The Letter
by
Gym Dude
by
Gym Dude
Twenty-three, twenty-four .. and .... twen-ty ... Five!!! YEAH!!! I squeezed out the last rep on the bench. Three sets at 335! I still got it!
I can feel the blood pumping through my body as the muscles in my arms, shoulders and chest react to the workout. I feel great and by God I LOOK great. It gives me one more chance to appreciate the mirrors I installed in my garage workout area. OK, so it's an ego stroke, but shit! I look damn good! It's the dead of winter and on the best days in this part of the country I can still workout with the big garage door open, like today. I have to admit that I find the stunned looks from passersby to be rather motivational.
Even the postman has taken to parking his little truck in my driveway when he stops to deliver the mail. I'm the last house on the lane and he could just turn around and drop it right from the truck, but this way he gets a much better look. The guy is a little younger than I am and about 175 or 180 pounds. He looks to be right around six feet and fairly athletic. I've been thinking about inviting him over for a few sample workouts to see if he might want to train with me. I could use a good spotter for my heavier lifts and he might even provide a little resistance for my wrestling workouts.
As luck would have it, the little white truck pulls up while I'm on my feet looking down the drive. The dude's eyes just about jump out of his head! God! I love that reaction! The guy looks like he might be able to take care of himself in most situations, but is obviously apprehensive when a big stud like me comes walking toward him. It doesn't help that I'm stripped down to my gym shorts and glistening from a hard workout. As he gets out of the truck the dude's jaw drops at the sight before him.
"Hey, Dude! How ya' doin?" I ask as I extend my arm to shake hands. "I'm Joe Wilson, but then you probably figured that out from the address on my mail." The guy relaxes a little, now that he knows I'm not going to kill him, and reaches to shake my hand. Hummm, not a bad grip for a little guy. "Mike. Mike Simmons." He responds. "Damn, Man! You've got one hell of a body! I don't think I've ever seen a man built as sold as you are!"
I can see the man is impressed, "Thanks, Mike. I try to stay in shape." Mike is lost in the sight and seems to forget to stop shaking hands, "No shit!" he exclaims in amazement at my understatement. We talk about sports and lifting and I learn that Mike was a baseball star in school and played second string basketball. Like most athletes he had spent some time in the weight room, but never had any real direction. That is one thing that pisses me off. Schools, especially high schools, have some great gear, but rarely have anyone to show people how to use it. Even when they do, most of the kids who really need to work out on weights never get the chance. What a waste.
Before long Mike has to get on his way, but as he leaves, I invite him over for a workout when he gets off duty and he jumps at the chance. "God! That would be great, Man. I'd love to train with you." Mike turned and headed for his truck, "Oh, I almost forgot. Here's your mail. See you at six!" Mike turned and sped off to the next house. I think I made his day, I just hope he doesn't flake out after I crunch a few wrestling holds on him. He looks like he might be a tough little dude, I don't think there's much to worry about.
I can feel my biceps flexing from the workout and decide to hit a few extra sets of curls before finishing off. I'll have another workout when Mike gets back, but that will be super light. I want the guy to get started right and not tear him up on the first day. As I get to the garage, I toss the mail on a bench and the letters slide off. A manila envelope on the bottom catches my eye. There is no return address, it just says "Yer Buddy" in the corner. It certainly didn't look like advertising, besides it had first class postage.
It piqued my curiosity. This day and age you have to be careful with unsolicited mail, but it appeared safe, just a little odd. I temporarily forgot about my curls and opened the envelope. Inside I found a folded letter and an unsealed envelope stuffed with pictures. I glanced at the first few pictures. They were shots of two guys fighting. Both men were very well-built and had great definition. They appeared evenly matched and as near as I could tell they were about my size. I couldn't help thinking that I wouldn't mind fighting these guys myself.
I turned my attention to the letter ..
"Yo! Big Muscledude!
I drove by your house a few times and saw you working out in the garage. It looks like you're coming along and pushing some impressive weights. Like I said before, you've got a really incredible body. I want to see you get serious and give me some decent competition when we get together this year for our regular camping trip. I know I worked you over pretty good last time but I'm really looking forward to kicking your big musclebound ass again this year!"
It was like the other shoe had fallen, just when I finally feel like I'm back to full strength and ready to take on the world! It's been a long slow recovery from last August. I don't think I'll ever forget that camping trip and the incredible beating I took from that squad of muscleboys. I still wake up in a cold sweat and for a few moments I think I'm back there, just coming back to consciousness and getting ready for another pounding. All those guys were pretty damn strong, but the one I nicknamed "Claw Boy" was just plain vicious. That young son-of-a-bitch just loved tearing a man down! I had wondered why my car registration was out on the passenger's seat. Now I knew.
A chill ran down my spine. My muscles flexed but all of a sudden, I didn't feel so strong. Just like an impending train wreck, I couldn't help myself, I had to read on ..
"I can see you've been hitting the weights pretty hard, but just so you know, I haven't been a stranger at the gym either, and I'm still a growing boy! I've had a little growth spurt since our last meeting and I've added nearly an inch in height and almost 20 pounds of rock-solid beef. Take a look, I think you'll be impressed."
I glanced back at the top picture of two well-muscled men. One man was holding the other in a very painful looking abdominal stretch. Then I looked closer at the muscleman administering the punishment ... FUCK! It's Claw Boy! The dude has packed on so much muscle I didn't even recognize him at first. The stud has gotten HUGE. One look at those forearms should have been my clue, but SHIT! This guy has filled out great! He says 20 pounds but it looks like a lot more than that! I stared at the image in disbelief for a few more moments before going back to the letter ...
"I want you to know that I've been working on my fighting skills as well. It seems the muscle buddies you met last summer got tired of me kicking their asses in the gym so they think its great fun to find worthwhile opponents for me to workout on. Just to give you a little motivation in your workouts I've enclosed a few recent snapshots.
My buddies saw this bodybuilder leaving a gym across town one afternoon. He was walking to his truck after a heavy workout, without his shirt, just to show off to the rest of the world. He reminds me a lot of you and he's a big guy, about your size or a little bit bigger. The guys stopped and admired his build and asked a bunch of lifting questions then asked if he ever did much wrestling. When he said he had done some in high school they told him they had a buddy who was pretty tough, and wondered if he'd be afraid to face their friend, one-on-one in the park across the street. Well, there was no way he could back out and admit he wouldn't fight a high school kid.
We met the next day and when I pulled off my shirt you could see a little doubt on the dude's face. Even with my added weight, he had me by nearly 30 pounds but as it turned out the guy didn't fight worth shit. Like I said, he reminds me a lot of you. The guy tried to use his fists but I took him to the ground and worked him over good. I tied the son-of-a-bitch in knots until he screamed. Take a close look at the top photo and notice the expression on the dude's face. See the look of pain as I lean back on my hold? Notice the look of fear in his eyes as I muscle down on him and he begins to figure out what is about to happen to him. The big man now knows he can't break my grip and his muscular body is being twisted in
directions it's not supposed to go.
See the grin on my face? I was thinking about how it will feel to slap that hold on your buff physique and listen to you beg me for submission, just like this big muscleman did. And just like I'll do with you, I left that big stud locked up and crushed him until his muscular frame crumbled.
I have to admit it wasn't much of a fight after that, but I'll give him some credit. He was able to stay conscious for another twenty minutes, enough time for me to extract 6 or 8 more agonizing submissions. Too bad you couldn't be there for the fun!" I stared at the photos and was equally impressed by the massive muscleman in front and the new, thick muscles of my old adversary controlling him. This kid is really astounding! My eyes kept going to the victim's face. Through the pain you could easily see the terror in the man's eyes at the thought of losing to this rugged teen. With all that muscle, the guy couldn't break the vicious hold and you know Claw Boy and his buddies were giving the poor dude a ration of shit all the time. The next five or six pictures showed the bodybuilder in a variety of punishing submission holds and while Claw Boy had the same smiling expression, in each picture his opponent's face showed increasing terror and complete exhaustion.
I must have stared at those pictures for over five
minutes as every painful memory of our last meeting flooded back as though it were still happening. Finally, I broke free of the spell and read on ...
"After working out on my buddies for a few more weeks they decided to find some tougher competition for me. Out on the docks they found this big stud longshoreman. The dude is 25 and at 6' 3" and 215 pounds, he is a formidable fighter. I'm told every Friday after work they go behind the stacked cargo and he takes on all comers. My buddies saw him pound the tar out of half a dozen pretty big guys, one-on-one and figured I needed to show up the next week. Just to keep it fair they asked him to fight me before the rest of the guys that night. I'm not up to six feet yet and even with 205 pounds I looked small next to the dude. The big stud looked over at me and laughed until I took off my shirt. He pointed at me and said "Your friend has a pretty good build, but you know I'm going to pound him into pulp. Are you sure you want to do this, Little Fella?"
"No holds barred! No punches pulled! I'm ready if you are, Bronco!" I replied and the fight was on. The guy was one hell of a puncher and fortunately I was fast enough to avoid any of his head shots. The dude finally caught me in the open and ripped a powerful right / left combination to my gut and it impressed the hell out of him that I didn't go down. I surprised the shit out of him by gripping the big guy's leg and dumping him on his back. The stud has
one powerful punch, but it turned out he didn't wrestle worth a damn!
Check out the next picture and look at the shock on the dude's face. I locked him in my arm bar and flipped over his opposite side. This picture was taken just as I dislocated his right shoulder. The son-of-a-bitch screamed like a woman! I anchored his left arm to the deck and worked over his bicep and shoulder until I was sure it wouldn't do him much good. This next shot shows one of my more effective knee drops to the stud's gut, just before I pulled him to his feet.
The rest of the pictures show Mr. Toughman staggering around the dock while I take my time and use my fists to beat the shit out of him. With every punch I thought about how great it would be to open up on that big body of yours. You'll see there's not much expression left on the dude's face in the last picture when I doubled him over with a big left to his solar plexus before cold cocking the bustard with by right uppercut. Last I heard he hasn't been back fighting on the docks lately."
I fanned out the pictures on the weight bench before me. Claw Boy was right, the longshoreman was one big stud. He looked strong and hard as nails, but in photo after photo you could see the big man progressively dismantled by the muscular young wrestler. The look on the faces of the men watching the fight told the whole story. The kid literally mopped up the dock with their toughest fighter and left him unconscious at his feet. The last photo showed Claw Boy standing above the beaten fighter, flexing his right biceps and pointing at it for the camera. Shit! I've got to admit, the kid is freaking ripped!
I turned the letter over ...
"Check it out, Dude! I've packed on 20 pounds of dangerous muscle by the time this photo was taken. I'm pounding the shit out of every he-man I can find and I'm still growing! Just imagine the shape I'll be in this August when we camp out!
Hit those weights, Big Muscleman! I'm gunning for you mano-y-mano, and I've got the guns to back it up! By the way, don't get any ideas about turning chicken. Remember, I know where you live!"
A shot of fear ran up my spine as I gazed back at the last photo. Claw Boy already had great forearms, but now the kid is packing amazing biceps as well. The dude's body is incredibly thicker, yet cut and defined at the same time.
I don't know how old these pictures are and I have no way of knowing how big and strong this stud is going to be by August! I have to show up at the campground or run and hide with my tail between my legs. This kid had great fun beating the shit out of me last year and just look at him now! Another jolt of fear ran up my back as I pinned Claw Boy's pictures on the wall around my weight set. Mike is coming over tonight. Maybe my workouts with him are going to be a lot more rugged than I first planned.
I sat on the weight bench and started a set of dumbbell curls. I couldn't get the image of that bodybuilder's destruction out of my mind. I know ClawBoy is strong and he may be tough, but he still has a few lessons to learn and somehow, I've been selected as the man to teach him! I have his last photo taped to my mirror and as I study it, I flex my double biceps pose. I've got some new muscle to show you too, Young Stud.
I just wonder if it will be enough??????
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