Charlie was striding forward. Who did this fucker think he was? First day in a new school, he’s already walking about like he owns the place – the football team, Carrie. He stood there with his back to Charlie. His wide developed back, reaching down to a slim, perfectly toned waist and tight buttocks. He’d barely even acknowledged Charlie’s presence, well that was going to change. Charlie enjoyed a good clean fight as much as the next man. He’d fought a fair few on his way up the school food-chain, with a few guys who were less than willing to accept the once loner nerd was deserving of his new found glory on and off the football pitch. This ‘Scott’ was just another fucker Charlie was going to enjoy bringing down.

Carrie wasn’t really worrying about the outcome of the scene. She was still in ecstasy from the sex, still boozy from the manly aroma of her new fuck buddy. Who’d have thought Timmy Parker could learn to fuck like that. Part of her was overjoyed with the fact Charlie had caught her and Timmy together. She didn’t need Charlie anymore and she loved the fact he was starting to realise it. She wondered how Timmy would be able to handle himself against Charlie – a kind of curious excited wonder. She wasn’t worried about him being able to fight back – she was sure that with a body like that he’d be able to look after himself, the changes to it were such an incredible turn on. Watching him fight against another man, assessing his own newfound masculinity against another’s could be an amazing sight.

Meanwhile Timmy still hadn’t grasped the full extent of the problem. All he’d been concerned about was getting his end away – fucking Carrie and making himself empowered. He’d enjoyed the roughness and the aggression of the football game and the appreciation the other guys had given him. He’d even enjoyed defying Jamie – telling him to….fuck off. It was a new vocabulary he was learning every day. It wasn’t just good enough to look and smell like a man, you had to talk and act like one too. Timmy enjoyed using words like that, words that would make him sound tough and intimidating and exciting – words Jamie winced to hear. He wanted Carrie to teach him them all. He had savoured the language of the locker-room, ten minutes earlier. Enjoying the banter, the crudeness; even though most of it had passed his innocent mind by. A lot of it had been about sex, fucking, and Timmy certainly enjoyed hearing about that. And he knew that this guy was angry with him for some reason, but he didn’t really give a fuck.

Suddenly he felt his shoulder being pulled to one side, quickly and dramatically and he was brought to face against Charlie, as he was pushed against the boiler-room wall. Carrie had had to dive out of the way. Charlie’s huge manly hands digging into Timmy’s naked shoulder muscles, keeping him held back. They were almost eye-level. Charlie’s aggressive mean face, a contradiction against his own beauty staring into Timmy’s wide eyed astonished one. Charlie almost sniggered to himself. The guy looked so surprised and taken a back, almost upset. He hadn’t expected this at all. Now he had him up close and personal he could see beyond his mighty body. With his hand against Timmy’s shoulders he could feel the impressive muscular physique. Witness the wide chest, sweating and swollen. The face was magnificent too, with large fine features – strong eyes, nose mouth chin and brow. But there was a simplicity, almost a prettiness to it, that defied the guy’s manly scent and presence. He was just weak, pretty-boy poser, not used to fighting and manly aggression. He was going to enjoy teaching him a lesson.

Timmy struggled against Charlie’s strong grip. He wanted to break free but it was hard work. With his own hands he pushed against Charlie’s torso, trying to let him go, but it wasn’t easy. Gradually his own face darkened. Aggression creeping into his own eyes. He didn’t like the fact he was being held back. He didn’t like it that this guy was in control. With a final struggle he pushed hard, and Charlie fell backwards. A smug victory crept into his expression.

But Charlie was up again fast, lunging forward, directing his heavy fist into Timmy’s lower jaw. With a smack, Timmy fell backwards, wincing in pain and falling against the wall. It just riled him up even more. He was up again and pushing against Charlie with his mighty arms and hands. This time it was he who had Charlie pinned up against a wall. He gripped Charlie’s clothes so that he was holding him up against it. His face terrifyingly close to Charlie’s and not caring. Charlie tried to avoid his stare as Timmy fixed his face, his lips and his nose, within millimetres of Charlie’s sweating skin. He felt in control now and he wanted this guy to know it. He scowled deeply and deliberately: a toughness and aggression in his expression that he had never found before. Behind them both, Carrie stared on in astonishment. Was that it? Was the fight over? Had it really been that simple for Timmy?

*****************************************

Back at home Jamie watched the clock. Football Practice should have been finished over an hour ago. Where was Timmy? He’d just been on the phone to his aunty, a woman unaware and unsuspicious of the changes that had occurred since she went away – leaving little Timmy in Jamie’s care. He’d assured her that everything was fine - Timmy was great, the same sweet loving happy little kid as always. Jamie had always been proud of his little brother: he was only six years old when their parents were involved in the car crash that killed him. But he had kept going with the same innocent resilience and love that he showed before. He’d love anyone like they were a surrogate parent to him. Perhaps Timmy was just too young to understand. Jamie had been the one who had faltered and fallen apart, clinging to his brother for stability and support. His brother who gave Jamie a warm tight hug at a moment notice and looked up to him like he was some sort of hero. With his magnificent stature, Timmy only could look down on his big brother now.

As the front door swung open, the house exploded in noise and activity again. Timmy! Jamie rushed out into the hallway to witness Carrie and Timmy stumbling in. Timmy, shirtless, in only a pair of trackpants – and a fashionable pair of sneakers that Jamie was sure Carrie must have got him. His wide beautiful upper-body was on proud display as he swaggered in like some sort of wounded soldier: bulky ungraspable arms, a chest swollen with deep muscles, and….bruises? A bloody cut evident under his eye.

“Timmy? What happened?”

Timmy looked up, a smile of smug cockiness growing onto his face. He was enjoying the attention he was getting. From the passers by as they had stumbled home, from Carrie, from Jamie himself. Everyone could see he had been fighting – how tough he was. His mind still victorious in his triumph over Charlie. He almost sounded drunk in the victory.

“I had a fucking fight”

“You….what?”

“A fucking fight” Tim grinned proudly, and nodded his head slowly. “And I beat the fucking loser to a pulp” That was what Carrie had proudly told him he’d done and he’d repeat it to anyone who wanted to hear. He smiled again and then his mind wandered. The fighting victory had made him horny in the same way as the victory on the football pitch. Almost subconsciously, he reached a meaty hand for Carrie’s sizeable breasts, fondling them. His body was sore and tired from the long hard fight, but he could still summon up the energy to fuck, just gently and slowly. He’d even do it in the hallway, with the front-door still open and his brother in the room. Jamie opened up his mouth in astonishment. •