This is a story resulting from receiving several full-body photos from a body-builder reader along with a description of what he could give me in a rough fuck.
The Hulk crouched near the bolted heavy oak door, eyeing Rab, ready to pounce, trying to anticipate where Rab might try to scurry next. The stone-walled chamber wasn't small, but it wasn't so large that Rab had much of a chance evading the Hulk much longer. Both men were panting, having played this cat-and-mouse game for several minutes, but Rab was more winded than the Hulk was. No one in his right mind would have bet on Rab in these circumstances.
The hulk couldn't have looked any more fierce. His loincloth only accentuated the jungle primeval nature of him. He was more than six and a half feet tall, with a massive, heavily worked musculature, the development of which must have taken up most of his adulthood. Bald and bullet-headed with bushy, reddish-blond eyebrows nearly hiding jet-black, intelligent eyes that darted about, seeing everything at once, measuring the angles and the distances, he was a man to easily strike terror into the heart of a young, small man like Rab. Though beautifully proportioned and handsome of features, Rab was less than three-quarters the size of the man stalking him in the windowless chamber, silent as death other than the heavy breathing of the two men.
The man's chest was massive, set between arms with biceps larger than Rab's waist. Although considering the aspect of hair on the giant brought the observer's attention immediately to the bald head, bushy eyebrows, and the Fu Manchu mustache and extra-long goatee, closer examination revealed that his arms and chest were covered in reddish-blond hair as well, so long and fine that when the light was set behind him his body took on a haloed effect. Blue, green, and red tattoos peeked out through the pelting: oval designs on the forearms and a dragon on the left shoulder and bicep. The nubs on the man's chest were prominent, begging for rings, but, other than the tattoos, the Hulk sported no body adornment. The most dominant tattoo, at least at this moment, was the word "Respect" carved in a Gothic-letter arc following the diaphragm curve below the bulging pecs.
Rab was, at the moment, giving the Hulk all of the respect he could muster by trying to stay out of his grip. The young man, covered only in a gauzy white cotton tunic of sorts, was moving in a semicircle as far on the other side of the stone-walled chamber as he could. The two were eyeing each other warily. The Hulk, grunting, would make a feint in one direction and Rab would quickly dart in another. Then the action would be played out in another direction. Rab knew what the Hulk was looking for in the young man's evasion, why the man was toying with him like this. He could see the intelligence in the Hulk's eyes. He knew the man was mapping Rab's pattern of trying to maintain the distance between them. He knew that the man enjoyed this game, also knowing how it inevitably would end. Rab was trying to change his movement pattern, but he could see by a flash in the Hulk's eyes and a growling laugh that rumbled deep inside the man that his moments of freedom were nearly at an end.
The Hulk crouched on his beefy haunches, ready to spring in whatever direction he decided. A broad, calloused hand went to the string holding up his loincloth. He tugged on the string, snapping it, and the loincloth fell to the floor. He gave Rab a sneery "this is all going to be inside you" smile.
Rab's eyes opened wide and he sobbed. The big cock was already sheathed in erection, leaving no doubt of intent, not that there ever had been doubt of intent from the moment he was thrown into the dungeon with the giant.
The Hulk's groin was hairless to accommodate the most intimidating tattoo of all, the triangle above the cock being taken up with the wings of a bat centered by a hound's head, oversized fangs flashing. Talons reached down from both sides of the wings, perpetually trying to dig into the root of the man's cock. The cock itself, wrapped at the root by a tight leather band was massive in its erection. Not overly long, but thick, cut, and bending menacingly to the right just beyond the glans. And it was sheathed and greased, ready for immediate action.
Rab's entrance had been greased too before he was tossed into the room. There would be no foreplay, no time to adjust.
Rab's hand went to his mouth to stifle the scream of recognition of what the Hulk intended to do with that cock—and how sure they both were that the Hulk would do as he liked. The moment of shock was just what the Hulk had been waiting for. He feinted right but pounced left, springing off the spongy tatami matting of the floor, and was almost upon Rab before the young man could react. When Rab did move, it was in the wrong direction.
The young man slid across the matting toward the far corner of the room. He went down in a heap and was just a second too late in springing back up. There was no place to go but the corner. Which meant there was no place to go at all. Rab cowered in the corner, drawing his knees up into his chest and trying to cover his head with his arms, not wanting to see what was coming. His pursuer hovered over him for a moment, grunting and growling. He smiled, obviously pleased that the new phase of this game was now opening. Reaching down, he grabbed onto the back neckline of Rab's tunic and easily lifted the young man up in the air. He shook his prey, looking at it as if contemplating where to begin. Rab was babbling and pleading, but the Hulk took no notice. With a sweep of his arm, he tossed Rab into the center of the empty room. Rab landed hard on the tatami floor and, with a whimper and shudder, folded himself into a fetal position.
But in three strides the Hulk was standing over the young man again. He reached down and grabbed the neck of the tunic once more with both claws and just ripped it away, off the young man's body, and tossed it aside. Rab lay on the matting below him, trembling and whimpering. His body was alabaster white. He was beautifully formed. Rather than the exaggerated bulk of the Hulk in every dimension, his was a very young, well-muscled, but pampered body, perfect in every proportion for a young man of barely five and a half feet. He was smooth-skinned, and had been unblemished before he had been thrown in the room but would show bruises after whatever happened to him here. His head hair was auburn, with golden highlights, and curled in a thick mop around his head. His eyes were hazel and wide open now in terror.
The Hulk reached down, put a beefy arm around the young man's waist, and lifted his body, bent over, up into the air. Rab struggled, flailing out with both his arms and legs, resisting as best he could the assault on his body. The Hulk turned him facing up and, with his other hand, backhanded Rab twice across the face. Rab wailed and lost a bit of the fight, but not much. He was stunned long enough, though, for the Hulk to work his hips between Rab's thighs and to position his cock so that he could start repeatedly brushing the top of his shaft across the rim of Rab's hole.
