He was dressed in a white tee shirt and long black shorts. The first thing I noticed was his neck. Yes, his neck. His neck didn’t look like it belonged on a kid in our class. It was thick and muscular. Thicker and more muscular than I had ever seen on a boy. He had brown eyes and black hair, cut really short on the sides but a little longer on the top. His face was square and powerful looking and he had a strong jaw and chin. I guess you could say that he was handsome – not pretty-boy handsome but brutally handsome. He had dark, tan skin. He smiled at us in kind of a smirk, as if to say, “Yeah, check it out boys and girls. Take a look at a real stud.” When he smiled, his perfect white teeth sparkled. But even when he smiled his face looked tough and threatening.

His tee-shirt was sort of loose-fitting so I couldn’t see his chest or shoulder muscles, but I could see that his shoulders were wide and straight and I could see what I thought were bulges of muscle in his chest – his two pecs pushing out under the tee-shirt. On the front of his tee shirt there was a picture of a vicious-looking, incredibly muscular comic book character literally ripping an arm off a frightened, obviously weaker little dweeb while at the same time crushing the dweeb’s neck with the massive bicep of his other powerful arm. A chill went up my spine as I looked at that picture and then looked at the kid. Then I saw his forearms and my heart almost skipped a beat. His forearms looked like writhing snakes. Each muscle fiber was clearly visible under his tan, paper-thin skin and the muscle was criss-crossed with veins. The tee shirt was covering up most of his upper arms, but I could see just enough of the lower part of his biceps to realize that there was a lot of muscle there as well.

He was wearing long, baggy black shorts, the kind that gang-bangers wear, so I couldn’t see his thigh muscles directly, but I could see that his thighs were pretty big as his quad muscles pressed against the fabric. But I could see his calves very clearly. What a shock! All the kids in our class, myself included, had little scrawny calves that looked like sticks. This kid had calves that bulged with muscle. The fibers and veins pressed against his tan skin. He was wearing low-cut black sneakers without socks, so I could see every inch of his very impressive calf muscles.

The kid wasn’t particularly tall. He was just average or below average height for a kid our age. But that was the only thing that was average about him. He was a total muscle stud. I had never seen a more muscular young kid in my life. Of course, a 13-year old kid isn’t going to weigh 250 pounds or anything like that. He didn’t yet look like the comic book character on his tee shirt. He probably weighed about 125 pounds at 5’4” tall, but that was all muscle and from the look of him it was strong and mean muscle. He was so much more muscular than any of the other kids in our class that there was absolutely no comparison. He was a man among boys, or more accurately, he was a boy, just like us, but he had the body of a very muscular young man.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. The very sight of him did something to me that I really can’t explain. I got a pit in my stomach and chills were running up and down my spine. He noticed that I was staring at him and he started staring back. I was startled and didn’t know what to do. But I just couldn’t stop looking at him. He sort of sneered and then clenched his right hand into a fist. Then he slowly curled his wrist, flexing his forearm muscles into a writhing mass of muscle. Still looking at me, he smiled with a look of total superiority, as if to say “look at that muscle and weep, you little wimp. You ain’t shit compared to me.” My mouth was wide open. I could tell that all the girls in the class were also entranced by this new musclekid. They were also staring intently at him and some of them looked like they were getting red in the face.

Finally, the Vice-Principal broke the silence and said, “Boys and girls, this is Vincent DiNunzio.” Before the Vice-Principal could say another word, the kid blurted out “Hey, its ‘Vinnie’, old man. Vinnie DiNunzio. Anyone who calls me Vincent is going to get his head knocked off.” The Vice-Principal seemed to be taken aback by Vinnie’s aggressiveness and attitude, but he didn’t say anything and just continued. “This is Vinnie DiNunzio. Vinnie is transferring to our school from Martin Luther King Middle School. He’s your age and in seventh grade.” The Vice-Principal looked at Vinnie and then looked at us. It was almost as if he couldn’t believe what he had just said about Vinnie being our age, but I’m sure he had a copy of Vinnie’s birth certificate to prove it. “I hope you will all make Vinnie feel at home.” Vinnie smiled when the Vice Principal said that, as if to say, “Don’t worry, old man. They will, they will. They will, whether they like it or not.”

The kids in the class started whispering to each other. They knew that Martin Luther King Middle School was in a tough neighborhood in the inner city. Why would this kid be transferring here, and transferring in the springtime when school was almost over? They had never met a kid from the inner city and now one of them was going to be their classmate. And this kid looked like he was tougher than any kid they had ever seen. The boys were a little afraid. The girls were hot. I was hotter than the girls for reasons I didn’t understand.

The Vice-Principal left the room and the teacher asked Vinnie to take one of the empty desks anywhere in the room. Vinnie decided to sit down at a desk right next to me. He looked over at me with a look of sheer contempt and said, “Hey dweeb, gimme a piece of paper and a pencil.” It was not a request. It was an order. I hesitated for a moment, kind of stunned by Vinnie’s aggressiveness. He reached over with his right hand and grabbed my skinny upper arm. Slowly he squeezed his strong fingers into my soft flesh. I looked down at Vinnie’s writhing forearm muscles as they powered his thick fingers into my upper arm muscles and flab. I couldn’t believe how much force he was able to apply. No kid had ever done this to me before. Vinnie’s strong fingers dug down almost to my bone. I tried to flex my muscles to overcome his powerful squeeze, but my flexing was nothing compared to the strength of his muscles. His fingers just forced their way through my pathetic little flexing biceps. Lightning bolts of pain seared through my arm. Vinnie smiled, almost like he was enjoying himself, as I squirmed in agony. “Doncha got ears, dweeb? I said gimme a piece of paper and a pencil.”

“OK, OK,” I said in surrender, and he released his iron grip. I handed him a piece of paper and a pencil and he put them on his desk. He didn’t even say thank you. I thought maybe he wanted to take notes of what the teacher was saying about fractions. But he just ignored the teacher and started making some kind of drawing on the paper. He worked on the drawing for the last half of the class. When the bell rang, he tossed the pencil on my desk and handed me the paper. When I looked at it, chills ran up my spine again. He had drawn a picture of an incredibly muscular, monster-like man, sort of like the cartoon character on his tee shirt. Next to the muscle monster there was a skinny little dweeb on his knees. The dweeb was looking up at the muscle monster as if he was begging for mercy. The muscle monster had one of his huge arms pulled back and his hand clenched in a fist, as if he was getting ready to deliver a devastating blow to the little nerd. You couldn’t tell from looking at the drawing whether the muscle monster was going to go through with it or not. You knew that if he did, the dweeb would be toast. Vinnie was actually a pretty good artist. Above the muscle monster he had written “Me.” Above the dweeb, he had written “You.” When he saw the look on my face as the chills went up and down my spine he smiled with a look of arrogant confidence and flexed his forearm again. I looked in awe at the bulging muscles that had just crushed my upper arm like a tomato. “Time for lunch,” said Vinnie.

I picked up my bag lunch at my locker and walked out to the playground, where my friends and I had lunch everyday. Vinnie followed me. There wasn’t much I could do about it. When we got to the playground, I sat down on a little hill with my friends. There were six of us plus Vinnie. Vinnie started to sit down but then he noticed a chinning bar and some parallel bar dip bars not too far away. He walked over to the chinning bar and stripped off his tee shirt. “Holy shit! Look at that,” yelled one of my friends. Everyone turned and looked at Vinnie. Now his upper body and arms were fully revealed. Vinnie was doing some stretching exercises, so we could see all his upper body muscles working – buzzing and bulging with power. Below his thick neck, his trap muscles bulged across his upper back. His shoulders were incredibly wide and they were capped with thick, round, striated muscle. His delts looked like melons, with the muscle fibers twitching back and forth as he moved his arms. His arms were big, muscular and very cut. His biceps bulged into a hard ball every time he curled his arms up. You could see the two heads of biceps on the top of his arms. Big veins throbbed with blood as they crossed over his biceps. His triceps were equally impressive, with the heads of muscle popping out every time he flexed them.

Vinnie put his arms on his hips and flexed his lats. Wow! I just about peed in my pants. His lats looked like big wings of muscle flaring out, tapering down from his wide shoulders to his very narrow hips. How could this kid be only 13 years old? Next he flexed his pecs and the two big mounds of muscle bulged out in his chest. His nipples were erect and pointing slightly downward because his pec muscles were so big. I could see the fibers of muscle in his pecs, and the cleavage between those two big mounds was probably an inch deep. Next, Vinnie just relaxed and faced us with his eight-pack abs slightly tensed. The ridges of muscle looked as hard as granite. His waist was very small and his hips narrow. He rolled his ab muscles and the hard muscle pulsated at his command. I couldn’t believe how good Vinnie’s abs looked as they tensed and relaxed under his very tan, paper-thin skin. Vinnie was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Vinnie jumped up and grabbed the chinning bar. He was facing us and saw that we were all staring at him in rapt attention. He had absolutely no hair on his body except for little patches of black hair in his armpits. Without hesitation, Vinnie started doing pull-ups. He did them quickly and but in a measured way, concentrating on each rep. His lats exploded out to the sides as he lifted himself up and down. I could see the veins running through his lats as his big, strong heart pumped lots of blood into the working muscle. The pumped muscle turned Vinnie’s skin a reddish-brown color as it pumped up bigger and bigger and harder and harder with blood surging through it. His lats began to look like slabs of raw beef.

Then there were his arms. When his arms were fully extended, his triceps popped out with ridges of muscle bulging under his skin. His biceps looked like they were made of tightly wound steel cords. Then when Vinnie willed his muscles to pull himself up for another rep, those cords contracted into hard balls of muscle, about the size of baseballs and as hard as rock. Veins pulsated under his skin, which was very tan, even on the front of his biceps. As he gripped the chinning bar, his forearms bulged, with veins covering every square inch. His delts popped out from his shoulders and the fibers of the muscle twitched and flexed under his skin as he went up and down effortlessly.

After Vinnie had done 25 reps, all at the same measured speed, he let go of the bar and fell gracefully to the ground. Nobody in our class had ever done 25 pull-ups before and it looked as if Vinnie could have done another 25 easily. Wow, what a stud, I thought to myself. Vinnie faced us and hit a double-biceps pose. His biceps were huge. In reality, they were probably only about 14 inches, not really big by bodybuilding standards, but to me and my friends they looked huge. And in fact they were huge compared to our little arms. The biggest arm in my group of friends probably measured only about 11-1/2 inches. My arm only measured 10 inches. Vinnie smiled at us as we took in the size and power of his arms and upper body. He knew he was a stud.

Then he walked over to the dip bars and cranked out 25 parallel bar dips. His big triceps rippled with power, the three heads of muscle standing out in bold relief. His pecs were red and bulging and extremely striated with fibers as he pushed his torso up and down on the bars. His body was now very sweaty and the beads of sweat rolled off his shoulders and chest. His abs were tight and hard, rippling with muscle as his big body went up and down. Sweat covered those tan abs and I could see little veins crossing them. He had absolutely no fat on his body. After 25 easy reps, Vinnie hopped off the bars and smiled at us in a superior way. We were all staring in disbelief. The most dips that anyone in our class could do was 6, and we thought that kid was really strong. Vinnie did 25 like it was nothing. Vinnie did a most muscular pose. Every muscle in his upper body bulged with hardness. He looked incredible. As he was doing his most muscular pose, he let out a loud roar, sort of like a lion. All of us instinctively jumped at the frightening sound. Vinnie laughed and then swaggered over to where we were sitting.

“Ain’t you dweebs ever seen real muscle before?” he asked derisively as he looked at our incredulous faces. “Well, you’re going to be seeing a lot of it from now on.” He flexed his lats, pecs and abs right in front of us. Sweat was rolling off all of his muscles and they looked really pumped and hard. He was standing right in front of me. He was so close that I could smell the sweat evaporating from his hot body. I looked up and stared at his rock-hard abs and big, hard pecs as he flexed the rippling muscle right above me. His abs were flat and corrugated like a washboard. His pecs bulged out over his abs. I could see the fibers in his lower pecs flex and relax as they pushed his nipples far out from his torso. As I looked further up I could see Vinnie’s strong jaw and chin and the bottom of his brutally handsome face. He looked incredibly arrogant and confident.

His thighs were right at my eye level and his quads bulged under his shorts. He had a round, muscular butt that pressed against his shorts and forced the fabric upwards and outwards. That butt looked like it had incredibly strong ass muscles. Ass muscles that worked with his quads to let Vinnie squat with really heavy weights. His calves were big, cut and hard, looking like they had been carved from rock with a knife. When I looked up at Vinnie I felt I was looking at a Greek god. I was simply overwhelmed by the muscularity and strength of this kid.

Suddenly without warning he sat down right between me and my friend Roger. There really wasn’t enough space, but Vinnie didn’t seem to care. He just sat down and forced us to move to the side, squeezing his muscular body between us. I couldn’t believe it. I was now in direct contact with Vinnie’s big shoulders and his muscles really felt hard. I could have moved further over, but I wanted to press against Vinnie’s hard body. Vinnie stretched his big arms, almost knocking me over as he rubbed them against my body. I wanted to reach over and feel his arm, but I didn’t have the nerve. I looked over and saw his sweaty, bulging pecs. Oh how I wanted to touch those mountains of muscle. “Shit, that workout really made me hungry,” said Vinnie. “I feel like I could eat a horse.” Then I said, “Looks like you didn’t bring a lunch so I guess you’ll just have to wait until you get home to eat.” Vinnie looked at me like I had said the most stupid thing in the world. “What’s you name, dweeb?” asked Vinnie. “Fred. My name’s Fred,” I said. “O.K., Fred,” said Vinnie. “Here’s the deal. I’m going to eat right now and I’m going to eat real good. You see you’re going to give me your whole lunch and all your little dweeb friends here are going to give me half of their lunches. I’m going to choose which half – the half with all the protein. I gotta eat a lot of protein to feed these muscles and keep ‘em growing. That will be a little over three of your dweeb lunches, which I’m sure I can eat no sweat.”

All of us looked at each other in shock. Jesus, this kid is aggressive, we thought to ourselves. Can he really get away with this? While we were looking at each other, Vinnie grabbed my lunch. “Why are you taking my whole lunch and not just half?” I asked plaintively. Now I was the one who was going to go hungry. “Because I want to and I can,” was Vinnie’s response. “You gonna to do something about it, dweeb?” I remembered the excruciating pain I felt when Vinnie crushed my arm. I shook my head. Vinnie looked me right in the eyes and smiled. I realized I was in the total control of this musclekid. Vinnie then set out to take the half-lunches from the other kids in my group. Roger and the others meekly surrendered their lunches toVinnie. Vinnie picked out what he wanted, the meat sandwiches and other protein things, and sometimes something to drink, and threw the rest back at the kid. When he got to Kevin, who was the biggest and strongest guy in our group, Kevin stood up and faced Vinnie. Kevin was actually about four inches taller than Vinnie, but Vinnie was far more muscular. Kevin said, “I’m not giving up half of my lunch to you, Vinnie. You’ve got enough food.” Vinnie looked at Kevin with a look of pure contempt. “I’ll decide when I’ve got enough food, asshole,” said Vinnie. “I eat as much as I want, when I want it.” At that Vinnie wrapped his right arm around Kevin’s neck and started contracting his forearm and flexing his bicep. The big ball of hard muscle forced itself against Kevin’s windpipe. Kevin couldn’t breathe. Kevin tried to defend himself by punching Vinnie in the chest and gut. The punches just bounced harmlessly off Vinnie’s hard muscles. Vinnie laughed uproariously. Suddenly he let go of Kevin’s neck and stood right in front of the taller boy. “You want to punch me out, big guy? You think you can do some damage to this body? Well, here you go. Take a couple of free shots. I won’t even try to stop you.”

Kevin wound up his right arm and punched Vinnie as hard as he could in the abs. Vinnie’s corrugated ab muscles felt like a brick wall - a living, pulsating brick wall. Kevin pulled back his fist in pain. Vinnie’s abs were so strong that Kevin hurt his hand when he hit them. Kevin wound up his left arm and punched Vinnie in the chest. Vinnie’s big, pumped pec muscles didn’t even budge as Kevin’s fist bounced harmlessly off them. Kevin was getting really frustrated. He was the toughest guy in our group and he was used to having his punches really hurt people. He didn’t understand why his punches weren’t doing anything to this musclekid. He started hitting Vinnie with both hands, with punches to the abs, the chest, the arms – anywhere he could. He even tried to hit Vinnie in the face, but Vinnie easily dodged out of the way. Vinnie smiled as Kevin punched away. He seemed to be enjoying himself as his muscles deflected punch after punch. Vinnie’s body was like a fortress. His muscles were like armor. None of Kevin’s punches did the slightest amount of damage to Vinnie’s iron body. Vinnie sneered at Kevin and said, “Those little girl punches don’t feel like nothin’ to me. My muscles are so big and hard that your pathetic little muscles can’t do shit to them. But feel what they can do to you!”

At that, Vinnie pulled back his right hand and made a fist. The striated delt muscles bulged on his shoulders as they prepared to deliver overwhelming power to Vinnie’s punch. His pecs, biceps and triceps rippled. I could see every muscle fiber flexing. They looked like steel cords. Then suddenly it came. Vinnie punched Kevin hard, real hard, in the gut. The sound of Vinnie's big fist hitting Kevin’s gut was amazingly loud. Not only that, but the fist penetrated deep inside Kevin’s gut. I couldn’t even comprehend how much power Vinnie’s arm had. It was like a machine, like a piledriver. Kevin buckled over in pain and fell to the ground. Vinnie’s one devastating punch was more powerful than all of Kevin’s punches put together. Vinnie knelt down and said to Kevin, who was writhing in pain on the ground, “I guess we know who’s the boss around here now. Thanks for the lunch. I think I’ll take the whole thing. You don’t look very hungry.” Vinnie then sat back down between me and Roger and started wolfing down his lunches, one at time. He just sat there eating, just like nothing had happened and this was normal. Finally he said, “O.K. dweebs, listen up. I own you guys. Everything you have is mine. Anybody that tries to fuck with me is going to get beat up a lot worse than barf-boy over there.” We looked over to see Kevin vomiting on the ground. “You guys better ask your mommies to make you an extra sandwich for lunch tomorrow if you want to eat anything yourselves. And it better be meat, chicken or tunafish. I eat a lot and I don’t want no pussyfood.” Vinnie polished off all the food he had taken from us. I never saw a kid eat that much food in my life. Then he stood up, burped real loud and said “See ya.” He grabbed his tee shirt, slung it over his shoulder, and strutted over to a group of cute girls. I thought of the irony of the situation. We dweebs were being forced to feed Vinnie’s big muscles with our food so that they could grow even bigger and stronger and beat us up even easier. The strong take what they want from the weak and get even stronger so they can pick on the weak even more. The law of the jungle right here at West Hills Middle School.

The girls had been watching Vinnie ever since class was over. They couldn’t take their eyes off this good-looking, muscular kid. They watched Vinnie take off his tee shirt and do his pull-ups and parallel bar dips. They gasped just like we did when Vinnie took off his shirt and revealed his incredibly muscular upper body. They saw Vinnie sit down and help himself to our lunches. They probably thought that we offered to share our food with Vinnie. They didn’t know that Vinnie took the food by force. They saw Kevin punching at Vinnie, trying to hurt him, and Vinnie smiling back. Then they saw Vinnie take out Kevin with one incredibly hard punch to the gut. There was something about Vinnie that brought out a primal urge in these girls. An urge to be with the biggest and strongest male, to be protected by him, to feel his big, hard muscles, to be ravaged by him. As Vinnie walked over to the girls, every one of them wanted him.

“Hello, ladies. Whattsup?” said Vinnie. The girls giggled. Vinnie walked right up to two of the prettiest girls. “I think you girls have needed a real man at this school. All these kids are a bunch of wimps,” he said, pointing to the boys out on the playground. “Here, feel the muscles of a real man.” Vinnie flexed his arms and the two girls wrapped their delicate fingers around his bulging biceps. “Ooh, your muscles are so big and hard,” cooed one of the girls. “Yeah, they’re big, hard and tough,” said Vinnie. “I can beat up any kid in this whole school. If any boy gives you ladies any shit, you just come to me and I’ll pulverize his sorry ass.” The girls started getting hot. “Go, ahead, ladies, feel the rest of my body. Feel how big and hard these muscles are.” At that, all the girls started groping Vinnie’s body with their fingers as he flexed his muscles for them. They felt his big arms, his wide, muscular delts, his hard, bulging pecs, his slab-like lats, his rippling, corrugated abs, his thick thighs and muscular calves, and last but not least, his round, firm muscle butt. Vinnie looked absolutely radiant with his brown eyes, his black hair, his handsome face, his strong jaw and chin and his tan skin.

Suddenly one of the girls grabbed the back of Vinnie’s head and kissed him. Vinnie wrapped his muscular arms around the girl and held her tight against his body. He continued kissing the girl, pushing his tongue deep inside her mouth over and over. He started thrusting his hips against the girl’s pelvis. He lowered his arms and held on to the girl’s ass, holding her tight against his lower abs. I could only guess what was happening under Vinnie’s shorts. He kept thrusting and thrusting, harder and harder. The girl looked like she was in total bliss. Finally he whispered in her ear, “We’ll finish this later.” He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her high off the ground. Then he pressed her up and down about ten times. It was an amazing display of strength since the girl must have weighed at least 100 pounds and Vinnie pressed her up and down like a feather. The other girls felt Vinnie’s bulging, striated delts and rippling arms as his huge muscles easily powered the girl up and down. Vinnie then set the girl down and said, “Yeah, I think you ladies are going to like having a musclestud around. You’ve been missing out on hot muscle action, but you’re going to get it now.” The girls seemed to start panting. Just then, the bell rang for our next class. Vinnie flexed one more time for the girls and swaggered away.

I was sitting at my desk after lunch waiting for English class to start. The bell rang and the teacher got up to start the class. Vinnie was not in sight. Maybe I would escape him for the afternoon, I thought. Then the door opened and in walked Vinnie. I should say in strutted Vinnie. He always walked with an attitude. And just like in the morning, he sat down at the desk right next to me. I asked him if he wanted a piece of paper and a pencil. He waved his big hand at me and said “Nah.” I said, “You might need to take notes to do your homework assignment.” He looked at me like I was crazy. “I don’t do no homework,” he said. “If I need to turn in homework to pass the class, you’re going to do it for me, dweeb.” He looked right at me with a look of total arrogance on his ruggedly handsome face. I could tell he was deadly serious. Vinnie didn’t do homework. If any homework needed to be done, I would have to do it for him. I knew that I really didn’t have any choice in the matter. Vinnie was the boss.

So I took out my paper and pencil and started taking notes. Just then Vinnie rolled up the sleeves of his tee shirt, exposing his muscular arms and his big shoulders. He started flexing his arm right next to me, first the massive horseshoe tricep, then the big, hard, baseball bicep. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Vinnie’s arm and I wasn’t paying any attention to the teacher. I stared intently at the defined fibers of muscle as they flexed and relaxed at Vinnie’s command. I inspected all the veins that cris-crossed his bicep. tricep, and forearm. I marveled at the thickness of his delts and the striations of muscle that comprised the three heads of that muscle that was as big as a melon. Every time he moved his arm, the muscle fibers in his delt twitched and flexed and then rearranged themselves effortlessly. I could tell that Vinnie was doing all this flexing just for me. Then Vinnie raised his arms in the air like he was stretching, lowered them slowly, and hit a double biceps pose. His baseball size biceps exploded under his thin, tan skin. I could see the two heads of muscle at the top of his upper arm. The fibers looked like steel cords and I was sure that they were just as hard. I was getting hot just looking at Vinnie’s arm. I hadn’t taken one note since the class started and had no idea what the teacher was talking about. Vinnie lowered his arms, leaned over to me and said, “You’re not paying attention to the teacher, dweeb. Seems like something’s more interesting to you.” He flexed his tricep one more time and I kept staring at it. He was on to me. He knew I dug his muscles. I think he had known that from the first two minutes in math class when I was staring at him and he stared back.

Just then the door opened and the Vice-Principal came in. “Mr. DiNunzio, come with me, please,” he said. Vinnie got up and strutted out of the room. His sleeves were still rolled up and he flexed his triceps as he walked out the door. God, those muscles looked huge. About 15 minutes later, Vinnie came back into the classroom. His sleeves were down, but as soon as he sat down at his desk he rolled them up again. Vinnie looked really mad. His teeth were clenched and he looked like he was about to explode. He turned and looked over to Roger, who was sitting two rows away in the back of the class. Vinnie stared at Roger and slowly mouthed, “You’re dead meat, wimp,” without making a sound. Roger understood very well what Vinnie said and started squirming in his seat. Vinnie started clenching his right hand into a fist and opening it again. Every time he clenched it into a fist, the muscles of his forearm bulged and veins popped out everywhere. He moved his fist back and forth. The muscles of his shoulder and arm writhed with power. Every so often he would hit his fist against his other hand, making a loud smacking sound. Roger’s face got beet red and he started sweating. I figured out what had happened. Roger had gone to the Vice-Principal and turned in Vinnie for taking our lunches and punching out Kevin. Somehow the Vice-Principal had let Roger’s name slip out, which was a big mistake. Now Roger was going to have to pay the price for squealing on Vinnie. I shuddered at the thought.

The bell rang at the end of class. Roger got up and started walking quickly to the door. Vinnie followed right behind. When he got to the hallway, Roger started running as fast as he could, but Vinnie was much faster than Roger and easily caught up with him. Vinnie wrapped his arms around Roger’s chest from behind and contracted his big arms and lats, squeezing poor Roger in a powerful bear hug. All the air was immediately forced out of Roger’s lungs by the incredible crushing power of Vinnie’s arms. “Lets go outside, wimp,” said Vinnie. “I think we got some business to take care of.” Still holding Roger in a bear hug,Vinnie picked him off the floor and carried him down the hall and out the door. Roger’s arms and legs were flailing away, but they made absolutely no impact on Vinnie. When they got outside, Vinnie brought Roger to an area that was screened off from the school by a big hedge. He didn’t want any teachers seeing what he was going to do to Roger. He didn’t care if us kids saw it. He knew that we wouldn’t squeal after seeing the punishment that squealers got.

Roger had not had a breath of air the whole time Vinnie was crushing his chest and carrying him outside. His face was red and his neck was swollen. Vinnie picked him up higher and threw him on the ground. Roger quickly took a few breaths of air. “So you went and squealed to the Vice-Principal, sissy-boy. Did you go crying to your mommy, too? Or maybe your daddy? I bet I could beat up your wimp daddy just like I’m going to beat you up. Ya know, they can’t give me no punishment here ‘cause I’m only 13. I can kick your ass and all they can do is transfer me to another school. But they don’t want to do that. They transferred me here ‘cause I got into too many fights at King. I won all those fights, of course. And I was fighting a lot of bigger and meaner dudes than you little geeks at this school. I like to kick ass and I got the muscles to do it. They think I’m going change at this fuckin’ rich-kid school. But they’re wrong. I’m a big, mean muscle machine and I love it. And I’m getting bigger and stronger every month. I like to beat people up just for fun. It gives me a real rush and makes me feel real strong. If I want to beat up any of you little dweebs, I’m just going to do it. And you’re all so weak you won’t be able to do a fucking thing about it. And for any of you wimps who think you might want to squeal on Vinnie, just watch what I do to squealers.”

At that, Vinnie stripped off his tee shirt. Some of the kids who hadn’t already seen Vinnie’s body gasped. His muscles were huge and rippling with power. Roger had finally recovered enough to get on his feet. Roger was about 5’5” and weighed about 95 pounds. Vinnie was a little shorter but 30 pounds heavier, and all solid muscle. Vinnie jumped at Roger with all the force of his powerful legs, hitting him on the left side of the chest with his big, hard, muscular shoulder, just like a football player hitting a tackling dummy. Roger crashed to the ground, the wind completely knocked out of him. Vinnie jumped on the fallen kid, sat on his legs and punched him hard four or five times on his chest and stomach. Each punch was enough to inflict incredible pain on the helpless boy. I watched Vinnie’s arm and shoulder muscles bulge and ripple as they drove his big, hard fists deep into Roger’s flesh. Fortunately, Vinnie didn’t aim at Roger’s face. Then Vinnie flipped Roger over on his stomach and grabbed his arms. He twisted Roger’s arms up his back, pushing them almost beyond the limits of Roger’s joints. “How’s that feel, squealer- boy? How’d you like to have your arms torn off your body, just like a chicken drumstick? I could do it, ya know. My arms are so strong they could just rip your puny little chicken arms right off of you.” Vinnie pressed Roger’s arms even further up his back. His delts and triceps writhed with power under his tan skin as they forced the pipe stem arms of the little dweeb further and further up his back. His muscles were really pumped and I could see the fibers flexing like steel cords. Roger cried out in excruciating pain. I thought of the picture on the front of Vinnie’s tee shirt and shivered.

Then Vinnie let go of Roger’s arms and moved to his side. He wrapped his legs around Roger’s chest in a scissors hold, locked his ankles and started squeezing with his powerful thighs. Immediately the air was crushed out of Roger’s lungs. Vinnie’s quads bulged under his black shorts as he applied more and more pressure. “Hey squealer-boy, your little chicken chest is no match for my big, strong muscular legs. These legs can squat with 300 pounds and they can crush your little chest like an egg shell. Feel the power, geek. Feel the power of a real man. Feel the power of a real man who hurts squealers so much they wish they were dead.” Roger’s face was beet red. He was moaning in pain. He was too weak to cry out. Vinnie flexed his quads harder and applied even more pressure. The huge muscles were really bulging under his shorts. Even though those huge quads were inflicting incredible pain on my friend, I wished Vinnie’s shorts weren’t there so I could see those big, strong monsters flexing. Vinnie said “Tell these kids not to squeal, dweeb. Tell ‘em it don’t pay to squeal on Vinnie.” Roger was now almost incoherent. Saliva was running out of his mouth. He was silent. Vinnie took a deep breath and flexed his quads still harder. I thought poor Roger’s ribs were going to crack. “Tell, ‘em, asshole. Tell ‘em or I’ll crush your little body into pulp.” Roger looked in total awe and despair at the 13 year old kid whose big, hard, rippling muscles were crushing the life out of him. Roger just couldn’t comprehend how a kid his age could be this muscular and strong. Every part of Roger’s body was hurting more than it had in his entire life. “Don’t squeal on Vinnie,” he murmured. He then closed his eyes. He was passing out. He hadn’t had a breath of air for several minutes and his lungs were almost collapsed. Vinnie immediately released his scissors hold and Roger took several deep breaths. Tears were streaming down his face. Vinnie looked at the battered kid and said, “Hey geek, if anybody asks, you fell down some stairs. You’re pretty clumsy, ya know.” Vinnie stood up, hit a double biceps pose for the girls, brushed himself off, put on his tee shirt and said to me “Time for our next class, dweeb.” He then casually walked away, with me in tow. All of our classmates stared at Vinnie in complete awe and fear. None of them even thought of squealing on Vinnie.

At our last class of the day, Vinnie sat down next to me again and tortured me with his flexing. I just couldn’t concentrate in class and kept staring at Vinnie’s muscles. Sometimes I thought I saw Vinnie kind of smile when he saw me staring. When school ended, I put my books in my backpack and got ready to walk home. My house was only about 10 blocks from the school. Just then, Vinnie came up to me and put his strong hand on my shoulder. “Hey dweeb, you’re coming home with me today. I need a spotter for my workout. I’m gonna do some heavy chest work.” Vinnie always called me “dweeb” rather than my real name. I guess that’s how he thought of me - just a dweeb, not a real person that was his equal and had a name. “What are you talking about, Vinnie?” I said. “I can’t go home with you.” Vinnie grabbed my arm and squeezed, just like he did in math class. Pain shot up and down my arm. “Doncha got ears, dweeb. I said you’re coming home with me. Just call your mommy and tell her you’re going to a friend’s house.” I could tell I had no choice in the matter, as usual. I took my cell phone out of my backpack and called my mom. She seemed surprised but said it was OK. I knew I would have to go even if she had said no. •