Pastor Muscle: Epilogue
by BBMSN
The pastor's son continued to grow in size and power. By the time Christmas came, he was 310lbs of shredded muscle, and he was beating everyone he took on at his MMA club. He had developed such tremendous quickness, that he could grab ahold of any fighter, muscle him to the ground, and choke hold the guy into submission within seconds. At first, it took him 15 seconds to finish his matches. His last 5 matches before heading home for Christmas, he had submitted his opponents in three seconds flat. The dudes didn't even know what hit them, with his big 23" arm snaked around their necks like the most powerful boa constrictor that had ever existed. He couldn't wait to show his dad.
He was in for a surprise when he got home though. His dad had bulked up to 440lbs, and looked like one of those huge Soviet powerlifters from the 70's, only with much more pronounced muscle density. When they went into the basement to wrestle, the big pastor tossed his 310lbs son around the mats with surprising ease. The son was able to get his choke hold on his dad, but the pastor's 25" neck was dent-proof, even with the younger man's powerful 23 inchers. And there was no way the kid could take his dad down to the mat. There was no moving his mountainous 440 pounds without the pastor allowing it. With both of them in the standing position, he moved his son around the room like he was leading in a muscle waltz. Then he would toss his son into a wall, cracking the cinder blocks. The kid couldn't believe the strength of his old man.
The worst was the pastor's scissor hold. He put his son in it over and over. There was no escaping it. And the pastor beamed with pride as he challenged his son to try.
"Fight harder, big boy, or I'll crush you with these thunderthighs." And the kid would struggle his hardest, his face turning purple as he tried to pry his father's legs apart with his hands. And his father would just chuckle. "I'm squatting over half a ton with these monsters, boy, I could crush your ribcage with this strength." Finally, the son would tap out, and his dad would release the bonecrushing hold. Then he would work his son around the mats for another 15 minutes, before slapping on the scissor again.
"Who's your daddy?" asked the pastor, as he bore down on his son's upper torso with his 37 inch quads.
"You are," cried out the son, who felt like he was being crushed between two pillars of iron.
" 'You are' what?" barked the father.
"You are, sir!" yelped out the boy, as he tapped out on his father's beast-thick legs.
They wrestled like that everyday for the 2 weeks the son was home. The boy lost ten pounds, but was the most shredded he'd ever been. The pastor gained ten pounds, and at 450, was able to toss his bodybuilder son around the mats like a rag doll. He knew he should so some mercy to the boy, but he couldn't help himself. He was totally into his own size and power. Sometimes he came in his singlet as he demolished his son over and over, or strutted over to him, picked him up off the mats and pressed him overhead for reps. He pictured himself as the strongest man the world had ever known, as his 31 inch biceps pumped up even bigger, using his son's 300 pounds as a weight. It was the only time he truly felt rapture. Rapture to his own freakishly superior size and power. "No one can come close to this," he'd say as he looked at himself in the mirror, and orgasmed over his own reflection. He'd pin his son down to the mat with his big foot and flex out over him. The younger man would look up in awe at his superhuman father, and nut himself to the sight of all that mass towering above him.
"I'm wanna be just like you, Dad."
"I know you do, boy. Who wouldn't?" And the pastor raised his arm to his mouth, and kissed his own biceps.
What the pastor didn't know was that his son, after two weeks of being soundly trounced by his old man, had ordered a three month cycle of heavy duty roids from a supplier in eastern Europe. The guy he ordered them from told him he'd guarantee a 60lbs gain of dry muscle, or his money back. And even better than that, said the supplier, his strength could potentially double. It was going to make for an interesting Easter, thought the son.
END