Pastor Muscle 4
The pastor left his church and drove to the Powerhouse Gym where he worked out. He was so jacked up from the way his service went that he felt unstoppable. He was still shirtless, and he liked the way he could feel the heat coming off his own body. He looked at the steering wheel underneath his big beefy fingers, and wondered how easy it would be for him to rip it right out of the steering column. It stirred him up thinking about crushing the wheel into pieces with his bare hands, but he restrained himself. What he wanted more than ripping his car apart was an insane leg workout.
He walked to his gym and went to sign in. Being Sunday morning, there weren't many people working out, but the ones that were there stopped what they were doing to stare at the shirtless behemoth at the front counter. The pastor knew they were staring, and he loved it. He walked into the locker room with a cocky waddle.
He kept his gym wear in a locker here, and as he headed toward it, he passed the full length wall mirror. His reflection caught his eye, and he turned to look at himself. Still puffed up from bearhugging his parishioner into total erotic submission, he couldn't help but admire the 350lbs strongman in the reflection. He reared back his big shoulders and stuck out his chest. He knew it had to be taping out at over 68 inches. He'd never felt so huge and strong.
He noticed someone at the far end of the mirror, sitting on the bench in front of an open locker. It was a 20-ish looking guy, trying to pretend that he wasn't staring at the massive powerhouse in the mirror.
"You like what you see?" bellowed the pastor. He waddled down closer to where to man was. Still in the mirror, the pastor said, "Watch this." He bulged his powerlifter's gut out, making his belt taut. His rounded stomach surged forward with six brick-sized ab muscles popping outward above his waistline. His stomach wall had to be 6 inches thick of solid muscle. He pushed out harder, and the buckle on his belt snapped into pieces and fell to the floor. The black leather belt loosened. The pastor undid the button on his suit pants, pulled down the zipper, and lowered his pants to his ankles. He turned to face the man on the bench.
"You ever see legs like these, little man?" asked the pastor. His legs were so bulked up that, at first, the man thought they might just be fat. But then the pastor squeezed them slightly, and the thick muscle responded by popping out all over his thighs. The man had to use both hands on the bench to keep from falling backward.
"Oh my god," he said in awe.
"That's right," said the pastor," Thirty-six inches of powerhouse quad muscle." The pastor kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants. He was half chubbed up in his briefs from this man's admiration. He twisted the bottom of his leg toward the man and flexed his lower leg. "You ever see a 22" calf muscle before, boy?"
"No, sir," said the young guy.
"Go ahead and touch it," said the pastor.
The younger man reached out tentatively and laid his hand on the huge calf muscle. The pastor flexed it even harder and it swelled under the guy's hand. "Ohmygod," he gasped. The young man looked up at the pastor in awe, and noticed the salt-and-pepper chest hair on the massive man towering over him. "Howw old are you?" he stammered out.
"I'll be 49 next week. Wanna rassle?" the pastor said with a grin. He turned and walked down to his own locker. He stripped down naked and he heard the younger man gasp again. He chuckled to himself. He'd heard that gasp many times as he'd waddled naked thru locker rooms. The pastor knew he was blessed in more ways than one, and his big manclub was one of them. He loved how it flopped around when he was letting it fly free. He knew what the young guy would be thinking about in the shower too.
He opened his locker and pulled on a pair of spandex lifting shorts. No one else at the gym wore a pair this tight and this short, but the pastor loved how they let him seeing nearly every inch of mass on him, especially on leg day, when he could watch how his legs swelled after every set of heavy squats. He strapped on his thick, double-notched powerlifting belt and sucked in his powerball guy so he could synched it tight around his waist. He put on his Otomix lifting shoes and a XXXL string tank and walked out onto the gym floor. He swaggered over to the smith machine and started loading on 100lbs plates. He did 25 warm-up reps with 245. Then he added 2 more 100 pound plates, and did 20 reps with 445. Although the smith machine had racks to catch the weight if you went to failure, they were set low enough that the pastor could squat way past parallel to the ground without hitting them. He loved the burn that these low weight, high rep squats gave his legs. He put on 2 more 100lbers, and started doing reps with 645. Up and down he went, deep and low. Now he was really beginning to feel his quads bloat. He racked the weight after 14 reps, stepped back, and shook out his legs, which were already ruddy with blood flowing in to power the huge muscles of his quads. He put on 2 more 100s and did ten perfect slow deep reps. He racked the 845 and stepped back. "Oh yeh," he said to himself, as his swelling legs started to bunch his square-cut spandex shorts up toward his groin. Now he was in a zone. He added more weight to the bar, taking it to 1045lbs. The bar bent in the middle as he racked it across his thick traps and stepped back. The plates clanged as he did 10 reps. He racked the bar back up, and stepped back again. He sat down on a bench and looked down at his big legs, now purple with pump. He punched his thighs with his big fist, breaking up his muscle fascia to make room for more growth. The big welt that his fist made on his leg disappeared quickly as the muscle swelled out. He stood up and felt his glutes. He loved how hard they got when he was doing squats. He waddled back up to the bar, and did ten more reps with 1045lbs. His shorts had pulled up so high now, it looked like he was lifting in a pair of posers. "Looks like I have a banana and two tangerines in there," he chuckled to himself as he flexed his swollen monster legs in the mirror. His whole body was pumped from squatting over half a ton. He felt superhuman. Like a god. A brief flicker of guilt passed his mind as he felt that, but it vanished as he stared at his musclebeast reflection in the mirror. His muscle gut heaved in and out as he breathed, the ab muscles rounded and hard as a cast-iron stove. He was a god. He was better than a god. He had muscle slabbed on top of muscle, piled thick and hard.
He got under the weights again, and did 15 reps. His legs were on fire, burning with an intensity that few mortals could endure. Instead of racking the bar back up, he flipped it down and lowered it to the support racks at the bottom of the smith machine. He squatted down and grabbed the bar with a sumo grip, one palm forward and one palm back. Then he started doing deadlifts. Up went the 1045 pounds as he arched his back and pulled, straining every muscle in his massive backside and huge legs. His hamstrings swelled out like ship ropes, taut and sinewy. Up and down he went, rep after rep, letting the bar bang into the heavy iron racks on the side with each rep. The rack bent more each time he hit them from the tremendous weight on the bar. After twelve reps, he dropped the bar down onto the racks. He stood upright and looked at his sweat-drenched body in the mirror. His eyes were glazed over and his nostrils flared as he breathed in deep and heavy. He clenched his fists and flexed his muscles tight. He did 15 more deadlifts. He felt like he had the strength of ten men. Maybe twenty. .
He lowered the bar down and stepped back. He could barely move, his legs were so swollen. His backside was raging with power. His skin stretched tight as a balloon over his quads, his broad back, his delts. He turned and began to waddle back to the locker room, so engrossed by his own size and power that he completely forgot about putting the weights back. His legs muscles were twitching with broken down fiber, aching to be nourished so they could repair and grow. The pastor went to his locker, but when he tried to open the lock, his big fingers were so tight from holding the 1045lb bar, he couldn't turn the dial. He wrapped his hand around the lock and crushed down on it until it broke apart in his palm. He snorted with pride.
He grabbed his car keys, and headed out to his car in his sweat-soaked shorts. All he could think about was getting food. He needed to eat, and eat big. To feed his muscle, and grow. He ached for more growth. More growth and power. He wanted to feel what it was like to be 375lbs of sheer brute size and strength. He grunted with desire for it. He got into his car, his legs and arms shaking with fatigue. Time to go home and see if his boy was there yet. Show him the Power. Make the boy worship him.