Jack The Hammer: Meat Market Part 1

Happy Halloween Everyone!

As a special Halloween treat we are releasing the first part of a three part special. Jack the Hammer strikes again as his hunting ground expands. Will the performers and patrons of the local Male Strip Club 'Meat Market' survive the night or will they meet an incredibly gory end? Read on to find out and remember to have a Happy Halloween.

“Do you think you can handle all these hot studs, big guy?” Clark Coxx flashed a cheeky grin to go along with his double entendre.

Colton Castle rolled his eyes before he looked down at his business partner and said, “I can handle our patrons. You make sure the talent stays under control. We can’t make any money if we keep having to bribe the police every time your stars fuck on stage.”

“Maybe we don’t break even that night, but if a little fucking and sucking keeps us packed to capacity all the time, we can afford to let ‘em run wild every now and then,” Clark laughed and slapped his friend on the shoulders. 

The two friends were co-founders of the Meat Market, a male strip club catering to male clientele. Though relatively new their business had taken off both because of the talent they had managed to attract and even Colton had to admit because of their willingness to overlook certain legal issues from manner of stage performances to construction codes. Despite their many differences, the two found they made a good pair as businessmen, yet they considered themselves too different to become fuckbuddies. 

Colton Castle was older and more down to earth. The thirty-six year old giant towered over most people with his six foot, ten inch height and gargantuan 320 pounds of muscle. His early silvering hair and salt and pepper beard framed his stern face with his piercing bright blue eyes. He handled the most of the books, but also he saved money by acting as a bouncer. Usually he only needed to stare across the room at some drunk jocks or handsy businessmen to stop any rowdy behavior. However if that failed, his deep, gravelly voice could cut through the loud club with a barked command worthy of the best drill instructor. With his looks, he almost never needed to resort to physical force. Tonight he was in his usual black leather harness that showcased his jutting, hairy pecs and his ten pack abs. Black bands encircled his mammoth biceps to better highlight his bulging arms. The former football player had only packed more muscle on his body after retirement, and he still loved wearing jockstraps. Patrons could see the white band above his low slung Levi jeans. They could also see the bulge of the massive set of cock and balls being supported by Colton’s jockstrap. Many customers hoped he would take the stage himself one day, but Colton insisted on staying on the business side of things.

Clark Coxx was younger and wilder than his business partner. While not as large, the thirty year old was tall himself at six foot and six inches with 180 pounds across his lean frame. Ever since high school people had joked he resembled the comic book superhero with his black hair and fashion model worthy cheekbones, Clark decided to make a sexy version of the look. His dark hair had a purposely errant curl over his forehead. He wore big, black rimmed glasses despite his large grey eyes having better than 20/20 vision. His workout routine had shaped his body until rippling muscle covered every inch of his slim frame. The v-cut black t-shirt he was wearing showed off the thick pectorals, cobblestone abs, and all the rest of his otherwise lean torso. The low cut also gave patrons a glimpse of the superman symbol tattooed on Clark’s left pec. His equally tight black jeans hugged his tight ass and the superman sized cock whose outline could be clearly seen in the stretched material. Like with Colton many customers hoped to see Clark on stage, but he enjoyed being the face of the operation. He preferred bartending instead where his friendly smile and flirty talk kept business going at a brisk pace.

“Let’s keep things simple tonight. Nothing more than jerking off, and we close on time. No special after hours show where you fuck the talent or customers,” Colton grumbled. “These murders have me worried. Whether or not this ‘Jack the Hammer’ is the real deal, we’re an obvious target for someone going after handsome, hung, muscular young men. I wish you’d agreed to hire more security.”

Clark sighed and said, “You worry too much, pal. There’ve never been any killings in a crowded area. Just loners or a small group. And the only confirmed kills in the city have happened at campus. Cody’s gym was just across the street from the university. We’re miles away.”

“College students are over half our customers, we’re the closest gay nightlife spot, and one of our top performers has already been killed. If the killer is stalking or looking for another hot jock or fratboy type after some ass or dick, we’re going to be on his radar eventually if we aren’t already,” Colton nodded pointedly to a group of men in their early twenties coming through the door as he spoke. They wore tight clubbing outfits that left little of their growing young muscles to Colton’s imagination, and they were already a little tipsy. The young man in the center of the group was especially handsome with his strawberry blond hair and a lazy grin that could easily turn from boyishly innocent to knowingly seductive. He was wearing a body hugging t-shirt with the words “Spank me! I’m the birthday boy.” printed in bright pink letters stretched across the young man’s prominent chest muscles.

“Fine, we’ll play it safe tonight and see if we can find something in the budget for more security next week, but I really think you’re overreacting. Cody was just the wrong person in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Clark said, but Colton could see his friend was not as relaxed as his words indicated.

Colton nodded, “Then we agree. Now let the talent know. It’s almost show time.”

“Okay, okay. Stop worrying. We’ll start on time. I’d say keep your shirt on, but…” Clark smiled and tugged on the black leather harness straps that cupped the underside of Colton’s enormous pecs.

Colton faked a backhanded slap at his friend, which only made Clark laugh again as he disappeared into the hall running to the dressing room. He had his six star performers scheduled for this Saturday night, so even if they were not going as all out tonight as they might have previously, Clark was sure the customers would be satisfied by his offerings. As he stepped into the backstage room, he knew he would be pleased by the sights on offer.

“Hey, Beau, help me out with this thing,” Harry Hammers was saying as he positioned his toolbelt around his narrow waist. Harry was their working man fantasy. With dark hair, tan skin, green eyes, and a thick if neatly styled beard, he looked like a construction worker who happened to also be incredibly handsome and have muscles of steel. He was wearing a white string safety vest that left his massive, lightly hairy pecs and rippling, fury abs on display. His work pants had velcro tear out panels neatly hidden in the seams. A black thong peaked out from his denim jeans. The meaty log and meatier ass in his pants appeared ready to burst out at any moment. A pair of brown working boots and a yellow helmet completed the look. At twenty four, Harry was the oldest and most experienced performer and often acted as the responsible role model. He was popular both onstage and backstage because he was genuinely friendly, even a little goofy, while also able being very skilled with his tools, both the metal and flesh variety. He was no stranger to comparing his thick cock’s shaft with his large hammer for the audience, and one several occasions he had wrapped a yellow measuring tape around his large, fuzzy balls to help edge him to release his thick load on a plyboard, which would be auctioned off later that night. The death of Cody had really hit him hard, but he had been more like his old self lately, thanks in part to the support of his coworkers.

“Sure, no problem,” Beau Everlast said as he helped strap down Harry’s toolbelt that sported various hammers, screwdrivers, and pockets for tips. Beau was the youngest at nineteen, but you would never guess that from his performances. He was the rich boyfriend from countless romance novels and movies. Tall, blond, golden skin, bright smile, guileless blue eyes, and the looks of a model who had just stepped out of suit catalog. His expensive suit emphasized rather than hid his thickly muscled body. The tailored jacket, waist coat, and shirt fit Beau’s broad back and bulging chest muscles as tightly as his white gloves fit his strong hands. The trousers clung to his golden globed ass, muscular quads, and plump cock and balls like a second skin. The color of his red bowtie matched the color of the bouquet of red roses he would give to the audience during a show while a sheer white laced up thong matched the starched white of his perfect teeth. His cock was as big and handsomely shaped as the rest of him, and Beau would often dip a gloved finger into his cockslit to coax out a drop of precum that he would would bring to his mouth where a lick and a low moan would have the audience creaming in their own pants. His routine would often end with him stretching out his muscles in a huge champagne glass before he would pop a bottle to spray all over his beefy form, and if you were lucky Beau might make his big dick spray its own rich liquid all over himself too. Clark’s youngest star was the confident, strong, charming, and wealthy hunk you would be proud to bring home to your parents.

“Hey, Beau, when you’re done with Harry, you can come help me with my tool,” Ryan Gunn said from the other side of the room. Beau turned around and blew Ryan a kiss, but Ryan smirked and flashed a middle finger in response. Nobody was surprised by Ryan’s behavior by now. The twenty-two year old man played up their faux rivalry since his role was Beau’s opposite. Ryan was the bad boy of the group. Firefighter at his usual job, heartbreaker in the rest of his work and life. Ryan’s on-call firefighting meant he made the fewest appearances of the men present, but that rarity, along with his incredible body, had only helped his popularity. He was a 100% smooth skin, rippling muscle, beefcake built, pansexual stud, fuck machine. He was oiling up his jacked body before putting on his firefighting gear. A sleeve tattoo of clashing fire and water graced his thickly muscled left arm while a tattoo of a watery stallion charging at a fiery dragon covered his right leg from his wide feet up across his meaty quads. Metal piercings ran through both ears, and both nipples on his mammoth pecs sported metal bars. An eyecatching red jock strap supported his massive swinging cock and balls. Regulars had nicknamed Ryan’s dick “The Firehose” since Ryan always pumped out his huge loads further than anyone else. Front row seats were especially in demand on his nights since Ryan’s cum always cleared the stage. His dark brown hair was faded at the sides but short and spiked on top, which did nothing to reduce his fuckboy reputation. His hazel eyes sparkled mischievously, and his pouting lips promised that even if you were lucky enough to have him, you would never be able to keep him.

“Hurry up,” Clark reminded them from the door. “We’re starting soon.”

“Hey, I’m already dressed, boss, unlike matchstick over there,” Tarzan Sims shot a look over at the tattooed firefighter, who shot back a double middle finger salute in response. Those two had a more competitive rivalry going on, which had not prevented them from fucking on stage. Sometimes hate fucks are hotter, Clark thought, as Tarzan returned to checking out how well his ass was fitting into his tiny pair of dark navy shorts. As his name implied, Tarzan usually went with a jungle lord theme, but tonight he had decided to go with a postman outfit. The twenty-one year old Argentinian hunk was hoping to break into acting and had been earning money as a stripper for each move closer to his Hollywood goal. At only an average height of 5 foot, eleven inches, he was the shortest of the six but by no means a lightweight. His body was thickly muscled from head to toe. His short sleeved postman shirt strained to hold his juicy, lightly haired pectorals. Clark could count the younger man’s cobblestone abs through the tight, pale blue shirt. Tarzan’s golden tanned biceps threatened to split the short sleeves open as he adjusted his shorts. An electric blue thong was barely visible along his short’s waistband, but the huge package the thong was cupping was obvious to anyone who looked. However the back held Tarzan’s biggest claim to fame at the club. His thick, golden tanned, meaty, bubble butt stuck out through the thin material of his shorts. Tarzan loved gyrating his hips and swinging his ass before the mesmerized audience. His would often look over his shoulder with a twinkle in his dark colored eyes as he went through his routine. Then he would shake his head wildly as he went through a series of energetic and animalistic movements that utilized every one his huge muscles. His long hair would often swing as wildly as his ass, but tonight he had pulled it up into a bun. Of all the performers he was most eager to use props, if only because on some nights he enjoyed showing how much of them he could fit into his meaty ass. The musclebound man releasing a Tarzan roar as he came while fucking himself on a huge dildo was regarded by many as one of the club’s best performances.

Next to Tarzan, Beef Hancock was tipping his cowboy hat at his reflection. His light grey eyes carefully studied how he stood in order to best draw the crowd’s attention. The twenty-three year old stud was a couple of inches taller than Tarzan. His light brown hair was cut short as was the close cropped beard which highlighted his firm jawline. His skin was a deep brown reflecting the hours he spent working outdoors and camping. He worked various part time jobs including as an actual cowboy and loved the natural lifestyle. Everything from his diet to his clothes were free from artificial chemicals. His clean living and hard labor at both jobs and gyms had allowed him to add more and more muscle on his two hundred forty pound body. He also loved wearing as little as he could get away in order to best show off his strong arms, broad back, rounded pecs, and ripped abdominals. His current yellow cowboy vest was buttoned with just the last of his abs appearing under the bottom with the barest hint of his yellow thong running beneath his tasseled, black cowboy pants. Many people thought he picked up the nickname ‘Beef’ when he started packing on muscle in high school, but the real reason his fellow athletes started calling him that was front and center in those black pants. His big dick was a foot long and thicker than a beer can with a pair of heavy balls swaying beneath. His muscular thighs had been trained for over a decade on horses, and he loved demonstrating how well his experienced hips could ride the most unruly of creatures. Beef would often swing his muscular legs over a barrel and demonstrate his best technique with a cocky smirk that told the audience Beef had broken the roughest of stallions, so none of them stood a chance if he were to ever climb on top of them.

Which only left on more performer to check on, which filled Clark with both arousal and dread.

“Are my adoring fans ready?” Ace Champion asked with a lift of an immaculately shaped eyebrow. Clark had never seen anyone take care of their appearance like Ace did. His thick, brown hair was perfectly quiffed. His bright blue eyes clear. His teeth blinding. His chiseled features clean. His skin evenly tanned. Even by the standards of these men, Ace was a narcissist, and for better or worse, he had good reasons for his attitude. The twenty-two year old came from a rich family, but money alone could not buy what Ace really wanted, which was to be worshiped. He never needed to work, but he had been an underwear model, fitness influencer, and OnlyFans performer among other things. Ace loved an excuse to show off his body, and there was nothing like having a live in-person audience. Tonight he was wearing an air force flight suit unzipped to the waist. The lowered zipper showed off the results of his religiously observed diet and exercise regimen, which had given him a muscular body that looked like a marble statue come to life. Metal dog tags hung atop pectorals that pushed out a good three inches above his corrugated ten pack abdomen, and his arms and legs looked thicker and sturdier than many tree trunks. Just above the zipper Clark could see the band of a bright neon green thong. Lower was the one part of his anatomy he had not grown in the gym. Ace’s colossal cock was visible even in the flight suit and thong despite being soft. When hard, the arrogant stud’s dick was over a foot and a half long with girth to match. With those cock and balls, strong thighs, and muscle globed ass, Clark could see why Ace turned out as he had, but unfortunately for the business owner, that was not the only challenge he had when dealing with Ace. The obscenely hung stripper was also completely straight and somewhat homophobic. He loved having an audience of lusting men, but he sneered at the idea of any of them getting close or worse touching him. He only performed in the glass shower booth so as to be completely separated from the audience. There Ace would dance, tease, stroke his muscles, wiggle his ass, and jerk off, but he would always be alone. No other strippers, no toys, nothing but him. He would even used the shower to wash away his cum he painted the glass with his thick load. Ace did not want anybody to help themselves to his cream after he left.

“We’ll give everyone a turn, Ace, but you’ll get the first spotlight as per your contract,” Clark said with his best winsome smile.

“And don’t you forget it,” Ace said before turning back to play with how low he could get the flight suit’s zipper while keeping the flight suit on his broad shoulders.

“Alright, everyone, be lined up and ready in fifteen. Don’t go further than jerking off tonight,” Clark said.

“Really, Clark?” Tarzan groaned. “I was hoping to try something with Harry using his hammer in my hole for the finale.”

“Yeah, what gives!” Ryan stomped over to the co-owner. “I’ve been saving up all week to pressure wash Beau’s ass and now you’re going to pull this shit on us.”

“Look, I know you like showing off with your fuck shows,” Clark began.

Ryan interrupted, “I like the bigger tips that come with them too!”

“BUT!” Clark continued, “I talked it over with Colton and we feel with these recent murders we should not draw too much attention to ourselves from either law enforcement or deranged killers. Technically even the solo jerk offs are already crossing the line, but that’s a more manageable risk.”

“Got it, boss,” Harry said.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky next time, Ryan,” Beau winked at the firefighter who flipped Beau off again in response.

“A shame. Tonight I was going to give someone the privilege of a good fuck,” Ace said with a sarcastic drawl.

“Hell, I might look the other way if you ever did that, Ace,” Clark shook his head at the idea.

“Oh, no, you wouldn’t be able to look anywhere else if I were fucking on stage,” Ace said with the smuggest expression Clark had ever seen.

“Whatever you say, Ace, I’m going to go work the crowd. You’ve got ten minutes,” Clark reminded them as he headed back out front. He saw Colton was near the door giving customers a look over as they entered. Clark liked to tease his friend was just looking for a hookup, but he knew Colton was serious about his work. He gave Colton a quick nod before heading over to the bar where he often helped mix drinks and got the customers in the mood for a great evening. He noticed the birthday boy and his friends were gathered around the bar and animatedly debating something.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” Clark slid behind the bar.

“Yeah, our friend here just hit the big two-one,” said a tall young man with tightly muscled arms and large glasses as his hand thumped the back of the handsome man with strawberry blond hair and an impressive set of muscles pressing against his t-shirt. 

“Right, we’re hitting all the gay bars, and we’ve been trying to decide what his first drink at this place should be,” explained a stockier man with wide shoulders and an even wider grin on his sly face.

“Oh, I have just the thing. The Shake and Blow, one of our specialties. Let me make you one right now. On the house,” Clark smiled his usual customer pleasing smile as he performed his own kind of dance routine while mixing the drink. The group of friends were not only watching his hands as Clark added a little sway and thrust to his hips while spinning the shaker around until he was ready to pour.

“Thanks, man!” the birthday boy smiled back, and he was a heart stealer, Clark thought before the birthday boy continued. “Do you always give out free drinks for birthdays?”

“I do when they look like they could be one of my performers,” Clark’s eyes went up and down birthday boy’s body. Nice build, give him another year and he would be up there with Beau and Harry, and his chest and arms were not the only impressive thing he had going for him unless he was stuffing his tight designer pants. “What’s your name, birthday boy?”

“Luke Lockhart,” birthday boy said with a slight blush at Clark’s frankly assessing eyes. “Do you really think I look good enough to be on stage?”

Clark lit the Shake and Blow on fire and handed Luke the drink before saying, “I never joke about that. Why don’t you stop by after the show and we can discuss things… privately.”

Clark ignored Luke’s friends catcalling and teasing to focus on Luke’s reaction. He let his hand fall from the drink glass to Luke’s arms and let his thumb trace a quick circle the birthday boy’s muscular arm. Luke’s pretty blue-green eyes widened, and he definitely was not stuffing his pants if the swelling bulge at his crotch was any indication.

“Uh… I’ll think about it, I guess,” Luke said before his friends pulled him to their table. Clark was already imagining how to fit birthday boy in his roster. Maybe sporty themed? Luke would look good in a football kit. Or the other football kit, Clark thought as he switched his mental image from shoulder pads to ass hugging shorts. Or perhaps boyfriend next door. The kid had enough sweetness about him to pull off a devoted partner by day, monster in the bed by night look. Of course Clark had to get Luke to agree first, but when Clark glanced back at Luke’s table he caught the birthday boy looking at him with more than a little lust in those eyes. Oh, yes, Clark thought, he had his hook in that one. Now if tonight went well he would reel the young man in, and maybe if he were really lucky Clark would learn how Luke’s plump lips felt around Clark’s dick.

But that was later this evening. Now he had a job to do. He grabbed his mic and climbed on top of the bar.

“Good evening, everyone. Are you ready to watch the hottest pieces of meat give you the show of your lives?” Clark smiled widely at the audience’s answering cheers.

The crowd’s cheers became deafening as the music started pounding, the curtains parted, and the dancers began stepping onto the stage. 

“He’s a hard working builder who knows how to use his tools. Will he managed to break his way into your heart? Nobody can resist the charms of Harry Hammers!” Clark gestured toward the stage as he spoke into the microphone.

Harry led the way with his yellow helmet shining in the light as he strutted for the audience. He flexed his burly arms and hairy chest until they looked ready to pop open his vest. His sturdy leg muscles bunched visibly through his canvas work pants. His cheerful grin parted his thick beard when he stopped at his position and pulled a hammer from his utility belt. He placed the tool in front of the bulge in his pants and slowly stroked the thick shaft to the roaring delight of his fans. His playful expression promised much more playing with his tools later tonight while his calloused hand moved up and down the hammer. Harry’s eyes twinkled as he played into their construction worker fantasy with every calculated motion of his manly form. He blew a kiss to a fan who screamed “I love you, Harry!” loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Our next stud has a large package to you. Who wants to sign for delivery? Give it up for the incredible Tarzan!”

Tarzan stepped out onto the stage to more cheering. His skin tight mailman outfit was different than his usual jungle outfit, so the audience quickly started sizing up how great his thickly muscled body filled out the outfit. Tarzan balanced a box on his left shoulder which allowed his to show off his massive biceps as they curled around his delivery. The blue clothes barely hid any of his musculature from his audience’s stares, and in fact the lower curves of his meaty bubble butt stuck out the bottom of his very short dark blue shorts. His long blond hair swung back and forth as hips swayed to emphasize the package in those shorts while he walked over to his spot a few meters from Harry on stage. He lowered the box and propped a leg on top of it, which also happened to cause his shorts to ride up high enough to show the bright blue thong beneath. Customers from a the nearby table catcalled when they got that upclose view of all Tarzan’s barely concealed goods.

“He’s broken broncos all across the country and is looking for his next challenge. Do you think you can handle big Beef?!”

The curtain parted again as Beef sauntered towards the crowd. His black rancher pants hugged his trunk-like thighs just like the yellow vest closely wrapped about his incredible torso. The bottom of his rippling abs were exposed and flexing with every step Beef took. At first his cowboy hat hid his eyes until he stopped at the front of the stage and tipped his hat back with a sultry grin. His handsome features were right out of an old Western film with his chiseled jaw, close cut beard, and piercing grey eyes. He took in the crowd with a cocksure look as he turned and walked towards his position besides Tarzan. A strip of his yellow thong stuck out teasingly from his black pants as he stopped with his legs spread and meaty cock and balls bulging for the audience’s inspection. He slowly rolled his hips in such a frankly sexual manner that he managed to cause even some members of this wild audience to blush.

“Our next entertainer will give you an unforgettable night and make you breakfast in the morning. Will you accept a flower from the beautiful Beau?”

Beau walked out slowly but confidently. His white suit and gloves covered more than the other dancer’s outfits, but the good looking stud’s clothes fit so perfectly the audience could easily see how much muscle was packed across every inch of the young stud’s frame. He cradled a bouquet of red roses in one of his large arms. The teenage hunk carried himself with the assurance of someone years older as he walked across the stage like a runway model. Every step showcased the strong body displaying his perfectly tailored suit along with the sizable outline of his manhood framed by his expertly cut pants. Beau stopped on his mark and offered a rose to the audience with a wide smile sparkling in the stage’s lights. Several people in the crowd called out Beau’s name and reached out for a flower.

“He’s a firefighter by day and a firestarter by night. Can you resist being inflamed with lust by our resident Ryan?”

Ryan’s entrance could hardly have been more different than Beau’s. The curtain barely parted before the bad boy strode into the spotlight. His firefighter jacket was open, which left his smooth, freshly oiled chest exposed including the bars piercing his nipples. His strong legs were not slowed down at all by the thick firefighter pants hugging his narrow waist. A hint of his bright red thong peaked out above his pants just like the bottom of his sleeve tattoo was barely visible from beneath the edge of his rolled up left jacket arm. He stopped at his assigned location and traced a finger across the mountains and valleys of his rippled abdominals until he jerked his finger away as if he had been burned. After quickly shaking his finger, Ryan pouted and licked the “injured” finger seductively as the audience gave raucous applause.

“And last but by no means least, he’s huge, he’s hung, he’s handsome, and he says he has a special surprise for us tonight. What does our final dancer have up his sleeve? We’ll find out together with our showcase performance of Ace!”

Then Ace made his appearance. While the crowd’s cheering grew louder and louder, Ace rose into view from beneath the stage in his glass box. His fighter pilot flight suit was already unzipped to show off the pair of dog tags hanging over his massively muscled chest. “Ace” and the air force symbol were embroidered on the part of his flight jacket covering one of Ace’s thick pectorals. He stood there and soaked in the attention while slowly unzipping the flight suit. The crowd was nearly screaming in lust as inch after inch of rock hard muscle were revealed until Ace reached the enormous bulge barely held in check by his bright green thong. The zipper finally reached the end of its journey, but Ace held out a few seconds more as the crowd’s anticipation grew to fever pitch. Suddenly Ace thrust his hips forward and removed his hands to reveal the green thong along with his huge set of cock and balls contained within. 

The music’s beat shifted and all the dancers on stage began to move. Ace turned around and slipped the flight suit down just enough to reveal his muscle capped shoulders as he wiggled his bulging asscheeks at the crowd. Even in the flight suit, Ace’s meaty butt was clearly visible to the screaming audience. Tarzan grabbed a green dyed rope he often used to swing around the stage and climbed up the fake vine as his arms bulged to the point of nearly tearing his clothes. He saluted the crowd between twisting around and around on the rope. Beau had laid his flowers on the stand behind and slid off his jacket to reveal a white dress shirt that was so tight as to look painted on his body. His bared arms flowed through the air as he got into the music’s rhythm. Harry started swinging his hammer to the beat of the music with forceful motions that made the veins in his muscular arms stand out like rivers on a map. Sweat started darkening his outfit as he slammed his imaginary drums along with the music. Ryan was already out of his jacket and grinning sinfully as he started a twisting dance that made use of every muscle etched across his toned torso. His glistening muscles and colorful arm tattoo shimmered in the hot stage lights. Beef was bouncing to the music like he was riding a bucking bronco. His sun bronzed arm waved in the air while he thrust his huge bulge towards the audience. 

At the bar, Clark was busy pouring drinks. The crowd was thirsty tonight in more ways than one. He had never had orders come in so fast, but most of the steady stream of customers were barely focused on him. Their eyes rarely left the dancers onstage, and Clark could not blame them. They all looks amazing tonight. So much muscle and masculinity, sweat and swagger, power and performances were all there for their enjoyment. Clark could see lusty expressions on every customer’s faces. Some were outright drooling. He could not remember ever seeing that before.

By the door, Colton was not as busy, but he was more worried. Early on he had been happy the crowd was focused on the performances. Now he was getting freaked out. He knew how people acted before they started a fight. The set of their faces, the looks in their eyes, the tension in their bodies. There were many signs, and he was seeing something like them here tonight all over the room. These people were itching for more than a show. They were turning rabid, and he had no idea what to do to stop the building storm.

In the table in front of the stage, Luke was breathing heavily. Despite his tipsiness Luke could feel something was wrong with both him and his friends. His cock was filling with blood and pressing to escape his shorts. He felt like jerking off. His friends were openly rubbing their dicks through their clothes. Yeah, the show was hot, but it was not that great. Luke looked around and saw the men at the other tables doing the same. Their eyes were dilated in ways that suggested they had been enjoying something stronger than alcohol, but nobody seemed to notice. As Luke turned his eyes back towards the stage, he could see why.

Tarzan’s rope was ridding up between his ass as he hung upside down. The fake vine was wrapped about his arms and legs, which made his already tight mailman outfit even tighter. Harry was getting sweaty from his energetic hammering. His vest had loosened, and his hairy, musclebound torso was spectacularly pumped. Beef’s cock had hardened beneath his pants and thong, but he had only increased his thrusting in response. The cowboy egged on the crowd by grabbing an invisible head and pretending to facefuck some lucky audience member.

Beau had kicked off his pants. His white gloves, vest, and bulging thong were further accentuated by a white garter that highlighted his thick thighs. He had a taken a single rose that he was brushing across his gleaming body, and he gave a sensuous moan every time the flower dragged across a sensitive place. Ryan had also slipped his firefighter pants off, but he had nothing but his thong beneath. He had been in the middle of showing off his tatted arm and leg muscles with his slow, flexing dance when Beau’s moan caught his attention. Ryan stepped away from his spot and stopped right besides Beau. The younger stripper had his eyes closed with his pouting lips open in pleasure until he felt Ryan’s body heat beside him. The two looked at each other and without saying a word started dancing together. The two never touched even as their bodies slid through their movements only millimeters away from each other. Pretty boy Beau’s pure white outfit contrasted with bad boy Ryan’s pierced and tattooed flesh, but their bodies seemed ready to fit together perfectly. As if an angel and devil were each trying to seduce the other. Muscles flexed and twisted. Hands hovered just above the other’s skin. The scent of sweat, oil, and musk rose. Dicks hardened and strained against their imprisoning thongs. A fire red rod and brilliant white scepter danced around each other but never quite managed to connect despite the wetness that started appearing near their tips.

And through it all, Ace kept going. The stripper swayed in his glass box like a priceless toy put on display for the masses. He had shrugged the flight suit off his shoulders to bare his thickly muscled chest. His dog tags bounced on his mountainous pecs as Ace moved this way and that. His freed arms flexed and flowed with the beat. His flight suit lowered further as his hips rocked. His neon green thong was almost blinding in the light. Yet Ace was getting jealous. Beau and Ryan’s display were drawing attention away from him, and they should know better than to try to upstage the star of the show. Well, Ace knew how to regain the audience’s attention.

The handsome narcissist kicked his flight suit off his feet and started feeling himself up. He rubbed a hand over his arm. His bicep bunched tight but barely gave under the pressure from his grip. His hand moved lower to his legs. He stretched and squeezed the massive tree trunks of of thighs. He moved higher and watched more eyes turn towards him. His fingers traced across the ripples of his ten pack abdominals. His eyes partially closed both from genuine pleasure at the sensation and to better entice his audience. He moaned loudly, theatrically, as his fingers found one his large, pink nipples and squeezed. The little nub at the tip hardened as he rolled the end between his fingers. His dick also filled with blood. He could feel as much as see the crowd turning towards him as his massive cock expanded. He flexed his mounded pecs as he brought his other hand up to run across his body while his fingers moved on to give his other nipple the same treatment as its twin. 

Ace’s cock grew. Inch after inch of meat expanded in his tight green thong until the material bulged obscenely. The thong strained to contain the sixteen inches of his dick to the point that the audience towards the sides of the stage could see his equally massive balls become visible as the material stretched over his cock. Every eye in the building was locked on Ace’s incredible manhood, so Ace flexed. Every muscle in his massive frame tightened and bulged as he strained, but it was not only his muscles that grew. Ace flexed the muscles in his groin and abs and felt a surge of growth run down the length of his dick. With a pop, the neon green thong exploded. The audience roared as Ace’s huge cock and balls were suddenly revealed. Ace’s handsome smile appeared in full for the first time that night as he reveled in the success of his new party trick. The cheers grew even louder as Ace posed by twisting his body to the side to allow everyone to see his muscular physique, enormous cock, and gigantic balls from every angle. He started flexing some more, including his dick, and was rewarded with the loudest cheers yet thanks to this new angle… or so he thought.

A figure stepped through the curtains and into the glass booth. The audience roared its approval at this new development. Ace had always done solo shows only before. Was his flexing through his thong only the start of Ace’s new routine? The customers screamed at the thought of Ace going further than ever before, but Ace was shocked when he heard the glass booth’s door click shut behind him. He turned around and actually had to look up at some weirdo dressed up like Jack the Hammer. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Ace asked while looking the intruder up and down. The guy was dressed in something like Harry would wear. The newcomer’s wardrobe looked like something you would see on a construction worker or electrician. Ace was barely aware of how his long dick almost slammed into the stranger’s stomach as he had turned, but Ace was very aware of how the stranger had an erection as big as Ace’s own. Then he noticed the stranger’s shirt looked to have dried red splotches. Like dried blood stains.

“We… we already have a Hammer act here, so you better get the hell off the stage before I…” Ace stopped talking when Jack backhanded the stripper across the face so hard that Ace slammed backwards into the glass.

Jack smiled at the crowd with a wide grin. His scarred lips peeled back as he yelled.

“Why do you allow them to tease you? Why allow them to deny you their exquisite flesh? Too long have you refused to do what you truly desired. Have you not envied them? Their looks, their muscles, their manhoods? Why have you not taken what you wanted? Why are you so pathetic? I realized you needed a push, so I decided to spike your drinks. The drugs will release you from your weakness, your inhibitions, your scruples. Tonight you shall indulge in your better natures. Start by proving to them they are nothing more than dumb sluts who deserve this!”

As he said the word “this”, Jack slammed his dick into Ace’s virgin asshole. Ace screamed at an unholy pitch as the killer’s dick tore a bloody path through his unprepared butt. For a few seconds, everyone remained frozen in place. The pulsing music was all you could hear. Then the crowd near the stage surged forward and grabbed the remaining dancers.

As if by instinct people sized up their neighbors and grabbed the sexiest, fittest man nearby. New screams of fear and pain filled the room before being drowned out by the crowd’s lusty cheers. Clark was one of the first victims. His patrons grabbed him and dragged him up onto the bar. The men around Clark held the larger stud down while his clothes were ripped off. Clark’s big dick appeared as his pants were torn to pieces. A younger man eagerly jerked the struggling hunk’s thick cock to full hardness. Others were roughly enjoying the co-owner. Hands and fingernails dug into the muscular form. They traced the lines of his superman tattoo and mocked him for thinking he was invincible as they toyed with his sexy body. Clark yelled for mercy while dozens of claw marks drew blood from his strong arms and pecs. Someone had climbed behind the bar and had been handing out bottles off the shelves, but after seeing this handsome stud being raped and tortured, he had a better idea for some of this booze. He grabbed some liquor and began pouring it across Clark’s bucking form. Clark screamed as the alcohol burned into the countless scratches that had been carved all over his muscular body. Similar scenes were playing out across the club.

“Whoa, what are you doing?! Guys, I’m your friend,” Luke tried to reason with his friends while they pulled on his arms and clothes. The athletic college student’s companions had held no debate regarding which of them was the biggest stud. They had turned on Luke almost instantly.

“You can go to hell, Luke,” his glasses wearing friend said while unzipping Luke’s shorts. The hunky victim’s designer shorts spread open to reveal the birthday boy’s sizable cock and balls. His friend was rubbing Luke’s prick and literally salivating at the sight of the dick which could easily match those of the dancer’s on stage. “You only fucked me a couple of times before saying we’d be better off as just friends. What if I didn’t want to be friends?! What if I wanted your big dick?”

Another friend who had been holding Luke’s arms took advantage of Luke being distracted by his shorts being pulled down to grab the hem of Luke’s birthday shirt and yank it over his head. Luke resumed fighting when his vision was cut off by his shirt, but even his tight shirt could not stay on his struggling body forever when more hands started grabbing and tearing. Other hands started rubbing Luke’s muscles as they were revealed inch by inch. The student’s thick pecs were squeezed and rubbed. Other friends were stroking and feeling up his hard abs. Despite being the biggest and strongest of the group, Luke was no match against all of them working together.

“You’ve never been our friend, Luke. You’ve always acted better than us. Like you’re too good for us. Flaunting your body. Saying you prefer to top even though you wear pants so tight they might as well be painted on that hot ass of yours. Shit, you disgust me, you hypocritical slut,” another friend said while squeezing Luke’s tightly muscled butt.

Meanwhile Luke was crying and having a hard time believing his friends could be saying such cruel things while they were stripping and rubbing against him. He kept trying to escape even as he was forcibly undressed. Worse, he was getting hard from all the attention despite his fear. Then he gasped as his two talkative friends used their mouths for other purposes. The one in front swallowed Luke’s cock like he had never possessed a gag reflex while the one behind Luke started mercilessly tonguing his asshole. His other friends followed and soon a half dozen mouths were hungrily licking and gnawing on his muscular body. In other circumstances, Luke might have been able to enjoy this impromptu orgy, but his friends were not just making him feel good. They were acting possessed, as if they wanted to use and abuse his body. The thought made his blood freeze even while he could barely stand from the pleasure coursing through his veins. His half closed eyes looked across the room in the hopes of some kind of rescue, but everywhere he looked groups had formed around sexy men. Nobody was trying to resist if they were not the ones being assaulted.

Near the entrance, Colton was also trying to get out, but the door refused to budge despite his pounding on the door with his thick fists. The door was unlocked, yet something must have been put in place to hold it closed. Any thought of rescuing others had disappeared when he saw everyone around him start looking at him like a pack of wolves sizing up a tough but lone moose. He was a lot bigger and stronger than them, but they outnumbered him. And they were very hungry. Colton knew he was running out of time despite the fact that he towered over most of his customers. As a freshman, he had been part of an experimental group that first used the university’s not entirely legal performance enhancing drugs, and he had never stopped. The decade long drug usage and constant push to get stronger had made a body with enough muscles that even many bodybuilders would be envious. He had gladly piled on muscle after muscle on his already large frame. Colton had only cared about how big he could grow the muscle beast in the mirror. Unfortunately for him, his size also meant he was a large target. He could have beaten down the blocked entrance door if given some more time, but the crowd near him had other plans. As if by unspoken signal, they pounced.