Huge Muscle Freaks

You chuckled a bit when your dad told you he was going to start lifting weights. After all, you’d been a pro bodybuilder for 20 years, and in that time your engineer father showed no interest in anything physical, preferring to work and spend time with your mother. Since her death, he’d seemed to wither even more, suddenly looking frail and swimming in his clothes. Anything has to be an improvement you thought, bouncing your pecs unconsciously.

Over the next few months you talked and emailed regularly, enjoying his enthusiasm. Dad was really taken with his new hobby, lifting five days a week and undergoing TRT at an experimental clinic. He always sucked at technology, so every time you tried a video call to check his gains you only saw the inside of his ear. Still, he seemed happy and pulled out of his depression.

After a year apart, you were determined to go home for a visit. The front door swung open and suddenly there was a silver behemoth towering over you! Like something out of your worst anxiety nightmare, your old dad was hugely, monstrously muscled, dickskin peeled and poured into a tearing shirt and shorts. He’d gotten tatted up as well, his hulking muscles inked and brutally masculine, with heavy jewelry and a thick beard completing the picture of ultimate hypermasculinity.

As he pulled you into the granite wall of his insanely muscled body, you realized you only came up to his thick nipples now, his fat bulge twitching against your abs. For the first time since you were 14, the power dynamic reverted and you felt like when you were a little kid, with your father seemingly all powerful.

“Hey boy,” the deep bass voice rumbled. “Long time, no see.”