Warehouse Punk VII
By
Gym Dude
By
Gym Dude
My recon mission proved what Dave had told me. Each man would work the rugged stud over, pretty much when and where they wanted to, but Dave’s fear of Frank was fully justified. It was one thing to face someone in the ring and lose to a stronger and superior fighter, shit, how well I know that! Sure, when Dave kicked my ass, he’d usually follow up with some humiliation and intimidation, but Frank seems to have perfected the art of total physical and mental domination. In a fight, he would twist, crush and tear at his man’s helpless physique until the guy was totally destroyed. Hell, even when Dave was just sitting on the couch, Frank was walking behind him and clamped on a vicious nerve lock on Dave’s traps. The poor sap didn’t expect a thing, then one second later he’s helplessly screaming in terror and agony. The kind of sneak attack that you’d pull on a little brother.
I had seen enough. Everything Dave said was painfully true. Watching them wrestling around, I finally noticed that Frank had indeed beefed up, but even with the added muscle, I was astounded at how easily he worked over Dave. The powerful shit never had a chance. It was all I could do to break myself away, but I didn’t want to risk being spotted. If just one of them can trash Dave like this, imagine what they would do to me!
I rushed home and on the way to the phone I passed the video camera. HMMMMMM, I thought for a moment. NO! My little voice yelled back at me. You have important work that must be done just right. I called a few of the guys.
To pull this off without undue alarm, we parked our cars and trucks around the block from Dave’s. I put a lookout with a two-way radio at each corner. By now only Dave and Bill were in the living room, Juan Cho was in the garage working on the heavy bag, Jackson was out for a run and there was no sign of Frank.
Juan was so intent on pounding the bag, he didn’t hear us enter. I have to admit, I couldn’t believe how hard the man punches. Dave was right to worry about this guy ruining his heavy bag! I don’t see how it could stand up to that kind of punishment. Dressed only in gym trunks, bare footed and bare fisted, Juan was taking it all out on the equipment. The build, the power, the force. Impressive!!!
There were three of us, each about Juan’s size or a little bigger, but seeing that stud warmed up and throwing punches like a well-oiled machine, I wondered if that would be enough. Phil, my martial arts buddy from the gym and Jason from the warehouse who’s been into karate for years took position on each side behind Juan, with me in the middle. It was incredible to me that we could get that close without being noticed.
Juan paused briefly between his terrifying punches, “Alright, who are you and why are you screwing with my workout?” his voice rumbled. I was surprised there was no accent. Juan turned towards me, a big smile on his face. Here this guy stands, sweat dripping off his chiseled physique, facing three fairly impressive weightlifters, and he’s still in control. Cool! I like this guy’s attitude. The thought crossed my mind of just how that heavy bag feels after being pounded by those rapid-fire fists. My abs tightened as I wondered, is this something I really want to know?
“I hear you’re pretty rough when you’re fighting someone who can’t defend himself.” My strategy was to get him upset. Gawd, I want that work-of-muscle-art upset at me? How freaking bright is that? But that was the plan.
“Yeah. Well, not many guys can defend themselves against this!” Juan said as he looked down and swept his hands across the sea of washboard muscle that comprised his midsection. The muscular stud flexed and stretched as he prepared for some real fun. Juan was more than ready to try those fists on some human muscle instead of a stationary bag. We looked at one another to confirm that this was indeed the plan. This guy looks like a one-man army.
Jason wanted first crack at the impressive stud and took position. The kid has great moves and nailed the fighter with some pretty solid punches. Juan was in constant motion himself, but didn’t seem to worry about putting up his guard. It was as if he wanted to see what the kid could do. Jason was striking pay dirt, but his punches and kicks seemed to have very little effect, if any. Juan just smiled as he let the kid do his stuff, periodically nailing him with a shot or two, just to keep Jason honest.
Juan’s fists were a blur. The only time you actually saw them in detail was at the point of impact. That was a little late for Jason since each punch drove deeper and deeper into the kid’s muscles. The kid still had incredible form; his shots were delivered with authority. It looked like a textbook fight except that Jason’s young body was taking all the abuse. It didn’t take many of Juan’s power punches before Jason was slowing down. The kid defiantly stepped up to the plate again but it was an experiment in futility. The kid was landing 90% of the punches, but was taking 100% of the damage. Juan just smiled and drilled the kid once right between the eyes. Jason’s defenses dropped leaving the muscular kid like a sitting duck. One incredible front kick to the solar plexus and Jason was powered into the wall, dropping face first to the floor, out cold.
Juan looked at Phil and gave him that Bruce Le “come and get it” gesture. Phil was ready for him. I have a lot of confidence in Phil. He doesn’t look like the biggest, baddest dude in the west, but he is one amazing fighter. That’s why Phil was on my short list of men to tackle Dave.
Both men started trading punches. Juan looked more polished, but both guys were taking fierce shots and coming back for more. It looked like Juan was getting the best of my man and for the first time, I began to worry about what would happen to me if Phil lost. That is something I should have thought of sooner. Juan was setting up for what looked like it could be a finishing blow, but instead of going down, Phil nailed the big guy with a spinning back kick that just about ripped his head off. Juan spun around so hard, his left arm smashed into a post with terrible force. I don’t know if he broke it or not, but it wasn’t much use to the groggy fighter after that and Phil had very little trouble putting the well-muscled fighter down for the count.
Even though he was out cold, just to be sure we cuffed him over a chinning bar. That should keep him out of trouble for a while.
A car load of my lookouts called in to say that Jackson was not going to be a problem. They were headed out when he came jogging around the corner. The mighty stud took one look at the bodies on the men facing him and immediately went into his fighting mode. The kick boxer was fast and strong and seemed to have no problem taking out three of the six men facing him, but as he lined up on the others there was a flash of light and a brief buzzing noise. The big muscleman straightened up, then dropped uncontrollably to the ground. Johnny was standing behind him with a big smile on his face and a stun gun in his hand. “Works every time!” he observed.
They quickly tied up the big guy and loaded him in the van.
The guy watching the house ran into the garage in near panic. “Cheese it guys! Some guy is headed out here with Dave and he’s as big as a freaking barn!” From what I saw earlier, that would be Bill.
“What the hell is going on here?” came the big booming voice as Bill took quick stock of the situation. Dave looked confused, but after what he’s been through you would think he’d be ready for about anything.
“Why don’t you just give it up and make it easy on yourself?” The question would normally have been out of place, but seemed quite logical coming from Sam. At 6’4” and 255, the 17 year-old linebacker was the only man there who was substantially bigger than Bill.
“And this boy thinks he’s man enough to take me?” Big Bill’s eyes locked on the powerful teen.
“If need to be.” Sam replied. All of a sudden, the kid has really gotten into the game. The kid is strong, but at 6’3” and 235 pounds, Bill is a major force to be reckoned with. The two men sized up one another for a few seconds, then Sam charged the big wrestler like a bull. They came to grips and it looked like Bill was not even bothering to counter the kid’s hold as Sam locked his mighty arms around the wrestler’s chest in a perfect bear hug. Bill just looked the kid in the eye and said, “Go ahead, sonny boy. Show me what you got.”
I know how strong this kid is and I’m amazed that an experienced wrestler would give somebody with that much muscle a free shot, even if Sam is just a kid. Sam flexed his muscular arms and cranked down on the big man for all he was worth. Bill was having a little difficulty breathing, but still maintained an even tempo. Sam locked on the big man’s chest again and again, the sweat beginning to pour off the big young stud. The youngster’s mighty muscles flexed and strained but never made a real impression on the rock solid wrestler. Bill started to laugh at the kid’s efforts, “You about done, sonny?” The muscle teen had used every ounce of power and it still was not nearly enough.
“My turn!” the big man exclaimed with a smile on his face. Bill was ready for this. Sure, Sam was just a kid, but he still presented 255 pounds of solid muscle, a massive young stud who mistakenly thought he was ready to play with the big boys. Bill locked his massive 20” pythons around the kid’s chest as Sam flexed every muscle in his young body, steeling himself against the force he knew was coming.
Bill locked his hands securely behind the kid’s broad back then in one powerful squeeze he let the powerful teenager know what he was in for. Sam’s muscular young body arched in agony as the air was forced from him in one explosive scream. Bill locked down again with even more power and the young stud screamed again, but his shout was cut short by the third powerful flex. Sam collapsed across the wrestler’s shoulder; his big body unable to resist Bill’s power. The submission wrestler had quickly taken the teenager well beyond submission. We had to stop it before he did some permanent damage, but before we could even move, Bill flexed his mighty constrictive grip twice more in rapid succession. Sam’s helpless frame jerked as though he were being electrocuted, then Bill released his grip, the kid falling in a heap at the wrestler’s feet. I was pissed.
As the big man turned to take on his next man, I leaped from the ring apron and caught him flush across the neck in a perfectly executed clothesline. Bill’s feet actually left the ground as his beefy frame was powered to the concrete floor, head and shoulders first. The impact left the big man dazed and gave me more than enough time to lift his legs by the ankles and deliver a knee on target between his legs. Bill became aware all too late what was coming. I hadn’t had time to worry about my personal safety. This guy was having too much fun bashing the kid. Bill was in agony as he tried to protect himself, but there wasn’t much he could do as I powered in two more knee drops just for fun. I was carried away with the moment and even considered a pile driver, but on the concrete floor I would probably have killed him. At least I had some restraint.
Bill was pretty much wasted after my bombing run and offered almost no resistance as I pulled the big man to his feet and locked on my full nelson. As I said before, my workouts have been paying off. My arms exploded with raw power and I swear I thought as my canons flexed they were even bigger than Bill’s. They sure as hell were at the time.
Every muscle in my body flexed at once against the wrestler’s powerful physique. The guy was really built and was every bit my size, but I was like a mad man. Every bit of anger about what he had done, and even what I had done poured out against the big fighter. After the work down below, big Bill never stood a chance. I flexed with all I had and the more I felt his muscular body cave in, the harder I worked him. The wrestler’s jaw was anchored tight between his solid pecs and the rugged shit could hardly breathe.
I flexed down again and again, even though the tough stud had stopped fighting back. I gave my biceps a quick glance, God they look great when they’re working hard. I was busy admiring my work when Dave stepped forward and after lifting Bill’s arm and watching it drop limply to his side for the third time, Dave officially declared me the winner. Reluctantly, I dropped the unconscious wrestler to the floor, then just to be on the safe side, we stood him up and cuffed his arms behind his back around a ring post.
Dave was relieved, over-whelmed, shocked and certainly surprised to see us there. He had resigned himself to getting his young ass pounded for the rest of his life, however long these rugged studs decided that would be. But the celebration was cut short before it even began.
“Are you guys done pounding on our helpless lit……..” the sentence was cut off as he rounded the doorway.
It was Frank.
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