Surfer Kid
by John D.
It was a hot summer day and I decided to go to the beach for some rays. I live in Southern California not far from a great surfing beach. I had heard on TV that the surf was really high because of a hurricane out in the Pacific. Good, I thought to myself. There would be a lot of hot young surfers at the beach today.
Sure enough, when I got to the beach I saw that the water was literally covered with guys waiting to catch that next great wave. The guys, who seemed to range in age from about ten years old to their early 20's, sat upright on their boards looking out at the ocean and jockeying for position. When a good set of waves arrived, there would be a mad scramble of surfers all wanting to get on the same wave and ride it in. Only a few survived.
I put on some sun lotion and lay down on my towel on the warm sand. The hot sun felt great on my chest and face. I was almost asleep when I heard some loud yelling out in the ocean. I looked up and saw two kids arguing with each other. The smaller of the two kids was paddling his board up close to the bigger kid and punching him in the chest and back. The bigger kid looked kind of stunned and tried to push off the smaller kid, but the little tiger just kept at it. Finally the bigger kid started paddling his board towards the beach and the smaller kid followed in hot pursuit.
When the bigger kid got to the sand, he immediately dropped his surfboard and started running. The smaller kid did the same thing and ran right after the bigger kid. I now could see both of them very well since they were only about 30 feet from me. The bigger kid looked like he was about 16 years old, tall and thin. He was a pretty ordinary looking teenage boy. Then I looked at the smaller kid and my mouth dropped open. He couldn't have been more than 12 years old and he was almost a foot shorter than the bigger kid. But he had muscles all over his body. His shoulders were wide and capped with muscle. He had a big chest for a kid, with bulging pecs and lats that flared out under his shoulders. His arms were really muscular. His abs were shredded with muscle. All these muscles were in motion as the kid chased down the larger boy. To my surprise, the younger kid was a lot faster than the older boy. His legs looked really strong as he charged though the sand. In a matter of seconds he caught up with the older boy and tackled him from behind. It looked like the kid played football, because it was a perfect tackle.
The kids were now only about 20 feet from me. The younger kid grabbed the older boy, spun him around so that he was lying on his back started punching him relentlessly on his chest and face. The younger kid just sat on the older boy's waist and punched away. Every time the older boy tried to roll over, the younger kid squeezed his muscular legs together into the older boy's body, crushing his flesh and keeping him under control. The older boy tried to defend himself by using his fists to hit the musclekid, but his punches usually missed and even when they hit they seemed to bounce harmlessly off the kid's hard body.
"That was my wave, asshole!" yelled the kid as he continued his brutal punches. "I'm gonna teach you not to fuck around with me when I want a wave. I'm gonna teach you who's the boss out there so you never fuck with me again." I could tell the kid's punches were really hard. With every blow, his shoulders and arms bulged with muscle and that muscle packed a real wallop. Blood was starting to spurt from the older kid's nose. His body was starting to show big red welts. The tall 16-year-old had a look of sheer horror in his eyes, like he was stunned and couldn't believe what this little kid was doing to him. Finally the older kid stopped resisting and just lay there helplessly, groaning in pain. The angry musclekid kept pounding on the older kid's skinny chest, now using it like a punching bag. I could see big bruises forming all over the bigger kid's body. It seemed like some animal instinct had taken over the musclekid's brain and he wanted to completely thrash the older kid, which he was doing.
Finally I couldn't take it any longer. I shouted, "Hey, cut it out, kid! You're going to kill that guy!" The musclekid stopped his beating and looked over at me with kind of a sneer on his face. Then he looked down at the trembling older kid who he had just pulverized and spit right on his face. "You're pathetic," he said. "You can't even fight an 11 year old." Then the musclekid jumped to his feet and stood over the older kid. He flexed his arms in triumph, smiling in a superior way. Looking down at his vanquished prey, he spit one more time on the older kid's face and then kicked some sand onto the spit and all over the poor kid's face and eyes. "Get lost, wimp," said the musclekid. "If I ever see you around here again I'm gonna really kick your ass." He turned around and walked over towards me. The tall 16-year-old slowly got up, with spit and sand covering his face and blood pouring out of his nose. He hobbled over to pick up his surfboard and headed for the parking lot as fast as he could.
As the musclekid walked towards me, a shiver went up my spine as he got closer and closer. His muscles looked bigger and stronger the closer he got. He was walking with kind of a swagger, like he knew he was hot stuff and liked to show off what he had. When he got to where I was lying, he straddled me, standing over my body with one foot on each side of my hips. "Why don't ya mind your own business, mister," said the kid, looking down at me with a look of superior contempt. "That asshole was taking my wave and anybody who takes my wave is going to pay for it. It's a jungle out there, mister. Survival of the fittest. Only the strong survive. And I sure showed that wimp who's the strongest!" At that, the kid smiled down at me, slowly raised his arms and flexed. My mouth dropped open at the sight of his big, peaked biceps.
As he was flexing, I looked up at his muscular young body. As I looked up at his buff physique I felt totally inferior to him, even though I was a young adult and he was just a kid. I felt like I was in the presence of a superior being. He had blue eyes, short blond hair and a very good-looking face. His skin was a dark, golden tan, browned from many hours of surfing in the hot summer sun. His abs were chisled like a washboard. As he flexed his arms, his lats flared out from his shredded waist to his wide, muscular shoulders. His chest was much bigger than his waist and his pecs bulged out proudly from his ribcage. Looking up, I could see the cleavage between his big pecs and the individual fibers of muscle that twitched under his thin, brown skin. His arms were really muscular for a kid that young. I was guessing that his biceps were probably as hard as rocks. His legs, which were straddling me like the Colossus of Rhodes, were tan and muscular. I felt a pit in my stomach as I took in the awesome muscularity of this kid who was overpowering me just by his physical presence.
Finally, as the kid finished flexing I said, "Yeah, you sure look strong, all right. You've really got a lot of muscles." The handsome kid flashed a big smile and immediately dropped down and sat on my stomach. I felt the two globes of his muscular ass push down on my soft belly. "You like my muscles, mister? Yeah, they're really strong. These muscles help me a lot in sports. I play football, basketball, baseball -- you name it -- and I'm really good in everything. I'm the strongest, fastest football player in my whole class. I'm the star player on my Pop Warner football team. I'm always scoring touchdowns." The kid said all this very matter-of-factly, like he was just laying out all the facts about what a stud he was. "My muscles have really gotten bigger and stronger in the last three months too. The kid across the street from me, who's 15 years old, got a weight set for his birthday and I've been working out with him. Well, I was already pretty strong but I've gotten so strong since I've been working out that I'm already stronger than him! And he's 15 and I'm only 11. He's starting to look at me a little different because he knows I can beat his ass anytime I want."
I was really getting hot, and not just from the sun. This kid had a real jock-stud attitude to go with his muscles. Suddenly, the kid flexed his right arm right in front of my face. "Here, mister, feel my muscle. Feel how hard it is." I reached up and tried to put my fingers around the kid's bulging bicep. The muscle felt like warm marble. Hard as steel and as big as a small orange. His bicep was too big for me to get my hand all around it. He curled his arm up and down several times. With each curl, his bicep got bigger, harder and more peaked. Veins were running up, down and across his flexed upper arm. I just couldn't believe an 11 year old kid had this kind of muscle. The kid smiled as I ran my fingers over his big, hard upper arm. "Pretty hard, ain't it," he said. "Hey mister, try to hurt that muscle. Squeeze as hard as you can and see if you can hurt my muscle." I pinched my thumb and forefinger as hard as I could against the pulsating, living rock that was the kid's bicep. With all the power I could muster I couldn't make the smallest dent in his bicep. The kid smiled with a look of total superiority.
"OK, mister, now it's my turn," said the kid. "Flex your arm. Let's see what you got." Sheepishly I raised my right arm and flexed my bicep as hard as I could. I guess you could say that I'm kind of a nerd -- I was never very good at sports in school and I don't really get much exercise. As I flexed my arm I could see that my flexed bicep was smaller than the kid's flexed bicep and it was a lot softer and squishier. The kid looked at my feeble excuse for an arm and said, "Jesus Christ, mister, that looks like a pile of flab. A second ago you tried to crush my bicep. Now, I'm going to try to crush yours." He reached over to my flexed arm and placed his little thumb and forefinger over the top of my bicep. Then he squeezed and he squeezed hard. ZZZAAAAPPP! A tremendous shot of pain surged through my arm as his fingers easily crushed my flabby flesh and drove down to my bone. I was watching the muscles in his forearm writhe as they powered his strong fingers deeper and deeper into my upper arm. He moved them back and forth as he kneeded my arm like bread dough. He smiled at me with his beautiful white teeth as he inflicted more and more pain. "Look at that, mister," he said. "My fingers are so strong that they can just dig through your flabby arm muscles right to the bone. I'll bet that hurts, don't it? You can't hurt me but I can sure hurt you. I'm a fuckin' strong musclekid and you're a pathetic weak nerd."
I knew the kid was right. I didn't want to admit it, but I couldn't take the pain any longer. Finally I pleaded, "Please stop! You're hurting me. Your muscles are way too strong. They're just crushing my flabby bicep." Without hesitation the kid released his iron grip. He knew he had won. He knew he was superior to me.
"Jesus mister, you're really weak! You're a total wimp. Looks like my 11-year-old kid muscles are stronger than your pathetic wimp adult muscles. How's it feel to be so weak, mister? How's it feel to be weaker than a strong kid like me?" The kid was flexing his arm right in front of my face, showing off how strong he was. "Well," I said, "it feels really weird, like I can't believe it. Now let me ask you. How's it feel to be so strong, so much stronger than other kids and even teenagers and adults?"
"Feels great," he said. "It feels really great to be strong. Stronger than weak guys like you. Stronger than all the kids in my class. So strong that I'm the best athlete in every sport I play. Strong enough to beat up anyone I want. Yeah, mister, since you're a wimp, you've never known the feeling of being a really strong kid, not afraid of anyone or anything. Well, mister let me tell you it feels great! Here, feel my abs. Feel how ripped they are." The kid flexed his abs and I ran my hands over the corrugated washboard of steel-hard muscle. He had a perfect 6-pack. I pushed my fingers into the muscle, only to be met with a steel wall of resistance. The kid laughed.
I ran my hands above his abs to his big chest and felt the size and hardness of his pecs. He proudly pushed out his chest and flexed those pecs, which bulged with power. "My chest is really strong, ya know," he said. "I can bench press a ton of weight -- way more than my bodyweight." I shuddered at the thought that this kid could probably bench press more weight than I could. He moved his arms back and forth as if he were doing bench presses. I could feel his hard pecs contract and bulge under my hands as he did rep after rep of pretend bench presses. Wow, those pecs felt big and hard. "Hey mister, I'll show you how strong my chest and abs are. You punch me as hard as you can anywhere you want on my chest or abs and see if my muscles can take it." I kind of hesitated, not wanting to hurt an 11-year-old kid with a punch to his body. The kid gave me a commanding look with his bright blue eyes. "Do it!" he ordered. "Do it now!"
I wound up my right arm and gave him a hard punch to the abs. There was a loud smacking sound as my fist hit what felt like a brick wall. The kid laughed as I pulled back my arm in pain. "Is that all you've got, mister? I could hardly feel that. Oh, I forgot. You're a wimp. Go ahead, try again wimp, and make it harder this time!" This time I used my left arm and landed what I thought was a very solid blow to his chest. My fist bounced off his hard pec like it had hit a steel girder. The kid smiled arrogantly. It was obvious that none of my punches could do any damage to his hard body.
"OK, my turn," he said. I looked up at him in horror as he made a fist, wound up his muscular right arm and aimed it at my chest. I tensed my out-of-shape chest muscles as much as those flabby muscles could be tensed. But they were no match for the awesome power of the musclekid's punch. As his fist pounded into my chest I felt incredible pain shooting through my upper body. The kid saw my pain but didn't seem to care. "Hey, this is fun," he said. "Your muscles are really squishy. I like the way they feel on my fist when I hit 'em." He then punched me several more times with his left and right fists. I knew that he wasn't punching as hard as he could, but each of his blows really hurt a lot. The kid was incredibly strong. In a strange way, I wanted him to keep punching even though each punch felt like a piledriver hitting my flesh. I wanted to keep watching his powerful kid muscles flex and bulge as they drove his fists into my body.
Finally he stopped and said "OK, mister, ya wanna fight? You and me. Man versus kid. Big guy versus little guy. Let's do it right now. I'm all stoked. I know I could beat your ass. I wanna fight you right now. I bet I could kick your ass real bad. I love to beat up guys. I like to feel my fists pounding into other people's bodies." I looked up and saw all the muscles on the kid's body tensed and flexing. He was totally pumped up. At first I couldn't believe what he was saying. I was over a foot taller than he was and outweighed him by 60 or 70 pounds. But after what I had just experienced, I realized that if I got into a fight with this musclekid I had almost no hope of winning. The kid had muscles that were harder and stronger than mine and he knew how to use them as lethal weapons. I would be a bloody pulp. Another of the kid's many conquests.
Finally I said, "Uh, no thanks. I don't feel like fighting today." The kid looked down at me and sneered. "Jesus, mister, you're not only a wimp but you're a chicken too. You won't even stand up to an 11-year-old kid. You're really pathetic." He grabbed my arms and pinned me to the sand. Then he started forming a big ball of spit in his mouth. He sloshed the spit around in his mouth right above my face. I thought for sure he was going to spit on my face just like he had done to the skinny teenager he beat up. He knew that I was thinking that. Suddenly he sat up and spit his huge load of saliva about 15 feet off to the side. He could spit real far, the way jocks can spit.
He stood up, looked down at me and said, "Gotta get back to that awesome surf. You better not get in my way, wimp, or I'll beat the shit out of you whether you like it or not." He then kicked sand all over my face and body, turned around and walked towards his surfboard. In a moment of anger, I almost got up to get him for kicking the sand in my face. But then I came to my senses, brushed the sand off and lay back down on my towel. For the next two hours I thought about what had just happened.
THE END