Alex the Bully


By Zipman

I didn’t tell my parents about my encounter with Alex. How could I tell them that their fifteen-year-old son was completely helpless against a little twelve-year-old sixth grader? Alex was some kind of kid super-athlete who had muscles many sixteen-year-olds would be proud to have. And somehow he was stronger than most of the teenagers in my high school! I couldn’t imagine strength like that in a boy his age. This kid was so freaky-strong it was scary! Plus he had the cocky attitude to go with it. The kind of self-confidence a boy can get from always knowing he was the strongest kid in school. He obviously enjoyed showing off his strength against older kids like me.

My name is Paul and my first unfortunate meeting with Alex came on the last day of my freshman year in high school. My ten-year-old brother Kenny just finished the fourth grade. I think Kenny used to look up to me, but unfortunately he was there in the park when Alex made me look like a total wimp. I also couldn’t keep Alex from picking on Kenny and laying some hurt on my little brother whenever he felt like it. I think Kenny looked at me differently after that. He used to feel safe when I was around — now I began to wonder if he thought his brother was a complete wuss.

I didn’t mind babysitting Kenny over the summer. My parents paid me for it, since they both had jobs. A few days after our meeting with Alex in the park, Kenny was playing video games in the den and I was upstairs in my room with my shirt off, looking at my rather skinny reflection in the mirror. I had resolved to do something to improve my physical conditioning and strength, now that I had been totally embarrassed by a kid who didn’t even come up to my chin. I was doing a little flexing in the mirror and thinking about getting that weight set out of the garage when the doorbell rang. I pulled on my shirt and buttoned it up the front as I ran down the stairs.

I looked through the peephole and only saw the top of someone’s cap. I opened the door and saw a kid in a little league uniform — white, with pinstripes and the name “ROCKETS” across the chest. I thought maybe he was looking for a donation, or something. It was only when he began to speak that I recognized the voice.

“Thanks to you, we lost the game,” the boy said. “I had to sit on the bench because you got me in trouble — now we might not make the playoffs!”

When he raised his head and looked me in the eye, I saw it was Alex! And he was pissed off! I let out a little yelp of fear (I couldn’t help it — this kid freaks me out!) and I slammed the door on him as hard as I could. Unfortunately, he had taken a step onto the threshold and the big, heavy door hit him right in the face, knocking the cap right off his head. The door bounced back open into my hand and I stood in horror as I saw Alex put his hand up to his nose and draw back fingertips coated with bright red blood. The look of anger on his face made my blood run cold! I quickly slammed the door again, but this time he put his hands up. Alex stopped the door about an inch from being closed, and although I pushed with all my might, I couldn’t get it shut all the way. I put both my hands on the door and really leaned my back into it. I was also moving my feet and trying to drive with my legs. Not only didn’t I get the door closed, but Alex was actually pushing the door open wider! It was open a little more than a foot now, and I heard a little grunt from the other side as I felt my shoes begin to slip backward on the vinyl floor.

“Help!” I yelled, and soon Kenny appeared from the hallway. He looked at me struggling to keep the door from flinging wide open. “It’s Alex!” I shouted. Kenny’s eyes widened with fear and he ran to put his hands on the door and help push. Together we got the door to stop moving, but it was already open about two feet. I decided to put everything I had into one, last desperation shove. I lunged forward using my legs, back, arms — everything! The door started moving back, and I was encouraged. “Come on, just a little more,” I grunted as Kenny bit his lower lip and tried to help as much as he could. The door was about halfway closed when I heard a growl begin on the other side. It was low and soft at first, but as it grew in intensity the door stopped moving closed and then began to reverse. No amount of pushing could stop the door this time. It kept moving open faster and faster as our feet slid backward on the floor, unable to get any traction. With a final tremendous shove accompanied by a loud shout, Alex pushed the door open so hard that Kenny and I were sent sprawling backward onto the floor.

The door bounced against the doorstop with a bang as Alex stepped into the house. He caught the door on the rebound and slammed it shut behind his back. He was panting a little, and each time his chest heaved it strained the buttons of his uniform shirt. They must not make little league uniforms in his chest size. There was still a little blood trickling from his nose, and there were red stains where it had dripped onto the front of his uniform. Alex ran the back of his hand across his nostrils and then wiped the blood off on his shirt.

“Oh man — you’re gonna pay for that!” he said. His eyes were dark and menacing. His hands were clenching into fists at his sides. I was freaking out again.

I had to calm down and do something quickly! I scrambled to my feet and pulled up Kenny. “Go call Dad,” I whispered to him and shoved him toward the kitchen. My job was to keep Alex busy until help arrived. I must have been crazy.

“You’re not so tough!” I shouted, as I retreated back into the living room. “You think cause you’re stronger than the average kid… you can beat up whoever you want… well… you’re in my house now… and… and… you’re not going to beat me up… …again…” I wasn’t doing a good job of sounding confident. I kept backing up into the room as I talked and Alex just watched me with a little grin on his face. Suddenly he ran right at me, jumping over an arm chair in one leap. I swear, he just flew over that thing like it was nothing! I was so surprised that I almost fell backward over the coffee table. Alex just laughed and kept walking slowly towards me. I was backed up against the fireplace now with nowhere to go. I had to think of something fast!

I reached behind me and found the handle of one of the fireplace tools. I held up the poker and began to brandish it in front of me like a sword. “Get back, or I’ll knock that little head of yours right off your shoulders… I swear I will!” I shouted. Not only didn’t Alex back up, he held his hands up and made little curling motions with his fingers, urging me to come on. I held the poker with both hands and took a swing right in front of his nose. I swung it back and forth in front of his face, trying to keep him away. Alex dodged his head back a little with each swing, but he also swiped his hand at the rod, trying to catch it. I couldn’t believe he wasn’t even afraid of being hit! I couldn’t bring myself to actually hit him in the head — at least, not yet. I decided to try and hit him on the side of the arm. Big mistake. He jumped back and grabbed the end of the poker and held on tight. I yanked the rod with both hands but couldn’t get it away from him. Alex was really smiling that smug grin of his now. He put both hands on the poker and started tugging it away from me. I stumbled forward, but refused to let go. He pulled me around, beside the sofa, and then braced his feet and began to really tug. As his elbows started to bend I noticed how quickly his upper arms seemed to fill up the sleeve of his uniform. His biceps were flexing and straining the fabric as I felt my hands begin to slip. I knew I didn’t have a chance to win a tug-of-war against this muscle boy’s powerful arms. So I did something smart. I not only stopped pulling, I pushed as hard as I could and Alex went flying backward until he hit the wall — hard!

He was stunned enough to let go of the poker and I used it to pin him against the wall, laying it across his throat. I knew I couldn’t be gentle with him, so I pushed the metal rod into his throat. I remembered how he had wrapped his arm around my neck in the park and squeezed me until I blacked out. I was determined to do the same to him, then maybe tie him up until my Dad arrived. As I began to see the rod making a dent right below his Adam’s apple, Alex brought up his hands and grabbed the ends of the poker. “Choke, you little bastard!” I shouted, as I pushed harder. He turned his head to the side for relief and started pushing back, but I had the leverage advantage this time. Not only was I taller, with longer arms, but I had a closer grip, with my hands just a little wider than his neck. He had grabbed the ends of the rod and was trying to push with his arms pinned to the wall. “You’re not gonna win this time!” I said. I pressed the metal against his throat again, this time on the side. I could actually see the big vein in his neck throbbing with his pulse. I knew if I could shut it off it would be lights out for Alex. I pushed harder and watched the metal rod press into the flesh. Finally, I was winning! Alex’s face was getting flushed. He must have known he didn’t have much time left before blacking out. A couple of large veins began to pop out on his forehead. He probably felt like his head was going to explode as the blood pressure mounted.

Suddenly Alex started taking big, whooshing breaths through his clenched teeth. He made so much noise as his chest heaved that I thought he was having some kind of attack. Then he clenched his jaw and started that growl again. He gripped the ends of the poker so tight his little knuckles turned white. Then I heard a popping sound and saw that the top button of his uniform shirt had exploded open! As his chest began to flex more, the next button was straining to keep from busting. The rod started to move away from his neck and his growl grew louder. I leaned against the rod and pushed hard, but the poker continued to move away from the wall! His arms were slowly straightening out more and more, and the second button burst and flew off, hitting me in the nose. Alex’s young chest was bulging with unbelievable power! His strength was overwhelming me and I had to take a step back as his arms were becoming fully extended. Alex saw my move and suddenly pulled with his left hand as he kept pushing with his right, catching me off balance and spinning me around. With a burst of energy he slammed my back against the wall and began to push the poker toward my throat. I panicked and desperately tried to stop the advancing rod, but he dug his baseball cleats into the rug and drove with his leg and back muscles in addition to his arms and chest. I didn’t stand a chance against all that kid muscle working against me. My arms were trembling now, and starting to lose their strength. Alex was hardly straining as he relentlessly pressed the rod slowly forward until it touched my throat. He saw the panicked look on my face and smiled his evil little grin.

“How does it feel to find out how weak you are, compared to me?” he bragged. “There’s no way you could ever outmuscle me, wimp! My big, hard kid muscles are ten times stronger than your puny, mushy teen muscles!” He pressed the shaft of the poker hard against my throat, causing me to gag a little. “Now I’m gonna show you how strong I really am!”

Alex bit his lower lip and started pressing upward. The bar caught under my jawbone and started to stretch my neck. He moved his shoulders under the bar and I felt his chest pressing against my stomach. Then he began to extend his arms and I continued to choke and gag as the bar moved upward. Suddenly I felt my shoulders begin to slide up the wall. It was like Alex was pressing a barbell above his head, and I was the weight! When I felt my feet leave the floor, I knew I was really in trouble. Alex’s arms kept moving upward until they were fully extended, and I was pinned to the wall about a foot off the floor.

“Yeah… YEAH!!” Alex shouted, feeling the adrenaline rush. “That’s Kid Power!!”

I was feeling what it must be like to be hung. My neck was being stretched and crushed at the same time. As I started getting that light-headed feeling that told me I was near to blacking out, I desperately tried anything I could do. I grabbed Alex’s arms and pulled but felt their iron-hardness. I could feel the bulging shape of his young triceps through the sleeve of his shirt. I reached for a handful of his hair and tried to pull, but he shook his head free and warned me not to try that again by pouring on the pressure, making me gag some more. I tried to kick out with my legs but his body had my feet pinned to the wall. I was helpless, and fading fast.

It took a lot of strength to hold me up like that, but Alex enjoyed the challenge. He was gasping a little from the effort, but he looked up at me and laughed. He loved to show off how strong he was. “What’re ya gonna do now, huh?” he said. I saw only that smug little grin of his as my vision started to lose focus…

Just as I started to black out, I heard Kenny’s voice.

“Paul, I can’t find the phone! I looked everywhere!”

I tried to yell, “Help!” but it came out as more of a squeak. Fortunately, Kenny saw I was in trouble and yelled, “Hey — stop it!” He ran over and started kicking Alex’s legs. My little brother is an excellent kicker, and I have the bruises on my shins to prove it. A couple of kicks to the back of Alex’s knees was all it took to make Alex drop me and go after Kenny. As I hit the ground my knees buckled and I crumpled to the floor. I knew I had to get up quickly and go help Kenny. Then I saw it — the phone. It was on the floor under the sofa. (The one disadvantage of a cordless phone — not always knowing where it is when you need it!)

I grabbed it and turned it on, hoping the battery was okay. Just then, Kenny came barreling back into the room, followed closely by Alex. Alex saw me holding the phone and yelled, “Hey, gimmie that!” and lunged at me. I tossed the phone over his head to Kenny as Alex tackled me onto the sofa. When Alex saw I didn’t have the phone anymore he jumped up and went after Kenny. I followed and soon all three of us were grabbing and tugging on the phone.

I guess I don’t have to tell you who won the tug of war. Alex got a good grip on one end of the phone and spun around using the strength of his arms to send us flying off. Kenny and I both fell back onto the sofa, and Alex went into his best baseball pitcher’s windup, throwing the phone against the fireplace. It was a good fastball that shattered the plastic case against the bricks and spilled the little electronic innards out all over the hearth. So much for the phone.

Alex’s adrenaline was really flowing now. He reached down and grabbed a handful of Kenny’s and my shirt in each hand and pulled us to our feet. He dug his cleats into the carpet and hauled us over toward the side of the room. I grabbed his right wrist with both hands, but couldn’t break his grip on my shirt. Thrusting his chest between us, Alex then flung his arms forward to slam us both into the wall. My head hit so hard I was stunned, and I know Kenny was, too. Alex was so strong he could manhandle us as if we weighed nothing! I still couldn’t understand how a twelve-year-old kid could get to be so powerful!

The next thing I knew, I felt Alex’s fist slam into my gut. I howled and grabbed my stomach, then heard Alex’s left fist slam into poor Kenny’s tummy. Kenny started crying, but before I could react Alex slugged his right fist into me again. He hit me so hard his fist buried deep into my gut, and I doubled over in pain. Alex was beating us both up at the same time! The second punch with his left hand into Kenny’s stomach was enough to send my little brother crumpling to the floor, coughing and gasping. Alex then used his left hand to push my shoulder back up against the wall and laid into me with his right fist again. This time he not only sank his fist deep into my stomach, he held it there and kept pushing. I felt my insides being rearranged as he ground his fist into me, twisting it slowly. His knuckles were practically pushed up against my spine. The pain was overwhelming.

Alex finally withdrew his hand and I collapsed to the floor, feeling like I was going to lose my lunch. I couldn’t believe it only took three punches from those little fists to totally destroy me. Alex was some kind of evil superboy, and I was his defenseless punching bag.

“Get up!” Alex commanded. I groaned and rolled on my back, still holding my stomach. “I said Get Up!” he yelled, as he grabbed me under my arms and hauled me to my feet. His super-strong arms lifted me easily and I was propped back against the wall. Then Alex bent over and threw his shoulder into my stomach, as if I were his football tackling dummy. The pain was so great that I knew I couldn’t take another blow. I reached over his back and desperately grasped at his shirt, pulling his shirttail out of his pants. As he drew back for another shoulder smash, I pulled up on his shirt as hard as I could, forcing it up over his head.

Alex backed up, tied up by his own shirt, and comically stumbled around blind trying to pull himself free of his uniform shirt and undershirt. He stood in the middle of the living room with his trapped arms raised and his shirt over his head, trying to squirm free. I was still holding my injured stomach, but I knew I had to do something while Alex was unable to see. I walked up and threw a fist into his bare stomach. I was encouraged when Alex grunted and stumbled back, so I tried throwing a harder punch. I made good contact again, but this time his taut little tummy was more prepared for the blow and my fist didn’t seem to do much damage. His shirt had cleared his shoulders now and was only caught on his chin. I knew I probably only had one more chance to throw a good punch. I pulled my arm all the way back and laid into his gut with all the strength I had. He must have sensed it was coming, because I saw his belly button narrow as his abdominal muscles tightened into full flex. When my fist hit those hard-tensed abs, there was a loud “smack!” and a pain shot through my wrist and up the bones of my forearm. Just at that moment, Alex finished pulling off his shirts and tossed them aside. I was standing there with my mouth open, shaking out my aching hand. Alex looked at me and smiled, totally unaffected. “You hit like a girl!” he laughed.

This was the first time I had seen Alex without his shirt. The sight was incredible. This little kid was built like a miniature bodybuilder, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, impossibly thick chest and taut abs, and amazing arms that were developed beyond anything I had ever seen on a pre-teen boy. I was so stunned by the sight of his hard-muscled physique that I froze for a moment. But when Alex started coming after me with clenched fists again, I snapped out of it quick.

I ran into the dining room, which was a mistake, because it was a dead end. When he cut me off at the doorway, I picked up a chair and held it out in front of me, jabbing at him with the legs. But Alex just grabbed the chair with both hands and started to pull. I tried to hold on as best I could, but one quick flex of his arms and chest was all it took to jerk the chair away from me. He flipped the chair around and chased me around the table with it, giggling like a little kid. Hell, he was a little kid! And he was clearly enjoying this. Knowing he could terrorize both my brother and me and there wasn’t anything we could do to stop him. He was strong, fearless, and confident, and we were his weak, fearful, and helpless prey.

I had forgotten for the moment about Kenny. When I ran out of the dining room, my little brother had recovered from his punches and was heading up the stairs. I shouted, “Where are you going?” and he said, “I’m going to use the upstairs phone to call Dad!”

Unfortunately, Alex heard him and blew past me to follow Kenny up the stairs. I had forgotten about the extension phone next to my parents bed. I ran up the stairs after them, but when I got to the bedroom Alex had already yanked the phone cord out of the wall. He chased Kenny around the bed and followed him back toward the stairs. As they went past me I tried to grab Alex and missed, so I threw my body at him, trying to tackle him as he started down the stairway. My shoulder banged hard against his hip and hurled him sideways . Combined with his own momentum, it was enough to send Alex over the railing! I waited for the thud as he hit the floor below, then I saw he was still holding on to the balustrade with his left hand. I looked over the rail and saw Alex dangling there by one arm. It was ten feet down, but still I didn’t hesitate — I tried desperately to pry his fingers off the rail. He was gripping the railing so tight his fingers were white, and I couldn’t pry them loose. When Alex recovered from the shock of nearly falling he looked up and saw what I was trying to do and his face contorted into a snarl of rage. Then Alex did something amazing — he started pulling himself back up with one hand, doing a one-arm pull-up! And it was with his left arm! I watched his little bicep contract powerfully as his body flew up toward me and I failed to notice his clenched right fist headed right for my jaw. The super-fast one-arm pull-up added force to the punch, which landed so hard it knocked me down. Alex climbed back over the railing and grabbed me by the lapels, pulling me up and slamming my back against the wall. “I oughtta kill you!” he growled, then with a violent twist of his shoulders he threw me down the stairs. I slid down head first on my back until I hit the floor — hard! I was still reeling when I saw Alex take a flying leap off the fifth step and land with his knee right in the center of my chest.

All the air was knocked out of me, and I must have blacked out for a second. When I came to, I was having trouble breathing because of the pain in my chest. I rolled onto my knees and heard Kenny crying in the living room. From the entryway I could see Alex holding Kenny up against the wall and shaking him, telling him to shut up. The dining room chair was there at the bottom of the stairs, where Alex had dropped it. I grabbed the chair and sneaked up on Alex from behind. I said a little prayer, closed my eyes, and swung the chair down hard on the back of his head.

The blow made a loud “bonk!” that startled me. Alex dropped Kenny and spun around to face me. For a moment, I froze in horror because he looked at me like he was going to tear me apart. Then suddenly his eyes rolled up in his head and his knees collapsed and Alex fell to the floor, unconscious.

He wasn’t dead, because his little barrel chest was still heaving. I knew we had to act quickly. “Go get some rope!” I said to Kenny, who went off into the garage. I grabbed Alex under the arms and lifted him up into the chair. He was heavier than I would have guessed, and I struggled to get his solid little body up onto the seat. Kenny reappeared with an anxious look on his face.

“I can’t find any rope!” he wailed. “All I found was this ball of string!” Just then, Alex rolled his head and moaned.

“Quick, give it to me!” I yelled. I pulled Alex’s arms behind the chair, then took the string and wound it several times around his wrists, lashing them together. I tied a good knot, then pulled the end of the string down to a leg brace and tied it there to hold his arms down. With Kenny’s help, I wrapped the string around Alex’s chest four times, pulling it tight around the back of the chair where I tied it. Now I only had about a foot of string left.

We stood back and looked at Alex, now bound to the chair. Kenny looked worried. “I don’t think that’s gonna hold him,” he said.

“Sure it will — here, hold the other end of this piece of string and try to break it by pulling on it.” Kenny took the string and we pulled on each end, but the string held. “See, Mom uses it to tie up meat and that’s what we’re doing — tying up meat!”

“I think we need to tie his feet,” Kenny warned. “He could still stand up and kick us.”

“We don’t have enough string for that. We could take off his shoes, though.”

We took off Alex’s baseball shoes and Kenny even removed his socks. Then I had an idea. I loosened his uniform pants and pulled them down around his knees.

“There!” I said. “He can’t move his legs now.” Under his pants Alex was wearing the kind of tight, spandex underwear that athletes wear. It looked like white bicycle shorts. You could see the plastic cup he wore underneath. His thighs were thicker than I would have guessed — even for Alex. This kid had muscle everywhere!

Alex made a couple of snorting sounds, like he was snoring. We both jumped back.

“I’ll go next door to the Henderson’s to use their phone,” I said. “You stay here and watch Alex.”

“I’m not gonna stay here alone with him!” Kenny wailed. “You stay and I’ll go!”

“Don’t be silly, he’s not going anywhere — besides he’s out cold,” I said. I put my fingers under Alex’s chin and lifted up his head. At that moment Alex opened his eyes.

“Ya-a-a-a-h!” we screamed, and ran back about ten feet. Poor Kenny was trembling.

“Okay, you go next door and call Dad,” I said to Kenny, “then ask Mrs. Henderson to come back here with you.”

Kenny left and I stood there watching Alex. He was rolling his head around, trying to get the circulation back into his brain. He moaned a little and then shook his head and blinked his eyes. He seemed to be fully conscious now. He looked around the room, then looked at me, then looked down at his predicament.

“What are ya gonna do now?” I chuckled. I couldn’t resist my chance to say it back to him. Alex didn’t say anything. He pulled up with his hands, jerking at the string tying them down to the chair leg. He clamped his lips together tight and tugged hard. On the third hard tug the string snapped. I tried not to get too concerned. That was just one string, I told myself — his wrists are still tied together behind the chair, and his chest and upper arms are tightly bound. Alex tried twisting his shoulders and wiggling loose, but the strings held him secure. I laughed out loud and told him help was coming in a few minutes. Alex glared at me with those dark eyes and his scowl wiped the smile off my face. Then he threw his shoulders back and tried taking a deep breath. I watched his impressive young chest expand against his bonds. The four layers of string were cutting deep into the skin. Alex held his chest expanded, then began to roll his shoulders forward, slowly flexing his pecs. You could actually see the movement of the muscle as it contracted, starting at the top with the upper pectorals, then rippling down until it reached the upper string. Alex’s chest muscles seemed to grow up around the strings, which now made a deep groove in his swelling young pecs. A growl started deep in his throat and his face turned red with strain. Alex’s entire upper body was trembling with effort. Suddenly, the top string broke open. Alex dropped his shoulders and his growl became a yell as he gave a final tremendous flex of those solid boy-pecs. His young chest exploded with power and the final three strings burst open with a snap and fell to the ground!

My mouth dropped open in disbelief. Alex’s big chest heaved as he panted furiously to catch his breath. Now freed from the chair, he stood up and started to work on pulling his arms apart behind his back. I watched his young triceps tighten into full hardness. His shoulders suddenly bulged with striations, clearly showing the three segments of the muscle. Alex dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes to concentrate on focusing his strength. He grit his teeth and started growling again. His arms were shaking as the muscles flexed with every ounce of power they had. His growl kept growing louder and louder. Then Alex threw his head back and let out an enormous yell. Suddenly, his arms sprang apart and bits of broken string went flying around the room. I gasped at such an awesome display of kid muscle power!

Alex rubbed his wrists as he stepped out of his uniform pants, which had fallen to his ankles. He turned to me and smiled. “That was rad, man!!! Really hot!! Made me feel like Hercules!” Then he lifted his arms and curled them into a hard flex. “Just call me Kid Hercules!!” he shouted. Biceps that almost anyone in my class would be proud to have rose up on his arms like mountains of granite! He flexed his arms hard — then harder, as he grit his teeth and tightened his fists until the knuckles turned white. Those unbelievable kid biceps grew to their maximum hardness, looking like billiard balls bulging up under his smooth, tanned skin! Alex turned his head from side to side, smiling proudly as he admired the impressive size of his bulging young arms. Then he looked right at me and held the flex. He gave me a smug little smirk that told me he knew he was not just stronger than me — he was way stronger than me! By pushing the front door open he had already shown that he was stronger than Kenny and me put together! Now, as Alex stood in front of me flexing every part of his body I was mesmerized by the breathtaking display of bulging, hard-looking young muscle. His pumped-up 12-year-old chest was pulsing with power, and his strong young lats were spread wide. They narrowed down to his small waist, where his neat little six-pack abs looked like they could take any punch! Alex’s legs were not just thick and strong, they actually showed cuts in the thigh muscles that were sharply defined. I stood in awe of this unbelievable muscle-boy, as he confidently flexed his amazingly mature physique.

After a very long time holding the pose, Alex finally lowered his arms and then pointed right at me with a scowl on his face. “Now Kid Hercules is gonna show you what he does to people who hit him over the head with a chair!”

I gasped and turned to run, but before I got two steps Alex managed to tackle me by the ankles and sent me crashing face down on the carpet. He scrambled up my back and shoved his arms under my shoulders, clasping his hands together behind my neck. I was trapped in a full nelson.

“Why did ya take my clothes off, huh?” he said into my ear. “Do ya like looking at boy’s bodies? Or do ya just like looking at all my muscles ’cause you ain’t got none?” Alex lifted my head up a few inches and smashed my face back down. “I bet ya wanna feel my muscles, huh? Ya wanna feel how strong my muscles are?” He tightened his grip and ground my face into the carpet.

Just then the back door slammed, and I heard Kenny’s voice. “The Henderson’s aren’t home. Do you want me to ride my bike down to the pay phone?” I tried to yell to warn Kenny, but Alex just poured on the pressure and kept my mouth muffled against the carpet.

I couldn’t see anything, but I heard Kenny come into the room. He must have froze in terror, then turned to run. Alex scrambled to his feet and ran after him. I got up on my knees and tried to take a few deep breaths. Hearing Kenny yelp as Alex caught him, I knew I had to go try and help him. But just as I got to my feet, Alex came walking back with Kenny on his hip. He carried him with his right arm wrapped around Kenny’s waist and his left hand clamped over Kenny’s mouth. This strong boy carried my struggling brother as easily as he would a sack of groceries.

“Go stand in the corner while I take care of this little squirt,” Alex said.

I looked at the fearful eyes of my little brother. “What are you going to do?” I said.

“I’m gonna tie him up so he won’t get in the way while you and I finish our business.”

I looked past Alex toward the front door. It was only a few paces away. I could probably run past them and get outside. Alex could tell what I was thinking.

“You don’t want me to hurt your little brother, do ya?” Alex said. “Get back, or I’ll see how much I can stretch his scrawny little neck before it snaps.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” I said, trying to make it more of a statement than a question. Alex just smiled that evil grin and began to pull Kenny’s head around with his left hand. Kenny’s muffled whimpers became frantic whines and his eyes went wild with fear. Alex smiled as if he were enjoying this and he tugged on my little brother’s chin until it was twisted nearly backward. The way Alex’s biceps was balling up I could tell he meant business. I thought I heard the bones in Kenny’s neck pop like knuckles being cracked. I put my hands up and backed off. “Okay… okay… I’m going to the corner… just don’t hurt him, okay?” I went to the corner by the fireplace.

“Face the wall and don’t move ’till I tell ya to,” Alex said, and I obeyed. I heard some struggling and grunting, but I didn’t turn around. Kenny was crying when Alex took his hand off his mouth, but soon his cries were silenced by something being stuffed into his mouth. I sneaked a few looks and saw Alex working around the chair. Whatever he was doing, it didn’t take him long.

“Okay, now it’s just you and me,” Alex said, and I turned around. Kenny was tied to the chair as Alex had been. He used an extension cord he had pulled from the wall, and Kenny couldn’t move. He seemed to have Alex’s rolled up socks stuffed into his mouth. It was too big for him to spit out.

“I don’t want to fight,” I said.

Alex shrugged. “Okay, I don’t care if you fight back or not. Either way, I’m gonna beat the crap outta you — but first…” Alex raised both hands high with his fingers spread. “First let’s see how strong you are, wimp!” he said.

I couldn’t believe he wanted a test of strength. I was much taller than him, there was no way he could force my arms down. I reached out and grasped his hands. Alex interlaced his little fingers with mine. He waited for me to start, so I began to push. His arms tensed and resisted my effort. We struggled like this for several seconds. As the time dragged on I wondered what he was trying to prove. Then suddenly Alex hopped up onto the coffee table and let out a laugh. Now he was taller than me, and he began to pour on the pressure. My wrists bent back painfully, and my arms were being slowly pushed down. I tried to resist, but Alex was just too strong. He forced my hands all the way down to my shoulders and kept pushing. My legs began to tremble as I groaned with effort. Sweat started to roll down my temples, and still this powerful kid kept forcing me lower and lower. My legs collapsed and I fell to my knees, groaning with pain. Alex hopped off the table and pushed down hard with his hands, grinding my knuckles into my shoulders. His taut little tummy was heaving right in front of my nose.

“Hey!… I think you oughtta clean out my belly button!” Alex said. I couldn’t believe I heard him right. “Come on, use your tongue and clean it out real good!” When I hesitated, he tightened his grip. I saw his forearms ripple as he crushed my fingers. I yelped in pain. “Do it!” he shouted.

I stuck out my tongue and gently touched the tip to his navel. Alex thrust out his tummy, mashing my tongue deep into his belly button, and moved his hips back and forth. I squinted and tried to ignore the musty taste. “Come on, clean it out real good!” he said. I couldn’t believe he was making me do this. I thought about Kenny sitting in the chair watching me being humiliated by a boy who was strong enough to force me to my knees and hold me there. I kept licking for a few seconds while Alex giggled, then he suddenly lifted his knee up right under my chin. My teeth bit into my tongue and I howled in pain. I fell back onto the carpet and tasted blood in my mouth. Alex was laughing hysterically in a high-pitch squeal that didn’t seem to match his overgrown muscles.

Next, I felt Alex’s bare foot stomp into my stomach. It was still tender from the punches he gave me, and it really hurt. After two more stomps, I grabbed my stomach and rolled on my side. Alex grabbed the back collar of my shirt and tore it off me. I felt the front buttons rip open as he pulled the shirt down my arms. Alex tossed the shirt aside and looked down at me. I was still holding my aching stomach and swallowing blood. He shook his head in disgust.

“Look at you! What a wimp! You can’t even fight me at all! How does it feel to be such a weak little wimp? You’re like a little girl!” Alex spat at me and kicked me in the ribs. I rolled onto my back. Alex grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me to a sitting position. He stood behind me and clasped his hands under my chin and pulled up. My neck was stretched painfully, and I cried out as he continued to pull until I heard the bones in my neck pop. I reached up and clawed at his arms, and he rammed a knee hard into my back. He did this three times, then he dropped down to the floor and put me in a scissors, with one leg on top of my stomach and the other under my back. He was lying on his side at a ninety degree angle to my body, facing me. Then he locked his ankles, and his legs began to sque-e-e-eze.

I saw his thigh muscles grow as they started to flex, and I felt my stomach being squished like a tube of toothpaste. I started pushing on his thighs, but the muscles were like granite. As my pushes became more frantic, Alex just clamped his legs tighter.

“Yeah, feel those muscles!” Alex said. “They’re really strong, aren’t they? Is that why you took off my pants — so you could see my legs? Well, what do you think now?” He ground down hard and I moaned loudly. “Can you feel how strong my legs are? I can ride my bike all the way up Lookout Hill Road without stopping!” I couldn’t believe it — that was a really steep road that climbed over a thousand feet! No wonder his legs were so powerful!

Alex flexed his legs again and the thigh muscles popped out as if they were trying to burst through the skin. My guts were being squished into mush. I felt like I was being cut in half! “Stop… please stop!” I cried. “You’re killing me!”

“Good! You deserve it!” Alex said. “Let’s see how you like this!”

He had been propped up on one elbow, but now he pushed down with his hand and lifted his hips off the floor. This allowed him to put maximum pressure on his legs, and he crushed my midsection with everything he had. I felt my diaphragm collapse as the air was forced out of my lungs. I couldn’t take a breath. The pain in my stomach was unbearable! After only a few seconds my head was spinning and I felt myself blacking out. My mouth was open but no air was coming in. Everything was growing dark. Alex was still growling and his legs were still flexing hard as I slipped into unconsciousness.


When I came to, Alex was sitting on my stomach with his knees jammed into my armpits. He was slapping me lightly on the cheeks to wake me up.

“That’s better. Took you long enough!” he said. I groaned and tried to catch my breath. Every breath hurt. Alex poked a finger into my bare chest.

“Flex your chest,” he ordered. “I wanna see how hard it gets.” I didn’t react, and he grabbed my throat with his other hand. “I said, flex it!” he commanded. I tightened my chest muscles as best I could and he kept poking his finger at it. He could still press through the muscle down to my ribcage.

“You ain’t got hardly any muscle at all!” he laughed. “You are such a wimp!” Alex put his hands on his hips and did a lat spread pose. “Look at my chest!” he bragged. “It’s all muscle — feel it!” When I hesitated, he grabbed my wrists and placed both my hands on his chest. I felt his flexing pecs bulge into my cupped hands. My fingers pressed against the hard flesh as I squeezed. His pecs were more solid than any boy’s flesh I’ve ever felt. A shiver went up my spine. “Now feel my arms!” he said, and he raised them into a double-biceps pose. His pumped arms were so much bigger than mine, despite his smaller size. The biceps bulged up like little mountains. “Squeeze ’em as hard as you can,” Alex said. I wrapped my hands around them and gave them a good, hard squeeze. They felt like rocks. You could just feel the power in them, like they were giving off energy as he flexed. “Oh, man!” I said. “I didn’t know a kid your age could be such a muscle stud! I can’t believe how strong you are!” This made Alex smile even more.

“Now flex your arms, I wanna feel ’em,” he ordered. I dropped my arms and he grabbed my biceps. “Flex ’em!” he shouted. I tightened my arms and felt Alex squeeze them lightly a few times. Then he pinched my biceps hard and his fingers sank deep into my arm. I howled in pain, but he continued to mash my muscles with his fingers, crushing them easily. “What a weakling!” Alex snickered. “Your biceps feel like mush! Flex them as hard as you can!” I tightened my fists and tried to flex my biceps harder, but Alex’s could still flatten them easily. He kept gripping my arms with crushing strength, clamping his fingers tighter and tighter until he saw the tears start to roll out of my eyes. I could feel the pain of the muscle fibers tearing as his fingers dug deep into my flesh. Alex snorted his contempt and let go. I massaged my aching arms. There were little circular bruises where his fingers had been.

Suddenly Alex grabbed my throat with his left hand and gave me an intense stare. “You’re not gonna tell on me this time, are you?” he said. I just blinked at him. “You better not get me into any trouble over this, or I’ll have to come back and finish the job,” he threatened. Alex raised his right fist and drew it back, holding it right above my face. I winced and closed my eyes. “If I were you, I’d be real nice to me from now on — you know why?” I shook my head a little. “Because I could probably kill a wimp like you with my bare hands anytime I wanted… like now!”

Alex put both hands on my throat and began to squeeze. “Come on, try and stop me, if you can!” he said. I gripped his wrists and pulled but his forearms just bulged harder and his fingers dug deeper into my throat. “Hah — you can’t even stop me from strangling you, can you?” Alex laughed. I pulled with all my might, but I couldn’t tear Alex’s hands off my throat. The muscles up and down his arms were tensing like steel bands now. A vein popped out along each of his meaty biceps. I started making gagging sounds and my eyes rolled up in my head. Alex’s fingers squeezed tighter and tighter, compressing my neck and shutting off the blood flow. The room began to spin. His little boy laughter seemed to be echoing down a long hallway as I blacked out again…

When I woke up, I was tied to another dining room chair right beside Kenny. I struggled at my bonds, but Alex was good at tying knots. He used another extension cord — much tougher than string. I cursed myself for not having thought of it. I looked at Kenny, who was making noises at me with his mouth still stuffed with Alex’s socks. He was tied up just as tight as me. Then I looked at the clock on the mantle. It was nearly 4PM. I had only about half an hour to get myself free before our mother got home. I tugged furiously at my hands and squirmed in my seat. The bonds held firm. I struggled violently for another couple of minutes before giving up. I was panting and tired and sore. I slumped my shoulders and tried not to panic. How was I going to explain this, I thought?

How was I going to explain this?… •

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