Growing Up

 

Growing Up

by

Gym Dude

A True Story.

Growing up in the same neighborhood and being the same age, Steve and I spent a lot of time together and more often than not would end up rough-housing in the game room. Developing most of my height in grade school, I was hitting six feet by 8th grade, Steve was always on the short side, standing only 5'8". Naturally, we were both pretty slender, but he was always strong for a kid his size.

We'd wrestle around from time to time. Being the larger of the two, I was never the one to start it, but Steve enjoyed trying to bring me down. We'd mess around with various holds and try new things, but I would always lock him up and either pin him or nail him with a body scissors or full-nelson and just crush him until he gave up. This kind of thing went on for years.

Even though we went to different high schools, Steve and I would still hang together whenever we could, and as we both grew, he still worked at taking me down. We'd fight until I got bored then I'd lock him up and crush him into submission. We were both growing and getting stronger and Steve would take my punishment longer and longer, but I was always in control.

There was never any animosity between us. It was like a big brother, little brother thing, except I would never cause unnecessary pain or humiliation and would always release him as soon as he gave up, something big brothers are not famous for.

For me it was just 'something to do', fun exercise, and even though he never let on and I should have been sensitive enough to know, for Steve there was more to it. Being one of the smaller guys in our class, Steve always needed to prove himself. I had seen him in a few fights after school. For a little guy he had guts and would take on much bigger guys, but then who else was there? Anyone he thought was trying to push him around got a quick invitation to meet up after school. Like I said, Steve was strong for a kid his size. He was also quick. Steve never waited to get warmed up, it was welcome to "Fist City" from the start. He was good at body work when that was all he had to work with, but there was no question about it, Steve was definitely a "head-hunter". As is typical with schoolyard fights, a few fists in the face and most fights ended quickly.

After the guy gave up, Steve would always ask if there were any other takers. It always surprised me, considering nearly all of us had a definite size advantage. Fortunately, and I'm not sure for whom, there were never any volunteers. The overwhelming majority of our fights in those days were what I call play-fights, testing strength and learning holds. This was real, the kind of fighting you do when you're pissed or dissed. Steve would stand in the middle of the circle and make a few invitations, but no one else was in that kind of mood. He was primed but there was no one ready to deal with him. I was always there to pat him on the shoulder and we'd head for home.

In our early fights Steve would deliver some solid punches on me, occasionally on the back or shoulders but most often in the stomach. He found out they never got him anywhere and he wasn't able to hurt me or slow me down so that tactic was used less and less. In all our years, I had never punched him, even once. It just didn't seem fair, right or necessary. I never minded him hitting me, just like his wrestling holds, it didn't have any effect anyhow. I never actually gave it much thought.

I guess because I didn't start the fights, I never realized how important it was for him to win. We were great friends; it would have been no problem for me to back off and relax now and then and let him see what it would be like to actually win. We were playing around and it just never occurred to me, but winning had become a quest for Steve.

Going to different high schools meant that we both developed a lot of new friends and naturally we were spending less and less time together. It was a natural migration for both of us and to the best of my knowledge, there was never a time that either of us felt 'left out'.

Steve discovered the weight room and messed around a little with gymnastics. One weekend he took the swings off the backyard set and I sat on the cross bar holding it down while he showed me some of what he had learned on the high bar. I was impressed, especially at the courage to try this on an unsecured bar without a coach or pads. God watches out for dumb kids.

We were at the age when the lucky ones of us discover weights. Steve did, I didn't. Steve now had new buddies who were getting together after school to lift and work on their wrestling technique. Always a strong kid, Steve could more than hold his own with his bigger friends. He and his weight room buds would lift for a while then work on holds both conventional and non-scientific. They would spend hours cranking on one another developing escapes and exercises to power up specific muscle groups to help break each individual hold. Steve took to this like a duck takes to water.

We would see each other and pass the time of day, but never had the luxury in our busy school schedules to kick back in the game room like we used to. Steve had an ample supply of guys to jump and didn't need me for that outlet anymore.

Fast forward to summer following our senior year. Both Steve and I had added a couple of inches in height and a good 20 pounds or so, him more than me. We were both filling out naturally, but it was not easy for either of us to put on weight. In normal clothes I could tell he was growing, so were all of us, so I never really noticed any unusual development. Steve had talked a little about lifting and how much he enjoyed it, but it never really caught my attention at the time. My buds were into cars and rock music and chasing around discovering girls and the countryside. We wanted to be anywhere other than inside.

One warm summer day we were sitting in his back yard BS'ing and Steve popped up with the idea, "Hey, wanna wrestle?". I remember smiling at the idea. It had been a few years since we had the time and opportunity and I flashed back to how much we enjoyed it, or I should say, I enjoyed it. It didn't even strike me as odd that he would ask. As kids he would just jump me, usually from behind, which never bothered me, it made no difference in the outcome.

"There's no one around to disturb us, knock your socks off." I said.

"My lifting buddies and I have been working on some moves. I want to try them out.", Steve grinned.

We locked up and he tried a few holds, I easily broke them. I maneuvered him into a few holds, he worked his way out of some and I ended up letting him go from the others. It was going along pretty much as it always had before, taking into account that we were both bigger and stronger. I was still making sure I didn't hurt him, but I didn't let him get away with anything either.

After a while it seemed like it was about time to "put him away" so I worked him around and locked on my favorite full-nelson. It's a great hold in a friendly wrestle 'cause you don't have to work too hard and you can take your time letting your buddy give up whenever he's had enough.

I noticed as I wrapped him up that the hold fit a lot more snuggly. Steve was filling out and those shoulders took up more room than they used to. I also noticed that his neck was a lot more solid than I remembered. I cinched the hold up good and began to force his head down. I got a great deal more resistance than before and complimented him on his progress, "You're packing on some muscle, that weight training seems to be working for you. I may have to give it a try myself."

Steve was fighting back to resist my hold and I could tell this was going to take some time. This is not normally the best time for conversation, but it never stopped us before. I could hear the strain in his voice as he fought against my power, "I'm gonna get a weight set for the garage so I can workout at home. Maybe we could train together?"

"That would be cool. If we can work out a schedule, I think I'd like that", I said as I cranked up a little more power on my soon-to-be helpless friend.

Steve had flexed, forced, twisted and tried just about everything to gain his release, but nothing was working. He'd never suffered in my grip this long before and I normally would have let him go by now if it became obvious that he wasn't going to give up. I never wanted to take the chance of really hurting him, but this time while I could hear him strain, he didn't seem to be suffering. He was still fighting back so I decided to let him have a little more. Finally, I as I powered up, I was greeted with a little groan. This would be the beginning of the end and the result would be as always.

Just as I added a little more pressure, Steve flexed back and I could feel a strength and hardness in his new muscles that I hadn't noticed before. He also demonstrated a flexibility that I didn't expect when he pulled is arms back in line with mine and gripped my wrists with each hand. I have to admit the kid's grip was a great deal stronger than I remembered as well.

Steve took a deep breath, I felt his lats begin to swell, then with one mighty flex he pulled my arms apart and broke free of my prized full-nelson! I was stunned! No one had broken that hold before and for a moment I hesitated in amazement. "Cool!" I shouted. I was about to ask how the heck he did that, but before I could say another word, Steve was all over me like stink on shit!

Before I even knew what happened I was locked in a solid side headlock. My ears felt like they were being crushed. There was an amazing force smashing my head and then he locked down HARD!

Damn! I thought it hurt before, but this kid has some power! Welcome to the benefits of weightlifting! Thanks to his gymnastics and wrestling training, Steve had no problem bull-dogging me to the ground. I started to come around. Out of desperation and just plain self-defense, I rolled and twisted planting his back to the ground and began to pull out of his grip. There was one major problem with my plan, I couldn't break his hold! Steve just chuckled and cranked down harder.

Shit! I thought he was going to tear the ears right off my head, and damn it, it hurt! What's wrong with this picture? I'm supposed to always get an easy win, anytime I want it. This is not good!

"So, what do you think of my headlock? Pretty effective, isn't it?" Steve's voice was smooth and amazingly calm, "I've been working on it and it really works for me."

Yeah, like no shit! "Good. It's real good." I struggled to reply while I cranked on his arms only to find they were now cased in solid muscle and were not going to be moved by me. Steve cranked up more pressure, playing the cat and mouse game only with the tables turned. He seemed to be enjoying this a whole lot more than our past adventures.

I had to get something going and laying there getting crushed sure didn't seem to be it. As I twisted and tried to push myself up to a better position, I pressed my hand against his stomach. Steve had always been lean and firm, but now his abs were like a solid plate of steel, there was no give to them at all! This guy has really been working out and I can see that I'm going to have to join the club or get lost in the dust, but first I have to get out of this!

Like I said before, I had never hit Steve in the past, but I was out of options. I pulled back and smashed my right fist to the center of his steel plated abs. There was no effect or even a sound from Steve. I powered up and smashed a half-dozen punches up and down his mid-section. Again, the only effect was that my knuckles were now hurting in addition to my head. This wasn't working, but I have one more idea.

I began to work my fingers around the abs looking for a place to lock in. Something had to weaken this little muscle stud. I had never lost to him in the past and today was not going to be my first. I poked and prodded, but there was no weak spot to be found. It was like someone had encased his body in a steel jacket and thrown away the key!

I was exhausted. The pain and effort to fight back had taken its toll. I was weakening with every minute and making no headway in my escape. Apparently, Steve was growing bored with just lying there and decided it was time to finish me off. He cranked on me again and was immediately rewarded with an uncontrollable scream. After all these years, it was payback time and as I collapsed against the new muscles on his chest, he cranked up on me some more. My damn head was ready to explode! I could picture in my mind exactly where the Excedrin was and how I could twist off the cap just about as easily as Steve was twisting off my head!

I was helpless! There was no fight left in me as Steve began to chuckle. That little son-of-a-bitch was really enjoying this. "OK buddy. I'm going to let you off easy and put an end to this." My friend said, without releasing me. Then my blood ran cold as I felt his legs encircling my waist. I began to figure out that he wasn't done with me yet.

When most guys our age start lifting, we're interested in the 'show' muscles. We train almost exclusively the upper body, arms first, then chest, shoulders and maybe back. Most of us forget the most important part, the legs. The legs respond best and are mandatory if you want to add any weight or real strength. Steve didn't make that mistake. His legs were not massive, but were strong as hell and as hard as granite. He locked his ankles behind my back and with the first crush, I knew just how much trouble I was in. Damn, this kid got strong! I was sure he was on the way to cutting me in half! I thought his headlock hurt; I didn't even notice it compared to the crushing pain of his body scissors!

Here I thought he had developed that vicious headlock to force me into submission, which he would have gotten in just a few more seconds, but that was just the bait, now I had fallen hopelessly into his trap and I knew I was done for! He had me, it was all over.

I was more than ready to offer my submission, but as I began to mouth the words those granite pillars crushed into my helpless body again. "AAAAARGH" I screamed as the air was forced from my defeated frame. Steve laughed at my effort and locked down with even more power.

I tried to stifle the screams long enough to get out my submission. I was more than ready to beg if I had to just to put an end to the pain but each time I tried; Steve's powerful leg muscles would cut off any attempt.

I could hardly breathe. Sweat was pouring off my body. I don't even know what my arms were doing, they sure weren't helping me any. I started pounding on his midsection with both fists. The pain began to radiate up my arms, but did nothing to slow him down. After all the times I had wiped him out, Steve was now "The Man" and I had to pay!

As long as I didn't give up, I was fair game and Steve was taking full advantage of that. He used his powerful new muscles to work me over for a good ten minutes before he had enough fun and released his vice grip on my head. I didn't even notice the relief at this point, but for the first time in the "fight" I could raise my head and look my captor in the eyes. Steve had a big shit-eating grin, but the cold look in his sky-blue eyes was the same look I had seen before. Each time, after he had beaten some bigger guy into submission with his fists, Steve would stand in the middle of the circle of his fans and ask "Anybody else want a piece of me?" One look in those eyes and no one with any brains would take him up on the offer. That look was staring me in the face and I came to a clear revelation that day in the yard, I sure didn't want any more of him today!

Seeing the look of total pain and anguish on his big buddy made Steve realize just what he was doing. Knowing that for the first time in a fight with me, he was in total control, I was beaten and helpless. Steve began to slowly lighten up the pressure. I was panting and puffing just to get oxygen back into my broken body, but finally got enough air to make it official, "I give. I give. Oh, please man, I give up. You win! I'm finished!"

"Yeah. I know you are. Like I said man, I've been working out. I'm getting stronger every day and you're not. Do you realize that after all those years of taking me down, I can now kick your ass anytime and anyplace and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it? How does that make you feel, big guy?"

Shit, he was right. I was so busy hurting and trying to find some way to fight back, it had not dawned on me the significance of this battle. The pecking order had changed. 'Little brother' has surpassed 'big brother' and was taking control of the relationship. From that point on, I would be the subject and he would be the master and there was nothing I could do to challenge that, unless I wanted to undergo another major, painful beating, one that I was sure he would more than enjoy providing.

In the entire situation there was still no animosity on either side. It was just a simple fact that we both understood, I would give the little muscle stud the respect he deserves or he would beat the shit out of me again. I could live with that; I sure didn't look forward to having that iron body crush me again!

* * * * * PROLOG * * * * *

Steve and I never fought again, a fact that I have always found disappointing. We enjoyed it so much in the past and after my body healed and time helped me forget the level of pain, he so efficiently introduced me to, I would have enjoyed another shot at him, or at least I THINK I would have enjoyed it.

After that, life got busy for both of us and we rarely saw one another. I moved to a nearby town and only got back a few times a year. Steve went off to college and I went in the Marines. He continued to lift but not with the intensity he had before, I guess some of the motivation was gone and that's too bad.

The service was great for me. I finally discovered weights, learned a lot of new fighting techniques, found plenty of guys who like to work out and packed on 40 pounds of solid beef. I still hit the gym at least 4 days a week and most often 6. I've leveled off at 220 pounds, which I think is still a little light for a man at 6'2". I expect to add another 50 pounds to my bench press by summer and I'm already maxing out the leg press machine at 720 pounds for two sets of ten.

I think I'll head back to town this weekend and look up my old buddy, Steve.