O’Melissokomos
The Bee Keeper

Muscle Sweat (tb musc)

by John D.

I had been working out at the gym for about four months. I signed up just after I turned 16 years old in February. Sixteen was the minimum age for gym membership and I had saved my money to join. I had always been skinny and no matter what exercises I did I never was able to put on any muscle. I tried pushups (I could do five) pullups (maybe two) and situps (15 or so). I was afraid to go into the weight room at school because all the big jocks were in there, the kids who liked to torment me. I stayed as far away from them as I could. But every once in awhile one or more of them would bully me. Sometimes it was just talk. "What a fucking wuss you are, you fucking little wimp. Here's a real muscle. I bet you wish you had a muscle like that." said a kid as he flexed his big arm in my face. Sometimes that talk turned into action when there were several muscular kids together. One of them would punch me a couple of times real hard and they would all laugh when I started crying. I really wanted muscle on my body.

So I signed up at a gym in a shopping center where none of the high school boys went. I went after school three times a week. I bought some protein and ate as much as I could. But in the four months I had only gained five pounds. And I'm not sure that was muscle. I now had a little bit of fat on my waist because of all the food I was eating. At 5' 9" I weighed only 110 pounds. I did the same exercises every day. I ate more protein. But I never got much stronger. It seemed that no matter what I did I couldn't make any progress. I could bench only 40 pounds, a five pound gain from when I started. I curled 20, military pressed 30 and squatted with 40. I was still really weak. But hope springs eternal. I still came to the gym. I wanted muscle.

One day I was doing bench presses with my usual 40 pound barbell. I looked over at the entrance and the reception area of the gym. A man in his late 30's walked in with what appeared to be his son beside him. The man was quite muscular. He was dressed in casual business attire. He was wearing a short sleeve shirt and I could see his big pecs bulging out in the front and his muscular shoulders pushing out the sides of the shirt. His shoulders were wide and muscular but his waist was small and I could even see a "V" shape in his back as he moved. His arms were big and muscular. He must be a member of the gym, I thought.

Then I looked over at his son. He was much shorter than his dad, maybe around five feet tall. He was wearing a tank top and some shorts. My mouth dropped open as I saw his body. That boy had muscle! He had way more muscle that I had. He had muscular shoulders and even some trap muscles that bulged up from the sides of his neck, a neck that looked thick and muscular. His pecs were round and pushed out his tank top. I thought I could see fibers of muscles in those pecs. I looked down at my pecs and saw nothing but flat bone. And the kid had lats, lats that flared down from his wide shoulders to his narrow hips. They looked thick and strong. His V shaped back looked like his dad's. And his arms looked big. Every time he moved his arms his bicep muscles contracted and I could see a blue vein on the muscle. When he straightened his arm his tricep muscle bulged with muscle I had never seen on a kid. He had light brown hair, cut short, and what looked like hazel eyes. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

The father was talking to the gym receptionist who seemed to know him. He filled out some forms and handed the guy a check. Then he patted his son on his shoulder and said, "Have a good workout Brandon. I hope these weights will be big enough for you. You tore through our home weights so fast. Joining a gym is better than me buying more and more weights for you. You are growing so big and strong!" Brandon smiled and flexed his arm for his dad. "Yeah, gettin' real big," he said. "Real big and real strong." His dad pinched his son's bicep - it didn't look like he even made a dent in it – he smiled proudly and then turned around and left the gym. Brandon turned towards me and looked at the weights in the gym.

He saw me staring at him. He walked over and looked at my 40 pound bar on the bench rack. Then he looked up at me. "You usin' that weight? Kinda light, ain't it? You just warming up?" I looked at the weight and said, "No, I'm just did my second set. I do four sets of 10 reps with that weight." The kid looked at me like I was crazy. "How long have you been working out?" he said. "You just start?" I felt real embarrassed. "I've been workin' out four months. My gains come real slow." He looked down at his pecs and flexed them. Now I could definitely see the striations of muscle. "I've been working out four months too, at home. And I've already blasted through the little weight set at home that I got for my birthday. My dad signed me up at this gym 'cause I need more weight. Lots more weight. Can I do a set?"
"Sure," I said. "We can alternate sets." Brandon walked up and lied down on the bench. He grabbed the bar, lowered it, and then cranked out 25 reps like he was lifting a feather. He jumped up off the bench and said "So fucking light. I was benching that the day I started. The next week I needed 20 more pounds. The week after that another 20 pounds. Every week I needed more and more weight. Then we ran out of weights at home. I'm stronger than our whole fucking weight set. Here, you do another set. Then I'm gonna try some real weight."

I couldn't believe that this muscular kid had been lifting weights for exactly the same period I had. And he had gotten stronger every week! A chill went down my spine as I thought about how different our genes were. And his voice still hadn't changed. His voice was deep and not high pitched but it was still the voice of a boy. He was still a boy but he was building the muscles of a man. Another chill went down my spine as I looked at Brandon’s muscular body. I got on the bench and cranked out 10 reps with the 40 pound bar, barely making the last two reps, like I always did. I never seemed to make any progress. It was the same every week. Brandon kind of laughed. "Wow, you are so weak. How old are you anyway?" I stood up as tall as I could and said "Sixteen. I just graduated from 10th grade. How about you?" Brandon looked at my skinny body and shook his head. "Geez," he said, almost not believing how old I was to be benching just 40 pounds. "I'm 12. I just graduated from sixth grade. I got the weight set for my 12th birthday in February. Now I'm the strongest kid in my grade. I'm stronger than the seventh graders too. I just keep getting stronger and stronger. So I need bigger weights, like they got in this gym. Okay, now for some real weight! Take off that fucking little bar."

He got his weights for his 12th birthday and I started working out right after my 16th birthday. "What is your birthday," I asked. "February 14th," he said. "My mom used to call me her little Valentine boy. Now she calls me her big Valentine boy!" He flexed his arm at me. His bicep was huge. "Geez, February 14 is my birthday too," I said. "We were born on the same day four years apart. And my mom still calls me her little Valentine boy. I never got any muscles like you've got. You're already a big kid." The kid smiled and said, "And I'm gonna get bigger!"

He went over to look for his bench press weight and I took off my little 40 pound bar. He returned with an Olympic bar. "Now this is a real bar," he said. "I've been wanting to try a real Olympic bar. It weighs 45 pounds, more than your whole fucking little weight." Then he pointed to a big plate on the floor. "Put that on the bar. I'll get another one." I looked at the plate and it said 35 pounds. I put it on the bar and Brandon put another 35 pound plate on the other side. "Okay, that makes 115 pounds. That was the most weight we had at home and I was crankin' out tons of reps with that weight at home. So lets try it here." I gasped as I thought about this 12 year old kid doing benches with almost three times the amount of weight I could use. Brandon got on the bench, grabbed the bar and lowered the weight to his chest. Then he pushed it up like it weighed nothing. "God I got so strong!" he said. He lowered the bar and easily did another 14 reps. He jumped up off the bench and ripped off his tank top. I gasped as I saw his torso. His shoulders and pecs were bulging incredibly with red, striated muscle. His lats flared out like wings of muscle. And below his pecs were the most incredible abs I had ever seen. Some boys get incredible abs - I guess it is in their genes - and Brandon had the most incredible abs I could have imagined. He had an eight pack. An eight pack of solid muscle. He rubbed his hands over his bulging pecs. "Fuck, that was still a warmup! My muscles want more weight!" he said as he felt the big muscles in his pecs, muscles that were bulging with fibers and red with blood. I was staring at his chest. I couldn't believe a 12 year old could have that much muscle and be that strong. "Take off the 35's and put on the 45's," he said. "You put on the weights while I rest." He went over and took a big drink of water from the fountain while I struggled to take off the 35 pound plates and put on the 45's. I could hardly lift the 45's. He looked at me struggling and said "You are so fucking weak!" He grabbed the second 45 pound plate, lifted it like it weighed nothing and put it on the bar.

"Now it's 135," he said. You stand behind me and spot. If I can't lift up the weight you lift it up a little bit. But make me do most of the work. Make my muscles work real hard. I want my muscles to work real hard." I looked at his bulging striated pecs and nodded my head. Those pecs wanted to work. He got on the bench. His chest was much bigger than his waist and he had a very muscular bubble butt, so his waist was high off the bench, held up by his big chest and the solid muscle in his bubble butt. I looked at his bulging pecs, his small washboard waist and his muscular bubble butt and almost trembled. This kid was built! He lifted the bar off the rack. He lowered the bar to his chest. Then he started pushing it up. I was staring at his muscles. He had no fat on his body. His pecs and shoulders were straining with fibers of muscle. His thick neck was straining and bulging too. His arms were bulging as they pushed up the heavy bar. His abs looked like a washboard of muscle. The bar got to the top and Brandon smiled. "Fucking light weight! I am so fucking strong!" he said enthusiastically as he lowered the bar again. He did seven reps and then went down for the eighth. The bar stopped about half way up. I knew I had to spot him and I gently lifted it with only about five pounds of pressure. I made his muscles do most of the work. He got the bar to the top, racked it and jumped up off the bench. "Oh fuck, that was so cool! Eight reps with 135 pounds! Fuck! I am so strong! I love this fucking gym!" He bumped his chest into mine and I felt his big hot pec muscles pushing into my bony ribs. "Two more sets," he said as he felt the hot pumped up muscles in his pecs. Beads of sweat were forming on his chest.

It then occurred to me that I hadn't done any sets at all since Brandon put the big Olympic bar on the bench. "What about me? I have one more set to do," I said as I looked at the heavy bar and plates on the rack, a weight that was more than three times heavier than I could lift, and looked over at my little 40 pound bar on the floor. Brandon looked at my skinny body and at the little bar on the floor. "Okay. You don't need a rack for that little weight. You get on the bench and I'll hold it for you. You can do your little set and then I'll get back to the real weight." He rubbed the big 45 pound plate with his hand.

I got on the bench. Brandon picked up my bar from the ground and curled it up. He straddled the bench with his legs over my waist. I was looking up at his hot sweaty body. I couldn't believe this kid had so much muscle. He saw me looking at him and he flexed his pec muscles. "You gotta work hard to get muscles like this," he said as he flexed. His pecs were totally pumped and red with fibers of muscle almost breaking through his fat free skin. His arms were also pumped and looked so muscular as he was holding the bar. Then he curled the bar several times and his biceps bulged with power. I was transfixed by the power he had. I could only curl 20 pounds and he was curling 40 with ease. "Okay, Mr. Big High School Boy. Time for your set." He lowered the bar and I grabbed it. I did my ten reps, slowing down for the last two. I waited for Brandon to grab the bar. “Do more!” he yelled. “Make your muscles work! You’re not even trying hard! I’ll spot you.” So I lowered the bar and did another rep. Then another. My chest was getting real tired. I only got about half way up for the 13th rep and Brandon put his hands under the bar and gently lifted it a little. I did 13. “More!” he yelled. I lowered the bar and with help from Brandon I barely did number 14. My chest was starting to hurt. Now I was sure I was done. “One more!” he yelled. “You gotta work hard to build muscle.” I lowered the weight and could barely get it an inch off my chest. Brandon lifted it up but he made me work as hard as I could as I lifted it. Finally I got it to the top and Brandon grabbed it away. “Good job, Mr. Olympia,” he said as he laughed.

I sat up and felt my chest, which was aching. “I bet you never worked out that hard,” said Brandon. “I work out that hard every day. My muscles love to work hard. They work hard and they grow big. Every workout they grow bigger and stronger.” He flexed his arms in front of me and his lats and pecs exploded into a V shaped fortress of muscle. Big balls of muscle bulged in his arms. “Fuck,” I said. “Even if I work hard I’m never going to look like you.” He looked at his bulging bicep. “Maybe not. You’ve been working out four months and you got nothing. No muscle and you’re weak as shit. Did you see my dad? He used to be a bodybuilder when he was young. He still looks pretty good even though he only has time to work out a couple of times a week. He’s a marketing executive. He’s says I got real good muscle genes. He thinks I’m gonna be bigger than he is. What does your dad look like?” I thought about my dad. He was shorter than I was and very thin. He’s an accountant. “He’s just as thin as me. He doesn’t look anything like your dad.”

Brandon put his hands on my shoulders. “Well, maybe I got the muscle genes and you don’t. But you can still be my workout partner. You can spot for me. You’re a good spotter. My muscles work real hard when you spot. You can watch my muscles grow real big. You can work out with me. Maybe you’ll put on some muscle when you’re working out with me. I can rub the sweat from my arm on you and maybe some of my muscle genes will rub off on you.” He pulled up my shirt and rubbed his sweaty muscular arm on my chest. I could feel the hot muscle from his bulging tricep rubbing on my bony little chest. I could feel the hotness of his sweat as he rubbed it on my puny little chest. I looked at his face, the boyish face of a 12 year old who hadn’t entered puberty, and almost started trembling as I felt his big arm muscles rubbing on my body. Then he reached out his hand. “You wanna be my workout partner? We got a deal? My name’s Brandon.” I reached out and shook his hand. “Yeah, we got a deal. My name’s John.”

Brandon smiled. “Time for my set,” said Brandon. “I wanna add 10 pounds. I wanna make that bar real heavy. I want my muscles to work real hard.” We found two five pound plates and put them on the bar. Now it weighed 145. I looked at Brandon. “How much do you weigh?” I asked. He looked at his body and said “I’m up to 100 pounds. When I started lifting I was 75 pounds. I’ve gained 25 pounds of muscle already. No fat, just muscle. I’m five feet tall and 100 pounds. My dad says after I go through puberty I’m gonna be over six feet and maybe weigh 225. Or maybe 250. He weighs 200 and he thinks I’m gonna be way bigger.”

“Geez,” I gasped. “I’m five nine and I only weigh 110 pounds. In a month you’re probably going to weigh more than I do and you’re nine inches shorter.” Brandon smiled. His bright white teeth flashed. “I don’t think its gonna take a whole month, John. Now that I’ve joined this gym I bet I gain 10 pounds in two weeks. You watch. I’m gonna get huge.” This kid had all the confidence in the world and from the look of his body that confidence was well deserved. I bet this kid never got bullied in school. He smiled at me with the look of a dominant young athlete. He had wide cheekbones and a very strong jaw. His neck was thick and muscular. His hazel eyes flashed and his bright white teeth sparkled. He was incredibly handsome. This boy knew he was going to be a big strong stud. “Enough talk! Time for these muscles to work,” he said as he moved his arms around flexing his pecs.

He got on the bench and grabbed the bar. I stood behind the bench ready to spot. I couldn’t keep my eyes off his big pec muscles. Those muscles looked like they were ready to work. He lowered the bar and pressed it up. “Shit, that felt light,” he said as he looked at me with all the confidence of a young jock. He lowered the bar and raised it again. I was ready to spot but he didn’t need it. “Fucking strong!” he yelled as the bar got to the top. His pecs were bulging and red with blood. Fibers were cutting out of his skin. He lowered the bar and pressed it up again. He slowed down about half way up and I helped him raise it to the top. I only used about five pounds to help his big muscles lift the bar. I made him do most of the work. He looked at me and said “One more. These muscles are gonna work so fucking hard.” He lowered the bar and started pressing it up. He could get it only a few inches off his sweaty, striated bulging pecs. Those muscles were straining so hard. I could see the fibers twitching. I put my hand under the bar but I didn’t apply any force. “Push it, Brandon. You are so strong! Lift that fucking bar. I’m not doing shit. You’re doing all the work! Push it!” He seemed to get a new spurt of energy and pushed the bar up another six inches. Then it stopped. “Push!” I ordered, like I was ordering some private in boot camp drill practice. “Push it Brandon! Push that fucker!” I lifted the bar only slightly and his muscles bulged as he pushed. Slowly the bar went up. I couldn’t believe the shreds in his muscles. Sweat covered his beet red skin. He got the bar to the top and crashed it into the rack. He jumped up off the bench and crashed his bulging pecs into my chest. “Oh fuck!” he yelled. “What a fucking set! My pecs are burning! You’re a great spotter John. You made my muscles work so hard. Feel how big they got.”

He grabbed my hand and put it on his right pec muscle. I almost fell to the floor as I felt that muscle. I couldn’t believe what I was feeling. The muscle was so big and so hot. It was very thick, not like the thin bony muscle on my chest. Thick and round and striated with fibers of hot, pumped muscle. Sweat was dripping off his skin, hot sweat made from his huge muscles as they pushed the heavy weight. “Oh god, Brandon. Your muscle is huge! It is so huge and so strong!” He rubbed my hand over the sweaty muscle, letting me feel its size and hardness. I was almost trembling. “Wait till next week, John. It will be even bigger. God I love these heavy weights and this gym.”

Brandon looked at the machines across the gym. “Let’s try one of those machines,” he said. “I wanna do some decline presses.” He reached up and pointed at his pecs. “The bench works out the middle of your pec. See, my pec is really bulging from the heavy benches. But it could bulge more. I need to do decline presses for the bottom part of my pec and incline presses for the top part of my pec. Then all of these muscles will get so incredibly pumped and my pec will grow so big. That’s the good part about joining a gym. They have all these machines that do everything.” I followed Brandon over to the machines, watching his V shaped back and muscular shoulders and muscle bubble butt as he walked. His big calf muscles bulged with every step. He walked around the machines and found the decline press machine. “Look John, it has adjustable weights. We can choose a little weight for you and a big weight for me. But I got an idea. Take off your shirt.” Brandon was already shirtless. He was so incredibly muscular. I was really ashamed of my skinny little body to go shirtless too next to him. “Do it,” he ordered. “I have a plan.”

So I took off my shirt. There I was, with one of the skinniest bodies of any teen I knew, standing next to the buffest most muscular kid I had ever seen. I was humiliated. A skinny wimp of a 16 year old standing next to a muscular 12 year old who was three times stronger than I was. Then without warning, Brandon came up to me and rubbed his bulging sweaty pecs all over my skinny bony little chest. “I’m rubbing my sweat on you. My sweat has my muscle genes in it. Your skin is going to absorb my muscle genes. You’re gonna get some muscle genes in your little body and start building some muscle!” I had taken biology and I knew what Brandon was saying was ridiculous. But he seemed serious. He had the imagination of a 12 year old boy, the imagination that told him he could transfer some of his muscle genes to his new skinny friend. And his hot, sweaty, bulging muscles felt real good as they rubbed his sweat on my skinny chest.

He finished his rubbing and stood in front of me. “Now my sweat is going into your body. Feel it? Do you feel my sweat?” I rubbed my hand on my chest and felt Brandon’s sweat. “Yeah, I feel it. You made a lot of sweat, Brandon.” He grinned. “Yeah, I make a lot of sweat when I work out. My muscles get so hot when they’re working hard. They get so hot and pumped with blood and they make a lot of sweat. And now you’re getting some of it. It is soaking into your body. You’re soaking in my muscle genes.” I looked down at my chest. His sweat was soaking in. Gee, I thought, maybe I would get a little of his muscle genes.

Brandon pointed to the decline press machine. “Okay, you go first. We’ll start with 40 pounds. That’s what you benched. Now that you got some muscle genes in you, we’ll go up from there.” I looked at him and almost shook my head as he said that. But he was really serious. I now had some of his muscle genes in me. He put the pin at 40 pounds and I got on the machine. I had never done a decline press before. You press the bar down at a 45 degree angle from your plane so the bottom of your pecs do most of the work. I pressed the bar and believe it or not it did feel lighter than the 40 pounds I used on the bench press. I did 10 reps easily. “See, I told you,” Brandon said. “My muscle genes are helping you already.” I got off the bench and flexed my pecs and I felt them. Were they harder? Brandon said “Okay, I’m starting with 145.” He got on the bench and cranked out 15 reps easily. More beads of sweat started forming on his skin. “Wow, that felt light. I feel so fucking strong,” he said as he flexed his pecs. He licked his sweaty arm. “Muscle genes,” he said. “My sweat tastes real good.” Then he came over to me and rubbed his sweat on my chest again. His pecs were dripping with sweat and he rubbed them on my little chest. “More muscle genes for you John,” he said. “Absorb my sweat. Absorb my muscle genes. You’re goin’ up to 50.”

He moved the pin to 50. I got on the bench. Could I really do this? I pressed the bar and it moved up. I did a rep and smiled at Brandon. “It’s your muscle genes!” I lowered the bar and did four more reps with the 50 pounds, barely making the fifth rep. Normally I would have quit, but Brandon yelled “More!” He stood over me with his big muscular torso so close. I could smell his sweat. I was only a foot away from his bulging pec muscles and his rippling abs. Seeing and smelling Brandon's muscles gave me more energy. I could feel adrenaline pushing through my veins. I saw his muscle. I smelled his muscle. I wanted muscle! I pushed up on the bar and it moved about halfway. Brandon put his hand under the grip and applied a little pressure. "Press it, you wimp! You got muscle genes now. Press that fucker!" That gave me even more energy. Yeah, I was a wimp but I now had muscle genes. I pressed the bar all the way up. "Two more," ordered Brandon. I looked at him with a plaintiff look on my face but he didn't care. "Do it!" he yelled. I pressed the bar and it went about three inches. Brandon spotted me again and I made it to the top. Brandon looked me in the eye with a look that said don't even question my order. His face was very commanding. I lowered the weight and pressed it again. My pecs were now aching. Brandon put his hand under the bar and helped me press it up. Then when I got half way up he took his hand away. "Push it!" he yelled. I pushed with all my might and slowly got the bar to the top. Then I almost collapsed. But I did the last part of that rep with my own muscles. I couldn't believe it. Brandon was smiling. "Good set! You did eight reps with 50 pounds. My muscle genes are working on you." I felt my pecs and they definitely felt hard. I looked down and they looked a little red, like blood was flowing into them. Brandon's pecs were completely pumped and red with blood after his first set and now my pecs were a little red too. This had never happened to me before.

Brandon rubbed his sweaty chest on my chest again, giving me more of his muscle genes. I just loved the feeling of his big muscles pressing against me. And I could feel his sweat soaking into my skin. I felt so good. I had never worked out that hard in my whole life. I really felt I had some of Brandon's muscle genes in me. Brandon looked at the machine. "I need a lot more weight. My pecs have gotten so strong. I'm gonna move it to 175, 30 more pounds." He put my hands on his pecs and flexed them. A chill went up my spine as I felt the hot bulging striated muscles. "You think that muscle can do it?" I rubbed my hands all over his big shredded pec muscles. "Oh yeah. That iron will be nothing to those big muscles," I said. He grinned. "Spot me, John."

He got on the bench and I stood over him, ready to spot. He pushed up the bar all the way to the top and looked at me with a look of total confidence in his eyes. "Fuck, I'm so strong!" he said. He lowered the bar and did five more reps without any help from me. I could see his pecs bulging, getting bigger, getting redder, getting sweatier. Here was a 12 year old boy doing decline presses with 175 pounds. Then on his sixth rep, he slowed down and almost stopped. I touched the bar but I didn't apply any force. "Push it, muscle. Push that fucking weight. You're stronger than that iron, muscle. You've got tons of muscle genes in you, muscle. Your muscle genes make you strong. Your muscle genes make you big. Your blood is surging with testosterone. Look how big you are. You are huge. Push that fucking iron!" Brandon grimaced and the muscle bulged and the bar started to go up. I wasn't applying any pressure at all. The bar went all the way to the top. "Oh yeah, muscle. You are so strong! More reps!" Brandon lowered the bar and pushed again. This time he did need a spot and I gave it to him. His pecs and shoulders and arms were bulging and his face and body were covered with sweat. His abs looked like a washboard of muscle. His whole torso was red as his strong athletic heart pumped gallons of testosterone-filled blood into his muscles. I wasn't going to let him quit now. I wanted his muscles to work harder. "One more," I ordered. He looked down at his big pec muscles and said to them, "Smash that iron, muscles. Smash it!" The muscles kind of quivered, with the fibers twitching and bulging. He pushed up the bar and got it about half way. I started yelling. "Push it, muscles. Push that fucking iron! You're stronger than that iron. Look at you. Look how big you are. Look how hard you are. Look at all the blood surging through your rock hard fibers. You're stronger than that iron. Push it!" Brandon made a loud grunt and the bar started moving. All his muscles were bulging more than I had ever seen them bulge. Every muscle in his torso was red and shredded and covered with beads of sweat. His neck was bulging. His traps were bulging. His abs were covered with sweat and looked like a washboard of muscle. And his pecs were unbelievably big as they pushed that iron. The bar slowed down and I gave it a little help as those huge muscles pushed it to the top. "Fuck!" yelled Brandon as he locked his elbows.

He lowered the bar and jumped up off the bench. "What a fucking set!" he said. "That was incredible." He felt the bottom part of his pecs. "Oh fuck, feel the bottom of my pecs, John. Feel how big that muscle got." I reached over and felt the bottom of Brandon's bulging pec muscles. The muscle was huge. It was way bigger than it felt before he started doing the decline presses. It was so big and hard and hot. "God, your pec muscles got so big. And they are so strong. They pressed that 175 pounds eight times. They are so strong. God, you have such great muscle genes. I hope I get a fraction of your muscle genes."

Brandon grinned and flexed his arms. His shoulders bulged, his lats flared out and his pumped up pecs were completely striated with bulging muscle. And his arms were huge and rippling with shredded muscle. I was stunned by the incredible amount of muscle he had on his body. Then he wrapped his arms around my chest and rubbed his sweaty chest and his sweaty abs and his sweaty arms all over me, rubbing lots of his muscle sweat into my body. "Here's a big dose of muscle sweat, John," he said as he rubbed. "I love working out with you."

We did one more set of decline benches. My pecs were aching and Brandon's pecs were bulging with muscle. But then he told me his pecs were aching too. "That's a good ache," he said. "It means your muscles are growing. Now we gotta do the top of our pecs. We're gonna do incline dumbbell bench presses." He walked over to the dumbbell rack. "God I love this gym," he said. "Look at all the dumbbells they have. We can pick out our weights. You get the little ones and I get the big ones," he laughed. I looked at his young, muscular body. "Have you even been bullied?" I asked. He looked at my skinny body and then at his big chest. "No," he said. "I've always been a tough kid. My dad taught me to fight when I was five. We've got a punching bag in my garage. I can hit that bag real hard. I've always been strong. Even before I started lifting I could hit it real hard. Now, I just smash it." He lifted his hand and made a fist and punched it into his abs. His abs were so strong the fist just bounced off, like it had hit some bricks. "One time when I was in third grade two big fourth graders tried to take my lunch money. But they didn't know how quick and strong I was. I smashed both of them so hard with these fists they were groveling on the ground before they knew what hit 'em." He made some punching motions with his fists. "No, I don't get bullied." I looked at his fists and said "Wow."

Then he looked at me again and said. "And there is this little guy in my class named David. He's real skinny, just like you. But he's a good guy. He's just real skinny, that's all. Well, there are three guys in my grade who have always been real assholes. They think they're big shit and they like to pick on the little guys. They never picked on me. Maybe they realized I'd pulverize 'em. But they liked to pick on David. So after I started lifting and getting real strong l saw these three assholes around David just before school. One of them punched David in the gut. I think they were going to take his lunch money and probably beat him up too, just for fun. The poor little kid was cringing. There was nothing he could do. I went up and said "Leave the kid alone. He didn't do anything to you." They looked at me and sneered. There were three of them against one of me. "Mind your own business," one of them said. And then he tried to push me away. I grabbed his arm and twisted it up his back, real hard. I didn't realize how strong I had gotten. I heard a crackling sound. I was breaking the tendons in his shoulder with my new muscles. He cried out in pain and I pushed him to the ground. His two friends were looking at him and me in shock. I made a fist and blasted it into one guy's gut as hard as I could. The kid didn't have any abs at all and my fist went way into his gut. I think I hit some of his organs. He keeled over and started vomiting. The third guy started running, but I grabbed him and spun him around. I held his arms and faced him towards David. "Hit him David. Hit him!" David looked at his tormentor like a prisoner who finally could hit a mean guard. He wound up his fist and smashed it into the kid's chest. He punch wasn't very hard because David was so weak. The kid wasn't fazed. He hit him again with his other fist. The kid sneered at David and said "You're so fucking weak." I spun him around and smashed my fist into the kid's chest so hard I could almost hear a bone break. "You're the weak one, asshole!" I yelled. I smashed my fist into his gut so hard that I could almost feel his backbone. "You touch David again and I'm gonna break all your bones." I threw the kid on the ground to grovel with his friends. Then I put my hand around David's bony little shoulder and said "Let's go to school." David was crying. He was so happy. He hugged me as he cried in my chest. "This is the best day in my life," he said. And it was all self defense because they attacked David first. So I guess I've taken care of some bullies, John. I was a tough kid before I started lifting but now I'm real tough and real strong too. And I hate bullies."

I stared at Brandon. "Oh geez," I said. "You were such a hero. I think I'm just like David. I've got three bullies too, just like David had. I started working out so I could put on some muscle and defend myself. But as you can see nothing happened yet. But maybe your muscle genes will help me. Maybe now I'll put on some muscle. And can you teach me how to fight? I've never thrown a punch in my life." Brandon looked at me in shock. "You've never thrown a punch? Wow, you really are a wimp. Okay, you're gonna throw your first punch right now. Punch me in the gut. Punch me as hard as you can in my gut." Brandon flexed his abs and I looked at those bricks of muscle. His abs were so fantastic. They were a corrugated washboard of solid muscle. His abs looked so solid. I knew they were very hard. I wondered what it was going to feel like if I hit those abs. "Do it!" Brandon yelled. I made a fist and threw it as hard as I could into his abs. It was like I hit a brick wall. My hand and my wrist hurt like hell and I grabbed my hand. Brandon laughed. He rubbed his rock hard abs. "Not much for your first punch. I could hardly feel that. We gotta work on your hitting. You're gonna have to practice at my house. And we gotta get you stronger. You're gonna need a lot more muscle genes. More muscle sweat." He took my arm and rubbed it on his abs. It felt like my arm was being rubbed over hard rubber sweat-covered bricks. I touched his abs with my fingers and felt the ridges of hard muscle and the deep crevices in his skin. He had absolutely no fat covering those abs. When he finished rubbing, my arm was covered with his muscle sweat. And for some reason my hand and wrist weren't hurting as much.

Brandon looked back at the dumbbells. "Okay, John. You start with the 15's as a warmup. If you still got some strength we'll put you up to the 20's. I'll start with the 50's. I know I'm still strong. I gonna go up from there. Brandon had taken complete control over our workout. He knew exactly what exercises to do for each muscle. It was like his brain and his body were hardwired so his muscles would grow big. He know how to make them grow. Plus he had incredible muscle genes. I was so glad to be working out with Brandon.

We did four sets of the incline dumbbell presses. Brandon pressed me to my limit and I pressed Brandon to his limit. I did manage to do some presses with 20 pound dumbbells with spotting help from Brandon. Those heavy dumbbells were hard for me to manage. Between each set Brandon rubbed more muscle sweat on me. My chest and abs were covered with Brandon's muscle sweat. Brandon did ten easy presses with the 50's and zoomed up to the 60's. In his last set he did six incline presses with 65 pound dumbbells - an incredible weight for a 12 year old kid - with a little spotting help from me. His pecs were so unbelievably big, the top part, the middle part, the bottom part were all bulging out from his chest like a big striated balloon of muscle.

I was so tired. I had never worked out this hard in my entire life. I looked at Brandon plaintively. "Are we done? I'm really tired." He laughed. "Yeah, you never worked out real hard before. You've been a wimp and you've been working out like a wimp. Now you're working out with a man. And I'm gonna make you work out like a man. You've got my muscle genes inside you and you're gonna work out like a man. We've got one more set to do for our chests today. Then tomorrow we're gonna work out our backs. The next day will be arms. Then legs. Then shoulders. Every day we're gonna work out a different body part. Plus abs three times a week. You want abs like this?" He hit his washboard abs. I nodded my head as I looked at the corrugated ridges of muscle that had almost broken my hand. "Well you gotta work 'em hard. You gotta work all your muscles hard, but you gotta give 'em time to rest and grow too. By working each part once a week, our muscles will have plenty of time to rest and grow. They are gonna get huge. I know my muscles are gonna get huge. Now that you got some of my muscle genes in you your muscles will grow too." I flexed my pecs and looked at them. "Oh god," I said. Was my dream of having muscle going to come true? Brandon's exercise routine was completely different from what I had been doing. I had been doing a beginners routine - the same exercises for all body parts three times a week. And nothing happened. Now I was going to be doing Brandon's advanced routine, pounding each body part incredibly hard one time a week. And soaking in his muscle genes. I was so excited to be working out with Brandon. I was going to be working out like a man! Then Brandon made a fist with his hand and punched me gently in my abs. "And you can come over to my house in the mornings before we work out and learn to fight. I'll teach you how to fight. By the time I'm done with you you're not gonna be a wimp any more. You're gonna be a man!" My god, Brandon had such confidence. Now I was really thinking I was going to be a man. At 12 years old, Brandon was already a man. Maybe with some of his muscle genes from his sweat and his intense workout regimen I would become a man too.

"Okay, one more set for our pecs. Then it's abs," said Brandon. He walked over to the pec deck machine. "I've seen these in magazines but I've never used them," he said. It burns your pecs like crazy and really brings out the striations in your muscles. What we were doing builds the mass. This makes that mass more shredded." He flexed his pecs. They already looked shredded to me but according to Brandon this pec deck machine was going to make them even more shredded. "I'll go first and show you how to do it," he said. "I'm gonna try 100 pounds. That's exactly what I weigh." He put the pin at 100 pounds and got on the machine. He was facing me with his elbows and forearms under the padded slats that he would push forward with the power of his pec muscles. I could see immediately that his already bulging pecs were going to do all the work. His body looked incredible as he held the pads. His lats were flaring out to the sides like wings. His arms and shoulders were flexing a bit as they got ready to push the pads. His abs were shredded. He looked at me with his beautiful hazel eyes and winked. I almost fell over. His face was so gorgeous, young yet very strong and masculine. And his muscles looked absolutely incredible as he got ready to challenge his already bulging pecs with 100 pounds of iron.

He powered the pads forward and immediately I could see his pecs bulge even more, with striations of muscle looking like bulging steel cords. Brandon did several more reps and his pecs got even bigger and more shredded. I was staring at his pec muscles in total awe. "Fuck, this is great!" said Brandon as he smashed the pads forward again. "I can really feel it in my pec muscles. They're already starting to burn." He smashed the 100 pounds forward again. He did 12 reps and jumped up off the bench, feeling his bulging pec muscles. "Oh fuck, feel my pecs, John. Feel how big and shredded they are. They're really burning. Look how red they are. Look at all that blood. Look at those shreds of muscle. Look at the sweat pouring out of my skin. God, I love this machine." I felt Brandon's bulging pecs and I almost started trembling. I couldn't believe a 12 year old could have pecs that were that big and muscular. So big, so shredded, so hot, so sweaty, so hard. "Fuck, Brandon, your pecs are amazing." He looked at my bony little chest, pulled my hands away from his pecs, and then rubbed his huge, hot, sweaty pecs all over my chest. "More muscle genes for you, skinny boy. I got so much muscle genes they just pour out of my sweat. Soak up my sweat, skinny boy. Soak up my muscle genes. You're gonna get some muscle too." I felt Brandon's huge pecs rubbing on my bony chest. His muscle felt so good. So firm, so big, so sweaty, so hot. I could feel his sweat rubbing off on my skin. I kind of moaned and Brandon pushed my bones a little harder with his big muscles. "Yeah, lots of sweat," he said.

Finally he pulled away and said, "Okay, your turn. Lets start with 30 pounds. I hope your little muscles can handle that now that they have my muscle sweat in them." I got on the bench and put my arms behind the pads. I knew my body looked nothing like Brandon's. I had no lats, no muscles in my arms or shoulders and the smallest pecs possible. I pushed forward and the pads moved. I cranked out eight reps and started to slow down. "More!" yelled Brandon. I did another rep, just barely finishing. "More!" yelled Brandon again. He was staring at me with his big hazel eyes and he flexed his big pecs in my face. "You got my muscle genes in you! More!" I started another rep and immediately slowed down. Brandon helped me with a spot. I thought I was done. Brandon yelled, "You're not done yet, wimp. Force your muscle. Force it!" I struggled and he put his strong hands under the pads and helped me do another rep. He made me work so hard. I could barely push the pads forward. "Push!" yelled Brandon. I pushed as hard as I could and finished the rep. Then the little 30 pound weight collapsed. I struggled up off the bench and felt my pecs. They were aching. But I felt a little muscle that I had never felt before. Brandon smiled. "Now that was a real set," he said. "Your muscle with all that Brandon gene sweat's gotta grow after that."

Brandon pushed me aside. "More weight," he said. "I'm so much stronger than you are I can't believe it. I'm goin' to 120." This was four times more than I could lift but Brandon was so confident and his pecs were bulging so much I knew he could do it. "Spot me, John. Spot me just like I spotted you." He got on the bench and I gazed at his body. His pecs were already bulging, red and striated. His arms were rippling with muscle as he held the pads. His shoulders were thick and swelling with muscle fibers. His lats looked like wings of muscle. His abs were shredded, a washboard of iron. And his neck and traps were bulging as he got ready to push the heavy weight. His whole body was covered with sweat and veins were everywhere. This boy was a total stud.

He pushed the heavy weight forward and did six reps. His muscles bulged even more with each rep. On the seventh rep he slowed down and started to stop. I gently applied a little pressure. "Push it, Brandon! Your muscles are stronger than that weight. Push the fucker!" He pushed harder and smashed the weight to the top. "More!" I yelled. I was spotting him just like he spotted me. He grimaced and pushed the weight up again. He only got part way and I helped him, applying as little pressure as possible. "Come on, Brandon. Push it! It's all you. My little fingers aren't doing shit!" His muscles were bulging more than I could have imagined. They were huge, red, striated and covered with sweat. He got the weight all the way up and then crashed it to the bottom. His skin was dripping with sweat and his veins were popping out everywhere. He was breathing very hard. "More!" I yelled. He looked at me with a look of total confidence. Then he grunted and pushed the heavy iron up. He immediately slowed down and I helped his huge pec muscle lift the 120 pounds of iron. I looked at his pec muscles, muscles that were so large, so red, so striated, so hard. "God you huge pec muscles, you are so big and so strong! You are four times stronger than my little muscles. Push that fucking iron. Show me how strong you are! Show me how fucking strong you are!" Brandon looked at my little body and then down at his huge bulging chest. He pushed harder and with a little help from me the weight went all the way up. "Fuck," he said as the weight came crashing down.

I looked at him like a sergeant looking at a big buff private. "More!" I yelled. He pushed again and I started yelling at him again. "Push it, muscles! Push that iron! You're stronger than that iron. Push it!" With more help from me he slowly got it to the top. The weight crashed down. He was now totally exhausted. He was breathing hard and his muscles were completely pumped and bulging. He looked at me with a look that said, "I'm done," but I barked at him, "One more! I'm gonna make you work harder than you've ever worked in your life!" I looked at him as fiercely as I could, knowing this 12 year old kid was four times as strong as I was. He looked down at his bulging chest. "Fuck yeah!" he roared. He pushed and the weight started going up. I helped him and I yelled at him and he finally got it to the top. He had done ten reps with 120 pounds. He got to the top and I said "Hold it!" He held the weight and I moved my hands over to his pecs. They were incredibly huge and bulging with red hot muscle. I ran my fingers over those huge mounds of muscle, feeling all the fibers as they bulged under his paper thin skin. His skin was so sweaty and so hot. And his muscles were so hard. "Fuckin' huge," I said as I felt his huge round striated pecs. He looked down and said, "Yeah!" I kept rubbing my hands on his pecs and said "Lower it slowly." He slowly lowered the weight as I felt every fiber, every striation, every steel hard muscle in his huge pecs. "Oh fuck, your muscles are so big, so hard, so strong!" I said as he finally finished. He was breathing hard and sweat was pouring out of every pore in his body. He jumped up off the bench and yelled "What a fucking set! My pecs are burning! They're on fire! Fuck, look at those fibers of muscle! Look at those veins! I feel so fucking strong!" He bumped his huge pumped up sweaty chest into my little bony chest and rubbed his sweat into my body. "Tons of muscle genes goin' into you, wimp," he said as he rubbed his big sweaty pecs on me. I felt his huge hot sweaty muscles as they rubbed against my skinny chest. "Oh god," I murmured. I moved my body around so his big globes of muscle rubbed on my abs, my sides and finally my face. I buried my face in his bulging pecs and rubbed my cheeks on Brandon's hot sweaty pec muscles. I could smell his pungent sweat. It smelled so good. So manly, so strong. I was overcome by Brandon's muscles and power. "I want your muscle genes all over me," I murmured as I rubbed my face and neck on his bulging pec muscles. Brandon grunted and said "You're getting a ton of muscle gene sweat." He stood me up and rubbed his sweaty rock hard abs all over my abs. He rubbed his sweaty V shaped muscle back on my bony back. He rubbed his sweaty muscle packed arms all over my skinny arms. He rubbed his huge muscular sweaty legs on my skinny little stick legs. "Now you got so much of my muscle genes in you. My genes are soaking into your body. They’re soaking into your muscles. Get to work!" He pushed me over to the machine and set the pin back at 30 pounds. Brandon really seemed to think that he could share his genetically superior muscle genes with me by rubbing his sweat on me. And I was beginning to believe it too.

I got on the bench and cranked out eight reps with the 30 pounds with a lot of help from Brandon. My muscles were aching. Then Brandon did another set with 120 pounds, this time doing eight reps. He struggled with the last four reps but I helped him, barked at him and made him lift that heavy weight. I felt good, helping his huge super boy build his muscles even bigger. He jumped up and rubbed his sweat on me again. “Fuck, you’re a good spotter, John. You really make me work. I’ve never worked out this hard in my life. My muscles are gonna get huge!” He looked at my skinny frame and said, “And you too, John.” I rubbed my hand on his huge pecs. “I’d be so happy if I get even an eighth of the muscle you’ve got, Brandon.” I did my last set and then Brandon said he wanted to do a fourth set. "I wanna make these muscles burn!" he said. "I want them to grow huge!" So he did a fourth set on the pec deck using 120 pounds. He did two reps and I spotted him for the next four. I yelled at him like a marine drill sergeant, making his muscles work harder. They were so big and shredded and red and sweaty. I couldn't believe how strong they were. They were able to keep lifting the heavy weight with just a little help from me. He grunted with each rep as he muscles bulged with incredible strength. Finally he finished and crashed the weight down.

"Fuck!" he yelled as he jumped up off the bench. "My muscles are burning like a volcano. Oh my god they hurt so much! But its a good hurt. Its the kind of hurt that means those muscles are gonna grow big. They're gonna grow huge!" He strutted over to the mirror and flexed his lats and pecs. I stood next to him and gasped as I looked at his body. "Oh god, Brandon, look at your muscles. They are so big. Look how they're bulging with muscle. Look at those fibers. Look at those veins. Your pecs got so big from that workout. Look at your huge lats. And your abs. All your muscles are bulging. All your muscles got so big." Everyone in the gym was looking at Brandon's body. Like me, they couldn't believe that such a young boy could have that much muscle. Many of them had been working out for years and Brandon was already bigger and stronger than they were. I flexed my own muscles in the same pose. I had no lats, no pecs, no abs. Brandon laughed. "You've got some catching up to do, wimp." He hit a double biceps pose. "Fuck, my arms look bigger too. I got such good muscle genes." I flexed my non-existent biceps and Brandon laughed at my pathetic body. "You need more muscle sweat," he said. He turned to me and rubbed his muscle sweat all over my body. I silently moaned as I felt his big 12 year old muscles rubbing on my body.

Brandon hit his abs, real hard. "Gotta hit the abs. Then we're done," he said. He went over to the incline sit up board, put his feet under the belt and started doing situps. The board was tilted up at a 45 degree angle and I knew those situps were very hard. But Brandon was doing them so fast it was like they were nothing to his strong corrugated ab muscles. He cranked out 100 reps in less than two minutes. He jumped up off the board and rubbed his hand over his rock hard sweaty abs. "I've always been able to do a lot of situps," he said. "I've had a six pack - now its an eight pack - since I was six years old. I've always had great abs. I could do 50 regular situps when I was six. And I could do 30 pushups and 10 pullups. I've always been strong. " I looked at his abs. I imagined what he looked like when he was six years old. A young boy who already had big muscles and a six pack. Now he was a 12 year old boy with very big muscles and an eight pack. I could only imagine what he was going to look like when he was the same age as me, 16. "Okay, your turn, John," he said.

I had never done situps on a 45 degree board so I didn't know what was going to happen. I got on the board, tried to raise myself up and I only got four inches off the board. I collapsed down to the board. Brandon had done 100 situps easily and I couldn't do even one. "Oh geez," said Brandon. "You a so weak! I keep forgetting how weak you are." I looked at him and almost cried. He was so strong and I was so weak. I looked at his abs and said, "I wish I was strong like you." He saw me almost crying and put his hand on my shoulder. "You'll get stronger, John. You've got my muscle sweat in you now. I've always been strong. You're just getting started." I smiled.

We lowered the board so it was flat and I managed to do 20 sit ups. Brandon did another 100 at the 45 degree angle. And I did another 15 flat. "Now some leg lifts," he said. "We'll hang on the bar and lift our legs. It gets the lower part of you ab muscles." He rubbed his hand over the lower part of his abs, feeling his rock hard muscle. He had very pronounced oblique muscles that pointed like a V down to his crotch. I looked at his shredded lower abs and his oblique muscles and those obliques invited my eyes to wonder down to his crotch which seemed to bulge under his shorts. Brandon's package looked pretty big even though he was only 12. I looked at my own shorts and saw nothing. I realized his cock was probably bigger than mine.

He jumped up on a bar and hung. His lats flared out like wings. Then he raised his legs without bending his knees until they were parallel to the floor. He lowered them and raised them again. I watched his abs flex and strain as they lifted his big muscular legs up and down. He did 20 reps and jumped down. "You won't be able to do that, John. Bend your knees. That will make it easier for you." I got on the bar and bent my knees. Then I tried to raise my legs. God it was hard. Brandon had done 20 reps with his legs straight and I could barely do a rep with my knees bent. I managed to do five reps and then collapsed to the floor. Brandon laughed as he stood over me and flexed his abs. "Gonna take you awhile to get abs like these," he said as he rubbed his fingers on those hard ridges of muscle. I looked up at his incredibly muscular body and moaned. He jumped up again and did 20 reps easy. He lept down and rubbed his hand over his abs. Sweat was pouring out of his body. "I love it when my abs get so hard. They feel like steel. Like a steel washboard. They are so fucking hard. People can hit me in the abs and I don't feel a thing. My abs are so hard and strong." I nodded my head as I ran my hand over his ridges of muscle. I had never felt muscle like Brandon had. Then I looked over and saw Brandon's dad entering the gym and coming over to us.

"Wow, look at you, Brandon. You look great! Look at your pecs! They're enormous! And so shredded! And your abs look great," said his dad. "Thanks, Dad. I love this gym. I can lift real heavy weights. I benched 145!" His dad put his hand on his pec muscle and felt it. "Wow, its so big. You're getting big Brandon. Pretty soon that muscle's gonna look like this." He unbuttoned his shirt and flexed his own pec muscles. They were huge. My eyes bulged as I saw Brandon's father's huge pecs. There must have been four inches of solid muscle in each pec. Brandon ran his hand over his dad's huge pec muscle. "Oh yeah, I want muscles as big as yours, dad. I wanna get huge." His dad looked at Brandon's big buff body. "I couldn't bench 145 until I was 15 years old, Brandon. I was 18 before I could bench 300. I bet you're gonna be benching 300 before you're 15. You've got great genes, Brandon. I'm glad I convinced the owner of this gym to let you work out here. You already need their heavy weights." Brandon was smiling wildly. He flexed his muscles for his dad and his dad admired them. "You look so good, son. You're big and you're strong. I'm so glad I have you as my son." Brandon smiled at his big strong dad as he flexed for him.

Finally he stopped flexing and his dad looked over at me. I looked into his eyes. They were exactly the same hazel color as Brandon's eyes. His hair was a little darker than Brandon's. But he had the same wide cheekbones and strong jaw as Brandon. His brown beard hairs were already showing even though he had just shaved that morning. He was brutally handsome. He looked so much like a man. A real man. He and ran his eyes up and down my skinny body. "Who's this?" he asked as if he had just seen an annoying insect in the room. "This is John, dad. He's my workout partner. He makes me work out real hard. He's 16 but he's real skinny as you can see. And he's real weak. But I'm making him work out hard. I know I've got great muscle genes and I sweat a lot and I know my muscle genes are in my sweat. So I'm giving John some of my sweat. That's gonna help his muscles grow." He rubbed his sweaty arm on my chest and his dad laughed. "Well, okay," he said, knowing full well I would never look like his son. "I'm glad you found someone to work out with. Having a spotter is good." He reached out his hand and shook mine. "Good to meet you, John," he said. His hand was big and muscular and his grip was very firm. He was all man. "You need some protein, Brandon. You need to feed those muscles after that workout." We went over to the front desk and his dad bought two big 45 gram protein milkshakes and he handed them to Brandon. I watched Brandon drink the protein down, his muscular arm holding the container as he glugged the thick liquid. He got halfway done with his second shake and looked at me. Then he handed the shake to me. "You need some protein too John. You gotta feed your muscles just like I do. Buy me another shake dad. I'm gonna share it with John." So Brandon's dad bought him another shake. He drank half and gave me half. "Feels good to feed your muscles," said Brandon as he rubbed his abs. His stomach had 90 grams of protein in it, protein that was going to turn into muscle. He looked up at his dad. "I want a huge dinner too dad. These muscles wanna grow!" His dad put his hand on Brandon's muscular shoulder and said "You can eat as much as you want, son. We've got a freezer full of meat."

Brandon looked at me. "John, you gotta eat a lot too. You can't build muscle if you don't eat a lot of protein. You got my muscle sweat in you and now you need protein. So eat!" I nodded my head. He looked at his dad. "John doesn't know how to fight, dad. He gets bullied all the time. I'm gonna teach him to fight." Brandon's dad looked at Brandon and then at me. "Well okay, Brandon, but I think you've got a big job. This kid doesn't look like much of a fighter. He looks like a real nerd." Brandon put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Yeah, he's a nerd now. But now he's got my muscle genes inside him. He's gonna put on some muscle. And I'm gonna teach him to fight those bullies!" His dad smiled and said to me, "You've got the best 12 year old fighter in this whole city as your trainer. Good luck. Maybe even a nerd can fight a bully with Brandon's help." I smiled and looked at Brandon's gorgeous face and muscular body. I was so happy he was my friend. "Gimme your card, dad," said Brandon. His father reached into his wallet and handed him his card. "And a pen," said Brandon. Brandon's dad did whatever Brandon wanted. Brandon took his father's pen and wrote on the card. "This is our address," he said as he handed me the car. Brandon's dad's name was Jason Schneider, and he was Vice President - Marketing of a company I never heard of. "Do you have a car?" asked Brandon. I nodded my head. "Yeah, I'm driving my mom's car." Brandon grinned. "Good. You come to my house at nine tomorrow morning. I'll teach you to fight. Then we'll have lunch and then we'll come here to work out. You're gonna be my driver this summer. I'm gonna teach you how to fight and make you put on some muscle with the muscle genes from my sweat and you can be my driver. Deal?" I reached over and shook Brandon's hand. "Deal!" I said. This was the best deal I ever made. Brandon grabbed his shirt and left with his dad. I stood there looking at my body in the mirror, a skinny body covered with the sweat of a 12 year old kid who had the biggest, strongest muscles I had ever seen on a young man. I knew I wouldn't be taking a shower until tomorrow morning. I wanted all that muscle sweat to soak in to my body.

I drank another protein shake when I got home and I asked my mom to cook me twice as much meat as she usually did. And I ate it all. Then I had another protein shake before bed. In the morning I got on the scale and saw that I had gained one pound. I looked at myself in the mirror and flexed my pecs. I thought I saw strands of muscle that weren't there yesterday. And my waist looked like it had lost some of the fat I had gained. I flexed my abs and I thought I could see some muscle. I was so excited. I was gaining muscle with Brandon's muscle sweat! I took a shower, knowing I would be getting more muscle sweat from Brandon soon. I ate a big breakfast. I was ready for my first fight lesson.

I went to Brandon's house. It was in a very nice part of town. His father was obviously very successful. His father's handsome looks and incredible body demanded success. He and Brandon both had the muscles and confidence of true alpha males. The house had two stories with a big three car garage. I parked and rang the doorbell. Brandon opened the door. He wearing just some workout shorts and he was drinking a protein shake. "I ate a big breakfast but I already got hungry again," he said. "I gained three pounds last night. My muscles are growing fast." I looked at his muscles. He hadn't even worked out yet and they still looked huge and striated. It was like he had a constant pump. "Wow," I said. "I gained one pound. And I think I lost some fat. Your muscle genes made me gain some muscle!" Brandon smiled. "Great!" he said. "Now you're gonna learn to fight."

He turned around and headed through the family room to the garage. He opened the door and went inside. This three car garage looked like a fight gym. There was a heavy bag hanging down. And also a small bag. Then there was a large wrestling matt. And there was Brandon's little weight set. A set that was much too small for him now. There were gloves and head protectors. "Here's my fight gym," said Brandon. I fight with my dad. Sometimes I can find other kids to fight with me. I've done boxing, wrestling, kickboxing and MMA. I'm a great fighter. I usually win. I've only lost a couple of times to kids that were way older than me. Now I'm so strong I won't lose at all, even to older kids. I bet I could fight an 18 year old and win. I may be only five feet tall but I'm strong and I'm fast." I looked at Brandon's body and said, "Wow."

He looked at me. "Okay, you're not gonna be entering any boxing or wrestling or kickboxing matches. You're gonna be a streetfighter. You're gonna fight those bullies on the street. So what you need to learn is MMA, which is a combination of all the fighting skills. Have you seen a MMA match?" I gulped. I didn't even know what MMA was. "No," I said quietly. "Have you ever seen a MMA match on TV?" asked Brandon. "Uh no," I said. "I'm not into sports. I don't even know what MMA stands for." Brandon laughed. "Geez, you really are a wimp. MMA means Mixed Martial Arts. You can box, use judo, kickbox, wrestle, anything. You can do whatever it takes. There are a few rules in MMA matches, but in a streetfight you don't have to follow those rules. The bully won't be following any rules when he attacks you and you don't have to follow any rules when you fight him back. I'm going to teach you how to win, John. You're gonna learn to fight and my muscle genes are gonna put some muscle on you. You're never going to have to worry about bullies again." I grabbed Brandon and hugged him and I started crying. "Thank you, Brandon, thank you," I said. He rubbed his muscles on me. "Not too much sweat yet," he said. "They'll be plenty of sweat later. Okay, we're gonna fight for an hour. Then we'll rest and I'm gonna show you a MMA match on my TV. Then we'll fight some more, eat lunch and go to the gym and work our backs. We're gonna have a busy day. And you're gonna get a ton of muscle sweat."

I released my grip on Brandon and he pointed to the big heavy bag. "Okay, who is the worst bully? Who's the kid you hate the most?" I thought for a few seconds and said, "Mike. He picks on me all the time and he's real mean. He likes to give me pain. I've known him since third grade and he's been torturing me ever since. He has two bully friends that hang out with him, Steve and Mark, but Mike is the worst." Brandon got a piece of chalk and drew a face on the big bag. He drew a body underneath. "Okay, that's Mike. Hit him!" I smashed my fist into the bag, hitting what looked like Mike's gut. I was so weak I barely moved the bag. "Hit his face!" ordered Brandon. I wound up and hit the face. "More!" yelled Brandon. I hit Mike over and over again, face and body. It felt real good hitting that big bully. All my punches were the same. I just moved my fist forward. "Okay, stop," said Brandon. "Now I'm going to show you how to hit. We're not gonna use any gloves because you won't be wearing gloves on the street. Here's an uppercut --- SMASH. Here's a left hook --- SMASH. Here's a jab --- SMASH. Here's a cross --- SMASH. Now watch what I do to Mike." Brandon started unleashing a fury of punches and he called out every punch. "Jab, jab, cross, hook, uppercut, hook, jab, uppercut." He kept punching. The uppercuts were hitting Mike's face. The hooks were hitting his head and his chest. The jabs were hitting his gut and his chest and the crosses were hitting everywhere on Mike's body. Mike was pulverized. Brandon lowered his head to the bag and said, "You should have been nicer to John, asshole." Then he blasted his knee into Mike's crotch with such power that the bag jumped up several inches. "Did that hurt, Mikey? You had two balls before. Now you got a half a ball." He turned to me and laughed.

"Okay, now you try those punches, John. I'm gonna stand behind you and show you how to do it. You have to move your hips and your shoulders. The power of your punches comes just as much from your legs, your hips and your shoulders as it does from your arms." So Brandon stood behind me, sometimes touching my body with his hard muscles. He would call out a punch - "JAB!" - and I would do it. He would guide my arm and pivot my shoulders and hips. He showed me how to make a good fist and how my wrists should look. He was a very good teacher. We did this for about an hour and I felt I had learned a lot. Mike was really beat up. I felt great. "Okay, time for a break. Let's get some protein and watch some MMA. You've got a lot to learn."

We went into Brandon's spacious kitchen and he grabbed a big can of protein powder. He put lots of milk and lots of powder in a blender and mixed up two big shakes. "Okay, lets go to my room. I've got a TV there." We went upstairs and entered Brandon's room. It was a big room for a kid and the first thing I noticed was all the sports trophies everywhere. There must have been 100 trophies in the room. I went up and looked at the trophies. He had trophies for football, basketball, baseball, track, martial arts, boxing, and MMA fighting. There were even a few swimming trophies. Brandon grinned. "I guess you could say I'm a jock," he said. "Oh yeah, you need some muscle sweat." He had a little sweat on him from helping me punch and he came up and rubbed it on my body. "You're not a jock but you need more muscle," he said. "I'm a jock and I'm gonna help you get that muscle. And teach you how to fight."

He had a stack of DVD's and he picked one out of the stack. "This is a great MMA match. The fighters and great and it will show you a lot of the moves." We sat down on his bed and he started the DVD as we drank our protein shakes. There was a big introduction of the fighters. They were light heavyweights, young men in their prime with incredibly muscular bodies. One fighter was blond with blue eyes. He looked like a muscular Viking. The other fighter looked Italian, with dark skin and brown eyes. He was also incredibly muscular. "Look at the muscles on those guys," said Brandon. "I'm gonna look like that one day." I turned to Brandon and said, "You already look like that." He laughed and flexed his big arm in my face. The fight started. "Okay, look. They're punching each other just like I showed you. See how they bob and move. See the different punches." I nodded my head. Then the Viking smashed his leg into the Italian's ribs. "Yeah, a kick," said Brandon. "You can punch. You can kick. You can do anything you want except gouge out their eyes!" The Italian staggered a bit but held his balance. Then there was more punching and more kicking. Brandon was bouncing up and down on the bed watching the fight. Obviously he loved it. Then the Italian hit the Viking on the head and the guy fell to the ground. Brandon stopped the tape. "Okay, the blond guy fell. What should the dark guy do?" I thought for a second and said "Wait for him to get up and start fighting again?" Brandon looked at me and yelled "NO! You jump on him and pound him!" He started the DVD. The Italian guy jumped on the Viking and started smashing him in the face. The Viking put up his hands to defend himself but he was taking a lot of punishment from the Italian. Then he spun around and escaped from the Italian. He jumped to his feet and the boxing continued. Brandon stopped the DVD. "If Mike ever falls down, you jump on him and smash him. MMA is just as much wrestling as it is boxing or kickboxing. You can twist his arm, choke him, pound him. If you're on top of him you can put him away. But sometimes he might escape like the blond guy did."

We played the whole DVD with Brandon explaining to me every move, every punch, every defensive action. By the end I thought I was a MMA expert. Brandon was a very good teacher. The blond guy won. He got the Italian on the mat and choked him until he submitted. Brandon said, "If you ever get a chance to choke Mike, choke him hard and when he submits smash his face! You're gonna be a streetfighter! He's never gonna bully you again." I was so stoked.

We went back to the gym. We put on some head gear to protect our heads. "Okay, wimp. Pretend I'm Mike. Fuck, you're such a puny nerd. You are so pathetic. I'm gonna fuck you up. I'm gonna smash you just like I always do." I cringed as I heard those words. He sounded just like Mike. He lunged at me and punched me softly in the gut. "Fight!" he yelled. I jabbed him in the chest. Then I punched him in the gut. Brandon was moving around but he wasn't trying to punch me. He was letting me hit him. "Hit harder! You can't hurt me. My muscles are so hard you can't hurt 'em. Punch harder!" I punched as hard as I could. It felt real good hitting Brandon who I thought was Mike. We sparred for several minutes. Once in awhile he hit me gently but he let me hit him a lot. Then I hit him hard in the chest and he fell to the mat. I knew what to do. I jumped on him and started punching. He wiggled around but he let me punch him. Then I wrapped my arm around his neck and pulled it tight. "Harder!" he yelled. I pulled as hard as I could. After a few seconds he twisted around and easily broke my hold. He was so strong! He got on top of me and held my hands down. He looked so stunning with his gorgeous hazel eyes, his drop dead handsome face and his strong muscles completely controlling me. "That's pretty good for the first day. But you need more muscle sweat." He dropped down on me and rubbed his pecs and abs all over my body. His muscles felt so hot, so hard, so strong. I moaned as I felt his body. "I think you like my muscle sweat," he said. I moaned more. He laughed and put his armpit over my nose. "Now that's some real sweat!" he said. I breathed in his armpit sweat, breathing in the pungent smell, the jock boy sweat smell that only true muscle jocks can make. That sweat smelled real good. I took several deep breaths and moaned. He laughed some more. Then he sat up and flexed his arms. He looked over and admired his muscles. "Now lets eat and then go to the gym. Gotta put more muscle on me. Gotta put some muscle on you. Your punches were real soft. You gotta punch hard, like me." He punched his fist into the mat and it seemed like the floor trembled as the power of his muscular chest, shoulder, arm and fist hit it.

We went into the kitchen and I saw Brandon's mom. My mouth dropped open. She was tall, about my height, five nine, with blond hair and blue eyes. She was wearing a tank top and her shoulders were way wider than mine and they were very muscular. Her arms were muscular too. She had traps and lat muscles, a firm round bubble butt and very muscular legs and calves. Brandon saw me looking at his mom. "My mom's got muscles too. She was a water polo player in high school and college. Tell him what happened mom." She looked at my skinny body. "Well, for water polo I started going to the weight room to work out and get stronger. You need to be real strong for water polo. My muscles grew real fast. Pretty soon I was stronger than all the girls and then I was stronger than some of the guys. I guess I have real good genes for building strong muscle. I was the best water polo player in both high school and college. After I graduated I kept going to the gym and that's where I met Brandon's father. He was so huge. He was much bigger and stronger than any of the water polo boys I had known. He had been a big football player in college - a running back. After he graduated he entered a few bodybuilding contests and he won all of them. We met at the gym and we fell in love with each other. Then we got married and had Brandon. And Brandon's got our muscles." Brandon was grinning. "I've got the best muscle genes ever," he said. "I've got a muscle stud father and a muscle stud mother and I got their genes! And now that I'm workin' out with the heavy weights I'm gonna get huge and super strong!" He flexed his arms for his mom and she felt his biceps. "Oh yeah, Brandon, you're gonna be way bigger and stronger than your dad. I am so proud of you."

Brandon looked at me. "This is John. He's my workout partner at the gym. As you can see, he's a wimp. I'm helping him build some muscle and I'm teaching him how to fight some bullies he's got. After I'm done with him, he won't be a wimp any more." He smiled like a proud teacher might smile. "Nice to meet you John," said his mom. "Looks like you could use some muscle and Brandon's sure got the muscle. I hope some of that rubs off on you." Brandon and I looked at each other and grinned. He rubbed his hand on his sweaty pecs and licked the sweat off his hand. "Yeah," I said.

Brandon looked at his mother's arm. "I wanna arm wrestle you, mom. You always win, but I'm getting so strong I'm gonna beat you soon." He looked at Brandon's arm. “Your arm looks a lot bigger. You're putting on muscle real fast. You’ve been getting so strong since you started lifting weights that I know you’re gonna beat me soon. Okay, Brandon, lets armwrestle.” Brandon ran over and grabbed a phone book and put it on the kitchen table. His arm was shorter than his mom’s, so this made it even. He and his mom sat down and locked their hands. “You say go, John,” said Brandon. His mother’s arm was bigger than Brandon’s arm but Brandon’s arm was more striated and looked harder. Both their arms were way more muscular that my little arm. “Okay, ready?” I said. Brandon was smiling. “Yeah!” he yelled. His arm was twitching and I could already see the fibers of muscle in his bicep. “Go!” I yelled. Immediately Brandon’s bicep bulged and those fibers of muscle became huge. His mom’s arm bulged too and I could tell she was really straining to control her son’s arm. Their arms remain at the top, swaying back and forth slightly. “Wow, Brandon, you’ve gotten so strong!” she said. “I used to be able to smash your arm instantly. Now I can’t move it.” Brandon looked at his big muscle. “Yeah, my muscle’s gotten real big and real strong. It’s gonna crush you mom.” He took a deep breath and pushed even harder. His face was straining. All his muscles were bulging. His neck and trap muscles were huge and his shoulders and pecs were so striated I could see every fiber of muscle. Veins were everywhere. And his arm was red with blood as it surged through his bulging muscle. “Smash her, muscle!” yelled Brandon. His bicep bulged even more. I couldn't believe how big and shredded it was. His mom’s arm started going down. Then it crashed to the table. Brandon held it down with his muscular arm and looked at his mom. “Finally! I'm stronger than my mom! Pretty soon I’m gonna be able to beat you mom even if you use two arms. My muscles are getting so big and strong!” She reached down and kissed him on the forehead. “I like big men,” she said.

Then Brandon let go and said “I’m hungry! Let’s eat!” His mom brought over a huge plate of sandwiches. “I made chicken and tuna sandwiches. I know you like both of those. Lots of lettuce and tomato too. And whole wheat bread. I’m glad you like to eat healthy foods, Brandon. Your muscles grow better when you eat healthy.” Brandon grunted and grabbed a sandwich and started gobbling it down. He looked at me and said, “You better eat, John, or I’m gonna eat ‘em all!” I took a sandwich and started eating. Brandon’s mother brought over two huge glasses of milk. I had never seen so much food served for a lunch for two boys, but I had never been in a muscle jock house before. Brandon ate four sandwiches and I barely managed to eat two. I couldn’t believe how much he could eat. “One more, mom,” he said. “I wanna make these muscles grow!” So his mom made one more chicken sandwich and Brandon wolfed it down, along with another glass of milk. He ate five big sandwiches. That was ten slices of whole wheat bread, lots of chicken and tuna, and lots of lettuce and tomato and lots of milk. He patted his stomach, which was bulging out a little bit under his corrugated ab muscles. “Feels so good to feed your muscles,” he said. “Hey mom, make us some big protein drinks. We’ll drink ‘em after our workout. I got a bigger appetite than John here, so make me two big shakes. John, when you’ve got more muscle maybe you’ll be able to eat big too. Gotta eat big to get big.” He patted his full stomach again.

We drove to the gym. It was back day. We went inside and Brandon immediately stripped off his shirt. “Gotta look at our muscles working,” he said. I stripped off my shirt too. He stood in front of the mirror and flexed his lats. Those muscles were huge. I tried to flex my lats but I didn’t have any. He laughed. “You are such a wimp!” He stuck his hands under my armpits and said “We gotta build some muscle here.” He went over to the chinning bar, jumped up and did 25 easy pull-ups. “Nice warm up,” he said as he jumped down and flexed his lats in front of me. “Your turn.” I had never been good at doing pull-ups. My back was very weak since I didn’t have any lats. I jumped up and barely managed two pull-ups. “Whoa,” said Brandon. “Stay there.” He grabbed my back and said, “Do more!” So I struggled and Brandon helped me do eight more pull-ups. At the end, he was doing most of the work because I was totally exhausted. “I need more weight,” he said. “I’m too strong for regular pull-ups.” He went over and got a weight belt. He put it on. “Get a 20 pound dumbbell and tie it on,” he said. I got a 20 pound dumbbell, found a rope and tied it on to Brandon’s weight belt. He jumped up and grabbed the bar. Then he did 12 reps, slowing down for the last three. “Spot me!” he said. I grabbed his muscular waist and help him up for three more reps. He jumped down and yelled “Oh yeah! So fucking strong!” His lats were now covered in sweat as he flexed them in front of me. Then he grabbed me and rubbed his big sweaty lats all over my little almost non-existent lats, on both sides of my body. “You’re gonna need a lot of muscle sweat,” he said. “You need some lats!” He looked down at his 20 pound dumbbell. “This is too light. I wanna try 40 pounds. I wanna see how strong my lats are.” So I untied his 20 pound weight, found a 40 pound dumbbell and dragged it over to Brandon, who was standing there flexing his lats in the mirror. The 40 pounds was so heavy for me. But Brandon thought he could lift it and his whole body with his big bulging lat muscles. I tied it onto his weight belt. He jumped up, grabbed the bar and did a pull-up. His lats were incredible, bulging like thick wings of muscle. His biceps looked like steel cords when he was down and the bulged into balls of muscle as he pulled himself up. “Oh yeah!” he yelled as he got to the top. He did two more reps without any help from me, slowing down for his last rep. He started his fourth rep and immediately slowed down. I grabbed his waist and slowly helped him up. I yelled at him, making him work as hard as he could. I watched his big muscles flex as I yelled and helped those muscles pull up his body and the heavy weight. He did three more reps for a total of seven. His muscles were bulging incredibly, filled with blood with sweat dripping down everywhere. He jumped down and roared “So fucking strong! I love this gym! I love heavy weights! I love having you as a spotter!” He rubbed his sweaty lats on my little lats again, covering me with his muscle sweat.

We had an incredible back workout. I had never worked so hard in my life. Besides the pull-ups, we did machine rows, dumbbell rows, deadlifts, shrugs and cable pulls. Brandon was always three or four times as strong as I was. He could deadlift 200 pounds and do shrugs with 150. His back was so strong. I could deadlift 50 pounds and shrugs with 35. We did four sets of everything. I was totally exhausted. Brandon was covered with sweat and his muscles were totally pumped. They were red and veins were popping out everywhere. But he didn’t look tired. He had tremendous endurance. He had been a jock for years. His body was used to getting stressed, whether from sports or lifting heavy iron. “Great workout,” said Brandon as he rubbed his sweat on my back and lats one more time. I was covered with Brandon’s muscle sweat. “Our backs are gonna grow like crazy. We lifted such heavy weights. Our muscles are gonna fucking grow! Let’s drink our protein.” He was so confident. Brandon grabbed his protein and drank his two big shakes and I drank my one shake. Brandon had at least twice as much muscle as I did so he needed more protein.

We did this brutal fight training and workout program for two weeks. Two and a half hours of fight training and two and a half hours of brutal workouts every day, except for Sunday. Sunday was our day of rest. And my body really needed the rest. But since we only worked out one body part each day, that bodypart had a whole week to rest and grow. I was amazed at what happened. I gained five pounds of muscle in two weeks. That was as much as I had gained in three months and I knew it was all muscle and not fat. I looked at my body in the mirror and I could see new muscle everywhere. My chest and shoulders were bigger, my arms were bigger, my legs were bigger. I even had a six pack. All that muscle sweat that Brandon had given me was working! I had his muscle genes in my body! And my strength had doubled! My bench went from 40 to 80, curls from 20 to 40, military presses from 30 to 60, shrug 35 to 70 deadlift 50 to 110 and squats from 40 to 90. I had more than doubled my deadlift and leg strength. But my gains were nothing compared to Brandon’s. Brandon gained 15 pounds of pure muscle in two weeks. We both now weighed 115, but since he was nine inches shorter than I was he was much more muscular and much stronger. His bench went from 145 to 250. He could now do pull-ups with an 80 pound dumbbell hanging on his waist. His press was 150 – way more that he weighed, his curl 115 – what he weighed, and his squat 275. And he could deadlift an incredible 325 pounds. Brandon was an incredibly strong 12 year old boy.

And I became a fighter. Brandon was a very good teacher. In two weeks I learned how to box and how to kick box. I learned some jujitsu moves. And I learned how to wrestle, street wrestling MMA style. No holds barred. And Brandon had transferred his incredible self confidence to me. I didn’t feel like a wimp any more. I felt strong. I felt confident. I felt like a man. I still wasn’t very strong. My strength was nothing compared to Brandon’s. But to me I was very strong. I had Brandon’s muscle sweat in me. I had Brandon’s muscle genes. I was twice as strong as I was two weeks before! And I could fight!

My favorite part of our training was the wrestling. I loved feeling Brandon’s hard muscles on me. I loved feeling their size, their power, their hardness. I loved feeling his muscle sweat as he rubbed his sweaty body on me. I always got hard when we wrestled. And I thought I felt Brandon’s cock getting hard under his shorts as he rubbed his pecs and abs on my body. Sometimes he would rub and move his hips back and forth, pressing his cock into me. I loved feeling Brandon’s hard body and I loved feeling his cock pressing into me. At the end of our second week we were wrestling and suddenly Brandon ripped off my shorts. I was now totally nude and Brandon started laughing. “Somebody’s got a hard on,” he said. I reached over and pulled down Brandon’s shorts. His cock was hard too. “Hah! You’re hard too,” I said. “And look. You’re only 12 and your cock looks like its bigger than mine! Your muscles are bigger and your cock is bigger. You’re a stud, Brandon.” He laughed and held up his cock. I held up mine. His was definitely bigger. “Yeah, bigger,” he said, just like he would say if he was comparing two pieces of wood. “Bigger and thicker. Just like my muscles. Bigger than yours. And I’ve got something else to show you. See these?” He moved his hard cock to one side and I saw some light brown hairs growing out of his crotch. “I’ve got crotch hair! I’m going through puberty! I got a half inch taller too. I’m gonna get real huge now!” He was so excited. I suddenly realized his voice had gotten deeper. His voice was becoming the voice of a man.

Then he pulled off his shorts and leapt at me. “I wanna wrestle you naked.” He said. “That will be real fun.” I grabbed him as he hit me and tried to twist his arm. But his arm was so strong I couldn’t move it. Then he twisted my arm and my arm was easy for him to move. He was so strong. We wrestled, both of us totally naked. But this was fun wrestling, not MMA street fight wrestling. He let me pin him. Then he’d twist away and he pinned me. He let me wrap my legs around his shredded waist and squeeze. His muscles were so hard I couldn’t squeeze an inch. Then he wrapped his legs around my waist and squeezed. His legs were so strong my waist couldn’t resist them. He crushed me. He did the same thing with my chest and he forced all the air out of my lungs. I tried it with him but his chest muscles were so strong and hard my poor little legs had no luck. His chest was much stronger than my legs.

We spun around and wrestled for a long time. He would pin me and put his armpit on my nose. I breathed in his pungent jock boy sweat and I started groaning. He grabbed my cock and felt it getting harder as I smelled his armpit sweat. “You like the smell of my sweat, don’t you boy. My sweat is full of muscle genes and it smells real good doesn’t it. Breathe it in. Breathe my muscle genes into your lungs. Fill your little lungs with the sweat of a muscle stud!” I was moaning as I breathed in Brandon’s sweat. He knew he was a stud and he loved it when I worshipped him. Sweat was pouring out of both of our bodies but Brandon always sweated more that I did. He had bigger muscles and they sweated more. Brandon’s sweat was now covering my entire body. I breathed it in. I licked it. I felt it. I loved Brandon’s sweat. Finally I got tired – Brandon never got tired – and I stopped trying to resist him as he wrestled me. He got on top of me, held my arms down and started rubbing his chest and crotch on my body. His pec muscles felt so good as he rubbed them on me. He face was sweaty and gorgeous and he looked down on me like a warrior looking at his conquered prey. His cock was rock hard and it rubbed up and down my sweaty ab muscles. He was the conquering warrior now dominating the boy he had just defeated in the wrestling battle. He was dominating me with his muscles and his cock. He let go of my hands and covered me with his muscles as he rubbed his cock on my body. His cock was so hard it was jamming itself into my flesh. His thrusts got faster and faster. “Oh oh oh,” he grunted. He was going wild on top of me, thrusting and grunting. Then he yelled “OHHHHH!” and I felt a spurt of cum shooting out of his cock onto my body. He kept grunting and thrusting and more and more cum spurted out of his cock. This went on for over a minute with cum spurting out of his young cock over and over. Finally he dropped down on top of me and ran his hard cock over my abs letting the lubrication from all his cum and his sweat and my body fondle the nerves on his cock which were still feeling the pleasure of his orgasm. “Oh that felt so good,” he said.

He sat up on my stomach. His cock was still semi-hard and he stroked it. He looked down at me and then slid back so he was sitting on the top of my legs. He looked down at my rock hard cock. I had not cum yet. “Hey, its not fair if I have all the fun,” he said as he stroked his cock. Drops of cum were still coming out. I looked at his sweaty muscular body and said, “Just stay right there.” I put one hand on my cock and the other hand on his sweat and cum covered ab muscles. His ab muscles were as hard as bricks. He had no fat on his body and his skin covered the muscle like cellophane. His muscles were so hot, hot and sweaty from all the wrestling. I started rubbing those ab muscles as I stroked my cock. I moved my hand all over his hard body, from his abs to his pecs to his shoulders and back again. I was in lust. Then I started talking to him. “Oh god, Brandon, your muscles are so incredible. They are so strong. They are so hard. You are like a young god. You have the most incredible muscle genes in the world. And your face is so gorgeous. Oh, oh, oh.” I rubbed my hand all over Brandon’s pecs and shoulders and abs, feeling his big, hot, sweaty striated muscles. I looked at his face. His short light brown hair, his hazel eyes, his wide cheeks and strong jaw, his bright white teeth. His thick muscular neck, his bulging traps, his huge shoulders. Oh, Oh. Oh! He was truly a young god. My cock was now ready to explode. I looked at Brandon’s cock as saw it was rock hard again too. He started moaning. “Oh yeah, oh yeah,” he moaned. He was getting excited again. I kept talking. “Your cock is so huge. It looks like its ready to cum again. You have so much testosterone in your body. Testosterone is surging through your muscles and your cock. You’re going through puberty. You’re going to get taller. Your shoulders are going to get wider. Your muscles will grow even bigger. You’re gonna be huge!” At that, my cock exploded and I shot spurt after spurt of cum on my chest. And at the same time Brandon yelled “Yeah, huge!” and his cock exploded too. He shot cum all over my face. Even though it was the second time he had cum in ten minutes, he shot more cum than I did. He spurt and spurt and spurt. My face was covered with Brandon’s muscle stud cum. My body was covered with my cum and my face was covered by Brandon’s cum. After all the cum had oozed out of his cock, he said “Eat it. You’ll have even more muscle genes in you. My cum is filled with muscle genes, just like my sweat. Eat my cum!” I reached up and rubbed as much of his cum as I could in my mouth. It tasted so good. Pure, clean and salty. There were millions of Brandon’s sperm in there, sperm that would make huge muscular boys, boys that were just as big and muscular as Brandon was. Muscle stud sperm that was going into my body. I slurped and swallowed his muscle cum.

We had a brutal shoulder routine that afternoon. We did military presses, dumbbell presses, three types of dumbbell raises - front, side and bent over, and pulley raises. We yelled at each other during our exercises as we spotted, forcing our muscles to work incredibly hard. And we also got hard ons. We were both totally turned on by our growing muscles, especially Brandon’s muscles which were getting huge. At the end of the workout we stood in front of the mirror. I couldn’t believe how wide Brandon’s shoulders were. “Look at your shoulders, Brandon. Look how wide they are. I think your shoulder bones have gotten wider. And your muscles are so much thicker. Your shoulders are twice as wide as your hips. You are such a fucking stud!” He grinned and flexed his delts and his lats. His V shape was incredible. “You’re not looking bad yourself, John. You’re getting bigger too. I can see muscle on your shoulders. Before all I saw was bone. Now I see some muscle.” He reached up and felt my shoulders. I had military pressed 65 pounds, a new record. Brandon felt my new muscle, muscle that I knew was there because of Brandon’s muscle sweat. I felt so good. I had Brandon’s muscle genes in my body and I was getting bigger and stronger. He rubbed his sweat on my shoulders and I looked him in the eye. “I want more cum,” I said. “I want way more Brandon muscle genes. I wanna suck your big cock.” His eyes got wide and I could see his cock getting harder under his shorts.

“Tomorrow, after you beat up Mike. You can suck my cock after you beat up that bully. It will be your reward. I'm gonna love fucking your face. Your stomach will be full of my muscle genes.” He laughed and stroked his cock. I got a fearful look on my face and my hard cock immediately got soft as I thought about Mike. Two inches taller than me, big and kind of fat. And I thought about his bully friends. “Uh, I don’t know, Brandon. Mike’s big. He’s been bullying me for years. And he’s got a lot of bully friends.” Brandon patted me on the shoulder. “John, you’re twice as strong as you were. And now you can fight. And you’ve got my muscle genes in you. He's just a big fat slob. You're strong and you can fight! You’re gonna kill Mike! He’s not gonna know what hit him. You’re gonna pound him senseless. And don’t worry about his friends. If they come near you I’ll smash ‘em.” He pounded his fist into his abs, real hard. “You can do it, John. I know you can. And I’ll be backing you. I’ll be there for you.” He rubbed my shoulder again, rubbing more muscle sweat into my muscle. I felt more confident. Brandon’s confidence was being transferred to me just like his muscles. My cock started getting harder again. I wanted to smash Mike.

The next day I picked Brandon up at his house. We agreed to wear sweatshirts so Mike and his bully friends couldn't see Brandon's big muscles or my small muscles. I knew Mike and his friends hung out at a park where they smoked cigarettes and harassed the smaller kids. We went to the park and I parked my car. I looked across the park and saw Mike and three of his friends standing around a basketball court. They were smoking cigarettes and yelling obscenities at the other kids nearby. They didn't have any shirts on. Mike's body was big but it was fat. His friends were fat too. Too many cheeseburgers, I thought. A chill went up my spine as I saw Mike. I had been afraid of him for so long. Could I really do this?

Brandon and I walked across the park. Brandon strutted and I tried to strut. Mike and his friends saw us when we were about 50 feet from them. They turned around and faced us. "Fuck, it's that wimp John. And he's got some little kid friend with him. Hey wimp! Whaddya doin' here? I never saw you come near me before. You're always trying to avoid me. And there you are. This is gonna be fun! Looks like you want a beating." His friends laughed. We walked over and just stared at them. Then I said, "You're a bully Mike. And you're a fat slob asshole. Fuck off, you fat ass bully asshole!" Mike looked enraged. "What did you say? What did you say?" he yelled. "I said you're an asshole! You're a fuckin' fat ass asshole, Mikey!" I yelled back at him. He charged at me, but when he got about three feet from me I threw a hard kick right into his face. He staggered backwards. Then his friends started running towards me, but Brandon ran up and smashed one of them in the mouth breaking his jaw. He kicked one of them in the ribs and I heard a cracking sound. In a fraction of a second he smashed his fist into the third bully's gut. They fell to the ground in abject pain and looked up at Brandon. They couldn't believe what this short kid had done to them. Brandon ripped off his sweatshirt and flexed his muscles at the fat bullies. Their mouths dropped open. This wasn't a kid. This was a muscle stud! "John and I are training partners," he said. "John's got muscles just like me and he's real strong." I looked at Brandon and grinned. I was wearing a sweatshirt. Maybe they thought I did have muscles just like Brandon's. The bullies looked at me and back at Brandon. They trembled in fear. Then Brandon kicked one of the bullies and said "The fat slob Mikey is gonna fight John all by himself. If you guys get off the ground I'm gonna smash you." Then for good measure he kicked another bully in the ribs so hard I could hear a bone break. They stayed on the ground trembling.

Mike looked at Brandon's incredible body and then at me. I could see fear in his eyes, just like the fear I used to have of him. Now he was afraid! Afraid of me! He came up to me and tried to hit me, but I easily dodged the punch. Then I started punching him. He wasn't used to his victims fighting back and my punches were real quick. My punches weren't real hard, but they were hurting him. I punched his chest and his gut, big soft pieces of flesh. My fists went right into his fat. He tried to punch me but I easily dodged out of the way. Brandon had trained me to be a fighter! I was a way better fighter than Mike. Then I hit him in the jaw and he tumbled onto the ground. I jumped on top of him and started smashing his face. "Stop, stop, stop!" he yelled. I spit into his face and said "How many times did you stop when I asked you to stop?" He looked at me and said, "Uh, uh, uh." I smashed him again, right in the nose. His nose broke. "None!" I yelled. I smashed him again. He tried to squirm away but as he squirmed I wrapped my arm around his neck. I grabbed my forearm and squeezed his neck with my arm. My bicep bulged. It was small but it was hard. I pulled on my forearm and my arm started crushing Mike's neck. I could hear his cartilage crackle as I busted through his windpipe. He started gurgling. "Tell me you'll never bully me again, Mikey. Tell your asshole friends not to touch me too. Tell me! Tell me now or I'll crush your neck like a piece of fruit!" I increased the pressure. His face turned red and spit was drooling out of his mouth. He looked at me helplessly but he didn't say anything. "Good bye, neck," I said as I pulled in harder. He started screaming in pain. "I'll never bully you John. And dudes, don't bully him." I spat on his face again. "Tell me you're sorry. Tell me you're sorry you were such an asshole." He looked at me like he couldn't believe this was happening to him. I cranked up the pressure. He tried to scream in pain again. Now he could hardly talk. "I'm sorry, John. I'm really sorry." I cranked harder. "And what are you? What part of the body are you?" He couldn't even move. Oxygen was being removed from his brain. He would pass out in seconds. "I'm an asshole. I'm sorry I was such an asshole." I gave him one more squeeze and then I let go. I stood over him and spat in his face again. "Have a nice day," I said as I kicked his fat ass. "And if you or your goons ever touch me again, my training partner Brandon and I are gonna find you and make you feel like this was a garden party." Brandon sneered at Mike and hit a most muscular pose as he stood over the bully's crumpled body. Brandon spit on Mike too and we both kicked some dirt in his face. Mike was crying. I had cried so many times because of Mike and now he was crying. I felt so good as I put my arm around Brandon's muscular shoulder. We strutted back to my car. And I really strutted this time. The bullies lay on the ground with tears rolling down Mike's face. One of the little kids on the playground came up to Mike and said, "You fuckin' deserved that!" Then he ran off.

We hopped in my car and I looked over at Brandon. He had pulled down his shorts and his cock was rock hard. "That was so fun," he said. "God I hate bullies. Those guys were toast. We smashed 'em. They're never gonna touch you again. You did a great job fighting Mike. But you need more muscles genes inside you. We gotta keep you getting stronger." He stroked his cock and I laughed.

We left the parking lot and Brandon kept stroking his cock and telling me how horny he was. "Fighting always makes me horny," he said. "I get lots of adrenaline in my blood in a fight. It mixes with my testosterone - and I got lots of that - and I go wild. I wanna fuck, fuck fuck!" He looked at me with his beautiful face and stroked his cock and ran his hand over his hard ab muscles. My cock was rock hard too. I kept looking over at his body and his cock. He was the hottest boy I had ever seen. And he was going to let me suck his big thick cock. I saw a side road that led to an abandoned building. "I want you now!" I said as I turned onto the road. We parked behind the abandoned building and I ripped off my shorts and jumped into the back seat on my back. "I wanna lick your balls. I wanna suck your cock. And then I want you to fuck my face!" Brandon ripped off his shorts jumped into the back seat on top of me. "Oh yeah, lick! Lick my balls and my cock. Feel my muscles. I am so fucking horny. I'm gonna blast lots more muscle genes in you. I'm gonna fill you up with muscle genes."

So we had wild sex in the back seat of my mom's car. I felt Brandon's big muscles. I licked them too. I smelled his sweat. I licked his balls. I licked his cock. I sucked his cock. And then I opened my mouth and he jammed that huge weapon in my mouth, all the way down into my throat. He thrust his hips in and out of my mouth and in less than a minute he came, shooting spurt after spurt of cum down my throat into my stomach. He sure was horny! After he came he left his cock in my mouth and I continued licking and sucking it. He moaned in pleasure as I felt his hot muscles and licked his cock. His cock was still semi hard and in less than two minutes it got hard again. "There's another part of you that I'm gonna blast with muscle cum," he said. He spun me over and spit on my butt. He rubbed the spit into my asshole. Then he jammed his cock right into my ass. He wasn't gentle. He was rough. He was a big, strong rough kid and he was a big, strong rough fucker. He fucked me for over five minutes, grunting and moaning in pleasure. My cock was ready to explode too as I rubbed it on the leather seat of the car. Finally he came, shooting spurt after spurt of his muscle gene cum up my ass. I came too, shooting my cum all over the car seat. Now I had Brandon's muscle gene cum in my ass and in my stomach. Plus I was covered with his muscle sweat. I was in heaven.

In the next month I gained another five pounds of muscle. Brandon kept filling me with muscle cum and rubbing his muscle sweat all over my body. I knew I had his muscle genes in me. I was stronger too and I felt real confident. Brandon had transferred both his strength and his confidence to me. I walked taller. I wasn't afraid of anybody. I was in the shopping mall and I saw Mike and one of his friends coming towards me. Two months before I would have turned around and hid from them. Now I walked strongly towards them. And guess what happened? They turned around and walked quickly away from me! Mike was afraid of me! I strutted forward like the man I was.

And in that month, Brandon gained another 20 pounds of muscle. He had also gained an inch and a half in height. He was five two and he weighed 135 and he was solid muscle. And he wouldn't turn 13 for another six months. We still worked out every day. I spotted him and yelled at him and forced him to lift heavier and heavier weights. He was now benching 335 and squatting 385. His young muscles were incredibly strong. I went to football tryouts with him. The coaches of all the teams were pleading with him to join their team. They knew they would have a winning team if they had Brandon. He was the number one draft pick of the hundreds of boys who were trying out. I knew Brandon was always going to be the number one athlete on all his teams. And I was his training partner. I got to watch him lift incredibly heavy weights. I got to watch and feel his muscles. I got to smell and taste his sweat. And he soaked me with his muscle sweat and blasted his muscle cum inside me. I was in heaven.

THE END

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