The Action Hero
by BBMSN

     The fan climbed the wrought-iron fence that surrounded his hero's house in 
Hollywood Hills. He had been planning this for a few weeks now, every since 
someone started a thread on his favorite movie star's web site. "Something has 
to be done" the thread had been titled, and went on to say that it had been 
three years since their favorite actor, Rock Stone, had made a movie. And even 
then, in his last couple of movies, the handsome, well-built actor had appeared 
bloated and overweight. The poster suggested that someone needed to locate the 
actor, and talk him into getting back into the movie scene.
    The fan, who was now dropping down to the other side of the fence, lived in 
the LA area, and knew where the actor lived. He tried in vain to run into him at 
local shops or restaurants, even on the street. Meanwhile, the poster suggested 
someone try to get into his house, that he'd heard that Rock never used the 
security system at the place. The fan decided he'd be the one to do it. Someone 
DID need to talk some sense into the movie star, before he dropped off the map, 
and lost any chance of getting back into the action movies he was so good at. If 
the fan could just meet with him face to face, talk to him, get him to realize 
how many people out there wanted to see him on the big screen again.
    The fan prowled his way across the yard toward the house. He listened for a 
barking dog, or sirens, and heard neither. He saw a wall of french door windows 
at the near side of the house, and headed toward them. One of the doors stood 
open. The fan's heart pounded hard, as he tried the screen, which slid open 
easily. He peeked his head in. It was a big room, with a pool table in the 
middle, and leather couches around the wall. He stepped inside. He was dizzy 
with fear now. He sat down on one of the couches. Two of the walls were 
mirrored, and the fan saw his reflections in one of them. What was he doing 
here? Breaking and entering, into his favorite actor's home. What the hell was 
he thinking? He got up, intending to head out the way he came in, but got dizzy 
with panic, and had to brace himself on the arm of the couch. He took a few deep 
breaths and was about to leave, when the door at the far end of the room opened 
up. He froze in place as he saw the well-known actor step into the room. The 
actor's face was as handsome as ever, although very full. He had on a velvet 
bathrobe, under which he looked huge. The fan had an instant flash of his idol 
going the way of Marlon Brando, reclusive and immensely fat.
     Rock looked over at the open door, then immediately zeroed in on his 
intruder.
     "What the fuck?" said the actor. "How did you get in here?"
     "The door was open...I'm sorry," said the fan, "I'm just an admirer. I 
didn't mean any harm. It's just that, so many of your fans are wondering what 
happened to you, if you are ever going to act again." 
     "I see," said Rock. He seemed instantly unconcerned that there was a total 
stranger in his billiards room.  "And what would make them think that I 
wouldn't?"
     "Nothing," said the fan, shaking. "It's just that...you know...in your last 
films, you looked like...you were getting so...too...."
     "Too what? Too fat?" The actor stepped into the middle of the room, and 
stood next to the pool table. He was stunningly handsome, with piercing blue 
eyes, thick black hair, with a heavy stubble of the same blackness. The fan was 
mesmerized by the handsome face, even more intense in person then on the screen. 
"That's exactly what my manager told me after my last movie." Rock stared at 
himself in the mirror behind the fan, checking out his profile. "That I was 
washed up as an action hero, unless I did something about it. So I hired a 
personal trainer, and started working out. My body took to it like a fish to 
water. From the first workout on, I got so pumped up, it stunned the trainer. 
Within a month, I was stronger and more fit than he was. So I hired a new 
trainer. A better one. A Russian strength coach. I had never done any lifting at 
all, yet was always well-built. My strength grew in leaps and bounds, and I 
loved the feeling. I couldn't get enough of it. The Russian told me I shouldn't 
lift seven days a week, but I did it, and just got bigger and stronger. Soon I 
was out lifting him. And it wasn't enough. Whenever I get into something, I take 
it on big."
    Rock took a step closer to the fan. The light from outside lit him up 
better. He had a powerful presence, highlighted now by his sheer size and 
extreme good looks. He looked at himself as he flexed his chest. The fan could 
see the bathrobe heave. 
    "I fired the Russian and made some calls. I found a connection that could 
get me the Clear. Once I started on that, my strength went thru the roof. I got 
harder and bigger every workout. My reflexes were always exceptional, and now 
they were better. Any body fat I had left, melted off me. Then, about 4 months 
ago, my connection came up with a new 'supplement'. Ten times better than the 
Clear, he told me. He was so fucking right. Take a look at this."
   The actor undid the robe, and pulled it off, dropping it to the floor. Now, 
wearing only baggy sweats, his upper torso was completely exposed. The fan 
gasped and sat back down on the couch. Rock chuckled, as he admired himself in 
the mirror. His upper body was one of extreme muscularity. Everything was 
extraordinarily over-sized. And etched. The delts, pecs, traps...which flared up 
into his thick bull neck, all made him look super human. His serratus muscles 
were as big as hotdog rolls, if hotdog rolls were made of stone. He had an 8pak 
that was so thickly muscle that it protruded, until he clenched it up, sucked it 
in, and strummed it with the fingers of his left hand. His abs, just like his 
chest, were perfectly covered with his black hair.
   "Fuck yeah," he said, "feels so goddam good. And so fucking strong."
    He reached down under the pool table with two fingers of his right hand. 
Then he slowly tipped the table sideways, lifting it off of two legs. The fan, 
slack-jawed, cocked his head to look under the table.
   "There ain't no trick, boy, just pure power." Rock let the table drop down 
with a crash that made the fan jump. "Watch this." The actor pulled the eight-
ball out of a side pocket. He gripped it in one hand then squeezed down. His 
thick fingers reddened, and his forearm muscles flexed out tight. His fingers 
whitened as he gripped harder. Suddenly the ball CRACKED in his powerful hand, 
and then began to crunch up as he continued to grind down on it. Broken up 
pieces of it fell onto the pool table, forming a little pyramid of rubble. Once 
he had disintegrated the ball, he brushed his hand off on his sweats.
    "Come over here," he said to the fan. The fan hesitated, and Rock said, 
"Don't make me repeat myself."
    The fan made his way over to the pool table, shaking like a leaf. 
    "Look at my fucking body," Rock said, looking over the fan, at his own 
reflection. "Touch my arm," he said, holding his arm out straight. The fan 
reached out tentatively and touched the actor's forearm, which was twice the 
size of any forearm the fan had ever seen. As if reading the fan's mind, Rock 
said, "That's right. Twenty inches of forearm power. Now touch the biceps." Rock 
curled up his arm, and they both watched as his huge arm bunched up and piled up 
higher and higher. An insanely huge peak capped his arm, the peak itself bigger 
than a tennis ball atop his 28 inch arm. Rock brought it up to his own mouth and 
kissed it. He looked down at the fan, and leaned into him. "I've made women cum 
just looking into their eyes like this. It works on men too."
   The fan could see why. The actor's eyes were so incredibly blue and clear. 
And he focused them so intently on the fan's eyes that he felt mesmerized. Their 
noses were practically touching. The fan could feel the tremendous body heat 
coming off the massive actor. He felt Rock grab his belt, and lift him off the 
ground. Then he grabbed his shirt collar, and pressed him overhead. "God, you 
are light," said Rock, as he pressed the fan up and down, all the while watching 
himself ripple with power in the mirror. "Oh yeahhhh," he said, "so STRONG." 
After twenty reps, he tossed the fan across the room and onto the couch. Then he 
crunched his arms into a most-muscular pose. "Gotta love this crab shot," he 
grunted, as he squeezed down on his muscle and watched them striated into thick 
ropes. First the left arm. CRUNCH. Then the right arm. BAM. Then both arms. 
FLEX. The muscle bunching up and standing out like ship ropes. Then he went over 
to the couch that the fan was on, and lifted it off the ground. He pressed it 
overhead, and repped it out, still watching himself in the mirror. Over and over 
he pressed the big leather couch and fan. Slow steady reps. His muscles seemed 
to thicken and swell, and by the time he lowered the couch, he had a fine sheen 
of sweat covering his body. He pulled down his sweats and stepped out of them, 
exposing his huge hairy quads. He flexed them in the mirror, making the big 
swollen teardrop muscles that hung out over his knees pop up and down. His Unico 
briefs, wet with sweat, could barely contain his enormous glutes, which jutted 
out of the tops and bottoms of the overstretched skivvies. They could barely 
contain his swelling cock either. 
      He flexed into a double biceps pose. "Fuck YEAH," he exclaimed. "Benching 
1000lbs with these bad boys. That new shit comes in, it'll be 1200. Bring me 
Matt or Ben now, I'll show those punks who's an action hero. I'll crush them 
like the twinks they are."  His arms swelled higher and higher, thick with 
veins, hairy and hyper-masculine. Forearms like gnarled tree trunks. The fan 
could smell the sweat of him, the thick musky muscle sweat. Fresh yet funky and 
intoxicating. Rock stepped out of his Unicos, ripping them as they went over his 
massive quads. His cock flopped out, swelling and rising, the musk filling the 
room. He grabbed the fan by his ears, and forced him down in his thick muscle 
cock. He pushed the fan's head up and down, all the while staring at himself in 
the mirror. Watching his muscle undulate.  His thick powerful muscle. He fucked 
the fan's face so hard, the fan's body jerked back and forth with every thrust. 
He used the man's mouth for his pleasure, barely aware that he was nearly ripped 
the guy's ears off. He watched as sweat began to trickle down the deep cleavage 
of his pecs, his chest hair matted with sweat, the chest itself heaving with 
power as he continued to get off on his own reflection. He let go of the fan's 
ears long enough to flex his arms in the mirror. His triceps bulged out like 
double-sized horseshoes. His biceps peaked even bigger than a few minutes ago, 
the peak rising higher than ever. It was like his ego was willing his muscles to 
grow. He completely worship his own massive reflection, to the point that he 
kissed himself in the mirror. Kissed himself. Kissed his muscles. His power. His 
superior strength. He grabbed the fan by his ears again and slammed him down on 
his cock, down to the root.
     He came with the power of a fire hose, spewing out ten times what a healthy 
male porn star might produce in a week. He came and came and came again, 
infatuated by his own freakishly powerful frame and severely handsome face. 
Finally, he pulled the fan's head off of him, and flopped him back onto the 
couch. The fan's lifeless body plopped down like a ragdoll. 
      The actor jacked himself further, still in love with his reflection, and 
still oozing a trail of jiz. Finally, he waddled his way out of the billiard 
room, and up to his office. He opened his laptop and signed on to his website. 
Still naked, sweating and oozing muscle cum, his thick scent filling the room, 
his massive glutes sinking into his chair, he opened up the thread "something 
has to be done".  He added this post..."Someone should really set Rock straight. 
Doesn't anyone have the balls to go set him straight. Show up to his place, get 
in his face, challenge him; we need him back...his address is......."