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I saw him every now and then.
Passing in the lobby, of the building where I work. Or on the parking lot. We've been in the same elevator a few times. He goes to the 27th floor. I work at the 19th.
I had tried to figure out a pattern for his whereabouts, not to miss any opportunity to see him, but it seemed to be completely random. He could show up any day of the week, any time of the day.
There is a handful of companies on the 27th floor. A law firm mainly, consulting agencies of all sorts, but my money was on "HyperCell", a bio-engineering research company. I bet it was the one he was working for, or with.
Two reasons led me to think so : first, there always was a few guys with him, and at least one of them was wearing a lab coat. Second, the man was fucking humongous. Not just tall, but insanely muscular. The suit-like clothes he had on him couldn't even begin to hide the immensity of his build. His shoulders were maybe four feet wide, his chest was like a mountain upside-down, precariously balanced on his narrow waist. He walked with his arms at a 45° angle, stiff, one leg carefully circumventing the other with each step he made - I heard some joking under their breath that he was so inflated he couldn't even walk normally, but to me, he had the most graceful, the most elegant moves I had ever seen.
The way he managed to control this formidable muscular mass, while keeping his challenged clothes from exploding at every seam, showed a level of skill that only heightened my admiration for the man.
Because, yes, I deeply admired this incredible behemoth. I had never seen anything like him, and every time he appeared the sight of him took my breath away. The first time, I just stood frozen in place, my jaw dropped, I almost fainted. For weeks, I dreamed to approach him, talk to him, but there was no way I could find the nerve to do so.
The first time we were in the same elevator, I had to grasp the rail as hard as I could, I had never been so close to him, I had never fully smelled his scent before, I was shaking all over, sweating bullets, so much that it attracted the attention of two men of his party.
He always had an entourage of several men, business suits and lab coats as I mentioned earlier, and this also was an obstacle to my desire to approach him.
Over time, I got a better grip on myself. No pun intended, sure I "gripped myself" aplenty thinking about him, to the point that a sleepless night wasn't uncommon after having seen him. And directly after each one of the few elevator trips I made in his company, I had to rush to the restroom before going back to my desk. At least to clean myself, but usually more. But, sorry for the grisly details, that was uncalled for.
So, I needed a plan. I had to be able to talk to him someday, maybe shake his hand. First I had to deal with my nervousness. I wasn't as helpless as I used to be in his presence, but there still was a long way to go.
I decided to rely on psychoanalysis. Scanning online reviews, I chose a practitioner who might get the job done. Luck has it, he really was the right one, as he perfectly understood my infatuation for the colossal muscle man. At first, I wanted to pretend I was attracted to some woman at work, but the moment I entered Dr Mitchell's office, I knew I didn't have to. Some subtle elements of decor led me to believe he wasn't a stranger to the liking of hardcore, male bodybuilding.
We spoke at length on the subject, and we became quite good friends. After the first few sessions he even stopped charging me. He was dubious about the depiction I made of the man on my mind, thinking I had an exaggerated, idealized view. Of my "Lobby Dick" as he liked to call him. But once I had switched on my phone and showed him the few pictures I had taken of the beast, I might as well have stood up and kicked him in the groin.
What really shocked him, besides the size of the monumental muscle man of course, was that he didn't recognize him at all, and positive he had never seen him before. See, Dr Mitchell is extremely knowledgeable about the sport of bodybuilding, and he couldn't believe that an athlete this big could have passed under the radar. This had to be the biggest bodybuilder in the world.
For sure, it made my sessions with Dr Mitchell all the more efficient, as he really wanted me to succeed in my objective.
But he had no idea how to help me getting rid of the man's entourage. This was an even more trickier part. As a group they just zoomed in and out of the building, up and down the 27th floor.
We talked this through, Dr Mitchell and I, or Yvan and I should I say, as we spent the evening at my place a few days a week. He had been to a lot of bodybuilding shows, been around several serious bodybuilders, even had filled prescriptions for growth hormones and steroids for a while but had to stop as he got investigated. Yvan showed me a lot of videos of bodybuilders being interviewed, fans meeting bodybuilders, bodybuilders in casual situations with friends.
That helped me a lot with my confidence, in general, these magnificent supermen were a lot more friendly than I thought they would be, considering how intimidating and powerful they are.
More importantly, Yvan wanted me to study how these men react, what makes them tick, what pleases them, what turns them off. How glutton they can be for tokens of admiration, crave for signs of respect, appreciative of recognition of their intellect, wary of excessive demonstrations of affection from strangers.
Of course that wouldn't tell me exactly what to say, or how "lobby dick" would react, if I ever had the chance to talk to him. But again that helped me being confident, and any pointers were good to get.
Because one thing was for sure, if I found a way to have the opportunity to talk to the wonderful man in private, that would be for a short period of time, and I would have to make the best of it. The highlight of a lifetime.
It would never be perfect.
But there is nothing wrong in trying.
So, any idea for a plan? To get that private moment with the gigantic monster of muscle? Not asking for a follow up, just taking suggestions
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You're in the lobby. You see him and his group enter and head to the elevator. You head that way, too, and time it so that you can ask for them to hold the door. As you enter, you smile at him and thank him. To your surprise, he smiles back and asks for your floor. You tell him and he presses the button for you.

A similar thing happens again, and you know he remembers you, because he says "19th, right?"

By now he has noticed your interest in his physique. He subtly flexes different muscles, and grins at your reaction, while trying to not attract the attention of the guys with him.

The next time you're in the elevator together, it is more crowded. He maneuvers himself next to you, with you in the back corner. He leans back, gently pressing his big body against yours. As he does, he reaches into his pocket, pulls out a small piece of paper and slips it into your hand.

After you get off the elevator, you find a name and phone number (or maybe an address?) written on the paper.

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Suggestion for getting his attention....make eye contact as he approaches elevator, but let it close and watch him angryilly pry the doors open and hulk out of his suit making his entourage scatter in fear


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Part 2
After a few days I finally had a plan in mind. Maybe not the best but I was determined to explore this possibility.
To make it work I really had to do a great deal of preparations, as I certainly would only have one go at it.
First I had to figure out for sure when he would be around. I had a hard time trying to find a pattern for his visits. But I never got around it. It really seemed to be at random times, on random days of the week. Yet I decided to focus on his 10:00 am visits. It appeared that most of the times I had seen him in the lobby, it was at 9:55 sharp. And limiting my observations to this time of the day, I could be at my desk for the rest of the day. My constant trips to and from the lobby were becoming noticed and could put my job in jeopardy. And it's a good job.
There had to be something else, somewhere, that had to be different on the days he was there at 10. On these days, I tried to track if there was anything special about CellTech, their activity, their staff - but I could identify all of their staff, and there was too many of them I that could identify already to make my observations irrelevant and confusing.
But one day it stroke me. You see, I'm a luxury car aficionado, and every now and then there was a beautiful light brass painted BMW M8 on the parking lot, standing out even more as there were only a few other cars when I left the building late at night - I had to catch up with all the work I hadn't done during these "10am" days.
And seeing this beauty, I thought amusingly "well, that makes two delightful sightings of muscle in one day". And it finally got to me that it happened, every, time. That car was being parked there at some point of the afternoon, then the next day the Muscle God showed up at 10am, and the morning after that, the car was gone. And it was nowhere to be seen any other day.
I felt all the more stupid not to have made the connection earlier, as that car was always parked in a CellTech VIP slot.
I also found out who was the owner of this car. An eminent biology researcher in genetics. Had been nominated twice for the Nobel prize. Consulting for CellTech obviously. And somehow in relation with my beloved idol's phenomenal muscular hypertrophy.
So there I was sitting on my bed, several books scattered around me that I had to study through. Technical reference manuals and instructions, electronic engineering specifications, all on the same precise subject matter. Maybe I was overdoing it, but I didn't want to leave anything to chance. I had to know everything in depth about what I was dealing with, even though it was just a very little, a very simple modification that I needed to make on the elevator's control system.
On the side, I also had a book on a completely different topic,but to which I gave a great deal of attention too. I wasn't sure if it was going to be of any use really, but it was very interesting and informative. I even had put a few of its elaborations to the test, and in my opinion, I think I obtained results that were quite conclusive. Much to my surprise. This book, I had found in Yvan's bookshelf at his office, and he gave it to me. He said it was a gift he had received and didn't care for, hadn't even opened. Can't figure out why. To each his own curiosity I guess.
So, one beautiful afternoon, I saw that the shiny BMW had appeared on the parking lot, and this time, I was going to go for it. Not the car, to my plan I mean. I was prepared enough. To be true, I had been prepared for quite a while already, and I had pushed my preparation to a ridiculous extent, because I had to find the guts to put things in motion for real. I was going to stay very late at work, tonight.
Last one of my company, last one on the whole floor probably. I walked into the elevator, with my unusually heavy briefcase.
I hit the stop button, and swiftly started to work on the cabin's control panel. Its screws have a patented, exclusive design. To keep people from fiddling with the system. Finding the one fitting screwdriver hadn't been an easy task. I removed the panel - oh, I had wrecked my brain for days trying to find a way to take it off without pulling  the big red stop button pulled.
The modification only took a few seconds. I screwed the panel back in place, my invisible, hair-thin wires hanging out below. I stuck them to the wall down a few inches, and then along the inner side of the elevator's handrail all the way to the back, and then, I pressed my finger on the tiny switch connected at the end. It worked. Brilliantly. With sound even, wasn't all sure about that.
I disconnected the switch. Then connected it again, on and off, at least a dozen times. The connection was just a clamp on the small contacts at the end of the wires. I had to make that move in a snap, without looking, and make it right. My attempts were all successful and I felt good about it. I had practiced the move at home for weeks.
I put the switch in in my pocket, and released the stop button. The switch was very small and hidden behind the rail, but I didn't want to take any chances having my installation being discovered. Even though it was harmless, it was awkward enough to lead to an investigation for sure.
I managed to get a few hours of sleep that night. I was so nervous. Practice the switch docking move again and again.
And now was the big day. The BMW was still on the parking lot, as I was sure it would, but it was a pleasant confirmation nonetheless.
At 9:54, I call the elevator, and walk back ten feet away from it. It's doors open, and, lucky me, nobody takes it. 10am is a bit late to show up for work and a bit early to take a break, so the lifts aren't much busy at this time of the day. The elevator's doors close.
9:55, the fantastic mountain of muscle enters the lobby. With a small entourage following, as usual.
As they approach, I go to the elevator and call it again.
I know they will take this one, it is the one covering uneven floors from15th to 31st.
Lucky again, nobody had called it up in the meantime, so the doors open right away. I can get in first, and I have a good second to quietly hand the rail and connect my switch in the process.
Like a solar eclipse, the frame of the mega bodybuilder comes filling the whole width and height of the cabin's opening, and then he enters in, first of the pack, as always. He rotates to face the opposite way; as I flatten myself against the wall at the back of the cabin to let him do so, and after that, the first of his servants proceeds to step inside.
And then the magic happens.
"DING !"
All eyes turn to the red light flashing at the top of the command panel.
" Overload !" I said. "I guess you'll have to take the next one."
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Part 3
"Sir," said one suited guy with black glasses and an earpiece, "we are going to an important meeting, would you mind stepping out of the elevator?"
Some nerve.
"What makes you think you're lighter than me? It'll take two trips for you all to get up there anyway. And for you information, everyone has to go somewhere around here, I'm already late to get back to work, and, I was here first. Now let these doors free and stop wasting everyone's time."
He looked like he was puzzled, maybe feeling a bit silly not having figured out the obvious logical statement I had just made. Hard to tell with the sunglasses. I struck the iron while it was hot :
"I guess that this gentleman right there has a body so incredibly massive that he almost overloads the lift just by himself."
The guy, still one hand blocking the doors, used his other one to press on the 29th floor button, which lit up. Then he stood in front of the colossal muscle wonder, as high as he could, and looked up to the face that was located almost at the summit of it.
" Steinar. Do you hear me? Look down at me."
So Steinar was the name, huh? Cool. Sounds powerful and raw. A nordic name for sure.Not so surprising given the clear golden shade of his hair. Also, I had never had a real close look at his eyes - it even was rare chance to catch an unobstructed glimpse of his face, but they unmistakably were piercingly blue.
" Steinar, you have grown really heavy, and that is good, you are very, very muscular congratulations."
Steinar emitted a grunt.
" So Steinar, you are so greatly massive that we can't take the elevator with you."
He really spoke to him like he was a young child.
" Steinar, look at this button with the light. Look at it very good. When the light of the button gets off, and the doors open, then you have to get out of the elevator. Not before, not after.
- OK.
- Very good Steinar. When you are out of the elevator, you don't go anywhere and we will arrive very fast. You have to wait for us. And don't worry, everything is going to be fine. We will be with you in a few minutes. Will you do that Steinar?
- Yes."
First time I heard his voice, too. As deep and growling and rumbling as I dreamed it would be. My heart jumped bonkers with every pulse. After just a few seconds, and with no intimacy yet, it had already been a fantastic and fulfilling experience. Being so close to him, bathing in his brutal and powerful scent, learning his name, hearing the sound of his voice, having to lean on the side to see and talk to other people through the space between his arm and his lats, I was overjoyed.
This said, I've got to admit that the perspective of soon being alone with the only God I had ever worshiped and that I ever would, greatly fueled my excitement.
" Very good Steinar. Veeery good. You are very good Steinar. See you in a minute."
And he finally let go of the doors.
The lift started to move up.
And Steinar let out a impressive fart almost right into my face.
I coughed.
He jumped a little.
He obviously had forgotten about me.
" Oh, Sorry Mr." he said.
He said to me.
With bliss and joy all over my face, I almost started to cry. The sublime giant of a superhuman was so absolutely perfect that even the smell of his flatulence was a delight from heaven. I already was extremely honored to be blessed with a generous production from his sacred body, but... In every point, he always managed to exceed every expectation or fantasy I could have of his greatness. This man could not be idealized enough.
" Don't worry Sir, it's not a problem at all. Your name is... Steinar, isn't it ?"
I tried to extend my hand from behind his back, on his side. He didn't seem to notice.
" Yes I am Steinar. And you are ?
- You can call me Paul.
- Ok Paul."
I had too act fast, we would soon reach the 15th floor.
" Tell me Steinar, would you mind if I went to the front, and you to the back? Because I will have to get off first...
- Yes Mr Paul."
And then all heaven broke loose.
The man turned on the side, and now I had to plunge into the ocean of muscle awaiting me, in an attempt to reach the front side of the elevator.
Even through all that fabric he had on him, the feeling of his humongous muscles pressing against my body was nothing short of a religious, holistic experience. His legs weren't much of a problem, but I had a real tough time crawling to try to get my head past the glorious immensity of his left pectoral muscle. He had kept it soft of course, so my head, and most of my upper torso, were deeply sunk into that unbelievably swollen mound of muscle, like a gigantic pillow, or, no, like a bean bag chair rather, only so dense and heavy - I don't have the slightest idea of how many dozens of pounds could weight that monstrous muscle, even if I had been able to vaguely estimate the extent of its volume, it would have been impossible, it felt like no matter I had ever felt.
So dense... When my face started to get pressed against the pectacular muscle, I would never had thought that it could be malleable, it felt so strong and full that nothing could have penetrated its greatness by more than an inch.
I was instantly proven wrong, as its overwhelmingly profuse suppleness started to swallow my head far beyond my ears, overflowing my shoulders and welcoming my torso. I suspected that by his will, the wonderful man had commanded an advanced state of mellowness to the muscle.
When I finally reached the end of the pectoral, with the help of my hands grabbing random blocks of the rock hard muscles his whole midsection was made off, and pulling myself forward, I was far from being freed. Now my head was even more submerged by muscle. I could feel the embrace of muscle all the way to the very back of my skull. I was deep into the fascinatingly vast and mysterious rift created in the middle of his chest by his two plates of pectoral muscle colliding, with all their hugeness and power and might.
Yes, there was an endless struggle in the middle of this man's chest, certainly the most epic and fiercely fought battle for domination, each raging, ferocious, colossal and noble marvel of supreme muscle eager to conquer more space, as both had no other purpose in life than growing always more bigger and massive and powerful, and the other was in the way.
Never, in the Universe, had a conflict engaged such tremendous forces and power, of an intensity unbeknownst to mankind, and didn't have means to be measured.
And there I was with my little peanut head in the middle of it.
Then again, when I thought my ecstasy couldn't get even better, I felt a drop of wetness at the tip of my nose. At the widest of his chest, small openings were created between the buttons of his shirt. A drop of the man's sweat, one of his bodily fluids, which were the most sacred and precious and divine nectar of the Creation, had touched my nose. My nose was directly in contact with the skin of my beloved and feared God, at the very bottom of his pectoral cavern, where hid a small stream of intoxicating, spellbinding, delicious sweat, yet also shockingly and violently reeking of the most potent stench of ultimate maleness at its most extreme.
That's when I lost it. I rabidly forced my way deeper in the beast's cleavage, trying to get a little more of my skin in contact with his. Just with that square inch of my nose, I got struck by a whole new level of wisdom and knowledge. As wonderful and amazing as my physical encounter had been with the most perfectly beautiful and superbly hypertrophied mutant muscles, now that I had experienced direct contact with the body itself, the titanic boulders of pectoral muscles became several times more erotic, more sensual, more sexual.
And I already was on cloud nine before that, dazed by rushes of pleasure I had never felt before. It was already better that I thought it would be, now I was propelled to a realm that I never could have begun to imagine.
Now, I could feel the softness, the thinness of his stretched skin, I had tasted a small fraction of a whole universe, an infinity of muscle fibers and striations and tendons part of the miraculous machinery, tasted the juiciness, tasted the raw power - a small fraction of it at least.
I put my abdomen forward, and there it was, against my stomach, I could feel it, under his pants, the virility of the most virile male of all, a male way manlier than any man had ever dreamed to be, far above the rest of humanity.
I didn't really care for the size of it, really. I was even hoping it was a bit on the small side compared the the titanic proportions of his body, so it wouldn't be too big if I happened to... Well if he ever wanted me to pleasure him, or use me for sex.
Well, whatever the size, one thing was absolutely sure : he could get his penis hard as steel any time he pleased and for as long as he wanted, and he probably had no idea of how many times he could ejaculate in a row, as he never fell short of stamina. I wouldn't be surprised if he was able to have one orgasm after another all day, maybe even several days in a row.
And what could be his minimum ? A colossus overfilled with steroids and hormones and pheromones must be forced to drain his cock several times a day to keep his balls from exploding.
I put my hands up and planted one on each of his pecs, as I was about to loose it without even touching myself, oh my hands were far behind my head, I had to be almost two feet deep in there. One and a half for sure.
And there I was, shooting in my pants like there's no tomorrow. Trying to regain some composure and justify my convulsions, I shouted "I'm stuck!"
"Mr Paul I have an idea."
He set his pectorals in motion, contracting billions of individual muscle fibers in order to form vertical waves from his right to the left, my body surfed over it and in no time I was sent flying into the closed doors. No harm at all, still.
I looked up above. Shit, we already were on the 18th floor, by luck nobody had called the lift at the 15th nor the 17th. Lifts going up were rarely used to get from one floor to another, but there often was some dumbass calling both lifts going up and down although they want to go down. Quick, my hand on the switch. I had kept it in my pocket, the invisible wires hanging down from it, freeing them from their hiding rail as I moved toward the front. Click.
As Steinar looked at the red alert I had lit up, I pulled the stop button without him noticing.
" What's happening?" he asked.
" We're stopped." I said.
" That red thing what does that mean?"
Wow. Although I considered him as the greatest and most brilliant man on the planet, deserving all the praise, admiration and respect in the world, I had to admit that his intellectual greatness was shining in its own special way.
" It means "overload", it means the lift had to stop because there is too much weight in it.
- Oh really?"
Let that be a lesson of wisdom he in offering my with his merciful generosity. He has managed to keep his intellectual functions to a minimum, a great feat in itself, in order to achieve his superior level of conscience and absolute excellence in directions that really do matter : his height, his prodigious maleness, his tremendous physical power, and of course, the exquisite and delirious expansion of the size of his glorious muscles to dominate and subjugate us all.
" What does that mean?" he added.
My God was full of surprises and never ceased to impress me. I really began to understand and admire the beauty of his simple and direct thinking. He really was marvelous in all ways. Now I had to find the words to satisfy his optimized brain.
" We are too heavy inside the cabin. You must weight a lot. You must be really heavy.
- Yes, I am very megaweight.
- I guess that when you flexed right now, you got even more muscular and more massive, so the elevator is broken."
He looked down at me, and a wide smile crossed his face. "Really?"
Wow, he really is killer handsome. That neck, that jaw, that bone structure, fuck, and his blue eyes are so bright... you can see right through them... and they really... do reflect the pure and direct thoughts of my Lord.
" So... You are... A bodybuilder?"
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