Pastor Muscle 2
The pastor didn't share this with anyone, but he completely got off on his own bulked up size. Now that he was up to a solid 345, he could barely restrain himself from groping his own body. When he had sex with his wife, her tiny hands on his arms made him feel even bigger. All he had to do was think of how he'd feel at 360lbs, and he'd cum inside her. Sometimes he'd hold her in midair, stay inside her, and think about his strength. He could cum two or three times that way. Sometimes he would bust so hard to his own thoughts that he'd shred his rubber like a cheap balloon, which really pissed him off. Last thing he needed was more kids.
After sex, he liked to get into the shower, soap himself up, and grope his mass. Big barrel-chested ape that he was, he loved clamping his big hands on his heavy pecs and lifting them up and down, feeling the weight of them. Big thick slabs of beef, they had to weigh 45lbs each. And such extreme strength in them. He knew he could outbench 99.99 percent of the men in the world. Maybe 100 percent. Made him hard thinking of doing it. Waddling onto the bench and outlifting any punk that dared to challenge him.
Then his hands would lower down to his big ball gut. He loved the feel of it, so round and tight, skin stretched taut over it. Hard as granite, and growing with every meal he had. Turned him on so much, he could barely stand it. He liked to press his hands against the sides of the shower and cum hands free to his own thickness and power. Problem was, he kept cracking the tile under his thick, heavily calloused hands.
Toweling off after the shower, he tried not to check himself out in the mirror too much. But when he dried off his hair, he couldn't help it. His arms bulged up so huge. He bet they were over 24" now. He dropped the towel and flexed his arms in the mirror. He knew it was sinful, but he worshipped himself. He hit a side-chest shot, and admired how his 66" chest swelled out over his fists. He shook out his arms and stepped closer to the mirror. He raised one arm up to its reflection. He made a fist and squeezed. "Oh yeah," he said as he watched his thick forearm swell with thickness. "Bigger than most men's biceps," he boasted. He jacked himself off as he continued to flex his massive forearm. Inspired by the feel of his corded muscle arm, he came again, his jiz flying up and hitting the mirror head high.
After he got dressed, he remembered a phone call he wanted to make. He had a friend who owned a gym in the town where the pastor's son went to college, and his son had started working out there two months earlier. The pastor wanted to find out how he was coming along.
Because his friend was Muslim, their relationship had started out a little rocky, but after meeting up at a couple powerlifting meets, they realized what they had in common. They both wanted to get beast huge and powerful. They spurred each other on to get bigger and stronger. At their first meet, the pastor weighed 260lbs, and lost out to the 285lbs burly arab powerhouse. Six months later, at the next meet, the pastor showed up at 300lbs and outlifted every man there, including his Muslim buddy, who vowed to come back bigger and stronger.
When he got his friend on the phone, the big gym owner told him that his son was a genetic freak, and that he'd never seen anyone take to lifting like he had. He told the pastor that the kid had benched 225 unassisted on his first day at the gym.
"And," the owner said, "he's piling on mass something fierce. Kid can gain weight just walking by the dumbbells."
"How much does he weigh now?"
"Not sure. Probably a good 225. And not an ounce of fat on him. He's getting taller too. Bet he's over 6 feet. Has an 8 pack like I never seen . Does hanging leg lifts with 45lb plate chained around his ankles. Lately he's been asking me to pull down on his legs as he does them. He's almost lifting me right off the ground. And he's got his bench up to 450."
The pastor was stunned. His son had gained 75lbs in 2 months. And was bench pressing twice his bodyweight. The kid sure did have his genetics, the pastor thought, as he hoped to bench triple his own bodyweight of 340 in the next couple of workouts. Thinking about benching 1020 pounds gave the pastor a hardon. He knew it was sinful, but he couldn't help it. His power made him rage. He was superhuman, and he loved every second of it. He went out to his workshop hoping to take his mind off his sexual response to his power. In the shop, he had a crate of old bowling pins he'd gotten at a flea market. He stopped and picked one up, then held it up to his arm. He loved how the belly of his forearm was now thicker than the widest part of the pin. He grabbed the neck of the bowling pin with his right hand. He held it out at arm's length. He squeezed down on the neck till he heard it crack. He dropped the two pieces of broken pin to the ground. He looked down at them, and sneered with pride. He picked up a second on in his left hand. He put his thick fingers around the head and crushed down till he felt it crack. He dropped it down, and flexed his hands, feeling the blood flood into his forearms. Feeling the freak strength in them. Superhuman.
And now his son was tapping into his own freak strength. The pastor suddenly felt like seeing his kid. He called him up, and told him he wanted to come up for a visit. But his son asks him to wait to see him when he comes home for Thanksgiving.
"Wait till you see, Dad," he said. "And by Thanksgiving, I'll be even bigger. And stronger. You should see me lift. I add weight every workout. The other guys at the gym can't believe how much my muscles pump up. One of them gave me some stuff called No-X-plode. Made veins pop out all over my arms, across my chest and down my legs. I never thought it'd feel this amazing. And I've been doing some mixed martial arts on the side. There're guys there who've been doing it for years, and I muscle them all over the mats. They feel so weak to me. And when I decide to, I just make them submit. I can pin their face to the ground and the dude can't even budge. I never thought it'd be such a rush to make some big jock tap out to my superior strength and skill. "
"Don't get too cocky, boy," said the pastor, but secretly, he never felt prouder of his son, who had been such a slacker through high school.
"Look who's talking," said the kid. "I remember you strutting in like peacock when you won another powerlifting trophy. Remember how you'd go up to Mom and show her how you could pop every button off your shirt just by flexing your chest? And then you'd bounce your huge pecs at her till she was all red with embarrassment?"
The pastor couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, I remember."
"Speaking of which, I had to buy all new clothes. None of my old stuff fit anymore. You should have seen it, I flexed out of a couple of my shirts, ripped them up good. No wonder you like doing it. And I ripped the seams of my last pair of baggy jeans last week. I think my quads have almost doubled in size. Hope you don't mind, I put it on the credit card you gave me."
"Buy anything you want, son."
"You sure? Cause there's this protein powder I've been wanting to try. It's cheaper if I get the 20 pound tubs, but it's still expensive."
"Get four of them," said the pastor, his heart pounding with pride.
"Yeah? Nice! Thanks Dad! Wait till you see me!"
They hung up, and the pastor braced himself against the wall. He could barely wait for his progeny to come home.