In the heart of a Jersey gym, where the air was thick with the scent of sanitizer and the shocking sounds of steel smashing steel, stood two beefcake bodybuilders.
The first was Victor, a towering titan with a trail of top bodybuilding competition titles, and the second was Paul, a muscular marvel and posing powerhouse in his prime.
At 6 feet 2 and 275 pounds, Victor was a legend in the bodybuilding world. The British blonde behemoth had claimed the Mr. UK title 10 times. The massive muscle monster straddled a bench beneath a squat rack as he unfurled the tape from his chalked up, chafed hands. His presence was as awe inspiring as his prize winning placements with every inch of his full frame sculpted in stone. His white stringer hung loosely. His tanned perfect pecs peaked out. His grey sweats fit tightly across his gargantuan glutes and his bulging basket protruded like a meaty mass. His red high top sneakers were bold and bright and paired perfectly with the vibrant pair of posers he wore beneath his sweats.
Paul, on the other hand, was a rising star in the majestic world of musclemen. At 25, he'd already been crowned Mr. Massachusetts twice. Though slightly shorter than Victor, at 5 foot 10 and 250 pounds, his physique was no less impressive, with muscles that screamed of undaunted dedication and discipline. His tight sky blue shorts were short and shiny and his tanned thighs were thick and meaty. His thin white tee was stretched to the max across his chiseled chest and his big wide back. His biceps were bulging as he battled with a barbell. He grunted loudly throughout the set, growling as he ground out rep after rep. Soon enough, all that grunting and groaning started to irritate Victor. During Paul’s sixth set, Victor erupted. In a flash, he was standing face to face with Paul. Paul, unstartled, set down the weights slowly. Victor snarled at the weightlifting wonder and commanded him to be quiet. Paul nonplussed paused momentarily before he purposefully and playfully pulled off his tight tee. Still staring at Victor he flexed both his biceps and began to swivel his hips and to gyrate his tanned tight torso. He stopped suddenly and said “or what?” Victor raged, and with his finger in Paul’s face, he hissed “…or I’ll make you my bitch!”. Victor stepped closer to Paul and flexed both of his biceps inches from his face. Both men’s pairs of pecs were protruding, almost touching, as were their bulging baskets. Paul with a smile stretched across his face, returned the pose. His boulder biceps peaked profusely. He seductively said, “we’ll see…” and “Saturday?” Victor, silent for a second, slowly started to nod his head in agreement, he smiled and said, “Saturday.” He slowly and seductively relaxed his arms and stepped back, sized Paul up and down, and said, “Come dressed to impress.” Paul, flaring his lats and flexing his quads, fired back, “you too!” Victor spun around and flexed his lats and retorted, “I always do!”
Saturday night, 7 PM: The warehouse on the corner of 6th and Sundance had long been abandoned but after years of neglect it still stood strong. In the back of the basement, behind a big black door stood a private pro-wrestling ring with stages on either side of it.
The ring’s ropes were American flag inspired; red, white and blue as was the ring apron. The ring's mat was a brilliant blue. Cameras were spread around the space as both bodybuilders wanted to document their pre-match posing routine and their post match preening!
The atmosphere was electric as Paul made his grand entrance into the room. As he barged through the big black door, the heavy steel slab slammed against the wall, and the sound echoed throughout the space. He sturdily strode into the venue with the confidence of a man who knew the power of his presence. The strapping stud strutted to the side of the stage just to the right of the ring.
Paul, as promised, came dressed to impress. His entire attire was a calculated array of sexy selections with each piece quantitatively contributing to his cocky charisma. He commanded attention. His hands were clad in a snug fitting pair of black leather gloves while black Wayfarer sunglasses shielded his eyes adding an air of mystery to the muscular man. His black bomber jacket, a hint towards his rebellious spirit, hung open, casually revealing the sculpted physique underneath, and a pair of black leather chaps added a rugged edge to his overall look; a nod to his wild, untamed persona. They fit snugly over his black satin posing trunks, which clung to his form, emphasizing his glorious, gargantuan glutes. His black, satin, shiny, skin-tight posing trunks left nothing to the imagination. With each step towards the spotlight, Paul’s arrogance grew. He moved with a deliberate swagger. His hips swayed just enough to draw attention to his powerful legs. As he reached the center of the stage he stopped just shy of the spotlight, and stared directly at Victor standing straight across from him on his own stage on the other side of the ring. Paul, while holding Victor’s stare, placed his hands above his head, his abs rippled as he began to gyrate his hips. Slowly and methodically, they circled and cycled. He stopped suddenly, and boldly bent forward at the waist and stretched down. He wrapped the calloused fingers of his gloved hands around the cuffs of his chaps, paused momentarily, and then with Victor still staring, he straightened up with a powerful thrust. The chaps, once clinging to his formidable thighs, peeled away in a smooth and seductive motion. He cast the chaps aside, revealing the full musculature of his battle-ready body. He turned around and slid into the spotlight. He removed his jacket and presented his posterior package. He bounced his beefy buns, twisted and turned. The first beats of electronic music started to play and Paul began to pose…
Paul proudly finished his posing routine by drawing direct attention to his massive mound of leg muscles and then took center stage. Gazing up towards the heavens he brought both arms up and then smashed them down into a double bi with both biceps bulging!
He then sexily sauntered over towards the ring. Climbing through the ropes, he strutted to the center, his eyes scanned the space and stopped and he stared straight at Victor. He bounced his body up and down. His huge pecs and plentiful package bounced too. The ring shook, squeaked and groaned under his massive weight.
Victor was not to be outdone! The buff blonde stood at the side of his own stage, pecs puffed up, biceps bulging. His long black trench coat, deliberately left open in the front, hung behind him like the cape of a gorgeous gladiator. His silhouette was that of a towering titan. A spotlight sprung to life, some upbeat music started to play and Victor started to seductively strip - cockily baring his beautiful body before battle. With a direct and deliberate motion, Victor threw the trench coat open as wide as possible, revealing a muscular masterpiece beneath. He sported a black bow tie, a shiny black cummerbund and a black leather pair of posing trunks. His buffed up bod was a map of muscles, each curve and contour sculpted to perfection. His ultra-ripped physique glisteed and glowed under the looming lights, and the oil applied to his skin highlighted every detail of his fantastic frame. He was not just big; he was colossal. As a cocky smile crept slowly across his face he started to peel off the trench coat, letting it fall to the floor as he began to pose. Each muscular movement was a testament to his years of discipline and dedication. His black packed posing trunks clung to him. They accentuated his muscular glutes, and complemented the deep dark tan of his skin. His muscles flexed and danced, and with each pose he seemed to grow larger. His confidence radiated out and brought more light to the otherwise dim dungeon. He undid the bow tie and tossed it aside. He pulled off the cummerbund and tossed it too. He flexed both his biceps, cock his hip, stuck out his leg, pointed his toe and let out a gratified groan as he flexed his entire physique. As he continued to pose, his pectorals danced in a show of strength, while his biceps and triceps swelled to even more impressive proportions. His abs were a sculpted showpiece, each one sharply cut, forming a wavelike washboard. The straps of his posing trunks sat snugly above his hips, and accentuated his narrow waist and the V-taper of his tight torso. His quads and calves, honed from rigorous training, were equally impressive, and flexed to eye popping perfection showcasing the symmetry and balance of his lower body. Every muscle was etched with definition. He sauntered to the center of the stage. He turned as he looked up from admiring his own massive muscles and clenched his fists, placed them tightly against his hips, smiled seductively, and started to shake his humongous quad.
His pre-match posing routine had begun!
Victor's monstrous massive shaking quad and stunning most muscular capped his pre-match posing routine. Victor strode confidently from the stage towards the edge of the ring. His black posing trunks a stark contrast to his bronzed skin, his muscular, pumped physique highlighted by the soft lighting surrounding him, drawing attention to his exceptionally large and well-defined thighs. His walk was one of arrogance, and from it one knew he was a cocky showman accustomed to the spotlight and adoration. As he entered the ring, he bowed theatrically through the velvet covered ropes, and stepped onto the blue mat with a presence that commanded attention and absolute adulation.
The air was electric with anticipation as the two gorgeous Goliaths faced off. They locked eyes, as each acknowledged the other’s prowess. With a couple of cocky smirks and a duo of double bicep flexes, the match began. The two titans circled each other, muscles tensing and relaxing in a dance of postured posing. Victor made the first move, using his massive size to overpower Paul but Paul was quick, and he ducked sideways and weaved out of the way with the agility of a charged up cheetah. Paul in return provokingly presented an ab and thigh pose and gyrated his hips seductively. Victor lunged forward. Paul dodged. Back and forth they went, a display of physical prowess and cocky counter maneuvers. Finally, Victor spun around Paul and approached him from behind. Victor's large hands locked together behind Paul’s head, pressing down on his neck. Paul’s resistance was palpable, but Victor’s strength was overwhelming and he forced Paul’s chin towards his own chest, showcasing his complete control. Paul groaned. Without wasting another second, Victor transitioned and secured one of Paul’s arms behind his back. He used his other arm to grip Paul’s head, and bent him sideways and down, forcing Paul to the mat. Victor mounted the back of Paul's beefy bod and wrapped his powerful legs around Paul’s waist. Paul began to buck. Victor rode him like a bull. The basement echoed with their grunts and groans as Victor squeezed his quads, both legs bulging, attempting to sap Paul’s strength. Victor aggressively threaded his huge hands under Paul's pits and played with his prey’s pulsating pecs. Paul reacted to this act of uninvited attention by flexing his chiseled chest harder! Victor impressed, spread his fingers across the expanse of Paul’s entire pecs. He then slowly moved his hands upwards and behind Paul's head and interlaced his fingers, securing a firmer grip. Victor biceps were bouncing and bulging as he lifted Paul up. With Paul’s thick arms restrained, Victor used his strength to lift Paul completely off the ground, and in a display of raw power and pro wrestling prowess, he arched his back and flipped Paul overhead and completed a full nelson suplex.
Time seemed to slow as Paul’s body arced through the air. His big bodybuilder's body was momentarily weightless, flailing frantically for balance that wasn't there. Gravity took hold of him, and pulled him inexorably back to the mat. His meaty massive muscles tensed as the mat rushed up to meet him, and he impacted with it with a force that reverberated through his entire frame. His body recoiled, bucked once, twice, then three times—each motion a silent scream of stellar shock and dwindling defiance. His muscles tensed and released in a desperate bid to absorb the pain, his face winced and he grunted loudly. It was a chaotic dance of contorted convulsions, played out on the canvas of this beefcakes' battleground. Paul’s rambling ride on the mat ended with a final thud and an prolonged, groggy groan.
Victor sauntered slowly over to Paul, towering above him. He stopped suddenly and in a display of sheer arrogance he placed his hands behind his head and gyrated his own hips, slowly and sexily, mimicking the mannerisms of his almost out of commission competitor. Victor reveled in his massive moment of dominance. Then, with a sudden shift in energy, Victor leapt into the air, tucked his arm in and aimied his elbow squarely at Paul’s abs. He came down with the full force of all his weight, delivering a punishing elbow drop that drove the breath from Paul’s body. Paul’s rippling abs, sculpted and strong, absorbed the brunt of the blow, with the rest of his body jerking and jumping in response to concentrated collision. It was a move that solidified Victor’s current prevailing position in the match, a statement made with the language of power and cocky control that only massively muscular men truly could truly understand.
Paul was in pain and pissed. He was flipped over and face down. His fists thundered against the mat, each strike a resounding testament to his refusal to accept defeat. His eyes focused. His face became stern, and his pounding fists became a rhythmic set of drums. His head bobbed to the beat. He flipped over onto his back and kipped up to a standing position. He flexed all his muscles, not just as an attempt to solidify his standing but also to show Victor he was far from defeated. It was a strong and powerful statement that he was still a fierce and formidable opponent. His spirit was as unyielding as his massive muscles that stood at attention across his sweat-soaked and tanned torso.
The two rivals, eyes locked, glared at each other. Each man's eyes scanning the beautiful body of the other. Without speaking, Victor struck the first pose, his biceps began to bulge as he grunted, and flexed in a classic front double bi. Paul immediately responded with a side chest pose, grunting loudly as he pulled his elbow back, and showcased the depth of his pectoral muscles, the sweep of his rib cage and the peak of his own bulging bicep. Victor’s retort was a flaring front lat spread, his back widening like the wings of a golden eagle about to soar across the sky. Paul responded, pounding out a series of most musculars, groaning as he repeatedly grinded together his imposing pecs and striated shoulders. Back and forth the muscle men went, each pose an overt invitation for the other to primp and preen. The side tri, the rear double bi, the ab & thigh and the back lat spread—each and every arrogant pose met with another equally arrogant and exhorting answer. Paul paused momentarily, smiled seductively, then began to bend backwards. As his spine arced and stretched, his hands touched the mat and he began to bridge. He pressed his pelvis upwards and presented his package for inspection. Victor could’t help but stop and stare, momentarily memorized by Paul’s meaty mound. Paul pushed the bridge higher, bowing his body with only his fingers tips and tiptoes remaining on the mat. His back arched, his skin stretched, his body strained and his big basket bulgied; meaty and mounded, swollen and substantial. Victor could not stop himself from staring at the sexually stunning sight before him. Victor's super sized shoulders relaxed as he licked his lips. His hand grazed the formidable form of his own thick sausage now stirring slightly in the protruding pouch of his own posers. Seconds passed. Paul started to slowly pump his hips. Up and down, up and down, moaning as he seductively moved his bobbing bulge. Victor was momentarily hypnotized by Paul’s hips but suddenly he shook himself back to reality and the tactical task at hand and with that Victor’s frustration with Paul's pompous posing finally peaked. With a swift and focused motion he reached forward for Paul’s black patent posers. He unhooked the clips on the side straps and with a succession of audible snaps the posers gave way. In one smooth and swift motion Victor pulled the black patent pair of posing trunks away revealing a hidden pair of blue posing trunks underneath. Paul’s new posers were tight. His sausage was stuffed into them like a swollen sock, and his bubble butt was almost bursting out of the back of them.
Victor, surprised, still reveled in his role as the current ruler of the ring, and hung his new prize, Paul’s black pair of posers, from his teeth by their straps. He then proceeded to flex his abs and thighs, while adding a gentle gyrating motion to his dominant display. Paul relaxed his body and sank slowly to the mat. His eyes began to plead for more of Victor’s own posing presentation. Victor stopped and stood straight up savoring another one of his monumental moments of superiority in the match. Paul, raring to go, kipped up and back flipped out of the ring landing deftly on the stage platform next to it. He adjusted his blue posers, a pair he bought specifically for this night, and began to flex. He posed for Victor’s pleasure. A single bicep.
He then turned and faced away from Victor presenting him with what he knew was his best asset. He took his time and allowed Victor to take it all in...
He relaxed, pointed and slowly turned around...
His huge muscles hung as he sexily sauntered back into the ring. He walked up to Victor, arms open, welcoming his opponent’s gaze. Victor refocused, snarled and delivered a knee drop onto Paul’s bulging blue basket. Paul grabbed his groin and curled up into a ball of aching agony. Without missing a beat, Victor launched into a front flip, soaring over Paul with the arrogance of an accomplished acrobat. Landing deftly on his feet, he dropped to one knee and struck a victorious double bicep pose, muscles rippling under the spotlights. His smile was burning just as brightly. His teeth gleamed white too.
Post posing, primed and pumped, Victor extended his hand to Paul and pulled the powerhouse to his feet. They began to circle each other, their muscles tensed and taut. Victor suddenly spied an opening and lunged forward, his arms wrapping around Paul’s wasp like waist. The muscle punk in blue posers struggled, but Victor’s experience and raw strength prevailed. With a mighty heave, Victor lifted Paul off the ground. Paul’s feet left the mat, his body, horizontal in Victor’s unyielding grip. For a moment, time, again, seemed to stand still, the only sound the heavy breathing of the two combatants. Then, with a thunderous impact that echoed through the basement, Victor brought Paul crashing down to the mat in a barbaric body slam. The ring shook with the force of the move. Paul bounced off the mat like an electrified fish, flailing and frenzied, finally coming to rest in the center of the ring with his legs spread and his protruding pouch center stage. Victor stood over him, his chest heaving, a smile upon his face. Victor backed away, turned and climbed to the top rope of the ring, with his massive frame casting a shadow over Paul. In a moment that felt like an eternity, Victor launched himself into the air, his arm cocked at the ready. Gravity took hold of him, and with a powerful descent, he drove his elbow into Paul’s abs with a devastating elbow smash. The impact resonated through the basement. Paul grunted loudly and writhed on the mat, the force of the blow evident in his expression. Victor, with his imposing stature and seasoned expertise, maneuvered to apply a head scissors on Paul. Victor rolled on top and wrapped his powerful thighs around Paul’s head, squeezing tightly. Paul attempted to resist but Victor bettered him. The basement echoed with the sounds of their struggle, the tension was palpable as Victor not only maintained the hold but pressed Paul’s head closer to his own bulging basket, showcasing the physical prowess that had earned him his titles and reputation in the bodybuilding world. Victor, with his competitive fire burning brighter than ever, was only egged on by Paul's sustained struggling. In one swift and calculated maneuver, he rolled Paul and himself over, keeping Paul locked between his thick thighs and extended his own arms, pushing his massive frame off the ground in a strong, controlled motion. He then began to rhythmically pound out a series of push ups. The basement echod with the measured motion of Victor’s exertion. His body moved up and down with mechanical precision. Paul, still locked in the hold, could only wince and groan as Victor’s muscles flexed and relaxed with each powerful press. It was a cocky display of dominance that they both knew went well beyond the wrestling ring. Paul, trapped between Victor’s iron thighs, could only endure as his own muscular frame was pulled and pressed repeatedly. Each push-up was a testament to Victor’s dominance, a physical punctuation to the intense rivalry that had already unfolded in this secret secluded spot. Victor, with his muscles bulging and veins standing out like snakes, flexed his quads and every muscle in his body, creating an imposing sight as the scissor hold tightened. The room echoed with the sounds of Paul's loud labored grunting as he fought the hold for what felt like hours. His was determined not to submit. Sweat poured down his face, soaking the mat beneath him. as his grunts slowly became groans...
Victor with a nasty scowl on his face wasn’t eager to put Paul out of his misery. With a swift move he released Paul's head from between his concrete quads, pulled the muscle hunk up by his hair and proceeded to pick him up by placing his hand on Paul's stacked shoulder. Victor bent forward to slide his other hand between Paul's legs. His hand came to rest on Paul's gargantuan glutes. Victor's strength was on full display as he stood up with Paul's torso lying across his substantial right shoulder. Victor then twisted Paul's body around as he slammed the muscle punk down to the mat. Paul's body jerked and jolted. Victor flexed both biceps and cocked his hip. He dropped his arms, bent down and grabbed a hold of Paul's left foot, stepped over the right and proceeded to secure Paul’s legs in a fantastically applied figure-four. He aplied pressure to Paul's knee joint by pushing his foot against Paul’s shin. Paul trapped in the hold, felt an immediate punch of pain. His face contorted as he grappled with the agony, his muscles bulged and veins popped as he struggled to find a way out. He tried to shift his weight, to alleviate the pressure, but Victor’s grip was unyielding. The pain for Paul was almost overpowering but even as the figure-four leg lock held him in its unyielding grip, Paul’s competitive spirit refused to be quashed. With a surge of willpower, he raised his arms into a formidable double bicep pose, He groaned as his arms swelled with power, the biceps peaked like twin mountains, and the veins on his arms stood out like rivers of strength, all of it a stark contrast to the pain etched on his face. Not content with just the double bicep, Paul summoned more strength to flex his abs and thighs, and added a slight gyration with his hips. His abdominal muscles rippled into a washboard of defiance, while his massive quads, thick and striated, tensed into a display of sheer muscularity. Victor, momentarily taken aback by Paul’s resilience, acknowledged his rival’s presentation and prowess with a raised eyebrow and a nod of respect. Paul, with his face etched in renewed determination, performed a lat spread. Despite the pain and his precarious position, he flexed hard, causing his already broad back to widen even further. It was a display of defiance, a testament to his unyielding spirit even in the face of defeat. Victor, with a cocky chuckle responded with a lat spread of his own. The two bodybuilders, locked in combat, were also engaged in an unspoken battle of pretentious poses. Their lats spread like wings of warriors, each trying to outdo the other in both the wrestling ring and in their domineering displays of their posing prowess. It was more than a contest of simple strength; it was a spectacle of pompous presentation, a display of self-assurance and arrogance sculpted by iron and sweat.
Paul, his face contorted and his energy draining quickly fell back against the mat. His legs ached as Victor continued to pour on the pressure. Paul looking for some kind of respite from the endless agony pressed his back and arms against the mat, and with his shoulders and feet engaged, he arched upward, placing his hands above his head and lifting his hips off the ground, arching his torso into a powerful curve. His bulging basket became a prominent peak on this newly constructed mountain of muscles. His quads, thick and defined from years of training, were flexed impressively as he strained to sturdily support his bridged body. Victor responded to Paul's new arcing mound of massive muscle by executing a bowing bridge of his own. With his legs still locked around Paul's pegs he pushed himself up onto his fingertips and extended his legs right up onto his toes, creating a perfect arch with his beefy body, his muscles straining under the effort. The two bodybuilders, leg locked in their respective poses, look like statues carved from stretched stone. Both of their big bodies were glistening with beads of sweat which cascaded across their pecs and over their shoulders. Each stud shone like a stunning star under the spotlights.
Victor sensed an opportunity to assert his dominance further and intensifiesdthe pressure on the figure-four leg lock by slowly beginning
to buck up and down in his bridge. He relaxed his glutes, lowered his
hips, waited, then breathed in and braced. Gritting his teeth and
grimacing, he reengaged his glutes and propelled his hips towards
heaven while packing on the pressure and grinding his gargantuan glutes. Victor then relaxed, readied himself to reengage and repeated. Each
upward thrust sent waves of pain through Paul’s already beaten bod,
the relentless motion a clear indicator of Victor’s superior strength and
complete control. Paul,
caught in the vice-like grip of the hold, could do little but endure
the unending torment. His face, a mask of resolve and suffering, told the
story of a man pushed to his limits and only steps away from being completely broken. The warehouse's basement, was the only witness to this
extraordinary display of dominance and it helds its breath as Victor
continued to apply the pulsating pressure, his body moving with a rhythmic precision
that belied the exerted effort behind each meticulous motion.
Paul suddenly began to moan. A raw sound that spoke of the intense pain coursing through his beautiful body. Yet, even as this suffering sounds filled the space, there was still a steely undertone of defiance to Paul's misery, and despite the agony he still refused to submit.
Victor,
acutely aware of the ongoing anguish he was inflicting, continued to apply pressure,
but with a growing sense of effort and audacity. As more seconds passed, the two bodybuilders remained locked in their
struggle with their battle finally reaching a pinnacle in a barrage of brazen bucking and a marathon of mournful moaning. Victor suddenly grunted and growled “Give up!” he roared, each word
punctuated by a powerful buck. His bulge bobbed as his body bounced up and down. His hips arched up and his feet
pressed down dominantly while he continued to hold the figure-four in place. Paul gritted his teeth and held his breath,
braced his core and tensed each one of his massive muscles. He struggled and strained, moaned and groaned, and edged ever closer to eventual defeat. Victor’s voice boomed through the basement, a relentless echo
demanding surrender, “Give up, punk!” "Give Up!!!" "Give up you fucking punk!!!!! "GIVE UP!!!!!!!!!" And then in a momentous moment of mental surrender, one where Paul couldn't take one more single solitary second of suffering, he finally submitted with a
guttural scream that echoed throughout the space, and ricocheted off the walls. It was scream of submission! A visceral, vocal resignation to the unrelenting power and undeniable will of the champion.
Both men were completely spent and soaked in sweat. Victor slowly unravelled their entwined legs and released the figure-four with a controlled and deliberate motion. He rose above Paul, who lay exhausted on the mat. Victor, with a final burst of showmanship, struck a victorious pose; a front double bicep, his arms raised, biceps bulging like iron peaks. He followed that up with a most muscular by clenching his fists and bringing them together in front of his chest as his entire body tensed into a showcase of power and muscularity. Finally, Victor dropped to his knees and grunted loudly as he pumped out one last lat spread over the prone form of Paul. As Victor locked eyes with him, he seductively said, "The shows not over yet..." Victor rose and strutted over to the edge of the ring. He bent over at the waist and climbed back through the ropes onto the stage aside it. A purple curtain emblazoned with gold lame unfurled. A fitting tribute to the king of the ring. Victor strewn in sweat, strutted to the centre of the stage and began to pose...
Victor made sure Paul was watching his posing routine, and looked him straight in the eye and smiled.
Victor winked at Paul as he pulled his arm inward to show off his massive arm muscles!
Victor the victor finishes his posing routine and satisfied and spent he saunters off into the Saturday night...
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