Metal Shop
by John D.
When I started 9th grade as a 14 year old geek, I decided to take a shop class just for fun. I was a straight-A student and had only taken academic courses up until then. Because I was smart, they always put me in the advanced track. The same kids were in all my classes -- all the other smart kids in the school.
When I signed up for Metal Shop, all my friends thought I was crazy. "A total waste of time," they said. "Just a bunch of dumb jocks who are going to grow up and be auto mechanics. You're gonna be totally bored."
Well, I didn't care what they thought. I always liked working with my hands, building things and stuff, so I thought Metal Shop would be a fun change from all the fast-track algebra, english and science I was taking.
When I went into the metal shop classroom on the first day of class I hardly knew any of the kids. None of them had been in any of my fast-track classes. I guess they were the dumb jocks just like my friends said. I recognized some of them from the lunchroom and hallways. They dressed really cool, mainly in t-shirts and baggy pants.
The teacher made us sit in alphabetical order. I was a "D". We sat on stools next to the work benches, which lined the room against the walls. The teacher stood in the middle of the room. The teacher started talking, and we turned around from the work benches and faced the center of the room, sitting on our stools.
I immediately noticed the right arm on the kid sitting next to me on the left, who was another "D". He was wearing a tight white t-shirt that could hardly contain his big chest and shoulders. His upper right arm filled out the sleeve of the t-shirt. His smooth skin was really tan and as I looked at his skin I could see the muscle underneath flexing every time he moved his arm, even slightly. The teacher was droning on about Metal Shop, but I couldn't keep my eyes off the arm of my neighbor. His bicep had a big vein running on top of it and I could see the steel cords of muscle in his bicep twiching and flexing with every movement of his arm. The back of his arm was filled with muscle, big triceps muscles. When he straightened his arm, those triceps bulged, almost bursting out of his skin. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Never had I seen such incredible muscle up close like that.
His upper arm wasn't the only thing I was looking at. His forearm was also big and very muscular, with veins everywhere underneath his thin skin. The fibers of muscle looked like writhing snakes, and he wasn't even trying to flex. The upper part of his forearm bulged out with muscle. His forearm reminded me of a bowling pin - starting out narrow at the wrist an then exploding into a mass of bulging muscle as it got closer to the elbow.
I looked at his big, muscular upper arm and forearm and then looked down at my own flabby little arm. There was absolutely no comparison. My already aroused cock got really hard as I compared the size and obvious strength of my neighbor's big arm with the puny weakness of my own. He was only 14 years old, just like me, but he already had the muscles of a man. And a muscular man at that.
The teacher kept talking and I kept staring at my neighbor's arm. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I felt so lucky to be sitting next to this god. A couple of times he looked over at me and saw that I had my eyes glued on his arm. Then he turned away and looked at the teacher. I thought I saw a little smirk cross his face.
Then I noticed he was flexing his arm more. Instead of just moving it around in a relaxed way, which still caused his muscles to tense and flex, he started to actually flex the big muscles. He curled up his arm and flexed his bicep. The big monster exploded under his skin and bulged into a huge peak. The big vein on top looked like it was trapped between the rock-hard muscle and the tight, thin skin. His bicep was about the size of a baseball, maybe bigger, and it looked as hard as any baseball I'd ever seen. Fibers were everywhere under his skin. He saw my mouth drop open and smiled a little.
Then he straightened his arm and flexed his triceps. Omygod, I thought to myself as I almost came in my pants. His triceps were huge and they formed big hard bulges under his skin. I didn't even know there were that many muscles in the back of an arm. His arm was totally shredded. He looked over at me and saw I was in a state of total shock. He smirked again, in kind of a superior way. Like he knew I was digging his muscles and he knew he was a stud, totally superior to me.
Then he made a fist. The muscles in his forearm bulged, making the bowling pin even bigger and more muscular. He curled his wrist up and down several times. I couldn't believe how big the muscles were in the belly of his upper forearm. They were big and shredded, with veins crisscrossing everywhere. His forearm was much, much bigger and far more muscular than my upper arm. As I watched his flexing forearm I realized he probably had more muscle there than I had in both of my arms put together.
I was practically panting at this point. I know I must have looked like a complete idiot as I watched with rapt attention, not paying the least bit of attention to the teacher.
Finally the teacher said we could relax for a minute. My neighbor looked over at me and said "You lookin' at my muscles, dude?" For a moment, I thought I might be toast. I could picture him smashing me into a pulp for looking at his muscles, and he wouldn't even have to break a sweat doing it. But I could hardly deny what was so obvious, so I said "Yeah, I guess. Your arm's pretty big." He smiled again in that superior way and said, "Yeah, it is, isn't it. I've been workin' real hard on my arms the last two months. Put on almost an inch of muscle. This mother's gettin' huge!" He looked proudly at his right arm, curled it up and flexed it right in front of my face. I was dumbstruck as I took in the enormity of his big, flexed bicep and his massive, bulging triceps. "Go ahead, dude. Feel it. I know you want to. Everyone wants to feel it when I flex."
Well, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I reached up, put my fingers on top of his bicep and pressed down. A spasm of lightning went up my spine. It felt like I was pressing on solid rock. I had never felt human flesh before that was so hard. My neighbor smiled as he could see my obvious shock at the hardness of his big bicep. Then I wrapped my hands around the muscle and squeezed as hard as I could. I needed both hands because his flexed upper arm was so big. I squeezed with all my might but I couldn't make the slightest dent in his peaked bicep or in his bulging triceps. His muscles felt like warm marble - solid rock. "Fuckin' hard, ain't it?" he said, with kind of an arrogant tone to his voice. I couldn't speak. All I could do was nod my head in total agreement.
He straightened his arm and flexed his triceps. "Feel those muscles, dweeb," he said. "I can bench 265 and do 200 pushups no sweat. My pecs and triceps are fuckin' strong!" I ran my fingers over the bulges of his triceps, sometimes squeezing and pushing in as hard as I could, feeling like I was squeezing and pushing on solid rockl. I gasped at the enormity of this 14 year old 9th grader being able to bench 265 pounds when I knew I could only bench 40 pounds myself. He was more than six times stronger than me! And I could only do three pushups. My knees started feeling weak.
He looked down at his rock-hard, flexing arm and said "OK, dweeb, punch that arm as hard as you can. Let's see what you got. Let's see if that arm can take it." I looked at his flexed arm and I looked at his face. I knew he was dead serious. So I made a fist, wound up my right arm and punched him in the upper arm as hard as I could. My fist made a smacking sound, sort of like it was hitting solid steel. My hand throbbed with pain. "Jesus, dude, I couldn't even feel that," said my muscular neighbor. "That was a pussy punch. You gotta punch harder than that. My sister could punch harder than that." I felt really embarrassed because I really did punch as hard as I could. I had never punched anyone or anything before in my life. I didn't know anything about punching.
"Try it again," he ordered. "And this time put some muscle behind it." My right hand was too sore, so I stood up, made a fist with my left hand, pulled it way back, and punched it into his arm as hard as I possibly could. Again, my hand was wracked with pain. He looked at my puny body and his big, hard arm, which was totally unfazed. "Geez," he said. "You're pathetic."
Then, without another word, he made a fist with his right hand, pulled his big arm back only a foot or so and smashed his fist into my arm with such explosive power that I was almost lifted off my feet. Spasms of pain shot through my arm and my whole body. I had never felt something that powerful in my entire life. I looked over at his big body and his muscular arm. Emotions welled up inside me. Although I wanted to cry from the pain, my cock was also rock hard in awe incredible power of his muscles.
"That's a punch," he said, looking at his big fist and the bulging muscles of his arm. Then the teacher started talking again and we sat down. My arm didn't get better for a full week.
THE END