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Misha, the Russian Muscle Kid
|It was about a month before the start of my senior year, and I was really looking forward to having some fun! I had gone out for wrestling for the past three years, but this year I decided there was no point. I was really only a marginal wrestler, and I knew I’d probably not get a starting position in my weight class. A kid who was a year behind me was better than I am. I really didn’t want to lose to the kid, so I figured I’d bag wrestling and just keep lifting to see how big I could get.
I thought I would have more success at bodybuilding. My brother is 19 and he’s really built. Unfortunately, it wasn't really turning out the way I wanted. Anyway, my name is Aaron. I’m 5’9 and weigh 155. I’d been lifting hard for most of the summer, and had increased my lifts some, but unfortunately, huge muscle gains and my genetics are mutually exclusive. My brother Shawn is another story. He’s 5’10 and weighs almost 190. I don’t know if he would win any bodybuilding competitions, but he’s about twice as strong as I am, and really built. He’d been trying to help all summer, but my body just wasn’t responding the way I’d like. One thing most people don’t know about me is that I’m gay. I’ve only messed around with one guy, but I know what I want. I love the look of a hot guy with a great body. I guess that’s why I keep working out, I figure if I’m ever going to be with a hot guy, I’d better be pretty hot myself.
Even though I’m a little frustrated with my gains, I’m not giving up. I love lifting, I love the pump and love the way it makes me look even if I’m not getting huge. My brother set up a great gym in our garage and now that he’s in college, I have it to myself except during the summer. In the summer, Shawn comes home to work in my Dad’s store, so I have to share the weight room with him.
The day met Misha, I was working legs I was pretty hot out, so I didn’t have a shirt on. I had the fan running, but even so, I was sweating my butt off. Earlier that day, we saw a moving truck unloading furniture into the house next to ours. The house had been empty for the entire summer and I was really hoping that whoever moves in has some kids my age.
So, I just finished my heaviest set on squat. I was doing 225 and had gotten 5 reps. I might have been able to get another one, but no one was spotting me and didn’t want to miss it. I racked the weight and was really sucking wind, so I sat down on the bench to catch my breath. Right then this kid comes around the corner. He came from the direction of the moving van, so I figured he had to be a new neighbor. I kinda laughed when I saw him because it’s way hot out and the kid was wearing a baggy sweatshirt and sweat pants. I figured he had to be roasting with all those clothes on.
He walked in our garage, walks up to me, and introduces himself.
“Hello there!” he says. “My name is Misha.” He had an accent, but I wasn’t quite sure where he came from. I figured it had to be a eastern European country or Russia. He looks like he’s about three inches shorter than me, about 5’6, I’d guess. From the look of his face, he’s probably about fourteen or so. I was hoping for someone a little closer to my age, but considering there really is anyone even close to my age in this neighborhood I’m kind of happy to see him. I figured it might be fun to someone look up to me. Besides, the kid has a totally cute face. He lookdc like he might be kind of athletic, so maybe he’ll be cool.
“Hey there, my name is Aaron.” I said back to him. “So did you just move in next door?” He told me he did. “Cool, welcome to the neighborhood.” The kid was all smiles as he looked around our weight room, he apparently was really impressed.
“Wow, this is quite a gym you have here. I went to a gym in Russia, but it didn’t have equipment so nice.” As he said this, he picked up a 15 pound dumbbell and does a few curls. Then he looks at me and smiles and says, “maybe I can work out with you?”
The kid seemed cool, but I’m wasn't sure I’m up for lifting with a kid so much younger and smaller than me. “Umm, well little dude. I don’t know about that. I might be kind of hard since I’m a little older than you.”
The kid started looking kind of sad - no actually he looked kind of angry. He gives me a tough look and says, “what do you think I’m not strong enough to lift weights with you. I am stronger than I look.”
I don’t want the kid to get all worked up, so I try to let him down easy. “Hey, take it easy, um, Mikah, I didn’t mean to say you were weak, it’s just that I’d rather lift with someone closer to my age. I guess something got lost in the translation because all of a sudden he’s even more angry.
“You think I’m weak? I am not weak! I bet I am stronger than you are. And my name is not Mikah, it’s Misha.” And as he said this, he started walking toward me like he’s going to hit me or something.
I stood up as we started to walk toward me. I decided that I should really try to make things right with the kid. “Easy bro. I’m sure you are very strong. No offense OK, Mi… Mi… what did you say your name is?”
“Misha!” the kid yells at me. As he said it, it struck me funny because I thought it sounded like a girl’s name. He asks what I’m laughing at, and I tell him. Well apparently, that was a major insult to him. “It is not a girl’s name and I am not a girl. I’m going to show you!” He started running at me and I put out my arm to stop him. The kid grabbed my hand and started squeezing. I couldn’t believe how strong his grip was. I felt like he was going to break my hand. He pulled my hand toward him and I was in so much pain that I wasn't paying attention to what he’s doing. He reached up with his other arm and grabbed my head in headlock. Then he let go of my hand and grabbed his other hand so he really has the headlock synched down tight. I could feel this kids biceps digging into my head and I could tell they are huge. I knew then that he must have had some serious muscle under that sweatshirt.
The pain was incredible as this kid started really squeezing my head. I tried to break his grip, but I couldn’t even budge his hands. He started telling me that he’s going to have to teach me some manners as he tightened his grip even further. I thought the kid was seriously going to pop my skull when finally he threw me down to the ground. I landed face first and he was on top of me. I was wearing lifting straps because I had planned to do some deadlifts. The kid grabbed my arms and twisted the behind my back. He used my lifting straps to tie my hands together. He had tucked my hands under my weight belt so there is not way I could move my arms. As he did this, he was saying that he’s going to show me who the girl was and that I’ll be sorry I ever called him names.
Now that he had me totally at his mercy, the kid grabbed my head and slammed it into the floor. I couldn’t believe how strong he was. He threw me down like I was nothing. My face hit the floor and I could feel blood running from my nose. He stood up and completely lifted me up by weight belt. He swung me around and rammed my head into the post of the squat rack. I thought I was going to pass out as he picked me up and does it again. With about my last ounce of energy I started begging the kid for mercy. He’d got me up in the air a third time and started swinging me like he’s going to bash my head in the post again. “Please, please, Misha! Stop, please don’t hurt me any more.”
Luckily the kid heard me. He said to me, “that’s a good girl,” as he stopped swinging me just before my head was about to hit the post again. He dropped me on the ground and said, “Now hopefully you have some manners.” Using his foot he rolled me onto my back. I was looking up at him in total horror. He put his foot on my neck and said, “I might be younger than you, but I am much stronger.” He gave me a good kick in the gut and then turned around and left.
My arms were still tied behind my back and I couldn’t get them loose. I tried to stand up, but I couldn’t. The kid had really beaten me senseless. My strength was gone and I felt myself blacking out. My brother got home about twenty minutes later and found me on the floor. My nose was bloody and I had a black eye. He untied me and got me back up to the bench.
“So what the hell happened to you, Aaron?” I didn’t want to tell him what happened, but he kept asking. I could tell he wasn’t going to leave me alone until I told him what had happened. Totally embarrassed, I told him the whole story – except I didn’t tell him how old I thought Misha was. I just told him that he was smaller than I was and I described what Misha was wearing.
Shawn took me into the house and cleaned up my face. He told me to go take a shower and that he’d go next door to take care of Misha. I begged him not to, but he wouldn’t listen to me. So, off he went. I went up to my bathroom and jumped in the shower. I was really curious to see what Shawn was going to do, so I showered quickly and went next door to see what was happening.
Shawn had gone up the front door and Misha’s brother Alexi answered the door. Alexi was dressed exactly like Misha, and as it turned out Alexi was 18, a year older than me. Alexi is about my height and very good looking, just like Misha. Shawn asked Alexi if he was Misha, he said that he wasn’t and he called Misha to the door. Shawn looked down at this little kid and figured that there was no way that a kid this small could have thrashed his brother. He asked Alexi if he had told me that he was Misha and then beat me up. It was about then that I got over to house.
I walked in and Shawn was standing there between Misha and Alexi. He heard me come in and asked me which of the two had thrashed me. Shawn pointed to Alexi and said, “it was this guy, wasn’t it?” I didn’t say anything. I was just too embarrassed. So he looks at me and is clearly getting pretty angry. “Aaron, stop being a little dork. Which guy was it?”
I looked down at my feet and then pointed over to Misha. Shawn couldn’t believe it. “Are you telling me that this little guy beat you that badly?” I nodded and Misha yelled, “I am not little!” Alexi was totally confused about what was going on, so he made Misha tell the story. He started speaking in Russian, but Alexi stopped him and made him switch to english. He and Shawn both listened as Misha explained. When he finished, Alexi started to apologize for Misha and then started to make Misha offer his own apology. Shawn stopped them. He didn’t know what they were up to, but he was sure that Misha couldn’t have done this to me.
Alexi told Shawn that Misha had a temper and that he really was very strong. “In fact,” he said, “Misha might be as strong as you!” Shawn wasn’t going to believe it. He told Alexi that there was no way Misha was anywhere near as strong as he was. Shawn even bragged that he was probably stronger than both Misha and Alexi together.
Alexi laughed at him. “OK, I tell you what - how about you arm-wrestle Misha here. If you can beat him, then you can try to beat me. Shawn couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He laughed and took Alexi up on his offer. We all went into the kitchen and Misha went over to the table and put his arm up. Shawn did too, but his arm was so much longer that it wasn’t going to work for them to arm-wrestle. Alexi grabbed a phone book and put it under Misha’s arm, Misha and Shawn were now at the same level. Alexi started them off and to my amazement; Shawn didn’t just slam the kid’s arm to the table. In fact, he was obviously working as hard as he could just to hold Misha’s arm where it was. Misha actually started to move Shawn’s arm toward the table, as he did Shawn was frantic. He put everything he had into it and slowly moved Misha’s arm back. Shawn was sweating and his face was red, Misha was working just as hard too, but finally Shawn’s size was just too much for the kid. Misha’s arm slowly hit the table.
Alexi looked at Shawn and smiled at him. “OK, I guess you can arm-wrestle me now.” Misha came over and stood by me. While Shawn tried to weasel out of taking on Alexi, Misha and I apologized. I finally asked him how old he was. He told me that he was 14 and that he’d be 15 in a few months. He was going to be a freshman at my school. I asked him if he’d show me how he got so incredibly strong. He told me he’d come back to our weight room tomorrow and we could start again. By that time, Alexi and Shawn had decided to arm-wrestle left-handed since Shawn’s right arm was still hurting from his match with Misha.
They both got ready and Misha started them off. Alexi slammed Shawn’s hand to the table. Shawn tried to pretend he wasn’t ready, so they started again. Alexi toyed with Shawn this time. He waved Shawn’s arm around like it was nothing and kept asking him if was ready. After a few seconds he slammed by brother’s hand to the table. Shawn couldn’t believe it. A guy about my size had easily beaten him. Alexi had a baby-face, just like Misha, and think Shawn wondered if Alexi was even my age. He looked at Alexi as he rubbed his arm and said, “I’m sorry dude. I guess I was wrong. You are one strong dude.”
“It’s OK Shawn,” Alexi replied, “I know I don’t appear as strong as I am.” Shawn and I talked a little more with Misha and Alexi and then went home. We’d both been humbled by our two Russian neighbors. Luckily Shawn was scraped up like I was. He told me to be careful around them, but I already knew that. I was still scared of Misha, but I was even more curious about him.
I couldn’t sleep that night. The thought of what Misha had so easily done to me kept running through my mind. I kept seeing him standing over me. The look on his face was so confident. I remembered the tone in his voice was arrogant. I realized he was getting off on dominating me, and I started to get worried about seeing him the next day.
I went out the weight room the next day. I started doing some dumbbell curls. I had just started my second set when Misha walked in. He was wearing sweats again. “Ah, you are here! Good!” he said as he walked over to me. He looked at my nose and eye. “Does it still hurt?” I told him that it didn’t, even though it still did hurt some. “Good. You are strong; you can handle pain. I like that.” I hoped he didn’t mean that he’d be hurting me more. He walked over to the bench press. Shawn had been the last to use it and he left the bar set at 225. “Ah, you are doing bench press. He looked at the bar, “100 kilos, very good! You and are not far apart.” As he said it, he jumped under the bar and cranked out ten flawless reps. He jumped up and stretched some. “OK, it is your turn.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t want to disappoint him, but there was no way I could lift that. My best had been 205 and that was after warming up and working up to the weight. “I’m sorry, Misha, but that isn’t the weight I use. My brother was probably doing that last night.
“Oh, I see. So how much weight do you normally use?” I told him I usually worked up to 185. He looked at me and frowned. “I do not think so. You cannot be that strong.” I was confused, but then it hit me. I was talking pounds while he was working in kilograms. “Oh, you thought I meant 185 kilograms, I was thinking in pounds.”
“Ah, I see,” he paused as he did the math in his head. “You work up to 85 kilos?” I nodded. “He smiled a rather superior smug smile. “I am feeling hot all ready. Do you mind if I take off my sweat clothes?” I loved the way he talked. Every word was very exact and he never seemed to use contractions. He sounded very Russian. Anyway, I was just wearing a pair of mesh shorts, so didn’t see any reason why he should keep those heavy sweats on.
He sat down on the bench and took off sweat pants first. As he pulled them off, my eyes widened and mouth hung open. I couldn’t believe the size of his legs! They looked huge, and they were defined too. He flexed his legs as he took the pants off. A beautiful teardrop appeared just above his knee, and above it two large muscles appeared with deep cut between them. His legs were thick with big hamstring muscles curving down from his butt and then back up to his knees. He was wearing a really small speedo, so I had no trouble seeing the definition in his legs. He smiled his confident smile at me, and then grabbed the edges of his sweatshirt and lifted it off over his head.
My mouth was dry, and I couldn’t help but stare at him. His upper body was even more built than his legs. He had a perfect eight pac, and his back flared out massively from his waist. His beautiful pecs were thick and heavy, and his arms were amazing. He was three years younger than me and three inches shorter, but I was sure that his arms were bigger than mine. He dropped the shirt and hit a double bicep pose. His biceps popped up with incredible peaks. Now I knew his arms were bigger than mine. He watched me as he flexed and kept smiling the same confident smile. Then he stood up and hit a most muscular pose. His traps flared, seeming to almost touch his ears, his delts were larger than life with each of the three heads standing out clearly.
He dropped the pose and continued to smile at me. He walked toward me with a sort of swagger, and my look of awe changed to a look of fear. I thought he was going to pick up were he’d left off yesterday. He stopped about a foot away from me and said, “you like looking at my muscles, yes?” I nodded. “I am much more developed than you expected?” I nodded again. He stepped a little closer and then flexed his left bicep in my face. I jumped back a little as he did it. “Relax, Aaron. I’m not going to hurt you. I like it that you like my muscles. Go ahead, feel it.” I put my hand on his arm. “Go ahead, squeeze it.” I did. It was incredibly hard. Much harder than mine ever were; along breath escaped my lungs, followed by a short gulp. I asked him how big his arms were, but he told me in centimeters and it didn’t really register with me. “They are even bigger when they are pumped. Maybe sometime I will get pumped up for you and you can measure me everywhere - so I learn your inches and pounds.”
I finally was able to speak. “Wow Misha, I’d love to help take your measurements.”
“I see that” he said smiling his arrogant smile again. “I see you would really like that.” As he said this, he reached down and gave my dick a quick hard squeeze. I hadn’t realized it, but I was rock hard just from watching him. I quickly became afraid again. “It is OK, Aaron. Maybe we can compare measurements there too. Now let’s lift weights.”
He went over to the bench and took off one plate from each side. “If I did the math right, you do exactly one big plate less than I do.” He was right, I was 90 lbs behind him. As he removed the plates a thousand questions rushed into my mind. The first thing I had to know was how much he weighed. He told me he weighed 80 kilos. We both did the math, 176 lbs. “Unbelievable” I said, “you weigh twenty pounds more than I do!” He flexed his arm for me again and smiled, “yes, I do.”
He then proceeded to put me through the hardest work out I’d ever experienced. We worked our chest and arms, and by the end of the workout, I couldn’t have lifted another five-pound weight. Misha still seemed pretty fresh and ready for more, but he could tell I was done for the day, so he decided that we’d had enough. He came over to me and flexed his arm again. “How do you like it now that it’s pumped up?” I was honestly shocked. I thought his arm looked huge before, but now it was immense. It had to be seventeen inches I thought. Unbelievable! I reached up and stroked his arm. “Wow, Misha.” I realized I wasn’t being much of a conversationalist.
“We should spend some more time together”, he said as he put his arm down and walked over to put his sweatshirt back on. “I would like to see you later this afternoon. Maybe I can stay for dinner,” he pulled up his seats, “and stay over night with you too?” I was amazed by how confident he was. He really wasn’t asking me, he was telling me what we were going to do. It didn’t matter; I was totally willing to spend time with him. I quickly agreed. “Good. I will be back at 3:00. See you then my friend.” He smiled and started walking toward the door. As he did, he hugged me really hard and said; “I am going to like working out with you, Aaron.” Then he turned and left. I smiled to myself; I didn’t know I had agreed to be his workout partner.
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