at the wrestler’s condescension.  Even though Horn was currently in peak contest condition, his hyper-trained abs looked soft and barely defined compared to Samson’s astoundingly ripped abdominal display.  Horn was becoming almost mesmerized by the wrestler’s undulating abs and obliques.

 

The crowd was going wild.  Samson seemed as though the cheers were a charge of electricity.  He landed one of his own punches and Horn flailed back. “Snap out of it, boy, you're starting to drool.”

 

Horn drew back to retaliate but Samson swatted away the punch with ease.  His name was being shouted from the entire arena.  He landed two quick, easy jabs, one to the right side of Horn’s square jaw and followed up by a left, the perfectly executed hits whipped Horn's head from one side to the other.

 

Horn's arms fell to his sides.

 

“Down goes your guard.”  Samson narrated with a smirk and two more jabs that left Horn's body swaying unsteadily.  “And there goes your balance.”

 

Samson’s precise jabs seemed effortless, as though designed only to demonstrate his precision.  But their power devastated Horn.

 

“I could knock you out cold with these little love taps but I'm guessing this crowd wants me to show off a little.”

 

Samson decided to put more raw power into a punch.  “Let’s see how them mighty pecs stand up to a punch with a little more oomph.” Stomping the canvas like an enraged bull might paw at the dirt, he charged at Horn and let him have a haymaker of a right directly to the bodybuilder’s muscular, prize winning chest.

 

The sheer power of it lifted Horn off his feet, catapulting his big frame into the ropes.

 

The big bodybuilder struggled not to pass out from the devastating concussive force.  He had never imagined that his mightily muscled body could be hurled through the air with such ease by one single blow.  How could this buffoonish wrestler turn out to be so impossibly powerful.

 

In perfectly timed anticipation, as if to confirm Horn’s fear of being out of his league, Samson planted his feet, put his hands behind his back and flexed his chest and abs into a wall of rippling muscle.  The ropes had slingshotted the hapless Horn back toward the waiting wrestler and the big bodybuilder thumped into Samson’s muscles as he flexed them.

 

Incredibly, Horn bounced off that wall of flexing muscles and back toward the ropes.  His ears ringing and his vision blurring from the force of the impact.

 

Samson charged closer and when the helpless, disoriented Horn careened off the ropes once more, he was again driven into Samson, who again flexed his pecs, bouncing Horn back into the ropes.

 

Samson now stood toe to toe with Horn hemming him in against the ropes and with nothing more than the flexing of his mighty pecs and an expert sense of timing, Samson was pec-bouncing Horn senseless, hammering the bodybuilder into the ropes only to have them rebound Horn back against his flexing pecs over and over.

 

Complete chaos erupted in the stands as the huge muscleman was bounced back and forth with each of Samson’s flexes like Horn was little more than a plastic ping pong ball.

 

Being pummeled helpless by the immense power generated by the mere flexing of Samson’s thick pulsating pecs broke Horn’s will.  “H-how can he be doing this to me?  He’s gonna pound me to pulp...just by f-flexing”. There could be no doubt. The wrestler had him powerfully, even frighteningly outmanned, overpowered and outmuscled.

 

Horn knew he had to get the ref’s attention, he had to concede before Samson killed him.  But he was at the mercy of the wrestler’s mighty flexing pecs.

 

Samson was watching Horn’s eyes closely as he effortlessly and repeatedly bounced the big bodybuilder off his pecs.  When he saw the look of defeat there, Samson clamped a bearhug onto Horn on his next impact.

 

He stepped back toward center ring with the dazed muscleman as he spoke close to his ear in order to be heard over the crowd.

 

“Thinking about tapping out, muscleman?  You wimp out on me and I’m gonna find you after the bout and I’m gonna stretch out on my back and instead of bouncing you off the ropes I'm gonna bounce you into the stratosphere, then into orbit.”  As if to prove he could do it, Samson performed a slowly building flex of his pecs as he spoke that made Horn’s eyes go huge with disbelief.

 

“Y-yer pecs…” Horn wheezed. “...crushing...me.”

 

“Aw, I’m barely flexing, runt. Now man up and pay attention.  Stay in the match and you stay alive. Got it? Otherwise I show you what happens when I flex these pecs for real.”

 

Eyes wide with fear and awe, Horn nodded his obedience.  “J-just please...stop f-flexing.”

 

“Good boy.” Samson grinned and as a reward he briefly relaxed those dominating pecs.

 

“Now, where were we?  You made me lose count.” He released Horn but immediately pulse flexed his pecs, hurling the stunned bodybuilder across the ring into the ropes yet again, then bolted after him. The ropes stretched to an an almost cartoonish degree as the sheer power of  Samson’s flexing chest drove Horn’s body into them with such force that the turnbuckles groaned with the strain.

 

Unfortunately for Horn, the ring held together and the ropes snapped back, whipping him violently back toward center ring.  He could see Samson sprint to a stop, halting his hugely muscled frame on a dime at the edge of the ring with a frightening degree of controlled athleticism for such a massive man.

 

Clasping his hands behind his waist, Samson arched his back and presented those massive pecs as he waited for the impact of the hapless bodybuilder against them, a devilish smirk on his face just barely visible over the huge muscular display.

 

“NO!” Pleaded the world renowned bodybuilder in the split second before, with practiced precision, Samson flexed into Horn’s impact.  The thick torsos of the two men slammed together.  Horn’s pecs slammed into Samson’s, flattening against the wrestler’s thicker, broader chest muscles which were expanding toward him.  That explosive muscular expansion hammered Horn through the air like a baseball being blasted off the bat of a hall of fame slugger.

 

Grinning, Samson alternately flexed each pec in an intimidating, rapid fire display as he watched the terrified, barely conscious bodybuilder ricochet off the ropes and hurtle back toward him.

Samson bounced the Multiple Olympia title winner until Horn began to lose consciousness.  "Gotta say Matt, I'm a little disappointed here."  Samson sighed, as the repeated impacts of Horn against his unyielding pecs failed to even register as perturbations in his voice.  "Didn't think I would have you this out-manned." 

Samson stopped bouncing his pecs, then with a big grin, flexed into a double biceps pose as Horn thudded to a stop against his chest and then crashed to the mat in front of him like a collapsing building.

 

"Ohhhh!" groaned the announcer as he vicariously absorbed the punishment that Horn was receiving.

 

You couldn't hear anything in that arena because of the sonic boom roar from the crowd and Samson's name being called out from every corner. The announcer tried to shout a commentary over the pandemonium but failing to be amplified over the thunderous ovation, gave up.

 

Fans were even posing in a mock-Samson pose in the stands as well as giving Samson the applause of his life.

 

Horn, meanwhile, breathed in the grit of the canvas as his face was ground into the mat from his massive frame crashing down.  He couldn’t believe the power of Samson.  Horn was arguably the most muscular bodybuilder on the planet, but Samson had pummeled him senseless just by flexing.

 

As if to confirm his muscular superiority, Samson was hitting a flawless side-biceps pose as the ref ran around the ring pushing photographers away who had climbed up on the ring apron.

 

Horn manage to sit up.  Samson noticed and decided that he’d had enough posing.  He moved to Horn and reached down for a handful of Horn's hair which he used as a handle to raise his dazed opponent to his feet.

 

Horn returned his gaze with an open mouth and glassy eyes.

 

“You’re tougher than I thought.”  Releasing his hair, Samson held Horn’s eyes with a confident glare as the bodybuilder swayed unsteadily on his feet.  Samson bounced the pecs he’d just used to devastate the big bodybuilder.  “What I just did to you by bouncing these big boys was just a warm up, though. Ready for the main event?”  Samson struck that unmatchable double biceps pose he was famous for.

 

Horn swooned as those biceps towered over him.  His eyes rolled back and his trembling body crashed back to the mat, his face eating dust again.

 

Samson turned to the audience, giving them the best possible view of his unmatchable guns.  “Guess I got too much muscle for the muscleman, huh.”  He flashed a white-toothed grin as the crowd roared anew.

 

The ref took to the center ring with his mic, trying to restore order.  "I think Horn has had it, ladies and gentleman. Samson has, so far, out-muscled and out-gunned Horn!", shouted the announcer, relieved at being heard again over the din.

 

"I've never seen Horn look like that! Samson is just too much for him!" The fans were in agreement as they shouted in approval. Samson agreed as well, and he continued flexing for the cheering crowd.

 

Horn was showing signs of consciousness again.  Again, Samson assisted the groggy Horn to his feet wasting no time, he sent him careening into the ropes. Planting his feet squarely in the center of the ring as he’d done when bouncing the muscleman off his pecs earlier, he waited as Horn rebounded.  This time Samson raised his thick 26" gun, flexed quickly, then charged the oncoming Horn. The massive Samson arm clotheslined Horn and he flipped him into the air where he spun through 360 degrees!

 

Samson kept his arm in the clothesline position and Horn fell from the air to land, draped across it with the giant biceps peak driving into his gut.  Samson bent his arm at the elbow and flexed.  In defense, Horn flexed his abdomen against the motion, abs against biceps.

 

Biceps won.

 

As his overmatched abs collapsed, Horn feared he was about to be snapped in half by Samson’s bulging arm.  But Samson whipped the gasping man around into a bearhug.

 

As he’d done with his abs, Horn desperately flexed his pecs against Samson’s chest to defend against their crushing mass.

 

Samson smirked at Horn’s puny effort.  He slowly increased the flexing of his unstoppable pecs as he spoke.  “We already know you don’t stand a chance against a real man’s chest, don’t we runt?”  Samson’s point was reinforced by the relentless way his bulging  pecs were flattening Horn’s chest, considered one of the greatest in the sport of bodybuilding, but totally outclassed by the mighty wrestler.

 

“I said ‘don’t we runt’!”  Samson shouted, ramping up the bulging expansion of his pecs.  Horn felt his torso being deformed painfully as it conformed to the rock-hard curves of Samson’s burgeoning chest.

 

“Y-yes,” gurgled Horn.  “please...y-your chest.  Can’t...breath…”

 

Samson laughed.  “Well, well, well.  I guess it’s time for the best chest in bodybuilding, to say hi to the best biceps in wrestling.”  Relaxing his mighty flexing pecs, the wrestler rotated the bodybuilder in his bearhug so that Samson’s right biceps was bulging directly against the center of Horn’s battered pecs.

 

“Flex ‘em up, boy.”  Samson goaded as he began to tense his right biceps against Horn’s chest.

 

“But your b-biceps, I...I can’t win.” Duval virtually groveled.  “You're...too much…” But he flexed down as hard as he ever had in his life, afraid of defying Samson’s command. His thick pecs bunched up into a rock-hard shield against the slowly flexing peak of Samson’s impossibly massive right biceps.

 

“Tell ya what, wimp, I’m gonna give you a fighting chance here.  Not gonna squeeze ya, just gonna drive my fist into my palm and flex.  All you gotta do is contend with a little bit of bulging from the flexing of my biceps.”

 

Horn gulped with something like relief as he felt Samson’s bearhug go slack.  With a glimmer of hope, he flexed his chest even harder, maybe he could still show Samson what a world class bodybuilder was made of.

 

Neither the relief nor the hope lasted very long.

 

Samson tensed both biceps and Horn’s eyes opened wide in sheer awe.  The wrestler’s left biceps expanded at his back. It felt like being pressed against a giant unyielding anvil. The hammer was Samson’s massively peaked right biceps.  The iron of Horn’s desperately flexing pecs was overwhelmed instantly.

 

Horn managed a desperate, breathless groan of pain as he was slowly crushed between those impossibly hard, huge biceps.

 

“What’s the matter Matt?  Stuck between a rock…”  Somehow Samson flexed his guns even larger, “...and a hard place?”  Horn felt his ribs all but fracture, but he couldn’t make a sound at this point.

 

As Horn began to pass out, Samson relented.  “Yeah!  Biceps win, huh, Matt?”  He cradled the swooning bodybuilder in his left arm as he flexed up his right in a single biceps pose.  He then draped Horn over his flexing arm again and began to pulse flex the giant muscle up and down.  Horn’s entire body rose and fell along with Samson’s flexes.

 

Samson noted Horn’s silence.  “What, not convinced?  You wanna try again?”

 

The idea of that terrified the gasping bodybuilder.  He shook his head desperately and finally managed to speak.  “Buh-Biceps...w-win.”  He concurred.  “Biceps...win.”  He repeated to make absolutely sure his surrender was understood.

 

“YEAH they do.”  Samson crowed,  nodding his head. He seemed to be saying "Oh, I’m not through toying with this wimp." Plucking Horn From his flexing biceps, he slung the huge man over his shoulder and then pressed him overhead, using the massive bodybuilder like an exercise barbell, Samson pumped him up and down with absolute ease.

 

Manhandling Horn’s mass with no sign of strain, Samson brought the bodybuilding champion around in front of his chest and, maintaining his grips at Horn’s left knee joint and neck, Samson started curling him for rep after rep.  Samson never showed the slightest sign of slowing or tiring, but the motion alone was enough to make his 26 inch biceps pump up to their unbelievable max.

 

Samson seemed to grow frustrated with the lack of challenge presented by curling Horn like an oversized dumbbell.  “C’mon Matt, you need to put on some real muscle.  It’s like curling with a toothpick .”  Samson hoisted Horn high overhead with one arm and then slammed him bodily to the mat like a discarded paper cup.

 

The impact bounced the ref off the canvas.  He managed to come down on his feet but he had to steady himself on the ropes. Samson scooped up Horn like a ragdoll.  He wedged the struggling man’s head between his left biceps and forearm, then climbed to the second rope at one corner of the ring.  Samson stood balancing against the top rope and suspended Horn over the crowd by hitting a single biceps pose and dangling the muscleman with his head still trapped by that flexing biceps.

 

Horn clawed at Samsons steely arm, trying to free his head as his feet flailed in the air.

 

“Aww, that big mean ole muscle too hard on your poor noggin?”  Samson teased.  He grabbed Horn by the neck and held the man high, showing him off like a trophy.  When the cheering this induced died down, the wrestler flexed his mighty right biceps once again.  The crowd cheered more.  They never seemed to get enough of those god-like arms.  Then Samson folded Horn almost gently over his flexed arm.

 

With a mighty grunt of effort he flexed his right biceps with such speed and power that the explosively expanding muscle catapulted the defeated bodybuilder high into the air.

 

Laughing, Samson watched Horn fall back toward him.  He flexed up his left biceps and twisted at the waist so that Horn crashed back down onto that mass of bulging muscle.

 

“Gotcha!”  Samson called out as Horn’s big frame slammed into the even bigger muscle, where the bodybuilder once again lay limp, folded over the wrestlers arm.

 

The feat stunned the crowd to silence.  It didn’t seem possible to be so far above other men in sheer size and strength.

 

There was a single sound that could be heard in the awed silence.

 

“No...m-more.”  Pleaded Horn as he slapped weakly at the wrestler’s huge biceps.  “S-someone...someone...help me.”

 

Samson laughed.  “Who’s gonna help you, runt?  One of yer muscleman pals?”  The wrestler flexed his left biceps again with unimaginable speed and force.  The bodybuilder was hurled high again almost to the ceiling of the facility before plummeting back down to thump bodily against the wrestlers insanely powerful flexing right biceps.

 

“Bring ‘em on, I say.  The more the merrier.”

 

They watched in awe as Samson flexed again and again, bouncing an Olympia worthy bodybuilder from one mighty biceps to the other like a child toying with a rubber ball.

 

“Might be fun pumpin’ these big ole biceps like this, only juggling you and Priest and Wheeler and Yates.  HAW HAW, now THAT might even be a challenge. See how many of you Olympia types I can keep in the air at once.”

 

At this point the crowd was actually starting to flee the arena out of fear.  The ref was watching Horn bounce off Samson’s biceps repeatedly in a stunned trance, oblivious to the pleading, half conscious looks the helpless bodybuilder managed to affect after each impact with one of those omnipotent muscles just before being heaved skyward to new heights by the next unstoppable flex.

 

Finally, Horn slammed into the multi story high roof of the arena after one of Samson’s phenomenal biceps flexes.

 

“Oops.” said Samson with an almost sheepish grin.  “As tempting as blasting you through the roof might be,”  Samson explained as Horn’s huge but limp body slammed back down onto his massively peaked left biceps.  “the owner is a pal of mine.”

 

“P-please…” Horn managed, gasping for breath.  “I’ll do...anything.  Just...no more.”

 

Samson laughed, flexing his left biceps larger and sending Horn higher.  “I think it’s safe to say that I got the muscle to make you do what I want, with or without your cooperation.”  He reached with his free arm and grabbed Horn, wrapping a thick, powerful hand around the traumatized bodybuilder’s neck and lifting him off that mountainous biceps.  Samson wrapped his arms around Horn and pulled him against his bulging chest.  “So your offer don't mean much, does it?”

 

Horn was in no position to argue the point. At his back, forearms like sequoia pinned him against the impossibly huge, muscular expanse that was Samson’s pecs, while on either side of him, like massive planets poised to collide, the wrestler’s gargantuan biceps threatened to pulp him between them with the merest flex.

 

“Please.” Horn pleaded, gasping.  He was aware of his powerfully developed chest rising and falling as he struggled to catch his breath.  The mere sight of this never failed to elicit slack-jawed stares of awe in the gym after an intense session.  But against Samson’s vastly thicker, denser pecs, his frantically heaving chest was like the beating of butterfly wings against the steel hull of a battleship. “Your muscles...you’re super...human.  I never...had a chance.”

 

Samson tensed his pecs ever so slightly.  Horn’s body was compressed between those two burgeoning slabs of muscle. “Guess you shouldn’t have challenged me then, huh muscleboy?”

 

Horn struggled futilely to free himself, but Samson responded to the big bodybuilder’s efforts by flexing those awesome pecs to such massive proportions that Horn’s entire torso began to be wedged into the cleavage between them.

 

“NO! God no! I'm...stuck between...you gotta stop.” Horn pounded futilely against the surging, titanic slabs of muscle that were Samson’s unstoppable pecs. “You...can’t keep flexing bigger...you’ll flatten me!”

 

Laughing, Samson released the bearhug and placed his hands on his hips, holding Horn in place between his pecs with nothing more than the crushing force of his flexing chest.

 

“Flatten you?  Such a drama queen for one of the mightiest pro muscle dudes on the planet.” Samson grinned wickedly as he continued flexing those mountainous pecs slowly larger.  “

 

[boardman]

Fantastic story!!!! Total turn on. Would love to see it finish and have Sampson show just how strong he is

[liftme]

More we want part two.  Wanna see him use the bber for and upper body workout dumbell style.  Lol

[muscleboy2811]

Could also be hot for the story to transform into a muscle/strength-theft type of scene. Horn somehow prevailing and siphoning strength from Samson and returning the favor plus more to the shock of everyone.

[littlearm]

That was awesome! Based on the title i wanted the bodybuilder Horn to win, but as soon as Samson started strutting his stuff it was ALL about the wrestler!

[Guest]

I reread this and still love this story, I can wish that there are/could be more chapters to come. 

But just to think of all the control that Sampson had of his muscles really got me going.  The measuring contest, both being 24" then he says wait an as he slowly takes his biceps to 26" and says that's enough for now.  Made me hard.  Thank you for this story and idea for the storylines.  How things are first read and expect and how they end up.