Pat grabbed her keys, ran out to her car, and drove off.
Drake, the obedient, 650-pound muscle slave, went to his drawer, and pulled out a pair of shorts. He began pulling them on. The legs of the shorts were snug when he pulled his bulging calves through them; when he tried to slide them over his gigantic thighs, they split, tearing into pieces.
Drake's orders were clear - he was to put on shorts and boots, no more, no less. He had to find a pair of shorts that fit.
He rooted through the door, before coming upon a pair of old gym shorts. They were worn, but the fabric was soft, and it stretched. Besides, they had always been a little big on him in the past.
He pulled the shorts over his calves, but ran into some trouble when he got to his thighs, yet again. The waist of the shorts was simply not big enough for both thighs to fit in at once! Desperate to carry out Pat's orders, Drake studied the situation. He noticed that the shorts had a draw-string, and came upon an idea: it was okay if the waist ripped a little, because he could just tie the draw-string anyway. With a smile, he pulled the shorts up, ripping the waistband in the process. Then, he simply tied the draw-string around his waist, keeping the shorts up, and fulfilling the first part of his orders. True, the shorts were so tight that every twist, bulge, and contour of his muscular legs and ass were clearly revealed, but Pat had never required that the shorts fit well.
On to boots.
Drake lumbered down the stairs, into the living room, and over to the closet. He had an old pair of combat boots, left over from high school. They were the only boots he owned.
Drake tried putting on the left boot, but it was too tight to fit properly, and he would have a hard time lacing it up around his thick calves. The right boot fared no better; his feet had grown just enough to make wearing the boot near impossible. Once again, Drake thought about the problem, and devised a solution. The laces were the problem. He pulled the laces out of each boot, and then slipped them onto his feet. It was a tight fit, but the boots were on.
Having fulfilled parts one and two of Pat's orders, he went out back to wait for Terry.
Drake waited for three hours, until one o'clock in the afternoon, when Terry pulled up around the back in a white pickup truck, and got out. He walked into the back, and stopped dead in his tracks.
"Shit!" he gasped, when he saw Drake, "Pat wasn't kidding about you!"
"She told me to do what you told me to do," came Drake's reply.
"Right. Well. That's right," Terry managed.
He gave Drake a good look, taking in his sheer size (made easier by Drake's near-lack of clothing.)
"I imagine a big fella like you can do more than three mens' work!" Terry laughed, "Hop in the back of my truck - I don't think you'd fit up front."
Drake complied, and hopped into the back of Terry's truck. The rear end of the truck lowered noticeably as he did so.
"Damn, that's big," was Terry's only comment before getting into the cab, and starting up the engine.
Terry drove Drake to Pat's house, which was a little ways out of town, in a fairly rural area. Nonetheless, the cargo in the back of Terry's truck got quite a few stares on the road.
"It's a good thing you're here today," Terry offered, as he got out of the truck, at Pat's place, "my guys are all either at other jobs, or out sick and injured - I've got an all-female crew today, and I could really use a hand with the heavy stuff."
Terry led Drake over to an old stump. "Normally," he explained, "getting rid of this stump would take quite a bit of manpower, and maybe even a crane. Do you think you can pull it out, muscle-boy?"
Drake responded by positioning himself around the stump, and grasping it with his powerful hands. Using his entire body, he began to pull. His huge muscles stood out, bulging with effort. For about ten seconds, the stump did not move. Just as Terry was about to say something, Drake roared, and ripped the stump clear out of the ground, roots and all! Terry stood still, dumbfounded.
Drake looked up, to see Terry staring at him, eyes wide with shock. There were three other spectators behind him, similarly wide-eyed, but very female.
"Damn! That was awesome!" Terry exclaimed at last. The three other spectators nodded in agreement, their eyes still wide.
"Girls," Terry said, turning to them, "I really need to go. Old lady Mayberry has been bugging me to trim her hedge and put up that fence. But with Drake here, you'll probably be done faster anyway! Just tell him what to do, okay?" The three nodded, and Terry left, driving off in his truck.
The three women stared at Drake. For his part, he simply looked back. Finally, one stepped forward, "I'm Stacy, and this is Kristin, and this is Lucy."
"I'm Drake," came the deep-voiced reply.
Stacy looked at Kristin and Lucy, and then at Drake. "Well, let's get to work, then," she pronounced at last.
For the next two hour, Drake pulled stumps, dug ditches, and carried boulders. The three gardeners could not believe his size and strength, and often found themselves distracted from the task of planting flowers. At one point, they gathered together, and watched as Drake carried a 200-pound boulder as if it weighed next to nothing.
"What a freak!" Kristin whispered, as Drake lowered the boulder into place, and went back to the rock pile for another.
"Total freak!" Lucy agreed, nodding.
"Yeah, but I bet he can fuck like a monster!" Stacy whispered, "Just look at those legs! And that butt!"
"'Monster' is the right word, Stacy! How can you even think that?" Kristin asked, shocked.
"Aren't you at least curious?" Stacy asked. Lucy was staring at Drake again, reappraising her earlier agreement with Kristin.
"Hell," Stacy said at last, "there's only one way to find out!"
"You can't!" Kristin gasped.
"I can try," Stacy laughed, a dangerous look in her eye. She then turned around, and walked over to Drake, who had just lowered the last boulder into place.
"Do you need me to do something else?" Drake asked when Stacy approached.
Stacy began unbuttoning her shirt, revealing a sports bra that held a magnificent pair of breasts. "There might be something I want you to do, Drake," she teased, "if you can guess what it is."
Stacy removed her shirt entirely, and then began removing her boots, and then her jeans. "This is really nice grass here, you know," she smiled, as she tossed her jeans to the side. She stood before him in her underwear. Drake stared. Stacy then removed her bra, and then her panties, and stood before him, totally nude. "I want you to fuck me, Drake," she allowed at last, "Fuck me like the freak that you are!"
Drake had to obey. He rushed forward, and pulled her down onto the grass, eliciting a surprised gasp from Stacy, and shrieks of surprise and fear from her friends. He fumbled with the draw-string of his shorts, and untied the knot. Drake began to kiss Stacy passionately, violently even, and reached down into his shorts, pulling out a nice, thick, erect penis. He positioned it at her entryway, and prepared himself to thrust in. Stacy had ordered him to fuck her like the freak that he was. In his case, he was a 650-pound hulk. He rammed himself into her, up to the hilt. She gasped in shock. Drake began to thrust himself into her, using the power of his huge body to ensure that each thrust was like an earthquake inside her. She began to moan with pleasure, in time to his thrusts. "Ohhhh... ...yes..." she whispered in encouragement.
Drake was lost in the feeling of the fuck when he finally shot deep within Stacy.