The Kid

George arrived late at the gym that night. He usually worked out at 6AM,but because of some vandalism at his ironworks plant the night before, he had spent the morning with the police. Pissed him off to miss a workout, so here he was at 9:30 at night heading in to train. The gym closed at 10, but he and the owner, Nick, went way back, to when they both used to compete in powerlifting contests. George knew Nick would let him lift past 10. Now at 59, George was too busy with his business to compete, but was still the strongest guy at the gym, weighing in at 265lbs of rocksolid mature beef. George found Nick at the front counter.

"Hey, what the hell you doing here so late?" asked Nick.

"A little trouble at work this morning. Mind if I stay late?" said George.

"No sweat, big G... sI gotta a kid staying in the back room for awhile anyway, so knock yourself out."

"A kid?"

"Well, he's eighteen now, but was a foster kid. He's got no family or job yet, so I'm helping him out till he finds one. Seems like a decent boy. A little rough around the edges, but who can blame him. Big mutherfucker. Weighs 290. Strong as shit too, you should check him out, he's in the back area lifting right now. Been at it for a good 3 hours. His name's John."

George made his way to the back area, a big room, separate from the rest of the gym, and reserved for the bigger powerlifters. There were raised platforms for deadlifting, and reinforced steel bars for the excess weight that a normal olympic bar couldn't handle. He heard the familar clanking of heavy plates being loaded onto the benchpress bar, and smelled the musky aroma of fresh musclehead sweat. As he turned the corner into the room, he stopped in his tracks. John was alone in the room, slamming 100lb plates onto the bar. He had six on each side. He was wearing sweatpants, but no shirt. Built like a bull, his skin was glistening with sweat from 3 hours of intense lifting. George realized that, with the bar, the kid was preparing to lift nearly 1300lbs.

George stepped into the room and said "Never seen anyone bench that much before." He stepped toward the kid and put out his hand. "I'm George."

The kid eyed George somewhat suspiciously, but then put his hand out too. "John," he said. George had big beefy hands, but John's were bigger, and his thickly muscled fingers wrapped easily around George's. They shook firmly, each with a grip that would have crumpled a weaker man, gauged each other's intentions, then they let go.

"That's some impressive poundage, John," George understated. He'd been involved with hundreds of powerlifting competitions, and never seen anyone bench 1300. He wasn't convinced the kid could handle it.

"Thanks," said John. "But I'm working arms."

With that, John straddled the bench, facing the bar. He put his beef hands, palms up, under the bar, and gripped it tight. He hoisted the bar up stepped back with it, and began to curl. Slow steady curls, rep after rep. Full extension at the bottom, and high and tight at the top. He grunted deeply but softly with each rep, and the veins on his thick bull neck strained the skin. Even the vein on his forehead bulged and throbbed,and his face reddened with effort, but he continued to hit rep after rep. George had never seen such pure power. The kid hit 20 reps, then began to slow. George went over, told him to hold a second, and he quickly stripped off one plate from each side. This was all the kid needed, as he pumped out 20 more reps.

Then George stripped off two more plates, and the kid blasted out 30 reps, then he dropped the bar, although unfortunately not on the rack, but on the bench, smashing it in two.

The kid looked at George and grinned. "YEHHHHHHHH", he roared," That was fucking awesome." He raised his arms into a double bi shot, the thick beefy muscle swelling like two overpumped footballs. His eighteen year old body glistened with sweat and power. His thick muscle rippled with his every move. His musclegut was tight and hard as tortoise shell as he reared back and hit his pose even harder.

Nick was standing at the doorway, shaking his head. "John," he said, "you gotta stop busting up the equipment, man, you're gonna ruin me!" They all looked down at the busted bench, the third one he'd broken that week. That's when George had an idea.

"John, how'd you like a job as nightwatchman at my ironworks plant. There's a room with a kitchen you could live in, and I'll have some extra heavyduty weights forged for ya, really kick up your lifting a notch. You can lift all day and night, long as you keep out the derelicts."

"Man, you for real?" asked John, "Shit, that'd be great!!"

"Sure would," said Nick.

"It's a done deal then. Get your stuff, and let's go," said George.

The Kid packed up in five minutes, and was on his way.

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