“Well, well, well” he began as he stood maybe five feet from us. “I thought you moved out of town or something. You didn’t show up at any of the summer wrestling camps. Don’t tell me you finally got tired of me pinning your pathetic shoulders to the mat?” His hands were on his hips and he was smiling like the over-confident asshole that he was.

“No, I just got tired of smelling of you, Brandon.” Making fun of him like this was probably a very bad idea. When Brandon was sweating, he smelled BAD. I don’t know if didn’t know about deodorant or what, but he was pretty sensitive about it. I could see he was getting annoyed already.

“Sanders, you are such a wuss, it’s hard for me to care. So who’s your little friend here? Did you go out and hire yourself a bodyguard?” He was pointing at Misha.

“This is my neighbor, Misha. He just moved here about a month ago.” I couldn’t wait to see how Brandon and Misha were going to get along.

“Misha? What the fuck kind of name is Misha?” He was laughing.

“I am Russian.” Misha quickly shot back. I could tell by the tone in his voice he wasn’t too fond of Brandon.

“Russian, huh? Whatever. Well you two sure do look cute together with your matching haircuts. Were they doing a two for one sale at Cost Cutters on last year’s styles?” As he talked he took a step closer.

“Maybe you should be quiet, asshole.” Misha now took a step closer to Brandon. The way Misha was dressed, there could be no doubt in Brandon’s mind that Misha was stronger. I was amazed that he kept provoking him. Misha was about an inch shorter than Brandon and fifteen to twenty pounds heavier. Of course Misha had such a baby face, Brandon probably figured he couldn’t take care of himself.

“Mushy, the way you talk! Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Damn Brandon! I thought, when you cross a line, you really cross it good. It really annoyed Misha when people mispronounced his name. It was apparently a common name in Russia. But what really crossed the line was bringing his mother into the conversation. Misha treated his mother with a kind of respect that almost never seen in America. Although he didn’t understand Brandon’s comment, he wasn’t going to wait around for an explanation.

Misha lunged at Brandon, who apparently wasn’t expecting it. Misha had both hands around Brandon’s neck and had lifted him off the ground. For a few seconds Brandon dangled there shocked and disoriented. Misha’s teeth were clenched and he was clearly choking Brandon. Kyle was about to do something, so I grabbed him and twisted his arm behind his back. Kyle was a freshman; he stood about 5’5” and weighed about 115 pound. Controlling him was not an issue for me, so I didn’t hurt him. I just held him there so we could watch Misha and Brandon settle their dispute.

Brandon got his senses back and started hitting Misha in the head. After only a couple of punches, Misha wound up a little and threw Brandon about ten feet across the parking lot. Brandon landed hard and was concentrating mostly on breathing again. Misha jumped on top of him immediately. I thought they would end up wrestling for a while, but Brandon never stood a chance. Misha had his legs wrapped around Brandon’s midsection and held Brandon’s hands above his head. There was a scuff on Brandon’s shoulder where Misha had racked him across the pavement. Blood was forming on it. Misha’s knee was scuffed too, and there was blood coming from it as well. I knew it wouldn’t bother Misha; I’d found from wrestling around with him that he was almost immune to pain. I really had to work at it to get him to acknowledge I was ever able to hurt him even slightly.

Brandon was totally immobilized and Misha was squeezing him hard. “What did you say about my mother?”

“Fuck you.” Brandon was still defiant. Misha moved Brandon’s hands together and held them both with his one hand. He reached forward and slapped Brandon hard on the face.

“Apologize for what you said about my mother.” Brandon’s face was bright red with the imprint of Misha’s hand.

“Fuck you. Sanders, get him off me before I kill him!” I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. It was quite clear that Misha was totally in control and could do anything he wanted to Brandon. Unfortunately, Brandon’s ego was going to require a little more demonstration.

“Wick, it doesn’t look to me like you’re going to kill him. I think he’s going to kill you unless you apologize.” Even before I stopped speaking, Misha brought his hand back and slapped Brandon again. “Damn dude, doesn’t that hurt? You’d better apologize.” I laughed a little as I was speaking.

“Fuck you both.” Now Misha started to really flex his legs. The cuts in his thighs were now visible even through his shorts. His calves showed their perfect splits and Brandon’s stomach wall appeared almost flattened. “AAAAH” Brandon was screaming. WACK! Misha popped him again in the face. Kyle tried to get away from me, and I didn’t blame him. His brother was taking a nasty beating. I held him fast.

“You’ve got to stop them!” Kyle screamed.

Misha ignored Kyle. “Apologize.” WACK, he slapped Brandon again. Brandon’s eyes were tearing up and trickle of blood was coming from his lip. Misha waited a few seconds and then calmly again said, “Apologize.” WACK! A trickle of blood now started down Brandon’s nose.

“Please Aaron, make him stop it!” Kyle screamed. By now about fifteen kids had gathered around to watch what was happening. For the most part they were silent, but I heard a couple asking who Misha was. No one was used to seeing Brandon in this position.

I put my hand on Kyle’s neck to make sure I had his attention. “Your brother can make him stop in a second, he just has to say he’s sorry.” Misha’s arm was going back again.

“OK, OK, I’m sorry.” Brandon said weakly.

“Sorry for what?” Misha asked, slapping him very lightly this time.

“I’m sorry for insulting your mother.” The tears were starting to run down his face. It wasn’t from the physical pain; it was from the psychological torture of having a younger guy beat him so easily. He was helpless and he couldn’t deal with it.

“What’s my name?” Misha slapped him lightly again.

“M, m, Misha.” Brandon whispered.

“Louder.” Misha slapped him again, a little harder this time, but nowhere near as hard as he had initially.

“Your name is Misha.” It was obvious that Brandon was totally beaten. He was silent as the tears streamed down his face. He was just waiting to see what Misha would do next. It didn’t look to me like Misha was going to let him go, so I finally intervened.

“Misha, that’s enough. Let him up.” Misha looked at me and then looked at Brandon. He slapped him one more time, not very hard.

“Stay away from me, you understand?” Brandon nodded his head. Misha let him go and jumped up. It was clear he didn’t trust Brandon. Misha looked down at himself. His white tank was covered in dirt. Misha tried to brush it off, but it was no use. He looked at Brandon. Brandon’s shirt and shorts were ripped and dirty. He turned to Kyle who was also wearing a baggy white tank. “Give me your shirt.”

I was still holding Kyle. “No way, why should I?” Kyle protested. Misha was in no mood for Kyle’s whining.

“Because if you do not, I will break your arm.” Misha said, matter-of-factly. “Aaron, give me his shirt.” I was still holding him, and it seemed fair enough to me, so I grabbed the waist of his shirt and pulled it off over his head.

I released Kyle’s arm as I did and threw the shirt to Misha. Misha took off his own dirty shirt. As he did, both Brandon and Kyle gasped loudly. “Holy shit, he’s incredible.” Kyle said. Misha threw me his dirty shirt and started to put on Kyle’s shirt. The kids who had gathered were all now talking. They had no idea who Misha was, but they all wanted to find out. They apparently weren’t expecting Misha to be so chiseled. Kyle’s shirt had been baggy on Kyle, but it fit MIsha like a second skin, and I have to admit it looked so damn hot. At that moment, I wanted to find somewhere private and suck Misha off so badly. He was just oozing power and confidence and watching the whole scene had me oozing a little bit too.

Brandon was finally up on his feet. He was shaking his head at the sight of Misha’s perfect body. I think he was asking himself how he could have been stupid enough to challenge Misha. I walked over to Misha and handed him his pack. “Let’s go, we’ll be late for class.” We both turned and started walking toward the school again.

We had only taken a few steps when Kyle yelled, “Hey! What about my shirt?” The crowd of kids had started to break up and walk toward the school. As Kyle yelled, they all stopped to see if anything more was going to happen.

I looked over my shoulder at him. “Ask your brother.”

Misha smiled and we smacked fists. I didn’t want him going around beating up everyone in school, but if he had to make a point with someone, I was glad it was Brandon. As we got to the door of the school, kids were all gathering around Misha to see what he was all about. A few asked how he got so strong, and one of the girls asked to feel his arm. He flexed it for her and she ran her hand over his hard flexed biceps. Everyone’s eyes popped when they saw his incredible arm. One guy even reached over and gave the baseball-sized mound of muscle a good hard squeeze. “Fuck, it’s like a rock!”

Misha was eating up the attention. After a few seconds, I started pushing forward again. The kids let us through. I said very quietly under my breath “remember, a little modesty. Don’t brag about this and you’ll definitely score a lot of points.”

He nodded and then asked just as quietly, “am I going to get in trouble?”

“I don’t think so,” I replied, “Brandon will be too embarrassed to say anything about this, so just keep it to yourself and you’ll be fine.” I wanted to tell him that I was proud of him and that he’d given Brandon exactly what he deserved, but I knew that I was better off saying as little as possible.

The rest of the day at school was uneventful. A few kids asked me about what had happened and Misha got lots of attention before each class. As it turned out, Kyle was in a few of Misha’s classes, but Misha was cool and didn’t say anything more to him.

I was waiting for Misha at the door after school. He came walking up and we talked a little and then continued out to the car. Brandon was nowhere to be seen, but we saw Kyle talking to a few of his friends. Misha looked at Kyle and smiled smugly, “so do you want your shirt back?” Kyle nodded. Misha grabbed the collar of the tank top with both hands and started to pull. The shirt offered little resistance as it ripped down the middle. “Here you are.” Misha said as he threw the ripped shirt to Kyle. He was laughing and I was smiling shaking my head. Part of me wanted to scold him for showing off, but it was so perfect that I couldn’t get mad.

“Damn you’re a mean fucker, aren’t you…” I laughed. He smiled and nodded. •