My New Pal 4

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Tommy stood in my kitchen flexing his big right arm. He'd just challenged me to armwrestle, and I thought about saying that I didn't want to strain my arm four weeks out of my contest, but I didn't want to look like a pussy, so I said, "You're on, man." I sat down at the kitchen table, and kicked a chair out for him to sit in. He got a big grin on his face and sat down, pulling the chair up close. "I got game," I said, and flexed my own arm, so that he could see that he wasn't the only one with a major set of guns in the house. Even cut, my arms were still holding at 18". Well, myabe closer to 17.5, but they were ripped to the bone.

"Not bad," said Tommy. "What's this line?" he asked, reaching out and running his fingers along the top of my big peak.

"That's the split in the biceps, which is really two muscles so that line is where they meet."

Tommy flexed his arm again. It balled up big and round. "I don't have one," he said, looking at his muscle.

"That's because..." and I stopped myself before I said "you're fat," and instead said, "you're so bulked up. You gotta get pretty lean before it shows up good."

"Well, you're pretty lean, so that makes sense," he said, as he sat his elbow onto the table with a heavy thud. I wasn't sure if he meant that as a compliment, or if he was being a smartass. I put my arm up on the table next to his, and we locked hands as I scooted in closer. "You say Go," Tommy said as we secured our grips.


In less than a second, Tommy slammed my hand down on the table. If I had blinked, I would have missed it. It was like I wasn't even ready to start, yet I was the one who'd said Go.

"Jesus fuck," I said, pulling my arm back, pissed and embarrassed at the same time.

Tommy just laughed and said, "That's OK, you just have bad technique. Plus, I shoulda told you something."

"Told me what?"

"I've been practicing armwrestling with my grandpa for the past year or so. He's real good. He did armwrestling tournaments the whole time he was on the police force, and has a bunch of trophies. He's taught me a lot. He says I have a lot of potential, especially since I beat him for the first time about 2 months ago. He told me then, if I was holding back from beating him, he'd throw me right out of the house. I beat him that day, and so far, everyday since. He seems proud of me when I do it, but he gets that look on his face like you have now."

"Well, hell yeah, man, you could of said something. That's kind of a chicken shit thing to do, don't you think?"

"Hey, don't be mad, man," Tommy said. "Here, put your arm back up, and I'll show you something real simple that makes a big difference.

I hesitate for a second, but then put my arm back up. The big dope seemed so eager and sincere, I felt bad about being a sore loser.

"Now," he said, "try and put your hand like this, and then get your wrist set so that you can get a better angle. It makes a huge difference in leverage, you'll be amazed."

"OK," I said, letting him shift my hand into position. "OK, I think I got it. That does seem better. You say Go this time."

"OK.....Ready....Set.....GO!" And we were off. This time, Tommy didn't slam my hand down in a flash. I was holding him up, and I could see him straining, as I pushed with all my might. "That's it Joe," he grunted out. "Now lean forward a little, just not too much..." And I leaned into it, and felt the power in my arm surge like no weights had ever gotten me to feel. I pushed and pushed against Tommy's thick hand. The kitchen table was shuttering as we poured on the power. Veins were popping out on both our arms. I was pushing so hard, my whole body seemed to be quaking. "Come on dude, push harder," Tommy said, and I looked over at him for a split second, and I thought to myself, he's holding back. The fucking kid is toying with me. No wonder that pissed his grandpa off, it was annoying. I leaned farther in with my shoulder, and I felt my ass leaving the kitchen chair. Then I was pressing into him with all my weight. His big arm didn't budge an inch, and then he slammed my arm down to the table, only this time, I was so off-balance, I flipped down onto my back right on the table, cracking the oak top right down the middle. Tommy leaned over and said, "You alright, Joe?" Sweat dripped off his nose onto my face.

"Dude, your sweat," I said, wiping it off with my free arm. Tommy pulled me up off the table, our hands still in a death grip. I landed on my feet, face to face with him, our noses about an inch apart.

"You can't lean that far forward," he said, staring at me, holding my hand up to his big chest. "That's cheating." I could feel his hot breath on my face. Neither of us said anything for a second or two. Then I pushed away.

"OK, sorry," I said, then I changed the subject. "What's up with this grandfather of yours anyway, training you like this?"

"Pops? I don't know. He retired from the force last year, and I think he took me on as his pet project."

"How old is he?"

"Fifty-six. He's still in great shape though. He runs about 5 miles a day, I think. Jogging is the one thing he hasn't gotten me to do yet."

"He a big guy?"

"He's 6'2", maybe 260."

"Holy shit," I said.

"Yeah. Tough as nails, too. After the Marines, he was on the police force for 30 years."

"And he doesn't train you with any weights?"

"No, not yet anyway. He likes to rig things up for me to workout with. Like for chin-ups, he put a bar in the garage, and then he wraps a bungee cord around my waist with those cinder blocks looped thru it. Lately though, he's just been trying to hold me down as I do chin-ups. Last couple of weeks, I've been able to lift him clear off the ground."

"You can do chin-ups with his 260 on you?"


"How many?"

"Like 10 or far anyway. I'd like to do more, but Pops thinks the beams that the bar is attached to are starting to bend."

That would explain the delts on the kid, practically the size of two pumpkins slabbed onto the sides of his thick traps. I realized as I checked out his shoulders, that he was dripping with so much sweat that it was starting to puddle on the floor. Even his cargo pants were soaked thru.

"You want a pair of shorts, man? You gotta be hot in those pants."

"Yeah, that'd be sweet."

I grabbed a clean kitchen towel and tossed it to him. "Here, wipe yourself off, and I'll go find some shorts." I went back to my parents' room. I knew my dad kept some summer clothes down here, and I found a pair of Nike basketball shorts in a dresser drawer. Size XL. That outta fit the kid, I thought to myself, and as I turned around, he was standing in the doorway. His pants and shoes were gone, and he was wearing just a pair of Joe Boxer briefs. I had to sit down on the bed at the sight of him. "Tommy, geezus dude."

"What's wrong, Joe?"

"Man, your legs are humungous." Except for the two powerlifters who trained at my gym, I'd never seen anything like it in person. And those guys were squatting 8, 900lbs for reps. Tommy's legs still surpassed theirs in sheer mass and density. His quads were massive thunder thighs of pure power. And his calves! Eric Fankhouser would be jealous of those beasts. Maybe I was feeling a little weak from dieting and armwrestling, but I was feeling lightheaded just looking at those legs.

"You alright?" Tommy said, waddling over to me, swinging one thigh around the other.

"Man, how big are your thighs?" I had to ask. They had to be 34".

"I don't know, I never measured. Only thing I ever measured on me was my cock once, and that was 9 inches, but that was over a year ago, and I know it's grown since then, I can just tell."

Of course he had a niner plus. Mine was 8 and a half....his just had to be bigger. "You shave your legs?" I said, noticing some stubble.

"No, I never had much body hair until about 6 months ago. It's starting to come in though, can you feel it?" And he reached out, took my hand, and placed it on his thigh. He started rubbing my hand up and down. "Feel how bristly it is? Especially up higher." And he moved my hand up high on his immense quad. The stubble was definitely bristly. It felt like it was going to rip my skin. "Joe, you sure you're OK? You look like you're gonna pass out. You want to go get some pasta or something. I think you need to eat something."

He was right, I did need something to eat. I was definitely having a sugar low. I hadn't even had so much as a piece of gum in 2 weeks. I wanted to eat and eat, and bulk up big as Tommy, bulk up like I was in the winter, when I'd felt so strong, and my muscle was so full. I rubbed his thigh and felt the power in it. The size. The hardness. I wanted to lean my head on it. But instead, I pulled my hand away.

"I got that show," I said, weakly.

"Forgot that show, man, this can't be healthy. And you're gonna get up on stage and flex around in a pair of panties?"

"Posers," I said, "they're called posers." My head was spinning.

"Whatever," said Tommy. "Look at you, man." He put his hands under my armpits and lifted me straight off the bed. "You're light as a feather," he said, his face right at my crotch level. "I could hold a dude twice your size like this," he said, and I could feel his hot breath thru my shorts.

"Tommy," I muttered. I'd never been with a dude before, never given it much thought. But I was having definite stirrings inside.

"I bet I could press you overhead like a toy," Tommy said, hoisting me over his head and then behind his neck, resting me on his traps. He turned and looked at himself in the mirror about the dresser. "Look at me, I'm racking you, Joey," he said, draping his big veiny fores over my body. Then he stepped closer to the mirror. "Is that really me? Look at me, man, I'm fucking huge." Then he started pressing me over his head. "Aw, yeah, man, I'm feel sooo strong." It was like he even forgot he was pressing me, he was so into his reflection. Rep after rep he lifted me absentmindedly. "Can't believe I just turned 18 and am this fucking huge. And it's just gonna get better. Bigger. Stronger. You feel the strength, bro?" Then he pressed me back overhead and looked at the mirror. "You gonna help your pal get even bigger and stronger?" he said, as he lowered me, and raised me again. "Grow me into a beast of pure size and power. Look at this shit. Aww yehhhh. Goddam it Joey, I'm feeling strong as an ox....even stronger." He lowered me for another rep. "We'll get you strong too, man, no more of this dieting shit. Bulk you up good, so no one can trounce you in armwrestling like I did today. Crushed you pretty good, didn't I?" He switched my weight over to his left arm and held me straight overhead as he lowered his right arm and flexed it in the mirror. "Aww, man, look at that. Fucking HUGE!" He brought his thick balled-up bi up to his mouth and kissed it. "Look at that arm, man, took you down like nothing." Then he lowered me slowing toward his face with one arm, and gave my crotch a quick peck.

That's when I passed out.

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