Sibling Rivalry


By Zipman

Monday morning I was distracted at work. For some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about the two brothers, J.T. and Ben. On my lunch break I found myself driving out toward their house, stopping for a quick burger on the way. When I got there, I parked across the street and sat in my car looking at the front door. I didn’t quite know what I was doing there. I couldn’t just walk up to the door and ask to see the boys, could I?

Suddenly, young J.T. came zooming out of his garage on his bike and went off down the street. I froze for an instant, then started the car and followed at a distance. Several blocks later, the boy pulled into a driveway and went into the backyard.

I pulled to the curb and shut off the engine. It was a warm, sunny day and the neighborhood was quiet and still. “What are you getting yourself into, Tom?” I asked myself. I thought about it for a minute, then got out of the car and looked around. When I was sure no one was watching, I crept around the garage and peered into the backyard.

I was surprised to see a large aluminum building taking up a good part of the yard. It looked too big to be a tool shed. The door was open but I couldn’t see much inside. I wanted to get closer but I didn’t have the nerve. Then a boy came out of the house and walked toward the shed. He was about the same age as J.T., and like J.T. he was wearing gym shorts and a tee shirt. J.T. met him at the door.

“Hey, Kev — you ready for a killer workout?” J.T. said. “Get that shirt off and let’s go!”

J.T. was already shirtless and I watched Kev pull off his shirt before stepping inside. I could hear the voices of other boys coming through the open door. I reached for the cell phone on my belt and dialed the office. I told the secretary I wouldn’t be back this afternoon, then turned the phone off before clipping it back on my belt. Moving as quickly and quietly as I could, I ran behind the shed. The only window was high up on the back wall, tilted open. A large limb from a nearby tree hung directly over it. I took a deep breath. It had been years since I had climbed a tree, but I had to see what was going on inside.

The branch looked pretty sturdy, so I crawled out to the end and lay on my stomach with my head peering through the leaves into the open window. The shed was a surprisingly well-equipped gym where J.T. and four of his young teammates were already hard at work lifting weights. At first, it seemed strange to see these little boys wearing lifting gloves and weight belts and looking very professional as they went about their business. But it was clear they knew exactly what they were doing — exchanging the plates on the assorted barbells and using all the various equipment like the squat rack and leg press. These amazing muscle-kids were obviously very hard-working junior athletes. It was like I was watching a new generation of pre-teen super-jocks. The boys all wore gym shorts without shirts, the better to show off their strong young physiques, which were already covered in a sheen of sweat in the warm, stuffy room. I guessed that they were all only ten or maybe eleven years old, but you could tell that physically they were years ahead of other boys their age. Every member of this elite group had a strong, muscular body, and any one of them could be mistaken for a nicely lean-muscled teenager. The only give-away was their slightly smaller stature and very boyish faces. Just watching the way these boys carried themselves — their self-assured movements and the air of confidence they had — I could tell they knew how special they were. Each one of them probably grew up knowing they had outstanding athletic skills compared to their schoolmates. Gifted boy-athletes with more than their share of strength, coordination, agility and stamina. Today these boys were hard at work building up their already naturally strong bodies by doing some serious heavy lifting. I could hardly believe what I was seeing. Their energetic young muscles pumped-up with power as they challenged them to new feats of strength that other boys their age could only dream about. I was watching some dedicated young kids begin a real muscle-building workout.

Ten-year-old J.T. picked up a barbell and began to do some curls. It was too light, and he set it down and added a ten-pound plate to each end before trying it again. A couple of the other boys finished their set and gathered around to watch as J.T. began to curl the awesomely heavy weight. The handsome boy’s sleek young biceps contracted with power as he pulled up on the bar. J.T. slowly raised the barbell all the way up to his shoulder, then smoothly lowered it again. The boys (and I) watched in wonder as this muscleboy cranked out reps with a weight some grown men over twice his size could not handle. J.T. remained focused and concentrated on completing his set in order to force his muscles to achieve a new level of strength. You could actually see his boyish young biceps swelling larger with each rep as they became pumped and filled with energy-giving blood. It was exciting to witness this very young athlete at work as he demonstrated his surprising strength and showed how committed he was to pack even more muscle onto his young, solid body. You could tell from the expression on J.T.’s face that he loved the feeling he got when his muscles were working hard. It seemed like the pump was filling his body with an exhilarating energy. Every boy athlete in that room must have experienced the feeling a few times — the burst of adrenaline a kid gets when his muscles are straining for that one last rep and he suddenly feels a surge of power like he’s breaking through an invisible wall. That’s when a boy knows he’s forced his muscles up to a new level of strength, and he has the instant satisfaction of knowing he’s pushed himself to become stronger than he was yesterday.

I watched J.T. struggle to complete the tenth rep, but he fought like a tiger and held it at the top for five full seconds before he lowered the bar and placed it on the floor. After shaking out his arms a few seconds, he struck a double-biceps pose for his two onlookers, who quickly each grabbed an arm and felt the young athlete’s fully pumped-up biceps. The two boys immediately started to utter words of astonishment and praise, which made J.T.’s face light up into a satisfied grin. The remaining two boys came over and joined in on the posing enthusiasm. I picked up their names as they spoke to each other. Young Sam, who had been doing lat pull-downs on the Universal machine, turned around and hit a rear lat spread that showed off his strong, muscular back. His surprising lats just kept growing wider and wider as he flexed, until they were more than twice the width of his small waist! Andy, who had been using the leg press, pulled up his shorts and tightened his thighs to show off his powerful quads. They bulged with amazing size and rippling definition. Kevin, who was doing bench presses with a very heavy-looking weight, hit a side-chest pose to show off how thick and powerful his young pecs were. Finally, Mark, one of the boys who was feeling J.T.’s biceps, completed the pose-off by putting his hands behind his neck and hitting an abdominal pose. He crunched down hard on his abs until each segment of his defined six-pack was standing out in sharp relief.

J.T. jumped up on a weight bench and re-struck the double-biceps pose, pumping his arms once and showing them all his mighty guns.

“Man — look at that! He’s got mountains on his arms!” Mark said, pointing to J.T.’s biceps.

J.T. was not any bigger than the other boys, but he clearly had the most quality muscle. Every part of his body was beautifully developed, and when he flexed it was awesome to see his boyish muscles swell as they bunched and tightened into full hardness. All the other boys agreed that J.T. was the number-one top muscle dude in the whole group.

J.T. turned toward the mirrors placed along the side wall and admired his reflection. The other boys faced the mirrors and hit their poses as well. I could hardly believe my eyes. These kids had better bodies than I had thought possible for boys so young. The display was breath-taking.

“Who says kids can’t build muscles?” J.T. yelled. “Look at us! We’re all totally jakked! Every time we work out, our muscles keep gettin’ bigger ’n’ stronger! We may be the youngest kid bodybuilders around here, but nobody’s buffer than us! All of us are gonna be top dogz when we get back to school! We’re gonna rule, man!”

All the other kids started shouting in agreement. J.T. pulled his arms down into a most muscular pose and barked like a dog. The other boys joined in with more flexing and loud woofing. They were singing, “Who let the dogs out?” and laughing as they kept up the barking noises and the posing. These strong young muscleboys clearly enjoyed showing off their surprisingly well-developed bodies. The boys also took turns feeling each other’s muscles and comparing them. Their natural competitiveness surfaced as each one claimed to have the biggest or hardest muscles.

J.T. jumped down off the bench and flexed his arm right under Mark’s nose.

“Lookit that muscle, dude!” he bragged. “Lookit how hard it gets when it’s all pumped up like that! Man, I feel so freakin’ strong I feel like I could pick up a car!” J.T. thrust his arms straight out in front of him and flexed his chest. His thick boy-pecs bulged out with impressive shape.

“Wow, look at those pecs, man!” Mark said with awe in his voice. He reached out with his hand and tried to squeeze the solid dome of muscle on J.T.’s chest. “Like a rock, dude! Your pecs are stone hard!”

Kevin came up and tried to match J.T.’s chest pose. He was slightly taller than J.T. and his pumped-up ten-year-old pecs looked very powerful. Mark reached out with his other hand so he could feel both boy’s flexing pecs at the same time.

“Man, you guys got the hardest chests I’ve ever felt! Kev, you got a real solid pump goin’, dude! Your pecs feel just as strong as J.T.’s!”

“No way, dude!” J.T. complained. “My pecs are the best! Ain’t no one here got stronger pecs than me!” He grabbed Kevin’s arm and pulled him over to the doorway. “C’mon Kev — you against me. We’ll see who’s got the best chest!”

The two boys faced each other in the open doorway. Each had his back against the opposite door jamb. The door was fully opened so it wouldn’t get in the way. They held up their hands and laced their fingers together. It was a narrow doorway so their chests were only about a foot apart and their arms were bent halfway. They were still wearing their black lifting gloves. The friction of the leather made little squeaks as they tightened their grip.

“Okay, it’s just like a bench press — we both push out at the same time,” J.T. said. “The first one to straighten his arms out all the way is the winner.”

Mark shouted “Go!” and each boy’s face immediately screwed up with effort. They grunted as their hands pushed hard against each other. Although their arms were trembling with strain, their hands remained frozen in the middle. Neither boy was able to get an advantage for the first several seconds. The other boys watched without a sound, hardly breathing, while these two top muscle kids went at it with all the strength they had. Suddenly Kevin seemed to dig deep and he started moving J.T.’s hands slowly backward. Kevin’s pecs started to bulge out more as his arms kept pushing forward. J.T. groaned a little. His elbows were bending back more and more and he seemed to be losing the battle. Kevin hissed loudly through his teeth as he asserted his power. Some of the kids gasped as they realized J.T. was on the brink of defeat.

Just before Kevin’s arms were fully straightened, J.T. let out a grunt and managed to stop him only a few inches from winning. Kevin had the obvious leverage advantage, though, and his solid pecs were bulging impressively. He looked confident of victory. I’m sure he thought it was only a matter of time before J.T.’s arm and chest muscles would give out.

But J.T. was not ready to admit defeat. Although he had seemed to be struggling to keep Kevin from final victory, J.T. now held firm and managed a little smile. “Is that all you’ve got?” J.T. said, between gasps. I didn’t know if he was bluffing or not. Kevin bit his lower lip and tried to finish J.T. off with a final burst of power. I could see Kevin’s bulging pecs ripple as they pushed with maximum effort, but J.T.’s hands didn’t move an inch. Kevin’s eyes grew wide, like he couldn’t believe what was happening.

J.T.’s smile grew a little bigger as he heard his opponent gasp and realized that Kevin had just spent his last bit of energy. “Now, here’s what real power feels like!” J.T. said. He took a deep breath and gave a sudden surge of effort. Right away, Kevin’s arms started to give way. I could see him start to panic as his confidence vanished. He looked confused, like he didn’t understand why he couldn’t keep his hands from moving backward. J.T.’s arms and pecs were pushing with overwhelming force. When their clasped hands passed the midway point and kept moving, Kevin must have realized J.T. had superior strength, but he never gave up. He and the other boys watched J.T.’s chest muscles grow as they flexed more and more. Kevin was obviously feeling the power in those muscles and could do nothing to resist. When J.T.’s arms were almost fully straightened, Kevin’s hands were pressed all the way back to his shoulders. Kevin’s defeated chest muscles were stretched so tight that his nipples were pulled back into narrow ovals.

“Stop! It hurts!” Kevin shouted.

“Awww — does it hurt, little baby?” J.T. teased. “How about this then!” With a final burst he straightened his arms out all the way and locked his elbows. Kevin’s hands were pushed back past his shoulders and his chest was stretched to the limit. He yelled, “I give,” but J.T. tightened his fingers and refused to let go. J.T.’s superior pecs were fully flexed and bulging powerfully. His extended arms trembled as he pushed with all his strength. Kevin screamed as the pain ripped through his chest. I worried that J.T. might tear the muscle if he kept it up much longer.

“Dude, you’re hurting him!” Mark said, as he moved in and tugged on J.T.’s arm. “Let go!”

J.T. finally released Kevin’s hands and the defeated boy slumped to the ground, tired and sore. J.T. turned to the rest of the group and nodded at the exhausted Kevin. “I guess I showed him, huh?” After giving him a few seconds to rest, J.T. reached out to Kevin and helped him to his feet. “Think of it as a good workout, dude,” J.T. said, slapping him on the shoulder. “You’ll be sore for awhile but your pecs will be stronger. Maybe one day they’ll be as strong as mine!” J.T. flexed his pecs and pounded them several times with his leather-clad fist, making deep, thumping sounds. The other boys admired the way J.T. showed off how solid his chest was. It was his way of reminding everyone he was the leader and team captain.

At that point I noticed someone standing in the doorway. Because of the bright sunlight he was just a shadow, so I didn’t recognize the boy until I heard him speak.

“Hey J.T., Mom sent me here to get you.”

J.T. turned and looked at his older brother with an annoyed look on his face.

“Get outta here, buttface! You’re not allowed in here, remember?”

“I’m not kidding, she wants you to come home right away,” Ben said, stepping into the room. “Grandma is visiting this afternoon and she wants to see you.”

“Is that why you’re dressed like that?” J.T. snickered. “You look like a nerd!” Ben was wearing dark slacks and a white, long-sleeved dress shirt. Both looked a little small for him — the pant legs and sleeves were too short.

J.T. walked up to Ben and started unbuttoning his shirt. Ben grabbed his brother’s hands and eyed J.T. suspiciously.

“What are you doing?”

“Just take off the shirt, nerdbutt!” J.T. laughed at his new nickname for Ben, and the other boys joined in.

Ben hesitated, then slowly unbuttoned his shirt and stripped it off. His body looked trim and athletic for his age, but nothing like the other amazing young physiques on display in the room. J.T. removed his lifting gloves, then grabbed the shirt from his older brother and started to put it on.

“Oh, no, J.T. — not again!” Ben wailed. “Please don’t — I have to wear that shirt today!”

J.T. ignored his brother and slowly wiggled his arms into the sleeves. Since he was shorter than Ben, the sleeves were not too short on him, but his beefier arms were so thick that they filled them completely. J.T. started buttoning the shirt at the bottom. As he got higher, it was hard to stretch the shirt across his young barrel chest. He had to blow all the air out of his lungs and hunch over a bit to get the shirt buttoned all the way up. When he stood up straight and turned to face his buddies, he looked like an overstuffed sausage. The kids giggled.

“Now watch!” J.T. said. “This is really funny!” Ben looked helpless and worried.

J.T. started taking a deep breath, and his swelling chest made the spaces between the buttons spread out, revealing little oval-shaped areas of skin beneath. The buttons were straining to hold the shirt together. As soon as J.T. began to flex his chest, the top button broke off and went flying across the room, forcing Mark to duck as it whizzed by his head. The kids started cheering, but J.T. wasn’t finished. He threw back his shoulders and flexed his chest harder, causing the next button to pop, quickly followed by the third button. J.T.’s bulging pecs burst through the open shirt until his entire chest was exposed. The only buttons that remained were down by his trim waist, which was smaller than Ben’s.

J.T.’s workout buddies were clapping and whistling now, but J.T. told them he wasn’t done. He raised his right arm and held it out straight. When he made a fist you could see the muscles all along his arm spring to life beneath the fabric.

“J.T. — please!” Ben shouted. “Don’t do this! You’re gonna totally ruin this shirt just like the others!”

“Shut up!” J.T. snapped. “I’m gonna show ’em just how puny you are compared to me — and why Mom has to buy me all new clothes instead of giving me your old ones.” J.T. started bending his arm into a flex and his pumped-up boy biceps began to rise. Seeing that little mountain grow as he slowly raised his forearm was exciting and impressive. Even before he reached the ninety-degree point, the sleeve was already stretched to the limit. With his fist at the highest point, J.T. stopped and twitched the muscle on and off, watching his biceps jump up and down.

“See how cool that looks!” J.T. bragged. He kept popping his biceps, giggling as he watched the way it strained the fabric. All the other kids in the room were as impressed as I was.

Suddenly, J.T. brought his fist down into a full flex, and his strong young biceps bulged up with maximum power. There was a loud ripping sound as the over-stressed sleeve gave way, splitting the seam wide open. The rip opened wider as J.T. kept flexing hard, until the two sides fell away exposing the boy’s remarkable high-peaked biceps. He grit his teeth and held the flex for several seconds, admiring the size of the bulge his muscle made. Then he turned and brought his left arm across his chest and flexed it in front of his body. You could hear the ripping sound begin as that arm swelled into full hardness. Soon J.T.’s left biceps was also fully exposed as the seam split wide open. It was an awesome display of young muscle, and I almost revealed myself when I gasped out loud at the sight. Fortunately, the cheers of the other boys drowned me out.

J.T. grabbed the front of the shirt and ripped it open, tearing off the bottom two buttons. He took off the shirt, then crumpled it into a ball between his hands and threw it at his frowning brother.

Ben caught the shirt and sighed. “What am I gonna tell Mom?” he complained.

“Tell her you fell off your bike and tore it because you’re a clumsy idiot!” J.T. laughed. “Now go back home and say you couldn’t find me — no, better — tell Mom you found me but you forgot to tell me to go home!”

Ben looked shocked. “I’m not gonna say that!”

J.T. got an angry look on his face and balled his hands into fists. He was not wearing a shirt now, and his glowing muscles were fully on display. His brother got the message.

“Okay,” Ben said, dropping his head, “I’ll say it if I have to. But it’s not fair!”

Once again I felt my pulse quicken as I saw how young J.T. totally dominated his older brother. Ben put on his ripped and wrinkled shirt and turned to leave, but J.T. told him to wait a minute.

“Hey Kev, you got any Popsicles in the freezer?” J.T. asked. Kevin nodded. J.T. turned back to Ben. “Go in the house and get me a Popsicle,” he ordered. “Get a green one, if they have it. Hurry up!”

Ben only hesitated a moment before heading out the door for the house. A couple of the other boys laughed when they saw how quickly Ben obeyed. They told J.T. how cool it was to see him boss his older brother around and make him do whatever he wanted. Ben returned in a minute with the lime Popsicle.

“Break it apart and give me half,” J.T. ordered. Ben grabbed the two halves and strained, but the hard-frozen pop didn’t break. “Give it here, wimp!” J.T. said, snatching it out of Ben’s hands. The younger boy easily snapped the Popsicle apart with a flex of his strong wrists and forearms. J.T. removed the wrapper and gave one stick to Ben. “Hold this for me — but don’t eat it,” he warned.

J.T. chomped down on his half and took a big bite into his mouth, chewing it up quickly. It only took him a few seconds to devour his half completely, finally biting the last chunk off the stick and tossing it aside. Then he grabbed the other half away from his brother.

“You want this, don’t ya?” J.T. teased, waving the pop in front of his brother’s face. Ben licked his lips. It was hot in the shed and everyone was sweating. “I got an idea,” J.T. grinned. He moved the Popsicle behind him and shoved it up between his thighs. Everyone laughed as J.T. lewdly wiggled it up and down.

“Come on, bro,” J.T. laughed. “Go for it! Start licking!”

I could see Ben’s eyes pleading with his younger brother, saying please don’t make me do this. J.T. stopped laughing and got a serious look on his face. Ben knew what that look meant. He dropped to his knees and grabbed his little brother’s hips.

All the boys laughed hysterically when Ben began to lick the Popsicle. J.T. bent his knees a little and moved his hips up and down. The Popsicle was poking Ben in the face as he kept trying to lick it. The other kids were laughing like crazy. “Put it in your mouth, dude,” J.T. ordered. “See how much of it you can take down your throat!”

Ben opened wide and swallowed as much of the pop as he could. J.T. shoved it in deeper, making him gag. The other boys were laughing so hard, I thought they were going to bust a gut. Suddenly J.T. pulled the pop out of his brother’s mouth and stepped back. “C’mere Kev,” he said. “I wanna try something.”

Kevin came over and J.T. held the Popsicle up to his chest. When the cold pop touched his nipple the boy shivered and stepped back, but J.T. ordered him to hold still. “I wanna see how hard your big nips get when I rub ’em with this.”

J.T. rubbed the frozen pop over each nipple, making them stand out sharply from Kevin’s thick pecs. Soon they looked like two little pencil erasers sticking out from his chest. J.T. giggled when he saw how big he’d made them. The other boys laughed too.

“You made ’em numb,” Kevin complained, but he couldn’t resist reaching up and twirling them between his fingers. “Wow, they’re really big and hard,” he said, “but now they’re all sticky.”

“Ben can take care of that,” J.T. said. “Get over here and lick his chest clean, bro.”

Ben frowned again, but got that look of resignation on his face and moved in front of Kevin. The boy thrust out his muscular chest and waited. Ben took a deep breath and went to work. Kevin shivered again when Ben’s warm tongue touched his frozen nipple. Ben grabbed the boy’s strong shoulders and moved his tongue all over Kevin’s broad chest, lapping up the sticky lime juice. Kevin was really enjoying the feeling. He closed his eyes and let his head drop back with a satisfied hum as Ben cleaned off his firm chest. When the older boy finished, he wiped his mouth with his forearm and looked expectantly at J.T., who was smiling broadly.

“That was great, bro!” J.T. said. “C’mon Andy, ’ol buddy, you’re next!”

J.T. moved a weight bench near the wall and had Andy stand on it. Andy was the team’s star running back and had very muscular legs. J.T. made the boy face the wall and bend over, bracing his hands on the wall.

“Now go up on your toes,” J.T. ordered. “Let’s see them big calves flex!”

Andy raised his heels off the bench and his strong calf muscles bunched up. J.T. rubbed the sticky Popsicle over the boy’s calves then jumped up on the bench and climbed on Andy’s back for a set of donkey calf raises. As they worked out, J.T. called Ben over to do his thing. Ben bent down and started to lick the lime juice off the boy’s thick calves. Andy giggled a little and said it tickled. He moved his heels up and down, flexing and stretching the calf muscles as he lifted J.T.’s weight effortlessly. Watching Andy’s calves work was amazing. They were pumping up with a deep split and hard definition. I could see Ben was impressed by the size of Andy’s powerful calf muscles. He not only licked the juice off them, but kept grabbing them with both hands to feel their shape and hardness. Andy showed off for Ben by raising his heels up as high as he could and holding his calves at maximum flex. Ben gripped them as tight as he could but his fingers were not able to make the slightest dent in the solid muscle.

“My brother really likes your strong legs, dude!” J.T. said. “He’s really gettin’ off feeling your muscles!”

J.T. jumped off Andy’s back, knocking Ben backward onto his butt. “Get up, buttface!” he ordered. “You haven’t finished your Popsicle yet.” Sam was holding the pop, and J.T. took it back. It was starting to drip quite a bit. “Lemme see — who’s next?” he said, looking around the room.

J.T. called Mark over and had the lean-muscled kid put his hands behind his head and flex his stomach while he rubbed the melting pop over the young boy’s rippled abs. J.T. even put the end of the Popsicle into Mark’s deep belly button and twirled it around for a final touch. Ben got into position on his knees without even being asked and started licking the ten-year-old’s washboard stomach. Mark kept giggling as Ben moved his tongue around, which made his defined abs stand out even more sharply. When Ben shoved the tip of his tongue into Mark’s navel, the boy couldn’t keep from laughing out loud and all the other kids started laughing too. Ben grabbed Mark’s hips to hold him steady as he finished off the cleaning job.

“Check his abs to make sure they’re not sticky,” J.T. told his brother. Ben rubbed his hand up and down over Mark’s washboard. Mark kept his stomach tightly flexed for him. The coating of Ben’s saliva made the rippling muscles glisten.

“How do those abs feel, bro?” J.T. asked.

“Hard!” Ben said with a smile, still rubbing the young boy’s solid six-pack.

“Here, lemme show ya!” J.T. said. He pushed Ben aside and drew his fist back, throwing a quick punch into Mark’s flexing stomach. It landed with a loud smack, but it seemed to have no effect on Mark. The boy just took one step back and kept smiling. His well-defined six-pack was still proudly flexed. I was amazed, because the sound of the impact was quite loud and J.T. obviously hit him hard.

“There — think you could take a punch like that?” J.T. asked his brother. Ben took a step back and shook his head, but J.T. drew back his fist and ordered Ben to hold still and flex his abs. The older boy looked like he was going to cry. He took a deep breath and braced himself, closing his eyes tight. J.T. threw the same kind of punch at Ben’s stomach. This time the sound was a dull thud, and Ben instantly doubled over and fell down, holding his stomach.

“See!” J.T. said, shaking his head. “I told you guys he had weak muscles. It’s kinda embarrassing. Even though he’s my older brother I have to watch out for him and protect him from bullies and stuff.”

Ben groaned and rolled to his knees. J.T. took the melting Popsicle from Sam and nudged Ben with his foot.

“You gotta finish your Popsicle before it falls off the stick, bro!” J.T. said. “C’mon — I didn’t hit ya that hard! Get up, you faker!”

After taking a few deep breaths, Ben slowly rose to his feet and stood looking at J.T. with a blank expression on his face.

Sam shook his head in amazement. “Man, I wish my big brother would obey me like that!” he said.

J.T. grinned at Sam, then turned and looked Ben straight in the eye. The younger boy raised his arm and flexed his hard biceps right in front of Ben’s face. Ben’s eyes crossed a little as he tried to focus on the nicely-shaped bulge.

“He obeys this muscle — don’t ya, Benny!” J.T. said with a smug grin. “Ben does whatever I say ’cause he knows what this muscle could do to him if he didn’t follow orders.” J.T. turned his head and looked proudly at his own flexing arm. He wrinkled his nose as he tightened his fist and made his biceps flex up as rock-solid as he could make it. The other boys all envied how J.T.’s biceps peaked up to a tremendous height. Ben started breathing heavily through his mouth as he kept staring at his little brother’s powerful arm flexing right under his nose.

“You look hungry, Benny. You want some of this meat for dinner?” J.T. asked, nodding at his flexed biceps. “Here — let me put some sauce on it for you.”

The Popsicle was very soft now and dripping all over the floor as it melted. J.T. held it up and rubbed it all over his flexing biceps, causing it to fall apart into small chunks of lime slush that stuck to the tightly-stretched skin that covered his hard-bulging muscle. Ben licked his lips, then opened his mouth wide and tried to fit it over his little brother’s mountain-like biceps, taking as much of the solid peak into his mouth as he could manage. Ben grabbed J.T.’s triceps with both hands and ran his tongue back and forth over J.T.’s upper arm, sometimes nibbling at the hard muscle like he was eating an ear of corn. J.T. giggled as Ben’s tongue lapped up every bit of the sticky lime juice, but he held his arm flexed tight the entire time, allowing Ben to appreciate the shape and hardness of his little brother’s biceps as he licked.

When he finished, Ben drew back and looked at J.T. with a satisfied smile on his face.

“You really liked that, didn’t ya?” J.T. said.

“I love your muscles, J.T.,” Ben said, grinning happily. “They’re so strong and hard — you’re like a super-kid. Your muscles have gotten so much bigger since you started workin’ out!” He reached up and wrapped his fingers around his little brother’s solid biceps and gave it another squeeze. “It’s like a rock! Man — I wish I could have muscles like you!”

“Well you don’t — so that’s why I get to boss you around all I want,” J.T. said, jerking his arm away. He put his hands behind his neck and raised his elbows high. “I think you oughta clean out my pits for me,” he said. “They’re really sweaty today ’cause it’s hot in here and I’ve been workin’ out real hard.”

“Oh, gross!” Andy shouted. Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust. Mark pinched his nostrils and waved his hand in front of his face pretending to be overcome with the smell. Ben ignored them and continued to stare into the eyes of his brother. J.T. flexed his back muscles, making his lats flare out wide, then tensed his washboard abs. Ben’s lips curled into a smile as he watched J.T. pose for him.

“Dude, he’s not gonna do it!” Kevin said. “Nobody would do that! Not the way your pits stink!”

“Oh yeah, well just watch!” J.T. said confidently. “Go ahead, Benny. Clean ’em out real good!”

J.T.’s glistening armpits were drenched with sweat. I could even see a few drips begin to trickle down his ribcage. Ben grabbed hold of J.T.’s wide lat muscles and guided his mouth into his little brother’s armpit. His tongue started doing its work as the other boys moaned with disgust.

“Yeah, lick up all that sweat, bro!” J.T. said. “Smells good, don’t it? How’s it taste?”

Ben stopped licking long enough to say, “Salty!” then went right back to work.

The other boys laughed when they saw how eagerly Ben lapped up all of J.T.’s perspiration, including the drips running down his side. Then Ben moved to the other armpit and continued licking.

“Do ya like tasting that real jock sweat, bro? It smells pretty strong, don’t it? That’s strong sweat from strong muscles! Your puny muscles don’t make sweat like that. You gotta lift some real weights and build some real muscle before you can make real jock sweat like that! That’s why your sweat’s never gonna smell like mine.”

“Look at him!” Sam shouted. “He’s lapping it up like he loves it! Man, that’s sick!”

J.T. just smiled. “He loves everything about my body — don’t ya Benny? He thinks my stinky sweat smells good ’cause it reminds him of muscles, and he loves muscles. I tell him my sweat is concentrated muscle juice. He thinks maybe if he drinks it he’ll get muscles too.”

Ben finished and backed off, licking his lips. J.T. lowered his arms and gave his brother a pat on the head.

“That was a good doggie — you did a good job, doggie.”

If Ben was humiliated by J.T.’s actions, he didn’t show it. He just stood there with a blank expression on his face as J.T. made fun of him. It was like he was waiting for J.T.’s next instructions.

“What happens when he’s a bad doggie?” Adam laughed. “Do ya have to punish him?”

“Yeah, he gets punished all right!” J.T. said, giving Ben a knowing smile. “You guys want to see how I punish him when he’s been bad?”

Ben got a look of fear in his eyes. “No, don’t, J.T. — please!” he cried. “Not here — in front of everyone. I’ll do anything you say!”

“I gotta show ’em how it works, bro,” J.T. said. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick for ya.” He held his right arm out straight. “Put your neck right there,” J.T. said, pointing to his upper arm.

“C’mon, J.T., don’t make me do this!” Ben pleaded. “We have to go back home now or we’ll get in trouble!”

“Shut up, buttface!” J.T. interrupted. “I wanna show ’em how strong I am compared to you. Now, get your neck down here like a good doggie!” He grabbed a handful of Ben’s hair with his left hand and pulled his head down until Ben’s Adam’s apple was resting on J.T.’s unflexed biceps. Immediately J.T. flexed his arm around Ben’s neck, trapping it between his forearm and biceps.

Ben started making gagging noises as soon as J.T.’s biceps bulged up into his throat. The older boy tugged at J.T.’s arm with both hands, but J.T. just bit his lip and flexed even harder. The ten-year-old super-jock was totally in control. I felt my heart start to beat faster, like it always did when J.T. dominated his brother. From my vantage point I could see J.T.’s arm muscles pop out as they rippled powerfully. He wasn’t giving his brother any break at all.

There was panic in Ben’s eyes as more choking sounds came out of his mouth. He pulled furiously at J.T.’s arm without success. J.T. looked at his buddies and smiled.

“He’s trying to get out of it, but he can’t,” J.T. laughed. “That’s ’cause my right arm is stronger than both of his arms put together!” J.T. casually put his left hand on his hip, demonstrating how easy it was for him to crush his brother’s neck with only one arm.

“It’s so cool the way I can feel my biceps bulging up into his neck,” J.T. said, like a little boy who’s having fun. “It feels like a rock in there against his throat!” He tightened his fist and grit his teeth as he poured on the pressure. J.T. wasn’t kidding about making this quick. I watched him brutally flex his arm with maximum power and saw the effect it was having on his struggling brother.

You could tell the other boys had never seen anything like this. They stared open-mouthed as J.T. did this to his older brother without showing the slightest concern. Ben had quit pulling on J.T.’s arm and was flailing his arms wildly. The choking sounds became shorter and weaker. His eyes lost focus and rolled upward as his eyelids began to flutter. My pulse was pounding and my breathing was fast and shallow. Trickles of sweat ran down my temples. I wanted to shout out, but I didn’t dare. I felt so helpless.

In a matter of seconds, Ben’s body seemed to go totally limp. His arms dropped and hung lifelessly. His eyes were closed and a small trickle of drool ran out of his open mouth. There was little doubt he was unconscious. Feeling the weight of Ben’s limp body pulling him down, J.T. unflexed his arm and let Ben collapse to the floor. He looked down at the unmoving body of his older brother without emotion.

“Wow, he’s out cold!” one of the boys said.

“I didn’t hurt him. He’ll be all right,” J.T. said confidently. “It’ll just take a few seconds — watch!”

As if on cue, Ben’s body jerked like he was having a spasm and he took some deep, wheezing breaths. This was followed by about twenty seconds of coughing as he drew his legs up into a fetal position. Instead of comforting his brother, J.T. grabbed Ben under his arms and roughly pulled him to his feet. He had to hold Ben up for a few seconds to keep his legs from collapsing. Ben’s eyes were just coming back into focus when J.T. started slapping him lightly on each cheek.

“Come on, bro, stop being such a wuss,” J.T. barked. “You gotta go back and tell Mom I’m not coming home yet.”

“What?” Ben said, just coming back to full consciousness.

“When you get home, what are you going to tell Mom?” J.T. said, speaking slowly.

Ben thought for a moment. “I’m gonna say I couldn’t find you?”

Satisfied, J.T. grabbed Ben by the shoulders and spun him around. “Okay, you’re done,” he said, as he planted his foot on Ben’s butt and gave him a shove that sent his brother stumbling toward the door. The others snickered. Ben paused and looked over his shoulder once, then walked out of the shed. Somehow I knew he would do exactly what J.T. told him to do. The mixture of fear and respect Ben had for his little brother was amazing to see.

J.T. quickly got everyone back to their workout as if nothing had happened. He picked up some dumbbells off the rack and moved out of my view. I shifted my position on the limb slightly, trying to get a little closer to the window. Big mistake.

I remember hearing a loud crack behind me. The branch dropped about a foot, but held. I was afraid to move. I raised my head to look through the window and saw all the boys looking up at me. I was screwed.

I was thinking of the best way to get down quickly when the branch suddenly gave way. The next thing I knew I was flat on my back, looking up at the ceiling of the shed. I must have been knocked out for a couple of minutes by the fall. For some reason I couldn’t move, then I realized my arms and legs were being held down in a spread-eagle position. There was a weight on my midsection. I lifted my head and saw J.T. with his knees around my ribs and his butt firmly planted on my stomach. He was smiling. Each one of his four friends was tightly holding down a wrist or an ankle.

“How come you were spying on us?” J.T. demanded.

“I wasn’t,” I said, although I probably didn’t sound very convincing. I could tell J.T. wasn’t buying it.

“Who is he?” Kevin said.

“He’s some guy my dad knows. Maybe he coaches another team. I’m gonna tell my dad you were spying on us.”

“No — don’t do that!” I cried. J.T. noticed my panic. I unwittingly had given him the leverage over me he needed. “I mean — there isn’t any need to tell your dad. I wasn’t spying on you or anything.”

“You were spying on us and I’m gonna tell my dad. You’re gonna be in big trouble.”

“No, don’t tell — I mean, let me up and I’ll explain.”

No one moved. J.T. slid his hand under my butt and pulled my wallet out of my back pocket.

“How much will you give me not to tell?” J.T. said, as he took out the bills and counted them. It was mostly ones. I usually don’t carry much cash.

“Hey, there’s not even ten bucks in here!” J.T. complained. He wrinkled his nose and tossed the money aside, then started pulling out all my cards one by one. J.T. was a smart little kid. He knew an ATM card when he saw it.

“Hey, don’t take that! You can keep the cash if you let me go,” I said.

“It’s not enough. We want fifty bucks, right guys?” J.T. said.

“Will you promise not to tell anyone I was here?” I asked, maybe a little too quickly.

“See, I told ya he was spying on us. He wants to give us money so we won’t turn him in. We can’t trust him, though. Tell me the secret number so I can get the money myself!” J.T. demanded. I swallowed hard but didn’t say anything. J.T. repeated his demand, waving the ATM card in front of my face.

I didn’t want to give these kids access to my whole bank account. I struggled but got nowhere. The kids were all strong and held me down tight. Mark was gripping my left wrist. He was the only one who looked a little worried.

“Maybe we better let him go,” Mark said. “He could be a cop or something.”

“Naw, he ain’t nobody,” J.T. said. “He can’t be a cop ’cause he’s really out of shape. I even beat him at arm wrestling. When I pounded him on the chest his flabby muscles turned to mush.”

“You pounded him on the chest?” Adam said, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Yeah, I beat his pecs up pretty good,” J.T. chuckled. “I bet they’re still sore, huh?”

J.T. pulled open my shirt, ripping the buttons apart, then reached out and grabbed my pecs with both hands. I groaned as I felt his strong little fingers dig deep into my flesh. J.T. chuckled as he saw me wince with pain.

“What’s the secret number?” J.T. snarled. He leaned forward, putting more weight on his arms as he kneaded my pecs. I was helpless and couldn’t move.

“No — stop!” I pleaded, but J.T. kept up his torture. I saw his forearms ripple as he tightened his grip even more, crushing my sore pecs with his strong hands. Just as the pain was becoming unbearable, I heard Mark speak again.

“He’s not gonna tell you, dude!”

J.T. let go of my chest and sat up. “Oh, yes he will,” he said confidently. “I can make him tell us.”

J.T. quickly moved to sit at the top of my head and wrapped his thighs around my face. Mark and Kevin lifted my arms so J.T. could grab my hands. He lay back, stretching my arms up above my head. At the same time he clamped his legs tight around my skull. I felt my face being squished together as J.T.’s muscular thighs flexed.

“Tell me the number!”

I tried to say something, but it came out as a muffled grunt. J.T. let go of my arms and relaxed his thighs a bit, so I could speak. I asked him to let me up first, but J.T. wasn’t falling for that trick. He responded by clamping down again, flexing his legs even harder this time. The pressure on my head was so great it was painful. I couldn’t believe how strong this ten-year-old’s legs were! I grabbed J.T.’s thighs and tried pulling them apart. The muscles were like solid steel! I moved my hands over them, trying to get a grip. No matter how I tugged, J.T. just kept pouring on the pressure. As he flexed his legs tighter and tighter, I could actually feel the stone-hard muscles in his thighs growing under my hands. It felt like he was about to crush all the bones in my face. The power in his legs was incredible! His knees were pressed together just below my chin, and I tried to pry them apart without success. His iron legs were locked together tight. J.T.’s ankles were crossed and his toes were pointed as he flexed. I could feel his hard little calf muscles bulging against my bare chest as he kept increasing the pressure on my head. Every time I thought he must have reached his limit, he flexed his leg muscles tighter and crushed my skull with even more force. I could feel the growing pressure on my sinuses as they throbbed with pain. Before I met J.T. I would not have believed a ten-year-old boy could have legs this muscular and powerful.

I tried to yell but I couldn’t even open my mouth. J.T. finally relaxed his thighs again and demanded the number. My head was throbbing. I knew I couldn’t stand another crushing. I was worried my jaw would snap or my eyes would pop out or something. Before J.T. could clamp those hard-bulging young thighs around my head again, I shouted out my PIN number.

“There — see!” J.T. said triumphantly, rising to his feet. “I told ya I could make him tell! My muscles are too strong for him. Most adults don’t believe kids like us can have strong muscles.”

He leaned over my face and struck a most-muscular pose that made all the smooth lean muscle in his body pop out into full hardness. J.T. knew he had a great physique and he enjoyed flexing it and showing off his powerful young body. After he made sure I got a good look at all those bulging kid muscles that had forced me to submit, J.T. relaxed and gave me a self-satisfied little smile.

“C’mon — let’s get him out of here,” J.T. said. Before I could even stand up, the boys grabbed my arms and legs and carried me all the way out to my car. I wondered if anybody saw us, and what they might think. Here I was — a grown man being carried helplessly by a group of shirtless young muscle boys. J.T. and the others dumped me at the curb and watched as I quickly got in my car and drove off. I don’t know why I was so frightened, but I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I reached for my cell phone and discovered it was missing. It must have come off in the fall. When I got home I poured myself a stiff drink and tried to calm down. The rest of the afternoon I worried that J.T. might tell his father after all. I was so shaken up that I forgot to call the bank for several hours.

Two days later, the bank representative called me to confirm that my ATM card had been cancelled, but there had been a $50 cash withdrawal made the day I lost the card. She asked me if I wanted them to investigate. I said no. I felt more relieved than anything. Of course, I could have lied and given J.T. a false number. I was under a lot of pressure and I didn’t have time to think about it. Maybe subconsciously I wanted J.T. to get the money.

That boy can be very persuasive. I think I’m beginning to understand how Ben feels. •

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