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|Jeb and I walked…no, wait….STRODE out of the restaurant. I
felt amazing. It was as if my football-trained muscles had been triggered
into overdrive by the intake of about ten thousand calories. I had never felt
so thick, so pumped, so solid and STRONG. In the smallest movements of my
body I could sense my power. Even relaxed, my arms jutted out to the sides
like a bodybuilder's, my lats had swollen up so much. And from the squatting
routine we had done earlier, my legs, my fucking legs, so full of pump, I had
to ROLL them around each other. Goddam TREETRUNKS. And the feeling was so
deeply intense, I knew I was sprouting a hard-on as we walked out, but I
didn't even care. Let people stare. I felt like I could stop a freight train
with this body.
And even while I revelled in my own sense of power, I couldn't help but stare in awe at my new buddy Jeb. He had worn a XXXL tank to the restaurant, and now it was so tight across his chest, it had started tearing down the center, exposing more of his burly gorilla beef. And as he pulled the door open to leave, the back of the tank split down the middle, his massive powerlifter back muscle ripping it like tissue.
"Shit," he muttered, as he realized he had ruined another shirt. Unfortunately, in checking out the shredded shirt, he forgot to let go of the door in time, and ripped it right off its hinges. "Goddam it!" he said, holding the heavy glass door in mid-air. "I hate when that happens." He tried to jam it back into place, but the owner came out and told us to just go, he'd take care of it. We left the poor dude shaking his head in amazement.
When we got back to Jeb's truck, he pinned me up against the back of it. He ripped off what was left of his tank, and peeled my shirt off me. He looked me up and down and then said, "Boy, I knew you had it, but just look at you. After only one day. Imagine in two months." He put his bigs hands on my delts and squeezed firmly. "Solid as rock," he said. I reached out and ran my hands up his jutting lats, big as two sides of beef, and steaming hot. He leaned into my ear and said, "Let's go home."
Just then, the car door opened on an El Camino parked next to us. A big redneck got out and stood staring at us.
"Well, well, what we got here, two fat faggots?" said the thug.
"What'd you just say?" said Jeb, turning toward him.
"I'm asking you, fat man, you a faggot or what?"
"Why you asking, boy?" said Jeb."You looking for a date?"
The redneck glowered at us. Then he leaned inside his car window and pulled out a crowbar.
"We don't like your type 'round here," he slurred dangerously.
"I'd think you'd be more worried about the damage on your little muscle car here," said Jeb.
"What fuckin' damage," said the redneck, suddenly distracted, and running his eyes up and down his baby.
Jeb stepped over to the passenger-side rearview mirror and snapped it off with one hand. Then he crushed it in his hand and let the pieces fall to the ground. "That damage," said Jeb.
"You dead sonofabitch," roared the thug, coming around the car, crowbar raised. He swung the bar right at Jeb's head. Jeb grabbed the bar midswing and TWISTED, sending the redneck to his knees. Jeb wrenched the crowbar from the redneck's hand, then put one end in each hand, and, arms out straight, slowly and easily twisted the ends of the crowbar until it looked like a Twizzler. Then he bent it until the ends passed each other, and tossed it aside. The thug, realizing now that what he took for a fat man was really a heavily muscled freak, began to back away on his knees.
Jeb walked up to him fast, a back-handed him across the face."Where the hell you think you're going, bitch?" said Jeb. Then he back-handed him again, harder. "Talk to me like that, then try to pussy your way out of a beatin?" Another back-hand, harder. The thug spit out a tooth, and said, "Thit!" Jeb stepped behind the redneck and wrapped his arm around the guy's neck. The redneck looked to weigh about 240, but Jeb lifted him off the ground in the neckhold like he was a five year old. Jeb thrashed the dude back and forth, over and over.
"I got your attention now?" Jeb asked the dude. "When I was in the Marine's, I killed a man doing this. Snapped his neck. That was before I started training for strength. Imagine what I can do now." He thrashed the thug back and forth a few more times, banging him hard into his El Camino. He shifted his arm into a sleeper hold, and bore down.
"Can you hear me, pussy?" he said, as the thug started to go limp."You listen real good, you worthless piece of crap. You see the side of that building over there?" He pointed the redneck's face toward on old bank, made of rough old brick. "I ever see you around here again, and I'm gonna use your face as an eraser on that brick, you hear me?"
The thug gurgled what I took for a yes. Then Jeb looked at me and said, "Rip the hood off his car." When I hesitated, Jeb said, "Do it!" So I went to the front of the El Camino. I wasn't exactly sure how to rip off the hood off a car, but Jeb helped out. "Smash your fists into each side, then use the dents to dig your hands under." I did what he said, and was shocked to see how easily the metal dented under my fists. And it did create an opening on each side. I dug my fingers in and bent the metal back farther, until I could get a good grip.
"Now rip it off," said Jeb, holding the half-conscious dude's face in my direction, so he could watch. I pulled back on the hood, but it didn't give at all. So I pulled harder. A little give, but not much. "Put your weight AND muscle into it, boy," said Jeb. So I dug my hands in deeper, gripped the hood so hard my fingers dented in the metal. I focused my new strength and size on the car, and YANKED. The heavy hood snapped off its hinges like I was pulling a sheet out of a three-ringed notebook. Fuckin aye! I was holding the hood in my hands, staring at it in amazement, when Jeb said, "Now, crush it." So I shifted my grip a bit and began to squeeeze. I felt the metal buckling slowly, so I squeezed harder, and it gave more. The metal began to screech as it buckled inward like an accordian. My arms were bulging and swelling up with power and size. I crumpled the hood into scrap metal with my bare hands. Then I tossed it aside like Jeb had done to the crowbar. I lifted my arms into a double-bi shot. I couldn't help it, I had to see the set of arms that had done this. My biceps swelled up with so much size and power. I was a friggen GOD.
"Now, come here and hold this piece of shit," said Jeb. I did as he said, although the piece of shit had very little fight left in him. Jeb went over to the front of the car and leaned in. He grabbed both sides of the engine block and began to pull. He ripped the engine right out, and pressed it overhead! Then, just for kicks, he did some reps with it, pumping himself up tight and full with the engine of an El Camino. Then, he reared back and tossed the engine block through the windshield of the car. I heard the thug let out a low moan. Then Jeb went to the side of the car, and lifted the engine out again. He pressed it overhead and SMASHED it into the roof of the car, crushing in the frame. The two ends of the car actually bent upwards from the force. Another moan from the redneck. Jeb ripped the engine from the wreckage and smashed it into the trunk, flattening the car from front to back.
Jeb stopped and stepped back from the car. His powerchest was so swollen, he could rest his chin on it, and I could see the veins snaking back and forth across his pecs even through his chest hair. He'd barely broken a sweat. He stomped over and grabbed the thug under his pits, lifting his limp body, and tossing him through the broken windshield into the driver's seat of the busted up El Camino.
Jeb looked at me and said, "NOW, let's go home."
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