Young Thugz (musc nosex)
by John D.
I was taking a shortcut to work through a small park near the housing project. The “park” was actually just a half block of concrete with a basketball court and some pull-up bars and parallel bars. The walls of the surrounding buildings were covered with graffiti. It was 10 a.m. so I didn’t feel threatened, but I sure wouldn’t want to be there at night.
As I walked, I saw two boys playing on the pull-up bars and parallel bars. One of them was doing pull-ups and the other was doing parallel bar dips. As I walked towards them I counted the number of reps they did. The pull-up boy did over 30 pull-ups - that’s when I started counting. I don’t know how many he did before I started. And the parallel bar boy did over 80 dips. God knows how many he did before I started counting. Those boys were strong.
As I got closer, they turned around to look at me. The pull-up boy was older, probably about 13 years old. The parallel bar dip boy must have been his younger brother, probably about 10 years old. They were black and I immediately thought they looked like little thugs. They were both wearing boxers and sagging shorts that barely were held up by their muscular butts. They were wearing big necklaces made of fake gold on the older kid and fake silver on the younger kid. At least I thought it was fake. And they were wearing big diamond earrings. Their hair was short and their faces were very good looking. Their faces looked like angels but their bodies looked like muscular thugs.
They weren’t wearing any shirts and their shorts were hanging really low, so I could see their bodies very well. These kids were built. They each looked like a miniature 50 Cent. The older kid had obviously gone through puberty already. He had thick wide shoulders and a big chest with bulging pec muscles. His lats flared out on his back and his arms looked really big. Big and incredibly musclular. I looked at his arms and thought they were bigger than my arms even though I was 23 years old. He had an incredibly muscular waist with an eight pack of rock hard muscle. He had absolutely no fat on his body. His shorts were hanging very low so I could see his incredible oblique muscles and the top part of his round muscle butt. It was hard to see his legs, but I could see his calves and they were big and muscular, like he did a lot of running and sports, so I knew his legs were big. Then I looked down and saw a basketball. He and his brother obviously played a lot of basketball here at the park. His body was covered with sweat, like he had just finished a rugged one on one basketball game with his brother.
Then I looked over at his little brother. In a way, the little brother was more impressive than his sibling. He obviously hadn’t gone through puberty yet, but he still looked very fit and muscular. He had no fat on his body either and he was starting to build the kind of muscles his brother had. He already had big shoulders - I couldn’t believe a 10 year old could have shoulders so thick with muscle - and I could see his lat muscles flaring out on his back. He had big pec muscles that glistened with sweat and I could see the individual fibers of muscle bulging on his torso as he moved. His arms were very muscular, not as big as his brother’s but still very big and muscular for a kid. And his waist - it was tiny. He had the smallest wasp like waist I have ever seen and it looked like a washboard, a washboard of corrugated steel muscle. He had very narrow hips too, so he had a real V taper from his wide shoulders to his narrow hips. His legs looked big and strong too. These two brothers obviously came from a great gene pool.
“Whaddya lookin’ at?” said the older boy as I stared at their bodies. I kind of gulped as I thought about what to say. “You guys are real strong. I saw you doing the pull-ups and parallel bar dips. You did a lot of them. And now I see you got a lot of muscle.” The boy looked at my skinny little body. “Yeah, we got muscle and we’re strong. We’re thugz. You don’t wanna mess with thugz.”
I almost wanted to laugh when he said they were thugs, but then I remembered that I thought they looked like thugs. “But shouldn’t you be in school? It’s a school day.” The younger kid spit on the ground. “Fuck school. We hate school. The only time we go to school is when we wanna hit up some kids for money. We’re stronger than any of ‘em so they give us whatever we want. We’re thugz and we just take whatever we want from those wimpy kids.” The older boy chimed in. “Yeah, you don’t need no books to get money. What you need is muscle and steel nerves. Then you just take what you want and there’s nothin’ anybody can do about it, ‘cause you’ll smash ‘em if they do anything. ‘Cause you’re thugz. Most of the kids are fat little pigs. They got tons of fat on their bodies. It’s fun to squeeze their fat and make ‘em cry. I love it when I squeeze some wimp’s fat and he starts hollering in pain. I love it when tears roll down his fat face. I don’t give a fuck how they feel. I’m a thug. I don’t give a shit about those little wimps. They’re so fucking fat and wimpy. Us thugz don’t got no fat at all, just solid muscle. Thugz rule.” The older boy flexed his muscles as he stood there, showing me how big, hard and fat-free they were. He looked at me with the kind of blank look on his face that said “Yeah, I’m stupid but I got muscle and I’m strong as shit so it don’t matter I can’t read. I take whatever I want from you smart kids.”
The boys went back to the exercise equipment. I couldn’t help but stand there and watch. This time the older boy did parallel bar dips and he cranked out 100 very easily. His body sweated even more and I could see the beads of sweat dropping off his thin skin. His shoulders, pecs and triceps bulged with each rep. They got a lot bigger and harder as he cranked out rep after rep. He got an incredible pump in his muscles. His brother watched him and counted out the reps. Then the big boy jumped down from the bars and flexed his muscles for me. “Thug muscles,” he said as he looked at his rippling arms. I realized this boy probably weighed as much as I did, maybe more, because I only weighed 140 pounds. And he was all muscle.
“Go at it, little thug,” he told his brother. The 10 year old boy jumped up onto the pull-up bar. I couldn’t believe how big his lats were as he hung from the bar. His body looked like a V, flaring down from his wide shoulders and lats to his narrow hips. His little waist looked like a washboard. I could see all the muscles flexing as he hung there. His shorts were really low and I was amazed at all the muscle he had in his firm round butt. He pulled himself up and my eyes bulged out as I saw his biceps flexing, balling up in to big muscle balls as he pulled himself up. His lats were thick and wide and they didn’t have a problem at all pulling up his muscular body. The kid cranked out 50 reps and dropped to the ground. He hit a lat pose, flaring out his wing like 10 year old lats. “Thug muscles,” he said as I stared at his incredibly muscular body.
Then the boys both hung on the pull-up bar facing me. They started raising their straight legs and feet up and down, working out their shredded ab muscles. My mouth dropped open as I watched their washboard abs pull their feet up so easily. They both had eight packs of muscle and because their boxers and shorts were so low I could see it all. They finished 20 reps and jumped down on the ground. I was dumbfounded looking at their washboard abs. They both had wide shoulders and flaring lats and their hips were very narrow. Their abs looked like brick walls of solid muscle on their small waists. The 10 year old’s waist was so tiny, I guessed it measured only 24 inches, but it was so muscular it was incredible.
“Our abs are as hard as bricks,” said the young thug. “You can punch ‘em but your fist will just bounce off. It’ll feel like you hit a brick wall. Try it. Punch me as hard as you can.” I looked at the kid’s shredded abs, which looked amazing thick and cut on his tiny little waist. “Go ahead, white boy. You can’t hurt me. I can hurt you but you can’t hurt me.” God, how arrogant, I thought. This little 10 year old was completely unafraid of my fist. He didn’t think I could hurt him but he thought he could hurt me. An arrogant little thug.
I pulled back my arm and hit the kid right in the middle of his abs. There was a loud smack as I hit him. Not a thud. A smack, like I had hit a plate of steel. And that’s what it felt like. A fucking corrugated steel plate. Abs as hard as bricks. It did feel like my fist hit a brick wall. I grabbed my hand, which was throbbing in pain.
“Shit, you are so weak,” he said. “I could hardly feel that. Punch me again and make it harder. My brother and me hit each other all the time and he’s way stronger than you.” I looked at his rippling abs and at my sore hand. “No, I don’t think I can,” I mumbled. The kid got a mad look on his face. Testosterone and adrenaline were raging through his body. “You smash me in the gut or I’ll bury my fist into your backbone,” he said as he made a fist and waved it around my soft little gut. I gulped as I saw his huge 10 year old muscles ready to smash that fist into my soft flesh.
I used my other hand this time and smashed my fist into his gut as hard as I could. Again it felt like I had hit a brick wall and my hand throbbed with pain. “What a fuckin’ little shit,” said the kid. “You punch like a girl. You’re just like all the little wimps in school. If you try to hit me you can’t do a thing. You’re nothing to my thug muscles.” I looked at his shredded abs and cringed.
Then the big brother came up to me and said “You do some pull ups. Let’s see how strong this little white boy is.” I felt embarrassed, because I knew I wasn’t anywhere near as strong as these two young blacks. “Come on, white boy. Are you as strong as us little black kids?” His little brother started laughing. “Yeah, white boy. Am I stronger than you? I’m only 10 years old, but I know I’m stronger than you.” Now I was really embarrassed. So I went up to the pull-up bar, grabbed it and tried to pull myself up. Except that I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even do one pull-up. I had never been athletic. I was a far cry from these two black muscle studs. “Fuck you’re weak!” yelled the older boy. “Not even one pull-up!”
Then he looked at his brother. “You wanna see some strength? You wanna see a real thug? You wanna see some real thug strength? Watch this.” He grabbed the bar and told his brother to jump up and hold on to his waist. The brother grabbed his steel hard waist and held himself there with his muscular arms. Then the boy did eight pull-ups, pulling up his own weight plus the weight of his little brother. I gasped as I saw his lats bulging with thick muscle and his biceps contract from steel like cords of muscle into big balls of vein covered mass. His lats flared out like wings of thick muscle, covered with thick veins pulsating with blood. After his last rep, he jumped down and said “Thug muscles,” as he flexed his arm in my face. “I could smash you into a pulp and I wouldn’t even be trying hard,” he said as he looked at his huge arm and my little arm. “Feel how hard my muscle is. Feel how big and hard it is.” I reached up and wrapped my fingers around the black kid’s bicep. I could feel the fibers bulging underneath. They felt like steel cords balled up into a huge mass of rock hard muscle. I pinched but I couldn’t make a little dent. “That’s a thug muscle,” he said proudly. “Kids at school don’t stand a chance.” I pictured in my mind this strong young black stud taking whatever he wanted from the kids in school. And any kid who tried to say no would get smashed by his big thug muscles. And then he’d take what he wanted from that kid too.
“My little brother’s really strong too. Watch this.” He pointed at the parallel bars and his brother jumped up on them. Then he grabbed onto his brother’s small waist and held his legs up with his washboard ab muscles. My mouth dropped open. Was this little 10 year old really going to be able to do dips with his own weight plus his older brother’s weight? The kid dropped down. Then his triceps bulged with rippling muscle I never knew a 10 year old could have. His delts and pecs almost ripped out of his thin skin and slowly the two bodies raised back up. “Fuckin’ thug power,” he yelled as he got to the top. Then he lowered himself again and cranked out two more reps. His muscles bulged out of his skin. They were incredibly pumped. His veins were pulsating with blood. I couldn’t believe the strength in this young boy’s body. Then his brother dropped and he flipped himself down from the bars and did a most muscular pose. “You ever see strength like that in a 10 year old, white boy? You ever see that kind of power? I weigh 100 pounds and my brother weighs 150, so I was liftin’ 250 pounds with these arms. I got thug muscles.” I gulped in total awe.
He lowered his arm and held his fist with his other hand. Then he flexed his triceps. The big bulges of muscle almost broke through his paper thin skin. They were huge. They were rock hard and bulging with striated muscle. I couldn’t believe a 10 year old boy had that kind of muscle. I reached over and felt those super strong triceps. The kid grinned as I admired his muscles. He knew he was a stud. “I never saw any kid as strong as you,” I told him. And I was telling the truth. “I can’t even do one parallel bar dip and you just pulled up two bodies.” “Fuck yeah, I’m way stronger than you. I’m a big black thug and you’re just a little white wimp. Think of what I’m gonna look like when I’m your age. I’m gonna be huge and I’m gonna be brutal.” These thugs were full of testosterone and I knew they were gonna get huge and strong. Fuck, they already were.
Then he relaxed his arm and looked me in the eye. He was a foot shorter than me but he was so muscular it was frightening. “Gimme your wallet. Gimme your watch.” I looked at him in horror. “Hey wait a minute. You can’t do this. You can’t rob me.” The little kid sneered. “I can do whatever I want to you. You’re a weak little white boy. I’m a big black thug.” I was horrified at what was happening. Instantly I tried to run, but the big brother grabbed my arm and squeezed it hard. His strong fingers dug into my flesh. There was no way I was going to be able to run. He threw me back to face his younger brother. “You wanna fight?” said the kid. “You wanna fight a 10 year old thug? Yeah, let’s fight!”
At that, the kid smashed his fist deep into my soft gut. I was amazed at the power of his punch. It felt like I was being hit by a 20 year old weight trained athlete, not a 10 year old kid. His fist went through my intestines and I buckled over in pain. The kid was strong! He had just done parallel bar dips with the weight of his brother plus his own weight being lifted by his 10 year old arms. And now those super strong arms were punching me like piledrivers. He was so fast! He was so strong! I tried to punch him in the chest, but his muscles were rock hard and my little punch just bounced off harmlessly. His chest was just as hard as his abs. He laughed at my futile attempt.
“Smash him, bro! Smash the shit outta him!” yelled the big brother. The kid started hitting my body with incredibly hard punches. He hit my gut. He hit my chest. He hit my arms. Every punch felt like I was being punched by a piledriver. And every time I tried to hit him, he either dodged out of the way or took the punch like it was nothing. I never could hit his face because he was way too fast. Plus, I was weak and he was strong. He was a muscular black thug and I was a weak little white boy. His brother kept cheering him on, calling him a stud thug and calling me a weak little white shit. Finally the kid said, “Say good night, white boy,” and he threw a hard punch into my chin. I could feel a crack in my jaw as my chin bone broke and I fell to the ground. My body was wracked with pain.
He stood over me, put his leg on my chest and flexed his biceps. “You can’t fight a thug,” he said. “Us thugs always win.” He reached down and grabbed my wallet and took off my watch. Then his older brother said, “If you call the police, we’ll beat you up so bad you won’t be able to walk. We have friends. Other thug friends. We’ll find out where you live and we’ll smash you into a pulp. And how would it sound to the police if you say you got beat up by a 10 year old?”
The young kid smashed his foot into my sore ribs and said, “Yeah, I’m 10 years old, but I’m a thug. And you don’t wanna mess with thugz.”
THE END