A SUMMER IN THE FARM PART II

THE HORSE, THE PANTHER, AND THE GOAT

A few moments after the nap, Mark returned from his jog. He and Kyle agreed to lift together in a few minutes—Mark would shower while Kyle changed clothes.

Kyle took Jeremy to his room. There, he pulled out several sports garments from his wardrobe, laying them on the bed one by one. Jeremy watched each piece closely and said with a smile, “No sleeves anymore, right? Hehe.”

His friend’s remark fired Kyle up. “No sleeves can contain these guns when they’re all pumped up, Jam!” he said, flashing a quick arm flex. “I’ve ripped so many of them. Honestly, it’s one of the most satisfying ways to know I’m getting bigger!

Kyle put on black tear-away pants and a blue hooded tank top. He turned to the mirror to check his look. In a top that would cover anyone like a sack, Kyle’s unyielding chest refused to go unnoticed beneath its folds, while his uncontainable lats daringly stuck out from the sides as he flared his arms to adjust the fabric on his body.

Kyle, aware of the effect his huge muscles had on his outfit, glanced at Jeremy through the mirror, who nodded in admiration behind him, captivated not only by Kyle’s striking presence but also by the way Kyle smiled at him—as if he’d chosen those clothes just to please and impress him.

Mark Knocked and opened the door, dressed in a fitted black training shirt and shorts, “Hey, bro! You ready?”

“Yeah, man!” Kyle answered, pulling on his training gloves, “Ready to lift hard?!” his loud voice sounded like a challenge rather than an invitation.

Mark kept his expression firm and said, “I’m in!”  

Kyle nodded. “Well, let’s get started!” A broad grin spread across his face, eyes sparkling with a gaze part mischievous, part wicked—like a naughty kid ready to have fun smashing a new toy rather than playing with it.

The boys made their way to the storage shed where Kyle had set up his home gym when he first arrived at the farm. Over time, with the equipment he’d added as he grew, it now looked more like a neighborhood gym.

Mark and Kyle stood in a spacious corner to warm up, moving their arms in all directions as they agreed on a full-body workout. Meanwhile, Jeremy sat apart on a wooden box, watching the action.

The two jocks started with chest. Kyle let Mark choose the discs to begin with. However, as they alternated sets, Kyle kept adding more weight—more than Mark could properly handle.

“Nice warm-up!” Kyle said after Mark’s turn. “Now let’s go for a big man lift.” He walked over to the weight tree. As he bent down to pick up two of the heaviest plates, sparks of eagerness flashed from his electric blue eyes toward Jeremy, accompanied by a cocky grin aimed at his little friend.

Mark couldn’t complete as many repetitions as Kyle did, and as the sets went on, he had no choice but to swap his partner’s plates for lighter ones during his turn.

Kyle was well aware of the boiling effect this had on his friend’s pride. As Mark’s arms shook lifting the bar or when he turned to grab smaller plates, a sneaky, mocking smile played on Kyle’s face as he glanced at Jeremy.

Kyle had fun like a wild horse, running a race where he gave the panther a slight edge—just to make things more fun.

The full-body workout went on, muscle group after muscle group, with Kyle enjoying the way he squeezed Mark’s pride—pushing his short temper to the edge, like a kid unafraid to play with a short-fuse firecracker.

Mark repressed his growing irritation, trying to appear unmoved to hide his frustration. But in the slight twist of his lips and his short, dry responses, Kyle could sense the poorly contained anger bubbling underneath.

At the lat pulldown machine—the final exercise—Mark loaded it with nearly all the plates. He thought, maybe for once, the session wouldn’t end with Kyle lifting almost twice as much. But then, Kyle hooked a pair of his heaviest dumbbells to the stack. He sat down, gripped the bar, and pulled it down, grunting through each rep with powerful, clean movements.

Kyle finished his last pull, holding the bar close to his chest with a few short, forceful tugs to push the pump in his lats to the max. After a few seconds, he stood up and let the weight drop with a loud clang of steel, followed by a roar of relief that sounded like a victorious shout. Then, perhaps carelessly—or maybe on purpose—Kyle let out a few snickers and flashed a glance at Jeremy. That was it. Mark finally exploded. “I’m sick and tired, man!!!”

An event that Kyle celebrated with noisy guffaws, “HAHAHA! Sick and tired of what? … of making a fool of yourself?” He kept an expression of mock confusion.”, You´re so easy to piss off, man! HAHAHA!”

Mark abruptly raised his hand, index pointing, “Of your bullshit!! You think you´re better than me!!”.

Kyle, unfazed, kept his grin. “I’ve been lifting twice as much weight as you on every machine, man!”

Mark answered, “I had just come from a long jog!!”

Kyle, with a stinging ironic tone, replied, “Oh, you´re right, in other circumstances, you could´ve lifted as much weight as me …” Then he looked at Jeremy and continued, “Other circumstances, like lifting on the moon, hahaha!”

Jeremy chuckled at Kyle´s smart humor, always finding a way to twist any narrative against the self-love of his interlocutors.

“No more bullshit, man!” Mark insisted. “You might be stronger than me, but check this out!” He flashed his abs, then slid his hand up and down over his dark T-shirt. “You can see them even through the fabric! I’m in way better shape than you!”

Kyle just shrugged. “What shape? Like a sock full of marbles? Hahaha!”

Mark yanked up the bottom hem of Kyle’s tank top with one hand, exposing his bud´s whole stomach. “Man, what do we have here?!” he said, then whistled in awe. “That gut looks like more than just a few extra pounds, bro! Ever been mistaken for one of the hogs on the farm?”

Kyle’s bowed-out stomach instinctively pulled in, flattening slightly. “They usually mistake me for one of the stallions around here! So what?” The big muscle boy pulled his tank top higher, tucking it between his chin and chest, then turned to show his profile to Jeremy. “I don’t give a shit. My pecs still stick out farther than my belly—right, Jam?”

Jeremy nodded right away. “Oh yeah, those pecs are huge. No wonder you managed to lift over 300 pounds on the bench.”

Kyle turned his head toward Mark with a smirk. “330, to be exact.”  

Mark ran his hand over Kyle’s belly. “Relax that gut, dude! Show me the real size!” he said, circling Kyle and bending down to check out his profile.

Kyle distended his belly, and Mark slid his hand up and down along his torso, tracing its broad, muscular contour. Then Mark concluded, 'Just barely, man!' adding teasing nods, 'Soon you’ll look like Xander,' finishing his assessment with a couple of relaxed slaps on Kyle’s stomach that landed with heavy thuds, showcasing all its thick mass.

“What? No way, man!” Kyle replied indignantly. “This belly isn’t flabby at all; you’ve checked it yourself.”

Jeremy’s heart raced as Kyle walked up to him with a wild gaze locked on his face. “Check out my belly, Jam!” Kyle urged.

Jeremy didn’t dare put his hand on Kyle’s belly; he could only manage small nods that looked more like nervous shakes. He said, “Oh… yeah, yeah, it does look solid, indeed!”

Kyle, ignoring his friend´s clear shyness, grabbed Jermey´s hand and slapped his stomach with it, “C’mon, Jam, fuck, rub my belly!

Less than two palms from his face, Kyle’s stomach distended slightly, rounding out as he dipped to bring it to his little friend’s eye level. Jeremy had to stretch his thin arm in every direction just to wrap around Kyle’s belly, feeling its manly thickness and mass with every stroke, its stubbly golden fur rustling between Jeremy´s dainty fingers. He didn’t even dare to blink, as if afraid to snap out of this awesome dream.

“Well, how about that, Jam?!” Kyle asked impatiently—maybe because his friend had lost all sense of time. Either way, Jeremy was quick to say, “Oh yeah, all solid, not flabby at all. Just like your pecs.”

Mark, without missing a beat, yanked off his T-shirt in one fiery move. “Mine look way better, Jam!” he said, leaning toward Jeremy in a proud, most-muscular pose to harden his pecs. Pointing at one of them, he added, “See, Jam? Big, and you can make out all three sections. Touch them!” Then he grabbed Jeremy’s hand and placed it on the center of his chest so he could feel the pronounced relief of those rocky, visible fibers.

Kyle exclaimed, “What the hell do you call ‘big’, man? Can you do this?” He removed his hooded tank top and called out for Gus, who showed up at the entrance a few seconds later, panting happily. At a confident thump on his torso, the dog trotted over and leapt into Kyle´s arms. The big man placed Gus on top of his enormous pecs as his huge chest, which he swelled with a massive breath that seemed to grossly push his arms outward. Gus stood confidently on Kyle’s upper torso, all four paws steady, without a hint of discomfort or fear.

Kyle turned side to side with confidence, as if to show there was no trick, and said in a strained voice, trying to keep all his breath in, 'You couldn’t even do this with my aunt’s kitty!"

Jeremy was still letting out a “Wow” at Kyle’s feat when Mark cut in, “No more stupid little games, man! I might not be your size, but overall, I’m still better—bigger than most guys and holding a well-defined shape. Look at these guns, Jam!” He brought his arm up close to his friend’s awestruck face. “Check that out! Look at that peak!” Mark added, running his index finger along his bicep to enhance its sharp, pronounced curve.

Kyle tossed Gus to one side and grunted with defiant indignation, “Alright, let´s get serious. Now, these are big guns, Jam!” and extended his arm next to Mark´s limb to then bend his elbow, making his massive bicep rise huge and round, hiding Mark´s like a radiant sun outshining a minor star. Kyle gave a couple of forceful smacks to his bicep, “So damned fucking strong and large! Just bigger than your head, Jam, you´ll never see bigger guns than mine! Look at that shit!” Kyle reaffirmed, groaning as his arm trembled, pushing every inch to push its superior size and roundness.

Mark then pointed at Kyle´s sports tearaway pants, “I´m sure your calves don´t match your arms—What´s with the long pants all the time? I swear your calves look like chopsticks!”

Kyle snorted in disapproval, "Wow, real original!—The classic tantrum when the other guy’s bigger, huh? But that ain’t gonna work on me, bro." Right away, he bent over and pull his pants all the way down to his ankles with a single forceful tug, “Chopsticks!? Where, man?! Just big calves to go with these buff thighs! Right, Jam?”, Kyle, to show off the full mass of his legs, lifted one foot and stomped the floor with his whole sole, a heart-pounding blow like a powerful stallion horse hitting the ground with his hooves after rearing. His thick quads jutted out with every slight shift of his heavy weight from one foot to the other. “Just look at that shit, Jam! Thighs jacked as fuck."

Mark responded, leaning forward with a roar, crossing his arms in front of his chest in a most muscular pose, making his traps and shoulders bunch up around his neck like a prowling panther ready to pounce. “So what? Look at this rocky shape, Jam. Check out these insertions!” 

Jeremy’s head tremulously turned from side to side, his mouth half-open, and he froze like a startled goat, about to faint—stunned by the scene he suddenly found himself caught in. Two alphas flaunting their above-average muscles and strength before his very eyes—driven by their prime virility—fiercely competing against each other, eager to win his approval. Never in his dearest dreams, not even in his craziest fantasies, had Jeremy imagined living something like this.

The jocks’ competition escalated into what looked more like a confrontation. Kyle was showing off the expandable breadth of his already vast back in a lat spread when Mark’s cutting remark snapped him out of his enthusiasm: “Well, that’s all you needed, bougie asshole!”

“What!?” Kyle asked, turning his face toward Mark with a sudden twist. His mouth hung half-open, and his eyebrows knitted in a frown of upset and astonishment. That word used as an insult from a friend—bougie—hit a nerve he rarely showed. Some people judged him as a spoiled kid, when the truth is that he often had a hard time dealing with his strict parents’ demanding standards and high expectations.

“Yeah!” Mark reaffirmed. “Bougie and now looking like a croissant — you’ve got everything it takes to be a real douchebag. Just one year of lifting, and you’re already such an annoying pal! Except, of course, to Jam, ‘cause you’re his sweetheart, and he can’t live without you!”

Aware of the storm brewing in Kyle´s blue electric eyes, Jeremy intervened with a conciliatory tone, “Hey, Mark, what are you talking about? You know Kyle’s not bougie, he-”

Kyle abruptly extended his hand toward Jeremy, “Just don´t!”. Then, without taking his lightning eyes off Mark,  Kyle approached him, sticking out his chest more and more with each step, “You can´t just deal with the fact that I´m bigger and stronger than you now, can you?!”, Kyle provocatively nodded his head at a few inches from Mark´s one as he added, “let me paint a little picture for you. Our crew now has a new tank: ME! Yeah, Sir, your thin friend from a year ago! And now, every time people see us, they´ll go, ‘Oh, there´s Kyle and his buddies, those little guys, Mark and Jeremy. ’ Deal with it, you little guy!” Kyle punctuated his words by repeatedly tapping Mark’s chest with his index finger.

Mark slapped Kyle’s hand away with a sharp swipe and snapped, 'Don’t call me little guy. I’m not afraid of you, bougie!' he shouted, his voice rising.

Kyle replied, raising his voice even more, 'You should, little guy!' Then he puffed out his chest, pushing Mark back a couple of faltering steps that finally triggered the fight.

Mark and Kyle, ignoring Jeremy’s pleas, were already grunting and struggling against each other in a grip, like two alpha animals fighting to dominate, when they both suddenly stopped at the insistent metallic tapping on the door. It was Bertha who said with a firm voice, “I heard you yelling from home! I told you, no fighting here. Well, Jeremy’s the only one who’s gonna try my apple pie!”

The woman disappeared through the doorway. Then Kyle and Mark, still frozen in their hold, turned their heads to look at each other and bumped into such comical expressions of worry and surprise that both friends burst into uproarious laughter.

When the guffaws turned into chuckles and they caught their breath, Kyle tapped Mark. “C’mon, dude! Come on, I can’t convince her to let us try her pie alone!”  

Kyle stood up and reached out to help Mark up with a strong slap of their hands. Mark said, “If that doesn’t work, we can always ask Jam to slip us some!” The two boys flashed a smile at stunned Jeremy before jogging out the door.

Jeremy waited outside the house while Kyle and Mark tried to talk Bertha into letting them have some apple pie despite her no-pie punishment. He could only catch bits of their conversation, but Bertha’s firm tone made it clear his friends weren’t making much progress—despite Kyle’s playful, sweet talk.

Finally, his friends came out, each with a sandwich of a different size, already biting into them as they descended the steps to join Jeremy, who asked, “Any luck?”

“Not yet,” Kyle said, lips twisting as he chewed a big mouthful. “Mark, you’re gonna try that apple pie before we leave, man!”

“I hope so, dude!” Mark replied. “Even the sandwiches taste different here, way better! I don’t wanna miss that pie.”

Kyle took another big bite. “I told you guys, everything here’s homemade; we get it from the farm or around here. Want anything, Jam?”

Jeremy was about to reply when Bertha leaned out the kitchen window, “Jeremy, sweetie, do you want a snack?”

“Oh, no thanks, I’m fine—not hungry at all.”

Bertha insisted, nodding teasingly, “How about some orange juice, then?”

Despite Bertha’s obvious motherly care, Jeremy sheepishly nodded, afraid of causing any inconvenience.

Bertha reassured him with a smile, “Darling, no need to feel embarrassed, okay? I’ll get it for you right now.”

With the intermittent rumble of the juicer in the background, Kyle told their friends to go out and play billiards before dinner. He’d already listed the few options in the rural area and made his suggestions just as Bertha leaned through the window to hand Jeremy a glass of orange juice. Kyle reached out to take it for his friend. Then Bertha rested her elbows on the window frame, crossing her arms.

“So, what are you gonna do now, boys?”

Kyle chewed on his sandwich and replied, “We’re gonna sit under the apple tree to finish this, then hit The Corral for dinner.”

“Oh, very well,” Bertha said.

Kyle added with a smile, patting his belly, “Yeah, that way I can show my pals around. But honestly, I enjoy your delicious meals way more.” He flashed a broad, bear-like grin and tilted his head playfully at her. “Love you, Auntie!”

Bertha’s lips twitched to suppress a smile, but her eyes twinkled with affectionate warmth. “Go! Go to the pecan!” she said, gesturing toward the tree before quickly turning away from the window.

Kyle plopped his arm around Mark’s shoulders and whispered, “That pie’s almost ours, bro!”  

Mark patted Kyle’s side and replied, “I trust you, dude!”

Bertha watched through the window curtains as the blurred silhouettes of Kyle and his friends shrank while walking away. Then she parted the fabric and felt Alfred’s hand resting on her shoulder. She said, “I don’t get it. Kyle and Mark were arguing and fighting, and now they look like the best friends in the world.”

Alfred explained, “They’re just two boys full of life and energy, with strong personalities that make them say exactly what they think and do whatever they feel like. Their friendship is like that of two wolf brothers; they can growl and play rough to test each other’s strength, but they’d give their lives to protect one another if needed.”

The couple kept silent for a few seconds, still watching through the window as Kyle and his crew approached the bench under the tree, followed by Gus. Then Alfred added, “What I don’t get is how Kyle and Jeremy can be such good friends when they’re so different.”

Bertha shared her perspective, “Just like you’re a man and can understand the friendship between Kyle and Mark, I’m a woman and I can see why the bond between Kyle and Jeremy is so special,” she concluded with a tone of intrigue as they watched the boys sitting together on the bench.

To be continued.