After his Freshman year at High School concluded, it was warming up again, and that meant Bruce could strut around, donned only in a pair of tight Levi cutoffs, that left little to be exposed. Most of the time when it was warm he also shed his shoes, preferring to walk around with bare feet. Their bottoms soon became hardened to the occasional hot sidewalks, stones and other debris that he stepped on. Bruce was surprised by the grade of A that Mr. Stowall had given him. Shit, he thought, I didn't do a damn thing in that class, but he knew that the young teacher was attracted to him physically. That was pretty obvious from the way he kept looking at him in class, and catering to anything Bruce wanted. Stowall wasn't only afraid of him, but Bruce figured that he had a crush on him, and was unable to express it in school. Bruce knew that he turned heads when he walked around half-naked. Not only was his upper body built, along with his forearms, but he also had massive thighs and thick ankles. It was part of his genetic makeup--he had just been born that way. The best part of it was that lower legs and ankles were the hardest body parts to develop with weights. Bruce didn't have to work to develop them; he already had then and could concentrate on building his upper body. With his dark brown hair grown halfway to his shoulders he presented an impressive sight as he strutted around town. He knew that for a 15-year-old boy, going on 16, a lot of the guys that saw him were jealous of him, wishing that they could look like he did. No one kidded him about his hair because they were afraid to do so. No one except his brother--who called him a queer. Bob loathed Bruce even more now that his younger brother had been successful at wrestling. He envied the fact that Bruce was now an inch taller than him. He laughed at the long hair, and Bruce’s regimen of bodybuilding. One night, after having a few drinks at a friend's home, Bob got back about 11:00 PM that evening. Their parents had already gone to bed, but he saw a light under Bruce's door. Really feeling his masculinity Bob burst in, enhanced by the booze, and found Bruce in bed reading a book about, ‘How to Play Chess.’ "You fucking little queer, I see you strutting around town in your shorts. You really think you're a big man, don't you?" With that he pulled the mattress up on one side, sending Bruce and his book sprawling to the floor. "You need a good lesson from a real man," Bob told him, as he reached for Bruce at his neck and at his crotch, hoisting him above his head. Bob still outweighed him by more than ten pounds, and his body had been toned, being on the varsity football team. Bob was strong, there was no doubt about that. Then he pressed his brother into the ceiling, breaking one of the cheap ceiling tiles. Throwing him back on his mattress he told him: "Next time I see you strutting around with your Levis and long hair maybe I'll give you a couple of black eyes to go with it!" Then he stormed out of the room. The commotion woke everyone, and within minutes their stepfather came blustering in. "What in the shit is going on you little bastard? he asked. Bruce did not reply. "Hey, I warned you before in the middle of the night about all the ruckus. You keep it up and we'll call the cops and have you in juvee jail." With that he slammed the door shut. Bruce put the mattress back on the bed, vowing that pretty soon he would be able to take both of them. They just didn't realize it yet. He finally got to sleep. Next morning, donned in his usual attire, just the cutoffs and no shoes. Bob had already left for work, so he did not have to deal with him. His mother got him breakfast. He kept thinking about Stowall. He wondered if Stowall was really gay? He wondered where he lived, and after breakfast started paging through the telephone directory. There he was, it had to be him, Sean Stowall, l42 North Tenth Street. That was only about five blocks away. He figured that since he had the day off he would check him out. It was a hot, sultry day when Bruce started walking to Tenth Street, and pretty soon he had turned the corner to the 100 block. "142," he said, "that's gotta be in the middle of the block," so he hiked a little further. There it was, a small house, and in the driveway was a new red convertible with its top down. "Nice car, I wonder what's under the hood," Bruce observed. He took one pass at the house and did not see anyone inside or out. Then, walking to the end of the block he decided to walk by again. Stowall had seen him the first time, and had come out to take a look by the time Bruce reached the end of the block. "Wow, that has to be Bruce," he said, "But I've never seen him in shorts before. That kid must have the best build I've ever seen." He saw Bruce returning and decided that he would pretend to be polishing the car. In a couple of minutes Bruce was back. "Oh, hello Mr. Stowall," he said. "Hi, Bruce," Stowall replied, as he sized him up from top to bottom, "What are you doing here?" "Just taking a walk," Bruce replied, "What are you doing?" "Polishing the car," Stowall replied. "Really cool car," Bruce said, as he walked toward the teacher. Stowall too was shirtless, and Bruce noticed his clean-shaven chest, with a few ridges, showing his somewhat developed abdominals. He had black hair and a crew cut, and looked really young. He didn't seem to be out of shape, just smaller than him. "You work out?" Bruce asked. "Sometimes, but not enough. But I see that you do!" Stowall replied. "Yeah, I work out all the time; it seems to be paying off," Bruce added. "I can see that, you’ve got a really great build!" the teacher replied. "Thanks," Bruce said, "Do you ever do any wrestling?" Stowall said he had wrestled in high school, but not since, he just hadn't kept it up. "Would you like to try to take me?" Bruce asked. (Stowall's heart was pounding. And to himself he was saying, you bet I would like to try to take you; you're my dream come true.) "O.K.," Stowall said, " But we better do it in the house. The neighbors, you know. Come on in." "Sounds good to me," Bruce said, "You have a place to work out?" "Sure. I've got some mats in the basement, along with some weights." Bruce followed the young teacher into the house and down the stairs. Stowall let Bruce go first so he could feast on the kid's broad shoulders and see his massive legs. Downstairs there were weights and mats. Stowall worked out. Bruce never suspected that. "O.K., you better put on a pair of shorts," Bruce suggested. Stowall complied and soon re-entered the room attired in red form fitting shorts. "So whatda want to do?" Stowall asked. "Why don't we both get down in position and see what happens?" Bruce responded. He knew he outweighed Stowall by about 18 pounds and one inch in height, but was surprised that this teacher was into weights and wrestling. They both got on the mats and assumed the position. Stowall called out, "1,2, and 3." Before he could even get started Bruce was on top of him and has him in a full nelson. Stowall was squirming, but could not extricate himself from Bruce's grip. He was flaying his legs--to no avail. Bruce's powerful legs finally connected with his, rendering him helpless. -----TO BE CONTINUED. IF YOU ENJOY THE MUSCLESTUD BRUCE STORIES LET ME KNOW AT: OJT1o@netscape.net. That way we can keep them coming, and you can find out what eventually happens! John Thomas.
