From: lewj99@yahoo.com JOE, PART 3 (THE WORKOUT) The forest stood as it had for thousands of years, massive trees forming a canopy as they soared skyward, sloping over hills and parting only to make way for the occasional granite outcropping or meandering river. A mist had settled over the forest, hanging in the cool morning air as the first beams of sunlight appeared over the horizon. The only sign that humans had ever reached the area was an old logging road, long since abandoned, that wound through the trees for miles before ending abruptly near a cliff face. No one had traveled that road for nearly a hundred years...until that morning. The serene atmosphere was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a Jeep banging up and down over the rutted track. It would have been enough to damage a normal Jeep, but the car's occupant had long ago reinforced the shocks - not to handle rough travel, but to handle him. The Jeep slowed to a stop where the track petered out. The car's lone occupant stepped out and took a deep breath. Cold mountain air filled his lungs as his dense upper body expanded, then relaxed. In spite of the 40 degree temperature, the man was clad only in a pair of faded Levi's, which barely seemed to fit over the powerful cannisters of his thighs (not to mention his sizeable basket). Thick, hairy pecs jutted out from his monstrous upper body. Even relaxed, the giant's lats forced his sequoia-sized arms outward; they in turn hung from a pair of football-helmet sized shoulders. His stomach, though not chiseled, was nevertheless flat, and looked solid enough to stop a cannonball. A dense goatee curled around his snarling mouth, his eyes shaded by an old baseball cap. Though no more than average height, his amazingly heavy build gave him the appearance of a Sherman tank. Joe Miller was ready for his workout. His newfound passion had taken root a few months ago, after he had helped clean up an accident downtown and then gone after the punk who had caused it. The feats he had performed - lifting a city bus, freeing an SUV from a telephone pole and damn near destroying a Camaro - would have inspired awe in any normal man. But Joe was no normal man...and he was concerned by how winded he felt afterward. His arms ached like hell, and even after a few days, he still had trouble bending a steel I-beam in half, something he'd had no problem doing since he was 15. And he was no teenager any more, with his 34th birthday approaching in a few weeks. Over the past few years, Joe had begun taking his massive strength for granted, slacking off on workouts, but the incident downtown had been a wake-up call. In addition to daily workouts in his self-constructed gym, Joe had spent every Saturday morning for the past three months doing 'creative' workouts, in auto- wrecking yards, steel mills, old quarries, anywhere he could talk his way in. The results of this manic weightlifting were astounding - Joe had always packed on muscle with amazing speed, and that hadn't changed with age. He was starting to feel like a new man, his already huge body rippling with fresh muscle, his strength going through the roof. He hadn't felt this good since his early 20s...and he suspected he was even stronger now. Though he never tired of bending steel, Joe had decided to try something new this weekend, and so found himself in this remote section of a large national forest at half past six on a frigid morning. He stood motionless, taking in the sights, closing his eyes for a minute. When he opened them, he fixated on the sight in front of him - a 60 foot pine that jutted up toward the brightening sky. "Good a place to start as any," he said to himself, walking toward the huge tree. Joe stretched his arms out, the monster biceps contracting and stretching, covered by cabled veins. He wrapped his arms around the tree, but the truck was big enough so that his hands didn't meet at the back. At first he thought about just ripping the whole fucking thing out of the ground, but then got a different idea. Instead of lifting, he tightened his arms and chest, squeezing the truck with his vise-like grip. Splinters cracked off as his pecs and guns swelled, the dense wood no match for his iron muscle. Joe grunted and squeezed harder as his back separated into columns of taut muscle, expanding outward like wings. "Snap, you motherfucker, snap!" Joe commanded, and the tree obeyed. A loud BANG echoed through the forest as the trunk cracked up its entire length, and a flurry of pine needles shook loose. Smiling, Joe continued compressing the trunk, grinding it to splinters as he contracted those incredible arms, now seething with power. Seconds later, the upper section of the tree broke off and fell earthward, the split trunk smashing into an adjacent tree. Where there had minutes ago been a mighty pine now stood only the mangled remains of the trunk. Joe stepped back and brushed some of the splinters off his arms; dozens more had lodged in the thick hair covering his pecs, but he would have to deal with that later. His chest and back burned with a deep pump, so he decided to train his arms for a while. Wandering around for a minute, he found what he needed - two large, similiarly-sized trees standing about four feet apart. Wedging himself between the trees, Joe reached around and encircled each trunk with one arm. Breathing shallowly, he tightened his grip with each arm, the peaked biceps and rippling forearms digging into the wood. He didn't bother planting his legs or grabbing the trunks with his hands...this was all going to be done with the power of his guns. Closing his hands into fists, Joe grimaced and began lifting his arms upward. Trapped between the opposing forces of his bi's and forearms, the trees began to tremble. Thick popping noises emanated from the earth as the roots started ripping apart, and the dirt around the tree's base bulged upward. Knotted triceps, as tough as ship's cable, clung to the back of Joe's arms, which were powering the trees steadily upward. More cracks reverberated through the forest, sending a flock of birds fleeing from a nearby tree top. Joe wrenched the trees upward with a series of jerking motions, each tug ripping them further from the ground. His cock seemed to respond, growing larger with each tug, pressing out against the Levi's. Finally, with a loud roar, Joe leaned backward and wrenched each tree out from the earth, a huge ball of roots and dirt hanging from the trunks. He dropped the trees as if they were nothing more than 20- pound weights, more heavy wood wrecked by his hugely-pumped muscles. "Fuck yeah" he muttered, flexing those guns a few times, watching with immense pride as each bicep swelled into a small mountain. "Uprootin' fuckin' trees with these mothers." But there would be time for flexing later...for now, he moved on to the next test, a massive granite boulder stuck in the earth. Crouching down, Joe tightened his quads and grabbed the boulder, shifting his arms a few times to get a better grip. The boulder was at least 8 feet around, embedded in the earth for thousands of years. Floods, blizzards, even hurricanes couldn't dislodge it...but Joe was a force of nature unto himself. With a savage grunt, he flexed his thick quads and calves, which swelled against each other in his crouched position. Instantly, the sound of tearing denim filled the air. Legs planted firmly, he lifted upward with his arms, his neck disappearing under his surging delts. Nothing happened, so he redoubled his effort, swearing at the boulder that stubbornly resisted his will. Soon after, a deep rumbling emanated from the ground as the boulder shifted slightly...but that was all Joe needed. Sneering at the solid granite, Joe steadily worked his way upward, his barrel-sized quads shredding the sturdy denim. Clods of dirt fell from the boulder as Joe muscled it out of the ground, the peaks of his guns actually chipping off some of the granite. A minute later, he stood fully upward, holding tons of granite as if it were a beachball, clamped between his arms and the planes of his pecs. Then, yelling like a madman, he flung the entire mass over his shoulders, sending it careening through the air before taking out another pine tree. The resulting crash could be heard miles away. The same deep pump in his chest and back now burned through his arms, and adrenaline pumped through his body. He felt like he was 18 again, a raw Navy recruit with the strength of a bull and a serious attitude, looking for trouble. The stint in the Navy hadn't lasted long; during shore leave in Mexico, he'd had way too much tequila, picked a fight with a similarly strong and short-tempered Mexican teenager, and ended up leveling most of a city block. Though he'd learned to control his temper, he hadn't completely outgrown the rash teenager he had once been, and he could feel that young man making another appearance. Walking back to the logging road, he saw that it ended at a cliff face, which stood about four stories high. Solid granite...but there was a small, five- foot-high crack which ran upward from the base. A smile crossed Joe's face as his cock hardened to its full length inside his jeans, the reddish-purple head poking out through one of the tattered seams. The crack was just wide enough for him to slip a few fingers in, which is exactly what Joe did. Gripping the granite as best he could, he rooted himself into the soil and started pulling. A casual observer would have had no idea what this muscle monster was doing; for all the world, it looked like he was trying to rip apart solid granite. And they would have been right. "All right, ya pussy, let's see what yer made of," Joe sneered as he unleashed his power on a wall of granite. Thick striations danced across his shoulders and pecs, visible even beneath all that dense hair. Eye-popping muscles mounded on his back, like a relief map of the Rockies. His arms swelled thicker than seemed humanly possible, forcing dozens of veins to the surface. Incredibly, the solid granite began to yield to his power as a series of cracks opened up deep within. A spiderweb of tiny cracks also spread across the craggy surface, as solid rock began to crumble under his grip. Joe's cock broke free from his jeans and stood out like a spear, drooling precum onto the forest floor. With an amazing effort, Joe poured his immense, brute strength into the granite facing. The crack he had stuck his hands in was widening, spreading upward til it was six, then seven feet long. The entire mass of granite rumbled, as if it were being split apart from inside. A couple of trees on top began to waver as the previously-solid ground beneath them fought a battle to stay solid. Finally, with a deafening sound like a dozen shotguns, Joe cracked the granite open, his bi's and tri's swollen so far they were ready to explode. The original crack was almost a chasm, a few inches wider and at least ten inches deep. Perfect for what he needed. "Time to fuck some solid fuckin' granite" he mused, incredibly turned on by the idea. Bucking his hips, he RAMMED his thick, vein-covered cock deep into the crack, chipping off even more solid rock. "Oh yeah" he moaned, bracing his hands on the cliff face as he slammed his cock home, using his own precum as lubrication. He kept fucking the granite for minutes more, crunching rock to powder under his bucking hips, trying to hold on....then, with an animal moan, he shot his load, his heavy balls pumping out shot after shot of thick white cum until it leaked out of the bottom of the crack. His orgasm lasted damn near a minute, sixty seconds of pure pleasure, until he had drained every drop of cum. Staggering backward, he had to lean against a tree for support. It groaned under his staggering weight, but Joe didn't notice. He had fucked dozens of men and women in his life, but it didn't even approach how he felt now. The only time he'd felt this way was when he fucked a VW Bug before going into the Navy, grinding the engine around his cock until it died...he loved the feeling, knew this couldn't be the only time. Already his mind was looking forward to next Saturday, trying to figure out where his next workout would be. He may have been approaching 34, but Joe Miller had a long way to go before Father Time caught up with him...