The Exam

Disclaimer/Reminder: The following story is a work of gay fiction although based on non-fictional occurrences. It contains sexual acts involving males in high school as well as males beyond high school age. There are scenes of definite humiliation, some of them graphic. If this subject matter is offensive to you or if you are too young to be reading it, please exit now. You have been warned. This story is the property of the author under U.S. copyright laws, and may not be used elsewhere without written consent. Otherwise enjoy. Emails expressing interest or wishing further information can be sent to: mtnuda@hotmail.com.

Note: All names and locations have been altered to protect the innocent. The state in which the story originally happened - coincidentally - has a legal age of sixteen; the "fictionalized" location does not. Also descriptions of unprotected sex are fictional due to story restraints. You understand you are reading a work of fiction; behave accordingly. Again, do not read this if you're a minor or are offended by gay situations or activities which can be classified as bdsm. Finally, thanks to all you loyal readers who have stuck with this story through all the years. This next chapter was too long in execution, but hope you enjoy it because you loyal readers -- dare I say horny? -- readers have been begging for more chapters, especially those involving certain characters.

Some readers have pointed out the various loose ends, many untold tales to which the characters have alluded without going into details. Sordid, nasty, embarrassing details. Well after much arm-twisting and not a few beers, some of these characters have been "persuaded" to flesh out (right!) some of these tales. Others wanted to know more about how certain events could happen in the first place without drawing the attention of the authorities as it were. So I thought I would fill in some of those gaps in the story and by doing so, you might have a better idea of how our poor unsuspecting victims came to find themselves in such predicaments. Or not, as the case may be.

Loyal readers might remember the circumstances of the police raid at Mort's in Chapter Eighty-Eight and wonder why half the male population did not end up in County Jail. After reviewing the tapes from the docs' and those from the warehouse and their parallel time lines, a clearer picture starts to emerge

(NOTE: Although this is a "stand-alone" story, the reader is STRONGLY advised to begin at the beginning. The characters in this chapter, especially the bodybuilder Bo Harrison and the cop Jim Larson will make more sense.)

Wednesday Jun 12

"So are we still on for tonight?" Steve Braersten was finishing getting into his civilian clothes. He saw the hesitation on his buddy, Jimmy Larson's face "...what?"

"I dunno, gotta check with the wife, call me at six, okay?"

"Larson y'gettin cold feet?" Larry Jensmull stuck his head around the corner of the lockers "y'can't wuss out on us man" he grabbed his belly and gave a shake "y'don't want us gettin all flabby n'all, d'ya? What's the chief gonna think?"

"He'll think y'spend too much time at the donut shop" James grabbed his gripbag and started for the door "and he'd be right Lar."

"I'll call ya."

"Call me."

Larry turned to Steve and whistled "I'm not the one should be worrying if he backs out."

"We both got that t'worry about" Steve looked down at his thirty-eight inch waist. He had tried to keep his football physique from turning into plain boring bulk but had been losing the battle these last few years. Having his close bud to work out with was not something he could afford to lose. And when they scored that muscle stud James to join their group, and recently even coach them and all, well it was proving vital to their ongoing battle "me especially."

"Thought y'were losing..." Larry allowed himself more that a quick glance at Steve's body "how much y'weigh now?"

"Still around two forty."

"Hell, that's better than... what were you last year?"

"Don't remind me" slamming his locker "man, talk about letting the scale getting the upper hand..."

"Yeah, but look at you now! You're getting ripped!"

"Funny Jism" rolling his eyes "when I start lookin like Larson, THEN I'll be ripped."

"But..."

"Hell, even you're in better shape'n -- "

"Even? Even me Bearbreath?" throwing his towel at him, missing by a mile "so lemme know about tonight okay?"

"Will do" and then Steve was heading for the door as well.

Steve called Tony Norton to make sure he was still free and hosting. When Tony told him he had "family issues" Steve felt something three steps just short of panic. Without Tony's makeshift exercise space in his two-car garage the foursome had no place else to do their Wednesday workout. They were in their critical week-four stage and Steve for one could not afford to lose any of his hard-gained momentum at this point. Besides he was beginning to notice how much he had invested in their workouts. Not financially, but something else. Even though all the other guys were much younger and in better shape, he could not shake the idea he was "responsible" for them, like an overprotective den leader or shit. And it worried him how much he was growing to depend on their time together, especially where that Larson guy was concerned. He knew at bottom it was really Larson that called the shots, it was Larson that said "jump" and they all scrambled all over each other to see how high. And somehow it fell to Steve as the more senior of the group to keep this well-oiled team happy and trim. But nights like this the responsibility was four concrete bags too heavy on his big shoulders.

If Tony's place would be unavailable tonight then Steve had to come up with someplace else. And fast. Hell his wife would rag on him for weeks if he brought these guys home, even if he had the facilities, which he didn't. There was always the Y, but Larson hated that place, something he reminded them of at every possible opportunity. The reasons were familiar to all of them, so there was little use is even mentioning it at that point. So Steve felt like he was over the barrel and not happy about that, not one bit.

Before he called Larry to see if just maybe he had any ideas, a long-shot at best, he had one last ace up his sleeve. His personal long-shot but it was worth a try. He made a call to a poker-buddy friend of his who had mentioned a place his group used sometimes for their weekly games. He gave Steve the phone number of another Steve, and before Steve could pepper him with questions got off the phone, something Steve found a bit odd. As luck would have it he reached the other Steve's cell and even better, the place was available that night.

"Hey Lar."

"Yeah Steve, what's up?"

"Got a change in plans for tonight is all."

"Like what? Y'can't make it? Y'wimpin out on us?"

"Ain't like that. Norton's garage is a no-go but --"

"What the fuck? What's his problem now?"

"That wife of his again so -- "

"So what? We sure as fuck ain't talkin Jimmy into the Y y'know how -- "

"Got another place."

"What? Not the place in Falls."

"No hell no. Remember my friend Steve? Poker Steve?"

"Only by reputation. So how much y'into him by now?"

"Don't ask. But he's got access to somethin like a private gym..."

"Yeah right, where?"

"South side. We use it sometimes for our game."

"So what we suppose to work out with? Card tables? Hell we're gonna need something like equipment Braersten! Like -- "

"He's got it, okay? He says the back room's all tricked out for a friend of his who uses it for his own private gym n'all."

"Yeah right. Some high school punk got some old dusty treadmill in there, big fuckin deal! That ain't gonna -- "

"No it's cool, okay? I saw some of it and he's got like a total set-up there. Ain't like the fanciest nautilus shit, but free weights, benches, the whole nine yards. All we're gonna be needin."

"Y'sure about this Steve? Y'know how Jimmy gets, and y'don't -- "

"Hey I can handle this, okay? Trust me. Unless y'hear from me, meet me at my place at six."

"Sure as fuck hope y'know what you're doin" and he hung up.

Steve called Jim and told him to meet him at his place around six-fifteen. Jim of course wanted to know why Tony was not hosting and where this other place was, but Steve just played into Jim's reckless curiosity and told him it would be something not to miss. Jim had a thousand questions; Steve just told him six-fifteen and left it at that.

So at six-o-five Jim pulled up in front of Steve's place and would have grilled him to death but Larry was already there, and by the time Jim was reluctantly agreeing to their adventure, they were already in Steve's car and half-way across town.

When they got to that mysterious address, Poker Steve was already waiting for them. He told them to park in back -- that got Jim's radar alerted -- and ushered them inside like they were smuggling contraband. Jim could smell something fishy and was about to turn tail when they went inside and saw the endless boxes. It appeared to be some kind of storage warehouse which almost explained a tenth of the mystery. And better, there was not a single shifty character to be seen anywhere. Jim almost let his guard down but then the group was ushered through the office and into Bo Harrison's private work-out room. Bo and his friend Steve had a certain understanding about what Bo used this space for, and as long as the work-out videos continued to find a maket with that selective audience, Poker Steve continued to let Bo make his increasingly r-rated videos. Like Steve was going to argue with three hundred pounds of black muscle! Not for that kind of money.

So when Steve asked to use Bo's space for him and his friends to work out, there was a vague discussion about what he meant by "work out". Of course the poker players had no clue what went on there on those other nights, and Poker Steve was going to keep it that way. But having a bunch of cops work out in the same room Bo would use for his kink shows was almost too weird and more than a little dangerous to boot. And if things got a bit shaky down the line, if Bo and his activities got unnecessary publicity from unwelcome quarters, well then maybe just maybe Steve thought a few friends on the force might come in real handy. Or so his desperate brain was coming up with.

"Well whatdya think?" Poker Steve waved them around the room "it ain't the Y but -- "

"That's a good thing" Jim was quick to add "that place..."

"Don't suppose y'got locker rooms or anything" Larry looked around, trying not to compare the set-up to the makeshift arrangement in Tony's garage. He hated to admit this place had that garage beat by a long shot and this place was more than adequate for a bunch of lugs like themselves to do their weekly sweat-outs.

"Hey, this ain't the Hilton guys" Poker Steve held up his hands "but yeah. There's a changing room through that door, the john's there also."

"Suppose a shower's too much to ask."

"Nope, a shower's back there too" Poker Steve was not about to go into more details.

"You know about all this?" Jim looked at his buddy Steve with both concern and amusement "you been holdin out on us pal?"

"In a word no and hey, we been fine so far with Tony's, right?"

"Y'mean his garage" saying it like it was synonymous with "dump". He was not that far off "and damn Steve-O now y'tellin us all the time this place's been just sittin here collectin dust?"

"So why is all this stuff here again?" Larry looked around, still trying to take it all in "it's like somebody's private gym or something?"

"Yeah, something like that" Poker Steve shrugged, not wanting to volunteer details.

"Damn, must be one big fucker been using these" looking at the ridiculous collection of plates still loaded onto the barbell.

"So you guys got the place free for the first hour today" Poker Steve headed for the outer office "then I start chargin."

"Thought he was payin US" Jim mugged, throwing out his chest.

"Hey, he's lettin us use it for free tonight" Steve looked at his friend a bit nervous "right Steve?"

"First hour's a freebie" Steve nodded "then we gotta work somethin out from there."

"Seriously" Larry was seeing the benefit of using this place over Tony's bare-bones garage setup "how much... y'know, if..."

"I'm thinking maybe fifty an hour" Poker Steve stood with his hand on the doorknob. He pulled the number out of the air, but as soon as he said it, he knew it was too small.

"Fifty? An HOUR???" Jim sputtered "yer kiddin right?"

"Three guys using the place n'all" Steve tried to look tough "hell, the electricity alone's..."

"Okay, okay guys" Steve didn't want this to spoil his deal at that point "don't sweat it. Steve here's doin us a favor tonight okay?"

"Yeah, sure right" Jim looked around the place, knowing he was getting a good deal even if he had to pay, which he didn't. Hell, he'd pay a hundred clams just to keep far away from that Y. Not that he'd ever admit it though "hell I'm just yankin ya, thanks Steve."

"You're welcome" they both answered.

"Okay this is kinda weird" Larry looked at Poker Steve "you're Steve, and you" looking at his bud "you're..."

"He's Big Steve" Jim laughed, pointing at his gut "right?"

"Funny Lardbutt."

"Okay Buttsten it is" Jim looked at Larry, liked he'd contradict him. Larry only shrugged.

Larry -- Poker Larry -- just shrugged and closed the door behind him. The three cops looked around the place, then Jim barked "okay enough yakking, let's do it" and led them to the changing room.

They griped and moaned about how small and uncomfortable the changing room was -- which is was not -- but they got into their workout clothes and back out to the main room with no further discussion. Before long they were warming up and taking turns on the weight bench just like it was their new home.

It was Larry who spotted the camcorder first. He was standing there dripping sweat while Jim was doing his presses with his typical coolness, not sure if he should open his mouth about it or not. He decided to ignore it and just hope the other guys would too. When it was Steve's turn at the bench, Jim as always went into drill-sargeant mode. Or as Steve complained, it was more "slave driver" mode.

"Don't go all hardass on me" Steve racked the weights after his rep "that's how you told me to do it."

"Like hell I did Numbnuts" Jim was sweating and red in the face. He had a good burn going and was getting major pumped "move your butt, Buttsten I gotta show ya again" almost pushing him off the bench. He took Steve's place and started to do three quick lifts. When he was finished he barked "see? Like that! Not with your elbows flying all over shit. Keep'm tight in and use your -- "

"Fuck you Larson, that's what I WAS doin!"

"Like hell. You were all -- "

"Like you just did, that's the same way -- "

"Do I gotta draw you a picture? I could prove if it..." he looked around "shit my phone's back in my pants in the changing room. I should take a picture and show you how sloppy... but I don't have a fuckin camera here now do I?" looking around the room.

Larry tried to look everywhere but where the camcorder stood on its stand hoping Jim would not see it. Fat chance of that.

"Fuck!" Jim was over to the camera in three seconds "like how long's this been here? Larry did you see this -- "

"Hey don't look at me! I don't -- "

"Too sweet or what" Jim looked at the chamber for the tape expecting it to be empty, but instead finding a tape already inside. He plugged the camcorder into the wall and hit play expecting to catch something interesting and maybe even blackmail material again Steve sitting there looking guilty as shit. But the damn thing was blank "shit, thought I could catch someone doin somethin really nasty -- like cheating at cards or somethin."

"You wish" Steve gave up the bench for Larry as fast as he could.

"Not so fast numbnuts, y'didn't finish your set" Jim had the camcorder pointed right at the bench. Steve saw the lens pointing at his sweaty body and all but pushed Larry back into position.

"Why me?" he almost whined "why don't you -- "

"Cause you need it the most is why" Jim smirked "now let see you do it right without those elbows flying around like you're trying to fly away or shit" which was how it started. Steve knew better than to argue with Larson so he took he spot on the bench and did his flies and when he was finished he expected the usual shit about his sloppy form. Instead Jim whistled, almost paying him a compliment,

"Not bad not bad at all Numbnuts" Jim all smiles "maybe we should keep that damn camera on you the whole night -- "

"No fuckin way" from Larry almost half way across the room "y'made your point Larson."

"Naw I think it's the only way we're gonna keep Bearbreath here legit, otherwise he's gonna get all sloppy and lazy as soon as we turn it off."

"Fine, like I give a rats ass" Steve shrugged "not like I got anything to hide. I ain't all wussy I ain't afraid of a little cheap-ass camera" looking at Larson, seeing his face all flushed "besides, I'm thinking it's Jimbo here's all camera shy, not me."

"Me? Camera shy?" Larson puffed out his chest, like it could get any bigger "I ain't the lardbutt here" and just like that his t-shirt was yanked up his sweaty chest and tossed into a corner "y'think I got anything to be shy about?" flexing and pumping out his arms and chest for the camera "looking like this?"

"Okay okay y'made your point" but it was Larry who was acting all nervous "put yer clothes on before ya -- "

"Before I what, doughboy?" Jim continued to flex, even pulling up his shorts, exposing his upper thighs, all rippling and corded.

"C'mon Larson I thought we were gonna get some lifting in, time's running out here."

"Don't get bent outa shape Lar "Jim finished his little show "y'heard the man Steve, your turn."

Steve glanced at Larry who looked almost as nervous as he was starting to feel. Why would he be feeling all butterfly-stomached when it was Jim who was half-naked in front of a camera for crissakes! Steve got down on the bench but Jim told him to get up and do some shoulder lifts instead.

"And after you're finished with those y'can do some squats with the bar, that'll keep that lardass of your from going all flabby."

"Hey!"

"At least for tonight" Jim nudged Larry "cause we both know you're gonna hit the drive-thru as soon as y'ditch us" getting a soft chuckle from him.

Steve was having none of it. To show his growing impatience with Larson's antics he turned his back on them and the camera as well. No sooner had he gotten his third done than he heard some soft snickering behind him. He chose to ignore the two clowns and continued, working his sixth and seventh lift done with growing struggle when he felt two hands at his hips and just as the bar cleared his chin he felt his shorts tugged down around his knees. He dropped the barbell with a loud bang and yanked his shorts back up but by then the damage was done. His torn and stained briefs were exposed long enough to get a huge laugh from both of them.

"What the FUCK!" he wheeled around, fists cocked, ready to take a swing at whoever did it "what the -- " but the two were almost doubled over laughing so hard. As pissed as he was at Jim -- it had to be Jim! -- he knew better than to start trading punches with him or something equally stupid. Besides he looked so ridiculous the way he was laughing and Steve almost had to admit it was funny. Well it would be really funny if it had been Larry or somebody else "okay you two fuckers y'had your fun so knock IT OFF!"

"You shoulda seen yourself numbnutts" Jim hi-fived Larry, so they were both behind it, Steve could see "don't y'believe in clean undies?"

"What if y'woulda been in accident or shit?" Larry joined in "y'can't be walking outa the house with dirty knickers" and that set them off again.

"Okay okay enough already" looking at the clock "y'had your fun, so we gotta finish up before Steve really does start chargin us."

"Okay okay" Jim elbowed Larry "besides nothin's topping that!"

Larry took one last set and then Poker Steve came back and told them they had to clear out because he was closing up the place. They finished up and gathered their street clothes.

"What? No showers?" Jim made a point of sniffing at their directions "I ain't riding with you two skunks" in a big hurry to get out of that place, the camcorder completely slipping his mind.

"Next time Larson" Steve was already in his street clothes "like I trust you two in the showers. No tellin what you two might pull."

"Do believe our friend here" Jim chuckled "is developing issues, what you think?"

"Dream on Larson" Steve shot back, but it did put some nasty ideas in his head.

June 19

Next Wednesday Tony made even more lame excuses, almost nervous like, about not being able to host, something about plans with his son that night. And Steve was back on the phone to his new friend Poker Steve as soon he got the news.

"So is this gonna be like a regular Wednesday thing?" Poker Steve already saw the angle "cause if it is we gotta start charging you guys."

"Naw ain't like that, just this week okay?"

"Well y'know I gotta charge ya."

"C'mon Steve, thought we're buds."

"And we are, so it's only gonna be like..." doing some quick calculations in his head "okay, y'can have the place for sixty."

"Sixty? You like shittin me?"

"That's not a lot for an hourly charge. Hell, other places -- "

"An hour?? C'mon Steve why don't ya just put a gun to my head!" Steve felt the sweat running down his shirt "y'can't be charging the poker guys that much.

"Yeah right, me pulling a gun on a badge, real smart" but Poker Steve was almost laughing. And dodging the comment.

"C'mon bud, cut me a break here."

"Okay, how about this" like he didn't have it planned already "either sixty for the three of you for one hour, or maybe... just because I guess I can trust you guys... how about two hours for a flat hundred. You know the facilities are not shabby. That's a good deal Steve."

"Shit..." Steve knew he was over the barrel "yeah maybe just this one week. But next week we gotta work something out."

"Oh we can figure something out" Poker Steve was already doing the figuring. If he played it right, this could all become his retirement fund.

"Okay, we'll be there at seven."

"Seven, fine" and they hung up.

Steve got them all bundled into his car and to the warehouse by quarter of seven. He was almost hoping to catch Poker Steve doing something shady and have him reduce the price accordingly, but when then came through the storage area and into the back workout area, Poker Steve already had the place cleaned and ready.

"You guys are early" he said, throwing a bunch of towels and dropcloths into a large laundry bag.

"Yeah, we wanted to talk to you first" Jim was weighing his gymbag like it held the cash "about the money."

"What about it?"

"Don't you think a hundred bucks is a bit stiff?"

"Three guys, two hours, thirty and change each? Nope, not really."

"For this place?" Jim looked around "hell it ain't the goddamn hilton."

"And it ain't the Y either, Jim" Larry was not going to let the other guys blow a good thing. He for one liked the idea of their private workout space, far from relatives, far from all those strangers and worse at the Y. Hell, he could get used to this arrangement.

"Okay so you pay the man then."

"We're all gonna pay, it's fair" Steve had his wallet out and handed Poker Steve and ten and a twenty.

"Just leave it in this" Poker Steve took the bills and put them in a big glass jar sitting on a makeshift desk outside his office "we'll square it away at the end of the night. Shit if I can't trust a bunch of cops..." and he headed into his office.

"Okay I chipped in" Steve looked at Jim and Larry "I ain't paying for you two as well."

"Why not? You're the one who arranged all this, you can just pay it all fuck, you sure as hell can afford it."

"Here's mine" Larry threw in his bills "it ain't all that."

"Jim?" Steve pointed at the jar "well?"

"We'll see how it goes... tonight."

"What the fuck that supposed to mean?"

"Let's get changed and then decide" and Jim headed for the changing room. The two others followed, exchanging curious expressions.

They started their workout, still trying to pin Jim down on what he was planning. Instead of answering their questions he suggested they get that camcorder out again.

"What the fuck for?" Steve sat on the bench already dripping sweat, his gray South athletic t-shirt as stained as it was torn "we sure as fuck don't haveta 'keep using that thing here. What''re ya thinking?"

"Hey Steve" Jim went to the door of the office "hey."

"What's up guys?" Poker Steve's head appeared around the corner, his cell pressed to his chest.

"Where's that camcorder? It still around here?"

"Now what? You planning on another -- "

"He ain't planning anything" Braersten appeared behind Jim "knock it off okay?"

"It still here?" Jim was looking over Steve's shoulder at the office. He was almost using the excuse to scan the office perhaps hoping to find a lot of contraband. Instead all he saw was a computer "surfing for porn?"

"Yeah right" Poker Steve looked at the two "so what you want the camcorder for?"

"We don't, okay."

"Yeah we do, Bearbreath" Jim looked to see what what on Steve's computer screen. But all he could see were a bunch of charts and diagrams "so...? Or did y'take it home with ya."

"No it's here" Poker Steve looked at Larry now joining them at the door "so..." mocking Jim's voice "you guys got the money?"

"We do" Larry gave Jim a punch to the shoulder "but Jim here..."

"He thinks the two of us should be paying for him" Steve said like it was the most ridiculous thing "like that's ever gonna happen."

"You don't think you should pay?" Poker Steve looked at Jim, giving him a good hard up-and-down "why's that?"

"It's just y'know -- "

"Maybe I should pay you, huh?" Poker Steve gave the slightest smile.

"Yeah, there y'go."

"Think you're all that? You think you're worth the cash?" Poker Steve looked at all three of them now "why you dudes think you're so special?"

"Don't know about these two" Jim threw out his chest like he had been practicing "but I know I look good."

"In your dreams Larson" Larry was beet red and beading sweat.

"Well..." Poker Steve walked away from the door and back to his deck, giving the impression he was deep in thought.

"Hey it was just a joke okay?" Larry took a few steps back, away from the bottleneck at the door, fearing something was going down he was not cool with "c'mon Jim, tell'm it was a joke, okay?"

"I dunno, Steve? Were you joking?"

"Maybe, maybe not" Poker Steve knew he had a roomful of cops and he had to be careful "so now if you don't feel like paying any money, and you are all eager to use the camcorder... gimme some ideas here, guys."

"Huh?" Larry heard the words money and camcorder all the way from the other room "what you guys planning?"

"You saying you almost want to be taking pictures of us?" Jim tried to sound outraged "during the workouts and all?"

"Is that your suggestion?" Poker Steve leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head "your idea is what exactly?"

"Aren't you suggesting we, I dunno, trade something?"

"Like?"

"You..." Jim bit his lip, his chest flexed to the max, cocky and nervous in equal amounts "let us, y'know, use this dump -- "

"It ain't no dump" Braersten argued fast.

"This place y'know for free like, and what? You willin to trade for runnin this damn camera, is that it?"

"You suggesting some kind of a trade?"

"Yeah that's it, a trade like" Jim looked at Steve "right? That's cool right?"

"That's the most dumbass thing I ever heard in my fuckin life" Steve shrugged but did not say no "even for you Larson."

"Well... maybe... just maybe" Poker Steve closed his eyes like he was deep in thought "maybe it's possible can work something out" shrugging like it was no big thing "camcorder is behind the door" nodding his head towards Jim.

"And we don't have to y'know pay t'use this place anymore, right?"

"Up to you" Poker Steve shrugged and went back to his phonecall like they were taking up his valuable time.

"I don't know about this" Steve was almost trying to get between Jim and the door but he was five steps behind "no way Larry's gonna go along with this."

"Along with what?" Larry came up behind him, seeing Jim wrestling the camcorder and its stand from the wall and through the door "what's that for?"

"Put your money away guys" Jim was beaming, sweating but beaming "I just saved your asses a hundred bucks!"

"What the fuck we gotta do?" Larry asked Steve.

"Oh keep yer shirt on Jimsmell" Jim pushed the camera past them and wheeled it back to its usual spot "nothing Bearbreath or me ain't doin too okay?"

"Doing what Larson?"

"Jim here now got this fucked up idea he wrangled a deal with Steve so we don't haveta pay a damn cent as long as..."

"As long as" Jim checked the tape and sure enough there was another blank one there. A part of his brain told him there was something really odd about that but that part was all but pushed to the back of the line. He saw his stupid gamble starting to get out of control, but damn if he was going to let on to those two he thought he might have put his foot in it this time.

"As long as what?" Larry was doing his best to ignore that great big black lens pointing at them.

"As long as we let him keep some kind of... I dunno... record of all of our activities here, right?" patting the camera like a good puppy.

"And do what with them?" Larry did not like any of this one bit.

"Them?" Steve was enough of a trained cop not to let something like that slip "huh Steve?"

"Don't give yerself a coronary" Jim hit record and went back to the bench, dragging the barbell over to the rack "don't worry about it. THIS is what you should be worried about."

"No really Steve, what's gonna happen to the tapes" he asked Poker Steve.

"Not like you gotta worry about that with me keeping them under lock and key, safe and sound here."

"So what's the point of taping in the first place."

"To make sure we don't walk outa here with half the place, right Steve?" Jim was grabbing twenty and thirty-five point plates with both hands like he could not wait to get this started "c'mon you two pansies we're wasting time here" looking at the clock on the wall "that's already twenty minutes you clowns wasted."

"Later" and Poker Steve was back in his office. And back to his computer, checking the wireless feed. Dumb cops, he snorted to himself.

"Look guys..." Larry was not making any moves towards the equipment "I don't think this is such a good idea, y'know, I mean making movies and all, I mean what if..."

"What if what, Jismboy" Jim had the barbell loaded and slid underneath "what if we show you up for the kid runt you are?"

"Hey."

"You just don't wanna record of how totally lame you are, ain't that it?" Jim grabbed the bar and started a set of bench presses. When he had done ten he re-racked the bar and looked at Larry, barely out of breath "your turn. Gimme ten."

"With that" thumbing at the one-eyed beast not fifteen feet away "on?"

"Yeah Jismboy, with that on" Jim knew where the key fit the lock "or ain't ya got the balls boy?"

"Fuck you Larson" but that was enough to get Larry Jensmull, twenty-seven, five ten, two fifteen pounds of high school football muscle to take his position on the bench. Even with all the plates on the bar, about twenty pounds more than his normal starting amount, he managed to do ten but the last two started burning him good.

"See, nothing to it" Jim looked at the camera, then at his main pain-in-the-butt Steve "your turn."

"Piece of cake" and not to be outdone Steve threw on another twenty pounds. Jim may have been in better shape, more fit and more toned, but one thing Steve was and that was big. So a set of ten presses only got him fired up all the more "like that Jimbo?" knowing he hated to be called that.

"Yeah, just like that Ballbreath" adding two more twenty's "now we're getting serious."

He slid under the bar and with a deep grunt got it off the rack. He managed the first five with a certain amount of effort, but then his arms and chest started protesting the short break from the prior set.

"Finish it Larson " Steve went over to the camera and moved it closer to the bench, so it was almost by Jim's feet "do it. Ten!"

"Hey, this ain't a contest" Larry gave him a pissed look when he saw him reposition the camera "and besides I could wipe the floor with you two"

"Like hell" adjusting the angle "three more -- all ten -- or me and Larry here gotta come up with something to motivate your bragging ass, like assign a penalty or -- "

"What?" from Larry.

Jim could do little more than grunt and got seven and eight up. Number nine and his arms started shaking. He got number ten lowered but as he was struggling to get it up and back to the rack he lost control. Luckily Larry was there to spot him and give him assist.

"Only nine Jimbo. Only nine" Steve was going to enjoy this "so Larry, what should our big fucking karate star musclehead here have to do?"

"What the fuck you two talking about I never agreed to do anything, I ain't -- "

"These are the rules, to keep you from getting all sloppy" Steve was going to make sure he did not lose this in any way "you don't finish all ten, you do some kinda penalty."

"Hey wait!" Larry looked at all the weight racked up and knew he could not come close to ten at that amount "no way."

"He loaded the bar himself, it's his own funeral."

"But what if..."

"You loaded whatever you think you can do, but it better be -- "

"At least five pounds more'n your first rep, then whatever" Jim's competitive streak was challenged now and he was not going to let these two couch potatoes show him up "but y'better do all ten. Deal Steve."

"It's worth it just t'see ya go down" Steve looked at Larry "right?"

"Hey I'm not part of this, it's between you two."

"We're all in this" Jim gave up his place on the bench "all or nothing Jismboy."

"Yeah fine" and he pulled off the last four twenty pounders.

"Not so fast" Jim tried to stop him "what're ya doing?"

"Remember I get to set my own weight remember?"

"Hasta be at least five more than last one" Jim put two tenners back on "and that's what ya had last time" and they started arguing about whether he had one forty or one fifty last time. With Steve's help they agreed on one forty-five "and all ten remember?"

"Yeah" Larry positioned himself on his back with a loud humpph "I remember" and he started his set. For a while it looked like he could only do nine, especially with Jim doing everything he could to distract him, shouting "wuss" and "weakling" and "lame" but Larry pushed the last one up with something like brute luck.

"Ten" he grunted and rolled off the bench.

When it was Steve's turn, the weight was back up to one eighty. He pressed the first eight with what looked like a great deal of difficulty. Again Jim started with the taunting and the jeering, almost leaning on the bar trying to make him default, but Steve pushed up the last two like he was just starting.

"There!" racking the bar "now you Larson!" rolling out from beneath it "about your penalty from last time."

"What penalty?"

"Cut the shit Larson" Larry joined in "remember you didn't do all ten."

"That was before we -- "

"Tough" Steve tagteamed "don't matter shit. Either you do the penalty or -- "

"What penalty?"

"Whatever the other two decide, Larry any ideas?"

"Yeah I can think of a whole bunch of nasty-ass shit" he turned bright red "but not anything you'd have the balls t'do with that thing" thumbing at the camcorder purring away "still on."

"Yeah try me."

"Do the next set" Steve interrupted him "butt ass naked!"

"What?!?!" from the other two "what'dya say?"

"Y'heard me" Steve knew Jim would cave before he did anything so blatant and compromising. And sure as hell not with a record of it to end up godknowswhere "lose the rags Larson."

"Y'big fag, like that ain't ever gonna happen" Larson reloaded the bars to his regular amount less one ten "besides I'm thinkin y'might fuckin get all hot and bothered on it too much."

"In yer dreams Jimbo" Steve knew he never would agree but it was worth it just getting under his skin "the only guy getting all hard and sweaty over Jimbo naked would be the guy in the mirror" and Larry busted out laughing.

"Fuck ain't that the truth" Larry wiped his forehead "c'mon Jim ya gotta admit no one gets off on how you look as much as you yerself, admit it Jim."

"Just because I ain't a lardass like -- "

"I ain't no lardass" Steve blurted out before Jim named names.

"And y'ain't no mister america either, okay?"

"Like you are!"

"At least I ain't ashamed t'take off my shirt at the beach."

"I ain't either!"

And it degenerated into so many oh-yeahs? back and forth between Jim and Steve. Larry did all he could to stay in the background until the worst died down then gave one of his trademark hundred decibel whistles.

"HEY!" he yelled once he got their attention "you two finishedwith all this gradeschool shit yet?"

"He started it" Jim whined, but they all knew he was not even serious at that point.

"Okay and I'm finishing it" Steve knew Jim was not pushing anymore "okay here's the penalty. This time you lose the shirt next time -- "

"Next time?" Jim paused with his t-shirt half off "what next time?"

"Next time you lose something worse, only a matter of time" Steve was going to make this work in his favor either way "yeah, lose it Larson."

"You fags are enjoying this way way too much" and off came his top. And Jim being Jim went to the camera and did a few double biceps poses just to make his point. Even with the few sets already done that night, his big arms and chest already were pumped and bulging out, his muscles prominent enough to make him more than hot camera material. His big smooth pecs and large round shoulders covered with just enough sweat to make them pop were impressive enough to place him in a local physique contest if he had the time or nerve to enter. But this session tonight was his own personal "dress rehearsal" in a way, to see if someday he might have the balls to get up in front of an audience and show off his developed body.

"Okay okay, y'don't gotta get all homo about it" Steve was almost getting to enjoy the show "it's supposed to be a penalty for crissakes."

"Okay fine" Jim turned back to them "but next time you two fags better not lose" pumping his arms more "cause I'm thinking of some nasty shit here."

"You're the one gonna lose" Steve chose his weights for the squats next. He knew this one would get to Jim whose strength was all in his upper body. He did his ten without making it look too easy so Jim did not get all suspicious. And as he guessed, Jim had to increase the weight by another two plates. He positioned himself under the rack and started his squats almost rethinking his ambitious amount. His ninth and then his tenth squat made his legs feel like they were on fire, hoping the other two did not notice.

"Done!" he grunted reracking the bar "you fucking better not fuck up Jensmull!"

"I won't, count on it" Larry removed the two plates, so he was back around normal weight, in Steve's range. He was doing fine, his thick hams and glutes straining but nothing to cause alarm when he heard someone wheeling the camcorder right behind his butt. Just at that same moment he squatted down for number eight when he heard the distinct ripppppp! of something giving way. He was too freaked to finish his ten.

"Damn!" he barely got the bar back in the rack when he heard the laughing behind him "what?"

"Well I was gonna make ya lose the shorts" Jim gave them a short tug "but that totally settles it. Okay Jismboy, ya can't wear those torn things" between chuckles from both of them "lose'm."

"C'mon guys!" seeing the camera pointing right up his ass "no fair! You rigged this shit!"

"Maybe next time you're wear something ain't gonna fall to pieces on ya Larry" Steve was suddenly on Jim's side for some oddball reason "go on. Ain't like you're buttass naked underneath them, right?" bringing around round of laughing "go on, be a sport."

"Shit" Larry looked at his shorts ripped right up the ass, then the camera, then at Steve trying to keep a straight face and failing. But Larry was not laughing when he tugged off his running shorts and tossed them in the corner. He stood there with his hands over himself, his boxer briefs covering him almost as much as his shorts. But it was the principle, he told himself "you're next, Steve."

"Yeah sure maybe fine we'll see" and then it was round two. Jim took his crouch under the bar but Steve interrupted,

"hey!"

"Hey what?"

"Ain't ya forgetting something?"

"Like."

"We been over this Jimbo, ten more remember?"

"I ain't agreed -- "

"It was your idea, remember?" Larry added. If he was going to have to do all this in his underwear, camera and all, he sure as shit was going to make it worth his while. And seeing big arrogant Jim Larson taken down a peg or two was almost worth his own humiliation. And seeing Larson half-ass naked was not all that hard on the eyes, he almost had to admit. He almost did not believe how easy it was to play into his vanity, but seeing him throw on two more ten weights told him he may get his wish and see Larson cut down to size for once. Hell to see that he would almost be willing to go bareass himself. Almost.

Larson loaded the two weights onto the bar and repositioned his shoulders under the bar not doubting his ability to do this. Not only do this but wipe the floor with these two idiots. Steve might have had at least twenty pounds on him but it was all flab, and Jemsmull had better muscle tone than Steve but he was young. So this was supposed to be a cakewalk for Jim and the first six were. But he came to realize he had not done his leg squats in a few weeks and they were more sore than he wanted to admit. Number seven was rough; eight was burning bad. He wanted to rest for the last two but those guys were sensing his weakening state. Number nine did him in and he would not have been able to straighten up if Larry had not given him an assist!

"Not even nine Jimbo, not even nine" Steve smirked, knowing the tide was finally turning in their favor. In his favor "it's penalty time in Jimbo land!"

"Forget it" Jim knew he was more stripped down then either of them at this point and he was in no mood to make it worse "ain't happening."

"Happening Jimbo" looking at Larry "shorts go, right?"

"Yeah" Larry tasted blood "lose the shorts Larson."

"You're both crazy if you think -- "

"Oh stop yer whining Jimbo" Steve chuckled "you weaseled out of your penalty last time, you make Larry lose his shorts, so it's only fair now it's your turn. And hey it ain't like you're buttass naked underneath them. You're wearing a jock for cryin out loud so stop the whining and drop trou -- "

"Don't matter, it ain't happening!"

"Typical, typical typical" Steve smirked "y'can dish it but when it's your turn, you're all bullshit. What a bullshitter you are. I totally knew you'd be like the first to wimp out, man just knew it. What a total bullshiter you are" Steve would not give him an inch wiggle room, not this time "all wuss is what you are."

"So I'm a wuss huh?" and just like that Jim's thumbs went to the waistband of his last defense. He knew once he lost his shorts he'd be down to his jock. And his jock alone would not be enough to cover the fact all this was getting to him. He was not full-out boned but he was not cold-shower soft either. Not by a good several inches. He nodded at the camera "but that's going off!"

"Hell no" from Larry for a change "Steve's right. All talk no action. If it stays on for you to fuck with us, it stays on for your little show, right Steve?"

"You're totally outvoted on this one Larson. Drop'm!"

"You two ain't gonna like this" Jim was already planning his revenge "it's your funeral" but it felt like his as his thumbs dug underneath the elastic and before he lost his nerve he tugged them down and stepped out of them. His first impulse was to flex in front of the camera, jockstrap and all, but he knew the guys would just make the next few minutes hell with the comments and insults. Instead there was something like a breathy silence.

"Man Larson..." Steve was not smirking "dude you really do get off on this huh?"

"Let it go Steve" Jim could see Steve's eyes staring right at his crotch "it ain't like that."

"Yeah, it don't mean nothin" Larry was also nervous, seeing Jim all but naked and showing a prominent bulge in his jock. His cockhead was clearly visible through the stretched material as it tried to push out of the side of the pouch. And Larry could see plain as day Jim was well on his way to getting boned in front of them "who's next?"

"Bearbreath your turn" Jim was relieved to get the attention off his dick and onto something else "and you better not fail cause I got a whole long BIG nasty LIST of things for you and -- "

"I got no intention of failing" Steve slid his large frame onto the bench and was about to do his presses, too rattled to think about changing the weight amounts when Jim blurted out,

"Forget presses, we're done with those" going over the curved barbell lying on the floor off to one side "biceps curls" racking it and loading a few plates "enough weight for you?" adding another pair of twenties for good measure.

"Hey, I set my own weight Jimbo" Steve got to his feet and got the weight down to a more reasonable amount. Two thirty-fivers were good for starters "right?"

"That ain't enough!"

"Damn right it is" and Steve took his place behind the rack and lifted the barbell off and up. He felt the blood rush to his chest and arms as he curled the weight up to his shoulders, his big chest swelling with the effort, his thick arms getting the rush of hot blood as his t-shirt started to stain and darken with the effort. He got his set of ten done with only some burning in his arms. He knew he was off the hook this round.

Larry looked at the weight and added another couple of tens, just to see if Jim would take the bait. He knew how competitive he was and he was guessing Jim would have to add even more weight; no way he would let himself be outdone on something as basic as some biceps curls. He lifted the bar and tested the weight, knowing he could do this with little effort, even though his arms were beginning to tire from the last half hour. He got eight done when he saw Jim wheel the camera closer to him pointing it right at his stained boxers.

"Hey what's the idea!"

"Two more Jismboy two more" Jim taunted, knowing it would rattle the kid.

"Fuck..." Larry curled number nine "you" and number ten and banged the bar back into the rack "what the fuck was that all about?"

"Jimbo's just fuckin with ya" Steve nodded at the barbell then at Jim "playin with your head is all. Okay Jimbo, your turn and yeah wiseguy we'll just keep the camera right there, a nice closeup of your hardon!"

"I ain't hard" Jim smirked, but sweating regardless "I'm always like that."

"Shit I was right" Larry was glad his own crotch was not the subject of attention "you really do get off on yourself Larson. Man talk about one big narcissist ego!"

"Well certainly big!" Jim took the chance to finally adjust himself, pointing his cock upwards so the head was pressing against the front less painfully. And like Larry guessed Jim had to add more weight, replacing his two tens with two twenties "enjoy the show, boys."

He took his place and lifted the bar up, testing the weight. It might have been a bit more than he normally started with, but the challenge would no go unanswered. He could feel his arms pop out and wished he could be seeing what the camera was, his muscles all bulging and shiny with the effort, his chest ripped and huge. And yeah, his junk filling out the jock looking like the big blond stud he was. Nine and ten were curled up and then he was done.

"Yeah!" he smirked as he finished "okay Bearbreath, your turn!"

"Thought we just finished!"

"We're just starting" Jim knew he had them trapped now "two more sets with the curls."

"TWO?" from both of them, but Steve the loudest "what?"

"In case you two dickheads forgot why we're here" giving his pouch a rub "it ain't about show and tell, it's about working OUT! Okay?"

"But -- "

"We're getting to butts, but right now it's about getting you two into shape. That means you Numbnutts. Gimme ten now!"

"Fuck..." but Larry knew Jim was right. He for one needed to turn some of his bulk back into muscle. And if it meant ending up looking like Jim then he was all for it. He readjusted the weight on the bar until it was back to his amount.

"You forgetting something?"

"Like what?"

"Ten more Steve-O" Jim knew he hated that as much as he hated Jimbo.

"But I thought that was just -- "

"Do it or forfeit."

"Fuck this" but he added two more fivers, thinking they were hardly worth the bother. He curled his first six before he realized they were worth the bother "fuck..." feeling his arms start shaking.

"Four more Steveo, four more."

Steve got eight and nine done with a great deal of effort. He thought he could rest for the last two but even Larry was egging him on as well. With no more than a three second rest he curled number nine and with his arms feeling that they would snap managed to pull number ten up to his chest and dropped the barbell fast.

"There, wasn't that easy?" Jim smirked "eh Steve?"

"For you maybe" looking at Larry next "okay Lar, put up or shut up."

"Fine" Larry adjusted the weight for himself and with a great show added the two extra fives "happy?"

"Do it Larry, you can do it" Steve tried to keep his eyes off Jim standing there, making little effort to cover himself. And it sure as hell looked like the bulge in his crotch was a bit longer and higher than the last time he looked. Larson is getting off on this, he wondered. Not so much watching the two of them as ordering them about, playing the hardass cocky boss. Fine, Steve thought, let's give him all the rope he needs to hang himself "yeah, show Jimbo here he ain't the only stud in town."

Larry felt and odd flush from the compliment and curled the first eight with only some effort. He had put so much effort into building up his beefy arms over the years this was almost second nature to him. But he was tiring and he would be damned if he would let Larson see that. So he made a point of struggling with the last two, just to look good.

"There! Ten! Y'happy?"

"He sure looks happy" Steve nodded at Jim's crotch "right Jimbo? You getting off on this huh?"

"On you two dickheads? Right" but Jim nodded at the bar "Steve you forgetting something?"

"Nice try Larson, but it's your turn."

"I already took mine."

"Me, then Larry here" seeing him sitting down and wiping his head with a towel "now you Jimbo. Unless you forfeiting?"

"Fuck if I'm forfeiting" going over and adding more weights.

"Like you can afford to lose anything else" Larry added, his voice cracking. He hoped the guys had not noticed why he had to sit down so fast. But he was starting to remember all the times he would really blow out his arms and then the blood would rush from his muscles south. And in the gym his stretch undershorts would always prevent anything showing, but here he was screwed. He had to remember to bring like ten pairs of underwear with him next week. Next week? Could he do this again? Because he could see things getting more and more blatant if these two did not ease up on their game of chicken "you don't wanna forfeit Jim, trust me."

"Ain't planning on it Jismboy, ain't planning on it" Jim fixed his weights, adding his two fives and then two more just to make his point.

"That's twenty not ten" Steve protested.

"Enjoy the show, boys" and Jim picked up the barbell and slowly brought it up. While he did he thrust out his hips to balance the additional weight but when he saw two pairs of eyes zoom in and bug out he knew he made his point. He felt the blood rushing to his baseball sized biceps not worrying he would get a full-blown hardon but it still felt hot to be the center of attention and know these two goons were eating it all up. He slowed down not wanting to end the show.

"Two more, two more!" Steve yelled, as Jim flexed and unflexed his abs, rocking his crotch forward and back as he finished the last two.

"Just like that boys, just like that" he reracked the bar and made a point of rubbing his hands over his chest and pale fishbelly, the sweat running down into the waistband of his jock "whew! Hot or what?"

"Yeah, guess that's hot" Larry felt things getting worse and worse and had no intention of standing up anytime soon.

"Okay Larry your turn."

"Nice try Steve" Jim set the weight for him, making sure his weights were right "there ya go. Five from last time, and five" adding the deadly overload "for this time."

"Wait that's -- "

"Remember the rules? Five no two fives! more each time. Last set Steve, do it!"

"But -- "

"Do it!"

"This sucks" but Steve lumbered over to bar and muscled it off the stand. As soon as he did, he felt the fatigue in his arms. There was no way he could finish all ten, but maybe he might do some and then create a distraction. He curled the first five and his arms started burning.

"Five more Bearbreath five more."

"I need a break" lowering the barbell "Larry go get up some water or something."

"Water can wait, five more. Do it!"

"Fuck you Larson" Steve struggled to get the sixth up and with a great effort he did "I need to pee!"

"Peeing waits. Four more!"

"Fuck this" and with even more struggling up came seven and before he could think of anything else he strained and strained and number eight was done "fuck!" and he lowered the bar to his waist "damn!"

"Two more."

"Lemme rest, just a second."

"No resting two more."

"You rested last time."

"Tough, do it. Now!"

"Fuck" Steve struggled and strained but the bar never made it higher than his ribcage before his arms gave out "FUCK!"

"You didn't make it, Steve didn't make it" Jim looked over at Larry making a point of not looking at them "well Jismboy, what dya think old Numbnutts here should have for his penalty."

"A shower for one" he turned away "you dudes smell."

"Hmmm" Jim scratched his chin "nice touch, maybe later. No definitely later" smelling himself. Damn, nothing like healthly sweat smell to get him going, Jim thought "sure you can't think of something?"

"You decide" Larry said and as soon regretted it "no I mean -- "

"I decide is right" Jim chuckled "catch up round for Bearbreath here. You were so hot to get me outa my clothes before, huh Steveo? Okay, turn abouts fair play. Lose'm!"

"Lose what?" Steve looked to Larry for help or what looked like it.

"Lose'm. All of them!"

"WHAT?!?" from both in equal volume.

"Larry said I should decide so I'm deciding for both of us. Okay Steveo you were so hot to get me naked. Now it's your turn -- "

"But you ain't -- "

"Do it or pay the man the hundred bucks and we call it a night. What's it gonna be Braersten? You gonna wuss out or be a man about it? What ya gonna do Numbnutts?"

"I ain't the wuss here!" Steve stood in his face "and you're so gonna regret this!" and off came his sweaty t-shirt. His big hairy barrel chest was matted with sweat, his big furry belly shiny and dark with the night's efforts.

"Wait! The camera!" Larry blurted out "you can't with -- "

"If I got the balls to run around in my jock then Numbnutts here can sure as fuck show some dick. Not like we ain't all seen that little stub before, right Steve-O?"

"Fuck you" but big Steve Braersten, all two hundred fifty-four pounds of hairy cop muscle unsnapped the buttons of his shorts and tugged them down as far as his brown pubes "okay Jimbo, it's serious now" looking at Larry as well "you too Jensmull you ain't gettin off easy either" back to Jim who looked simultaneously smug and shocked "here's the deal. Let's say I lost this one fair and square -- okay which I did okay? -- but if I'm gonna drop trou right fuckin here and now" his finger tickling his waistband "then we do one more set and if either one of you two dickheads loses then it's the same show for you agreed?"

"I dunno" came from Larry real fast, but not enough to interrupt.

"Fine deal!" from Jim "except I ain't a loser like you."

Steve never thought he'd hear that agreement come from Jim, not in a million years. But when he called him a loser he had no choice but to yank down his shorts, his boxers tumbling down as well. He stepped out of them and faced Jim, his arms folded over that massive chest "Loser huh? Y'happy now?"

Larry sat on his chair, scared that things had gotten so bad. He never imagined that the two of them would take it this far. He had seen or rather glimpsed Steve naked in the locker room once or twice, but never had the chance to stare at his naked body like this. He was a good twenty or so pounds overweight, but his big chest and shoulders made up for the hairy beargut. And what was on display below that was something Larry never allowed himself to look at for more than a millisecond at a time. His nickname of numbnutts was apt. This guy had the biggest balls he had ever seen, large and low-hanging serious baby-makers there. And that big thick uncut tool did not take away from the effect even slightly. Larry sat there forgetting to swallow, knowing he was turning a shade between overripe tomato and cheap-whore lipstick.

"Fuckin can't believe you'd actually do it Numbnutts, gotta give ya balls I'll give ya that."

"So ya gonna stand around staring at my boys or ya gonna do one last set, huh Jimbo?"

"You are so on" looking at weights "okay time to get creative" finding the dumbbells "this one'll kill ya" loading on deceptively small weights to each one "it's like this" taking one in each hand "simple shoulder flies, they go straight out" extending them until they were level with his shoulders "but y'gotta hold'm there for a count of five. Five got it?" lifting them and holding them, the muscles in his arms and shoulders bulging with the weight "ten of them got it?"

"Fuck, easy as shit" Steve stood there naked and smirking "kidstuff."

"T-t-ten?" came from Larry.

"Five" Jim grunted, holding them up as his arms tensed and clenched, counting a quick five, then lowering them to his hips "six" doing the same over and over until all ten were done. He set the dumbbells on the floor, trying to deflect the looks they were giving him. He mopped his red sweaty face with a towel then looked at Steve "y'think you can handle it Numbnutts?"

"Watch me" making a show of removing the five pound weights from both of them, until he had no more than fifteen pounds loaded.

"Hey no fair" burst from Larry "he had at least -- "

"Don't matter, I get to start where I want, ain't that right Jimbo?"

"Well it'd be totally lame to start with nothing, let's agree at least ten okay?"

"Whatever" but Steve kept it at fifteen, knowing Jim was already laying a trap for those two, one Steve had no intention of tumbling into just yet. He raised and swung them both out until his thick arms were straight out, even letting the two do the five-counts for him. If there was one thing the big lug had it was shoulders so this was no big thing for him. Even when Jim made a point of rolling the camcorder around until it was pointing right at his dick Steve made a point of ignoring the stupid attempt to throw off his concentration. If anything, doing flys naked with a camera pointed at him made him all the more determined to show up Larson at his own game. He finished ten with only minimal sweating and grunting.

"Jismboy, your turn."

"Already?" from his chair.

"Yeah, Lar, we ain't got only another half-hour, so -- "

"So get a move on Jism."

Larry made a point of half-crawling over to where Steve left the two dumbbells and then spun around until he was straddling the weightbench. He started his first fly when Steve cried foul.

"No fair, y'gotta be standing Lar."

"Sez who?" keeping them up for the full five-count, then lowering them until they were almost hitting the floor.

"Sez no one" Jim shrugged, but his eyes detecting a certain fullness in that stained underwear he was wearing "you wanna sit, sit."

Larry continued his first set of ten, the idea dawning on him that Jim was setting them up with this exercise. The weight was not the issue, but the five-count each time with the dumbbells held straight out was progressively more difficult. He finished his ten and retained his position on the bench. He was growing more alarmed the guys were suspecting what was happening to him below the belt.

When it came Jim's turn, he made sure both guys noticed the added weight he attached to each dumbbell. He knew this set would be do-able but the next one, with a total of thirty-five pounds on each would start to get serious. If it was the first set of the first exercise of the evening he would have no worry. But his arms were already burning from everything they had done so far. He tested the weight and took his stance.

"Okay you dickheads, watch and learn, watch and learn" and he powered them up, the muscles in each arm standing out in high relief. He held them out counting off his five-count as Steve grabbed the camcorder off the stand and started zooming in on various parts of his body. He focused on his arms now that they were all bulged and ripped, then on his big slabs of shining smooth pecs when Jim started slowing down for six and seven. By the time he was passing eight and nine, the camera covered every inch of his body, finally focusing on the head of his dick clearly defined as it pushed out the front of his jockstrap. Jim finished his last five-count and slammed down the dumbbells,

"Hey! What's the big idea!"

"Hey, turnabout's always fair play" Steve smirked, returning the camcorder to its stand "you keep making a big show of my stuff, thought I'd return the favor" he chuckled, scratching his hairy belly "two can play that game Jimbo."

"Keep it up Bearbreath and see where it gets you, you won't like it I guarantee you that."

"C'mon you guys, we're here to lift, not play games, okay?"

"Listen to the kid, Bearbreath" Jim made a show of rubbing his crotch nodding at the weights on the floor "time for your show. Your bareass show Numbnutts!"

"Just don't try anything Jimbo" Steve took his stance and balanced the weights in his hands.

"You forgetting something?"

"Steve, fix the weights, that's Jim's amount!" from Larry, scared all three would have to do the increased amount.

"If the big dickhead can do it, so can I!" Steve gave them a tentative juggle, knowing it would be rough but he could manage it. He started the lift and held them out, his thick arms steady but feeling the burn, the five-count taking a longer time than he expected "two!" he grunted and swung them up again, now he knew he made a mistake.

"Hold em there Bearbreath, don't even think about dropping them!" Jim again brought the camera right in front of Steve's crotch, ignoring how his arms were popping out like two softballs with the effort. Jim made a deep chuckle inside his chest as he removed his right shoe while Steve held the the weights straight out for his five-count. He looked down at at Jim and his shoe and wondered what the hell he was up to. He pulled up the dumbbells shouting three! when Jim brought the sole of that shoe up to Steve's balls and rubbed and bounced them with it.

"HEY!" Steve yelled and was about to drop the weights.

"Drop them and forfeit Numbnutts, I mean it!"

"No fair! That interference!"

"This ain't football Jismboy" Jim bounded the sole against the underside of Steve's scrotum, even pulling them forward slightly "okay lower them but you don't stop Steve. You don't stop, now let's see you finish the set, got it? You stop and you forfeit and you are sure as fuck not wanting to do that, seeing as you're already buttass naked! Keep going!"

"Fuck you Larson" Steve hissed, his arms tiring with the slowing interruptions. He raised them for number five, knowing it was going to a killer to finish but he would not let this asshole get to him. So he stood there and suffered, his arms burning and tensing as Jim's shoe bounced against his balls. Even when he felt the rough-texture sole pull his cock up and start to rub against the sensitive underside he gritted his teeth and held the weights, number seven and eight slowing him down but not stopping him.

"You are a fucker!" Steve hissed, starting number nine.

"Yeah, ain't I huh!" the shoe rubbing and tugging at Steve's cock, pressing back and forth until the head popped free of the foreskin. By the time Steve finished his tenth with a great deal of straining and groaning, his cock was well on the way to filling out.

"TEN!" Steve shouted and dropped the weights, his hands fast to his crotch, pushing that damn shoe away and tugging his foreskin back over his swollen cockhead "you are so gonna pay for that Larson!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah" Jim smirked and shrugged "we'll see."

"Look you guys..." Larry was glued to the bench, his fists between his legs "I I I uh, maybe it's not a good idea y'know t'be y'know uh with the camera, I mean maybe I should just..."

"Keep your shirt on" Jim laughed, seeing how Larry was about to shit bricks he was so scared "just do your set and nobody's gonna fuck with ya, got it? But you forfeit and I can't guarantee how safe that virgin ass is gonna be -- "

"WHAT NO!" the two screamed louder than the next.

"Geez you two, can't you two dumbfucks take a joke?" Jim smirked but his eyes were set in that half-squint Steve saw him get when he was planning something really really nasty. Steve was going to make sure things would never get that far, not if he had anything to do with it. And he had a good idea how to bring Jim down a few notches.

"Your turn asshole" Steve nodded at the weights "and don't forget -- "

"Not so fast, Larry here gets his turn. So Lar, you gonna do your set or you wanna forfeit and do your penalty here and now?"

"NO! No I mean I'll do it" he rolled over to where the dumbbells had been dropped, but not fast enough to prevent at least Steve from seeing the kid was well on the way to a major bone. To prevent any more embarrassment to him -- after all this little was was between him and Jim -- Steve even grabbed the other weights for him and left them by his bench. Larry took off some of the five pounders and brought it back to his amount. Not that he did want to keep up with them, but he knew the third and last set was going to be hell.

"Okay? That right?" he looked at Jim "okay?"

"Ten Jismboy, all ten."

"Yeah, ten" Larry crunched forward, keeping his knees together as he lifted the two heavy weights straight out, feeling his arms burn, the sweat running down his sides, but he kept at it, determined not to let anything distract him, or anything prevent him from completing his ten. He counted off his five-counts, expecting at least Jim to dispute his fast counts, but as he struggled with and held number eight, he got the idea this was all between Jim and Steve, he was just there for comic relief. But that did not make those damn dumbbells any lighter or the last five-count anything but pure burning muscle agony.

"TEN!" he yelled dropping the two weights expecting Jim to object. He sat there expecting something but it seemed they were heading towards their final showdown.

"Didn't think you'd make it Jismboy" Jim smiled "but that was some show" nodding down at his crotch "and that thing you almost hiding in those shorts made it real real interesting."

"Shut up Jimbo, and let's see how you do it" Steve could not wait to get back at him for the last set "c'mon jockhead it's last call for muscle ball. And don't even think about forgetting the next ten pounds, we're counting."

"Yeah yeah yeah" Jim loaded his weight, adding the extra ten pounders, then the additional two five-pounders for each. He gave one a test curl and knew this was going to make or break these guys "okay watch and weep boys, watch and weep."

"And no taking a break, no rests, no nothing but fly and fly again Jimbo" Steve moved the camera to Jim's new position, foiling that little bit of Jim's plan "let's see those arms rip apart. One!"

"Fuckkkkk..." Jim groaned, holding the increased weights out, his arms already letting him know he had burned them out from the last set.

"You do the counts for him Larry" Steve squinted his eyes in eagerness of what he intended to do "fast as you want, not that we don't trust you."

"I, uh, can ugh do it" Jim grunted out holding them for at least a seven-count then lowered them with a groan.

"Larry can do it, right Lar?"

"Yeah fine. One two three four five" as Jim held out his second fly, almost glad the kid was counting faster than he ever would.

"See? Your lucky day" Steve taunted "and seeing how you ain't shy about playing with somebody else's stuff..." Steve went over to Jim and before Jim could lower his arms, Steve grabbed the front of Jim's jock and tugged the pouch to the side, Jim's cock and balls both tumbling free.

"HEY!!!" he yelled, his arms dropping by reflex.

"Get'm back up there Jimbo back up now!" looking over at Larry "the count?"

"Three four five" Larry finished, more slowly than last time. Not that he was trying to fuck with Jim, but he was having trouble breathing and watching what was going on at the same time. As Jim raised his big muscular arms for number five, Steve grabbed Jim's cock and started a slow but murderous jacking. Jim yelled again and started to turn a bright red, the color spreading even down to his pale chest, but Steve yelled at him to keep those fucking arms up as Larry coughed out the five count. For six and seven it was obvious Jim's arms were giving out, the five-count creating a visible quivering, every vein popping in those arms and his chest as well. But Steve's huge paw kept up a steady jerking motion on that exposed cock, getting it to lengthen and swell for the camera not three feet away.

"FUCK STOP!" Jim screamed with number nine, his face beading and dripping sweat, his whole body shaking with the effort to keep them up as Larry did his fast five-count. But not fast enough to slow down Steve's hand on Jim's all but erect cock.

"Ten!" Jim thrust the two dumbbells out and scrunched his face as Larry babbled out the numbers as fast as he could, wanting this to be over and done so he could go home and not have to look at what was going on.

"Damn you!" Jim pulled his crotch away from Steve's hand as the weights crashed to the floor "what the fuck!?!?"

"See? You fuck with me, you get it back in spades Jimbo" Steve smirked and stepped back fast "how you like it when somebody -- shit, I think you like it just fine" chuckling and pointing "a real nice bone y'got there bud, never knew you were so hot for all this" as Jim was fast trying to stuff everything back into his jock but the damage was done, the bright red head of his dick all but poking out of the side, not contained by the pouch in the least.

"Your... turn... Numbnutts" Jim snarled back "and you better get ready for it."

"Fuck I'm already naked, so fuckin what?" Steve left the weight amounts where they were. Beating Jimbo at this own game, he thought. Totally showing his up with a big smirk.

"Larry count off" as Steve's thick hairy arms lifted the weights out with a loud whoosh, part in surprise and part in effort. As soon as he did Jim wheeled the camera around for a profile shot and as soon as he did spat into his palm and started smearing it all over the end of Steve's cock, exposing the head in the process.

"Fucker!" Steve hissed as Larry counted off five. He lowered the weights and caught his breath, but Jim's hand on his cock was doing a fast slick wank and his cock had no where to go but up and out. He was not even to his fourth fly when he looked down and there was Jim bouncing his thickening cock up and down, the camera taking in how it angled forward and curved upward as Jim's hand started bouncing his balls in time to Larry's count. But Steve had no choice but to concentrate on his arms, ignoring the agony and impending collapse of his arms and shoulders as he held them for number eight, feeling them start to sag as the muscles gave out. But through all of it Jim continued to display his curved steel hardon for the camera, bouncing it again and again, and reslicking it for the ninth and then final fly. By the time Steve collapsed the weights down to his side, his dick was red and shiny and as hard as it ever had been.

"Ten Numbnutts" Jim smirked and wheeled the camcorder around for a frontal shot "fuckin amazing. Never in a million years -- "

"I never would guess you'd be so eager t'be playing with a guy's dick" Steve yelled over him "and not like a camera's not recording the whole thing. Are you fuckin nuts Larson?"

"Maybe. Or maybe I don't like losing. Cause I definitely don't like a dude grabbing me in the jock when I got thirty-five pound weight swinging around okay?"

"Serves you right for -- "

"Look Bearbreath!" and the two were almost ready to go at it when Larry yelled,

"Hey you two!"

They both stopped and turned, Jim's lip curling into a twisted smile.

"Oh yeah. The Jismboy here. Y'ready for your last set."

"Last one right? No more right?"

"Yeah last one, then we're all through for the night. Load em up Jismboy load'm up" Jim wanted to get this over with right away, before Steve got it through his thick skull just what he had done, and with a camera running on top of it. Jim looked at that tape running towards the end, and really wanted to figure out a way to get it into his pocket -- when he again had pockets -- out the door, and into a locked vault where he would hold it over Steve until his dying day.

"Fuck" Larry grumbled, trying to load up the dumbbells and not stand in the process.

"Oh just stand up already" came from Steve "get it over with Jemsmull already okay?"

"Yeah Jismboy, everyone knows you're boned okay?"

"C'mon guys!" Larry protested but little good it did. The dumbbells and additional weights were at least four steps from where he was sitting "gimme a break here."

"Do it Jismboy, just close your eyes and pretend..."

"Pretend you're alone or something, okay? The sooner you do the sooner we can all go home okay?" Steve was trying to be conciliatory but it came out more breathy than he would have liked. He never saw the kid stripped down for more than a second or two, and NEVER in this hot and bothered condition like this "hey, after what Jimbo here did, you ain't got no worries."

"What's that crack -- "

"Running the clock here Lar."

"Shit... this is totally fucked up" but Larry got to his feet. And as soon as he did, the front of his boxers tented out like he had a salami in there. There was a low whistle from Jim but Larry did all he could to ignore it as he crouched and took off some of the ten-pounders and then added his fives. He went back to his bench and sat down, but when the two guys yelled and all but threatened to yank him to his feet he groaned and stood, his stained boxers again in the limelight.

"Okay last set of ten, five-count em off... Steve" Jim sneered.

"Fuck" Larry grunted and swung the weights up and out, his arms already spasming. He thought he would die before Steve got to five and he lowered them as fast as he could, his thick arms just not up to the task this late in the ordeal.

"TWO!" he groaned and up they went again. It seemed like Steve was waiting an eternity between numbers but he knew it was no slower than his own when Jim was lifting. This time his arms started to give and he barely made the full five.

"C'mon Lar you can do this!" Steve looked at Jim with a certain nervousness "can't imagine what Jimbo here might come up with.

"You're stalling Jismboy, do it!"

"Three" Larry moaned and up his exhausted arms went, shaking and struggling to keep them horizontal. He almost made it to four before the weights sagged and down came dumbbells one and two.

"Y'gotta do better'n that Jism" Jim stood in front of him, his arms folded over his bare sweaty chest "if y'can't do the next one, it's a big fuckin forfeit, got it?"

"I can DO IT!" Larry grimaced and up swung the arms. He almost had them out before his left side quivered and fell "fuck..." and he bent forward, the weights banging to the floor.

"That's a forfeit Jemsmull, a bad bad forfeit, not even five. Shit."

"Leave him alone okay? We're all tired, okay?" Steve feared the worst.

"Okay, I'm knocked out, it's been a long night, we're all tired" Jim said wiping his forehead with his wrist "here's the deal. You finish up the last five and we call it a night. No five-count nothing, just finish'm up okay?"

"Yeah fine" Larry was too tired to argue.

"Okay pick em up kid" Jim stepped out of the way of the camera "you finish them up and we go home okay?"

"Okay" he stood up with the weights in his sweaty hands, balancing them for the final push.

"The only penalty is you finish them..." Jim reached out and ripped open the fly of Larry's boxers "like that."

"Hey!" Larry dropped one weight in his hurry to prevent his hardon from popping through the ripped opening.

"Pick it up and finish. Do it Jismboy."

"But..." trying to crouch and cover his midsection.

"Do it or I'll think of something even worse. Remember what Numbnutts had happen to -- "

"Damn it, but..."

"Just do it Lar, get it over with already."

"This is fucked up sick" he grabbed the other weight with his hand and slowly straightened up. As Jim expected as soon as he did, Larry's hardon poked free of the torn fly and just stood there plain as day.

"Finish'm kid, do it. Show the world!"

They were the fastest flys Larry ever did but knowing he was doing them with torn stained shorts and his cock right there for the whole world to see, and worse, his cock as hard as it should not be, like a siren screaming here-I-am-look-at-this and nothing Larry could do would make it any less of a betrayal. And it wasn't like some asshole had been jerking it or any such excuse. No it just jutted out all by itself, telling both of his friends how much of turn-on this night was for him, how much of a sexual turn-on he had been hiding. Larry felt totally embarrassed and totally screwed.

"There enough!" and he grabbed his front and ran away from them, away from the camera and his total humiliation. He almost made it to the locker room before that other Steve guy materialized in front of him.

"So you guys finished already -- whoa, just what kind of workout was this?" seeing first Larry's ripped undies, then noticed big hairy Steve as naked as anything "just what have you guys been doing out here?"

"Working out okay?" Jim stepped in, trying to pull his tough-cop act together. But standing there half-naked and looking like he could barely lift his arms, he was more punk than cop "and that tape..."

"Y'know the rules guys, you know the rules."

"I'll give you the hundred" burst out of Larry's mouth before anyone could respond "you said the deal was you record the workout in exchange for us paying you. Well I'm paying you okay?" Larry lept into the locker room and returned with his wallet. Which would have been an impressive act of athleticism had his cock not been waving in the breeze the whole time "here!" and he shoved the bills into Poker Steve's semi-shocked hands "and I keep this" and before even Jim could get to him, he dashed over to the camcorder and yanked the tape from the side, the camera still running "I'm outa here!"

"HEY wait!" the two tore after him into the locker room, leaving Poker Steve grabbing some of the bills fallen to the floor in the excitement.

"C'mon Lar, y'can't do this."

"Look Jismboy -- "

"Stop calling me that!"

"Okay Larry, for crissakes you can't keep that what're ya gonna do with it I mean you can't -- "

"I'm gonna burn it or throw it in the lake or I don't know."

"How about if we both chip in and then we smash it okay?" Steve was nervous about how things had ended and more nervous about Larry keeping the evidence of their evening that had spun out of control "c'mon Larry y'can't -- "

"I'm getting dressed and -- "

"Yeah let's all get dressed and get the fuck outa here" Jim was already throwing on his pants and stepping into his shoes "enough with the fuckin night already."

"Don't do anything... stupid okay Lar?" Steve tried to sound firm but he knew how scared his voice felt "just don't -- "

"Look guys, like Jim here says, get dressed and get outa here okay?"

"Fine, we gotta sort through this."

"But not tonight okay?"

"I'm outa here" Larry glanced at Jim who barely nodded and grabbed the last of his clothes.

"You guys leave these?" Poker Steve appeared at the door, holding various discarded items from the front room.

"Yeah thanks" Jim grabbed them in a second.

"So what about next week, you -- " Poker Steve frowned, watching the quickening retreat.

"Ain't gonna be no next week" Jim snapped, grabbed his gymbag and slammed shut his locker.

"I'll call you Steve okay?" Steve shrugged and followed Jim, still half dressed.