Chapter 8
"We did It t" Francine enthuses.
"Sure did," King agrees, smiling in the glare of the cameras as they flank the trophy.
"I think that's about enough of this, don't you?" Francine asks.
"Yeah. These guys'd take pictures forever if we let `em."
"Thanks a lot, everyone?" Francine says.
And they both smile and wave, moving off stage, King taking the trophy just out of range of the TV and sitting it down. The show's promoters will have it engraved.
They head for the showers, men's and womens's, respectively.
And Randy Buck, Rhino, and, to their surprise, Steve are there to greet them when they emerge fully clothed.
"This is absolutely exquisite!" Francine enthuses. "And the food is out of this world!"
"Should be," Randy Buck responds, between mouthfuls, "I own the place."
"This is one of yours too?" King asks, surprised.
"Absolutely. Don't have much in the midwest by way of eateries, but what I do is, well, as you see."
"Speaking of which, I hate to eat and run, but if you'll excuse me-" And he leaves.
"Hope he remembered to take care of the check," King says.
"Won't be a check," Steve states. "Never is, we eat in one of Randy's places."
"What uh, what are you doing here anyway, Steve, if you don't mind my asking?" Francine asks, knowing that his presence is driving King up the wall.
"I wanted him here," Rhino interjects.
King and Francine look at Rhino.
Steve smiles wanly, looking down at his plate. "I wanted him here," Rhino continues, "so that he could come to a decision."
Rhino is a robot, a statue, his gaze impenetrable behind his dark glasses.
"I'm not going for Mister Galaxy this year," Steve says.
And it is King's turn to look down at his plate.
"Funny thing about being number one," Steve continues, "which is that if you're not gonna be number one, then suddenly you're not gonna be anything decent.
"If the judges are gonna knock ya down, they have to make a very good job of it.
"So they go out of their way to see to it that you don't even come close.
"That way, no questions remain unresolved in anybody's mind, from spectators to promoters."
"After seeing you up there, King, I've decided to give you the shot, free and clear."
"Thanks," King says.
"No thanks necessary," Rhino says. "Steve is acting in his own best interests.
"He isn't ready and he isn't going to be ready."
"Not in time. Not for the Mister Galaxy."
"I just brought him out here so he could prove it to himself."
"And I did," Steve confirms.
They continue eating and it is as if a great weight has been lifted from King's head and shoulders.
So, he thinks, that's what all the big conferences were about-not to get Steve ready, but to convince him that he was not and couldn't be.
And he was and is the new favorite.
King is king indeed.
"No, uh, hard feelings, I hope," King says.
"None at all," Steve says. "My own damn fault, actually. Spent most of the year on a maintenance' routine. Resting on my laurels, I think they call it. "
"So what are your plans?" King asks.
Steve shrugs.
"Movies, TV, whatever."
"Or I could get onto a program that'd put me back in shape for next year."
"Could," Rhino echoes.
"How serious is that?" King asks.
"Well, I'm gonna hafta do something with myself to actually get back in shape.
"I let myself go without even realizing it."
"And don't think that can't happen, either; easiest thing in the world. All ya really need is enough complacency."
"Words to live by," King says. "Indeed," Francine interjects.
They look at her.
"Anybody ever tell you guys you can be really boring if you set your minds to it?"
"Well, guys," Steve says. "Lady says she's bored. Shall we go somewhere and make things exciting for her?"
Rhino and King look at each other, then at Steve.
"We?" King asks.
After all, she is his partner, and it's no secret that he and she see each other away from the gym.
"Hey, we're out of town and this has been a pretty exciting day," Steve says. "So why not continue the festive mood?"
"Three on one, though?" King says.
Rhino smiles thinly.
"I'm game if you are," Francine affirms.
There it is again, King thinks.
Something in Francine digs this kinky stuff, sex with more than one guy.
And now, apparently, more than two.
Fuck it, then, he thinks.
He tried to take her off the spot, only to discover that she is exactly where she wants to be.
Besides, it should be very interesting-Francine with the present and future Mister Galaxies and Rhino, who is in a class by himself, physically speaking.
"Everybody have enough to eat?" Francine asks.
Sheesh! King thinks. She's even impatient to get started.
And of course, with what they have ahead of them, the men are more than ready.
No question, King thinks. One would have to look far and wide to find four bodies built as well as theirs.
He has a lazy hard-on, just like the other two men, as Francine climbs onto the king-sized bed.
"Since Steve is the new man on the team," Fran- cine says, "why don't we get started with him?"
Steve grins.
And, as she lies on her back, head propped up on pillows, Steve straddles her body, holding onto the headboard for support, and begins fucking her in the mouth.
And yet, she is sucking him as eagerly as he is pumping his hips.
So that he very quickly gets a massive hard-on.
And the other two watch Steve's vast (although apparently not competition ready) musculature in action muscular buttocks flexing and unflexing beneath his broad, flaring back.
When he is fully at the ready and beginning to really heat up, Francine deftly slides out from beneath him.
He twists around, surprised, cock huge and stiff. She smiles and pats the bed.
And he understands at once.
And lies down on his back, head comfortably supported by a pillow As she squats above him, quickly inserting his meat baton into her cunt as she settles down on him and leans forward.
Rhino very politely gestures, bowing, inviting King to go for her ass hole.
And King is not slow to comply.
He sucks her ass hole, lying between Steve's legs, Francine's being outside them.
And, because Francine is rotating her hips, his tongue accidently touches Steve's balls and cock briefly, every now and again, until he adjust his head movements to her rotations.
And now, they are coordinated.
And he feels her ass hole slacken against his lips and tongue, although Steve's prick is pressing too hard on her insides for King to actually insert his tongue into her bung.
And now, he pulls back, his cock throbbing erect, excited by sight and taste and action.
He polishes his knob with a bit of saliva.
She has a big ass hole which receives plenty of attention from him in the normal course of their seeing each other and he knows from that experience that she requires no great preparation.
And now, feeling him take his face away from her ass, she stops.
And raises her hips until only Steve's knob remains inside her cunt.
And King deftly shafts into her ass.
And she settles back down.
And he feels the underside of Steve's cock through the thin membrane of tissues separating' her rectum from her vagina.
So that now they have formed the sandwich.
And Steve, as top man, controls the action, bouncing up and down so that his piston action alternates with Steve's.
Rhino checks the action from the foot of the bed.
And he sees her ass hole and cunt turned into two smoothly rounded, pink-lipped mouths, sucking two thick cocks.
Satisfied that all is firmly in place and well underway, Rhino gets onto the bed, going on his knees cock above Steve's head.
And Francine raises her upper body as Rhino spreads his knees wider, until her mouth lines up perfectly with the bulbous head of his cock.
And now, she puts her mouth over it and begins to suck it like a lollipop.
So that the tip of her tongue is exploring the indentation of the eye, the taut, warm surface of the head itself, the thick, flaring flange at the rear of the head, the fish-head juncture beneath.
And now, she goes deeper.
And all the while, the twin pistons are going about their delightful work in cunt and ass.
And she is sucking Rhino's cock with a regular suction as he holds himself steady, on his knees in front of her, his cock a bridge between his body and her mouth, above Steve's face.
This is unreal! King thinks.
It is like some form of exercise, a kind of esoteric workout.
Perhaps it is all this muscle, male and female, all this prime beef, the blood coursing through it, sex- charged, that makes it seem like it belongs in a gym somehow.
But nevertheless, the fact remains that they are getting quite a good pump, flexing and unflexing, breaking a sweat now.
And King makes a mental note to ask Rhino about making sex a regular part of his regimen.
Rhino has implied that it is, but has not gone beyond that generality.
But now, the thought process comes to a halt. Rather, it fades away, supplanted by the lascivious sensations which inundate King's brain.
What is all the scheming, the planning and pondering, compared to this?
Because this is truth, the message of the body, the complex feeling, the stimulation which is what it is and is not illusion, distortion, conceit.
And King is tapped into this truth now, surrendering to it, giving in, letting it move him as and when it will.
And he increases his bouncing.
Which in turn increases the piston action, his own and Steve's.
Which in turn increases the flow of sensation, the sexual electricity which permeates them.
Which in turn causes Francine to redouble her attentions to Rhino's cock, opening her throat so that she can actually get his entire cock into her head.
And so they climb the rainbow of their shared pleasure.
Hotter and hotter, faster and faster they become. And now, they are pumping all out, their action looking like a speeded up porno film.
So excited is King, so thoroughly aroused is ,he that he seems to be shuddering rather than bouncing now.
It is as though they are on a vibrating bed.
And now, they are all out of control, with the possible exception of Rhino, although he too is as though frozen to the spot, paralyzed by his pleasure.
And they are coming and coming, Francine's crotch turning into a creamy mess as the alternating pistons of the two cocks which impale her force jism from both orifices.
And Rhino is loading her tongue with his sperm, which she swallows in a series of gulps.
As soon as he is finished coming, Rhino pulls away.
And goes into the bathroom, as the other three, their passion spent, collapse in a heap.
And washes and dries his prick.
And gets dressed and leaves, going to his own room, before the other three have even begun to disentangle themselves.
And King unplugs from her ass.
Because now he does feel it, the post-coital depression, his revulsion that Francine should have chosen to thus disport herself.
It was there, but much milder, with just himself and Rhino.
But this three-way fuck has caused him to renew his doubts concerning Francine.
And now, he has another reason to win the Mister Galaxy.
Because Mister Galaxy doesn't do mixed pairs competition.
Not that he ever will again, King tells himself. Because, physically speaking, there is no better partner than Francine.
She is the best there is and he knows' it. But this, he can't take.
Because he feels depressed-on what should be for him a very happy evening.
He hoses down by himself, notwithstanding that this is Francine's suite and he would ordinarily be meticulous in his observance of the "ladies first" rule.
And he cannot wait to throw his clothes on and get out of there, not bothering to look at the bed where Steve and Francine are lying there, side by side, watching him.
King is suddenly exhausted.
He wants only to drop into bed and go to sleep. Even so, he feels compelled to take another shower.
Maybe, he tells himself, it's because I really am beat that I feel so bad.
But deep down, he knows that this is not the whole truth, to say the least.
Because he is just not into the gang bang scene.
So that, unless things look a hell of a lot better to him in the morning than they do now, he and Francine are through.
He has no obligation toward her of any kind, either official or personal.
And now, he has but one task, and it is one in which she plays no part, except that of sexual relief. He will miss that body, he knows.
But apparently, she needs more than what he alone has to offer.
And it is not so much that he is insulted (he isn't), but rather that she is a sick person, for all her robust physique.
Still, she is one hell of a bod and one hell of a piece of ass.
But how can he tolerate her perversion?
On the other hand, they don't have to have anything by way of serious commitment, so-Puck it.
He will sort it all out in the morning.
This decided, he sleeps.
They all meet for breakfast (Buck's idea).
But King is unwilling to look any of them in the eye, except for Rhino, whose opaque sunglasses make a very nice shield between the two of them.
"I wanna hit the gym tomorrow and get started right away," King says.
"Attaboy!"
This from Randy Buck.
Steve merely looks down into his cornflakes and continues to spoon.
Francine says nothing, is indifferent, is a bit put off by his abrupt and uncivil departure of last night.
Rhino says, "I'll have your new diet worked out sometime this afternoon.
"We'll have to decide how best to execute the meal schedule."
"I don't understand."
"Quite simple, really; we have to work out how best to get what you need into you."
"Hey, get it to me and I'll put it through the blender."
Rhino shrugs.
"I can take it if you can," he says. "Could get awfully boring, though, four times a day."
"I don't have the time to turn into a gourmet cook," King responds. "I want no distractions. I'm going to win head and shoulders above the competition at the Mister Galaxy."
Excusing himself ahead of time for distancing himself from Francine.
Randy Buck beams.
Rhino smiles thinly.
"Now I know I made the right decision," Steve observes.
And he isn't kidding. It has been years since he felt that kind of dedication to the contest.
"See you folks back at the gym," Buck says, excusing himself.
"Sounds good to me too," King says.
And he also leaves them abruptly, lest someone get the brilliant idea of having a repeat performance of last night's festivities.
I won.
In the event, this is his simple thought, his sole reaction.
The realization of victory.
And the others were not even close.
Heavyweight and overall, he wins, hands down, just as he imagined it, just as Rhino and he planned it.
Mister Galaxy, that's me, he thinks, as people pump his hand in congratulations, the cameras flash, and the crowd extends its applause.
"And my congratulations too."
He looks her up and down, exaggerated hourglass figure bulging from tube top, adjusted low, her twin torpedos pushing it out, outline of nipples clearly revealed.
And painted on toreador pants over high heels. He looks at her, puzzled.
"Muscle groupie," Steve says between his teeth, arm around King's shoulders, smiling and waving, old Mister Galaxy in tuxedo and new, oiled body still in posing trunks, sharing the moment of transition.
"She's pretty good, too. Help yourself," Steve advises.
Why not? King thinks.
"I'll take care of these," Buck says, bustling by, herding two stage hands, each bearing a man-sized trophy.
"Lemme shower and I'll meet you outside the stage entrance," King says to the groupie.
"I'll be waiting,"
She is indeed pretty good, as Steve said.
As he lies there and she works him over, exploring every detail of his musculature with mouth and eye and hand, as though to memorize every facet of his championship form, as though she cannot get enough of the sight and the feel and the taste of him.
"Love making it with you black muscle studs," she murmurs.
And he would like to point out to her that he is not nearly as black as he seems, that he has had to spend hours under a sunlamp to achieve his rich, mahogany shade, in order to keep up with his white competition, tan-wise.
But he does not.
Instead, he remains silent as she slowly circles in on the center of his being, having tongued and kneaded and examined his upper body in intimate detail and now working on the vastness of calf and thigh, both legs, slowly wending her impassioned way upward.
And she has a truly spectacular figure, a combination of Francine and the black barmaid, lacking the former's muscularity and hard definition as well as the latter's overflowing, adipose voluptuousness.
And now, she is sucking his cock, getting it hard.
And he realizes he is having sex, the same kind of desultory, non-participational sex he used to have before this whole Mister Galaxy thing started.
And now, she is deep throating him, burying her lips in his sparse (because mostly shaved) bush, then drawing back until only the plum of his cock head remains inside her mouth, again and again.
Getting him rock hard.
And still he lies there, awaiting the moment when- There!
The body takes over from the mind.
And he, red-faced, body flushed, pulls away from her.
And she assumes the position in the middle of the bed, legs raised and spread.
And he has no thought of burrowing into her bush, of sucking her tits.
Rather, he just wants to fuck the living shit out of her.
And she seems all for that, sighing with delight as he shafts smoothly into her pussy, all the way.
And now, he fucks her, all out, all the way.
And her pussy sucks his cock, clinging to it with wet; hot, juicy embrace on the back stroke, devouring it each time he lunges forward. - He does not hold back, does not restrain himself.
He wants to drain and drain and drain himself, again and again.
He wants to feel himself pussy-whipped, like in the old days.
And she is more than adequate to the purpose.
He wants to go home beat, exhausted, there to sleep the sleep of the dead.
And wake up resurrected and Mister Galaxy, the ceremony of transition, as he has devised it, complete.
And now, he is coming and coming, she matching his spurts with the spasms of her multiple orgasms.
And they shower together, she alternating between scrubbing him and herself.
And they return for round two.
And King turns over, onto his stomach.
And she is between his legs at once, her tongue seeking the hot depths of his ass hole as she spreads the muscled mounds of his buttocks apart.
Idly, King thinks, not of himself as champion, not . of his satisfied boss, Randy Buck, and not of the over-muscled, oversexed Francine, but of Rhino.
And he is determined to learn from the master, to sit at his feet as his most ardent disciple, so that Rhino can teach him all the mysteries, all the secrets of the body.
Because he suspects that Rhino is older than he could possibly imagine, and not getting any older.
And it is that, rather than this passing show, this blink in the eye of eternity, which counts.
But now, even that is set aside as his cock, trapped between belly and bed, twitches once again to vibrant life.
And he thinks about fucking her in the ass, but does not care to make the necessary preparation, however brief.
So he contents himself once more with her comfy cunt, doggy style this time, so that he can weigh and fondle her breasts and even stick a thumb into her ass hole as he fucks her and she rotates her hips, reaming herself with his big cock, literally screwing herself onto him.
And taking her all the way, not holding back, not restraining himself, wanting only the pleasure beyond pleasure, gateway to death and resurrection.