hyper muscle A One-Sided Match (Part 4 Re-Added On May 10th 2022)

[LovesEmHandsome]

PART 1: The Season Opener

I swallowed hard. The time had almost come, just another minute to go. I was sweating bullets as I waited behind the archway for my cue. The sound of the crowd out there was almost deafening, even back here behind the soundproof walls. I don't think I've ever been this excited or nervous before in my life. It was time for my very first match! An incredibly important one at that; the big opening match of the season. After months of anticipation, it was finally time to see if all those extreme stretches and stress tests were worth the effort. This match-up was going to push me to my limits. I was going up against the second biggest guy in the league right out the gate. It was a hell of a surprise for a first-time rookie like myself. Most guys in my position are lucky to book a match with an opponent at the lower end of the size rankings, maybe a mid-tier. My dinky little boner throbbed in my singlet just thinking about how gargantuan this guy was gonna be.

I couldn't wait for him to crush me flatter than a pancake.

"Ladiiiiiiies and gentlemen," I heard the announcer start.
"We here at the C.W.L. hope you're ready for an explosive evening of heavy slamming, hard blasting, ultra intense, and extra imbalanced mayhem!"

Deep breaths, Jeremy, deep breaths. Here we go...

"And now, without further ado: In this corner, standing at mere 4 foot, 9 inches and weighing in at a measly 90 lbs, your Jobber for this evening: Jeremyyyyyy 'The Doormat' Smallwood."

Right on cue, I walk through the entryway and began my first ever walk to the ring. Fireworks streamed out along the pathway, spunky theme music pumped through the speakers, and the crowd was cheering with ravenous anticipation. The intense wall of sound hit my ears like a freight train, but the overwhelming cacophany jazzed me up for what was ahead. It took me a hot minute to journey down the lengthy path, climb the daunting stairs, and awkwardly clamber to my corner. I took a moment to soak in the sight of the sprawling expanse of empty mat and the towering turnbuckles looming overhead. The ring here had to be extra, extra enormous since this league's wrestlers were-

*THOOM* *BOOM* *THOOM*

A mighty and imposing form had slowly stomped its way to the entryway opposite mine, waiting in the shadows for his cue to come out next. I could barely see his outline with all the overwhelming lights, lasers, and fog machines blasting everywhere, but my opponent was ready. I swallowed hard again, shaking like a leaf in anticipation. He was even bigger than I had anticipated. Hell yeah.

"In this corner, standing at an incredible 24 feet, 11 inches and weighing a staggering 45,550 lbs, your Colossus for the evening: Apollooooo 'The Apocalypse' Rexford."

*BOOM* *THOOM* *DOOM* *FOOM*

Thunderous footfalls made the entire stadium shake intensely as Apollo slowly stomped his way to the ring. The league didn't typically bother playing theme music for the big boys; the booms generated by their every step were more than enough to raise the crowd's excitement. It was like the thumping of drums from a barbarian warship, signaling the arival of an unstoppable force. The cheers from the crowd when they saw me paled in comparison to how loudly they screamed for Apollo. I bit my lip as I watched him make his way toward the ring, his head rising higher and higher while simultaneously filling more and more of my horizonal view. He was a towering, impossible wall of muscles on muscles on muscles on MUSCLES even wider than he was tall. It took all of my concentration not to cream my singlet right then and there just from the quaking vibrations his mammoth feet. I'd saved up all week for this, and I wasn't about to let it go to waste.

You may be wondering why a minuscule shrimp like me is being matched up against a man 500 times his weight and five times his height. Seems a little bit one-sided for a wrestling match, right? Absolutely! That's how things have always been in the Colossus Wrestling League. In the C.W.L. it's always a tiny resilient wimp against a hulking multi-ton bully. My job isn't to actually wrestle this monstrous man, goodness no. That would be silly. My job is to be his personal plaything, punching bag, and boy toy for the next few hours while an adoring horny adult audience enjoys the spectacle. That's the life of a professional jobber in this miraculous age.

We jobbers are few and far between; an extremely rare mutation of human that is almost entirely immune to direct physical damage or injury. We're naturally small and scrawny in build, but you can crush us, squish us, slam us, bend us, stretch us, twist us - whatever really. We'll always end up springing back to normal soon enough like a rubbery cartoon prop. And on top of that, we're also highly resistant to pain. Being smooshed like a grape certainly feels intense, even overwhelming and uncomfortable at times, but it doesn't particularly hurt. If anything, for me at least, it's the ultimate turn-on.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, but no less rare, are the colossi. While jobbers are tiny and resistant, they're gargantuan and tough. All colossi are ridiculously tall and naturally bursting at the seams with inhuman muscles. Even if a colossus never lifted a weight in his life he would have a bod so impossibly powerful and pumped he'd make the Incredible Hulk feel scrawny. But a big bod comes with hefty needs for fuel and relief; colossi have infamously massive appetites and sex drives to match their muscle. With the C.W.L. footing all their members' sky-high food bills and providing willing toys like me, most are more than happy to sign up as wrestlers and entertain the horny masses.

And so, here we are. The big match. After many quake-inducing steps, Apollo had made it to the ring. My eyes widened as nearly 23 tons of bulk effortlessly stepped over the lofty ropes and made the specially-built, highly reinforced wrestling mat sag noticeably. His muscles, glistening under the lights with a perpetual cascade of sweat, were even more magnificent close up. Every obscenely disproportionate muscle group battled ferociously with one another for space at the tiniest of movements while an awe-inspiring tangle of thick, undulating vascularity snaked across every rippling surface. I once more bit my lip, overwhelmed by, not just the sight of him, but also his smell. Apollo, like most colossi, radiated a naturally intoxicating pheromone-heavy masculine musk. Few were immune to its enticing effects, and the bigger the colossus, the more potent his reek. I took a deep, deep inhale while my eyes were busy drinking in as many visual details of the beautiful he-man who would be flattening me tonight as they possibly could.

Frick, he was absurdly handsome. Apollo's face seemed just as excessively macho as his body, with rugged features that looked like they had been carved from granite. That hard square chin. Those razor sharp cheekbones. That flawless stubble. Those full kissable lips. Long flowing locks of gorgeous golden hair flowed down from his head to the base of his 'neck.' Although, honestly, his neck was so thick with bulging meat that it barely resembled a neck at all any more. In fact, all of Apollo's extreme beef threatened to engulf his lovely face entirely from just about every direction. As if 25 feet of brute height wasn't enough, his trapezius muscles towered over his head by several additional feet. His massive deltoids, spread what felt like a mile apart, looked bigger than sedans. His prodigious powerful pectorals seemed like they'd dwarf small blimps. Both beef zeppelins pressed up intensely at his chin while jutting forward so unbelievably far that I'm honestly surprised the shelf's weight didn't topple him over. A dozen people could've been swallowed whole in the dark abyss between those tiddies. I certainly hoped I could go spelunking in those caverns eventually.

His mile-wide upper body cinched down rapidly to create the most extreme, exaggerated hour-glass figure you can imagine. His long, hard 18-pack abs and rippling obliques tensed with densely-packed power as they worked overtime to keep his immense upper body balanced. The valleys between each pair of abs was also impressively deep; I bet if he did sit-ups you could crush coal into diamonds. To my surprise given the infamous nature of colossus dongs, there wasn't much of, if any, bulge to speak of in the front of his skin-tight sapphire blue speedo. I ever-so briefly experienced the one tiny twinge of disappointment I would feel that night... right up until I lowered my gaze a little further.

Apollo's lower body immediately exploded back outward from his lean waist. His monstrous rippling pillars of quad muscle were as wide as his shoulders. There was NO space between them - it was quad vs quad in the ultimate battle for supremacy. You'd probably need to sit way back in the arena's nosebleed seats to observe all his hyper-developed leg meat at once. His calves were no less impressive, the fat carved diamonds were bulging like meat mattresses from carrying all that sheer tonnage. And then, at the very bottom, below his perfectly sculpted ankles, were his feet. Holy shit, those feet. Even for a man of his size and extreme dimensions they seemed disproportionately huge and muscly. Outside the ring Apollo normally wore specialized shoes made of an advanced shock-absorbing material so he didn't destroy every surface he stepped on. But here in the wrestling ring I got to see them in all their beautiful bare glory: perfectly smooth, immaculately clean, and flawlessly pedicured. In fact, every inch of my massive opponent from head to toe was flawlessly well-kept, since the colossi were pampered like royalty behind the scenes. The jobbers were treated fairly well too, but we didn't require quite as much upkeep as the men whose nails outsize trashcan lids.

It took noticeable effort for him to do so, but Apollo managed to press his big burly chin down low enough into his obscuring tit meat to look at me directly. He licked his lips, a hungry and flirtatious smile spreading over his face. He let out a low, deep, velvety baritone grunt of desire that seemed to ripple through his muscles and vibrate from there throughout the entire arena. I once more came dangerously close to blasting in my load, but managed to hold on. Judging by some moans I heard in the crowd, several people weren't able to hold back as effectively.

"Oh yeah..." he growled low, drinking in the audience's lust as he stared me down.
"I'm gonna have fun with you, little man."

Apollo began to raise up his arms, preparing to flex for his adoring public. The two monoliths were so incredibly thick they may well have put even his pecs and quads to shame. His forearms were so fat with bulging meat I was earnestly surprised he had as much mobility as he did. The preposterous pythons throbbed with macho power, bunching up and battling with themselves from just this simple lifting motion, and hovered tangelizingly out to each side. A hush came over the crowd in anticipation of the coming display. I was drooling a little.

*BOOM*

A shockwave of air rippled out from each peak as Apollo performed a front double-bicep pose. Each arm muscle blasted upward, forming a perfectly split peak that reached up to his clenched fists. The audience once more erupted with cheers, but he wasn't done just yet. With clenched teeth and a primal grunt he flexed his arms harder, willing more mass to spill out as his veins engorged with blood. Through this Herculean efforts both biceps rapidly rose, releasing another shockwave while the peaks reached the same astounding height as his traps. Not to be outdone, his triceps had simultaneously erupted in the opposite direction, becoming so large that their beautifully absurd forms slammed into the wrestling mat below. The mini-earthquake this created made me fall over, and I whimpered as I once more struggled not to pop off before the match even started. I wanted to worship this man with every fiber of my being. He was a grotesque monument to pure unhindered muscularity, and I wanted to lick every inch of him.

As he bounced both bodacious biceps rhythmically, Apollo's audience showered him with yet more cheers and adoration. He beamed with satisfaction. The rhythmic bounces sent his abundant arm sweat spritzing out into the audience, splashing a lucky handful. After a minute or so of this pumped peacock display he finally relaxed his flex, his tremendous arms shrinking down to their smaller, though still awe-inspiring, size. I couldn't wait to see if his other muscles were capable of such extreme explosions of excess bulk.

"Listen up, all you pathetic little PIPSQUEAKS!" Apollo commanded to his captivated audience.

His neck meat clenched intensely whenever he raised his voice for emphasis. There was no need for microphones with colossi since their deep booming voices usually filled the arena with relatively little effort.

"It's the first match of the season. A BIG event! And BIG events featuring dudes as BIG as me need big BIG surprises. So for a long while now I've been brewing an extra special gift for whichever miniscule, microscopic, scrawny little piece of fresh meat I eventually got paired with today."

He pointed to me with a ravenous smirk. My heart was aflutter.

"You know us big guys, we are a HORNY bunch. Most of us can't go more than a couple hours without pumping out one of our infamous monster loads. But, y'know what? You know what, weaklings? While you impatient bugs were out there beating off daily to my perfectly sculpted muscles,"

He did a small (for him at least) side-chest pose for emphasis. From where I was standing I could actually hear his muscle fibers groan.
"I haven't let loose even once since the last season ended. Not. One. Single. Time."

The audience let out a collective gasp. A colossus going one day without a release was one thing, maybe a week if they had the willpower... but several months? Utterly unheard of.

"That's right, you PUNY JOBBER RUNT," he gleefully barked, turning his attention back to me.
"I hope you're ready for the ride of your little life because I am PENT,"
With an audible lurching throb, the previously lacking bulge in Apollo's blue speedo surged outward, a mound bigger than my entire body throbbing from nowhere under the fabric.
"-the FUCK,"
It lurched again harder, rapidly multiplying in erect mass. His previously non-existant balls suddenly rivaled small mini-vans in size, spilling out from the the impossibly stretched spandex, which somehow managed to retain its shape around the increasingly large hardening dick. The two multi-ton mounds hit the ground hard enough to cause another quake.
"-UP!!"

With one last monumental surge Apollo's rock-hard, heavily-veined schlong was towering above me at almost 15 feet long. I'm pretty sure it was twice as thick in circumference as my entire body. It was nothing short of a scientific miracle that his speedo was still intact. It was stretched comically thin and tight, leaving most of him exposed and rendering it a little bit superfluous. His mighty balls were now comparible to his pecs in rounded size, visibly churning with the countless gallons upon gallons of spunk he had been saving up those many months and somehow kept secret until mere moments ago. The visible skin of his dick throbbed crimson as globs of pre the size of my head dripped down like a leaky faucet through the soaked fabric at the tip. It looked, for lack of a better word, ANGRY. This thing was pissed off about holding back for so long, and it was looking to let out its pent-up aggression on someone small, wimpy, and conveniantly invulnerable to damage. As I salivated silently over this latest erogenous display of hypermasculinity and battled once more to keep my loins calm... the bell suddenly rang.

Time for the match to begin.

[TonnyGiant]

Wow!  I really liked what I read!  Please ... keep exploring this CWL world and beyond.  How is the life of the colossi?  How big can they get?  Anyway ... I want to see more of that soon.  Great job!

[Guest]

Wow, Apollo seems like the perfect dominant muscle god, can’t wait to see what he’ll do next

[DawnFire98]

Aaand now I'm hyped for this! 

[LovesEmHandsome]

PART 2: Great Pecs-Flexed-tations

The moment the bell rang, Apollo eagerly lifted up his titanic right leg. His thick expanse of quad muscles bunched ferociously from the effort of pushing up against, not only themselves, but also his overhanging pectoral shelf.

"We're gonna see if 'The Doormat' lives up to his cute little title," he teased, "And start this wrestling season off on the right FOOT."

Apollo spread and curled his immaculate toes, flexing his entire foot. I stood paralyzed with awe watching the surface bulge spectacularly with mass a normal foot could never dream of bulking up. The already impressive foot grew significantly wider, thicker, and harder, the individual muscles of its underside mashing together in a battle for supremacy. And then, suddenly-

*BA-THOOM*

In a fraction of second my entire field of view had filled with a solid wall of foot meat replaced immediately by pitch black darkness. I could feel the uniquely intense sensation of my body being slightly flattened from the multiple tons of pressure being forced upon it. My arms were pinned into my torso while my legs stuck out at awkward angles. I couldn't tell for certain, but I think I was firmly wedged somewhere between the upper pads of Apollo's sole. My ears were ringing a bit from the initial impact of the stomp, but otherwise the uproar of the surrounding area had been reduced to a dull muffle. My face was buried in an endless expanse of warm sweaty flesh. It smelled incredible down here; musky, yet clean. I could tell he had showered before the match.

Around the wrestling ring dozens of camera drones that had been hovering in strategic positions sprang into action and zoomed in on Apollo's mighty foot. Each unit was equipped with highly specialized lenses which, through a highly advanced filtering process, gave the audience a unique, high-definition, see-through view of my minuscule flattened form on jumbo screens throughout the arena. Some screens showed the same image with a 'pressure filter' that emphasized in bright colors similar to a heat signature just how many tons of force were being pressed down on me.

"Nnnnf, damn, I missed how good it felt to have a jobber underfoot," Apollo growled in satisfaction. "It revs my engines so hard."

I could hear the distinct sound of his speedo's spandex creaking as his recently erected 15-foot pillar throbbed with excitement. He ground his sole into the mat, further flattening me and embedding me deeper into my newfound pungent cocoon. After a few moments of this extra embellishment, I felt a sudden rush of cool air rush over my back and the intense sounds of the arena around us fill my ears again. Apollo had lifted his foot back up, and I was firmly plastered to the bottom like a used piece of gum.

In an impressive act of flexibility, Apollo managed to both lift his hulking leg up over his monolith cock and reach his enormous arm past his titanic tits so he could get a hold of me. He let out a deep chuckle of satisfaction as he peeled me from his foot like a lowly sticker off an extra muscly piece of produce. I remained noticeably flatter than before, dangling upside-down between his thumb and index finger by one leg.

"Did you enjoy my foot reek, you puny little twig?" my smug captor asked rhetorically.

He shook me back and forth like a developing Polaroid. My brain rattled around in my skull as my body popped back to normal instantly, as if I had never been stomped on. No matter how many times it happens, the process of reverting never ceased to feel weird. It took a couple of seconds for my sight and hearing to clear back up. As I blinked my vision back into focus, I realized I was face-to-face with the cavernous maw in the center of Apollo's bountiful beefy bosom. Bronze, sweaty, rippling meat expanded out in every direction. It was normally hard to see under the harsh arena lighting, but up close I noticed a light dusting of chest hair; a burly field of soft, golden, well-nourished wheat. I glanced upwards (or rather, downwards from my position) to see the twin globes blocked out his lower body entirely, save for the pillar of cock jutting out from the center.

"Oooooh yeeeeah, take a good hard look at these pecs, RUNT. This is what a REAL man's chest looks like," he gloated.

He began to bounce his pecs - *BOOM* *THOOM* *BOOM *THOOM* *BOOM* *THOOM*

Every flex created a massive thunderous shock wave, like standing directly in front of a huge speaker with the bass cranked up. The intense difference between each mound's flexed and unflexed state was absolutely hypnotic. One moment, a fat hill of heavy, squishy boob flesh, looking softer than a cloud. The next moment, a harsh boulder of rugged, powerful sinew with hundreds of steely ripples creasing across every tensed inch. As my body was bombarded with the sights, sounds, and vibrations of these mesmerizing meat mountains, my many attempts to hold myself back finally failed. With a soft, tender whimper, I bit my lip once more and my entire body shuddered. Right there in my singlet, in front of millions of people and held aloft by my colossus opponent, I had the most intense orgasm of my life. I had daydreamed about scenarios like this for years.

"AAAAAAAHAHAHAHA!"

The booming thumps of Apollo's pecs were immediately replaced with the thunderous sound of his uproarious, mocking laughter.

"Did you SERIOUSLY cum already, runt? From just one stomp and a little bit of tit flexing? Ahaha, FUCK, that is HILARIOUS. I've wrestled with some wimpy excuses for jobbers over the years, but I can already tell you're the wimpiest little baby man I've ever had the honor of making my bitch."

With his verbal bombardment out of the way, Apollo proceeded to harshly jam me deep, deep into the valley between his prodigious pectorals. Once again all light and sound from the arena were completely cut off. The only sound I could hear now was the magnified symphony of Apollo's body. The thump of his heart working overtime to fill up not just his pumped muscles, but also his furious dick. The roiling digestion of a pre-match meal that could probably feed a small town. The rushing of his lungs expanding and contracting with more air in every breath than I breathe in a day. As I lay in that tight sweaty cavern of beef in a fetal position, still reveling in the afterglow of my overwhelming eruption, I took a deep inhale of my own. Apollo's pec musk was different from his foot musk, but every bit as intoxicating and manly. Whatever soap he used was a nice fragrance too. I'll have to ask around later about what brand he uses.

"Comfy cozy in there, shrimp?" he asked faceciously.

Although heavily muffled, Apollo's powerful voice resonated throughout his body.

"Well, we can't have that go on for too long. After all, these people came to see a show!"

Apollo brought his arms inward to flex his pecs together HARD, and I once more found myself in an awkwardly squished state. The intense leather-like straining sounds his pectoral fibers made as he crushed me was nothing short of spectacular. Since I had been in a fetal position beforehand, I now resembled something akin to a humanoid loaf of bread. Or perhaps I was more like a humanoid pinball, because after that my opponent once again began to alternate bouncing his pecs. I was tossed back and forth with unbelievable velocity. It felt like being on the world's most rickety roller coaster. Deafening booms radiated from his flexing finesse even louder than before thanks to my close proximity.

*BOOM* *THOOM* *BOOM* *THOOM* *BOOM* *THOOM*

"Get ready, you insignificant speck, now it's time to flex my pecs for REAL!"

Apollo pulled his arms downward and inward to squeeze his pectoral muscles with unbelievable, concentrated force. Any space between the two pumped planetoids around me vanished immediately. I was instantly squashed from a little loaf to a dinky disc. I could hear Apollo's heart beating faster, his breathing getting heavier. He growled through every exhale. An ominous rumbling resonated throughout the mountainous muscles' tensed fibers, starting low but growing louder. Much like his arms before the match, that first flex was only the beginning.

"HhhhnnnnnNNNNNGGGGGHHHRRRRRRRAAAAAARGH!"

With a deafening primal roar, Apollo managed to bring his arms far enough together to interlock hands, squeezing his pecs so unimaginably hard that his previous flexing seemed downright effortless in comparison. The fibers in his chest undulated like an enormous pool of boiling water with rapid, uneven miniature explosions of bursting, expanding mass. His face and chest were turning fiery red and every vein in his upper body sprang to life like never before. Finally, when the mammoth muscles seemed like they had reached their absolute peak, the dam burst. An explosion of mass blasted outward with the force of a bomb detonating.

*GUH-THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM*

To the people in the stands it was like being briefly smacked by a hurricane. Apollo's chest had doubled up in size within the span of a half-second, jutting out far enough to devour his entire cock ­and beyond in an instant. Foot after foot of diamond-hard muscle clenched at maximum tightness, eclipsing the height of his traps and the girth of his entire bod. A bright crimson mass of covered in a spider-web of veins as thick as industrial piping. Sweat poured down his hulking form harder than Niagara Falls during a downpour and drenching the mat below, and a mist of irresistible colossus funk spread throughout the arena. Though his face was now totally engulfed in his own knockers, the drone cameras allowed the audience to see his grimacing, beastly expression through the throbbing glacier of sinew. The already zealous crowd cheered louder than ever as his pheremones filled their systems, egging their beloved giant to hold the flex longer.

Deep, deep, deep, DEEP within the abyss of Apollo's expanded chest, I had been pressed flatter than a frisbee. Sweat saturated everywhere around me and the muscles pressing at my from every angle were beyond sweltering hot. The fibers around me rumbled like a continuous earthquake as they held the mighty mega-flex in place. The aroma of his multiplied musk was extra concentrated in that trench, and it was downright overwhelming. Having given up on holding back long ago, I had come at least eight times from the avalanche of stimulation. Though, I certainly wasn't the only one being excessively stimulated.

"Fuck yeah, fuck yeah, FUCK yeah, FUCK yeah, FUUUUUCK YEAH, LITTLE MAN!" Roared the flexing colossus through a juicy mouthful of his own tiddy bulk.

The head of Apollo's raging mega-boner began to slowly peak through the top of his cataclysmic cleavage, growing a few inches longer with every pulsing throb. It rose and rose, fueled by the excessive effort of its macho owner's enthusiastic display. It wasn't long before the previously 15-foot tower was sitting closer to 20 feet. The vice grip of its pectoral prison had the already angry organ looking beyond infuriated, rivaling the twin captors in color and vascularity. Meanwhile, his ridiculously stretchy speedo remained impressively intact, though it was now stretched out so thin it was a miracle it hadn't disintegrated. At this point it looked more like a blue candy wrapper painted on Apollo's cock head was being held in place by stringy dental floss. The aforementioned head was now continuously sputtering out pre like an enraged faucet. It wasn't long before his tits were glazed in the stuff, like the world's muskiest cake.

"Hnnngggghhhhooooh, fuck... It's... too much...Sh-shit," the pumped performer whimpered, his he-man personality faltering for the first time that evening.

A mighty rumble quaked throughout the arena as Apollo's balls violently churned with unbridled fury, begging him for their months-overdue release. Pre began to flow from his tip even harder, occasionally spurting like a geyser so powerfully that it almost hit the audience. The people in the splash-zone seats groaned in disappointment when the precious nectar didn't quite reach them. The rumbling was getting stronger and stronger, at this point feeling no different than a legitimate earthquake for everyone in the vicinity. If he kept this up, Apollo was gonna blow. HARD.

"N-n... no.. not yet... N-not... not yet..." he growled through gritted teeth.

Very reluctantly, he began to take deep, calming breaths to try and pacify his overloaded bod. The mighty masses began to shrink like a leaking balloon, starting out slow and then speeding up exponentially. Teeth unclenched, tense fibers loosened, and bloated veins deflated. Apollo's bloated, boiling balls started to calm down and, in turn, the arena began to stop quaking. It took nearly fifteen full minutes, but Apollo eventually got his unruly body under control. Back to its pre-flexed state, the only remnant of his bod's near-meltdown was his cock - it was still sitting pretty at 20 feet long and hard as titanium. With a smug satisfied smirk the manly meathead gave a heavy exhale of relief. Now that he was no longer distracted by his own eruption, he reached into his cleavage to pluck the compact hockey puck that was my body out from its pectoral prison. He flicked me away to the mat at his feet where I bounced off the ground several times before coming to a rolling stop like a discarded penny.

"Damn, I'm sorry weaklings," Apollo apologized to his fans with a sassy chuckle, "I almost set off our big surprise way too early! I knew my cock was gonna be a loaded powder keg tonight, but I guess I don't know my own strength, haha!"

He tenderly kissed each of his bountiful biceps after that last comment, which then quickly evolved into a steamy, sloppy impromptu make-out session with his own arms . The crowd ate it up with gusto. I desperately tried to crane my vision upward to see this narcissistic display for myself, but I was rather incapacitated at the moment. Jobbers may be easy to squish, but it isn't always easy for us to unsquish. That last hyper-flex had me so powerfully compressed that I couldn't move a single centimeter. The best I could muster was some ineffective wriggling. Thankfully the C.W.L. has a backup plan for these particularly janky levels of jobber jamming.

While Apollo was busy loving himself, a single drone with a "MEDIC" label on its casing flew down into the ring and landed close to me. For a brief moment the drone's sensors scanned me with a laser array to assess the quickest desquishification strategy. A little green light bulb on its front panel lit up with a cute little 'Ding!' and a tiny hose zipped out of a small hatch. It snaked its way toward me seeking the most accessible entry point. This, naturally, ended up being my tender little ass.

I yelped into what I could only assume was... my knee? Maybe my ankle? It could be pretty hard to tell when you're this discombobulated. I heard a compressor activate within the drone and it began to pump air into my rump at a steady pace. At first the my immobile body simply bulged a little bit. Inside I could feel the air rapidly filling my organs. This entire process would likely burst a normal person's innards, but a jobber's guts are just as invulnerable as the rest of his body. When the inner tension was high enough, parts of me began to bulge out, bit by bit. My ears. Part of my head. One foot. An arm. And then, much faster - SCHPLOP! - the rest of me filled out. The drone's hose automatically recoiled out of my butt without hesitation, causing me to shudder a little. Other than my stomach being a bit distended from some excess air, I was back to my old self. You would have never been able to tell I had just been jammed down to the size of a dinner plate. Although, there was one notable side effect...

All that air in my system, with no knotted up body parts keeping it trapped, began to bubble powerfully in my belly. I proceeded to release the single largest, loudest, most intense fart of my entire life. An uninterrupted, 30-second long big honkin' tuba blast of a fart. If I wasn't such an impossibly scrawny twink devoid of mass and had any ass cheeks to speak of, they would've been flapping like crazy. Releasing all that pressure felt unbelievably satisfying. The audience at large couldn't hear my embaressing eruption over the arena's collective noise, but colossi have hearing as strong as their muscles. Apollo stopped making out with his own arms and an enormous, mocking smile immediately spread across his handsome face.

"Was that YOU? Aaaaaahaha! It was you, wasn't it? My tits crushed you so hard they had to balloon you out with the fart machine! Aaaaaaahahahaha! FUCK, that is adorable. Hey drones, can we get a play-back?"

It seems the medic drone that had filled me up must have been recording the entire time. All the TV screens in the stadium suddenly lit up in unison with a ground-level shot of my butt, and played back my big fart several times over for the whole audience to hear. Amused reactions filled the crowd while my big beautiful bully laughed his ass off. My face flushed bright pink, but I would be lying if this kind of humiliating treatment from someone like Apollo didn't have me on the verge of popping off in my singlet for the dozenth time that night. Apollo stomped and clapped in delight as his laugh wound down, which once more toppled me over from his actions' mighty vibrations.

"Ahaaaaa... thanks for the laugh, pipsqueak, I really needed that," my mountainous mocker mused as he wiped a tear from his eye. "And you know what? That was absolutely perfect timing! You reminded me of your OTHER big surprise tonight that's juuuuuust about ready."

Apollo leaned down and picked me up, King Kong style, with my entire body encapsulated by his massive fist and my head poking out the top. He brought me up to his long, long, torso in front of his immaculate wall of abs. 18 individual packs of bronze perfection. It looked like a tray of golden rolls at a Greek god's dinner table. I could have comfortably layed on any given pair as a king-sized mattress. Hoisting up one enormous arm up behind his towering traps, he crunched down on his abs. Rapid-fire one by one, like a monstrous glistening batch of macho popcorn, each abdominal burst out larger in obscene definition with a deep cartoonish - POP! BOP! POP! BOP! BOP!- and smacked my face with a sweaty gust of air from the recoils. When all eighteen flawless abs were fully flexed, a catastrophic cacophony of gurgling emanated from Apollo's torso.

*RrrrRRRRRrrggghhhhhlurrrrggllurgh...*  I could physically see his inside percolating.

"You hear that, little man? That's a muscle god's gut digesting more protein powder in one meal than a hundred of you microscopic mites could chug in their entire lives. Here, take a closer listen."

He briefly unclenched his abs, rather harshly shoved my entire face into his cavernous belly button, and then reclenched, trapping my head in a four-way vice. If the gurgling had been loud before, it was beyond deafening in here. I could have sworn multiple thunder storms were raging in his behemoth tummy. The intense power rumbling inside bopped me in the face several times through his belly meat. And then, after giving my head a few extra squeezes for good measure, Apollo plucked me back out.

"You've made friends with my foot,"
*RrrRRRRgggghhhglurgh...*
"You've played nice with my pecs,"
*GggrrrRRRRggHHHhhhhgh...*
"And now, my puny little playmate,"
*GGGrrrRRRRggHHhhHhhglurRRRRRRRGHHHHRGH*
"I think it's time you became properly acquainted with my BIG-"
He squeezed me for emphasis.
"JACKED."
Another squeeze, paired with a powerful smack of his backside that echoed through the arena.
"ASS."

[DawnFire98]

What an exciting beginning for this crazy wrestling match! My favourite part was, when the narrator was squeezed between two massive pecs and could hear Apollo's heartbeat.

[lazer0100]

On 4/19/2021 at 10:57 AM, LovesEmHandsome said:

PART 1: The Season Opener

I swallowed hard. The time had almost come, just another minute to go. I was sweating bullets as I waited behind the archway for my cue. The sound of the crowd out there was almost deafening, even back here behind the soundproof walls. I don't think I've ever been this excited or nervous before in my life. It was time for my very first match! An incredibly important one at that; the big opening match of the season. After months of anticipation, it was finally time to see if all those extreme stretches and stress tests were worth the effort. This match-up was going to push me to my limits. I was going up against the second biggest guy in the league right out the gate. It was a hell of a surprise for a first-time rookie like myself. Most guys in my position are lucky to book a match with an opponent at the lower end of the size rankings, maybe a mid-tier. My dinky little boner throbbed in my singlet just thinking about how gargantuan this guy was gonna be.

I couldn't wait for him to crush me flatter than a pancake.

"Ladiiiiiiies and gentlemen," I heard the announcer start.
"We here at the C.W.L. hope you're ready for an explosive evening of heavy slamming, hard blasting, ultra intense, and extra imbalanced mayhem!"

Deep breaths, Jeremy, deep breaths. Here we go...

"And now, without further ado: In this corner, standing at mere 4 foot, 9 inches and weighing in at a measly 90 lbs, your Jobber for this evening: Jeremyyyyyy 'The Doormat' Smallwood."

Right on cue, I walk through the entryway and began my first ever walk to the ring. Fireworks streamed out along the pathway, spunky theme music pumped through the speakers, and the crowd was cheering with ravenous anticipation. The intense wall of sound hit my ears like a freight train, but the overwhelming cacophany jazzed me up for what was ahead. It took me a hot minute to journey down the lengthy path, climb the daunting stairs, and awkwardly clamber to my corner. I took a moment to soak in the sight of the sprawling expanse of empty mat and the towering turnbuckles looming overhead. The ring here had to be extra, extra enormous since this league's wrestlers were-

*THOOM* *BOOM* *THOOM*

A mighty and imposing form had slowly stomped its way to the entryway opposite mine, waiting in the shadows for his cue to come out next. I could barely see his outline with all the overwhelming lights, lasers, and fog machines blasting everywhere, but my opponent was ready. I swallowed hard again, shaking like a leaf in anticipation. He was even bigger than I had anticipated. Hell yeah.

"In this corner, standing at an incredible 24 feet, 11 inches and weighing a staggering 45,550 lbs, your Colossus for the evening: Apollooooo 'The Apocalypse' Rexford."

*BOOM* *THOOM* *DOOM* *FOOM*

Thunderous footfalls made the entire stadium shake intensely as Apollo slowly stomped his way to the ring. The league didn't typically bother playing theme music for the big boys; the booms generated by their every step were more than enough to raise the crowd's excitement. It was like the thumping of drums from a barbarian warship, signaling the arival of an unstoppable force. The cheers from the crowd when they saw me paled in comparison to how loudly they screamed for Apollo. I bit my lip as I watched him make his way toward the ring, his head rising higher and higher while simultaneously filling more and more of my horizonal view. He was a towering, impossible wall of muscles on muscles on muscles on MUSCLES even wider than he was tall. It took all of my concentration not to cream my singlet right then and there just from the quaking vibrations his mammoth feet. I'd saved up all week for this, and I wasn't about to let it go to waste.

You may be wondering why a minuscule shrimp like me is being matched up against a man 500 times his weight and five times his height. Seems a little bit one-sided for a wrestling match, right? Absolutely! That's how things have always been in the Colossus Wrestling League. In the C.W.L. it's always a tiny resilient wimp against a hulking multi-ton bully. My job isn't to actually wrestle this monstrous man, goodness no. That would be silly. My job is to be his personal plaything, punching bag, and boy toy for the next few hours while an adoring horny adult audience enjoys the spectacle. That's the life of a professional jobber in this miraculous age.

We jobbers are few and far between; an extremely rare mutation of human that is almost entirely immune to direct physical damage or injury. We're naturally small and scrawny in build, but you can crush us, squish us, slam us, bend us, stretch us, twist us - whatever really. We'll always end up springing back to normal soon enough like a rubbery cartoon prop. And on top of that, we're also highly resistant to pain. Being smooshed like a grape certainly feels intense, even overwhelming and uncomfortable at times, but it doesn't particularly hurt. If anything, for me at least, it's the ultimate turn-on.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, but no less rare, are the colossi. While jobbers are tiny and resistant, they're gargantuan and tough. All colossi are ridiculously tall and naturally bursting at the seams with inhuman muscles. Even if a colossus never lifted a weight in his life he would have a bod so impossibly powerful and pumped he'd make the Incredible Hulk feel scrawny. But a big bod comes with hefty needs for fuel and relief; colossi have infamously massive appetites and sex drives to match their muscle. With the C.W.L. footing all their members' sky-high food bills and providing willing toys like me, most are more than happy to sign up as wrestlers and entertain the horny masses.

And so, here we are. The big match. After many quake-inducing steps, Apollo had made it to the ring. My eyes widened as nearly 23 tons of bulk effortlessly stepped over the lofty ropes and made the specially-built, highly reinforced wrestling mat sag noticeably. His muscles, glistening under the lights with a perpetual cascade of sweat, were even more magnificent close up. Every obscenely disproportionate muscle group battled ferociously with one another for space at the tiniest of movements while an awe-inspiring tangle of thick, undulating vascularity snaked across every rippling surface. I once more bit my lip, overwhelmed by, not just the sight of him, but also his smell. Apollo, like most colossi, radiated a naturally intoxicating pheromone-heavy masculine musk. Few were immune to its enticing effects, and the bigger the colossus, the more potent his reek. I took a deep, deep inhale while my eyes were busy drinking in as many visual details of the beautiful he-man who would be flattening me tonight as they possibly could.

Frick, he was absurdly handsome. Apollo's face seemed just as excessively macho as his body, with rugged features that looked like they had been carved from granite. That hard square chin. Those razor sharp cheekbones. That flawless stubble. Those full kissable lips. Long flowing locks of gorgeous golden hair flowed down from his head to the base of his 'neck.' Although, honestly, his neck was so thick with bulging meat that it barely resembled a neck at all any more. In fact, all of Apollo's extreme beef threatened to engulf his lovely face entirely from just about every direction. As if 25 feet of brute height wasn't enough, his trapezius muscles towered over his head by several additional feet. His massive deltoids, spread what felt like a mile apart, looked bigger than sedans. His prodigious powerful pectorals seemed like they'd dwarf small blimps. Both beef zeppelins pressed up intensely at his chin while jutting forward so unbelievably far that I'm honestly surprised the shelf's weight didn't topple him over. A dozen people could've been swallowed whole in the dark abyss between those tiddies. I certainly hoped I could go spelunking in those caverns eventually.

His mile-wide upper body cinched down rapidly to create the most extreme, exaggerated hour-glass figure you can imagine. His long, hard 18-pack abs and rippling obliques tensed with densely-packed power as they worked overtime to keep his immense upper body balanced. The valleys between each pair of abs was also impressively deep; I bet if he did sit-ups you could crush coal into diamonds. To my surprise given the infamous nature of colossus dongs, there wasn't much of, if any, bulge to speak of in the front of his skin-tight sapphire blue speedo. I ever-so briefly experienced the one tiny twinge of disappointment I would feel that night... right up until I lowered my gaze a little further.

Apollo's lower body immediately exploded back outward from his lean waist. His monstrous rippling pillars of quad muscle were as wide as his shoulders. There was NO space between them - it was quad vs quad in the ultimate battle for supremacy. You'd probably need to sit way back in the arena's nosebleed seats to observe all his hyper-developed leg meat at once. His calves were no less impressive, the fat carved diamonds were bulging like meat mattresses from carrying all that sheer tonnage. And then, at the very bottom, below his perfectly sculpted ankles, were his feet. Holy shit, those feet. Even for a man of his size and extreme dimensions they seemed disproportionately huge and muscly. Outside the ring Apollo normally wore specialized shoes made of an advanced shock-absorbing material so he didn't destroy every surface he stepped on. But here in the wrestling ring I got to see them in all their beautiful bare glory: perfectly smooth, immaculately clean, and flawlessly pedicured. In fact, every inch of my massive opponent from head to toe was flawlessly well-kept, since the colossi were pampered like royalty behind the scenes. The jobbers were treated fairly well too, but we didn't require quite as much upkeep as the men whose nails outsize trashcan lids.

It took noticeable effort for him to do so, but Apollo managed to press his big burly chin down low enough into his obscuring tit meat to look at me directly. He licked his lips, a hungry and flirtatious smile spreading over his face. He let out a low, deep, velvety baritone grunt of desire that seemed to ripple through his muscles and vibrate from there throughout the entire arena. I once more came dangerously close to blasting in my load, but managed to hold on. Judging by some moans I heard in the crowd, several people weren't able to hold back as effectively.

"Oh yeah..." he growled low, drinking in the audience's lust as he stared me down.
"I'm gonna have fun with you, little man."

Apollo began to raise up his arms, preparing to flex for his adoring public. The two monoliths were so incredibly thick they may well have put even his pecs and quads to shame. His forearms were so fat with bulging meat I was earnestly surprised he had as much mobility as he did. The preposterous pythons throbbed with macho power, bunching up and battling with themselves from just this simple lifting motion, and hovered tangelizingly out to each side. A hush came over the crowd in anticipation of the coming display. I was drooling a little.

*BOOM*

A shockwave of air rippled out from each peak as Apollo performed a front double-bicep pose. Each arm muscle blasted upward, forming a perfectly split peak that reached up to his clenched fists. The audience once more erupted with cheers, but he wasn't done just yet. With clenched teeth and a primal grunt he flexed his arms harder, willing more mass to spill out as his veins engorged with blood. Through this Herculean efforts both biceps rapidly rose, releasing another shockwave while the peaks reached the same astounding height as his traps. Not to be outdone, his triceps had simultaneously erupted in the opposite direction, becoming so large that their beautifully absurd forms slammed into the wrestling mat below. The mini-earthquake this created made me fall over, and I whimpered as I once more struggled not to pop off before the match even started. I wanted to worship this man with every fiber of my being. He was a grotesque monument to pure unhindered muscularity, and I wanted to lick every inch of him.

As he bounced both bodacious biceps rhythmically, Apollo's audience showered him with yet more cheers and adoration. He beamed with satisfaction. The rhythmic bounces sent his abundant arm sweat spritzing out into the audience, splashing a lucky handful. After a minute or so of this pumped peacock display he finally relaxed his flex, his tremendous arms shrinking down to their smaller, though still awe-inspiring, size. I couldn't wait to see if his other muscles were capable of such extreme explosions of excess bulk.

"Listen up, all you pathetic little PIPSQUEAKS!" Apollo commanded to his captivated audience.

His neck meat clenched intensely whenever he raised his voice for emphasis. There was no need for microphones with colossi since their deep booming voices usually filled the arena with relatively little effort.

"It's the first match of the season. A BIG event! And BIG events featuring dudes as BIG as me need big BIG surprises. So for a long while now I've been brewing an extra special gift for whichever miniscule, microscopic, scrawny little piece of fresh meat I eventually got paired with today."

He pointed to me with a ravenous smirk. My heart was aflutter.

"You know us big guys, we are a HORNY bunch. Most of us can't go more than a couple hours without pumping out one of our infamous monster loads. But, y'know what? You know what, weaklings? While you impatient bugs were out there beating off daily to my perfectly sculpted muscles,"

He did a small (for him at least) side-chest pose for emphasis. From where I was standing I could actually hear his muscle fibers groan.
"I haven't let loose even once since the last season ended. Not. One. Single. Time."

The audience let out a collective gasp. A colossus going one day without a release was one thing, maybe a week if they had the willpower... but several months? Utterly unheard of.

"That's right, you PUNY JOBBER RUNT," he gleefully barked, turning his attention back to me.
"I hope you're ready for the ride of your little life because I am PENT,"
With an audible lurching throb, the previously lacking bulge in Apollo's blue speedo surged outward, a mound bigger than my entire body throbbing from nowhere under the fabric.
"-the FUCK,"
It lurched again harder, rapidly multiplying in erect mass. His previously non-existant balls suddenly rivaled small mini-vans in size, spilling out from the the impossibly stretched spandex, which somehow managed to retain its shape around the increasingly large hardening dick. The two multi-ton mounds hit the ground hard enough to cause another quake.
"-UP!!"

With one last monumental surge Apollo's rock-hard, heavily-veined schlong was towering above me at almost 15 feet long. I'm pretty sure it was twice as thick in circumference as my entire body. It was nothing short of a scientific miracle that his speedo was still intact. It was stretched comically thin and tight, leaving most of him exposed and rendering it a little bit superfluous. His mighty balls were now comparible to his pecs in rounded size, visibly churning with the countless gallons upon gallons of spunk he had been saving up those many months and somehow kept secret until mere moments ago. The visible skin of his dick throbbed crimson as globs of pre the size of my head dripped down like a leaky faucet through the soaked fabric at the tip. It looked, for lack of a better word, ANGRY. This thing was pissed off about holding back for so long, and it was looking to let out its pent-up aggression on someone small, wimpy, and conveniantly invulnerable to damage. As I salivated silently over this latest erogenous display of hypermasculinity and battled once more to keep my loins calm... the bell suddenly rang.

Time for the match to begin.

Oh my god what a HOT story!! 

[muscleboy2811]

FUCK! I'm not usually into Macro stuff but you're hitting all the right buttons for me! 4-way vice-like abs clamped around his head really set me off! Can't way to see where you take this! Great work!

[lazer0100]

I’m also sooo hoping for a continuation, it’s so amazing!!

[iluvmassivemusl]

So fucking hot!!