Nuked by my Neighbor

[AlanTahcker]

Nuked by my Neighbor.

 

By AT2000

 

I switched off my mp3 player as I neared the edge of the park, heading for the last couple of blocks of my run.  Outside the park, traffic could get moderately heavy this time of day along the streets that led to my house, as commuters were returning home to my otherwise quiet suburban neighborhood.

 

The abrupt absence of music emanating from my ear-buds left me very aware of the way they amplified the sound of blood pumping through my veins as my heart thumped along steadily.  With a practiced ease, I noted the degree to which my heart-rate was elevated, satisfied with the cardio workout my late afternoon run was providing.

 

I stopped at one of the few crosswalks in my neighborhood that was actually equipped with a traffic light and waited for the glow of the walking stick-figure to indicate that it was the pedestrian's turn to proceed through the intersection.

 

A teenage couple, apparently out for a walk, was already on the corner when I jogged to a stop beside them.  I reached to adjust the elastic band that held my music player strapped firmly around my left biceps and triceps, bringing my arm around in front of my chest to do so, and casually flexing.  The considerable bulk that swelled in those muscles was hard-earned and I sometimes couldn't resist an opportunity to show it off.

 

The boy's eyes widened a bit and then he quickly looked away, pretending not to notice.  His girlfriend was a little less eager to pretend I didn't exist, looking away only after favoring me with a friendly smile.

 

I turned and moved away from them a little and jogged in place, not wanting to make the poor guy too uncomfortable.  He couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen and looked to have at least a moderately athletic build, but compared to a guy like me who had been making his living as a personal trainer for the majority of my thirty-five years, he definitely suffered in comparison.

 

The traffic light cycled and I took off, still running, but at a more leisurely gait allowing my body to come down slowly from the long exertion of my run.  By the time I neared my driveway, I had slowed to a brisk walk.  I had to step out onto the street to get around a large moving van that was blocking the sidewalk in front of the house next door.

 

The property had been vacant and on the market for  several months, ever since our former neighbors had put the house up for sale and headed for Florida to spend their retirement.  I knew the place had sold a few days ago.  It looked like the new owners weren't wasting any time settling in.

 

I was just finishing up a brief stretching session when my wife pulled into our driveway, finishing up her own commute.

 

"Hi there, Tiger."  She called as she stepped out and closed the door to the bright red Camry hybrid we'd purchased a few months earlier.

 

"Hey baby, how were things in co-worker thunderdome today?"  I asked.

 

Jackie rolled her eyes.  "Every bit as fun as I'd feared."

 

For the last month, she had spent every morning dreading another day of the ongoing reorganization currently taking place at her law firm.  While she had been made a junior partner, a lot of other people had gotten the ax.  In her new position, she had even had to make a few of the calls about who would be let go.

 

She moved closer to me.  "But I don't want to talk about that."  She slipped her arms around my waist, smiling.

 

"Careful."  I warned, holding my arms out then placing my hands behind my head, not returning the embrace.  "I'm not exactly fresh as a daisy here."  I added, with a grin.

 

She let one hand roam over the twin mounds of what she often assured me was my world-class rump before giving me a firm squeeze through my very brief running shorts.

 

"Put 'em down Ah-nold, and I think you need to lay off the heavy weights for a while."  She giggled, pulling my arms down from above my head and wrapping them around herself.  "You might be a professional fitness trainer, but you bring in just as much as a part-time clotheshorse.  You don't want those biceps getting too big to stuff into the Fall menswear lines."

 

Arms around each other’s waists, we headed into the house.  "Besides, you know I don't like a guy who's too muscle-bound."  She added.

 

"Come on."  I laughed.  "Don't you want me to keep ahead of the other trophy husbands at the firm's labor-day barbecue this year".

 

"Believe me, the other women at the office are already sufficiently catty toward me.  I don't need to give them any more reasons to be jealous."  She paused for a moment as though an idea was dawning on her.  "Then again, maybe you could give a few of them a smile and a wink at the next picnic.  I'll bet if a couple of them thought they had a shot at ruining my marriage they might act a little friendlier - even if it was just an angle to get closer to you."

 

"You are SO cynical."  I said and planted a quick kiss on her cheek.  By this time we were in the foyer.  Jamie placed her briefcase on the small, round table near the door that gave access to the space underneath the stairs.  While I kicked off my shoes and tossed them into the bottom of the small closet near the front door.

 

I smiled down at her as I headed up the stairs.  I paused to strip off the minimal tank top I'd been jogging in.  "Dinner's ready.  Just needs heating up.  Risotto again, hope that's ok.  I'm gonna jump in the shower."

 

"I could probably eat salted packing peanuts at this point."  She said.  "Should I set out two plates?"

 

"Yes, please."  I replied as I disappeared up the stairs.

 

"Are you seeing clients at the gym tonight?"  She called after me.

 

"No, I'm in for the evening."  I called back as I entered our master bedroom upstairs, tossing my music player onto our dresser as I passed.

 

I continued on into the ensuite bathroom, removed my socks and tossed them into the appropriate bin of the laundry hamper just inside the adjoining walk-in closet - along with my boxer-briefs, running shorts and tank-top.

 

I paused a minute to take stock of my physique.  This was only partly driven by vanity.  Jackie was right to point out any changes in my appearance.  In large part, my body was my meal ticket.  We might jokingly refer to me as a 'trophy husband', but the truth was that I brought in nearly as much money as Jackie did with her successful law career and we had grown accustomed to our level of joint income.  It had us well on our way to early retirement as we tended to live comfortably but not to excess.

 

My jet-black hair was thick and showed no sign of thinning.  I had let it grow slightly longer than suited my personal taste so as to accommodate the various styles that photographers sometimes requested that I adopt during the photo-shoots that I occasionally hired out for to supplement our income.  These were nothing that would ever catapult me to international fame or anything, but a handsome, fit guy could make a fairly decent side-income working the opportunities available on the local advertising market doing catalog or individual product shoots.  I'd even landed several local TV advertising gigs.

 

I examined my skin, which was smooth and unblemished, thanks to my professional regimen of skin care.  I was a little paler than fashion might dictate, but avoiding sun-damage took precedence over continually sporting the bronzed look that seemed perpetually in fashion.  I preferred to compensate with instant spray-on tanning techniques when a shoot required a darker complexion.  At nearly thirty-six years old, keeping to this method had successfully prevented the formation of even the first wrinkle at the corners of my green eyes or elsewhere.

 

But my true passion lay in physical training.  I struck a double biceps pose hard and surveyed my arms in the mirror.  Jackie was right.  I might be pushing the mass a bit too much, but damn, I liked the feeling of seeing my muscles grow.  I could pile on muscle by the pound with a lot less effort than most guys and it was always with regret that I would back off the heavy weights to keep from looking too freakish.

 

I showered quickly, then headed back downstairs after pulling on a pair of simple cotton loungewear pants.  I didn't bother with a shirt.

 

Jackie had just set out dinner and was pouring a couple of glasses of wine when I joined her in the kitchen.

 

"Bennie called while you were in the shower, he says the ad agency for the Townsend Valley mall wants you for their newspaper inserts again if you're interested."  Jackie explained.

 

"Sure, why not."  I said as we picked up our plates and glasses and headed for the dining room table.

 

"I thought you would be.  He's swinging by on his way home to drop off the contract."  Jackie explained.

 

"Fine."  I said as I took a seat at the dining-room table.

 

Jackie didn't join me immediately but instead stood staring at me with an expectant look.

 

"What?"  I asked around a mouthful of risotto.

 

"He'll be here any minute.  You could give the poor guy a break and put on a shirt."  She chided me.

 

 I swallowed.  "Oh, come on.  Bennie's a modeling agent, he sees guys in every state of dress and undress all the time."

 

Jackie rolled her eyes, smiled and joined me at the table.  "Maybe, but you know he's got a thing for you in particular.  You push too many of his buttons.  The poor guy can hardly string a sentence together when you're around."

 

I shrugged and smiled mischievously.  "Gets me lots of work."

 

She gave me a wry smile.  "Slut".

 

We had nearly finished eating when a blaring car horn, followed by the wince-inducing sound of a car crash sliced through the calm of our early evening meal.  I hastily wiped my mouth dropping the napkin onto my plate, I headed for our living room to see if I could make out what was going on outside, Jackie right behind.  We peered out one of the faceted panels of the large bay window that provided the best view back along the street in the direction from which the sound seemed to emanate.

 

"Uh oh."  I said when I spotted Bennie standing with his arms sort of crossed, the heel of his palm pressed nervously over his mouth.  His car was wedged firmly beneath the high back deck of the moving truck I'd seen parked next door earlier.

 

As I watched, a woman who looked to be in her mid-forties clambered down from the cab of the big truck and hurried toward the back, where she immediately pressed both hands to her head in angst.

 

"So,"  Jackie sighed.  "How long has Bennie had the new Jag?"

 

"Two weeks."  I shook my head grinning.

 

"Oh."  She clucked, giving me a small slap on the shoulder when she saw my amusement.

 

"Let's go see if we can help."  She said, resignedly.  As we passed through the foyer, her phone began to ring.  She removed it from its spot clipped to her briefcase and checked to see who was calling.  "Damn."  She sighed.  "Work.  I have to take this."

 

"I'll give you a full report."  I promised as I slipped on some flip sandals from the coat-closet by the door.

 

"Be diplomatic!"  She pleaded.  "They're going to be our new neighbors, remember."

 

"Hey, it's Bennie and a 40-year-old Soccer mom.  I think I can handle it".  Putting my hands on my hips and striking my best Men's Health cover-model pose, I winked and gave her a big cheesy grin.  "I'll have them exchanging recipes over mojito's before you're off the phone."

 

I trotted out the door and over to the scene of the crash.

 

The woman was apologizing profusely.  Bennie hadn't moved and merely stood in silent shock.  Apparently she had backed out into the street and for whatever reason, Bennie had been unable to stop before they had collided.

 

"Bennie?  You Okay?"  I asked placing a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.  He jumped and turned to look at me.  He removed his hand from his mouth and waved it in the air.  "I'm fine, I'm Okay, just..."  He gestured back toward the battered Jaguar with exasperation.

 

"I am SO sorry."  The woman repeated.

 

"I'm sure everything's going to be alright.  I'm Abe Williams, by the way, I guess we're neighbors now."  I explained pointing back toward my house.

 

"Joyce."  The woman offered meekly.  "Joyce Childers."

 

"Nice to meet you Joyce.  This is my friend Ben Daugherty."

 

"Mr. Daugherty, it is so hard to see in that thing.  I meant to ease out onto the street, but the gas-pedal was way more sensitive than I expected.  I'm so sorry.  We're both insured right, I mean surely things can all be put right."

 

"Put right?"  Bennie repeated, shaking his head.  He again gestured to his car.  "Do you realize how finely tuned the suspension is on an XFR?  They're never the same again once they've been in an accident."

 

I placed both hands on Bennie's shoulder and turned him so that he was looking at me and not the Jag.  "Bennie, this wasn't a high-speed collision.  Your air-bags didn't even deploy.  I'm sure the chassis wasn't affected, right?"

 

Bennie's mouth dropped open slightly and he stared directly ahead at a point approximately in the middle of my pecs.  "I...uh."

 

I squeezed his shoulders more firmly for a moment, giving him a taste of my strength.  "A week in the shop and everything will be as good as new."  I drew him into a friendly hug.  "You're just rattled by the crash."  I assured him as I pressed him a little more firmly against my chest before releasing him.

 

When I did let go, his knees almost gave out, but he managed to catch himself before he hit the pavement.  His jaw worked, as he struggled to speak.  "You uh, you might be right."  He agreed, his eyes never leaving my bare torso.

 

I smiled, feeling a little smug with myself at having diffused Bennie's agitation so easily.  "This is a no-fault state."  I explained to Joyce.  "So why don't we just move both vehicles out of the street and report the accident."

 

I took a look at how the Jag was partially pinned beneath the back of the Truck.  "Get in and try to ease her back."  I instructed Bennie.

 

He fumbled with the door, then sank into the seat and turned the key.

 

Nothing.

 

He called something unintelligible from the car.  I shook my head and shrugged when I couldn't make out what he was saying.  He opened the door and got back out.

 

"It won't start."  He explained frowning.  "The windows won't even roll down."

 

"Probably some wiring damage under the hood."  I said pointing at the area where the damage was most severe.

 

"Maybe we should pull the truck forward, then we'll push you into our driveway."  I offered, turning to Joyce.  "Just take it slow, it'll be fine."  I smiled.

 

She stopped wringing her hands and climbed back into the cab.

 

But as she slowly pulled the moving-truck forward, it began to drag the Jag along as well.

 

"Ho!  Hold it!"  I shouted.

 

Joyce switched off the truck and leaned out the window.  "What's wrong?"

 

"They're hung up."  I explained.  I walked around to the back of the truck and evaluated the situation.  Joyce got out and followed.  "Truck's empty.  Right Joyce?"

 

"Well, yes."

 

I could see that the truck's bumper had a long vertical element that the Jag's deformed hood frame was hooked underneath.  If the truck was just a bit higher the Jag would clear and all would be well.  No need to call a tow-truck until in the morning when repair shops were open.

 

"Let's see if I can get us another inch of clearance."  I said.  Turning around, I pressed my back against the side of the truck.  I squatted, sliding my back down until I could grip the lower edge.

 

"Bennie, make sure the brake is off and take the Jag out of gear."  I instructed.  "I'm gonna lift, then I want you to see if you can roll it back and out from under."

 

"I'll get Eric."  Joyce offered, and hurried into her house.  I was so preoccupied, I barely noticed her leave.

 

Bennie reached inside and put the Jag in neutral.  Then he stood by the car unsure what to do, physical exertion wasn't an area in which he excelled.

 

"When I say, just push against the back of the door-frame.  The ground has a slight grade, the car should practically roll on its own once I free it up."  I instructed.  "Be ready to jump in and hit the brakes."

 

I put my back and legs into it and lifted.  "Okay...try it...now."  I called between gritted teeth.  I could feel the truck shift on its shocks, but I doubted that I had raised it to any significant degree, probably not enough to free Bennie's car at any rate.

 

I turned my head to look at the car, to see if it was moving at all.  It wasn't.

 

"Need some help?"  Came a voice from my left.

 

Startled, I turned my head to see a kid who looked to be about nineteen or so.  He was wearing a dark hoodie and sweatpants.  He had close-cropped sandy-blonde hair and blue eyes.  He had a boyish, though handsome face, that seemed at odds with his stature.  He was my height, around 6 feet and just as broad at the shoulders.  I couldn't tell much more about his build, except that there was a hint of pec cleavage just above the line of the collar of the white tee he wore under the hoodie.

 

"Uh, sure."  I grunted, halting my effort for a moment to catch my breath.  "We just need to raise the bumper a little and the car should roll out from under."  I explained as I set my legs and adjusted my grip for another attempt.

 

"Name's Eric."  He said, offering his hand.  "Mom sent me.  She's calling our insurance company now."

 

I released my grip on the truck and shook hands.  I could feel calluses.  The kid was into lifting then.  "Abe.  Nice to meet you, neighbor."  I could see the kid giving my body the once over with his eyes.

 

"One more time, Bennie."  I called.

 

"Let's move this bad boy."  I suggested, with just a hint of challenge in my voice as I heaved upward once again.  Just for the sake of being able to show off, I was half-hoping to be able to free the Jag before Eric joined in the effort.

 

To my disappointment, Eric faced the truck, bent at the waist and took hold of the truck near the rear wheel.  I figured my first impression about Eric was wrong.  Anyone familiar with weight-lifting would never have tried to shift so much weight that way, using just arms, back out of alignment.  Not to mention the fact that he'd have very little leverage so far from the back of the truck.

 

My disappointment turned to surprise as the Jag rolled smoothly out from under the bumper.

 

My head whipped around immediately to Eric.  The Dark hoodie mostly obscured any detail, I couldn't tell if the mass I was seeing was really the kid’s biceps or just bunched up fabric.  Had  to be folds of fabric I decided as I let go of the truck and stood up straight.  The truck didn't fully settle until Eric let go too, I noticed with some irritation.

 

"Thanks Eric.  I guess you were just the extra bit of muscle we needed".  I smiled broadly as I raised both arms in a stretch making sure to flex the biceps, I twisted back and forth as though to loosen up my back muscles after my exertion.  I really just wanted the kid to see who was the big dog on the block.

 

"Right."  Eric said without enthusiasm.  "I'll move the truck back into our driveway."  He turned and headed for the cab.

 

As the big truck moved out of the way, I joined Bennie where he was sitting behind the wheel of the Jaguar.  "Sit tight and steer while I push you into our driveway."

 

The grade made this a little harder to do than I had anticipated.  But I didn't have too much trouble until we hit the even steeper driveway.  Bennie tapped the brakes reflexively before turning in and I lost most of my momentum and the car stopped before it was fully off the street.  The flip-sandals I had on weren't helping.

 

I opened the car-door for Bennie.  "Come on in.  You can call your insurance agent and I'll get a decent pair of -"  Bennie held up one finger, his cell phone already to his ear.  He was giving out information about his location etc.  He'd apparently already made that call."

 

I went inside and kicked off the sandals and traded them for my trainers from the closet.  While I laced them up, I could hear Jackie in our home office, still knee-deep in some kind of work-related crisis.  I headed back out to push the car all the way into the driveway and out of the street.

 

But the car was already parked neatly in our drive.

 

Bennie and Eric were conversing behind the Jag.  Probably finishing up the job of exchanging pertinent insurance info.

 

"So, looks like you managed to get the car squared away without me."  I said, rubbing my hands together.  "I had to run in and get some more durable-"  I stopped short, noticing Eric's shoes as I spoke.  He had on a pair of flimsy, rubber flip-sandals that were a cheaper version of my leather ones.  The kid had feet that were almost freakishly wide.

 

"More durable what?"  Eric prodded.

 

"Huh? Oh, nothing.  Um, so Bennie, where's that contract before we forget amid all this excitement."  I said, suddenly eager to change the subject.

 

"Would you check out this kid's jaw line?"  Bennie said, ignoring my question.  "Do it again Eric."  Eric jutted his chin and clenched his jaw-muscles.  When he did so, his handsome, almost boyish face became a study in chiseled, masculine perfection.

 

"He's like a teen Robert Redford only se-, I mean, uh - taller."

 

"Robert Redford?"  I scoffed.  "I think you're dating yourself, Bennie."  I turned to Eric.  "Sorry if my friend is embarrassing you Eric.  He's always on the lookout for new talent.  I'm sure you wouldn't be interes-"

 

"Any money in it?"  He asked Bennie, ignoring me completely.

 

Just then, Jackie came hurrying out of the house, rummaging through her briefcase as she approached.  “Hello Bennie”, she smiled as she examined some keys she had fished out of her case.  “Hi.”  She added, casting a glance at Eric.   “I’m going to have to go back into work for a couple of hours.”  She said, addressing me.

 

“Bennie, I’m so sorry about your car.  Do you and...uh...I’m sorry, I’m Jackie.”  She said, extending her hand to Eric.

 

“Oh, sorry Honey.  This is Eric.”  I said with a belated introduction.

 

“Eric.  Nice to meet you.”  Jackie said as she shook hands with the young man.  “If you and Bennie need a ride, I’d be happy to drop you off on my way.”

 

I was a little puzzled by Jackie’s offer.  “Why would Eric be going with Bennie?”  I asked.

 

“Isn’t he one of Bennie’s clients?”  She responded, puzzled.

 

“Not yet.”  Bennie said in a sing-song voice.  “But here’s my card.”  He pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to Eric.

 

Never completely taking his eyes off Eric, Bennie handed me a key to his car.  "That contract is on the front seat."

 

Jackie triggered the garage door.  “Come on Bennie, I can drop you at your condo if you like, I’m headed downtown anyway.”

 

“Thanks Jacks.”  With a big smile and a small wave Bennie joined Jackie in the Camry and they were off, leaving me and Eric alone in the driveway.

 

“Well, ahem...sorry about Bennie.  He can get a little carried away.  These days modeling is pretty competitive.  He can make it sound easier than it is.”  I explained.

 

“Your wife seems to think I could pull it off.”  Eric said with a slight mischievous grin.

 

I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that.  Before I could decide, Eric was heading for my front door.  “Got anything to drink?”  He called back to me.

 

I caught up to him at a trot, edging in front of him and placing myself between him and the door to our spacious two-story home.  I turned to look at him, leaning against the doorframe with my right hand propped high up, so the kid could get a good look at the large, powerful muscles of my arm.  He just looked back at me flatly, his eyes never straying from mine.

 

I was beginning to find this kid a tad bit annoying but he and his mother were going to be our new neighbors.  I decided to try and defuse any tension that might be building up.  “We might have a soda or two.”  I offered as I turned, opened the door and motioned for Eric to come on in.

 

As he strode in past me, we were in very close proximity and I got my first real feel for how thick the kid was underneath those loose-fitting sweats.  He had to turn a little bit to the side to get his wide-shoulders past me.  Even so, he bumped me a little as he entered.  I wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not but the kid felt pretty damn solid.

 

"You lift?"  He asked absently as he looked around the foyer and adjoining living room.

 

I would have thought the answer to that was obvious given my bare-chested state.

 

"Yeah, I work mostly as a personal trainer.  Gigs for Bennie are just a side income."

 

"You train here or at a gym?" 

 

"I've got a fairly good set-up in the basement but I work with clients at the local Gold's.  Why?  You looking for a trainer?"  I asked crossing, my arms across my chest, grinning.

 

Eric just gave a sort of soft snort but didn't answer.  He spotted the door to the basement.  Without a word he opened it and headed downstairs, his heavy footfalls becoming quieter with distance as he descended.

 

"Just make yourself at home."  I deadpanned to myself as I grabbed two sodas from the fridge and headed downstairs after him.

 

When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I found Eric prowling slowly around the exercise equipment I had set up in the basement, evaluating what he saw.  He stopped at the heavy bag, placing his hands on either side of it and staring into the large mirror that covered most of one wall in that corner.

 

“Decent setup.”  He proclaimed flatly as he turned to accept the soda he saw that I was offering him from the mirror.

 

He blinked down at the can he now held in his hand.  “Diet?”  He snorted.

 

“Sorry, It’s all we keep on-hand.”  I explained.

 

“Guess there comes a time when you gotta make some concessions in the battle of the bulge.”  He said, holding my eyes with his.  As he said this, he casually rubbed his abdomen.  the hem of his white tee caught on his fingers as he did, lifting it just enough to display a glimpse of his abs.

 

Despite myself, I broke eye-contact forfeiting victory in our staring contest.  I couldn’t seem to resist a peek at what lay beneath that t-shirt.

 

This kid was cut!  Interlocking abs formed parallel columns of rock-hard muscle with not even a hint of body fat.

 

I tried to conceal how impressed I was as I met his gaze again, but the hint of a satisfied smile on his handsome face indicated that he saw right through my attempt.

 

Reflexively, I tensed up my own rippling abs.  “Bulge?”  I smirked.  “Hardly.”  I cracked open my soda, then gave my tight wall of muscle a couple of light slaps, then I held the can aloft slightly.  “To single-digit percent body fat.”

 

He said nothing, but opened his own soda, raised it and took a long couple of swallows, his adam's apple moving like a steam-engine piston in the thick sinews of his neck.

 

He gave my exposed upper body an appraising once-over then set his can on a nearby side-table, unzipped his hoodie and shrugged it off his wide shoulders.  “Warm down here.”

 

He moved back to the punching bag.  In that white tee, his back looked wide enough to project a movie onto, but the shirt was too loose-fitting for me to see much detail.

 

He rummaged in the open shelving on the wall that formed the corner with the mirrored one and pulled out my practice gloves.

 

“Wanna spar?”  He asked, turning sideways as he addressed me.  His pecs jutted in profile like granite domes.

 

“I only have the one pair.”

 

“You won’t need any.”  He said as he slipped his left hand into the appropriate glove.  He fastened the gloves velcro strap before slipping on its mate.

 

He stepped in front of me and held out his right hand, obviously expecting me to fasten the remaining strap.

 

“Those are pretty heavily padded sparring gloves.  They don’t let much of an impact through.”  I pointed out as I fastened the remaining glove.

 

“Lucky for you then.”  He smirked, then pounded the gloves together.  The power of the impact was palpable even at a distance.

 

“I’m not going to throw bare-knuckled punches at you.”  I said, shaking my head.  “Especially not when you’ve got those pillows strapped to your fists.”

 

“Then this will be easier than I thought.”  He said and sent a left jab directly at my head.

 

He’d telescoped the punch pretty obviously and I was able to dodge.  I still felt plenty of air from the miss.  It was that close.

 

I stared at him hard.  Clearly not amused.

 

He just laughed.  “C’mon, we’re just honing reflexes.  No need to make a lot of contact.  You won’t hurt me.”

 

I set down my own soda and took up a stance in front of the cocky kid that mirrored his own.

 

We feinted and weaved for a few moments and then he tagged me square in the abs.  He was clearly just testing the waters and I was able to absorb the impact in stride.  I’d boxed in college and still spared occasionally.  I was known for my almost freakish ability to take gut-punches with a smile.

 

“Nice one.”  I complimented him with an easy grin, and just a hint of condescension.  “You’re quick.” 

 

I shifted my weight slightly in a way that might signal to a less experienced boxer that I was about to return the favor and have at the kid’s own exposed abs.  He took the bait, dropping his elbows in defense and in lieu of a shot at his midsection, I gave him a light, open palm slap on the jaw.

 

“Keep in mind that an opponent might be misleading you by shifting stance in ways that are too obvious.”  I advised him.  “Keep your eye on - Whuuulffff!”

 

I didn’t even see the kid move and the next thing I knew, a solid jab hammered my solar plexus with enough force to stagger me, even with the sparring gloves cushioning the blow.

 

“Yeah...better.”  I managed as I concentrated on recovering.  It was time to go on the offensive a little more aggressively.

 

I threw a quick combination of body blows.  The kid blocked the first punch with his forearm, my bare fist stopped cold by the thick sinews of his arm.  But the second punch landed home on his rib-cage just above his abs.  I hadn’t wanted to hit him in the stomach with my bare fist, even with a pulled punch.

 

Then I saw stars.

 

He’d connected with my chin hard enough to snap my head back pretty good.  If he hadn’t been wearing those gloves, I suspected that blood would have been drawn following such a hit.

 

“You might want to step it up a little.”  He advised, backing off a bit.  He continued bobbing up and down, but he spread his arms out as he continued, giving me a good view of his shrouded but clearly bulky torso.  “I’m not as soft as I look.”

 

If he was trying to piss me off, it was working.

 

I decided that the next time I hit him, he would feel it.

 

“You asked for it.”  I said with a glare as we started to circle one another.

 

He was the first to connect - my abs again.  Anyone with less physical training would have been doubled-over by the blow.  Even I felt it, but I didn’t want to let him know that so I just smirked.

 

He tried again, but I dodged and darted inside as he recovered from the attempt.  In a better position, I repeated the body blow combination I’d used earlier and, bare-knuckles be damned, this time I took aim at the kid’s exposed abs.  Not holding back as much as before, I landed two solid hits.

 

Thud Thud.

 

I fully expected that to take the wind out of his sails.  I stepped back and eased up on him to let him recover.  But he stayed toe-to-toe with me and retaliated with a right to the jaw that spun me around like a rag-doll.

 

“I hope that wasn’t you actually trying.”  He said as I tried focusing on him through my double-vision.  He was smiling and rubbing his abs appreciatively with one gloved hand.

 

He held the other glove up examining it, then looked back to me.  “Padding working okay for ya?”  He asked, obviously to remind me that the actual power of his last punch had been blunted.

 

“You can be a real punk, you know that.”  I informed him, anger seeping into my words, despite my effort to remain calm.

 

I moved back into the fray with real concentration.  I had to admit that the kid had some steel.  It was time to stop playing around if I was going to come out of this not looking like a fool.

 

But for the next few minutes, that’s exactly what he made of me.  He didn’t even try to throw any punches.  He just kept effortlessly evading my every move.  I couldn’t believe how quick he was.  I knew he was trying to mess with my head and I kept telling myself to stay cool, but the frustration was building.

 

Finally, red-faced and breathing hard, I stopped.  “Do you want to mix it up with me or not?”  I growled through my growing embarrassment.

 

He laughed and stepped up to me close.  “Tell you what, you bring on the best you got and I won’t move my feet from this spot.”  He declared gesturing to the ground at his feet for emphasis.

 

I lifted my hands back and resumed my stance.  “Move where you like, just let’s stop dancing and fight.”

 

I threw two quick jabs, both of which he somehow evaded while keeping his feet planted in place.  I moved in closer so that there was no way for him to evade, but then he plowed a left into my mid-section that even my much vaunted abs couldn’t handle.

 

I wheezed and backed off, trying to keep from doubling over in pain.  I did my best, but there was no way to pretend that the punch had no effect.  It was a good thing that he kept his promise not to move from the spot he was in because if he had pressed his advantage at that point I would have been hard pressed to recover.

 

I resumed my stance and glared at him.

 

He spread his arms in amusement.  “I can’t move, remember.”  He gestured for me to come at him.  “You gotta bring the fight to me.”  He gave a derisive snort of a laugh.  “If you still want it.”

 

I was so angry that I charged him like a rank noob.  He actually looked a little disappointed as I laid into him.  He landed a few precise, if half-hearted, jabs between dodging my furious hay-makers.

 

I moved in really close but stumbled and lost my balance throwing one wild punch, we grappled clumsily as I fell into him.  He finally grabbed me by the shoulders and held me at arm’s length with a disturbing ease.

 

“C’mon, get it together dude.  You are embarrassing yourself.”  He said, shaking his head.

 

He let me go with a small shove.  “Now come on.  Get your form back.”  He chided.

 

I was angry and humiliated.  But he was right, I took a breath and composed myself and then waited for him to indicate that he was ready to resume the fight.

 

When he raised his arms and resumed a ready stance, I took up the fight again.

 

I saw an opening and took my very best shot at the kid’s exposed midsection.  I felt the satisfaction of a well landed punch and this boosted my confidence as I followed through with a second punch to the same spot.

 

I couldn’t believe the kid hadn’t countered or defended, so I kept up the punishment with another couple of two-hit combinations.  I blinked away sweat to see the kid had his arms up, defending his face with his forearms.  Only, I hadn’t been throwing punches at his head, I’d been pummeling his unprotected abs.

 

He parted his forearms so that I could see his face.  He was grinning brilliantly.  I realized he was mocking my punches.

 

Infuriated, I decided to wipe that smile off his stupid face and I landed two more full force precise punches against his undefended abs.

 

It was like hitting a stone wall.  I couldn’t believe he could take such punishment.  I backed off, not wanting the humiliation of having more of my punches humbled against those abs.

 

He dropped his arms, placing his hands on his hips and giving me a look of contempt.

 

“You can do better.”  He goaded me.  He somehow flexed his abs so hard that  I could see the outline of them even through his loose shirt.  “Give ‘em your best shot.”

 

I shook my head.  “I’m not hitting you full force with my bare fists.”  I lied, because that is exactly what I had been doing.  “Some informal sparring isn’t worth internal injuries”.  

 

“Right.”  He replied then unfastened the velcro on his right glove with his teeth, clearly not buying it.  He nodded toward my hands and I noticed that I was unconsciously massaging my traumatized knuckles.

 

“A little rougher on the hands than the heavy bag, huh?”  He smirked as he pulled his left hand free of the glove.  He gave his abs a couple of loud slaps and then began to rub them proudly.

 

Embarrassed, I quickly dropped my hands to my sides.  At the gym, I was known for the legendary conditioning of my abs.  I’d worked hard for a couple of decades to earn my nickname, ‘Iron abs Abe’.

 

It was galling to think that a guy so young could have abs so far beyond mine in development.  I wouldn’t admit it aloud, but I had to acknowledge that he’d easily caved in my abs while I hadn’t even been able to make him grunt with my hardest shot.

 

Both hands now free, he grinned, picked up his soda and took a couple of swallows.

 

I stepped closer to him and when he had finished drinking, I took the soda out of his hand and set it back down on the side table.  “Well, it’s been fun, but now maybe you’d better head back home.  Your mom is probably wondering where you are.”

 

Ignoring me, he reached out his left hand and wrapped it around my right biceps.  “Train arms yet today?”  He asked as though I hadn’t just strongly hinted that he was wearing out his welcome.

 

Reflexively, I tensed my thick muscle under his grip.  I found his directness was a little flustering.

 

“Uhh, no.  Today’s a rest day, just did a little cardio.”

 

“Rest day?”  He repeated with a snort.  “No wonder you’re soft.  Can’t rest if you want some real guns.”  He asserted giving my arm an almost painful final squeeze before releasing me.

 

Was this kid really trying to tell me how to train?  “Actually, if you don’t allow the muscles time to recover you can do more harm than good.”

 

‘I’ll show you ‘soft’, you little prick.’  I thought to myself.

 

I crooked my right arm and pointed to a couple of points on either end of my biceps, subtly and slowly flexing it up to its maximum as I spoke.  “When you train heavy, insertion point stresses here and here can damage tendons if you don’t allow time for them to develop as the muscle grows”.

 

He mirrored my position with his left arm.  “Really?  I’ve never had any trouble.  But every arm is different, right?”  Even through the baggy sleeve of his oversized tee, I could see his big biceps bulge up huge with the motion, even though his arm was relaxed.  I had to hand it to the kid, his biceps were close to being in league with my own.

 

“Show me on my arm, what I should look out for.”  He requested innocently enough.  But that familiar devious look was in his eyes.

 

I sublimated my jealousy at this young man, fifteen years my junior, who was already so well developed and went on to explain in my most professional tone.  “Tendon tears are the most common injuries that result from not giving the tissues enough recuperation time. The long head is particularly susceptible”

 

I pointed to his shoulder joint.  “It runs from the insertion point here to the transition point of the muscle here.  So almost all the power of the contraction of this whole area,” My finger traced along to the thickest part of the kid’s bulging muscle, “gets focused at the transition point, so that’s where most injuries occur.”

 

The big kid nodded.  “Sounds like you’ve studied about training pretty intensively.  Ever compete?”

 

“Bodybuilding?  Yeah I’ve won a few shows in my time.”  I tapped on his granite biceps.  “That why you train?”  I asked.

 

“Nope.”  He answered flatly, with just the hint of a derisive smirk.

 

“Just like being the biggest.”  He added watching my eyes as he slowly bore down harder on his biceps flex causing the loose sleeve of his shirt to snug up.

 

This punk just couldn’t resist being a cocky prick.  I was suddenly very glad I’d been overdoing the mass gains lately. It was time to send him home with his tail tucked.

 

“That so?”  I asked, raising an eyebrow.  “Well boy, looks like you went and moved onto the wrong block.”

 

With perfect form, I brought both arms up gracefully into a beautiful double biceps pose that would have elicited cheers from the most discerning crowd at any local circuit bodybuilding show.

 

I checked out both my arms, then looked him in the eyes, grinning.

 

The flat, unimpressed look on his face seemed to evaporate my confidence.

 

He crossed both arms in front of himself as he reached down to take hold of the hem of his baggy shirt.

 

He was getting ready to show me what he had under there.

 

I wondered why my knees were suddenly trembling.

 

To be continued?

[OldFashioned]

Ohhhh man, c’mon. Gotta have more

[AlanTahcker]

Thanks, OF!

I'll try to write more asap.  

[Ro20316]

He tought he was teh alpha but someone bigger and younger came to show him off.

[logrus]

Nice ! 

I'd love to have Eric knock down  Abe's cockyness a few notches and then, together build to higher and higher standards of muscles 

double the muscle, double the fun !

[TightTank]

Fantastic first part, can't wait for more! Very well written too, great job.

[DennisFLL]

To be continued?  Please, we need to see the middle-aged guy's reaction to Eric revealing his physique. This is so good, paced perfectly.  Looking forward to the next installment. 

[Broody]

Loving this story, bro. Are you the AlanThacker from the old Superman and Hulk Yahoo groups?

[cropsey23]

Yes, more Eric please! 

[AlanTahcker]

7 hours ago, Broody said:

Loving this story, bro. Are you the AlanThacker from the old Superman and Hulk Yahoo groups?

Yep. I was around on those forums (pours one out for Yahoo! Groups). Thanks for the feedback.