There's only one reason to build up your body like that. For somebody to cut all that fine lean protein off your dead carcass. So I would stretch you out spread eagle and face up on my table and tie your wrists and ankles tight. I'd shred the clothes off your body because you'd never need clothes again. You'd be able to watch your muscles straining in the mirrors above us as I licked and teased every inch of your skin with my tongue and teeth until it was tingling with pleasure. And when your dick was straining and your body thought this was sex, I'd show you my knife. I'd cut off a slice of your right bicep, tenderly licking up the blood. I'd let you watch me chew and swallow it, tasting the quality of your meat. Then I'd move down, kissing your body with my bloody lips until I cut off a slice of your inner thigh, close to your balls. I'd savor a few chews, then move up to put it on your tongue with a kiss, letting you taste what all your work had made. Then I'd take my knife and slit open your chest, just below the tip of your sternum. I'd thrust in my dick, rubbing against the inside of your ribs, until we could both feel its head rubbing against your pounding heart. Then, just before I came, I'd pull out and get bolt cutters, one by one cutting your ribs away from the left side of your sternum. And as you gasped and screamed and writhed. As your blood sprayed the room and my cum sprayed the great gaping gash I'd made of your flesh and bone, I'd reach both hands into your chest and pull it apart, breaking and tearing until shards of rib and once prime pec muscle left a hole where we could see your heart pounding under your lungs. And I would grasp it and pull it out of your quivering body. And the last thing you would see would be my teeth gnawing it into a bloody pulp.