The Hidden Risk of Dating

 

The Hidden Risk of Dating

By

Gym Dude

Like most guys, my time in the gym is pretty serious.  On my light days I might joke around a little but most of the time I'm rather myopic and notice very little of what goes on around me. That is, until I saw Shelia. I am not one for the exercise bike, until I saw her on the stair-stepper. It wouldn't long before I struck up a conversation.

One thing led to another and we decided we both wanted to get to know each other a lot better. Shelia enjoys working out and has a keen interest in fitness. She readily admits that she is only interested in athletic guys and that she noticed me as soon as she walked on the gym floor. I have to agree that she was a sight to behold as well. Not to say that I am so shallow to think that the body makes the person, but it does make a statement about that person. I work at taking good care of myself. At 24 and 6'2" I keep my weight at a reasonably lean 225. I work out at least 5 days a week, mostly on free weights and I'm proud to say it has earned me a body that stands out in a crowd.

Shelia let me know that fitness runs in her family and mentions her dad was a wrestler in college and still lifts weights. Her little brother Billy is 18 and works out all the time too. She thinks he's a great kid and he and I would have a lot in common. I'm always interested in talking about training and figure that getting along with little brother is going to get me in good with big sister. Shelia invites me to drop by the house on Saturday and we decide to kick back and enjoy the day. That sounds like a great idea to me. I like starting a relationship without a lot of structure and demands, just to see where things go.

I get to her house about ten on Saturday. We chat for a little while and before long her little brother bounds down the stairs headed out back.

Shelia calls him in the living room and introduces me to Billy. The kid is wearing breakaway warm-ups and an over-sized sweatshirt. I notice Billy has a firm handshake and a confident look. He's a likeable kid, nearly 6 feet tall and has a solid, athletic look to him. Billy is a handsome little dude with close cropped blond hair and a great tan that I'll bet makes him a real favorite with the ladies.

Shelia tells her brother that I work out a lot and Billy gives me a look up and down, "Yeah, it kind of shows." He laughs. I'm dressed in my usual faded Levis and a not-too-tight t-shirt although even the extra large T's have a tendency to fit snug across my arms and chest.

"Dude, you look like you've spent some time in the weight room. I'm headed out to do some lifting right now. I've got some gear set up in the garage. I'm there just about every day. If you get some free

time, feel free to stick your head in the door, I'd like to compare workouts and get some ideas." Billy drops my hand and heads for the door.

"Yeah, I'd like that." I call out to his back.

The day goes on and I start watching the game and before long the phone rings and Shelia tells me a friend needs her to shop for a dress. She asks if I would mind if she ran out for an hour or I was welcome to come along. Let me see, watch the game or shop for a dress, hmmmmm. I smiled and replied, "After careful consideration, I think I'd like to stay and watch the game, but thanks all the same." We both laughed and she was off.

The game turns into a blowout and there is nothing else on but Gilligan reruns. Damn! 152 channels and nothing is on! I get bored real quick and think I ought to be in the gym lifting. Just then I remember Billy's invitation to join him in his gym and I head out back. As I leave the house, I hear some grunts from the garage and walk in. Billy is working on behind-the-neck overhead-presses and with a quick tabulation of plates I calculate a load of 175 pounds.

 "Damn, son." I announce myself, "You're handling some respectable weight for a kid." Billy laughs as he presses the weight and lowers it to the floor. "Yeah, the coach gets pissed at me and says I should stick to lower weights and higher reps but I figure what's the sense in lifting if you're not going to use enough weight to get something from it. I figure you need big numbers to build real power. If I work hard enough, I hope to push the kind of weight you must be using. I couldn't help but notice the power in your chest, shoulders and arms. Man, that's where I want to be! You're what? 220? 230?" Billy asked.

I chuckled as I reached down to pick up a pair of 60 pound dumbbells and loosen up with some curls. I'm thinking a good view of my biceps will impress the young dude. "Good call. I'm starting to work more on definition and have trimmed back to 225."

Billy had been working out for over an hour and had shed his warm-ups and sweatshirt for gym trunks and a tank top. I can't help but notice Billy is packing some serious muscle himself. The kid has developed an exceptionally solid looking frame with upper body development that really shows off the benefit of his heavy lifting routine. The kid is sporting unusually thick powerful-looking lats, a strong, muscular chest and very well-muscled arms but what really captures my attention are his amazing deltoids. Billy's delts look like striated cannonballs perched on each end of his shoulders. Combined with his dense v-shaped lats,

the added muscle mass makes the kid's body look a yard wide. "And I see your lifting program seems to be

working for you. You must be carrying, what, about 200 pounds or so?"

"Yeah." He responds, "Rather than letting my weight slide up then having to cut back down, I find I do better keeping to my fighting weight at 198." Billy replied matter-of-factly.

I have to admit that young Billy and I have a lot more in common than I expected. The kid really seems to know his way around the weights and takes lifting a lot more serious than most 18-year-olds. "You mention your coaches and maintaining your fighting weight, you must wrestle?" I ask. I would really like to see what that upper body development would do to an opponent on the mats.

Billy chuckled, "No. I wrestled in high school, but after a friend and I took up karate, I found I really enjoyed punching a lot more. When I started college this year, I found out they had a boxing program and went out for the team. I got lucky and made varsity my first year. That doesn't happen too often."

Still working on my curls, I take a long look at the kid as he picks up the barbell and starts cranking out a set of curls with the 175 pound bar. Just watching those sharply defined biceps work is almost mesmerizing. I begin to realize that Shelia's little brother is one hell of a hunk!

While he works out, I take stock of his home gym.  Billy has accumulated a ton of iron, a half-dozen Olympic style bars and the usual weight benches, sit-up benches and a chinning and dipping station.  There is a well-worn heavy bag and a speed bag against one wall as well as a board with a selection of various pairs of boxing gloves. I could tell that no one was going to use this space for parking cars.

Billy's progress up to this point is really impressive, "Damn, Dude. You look pretty strong for an 18 year-old and I'm really impressed that you could make varsity as a freshman! That's a real accomplishment, especially in an upper weight class.  I've never really been into boxing before but I'd love to see you in the ring. I want you to be sure and let me know when your fights are scheduled."

"Great, Man!" the kid appreciated the compliment.  "That would be cool. I'll get your email address from sis and forward the schedule to you. Our first match is at home in two weeks. We're taking on State and I hear they've got a really tough team. I'm training as hard as I can because their 198-pound fighter has been division champ for two years. The dude's got a ton of experience and everybody thinks I'm going to get wasted. I working to avoid getting KO'd and will be happy just to let the stud know he's been in a hell of a fight. I just got to train harder. I drill on the heavy bag for hour after hour, but it's just not the same as a moving target." Just then Billy looks up at me with a grin on his face. "Hey! You're big and

strong. I'll bet those muscles are not just for show. Any chance you'd spar with me?"

I have to admit, I really want to see this kid's moves but I don't have much boxing experience. I've played around from time to time and been in a few fist fights, but I have no real 'ring time'. I am caught by surprise at the offer, "I don't know how much I can help you, Dude. It sounds fun, but I've never really boxed much. It's not going to be anything like what the champ is going to throw at you."

"Oh, I know that." Billy laughs, "But you're bigger and stronger than he is and you'll be able to move around and throw some surprises at me." Billy reaches up and tosses me a pair of gloves, "And you're going to be a damn site more dangerous than my heavy bag!"

Billy pulls off his tank top revealing a magnificent wall of corded muscle. I had visions of watching this young stud's muscles working over some dude in the ring but I never dreamed I would have the chance to pound on that body myself. As Billy wraps his fists, I pull off my shirt.

"Holy Shit!" Billy exclaims. "Damn, Dude! You didn't tell me you were a mountain of muscle!"

"Sorry, Guy. I did say I work out every day and weigh in at 225. What did you think that meant?"

"Well, I just expected a normally worked-out dude.  Most guys lift weights, you look like you fucking eat 'em!"

I reach down and slip on the gloves before the kid can change his mind. I mean, I've got the kid by 25 pounds, but I really want to see what the dude is made of. It's probably not a good tactic to beat up your new girlfriend's little brother, but I really want to see how tough this dude is. "You sound like you're changing your mind?" I say in a deliberately condescending tone of voice.

"No. No. Big Guy, I need a workout against some good competition. I just didn't expect to face freaking Goliath! I was worried about making it past my first collegiate opponent, now I have to worry about surviving my sparring session. I'll tell you what. let's go out to the yard where we have some room to work."

Billy led the way to the center of a grassy area and in the sunlight, the kid's body looked even better than before. The hard muscles on Billy's lean physique resemble armor plating. "Shit, Dude!" Billy exclaimed again, "Did you grow bigger on the way out here? Man, What muscles! Your biceps look like

you're smuggling cannonballs. How the hell big are those arms, Dude? 20, 21 inches?" The kid seems genuinely stunned, but then he's not the first.

"Actually, not quite 19, but who's counting." I respond as Billy raises his gloved fists and begins dancing around me. "Just don't kill me." He says as I take up position and begin to hunt my target.

Even though I out-muscle the boy by a long shot I know I'm up against a strong kid who can really fight. A freshman doesn't make the college varsity team for nothing. Billy hadn't said much, but I know just like

wrestling, you EARN your position. A number of guys in his weight class must have ended up at his feet before he got where he is. As I flick out a quick jab, I make a mental note to watch myself.

My timing is thrown off as my early jabs miss their target. Billy's guard is up but the kid seems to read my punches before they are even thrown. He isn't throwing shots himself and seems content just to avoid mine. For the first five minutes we dance around without the kid throwing a single punch but I've got to give him credit, out of my first 70 or 80 punches Billy has managed to dodge, slip or block everyone.  I have never seen a fight before that could go this long without either man landing a single punch!

"Alright." Billy finally comments, "If you're warmed up, let's step this up a notch." The kid adjusts his stance slightly and begins to work his way in closer.  I have to admit that I enjoy watching this kid's body move but I am getting ticked off at my inability to hit him. My canons are loaded and I long for the feel of my fist smashing into that solid young frame.

I fire off another volley of punches but again fail to find my target, then "POW" Billy's jab lands like a howitzer shell into the center of my forehead. My head snaps back from the force and my eyes cross for a moment. I look at my opponent and find three of them. It feels like all three had hit me at once. I power my right cross toward the man in the middle but I feel his fist effortlessly guide my punch past the side of his head and at the same time incredible pain begins to radiate from the side of my chest. It feels like his punch may have cracked a rib and as I pull my arm in to protect myself from further damage another thunderous jab explodes just above my nose. My knees start to buckle and it takes all my strength just to regain my footing and move back out of range.

I am dizzy and disoriented. I know I have been hurt but my feeble brain cannot comprehend how or by what. Certainly, this kid would not be able to inflict that much damage to a man my size! I have to pull myself together! I try to move back just as a hard right and left smash into my brick-wall abs. This time Billy's punches don't really do any damage but they sure sting like hell. I swing again and miss again just as the other side of my ribcage erupts in agony. I had noticed that Billy's arms were unusually developed for a boxer and now I know painfully why. This kid's hooks are deadly!!!

All of this stud's super-sets of heavy over-head presses help explain his explosive jabs and I'm not looking forward to experiencing the rest of the weapons in this kid's arsenal! I slowly regain some control over my limbs and get on my bicycle in an

effort to get away from the kid's fists. It doesn't help. The kid is too fast for me and before I can evade him the young stud is all over me again.

I try desperately to block Billy's punches but as I cover up one area his fists pound away on another. I have not been able to connect with a single punch while Billy seems to be able to smash away at will on the big target before him. I am able to block a few of his powerful punches with my massive arms but my muscles are aching from the punishment.

Normal boxing is in short three minute rounds and what little I've done usually didn't last that long. I've been throwing punches for ten minutes straight and my arms and shoulders are developing a painful burn.  It's one thing to lift weights for a few reps then rest before another set. It's totally different to throw your strongest punches over and over for ten minutes straight! It's hard to focus my attention on fighting this kid! Every part of my upper body is in agony and while I wear down, I carry the thought that I have not landed a single punch!

The workout begins to drag and I wonder just how long it will go on. I'm loading my canons and driving punch after punch and getting nowhere! All the meanwhile my muscular body is being punished by this hard muscled college boy!

At the fifteen-minute mark I am exhausted. I can no longer dance on the balls of my feet and my legs feel as though they are anchored to the ground by 100-pound plates. I have still failed to land a punch and my arms feel like they are ready to fall off my shoulders from the hundreds of punches I have thrown. Billy, on the other hand, is bouncing around just as he did when we started. It looks like he'd have no problem going 50 rounds at this pace. Meanwhile, I'm struggling just to stay upright!

The battle continues as punch after punch smash into my arms and body from every possible direction. I

don't know how much more I can take. As I stagger before him, Billy shouts "Right hook to the abs!" just before his right fist rips through my weak defenses and crashes deep into my battered gut. "Left jab to the jaw!" and his power left unloads to my mouth.

I taste blood and feel a few loose teeth as the realization sinks in that Billy is now calling his punches before he unloads on me ... and I am STILL not able to stop the punishment! "Left hook to the abs!" and the kid unloads a punch that easily doubles me over. "Right uppercut to the face!" Oh, Shit! Not the face, I think just before my vision fills with leather and I feel my brain rattle around in my head like a lone watermelon in a speeding boxcar.

I have long ago given up any pretense of winning against this young muscle machine. I hoped that my years of conditioning would protect me from the smaller dude's punches but I was wrong, painfully

wrong! There is no longer much chance of the big muscleman even being able to throw another punch. If I could muster up the energy and IF I could hit him, I know it wouldn't make any difference with the small exception of the knowledge that I could at least hit him once.

"Right cross to the head!" even with warning, I am unable to block his fist before my head explodes and snaps around smashing my face into my opposite shoulder with nearly as much power as the boy's deadly punch! Calling each punch, Billy easily guides what is left of my big muscular physique until I slump against the garage wall.

"Utter destruction of your washboard abs!" the kid announces as a seemingly endless bombardment of power punches begins smashing into what little is left of my body. Lights are flashing in my battered brain like the final fireworks display on the Fourth of July.  Each one of the young boxer's punches feels like a 100 pound box of dynamite detonating inside my broken down body.

I don't know how many times the kid has hit me, all I know is I feel cool grass against my back, a knee crushing down on each bicep and a very heavy weight on my chest. "Time to wake up, Scooter!" Billy shouts to me.

I slowly regain consciousness. The bright light hurts my eyes, damn, everything hurts like hell! My eyes are not quite swollen shut from the beating and as my vision slowly clears, I can make out Billy's deeply cut abdominals before my eyes. Above the four rows of corded muscle are mounted a pair of powerful pecs framing the young boxer's handsome face.

"UUUUGH" I moan. "What the fuck hit me?" I question.  "Just about everything, Big Buddy!" Billy laughs.  "Sorry, I guess I got a little carried away. I figured with those gigantic muscles you'd be able to take a little more pounding. Either I guessed wrong, or I don't know my own strength."

"Shit, Dude!" I hear myself say, "Just ask ME! I know your strength, all too well. So, is there some damn reason why you have me pinned here?" I hate to think what else this kid might have in mind.

"Sorry, Big Guy. It's just that on a few occasions when some big dudes come around, they start swinging."  His gloves, now off, Billy forms a pair of bare knuckled fists before my face then raises his arms in a triumphant double-biceps pose. Shit! The young stud looks absolutely deadly! "Some guy starts throwing serious punches and I instinctively defend myself. I've been known to accidentally break some jaws and many guys need an ambulance by the time I'm done. It's hard to explain to sis, I just find this easier and cleaner.

"There are others?" I question.

"Shit, Yeah!" the kid gloats. "My sis likes musclemen. What can I say? She enjoys dating big buff studs nearly as much as I like beating up her

boyfriends. I've got to admit, I haven't found one of you big studs yet who can pass up the chance to beat up some kid. You would never dream of it most of the time, but when the kid is built like me and asking for it, every one of you jumps at the chance and every one of you ends up at my feet."

"So, are you going to let me up, or what?" I ask humbly.

"That all depends." Billy smiles down at me, "Are you going to be reasonable?"

"Yeah, I think I know the score." I said sheepishly.  Pound-for-pound, Billy is undoubtedly the strongest and toughest man I've ever fought, not even taking into account the young stud's speed and skill with his fists. If I ever agree to spar with him again, we are going to have a clear understanding first.

I still can't wait to see this dynamo in the ring.  It's hard to imagine what the champ could be packing that would allow him to stand up to this young powerhouse.

"Rest up and take good care of yourself." Billy says as he pulls me to my feet. I can barely stand under my own power. I stagger as I work to maintain some form of balance while the young stud stands confidently before me with his fists on his hips.

The kid gently flexes the muscles up and down his powerful frame. "You'd really like to punch me, wouldn't you?" He laughs as he talks, "A few guys have tried." I look up and down Billy's solid young physique. There is no sign of weakness on his tightly muscled body. Billy just stands there, knowing that

his muscles would easily absorb any punch I am able to throw. His hands are on his hips leaving those rippled abs unguarded but his clenched fists make a clear threatening statement. "Go ahead. I'll give you a dozen free shots!" Billy chides me excitedly. 

The target is inviting, but I also know if I can't finish this kid off in my first 12 punches that he is going to open up and destroy me. I try to shake out my arms and test my best weapons but my guns barely move. I don't know if the kid worked over my arms and chest while I was out or if I am just now realizing the damage inflicted by the force of his fists but my biceps feel like mush. My big canons hang uselessly at my sides. As I work to flex, I discover that my pecs and shoulders are no better. Damn! I couldn't deliver any damage if I wanted to!

"Maybe some other time, Kid. I think I've seen enough of your training for one day." I know I don't stand a chance against him at this point, not that I ever did!

 "You're sure? A dozen free punches and I won't do a thing to resist you." Billy slaps his solid gut for emphasis. "Are you positive you don't want to pound on this a little?"

"And you won't fight back?" I ask. "Not at all."  Billy replies. "That is, until you're done." He adds with a smile.

 I think about it for half-a-second, but I know better, "I'm done now." I just want to get home and get some rest.

"So, you're saying that the big buff muscleman is giving up to his girlfriend’s little brother. You're afraid to even take a free shot at me?" Still smiling, Billy leans forward and gently pushes my shoulder. The kid is giving me every chance to take a swing at him, but I fear what I am in for if I take him up on his offer.

"Not now, Young Stud. I've got no more fight today.  I'm just glad nobody is here to see this." I reply.

"Well, that's not entirely true." Billy gets my immediate attention. "What do you mean?" I ask nearly in shock.

"There's nobody here but you and me." He said as I relax a little. "But I do have a video camera there in my gym window, another over there in the shed and one behind you on the porch. You took a good beating and I've got it from every angle. That's how I make money for all my gym gear. I've got a lucrative web business going. I'll tell you what, Muscleman. When you're back in shape, you let me know and I'll give you a shot at me wrestling, that might be a little more fair!" he laughs and raises his fists again as he shadow boxes around me.

Billy takes a swing, deliberately missing my jaw by a fraction of an inch. With the young stud's power, he could knock me out if he decided to make contact.  Billy's fists are so damn fast I never have a chance to block his punch. "I like you, Dude!" he said, "A lot of guys are chicken to ever come back here again, but I got a feeling you're different. Either you really got a thing for my sister or you think you're going to be able to kick my ass. Either way, I think you and I are going to get along just fine!"

The kid moves so fast he is nearly a blur as Billy's left hook slams into my gut nearly lifting me off the ground. His right fist smashes home to the same target and I double-over uncontrollably. I would fall to the ground but instead fall into Billy's muscular arms quickly gripping behind my back. One powerful squeeze and my air supply explodes from my chest.  "Oh, Yeah!" the kid exclaims as he releases me from his grip and carefully props me back on my feet. "I got to admit it, Man. I really get off seeing you big musclemen stagger around trying to stand up in front of me. I can't wait for the chance to kick your big muscle-bound ass again."

Billy throws a few more near-miss punches at me as I stagger my way back to the car. It is painfully clear to me that I will never be able to face this young muscle stud in a boxing match, but with my muscles, wrestling will be an entirely different matter.