My New Pal 2
I led Tommy thru the cottage and into the backyard. Yesterday, I had gotten all the weights and the bench out of the shed, and set them up on one side of the yard. It wasn't like a whole gym set-up or anything, but there was an Olympic bar for the bench, 305lbs of plates, and dumbbells going from 25's up to 75lbs. The only problem with today was that there were no trees in the backyard for shade, and it was already hot as hell. The outdoor thermometer was almost at 100. I stripped off my shirt and tossed it onto a lawn chair.
"Whatdya think?" I asked Tommy, nodding at the weights, but he was looking me up and down.
"I think you look like that Taylor Lautner kid, only with more muscle, and better abs," he said.
"Yeah, you think so?" I said, grinning and flexing my pecs. I actually got that a lot. Sometimes girls would stop me on the street or at the beach and ask to get their picture taken with me. Last week, I even signed autographs for two chicks. Even though I told them I wasn't that dude, they just giggled, then screamed when they saw I'd signed my name "T Lautner".
"Come on, Tommy, let's workout." I walked over to the bench, which already had the bar on it with a 45lb plate on each side. "You've really never done a bench press before?" I asked him.
"Naw. I wasn't much into sports in school, so I never went to the weight room. I do some pushups at home once in awhile."
"Hmm. Maybe we should start with a lighter weight," I suggested, but Tommy was already getting onto the bench. He laid back and put his hands up onto the bar.
"Like this?" he asked.
"Yeah, that's it," I said, walking around to spot him. He lifted the bar off the rack and locked his arms above his chest.
"OK?" he said.
"Yeah...now lower the bar till it touches your chest, and push it back up."
He did a rep, locked his arms at the top and said, "That seems simple enough. How many should I do?"
"Why don't you try to get ten, and we'll see what happens."
Tommy did ten reps pretty smoothly. "Wow, that feels good!" he said. "Can I do ten more?"
"Sure, man. I usually only use this as a warm-up, but you probably don't want to go any heavier your first time anyway."
He did ten more reps, then said, "This is awesome. Can I see how many I can do?"
"Knock yourself out, big guy, but you might be sore tomorrow."
"That's OK," he said eagerly, and then started pressing out rep after rep. Up to 40, then 50, then 60. At this point, I was even curious to see how many he'd get. Seventy then 80. I stepped closer to the bar in case he suddenly gave out, but he didn't even seem to be slowing much. Finally, when he got to 100, I said, "OK, man, time to stop," and I pulled the bar back toward the rack. He lowered it down and sat up, a big grin on his face.
"I did 100...that's good, right?"
"Yeah, that's pretty good I guess."
"How many can you do, Joe?"
"I've never really tried to do max reps with 135."
"Here," he said, standing up, "try it. It feels amazing."
"OK," I said. I got down on the bench, and started doing reps. Tommy went to the other side of the bar and stood over me.
"I stand here in case you can't get the bar back up?" he asked.
"Yeah, but I don't think that will happen." But when I got to 25 reps, I realized that the bar was beginning to feel real heavy. By the time I hit 30, my arms were starting to shake, and I was slowing way down. At 34, the bar sank to my chest, and stayed there.
"You alright, Joe?"
"Yeah, man," I grunted, "just help me get the bar back up."
"Oh, OK." Tommy put one hand in the middle of the bar, and lifted it back up onto the rack like a feather. "You only got 34," he said, confused.
I sat up on the bench, but didn't look back at him. "Yeah, well, you lose a lot of strength when you're dieting down for a show. And this fucking heat isn't helping any either," I said, wiping the sweat from my forehead. My whole body was drenched already.
"Dude," I heard Tommy say, "look at my chest." I turned around and saw Tommy staring down at his shirt. His chest appeared to have doubled in size. It looked like someone had stuck 2 soccer balls inside his tee, which was now sticking out so far at the top that the bottom of the shirt was floating away from his gut like a curtain.
"Jesus," I said.
He rolled his pecs and they swelled up even higher. "Whoa," he said. "Is this normal?"
"Not entirely," I said. The fucking kid had the chest of a powerlifter after only one set of bench pressing. Take off your shirt, and let me see."
"Naw, man," he said, taking a step back.
"Come on, Tommy, I wanna see what's doing under there."
"Naw, Joe, I don't want to."
"Why, just because you're fat, you don't want to take off your shirt? What are you, a chick?"
He looked up at me hard. "Don't call me fat," he said.
"Hey, so you're a little chubby, man, you're strong as fuck, and you could always lose the gut." I stood up off the bench and turned toward him.
"Take it back," he said, walking around the bar and up to me.
I felt bad about upsetting him, but I was didn't like how pissy he was being. Plus the fucking kid had outbenched me by almost 70 reps. "Get over yourself, fatboy," I said. That's when he took a swing at me. Fortunately, I have good reflexes, and lurched my head backward as his hand came at my face. I watched his big meaty fist swish by my nose, and not only could I feel the wind from it, I could actually hear it as it went by.
"Jesus, you asshole, you could hurt someone," I said, and I shoved my hands into his chest to push him back. Only he didn't budge. His chest was dense and heavy, and reminded me of the bags of Quik-Crete my dad and I got when we put in the new fence last summer.
"Wanna try that again?" he said menacingly. Without a pause, I shoved into again, only harder this time, with more of my weight behind it. This time he budged, but only about an inch. "My turn," he growled, and pushed into my chest with both his meaty palms. I stumbled back about 3 feet, but managed to keep on my feet. I went at him low, and using my shoulder and all my weight, I slammed into his gut. It was pretty solid, but not like his chest, and I heard him let out an 'ooooph' as I hit. He stumbled back into the bench, and fell backwards, and as he did, he held onto me, bringing both of us tumbling over the bench and onto the ground. I landed on top of him pretty hard.
"Cocksucker," I said to him as we grappled around.
"You're the cocksucker, you fucker," he grunted. "I'm gona break your spine." He picked me up and slammed me down, landing on top of me hard. It felt like 240lbs of wet Quik-Crete flopping down on me. If I wasn't so muscled up, I think he'd of broken all my ribs, the fat fuck. Then he tried to wrap his thick arms around my torso, but I was so slippery with sweat, I got out of his hold. I grabbed onto his shirt and rolled him off me, but he grabbed me and pulled me back in again. I elbowed him in the gut a couple times, and could tell it was knocking the wind out of him. Then we got locked together, and were rolling all over the yard, tearing up sod, and smashing into the shrubs. We rolled thru my mom's rose bushes, scraping ourselves up on the thorns as we snapped the branches. I grabbed onto his shirt again, and heard it rip. I tore at it harder, and ripped it more. "Ha," I grunted, "shirtless fat fucker," and tried to get the shirt off him.
"Motherfuckerrrrr," he roared, and I felt myself being lifted off the ground again. He stood up, holding me in his arms, then went running with me thru the yard, until my back slammed into the wooden fence, smashing us both thru a 6 foot section of fencing, and landing in a heap in the front yard. I looked around at the shattered wood slats, then at Tommy, who was sitting there breathing kinda scary hard, and his face was all red and sweaty as hell. I was panting pretty hard myself.
"Shithead," I said to him.
"Prick," he said back.
"You thirsty?" I asked him.
"Yeah." After a pause, he said, "I'm hungry too."
"Tommy?" said a voice from the street. "Is that you?" We both looked up. There was a cute blonde chick at the end of my driveway.
"Hey," Tommy answered back. Then he looked at me and said, "That's my sister."
She walked up to us, looking real puzzled. "What's.....going on?" she asked.
"Hey, Sherri, this is Joe," Tommy panted out. "We were just....messing around."
"I see. It looks like you two just had some rough sex," she said as she scanned the broken fence, his ripped up shirt, our scraped up arms and legs. "Hi, Joe," she said, and reached down to shake my hand. I saw her looking my body up and down. "Did anyone ever tell you you look just like....."
"Yeah, he knows," Tommy interrupted.
"Except bigger, and with better..."
"...abs, yeh yeh, he's heard it before," Tommy said, rolling his eyes.
"Thanks," I said, standing, and clenching my abs so my 8-pack tightened up even harder. Then I brushed them off with my hands, making sure she could see how tight my skin was over my muscles.
"Nice," she said.
"Jesus," said Tommy, rolling his eyes again.
"You ready to go," she said to him, without looking away from my body.
"I thought I might hang out a little longer here. You wanna take the car?" he said, pulling the keys from his pocket.
"Oh...OK," she said, turning to him and taking the keys. "Text me when you want a ride."
"Shit," groaned Tommy as he reached into his other pocket and pulled out his phone. It came out in his hand in broken pieces, which he let fall to the ground onto the broken fencing.
"Nice job, bro," said Sherri. "Pops is going to be thrilled about this one."
Tommy looked guilty. "This is my 3rd phone this month. Sometimes I accidentally crush them in my bare hand."
"You can use my phone later, if you want to hang. Or I can give you a ride."
"Yeah? Cool. You mind Sis?"
"No problem, Tommy. I'll go shopping, maybe buy you a new shirt. I'll catch you later. Nice to meet you, Joe."
"You too, Sherri," I said. I watched her as she headed down the driveway. She turned back once to get another look at me.
"Your sister is Hot," I said when she was out of earshot.
"Oh, don't even go there, dude" Tommy said.
I laughed and said, "Let's go inside and find something to eat."