SMG gets to watch, his thick arms folded across his bulging pecs, leaning against a wall as Adam and Yann slowly circle one another in the center of the room. Adam outweighs the Frenchman, and he’s motivated by his humiliating defeat at the hands (legs, pecs, arms) of his god to regain face. Yann is such a cocky little bastard, though, sneering with contempt at Adam’s bodybuilder muscles as the two of them circle one another cautiously.
Joe11nj is getting into the spirit of things. He commented this weekend on my last ode to Steel Muscle God, where Joe suggested that he can imagine young muscle stud, Yann666 overcoming SMG and making the musclegod submit in a full nelson bodyscissors.
First of all, well done Joe11nj! I’m 100% in support of your hot wrestling kink imagination being fully engaged. Looking at young Yann, I see what you’re talking about. The French phenom appears to have that freakish genetic gift of tiny little joints and ridiculously massive muscles, with the gorgeous vascularity that you know I love. Looking at Yann’s most-muscular, I can indeed imagine that he would pose a serious threat to power out of SMG’s full nelson decisively.
But I have to cry foul if we jump ahead in the story to the moment that Yann drags SMG to the ground in a full nelson body scissors threatening to break his godly neck. Young Yann really should earn his way to a muscle on muscle battle of bodies with the reigning champion of my imaginary YouTube muscle worship wrestling competition. Brit powerhouse Adam400m is still the top contender to redeem himself from his humiliating beating after a back-and-forth battle with the man who would ultimately demand Adam’s obedient worship.
The Frenchman is in board shorts, which seems to be his standard gear. Adam, in his navy blue speedo, taunts Yann. “If I had little chicken legs like those, I’d hide them, too,” Adam sneers. Stopping, placing his hands on his hips, Adam flexes his tree trunk thighs, slowly rotating back and forth to display every bulge and crevice of his massive, legs. “Of course,” Adam smiles, “I clearly don’t have chicken legs like yours.”
The French hardbody spins in a blur of motion, swinging his right leg high and driving his heel into the side of Adam’s face with a dull thud. Adam’s head whips to the side from the shocking blow, and he drops to one knee, cradling his face in his hands.
“Those big muscles won’t help you much once I’ve broken your legs,” Yann says, his thick French accent making his threat of savage brutality sound civilized.