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Supercrav
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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amauiguy

Suggestion:

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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MegaMassiveMuscleMonster

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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