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|After our wrestling match, the big sweaty strongman next to me said,
"You hungry, Jay?" I realized that this was the first time he had called me
by name, and that I didn't even know his.
"How'd you know my name?" I asked him.
"It was on your name tag back at the store," he said, grinning. "My name's Jeb. Now let's go eat."
Jeb helped me to my feet, and we headed upstairs. I was behind him, and couldn't help but stare at the massive, thick ass of this superstrong man. The stairs creaked under his muscular weight, and even going up steps, he waddled. When we got to the kitchen, he told me to go take a shower while he got some food ready.
By the time I got back from the shower, he had some food ready alright. His huge kitchen table was loaded with two trays of lasagne, two pre-cooked turkeys, ten baked potatoes, two big pitchers of milk. Out of the broiler, he was pulling six flank steaks.
"Now let's eat," he said, sitting down at the table. I sat down on the other side. There were no plates, but there were two oversized forks and steak knives. He pulled one tray of lasagne in front of him and started eating, so I did the same. I got about half way through the tray when I started to slow down. He looked at me and said, "You better eat more than that if you wanna grow, boy. Drink some milk to wash it down." He noticed me looking around for a glass, so he grabbed one of the pitchers and downed the whole thing, just to show me how. I picked up the pitcher by me and did the same. It was the best tasting milk I'd ever had, so it was easy to gulp the whole thing down, and it did actually make me feel like eating more.
"You like that, huh, boy?" he said. "I fortified the milk with a little something extra to help you bulk up." He smiled at me and winked in a way that made my groin jump. Something about a hypermasculine beast of a strongman winking at ya that can do that.
I finished the rest of the lasagna, and then, like him, pulled my turkey in front of me and started tearing into it. I was ravenous. We both ate and ate until both turkeys were gone. We shared the potatoes, five each, and then the steaks, three apiece. I was stuffed to the gills. That was four times more than I had ever taken in at one sitting, and I am a big eater. Jeb leaned back in his chair and put his huge arms behind his head. His massive powerlifter gut was taut and hard. Even his big nipples had swollen up from our huge influx of food.
"Now, time for dessert, babe," he said."Come suck on these man nips, boy, I know you want to."
And did I ever. I went over to him and put my hands on his rockgut. It was hard as a rounded boulder. I leaned into his chest and took one of his big meaty nips in my mouth and sucked. And sucked, and sucked. It was so hard, it was like sucking on muscle. And I could feel it swelling up in my mouth. Over two inches of powerlifter nipple meat. He pushed the back of my head into his chest, hard, but not rough. He stroked himself as I worked him. Then he moved my head over to his other meaty nip, and I worked that one.
"Chew on it," he whispered hoarsely into my ear, and I chewed and chewed. It was like chewing on gristle, all tough and hard. Then he grabbed me by the ears, lifted my head off him, and lowered me down onto his already dripping cock, all engorged and veiny, thick as a bronco. He worked my head up and down his shaft, fucking my face with gusto.
"You ready for this load, mutherfucker?" he growled. "Best fucking dessert you're ever gonna taste." And then he unloaded. I could feel rope after rope of his jiz pumping into me. And it did taste good, just like the milk. Damn, I wanted it ALL, and he just kept blasting it into me. Feeding me, and feeding me. Finally, he pulled my head off of him, and looked at me. "Nice job, boy. Now it's your turn." He flipped me down onto the kitchen floor with ease, then went to work on my hard on. It took me about five seconds to lose it to him, feeding him my own spunk as I watched his head and thick shoulders work my cock. Then he stood up, and wiped his mouth with the back of his brawny forearm. "Nice," he said. "Now get up, it's time for a workout."
A workout? Shit, I could have gone to sleep for about a week. But instead, he led me out into his huge backyard that was filled with equipment. Some of it was weights, but a lot of it was strongman stuff like you see on tv. Huge tractor tires, atlas stones of various sizes, thick chains, rebar of various thicknesses, an anchor. There was also a backhoe and a medium-sized bulldozer. Then there was some lifting equipment that looked like it had been homemade, using materials that were thicker and stronger than the stuff of a normal gym.
Although I was still feeling stuffed beyond belief, I was also turned on by the sight of this wonderland of strength and musclepower, and aching to play around with this stuff. Jeb looked at me and said, "You sure you're ready for this?"
"Hell yeh man, let's go." I was raging to go. I'd never felt so strong, or huge, so unstoppable.
"Then let's warm up," he said. I was soon to find out that Jeb's idea of warming up was much different that anything I'd ever experienced, even in college football practice. We started out with light squats, but he made me do 100 reps minimum for each set. And we did set after set after set. Sometimes he would pump out 200 reps, which I was grateful for, because it gave me more time to gasp for air. By the eighth set, every breathe felt like a flamethrower burning down my lungs. By the twelfth set, I could hardly stand. Jeb's legs, on the other hand, had bloated up like balloons. His quads were purple with pump, and his veins were thick as garden hoses, feeding his gargantuan thighs, and making them even bigger and tighter. He did 250 reps with 800lbs on the bar. I felt like I'd puke my guts out if I even thought the word 'squat'. Jeb looked at me and said, "What's the matter, boy, you look a little green around the gills. Just so you know, you toss up any of that food I made for you, and I'll pound you into next week. But I tell you what, that's enough of a warm-up. Let's go see how you do at the tire toss." Thank god, I thought. Anything to get away from the squat rack. I followed him over to the tractor tires on my wobbling, aching legs. I'd seen the tire toss event on the strongest man tv show, so I knew the basics. Jeb showed me even more about where to stand, and how to grip the big tire, but I had no idea what I was up against till I tried to lift it. The fucking thing weighed a goddam ton. I struggled and struggled just to get it shoulder high. Then, when I went to push it over, the damn thing wobbled back on me, almost knocking me over. I heard Jeb say,"Come on boy, show it who's boss." At that point, I wasn't quite sure I could. My legs were still on fire from squatting, and now the hard rubber of the tire was smashing up against my face. But then I felt a sudden surge of strength. It rose up from inside my gut and surged into my arms. I leaned into the tire and shoved, sending it flipping over easily. What a rush it was. It felt like the strength in my arms had doubled, and I was dizzy with a new sense of power.
"How's that feel, bud?" asked Jeb.
"Man, this is goddam awesome," I said, flexing out my arms. "Now let's see you do it."
Jeb smiled, and walked over to the tire. His huge legs had continued to swell after squatting and were now bigger than ever. He knelt down and put one hand under the tire, and lifted it like a sack of potato chips. Then, instead of just flipping it over, he put his hands on the bottom of the tire and lifted it into the air. He curled it once, then lowered it down. Suddenly, with a mighty thrust of his thick back, arms and legs, he hurled the big tire into the air, launching it 150 yards into the woods behind his house. I could hear tree branches snapping as the heavy tire crashed into the woods.
"You like that, boy?" he asked, flexing his arms up into a double bi shot. Man, did he have arms. Huge thick meaty arms. Superhuman pipes that would make a circus strongman look like a puny weakling. "Guess you did like it," he said, nodding toward my crotch. I had shot a load right in my shorts.
"And we're just getting started, Jay."
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