ANOTHER DAY ON THE JOB (JOE, PART 4) From the street, it looked like a regular junkyard. Piles of flattened cars were stacked in three rows, stripped of their parts. A school bus lay dismantled in one corner, quietly rusting away. Two delivery trucks stood side-by-side, each compressed to half of its former length. But a closer look showed that something wasn`t quite right. For example, there was no car crusher in sight. And some of the cars had not only been crushed, they looked like they had been ripped in half. But the strangest sight of all was in the center of the yard - a transport trailer, resting on huge concrete blocks, about five feet off the dirt. The man who swung open the gates was by no means normal either. His massive bulk filled the doorway and cast an imposing shadow in the late afternoon sun. Joe Miller had arrived, 385 pounds of brute muscle on a tank-like, five-foot- nine frame. He strode past the piles of flattened cars, cars he had crushed in his own gorilla arms, crumpling the frames until the steel screamed for mercy. A huge Cadillac stood at the end of the row, still intact, engine and everything, but Joe walked by it. He had his sights set on the transport trailer. As Joe got closer, he started unbuttoning his plaid lumberjack shirt, which practically clung to his monstrous upper body. Eight months of gruelling, insanely intense workouts had added twenty pounds of rock- hard muscle to his already dense frame, so that even his specially made clothes barely fit him any more. While the change to his musculature was amazing, it was nothing compared to the impact on his strength. At 34, he was now stronger than he had ever been in his life, smashing through limits even he considered impossible to break. He`d always been freakishly strong...but these workouts had pushed him into a new category. Proof of that could be found in the nearby national park, which now bore a wide path of destruction from Joe`s Saturday workouts - uprooted trees, broken boulders, cracked rock faces. In fact, he`d damn near caused a rockslide a few weeks ago during one intense session. But as much as he loved working on the forest, Joe could never stay away from the junkyard. A couple of days ago, he had set up the massive squat machine, hositing an empty trailer onto concrete blocks, then wrenching the back doors off (they now lay wadded up in a corner, crumpled and discarded like paper). Next he had welded a thick bar onto the bottom of the trailer, between the axles, and filled the space inside with flattened auto carcasses - somewhere between 25 and 30. But just before he went to test the machine, Joe`s beeper had gone off. It was the guys at the fire department, alerting him to an industrial fire, which by the time he arrived turned out to be just a few smoldering tires. So today, Joe had shut off his beeper and cell phone, even though it was strictly against regulations. He didn`t care. Joe tossed his shirt aside, then swung his trunk-like arms around a few times to stetch them out. He slowly pulled his pants off, so that he was only wearing an old pair of briefs. Even flaccid, his huge package tented them out. He looked the trailer over, squinting as the afternoon sun gleamed off its metallic surface. Even with their engines removed, the cars inside represented a sizeable weight. Added to the trailer, Joe figured the whole thing weighed between thirty and thirty-five tons. Seventy thousand pounds of metal, just sitting there, waiting to be tested. His cock reflexed at the thought, pressing further out against the briefs. Beneath his dense goatee, his mouth turned into a sinister grin. "Let`s do it," he muttered. Ducking under the trailer, Joe grabbed hold of the bar and stood up far enough that it rested against his shoulders. The massive weight towered over him, still resting on the blocks. Joe`s solid, barrel pecs rose and fall as he took a few deep breaths, psyching himself up. With an explosive burst of energy, he suddenly shot upward. The thick bar bent over his traps and shoulders, which swelled up into gnarled root systems of overlapping muscle. Joe grunted savagely as the trailer rose slowly off its supports. He felt the crushed cars inside begin to shift. One false move, and the whole mess would tip over, so Joe forced his ballooning arms to steady the weight. The truck tipped slightly forward, then returned to horizontal. Joe could already feel the burn setting in his quads as he took a few steps forward, his shoes impacting the gravel underneath. Once he had cleared the blocks, he took another deep breath and slowly squatted down. There was a loud creak as the bar bent even further, but Joe ignored it. Dense muscle fibers fought for space as Joe`s monstrous quads contracted and flexed, twin powder kegs ready to explode. With a low groan he pushed up again. Somewhere near seventy thousand pounds of tractor trailer and crushed cars rose steadily upward, powered by calves and quads that bulged in every direction, pressing his basket even farther outward. Joe stood to his full height and exhaled. He picked up his pace, squatting the trailer twice, three times, four times. "Yeah," he grunted, sweat pouring down his rugged face. "Huge quads. Fuckin` massive quads!" The trailer swayed slightly overhead on the seventh rep; by the ninth, Joe`s quads, now pumped to inhuman proportions, felt like they were on fire. He steeled himself for one more rep, bending low, growling through clenched teeth as he forced himself up. His whole body began to shake, but Joe Miller was not a man to be denied. Breathing hard, his face red with the strain, Joe pounded out his tenth rep. He backed up a few steps, resettled the trailer on its supports, then staggered out into the sunlight. "Goddamn, that`s one hell of a pump," he said, resting his hands on his iron-clad legs, the striations visible even under the thick hair. "Hell yeah!" He cocked his fist and slammed it down into the adjacent Cadillac`s hood, crumpling the heavy steel and bashing the engine underneath. Pistons bent completely out of shape, as the entire car groaned with the impact. Joe eyed the Cadillac hungrily...but decided to save it for another day. Maybe an arm workout. He gathered his clothes and turned toward the exit, his cock semi- erect, his shadow much bigger than when he arrived. On the way out, he grabbed a piece of rebar, which he bent upward into a u-shape as he walked through the gates. The effort barely produced a ripple in his grizzly-bear chest and arms. Shutting the gates behind him, he slipped the rebar through the rusted locking mechanism, bending it into a complete loop. Taking hold of the ends in his left hand, he clamped down and squeezed hard. The rebar squealed feebly as Joe forced the two ends together. Nothing short of a blowtorch would be able to get it apart again. Before getting back into the Jeep, Joe put his clothes back on, carefully working them over his pumped physique. The pants were a real problem, and as soon as he climbed into the Jeep, the seams started to pop open. Any more exertion, and he`d be looking at a hefty tailor`s bill...not that Joe was any stranger to flexing through clothing. Reluctantly, he reached over and turned the cell phone on. It started ringing immediately. "Yeah?" "Jesus Christ, Joe, where the hell have you been?" It was Roger, one of the guys from the station. "I`ve been trying to get through for five minutes. We got a serious situation out here on the bypass, near Route 11. Bridge collapsed a while ago, probably weakened by that earthquake last month. We got a car trapped underneath. The medics are trying to get through, but there`s too much debris." "Sounds like somethin` I can handle," Joe said. "Tell em to hold on, I`ll be there in ten minutes." He hung up and popped the clutch, tearing down the road. Traffic was light, so Joe gunned it to 70, blowing by the slower moving cars. Luckily, he only had to stop for one red light, so he made it out in under eight minutes. "Holy shit," he whistled, eyeing the scene. All traffic was blocked off, so he pulled the Jeep into a vacant lot and got out to walk. Ahead of him, the scene was chaotic. Two lanes of the overpas had collapsed on the road below, lying in a massive heap of broken concrete and twisted steel. The back end of a car was visible sticking out of the wreckage; it wasn`t completely flattened, but it was in pretty bad shape. A fire truck, three cop cars, and an ambulance were parked near the collapsed bridge. The emergency workers were just standing around, as if unsure what to do. Joe strode past the police barricades blocking the road. Almost immediately, a muscular, young-looking officer in aviator shades stepped in his path. His nametag identified him as Officer McCormack. "I`m sorry sir, but this is an accident scene. You`ll have to stay behind the barricades." "I`m with North Metro Fire and Rescue," Joe said, brushing by the officer. "I`m taking over now. Have the ambulances ready for anything. How many people are in the car?" "What the fuck do you mean you`re takin` over?" McCormack growled. He looked to weigh about 250 pounds, so he was probably the only person there not immediately intimidated by Joe`s size. And he obviously wasn`t used to having his authority questioned. "This is my operation, asshole. We got a crane coming in twenty minutes. So you`ll do what I tell you to do." Joe shot him a menacing glare. He tightened his arms a bit, stretching the taut sleeves even tighter. "Maybe you didn`t hear me. I`m callin` the shots now, and I don`t need no goddamn crane. Get outta my way." McCormack whipped his shades off and stepped dirctly in front of Joe, his meaty pecs bulging to within inches of Joe`s barrel chest. "You wanna go, big man?" McCormack sneered. Joe just rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ, I ain`t got time for this." With lightning speed, he grabbed the officer by the collar and easily hoisted his bulky frame off the ground. One quick thrust of his arm sent the startled officer hurtling through the air. He flew nearly fifty feet before slamming into the side of a cruiser, denting the door. He slumped to the pavement, clutching his shoulder, looking at Joe with a mixture of fear and awe. Joe casually strode over and reached under the dented cruiser. McCormack could only watch slack-jawed as Joe flipped the two-ton car over with that same, gravity defying arm. The cruiser rolled four times before coming to rest on its roof, rocking back and forth, looking like it had just been through a major accident. Joe hovered over the humbled officer. "Any more questions?" he said. "N-no sir," was all McCormack could manage to get out. The other emergency workers (except for Roger, who was used to this sort of thing) stood there, not believing what they just saw. "All right boys, look alive," Joe called out, snapping them back to attention. "We`ve wasted enough time already. We may have some serious injuries here." He walked over to the collapsed bridge, looking over the partially crushed car that jutted out. A massive slab of concrete, at least 15 x 20 feet, lay at an angle on top of the car. Joe slipped his hands under the edge of the slab; not the best handhold, but it would have to do. Planting his legs, he pressed his fingers into the concrete and gauged its strength. One deep breath, and he tightened his arms, which quickly popped through the seams. His biceps exploded in a fierce display of masculing power, rising like artillery shells from his upper arms. The huge slab shifted slightly, as tons of reinforced concrete and steel began to feel Joe`s awesome strength. Seams blew open everywhere as Joe`s surging muscle blasted through the shirt; even his collar tore apart. The other workers could do little more than gawk, staring in amazement at the impossibly thick muscles that writhed across Joe`s barn door back and arms as he lifted the slab. He had the bottom of the slab almost to chest level, nearly enough to get at the car...when suddenly it became stuck. "Fuck!" he yelled. From the feel of it, the slab had become stuck under another huge one. Grunting, he flexed his arms even harder, attempting to curl the tonnage that loomed over him. Beads of sweat rolled down his unshaven face, while his corded, fireplug neck was swallowed up by mounding traps. Veins popped up along the length of his arms, pumped to freakish proportions, and stretched up into his hardened shoulders. He gave a low moan, which grew in intensity as he tried to lift the twin slabs. For a few agonizing seconds, nothing happened, until a creaking noise rose from within the rubble - the sound of a steel support girder bending back on itself. Joe could feel the slabs starting to give way, no longer able to hold out against his monster arms. "Holy Christ! He`s doin` it! He`s liftin` the whole fuckin` bridge!" one of the workers yelled. Joe threw his head back and groaned, curling the slabs with guns that peaked like Mount McKinley. Slowly, agonizingly, he curled them to chest level, then shoulder level, as the thick, steel-reinforced concrete rumbled and cracked under the extreme pressure. He held the slabs in place for a few seconds, then turned around and shifted their weight onto his Herculean shoulders. For the first time, Joe got a good look inside the car. Fortunately, there was only one passenger inside, but he looked badly injured. Joe reached over and grabbed the twisted door; one yank was all it took to rip it off its hinges. "Come on!" he yelled at the paramedics. "Get him outta there!" Two paramedics rushed over, trying to focus on their job, although one had a pretty obvious hard-on. Joe bore the entire weight of the fallen bridge on his back. His pants blew open over his tensed quads, as his feet cracked the asphalt beneath. Fifteen seconds...then thirty... Joe`s breathing became labored, his face damp with sweat. The paramedics moved quickly but carefully, inching the unconscious man out of the car, as Joe`s legs began to tremble. Drawing on every last reserve of his superhuman strength, Joe let out a primal roar and steadied his legs, muscling the slabs up another inch. Finally, the paramedics moved the man onto a stretcher. As soon as they were clear, Joe let go of the massive weight and threw himself clear. The slabs fell back to the ground, the bottom one cracking nearly in half as it flattened what was left of the car. Joe slowly stood up, panting, his clothes hanging off him in rags. McCormack was the first one to rush over. "Man, that was absolutely amazing. I`ve never seen anything like it in my life. I always thought I was strong, I can deadlift the back end of a cruiser and shit, but damn...geez man, I`m sorry I was such a dick before. No hard feelings?" "Naw," Joe said, brushing off his swollen arms. "Maybe we can even work out together sometime." McCormack`s eyes lit up. "Really? Seriously? Wow!" Joe rolled his eyes again. "Yeah, sure. Whatever." He left McCormack behind and found Roger, who was manning the fire engine. "Nice work," Roger said casually, "as usual." Joe smiled as he leaned against the engine. "You know what they say, don`t send a boy to do a man`s job. Wanna grab a beer after everything`s taken care of here?" "Sure thing, bro," Roger replied, climbing back into the engine. Just another day on the job. END