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|It had been a long hot summer for Jeb. He'd spent the last three
months training, and training hard. After he witnessed his 24 year old protege,
Jay, rip a massive oak tree out of the backyard with his bare hands that spring,
Jeb promised himself he was going to get into the shape of his life. Not since Marine boot camp had he busted his ass so hard. And he had gotten results.
His backyard was full of homemade equipment he had constructed to build his strength to a profoundly new level. He had started with two empty beer kegs that
he bolted thick steel handles into. Then he filled the ten-gallon kegs halfway with buckshot. He would grab the handles, and slowly curl the kegs up and down, and as the buckshot shifted, he would keep them level using his wrist strength only. Every workout he would add more buckshot to the kegs, and soon he
realized that not only had his wrists thickened, but he had developed the grip strength of ten men. There was nothing he couldn't crush. He practiced with old hubcaps that he would palm in one hand and crumple into a ball with his thick powerful fingers, one after another, until his forearms bulged with muscle and were roadmapped with veins. He progressed to railroad spikes, which he would
take in one big hand and squeeze, watching as each end rose upward, his crushing fingers whitening as he bore down. He got so strong that there would be
deep indentations in the iron spikes where his fingers had been. Soon into the summer, though, the kegs where full of buckshot. Jeb could curl them with ease, then switch to overhead extentions without a rest, and pump out fifty reps. Then he would do wrist curls...hundreds of them. The bloat in his arms was tremendous. He could feel his power growing. He could sense the change in his bull-like strength, especially after his ninth or tenth protein shake of the day. He brought an empty trailer from one of the 18-wheelers at his trucking company, and mounted it on a special platform he built in his backyard. It was just high enough off the ground that he could crawl underneath, and, laying on his back, pull his legs up and plant his feet on the bottom of the trailer. Then he pushed up. At first, the balancing was awkward, but soon Jeb had it down, and was pressing the trailer up and down with his monster legs. It felt awesome, and he loved crawling out after three sets of forty, and feeling his blood engorged quads and calves. Within days, he was throwing scrap metal into the trailer, making it even heavier and harder to balance. He would bang out rep after rep, straining against the insanely heavy resistance, building the muscle and power in his legs to superhuman proportions. All summer he added weight to the trailer, and trained and trained. No rebar remained unbent. No engine block remained un-rowed... one-armed, over the edge of the four foot wall at the back of the yard, till his monster lats were raging with pain and power. Despite having turned 40 during the summer, he had the look of a superheavyweight powerlifter/wrestler in his prime, bulked thick and hard, and ready to show Jay what mature muscle can do. Meanwhile, Jay had taken a job as a bouncer that summer in a rowdy redneck bar in the lower-middle class section of town. He usually crashed out in
the apartment above the bar, and the owner maintained a weight room in the back for his bouncers to keep in shape, but Jay was too insanely strong to be challenged by the small gym. While the other bouncers were benching 415, Jay would curl that weight. He loved wrestling the other bouncers down, showing them
what real power felt like, especially when he could take on three of them at a time, so that at least he'd work up a little sweat before pinning them all down with one arm. At work, he would wear a tight muscle tee, which discouraged most problems from ever starting, but once in awhile a redneck would get so drunk that he'd be fool enough to challenge Jay's authority. Jay actually liked it when that happened, and would let the wasted punk punch away at him, since even the biggest redneck's blows would just bounce off his thick, hard muscle. Then, when he got bored, Jay would wrench the guy into an armlock, lift him off the ground, and take him outside, where he would give him a course in pain management. He had learned early on how to bruise a guy up badly and deeply without breaking any bones. One time a guy came back a few weeks later, and came
at Jay with a gun, but Jay grabbed the guy's wrist and twisted, snapping his arm, then he dragged the guy outside and made him watch as he dismantled the man's pickup truck with his bare hands, piece by piece. Jeb had told Jay he could workout in his yard whenever he had the chance, and he did that from time to time, but it was always in the afternoons when Jeb was working so they never saw each other. Jay loved lifting the homemade equipment that Jeb had constructed. It was the only time his power was really challenged anymore, but he missed the camaraderie of lifting with Jeb, having Jeb push him to the limits with no mercy. The old man was strong as hell, even though Jay had managed to take him down the last time they tangled. Jay was
crazy strong, and was maintaining, but he needed to be pushing the envelope to get that intense adrenaline rush that he used to get with Jeb, not to mention the incredible bull sex between the two superpowerhouse men. Someday, he was going to have to come over when Jeb was around. He would look at the house while he was there, and wish that Jeb would come out the backdoor, home early, in his Gold's training gear, thick old man muscle looking hard as iron. He missed the old man's marine sargeant attitude, his balls-to-the-wall training philosophy, even though he pushed him so hard sometimes Jay ended up puking his guts out between sets. Jeb would just call him a girl scout and tell him to get his ass in gear. Fucking old man never did puke, from what Jay remembered. Tough as nails. Tough as nails was right, and Jay had no idea how much stronger and tougher Jeb had become. Sometimes at night, right after lifting and eating, Jeb would have to check out his progress. He'd strip down naked and step in front of
his full-length mirror. Sometimes he took himself by surprise at the sight. Big hairy powerhouse muscle. Hard as iron and rippling with every movement he made. Even through his chest hair, he could see the massive mounded pecs roll at his command, ponderous pecs, criss-crossed with thick veins, his big hard nips jutting out past his thick fur. A most-muscular shot would make his traps climb and thicken. He'd chuckle to himself, and squeeze the muscle tighter, his traps and bullneck merging into one, his neck an inch thicker than his head on both sides. Then he'd hit a double-bi, and smirk as the craggy boulder muscles rose and rose, a thick split at the mountainous peaks, huge triceps filling out the bottom, and forearms ballooning above the elbows. Being naked always made his cock swell, and now it thumped against his hairy rockgut. His 38" powerlifter gut was as hard as the beer kegs in his backyard, and when he crunched down, the bloated eight pack abs made his cock bounce and leak, leaving a rope of pre trailing from his gut to his cockhead. Then he looked down at his quads. Damned if they weren't hairier than ever, but he could still see that they were bigger than ever too. Packed with slabs of thick cabled muscle, nearly swallowing his kneecap with their overhang. His shins were scraped and banged up from where his homemade weights sometimes smashed against them, but behind the shins, his freak calves jutted out on both sides like over-inflated footballs. That's what comes from doing calf raises with a tractor trailer full of scrap metal, he thought to himself as he flexed one calf muscle and watched it blossom out into its full glory of thick dense striations, peaking into that diamond shape that few men ever fully develop. Jeb turned back toward the mirror, and stood, relaxed. Checking out what he had turned himself into, what he had accomplished that summer, he felt his balls churning, his groin surging with a deep sensation of pleasure. He hadn't touch himself, but couldn't stop the jiz from flying, out of his thick cock and onto the mirror, load after load of powerlifter sap. His powerful body shuddered in ecstasy as he blew and blew. "Damn, that was good," he said to himself, before hitting the shower. "Might just be time to give Jay a call."
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