O’Melissokomos
The Bee Keeper

The Leader Of The Pack

by John D.

Part 1

When I was a kid I was in the Cub Scouts and the Boy Scouts. In fact, I finally became an Eagle Scout. I have to admit that I cheated a little bit in getting my Personal Fitness merit badge, which is required to become an Eagle. I think you had to do 15 pushups to get the badge and I was (and still am) such a wimp I could only do 8 or 10. But that's another story. This story is about a kid who was definitely not a wimp, a kid named Johnny. Yeah, he has the same name as me. But that's about the only thing that was similar between him and me.

Johnny was only six months older than me, but because his birthday is in October and mine is in March he was in a grade ahead of me in school. He was one of the youngest kids in his class, but he was always very mature for his age and seemed older. Ever since he was a little kid he had muscles. I kept forgetting that he was only six months older than me. I always thought of him as this bigger, stronger, older kid. He only lived a block from me, so we used to see each other all the time. But we didn't really play together very much. Johnny was very athletic and played with the other athletic kids in our neighborhood. As said, I'm a wimp and just didn't fit into their group. The one thing that brought Johnny and me together was the Scouts. We were both in the same Cub Scout Pack and Boy Scout Troop. The Cub Scouts is for little kids, ages 8 - 10 or something like that, and the Boy Scouts is for kids 11 to 13 or so.

From the beginning of my time in Cub Scouts, Johnny was the leader of the Pack. He had this natural-born leadership quality that I can't really describe. I don't know if it was his self-confidence, his athletic ability, his good looks or what, but right from the beginning, Johnny was elected our leader by the other boys and he remained our leader until he left the Boy Scouts at age 14.

I remember going on hikes with the Scouts. Johnny would always be the leader, blazing the trail as 15 or 20 of us followed behind him. When he hiked, he hardly ever wore a shirt. All he would wear was a pair of khaki Scout shorts and some hiking boots. He'd strap his pack across his back and lead the way up the trail. Even in Cub Scouts Johnny had muscles. When he strapped on his pack, his muscular shoulders would bulge out from the sides. As he walked up the trail, those of us behind him could see the fibers of muscle in his shoulders flex, unflex and flex again under his tan skin as he moved his arms back and forth. The other muscles we could see from behind were his calves. Johnny had very muscular calves from all the sports he played. With every step he took, those calves bulged as they powered his athletic body up the hill, the two heads of muscle standing out in bold relief. Sometimes I would stare at Johnny's calves for 10 minutes straight as we hiked, watching those hard muscles flex and unflex again and again and again.

Sometimes when we hiked Johnny would set such a fast pace that some of us weaker boys couldn't keep up. He and the other more athletic boys would get way out in front of us on the trail. I would usually end up being last in line. After we had hiked for 30 minutes or so, Johnny and the other jocks would be about a quarter of a mile in front. Then they would stop and rest, sitting down and taking a big drink of water from their canteens and maybe eating an energy snack. By the time I caught up to them, they were all rested and raring to go. When they saw me approaching, all panting and tired, they hopped up and started out again up the trail. So I only had time to drink a quick swig of water and hardly any time to rest at all. If I rested any longer, I would be left hopelessly behind. I thought to myself that life just wasn't fair. The strong kids had plenty of time to rest and we weak kids had no time at all. Life is sure a lot better if you're strong.

I will never forget one particular camping trip. It was the summer between 5th and 6th grade for me. Johnny and I were both 11 years old. Johnny would be 12 in October and he was going into the 7th grade. We were going to hike up to a mountain lake and camp overnight. We did this a lot. Two Scouts shared one tent. I usually shared a tent with my friend Roger, another wimpy guy like me. Johnny usually shared a tent with his friend Jeff, a kid from his class who was also a jock. Well, just before we left for the trip, the Scoutmaster told Johnny and me that both Roger and Jeff were sick that weekend so Johnny and I would be sharing a tent together. I hoped Johnny didn't notice, but my eyes lit up. I was tremendously excited. I had fantasized many times about Johnny's muscular body. Now I was going to be able to sleep in the same tent with him. This was a dream come true.

I looked at Johnny with eager anticipation. But then I started getting jittery. I thought that maybe he would think this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe he wouldn't want to sleep in the same tent with a little wimp like me. Maybe he would ask the Scoutmaster to find him another tentmate. All of a sudden I started to panic.

But much to my relief, Johnny looked me in the eye and smiled. Then he grabbed my hand with a firm grip and shook it hard. "Hey, this is cool," he said cheerfully. "The two Johns finally share the same tent." Looking back, I realized that this was one of the reasons Johnny was the undisputed leader of the Troop. Even though he was far superior physically to most of the other boys in the Troop, he was everyone's friend. He never bullied any of us or acted like a cocky asshole or anything like that. Oh yeah, once in awhile he'd show off how strong he was. Like some kid would challenge him to an armwrestling match and Johnny would easily smash the poor kid's arm to the table.

And of course he usually would hike at a pace that us weak kids couldn't keep up with. And we'd fall behind. Then he'd rest and drink water and be fully energized just as we caught up. He'd start hiking again, leaving us weaklings there panting. I'm sure he had no clue how painful that was for us. He just naturally hiked fast and when he was rested he just naturally took off, leaving us wimps in the dust. He didn't really intend to be mean to us, it just happened. We wimps all accepted it. It was our fault for being weak.

Johnny seemed to just accept his physical superiority as the natural order of things and just expected that we would do what he wanted us to do. And he was right. He was a natural born leader. He had an inner self-confidence that was only strengthened by his physical presence. Even the wimpiest of the kids in the Troop knew that Johnny would stand by them in a pinch. Even though the wimps didn't have a lot in common with Johnny, he was still their friend. Almost instinctively the rest of us looked up to him as our leader. We were eager to do whatever Johnny wanted. So it was totally in keeping with Johnny's character that he said he was looking forward to sharing a tent with me that night.

We hiked up to the lake. It was a fairly long hike, about 10 miles up a steep trail with lots of switchbacks. We were all carrying heavy packs, with our tents, sleeping bags, cooking equipment and food. As usual Johnny and a couple of other jocks were way out in front of the rest of us as we hiked. And every time we wimps in the back of the line caught up to the place they were resting, they took off again, charging ahead. After about 5 miles my pack was really feeling heavy and I slowed down a lot. But I could tell that Johnny's pack still felt like a feather to him. He seemed to have boundless energy. Every time I caught up, he threw his muscular arms under the straps and easily hoisted the heavy pack onto his back. His shoulders rippled with muscle. Then he easily stood up, lifting the pack as if it were nothing. Johnny's pack was a lot heavier than mine was. Before we left the parking lot he agreed to carry our tent and all of our food and cooking supplies. He said the heavier pack would give him more of a workout. His thighs and calves looked really big and pumped as he stood up and flexed his quads. The super-heavy pack was definitely giving those muscles a good workout. Big slabs of muscle bulged in his thighs.

When I finally got to our camping spot I was totally exhausted. My skin was beet red and sweating profusely from the incredible strain my body had experienced. I was panting and wheezing, struggling to breathe. I felt terrible. I dragged myself into the campsite. I saw Johnny over on one side and I slowly stumbled over to him and threw my heavy pack onto the ground. Then I sat down to take a long rest. Johnny was already setting up our tent. He had the tent completely unfolded and had it neatly laid out across a very nice, flat piece of land. The ropes and spikes were all ready to go. When he saw me, he came over and stood over me. "Hey, man, are you all right?" he said. "You look really beat." I nodded in agreement. "Here, drink some water. You'll feel better." Johnny handed me his canteen, which he had already filled up with cool water from the creek. I took a huge drink of the refreshing water, but I still felt like shit. I looked up at Johnny. He had a slight sheen of sweat covering his tan, muscular body, but otherwise he looked very fresh. He didn't look the least bit tired. "Aren't you tired?" I asked him. "Nah," he replied. "That hike was a piece of cake. I could've gone another 10 miles no sweat." He said this very matter-of-factly, as if it was completely normal for a kid like him to be so fit and in shape.

I looked at his legs, those legs that had just brought him and that heavy pack easily up the trail, with power and energy to spare. "Wow, your legs must be really strong," I said. "Your pack weighed about double what mine weighed." Johnny smiled and flexed his quads right in front of my face. "Yeah, they're pretty strong all right," he said. "That hike gave 'em a good workout, but they could have taken a lot more. They're really tough. My calves are strong too. Check 'em out." At that, he started to do toe raises, lifting his body up and down. He turned around so I could see the full glory of his calves as the muscles bulged with every rep. I had watched those calves for years but I had never seen them so close up and flexing just for me. They looked huge! "Wow," I said. "Your muscles are incredible." Johnny smiled. "Yeah," he said. "I'm glad you like 'em." He was proud and confident but not arrogant. He knew he had a great body and I guess he didn't mind another kid like me telling him so.

"Well, I gotta get back to work," he said. "You just rest and I'll finish putting up the tent." As I sat there trying to recuperate, Johnny sprang into action. With military precision, he pounded in the spikes, guided the ropes and raised the tent perfectly. Usually this was a job for two boys, but Johnny did it himself easily. I sat there watching his body as he put up the tent. As usual, he was only wearing some khaki shorts and hiking boots. His whole body was right in front of me. He had light brown hair, cut pretty short, and hazel eyes. His eyebrows were very thick and almost met each other in the middle of his forehead. This gave his eyes and face a very powerful look. His face was square and handsome, with a strong jaw and chin. He had a perfect nose. His teeth were sparkling white. His skin was golden tan. He never wore a shirt in the summertime. As he worked, every muscle was perfectly coordinated. They all bulged and rippled in the right places and at the right times.

I couldn't believe that this kid was only six months older than I was. We were the same height, but he must have outweighed me by at least 25 pounds and it was all solid muscle. His shoulders were wide and capped with muscle. I couldn't believe that an 11-year-old could put that much muscle on his shoulders, but Johnny had it. His shoulders looked like those of a muscular teenager rather than a kid's. His arms were very muscular. As he was putting up the tent, his biceps bulged into solid balls of muscle every time he curled his arms. I could see veins running across his arms under his thin skin. When he pounded in the stakes, his triceps exploded with shredded muscle as they powered the hammer to strike the stakes. It took him only about four blows to completely pound each stake into the ground.

His chest was big. His round pecs bulged with hard muscle. The muscle pushed out his nipples, which pointed firmly outward. His lats were extraordinary. Slabs of muscle that sprang out under his shoulders like wings and tapered down to a very trim, athletic waist. He had an incredible set of abs. All the kids in our Troop agreed that Johnny's abs were the best of any kid they had ever seen, even much older kids. Johnny had an eight pack of shredded, corrugated muscle. Not a gram of fat covered that muscle, which pulsated under his tan skin right in front of me as he worked to pitch the tent. He had a firm, round butt, made of solid muscle just like the rest of him. And I already told you about his legs. They were big and muscular, the quad muscles bulging under his skin every time he bent down to pick something up.

I was mesmerized watching Johnny's body. I guess I was kind of dreaming, because the next thing I knew, Johnny was standing over me again. "All done," he said proudly. "You feeling better? Here, get up. Lets go see the other guys." Johnny bent down and lifted me up off the ground. I was amazed at his strength. He just lifted me up like I was a toy. We went off to play with the other guys. Running through the woods, fishing in the lake, climbing rocks, playing Frisbee, just doing the things that Scouts do on a camping trip. Johnny naturally gravitated to his jock friends because they could play the rough games he liked. But every so often he would come over to me, ask me how I was feeling and smile or wink. He was a totally cool guy.

After an afternoon of activity, we cooked our dinner and ate around the campfire. After dinner we told scary stories for about a half-hour and then the Scoutmaster said it was time for bed. It wasn't too late and it was still light, but he said we had to go to bed anyway because we had to get up very early the next morning. So Johnny and I said goodnight to the other kids and walked over to our tent. It was a very warm evening and Johnny still wasn't wearing a shirt. When we got inside our tent, Johnny took off his hiking boots and then stripped off his shorts. All he was wearing was a pair of tight, white Jockey briefs. Without saying a word, he dropped to the ground and started doing pushups. He cranked out the pushups incredibly fast. I sat in awe watching his muscular arms pushing his body up and down like pistons. At the time, I could only do about 3 pushups and here was Johnny pounding them out like they were nothing. After easy 50 reps, he sat up facing me.

"Wow," I said. "That was incredible. I wish I could do pushups like that." Johnny smiled. "I do pushups every night," he said. "I do 4 sets of 50 reps. I can do a lot more reps, but the 4 sets of 50 give my muscles a great pump. And they really seem to be growing. They've gotten a lot bigger in the last six months. I do pull-ups and sit-ups too. Four sets of 25 pull-ups and 4 sets of 100 sit-ups. I'm gonna do the sit-ups in a minute. I guess I'll have to skip the pull-ups tonight 'cause there's no chinning bar here like I have at home. The pushups are getting way too easy for me. I can do over 100 of 'em no sweat. My pecs -- all my muscles -- need more of a challenge. This fall when I'm in seventh grade I'm gonna start lifting weights. They've got a weight room at the junior high school and I'm gonna start training there. I can hardly wait to start pumping some heavy iron. Those weights are gonna make these muscles grow like crazy." He looked over at his right arm and flexed his bicep. Instantly, a big ball of muscle bulged up under his skin.

Johnny looked over at his bicep proudly. He moved his forearm up and down several times. We both watched the big muscle extend and contract each time he flexed his arm. With each flex his bicep seemed to get a higher peak on his arm. It seemed to get bigger and more defined. It was getting totally pumped. I could see the fibers of muscle under his tan skin. Veins were crisscrossing the muscle. His forearm looked like a bowling pin with shredded muscle and veins popping out everywhere. He reached over with his left hand and squeezed his flexing bicep. "That mother's really hard," he said approvingly. He looked over and saw me staring at his bicep with my mouth open and my eyes practically bulging out of my head. "Hey, go ahead and feel it, John. It won't bite you," he said with a big grin on his face. My hand was trembling as I reached over and placed my fingers around Johnny's bicep. Then I squeezed my fingers and was stunned by what I felt. I immediately pulled my hand away in a state of total shock. I was blown away by how hard that muscle was. It felt like warm rock. I had never felt human flesh that was so hard. I didn't think human flesh could get that hard. I looked at Johnny's bicep and then I looked into Johnny's hazel eyes. He was still smiling. "Pretty hard, isn't it?" he said. "But you didn't feel it enough. You pulled away so fast you didn't get a good feel of how big and hard my muscle is. Go ahead and get a good feel. I don't mind. I think its cool you like my muscles."

I was amazed at how relaxed Johnny was about me feeling his muscles. He was so open and uninhibited. It seemed as if he liked to show off his muscles to a wimpy kid like me. Without hesitation, I moved my hand back up to Johnny's bicep and wrapped my fingers around the big ball of muscle. I squeezed as hard as I could, but I couldn't make the slightest dent in the rock-hard fibers. Johnny grinned as he watched me feel his flexed arm. I ran both my hands over his upper arm and his forearm, feeling every bulging fiber and strand of muscle as he smiled and moved his arm up and down, flexing both his big bicep and his shredded, hard tricep. Tingles ran up and down my spine, as I comprehended the strength and hardness of his muscles. He let me feel his arm for over 30 seconds, 30 seconds of pure pleasure. This was the most incredible experience I had ever had in my 11 years of life. But even more pleasure was yet to come. As I was touching, feeling and squeezing the shredded hardness of his muscles he said, "Are my muscles hard enough for you John? You seem to be really liking them." I nodded in total agreement, not able to speak. He grinned. Then he put down his arm and looked me in the eye. "I'm gonna do some more pushups," he said. "But I want you to help me this time. Since regular pushups are so easy for me, I want you to put your hand on my back and press down while I'm doing 'em. That'll give me some extra resistance and give me a better workout."

I nodded my head, still not able to get out a word. Johnny dropped to the floor again and I placed my left hand in the middle of his back. He started doing pushups, fast and steady pushups. "Push harder, John," he said. "I can't even feel that." So I pushed harder on his back, in fact as hard as I could. "That's better," he said, but the pressure of my hand didn't seem to make a bit of difference and he kept cranking out the pushups fast and steady. "Hey, John," Johnny said. "Put your other hand on my tricep." I placed my right hand over the triceps muscles of his right arm. The muscles almost burst out of his skin every time he pushed his body up for another rep. They were as hard as steel and I could feel the three heads of muscle individually bulging under my fingers. "Pretty hard, huh?" asked Johnny, knowing what my answer would be. "Yeah, Johnny," I said, finally able to speak, "they feel like steel." Johnny seemed to get an extra burst of energy when I said that and he pumped out the pushups even faster. I squeezed the solid iron of his triceps as he pumped.

After he finished exactly 50 reps he stopped and sat up right in front of me. Our little Boy Scout tent was too short to allow either of us to stand up. So we sat on the ground right next to each other. Johnny was starting to sweat. I could see a light sheen of sweat covering his tan skin. "Wow, that was great," he exclaimed. "My pecs and triceps really got a good pump from that set." He jutted out his chest and flexed his pecs. I looked at the bulging muscle and gasped. I could see the striations of the muscle fibers rippling in his pecs. The hard muscle was pushing out his erect nipples. They pointed directly at me, firm and round and hard. Johnny looked down at his big chest and smiled. "Lookit how pumped they got, John. Lookit how big and hard those pecs are. Go ahead and feel 'em John. Go ahead and feel how big and hard they are." Johnny was totally proud of his muscles and he wanted me to appreciate them.

Without a moment of hesitation, I placed my hands on Johnny's pecs and squeezed the big, round, hard muscles. His skin was now sweaty, so my hands easily ran over its moist hardness. Johnny proudly flexed and unflexed his pecs for me. Every time he flexed, it felt like rocks were in my hands. He alternated his flexing, first flexing his right pec and then his left. He laughed as I stared goggle-eyed at his big pec muscles flexing at his will. I dug my fingers into his pecs as hard as I could. At first, he relaxed and let my fingers sink into his firm flesh. Then he flexed his pecs and that flexed muscle ballooned and turned into solid rock. My fingers were blasted away from that muscle like they were little insects. I got a twinge in the pit of my stomach as I took in the incredible strength of those pecs. I ran my fingers into the cleavage between those two bulging globes of muscle and then back over the round, striated hardness. I just couldn't fathom how an 11-year-old kid could have that much muscle in his chest. Then I started circling his firm, erect nipples and finally pinched them with my thumbs and forefingers. I kept stroking and pinching those big nipples, hard young nipples that proudly popped out of his bulging pecs. Johnny closed his eyes and made a low moaning sound, a sound of pure pleasure, as I manipulated those sensitive organs.

After a minute or so of this, I moved my fingers up to his big delt muscles. Those muscles had also gotten a great workout from the pushups and they were bulging like little cannonballs on the tops of his shoulders. I kneaded his delt muscles with my fingers, feeling the hard striated muscle as he moved his arms back and forth, his rippling delts flexing and hardening with every motion. His delts felt so hard and thick. As I was kneaded his delts, Johnny looked me in the eye and said, "My shoulders are really strong, John. I've always had strong shoulders. I bet I could pick you up and lift you over my head. I've done that with some of my friends. Maybe I'll try that on you tomorrow." I gulped, as I thought of the power in those young deltoid muscles I was feeling. Johnny raised his arms up and down several times, pretending his was lifting a heavy weight, a weight like me. I reveled in the feeling of his delts flexing and bulging as they powered his arms up and down.

Finally, Johnny lowered his arms and dropped to the floor again. "Third set," he said. "Try to press harder this time." He started pumping out pushups as I pressed as hard as I possibly could on his broad, muscular back. "Feel my pecs working, John," said Johnny. "Feel those mothers pumpin' up and gettin' huge." I reached my other arm under Johnny's body and felt his pecs as they powered his body up and down. The muscles bulged with incredible hardness with every rep. I could feel with the tips of my fingers the individual strands of muscle that crossed his bulging pecs like striated iron cords. Slowly I moved my hand below his pecs onto his abs. It was amazing how hard and shredded Johnny's abs were as he was doing the pushups. Every ab muscle was as hard as a brick and I could easily feel the individual ridges between those rock-hard muscles that made up his washboard. "Pretty hard, huh?" said Johnny, as I fondled every ridge of his tight ab muscles. He knew what the answer was.

I moved my hand up onto his lower back, just below my other hand. I was amazed at the size and hardness of the two ridges of muscle in Johnny's lower back. I kneaded that muscle with my fingers, pushing even harder on Johnny's back as I pressed in with my fingers. But the muscle was so hard I couldn't make the slightest dent. Johnny's lower back was a fortress of muscle. Next I moved my hand down to his firm, round butt. His ass was moving up and down as he did the pushups. I placed my hand directly on top of one of the big globes of muscle and squeezed. Johnny's ass muscles were so hard that it felt like I was squeezing a bowling ball. I ran my fingers over his tight jockey briefs, feeling his strong ass muscles bulge under the white fabric and trying to penetrate his tight ass crack. His glutes were so hard that I couldn't get my fingers into that crack at all.

After exactly 50 reps, with me pushing as hard as I could on his back, Johnny finished his third set of pushups. He quickly sat up and faced me again. He was sweating more, but he didn't look the least bit tired. He jutted out his pecs and flexed them for me. "Feel 'em, John," he said. "Feel 'em good. They're pumped and hard as hell." He pointed his nipples right at me. I knew what he wanted me to do. I placed my hands on Johnny's incredibly pumped, hard pecs and rubbed them all over. I pressed hard into Johnny's flesh. After I had pressed into his flesh for a moment, he flexed. My fingers sprang back. It was like I was pressing into solid rock. Solid mounds of rock. Slowly I worked my way towards Johnny's big erect nipples. I knew he wanted me to pinch them right away, but I wanted him to wait, to enjoy the anticipation. Finally, after massaging his hot, sweaty, bulging pecs for awhile, I started stroking and pinching his stiff nipples. He closed his eyes and started moaning, louder this time as his pleasure was reaching new heights. I kept this up for about a minute. Johnny started rolling his head around, totally enjoying the sensuous feeling his nipples were experiencing. Finally I stopped and he opened his eyes, looking directly at me, obviously disappointed that I had stopped. "You've got one more set to do, stud," I said. "Now get to work."

Johnny dropped to the ground and then looked over at me. "Ya know, John, those pushups were still way too easy even with you pressing on my back. I wanna really push these pecs to the max. I want you to lay on my back while I do my last set. Your whole bodyweight as extra resistance. That'll give my pecs an incredible workout. They'll grow like crazy." I thought Johnny was crazy himself, thinking that he could do pushups with me lying on his back. But I hopped on, straddling his muscular body and hanging onto his big delts. Immediately I felt his muscular bubble butt bulging into my soft gut and crotch. My little cock was hard, as it had been from the moment Johnny started doing his pushups, and I hoped that he couldn't feel it pressing into his musclebutt. Without hesitation, Johnny started doing pushups, with me hanging on for dear life to his shoulders. I felt those delts bulge with every rep. The muscles were so striated that I could feel the individual fibers flex under his thin skin. I started moving my hands around, feeling his triceps and pecs as well as his delts, as he cranked out the incredibly heavy pushups. With every rep my hard cock pressed against Johnny's firm, round ass. I knew he could probably feel it but he didn't say a word about it. After about 20 reps he started slowing down a little. I couldn't believe that Johnny could do 20 pushups with a kid lying on his back while I couldn't do even three pushups with just my own bodyweight. Johnny was super strong! After 25 reps he stopped and bucked me off his back.

I landed on my own back. Johnny immediately climbed on top of me and pinned my arms to the ground. I looked up at his handsome face and hazel eyes. "That was great!" he said. "That was a fantastic chest workout. Look how sweaty I am. My muscles are red hot!" He released my arms, sat up and flexed his biceps. They bulged with incredible definition. His tan skin was reddish from all the blood flowing into his muscles. Veins were popping out everywhere. I reached up and felt both of his flexing arms, squeezing the hard muscles and feeling the rippling fibers. Johnny looked over at his right bicep and smiled as he saw the bulging muscle flex under my little fingers. Then I moved my fingers over to Johnny's big torso, feeling his shredded delts, his pumped-up lats and of course his incredibly bulging and pumped pecs. Finally I started rubbing my fingers over his washboard abs. They were hard even though he wasn't even flexing them. "Hey Johnny," I said. "Its time for your situps. You told me you always did four sets of 100 reps. So get going! I wanna see these hard little mothers do some work!" Johnny smiled and rolled off my body.

He got on his back, bent his knees, put his hands behind his head and started cranking out the situps. He did them incredibly fast. It seemed like he was doing about one per second. I kneeled behind his knees watching his thin tan skin ripple as his abs flexed and unflexed underneath. His tight, white jockey briefs were very low on his hips, clinging to his hot, sweaty body. Every cut of his eight-pack ab muscles, from the bottom of his chest to the top of his crotch was clearly defined. The muscles seemed to undulate under his skin as they tensed with each rep. In what seemed like no time, he had finished 100 reps.

He got up on his knees and faced me. He looked down at his abs and flexed the hard muscles. "OK, feel 'em, John. They're warming up. They're starting to get really hard. One hundred reps is nothing for my abs, John. I did 1,000 situps once in a contest as school. The teacher made me stop because I had already beat all the other kids by 950 reps. My abs are really strong and tough." I reached down and placed my hands on Johnny's hot, sweaty abs. I poked my fingers into the muscle and it felt like I was poking into rock. His abs were incredibly hard. Then I ran my hands over the washboard of muscle, feeling every crevice and bulge. "Wow, Johnny," I said. "Your abs are so buff. They're as hard as bricks." Johnny looked down at his rippling muscles and said "Yeah." He didn't have to brag. He knew I was just stating a fact. I ran my hands lower and felt the muscles of his oblique muscles, which slashed up from his crotch to his narrow hips. He had ridges of muscle that I had never seen before. His obliques gave his lower abs an incredibly sexy look. They seemed to point directly at his crotch. I stared at his tight white Jockey briefs, thinking to myself of what might lie underneath.

Suddenly Johnny flipped over on his back, bent his knees and started doing situps again. I sat right over his abs, watching those hard, tight muscles work. "Feel 'em, John," he said. "Feel 'em while they're working. They get really hard when they're working." I placed my fingers on Johnny's abs as he raised and lowered his torso at an incredibly rapid speed. The muscles were as hard as steel and they undulated under his thin skin as he moved up and down. I moved my hands up and down his abs, reveling in the feeling of the washboard of muscle. His skin was very sweaty by now, so my hand literally glided over the corrugated iron. I pressed down with my fingers as hard as I could but it didn't faze Johnny in the least. It was like he couldn't even feel it. He just kept cranking out the situps. Finally after exactly 100 reps he stopped and kneeled beside me again.

"Good pump," he said, looking down at his eight-pack, which was now shredded to the bone. I stared in amazement at Johnny's washboard. Sweat was now dripping down his skin, making the rippling muscles stand out in bold relief. Suddenly Johnny made both of his hands into fists and started pounding on his abs. He was really pounding those muscles hard. Every time a fist hit the flexed muscle it made a loud smacking sound, like it had just hit a canvas mat covering a sheet of solid iron. Johnny smiled approvingly as he watched his steel hard abs easily deflect his own strong blows. "These mothers are really strong and hard," he said as he rubbed his hands over the corrugated muscle. "Here, you try it John. Punch my abs as hard as you can. Let's see what you can do to these babies." I sort of hesitated and shook my head. I didn't want to hurt my friend. "Come on, John," he said. "You can't hurt 'em. They're tough. They can take anything you can dish out."

So I made a fist and pulled back my right arm. Then I landed what I thought was a really hard punch right in the middle of his gut. My fist made a loud smacking sound as it hit Johnny's abs. It bounced off the hard muscle like it had hit a steel plate. I didn't make the slightest dent in the muscle and my hand really hurt from the impact of the punch. Johnny grinned. "Try it again. Punch me lots of times with both your fists." I made both of my hands into fists and pummeled his abs with about a dozen hard punches. I tried different angles and different parts of his abs, high and low. Nothing made a difference. I was punching a brick wall. I was punching a wall of thick, hard muscle that felt just like a brick wall. Finally I stopped and Johnny broke into a broad smile. "See, I told ya," he said. "My abs are stronger than any punch. Lots of kids at school, kids a lot bigger than you, have tried to punch my abs but the same thing happens to them. They give up punching because these abs are just so strong and hard." I stared in awe as Johnny flexed his abs, making them undulate under his sweaty, tan skin.

Johnny looked over at my stomach. "Lemme feel what you got," he said. He reached over and squeezed my flabby gut. My gut was so soft and mushy that he was easily able to poke his fingers into my stomach. He gently pinched my skin and saw the fat roll up in his fingers. Then he pinched his own fat-free skin which was as thin as paper under his fingers. "My abs are a lot different than your abs, aren't they John," he said. "You just don't have any muscle at all and I've got tons of muscle, real hard muscle." He made a fist and pulled back his arm, like he was getting ready to punch my gut. I got a look of total horror on my face as I saw his big arm and shoulder muscles flex, preparing to unleash devastating power to his big fist. He looked at his arm and then looked at my gut and smiled. "Don't worry, John," he said. "I'd never hit you. I know what these muscles could do to you. I've beat up some kids real bad, but they asked for it. Its not your fault you're so weak. You're still a good guy. Besides, I wouldn't want to have to carry you all the way down the hill to the hospital!" He laughed at his joke and wrapped his muscular arm playfully around my neck in a mock wresting hold. After squeezing my neck just a little with his big bicep, he rolled over onto the ground and started his third set of situps.

I kneeled over Johnny as he cranked out the situps. This time I used both of my hands to feel his muscles as they worked. I glided my hands over his sweaty skin as the hard abdominal muscles underneath pulsated with each rep. I felt his thighs and marveled at how his quads flexed into hard slabs of muscle each time he raised his torso. A couple of times my hands "accidentally" roamed over his tight, white Jockey briefs and felt his cock underneath. His cock felt big and almost like it was half-hard as he cranked out rep after rep of easy situps. Johnny kind of glanced at me through the side of his eyes and grinned as my hand touched his cock through the fabric of his briefs, but he pretended not to notice and he didn't slow down the fast pace of doing the situps. After exactly 100 reps, he stopped and kneeled in front of me again. Johnny and I were facing each other on our knees inside the small Boy Scout tent.

Almost instinctively, I reached over and started feeling Johnny's shredded abs again. I just couldn't get enough of his buff muscles. Johnny looked down at his white briefs and then he looked over at mine. My little dick was poking out against the fabric as hard as it could. It had been just like this the whole time Johnny was working out, but he never let on that he noticed. "You show me yours and I'll show you mine," he said. He completely startled me by saying this. For a moment I didn't understand what he was talking about. But as I saw his eyes looking at my stiff cock, I knew exactly what he meant. "OK," I said, trying not to reveal the enthusiasm in my voice. Without a moment of hesitation we both ripped off our briefs and kneeled in front of each other buck-naked. "Wow, your dick is at full attention," said Johnny. "It must like what it sees." He flexed his abs and as I looked at the throbbing muscles, my cock jerked up still another notch. He smiled.

I looked at Johnny's cock. It was only half-hard, but it was already much bigger and thicker than mine. "Feel my pecs, John. Feel 'em the way you did before. Do that thing to my nipples again. That felt really cool. That was totally sweet," said Johnny, as he looked down at his pecs and his cock. The big organ started getting harder even as he was saying this. He pushed out his chest and flexed his pecs. His hard nipples were erect and firm, being pressed out from his chest by the solid muscle underneath. I reached up and started feeling Johnny's pecs. He relaxed the muscles and I drove my fingers into the firm flesh. Then he flexed and my fingers felt like they were being pushed away by hardening steel. He flexed and relaxed and I pushed and kneaded. My cock was rock hard as I took in the awesome size and hardness of Johnny's pecs. Johnny's cock had also gotten hard. It was now pointing straight up against his abs. It was several inches longer than mine and much, much thicker. Slowly I moved my fingers closer to his erect nipples and started circling those erotic, sensitive, pleasure-points. He started moaning. Then I started pinching them, sometimes with my thumb and forefinger and sometimes with my other fingers, all the while digging my fingers into the muscles of his pecs. His moaning got much louder. I looked down and watched his dick twitching up and down, rock hard and throbbing. "Oh, John," he moaned, "that feels so good. I've never felt so good before." I watched as his cock twitched and flexed without being touched by anything. "Looks like your cock likes it too, Johnny. It's flexing just like the rest of your muscles. And it's huge. It's twice as big as mine. It's big, just like your muscles." Johnny looked down and watched his thick, steel-hard cock twitch back and forth and up and down. Then he said, "yeah, I guess it's big and strong just like the rest of me." At that he jumped at me and wrestled me to the ground. I could feel his hard cock digging into my stomach as he pinned my arms up over my head. He thrust his hips up and down, forcing his stiff cock up and down my soft gut in a moment of primal domination.

We spent the next five minutes wrestling, both of us completely nude and our cocks both rock-hard. Johnny easily pinned my arms to the ground many times. Then he'd drop down on top of me and rub his sweaty body all over mine. After awhile, my whole body was covered with sweat -- Johnny's sweat. Sometimes he'd pin both of my arms with one hand and rub his sweaty armpit in my nose, covering my nose and face with his jock-boy sweat. I loved breathing in the smell of his sweat, the sweat of a real athlete. Then he'd let me go and let me pin him. He'd relax his powerful muscles and let wimpy little me pin his arms to the ground. Then I'd drop on him and rub my skinny little body all over his big, muscular chest. I'd thrust my hips up and down just like he did, rubbing my hard little cock over his shredded, washboard abs. He'd laugh when I'd say "give up?" as I pressed his arms over his head. "Not yet," he'd say as he began pressing his muscular arms up off the ground, effortlessly lifting me up with them. Then he'd easily flip me over and pin me again.

Sometimes, he'd get me into a half-nelson, forcing my arm up my back but not enough to hurt. I'd try to escape from his hold, but he was much too strong. Then he'd let me get him into a half-nelson and let me force his arm up his back as hard as I could with both of my arms. Then he'd look at me with kind of a sly grin and say "is that all you got?" When I nodded "yes" he would start extending his arm and there was nothing my two little arms could do to stop him. His triceps bulged and rippled with shredded muscle as his arm pushed my arms out of the way like annoying insects. Then he'd laugh and tackle me, wrestling me to the ground again.

We were playing like two young puppies, one big muscular puppy and one little wimpy puppy. But puppies nonetheless, enjoying their youth and their bodies. Johnny and I both knew that he could have crushed me like a grape. But he never tried to hurt me. We playfully wrestled together in youthful bliss, bonding together with every pin.

Finally he stopped wrestling and rolled over on his back to do his last set of situps. I was totally exhausted after the wrestling and couldn't have done one rep of anything. But Johnny was still fresh and energized and started effortlessly cranking out the situps totally nude in front of me. By this time I was completely uninhibited and moved my hands around every part of Johnny's glowing body, including his still-stiff cock. He smiled as my fingers felt his rock hard muscles and cock as he did his situps. When he finished his 100 reps, I jumped on top of him and we wrestled again for a few more minutes. I would have liked to hold onto Johnny's body all night, but we both decided that it was time to get some sleep. We put our briefs back on and lied down on top of our sleeping bags. We were both too hot to get inside the sleeping bags. Johnny's body was still sweating profusely. And it was pretty warm outside. So we lay on our backs and talked for awhile. We talked about all kinds of things. The kinds of things 11-year-olds talk about. I found out that Johnny was going to play football in Junior High School and High School and probably college as well. He was the starting quarterback on his Pop Warner team and he was looking forward to being the quarterback on his school team too. He said all the kids on his team and all his coaches thought he was a great quarterback. I could see why. Not only was Johnny an incredible athlete, but he was a true leader and a kid who didn't put anyone down. I would have followed him anywhere. After college he wanted to be a jet fighter pilot. I told him I wanted to be a lawyer. Of course any kind of sports in school were out of the question. Johnny said he understood.

Finally Johnny said he was getting sleepy and he stopped talking. Within a matter of minutes I could hear the deep breathing of his sound sleep. I looked over and saw his abs going up and down with each deep breath. They moved up and down effortlessly as they helped his athletic lungs take in big breaths of air. His barrel chest also expanded and contracted with each breath. His pecs and abs were still very defined, even asleep. I just kept watching Johnny's sleeping body until it got completely dark. Then I finally went to sleep, dreaming the whole night of Johnny doing pushups, Johnny doing situps, Johnny playing football, Johnny wrestling with me.

The next thing I remember I looked up and saw Johnny sitting on top of me, still dressed only in his tight, white briefs. It was morning, and the bright sun was streaming into our tent. "Wake up, sleepy-head," he said. "It's gonna be a great day!" He flexed his arms and smiled. He was right.

 

Part 2: The Team

When I left off talking about Johnny we had just woken up after a fantastic night together in our Boy Scout tent. What an incredible experience it was, feeling all the muscles of Johnny's buff body as he cranked out hundreds of pushups and situps. Then we wrestled and I got to feel the tremendous strength of Johnny's muscles as he easily pushed and pulled my wimpy body any way he wanted. Johnny liked it when I felt his muscles and told him how hard and strong they were. He was proud of his muscles and he liked showing off to a little wimp like me. When we were wrestling I told him I felt like such a wimp next to him and liked feeling the strength of his big muscles and being pinned by him. He looked at my pathetic little body, looked at his bulging pecs and then said, "Yeah I guess you are a wimp, John. I got muscles and you don't. I'm a jock and you're a dweeb. And you know what wimp? I'm gonna get even bigger and stronger, so you better get used to getting your puny little body crushed by these big, strong muscles." Then he laughed, wrapped his muscular arms around my chest and squeezed all the air out of my lungs with one enormous surge of power from his rippling lats and arms. He forced me to the ground, grabbed my arms and easily pinned them over my head. As he pinned me he looked me in the eyes with his beautiful hazel eyes and smiled. I smiled back. I was looking forward to spending more time with Johnny.

The next day our Boy Scout troop did some hiking and fishing. When nobody was looking Johnny came up to me and flexed his arm right in front of my face. He grinned as I stared at the bulging bicep. "Look at the power, wimp," said Johnny. He knew I was mesmerized by the size and strength of that hard baseball bicep. Sometimes he would come up to me, place my hand on his pecs or abs and then flex them. I felt a twinge go up my spine as his hard muscles bulged and felt like rock under my tender little fingers. Johnny looked down at my crotch and laughed when he saw my cock get stiff under my shorts. Johnny was enjoying showing off his muscles to me and I was enjoying feeling them. I couldn't believe this kid was only six months older than me. He was such a stud. He wasn't going to turn 12 until October and already he had the body of a muscular young teenager.

Right after that weekend I learned that I was going to be skipping a grade and going into the seventh grade just like Johnny. It seems I did really well on some tests -- I guess I'm a genius or something -- and the school and my parents decided to skip me a grade. I was a little intimidated at first at the thought of having to go to class with older kids, but then I realized that I would be going to school with Johnny too and that made up for everything. I could hardly wait for school to start.

When I told Johnny the news, he smiled and gave me a high five. "Right on, bro," he said. "Hey, football practice starts next week and they're going to open up the weight room at school. Why don't you come with me to practice? I talked to the coach last week and he said the team is looking for a Manager. All the players call the kid the waterboy, but his real title is Manager. Anyway, usually the Manager is a little seventh grader who is too puny to play football but who wants to be part of the team. You'd be perfect, John. You like muscle, don't you?" Johnny flexed his arm and placed my hand over his bulging bicep. Then he grabbed my crotch and felt my little cock getting hard. "Yeah, you really like muscle, I can tell. Well, you're going to see a lot of muscle on this team. These kids are built! They'll probably give you a lot of shit about being such a little runt. They might even push you around with their big muscles. But I think you'd like that, wouldn't you John?" Johnny bumped his big chest into my skinny little body and pushed me back. I nodded in agreement that I could handle getting pushed around by a bunch of muscular young football players. "The players on the team have a real attitude 'cause they're so strong," said Johnny "They run the whole school. Nobody fucks with the football team. Well, whaddya think? You wanna be the team's waterboy?"

I grabbed Johnny's shoulders and squeezed his round, bulging delts with my fingers. "You bet," I said. "I'll be a great waterboy!" Johnny grinned, picked me up and then pushed us both to the ground. We wrestled with each other for several minutes. Johnny easily pinned me many times. He was so much stronger than I was that I know I felt like a little rag doll to him. Several times he let me pin his muscular arms to the ground. Then he smiled and started lifting them up. I pushed down as hard as I could, but the power of his arms was so enormous that they just lifted my whole body up into the air. Then he threw me to the side and jumped on top of me, pinning me again. Several times Johnny got me in a bone crushing scissors hold. He wrapped his muscular legs around my waist or chest, locked his ankles and started flexing his big quads. I looked down and watched the thick slabs of muscle flex at Johnny's will. The fibers of muscle bulged in his legs under his thin skin. As he applied more and more pressure the muscles got bigger and harder as his athletic heart pumped them up with power-giving blood. Big veins popped out under his skin as the blood engorged the muscle. His calves were bulging too and they seemed to be exploding out of his skin as his quads pushed them closer and closer together with the force of their flexing. He easily squeezed all the air out of my lungs. My face started turning beet-red. Johnny looked at me and said, "Do you give, wimp?" I shook my head and he flexed his quads even harder, his muscular legs squeezing my puny little body like big pythons. I loved feeling the power of Johnny's legs as they crushed my body. Finally when I was almost passed out I said, "I give," and Johnny immediately relaxed his iron hold. Then he climbed on top of me with his crotch right on my face and I ran my hands up and down his legs as he flexed and unflexed his big quads for me. The muscles were incredibly hard. I could feel Johnny's cock rubbing on my cheeks as he thrust his hips up and down.. Johnny's dick was big, thick and hard. By this time, both of our cocks were as hard as steel.

Slowly I lowered Johnny's shorts over his round muscle butt, exposing his big cock which was now rubbing up and down on my cheeks. I buried my nose in Johnny's pubic hair, breathing in the heady scent of his jock-boy sweat. Then I started licking Johnny's cock and his big walnut-sized balls with my tongue. Johnny's cock got even harder as I ravaged the big weapon with my loving caresses. Johnny started groaning with pleasure and the thrusts of his hips became more powerful. "Take it," ordered Johnny. Without hesitation, I opened my mouth and wrapped my lips around the large circumference of Johnny's throbbing dick. I sucked on that dick as hard as I could, all the while tickling its sides with my active tongue. Within seconds Johnny started groaning louder and he thrust his cock deep into my throat. For a moment I thought I was going to gag, but the feeling of Johnny's cock in my mouth and throat was so pleasurable that I overcame any urge to gag and sucked even harder. Then Johnny let out a loud grunt and I could feel his cock pulsate and explode within my mouth and throat. Surge after surge after surge of Johnny's cum spurted down my throat as Johnny's physically superior balls released huge quantities of his genetically superior jism that his physically superior cock shot down my throat like a cannon.

When Johnny had finished his incredible orgasm, he pulled his still-hard cock out of my mouth and sat up on my stomach. Then he watched as I shot my wad while he flexed for me. I was in heaven. I could hardly wait to be the football team's waterboy.

Well, Johnny made all the arrangements and told me that I had been appointed the official waterboy -- er, Manager -- of the Madison Marauders. Madison Junior High School was the football powerhouse of the whole city. They had won the city championship in 8 of the last 8 years. Their coach was a former college linebacker and Navy SEAL named Brad Chambers. But everyone called him "Mad Dog" because that was his nickname in college and in the SEALs. From what I had heard, the nickname was well deserved. He was a bear of a man, standing about 6' 3" and weighing at least 280 pounds, all solid muscle. We heard that during the Gulf War, when Mad Dog was in the Navy SEALs, he got into some hand-to-hand combat with an Iraqi soldier. Mad Dog outweighed the Arab by over 120 pounds but the Arab was a fighter. The soldier tried to hit the big American with kicks and punches, but Mad Dog either ducked out of the way or let the man's punches harmlessly bounce off his big hard muscles.

Then Mad Dog pulled back his huge right arm and slammed his fist into the gut of the little Arab. The soldier buckled over in pain. Mad Dog walked up to the pathetic little dweeb and grabbed his head with his two big hands. Then he said "Feel the power of real muscle, you miserable little punk." With a tremendous burst of strength, he twisted the neck of the little Arab really hard. Instantly the soldier's neck snapped like a twig. Mad Dog had snapped the punk's neck with just his bare hands. Then he held the dead man's head in front of his chest and placed the palms of his hands on either side of the man's head. Slowly Mad Dog pressed his hands together. It must have been quite a sight, watching Mad Dog's huge delts, pecs and arms bulge as he applied overwhelming force to the skull of the dead Arab. Mad Dog could bench press 600 pounds and he was applying all the incredible power of his huge muscles to the skull of the little Arab. As Mad Dog let out a loud grunt, his giant hands crushed the skull of the hapless Arab into a thousand pieces. The soldier's brains spurted out like gray pasta. Mad Dog threw the garbage on the ground. Then he raised his combat boot and stomped on the man's chest for good measure. He pulverized every rib with four powerful blows of his massive legs. It was all over in under a minute. When they came to retrieve the Arab's body, the men thought the guy had been killed by some kind of machine.

This was Madison Junior High School's football coach. Mad Dog's motto for the team was "Bigger, Stronger, Faster, Meaner". The kids on his Junior High football team were only 11 to 14 years old but Mad Dog made sure that they were the biggest, strongest, fastest and meanest Junior High football players in the whole city. He knew they were so big and strong that they could beat most high school teams if they wanted.

Johnny and I arrived at the school for the first day of training. The team was in the weight room. Technically whenever the weight room was open any student in the school could use it. But there was an unwritten rule that when the football team was using the weight room, all the other students had to leave. I guess those kids knew that if they didn't leave they'd be at the mercy of the football players. And God only knows what would have happened to them. The football team ruled the school and when they wanted something they got it.

My mouth dropped open when I entered the weight room. There were about 30 kids standing around, all with their shirts off and most of them with the biggest, buffest bodies I had ever seen on young teenagers. The new 7th graders were all in one group talking to each other. They were definitely the smallest of the boys although they all had great bodies and looked like natural young athletes. Most of them had never lifted weights before but their physiques were still naturally muscular. I figured a few of them had started lifting because big muscles were starting to sprout on their chests, shoulders and arms. Just like the rest of the football players, Johnny wasn't wearing a shirt -- just some shorts and sneakers. I looked at the bodies of the other 7th graders and then I looked over at Johnny. Without doubt, Johnny was the most muscular 7th grader on the team even though he hadn't lifted any weights at all.

But then there were the 8th and 9th graders. They were huge! Every one of them was buffed out with muscle. They had big and muscular shoulders, chests, backs, arms and legs and all of them had abs that were rippling with six packs of muscle. Every one of them looked like he could win a bodybuilding contest for young teenagers. Some of them were taller and some of them were shorter, but they were all incredibly muscular. Their faces were young and boyish, just like the 13 and 14 year olds they were, but their bodies were ripped and muscular. Their bodies looked like they belonged on trained athletes four years older than they were. And as a group they were all very tall for their age. They were incredible specimens of muscular youth. I asked myself what Coach Mad Dog's training program must be like to turn the athletic 7th grade jocks that were standing there into the giants of muscle that were the 8th and 9th graders.

All the kids were flexing for each other, showing off how much muscle they had packed on their bodies over the summer. One kid would flex his bicep and the others would wrap their fingers around it and squeeze, feeling for themselves how big and hard it was. Or a kid would flex his chest and lats in a lat spread, and his slabs of lat muscle would spread out like wings. Another kid would grab his lat, feeling the hardness and thickness of the muscle. "Fuckin' huge!" the other kid would say. The weight room was lined with mirrors, so the muscular young jocks could compare their incredible bodies with each other as they flexed. They looked like a squadron of young musclegods.

Some kids were flexing their quads, proud of the muscle they had packed on their legs, legs that would power them over opposing players like the pistons of a diesel truck. "Feel that muscle!" yelled a thickly built kid who looked like he was made of solid rock, as he flexed his quads for one of his teammates. The teammate felt those rippling quads and barked out "Like a fuckin' oak tree, Tony. Your legs are totally buff. You're gonna run over those linemen like they're little girls." Tony smiled. "These mothers can squat 370," he said proudly. "They're twice as strong as the twig legs on the players from the other schools. I'm gonna fuckin' kick their skinny little asses into the ground!"

All of the players flexed their abs and challenged their friends to punch them as hard as they could. This seemed to be a favorite sport of the team -- ab punching. All the players had such ripped, muscular abs that the punches, even hard punches thrown by the biggest players, would just bounce off the corrugated brick walls of muscle. The players seemed to pride themselves on their hard ab muscles, abs that could take any punch. These kids are as tough as they come, I thought to myself.

One of the two biggest kids was flexing his right bicep for a group of players to admire. "Jesus, Blake, that mother's huge!" yelled one of the players as he tried to wrap his fingers around the bulging bicep of a tall, incredibly muscular 9th grader. "And it's hard as a rock. It must be fuckin' strong!" Blake smiled and looked over at his big, peaked bicep. "Shit yeah," he said. "I can curl 200 pounds! That's almost as much as I weigh. These big fuckers are strong as shit and they're gonna kick ass this year!" Blake flexed both his arms and sneered, as the other players took in the size and power of his big guns. I gulped out loud. Standing there was a 14-year-old kid who weighed over 200 pounds, all solid muscle, who could almost curl his bodyweight. I could only guess at what he could bench press -- 300, 350, 400? He was enormous and incredibly muscular for a young man, let alone a 14-year-old. What a fucking stud, I thought to myself. My cock was so hard it was poking into my shorts. This whole team was packed with muscular young studs.

As I looked across the room, there were several players who stood out. The first two were Blake and his twin brother Jake. By far, they were the tallest and biggest guys in the weight room. They were identical twins. At first I couldn't tell them apart and then I saw that Blake had a small scar on his chin from falling off a skateboard when his was six years old. Everyone called Blake and Jake the Twin Towers. They were huge. Broad shoulders, big muscular arms, huge chests and wide lats, and legs that looked like rippling tree trunks. They were over six feet tall and solid muscle. They had light brown hair, cut very short, and gray-blue eyes. Their bodies did not have an ounce of fat on them and their skin was very tan. I couldn't believe that these huge kids were only 14 years old.

Blake and Jake were standing next to two other guys who were equally muscular. One of them was a black kid, about 5' 10" and incredibly buff. I found out later that his name was Rasheed and that he was a 13-year-old 8th grader. He had very muscular arms, broad, striated shoulders and the narrowest, most muscular waist I had ever seen and it was shredded! Even across the room I could see the fibers of muscle flexing under his paper-thin black skin. His abs were phenomenal, a true 8-pack of rippling washboard muscle. And his little bubble butt pushed out his shorts showing both globes of his incredibly muscular ass and his ass crack. His legs were shredded with muscle. His definition was phenomenal -- every fiber of muscle showed clearly under his thin, black skin. Somehow I could sense that he was very fast as well as very strong. A strong, fast runner -- probably a star sprinter on the track team as well as a star running back on the football team.

Next to Rasheed was a tall blond Adonis, a kid who was almost as tall as the twin towers and who had the body of a Greek god. His blond hair was almost white, but I could tell it was natural and not bleached. It was short, kind of a buzz cut. He had sky blue eyes and golden tan skin, which was so thin you could see every muscle flex and relax as he moved his sexy body. His shoulders were wide and capped with striated cannonballs of muscle. His hips were narrow, giving him a tremendous V-taper. Of course he had shredded abs and a muscular chest and rippling arms. He kind of looked like a swimmer who had packed an incredible amount of muscle on his lithe, athletic body. This was Kevin, another 14-year-old 9th grader, who was the starting quarterback. Kevin had fucked just about every girl in the 9th grade. His face was drop-dead gorgeous, with high cheekbones, a perfect nose, a strong jaw and chin, bright white perfect teeth and a strong, muscular neck. No wonder every girl in the 9th grade wanted to get fucked by Kevin. Of course all the football players could fuck just about any girl (or boy) they wanted. They were all such muscular studs that they got their way all the time.

Then there was Tony. He had black hair, cut very short, and dark brown eyes. He was shorter than some of the kids but he was built like a Mack truck. His chest was enormous, with pecs bulging out with masses of muscle, so much muscle that his nipples were actually pointing downwards. His arms were huge and rippling. His skin was very tan and under that tan skin I could see veins crisscrossing his big arms. He had thick, powerful shoulders and traps. His waist wasn't narrow but it was solid and muscular, his six pack of thick muscle clearly visible under his dark skin. Tony's legs were big, solid pistons of thick muscle. His quads were probably as big around as my waist and his calves bulged with the two heads of muscle clearly visible as they flexed when he walked. Tony was an 8th grader and only 13 years old. I found out later that he had always been big and thick as a kid and his body just exploded when he went on Coach Mad Dog's weight program last year in 7th grade. In fact pretty much the same thing happened to all of last year's 7th grade players. Their bodies just exploded with muscle.

After I had watched this phenomenal display of muscular youth for several minutes, I saw Coach Mad Dog look over at Johnny and me. Then he called out to the team in a big, deep booming voice, "Attention, men!" Immediately the players stopped talking and looked at the Coach. "Men, I want to introduce you to two new 7th grade members of the Marauders. The muscular kid there is Johnny. He's going to be our starting quarterback one day. Look at Johnny's body, men. Look at all those muscles on that kid. It's hard to believe, men, but Johnny hasn't ever lifted weights before. Just think of what he's gonna look like in a few months of working out here!" The other players looked at Johnny and whispered to each other. They could see that Johnny was already a muscular stud, more muscular than any of them had been at his age. And they knew he was only going to get bigger, stronger and more muscular from Coach Mad Dog's incredible weight training and nutrition program. He was going to be phenomenal, maybe even bigger, stronger and buffer than the Twin Towers. Johnny wasn't embarrassed at all at Coach Mad Dog's compliments. He was used to having people admire his muscles. He smiled and flexed his muscular arms, arms that wouldn't be 12 years old for another month. He knew he would fit in very well on this buffed-out musclestud team.

Then the Coach looked at me and smiled. "The little wimp there is the other new member of the team. He's the new waterboy, er, Manager. You guys wore out the waterboy we had last year so I had to find a new one. I know how you guys like to compare your big, muscular bodies with the scrawny little bag of bones of the waterboy. I know it gives you a real rush, seeing your big muscles bulging and flexing next to such a pathetic wimp who couldn't build any muscle if his life depended on it. I know having a waterboy to push around makes you aggressive and mean. And I like it when you're aggressive and mean. Makes you better football players. So I got you the puniest, scrawniest waterboy I could find. His name is John too, but as you can see there is no resemblance to Johnny." The other team members laughed out loud as they looked at me and then looked at Johnny. Just to give them a charge, I took off my shirt so they could see just how skinny I was. I did a most muscular pose showing absolutely no muscle. Johnny took up the bait and did a most muscular pose right next to me. The comparison of Johnny's big, strong, rippling muscles with my skinny bones and flab was amazing. The players laughed even more. They loved it. "Now listen up men," said Mad Dog. "John told me he knows what he's in for as the waterboy. He even says he's looking forward to getting shit from you guys. He says he likes muscle, and I told him he's gonna see a lot of it around here and probably be on the receiving end of some strong muscle power. I told him you guys were aggressive young bucks and I like it that way. But remember the rules, men: no broken bones and no serious injuries. Remember, John's a member of the team too so don't kill him with your big muscles while you're having fun. OK, men, at ease."

After this little speech, half of the 8th and 9th grade players went up to Johnny and gave him high-fives. He was immediately accepted as a member of the team with tremendous potential. The seventh graders all raced up to Johnny. They all knew him, of course, and had accepted him long ago as their leader. Johnny had always been the leader of the kids in his class and it was only natural that he was now the biggest and most muscular of the 7th grade players. They were all expecting big things out of Johnny.

The other half of the 8th and 9th grade players came up to me. They wanted to play with their new waterboy. They all crowded around me and started flexing their big muscles. "So you like big muscles, waterboy! Well, check these out!" yelled Rasheed as he flexed his arms right in my face. I hesitated a moment and Rasheed yelled even louder "Feel, 'em wimp. Feel these big fuckin' muscles that could crush your puny little body like a creampuff." I reached up with both of my hands to Rasheed's bulging biceps and wrapped my little fingers around the huge muscles that were throbbing underneath his glistening black skin. His biceps felt like warm rocks. They were bigger and harder than Johnny's biceps, bigger and harder than any human flesh I had ever felt in my life. Rasheed smiled, exposing his perfect white teeth, as I took in the size and hardness of his upper arms. Suddenly he grabbed my right hand and placed it on his bulging pec. He flexed his pec several times, letting me feel the round muscle harden and bulge under my fingers with each flex. Then moved my hand down to his shredded abs and rubbed it over the rippling muscle. His abs felt like corrugated iron. Rasheed smiled as he saw my obvious appreciation of his fantastic body.

Since Rasheed had ordered me to feel his muscles I couldn't resist the opportunity to feel some more. I ran both of my hands back to his solid muscle bubble butt and squeezed the round globes. Rasheed flexed his glutes and the firm muscle turned into rock right in my hands. I gasped as I felt the power in Rasheed's butt. Then I ran my hands up to his lats. Rasheed flexed them and they flared out like muscular wings. I squeezed those hard slabs of black muscle, slabs of muscle that felt like warm rock. "You like that muscle, waterboy?" he asked. I nodded my head in total agreement and Rasheed laughed. "Yeah, I got the best muscle of all these kids. I got big, hard black muscle and these white dudes only wish that they had muscle like me."

"Fuck off, Rasheed," said Tony as he pushed the muscular black kid away with one swoop of his big right arm. "You ain't seen muscle like mine, waterboy. My muscles are twice as big as that big black liar's. I'm Italian and I can kick his little black ass any time I want." Rasheed gave Tony the finger but obviously he wasn't really angry at his big, muscular teammate. It was clear to me that these buffed-out jocks loved to challenge each other physically, testing their growing muscles and ever-increasing strength. They were all super aggressive and had uncontrollable urges to unleash their aggression on whatever was around them, whether it be their own teammates, the opposing football team, other kids who got in their way or their new waterboy. Tony looked at me with a wild look in his dark brown eyes. Then without warning he picked me up under my armpit and in my crotch and easily lifted me over his head. Then he started doing presses with me as his barbell. I weighed exactly 90 pounds (yes, I was a 90 pound runt) and Tony pressed me up and down like I was a feather. "Put your hands on my shoulder, waterboy. Feel my big muscles pushing up your puny little body," said Tony as he effortlessly pumped out the reps. I placed both of my hands on his right shoulder and felt his huge, striated 13 year old delt muscles bulge as he pumped me up and down. I could feel the individual fibers of hard muscle that spanned across the vast expanse of his melon-sized delt. The muscle was round and bulging. Each fiber felt like a steel cord as it twitched and flexed at Tony's will. "Fuckin' huge," I yelled at Tony. "Fuckin' strong." I could see a satisfied grin cross his face knowing that his big muscles were being appreciated.

After Tony had cranked out about 25 reps he yelled "Heads up Kevin!" and, with a great thrust of his powerful shoulders and arms, he threw me about 10 feet in the air over to Kevin. Kevin quickly stretched out his arms and caught me, holding me like a baby. He looked down at me with his gorgeous blue eyes. I gazed up at his handsome face, his buzz cut blond hair and his golden tan skin which could hardly contain his big, buff muscles. "Well, waterboy," he said. "Now you get to feel some real quality muscle. Those guys are like the hamburger and the pot roast. I'm the filet mignon. You've come to the right place for the best looking and highest quality muscle on this whole team. I'm the quarterback and I'm the stud. I know it and you know it. So feel these buff muscles while they curl you like a broomstick!" At that, Kevin started curling me up and down. Now, curling 90 pounds is not easy for anyone, let alone a 14 year old kid, but Kevin's big biceps had no trouble. As they curled me up and down, I felt his hard biceps contract and extend. When they were extended, his bicep muscles felt like steel cords, cords that were ready to apply incredible force to Kevin's arm when their young master willed them to contract and pull me up. When Kevin gave them the order, the steel cords of muscle pulled up his bulging forearm and formed a solid ball of muscle, a ball that felt like iron. Veins crisscrossed his biceps and forearms under his thin, tan skin. As he kept pumping, I also ran my hands over his pecs -- so big, so hard, so tan and so sexy. Then I ran my hands down to his abs and felt the hard outlines of that golden tan washboard of muscle. His body was like that of a young Greek God. As I was feeling his abs, I couldn't resist running my hand down under his shorts and feeling his cock, the cock that had fucked every girl in the 9th grade. It was big and thick and half-way aroused. Kevin was getting turned on by watching his big arms curling my little body. I yelled "You're huge, Kevin!" Kevin grinned and I could feel his cock get even harder. He also applied even more power to the curls, forcing me up and down even faster. Finally, after 20 reps or so, Kevin tossed me to another player. That guy pressed me up and down a couple of times and tossed me to someone else. For the next minute or so, I was like a little beanbag, being pressed up and down and tossed from player to player on this musclekid football team.

Finally I got tossed in the direction of Blake and Jake, but the kid who threw me didn't throw me hard enough and I crashed to the floor. Blake and Jake walked over and pulled me to my feet. I stared up at Blake's huge body. He was more than half a foot taller than me and outweighed me by over 110 pounds, all solid muscle. His twin brother Jake stood right behind me. I was looking right at Blake's huge pecs, solid, round, bulging muscles that extended several inches over his shredded waist. I was looking right at his cleavage, which was very deep. I had never seen such huge muscles in my entire life. "Well, waterboy, you've seen the boys. Now feel the men," said Blake. He winked at his brother, and before I knew it I was being crushed between the two giant 14-year-old twins. The two of them had wrapped their huge, muscular arms around each other and they were pulling on each other, with little me being squished in between their hard, muscular bodies. I was overwhelmed by the massive amount of muscle encircling my body. My little 90 pound body was being crushed by over 400 pounds of muscle, two identical 14-year-old giants of muscle.

The force of the Twin Towers' crush was pushing my face directly into Blake's massive pecs. His brother Jake's pecs were pushing on the back of my head. I could feel Jake's two big hard slabs of muscle pushing on each side of the back of my head. My nose was forced into the cleavage between Blake's two shredded mounds of pec muscle and I could smell the jock sweat dripping off his big body. I could hardly breathe, but I could breath enough to revel in the wonderful jock-sweat scent of these two big muscle kids with each breath I took. Their bodies were incredibly hard and incredibly warm. It felt like I was being crushed by two hot slabs of steel. I managed to free my arms a bit and was able to place my hands on Blake's huge lats. The big slabs of muscle bulged and flexed, applying enormous force to the crushing power of his arms. I couldn't get over the size and hardness of those huge muscles. They flared out on his back. Blake's back was more than a foot wider than my back. It was hard for my arms to extend far enough so my hands could get all around his big lats.

Blake and Jake increased their crushing pressure. All of a sudden the air was forced out of my lungs by the sheer force of their crush. Now I couldn't breath at all. "How's that feel, wimp?" said Blake. "How's it feel to be crushed by some real men?" With the last air in my lungs, I mumbled "Feels good." This seemed to excite them because they increased the pressure even more. Now I was completely out of air and was totally unable to draw in another breath because the rock-like muscles of the Twin Towers were crushing my chest like a hydraulic vise. I began to go limp and my hands let go of Blake's big lats. Then like magic I began to sense a gradual release of the pressure. The brothers were slowly releasing their grip. But they did it very slowly, letting me start breathing again and letting me feel the contour of their bodies on either side of me as their muscles relaxed. Finally I was standing between them again, looking again directly into Blake's big pecs, which were now glistening with sweat.

Blake grabbed my shoulders and spun me around so I was facing the mirror on the wall of the weight room. He and Jake both turned around and faced the mirror on each side of me. I was stunned by the incredible contrast between their huge, muscular bodies and my puny little sack of shit. Those two big, hard bodies had just crushed my little body like it was a jelly donut. If they had wanted to, their big muscles could have easily crushed the life out of me. I stared at our images in the mirror. The images of the strong and the weak. The physically superior and the complete geek. The conqueror and the vanquished. Blake and Jake smiled as they saw the same images. They knew they were total muscle studs and they loved it. And they got off on comparing their big, muscular 14 year old bodies to the body of a little wimp like me. It gave them a rush and made them feel like total stud jocks. As they watched the mirror, they started flexing their muscles. Their huge muscles bulged at their command. Their arms were as big as my thighs and their thighs were a big as my waist. Their chests were so massive that the width of my shoulders was not even as wide as the widths of their pecs. Their bodies were simply huge, and all that hugeness consisted of dense, rippling muscle. I tried to flex my muscles too, but there was no muscle there to flex. Blake and Jake smiled, in kind of an arrogant, superior, smug way.

As they continued to flex I could see their cocks starting to bulge underneath their shorts. They were getting aroused as they watched their big, shredded muscles flex next to my pathetic weakness. I turned around and started grabbing at their muscles as they flexed in the mirror. I grabbed Blake's huge muscles with my right hand and Jake's equally huge muscles with my left hand. The twins were competing with each other, trying to outdo each other as I fondled their bulging muscles. Their cocks were now totally hard, bulging out under their shorts. They were really getting into their muscle display and the contrast between their huge bodies and my puny little body. I was tempted to grab both of their cocks right then and there, but I resisted my urge. I continued to watch and feel the flexing bodies of the Twin Towers as they demonstrated to me their total physical superiority. My little cock had been hard since the minute I walked into the weight room and it was now throbbing under my shorts as I watched Blake and Jake flex their huge muscles. Just as I was about to bury my face in Jake's big armpit, I heard a whistle blow. Coach Mad Dog was getting the team's attention.

"OK men," said Mad Dog. "Enough fun for now. Its time for the bench press test. We're gonna find out your maximum bench press and then you'll get your Marauders tee shirt with your bench press weight printed right on it for all to see. I'll bet lots of you 8th and 9th graders have added tons of weight to your bench since last spring. You look big and strong!" The 8th and 9th graders flexed their chests, showing off their bulging pecs. During the summer they had all been working out hard, eating tons of good food and drinking Coach Mad Dog's secret supplement shakes, and they had all gotten much stronger and more muscular. I found out that at the beginning of each season, Coach Mad Dog gives all the players a bench press test where they warm up with a few light sets and then crank out their absolute maximum bench. Then the Coach gives them a gray tee-shirt that has "Madison Football" printed on it. Under that is printed the number of pounds of the player's maximum bench press. So, somebody like Rasheed would swagger around campus last spring wearing a tight fitting tee shirt that said "Madison Football -- 240," bragging to everybody that this buff kid, who had just turned 13 years old in February, could bench 240 pounds. Who knows what Rasheed would be benching now. The tee shirts started at 100 pounds and went in 10 pound increments all the way to 400. Until that afternoon, no kid had ever gotten beyond 360. That was the weight the Twin Towers had benched at the end of the last school year. When a kid increased his bench press by 10 pounds, which happened almost every week with some of these kids, especially the 7th graders, he would turn in his old tee shirt and proudly receive a new one showing his new, increased strength. Coach Mad Dog knew this program was a great motivator for his football players to push themselves to get bigger and bigger and stronger and stronger. He wanted the biggest, strongest, fastest and meanest Junior High School players in the State. And he got them.

There were three bench press benches and racks in the weight room, so the Coach divided up the team by class year. I kept my eye on all the players, but I went over to the 7th grade rack to root for Johnny. The kids warmed up with some light weights, 50 to 80 pounds, and then started trying for their maximums. Most of the 7th graders could bench between 100 and 140 pounds. The three smallest kids could barely do 100. They looked relieved, because if they had failed to lift at least 100 they wouldn't have gotten a tee shirt. I thought even 100 pounds was damn good for a 12 year old. Even the smallest kids on this team were incredible athletes. Johnny was the last 7th grader to try for his max. I knew Johnny was very strong because I had laid on his back as he cranked out pushups. Johnny looked at the 140 the last kid had done and asked for another 10 pounds. He got under the bar and smashed the bar up so easily that both he and all of us were amazed. Johnny didn't know his own strength. He asked for another 20 pounds, raising the weight to 170, and got on the bench. I looked at Johnny's muscular torso as he moved his arms up and down getting ready for the heavy bar. His pecs, his delts and his arms were all incredibly muscular for never having lifted a weight in his life.

Johnny gripped the bar, slowly lowered it to his chest, and then let out a loud grunt as he steadily pushed up the iron and locked his elbows. It didn't even look hard. "Another 10," said Johnny. "I feel strong!" I went up to Johnny and put my hands on his red, bulging pecs. Johnny flexed the pumped, blood-engorged muscle for me. "You are strong, Johnny," I said. "This is a piece of cake for you." The kids loaded another 10 pounds of iron on the bar, making it 180. Johnny got on the bench and gripped the cold steel bar. Then he pushed the bar off the rack and slowly lowered it to his chest. His chest was so big and his muscle butt was so round and hard that his tiny, shredded waist was about four inches off the bench, held up in mid-air by the big muscles on each side. As the bar touched his chest, Johnny let out a grunt from deep inside his body and pushed the bar with his strong arms. Kid muscle versus iron and steel. I thought to myself how amazing it was that this strong kid was not yet 12 years old. Slowly the bar moved upward, the heavy iron and steel conceding defeat to the tremendous power of Johnny's muscles. Johnny's pecs, delts and triceps were almost bursting from his skin as they bulged with a tremendous pump. Every fiber of muscle was clearly defined under his skin. Veins were pushing out everywhere as Johnny's big, athletic, muscular heart pumped gallons and gallons of oxygen-rich blood into his throbbing muscles. Finally Johnny locked his elbows and crashed the bar back onto the rack. He jumped up from the bench and flexed his arms in triumph. All the other 7th grade players immediately descended on Johnny, giving him high fives and feeling his bulging muscles. Johnny flexed his pecs for the admiring boys and the big slabs of muscle that had just bench pressed a huge weight for an 11 year old kid bulged with striated fibers under his glistening, tan skin. Several of his classmates ran their fingers over those bulging pecs. "Man, those mothers are huge! And fuckin' hard!" yelled one of the kids. Johnny smiled proudly and flexed his pecs even harder. Johnny was definitely the leader of the pack.

The 8th and 9th grade players were lifting much heavier weights, of course. The weakest 8th grader benched 200 pounds (only 20 pounds more than Johnny). Most of the 8th graders were in the 220 to 270 range. Rasheed maxed out at 290, a 50 pound increase from his max last spring. Rasheed pounded his pecs as he jumped off the bench. "Yeah," he said. "These black mothers are fuckin' strong!" Tony was the last 8th grader to make his attempt. Just to show how strong he was, he started with Rasheed's maximum weight. He pressed the bar up steadily. He knew he was stronger than Rasheed. At the end of the summer he had done 300. He was going to go for 310. I looked at the bar and gulped at how much weight was there. There were two 45 pound plates, one 35 pound plate and one 7-1/2 plate on each side of the bar. The bar itself weighed 45 pounds so the total was 310. Looking at all that heavy iron, I asked myself how any 13 year old kid could lift that amount of weight.

Tony got under the huge weight, jerked it off the rack and slowly lowered it to his chest. Then he started pushing up. The bar moved very slowly but it did move up. When the bar got about half way up, Tony's momentum slowed way down. His skin was dripping with sweat and his thick muscles were bulging with incredible density. The spotter started to place his fingers under the bar, but Tony yelled out "NO!" Then he screwed up his face and with all the concentration he could muster pushed the heavy bar with a tremendous burst of power -- all the power his huge 13-year-old muscles could generate. The bar started moving again and actually started picking up speed. Tony locked his elbows and jammed the bar back onto the rack. He jumped up off the bench and flexed his pecs in front of the spotter. "Don't you ever doubt the power of my muscles, fuckhead," he yelled. Then he bumped the kid with his big chest. But the kid wasn't intimidated at all. He was a Marauder too. He bumped Tony right back with his own big chest.

Next I looked over at the 9th graders. As a group they were stronger than the 8th graders, but Rasheed and Tony were stronger than a lot of the 9th graders. The 9th graders' maximum bench presses were in the 250-300 pound range. It seemed like the players put on the most muscle between the beginning of their 7th grade and the beginning of their 8th grade years. That's when their bodies responded the fastest to Mad Dog's intense weight training program and his nutrition and supplement regimen. Of course the kids all kept getting bigger and stronger as they got older. Its just that the huge burst of muscle mass and strength occurred in the seventh grade and the summer before 8th grade. At the beginning of 7th grade Rasheed could only bench press 130 and Tony could only do 140. Very strong for 7th graders, but nothing compared to the 290 and 310 that they could bench one year later. They were now way over twice as strong as they had been a year ago, stronger beyond their wildest dreams. Stronger than their older brothers and stronger than their fathers. At 13 years old they were the strongest men in their entire family, including uncles and cousins.

The 9th graders as a group were huge. Not one 9th grader benched pressed less than 230 pounds. Kevin was the strongest 9th grader except for the Twin Towers. He put his tall, tan, muscular body under the bar and maxed out at 310 pounds, the same as Tony. Kevin was proud of his lift. He didn't want any 8th grader to lift more than he did, although he knew that over the course of the next several months both Tony and Rasheed were very likely to zoom by him. After he finished his bench press, he flexed his rippling, golden tanned arms right in Rasheed's face. "Viking muscle's tougher than Afro muscle," he said, kind of smirking at Rasheed. His bench was only 20 pounds more than Rasheed's, but Kevin was a cocky young stud and he took the most advantage of his greater strength that he could. "Fuck off, honkey," said Rasheed. "These big Afri-can muscles are gonna be able to kick your lily white ass any day now. They're gettin' bigger and stronger every week." Rasheed reached over at Kevin and wrapped his arm around the blond Adonis's neck. He flexed his big bicep, forcing the muscle into the columnar neck of the tall quarterback. But the big blond kid was too strong to take that for more than an instant. He grabbed Rasheed's wrist with both of his strong hands and easily forced Rasheed's arm off his body. Then he punched him hard in his shredded black gut. Rasheed just laughed. This was just normal playing for these strong young bucks.

Now it was time for the Twin Towers to max out on their bench press. The entire football team crowded around the bench to watch. I was right in front of Johnny, who held my shoulders with his strong hands and kept thrusting his hips into my body. I could feel his big thick cock pressing against my soft butt. For a moment I dreamed about what it would be like to get fucked by Johnny's big cock. My already hard cock got even harder.

The players had to round up all the big 45 pound plates from the other racks because they knew the Twin Towers were going to need a lot of weight for their bench presses. For their last warm-up they used Kevin's maximum, 310 pounds. They easily cranked out 10 reps with this weight. Then Blake gave the order: "Load four 45's on each side," he said. His teammates quickly obeyed. That was 360 pounds of plates which when added to the bar made 405. The bar was bending with the strain of the heavy weights. Blake got under the bar first, lowered it to his bulging chest and pressed the weight up evenly. It didn't even look hard. His twin brother Jake did the same thing, exactly the same speed, exactly the same grunt as he hoisted the incredibly heavy bar. Not only did these brothers look exactly the same, it looked like they were exactly the same strength. Genetics is the most powerful force in human biology, I thought to myself.

"Another 15 on each side" grunted Blake, as he and his brother swung their massive arms back and forth, loosening up the huge mounds of muscle on their chests. Their pecs were incredibly pumped -- bright red in color, striated with cords of muscle and covered with pulsating veins. Their delts and arms were equally pumped and massive. The other players loaded a 15 pounds of plates on each side of the bar. Now it was really sagging under the enormous weight of those plates. Its total weight was 435 pounds. This is more weight than most college football players can bench. And these two huge 14 year old 9th graders were going to try it. This time Jake got under the bar first. He lifted the bar off the rack and slowly lowered it to his massive chest. All the kids in the room started screaming at the top of their lungs as they rooted for their huge teammate to conquer the heavy iron. Jake got a look of sheer determination in his gray-blue eyes and pushed up on the bar. His pecs just exploded, bulging incredibly under his skin. His massive delts and arms looked like they were made of carved steel. Slowly the big weight went up and it didn't stop. Jake locked his elbows and rammed the bar back onto the rack. He jumped up off the bench and flexed his massive guns for all to see and admire. Jake was the man!

Well, I guess I don't have to tell you that Blake got under the bar and did exactly the same thing. Right down to the look of sheer determination in his gray-blue eyes. He jumped up off the bench and flexed his guns right next to his brother. The other players ran over and felt the huge, shredded muscles of these two young giants. The Twin Towers surely were the most massive, strongest 14 year olds in the whole state, probably the whole country.

As they were flexing, the twins looked over at me, that puny little runt standing in front of Johnny. Since I was shorter than any of the players, they let me stand in front. "Hey waterboy," yelled Jake. "You ain't tested on the bench yet. You're a member of this team. You gotta test on the bench and get your tee shirt!" All the other players yelled in agreement. Johnny pushed me towards the bench. The bench that had 435 pounds of iron on the rack. "Uh, OK," I said. "I'll do it. But I think that bar's a little too heavy for me. I can only do 400." All the players laughed uproariously. Blake and Jake were laughing so hard they were almost crying. "Yeah right, waterboy, 400," said Blake. "Lets try about 10% of that. Strip it, guys." The big 9th graders stripped off all the plates, leaving only the 45 pound bar on the rack. Johnny realized that even that weight was going to be a challenge for me. He knew how weak I really was. "Hey, let him warm up first," said Johnny. "He didn't have a chance to warm up. Get down and crank out some pushups, John." So I got on the floor and tried to do some pushups. To my embarrassment and to the other players' great amusement I could only do three pushups. They could all do at least 100 pushups and the thought of a kid being so weak that he could only do three pushups was almost beyond their comprehension. I did another set, this time only being able to do two pathetic reps. "OK, I'm warmed up," I said meekly. I got under the bar and one of the 9th graders lifted it off the rack. Then I lowered the bar and I literally couldn't stop it as it crashed down onto my chest. All the players were laughing. Then I tried to push it up and I couldn't budge it one inch. The spotter noticed my struggle and finally placed his strong fingers under the bar and lifted it easily off my body whereupon with his help I lifted it up and locked my elbows.

"Jesus you're weak," said Blake. "You couldn't even lift the bar! Hey Jason, go get that little 30 pound barbell over there," he yelled to one of the other 9th graders. Blake lifted the 45 pound bar off the rack with one hand and did three one-arm reverse curls with the puny weight before tossing in on the floor. Then he took the 30 pound barbell from Jason and put it on the rack. "I used this for benches when I was three years old," said Blake. "I pumped out reps with this when I was in pre-school." I gulped at the thought that I was going to attempt a maximum bench press with a weight that Blake and Jake used for reps when they were three years old. I got under the bar and Blake stood over me as the spotter. I looked up in awe at his bulging cock, his shredded abs, his huge pecs hanging over those abs, and his strong jaw. I grabbed the bar and lifted off the rack. Then I lowered it to my chest and without any help at all managed with considerable effort to press it back up and lock my elbows. Blake started clapping and all the other players followed his lead. I pushed the bar back on the rack, jumped up off the bench and flexed my little arms just like Blake and Jake did. Several of the other players came up and squeezed my little biceps, crushing my spongy muscles to the bone with their strong fingers and forearm muscles. "Wow, what a wimp," said the kid who was digging his thick fingers into my right bicep. "I'm eight times as strong as you, you know that? One of my arms is four times as strong as both of your arms." The kid was looking at the bulging muscles on his arm and comparing them to the skinny flab on my arm. He was obviously getting off on it. His big muscles were applying incredible force to his fingers, which were digging deeper and deeper into my bicep, literally smashing the little muscle. He didn't care about the pain he was inflicting on me. He was a muscle jock and he did what he wanted. Frankly at that moment I didn't care about the pain either. I was deliriously happy. Now I could get my Marauders tee shirt!

Coach Mad Dog handed out the tee shirts. The Twin Towers had just benched 35 pounds more than the biggest weight on Mad Dog's tee shirts. Mad Dog gave them each a 400 pound tee shirt. Then he got a Magic Marker, crossed out the middle zero and wrote a "3" over the top. Blake and Jake seemed to be satisfied with this solution. They were actually proud they had busted through the highest number the Coach had. Coach Mad Dog promised he would order some bigger tee shirts because he knew the Twin Towers were going to get even stronger during the school year. At first they didn't know what to do with me. They didn't have a shirt that said 30 pounds. Then one of the players got an idea and took a 130 pound shirt and crossed out the "1" with the Magic Marker. I proudly put on my Madison Football 30 tee shirt. I had an altered tee shirt just like the Twin Towers. I was really happy to be a Marauder, albeit the scrawny waterboy. Some of the other players came over and gave me high fives. One of them punched me in the gut and I keeled over in pain. He was just playing, of course. These kids all play rough.

After the bench test, Coach Mad Dog announced that the team was going to go out on the field for some drills. All the players followed the Coach out to the field where they stood at attention in their shorts and shoes. Their bodies were radiant. At Coach's orders, they had all taken off their new tee shirts. Coach Mad Dog didn't want those tee shirts to get ripped up on the first day of practice. The first drill was wind sprints. The Coach ordered the players to put on their jock straps. Instantly the players stripped off their shorts and underwear. I noticed that about 2/3 of the players wore jockey shorts and the other 1/3 wore boxers. A matter of personal taste, I guess. More ball room in the boxers. The players didn't seem embarrassed at all as they stood there totally naked on the field, letting it all hang out. Like most jocks, they were totally uninhibited. They fished around in their backpacks looking for their jockstraps. This gave me my first opportunity to inspect their endowment, and just like their bodies it was incredible. My eyes were immediately drawn to the cocks of Blake and Jake, which hung about four inches down from their crotches and swung back and forth like big thick snakes. Then I spotted Kevin's cock, which believe it or not was just as big and thick as the Twin Towers'. No wonder he got to fuck every girl in the 9th grade. He was just irresistible in every way. Then my eyes saw Rasheed's big hanging dick and they about bulged out of my head. His black cock was longer and thicker than the Twin Towers'. That dude was built! Finally I looked at Johnny's cock, which I had seen many times. I was impressed to see that Johnny's cock measured up very well against this stud team. It wasn't yet as big as Kevin's, but it was bigger than any of the other 7th graders' and I could tell it was destined for glory, just like the rest of Johnny.

The players put on their jocks and shorts and headed out to the field for wind sprints. Coach Mad Dog made them run 10 yards up the field, then stop and rest for a few seconds, then run another 20 yards, then stop and rest for a few seconds, then run another 30 yards, then stop and rest for a few seconds, and then run another 40 yards, when they would be done with that "set". Then they had to do it all over again. They did this 20 times. I couldn't believe the shape these muscular kids were in. I would have collapsed after one or two of these "sets" but all these kids did them easily and ran damn fast as well. At the start of every sprint, their big thigh and calf muscles exploded with power as they propelled the muscular bodies of the young players forward with tremendous acceleration. I marveled at the tremendous power and speed these kids had in their legs. At the end of the 20 "sets" they all came running over to me and grabbed the big cups of water that I had set up. They gulped them down and asked for more. Sweat was pouring off their toned bodies. They were like efficient machines, burning fuel and soaking up lots of water, much of which came pouring off their hot sweaty skin.

The next drill was called "hitting". For this, they all had to put on their shoulderpads and helmets. They were going to hit each other extremely hard, and the shoulderpads and helmets would protect their shoulders from dislocation and their heads from a concussion. They could also be used as offensive weapons to hit an opposing player even harder. The rest of their bodies were totally exposed. They would have to rely on the armor-like muscle of their rippling arms, their slab-like lats, their bulging pecs, their shredded abs and their tree trunk legs to protect them from the opposing player who would be hitting them with devastating force. All the players loved the "hitting" drill. This was what football was all about. There was no limit on how hard you could hit an opposing player. The harder the better. You could take out all your pent-up aggression and just smash your shoulder into the gut of the opposing player. All the Marauders loved to hit. They were so much bigger and stronger than the opposing players on the other Junior High School teams that they just mowed them over like big bulls plowing through a flock of sheep. They were even bigger and stronger this year than last. One big Marauder would be able to plow through two or three wimpy opposing players. One Marauder would be able to hit an opposing player so hard that the kid would be out cold. They loved it. They loved to dominate. Coach Mad Dog taught them how to hit hard and to completely dominate every opposing team.

When the Coach gave them the order to put on shoulderpads, the players came over to the sidelines looking for some pads that would fit. The Twin Towers found the biggest pads there, the ones they had used last year, and tried to tie them on. "Get over here, waterboy," yelled Jake. "These pads are too small. Help me get them on." I ran over to Blake and Jake and saw them struggling to get the pads over their massive shoulders, traps and chests. The pads that had fit them just fine a year ago were now way too small. I did my best to help them put on their shoulderpads. Their shoulders were pumped and sweaty from the wind sprints. I couldn't resist poking my fingers into Jake's thick, solid delts. The muscle felt like rock. Jake turned his head, looked at me and winked. Then he raised his arms, flexing his huge shoulders as I cupped my little hands around them. I could smell powerful scent of Jake's sweat coming from his armpits as he raised his huge arms and flexed his delts for me. I wished I didn't have to put pads over those glorious monsters but I did. I used my small hands to maneuver the pads over the huge shoulders, traps and chests of the twins and then managed to tie the very ends of the laces together to keep the pads on. Clearly these big studs were going to need some new pads, most definitely in a size NFL players use.

Not surprisingly I also had to help many of the other players on the team with their shoulderpads. The pads they used last year were way too small for their vastly more muscular shoulders and chests. Some of them were able to find pads from last year's 9th graders which were big enough for them to use now. Others, like Kevin, Rasheed and Tony, had grown even bigger than last year's 9th graders and finding pads big enough for them was a struggle. As part of fitting on their pads, I made sure I poked and felt the bulging delts of all these players. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. Putting shoulder pads on the biggest, buffest most muscular 13 and 14 year olds in the entire state was a job I would have killed to get. And here I was. I was pretty good at tying on pads that were too small. Finally I was able to tie the final strings. I made a note of all the bigger sizes we needed.

The kids went out on the field and started hitting. I was amazed how loud the sound was of their shoulderpads hitting together. These kids were really hitting each other hard and it sounded like rams hitting their horns together as the shoulderpads smashed into each other. Coach Mad Dog had them get in lines about five yards apart. At the sound of his whistle, the lines would come crashing together, each player trying to knock down the other with sheer brute force. At first, the Coach had 9th graders against 9th graders, 8th graders against 8th graders and 7th graders against 7th graders. Except for the Twin Towers smashing and running over everyone they hit, these matches were pretty even. Then Mad Dog let 'em loose. He let the 8th and 9th graders hit anyone they wanted, including the 7th graders. He told them this was what it was going to be like hitting the opposing players from the other schools. Our 7th graders were about the same size and strength of most of these opposing players. So hit some 7th graders and feel what its like to have your big muscles crush the other player, said Big Dog. Its a rush, he said. You'll feel like a stud.

So the 8th and 9th graders had a field day hitting the 7th graders, using their big weight-trained bodies to literally annihilate their little teammates. The only 7th grader who stood a chance against these guys was Johnny, who hit back with incredible fury, leveling several 8th and 9th graders who tried to hit him. After about 15 minutes of this, most of the 7th graders were totally exhausted and some were lying on the field unable to get up. The 8th and 9th graders felt great. They felt like the studs they were. Coach Mad Dog blew his whistle and ordered me to go out and help the 7th graders. I brought them water and made sure none of them was seriously injured. Luckily they weren't. When the 7th graders stood up, Mad Dog went over to them and shook their hands. "You guys are tough," he said. "You stood up to those big guys and even though their muscles were too big and strong for you, you didn't give up. Welcome to the team." It seems this was a little initiation Mad Dog did every year to the 7th graders. Letting them get pulverized by the big 8th and 9th graders to see if they had the guts to be real Marauders. Bigger, stronger, faster, meaner. Next year, when these 7th graders had packed over 50 pounds -- maybe 80 or 90 pounds -- of muscle on their bodies, they'd be able to do the same thing to the new 7th graders. Its a Marauder tradition.

Practice was now over and the players ripped off their shoulderpads and helmets. They gulped down tons of water. Their bodies were radiant, glistening with sweat. Then Coach Mad Dog brought out containers of white liquid for each player. It was his special supplement. It contained protein, vitamins and minerals, amino acids, creatine, and some other secret stuff the Coach wouldn't reveal. Whatever it was, it produced fantastic results as I could see from looking at the bodies of the 8th and 9th grade players. The Coach's nutrition program consisted of having his players eat huge quantities of good food, mainly protein, and drinking three pints of his special supplement every day -- mid morning, after practice and before going to bed. For the 7th graders, Coach Mad Dog ordered them to double the amount of food they were eating, effective immediately. He said that the combination of the extra food, his super-intense weight program and his special supplement would pack more muscle on their little bodies than they ever thought possible. And they would begin packing on the muscle immediately. The Coach predicted that when we played our first game in two weeks against Hamilton Junior High, all of the 7th graders would have gained 10 to 20 pounds of solid muscle. They would be turning in their tee shirts for bigger numbers sometimes more than once per week. They would be getting huge. They would be getting Bigger, Faster, Stronger and Meaner. They would be able to dominate opposing players like they were little girls. He pointed to the 8th and 9th graders and said that this is what the 7th graders will look like next year, maybe even sooner for some of them. The 7th graders were really stoked. I could see they were all very excited about getting big and muscular and being able to kick ass. I looked at Johnny and flexed my little muscles. Johnny smiled and flexed back. He knew he was going to get huge.

The 7th graders looked at the special supplement with great curiosity. This was their first taste of it and they drank it slowly, tasting for any strange flavor. All the 8th and 9th graders gulped it down. They loved it and loved what it did to their bodies.

After drinking the special supplement all the players headed for the showers. I was right behind them. We all stripped in the locker room. The big football players were all noisy and carousing, snapping each other's bare ass with towels and doing all sorts of other horseplay. Standing around totally nude, they were showing off their muscles again to each other and challenging their teammates to punch them in the gut. A couple of players were arm-wrestling on the bench, testing their young muscles to see who was the strongest.

I headed into the shower and saw that Kevin and some other players were already there. Kevin was soaping up his beautiful body, slowly moving his hands across his pecs and abs as he lathered his golden tan skin with the soap. Then he moved his hands down to his crotch and legs, slathering the soap all over his big balls and cock and his incredibly muscular legs. When he looked up and saw me, he said "Hey waterboy, get over here and lather up my back." I walked over and stood directly behind the tall, blond quarterback, marveling at the width of his shoulders and the taper of his lats. I took the soap and started rubbing my hands across Kevin's broad back, lathering up the soap and washing his beautiful, clear skin. Kevin stood perfectly still, letting me feel the thickness and hardness of his back muscles as my hands roamed around freely. I moved my hands out to the edges of his lats and then up into his armpits, cleaning his sweaty pits with the oozing soap. Kevin flexed his lats while I was touching them and the big slabs of muscle bulged out like wings. I grabbed the big wings with my hands and felt the hardness of the muscle as I rubbed soap all over the vast expanse.

Next I moved my hands down to Kevin's lower back. The two ridges of muscle there were incredibly hard, and Kevin wasn't even flexing them. These were the muscles that enabled Kevin to deadlift incredible poundages and they were very big and very solid. I moved my hands even lower and started massaging Kevin's firm, round, muscle butt. His butt was very white compared with the golden tan of the rest of his body. The skin was clear and soft, just like a baby's, but the muscle underneath was as hard as a rock when Kevin flexed it. I lathered the soap all over Kevin's butt, sticking my fingers deep into his crack as I cleaned. Kevin flexed his glutes while my fingers were in his crack and the two globes of muscle crushed my little fingers with tremendous power. I couldn't believe how strong and hard Kevin's ass muscles were. I loved the feeling of Kevin's firm, round ass as I massaged it with the soap.

Suddenly without warning Kevin turned around and faced me. "You can do this side too," he said. He looked down and saw my totally hard little cock and smiled. His cock was getting hard too. The big weapon was starting to enlarge and rise up from his crotch. I looked into Kevin's beautiful blue eyes and just about came right then. But I controlled myself and started lathering his big shoulders with the soap. I rubbed my hands across the striated fibers of muscle as Kevin willed his delts to twitch and flex for me. They were like cannonballs. Big mounds of striated muscle capping his wide shoulders like thick, hard clay. I moved my hands down to his arms and rubbed the soap all over his biceps and triceps. Kevin flexed and unflexed his muscles as I rubbed them. I couldn't believe how big and hard Kevin's biceps and triceps were. The three heads of his triceps bulged out from his arm when he flexed them and they felt like iron snakes under his skin. Next I lathered up his forearms. Kevin's forearms were much bigger and far more muscular than my upper arms. Kevin rolled his wrists up and down several times, which caused his forearms to flex into the shape of bowling pins. Veins covered the big fibers of muscle on his incredibly ripped forearms. Next I soaped up Kevin's big hands. The skin on the palms of his hands was thick, rough and callused, built up from years of throwing footballs, basketballs, baseballs, lifting weights and other jock activities. The contrast between Kevin's big, strong, thick hands and my little dainty hands was amazing. As I placed my hands on Kevin's, he squeezed. Without even trying his huge hands crushed my little hands like they were Jello. Kevin laughed as I tried in vain to pull my hands away from his iron grip and then he let go.

I moved my hands over to Kevin's pecs and lathered the soap all over the big, round muscles. Kevin flexed his pecs while I placed my hands directly on top of them and it felt like rocks were forming under my fingers. His nipples stood out firmly erect and actually pressed into my hands. Kevin relaxed his flex and I kneaded the big, dense mounds of muscle with my fingers, paying special attention to his erect nipples. Kevin let out little groans of pleasure. Then I moved my hands down to Kevin's incredible abs. I had been waiting for this moment. First I lathered up the whole area with lots of oozing soap. Then very slowly I ran my fingers through every crevice of Kevin's shredded abs, poking in occasionally and being met with a brick wall of resistance. I felt the rippling hardness of the corrugated muscle fibers that could resist the hardest punch with ease. I ran my fingers down to his oblique muscles, those flaring, slashing muscles that start just above the hips and cut down to the crotch. Kevin's obliques were exceptional, just like the obliques of many swimmers. They were just as hard as the rest of his muscles.

Before I got to Kevin's waiting crotch, I slathered the soap all over his big legs and rubbed my hands and fingers over the thick muscle. As I rubbed his thighs, he relaxed his quads and I was able to knead my fingers a little way into the massive muscle. Then he flexed and his quads exploded into the most shredded, dense muscle I had ever seen or felt. The big muscles looked like teardrops just above his knees. The fibers stood out in bold relief and veins were crisscrossing everywhere under his skin. I tried to poke into the flexed muscle, but it was like steel. I ran my hands down to his calves and felt the incredible size and hardness of the two heads of calf muscle that bulged out from his shins. I even soaped up his feet. He had big feet and like his hands the bottoms were tough and callused. He had obviously gone barefoot a lot. I cleaned between his toes and marveled at how even his toes were bigger and thicker than mine. It was clear that Kevin had done a lot of hard running as well as heavy lifting. His 14-year-old legs and feet were big, strong and fit.

Finally I moved my hands up to Kevin's crotch and started lathering up his pubic hair, his big, low-hanging balls and his massive cock. Kevin's pubic hair was blond, just like the rest of his hair. His beautiful tan body was completely hairless except for the blond hair in his armpits and his crotch. Kevin started to moan as I fondled his cock and balls. I also ran my hands over his abs and obliques, taking in the glory of Kevin's shredded muscles. Kevin was now completely hard and his gigantic cock was standing at full attention, pointing almost directly upward. As I caressed his balls and cock he started moaning louder, which excited me even more. My little cock was totally hard, of course, and the sight of Kevin's huge, throbbing cock right before my eyes was almost too much for me to take. Kevin started moving his hips back and forth, thrusting his cock forward and backward. I ran my soapy hands all over Kevin's abs, his butt and his legs as he thrust his hips back and forth while moaning with pleasure. Then he said, "Grab it!" and I wrapped my fingers around his rock-hard cock. Immediately I could feel the big organ pulsate in my hand and a huge blast of jism spurted out and hit the wall of the shower in back of us about 10 feet high. This was followed by about 10 more blasts of pure white cum, huge quantities of jism carrying millions and millions of Kevin's perfect sperm being spurted out into the shower by his huge, throbbing cock. Kevin was groaning with absolute pleasure as spasms of ecstasy shot through his body. Kevin came for what seemed like over a minute. His balls were full of cum and his thick, long cock shot that cum like a machine gun shooting liquid bullets. Even as the last drops of cum were oozing from the end of his dick, his cock was still as hard as a steel pipe. Finally, when Kevin had finished his long orgasm, I grabbed my own little cock, which was twitching with pleasure and ready to cum.

Then I heard a loud voice over my shoulder. "Not so fast, waterboy. Its time for your initiation." It was Tony. He was standing there along with eight other 8th and 9th graders. I was surrounded by massive muscle. They had been watching Kevin's incredible orgasm and most of their cocks were hard too. Kevin looked at his buff teammates, looked at his still-hard cock, and smiled. "That was awesome," he said. "OK wimp, now the big boys are gonna initiate you onto the team. Lets go, men." I had no idea what kind of initiation they had in mind. The 7th grade players had been initiated by getting killed during the "hitting" drill. What did these big 8th and 9th graders have in store for me?

"Stay on your knees, waterboy," ordered Tony. I was already on my knees from lathering up Kevin's cock and balls. "Get in the middle of the circle." The ten players had formed a circle and I crawled on my knees into the middle of it. Without warning, the players started flexing their muscles. They did double biceps, lat spreads, quad flexes, side chest shots, ab flexes -- everything you could imagine. I was mesmerized, watching ten of the biggest and most muscular 13 and 14 year olds flexing above me. I was so excited that my cock was starting to throb. I placed my right hand on my cock. The buff players knew what I was going to do next. Suddenly they each reached down to their own cocks and pointed them at me. Immediately they all started pissing on me. Thick streams of warm piss hit my face and body from all directions. The streams of piss hit me hard, like they were being fired from big air-powered squirt guns. Like everything else about these big studs, their piss was powerful. The feeling of the piss of ten huge jocks hitting my puny body like watercannons was overwhelming. My cock exploded and the cum shot out about five feet, the farthest it had ever shot. I spurted my cum again and again as the warm piss continued to pour out of the jocks' big bladders. I had never had a longer orgasm in my life. Finally I was done cumming and they were done pissing. Urine was dripping from every inch of my head, face and body. Tony came up to me and picked me up off my knees with one jerk of his big right arm. Then he gave me a high five. "You're initiated, waterboy," he said. "You passed the test with flying colors. If you can take getting pissed on by ten guys, you can take anything. Now get under that shower and wash up." Kevin handed me his soap and pushed me under the shower. The players laughed and hollered at the initiation they had just given me as they walked out of the shower to dress. I stood under the shower and just reveled in the glorious moment. I never wanted to forget it.

The next day all the members of the football team wore their tight Madison Football tee shirts to school. I was no exception. My shirt was too big for my scrawny body but I didn't care. I proudly walked around. Kids would look at my shirt and look at me with a puzzled expression on their faces. I sure didn't look like the rest of the players. The real players strutted around pushing out their chests so everyone could see how much they could bench press. I could tell the 8th grade girls were very impressed when Tony and Rasheed walked up to them with 310 and 290 printed on the tee shirts that could hardly contain their big muscles. They oohed and aahhed at the players' big muscles and several girls felt their biceps as the boys proudly flexed them. All the other boys in the school were in total awe of the football players. They knew that if they ever crossed a football player they would be toast. The football players took no prisoners and any kid who got in their way got the shit beat out of him.

Right after lunch I was walking outside on the playground getting some fresh air. I saw two boys approaching me and I immediately recognized them as two bullies from my grade school. They were (or used to be) in the class ahead of me, so in grade school they were in 6th grade and I was in 5th grade. Now that I had skipped a grade, we were both in the 7th grade. In grade school they used to pick on me relentlessly. They were both much bigger and stronger than I was and they took great pleasure in inflicting pain on me. I got punched, strangled, arms twisted, bear hugged until I couldn't breathe -- you name it. Ron and Eddie delighted in dreaming up new tortures for me. I dreaded the sight of them here on the playground.

"Well look who's here," said Eddie. "Its little John from grade school. Aren't you supposed to be back in 6th grade with the little kids? What are you doing here with big 7th graders like us? And look at that. You're impersonating a football player to boot! Look at that, Ron. The pathetic wimp thinks he's a football player. What a joke!" The two bullies started coming right at me. "Lets teach him a lesson," said Ron. "He don't belong in this school and he sure ain't no football player." At that Ron grabbed my arms and started twisting them up my back. Eddie wound up his right arm and punched me hard in the gut. I had been through this before. I knew I was about to be beat to a pulp.

Just then I heard a kid yell "Let him go, asshole!" All of a sudden I saw Tony and Rasheed running up to us at full speed. When they arrived Tony grabbed Ron's arms and pulled them so hard Ron's hands were literally ripped away from my arms. Rasheed rushed up and placed his big body between Eddie and me so any more of Eddie's punches to my abs would have to go through Rasheed's washboard abs first. Rasheed grabbed Eddie in his armpits and lifted him two feet in the air. He held him there with the sheer force of his bulging delts and arms. "You dissin' a Marauder, dude?" said Eddie. "It ain't cool to be dissin' a Marauder, honkey, 'cause bad things gonna happen to you." Eddie looked down at the "290" on Rasheed's tee shirt and started trembling.

"This little wimp ain't no Marauder," protested Ron. "We used to beat him up all the time. He ain't no football player. He's a pathetic little nerd. He probably stole that shirt." Tony looked Ron in the eye, pulled back his huge right arm, made a fist, and with an explosion of power from his bulging muscles drove his fist into Ron's gut with such devastating force that Ron's abs were ruptured and several of his internal organs were damaged. Ron buckled over in abject pain but Tony didn't let him fall down. He wrapped his huge arms around the bully's chest in a bear hug and started squeezing. As he squeezed, his face was right next to Ron's. "Listen up asshole," said Tony. "The waterboy here is a member of the team just like Rasheed and me. You beat up on him and its just like you beat up on us. And I don't think you'd like to know what we do to punks who try to beat up on us. But you're gonna know it, punk, 'cause you beat up on the waterboy. Now you're gonna pay the price."

At that, Tony started squeezing his huge arms. "Did you ever give the waterboy a bear hug, asshole?" asked Tony. Tony looked at me and I nodded my head. "I figured you did, asshole" said Tony. "Well, here's what a real bear hug feels like, punk. Just pretend I'm you and you're the waterboy. I'm gonna enjoy this." Tony pulled back on his huge arms, pulling Ron's chest and ribs into the bulging steel of Tony's big chest. His massive lats spread out from his back as they applied incredible force to his arms. His big delts and biceps bulged as they helped apply enormous crushing power to Tony's contracting arms. Immediately all the air was forced out of Ron's lungs. Tony applied more pressure. I thought I could hear the cracking sound of ribs breaking as Tony's huge, rippling arms contracted tighter and tighter around the collapsed chest of the gasping bully. Ron's face was beet red and saliva started drooling out of his mouth. He was rolling his head back in forth in pain. The pain in his chest must have been tremendous.

Meanwhile, Rasheed let Eddie down on his feet. He grabbed Eddie's right arm and twisted it up his back. "I bet you used to twist the waterboy's weak little arms, didn't you honkey?" said Rasheed. "No I didn't, no I didn't," yelled Eddie. Rasheed looked over to me and I nodded my head. "You're lying, honkey," said Rasheed. "I bet your arms are a lot stronger than the waterboy's aren't they, honkey. It was easy to twist his little arms until you hurt them really bad, wasn't it, honkey. I bet you had a lot of fun doing that, didn't you honkey? Well, I bet my arms are a lot stronger than yours. My arms can bench 290 and curl 150." Rasheed flexed his big left arm right in Eddie's face. "What can you bench, honkey? 90? 100? You're a fuckin' weakling compared to me, just like the waterboy's a weakling compared to you. And now you're gonna feel what its like to be a weakling. You're gonna feel what's its like to be so weak you can't do nothin' to stop me. You're gonna feel what its like to be totally helpless against a big bad kid who's three times as strong as you are and wants to fuck you up."

At that, Rasheed lifted his big right arm and started twisting Eddie's right arm up his back. Rasheed's shoulder and arm muscles bulged as they forced the bully's arm higher and higher up his back. Eddie cried out in pain, begging the big black football player to stop. "Is your little arm too weak to stop my big muscles, punk?" asked Rasheed. "Do you want me to stop? Did you stop when the waterboy asked you to stop twisting his arm? Did you stop when you were twisting so hard he cried out in pain?" Eddie yelled "Yeah, yeah I stopped." Rasheed looked at me and I shook my head. "You lied again, honkey. You're a fucking liar. You're gonna get just what you did to the waterboy, only I'm a lot badder than you are so you're gonna get wasted by my big muscles." Rasheed raised his big, muscular arm even higher. The huge muscles in his shoulder and arm were bulging out under his thin black skin as they applied an absolutely enormous force to Eddie's arm. Finally I heard a crackling sound, like a chicken drumstick being ripped off its body. The incredible power of Rasheed's muscles had ripped apart Eddie's tendons and ligaments and dislocated his arm from his shoulder. Eddie was shrieking in abject pain but Rasheed just laughed.

Ron was spitting out blood and gasping for air as Tony's huge arms crushed the life out of him. Ron looked at Tony plaintively, begging the muscular jock for his life with his eyes since he had no air in his lungs to talk. "You like being bear hugged, asshole?" said Tony. "You like being up close and personal with a big muscle jock like me? You like being crushed by my strong muscles? No? You want me to stop? Did you stop when the waterboy begged you? You don't have to answer, motherfucker, 'cause I know you didn't. You got off on the feeling of your big arms crushing his little chest. Crushing it like this." Tony tightened his arms even harder, if that was possible. I heard another rib crack. Ron's head started rolling around uncontrollably as the pain became unbearable. "Well, guess what, asshole. I'm a nicer guy than you are." At that, Tony released his bear hug and let Ron breathe in a big breath of life-giving air. Tony pushed Ron over next to the howling Eddie, who was holding his dislocated arm and crying in pain.

Rasheed looked at me, pointed at Eddie and said "Hey waterboy. Punch out this honkey. Let him have it good." I didn't know what to do. I had never punched anyone before. "Make a fist and punch him out," said Rasheed. So I made a fist, wound up my right arm and punched Eddie as hard as I could in his gut. There was a dull thud as my weak little punch bounced harmlessly off Eddie's abs. Eddie kind of smiled. "No, no, waterboy," said Rasheed. "That's not how to do it. Now that you're a Marauder you gotta learn how to punch a dude out. Here's how you do it." At that, Rasheed pulled back his right arm and landed a smashing blow into Eddie's gut. I could see his big, black fist penetrate deeply into Eddie's midsection. Eddie cried out in abject pain and started to buckle over. But Rasheed wasn't finished. He immediately landed punch after punch to Eddie's gut and chest, each one with the power of a piledriver. Finally he wound up his left arm and landed a smashing left hook to Eddie's nose, breaking it into a hundred pieces and knocking Eddie out cold. The former bully fell to the ground with blood gushing from his face and big red welts all over his body.

Ron looked at the pulverized body of his friend Eddie in horror. "That's the way to do it," said Tony. "Now try that out on spastic-boy here," referring to the saliva dripping out of Ron's mouth from being crushed to near death. I stood across from Ron and raised my fists. Ron was frozen. He knew he had absolutely no chance of getting away. I punched Ron's abs and chest with both my right and left fists, but my weak little punches had absolutely no effect. I even tried to punch his face, but I hit his jaw and hurt my hand. Ron looked at me and sneered. Tony grabbed my hands and I stopped trying to punch. "Those were good punches, waterboy, but ya gotta put more power behind 'em." He looked at my Marauder's tee shirt with a "30" on it and then he looked down at his own tee shirt with a "310" on it and he grinned. "Like 10 times more power!" yelled Tony as he smashed his big right fist into Ron's gut. Ron's gut had already been softened up by Tony's first punch, and this time his fist blasted through his abdominal wall like it was made of mush. Then, Tony's huge shoulders and arms drove his fists into every part of Ron's poor body with the power of a jackhammer. I couldn't imagine what it must have felt like to be pounded into pulp by the devastating power of Tony's big, rippling muscles. Finally Tony landed a powerful right uppercut to Ron's chin, breaking his jaw into little pieces and knocking him unconscious. We looked at the battered bullies lying in pools of blood on the ground. Tony turned to me and said "I don't think they'll be picking on you anymore. You're a Marauder, and nobody fucks with the Marauders." Then he flexed his huge biceps and I kissed them.

The team had practice again that afternoon. We spent 1-1/2 hours in the weight room and 1-1/2 hours on the field. In the weight room the players worked out their backs and arms and then their abs. Coach Mad Dog had them on a routine where they worked out back and arms on day 1, chest and shoulders on day 2 and legs on day 3. They worked their abs every day. Then after day 3 they started day 1 over again. This gave each muscle group several days to rest so it could grow bigger and stronger. The Coach had the team work out extra hard on Saturdays, with an extra hour in the weight room and an extra hour on the field. Sunday was the day of rest. The players all took their shirts off during their workouts. They wanted to check out their growing bodies in the mirror. And just one look at the 8th and 9th graders was enough to prove Mad Dog's program packed an incredible amount of muscle on the bodies of young teenagers.

As the waterboy, I helped out in the weight room, making sure the players had plenty of water to drink as they pumped the iron and otherwise attending to their needs. I couldn't believe the how much weight these kids could lift. They applied incredible intensity to their workout. Coach Mad Dog walked around encouraging them to lift heavier and heavier weights. When he saw a kid crank out 10 lat pulldowns with 150 pounds on his third set, he said "You gotta add more weight. That's a sissy weight for you. You gotta add 10 more pounds. You gotta make it hard. You gotta make it hurt. Remember -- Bigger! Stronger! Faster! Meaner! You gotta lift fuckin' heavy weights to get fuckin' totally huge so you can kick ass!" The kid looked up at the hulking Coach, who flexed his 25 inch guns and sneered. The kid's eyes bulged as he saw the huge muscles ripple in Mad Dog's arms. Muscles that had crushed the head of an Iraqi soldier like a grape. The kid immediately added 10 pounds and cranked out five painful reps of lat pulldowns. Then after a short rest he did three more reps with help from a spotter. In the end, his lats were burning up. And they were totally engorged with blood, bulging out to the sides of his back like thick wings. Those last two incredibly heavy sets, plus the huge quantities of food he was eating and Mad Dog's special supplement, would make his lats so much bigger and stronger in the next three days that he'd be able to do 10 reps with that weight next time. This is how the Marauders grew into young Supermen. Young supermen who were so much bigger, stronger, faster and meaner than their opponents that they wiped the field with their puny little asses.

Johnny was really excited at being able to take his first real workout with weights. His muscles were already big, buff and toned from all the pushups, pullups, situps and running he did, but weights were something totally new to him. As he did his lat pulldowns, I noticed his lats spread out from his back like they had never done before. Pullups were really easy for Johnny, so he was using weight for his lat pulldowns that was much heavier than his bodyweight. This was challenging his lats like they had never been challenged before. He did five sets, and after his last extremely heavy set he did a lat spread in the mirror. I stood right next to him and marveled at how big and wide Johnny's lats had gotten just from those five grueling sets. They were completely flushed with blood and covered with veins. "You're gonna get huge!" I gasped, as I wrapped my fingers around the hard muscle. Johnny grinned proudly and said "Yeah, I think you're right. My muscles were just made to lift heavy iron. They love it!"

I walked over to the Twin Towers who were also doing lat pulldowns. Johnny's lats were wide, but these guys' lats were gigantic. As they did the pulldowns with a massive weight, their big lats flared out from their chests by almost a foot on each side. Their lats were huge slabs of solid muscle. Their armpits were like huge caverns, formed by the gigantic muscles of their lats, pecs and delts. Sweat was rolling off their skin as they strained their massive muscles to their absolute maximum, doing five sets of extremely heavy lat pulldowns. I wished that I could bury my face in Blake's big armpit and breathe in the heady, masculine smell of his jock-boy sweat, sweat produced by the furnace burning in his machine-like body that was pulling down hundreds of pounds of iron for rep after rep.

My cock was rock hard during the entire weight room workout. After working their backs to absolute failure, the big muscle jocks worked on their arms. They spent 45 minutes blasting their arms with huge weights. Johnny's arms looked absolutely incredible after he had finished his arm workout. He had never challenged his arms with heavy weights before and they were so pumped and bulging that I thought his muscles were going to explode out of his skin. He flexed his biceps for me and I could have sworn that the those baseball sized muscles were at least an inch larger than they had been before. I wrapped my fingers around the hot, bulging muscle and squeezed. If it's possible for human flesh to feel harder than a rock, Johnny's bicep did. It was so hard it was scary. "I feel fuckin' strong, John," said Johnny. "I feel like I could kick anybody's ass I wanted!" Johnny was stoked. He could see his muscles were getting big and strong from lifting the weights and he was stoked. He wanted to get huge and he knew he would. His cock was bulging in his shorts.

Well, after the workout, the team headed out to the field for drills. Like yesterday, they didn't wear any shirts, just jockstraps and shorts. And when they did the "hitting" drill they put on their shoulderpads and helmets. They did the "hitting" drill last, after they had done wind sprints and worked on some of their skills, like passing and catching. Kevin and Johnny passed the ball to the backs and the ends. Johnny looked great. By the time the "hitting" drill started, all the players were incredibly sweaty. Like yesterday, I helped the players put on their too-small shoulderpads. Blake and Jake's traps and shoulders were dripping with sweat as I helped put on their pads. I ran my hands over the huge mounds of muscle on their shoulders and their skin felt hot to the touch. It also felt as hard as a rock. Blake lifted his arm and let me feel his flexing delt. As he raised his huge arm I could smell the strong odor of pungent sweat coming from his armpit. I wanted to bury my face in that armpit right then, but I tied up his pads like a good waterboy and he raced out onto the field to plow his huge body into some other kids' bodies. I knew who would win that contest.

I noticed that Blake and Jake were talking to each other on the field and looking at me while they were talking. After the "hitting" drill was over, they both came over to me to help them with their pads. They were now incredibly hot and sweaty. I gave them large cups of water and they each gulped down three cups. "Hey, waterboy," said Blake. "Jake and me got an idea. You know the fun we were having yesterday when we crushed your wimpy little body? And then we flexed in the mirror and you were just so puny compared to us? Well, Jake and me wanna do that again with you at our house. We'll have more privacy there, if ya know what I mean." Jake took his huge hand and placed it on his cock, which started to bulge under his shorts and jockstrap. "Whaddya say, waterboy. We can go right after we shower. Our parents are gonna be late today so there won't be anyone home."

Well, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. To be asked home by these two enormous studs was beyond my wildest dreams. But I had one condition in mind. This would fulfill my absolute total fantasy, something I had been thinking about all afternoon. "Yeah, I'd love to go home with you guys. But I have one favor to ask. Don't take a shower. I want to be able to feel your hot, sweaty bodies and smell your jock-stud sweat just like you are right now. I wanna see those muscles glisten with sweat as you pump 'em up to awesome size. I wanna bury my little face in your huge, smelly armpits and breathe in that incredibly masculine odor." Blake and Jake looked at each other and smiled. "Sounds hot!" yelled Jake as he lifted his big arm and pushed my little face into his massive armpit. "Here's a free sample." The pungent smell of Jake's armpit was overwhelming. All that sweat had built up in there from the intense weightlifting and the hard field practice and now I was smelling it all. What a total musclestud, I thought to myself. Only a total musclestud could make sweat that smelled like this.

"Let's go!" yelled Blake, obviously excited about what was going to happen at his house. He yanked me away from his brother's armpit with one easy pull of his big arm. "Here, drink your supplement first, big guy," I said as I handed Blake and Jake their pints of Mad Dog's special supplement. They gulped it down in three swallows. They were such huge studs that I gave them another pint. They gulped that down too and then let out a loud burp. "Gotta keep feeding these big muscles," said Jake as he wiped his mouth with his shredded forearm. "OK, now lets go!" yelled Blake again. He picked me up like a baby and started carrying me off the field. We were going in the opposite direction of the locker room We were headed directly to the Twin Towers' house. All they were wearing was their jock straps, their shorts, their socks, and their football shoes. All I was wearing was my shorts, my socks and my sneakers.

As we walked, the two huge kids played with me like a toy. Blake pressed me up and down 20 times and then tossed me to Jake. To Blake, my 90 pounds felt like a feather. His huge delts and arms were capable of a 295 pound military press. Jake caught me and curled me 20 times. I must have felt like a broomstick since Jake could curl a 200 pound barbell. "We gotta keep pumpin' up, wimp," said Jake. "We gotta get our muscles all pumped and sweaty for you by the time we get home." To me their muscles were already incredibly pumped and sweaty. They were getting them even more pumped and sweaty. They were really into it.

I never took one step with my own feet in the six blocks we walked to Blake and Jake's house. They tossed me around between them the whole time. Blake even did 10 reps of one arm presses with me, first with his right arm and then with his left. Not to be outdone by his brother, Jake did 20 reps of triceps presses behind the neck, holding on to me as his little dumbbell. By the time we got to their house, their bodies were incredibly pumped.

Blake got a hidden key and opened the front door. Their house was very middle class. Nothing big but very comfortable. The said their parents wouldn't be home until after dinner so we had lots of time to play. They were going to make their own dinner tonight. Their mother had bought them four steaks each, two big potatoes each, lots of fruits and vegetables, and a gallon of milk to share. This was a normal dinner for them. Before we went upstairs to their bedroom the twins raided their refrigerator for a snack. I couldn't believe they were hungry after drinking a double portion of Coach Mad Dog's supplement, but they were. They each grabbed two chicken breasts and gobbled them up, washing the meat down with milk. I watched them eat their food. They ate very fast. They were like efficient eating machines, devouring the maximum amount of food in the minimum amount of time. When they were done, Blake patted his shredded, ripped gut and said "Feels good. Feels good to eat. Feels good to feed these muscles." He rubbed his hand over his sweaty washboard abs, knowing that those hard muscles were going to absorb their share of the protein and nutrients he was consuming.

Their snack had taken them less than one minute and their muscles were still incredibly pumped and sweaty from tossing me around. "OK, wimp, now its time to play," said Blake as he lifted me up and carried me upstairs. I had to keep reminding myself that these two huge muscle monsters were still kids -- only 14 years old. And kids like to play.

Blake carried me upstairs to the Towers' bedroom. It was a large room with two twin beds. It was obvious that they shared the room. They had shared a bedroom since they were born. One wall was a large mirror, practically covering the wall. Under the mirror were some weights -- two barbells and four dumbbells. The barbells weighed 100 and 150 pounds and the dumbbells weighed 50 and 75 pounds. Just some little weights for Blake and Jake to pump while they watched their muscles bulge and flex in the mirror. On the other side of the room there were shelves covered with trophies, blue ribbons and pictures. There must have been over 100 trophies -- first place trophies for football, soccer, basketball, baseball, track and field, martial arts, every sport you could imagine. The twins had started playing sports and winning trophies before they were in kindergarten and they had been winners all their lives. I looked at the pictures and saw Blake and Jake, even at ages 5, 7, 9 and 11 towering over their little teammates. In a couple of the pictures, the team had stripped off their jerseys. Blake and Jake were always way more muscular than their teammates. All their lives they had been big, strong and muscular. The other walls were covered with posters of big bodybuilders and football players. Blake and Jake already looked like these guys.

Blake saw me looking at the pictures of the buff young brothers. "We looked fuckin' good even when we were little kids, didn't we wimp?" said Blake as he grabbed me by the shoulders. "We were way stronger than you are now even when we were in kindergarten! And now we're so much bigger and stronger than you it ain't even funny. Check it out, wimp." Blake spun me around and made me face the mirror. Jake was already standing there flexing his pecs, lats and abs. I gasped as I saw that enormous amount of muscle flexing. Simultaneously, the two sweaty twins stripped off their shorts and jock straps and stood naked before the mirror in just their football shoes. Blake took his jockstrap and jammed it into my face. I was overwhelmed by the pungent smell of Blake's jockstrap. It was wet and stinking from the afternoon of heavy lifting and hard field workouts. "You like that smell, wimp?" said Blake. "You like the smell my big body makes when I lift fuckin' huge weights and mow down kids on the field like they were little girls? My crotch gets real wet and stinky when I'm working out and now you're smelling the whole thing!" Blake rubbed his sweaty jock in my nose and I breathed in the wonderful stink of the jock-boy sweat. Blake's crotch sweat smelled so masculine, so manly, so strong!

As I was breathing in the heady aroma of Blake's jock, the two brothers took off their shoes and socks. Then Jake ripped the jock out of my hand. "Enough of that, wimp," he said. "Now you're gonna feel and smell the real thing!" He picked me up and Blake jerked my shorts and briefs off my body with one swoop of his big arms. Then he ripped off my shoes and socks so I would be totally nude just like them. Jake set me down right between the two brothers in front of the mirror. My little body was dwarfed by the huge muscles on each side of me. "Jesus, you're puny," said Blake. "My arm's as big as your little leg." Blake bent over and flexed his arm in front of my thigh. Sure enough, the huge muscles of Blake's upper arm totally eclipsed the size of my thin, reed-like leg. "And my leg's as big as your waist," said Jake as he flexed his huge quads in front of my thin, flabby waist. I looked at that huge tree trunk of muscle and then looked down at my waist. Not only was Jake's thigh bigger than my waist, but it was made of solid, rock-like muscle whereas my waist was made of soft, jelly-like flab. Wow, I thought to myself. What a contrast between strength and weakness.

"Jesus it turns me on seeing my big muscles flexing next to your puny little sack of shit," said Blake. Blake's cock started to get hard. "Feel these muscles, wimp. Feel how big and hard these muscles are compared to your weak little bag of bones." I needed no more encouragement. Instantly I grabbed Blake's body, feeling the incredible size and hardness of his muscles as he flexed them in the mirror. I ran my tender hands over his huge bulging muscles. I licked his pecs and abs, tasting the wonderful salty taste of his sweat. Not to be outdone, Jake grabbed me and pulled me into his big body. I jumped up and wrapped my arms around Jake's thick neck. I hung there for a moment with my little cock poking into Jake's abs. Then I dropped down and rammed my face into his armpit, taking in the strong, pungent smell of his sweat. I licked that sweat and ran my hands all over Jake's big, strong body. Blake soon pulled me away and I did the same with him. I was just overwhelmed by flexing muscle, lurching from brother to brother feeling all their muscles and licking their sweaty bodies. I was in muscle heaven.

Suddenly Blake got on the floor in the pushup position. "Get on, bro," he said, and Jake got on his back. Jake was astride his huge brother with his cock forced up right onto Blake's hard musclebutt. Blake pressed up with his huge arms and did a perfect pushup with his brother on his back. I was dumbfounded at the strength of this kid. Then Blake did five more perfect pushups. "Get on, wimp," he said. "That was just my warmup." I laid on Jake's back with my hard little cock pressing down on Jake's firm, round ass. I held on to Jake's huge shoulders as Jake held on to Blake's shoulders. With an incredible surge of energy, Blake pushed up with his arms and did another pushup, with over 300 pounds of weight on his back -- 90 pounds of flab and 210 plus pounds of muscle. Then he did another one. And another one. Blake cranked out three pushups with both Jake and me lying on his broad, muscular back. I just couldn't believe the power in this kid's muscles.

Blake and Jake jumped up from the floor, knocking me over on my ass. Blake flexed his pecs in the mirror and I jumped up to cup my hands around them and admire their incredible size and strength. "These mothers are fuckin' STRONG!" yelled Blake as he flexed his pecs which bulged several inches out from his chest. "Look at those fuckin' monsters bulging, wimp. You ain't got no muscle at all in your puny little chest and I got inches of muscle just bustin' out of my skin." Blake grabbed my chest and squeezed my skin with his thick, strong fingers. He was looking for muscle under my skin but there was none there. Just flab and bone. "Jesus, wimp. You ain't got no muscle at all!" He picked me up and rammed my chest into his massive pecs. I could feel the warmth of his bulging, sweaty muscles as he rubbed my chest all over them. Blake put me down and I started licking his pecs. I licked the huge mounds of pec muscle as Blake flexed and unflexed them for my tongue. I sucked on his nipples and felt how hard and erect they were as his muscles bulged behind them, pushing them proudly out from his chest. Blake started go groan with pleasure as I sucked on his nipples like a nursing baby. While I was sucking, I was running my hands all over Blake's body, feeling his delts, his lats, his arms and his butt as he flexed and relaxed them for me.

He grabbed my head and jammed my face right into his flexing bicep. The muscle was so huge it was almost as big as my face. I stared at the big, peaked bicep as Blake flexed it to a higher and higher peak. I opened my mouth wide and wrapped my lips over the top of that huge, bulging muscle. Then I took as much of the rock-like muscle as I could into my mouth and licked and sucked as hard as I could. "Fuckin' huge! Fuckin' hard as a rock," I mumbled as I took in the enormous size and incredible hardness of Blake's bicep. Blake smiled as he watched his muscle bulge into my face.

Suddenly, Jake jerked me away from Blake and pointed to a 50 pound dumbbell on the floor. "Pick it up, wimp," he ordered. I bent down and tried to pick up the dumbbell with both of my hands. With great effort I was able to lift it off the ground and straighten my back, but I couldn't get it any higher. I guess that was my maximum deadlift. I lowered the dumbbell to the floor, exhausted. "Unbelievably weak!" exclaimed Jake He picked up the two 50 pound dumbbells and held them at his sides. Then he raised his arms and did a perfect side lateral raise with the huge weight I could hardly lift off the ground. His delts bulged out from his shoulders like striated cannonballs as their incredible strength lifted the heavy iron. "Looks like one of my shoulders is stronger that your whole fuckin' body," said Jake as he calmly did five more reps of the lateral raises. I placed my hands on his shoulders as they lifted the huge dumbbells up and down. I could feel the individual fibers of muscle ripple and flex under his thin skin as Jake willed them to lift the heavy weight. He dropped the weights and I immediately attacked his body as he raised his arms proudly and flexed his huge biceps in the mirror. I was overwhelmed with lust as I smelled the sweat pouring off Jake's body and felt the incredible size and hardness of his bulging muscles. I buried my face in Jake's hot armpit and breathed in the heady sweat smell. "Smell that sweat, wimp," said Jake. "I bet you never made sweat that smelled like that. That's the sweat big muscle jocks like us make when they're working out their big muscles. You're such a little wimp you can't work up a good sweat. And for sure not a sweat that smells like that." I nodded my head in total agreement as I buried my nose and face in Jake's huge armpit. Uncontrollably, I started licking Jake's sweat. It tasted real salty. I moved my tongue from his armpit over to his pecs. Every inch of Jake's body was covered with salty sweat.

As I was worshiping Jake, I felt Blake's big body coming at me from behind. "We're gonna fuck you, wimp," whispered Blake in my ear as he wrapped his big arms around his brother with me right in the middle. I could feel Blake's huge cock ramming into my back. I looked at Jake's huge pecs, now pumped and sweaty, right in front of my face. Without another word, the two brothers wrapped their arms around each other and held me in the middle of their muscular torsos. Their bodies were red hot and pumped and dripping with sweat. Unlike the time in the weight room, they didn't crush my chest like a grape, although they certainly could have with ease. Instead, they rubbed their big, hard muscles on my little body, covering me with their sweat and letting me feel the hard contours of their huge bodies. They started thrusting their hips forward. I could feel Jake's big cock banging up against my gut -- Jake was so much taller than me that his cock hit me right in the belly button -- and I could feel Blake's equally big cock hitting me in the back. When they thrust at the same time, I felt my body was being battered by their two huge cocks.

Slowly I lowered my body, slithering down between the hard, sweaty bodies of the massive twins. I managed to fall to my knees. Blake pushed my face against Jake's thick, hard cock and pressed my nose into the sweat-drenched pubic hair. I breathed in the strong, musky odor of Jake's hot crotch. Suddenly Jake started thrusting his cock into my face. Instinctively, I started licking his cock and balls. His balls were huge and were hanging low in an enormous sack. I caressed his cock and balls with my tongue, all the while exhilarating in the heady smell of his sweaty crotch. Jake started thrusting his hips harder and harder as he got more and more aroused. At the same time, Blake was thrusting his hips into the back of my head. I ran my hands over Jake's huge legs and calves, feeling the massive muscles bulge and flex as their young master went higher and higher into total sexual ecstasy.

Suddenly Blake grabbed my head and moved around to stand next to his brother. He held my head with his big hands and pushed my face into his cock. "Suck it, wimp," he ordered. Blake's cock was huge and hard and throbbing. I placed his cock into my mouth and started sucking. Blake's cock was so big and thick I could hardly get my mouth around it. Without waiting even a moment, Blake held on to the back of my head and thrust his cock deep into my throat. His cock was much bigger than Johnny's, which was the only other cock I had ever had in my mouth. Blake started thrusting his hips uncontrollably, ramming his huge weapon deeper and deeper into my throat. I grabbed on to his bulging calves as he rammed and rammed his teenage cock into my mouth. Jake stood right next to his brother, stroking his own huge cock with his hand. Suddenly Blake let out a loud yell and simultaneously Jake let out a loud yell also. Blake's cock went into spasms in my throat, blasting spurt after spurt of cum down into my throat. Jake came too, shooting his pure white jism right into my face. It seemed like their orgasms lasted forever. The raging hormones in their big young bodies made them incredibly virile, able to shoot huge amounts of cum and to cum again and again. I was in total ecstasy as I serviced the wanton lust of these two young musclegods. I stroked my own little rock hard cock and instantly it exploded with the most incredible ejaculation I had ever had. After having his incredible orgasm, Blake removed his still-hard cock from my mouth and I licked the droplets of cum that were still forming on the heads of his and Jake's cocks.

I couldn't believe this was only my second day as the Marauder's water boy.

THE END

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