My Pecs, Part 2 (Conclusion)

50 inches

My chest continues to get bigger every day, and this week I hit a nice round number – 50 fuckin’ inches. I’m not the biggest guy on the planet, but I honestly think I’ve got the best-looking chest that I’ve ever seen. It’s just beautiful. Strong, firm, powerful, with juicy, ripe pecs that are simply begging to be touched.

The latest person to get tempted was Dr. Stone. I hadn’t been into his office in a few years, and I kept getting notices that I should come in for a physical, so I finally made an appointment for this morning. I put on a tight light blue v-neck t-shirt and a pair of my favorite short shorts and drove to the clinic where he worked. Man, his eyes bugged out of his head the moment he walked into the exam room and saw me – I was back at 140 pounds on my last visit, but now I’m almost twice as big at 270 pounds of rock-hard man-meat. I swear he licked his lips after I took my shirt to reveal my torso, and he spent a very, very, very long time holding the stethoscope on my chest. I could tell he wanted me badly and was doing his best to remain professional.

After listening to my heart, Dr. Stone said he was going to check my glands, so he reached up with his warm hands and began feeling around my jaw…then down to my thick neck…and my beefy shoulders. I almost laughed because I knew there weren’t any glands in one’s trapezius muscles and this was just Dr. Stone getting carried away. He asked me to raise my arms, and instead of going over my head I hit a double bicep pose, which made him blow out a big breath before he corrected me. So I raised my arms all the way up and Dr. Stone moved his hands into the pits, and then took what appeared to be a big whiff of my musky odor. Finally, he got to where I think he really wanted to get back to – my pecs. Doc’s hands moved around the top of my chest, stroking it slowly and eventually curving around the side and bottom, and then he cupped as much of my pecs as he could fit into his hands.

“Look good?” I asked. “Very,” he replied. And then he corrected himself: “Very healthy.” And then he couldn’t help himself, as his urges took over. “And so very big,” he added.

I flexed my pecs, and they transformed from pliable mounds of flesh into immovable bowling balls of muscle. I thought Dr. Stone might flinch or take a step back or even laugh, but he just stood there transfixed – if anything, now massaging my chest even more vigorously. He was completely under my spell, so I reached down to grab his crotch, and within 10 seconds we were furiously kissing. Eventually my 30-minute physical became an incredibly thorough 2-hour examination, and Dr. Stone called to his nurse to cancel all the rest of his appointments until after lunch.

53 inches

I spend a lot of time at the gym, and although I love doing a variety of exercises, I have three that have become my favorites. #3 is a pullup. I think what I love about this one is that most of the other lifters in the gym don’t expect a 280-pound guy like me to jump up on the bar and launch into 50 pullups. It takes a real Herculean effort to pump out these reps, and I love the stares I get after jumping down. And I sweat like a motherfucker doing pullups, so I’m completely drenched in pheromones once I’m done.

#2 is the bicep curl. Nothing makes me feel more like a goddamn muscle stud than grabbing the 150-pound dumbbells and blasting out curls. I know some folks call it “doing curls for the girls,” but trust me, it gets all the guys rock hard when your biceps are blowing up in size and all those freaky veins pop up. Every guy, no matter straight or gay, desires a pair of really meaty arms to show off.

#1 is, of course, the bench press. I get so excited when I lay down and look up at all the plates on the bar, knowing that my superhuman 53-inch chest is going to allow me to conquer it. I grab the 630-pound barbell and start my reps – up and down and up and down – and I can feel my enormous pecs expand even more as blood rushes to the muscles. I’ll crank out 5, then 10, and 15 without feeling any pain, but then by 20 and 25 my muscles feel like they’re on fuckin’ fire. After I rerack the bar, I love to go and flex my pecs in the mirrors and admire just how truly spectacular they are becoming. It makes me super horny!

56 inches

My chest circumference is now a staggering 56 inches – to give you some comparison, that’s the same that Schwarzenegger claimed in his prime. I thought about entering a bodybuilding competition, but the dieting seems like it would be no fun at all. I want to keep growing, and not go through months of starving just to get ultra-shredded. I want more beef and more bulk, and my fans love me this way. Who are my fans? Well, in addition to ones I’ve garnered online from my strength videos, there are all the guys in the gym who line up trying to get my attention before, during, and after my workouts. Grady always wants to get me a protein shake, and Mike offers to take me to dinner anywhere I want to go. Allen is more than willing to blow me in the locker room, and Declan says he’ll pay whatever I want just to take me home and play with my chest for a few hours. Then there’s like at least 10 other guys whose names I don’t even know, but all of them are dying to get their hands on my thick, gorgeous pecs.

Getting chased instead of doing the chasing sure feels good.

But you know what? I really do miss Paul. I haven’t seen him in the gym in forever. I wonder what’s he’s up to these days?

59 inches

Today I broke my pledge.

Ok, it took me a while, but I finally tracked down my old buddy, Paul. I got his number from Chuck at the front desk of the gym and texted him, and we agreed to meet at my place last night. He seemed reluctant to get together, so I promised him it would be an evening he wouldn’t soon forget. Yeah, that’s right – I was gonna do a little chasin’.

I opened the door wide when he rang the bell (just wearing a pair of my tightest shorts), and Paul’s eyes opened just as wide upon seeing me. It’s been several months since we’ve been together, and as you know by now, I’ve been growing like a weed. I just busted past the 300-pound threshold this morning, weighing in at 301, and all of my muscles have grown: arms 24, waist 38, legs 37, and my perfect chest is now 59. My pecs are super huge, sticking off my rib cage by 8 inches, with amazing striations and packed with so much muscle that my silver dollar-sized nipples point straight down.

Now, yes, I could have done almost nothing but flex for the man, and we would have had a great time. But I really did want to wow Paul, because I did miss him something awful. Like no matter how much fun I had with the Gradys and the Mikes and the Dr. Stones of the world, Paul was the one that I would go to be thinking about. He was incredibly kind, and giving, and worked harder than the rest to make sure I was happy. The man could also give a rim job like you wouldn’t believe, and his little hands had a special way of rubbing my pecs that drove me crazy.

So after inviting Paul in, I fed him dinner that I had made from scratch, asked him all about his life, and apologized for not making time for him. I admitted that I got caught up in the attention from other guys, but he was the one I was most attracted to. We went up to the bedroom after dinner and I did all the stuff to Paul I knew he would like – two blowjobs followed by a very aggressive fuck session, and the whole time he was screaming “I’m cumming, Big Ben, I’m cumming.” After he had been satisfied, Paul showed me a new move where he simultaneously sucked on one of my pecs and gave me a handjob, which I very, very much enjoyed.

65 inches

Shortly after our night of passion, Paul and I got a place together. He’s saved quite a bit of money from his programming job, and I’ve got a little nest egg built up from my OnlyFans account, so we could afford a nice home in the country where we could have some privacy. I put in a gym in the basement so I can keep working out and keep growing. And Paul has made it clear he wants me to get as freakishly big as possible – I’m up to 340 now, thanks to more of the special supplements he got more me, and my chest – my pride and joy – has surged 6 inches to a mind-boggling 65 inches, which is more than double when I started this journey. Thanks God I’ve got Paul around to tell me what the bottom half of my body looks like because I cannot see anything under my muscle tits.

Paul’s still not into lifting weights, but he does join me in the gym when I work out. He likes to keep tabs on my measurements, and he gets very excited any time I put on a little more size.

Today I thought I would treat him to something a little different: I told him I wanted him to hold on to me while I do pull-ups. “Um, aren't those going to be super hard with another 100 pounds hanging off you?" asked Paul.

I let Paul know that regular ones were getting too easy with my increasing strength, and I needed some resistance to make them harder.

Paul smiled, took off his shirt, and stood up on one of the weight benches so he could climb on. He thought he was going to be on my back, but I wanted him in front of me. I told him, "Now you hold on tight, and once you are up, wrap your legs around my torso, OK?"

He nodded, so I walked over and Paul climbed on. All he could see at this point were my massive pecs right in front of his face, and I could tell he was intoxicated by the musky odor coming from my pits.

I then went to the bar, stretched up my arms, and took hold. I took in a deep breath, and then pulled myself and Paul upward. Paul’s jaw dropped as he could feel the muscles under my taut skin do their work, pumping up and down as I did rep after rep. He said he began to feel excited and light-headed at the dizzying feat of strength he was experiencing first-hand.

After 30 reps, I stopped. I was beginning to sweat profusely, and my man-juice was pouring down my head and neck. It streamed down into the crevasse between my pecs, all around Paul's face, and the little man couldn't have been happier about it.

Next I told him: "I'm maxed out on pull-ups, Paul, but I'm going to do some leg lifts while I'm up here. Might as well get a little core workout and make these abs pop, right?"

Paul didn't say anything, as he was lost in ecstasy. He just started licking my sweat and nibbling at my pecs.

I started doing his legs lifts, and as he brought them up into the air, Paul could feel my half-hard cock poking him in the ass at the end of every rep. It was all too much for him – even though we had been lovers for a while, the combination of my muscles, muskiness, power, sweat, and erection got him more excited than he had ever been. Paul's poor little cock could no longer take it, and he simply exploded with the frenzy of 1,000 horny teenagers. Waves of euphoria spread across his body, engulfing every part of him, and his groin quickly turned into a wet sticky mess. His body started bucking uncontrollably, and he would have fallen onto the ground if I hadn't quickly jumped off the bar and held on to him tightly.

When he recovered, we both kissed each other deeply, and then I took him upstairs for a proper pec worship session and another fucking.