Leaderboard

Six “I don’t want a pair of posers that are … too adventurous!” Luke tells me as we make our way to the campus store. I can’t help but smirk. He’s seriously overthinking this trunk thing. “So no hot pink posers then?” I tease. I look over at him and he’s got this amused but slightly coy grin on his face. “Just … nothing that’s gonna draw too much attention!” The irony of that comment isn’t lost on me. Most guys at this university are desperate for attention. Me included. And yet Luke, the guy who currently stands out the most due to his smaller size, funky t-shirts and unique choice of attire for Posing Practice 101, is trying not to get noticed. “Okay!” I say, amused. “It’s kinda weird though. A bodybuilder not wanting attention!” He side eyes me and smirks. “I just wanna try and blend in a bit. You know … after the last lesson!” I nod. “Oooh! What if they sell Harry Potter posing trunks?” He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “You’re never gonna let me live that down are you?” I shrug. “I might! I’m not sure if Deano will though!” “So are you and him mates?” I pull a face. “I wouldn’t go that far!” Luke bites his lip and nods. “Is he always that much of a twat?” I let out a surprised laugh. “Pretty much!” I look at Luke and he’s smiling back at me. And there are those cheek dimples again. Not long after and me and Luke are in the campus store standing in front of it’s big display of posing trunks. They have pretty much every trunk colour you can think of. In every material. It’s fucking magnificent. I’m not gonna lie, sometimes I come to the shop just to stare at all the trunks. Oh yeah. By the way, in case you hadn’t guessed, I have a bit of a thing for posing trunks. I have twenty three pairs. All different colours and all shiny as shit. I just love them. Not only do they look cool as fuck, both off and on, but I also think they’re hot as hell. I’m not even really sure why. Even just standing here next to Luke looking at the beautiful display of trunks, I’m starting to get a fucking hard on. I look over at him. He looks a little embarrassed but I can tell he’s also kind of excited. “There’s so many of them!” he says, clearly overwhelmed. I can’t help but smile. It’s actually kind of cute the way Luke reacts to certain things. I have to admit he’s got this sort of naive, wide eyed charm about him. He takes a deep breath and looks at me with his anguished look. He’s gently biting down on his bottom lip. “Which ones do you reckon I should go for?” “Well ... if you don’t wanna stand out, you can’t really go wrong with royal blue!” Luke nods. “I was actually thinking blue!” “Sorted! You’re pretty tall so I’d probably say go for large. You don’t want them to be too small!” I say, rummaging through a peg of non-shiny, matte blue trunks to find the right size for him. “There you go!” I say to Luke, handing him the trunks. “Perfect!” He looks unsure as he takes the trunks off me and looks at them. A little disappointed even. “Hmmm!” I playfully roll my eyes, but I’m smiling too. “What?!” Luke shrugs, looking back at the display. “It’s just … I kind of like the really shiny ones!” he says. His cheeks suddenly look a little flushed and he’s giving me this sheepish but slightly mischievous grin. And I can’t stop myself from smiling back at him. “Go shiny then!” I say. I actually kind of love that he wants the shiny ones. “They’re the only kind I’d wear!” He looks up at the shiny trunks again and his grin gets less sheepish and more excited. Now he’s biting down his lip again. “Fuck it! I’m gonna get the shiny ones!” “Good lad!” I say, nodding. Luke puts the matte trunks back on their rightful peg and pulls down a pair of shiny blue ones instead. Then he looks at me and pulls a playful “eeek” face. Something happens to me when I see Luke holding those shiny blue posers. His chunky little arms around the white material of his geeky but cool Marvel t-shirt. It’s like a little pinch in my chest. Maybe it’s just the image of another not completely unattractive guy clutching a pair of super shiny (and admittedly fucking hot!) pair of trunks with an excited look on his face. “Now, Luke. Are you sure you don’t wanna go for the hot pink ones?” I tease, with a smirk and rise of an eyebrow. Luke rolls his eyes and smirks. Then he actually looks up at the peg of pink posers and I swear he’s got this little twinkle in his eye. Like he actually really likes them. I’ve always found it funny how many bodybuilders actually seem to like pink posing trunks. “But what would Deano say?” he asks, with his eyebrows raised. I pull a face. “Ugh. Who cares about him?” (Answer: @reeddune and @brawnygods ) I can tell Luke’s really excited about buying his first pair of posing trunks. It’s written all over his face. The guy behind the counter is an absolute beast in a black vest with a thick chest and huge, bulging biceps. I’m guessing he’s a third year. He asks Luke if has an NUS card, to which he shakes his head. “That’s thirty two quid then, mate!” “Woah! You don’t have an NUS card?” I ask Luke. He shakes his head and says no. “You get twenty percent off if you have one. Here … use mine!” I say, rummaging in my wallet and giving it to the monster behind the counter. In two years time, I’ll be that size. Fuck it, I’ll probably be bigger. The guy shakes his head. “Can’t do that. It has to be his card!” signalling to Luke. I give him a pointed look. “Come on, mate!” He sighs. “Fine! Whatever!” he says defeated. And now Luke’s giving me a suspicious look. Like he’s wondering why I’m being so nice to him all of a sudden. Fuck. I play dumb, shoot him a confused look and shrug. “Thanks for that!” he says to me as we walk out of the shop and make our way back to the dorm room, Luke clutching a little blue bag with the initials “MU” written on them. I shrug. “No biggie! That’s shop’s a rip off!” He nods. “I don’t just mean the discount. I mean … you know!” he says, holding up his bag. I don’t say anything, but this warm feeling rises up in my chest. “Have you got many posers?” he asks me. Oh my God. The question takes me by complete surprise. I want to smile but I manage to suppress it. Have I got many posers? Too fucking right, Lukey boy. “Ummm … about ten pairs, I think?” I reply, my stomach twinging with excitement at the prospect of Luke’s reaction. He looks at me wide eyed. “Wow! That’s … a lot of trunks!” And now I’m smiling too much to cover it up. If only Luke knew that I actually have more than double that number of trunks. “I … like having a few to choose from!” I tell him, keeping my tone casual. He furrows his eyebrows at me slightly, but he’s smiling too. I feel a sudden pang of nerves. And now my cheeks are starting to feel a little flushed. I tell myself I’m being stupid. I mean, there’s no way Luke could know the reason that I have so many pairs of posing trunks is because I find they hot as fucking fuck (to wear, to pose in and to see on other muscle lads). Luke’s pretty quiet for the rest of the walk back to the dorm room. I feel like there’s something ticking over in his mind. My suspicions are proven right when we’re back in our dorm room. “So … what’s the catch?” he asks me in a slightly wary tone. Oh shit. He’s just standing there by his bed with his arms folded across his chest giving me a suspicious look. My eyes veer to his little bulging biceps. I know exactly what Luke’s referring to but I plead ignorant. “What?!” I ask him defensively. “Well I’m not being funny, but you’ve basically been a dick to me ever since I got here. And now … you’re taking me shopping for posing trunks?” I act casually and shrug. “I’m … in a good mood today. Plus I’m bored!” Luke continues to glare at me with his eyes narrowed. “I’ll probably go back to being a dick to you tomorrow!” “Great!” he says sarcastically while rolling his eyes. I breathe a deep sigh. “Look - it’s not YOU okay? It’s … THIS!” I say waving my arms. Luke actually looks over his shoulder and glances around the room. Which makes me laugh. It’s such a fucking ditzy thing to do but it’s also kind of cute. “Sharing a room!” I tell him, failing to giggle at what just happened. “Oh!” he says. “I mean, you can’t tell me you wouldn’t rather have your own?” He shrugs and pulls a face. “Well ... yeah!” “This has got to be the only university in the UK that has shared fucking dorm rooms!” “Mmmm. I guess it is a bit weird!” Luke says, nodding. “I mean, my last roommate, Craig. Jesus. He annoyed the hell out of me. And then I had this room to myself for months. And … well, they didn’t even tell me I was getting a new roommate!” Luke’s nodding at me. It seems like he understands where I’m coming from. “Okay. I get all that!” he says. “It’s just … none of that’s really my fault is it?” Hmmm. Luke does kind of have a point. “Suppose not!” I say, shrugging. And now I feel kinda bad for being such a dick to him these past few days. “And it could be worse!” he says to me, with one eyebrow raised. I just look at him confused. “Well you could be sharing with Deano!” I laugh. That is exactly what Johnny Hoxton said to me earlier today. “A very fair point!” I say, smiling. Luke’s expression relaxes and he smiles back at me. I guess as roommates go, he’s not that bad really. He’s harmless at least. I look at the little blue bag sitting on his bed. “Come on then!” I say, feeling mischievous. Luke shoots me a confused look. “What?!” I signal to the bag. “Let’s see what you look like in these trunks!” I say, feeling a surprising flutter of excitement at the prospect. He looks nervous, but then his expression relaxes. Now he’s just rolling his eyes and shaking his head at me. He obviously doesn’t think I’m being serious. “Come on!” I order. “I’m gonna see you wearing them on Monday anyway!” “What, so you can make another joke about how physique competitors don’t normally wear posers?” Luke says. “Well, that or a joke about them being better than the Harry Potter boxers!” I reply with a smirk. Luke’s grinning too. He still seems a little nervous and unsure, but I can tell he’s tempted. “Just put them on, for fuck’s sake!” I cry. Luke sighs. “Okay!” Fuck! My chest expands. “Turn around then!” he orders. “Luke! We share a room. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna see you naked sooner or later!” “I’m not doing it ‘till you turn around!” I groan and swivel round on my bed so I’m facing the wall. “You’re wearing Harry Potter boxers again aren’t you?” I ask, still not looking. “NO!” “Batman boxers?” I tease. Luke doesn’t respond. He’s probably rolling his eyes as he’s stripping off. “Okay!” he says. There’s a hint of nerves in his voice. “You can turn around!” I do as he orders and holy SHINY trunks. Fuck. What an image! Luke standing, a little awkwardly, in the middle of the room. His little abs carved into his tummy. His defined chest on display. His little legs with surprising thickness and even a little bit of definition in them. And those posers. Jesus fucking CHRIST. So blue. So shiny. And so, so fucking hot. I nod, biting my lip to try and cover up my smile. “Those are … pretty fucking awesome!” I tell him. Which is a severe fucking understatement. My stomach actually twists a little as I say those words. No one knows about my love for shiny posers. Not even Emily. He looks down and pulls a cute, little “eeek” face. Then his mouth turns into this sheepish but pleased little grin. Dimples and all. “I feel like people might need sunglasses to look directly at them!” he jokes. I howl. Fuck, I love that comment! That’s the second time Luke’s really made me laugh today (the first being the cheese grater serratus comment). And he’s grinning back at me as I laugh. And then my eyes go back to those trunks. Jesus. I can’t believe how shiny they are. Premium fucking posing trunks. There’s something else too. I can’t help but notice that Luke is fucking packing. I mean his bulge is just right there. And oh great. Now I’m getting a bloody hard on. Which feels … a bit weird. Though to be fair, me getting hard at the sight of a lad wearing a pair of shiny posers is hardly an unusual thing. Even if that lad is Luke. “Those bad boys are pretty fucking shiny!” I say, nodding in agreement. “They’re not too small at the back are they?” Luke asks. He spins around and hello GLUTES. Luke’s meaty little arse is spilling out either side of the shiny blue inverted pyramid which makes up the back of his posers. And great, now my hard on’s swelling to full size. I bring my thighs up to my torso and rest my chin on my knees to try and hide what’s going on in my boxers. “Nah!” I tell him, wrapping my arms around my shins. “Shows off your glutes!” I keep my tone casual, but my stomach is doing something weird. Luke takes a few steps back to admire himself in the mirror on his desk and then he cups both of his beefy arse cheeks with his two hands. Then he removes them and actually tenses his glutes. Jesus! He turns his head around to look at me and I feel a sharp pang of nerves as we make eye contact. I don’t know whether my face is giving away anything of what I’m feeling from seeing Luke and his tensing glutes in his brand new shiny posers. I think I’ve managed to cover it up. I’m good at that, after all. Hiding things. Putting on a front. “Right, turn around again!” he orders. I playfully roll my eyes and spin around on my bed to face the wall again. After a few seconds I get this mischievous urge. Should I? Fuck it. I can’t resist. I take a sneaky peek at Luke over my shoulder. He’s got his back to me so he doesn’t see me looking. He’s pulling up his jeans. But before they're hidden from view, I manage to see what boxer shorts he’s wearing. A black pair decorated with little images of the Batman symbol. And now I’m facing the wall again. And I’m smiling. Like fucking crazy. Maybe this being nice to Luke thing isn’t going to be as hard as I first thought?

Ok guys, here’s the new story I’ve been working on. It’s of a similar size and scale to my last story "AJ & Noah". It’s told from the point of view of Woody (real name Sebastian Wood), a handsome, sassy, self assured (some might cocky) bodybuilder with a cheeky Instagram persona. Woody attends Montgomery University of Bodybuilding & Fitness; the only school in the world dedicated to turning its students into pro bodybuilders, where lessons include Posing Practice 101, Anatomy & Aesthetics and A History of Bodybuilding. There are a few references/Easter eggs to AJ & Noah and some of my other stories in here for anyone who’s familiar with them! I’ve got my friend @reeddune working on some illustrations too which I’ll be sharing soon. MUSCLE UNIVERSITY One I open my eyes and this feeling of warmth washes over me. I genuinely can’t remember the last time I woke up this happy. I look over to my best friend Emily lying in the bed next to me and she gives me this happy knowing grin. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about last night. Just two friends getting a bit drunk and going to the local gay club. But everything about it was awesome. The atmosphere. The people. And I just want to do it all over again. “How’s the head?” she asks me. I smile and shrug under the duvet of her bed. “I feel fine!” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe how much attention you were getting last night!” I beam back at her. “I’m used to it!” I reply cheekily. Even though I’m actually not. At least not these days. Emily grins and playfully rolls her eyes. “I loved it when that guy asked to feel my biceps!” I say excitedly. Emily giggles. “And then his mate joined in!” she says. “They were so funny!” I turn away from her and look up to the ceiling. God I love this room. This house. This town. Everything here is so … normal. It’s the complete opposite to my life at my own university. And now I feel a sudden pang of sadness at the realisation that none of this is mine. It’s Emily's. This is her room. In her student house. In her university town. And I’ll be going back to my (exceptionally not normal) student life in a few hours time. “I’m just surprised you didn’t meet someone and abandon me like you normally do!” Emily quips, with one eyebrow raised. I look over at her and smirk. “I probably should have done! It’s pretty much my only chance to pull these days!” “Seb, there must be other gay guys at your uni?” I pull a face. “You would think!” It might sound a little crazy, but I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if I was the only gay guy at my university. We stay silent for a while. “Is that club open again tonight?” I ask. She looks at me suspiciously. “Yeah?” I wiggle my eyebrows up and down. “What if I didn’t go back today and we go out again tonight?” What If I don’t go back at all, I think. “Erm … don’t you have an exam tomorrow morning?” I pull a face. “Meh!” Emily grins at me. I know she’d love me to stay another night, but we both know that I’m going to be sitting on that train back to Scotland in a few hours time. I sigh, pull the duvet down and look at the thick, perfectly pumped pecs bulging off my chest. “What do you think, boys? Do you wanna go back to Scotland today? Bounce once for yes, twice for no!” Then I bounce my pecs twice. Emily giggles in response. “The pecs have spoken!” I exclaim. She giddily beams back at me and everything suddenly feels good again. I love who I am when I’m with Emily. I love who I am when I’m here. It’s different to how I am at my own university. I don’t feel like I have to put on a front. I’m not competing with anyone. I can let my guard down. I can relax. I guess (like everything else here) I can be normal. Well, as normal as a sixteen stone bodybuilder with arms twice the size as most lads’ my age can be. A few hours later and we’re at the train station, my holdall thrown over one of my ridiculously broad shoulders. My train leaves in fifteen minutes and I want to get a good seat. As much as I love visiting Emily, the seven hour train journey to get there and back is never exactly fun. “Are you still coming down for your birthday next month?” she asks. “Yeah! Of course!” I can’t imagine spending my birthday at my own university. Jesus. How fucking depressing would that be? A couple walk past us; a boy and a girl. They both stare at me as they do and the girl pulls a funny face and looks at the boy wide eyed. Emily looks at me and we both grin. “Jeez! It’s like no one has ever seen a bodybuilder before!” I say. Emily laughs. “You’re definitely a novelty down here!” Something pulls in my stomach. A desire. This is what I want to be. What I should be. A novelty. A rare thing. Something out of the ordinary. This is what I want all the time. I suddenly feel a heavy sadness that I have to leave. “Do your think your uni would let me transfer down here?” I ask Emily. She gives me a sad smile. I know the answer to that one. “I’m not really sure if they’d be able to match your course!” I roll my eyes and manage to smile. Of course they fucking wouldn’t. No other university in the world would be able to match my course. I’m stuck there for another two and a half years. And then … well then there’s a very good chance that I’ll get to live my dream. It’s one small mercy I guess. The light at the end of the tunnel. The one thing I cling to during my shittiest days. Luckily the train isn’t that busy so I manage to have two seats to myself for the entire journey. On the journey down here two days ago some unfortunate fucker had to sit next to me. Because I’m basically built like a brick shithouse, I was spilling over onto his seat. The poor bastard was squashed up with half of his body hanging out into the aisle. Of course, there are some guys out there who would probably enjoy sitting next to me. Some who’d probably walk over hot fucking coals for a chance to be squashed up against my huge, muscular body in fact. The randy buggers. I divide my journey time up by revising for tomorrow's exam, listening to Spotify, staring at how huge and devastatingly sexy I am in the reflection of the train window (did I mention I’m a bit of a handsome fucker as well as being a two hundred and thirty pounds bodybuilder?) and thinking about how I’m going to spend the evening when I get back to my dorm room. By the way, you heard that right. I live in a shared fucking dorm room. Ugh. Just like the ones you see in all those films set in American colleges. Two beds. Two people. Two complete strangers chosen at random by a computer being forced to share a room. I mean … fucking seriously? My university is probably the only one in the UK that has them. They say it helps the students to bond. Really it’s just a cheaper way of housing us. It’s not like I can live off campus either. Trust me, I would if I could. But it's impossible. Because my university is in the middle of sodding nowhere. I’m complaining, but in actual fact, I’m one of the extremely lucky few first years who doesn't actually share his dorm room. Woo-hoo! My old roommate Craig (who was noisy, messy and had about as much banter as a brick) dropped out a few months ago so I have the whole room to myself. It’s mostly great, though there are times when I find myself getting a bit bored. There’s even been a few times where I’ve suddenly realised that I’m talking to myself. I have no idea what that’s about. Half way through the train journey I go to use the toilet. There’s a big mirror on the wall. Christ, I look huge. I’m always a little taken aback when I see my reflection in a foreign mirror. And this is no exception. My shoulders look ridiculous, my famously thick pecs (at least in the world of online muscle fans) are bulging underneath my plain white t-shirt (you should see them in a vest!) and my arms look straight up fucking monstrous. I guess I’m kinda known for my arms. I don’t mean to sound like I’m bragging, but you should see the size of my biceps. They just fucking explode off my arms when flexed. My triceps are pretty crazy too. I mean, at this point I’m basically just an all round freak. Strangers in the street would probably run away from me screaming if I wasn’t so bloody good looking with it. Which people feel the need to remind me about quite a lot on Instagram. I’m always getting told how handsome I am by random users. And it’s not just on Instagram. I read a crazy comment on a muscle blog once where someone said I wouldn’t look too out of place in one of those American high school films where the hot jock guys always look way too old to be playing teenagers. I kinda loved reading that. Then I started imagining what kind of character I could play. I was thinking an unusually buff, British exchange student all the girls go crazy over but who’s actually secretly gay. Then some big Hollywood producer could snap me up and put me in a Marvel film as a superhero. Or as some mutant freak in the latest X-Men film (no CGI needed). I mess with my brown hair a little, which is getting a bit too long at the top, to restyle it. I turn my head to the side and look at my jawline in the reflection of the mirror. People are always mentioning my jawline on the Internet. Then I wiggle my eyebrows up and down and flash a big, cheesy grin at my reflection. And then I laugh at myself. Because I’m such a fucking knob sometimes. I lift my t-shirt up and HOLY ABS. God, I love my stomach muscles. They really fucking POP. It’s like I’ve got six big cobblestones trapped under my skin and they’re trying to burst out. They’re definitely amongst the best developed and most aesthetic abs of all the lads in my year. An idea pops into my head which I can’t resist following through with. I whip out my phone and take a picture of myself, flexing the bicep muscles in my right arm in the mirror while pulling a funny face. Then I load up Instagram and type a cheeky caption. Me and this bad boy bulging off my arm are on a train back to MU. Everyone keeps staring at me. It’s like they’ve never seen a muscle monster before. Weird! #huge #biceps #watchmegrow #freak4life #hellyeah #sexymonster And BOOM … the post is up and my sexy face and bulging biceps are out there for all the world to see. Or all twelve thousand of my Instagram followers anyway. My chest flutters with excitement at the thought of all the likes and comments that will, without question, soon come flooding in. As I walk (well, more like strut) through the carriage to return to my seat, practically every passenger looks up at me. I clock one guy I’m fast approaching who has his head buried in a book. I cough loudly as I walk towards him and he casually glances up. This comical, shocked expression takes over his face and his eyes look like they’re about pop out of their sockets when he looks at me. Ha! I give my new admirer a mischievous smirk as I strut past his seat. And no doubt half the carriage are now checking out my obscenely huge, round arse which is stuffed into my painted on skinny jeans. When I settle back into my seat I load up Instagram again on my phone. I feel a surge of excitement because (as predicted) the reaction to my latest post is crazy. The likes are going mad and new comments keep popping up. Someone calls me a “super freak” (love it). Another person says I’m “so so handsome”. I get called huge, unbelievable and some dude tells me he wants to get his hands on my biceps. The filthy bugger! I like every comment, and even reply to some. Thanking them, or saying “hell yeah” or “I need to get even BIGGER”. For some comments I just leave an emoji. One gets a winky face, another gets the emoji with the one eye closed and the tongue sticking out (I LOVE that one) and, fuck it, the guy who wants to feel my biceps gets the face blowing a kiss emoji. It’s flirty. It’s cheeky. It’s outrageous. And it’s so fucking ME. I love getting all that attention. I love making people go crazy. And I love turning people on. Knowing that they’re aroused by my huge muscles. God. It’s such a bonkers and powerful thought. I jump in the Uber I’ve booked when I get to my final station. The poor driver looks fucking terrified. As we drive to my campus this unsettling feeling churns in my stomach. This is the worst part about going to visit Emily at her university, or going back to my parents for long weekends or holidays; the horrible feeling I get whenever I have to return. If I were in a better mood, I might give my Uber driver a cheeky flex of my biceps before getting out of the car. Instead I say thanks and reluctantly get out. I pause as I look at the assortment of big brick buildings before me and the surrounding greenery. There’s nothing particularly remarkable about my university campus from the outside. It looks like any middle tier university in the UK. I breathe a deep sigh as I look at the only clue that this is anything but an ordinary university campus - a graphic image of an arm with big, flexed bicep muscles on the side of the Prince House building sitting next to the following words: “MONTGOMERY UNIVERSITY OF BODYBUILDING & FITNESS. MAKING TOMORROW'S TOP BODYBUILDERS.”

Same. Story is sending out serious vibrations.

Okay now I just want them to start dating!!! Hahaha I'm shipping them.

Do you know these moments? There might be a chance to do something and you're just too afraid to take that step forward and move through that door? This chance might be there just for a second and after this chance that door is closed and you just wonder... What if? In such a situation was Matt as he took the tram home. He was a bit drunk because his best friend did have his birthday party and a lot of booze crossed the tables. It must have been hours after midnight and there were nearly any passengers around. Matt tried not to fell asleep while the tram shook him gently from one side to the other. The route took more than 20 minutes and midway home Matt was the only passenger left, trying really hard not to slip into the welcoming embracement of his dreams. So maybe it was a dream, but as at the next stop, Matt was shaken awake - or did he just imagined it in his dreams? - by heavy footsteps entering the cabin. With half opened eyes he glanced to the side and first he really thought he must be dreaming, because some kind of beastlike man had entered. He must at least be more than 6 feet tall and based on his stature and the fact the cabin just seemed to bend to his side, he must weight more than 230 pounds. Still not sure if he was dreaming or was awake he couldn't resist to take a closer look. Wearing a shorts his calfs were exposed to his knees. Those calfs must be as thick as his own upper legs. His knees also stood out and were massive to support the rest which was following. Even if the guy was wearing a short, his squads were perfectly visible though the cloth and Matt could only imagine how strong those legs must be. While the guy was walking through the cabin Matt could see even the tiniest muscle support the movement. And further above Matt didn't even know where to look first. The bulky beast wore a loose muscle-shirt so he could make out how his abs must look like. But it didn't matter at all. Matt could clearly see the extreme v-shape of his upper torso. While around the waist the shirt hanged limp, his chest just filled the whole front so the shirt couldn't be any tinier. His shoulders were twice his waist or more Matt wasn't sure if they even fitted in his range of vision. His shoulders which were as huge as ripe melons, gave support to the bulky arms with veins crisscrossing all over. His head was balanced on a bull sized neck. As the man came even closer, Matt's blurred vision under the influence of the alcohol was able to make out some features of his face. He must be not older than 38 Matt thought, looking at his sharp and edged face. His red hair was short trimmed, his eyes were deep set, so they just looked dark. His cheekbones were prominent and were followed by even thick jaw muscles. His unshaved face gave him an even more beastlike appearance. The man finally came to a halt, looking at Matt and just took the bench opposing Matt. As he sat down his squads as big as tree trunks pulled hard on his shorts and might have ripped them apart in seconds. Matt's heart was already beating faster and that man just sat there, watching Matt through those dark impenetrable eyes. And then Matt had to take all of his willpower not to let his jaw drop, as the man began to rub just around the middle of his shorts. Breathing deep the man just exerting the pressure on his boner which already pressed long and thick against his shorts. While he moved his hand across the area of his package the muscles of his arms tensed more and more, more veins becoming visible. And as he grab firmly his thick cock still watching Matt sitting there speechless and horny, the muscles on his arm and pecs seemed as they would explode anytime. Matt sat there feeling his own boner twitching in his own shorts, swallowing hard and confused about what was just happening. But before Matt could build up the courage to say or do something his stop arrived and Matt just got up, what looked more like a jump, crossed the guy and left the tram without a glance back but not without taking a deep breath and inhale the testosterone which filled the air. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ The next morning Matt woke up with the heaviest headache he ever had in his life. He got up just to sit down a second later, everything swirling in his head and his vision went black. A few minutes later Matt staggered into the bathroom. While the fog in his head cleared he remembered that strange dream he had about this guy in the subway. Instantly his cock woke up and pulsated stronger with each memory and impression of the dream coming back. He couldn't help himself and jerked off while he wondered: Was this real or not? Has he dumped his load into the sink he could finally relax and put that though aside. Put on a shorts and a loose shirt then went downstairs to get some water and something to eat. His mom was also standing in the kitchen smiling at him with this kind of a pitting expression. "Drunk aren't we? Well I told you, now deal with it." Matt just sat down, not trying to show any remorse about the party last night. "Dear, I need to do some shopping this morning if you remember. Can you deal with the carpenter who comes over at 11 to fix the door? No, don't gimme that look. I told you last week!" Well in his condition he didn't want to leave the house anyway so yeah why not handle it. As he layed down on the couch, only in his shorts he just mourned as his mum said goodbye and left. Doozing off he drifted back into his dream last night. It felt so real! In his memories he tried to get a grip of the men's stature again. Trying to get each detail right, he sank deeper into a half-asleep state and was unpleasant awaken by the doorbell. Half asleep Matt staggered to the front door and as he opened it, he winced and took a few steps back from the door. Standing broad and tall in that once again opened door frame stood the beastlike men. To be continued

Chapter 3 After massaging Cris and then Arturo, I knew I had to learn more about why I was suddenly transforming like this. To do that, I retraced my journey with Cris the night we had our encounter. We had been at a party hosted by friends, and left fairly early. I was pretty sure there'd be nothing for me to find there - the hosts of that party were an older couple with kids, and I was sure that if either of them had a way of magically becoming more physically fit, they'd use it themselves. So from there, I went to the bar that Cris had taken us to that night. I had never been there before and hadn't really considered going again - although, of course, if Cris had asked me to, I'd have joined in a heartbeat. I didn't want Cris to know why I had come back, though, so I made this journey alone. I went to the bar on a Tuesday evening after work, shortly after they opened. I was one of three patrons in the bar when I entered. The bartender - a lean, scruffy, dark-haired thirty-something with a charming smile - asked what I'd like to drink as I approached. I knew next to nothing about alcohol, so I just asked for the first drink whose name popped into my head - an Old Fashioned, the drink Cris had ordered when we came before. "Coming right up," he said, grinning. As he prepared the drink, I glanced toward the door and the other patrons, making sure nobody else needed his attention. The two other patrons were seated at a table, deep in conversation. Nobody else had entered. I took in the bartender's clothes - black shoes, black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a black vest and tie, with a nametag on it reading "Shaun" - then called out to him. "Hey, Shaun, can I ask you something?" "Fire away," he said, looking me in the eye while dexterously preparing my Old Fashioned. "I was in here, Saturday night, a couple weeks ago..." He chuckled and cut me off. "Lemme guess, one of the bartenders hit on you and you're trying to get another shot with him?" I froze. That hadn't been at all what I wanted, but it seemed like being hit on by a male bartender here wasn't that rare an occurrence, despite it not being a gay bar. I played along. "Am I that obvious?" Shaun shrugged, making the motion look like it was part of the dance his arms and hands were doing with my drink. "I only guessed you're gay because of the way you sized me up just now. Most straight guys would probably look at the drink I'm making if they looked at me at all. That, and you look like you're the kind of guy Freddie would hit on." I struggled for a moment to recall the features of the bartender who had served Cris and I when we came in before. He had been blond, twinkish, and pretty openly lustful towards Cris. I described him to Shaun: "Blond guy, green eyes, small frame?" "That's our Freddie. He's not working tonight, but if you want to come back any night between now and Sunday he'll be here." Shaun pushed my finished drink across the counter. As I took it, I told him, "Thanks, I might do that. And I'll close out now." As he ran my card to pay the tab, he asked, "Do you want me to give a message to Freddie?" "Ah, probably not. I don't know when I'll be free to come back this week to come back, don't wanna get his hopes up. Thanks, though." I signed the receipt, tipping him 100% of the bill, and took my drink to an unoccupied corner. Periodically sipping it, I pulled out my phone and started scanning the bar's Instagram page for photos of Freddie. When I found one, it dispelled any doubts that he had been the guy who served us that night. The photos in which he looked the happiest, I noticed, contained men with muscular physiques. I wondered if he had put something in my drink that caused this change, and if so, why. Unless he had done so for purely altruistic reasons, I couldn't imagine why he'd risk exposing such a secret to benefit me. I could hear a whispered conversation at the bar, but I didn't look up. I was busy finding my way from the bar's Instagram to Freddie's private one. What did make me look up, however, was the sight and sound of someone pulling one of the stools away from my table. I casually swiped the home button on my phone, hiding the screen's contents as Freddie perched himself on the stool next to mine. "I thought you weren't supposed to be working tonight?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not supposed to be. I'm just covering a shift for someone who called in sick. Have we met?" He was taking me in exactly how I had checked out Shaun, with an interested look I was entirely unaccustomed to. "Uh, yeah," I said, somewhat nervously. "You served me and a friend drinks a couple weeks ago." He looked confused, but then smiled lasciviously. "I think I would have remembered seeing you, hot stuff." He laughed. I chuckled too. Then I realized he wasn't quite as small as I remembered. He was still much smaller than me, but his work shirt was tight around the chest and sleeves in ways they hadn't been a few weeks ago. Judging by the pictures I had just seen, they hadn't been that tight a few nights ago - there had been a picture of him on Instagram from Saturday, shirtless at the beach, with his arms and chest looking like they had all the toned musculature of a spaghetti noodle. Then one from Saturday night on the bar's page with him gazing longingly at some drunk muscled stud. Three days later, his sleeves looking like a sausage about to burst its skin; the fabric across his chest stretched tight. I downed my drink. "Well, maybe you'll remember me better after tonight," I said. "Let me fix you another drink," he said coyly. "Then we can talk about what we can do to make sure I remember you when I wake up tomorrow." He sauntered away, swinging his hips. His glutes stretched the seat of his pants as taut as his chest did that tiny shirt. I watched him go to the bar. He made me another drink - probably another Old Fashioned, I thought, resigning myself to drinking another one. I was already feeling the buzz coming on, and a second drink would put me over the edge. I watched Freddie making the drink. When he noticed me looking, he smiled warmly at me, then turned his back to me, still holding the drink, as he continued to mix it. Moments later, he brought it back, along with a drink of his own. I took a sip. It was an Old Fashioned, but there was something about the taste that didn't match up with what I'd just had. Not as if the drink had different proportions - there was a new flavor in the mix here. My suspicions had evidence to back them up. "So," I asked, the alcohol lending me a degree of charm I might not have been able to muster without it, "What does it take to get you to remember me next time?" I leaned in a little as I spoke, giving a small smile and letting the burning sensation in my throat give my voice a sultry growl. He stroked my bicep, admiring the way I filled out my own long-sleeved button-up. It looked great on me. I had started buying a wardrobe more appropriate to my new measurements. "You could come to my place when I'm off work," he said hopefully. I chuckled. "I could, but I have work tomorrow. And I probably start a few hours after you get off. I'd probably still be drunk. Wouldn't even have time to sleep," I added with an exaggerated wink. Freddie looked around the empty bar. "Well... there's also a back room we could go to. While there's nobody here." I took larger gulps of my drink. Freddie's eyes lit up every time I lowered the glass a little emptier than I had raised it. "That sounds like fun," I said. "And I could sleep before going to work." I tossed back the remnants of my drink, and Freddie took that as his cue. He stood, grabbed my hand, and let me to a door by the bar. On the other side was a dim hallway. He whispered furiously to Shaun after pushing me through the door, then followed and directed me to a storage room on the left. It was unlocked and mostly empty but for a few cases of rum. "We're getting a new shipment tomorrow, and this room will be mostly full. So today is the perfect day to do this," he whispered. Then he stood on tip-toes and kissed me. I made out with him for a good ten, fifteen seconds, then nudged his head aside. He took it as a sign to start kissing my neck. I allowed it, because it enabled me to whisper in his ear. "So how does this work?" "Well," he responded, "first I get this big dick hard by sucking it" (he groped my crotch, finding my cock completely soft) "and then once it's nice and wet, you bend me over that stack of boxes and make me scream your name." I chuckled again. I was drunk, but not drunk enough to forget that I wasn't here to fuck this guy. "No," I said. "I meant the stuff you put in my drink. How does it work?" He froze, then backed away from me. I grabbed his arm. "You put this stuff in my drink. I want to know why and how it works." He looked confused again, but had the decency not to try to lie. "You say that like you know what I put in it..." "Yeah," I told him. "Almost like you put it in my drinks two weeks ago, when I was a fat little schlub you wouldn't look twice at. Almost like it turned me into someone you would look twice at, and try to fuck at your workplace." Comprehension and horror dawned on his face. "You were here with..." "With the hot guy with the shaved head, yeah." "It was supposed to be in his drink," Freddie muttered. "He was supposed to go home with me." "Your first mistake was assuming that he wanted the weak, fruity drink. That was all me. Your second mistake was in assuming that he'd leave a drunk friend behind just to hook up." I considered how deep I needed to cut to break him down, then decided to go for it. I put a hand on the back of his neck and pushed down. He dropped to his knees. "Your third mistake was in thinking he'd be into you at all." The hurt in Freddie's eyes was only undercut by the excitement in them. Yeah, he was being told all the ways he had fucked up, but he clearly wanted to be on his knees in front of me. I unzipped my pants and pulled out my half-hard cock. "Tell me how it works, or else." He looked up me, trying to disguise his glee as defiance. "Fuck you," he said, spitting. His saliva landed on my dick. I responded by grabbed the base of my cock and slapping him in the face with it, over and over, without letting it enter his mouth and while silently begging it not to get any harder. His frustration at not being able to suck my cock mounted as I held his head in place with one hand while using the other to assist in cock-slapping him. He broke. "Fine," he said. "I don't really get how it works. I bought the recipe online. Dark web voodoo shit. I had to borrow from my retirement money to afford it." I held my cock still in front of his mouth, nd let his head move enough that he could just barely reach the tip with his tongue. He immediately began licking the slit furiously, desperate for a drop of precum. Despite my best efforts, my cock stiffened entirely, and he got the precum he was working his tongue overtime to earn. I yanked his neck back an inch, then asked my next question. "What do I have to do to get it to work? Clearly it works some times and not others. What's the difference?" He responded eagerly this time, willing to answer any question to get my dick again. "It only works if you cum inside the guy! If you do that, you drain his gains away. All of them for a while, but after an hour or so, he's back to normal and you're a little bigger than before." I moved forward far enough to allow contact between him and my dick, but only so I could slap him in the face with it again. "Fucking lies. It worked for me even when I didn't cum inside the guy I was having sex with." I held my cock just above his reach. A gob of precum slowly lowering from my head. He desperately reached his tongue out to catch it. I spun my dick a bit, not enough to hit him, but enough that the precum drooling out of the head ended up all over my shaft and hand rather than dripping onto his eager tongue. I held him still, thinking, while another rope of precum began to drip down. I swung that safely away too, and the third. Then I shared my thoughts with him. "You want me to fuck you. Or at least to cum in you. So that much is clear. Sex is part of it. But I'm bigger than you. Just like the guys I've stolen mass from were way bigger than me. Well, more muscled, anyway." Freddie looked up, startled. "Wait, guys? Plural? You got it to work more than once with only one dose?" "Yeah," I told him. "Twice so far." "It's only supposed to work once," he said, more to himself than to me. "It stops working when you cum inside..." He cut himself off. "Good to know," I said. "Tell you what. Give me that recipe and I won't report you to your coworker out there for drugging my drink." The expression on his face returned to horror. "You wouldn't..." "I would. And I will if you..." I slapped his face with my cock, splattering his cheek with precum. "Don't..." I made a matching splatter on the other side. "Share." I lifted my cock up and brought it down between his eyes. Precum oozed from the bridge of his nose down into his left eye. He began blinking furiously. "Okay," he said. "Whatever. Fine. The recipe is on my phone. There's a pic of it in my gallery." I bent down and pulled it from his pocket myself, holding the phone in front of his face until it unlocked. In his image gallery, among a ton of pictures of him sucking cock or being fucked, taken from the POV of the guy he was sucking or being fucked by, was a picture of a handwritten recipe. I showed it to him. "That it?" He nodded. I let my cock rest on his face. He began sucking and licking my balls. Precum began flowing onto his forehead. "I've figured it out, I think. Tell me if I'm wrong. One guy drinks this potion of yours. Then he hooks up with another guy. Regardless of who drank it, the more muscular guy loses mass and the other guy gains it. When the one who drank it cums inside the guy he hooks up with, the spell is broken. That correct?" He moaned, "Mmmhmm," with a mouthful of testicles, nodding at me for good measure. I turned his phone's NFC on, then shared the picture. Putting his phone in my shirt pocket, I pulled out my own, turned on NFC, and received the picture. I backed it up to my cloud save before I pulled his phone back out, turned off NFC, and deleted the picture of the recipe. Then I paused for a moment. "Oh hey," I said. "And I figured out how to make you remember me." With his phone, I took a picture of my cock, oozing precum across his face as he sucked my balls like they were the fountain of youth. Then I tugged my balls out of his mouth. He didn't resist - he opened wide, ready to swallow my cock. But the only thing swallowing my cock was the hole in my pants between my belt and my lowered zipper as I tucked myself back into my boxer briefs. I zipped up, then shoved him backwards so he was on his back. I dropped his phone on his chest as I left the store room. After I left the hallway, I told Shaun, "Sorry to leave so soon. I guess I'm not as into him as I thought." Shaun looked like he had no horse in this race, but empathized with someone not being into Freddie. "You have a good one, man." "You too," he said as I headed for the door. I drove a few blocks away, head swimming from the alcohol, then parked at a strip mall and called an Uber. I had my gym bag in the car, remembering that I had meant to go after swinging by the bar. I grabbed it as the Uber arrived. My head began to clear as the Uber drove me to the destination. It occurred to me that my newfound size was probably making me more aggressive. I had been uncharacteristically rough with both Arturo and Freddie, in ways I hadn't been with Cris or any guy I'd hooked up with before. I hoped it was something I could get under control. I was lost in my thoughts until the Uber pulled to a halt and announced, "Here you go." It was then I realized I wasn't at home. I had gone to the same place I had gone the last time I took an Uber. Cris's house. I was about to apologize and tell the Uber driver that I had put in the wrong address when I heard Cris call out to me from his car, whose spot my Uber had stopped behind. "Mark! I wasn't expecting you to come by. Does this mean you're hitting the gym with me again?" Oh shit, I thought. Here we go. I hefted my gym bag so that he could see it, and called back, "Hell yeah. Let's get swole."

Next couple pages Sponsorship to help keep creating theses stories is always welcome! Click the link to my Patreon in my signature!

Don't know whats happening in these comments but I just wanna draw guys getting bigger and this story hits one of my hot buttons soooooooooooooo Here's my artwork of Seth trying a prototype product to grow ridiculously big.

Five Hands down my favourite teacher at Montgomery University is Johnny Hoxton. Johnny is a bit of a legend in British bodybuilding. He competed in a few big IFBB shows with other famous pros but never really placed that high or got much recognition. But over here in the UK he’s really well known and respected. He’s only five feet, six inches in height but the dude has some serious mass on him. Even more so when he used to compete. Thick all over with insane quads and an arse so big it could feed a small country for a month. He had so much personality on stage too. He always ripped it up when he was posing. He was one of those types of bodybuilders who were always really cocky but were really fucking loveable with it. You could always just tell that Johnny was a big softie underneath that thick mass and his cocky, hyper-masculine attitude. Even though he’s now in his forties, he's still got his boyish looks and cheeky chappie charm. He’s just a bit rougher round the edges. And his hair’s gone a bit silver. It totally works for him though. He’s a mega fucking muscle DILF. But more than that, he’s just a really lovely, down to earth guy. With a massive fucking arse that sticks out a mile in any shorts or trousers he wears. Johnny was the one who interviewed me when I applied for Muscle University. Right from the start I got a really good feeling about him. And I got the impression that he warmed to me too. He also seems to have this habit of knowing when something’s not right with me. During my second week here he pulled me aside and asked, with genuine sincerity, whether I was settling in okay and pointed out the fact that I didn’t seem entirely happy. I couldn’t believe it. Firstly that he’d even noticed and secondly that he cared. Did I tell him that I was struggling with the fact that I was no longer the biggest lad in class? That I was hating the fact that I was no longer the centre of attention? Not exactly, but I did admit that I was struggling to adjust to life here at Muscle University, including having to share a room and my personal space with a complete stranger. And now, as he’s lecturing in my Muscle Food, Diet & Supplements class, his massive arse sticking out of his unfashionable dad jeans, I get the vibe that, once again, he’s noticed that I’m not entirely okay. He’s thrown a few more looks in my direction than usual. I like that Johnny’s observational and cares about me but I’m really not in the mood to get into anything heavy with him right now. The class has ended and I’m heading out of the room when … “Woody!” It’s funny. I didn’t actually want to talk to Johnny but now he’s called me back I think I kind of do. I casually go over to his desk as everyone else files out of the room. “What’s up, sir?” I ask in a carefree manner. He’s got that concerned look on his face. Ugh. “Good weekend?” he asks. I think back to being at Emily’s university. God. It feels so long ago now. “Mmmm. Really good actually!” I say, feeling warm at the memory. “I went down to stay with my friend in Bristol! She’s at uni there.” Johnny nods. “Bristol’s a good uni! I’m guessing your friend doesn’t have to share a room with anyone either?” he asks, with a knowing smile. I roll my eyes and fold my arms across my chest. “And how are you getting on with Luke?” I pull a face and shrug. “Look, I know you struggle with the roommate thing, but Luke’s a good kid!” I scoff. “Sir, he wore Harry Potter boxer shorts to Posing Practice 101!” Johnny’s mouth curls into an amused grin. “I did hear about that! But you know, he’s sensible. And he seems pretty quiet!” I pull a face. “Sounds like a right barrel of laughs!” “Well I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with him. Sounds like a pretty good roommate to me. I mean, would you rather share with him or someone like Deano Watkins?” Oh Jesus. What a fucking thought. “Hmmm. Fair point!” I reply. Johnny lets out a little sigh and leans back in his chair. “Look, it’s not really my place to tell you this, but … Luke’s had a pretty rough year!” There’s a voice in my head that’s saying, “And how is that my fault?” Which makes me feel like a dick. A massive, fucking dick. “Okay …” I say, feeling a little bad and not really knowing how I’m supposed to respond to the information I’ve just been given. “And it means a lot for him to be here. He’s really keen to do well. I know he’s pretty much the smallest guy on campus but Luke really wants to be a bodybuilder, Woody!” I nod along, feeling slightly sympathetic, but wondering why Luke is any different to anyone else. Don’t we all want to do well? Doesn’t every student here want to be a freaky, shredded IFBB pro? Johnny sighs again. “Okay, how about this. I can’t promise you anything but …” Woah. What is this? I feel a shudder of excitement. “... I will try my absolute hardest to make sure you have a single dorm room next year!” What the fuck?! Barely any second years get their own rooms. My chest is fluttering and I’m suddenly smiling. I can’t help it. “But, in return, you’ve got to do something for me!” Oh Jesus. Here it comes. “Help me out with Luke!” For fuck’s sake. “Help out how?” I ask warily. Johnny leans forward and rests his forearms on his desk. “Look, I’m not saying you have to be best friends. Just … help him out. Be like a mentor to him!” Ugh! What am I? A fucking charity worker? “A mentor?” “Mmmm! Help him adjust to life here at Montgomery. Help him fit in with the other lads!” I pull a face. “I’m not even sure I fit in, sir!” I reply honestly. “But the lads respect you! And maybe you could go to the gym with him? Help him out with his training? You know, he probably looks up to you already!” I scoff. “I doubt that!” I say, thinking about the fact that I’ve been nothing but a dick to Luke since he arrived. Of course, I don’t tell Johnny that. “Woody, you’re practically twice his size!” Okay, that makes me smile. “I mean you’re both the same age and you’re so much more advanced with your bodybuilding than he is! You must have had help when you were younger? You didn’t get biceps that big without getting some advice from someone at the gym!” I nod, because it’s true, and I’m also smirking, because Johnny just said I have big biceps. Which I do. Fuck yeah! “And if I do this, help Luke out then … I get my own room next year?” “I will try my absolute best, Woody! It’s not guaranteed though! Look, I know it’s a big ask. Just think of it as ... an after school project.” I nod. “What if he doesn’t want my help?” Johnny shrugs. “Then you try harder. You do know you can be pretty charming when you want, Woody?” I’m tempted to make a joke and ask him if he’s flirting with me. But I’m scared I might give the game away that I’m queer. Which Johnny definitely isn’t. Mrs Hoxton is the only one who gets to manhandle that humongous sized bootie of his. The lucky cow. “Okay!” I say, reluctantly. “I’ll do it!” “Good man!” Johnny says smiling. I’m apprehensive. I have no idea what I’ve just agreed to. I mean, I’d love to have my own room next year. Of course I would. But being nice to Luke? Resisting the urge whenever I think of a witty put down? Being a mentor? Going to the bloody gym with him? Helping him “fit in”? Is that even possible? I mean, the guy stands out. He just does. Amazingly, in this school full of cloned bodybuilders, Luke actually fucking stands out. I make my way out of class, but Johnny calls after me. “Oh and Woody? Maybe you could start with making sure he’s got some posing trunks for his next Posing Practice 101 class?” I nod at Johnny and smirk. And then I head back to my dorm room, wondering whether the campus store sells Harry Potter themed posers. Luke’s sitting on his bed with his head buried in his book again when I get back to the room. Jesus. Does the guy not do anything other than read? He doesn’t look up or say hello. I guess I kind of deserve that. I throw my backpack on my bed and awkwardly stand in the middle of the room, thinking of a good opening line. I sigh. “What ya reading?” I awkwardly ask him. Luke says nothing. He just holds his book out for me to read the title. It looks like some weird, geeky, sci-fi shit. “The Sands of Jupiter! Looks … beauuutiful!” I say sarcastically. And then I remember that I’m supposed to be being nice. Shit. Right, time to turn on the charm. I can do this. I paint on a cheeky smile and bounce down on the end of Luke’s bed. He puts his book down and gives me this stern, annoyed look. Today he’s wearing a white t-shirt with the word Marvel on it along with all sorts of superheroes. It’s actually pretty cool. White suits him. “Hey, roomie!” I say, with a cheeky smile. “Get off my bed!” he says flatly. “Technically it’s the university’s bed!” He rolls his eyes and puts his book back up to cover his face. Jesus. This is gonna be a lot harder than I thought. Propped up by my elbows at the end of Luke’s bed, I stubbornly stay put. His feet are just a few inches away from my stomach. He’s wearing yellow and red stripy socks. I sigh, trying to think of something to say. “Soooo … are all your boxer shorts Harry Potter themed?” He does a little groan behind his book. “Oooh! I bet you’ve got Batman boxers too!” Luke doesn’t respond. “You have haven’t you?” I ask excitedly. I jump up and lean over to get a look at Luke’s expression behind his book. I just catch him smiling before he turns straight faced. I could have sworn I noticed dimples on his cheeks. “Might have!” he says casually with a little shrug. “Ha! I knew it!” I say, grinning and retreating back to the other end of his bed. I look up at the poster of muscle freak Tommy “The Tank” Foster above Luke’s bed. He’s in shredded competition condition and cranking out an abs and thighs in a pair of bright yellow posing trunks. “So … is this your favourite bodybuilder?” I ask Luke. He puts his book down and shoots me this suspicious look, his eyes narrowed. I look at him wide eyed as if to say, what’s your problem and his face relaxes a little. “Pretty much!” he says, nodding. “Really? This guy?!” I ask, looking at the poster again. “Yeah?!” Luke says defensively. “You know he’s, like, one of the top 212 class bodybuilders out there?” I pull a face. “Yeah, but .... it’s 212!” Luke scoffs. “What you think every bodybuilder has to be a mass monster?” I shrug. “Not really. But … I mean compare this guy to someone like Blaine Holton. I mean that guy’s a fucking BEAST!” “Yeah, but he doesn't have the shape and symmetry that Tommy has. I mean look at that conditioning!” he says, leaning forward and looking at the poster. “Razor sharp. Amazing lines. Crazy detail in the quads!” Wow. It’s the first time I’ve seen Luke talk about bodybuilding. He’s surprisingly animated. And now I’m finding myself smiling. “I mean you could probably grate cheese on his serratus!” he adds. What the fuck? I laugh out loud. And Luke’s grinning too. “Grate cheese! I like that!” I say to him. And now it looks like he’s blushing a little. I feel a little flutter of something in my chest. Maybe Luke really does look up to me? God knows why. I bite my lip and look up at Tommy again. “He does have amazing abs!” Luke nods in agreement. “Probably the best abs in bodybuilding!” “Hmmm. Until I become a pro, of course” I jest, wiggling my eyebrows up and down at Luke. He pulls a face and rolls his eyes but there’s a tiny little smirk there too. “Oh come on! My abs are pretty awesome!” “Mmmm. They’re okay!” Luke says, shrugging and pulling an indifferent face. “What?! Okay, who have you seen at Muscle University so far who has better abs than me?” “Ummm …” Luke says with a playful thinking face. And I’m smiling again because I’m actually kind of enjoying this banter we’ve got going on. “Who was that short, loud guy in Posing Practice?” “DEANO?!” I cry. “No fucking way does Deano have better abs than me!” Luke’s mischievously grinning at me. And now I can see his cheek dimples clearly. He’s obviously just messing with me and trying to wind me up. And it’s fucking worked. I narrow my eyes at him and smirk. “So what’s your favourite lesson so far?” “Mmmm. I actually really like all of them!” he says, surprising me. “Even Posing Practice?” I ask with a little smirk. He does a little eye roll then nods. “Yeah! It was pretty cool actually!” he says sincerely. “Even though I was forced to pose in front of the whole class next to this complete and utter TWAT!” I release a loud, shocked laugh. The cheeky bastard. “Don’t tell me. He was all cocky and shit and kept grunting with his poses?” “Ugh! YES!” he scoffs, playing along. “Seems to think he’s something special!” And now I’m actually a little offended. But I don’t show it. I guess he’s touched a bit of a nerve with that comment. “Careful!” I say. He just shrugs and gives me this look like he doesn’t care. “Maybe he had to grab back some of the limelight?” I suggest. “Maybe everyone was too focused on the fact that, ummm … oh yeah, you were wearing HARRY POTTER BOXER SHORTS!” He smirks a little and rolls his eyes. And now he just looks a little embarrassed. “I mean that’s one way of getting attention round here! Turning up to Posing Practice wearing those!” “I … didn’t know you had to wear trunks, okay?” Luke says, a little sheepishly. “I obviously skipped that part of the website!” I can tell he’s embarrassed about it. And annoyed at himself. I feel a little bad for him. “You’ve got some though, right? Trunks?” He shakes his head and looks a little lost. “Well you better hurry up and get some before next week’s class. They sell them at the campus store!” Luke bites his lip. “I know. I do need to get some. I’m just a bit … well, how do I know which ones to get?” I shrug. “Just pick a pair!” He nods but he looks unsure. “What size do you think?” I can tell he’s really nervous about the whole thing. I roll my eyes and groan. Time for me to start being the mentor that’s going to get me my own room. “Come on!” I sigh, leaping off the bed and signalling to the door. “What?” Luke asks with a confused expression. “I’m taking you trunk shopping!”

Four Deano and some of the other lads cheer me on as I walk to the front of the class and stand next to Luke. He looks stoney faced. Like he’s majorly pissed off at me. Jesus, I’m so much bigger than he is. My shoulders, my arms. He looks almost puny next to me. It’s laughable really. It’s also kind of intoxicating standing next to someone where there’s such a size difference. I bend forward and crank out a quick most muscular with a cocky face and a grunt. Some of the lads laugh and others cheer. I look at Luke with a smug smirk and his eyes are on my huge, thick pecs. HA! Caught him. He has a weird look on his face. I can tell he’s intimidated by my muscle, but he looks impressed too. He catches my eye and he suddenly looks embarrassed. “Right then, boys,” Hancox begins, “let’s have a standard abs and thighs pose! Exactly like I just demonstrated.” Both of us throw our arms behind our heads in preparation. I pause, cock my head and look pointedly at Luke’s geeky yellow boxers. Then I shake my head and roll my eyes, which makes some of my classmates (including Deano) laugh. Luke crunches down and his little shredded abs tense and I have to admit, I’m quietly impressed. He seems to be giving it as much as he’s got. I’m clearly about to wipe the fucking floor with him though. I cheekily wiggle my eyebrows up and down as I look at my audience and give them a cocky grin. Then I puff out my cheeks, arrogantly grimace and release a loud grunt as I crunch down on my thick, blocky abs. “EURGH!” The lads start cheering and whooping and a couple of them shout my name. Fuck YES. When I stop posing I look over at Luke. He’s clearly embarrassed and uncomfortable. And pissed off. Maybe he’s realising that transferring to Montgomery University was one monumental mistake. Maybe right now he’s thinking about packing up his Tommy Foster poster, collection of novelty boxer shorts and assorted geek-tastic t-shirts and catching the first train home. Maybe by tonight I’ll have my dorm room all to myself again. Here’s fucking hoping. “Okay, lads, let’s get another pose. This time with only one hand behind your head and the other resting on your hips!” Hancox instructs. I lift up my right arm to put behind my head as instructed, but then I stop midway and cheekily flex my biceps. The lads cheer. I look over at Luke and the cheeky little fucker is rolling his eyes at me. I can’t resist. I lean closer to him, put my flexed biceps close to his face and some of the lads laugh. “I think he wants to feel your biceps, Woody!” Deano heckles, and one of his little minions laughs. What a weird thing to say. I look at Luke and he looks just as confused as I am. I swear he’s even blushing a little. “Blow him a kiss, Woody!” Deano calls. What the fuck?! I have no idea why Deano just made that comment but I feel a sudden, sharp pang of nerves. No one here knows I’m gay. I’ve never done or said anything to insinuate that I am. Unless it was more directed at Luke? Why though, I have no idea. There’s nothing about Luke that screams, “I’m a homosexual”. “Calm down, lads!” Hancox orders. “And you, Woody - stop pissing about and just hit the pose please!” I love the way Hancox talks to us. He respects us but he doesn’t take any shit. I shake off Deano’s weird comments and get back into the zone. I arrogantly grimace and let out a deep grunt as I crunch down once more on my abs. I really didn’t need to grunt that loud. Or grunt at all. It’s totally for effect. “Aaaand twist your upper body to the side, boys! Show off those serratus!” Hancox instructs. I internally laugh. Because as if Luke has fucking serratus. I twist to the side as instructed and look down to admire the view. My (quite frankly) awesome abs are popping through my stomach. What an image! My emerald green poser bulge is sticking out (I’m not hard, but stranger things have happened while flexing for an audience!) and my quads look so meaty and thick. As do the bicep muscles in my right arm bulging next to my face. And as for my serratus, while they might be not as shredded as they would be if I were in competition condition, they’re still pretty damn prominent. I shoot a glance over at Luke and WOW, I have to give it to him. As predicted, there’s no no sign of any serratus, but his abs are awesome. They’re differently shaped to mine. Sort of rectangle, where mine are longer and more square shaped. The lines separated his are a lot neater than mine too. If Luke packs on some size and gets really shredded, he could have one seriously impressive physique. But those bright yellow boxers. Dear fucking lord. The poor lad’s never gonna be able to live those down. “Nice work, lads!” Hancox says. “Luke, you did well there, mate!” Luke stops flexing and relaxes. He’s got this coy, little grin on his face. I can tell Hancox’s comment meant a lot to him. Something weird happens when I see Luke looking happy. I get this fluttery feeling in my chest. I have no fucking idea what that’s about. I cough dramatically and some of the lads laughs. Hancox rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, Woody, good job too!” he says. “Less of the grunting next time please!” Ha! That makes me laugh. I look over at Luke and he’s smiling too. Our eyes meet and his smile doesn’t waver. And neither does mine. It’s like we’ve momentarily forgotten we’re not friends. Ugh. Whatever. I roll my eyes and look away. And then … well I can’t resist. “How about one more pose, sir?” I ask. I look over at Luke and smirk. “I’m thinking … most muscular?” And you should fucking see Luke’s little face. HA! He’s terrified. The lads start to spur Hancox on, but he’s clearly noticed Luke’s horror. “Don’t be an idiot, Woody. Right, the two of you can sit down again!” I’m gutted. “Ahhh, sir!” I whine, but Luke’s already trotting off back to his spot amongst the class. I know I’m acting like a bit of a twat. To be honest, I don’t really know what’s gotten into me but I’m definitely not hating the reaction my behaviour is getting from my classmates. Or the fact that, for fucking once, me and my muscles seem to be the centre of attention. I’m not ready for my spotlight to end just yet. So instead of retreating back to the group, I stay at the front of the class, lean forward, scrunch up my face and blast out a quick most muscular with a big, loud, “YEEEAHH!” The reaction from my classmates is awesome. Everyone laughs and cheers and whoops. Oh I could definitely get used to this. “Sit the fuck down, Woody!” Hancox orders in a stern voice. I obey and go back to my spot in the class, the adrenaline of posing and showing off my muscles for my classmates and receiving such a brilliant reaction surging through me. “How about I get one of the third years in here to have a pose off with Woody?” Hancox suggests lightly to the class. “What do you think, lads?” HA! The cheeky fucker! Everyone laughs, including me. The truth is I would actually fucking love to pose next to a third year. I mean, I would definitely get shown up. Most of those guys are monsters. But the vast majority of them are also hot as fuck. I kinda love seeing them waddling around. A reminder of how big I’ll be in two years time. Jesus, what kind of attention will I get when I go to visit Emily in Bristol then? Posing Practice 101 has finished and the classroom is emptying. Luke’s still putting his clothes back on. Deano and one of minions, Shaun, come up to me. Shaun’s a tall blonde guy who’s fairly lean but he’s got some decent size on him. I have to say he’s a pretty cute guy. Shame he’s a bit of a knob and basically follows Deano round like a fucking puppy dog. “Ooooh, Woody! Can I feel your biceps?” Deano asks in an annoying, twattish manner. I feel another sharp twist in my stomach. “What are you on about, Deano?” I ask confused. Over Shaun’s shoulder, I notice that Luke is looking at us. He even looks a little interested. Nosey little shit. “That dude on your Instagram post yesterday!” Deano says smugly. I internally breathe a sigh of relief. Suddenly everything makes sense. I pull a face and shrug. “Guys post comments like that on my pictures all the time!” Deano raises an eyebrow. “Well they don’t do it on my posts!” he says, side eyeing Shaun and giving him a sly smirk. “Hmmm. Not exactly Chris Hemsworth though are you, mate?” Shaun laughs and Deano narrows his eyes and gives me a fake, sarcastic smile. “Its bodybuilding, Woody. Not a beauty contest!” he says. “Hmmm. Well that’s good news. For you!” I’m making digs, but Deano’s actually not a bad looking guy. He’s not what you’d call conventionally handsome but I can definitely see how someone might be attracted to him. He’s olive skinned with green eyes and dark brown hair which is usually slicked back but today is fluffy and un-styled. Like he was in a rush to get to class. His nose is large and curved and he’s got these chipmunk-like cheeks that make his face look a bit chubby. And he wears one round black earring with a hole in the middle which has stretched his right earlobe slightly. He’s got this sort of bad boy, scally look going on. Like from the very first moment you see him you can tell he might be trouble. “Anyway, it was your reply to him I was more surprised at!” Deano says smugly, giving Shaun another smirk. Oh shit. I’ve suddenly remembered how I replied to that particular comment when I was on the train back to Muscle University yesterday. “WHY would you reply to a comment like that with the kissing face emoji?” Deano spits. He seems genuinely baffled. Like he can’t even comprehend the notion of a guy flirting with another guy. Even if it’s just for a harmless bit of fun over Instagram. I suddenly feel nervous. Here’s the thing. I haven’t really made a conscious effort to hide the fact that I like guys here, but I don’t think it’s something I’d be very open about either. I’ve never really known how accepting the bodybuilding world would be of an openly gay competitor. I mean, they’re not exactly common. And although I try not to think about it too much, mostly because it just makes me angry, I’ve seen some pretty homophobic comments amongst bodybuilders and straight fans alike on the Internet. I don’t really know if most of the lads here at Muscle University would be the same. I keep my calm and pull an indifferent face. “I was just pissing about!” I say lightly, as if it’s no big deal. Which is absolutely fucking shouldn’t be. “Just seemed kinda gay!” he says. And now I feel like I’ve been kicked. The way Deano said the word “gay”. Like he has an issue with it. Like it’s a bad fucking thing. And now I’m starting to feel pissed off. “Look, just be careful, Woody!” Shaun pipes up, sounding a hell of a lot more sincere than Deano. I ask him why. “Because people LOOK at our Instagram profiles. Students. Teachers. Other bodybuilders. IFBB pro judges!” Deano explains. “You don’t wanna get a reputation! Or do anything to affect your future.” And now my head is spinning. I mean, I know there’s politics in bodybuilding and the right guy doesn’t win in every competition, but the suggestion that being gay might potentially harm my bodybuilding career? That’s some seriously fucked up shit. “A reputation for what? Someone who sends emojis?” I joke. Deano scoffs and shrugs. “Well if you wanna flirt with gay dudes, mate!” he says, then he and Shaun walk off. If only they fucking knew. A part of me would love to tell them I like boys. Partly just to see their reaction. And partly because I really don’t know why it would be such a big deal. Because it shouldn’t be an issue if a competitive bodybuilder were to be openly gay. And it definitely shouldn’t have any bearing on their career. Why the fuck would liking lads affect someone’s ability to be the biggest and best conditioned muscle freak on a bodybuilding stage? I have a few hours to kill before my A History of Bodybuilding lecture so I go to the gym in Watson House. Afterwards I go back to my room for a quick shower. Luke is sitting on his bed with his face buried in a book. It looks like some geeky, sci-fi shit. “Alright, Potter!” I say to him, smiling to myself. He takes his book away from his face and shoots me an evil look. “Hilarious!” “Well I wouldn’t go that far! Still pretty funny though!” I quip. Luke rolls his eyes and puts his book back up in front of his face again. I start stripping off for my shower. Right down to the shiny emerald green posers I’m still wearing from Posing Practice 101. I look over at Luke, who’s still got his face covered by his book. I can’t resist. Still only wearing my trunks, I walk over to his bed. “What do you reckon then, Harry? Fancy another flex off?” I ask. He drops his book and there’s that expression again as he looks at my overhanging pecs and tummy bursting abs. The same expression he had when I first stood next to him in Posing Practice. Intimidated, nervous, slightly in awe and undoubtedly impressed. Luke rolls his eyes and puts his book back up to cover his face. “Thought you only flexed off with other bodybuilders?” he asks. “Hmmm. I’ve had a change of heart! Turns out it can be pretty fun posing next to a wannabe physique competitor!” I hear him scoff behind his book. “Especially one who’s wearing bright yellow Harry Potter boxers!” I have no idea what expression is on Luke’s face. Whether he’s annoyed or amused. Or a mixture of both. “Oooh! Or we could have a pec bouncing competition instead?” I suggest excitedly. I look down and start bouncing my thick muscle tits. I look up, and Luke quickly puts his book back up to cover his face, but before he does, I notice his mouth curled into a little smile. And now I’m smiling too. “Suit yourself! The offer’s there. Any time you want!” I walk away and head to the shower. I look back at Luke. Maybe in hope of catching him looking again. Maybe noticing how my humongous sized arse spills out either side of the shiny material of my emerald green trunks. I feel a surprising pang of disappointment that he doesn’t. When I get out of the shower, Luke has gone. I’m half expecting him to be sitting in class when I walk into A History of Bodybuilding, but he’s not, which means we have slightly different timetables. Thank fuck for that. Me and my last roommate Craig had the exact same classes. I literally couldn’t get away from the annoying prick. Luke’s not home when I get back to my room. I wonder if he’s gone to one of the campus gyms or whether he’s somewhere else. Maybe he’s found a little friend who’ll let him crash in his dorm room because his own roommate’s been nothing but a fucking dick to him since they met? I’ve got my earphones plugged in and I’m watching Netflix on my laptop when Luke finally comes back to the room. I purposely don’t look up at him. I decide that this can be a new tactic. For tonight at least. Yesterday I was a dick, this morning I insulted him, in Posing Practice 101 I humiliated him and now I’m just ignoring him. Like he’s not even there. Like I don’t have a roommate. Luke who? Maybe it’s bothering him. Maybe he’s relieved. Who knows what’s going on in that head of his. I keep it up for the rest of the night. In fact, I only really look over at him when he’s walking from the bathroom to his bed and climbing underneath his duvet, his pert muscled arse cheeks nestled into the yellow Harry Potter boxer shorts he’s still wearing. I can’t help but smile at the image of those novelty boxers. I’m even still thinking about them and smiling to myself when the lights are out and I’m turned away from Luke and I’m drifting off to sleep.

Ok, guys here's chapter three and it's fair to say Woody is not handling the fact that he has a new roommate very well! Three “You have got to be fucking kidding me!” are the first words I say. I can’t believe who’s standing in front of me in the middle of my dorm room. This lad is about an inch shorter than me, has light brown hair, black trendy glasses and is wearing a blue t-shirt with the Batman symbol printed on the chest. But this guy is no Batman. And he’s absolutely, unequivocally NO bodybuilder. Okay, he’s got a little bit of muscle on him and his arms look a little beefy, but he’s hands down the smallest guy I’ve ever seen on campus. “It’s Sebastian, isn’t it?” he asks. I can tell he’s nervous. A little wary of me. “Nope!” I say flatly, going over to my bed and dumping my holdall down. “I’m Luke!” he says behind me. “Beauuutiful!” I say sarcastically while unpacking my things and not turning around. “So, er … what name do you prefer?” my apparent new dormmate asks me. For fuck’s sake. He’s still jabbering on. “I mean, what do people call you?” “Hmmm. Monster. Fucking jacked. Shredded freak. Sexy bastard!” I spin around because I want to see his reaction. He still looks wary, but his expression has softened. He’s even smiling a bit. Like my reply amused him. Which definitely wasn’t my intention. I fold my arms and look him up and down. “So … what’s the deal?” Luke’s smile fades and he looks at me confused. “You. Being here. Did you win a competition or something?” He looks hurt and, for a split second, I feel bad. Now that’s passed, Luke turns stony faced and gives me this sarcastic, fake smile and turns away from me. I roll my eyes. Jesus. Is that all he’s giving me? I breathe a deep sigh. “People call me Woody!” I tell him. He doesn’t respond or turn around. “As in Wood. My surname.” Still nothing. “Sooo … did you transfer from somewhere?” I ask. Still no response from Luke. All I get is his back. His fairly average sized back, though I can see some little lats peeking underneath the blue material of his t-shirt. He carries on unpacking his things. Ugh. Fuck this. “A roommate who doesn’t talk! Sounds good to me!” I say cheerily, plonking myself down on my bed and picking up my revision notes for tomorrow's exam. And now Luke turns around. “What’s the point in talking to you if you’re just gonna be a dick?” Ha! That makes me smile. Nice put down. At least the guy’s got some balls. “I transferred from Leeds. I was doing sports science there,” he explains, sitting down on his bed. Ugh. This fucking university. There’s not a hope in hell’s chance that we’ll be able to move anywhere else, but anyone who demonstrates an interest in bodybuilding will be able to transfer here in a heartbeat. Which doesn’t really explain why they let this guy in. I mean, some of my fellow classmates were hardly monsters at the beginning of the year, but the admissions team were really making allowances with Luke’s application. I put my revision notes down and jump off my bed. “Come on then!” I say to him. He looks at me puzzled. “Let’s see what you’ve got. Whip that Batman t-shirt off!” I order. Luke pulls a face. “I’m not having a flex off with you!” he says annoyed. “Pshh. I don’t want one. I only flex off with other bodybuilders!” He rolls his eyes, shakes his head and rolls over on his bed, putting his back to me. “Look, you can’t be shy about taking your top off round here. It’s the first thing they make you do in Posing Practice 101!” I tell him. Luke doesn’t respond. I retreat back to my bed, smirking and feeling like I’ve won. That feeling quickly fades as I try and lose myself in my revision notes and the realisation of what is happening hits me. Because I no longer have a dorm room to myself. I have a brand new roommate. And a brand new reason why my life here at Muscle University pretty much fucking sucks. The next morning and Luke is in the shower, which pisses me off because I want to get in there myself and have no choice but to wait for him to finish. I didn’t plan it, but I’m stood near the door to the bathroom when it opens and Luke emerges wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He stops in his tracks looking slightly coy and I stand there looking at his naked torso. I’m impressed because, while Luke may not look like a bodybuilder with his clothes on, he’s pretty fucking ripped. His toned chest muscles are separated by this pretty deep line, the separation between his shoulders and biceps is more cut than I thought it would be and the dude has got some impressive little abs on him. Perfectly lined up, like they’ve been cut with a ruler. I can’t help noticing that his skin looks really soft too. I don’t know why, but I can’t help but smile as I look at Luke’s physique. I pull a face. “Hmmm. Not bad!” I say to him. He looks nervous, sheepish, but I kind of get the sense he values my approval. “I can definitely see potential!” I say in a sincere tone. (And here comes the put down.) “As a physique competitor!” (BOOM!) “Eurgh!” Luke grunts, before he stomps past me. I’m still smiling as I get in the shower. I’m kind of hoping he’ll still be in the room when I emerge from the bathroom so I can show him what a really jacked physique looks like, and feel a gutting disappointment to find he’s already gone. I don’t see him again until Posing Practice 101, after I’ve sat my exam for my Bodybuilders In The Media module, which went a lot better than I had imagined considering I was struggling to concentrate while revising last night. I didn’t know Luke was going to be in Posing Practice until he's awkwardly walking in a few minutes late looking flustered and a little embarrassed and wearing a bright red t-shirt with a picture of a Lego figure on it. Jesus. Am I actually roommates with the world’s biggest geek? “Sorry!” he says to our teacher, Mike “The Hench” Hancox; a big, bald scary looking ex competitive pro bodybuilder with a thick Geordie accent. If there’s one teacher at Montgomery University you do not fuck with, its Hancox (as most of us call him). He raises one eyebrow as he looks at Luke (ha!) before his expression softens. “No worries, er … is it Luke Henderson?” Luke says yes and Hancox tells him to stand somewhere amongst the rest of the class. A few lads behind me start sniggering to each other. He clocks me and for a moment it looks as if he’s actually going to head towards me. He’s got this desperate look on his face. I shoot him a look to warn him off and he seems to take the hint and veers off to the other side of the room. Hancox tells us that today’s lesson will be focused on perfecting the abs and thighs pose. We all start stripping off to our posing trunks. Today I’m wearing an emerald green pair. They’re shiny as fucking shit. But then, most of my trunks are. I feel my eyes going straight to Luke and I wonder what colour posers he’s going to be wearing. For some reason I feel they’ll be boring matte trunks. The kind that aren’t shiny. They’ll probably be a dull black colour too. His top is off, his pumped little lats peeking out underneath his arm pits. They’re about half the size of mine but they're somewhat impressive I guess. And then his socks are off, and then his jeans are coming down and you have GOT to be fucking kidding me. There’s only one thing worse than wearing dull, non-shiny trunks to Posing Practice 101; not wearing trunks at all! Instead of being met with posing trunk material, I’m now looking at Luke wearing nothing but a pair of bright yellow boxers shorts. But not just any boxer shorts. Novelty Harry bloody Potter boxer shorts. “Look, lads! It’s Harry Potter!” I know that voice. It’s Deano, or “The Pocket Rocket” as most of us call him. He’s about five feet, five inches in height but he’s built like a brick shithouse. He’ll be a future 212 class pro bodybuilder for sure. He’s a bit of an annoying, gobby twat if I’m being honest, but he’s never given me any shit before so he doesn’t really bother me that much. A few of the other lads laugh at Deano’s comment. Luke twists his head and looks around. He looks mortified. He also actually does look a bit like Harry Potter with his black glasses on. A better looking Harry Potter with a six pack. He looks at me and I lift one eyebrow and shoot him a sly grin. My concentration focuses on Hancox as he explains various ways of hitting the abs and thighs pose. Having insane abs and thick, meaty quads, naturally I love this pose. In fact, I love this entire class. A bunch of bodybuilders (well, plus Luke) all in one room wearing nothing but shiny, colourful posing trunks (or bright yellow novelty boxers in Luke’s case) just cranking out poses. Flexing our muscles. Showing off our hard earned mass. Most of us huffing, puffing and grunting as we do so. Fuck yeah. It’s probably the only time here at uni where I actually enjoy being surrounded by fellow future pro bodybuilders. Every now and then I shoot a glance at my new roommate. I can’t help notice that he’s actually got quite an arse on him. I mean, it’s not humungous or anything like mine, but it definitely sticks out a fair bit. Pert is probably the best way to describe it. The lad clearly likes to squat. He’s got some decent little calf muscles on him too. I can’t really see how he’s doing with his poses because he’s got his back to me, but even so, I’m getting the impression that he’s way out of his depth. I guess it can’t get any worse for him. “Right, lads, I’m gonna need two of you to come up and demonstrate a few poses!” Hancox says. He scans the group. “Luke! It’s your first day of classes here so come on, let’s throw you in at the deep end. Might as well start as you mean to go on!” Oh Jesus. I was clearly wrong. Things can get worse for Luke. I hear a cruel laugh behind me. I know it’s Deano. Luke nervously walks to the front of the group. He looks petrified. Like a rabbit in the headlights and I feel a little twinge in my stomach. I actually feel a bit sorry for him. Deano wolf whistles. “Nice boxers, Harry!” he jeers. “Shut the fuck up, Deano!” Hancox says, which we all laugh at. Luke’s expression seems to soften too and I feel a momentary pinch of relief for him. “Okay, guys, who’s gonna come up here and be Luke’s posing buddie?” I hear a few sniggers from behind me and no one says anything. I look around. No one is volunteering. Luke makes eye contact with me again and I feel a sudden rush of excitement as an idea comes to me. I give him a sly smirk and put my hand up. “I’ll do it!”

Two Have you ever wanted something so badly, but when you finally have it, you realise it wasn’t what you were expecting it to be at all? And all that hope and expectation has gone. And you’re just left with this crushing feeling of disappointment? That is exactly what happened to me when I arrived at Montgomery University six months ago. I’d wanted to be a bodybuilder ever since my dad’s old business partner took me to a hardcore bodybuilding gym at the age of fifteen. I remember seeing all these pictures of huge muscle freaks and top bodybuilders in shredded competition condition on the walls. Huge pecs. Insane biceps. Veins everywhere. I was mesmerised. And I remember this strong feeling, a desire, to be like those guys. To be one of those huge flexing muscle freaks. God, I wanted it more than anything. All of my school friends wanted to be in indie bands, famous YouTubers or published authors when they grew up. But me? I just wanted to be a bodybuilder, flexing my huge biceps and crunching my thick abs on stage in nothing but a pair of shiny posing trunks. God yeah. So I trained my (then skinny) arse off. Read stuff on the Internet and in books about building muscle. Took advice from the bigger lads at the gym. I started drinking protein shakes and taking supplements and eating shit loads of calories a day. I soon started to pack on the muscle. I was the only lad in my year at school with a six pack. The other lads used to crowd around me in the changing rooms in P.E and comment about how jacked I was (which I loved). Some of them used to get me to flex my biceps too. Sometimes even in class, where they’d also try and get the attention of the teacher. “Sir? Sir? Have you seen Woody’s biceps, sir?” (Naturally I loved that too.) I soon became the biggest guy in the year. I got a reputation for being the “hardest” too. Which I always thought was hilarious. I didn’t get into a single fight at school and I’ve never had even the slightest desire to punch anyone (I’d much prefer to hit them with a witty and scathing put down). After a few years of serious training, I entered my first bodybuilding competition and won my class. An experience which affirmed what I’d felt that first day I’d attended the hardcore bodybuilding gym; that the only thing I wanted to be and the thing that I believed I was destined to be was a barely human, shredded to death, grotesquely monstrous muscle freak. Emily and all of my other school friends started applying to various universities. I’d never really had much of a desire to go. What would be the point? A university degree wasn’t going to help me become the next Blaine Holton. Then, one afternoon, my rugby playing Science teacher Mr Bentley (fantastic arse!) kept me behind and asked me the question I’d been dreading; what was I planning to do once I’d left school? I lied and said I was thinking of applying to do a design and illustration degree somewhere. After all, I’d always loved to draw, even if I hadn’t told many people about it. And then Mr Bentley said one thing that would determine my future plans. “I’m surprised you haven’t applied to Montgomery University.” I’d heard of it, of course, but I’d never really considered the idea of going. Montgomery University of Bodybuilding & Fitness (or Muscle University as it’s often affectionately nicknamed). Founded by bodybuilding legend Charles Montgomery, who was known for his academic achievements and his ability to speak several languages, it was the only school in the world dedicated to turning it’s students into professional bodybuilders. It was somewhere up in Scotland and the tuition fees were rumoured to be pretty high but it was supposedly not that hard to get in to. All you really needed, besides fairly decent further education grades, was to demonstrate that you had a passion for bodybuilding. Which I most definitely did. As soon as I started to look into the university, this burning desire to go started to brew. It seemed perfect. A place where I could train with other budding muscle freaks, learn more about bodybuilding and do nothing but train, eat, study, flex and grow into the mass monster I was already on my way to becoming. A place where I could live and breathe bodybuilding with fellow meat monsters and brothers in iron. Where I would take classes such as Posing Practice 101, Anatomy & Aesthetics, Muscle Food, Diet & Supplements and Bodybuilders In The Media, most of which were taught by real life bodybuilders, many of them well known pros who had retired from competing. At the end of the three years, every student competed in a bodybuilding show, where many of the competitors won their IFBB pro cards. And if they didn’t, many would get snapped up by muscle related companies for sponsorships, and most likely go on to win their pro cards not long after graduation. I suddenly wanted nothing more than to go to Muscle University. Of course, throughout the application process, convincing my parents that this was the right thing for me (mum took a while to come round to the idea) and the interview (which I smashed), there was one thing I didn’t factor in. One thing I never even considered. You see, the one thing I’ve always loved about being a bodybuilder is the attention that it’s bought me. The lads at school commenting on my abs and asking me to flex my guns. People in public looking at me when I’d wear vests and tight t-shirts in the summer. All the likes and comments whenever I posted pictures of myself flexing (or even not) on social media. I loved being different. I loved being special. I loved being the only bodybuilder at school. The biggest lad in class. The only one with genuine, full on, six pack abs. I loved being the town’s most well known competitive juniour bodybuilder. Even featuring in the local newspaper (my dad seemed especially proud of that achievement). And then I arrived at Montgomery and quickly realised that, much to my surprise and horror, I was no longer any of those things. I was no longer different. I was no longer special. I was no longer the biggest and most jacked lad in class. And I certainly wasn’t the only bodybuilder. Because every other fucker here at Muscle University is a bodybuilder like me. My classmates. My teachers. My short lived dorm mate Craig. They’ve all got abs. They’ve all got big biceps. Some of them (particularly the second and third years) are considerably bigger and more monstrous than I am. I don’t stand out. I’m not unique. No one stares at me when I walk down the halls. Fuck, barely anyone even notices that I’m here. I am just one of many freaks in the sea of barn door backs, massive shoulders, thick legs and huge arses I see every single fucking day that I’m at this frigging university in the middle of nowhere which now imprisons me for eight to nine months of the annual calendar for the next three years. Even now, as I’m walking down this corridor, passing a number of fellow meathead students on the way to my dorm room, barely anyone even looks at me. Twelve hours ago I was being gawped at in a club and having guys ask to feel my flexed biceps, even just two hours ago my freaky hugeness was (very rightfully) the command of every single passenger in a train carriage, and now I’m practically invisible. I breathe a deep sigh as I put the key in the lock to my dorm room. This is my sanctuary. Where I’m free from fellow bodybuilders, many of them bigger, more jacked and cockier than I am. As soon as I open the door my stomach lurches. There are things on Craig’s old bed. There is bedding on Craig’s old bed. And a poster of 212 super freak Tommy “The Tank” Foster pinned to the wall above the bed. Oh God no. No, no, NO. It can’t be. I can’t have. And then, I hear the toilet flush in my bathroom (MY bathroom which has been mine alone for the past three months), the door opens and my worst fears have been realised. I have a new fucking roommate.

@muscleaddict Thank you for writing this. Thank you for taking the time to flesh out the feelings and thoughts so often brushed aside for the sake of a wank session. I had gotten into the pattern of thinking that my muscle fetish was never going to be a part of my romantic life, not in any substantial way. There aren't many models of how romance and muscle can look together, of how one can be both tender and a hound for growth -- I needed this. I feel more confident that this kind of dynamic can exist, that it's not some silly, 2-D fantasy -- that though rare it can be part of a relationship, of lust, jealousy, joy and the rest of the emotional spectrum. It's cathartic, is what it is. I'm moving states soon for uni and leaving behind someone...someone who, in retrospect, made me feel both like AJ and Noah. After reading and sitting with that feeling, I am indoubtedly a bit sad. But I am also happy to have experienced it, even if I wasn't taking it all in. Thanks again.

OMG this story just gets better and better, hotter and hotter. I too have a thing for muslce guys in tight shiny posers, and the description of Luke's body and Woody's reaction is so real. Where is the cold shower - i need a long one to recover.

Ok I totally ship Luke/Woody! They both have common goals when it comes to bodybuilding, yet they are both so different in so manu ways. But they do say opposites attract all the time. I may or may not be right about Luke and Woody as a couple, but I'm going to keep tuning in to find out. Keep up the awesome work, Muscleaddict!

Chapter 2 I wasn't sure what had caused the transformation that overtook me a few weeks before, when my evening out with Cris had turned into a lust-drunk fuck, but I had a hell of a good time trying to replicate it. At first, I tried massaging Cris again. He was more than willing to get the knots worked out of his shoulders, neck, and back. He would never say no to a scalp massage. He seemed distinctly uncomfortable whenever I tried to push the massage further, however, not wanting me to massage his arms, chest, or legs. If I had to guess, it was because he couldn't reconcile his image of me as his fat friend with what he still believed was an erotically charged dream. He had been hitting the gym especially hard lately, talking about lost gains and needing to catch up, especially since he could see that I had leaned up a bit. I had been having an easier time at the gym myself, and had lost another five pounds per week since I had massaged him. Since he didn't want the full massage treatment, I had to look elsewhere. Luckily, there were no shortage of guys on apps like Grindr and Scruff, but getting one who was extremely muscular would be difficult. Guys on those apps, I knew, could be pretty shallow. To be fair, I wasn't really interested in guys with my body type either, so how could I expect them to be? Within a few days, though, the promise of a free massage turned a few heads, and I managed to get the attention of a guy by the name of Arturo whose profile pic was his impressively sculpted pecs. They were covered in a light crop of dark chest hair, and from what I could tell of the pictures he shared, his entire body was tanned. He invited me to come by after he was done working out, and since I was free that afternoon, I accepted. He was short, maybe about 5'5". The four inches I had on him made me feel huge, at least until his clothes came off. His arms were like something out of a superhero comic. Without even flexing, I could see that his biceps were probably close to the size of a grapefruit. His triceps looked as big as golf balls. When Arturo took off his shirt, he turned his back to me. His back rippled with muscle as he raised his arms to pull the shirt over his head. His shoulders were large and round, and sloped downwards from his thick neck. He kept his shorts on, telling me, "You get to take them off if you do a good job." As he lowered himself, facedown, onto the bed, I mounted him and began warming his massage oil between my hands, then I started kneading his large shoulders. Almost immediately, I could sense a tingle beginning in my own shoulders. This was what had been missing with those casual massages with Cris. I presumed, then, that at least two factors were needed: an intense physical attraction to the man I was massaging, and that he be lying down during the massage. I wondered what else might be required to make this happen. As I squeezed, kneaded, rolled, and adjusted every inch of Arturo's astounding body between his neck and the waistband of his shorts. When I got to that point, I made as if to move to his legs, but he commanded me: "Not the legs yet. Take my shorts off." My shoulders, back, and arms were burning from both effort and whatever connection was draining Arturo, but I was too excited to grow fatigued. My heart pounded as I pulled the shorts down. He wasn't wearing underwear. When I got the shorts about halfway down his lean, hard thighs, I focused my attention on his ass. It was smaller, less shapely than Cris's, I had to admit. I wasn't sure if Cris's higher body fat was the reason, or if Arturo simply hadn't done as many squats. I would have to ask Cris about his workout habits to clear things up. Even so, Arturo's ass was taut as a drum. His crack had a line of fine, dark hair. Without thinking, I buried my face right there, in the center of his cleftal horizon. Arturo had quite obviously showered just before I arrived. He tasted sweet and clean. One of his hands reached around to grab my head and hold it in place. He moaned loudly as I forced my tongue into his hole. By the time I needed air, I had to struggle out of his grip to gasp for breath. When I did so, he muttered contentedly, "Let's come back to that later. For now, get my glutes and work your way down." I did so, reveling in the burn I felt in my own glutes and thighs. As with Cris, massaging Arturo's calves was something of a respite - my own calves were definitely bigger, with next to no fat to burn away. Then he flipped over. I gasped at the sight of his cock. It was huge, and looked monstrous on his 5'5" body. He had much more to work with than I did, with my own respectable 6.5" erection, or even Cris, who approached a beautiful 8 inches. Arturo had a solid nine-incher, uncut but with the foreskin pulled tight over his monster dick. There was no way he could fuck me. I would definitely get his cum inside me somehow, though. I climbed back onto him and began massaging his chest, using an ample amount of oil to prevent his chest hair from chafing him. I got his shoulders again, and his arms, and his armpits. His forearms looked like a braided steel cable coated in copper. As I watched myself massage the knots out of his forearms, I could see that my own were approaching that level of lean musculature. I especially loved working his gorgeous abs. He was clearly flexing them for me as I massaged them, loving the sensation of my hands moving across them. I could feel the extra weight around my midsection burning away as I did so. In time, I moved back down to his thighs. His cock bounced as I moved past it, and after only a minute or so of kneading his somewhat thin, but rock-solid thighs, he interrupted. "Forget the massage, suck my cock!" I did so gladly. It was difficult to deepthroat him, but I put my best effort into it all the same. I looked up to his face as I did so. He was in a crunch position so he could see me over his massive, hairy pecs. I thought they looked somewhat less massive now, but they were still beautiful. He grabbed my head and held me down. I jerked my head, not trying to get away, but to continue increasing his pleasure. He seemed to love the "struggle" and released me after ten seconds or so. He let out a long, low "fuuuuuuuuck" when I didn't come up for air right away, but continued bobbing my head while keeping as much of him in my mouth as possible. Then he slightly altered his position, and his dick pushed deeper into my throat. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. His cock was filling my airway. He was holding me down again. My entire body was burning as I struggled for precious oxygen. Eventually I grabbed his hands and pulled them off of my neck, slowly and deliberately. I raised my head up so that only the last two inches of his cock were still in my mouth, took a deep, practiced breath, and resumed. He had clearly been expecting me to stay up longer to catch my breath. When I immediately began deepthroating him again, he let out a gasp. "Oh fuck, I can't hold back. You're gonna make me fucking bust!" In answer, I pulled back off so that only a few inches of him were in my mouth, and dove back down. He came buckets. It was a thin, liquid load, and tasted especially bitter. I swallowed it all regardless. He fell back onto the bed, shaking and moaning. "Damn Mark, that was amazing," he said between breaths. I smiled and got up on my knees. "Ready for me to get back to eating that ass?" He laughed. "Thanks, but my ass is off-limits unless you can overpower me." I decided to take that bet. "Worth a shot." I grabbed his left calf and twisted it, firmly but slowly, to the right. Arturo instinctively rolled with it, landing ass-up. I didn't know much about wrestling, but I knew that being so much taller and heavier than him, I had the advantage. Additionally, I noticed that his arms seemed smaller, his back less defined. His ass even seemed softer as I began to stroke it with one hand while pressing his head down into the pillow with the other. He tried to buck me off but couldn't gather the strength to do so. "If you tap, I'll oil my dick up before I fuck you," I growled into his ear. He fought back even harder, to no avail. I reached down to point my cock at his hole, lubricated only by my (admittedly ample) precum. I reached a lower to squeeze his balls, and found by the firmness of his taint that his dick was back at full mast. "Oh, you're not struggling because you want me not to fuck you, are you?" I said as I realized what was going on. "You're struggling because you want to make sure I'm strong enough to take you." He moaned an affirmative into the pillow. I rubbed my leaking head around his asshole and forced the head in. He was so tight, so warm, and so unbelievably silky. He yelped a bit as I pushed my way in, balls deep, but he pushed his ass back against my pelvis to force me in deeper. He didn't notice, or couldn't tell, that the thick belly fat I had had when I arrived was no longer there. I had transformed. I was what he would look like at 5'9", just hairier. Admittedly, I had a smaller cock and our facial features were nothing alike, and I was nowhere near as well tanned as he was - but facedown in a pillow, having his prostate pounded by my thick erection, he was in no fit state to notice any of it. I could see myself in the mirror of his sliding closet doors, however, and the sight of myself looking like some Nordic sex god helped push me over the edge much more quickly than I had hoped - and I had to give credit where it was due, that ass was so smooth on the inside for being so hairy on the outside. As I filled Arturo with my cum, I realized he looked smaller still. He seemed to have almost a swimmer's build, but with especially large pecs. My own could smother him, I could tell. It was a good thing my clothes were made to fit a much fatter me, because they still fit when I put them back on, although the sleeves of my t-shirt were tight around the shoulders and biceps. Arturo stayed in bed, facedown, shuddering, the rest of the time I was there. I drove home, and could slowly feel myself deflating. When I got back to my place, I had to tighten my belt before I could get out of my car. Once inside, I loosened the belt and my pants and boxer briefs fell right off. I heard my phone make the tell-tale Grindr chirruping noise and checked my messages. It was from Arturo: "what the fuck did u do to me???" I ignored it. He'd be fine in a few hours, if still somewhat smaller. I shucked off the rest of my clothes and made my way to the bathroom, where I stood on my scale. I didn't need to suck in my belly to read it - there wasn't much belly left, even though I had stopped transforming back to "normal" already. I felt a thrill of excitement as I saw what the scale's digital readout said. 190 lbs. I had lost another 25 pounds since I had last weighed myself. My stomach was flatter, my pecs more prominent, my arms - hell, my arms had barely changed from when I left Arturo's. They looked chubbier, but the added muscle underneath only made them look more impressive. As I flexed in the mirror, I knew I had to keep this up until I reached my goals.

Hehe! Well I can't lie - I love my short, stacked 212 bodybuilders. The Flex Lewis' and Ahmad Ashkanani's of the muscle world who are almost as wide as they are tall. Turtle tummies, poser devouring glutes and all! Oh and you're in luck cause there's a lot more of twatface Deano to come.

More AJ fan art. I swear he's not the only subject I'll draw but his impact is pretty hard to ignore.

Scene 2

Woohoo! This story makes it officially Christmas in July!!! Tease away amigo

Much like I did with AJ & Noah I'll be posting chapters regularly, mate. No spoilers but I will say the new roommate certainly makes an impression!

Adding a little AJ & Noah fan art. Loved this story. Click here to see it on my tumblr.

Ok *cracks fingers* lets see what I got There is a group of people who can time travel by touching a stone, called TimeSplitters. This transfers their consciousness back to an earlier time. The reason for it being these specific people was that there was a massacre where everyone in the school died except them, and the stone in question was also found on site. In this massacre Zeke, a short teacher, tried to save one of his students, but she killed herself over all the death of the students and the plants she had poured her energy and life into. Daniel, a taller lithe man, found his friend Mark in the halls as the explosions happened. Mark was coughing up blood after and admitted to loving Daniel, but Daniel wasn't gay. Robert, a hulk of a man, got caught in the wreckage but due to his strength survived, and chased down a man in a hoodie who always sports a toothy grin. Despite the size advantage, the Reaper outmaneuvers and beats him in a fight, and tosses the stone they use into the boiler room. Now these three are in an institution studying the time travel. What's interesting is that there seems to be a side effect to jumping. Robert grows bigger, Zeke becomes more depressed, and Daniel is reluctant to say, but eventually Zeke gets it out of him that he is getting gayer with each jump. Eventually Robert finds out, and Daniel in frustration rebuffs him, saying he's not interested. This hurts Robert as he really likes Daniel, and Robert breaks into the stone room to use it to grow to unparalleled heights. Daniel catches up and the head scientist, Kevin, tells him Robert is threatening to kill them all. They need Robert to be eliminated, but he is too big and strong now, so they ask Daniel to travel back and kill him in the past. Daniel travels back to age 5 (by accident) and takes a throwing dagger from Mark's older brother, but Robert overpowers him and they discover that Robert was simply growing to cope with being rejected, and would never imagine threatening anyone. They become friends as they grow up, with Mark as well being close. The massacre happens and despite Robert being even bigger this time (the growth has smaller retroactive effects) the Reaper still beats him, and for good measure also handily beats Daniel. Daniel couldn't change anything with Mark, but when Mark confesses his love, Daniel is gay and tells him he loves him too, but Mark says that he loves someone else. Over time Robert and Daniel begin to forget about conversations they had had with Zeke, and as it turns out (AM: I never did actually say this explicitly) Zeke has been traveling back to try to save Margaret again and again, failing, and becoming more and more aloof due to his side effect. This time Margaret, the student who had been killing herself, is with the boys. She has a note from Zeke telling her about everything he knew, and she is also friendly with the Reaper. She loses her cool when Daniel turns her advances down, and she assaults him and Daniel with the knowledge of Zeke that they seem to have forgotten. This causes a painful memory recalling in them, but since Zeke was part of their journey up until now they do remember. They make things up with Margaret and they become closer in time. Margaret and Daniel train their fighting skills, and eventually as a joke Daniel and Robert fight, and despite Daniel holding his own for a bit, Robert wins. Margaret eventually challenges him, and was winning until Robert begins growing uncontrollably. Every time that was traveled back to at any point still has the effect from before, so at the time Robert was upset and compounded his growth before, it is now happening again. Margaret almost gets crushed. Everyone decides to travel back to try to save Zeke. Daniel doesn't go to save Mark, and Robert even ignores the Reaper to go help, even when the Reaper admits he is the cause of the death happening. Margaret manages to stop Zeke, and Robert and Daniel find that Zeke had been preparing adoption documents for Zeke to be Margaret's guardian since her parents had died in hurricane Katrina. And that's all the way up to Chapter 15. There is a recurring theme I should mention of what will happen to Robert when he becomes a giant in the world. Will he destroy himself trying to protect people who can't always be protected, or will his strength go to his head and he will act as though he were god ruling over the earth. Daniel and Margaret have been very concerned over it, and Daniel has run into moments of Robert hypocritically saying he isn't any better then Daniel, and yet treating Daniel like a kid who needs to be protected, when based on everything they have learned over their time, Robert is the only one in danger.

Austin peeled off the skintight t-shirt from his bulging muscles, tossing it to the floor. He glanced at the mirror - almost pausing in shock from his own beauty - and flashed himself a seductive wink. God damn. He was beautiful. So god damn beautiful. And he was making himself hard as hell. Austin had a face that would look right at home as a Hollywood sex symbol. His mysterious brown eyes and powerful jawline were irresistible, and when he spread those lips into his trademark cocky smirk, he drove the bitches wild. He realized he could make women do anything he asked if he gazed into their eyes long enough - girls, and even some guys, were always happy to do minor favors and give him random gifts in exchange for a few moments staring at his perfect face. He still couldn't believe his transformation. Only a year ago he was an awkward nerd, his high school's valedictorian and a skinny 5'6 twig of a boy. Puberty caught up late, but when it hit him, it hit him like a fucking truck. Almost overnight, his pimples disappeared and his skin cleared. His jaw grew heavier, his voice deeper, his gaze stronger. On a friend's recommendation, Austin replaced his glasses with contacts. Suddenly, every girl in class was chatting him up and messaging him after class. "Damn, college girls are so much nicer than high school girls!" he told his friend one day. The friend rolled his eyes. "That's not it. You're just hot now." Austin took a quick selfie, and to his surprise, his friend was right! He was cute. Handsome. Sexy. Fuck, he was boning up looking at his own face. When did he get so arrogant? Austin started growing around the same time. Over the course of two months, we blasted up from 5'6 to 6'0 - Nearly an inch of height every week! "You're soooo cute!" a random chick told him one day, "and you're so tall as well!" Austin shrugged. "Yeah, I know." He was used to unprovoked compliments at this point. "You'd look even better if you bulked up, though," the girl continued. "Like, you look great already. But you're super lean. Girls love guys with muscles!" So Austin hit the gym. He had never done so before. He was really weak at the start, a frail 140lbs, but his body seemed to blossom with strength and muscle after every workout. Before long he was addicted, lifting 6 times a week, gaining muscle each and every day. He learned about "bulking", and how he needed to eat a shit ton of food if he wanted to grow bigger. Fortunately, Austin had a crazy fast metabolism, so he never gained a pound of fat. Every waking moment Austin was either eating or lifting. The rich girls who flirted with him were super happy to take him out to eat - they didn't mind spending a few hundred dollars a week on protein and carbs for a few moments with this irresistibly handsome, genetically perfect muscleboy. Austin gained 5 pounds the first week, then another 5 pounds the second, and another 5 pounds the third. People told him that he would hit a "plateau" soon, but a few months and over a hundred pounds of muscle later, he was still growing like a weed. As his body grew his appetite did too, and soon Austin had a squad of thirsty girls (and a few guys!) who were paying for his expensive bodybuilder lifestyle. At their request, Austin ditched his lame high school outfit and started taking his wardrobe seriously. With every visit to the mall, he was surrounded by a group of girls and gays who were only too glad to feel him up and provide fashion advice for his rapidly growing body. Austin began exclusively buying t-shirts and button-ups a size too small, getting them tailored so that only barely fit over his bulging muscles. Whenever the boy's massive flexing bicep or enormous expanding back burst through a shirt - a weekly occurrence at the rate he was growing - his squad would take him shopping for a new set of custom-fit tops. Austin's bottoms consisted of a variety of jeans, chinos, and sweatpants that hugged his breathtakingly perfect ass. Squats were Austin's favorite workout, and it showed. No matter what he wore, the boy's muscular bubble butt made his fans scream and giggle. In the privacy of his bedroom, he could barely believe how beautiful his own ass was, or how its delicious rock-hard mass filled up every pair of briefs he owned. By the end of the school year, nearly 7 months later, Austin had doubled his weight. Standing at 6'4 and 280lbs with scarcely a pound of flab on his body, the boy was big enough to compete with the greatest bodybuilders and toughest powerlifters. Yet he was perfectly proportional, perfectly aesthetic, with a body that could grace any fitness magazine and a face like a Hollywood heartthrob. Of course, with his new body Austin was getting even more attention! The girls who only casually flirted with him before had transformed into desperate stalkers, creeping on his social media and following his every post. The female and gay professors who had previously lectured him for skipping class now begged him to come to their office hours for some private tutoring. Even straight men found it hard to resist Austin's sexual energy - just staring at his cute smile or enormous biceps could make a lifelong hetero pop a woodie. Austin started getting intimate with girls, and quickly realized he was a great kisser. He could give a woman a genuine orgasm with just his tongue and his lips. Of course, he was gifted in other ways as well. He had mind-boggling stamina, fucking for hours and hours with such skill and power that each and every thrust brought forth a new orgasm from his partner. He was incredibly versatile, rough or gentle, fast or slow, and no matter who he had sex with, Austin's every touch gave his partner more sexual pleasure than she had ever experienced before. Before long, Austin was bringing home a new harem every night. They fucked like a wild one-man orgy till the sun cracked over the horizon, Austin's incredible staying power keeping him erect the whole time. A night with Austin would ruin a girl for life - there wasn't a man alive who could satisfy a woman half as well as Austin did on a daily basis. One day, one of Austin's regular fucks invited him to a club downtown. He quickly became a local celebrity. Club owners didn't care that he was underage - with a body like that, it didn't matter. Wherever Austin went, so did the crowd - the boy's fans crowded the streets wherever he went, dying to catch a glimpse of his beautiful smile or cop a feel of his rock-hard muscles. Austin made jaws drop with the way his body moved - he was a naturally gifted dancer, with irresistible steps that drove the crowd crazy. His fans screamed at the way he seductively gyrated his ass, his biceps jumping in tune, his pecs dancing to the beat. Most nights ended with a massive orgy, women and men alike unable to control themselves in the presence of his overwhelming sexual energy. For Spring Break, he went back home and happened upon the old high school football team and their cheerleader girlfriends at a club downtown. They didn't believe him when he told them he was the same loser they bullied only a year ago, the nerdy dweeb too weak to lift a dumbbell or run around a track. The old head cheerleader started making out with him, right there in the middle of the club, and before he knew what was happening he was fucking her in front of everybody, her teammates cheering her on and their jock boyfriends powerless to stop him. Then he fucked each of the other girls, making them come over and over and over until they begged him to stop. And when he finished with them, he did their boyfriends, fucking them so hard and so deep that they never had a single straight thought for the rest of their lives. The entire group broke up after that - the cheerleaders knew they would never experience true joy ever again, not after the ecstasy of that night with Austin, and the footballers knew that the knowledge of their inferiority and submission would haunt them for as long as they lived. Nobody ever saw them after that. After getting back from break, Austin began taking Instagram more seriously. With the help of his friends, he quickly became a social media sensation. He loved posing in nothing but his briefs, showing off the way his jawdropping junk and mouthwatering bubble butt filled up his tight underwear. The comparison between his wasplike 30-inch waist and sleeve-bursting 26-inch biceps drove haters to claim "photoshop!", but a record-breaking livestream quickly shut them into shame and silence. The unprecedented viewership of Austin's first livestream caused the video to cut off unexpectedly, prompting fan outrage that forced Youtube and Facebook to expand their network capacity. Austin's massive, heavy pectorals and flawless 8-pack abdomen made the college boy's torso a popular object of worship. A particularly wealthy fan offered him a million dollars to eat a full meal off his belly - and Austin accepted! The next day, he uploaded a photo of a half-dozen supermodels seductively licking a mess of ice cream, chocolate, and honey from his pillow-sized pecs and delicious abs. It took less than an hour to become the most-liked image on Instagram and Twitter, a flood of activity that took down half the world's Internet infrastructure. Good memories. Back to the present. Austin smiled at himself. That same smile that made women pass out in ecstasy, that same smile that forced orgasms from confident straight men. Freshman year ended yesterday. Here he was, 19 years old, the sexiest man on Earth. What would he do next?

OK, here it is. The final chapter! I just want to say a few words before I post it. Apologies if any of this sounds OTT or cheesy! This has hands down been the best experience of sharing a story for me, and that's all down to you guys here and all the amazing and wonderful feedback you've continued to give me! Reading everyone's thoughts, knowing that so many of you like it, hearing people say that they're emotionally invested in the characters and that the story has touched and moved them is more than I could have ever imagined when I wrote the fist draft of this story back in the summer! It's been fun and exciting and genuinely touching, and even a little bit overwhelming at times too! As for the story itself, I can't lie, I am really proud of it! It's my favourite thing I've ever written and again, at the risk of sounding cheesy, it's the kind of story I've always wanted to write but never really knew if I could. So here goes. One more chapter. As I've teased already, it's quite a lengthy one. There are quite a few nods to things that have happened in previous chapters, particularly towards the beginning of the story. When you read it you'll know what I mean by that! Thirty Eight I lay on the guy’s bed with my legs up. I just really wanted him to fuck me in that moment. I’d met him in the club a few hours earlier. The last of a number of one night stands and casual fucks during my first term back at university. He pushed himself inside of me. Fucking hell. This is gonna hurt tomorrow, I thought. He fucked me for a little while and then collapsed on the bed. I was kind of relieved. And then I suddenly just wanted to get the hell out of his flat. Wherever it was. Hove, apparently. A fair walk from Naomi’s place, but it was doable. He offered to call me a taxi and pay for it. I told him I was okay to walk but he insisted. But when I was putting on my shoes he made a snide comment about paying for the taxi in a sarcastic manner. And I just thought, why offer and insist if you’re then gonna be a fucking prick about it?! I collapsed on Naomi’s bed when I got back to hers. I was an absolute mess. I hadn’t planned on taking anything the night before, but one of Naomi’s flatmates had put a pill in the palm of my hand in the club and I hadn’t been able to resist. “My arse hurts!” I said. She grinned at me. “Serves you right for being a slag!” she joked. “Your behaviour last night. Poor Richard!” I groaned and sunk my head into the pillow. Richard was a guy I was sort of seeing. He wasn’t my usual type at all. 6’2, slim built and camp as tits. In other words, the complete opposite of AJ Jones. It was the last thing I’d been looking for after what had happened with AJ in the summer, but I’d pulled him in a club down here in Brighton one night and afterwards he’d wanted to see me again. And then again after that time. He definitely didn’t give me butterflies, but he was a nice guy, so I’d just sort of gone along with it. He’d come out with us the previous night and had actually used the words, “Do you want to be with me?” I’d then kissed that other guy in front of him and ended up going back to his. It wasn’t my proudest moment, I’ll admit. I guess I just kind of freaked out. Because the last person I’d been involved with had broken my heart and it had almost fucking killed me. There was another reason too, of course. I tried not to let myself think about it, but even though I hadn’t seen or heard from him for months, what I’d felt for AJ Jones in the summer was very much still there. I felt bad about what I’d done to Richard. I thought about texting him and apologising, but what would I say? Sorry for getting off with another guy and then going home with him right after you asked me if I wanted to be with you? Sorry for leading you on when I’m still secretly in love with a junior competitive bodybuilder who lives two hundred miles away? Sorry for being an absolute fucking dick to you because a guy you never met broke my heart four months ago? “My dad will be here in, like, two hours!” Naomi said. I groaned again. Naomi’s dad was coming to pick us up and drive us back home to Little Denton for the Christmas holidays. As I thought about the day ahead, a sick feeling churned in my stomach. It wasn’t at the thought of being driven halfway across the country by Naomi’s dad on no sleep and still feeling trashed. It was the thought of being back in Little Denton. I hadn’t been back home since the term had started. When I hadn’t been at my lectures, a lot of that term had been spent with Naomi in Brighton. I guess I’d found it easier to be around someone who knew the scale of what had happened. Sure, I’d told most of my uni friends in London about AJ. That I’d bumped into an old school friend. That we’d fallen for each other and ended up being boyfriends. That he’d messed about with another guy and begged for forgiveness, then went to Ibiza, completely cut me off and told me he wanted to end it. And they told me they were sorry and that it sounded like I was better off without him and all of the things you’re expected to say to someone in that situation. But none of them knew AJ. None of them saw what I was like with him. None of them knew how much I was in love with him. To the point where I didn’t think I’d ever love anyone as much again. But Naomi knew. Even if she never saw us when we were properly together. Never saw that version of me. She knew what I’d been through. She knew in those months that had followed that I was going through hell. Feeling the lowest I ever had. This feeling of sadness running through everything I did. And she didn’t judge me when I drank too much and acted out. When I’d bought guys back to her house to shag then turned cold and frosty with them when I’d sobered up the next morning and spent the rest of the day feeling sad. Or when we’d been having a good night out but I’d randomly returned from the toilets of a club with a red, blotchy face because I’d started thinking about AJ and it had all got too much and I needed to leave. She worried about me, obviously, but she understood everything. Mostly she was just there. Like best friends should be. I’d forgotten how much I’d missed my family until I was home and my mum was kissing me on the cheek. “Oooh, here is. The stranger!” she said pointedly, but she was smiling and happy to see me. My mum studied my face and gave me a suspicious look. I knew I looked a mess from the night before. “You look … tired,” she said. Then she sighed and gently shook her head. “God knows what you and that Naomi get up to down there!” I rolled my eyes in response but I couldn’t help but smirk. Mum never changes. “Yo, bro!” My sister, Kayleigh, who was also home for Christmas, gave me a hug. “Wow! You look like shit!” she said. “Charming!” I replied. My sister was one of those people who didn’t have a filter. She basically just said whatever came into her head, regardless of whether it might cause offence. I’d often wondered how two people with the same parents could be as different from each other as me and Kayleigh were. As nice as it was to see my family, I couldn’t wait to collapse on my bed in the bedroom I’d grown up in. It really did feel nice to be back. Whatever few bad memories I had associated with that room from the end of the summer, I think I’d always love it. It felt like one of the few places in the world where I truly felt safe. I had felt that way about AJ Jones’ bedroom once too. As Little Cat jumped on my bed and curled into the back of my legs, I thought about that one afternoon in the summer when AJ was here, lying on my bed. His gorgeous, smiling face an inch away from mine, his ridiculously muscular body squashed up against me, his huge biceps bulging out of his blue, Tesco polo shirt. That was the day my mum had come home unexpectedly and I’d had no choice but to re-introduce him to her. Awkwardness aside, I had been so happy that day. Me and AJ in our own little bubble. I never imagined it would burst so easily. And then I start thinking about another occasion; sitting on this very bed and crying into my pillow after getting that text from AJ telling me that it was over. I never replied to that message. I thought about it. That night, the next few days and a dozen days after that. I thought about all the different ways I could have responded, and all the different things I could have said. I thought about getting angry. Calling him a coward for ignoring me. Letting him know how hurt I was. Accusing him of not really caring about me. Reminding him that what we had was so special and that I couldn’t believe he was just throwing it all away. I thought about being understanding. Telling him that I knew why he’d done what he had. That it was probably for the best that we ended it now and that I hoped one day we might be able to be friends again, even though I knew that that could never happen. And sometimes I thought about fighting. Telling him that I wasn’t going to let him end things that easily. Telling him that we could make it work. That I could forgive him for messing about with another guy. That what we had was too special to give up. Doing whatever I could to change his mind. To make sure that I didn’t let him go like I’d let him go before. But I couldn’t bring myself to do any of those things. Much like when AJ had hurt me when he’d messed about that guy, Dale, I had closed down to him. That imaginary wall between us had gone up again. And honestly, I just felt like giving up. I couldn’t be hurt anymore by AJ Jones. So I deactivated my Facebook profile. I hid away in my room for the last few weeks of the summer with only Little Cat for company. I stayed away from the leisure centre and Tesco. And any other place that AJ Jones might be. Much like I had on numerous occasions over the previous few months, I then found myself wondering what AJ had been up to since the summer, and what he was doing now. Did he still work at Tesco? Maybe he was now a full time personal trainer at the Little Denton Leisure Centre? Or even a trainer at one of the bigger gyms in town? Did he go out on the gay scene? Had he met any guys off any dating apps? Did he have a whole new set of gay drinking buddies? Was he now boyfriends with the hottest muscle guy in town, me just a distant memory? The more my mind started to wander with possibilities, the less I wanted to know. Maybe it was better to remember AJ as he was the last time I’d seen him. Sorry and hurt for what he’d done with Dale. Asking me for forgiveness. Gripping me tight with his ridiculous arms and sinking his head into my neck near the front door of his house before he left to go to Ibiza for a week. Me and my family had a tradition. Every Christmas Eve we’d go and visit my grandparents on my mum’s side. Sleeping in my bed at my parent’s house the previous night had given me the best night’s sleep in months. Apparently though, I need more. I woke up in the back of my dad’s car, my mum twisting her neck and looking at me with this amused, affectionate grin. And my sister also looking at me. Giving me with cheeky grin and rubbing my cheek with her finger. “Awww! The baby’s awake!” she said, in a cutesy voice. Then even my fucking dad looked around with a big, cheesy grin on his face, also clearly amused that I’d fallen asleep in the back of the car. Jesus fucking CHRIST! I seriously couldn’t do anything without my whole family making a massive fuss of it. I rolled my eyes. I was annoyed. But, I don’t know, truthfully, I kind of liked it. In that moment, still half asleep, I felt this overwhelming sense of love for my family. The car seemed to be slowing down. And then my stomach suddenly lurched, because I realised where we were and what we were doing. Pulling into the car park at the local Tesco. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Why are we stopping here?” I asked my parents, anxiously. “Three guesses! Your mother needs something!” my dad groaned. “Shut up, Keith! Two things I need. I’ll be ten minutes!” “We’ve heard that one before!” my dad said. “Noah, you can stay here in the car with Kayleigh if you want. We won’t be long!” my mum said as my dad parked the car. Still feeling a little groggy from not having long woken up, I didn’t really think about what I did next. I think I even surprised myself. Because I was suddenly undoing my seatbelt and opening the car door. Maybe if I hadn’t fallen asleep, had known in advance that my parents would be stopping there and had been given time to think about what I was going to do, I wouldn’t have gotten out of that car. But there I suddenly was, trailing behind my parents and walking into the place where it had all begun. The place I’d been reunited with AJ Jones that Friday afternoon, all those months ago in June. Where I’d found out that one of my old best friends from school had transformed himself into a mini muscle bull of a bodybuilder, with ridiculous biceps, a big, beefy arse and massive tits which strain through the material of his work shirt. As we walked passed the big Christmas tree and the people dressed as Santa’s collecting money for charity, my mind started spinning with questions. Did AJ even still work here? And if he did, would he be working on Christmas Eve? And what the hell would I do if I actually ran into him? As soon as we walked into the main store, I got my answers to all of those questions. My heart jumped into my throat, and my legs felt like they were going to give up on me. Because standing next to a big display of discounted Quality Street, in the very same blue polo shirt, his arms still ridiculously huge (if not fucking more so!), his tits still straining through the material, his face just as fucking cute and oh-so-gorgeous as before and wearing a red and white fucking Santa’s hat, was the boy who’d broken my heart. I couldn’t decide what I wanted more as I looked at AJ Jones for the first time in four months. To turn away from him and run the hell out of the shop, or to run towards him and sink my body into his. And tell him how much I’d missed him. How much I’d thought about him. And how I very much still loved him more anything. I knew as soon as AJ had spotted me, because his expression suddenly changed. He looked surprised. He definitely looked nervous. Even a little bit scared. I was incredibly nervous myself. But my legs just kept walking towards him. There was nothing I could have done then anyway. He’d seen me. I had no choice but to go up to him. My mum had obviously spotted AJ too. “Come on, Keith, let’s go get the sausages!” she said, ushering my dad away. I was both surprised and impressed at how much my mum respected the fact that I wouldn’t want them around in that moment. As I approached AJ, his face softened. He still looked really surprised. Almost like he’d seen a ghost. I guess he kind of had. But I could also tell, that even though he was nervous, he was actually pleased to see me. “Hey!” he said, nervously. “Hi!” I replied, my heart pounding. It was funny. I had always wondered what would happen if I saw him again. I had thought that I might still be pissed off at him and want to start shouting at him for what he did. But standing in front of him again in the flesh, looking at his cute button nose, rosy cheeks and his slightly jug ears sticking out underneath the white fluff of his adorable Santa’s hat, I was filled with this overwhelming feeling of affection. Even though I was nervous as hell, it was so fucking nice to see him. I never would have predicted I’d have felt that way. He still smelt exactly the same. That unique, intoxicating, masculine scent I once loved so much. I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed it until that moment. “Nice hat!” I said, playfully. AJ rolled his eyes and his mouth broke into a little grin. It was still as gorgeous as ever. “Back home for Christmas then?” he asked. “Yep!” I replied. “Back in boring Little Denton!” AJ said, with a knowing grin. My heart fluttered like crazy. He had said those very words to me the day we’d bumped into each in the meat aisle of this very store. Clearly he’d remembered. I realised in that moment how ironic it was that I’d always found Little Denton so boring as a teenager. How I’d been so desperate to move to London at the very first opportunity. And yet, both the most amazing and the most heartbreaking thing had happened to me right here in the place I grew up in. “Still working at the leisure centre too?” I asked. “Yeah!” he replied. “Nothing changes much round here!” I said. AJ had said those words to me that day too. The cute, heart melting grin he was giving me told me he very much remembered that too. An elderly woman who’d picked up a tub of the Quality Street from the display and was studying it was suddenly trying to get AJ’s attention. “How much are these, love?” GAAAHH!! Five fucking pounds! It says it on that big plastic sign in big letters right in front of your bloody eyes. “Five pounds!” AJ said, cheerily, with a big, warm smile. God. He was still such a little fucking charmer. The woman’s mouth then broke into a mischievous little grin as she then placed her hand on AJ’s wrist. “My grandson, Simon! He’s into all this muscle building stuff!” Then she looked at me and gave me a cheeky wink. AJ shot me an amused look. “Awesome!” he said to the woman, grinning wildly. I bit my lip and tried not to laugh. “I keep saying to him, ‘You’re getting too big, Simon!’ But he won’t listen!” AJ was smiling and nodding and the woman was shaking her head and chuckling to herself. As she walked away, me and AJ looked at each other and exchanged amused grins. “Think Simon goes to Scorpio’s?” I asked AJ. And then he made a sound I never expected to hear again. He giggled. One of his cute, little giggles I used to love so much. And God, I wanted so much in that moment to be back where we were in the summer. Even after everything that had happened, the chemistry between us was very much still there. Looking at AJ’s cute, smiling face as we exchanged a personal joke, this incredibly warm feeling washed over me. Just for one moment, it felt like nothing had changed between us. And then I remembered that it had, and suddenly my stomach was twisting and my whole body felt heavy. A scary looking woman was walking in our direction and glaring at AJ with her eyes narrowed. I’m pretty sure it was the same woman who’d interrupted us when we’d bumped into each other that afternoon in the meat aisle. “AJ!” she said to him, sternly, as she walked passed. AJ looked at me and this sudden look of disappointment flickered across his face. “I’d better …,” he said, nodding to the people looking at the Quality Street display. My heart dropped. “Yeah!” I said, understanding that I needed to leave him to it. “Good to see you, anyway!” I said, my voice shaking a little. “You too! See ya!” he replied, with a look of sadness in his eyes. And then it was suddenly over, and I was walking away, not knowing if and when I’d ever see AJ Jones again. Christmas Day was pretty much always the same with my family. My nan would come over in the morning. We’d open our presents. My mum would make sausage sandwiches for everyone’s breakfast. We’d probably have a Bailey’s or a Bucks Fizz each not long after that. My mum would say that lunch would be ready by two o’clock. We’d all know it would be more like three o’clock, which my dad would make jokes and sarcastic comments about. We’d watch whatever films were on TV in the afternoon while still wearing our paper hats from our Christmas crackers. Probably one of the Harry Potter films for the four-hundredth time and me and Kayleigh would know almost every line of dialogue that was coming next. That Christmas was no different. Except for one thing. The whole day I had been thinking about my encounter with AJ Jones. Had been going over it in my head a hundred times. How he still looked the same, apart from his arms, which I could have sworn were slightly bigger than the last time I saw him. The expression on his face when he’d first spotted me. The way his ears had stuck out underneath the white fluff of his cute little Santa’s hat. The way he’d grinned at me like he always had done and given me one his little giggles as we’d laughed and joked at that adorable woman, who’d brilliantly told us about her muscle building grandson, Simon. I had been thinking about the way he’d smelt. And the way he made me feel. The same way he’d made me feel in the summer. And I’d thought about that gut wrenching feeling I’d had when I’d walked away from him. It was a few hours after our Christmas dinner that it happened. Harry and Hermione had just used the time turner to save more than one innocent life when I heard my phone ping in my pocket. I took it out, thinking nothing of it, and my heart suddenly felt like it had stopped. Because, for the first time in four months, AJ Jones had sent me a text message. I jumped up and shot out of the living room. In the hallway, alone, I looked at the text. AJ had written three words. “I miss you.” Fuck! My heart was suddenly expanding and filling up my whole chest. I dashed up to my bedroom, closed my door and sat on my bed, smiling and staring at the message. Scared but excited at what had happened, while not knowing what to do or how the hell to respond. And then my phone pinged again. AJ had sent me another text. “I miss our Facebook messages.” And then he sent another. “I miss teasing you about being a future shredded muscle freak.” A huge wave of nostalgia swept over me, mixed with an overwhelming feeling of happiness. I grinned wildly into the phone and felt like I was melting into the wall I was leaning my back against. “I miss thinking up awesome bodybuilder nicknames with you.” I couldn’t believe what was happening. Couldn’t believe what was coming through on my phone. Text after text from AJ Jones. “I miss calling you The Cookie Monster.” “I miss taking you to Scorpio’s.” “I miss watching Dom and Cole In The Land of Ug with you.” “I miss lying on my bed with you.” And then I was suddenly crying. Staring into my phone in disbelief, as AJ continued to text me, tears running down my cheek. “I miss kissing you.” “P.S. I promise I’m not drunk!” And then I was laughing, while still crying. “I miss flexing for you.” “I miss seeing your face when I hit a most muscular.” And then my dick started to swell in my jeans. I was crying and laughing and getting a bloody hard on. All at fucking once. “P.P.S. Really, really, REALLY not drunk!” And then he sent the AJ emoji. I hadn’t used that emoji for months. “I miss the way you used to kiss my head every time you cuddled me.” “And I miss the way you made me feel.” I remembered what he’d text Naomi that afternoon in his bedroom when he’d told her we were together. He makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. And then another text came through. “Things I’ve never felt before.” And then the messages stopped. And the tears stopped. And something rose up in my chest and seemed to take over my whole body. I knew what I had to do. I didn’t even stop to think about it. There was just one obstacle to overcome first. I hovered by the kitchen door. My mum was tidying up while everyone else was sat in the lounge. “Mum. Is it okay if I just pop out for a bit?” I cautiously asked. She spun around, looking flabbergasted. “What do you mean?! Pop out where?!” she asked. I wasn’t surprised at her reaction. Going out on Christmas Day in our family just wasn’t a done thing. I thought about lying to her. Telling her that I was going to see Naomi. Maybe I could spin a lie that I’d forgotten to give her her present. But it didn’t really seem necessary to lie to my mum anymore. Not after what had happened the day I’d found out AJ had cheated on me and she’d put her hand on my leg and sat on my bed. It felt like we’d reached a bit of a turning point that day. I was still a little dubious to let her in on the whole truth though. “Just to see someone!” I said, my stomach twisting, a little. She narrowed her eyes and looked at me suspiciously. “Let me guess. Someone from school?” That was the lie I had spun that night I was going on my first date with Eddie in the summer. Only this time it was true. I blushed a little, but smirked too. My mum knew exactly which friend I was going to see. “Don’t be too long! It’s Christmas Day!” she ordered. But both her voice and her expression were soft. And then she gave me this affectionate grin. “Thanks, mum!” I said, grinning back. Then she playfully rolled her eyes. Which I thought was kind of funny, because it was usually me doing that to her. I had always thought that if I was ever stood on AJ’s doorstep again I would be filled with nerves and anxiety. But I wasn’t feeling that at all. Maybe the adrenaline and excitement of what was happening was overriding everything else? Or maybe it was just my sheer single minded determination of what I was doing? My heart fluttered as the front door opened. Even before the person behind it was revealed, I knew it was him. He looked so surprised standing in the doorway, his huge body bulging underneath his painted on jeans and the most adorable purple coloured Christmas jumper with a big snowman on it. He was even wearing a little green paper hat from a Christmas cracker. “Noah!” he said, with surprise. “Hi!” I said, with a nervous grin. AJ bit his lip, but his mouth curled into this big, happy grin. His cheeks were all flushed and rosy. “Have you got a thing for Christmas hats?” I asked. AJ’s eyes veered up and he suddenly whipped the paper hat off his head in embarrassment, which was so fucking adorable. Then his mouth curled back into a little grin. He no longer had his shaved head. His hair was back to the way it was before, though not as styled and preened as it usually had been. It was more fluffy like it was the day I bumped into him at the gym when he hadn’t expected to see me. It was kind of perfect. “Come in!” he said. My insides fluttered as I stepped inside AJ’s house. He closed the door behind me and we were stood close to each other. I wanted to touch him so badly. He had this coy, little grin on his face. It was like he couldn’t stop from smiling. And there they still were after all this time. Those fuck off massive butterflies in my stomach. All one hundred, thousand of them. The door to the living room opened and AJ’s mum appeared. “Oh, hello, Noah!” she said, surprised. A look of curiosity crept over her face as she looked at the two of us standing in the hallway together. It was almost as if she knew something was going on. Then her mouth curled into one of her big, warm smiles. “This is a nice surprise! Merry Christmas!” she said, leaning forwards and kissing me on the cheek. I could hear Harry Potter coming from the TV in the living room and behind her shoulder I could see Andy sitting down. Apparently even on Christmas Day he wore his black leather biker trousers. “Merry Christmas, Mrs Jones!” I said. “We’re just gonna go upstairs, mum!” AJ said. And then, trailing behind AJ, I felt that all too familiar rush of excitement as we ascended the stairs to his bedroom. His room looked exactly the same, apart from one thing. He’d changed the picture he had of himself stuck to his bedroom wall. Gone was the shot of him hitting a crab most muscular in his lime green posers while cheekily sticking his tongue out. And in its place was a picture of him hitting a similar most muscular on stage with his mouth wide open in the shiny pink trunks I’d bought him. It was from the guest posing spot he’d done at the bodybuilding show during the weekend we’d spent in London. I couldn’t quite believe where I was standing. That I was actually back in AJ Jones’ bedroom. Stood just a foot away from him as his thick chest bulged through the purple wool material of his cute Christmas jumper. He still looked happy. But nervous too. Even a little unsure. I suppose I couldn’t blame him. He’d sent me all those text messages. Opened up to me in the most wonderful and brave way. And I hadn’t responded to any of them. I knew what I had to do. I knew it was my turn to make the next move. “Thanks for the texts!” I said, my stomach twinging with nerves. AJ’s mouth curled into an adorable, coy grin. I stepped towards him and gently put my hand on his waist, feeling the soft material of his jumper on my skin. And then his muscular body was leaning into mine and his oh-so gorgeous face, with his cute button nose and his rosy cheeks was coming closer. And then my whole body exploded with joy as my lips met his and I was doing the thing that I had longed to do more than anything since the summer had come to an end. I was kissing AJ Jones. When we parted lips, we just smiled at each other, our foreheads touching. My hands were gripping his impossibly broad back and his ridiculous arms, which definitely felt bigger than before, were wrapped tightly around me. His scent and incredible mass engulfing me for the first time in four months. “Merry Christmas, Arthur-John!” I said. AJ’s grin grew wider. “Merry Christmas, future shredded muscle freak.” “Is it my imagination, or did you get bigger?” I asked, still squeezing him. His grin transformed into a cocky little smirk. “I’m bulking!” he said. My chest fluttered with excitement. “I’m competing next year!” he explained, with his eyebrows cheekily raised, knowing exactly what kind of effect those words would have on me. “Wanna help me tan up backstage again?” I grinned like crazy. “God yeah!” I exclaimed. He grinned back and then it faded. And then he was just looking at me with this pensive expression on his face. Like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening. He inhaled and exhaled and his huge chest heaved up and down. Almost like he was releasing the last four months of heartache from his body. Still wrapped tightly around him, I looked back at him. AJ Jones, the bodybuilder. AJ Jones, the boy I fell in love with. AJ Jones, who broke my heart. If he broke it again, I’m not sure it would mend. He nuzzled his face and head into my neck. “I can’t believe you’re actually here!” he said. I never really left, I thought. But I didn’t say anything. I just sunk my head into his thick, bull neck and squeezed him tight. This time I wouldn’t let him go. THE END

Thirty Seven I’d never seen AJ looking so nervous than when he opened the door to me in his bright red Scorpio’s Gym hoodie. Not even the first time I ever saw him standing in the playground on his first day at my school. I was still angry at him. And definitely hurt. But I couldn’t deny that seeing him again, for the first time in over a week, made my insides flutter. Despite what AJ had done, he still gave me those fuck off massive butterflies. But even though he looked nervous, I very much got the impression that AJ was pleased to see me too. He was covered up, but I could tell from his face and his hands that the bronzed competition tan from almost two weeks had all but faded. His hair was starting to grow back too. As sexy as his shaved head was, I couldn’t deny that I missed his old haircut. This horrible, sick feeling churned in my stomach as soon as I walked into AJ’s bedroom. I knew why. I was remembering what had happened the last time I’d been in this very room. I had always loved being in AJ’s bedroom so much. In fact, upon until a week before, it was probably my favourite place in the world. A place I felt safe, even. A place where I could be the boy I loved exactly the way I wanted to be. To kiss him and touch him and do all the things I wanted to show him what he meant to me. But now that place was tainted. Like someone had taken a knife to something I loved and etched a big scar right across it. “Are your parents really mad about last night?” AJ asked, as we sat on his bed. My stomach was tightening in knots through nerves. I gave a little shrug. “My mum seemed okay this morning. She just sort of gave me this disapproving face. She knows about us by the way.” “Really?” AJ asked. He looked surprised, but not worried like I imagined he would have. He even looked a little pleased. I nodded. “Nothing gets passed my mum!” AJ’s face softened and he smiled a little. “How you been doin’?” he asked, suddenly looking nervous again. I shrugged. “Pretty shit!” I said honestly. AJ looked at me with these sad eyes. “I kept thinking I was gonna see you at the leisure centre. Well, more like hoping!” He looked at me with this hopeful, almost desperate look. I melted. Just a little. Then there was silence and everything suddenly felt tense again. I knew this was my chance to get some answers. I looked down at my hands. “So why did you do it?” I asked, calmly but solemnly. I only looked up at him once I’d asked the question. AJ made a little painful groan and pressed his fingers into his forehead. Like he was beating himself up. “I don’t know,” he said. “That’s a shit answer!” I said, still calmly. He sighed. “It just sort of happened,” he said, chewing his bottom lip and looking at me with that desperate look again. Ugh! I could feel myself getting angry again. Just thinking about AJ with Dale. Beautiful, olive skinned, built like a brick shithouse Dale. But I needed to know more. My mind wouldn’t rest until I did. “Did he come on to you?” I said, less calmly. AJ nodded. “Back at his mates house after the club.” And there it was again. That sick feeling churning in my stomach. “Why did you even go back?” I asked. AJ shrugged. “Well, he lived in town. It was cheaper and easier than getting a taxi home, I guess.” “Did you want something to happen?” I asked, suddenly feeling like I might start to cry. “No!” AJ said, defiantly. “I mean I could sort of tell he fancied me. I mean, I think most of his friends did. But he knew I had a boyfriend. Then his mate went to bed and we were sitting on his settee, and that’s when he came on to me. He took me by surprise. That’s when he told me that it was different for gay guys. That lots of couples in relationships mess about with other guys. So I went along with it, but not for long. I freaked out and told him to stop.” I hated the images that were going through my mind. Of AJ being out with Dale and his mates and all of them fawning over him. Of them going back to someone’s place. Of the two of them sitting on his friend’s settee, Dale coming on to him and AJ going along with it. Of them kissing. AJ kissing another guy. And things developing. Dale’s hand being on AJ’s leg. AJ wrapping his arm around Dale’s waist. The two of them touching. Dale sliding off the couch and kneeling down as he undid AJ’s belt buckle. Fuck. I decided in that moment that I didn’t need to know any more details of what had happened between them. It would do nothing but torture me. Knowing AJ had freaked out and asked Dale to stop whatever he was doing though was, at least, one small comfort. That was if AJ was telling the truth, of course. I’d never had any reason not to believe him before I read that text message from Dale that day. I wanted to believe that AJ wouldn’t lie to me. But I couldn’t really say that I was certain he wouldn’t. I looked away from AJ to his bedroom wall. The picture of Blaine Holton, jacked and huge in competition condition while squeezing out a most muscular pose staring back at me. For some reason, I was finding it hard to look at AJ in that moment. Perhaps it was because I now had an image of him and Mr Olive Skin kissing and fooling around with each other on some settee in a flat in town implanted in my brain. AJ had told him to stop. But he had still done it. Whether he was drunk or not. He’d still wanted to mess about with that beautiful muscle guy. He’d still wanted to be with someone who wasn’t me. “There’s one thing I don’t get though,” I said, still looking at Blaine Holton rather than AJ. “You said you didn’t plan to do anything, but you still lied to me about where you were going that night!” I said. I finally looked at AJ. His face just as fucking gorgeous as ever. He didn’t look so nervous anymore, but he still looked distressed. He sighed. “The thing is, Noah. This whole gay thing. It’s so new to me. And every time you’ve taken me to a gay place, it’s been so much fun. I mean, that night we were out in London. All the attention I was getting. And then those guys coming up to us. I loved it! And I know they were only talking to me because of the way I looked. But it was still fun!” he explained, shrugging. “So when Dale asked me if I wanted to go out in town, I thought, “Yeah, I really wanna go!” It felt exciting. I mean, when you first started going out on the gay scene, seeing guys, having boyfriends, whatever … didn’t you find it really exciting?” “Mmmm. Yeah, actually!” I replied honestly. And I really had. Suddenly, what AJ was saying was starting to make sense. I hadn’t considered any of this. “And I knew you wouldn’t have liked it if I told you what I was doing. I knew you’d be funny with me. Like you were funny with me that night in London. And I suppose you could have come with me. But … I dunno. I mean, what we have. It’s so fucking amazing. And so special …” Fuck! I was starting to melt again. “But I think I liked the fact that this felt separate to that? Going out to gay places. Making new friends. And you didn’t exactly look comfortable with Dale and his mates that night. I mean, you said he was a dick to you!” I scoffed. Even though what AJ was saying was making sense. Even though I was completely getting it. “And it really wasn’t about Dale! I mean, I probably would have gone out with anyone who asked me. You know me, I’ll talk to anyone. Especially when I’m drunk!” “I get what you’re saying!” I said, nodding. “I was actually kinda hoping to run into that really camp guy who asked to feel my biceps in the toilet that night! He seemed really fun!” he said. I felt myself softening. AJ’s mouth started to curl into a little grin. “I was maybe gonna squeeze a most muscular in his face. Just to see his reaction!” And that was it. I felt my mouth curling into a smile and I gently shook my head at him. I hated that AJ was making smile. But I also kind of loved it. “Oh, and I actually think you were right about Dale!” he said. I felt a sharp twist at the mention of that name, but I was excited to see where AJ was heading. I raised an eyebrow at him. “I think he is a bit of a prick!” My heart fluttered. I furrowed my eyebrows at AJ, curious as to why he’d come to that conclusion, and also a little suspicious that maybe he was just saying what he thought I wanted to hear. “I mean, he was alright at first. But then he made some comments about some of the people in the pub. Like, really mean things about the way they looked.” Ugh! I scoffed. “Sounds about right!” I said. “And he was just so … arrogant!” “Well, I could have told you that!” I said to him, feeling myself starting to smile again. “I’ve known less arrogant bodybuilders giving it attitude on stage! Even Blaine Holton’s not that arrogant! And he’s about three times as big. And twice as hot!” I smirked, but something twisted in my stomach. So he had thought Dale was hot? And then I remembered that when I’d first spotted him, before he’d been a prick to me, before he messed about with my fucking boyfriend, I had thought he was hot too. Whether he was a prick or not, he was a beautiful man. Ugh. I hated that. I wanted to live in a world where good hearted people were beautiful and dicks like Dale were butt fucking ugly. “He’s been texting me too!” AJ said. Fuck. I felt myself tensing up again. That was something I did not want to hear. I shook my head gently and turned my head away from AJ again. “I’ve ignored every single one. I think he’s got the message.” And then I softened, while thinking, Ha! Fuck you, Dale, you fucking prick. I cautiously looked back at AJ, who was biting his bottom lip and looking at me with this hopeful expression. Like he wanted me to just give in and say that all was forgiven. “But you still messed about with him!” I said, calmly. “I know!” he groaned. And he suddenly looked sad again. Something came to me in that moment. What AJ had said about the whole gay thing being new and exciting to him, maybe that wasn’t just limited to going out on the gay scene? Maybe having sex with other guys was as equally exciting to AJ? After all, I was only the second guy he’d ever been with. Maybe that was the real reason he’d messed about with Dale? “So is that what you want?” I asked AJ, cautiously. “What?” he asked me, clearly confused. I shrugged. “To mess about with other guys. An open relationship type of thing?” I said, looking down at my hands. “NO!” he said, earnestly. “I don’t!” I looked up at AJ. He looked so sincere. I was softening again. Here’s the thing. I did believe him. But I wasn’t quite convinced that what happened that night wouldn’t happen again. One night when I was back at uni, completely unaware that AJ was meeting some guy off the Internet, maybe an Eddie type, just as a friend, but getting a bit tipsy and something happening between them. “I really wanna touch you, but the last time I did that you almost kicked me in the face!” AJ said, playfully. And that really made me smile. There was no hiding it, either. I shook my head and looked up at the ceiling, annoyed with myself that he was making me laugh. “Don’t mess with Noah Cook!” he said, cheekily. He shuffled his foot along the bed to mine and wrapped his toes over mine and fuck, I melted. I tilted my head back against the bedroom wall, giving in, letting AJ touch me. “Are we okay?” he asked. I closed my eyes. I wanted to forgive AJ. So much. But everything still hurt so badly. I looked at him. He was looking at me with these pleading eyes. And then something happened which I hadn’t expected. He shut his eyes tightly and screwed up his face and whimpered. AJ was starting to cry, and desperately trying to hold it back. Fuck. And seeing AJ hurt, I suddenly wanted to cry too. I hated seeing him upset. I didn’t even think about what I did next. I shuffled over to him and placed my arm around his shoulders and AJ wrapped his arm around my waist and buried his head into my chest, letting out a few whimpers, still trying to hold it back. I squeezed him tightly and buried my face into the top of his head. It felt like ages since I’d touched him in that way. Even though it had been less than a week. In spite of what he’d done and how he’d hurt me, I just wanted to protect and comfort him in that moment. As a boyfriend. As a friend. As someone who just cared about him. “I hate that I hurt you!” he said to me, his face still buried in my chest. “I’ve been going crazy!” While I’d been feeling heartbroken that week, AJ had clearly been going through his own type of personal hell. I realised something in that moment, as I gripped onto AJ tightly. Something I think I’d always known. That, ironically, despite having more than a few extra pounds of muscle than me, despite being physically stronger and bigger than me, and the majority of twenty year olds for that matter, emotionally, I was the stronger one out of the two of us. I think I always had been. We stayed like that for a little while. Just holding each other on his bed and not talking. We didn’t say much else for the remainder of the time I was there. “Did you get your suit sorted for the wedding?” I asked AJ, as I stood in his hallway next to the front door. He groaned and rolled his eyes. “Yes! That was a fucking nightmare! It’s way too long in the arms.” I smiled at him gently. “Shouldn’t be such a monster then!” I joked. AJ gave me a warm grin but his eyes were still sad. I wondered whether he was going to try and kiss me before I left, but he didn’t. We just gave each other a prolonged hug at the door and I told him I’d see him when he got back from Ibiza. It almost felt like a relief when AJ was on holiday. Knowing that things were on a temporary pause. I didn’t contact him and he didn’t contact me. Neither did I expect him to. It still hurt me. What had happened. What he’d done. But what AJ had said in his bedroom that day had made so much sense. About going out with Dale because the gay scene was new and exciting. And even though I had had my doubts at the time, in retrospect, I believed what he’d said about not planning to mess about with Dale. About him coming on to AJ and him freaking out about it and asking Dale to stop. I knew he was telling the truth. And even though it still killed me, even though I hated the fact that he’d done something with another guy, I hoped that I would be able to forgive him. Even though it would probably take a little time. I had thought about the day that AJ got back from his holiday in Ibiza weeks before it had happened. When everything was still so good between AJ and I. I’d imagined how happy I would feel on that day. How much I would have missed him. And how excited I would be at the prospect of seeing him again after a week apart from each other. When that day actually arrived, I felt none of those things. Instead, I felt nervous. Anxious, even. Because AJ being back in Little Denton meant having to face up to the reality of what was going to happen next between us. Having to find out whether we could make things work. After what had happened over the previous few weeks, it was hard to know whether it was my turn to make the first move, or AJ’s. I kept wondering whether I should text him, while wondering whether he’d text me. By the end of the day, none of those things happened. By the end of the second day, when I’d still not heard from AJ, I was starting to get this horrible feeling that something wasn’t right. So I composed a text. “Hey. How was the holiday?” I hovered my finger over the send button, wondering whether I should press it. Fuck it, I thought. And the text was sent. Nothing came back. Not half an hour later. Not an hour later. Not even a day later. And that awful, sick feeling in my stomach only got worse. It was funny, because I had been fine before I had sent that text message (I guess that’s called having your head in the sand). But once I’d reached out to AJ and he wasn’t responding, suddenly I was incredibly anxious and eager to hear from him. I text him again the next day, asking if everything was okay. When nothing came back then, either, it was abundantly clear what was going on. AJ was ignoring me. I couldn’t believe it. After everything that had happened. After he’d messed about with that prick. Lied to me. Hurt me. After he’d spent a week desperately trying to get in touch with me. Coming to my house in the middle of the fucking night. After he’d explained everything to me in his bedroom and tried to get me to forgive him. Cried in front of me. After I’d held him in my arms. He was now doing this. Just ignoring me. Not facing up to me, or his feelings. Like an absolute fucking coward. What had changed since I’d left his house the week before? Was it because he’d cried in front of me? Or it some kind of payback for me ignoring him that week? Was it just one huge pride thing? Or had something happened in Ibiza? Had he messed about another beautiful muscle guy? God, with another girl, even? Had he realised the past few months with me had just been one massive mistake and he no longer wanted to be with me, or any other guy for that matter? Or had he just come to the conclusion that me and him just weren’t meant to be? Still, whatever it was, I deserved to know. It was completely unfair for him to do this to me. Something inside of me snapped. I gave AJ one more day to respond to me. When nothing came back, I sent him another text. “AJ. What’s going on? I’m not playing this stupid fucking game with you. I’m coming round to see you.” It was time for me to take action again, just as I’d done that day in AJ’s bedroom when I’d confronted him about his drunken messages after that night out with Naomi and Eddie, where he’d all but confessed he had feelings for me. I had no idea whether AJ would be in, but when his house was in sight and I saw that his car was missing, I got my answer. His mum’s car was in the drive though. I had to see her, so that AJ knew my text had not just been an empty threat. So that he knew I wasn’t going to let him get away with treating me this way. I was nervous when I rang the doorbell and my heart was racing, but something was overriding those nerves. It wasn’t so much anger. More just sheer determination. His mum answered the door. “Oh, hello, Noah!” She was smiling at me, but she looked a little weirded out. She could obviously sense that something wasn’t right. Suddenly the nerves had taken over my determination. “Is AJ home?” I asked, meekly. “He’s at the gym, love,” Mrs Jones informed me, looking at me with this confused and concerned expression. AJ probably hadn’t even seen my text. “Oh.” I suddenly felt really awkward. “I’ll just text him later!” I said, suddenly desperate to get away. “I’ll tell him you came by,” she said. “Bye, Noah.” She gave me one of her warm smiles. This one didn’t fill up quite as much of her face as it normally did, though. I walked away from AJ’s house. I probably should have felt deflated. But I didn’t. Somehow, I knew I’d done enough. It was about an hour later, when I was sitting on my bed at home, that AJ Jones finally text me back. “I’m sorry, Noah. I can’t do this anymore. I had a lot of time to think in Ibiza. I hate that I hurt you so much. I know I fucked up. I could tell from last week when you came round that things weren’t going to be the same with us. I think it’s better in the long run if we just end things now. It probably wouldn’t have worked with you being in London anyway and I don’t wanna risk hurting you again. I’m sorry. This is killing me. AJ x”. I threw my phone down on the mattress and picked up my pillow, wrapping it tightly around my face as I cried into it. I don’t really know why I hid my face. It was like I didn’t want anyone to see me cry, even though there was no one else was in the room. I remember thinking that it was one of those moments I’d never forget. Like a scene from a film that sticks in your mind long after the end credits roll. But it’s funny, because I also remember thinking how there was a strange sort of beauty about the whole thing. In breaking down. In letting go. In feeling like my heart was breaking over and over again.

OK, here goes. I know quite a few of you are eager for this one! ? Thirty Six I put the key in my front door, praying that my mum wouldn’t catch me coming back home. Because I’m pretty sure she’d be able to tell that I’d been crying. And she’d definitely know that something was wrong. The coast was clear. But as I rushed up the stairs to my room, my mum came out of the kitchen and started saying something to me. I ignored her, shut my bedroom door, threw my switched off phone on the bed settee in the corner of my room that me and AJ used to sleep on during our sleepovers when we were younger and collapsed onto my bed. I was no longer angry. All I could feel was like this incredible sadness. It was like a huge black veil had been draped over my world. Curled up facing my wall, I could barely move my head, let alone lift it from the pillow. I felt like I was lying at the bottom of this huge pit, and I had no desire or energy to try and claw my way out. I just wanted to stay there lying in the darkness. Not long after lying down I fell asleep. It was the sound of Little Cat crying at my door that eventually woke me up. I let her in and she pounced on my bed, meowing and rubbing up against my legs and eventually curling into me. I had no idea what the time was or how long I’d been asleep for. I didn’t really care. I wondered if AJ had tried to call me again. Or had left me any messages. I was almost scared at the prospect of switching my phone back on to see. I just wanted to block everything out. Put everything on pause for a while. But I knew that was impossible, because all of these thoughts were running through my head, and they wouldn’t stop. I kept thinking about AJ with Dale, the beautiful, olive skinned muscle guy he’d been with the night before. How Dale had tracked AJ down on Facebook and arranged to come up and go out with him in town while I’d been on my work experience placement in London. What had they talked about on Facebook? Had they spoken about me? And what exactly had they done on that night out? Had AJ been comparing Dale to me? Comparing what our bodies looked liked naked? Had Dale done things to AJ that I hadn’t? Made AJ feel a way I couldn’t? Even though I hated Dale for what he’d done, on some twisted, fucked up level, I couldn’t really blame him for wanting to track AJ down. It wasn’t every day that a ridiculously gorgeous, junior competitive bodybuilder strolled into a gay pub, bronzed up and bulging out of his tight, white t-shirt. Dale, and the two other muscle guys he was with had probably almost fainted when they’d first spotted him. The other two had even tried to entice us back to theirs. Mr Olive Skin had probably had a flash of inspiration when he’d gotten home, jumped on his laptop and found AJ on Facebook. The profile picture of him flexing out a most muscular with his mouth open, shredded and bronzed on stage, sticking out from all of the other AJ’s that had popped up in the search results. And as much as I hated Dale, for being rude to me in the pub, for tracking AJ down online, for presumably lying about visiting friends in town, just so he could see AJ again, and telling him that shagging him behind his boyfriend’s back was “no big deal” because, apparently, that’s what gay guys do, like a sneaky fucking cunt, I knew that if it hadn’t been him, it would have been someone else. Some other hot muscle guy eager to snap AJ up and steal him away from me, just like I’d predicted would happen the night we were out in London. I just never imagined it would happen this soon. And this easily. While AJ was still very much living in Little Denton. One fucking trip to one gay pub in London and our relationship was fucked. I kept thinking about what AJ had said about whatever had happened between the two of them. That he was drunk. That it was “barely anything“. That it hadn’t changed the way he felt about me. I kept thinking about how scared and sorry he’d looked. And maybe he regretted what he’d done with Dale? Maybe it was just nothing more than sex? From the way AJ spoke, I got the feeling that that was the case. But if Dale hadn’t made him feel anything, what about the next beautiful muscle guy who pursued and enticed AJ? Or the next guy after that? How long would it take for AJ to fall for someone else the way he’d fallen for me? Someone who was more suited to AJ than I was? A beautiful, A-List gay with a perfect muscle body, and an amazing personality to match. Maybe AJ and I were just never going to last that long? Maybe someone like me could never really be with someone like AJ Jones? Maybe the universe just wouldn’t allow it? But above all else, what hurt the most, was not what would happen, but what AJ had already done with Dale. I still wasn’t sure whether AJ was in love with me. I knew his feelings went way beyond anything he’d known. He’d told me that. I remembered his text to Naomi. He makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. And yet, he’d still gone behind my back and met Dale. Even if he hadn't planned to do anything, which I’m not sure I entirely believe, he’d still lied to me about who he was going out with. He clearly knew on some level that what he was doing wasn’t right. Maybe there was a deeper reason why AJ had done it? Maybe he was scared of his feelings for me? Maybe I’d been too full on the weekend before, worrying about what was going to happen in the future and when I’d gone back to university? Maybe AJ had subconsciously wanted to fuck things up because it was just easier that way? Or maybe he also knew that, deep down, someone like him wasn’t supposed to be with someone like me? A gentle knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts. “Noah?” Fuck. My mum cautiously opened the door. “What are you doing?” she asked, gently. “I just fell asleep!” I said, irritably. “Is everything alright?” “YES!” I snapped. My mum wasn’t stupid. I was lying on my bed with the light switched off. Of course everything wasn’t alright. I expected her to leave the room, but she wasn’t moving. She was just hovering over the bed looking at me. “What?!” I said, lifting my head off the pillow again and looking at her. “Do you think I don’t know my own son?” she said, calmly. And then she did something I didn’t expect. She put her hand on my leg and for some reason, my eyes watered instantly. I covered my face straight away and did everything I could to hold it in. I couldn’t stand the thought of my mum seeing me cry. I didn’t know why. I think that I wanted my mum to think I was this super strong person. Maybe then she wouldn’t worry about me so much when I wasn’t safe in my bedroom in Little Denton? Because as much as parents want to protect you, they can’t protect you from everything. It’s impossible. They can’t prevent you from meeting people who will hurt you, whether intentionally or not. And they definitely can’t stop you from having your heart broken. “I don’t know why you always keep things from me, Noah!” she said, sitting down on the bed next to my legs. I groaned, and took my hands away. I knew my face was a bit blotchy, but at least I’d managed to keep most of the tears in. “Because … your my mum! It’s weird talking to you about certain stuff!” “Well you don’t have to tell me all the gory details!” I rolled my eyes. “What do you wanna know?” She still look concerned, but her face had softened. I could tell she was excited about what was unfolding. “Have you got a boyfriend?” she asked, with a little smile. “Ugh!” I rolled my eyes. “Sort of!” I honestly didn’t know whether I still had a boyfriend or not. Her next question surprised me. “Has he done something to upset you?” “Yep!” I said, a little frostily. “Is it worth arguing over?” “YES!” I said, defiantly. “Hmmm!” she said, narrowing her eyes at me. “What?!” I asked. “Well, I don’t know what’s happened or what he's done but I do know that you can be really stubborn sometimes, Noah!” Ugh! Suddenly I was pissed off. I shook my head, annoyed. A part of me was tempted to tell her exactly what AJ had done. “Fancy spag bol for tea?” she said. Apparently she’d found out everything she’d wanted. “Go on then!” I said. She stood up from the bed, and Little Cat lifted her head up and jumped off to follow her. “Try not to wallow too much!” she said, in a light tone. My mum clearly didn’t understand the scale of what had happened, but that comment still made me smile a little. In fact, I was feeling considerably better than I had done after the chat with my mum. Before she walked out of the room, she paused to ask me one more question. “This boyfriend. It’s AJ isn’t it?” I lay my head back on the pillow. I was suddenly too embarrassed to look at her. I didn’t say anything. “I’m gonna take that as a yes!” she said. And just before she walked out, I glanced over and caught her face, which was suddenly wearing this pleased grin. I could barely believe it. I was convinced that my mum hadn’t suspected that something was going on between me and AJ. Clearly I’d been wrong. I decided I couldn’t ignore reality for much longer. My stomach clenched tightly as I switched on my phone. It was funny though. I’d been okay with ignoring AJ, but as my phone loaded up, I was suddenly really anxious to find out whether he’d tried to get in touch. As suspected, he had. In fact, he’d sent a series of texts, dating back to two hours before. Right around the time I’d left his house. “Noah come back.” “I’m sorry! Please talk to me!” “Just let me know you’re OK.” UGH! I threw my phone on the bed in anger. Of fucking course I’m not OK, I thought. I decided that I wasn’t going to let him know anything. He could just sit there and fucking squirm. Ignoring AJ was surprisingly easy, even when he text me the next day to ask if we could talk. I even took a little comfort in knowing that I hadn’t done anything wrong. Knowing it was all him. AJ was the one in the wrong. He was the one who’d fucked up. Even though it hurt like hell. Even though I felt like I’d never be happy again. There were moments over the next few days when I questioned what I was doing. Brief occasions where doubt set in and I wondered if there was just the slightest possibility that I was overreacting. I mean, I got it. A lot of gay couples do mess about with other guys. And it’s no big deal as far as they’re concerned. And if they’ve chosen to do that, and both parties are happy with the arrangement, then that’s great for them. But for me, I wasn’t sure such a thing would work. I was in love with AJ, so why would I want to be with anyone else? How could the rush of any quick blow job with a random guy in the toilets of a club compare to having sex with the man I knew and loved and worshipped? “Oooh, he’s finally come out of his room!” my mum said one afternoon as I was getting a drink from the kitchen. I rolled my eyes and said nothing. I really wasn’t in the mood. “Can I just ask you a question?” she asked, cautiously. UGH! “What?” I replied. “Whatever AJ has done, is it worse than what that Reece Miller did to you at school?” I scoffed. “YES!” She narrowed her eyes. “Hmmm. Well did AJ say he was sorry?” I looked at her in confusion. “Yeah?!” I replied, like that would make any difference. “Well, that’s something!” she said. What a stupid comment to make. Whether he was sorry or not was completely beside the point. An apology didn’t excuse what he’d done. “I’m just saying,” my mum began. “That Reece Miller never apologised for telling everyone at school that you were gay, did he?” I could sort of see her point. Reece, who was supposed to be my best friend, fucked me over and felt no remorse. But I’d always kind of known that he was a prick anyway. AJ on the other hand. He was sweet and good hearted and genuinely cared about me. He’d done one bad thing and was sorry for it. To be honest, though, I wasn’t really sure what was worse. Over the following days I continued to ignore AJ. I was still so hurt by what he’d done, but as more time passed, I began to miss him. I kept thinking about everything that had happened over the previous few months. Even right up to a week and a half earlier when we’d been in London together. That amazing weekend in London. I started to miss being cuddled up to him on his bed. I started to miss our cute, funny Facebook messages. Joking with him about me being a future shredded muscle freak. I started to miss being sat next to him in his car. I started to miss kissing him, the way he made me feel and the person I was when I was with him. Possibly the best version of myself there’s ever been. I started wondering how he’d been doing. Imagining his mates at Scorpio’s and his concerned work colleagues at Tesco asking him if he was okay, because he didn’t seem like his usual self. I pictured him lying on his bed feeling down about what had happened. Regretting what he’d done and feeling awful that he’d hurt me. Wondering if and when I was going to reply to his texts. And what if all this was just pushing him away? Surely there would be a point where AJ would give up? Where his pride would get the better of him and he’d stop trying to get in contact with me. God, maybe he’d even start texting Dale? Maybe he was doing that already? I thought about the conversation I’d had with him in the hotel room in London about giving up on him too easily when we’d stopped being friends all those years ago. Was that what I was doing now? There was one thing that I knew I could do to try and attempt to make myself feel better. One thing that had happened over the summer that I could try and put right. So one afternoon, while still ignoring AJ, I sat on my bed, picked up my phone and scrolled to a contact I hadn’t used for a while. Someone who I’d actively, and wrongly, been ignoring for weeks, and composed a text. “Hey Eddie. I hope you’re okay. I know I haven’t been in touch for a while and I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry for that. You are such a great guy and we had some really fun nights together but if I’m being completely honest, I met someone else. I didn’t expect it to happen. And it took me by complete surprise. I guess it was just easier to ignore you, which I know was really wrong and (again) I really am sorry for that. I understand if you don’t want to talk to me again, but I thought you deserved an explanation. x” As soon I pressed send, this huge wave of relief washed over me. I knew I’d done Eddie wrong, but maybe this would help to make up for it? Or at least make him think that I was a little less of a dick than he probably already did. I kind of had a feeling that Eddie would reply to my text. I wasn’t wrong. Not five minutes after I’d text him, his response came through. “Hey Noah. Wow. Good to hear from you. Well I won’t lie, I was pretty gutted when I didn’t hear back from you, but hey, these things happen and I guess we didn’t know each other for that long. But I think you’re a great guy too, and I’m not really surprised that you met someone. I mean, you’re so fucking sweet and endearing. (And handsome too - obviously!) Whoever he is, he’s a lucky guy. I guess you’ll be going back to uni soon, but maybe we can still be friends? x” I felt like huge wave of warmth as I looked at Eddie’s text. He really was a great guy. And even though being friends with him seemed like a really nice idea, I had a feeling that that wasn’t going to happen. That once I’d gone back to university, we’d lose touch. Still, I did what was expected and replied to Eddie, thanking him for being so understanding and telling him that I’d really like for us to still be friends. But before I finished composing the reply, Eddie sent though another text, which completely surprised me. “Hey again. Can I just ask? The guy you’re seeing. Is it your hot bodybuilder friend AJ?” Fuck. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t help but smile at Eddie’s text. At the cute way he’d described AJ, and also the fact that, just like my mother, Eddie had clearly been able to tell that something had been going on with us. The whole thing also gave me an unexpected buzz, while also making me think, once again, about the boy I’d spent the summer falling in love with. It was the sound of something outside my house that initially woke me up that night. Half asleep, and unsure of whether I was dreaming, I ignored it. But then the light from my phone screen lighting up fully woke me up. It was two am and AJ was calling me. No doubt probably drunk. I won’t lie, there was a part of me that felt excited about the fact that he was calling. Just seeing his name on my phone made my insides flutter. He hung up, and I put my phone back down beside me. And then it lit up again. AJ had sent me a text message. Two simple words which made my whole body jolt. I was panicked. Surprised. But also kind of excited too. “I’m outside.” What. The. FUCK?! And then I heard something hit my bedroom window. And then again. What the fuck was AJ doing? Was he throwing stones at my window? I lay dead still for a moment, my heart thumping. And then I suddenly heard my parents stirring from the next room and my dad’s voice and fuck, a panic shot through me. I thought about quickly texting AJ to warn him. I guess my pride was very much still in tact at that point, though, because I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I heard my parents frantically climbing down the stairs. Shocked and nervous at what was unfolding, I sprung up in bed, and tried to listen to what was happening. I heard my dad confronting AJ and being stern with him. I heard AJ desperately saying “I want to see Noah!” I hated how upset he sounded. I felt like crying. I had never wanted to hear or see AJ upset. I had never wanted anything bad to happen to him ever. A part of me judged him for the incident. It was such a reckless thing to do. Coming to my house drunk, throwing stones at my fucking window. But at the same time, I don’t know, there was a part of me that liked it. It was crazy and irresponsible. And so dramatic. But it also felt oddly romantic. Him being so out of his mind and desperate to see me that he came to my house in the middle of the night. It was a like a scene from a film. He text me the next morning. “Hey. I’m so sorry about last night. I was drunk and I just wanted to see you. I understand if you don’t want to see or talk to me but I fly out to Ibiza tomorrow. I’ll be at home pretty much all day if you want to come round and talk. Tell your parents I’m sorry.” I looked at the text on my phone, and something finally broke inside me. I was ready to talk to AJ again.

Thirty Three Every time I’d been out in public with AJ I had felt the most incredible rush at being in the company of a man so outrageously muscular. But never more so than when I was stood next to him on the tube on the way back to our hotel room, having been at my very first bodybuilding show, where I’d witnessed him guest posing on stage. Standing so close to my gorgeous bodybuilder boyfriend who I just couldn’t wait to be alone with on a packed train, who was obscenely bronzed with competition tan and bulging out of his black t-shirt, knowing his shiny, hot pink posing trunks were lurking under his trackies was such an intensely exciting experience. AJ was definitely receiving more glances and lingering looks from the other train passengers than he had the previous times we’d caught the tube that day. I couldn’t help getting a kick out of it. All of those regular sized, non bronzed people staring at the huge, brown freak and his abnormal sized arms. It was so crazy to see the contrast of AJ and the other people around me. Everyone in the carriage just looked like normal human beings. While AJ looked like something else entirely. Almost superhuman. I could tell from his smug expression that he was getting a massive kick out of it too. Half way through the journey, this cute, geeky gay guy in black framed specs got on board and sat down close to where we were standing. I’d never seen anyone stare at AJ in such a blatant manner before. He looked curious, a little intimated, even a little star struck. It was like he literally couldn’t take his eyes off the gorgeous, bronzed bodybuilder standing next to me. This guy was a complete stranger, and yet, I felt an instant connection with him. “I think you’ve got an admirer!” I said to AJ quietly. AJ’s grin grew wider and he cheekily wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “Shall I flex for him?” AJ said. I grinned and rolled my eyes. When I looked back at the guy, he was still staring. Not just at AJ, but at both of us. “Maybe just a cheeky bicep flex?” he asked. My eyes widened as if to say, don’t you dare, even though a part of him would have actually loved for AJ to do that. I wouldn’t have put it passed him either. “How about a pec bounce?” he then outrageously suggested. And before I could respond, AJ was doing exactly that. He thick chest bouncing and rippling underneath the material of his t-shirt, in front of a whole fucking tube carriage of passengers. Part of me wanted to die of embarrassment. The other part loved it so much I could barely fucking breathe. I couldn’t look at AJ's admirer after that, but when the train reached our stop, I turned my head to find his eyes still following us as we departed the train, and I noticed something in his expression that made my heart feel like it had been pinched. This incredible sense of longing. Like he wanted his own cute, pec bouncing bodybuilder boyfriend for himself. I couldn’t help but hope that he’d one day find exactly that. Walking back to the hotel with AJ was almost as big of a rush as being with him on the tube. After we’d turned a corner where there were no cars or people, just buildings and block of flats, with the hotel right at the end of the street, AJ did something I never thought he would in public. He gently grabbed my hand and squeezed it, wrapping his fingers in between mine. It felt like my feet had left the fucking ground. It was the first time I’d ever held hands with a guy in public. What a fucking rush to be walking along a public street hand in hand with the man I loved, who just happened to be an abnormally muscular, bronzed painted bodybuilder. “Are you gonna do this back in Little Denton too?” I playfully asked him, grinning. AJ shrugged. “Maybe!” he said with a cheeky grin. I rolled my eyes as if to say, yeah fucking right. But even if I didn’t believe he would, it was still an incredibly sweet sentiment. Predictably, and perhaps sensibly, AJ let go of my hand as we walked into the hotel. As soon as we were in the lift that took to us to our floor and the doors were closed, AJ dropped his bag, forcefully wrapped his arms around me and passionately kissed me. Fuuuuck. Neither of us could stop grinning as we walked to our room. The corridor was empty, so when AJ was opening the door, I bravely pushed my torso into his back and wrapped my arms around his waist, my throbbing hard on pushing into his arse. He turned his head and looked at me wide eyed, grinning and biting his lip. Excited at my bravery and clearly getting a kick out of what we were doing. As soon as we were in the room and the door was closed, my back was pushed up against it and AJ was sinking his mass into my body with his tongue in my mouth once again. It was so fucking passionate and intense. It honestly felt like neither of us had wanted each other more than in that moment. As we parted lips, I looked at his gorgeous, bronzed face and shook my head in disbelief. “I can’t believe how fucking hot you look!” I said. He beamed at me and wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ll have to tan up more often!” I bit my lip and just grinned at him, my torso still pressed against his, just melting into his muscle. “Oh, and thanks for tanning up my arse, by the way!” he cheekily said. My eyes widened and I grinned at the memory of AJ’s bare buttocks in the tanning tent. “I liked the cock-in-the-sock look!” I told him. AJ giggled. “Dare you to wear that outfit for your next Tesco shift!” I said. AJ tipped his head back and laughed. “They’d definitely fire me, then!” I just shrugged and grinned. Perfect! Then you’d have to come down to London and live with me, I thought. But I didn’t dare say it. I just kissed him again. Slowly but passionately. My hands running over his back, down his shoulders and gripping his indecently sized arms. When we parted lips, my hand was still clutching his bicep. AJ was looking at me in the sexiest way. He looked down at the bicep I was gripping and bit his lip in the insanely hot manner he always did. As he mischievously gripped his fist and flexed, one of AJ’s freakishly sized, beautifully bronzed, marble-to-the-touch biceps erupted underneath my fingertips. Fuuuuuck. The very same bicep I’d just watched a whole theatre full of people gawp at, cheer and go crazy over. And now it was mine. To do whatever I wanted to do with it. Without thinking, I leant in, drawing my face closer to AJ’s upper arm, placed my lips on the exploding ball of bronzed bicep muscle and gently kissed it. “Mmmm,” AJ cheekily groaned in response. I kissed it again, feeling the huge muscle underneath my lips and tongue. AJ gently placed his hand on the back of my head as I did so. When I looked at him, he had this cute, excitable grin on his face. He clearly loved me kissing and worshipping his bicep with my mouth. I tugged at the bottom of AJ’s t-shirt and helped him lift it up and over his head. I’d almost forgotten how insane AJ’s physique looked so bronzed up. A little more shredded than usual, it looked closer to the type of muscle freaks I regularly blew loads over then it ever had. It was like an upgraded version of the body I loved and was so used to seeing. A bronzed painted bodybuilder right in front of me to explore and worship and touch. I took my face and lips to AJ’s huge chest, licking and kissing the thick cushions of bulging pec muscle. Then I made my way down his six pack, kissing each gorgeous bubble of bronzed ab muscle, much like I did that very first time we’d slept together in AJ’s bedroom, before kneeling on the floor and grabbing the waistband of AJ’s trackies. I pulled them down and was met with the shiny pink material of his posing trunks, now stretched by AJ’s hard on, just mere inches away from my face. I squeezed on his hard dick through the shiny pink material of his posers, AJ groaning in response as I continued to tug and squeeze. When I looked up, I saw the most erotic image; AJ flexing his right bicep, looking down and admiring it as he did. FUCK! I got the sense that it wasn’t even for me. That he was flexing for his own enjoyment. It was probably one of the cockiest (and sexiest) things I’d ever seen. I took AJ’s cock out of it’s shiny, pink posing trunk wrapper and began to suck on it, as AJ groaned and gripped my shoulder blades and ran his fingers through my hair. When I stood up, AJ helped me remove my clothes until I was fully naked. I wrapped my arms around his back and sunk into his bronzed, muscular torso. My hard on pressed tightly against his posing trunk covered cock. An idea suddenly came into my head. I looked at AJ cautiously. “Can I wear your lime green posers?” I asked. AJ was beaming. He looked excited as hell. “YEAH! Of course!” he said enthusiastically, clearly loving the idea. I grinned excitedly as AJ retrieved the shiny lime green trunks I loved so much from his bag. “Kinky little fucker!” he playfully said to me as he walked back over. Instead of just handing me the green trunks though, AJ held them out, stretching one leg hole, and signalling for me to climb in. I dizzily grinned, held on to one of AJ’s huge shoulders and put my leg in. Then I did the same with the other. I didn’t know why, but it felt like such a special and intimate moment. AJ dressing me with his shiny, lime green posers. Still hanging on to him, AJ made a “GRRRRR!” noise as he pulled the straps up over my throbbing hard on, squishing it into the material with his hands. He chuckled as he admired the view. “There’s no WAY you’d get away with wearing those on stage!” he said. And he was right. My hard on was comically tenting the trunks to an outrageous degree. It felt so fucking horny, not just to be wearing actual bodybuilder’s posing trunks, but a pair of AJ’s. I giddily grinned and he gripped and squeezed my cock and I groaned and sank into AJ again. “So what was it like seeing me up on stage?” he cheekily asked in my ear. I looked up at him, grinned and shook my head in disbelief for effect. “Fucking … AMAZING! And bonkers!” AJ beamed at my response. “Although … I was kinda disappointed you didn’t take your posers off, whip them round your head and throw them at me in the audience!” I said, remembering our conversation over Facebook when he’d teased he’d do that very thing. “Fuck! I knew there was something I’d left out!” he joked. I giggled in response. “You were so fucking cocky, though!” “Mmmm. Well I may have being trying to impress someone in the audience!” I grinned, still with my body pushed against AJ’s. “What was it like?” I asked, curiously. “Being on stage? Posing in the audience?” I felt a flutter of excitement as I waited for AJ’s reply. His mouth curled into this excited, cheeky grin. He shook his head. “Such a fucking rush!” he said, with conviction. “It was crazy. Everyone staring at me. Watching me flex!” Fuck! My insides were going crazy and my hard on was juddering underneath AJ’s lime green posers. “Yeah?” I asked. AJ knew I was both genuinely curious, and also getting a massive kick out of hearing him being so candidly. “Mmmm! I felt like a freak!” Fuuuuuck. “You are a freak!” I joked. AJ grinned wildly, and looked down to admire his physique. “Hell yeah!” he cheekily said. “Noah’s little muscle freak!” he added, giving me this adorable, loving grin. I grinned and kissed him. “So … do you ever get horny when you flex?” I asked, a little warily when our lips had parted. AJ grinned mischievously. “Yeah!” he said, with conviction. ”I think most bodybuilders do!” “Fuck!” I exclaimed, gripping onto AJ’s body. “That’s fucking … HOT!“ I said. He bit his lip and gave me another one of his insanely sexy looks. Then he arrogantly pursed his lips and curled his bicep into a flex. I released a little groan and squeezed onto the bulging, bronzed muscle pulsating under his skin. “Look at THAT!” AJ said, in a hushed voice, looking down at his own bicep muscle. Fuck! It was such an outrageous thing to say. I beamed and squeezed it further. “It’s fucking HUGE!” AJ cheekily exclaimed. “Fuck yeah!” I exclaimed enthusiastically, my heart thumping at AJ’s sudden cockiness. AJ then contorted his face into a cocky grimace as he lifted both of his biceps up into a front double bicep pose and outrageously growled. “FUCK!” I exclaimed, as I ran my fingers over the insane, bronzed peaks and squeezed. “YEARGHH!!” AJ growled, really fucking getting into it. It was the most mind bogglingly horny thing to witness. AJ playing the part of a cocky, flexing bodybuilder, getting off on his own outrageously developed muscle. “You’re a monster!” I exclaimed, feeding his ego and playing along, AJ’s mouth curling into an excitable and amused grin in response. “Wait till you see me in a few years’ time!” he said with a cheeky grin. My heart was bursting, partly at the idea of AJ growing bigger and becoming even more of a freak, but mostly at the suggestion that AJ and I would still be together in a few years time. Relaxing from his pose, AJ then bought his fists together into a quick, most muscular with his face arrogantly screwed up. He released a hot, deep grunt as his muscles tightened and erupted before my eyes and I frantically ran my hands over the flexed mounds of mass bulging off his body. As I squeezed his perfectly shaped muscle tits, AJ flexed and squeezed again, with his fists together and let out a cocky, “YEEEAH!!” AJ couldn’t seem to stop flexing. He bought both of his elbows up, looked at me with a sexy, mischievous glare, playfully shook his head like, get ready for this one, then cranked out a crab most muscular with a half-pant, half-growl while outrageously sticking his tongue out. Just like he’d done at his guest posing spot on a bodybuilding stage just hours earlier. With AJ squeezing, I frantically ran my hands over his skin popping biceps, brutally sized, boulder shoulders and up to the huge, bronzed traps erupting from his neck. He then bought his arms and elbows up again and squeezed back down into his most aggressive and attitude packed most muscular yet. Screwing up his face to brilliant effect and releasing a loud, grizzly growl. “ARGGGHHH!” It was the craziest and most outrageously horny pose he’d ever squeezed for me. “OH FUCK!“ I cried. I grabbed my dick in response and started tugging through the shiny lime green material of my borrowed posers as I squeezed his hard, flexed muscle with my other hand. “OH GOD!” I groaned. It wouldn’t have taken me long to cum. “Don’t cum yet!” AJ ordered, as he stopped flexing and mischievously grinned at me. Now relaxed from posing, AJ’s cockiness had subsided. He took me by the waist, pushed my body up to his hard, bronzed mass and kissed me. When we were done, he was biting his lip and looking at me with this mischievous grin. Like he was mulling something over in his head. “OK … I’m gonna try something!” he mysteriously announced. “Just go with it! Put your arms around my neck!” he ordered. Confused but excited, I grinned and did as AJ had instructed and put my arms around his neck and shoulders. When he bent down I knew exactly what he was attempting to do. He wrapped his right arm under my thighs and with effort, slightly awkwardly lifted me up off the ground. Both of us were laughing, with AJ also straining with the effort of lifting me. He managed to carry me to the hotel bed whilst I gripped on to his neck and threw me on to the mattress with a grunt. Cheekily grinning and looking pleased with himself at his semi-successful feat of strength, AJ knelt down at the end of the bed and rested his elbows on the mattress, his upper body just bursting with huge, bronzed muscle. “Move down a bit!” he ordered, with a devilish grin. Perched up by my elbows, I shuffled down to AJ as instructed, both of us mischievously grinning all the while. When I reached him, he grabbed my legs and told me to come further until both of them were wrapped around his huge, boulder shoulders. It was so surreal to see the contrast of my pale, fair skinned, slightly hairy legs and AJ’s gloriously bronzed skin. “You look really cute in these posers!” AJ said as he grabbed the straps of the lime green trunks and pulled them down until they were resting half way down my thighs. He gave my cock a hard squeeze before leaning in and taking it in his mouth. I groaned as I ran one hand over AJ’s newly shaved head and gripped his shoulder with the other. I could have easily cum in his mouth. It wouldn’t have taken me long. But AJ had other plans. Looking at me in a mischievous, sexy and determined way, AJ surprised me by instructing me to turn around. A surge of excitement rushed through me as I obeyed my boyfriend’s orders and spun around until I was leaning on all fours. Was AJ about to explore a territory he never had before? He gently ran his hands over my back, then my whole body shimmered as he gently kissed my shoulder blades. Then he kissed the centre of my back, then just above my waist. It was so incredibly intimate and erotic. And then I felt his hands placed gently on both of my buttocks and FUCK, I was ready and willing to do whatever AJ wanted. I was completely at his surrender. He gently kissed me on my right buttock and I giggled. Then he was pressing on them firmer with his hands. And then he was stretching my buttocks apart and I my hole involuntarily twitched. Fuck! I could feel his face not far from it. I wanted it so badly. I knew this was uncharted territory for AJ. Whatever he wanted to do, at whatever pace was completely fine. But God, I really, really wanted to feel AJ’s tongue on my hole. And then it was. I groaned as AJ’s tongue gently tickled my opening. He retreated his tongue and then my hole spasmed as he tickled it once more, while prizing my cheeks apart. I could tell he was wary. Taking his time. His tongue reached my hole a third time. This time it didn’t retreat. I melted and groaned as AJ firmly pressed his tongue against my opening and released this cute little groan. And then he pushed his tongue inside me, opening me up and I groaned loudly in response. All I wanted in that moment was for AJ to be inside me. My gorgeous, beautiful AJ. What happened next took me by complete surprise. My hole seemed to relax in a way it never had done before. Opening up for AJ’s tongue. He groaned in reaction and stuck his tongue in even more. Filling up my hole. Dancing around inside me. I hadn’t even thought that it was possible, but AJ had taken me a whole new heaven. “FUCK!” he groaned, as he retreated. I turned my head to see AJ with this manic look of desire and surprise on his face. Like he was discovering something amazing for the first time. “This is so fucking horny!” he exclaimed, shooting me a huge, excited grin. He then started playing with my hole with his fingers. I groaned in response and pushed my arse out. God. My body was his. To do whatever he fucking wanted with it. He owned it. Completely and wholly. AJ wrapped his other hand and arm around my waist and stomach and I gripped tightly on to his thick, muscular forearm, wanting to feel as much of him as I could. Still kneeling on the bed, I arched my back up and AJ pressed his muscular torso against my body. His pecs and abs sinking into my back, both of his big, bronzed arms now gripped around my stomach tightly. I twisted my neck to look at AJ and he leant in and kissed me. When we stopped kissing, he buried his face into my neck as I gripped his thick arms with my hands. His hard dick was pressed up against my arse cheeks. I reached round to grab it, and manually put it in between my cheeks. “Fuck!” AJ excitedly whispered as he rubbed the head of his throbbing cock against my hole. With AJ’s huge arms wrapped tightly around me, feeling his thick pecs and lumpy abs against my back and his dick rubbing against the opening of my arse, something came over which had never done before. I’d only had one failed attempt at being fucked. A guy I had been briefly seeing the year before. He’d really wanted it and I had been very drunk. I hadn’t been relaxed enough and as soon as he’d gone inside me, I’d panicked and moved away. In truth, I hadn’t really wanted to be fucked by him. In fact, I’d never really wanted it from any guy. I’d never craved anyone to be inside me. Until that moment. Because I suddenly wanted AJ inside me. So badly. I wanted to be as intimate with my beautiful bodybuilder boyfriend as I possibly could. I wanted his body inside of mine. The body I loved and worshipped. The body which made me melt and cum. The body which made me felt like I was dying every time I touched it. Or even just when I was near it. I squeezed his cock further, leant forward slightly, pushing out my arse, and pushed the head of AJ’s dick against my hole. I wasn’t nervous. I wasn’t scared. I just wanted him inside me. It wasn’t going in, but then AJ kissed me on my neck and squeezed his arms tighter around me. And just like it had done when AJ’s tongue had been in me, my arse relaxed and opened up and AJ’s cock slipped inside of me. It was a strange feeling at first. And there were times when I wanted it to stop. Where I found myself starting to think too much and feared that I was starting to tense up. But I rode it out. I pushed away the doubt. Reminded myself that I was safe with AJ. And as I fully relaxed my mind and the feeling of being fucked by AJ consumed me, I was transported to a place I’d never been before. It felt like waves of unimaginable pleasure were going through my body. One after the other. I remember thinking, so this is why so many guys do it? This is what it’s all about. It was like I’d finally found a key to a lock that I didn’t even know I could open. It almost didn’t feel real. Something not quite of this world. Much like AJ’s body, I guess. His insanely muscular body which he’d pushed beyond normal limits to become something so beautiful and special and freaky. A body that was now inside me. A body that was now a part of me. It was the closest I’d ever felt to AJ, and it was the most mind blowing and joyful experience I could imagine. So joyful that when I reached the most intense orgasm I’d ever had, I felt like I was going to cry from happiness. I don’t think I’ve ever made so much noise from cumming. Groaning and screaming from the immeasurable pleasure the first orgasm of it’s kind was giving me. Right before AJ joined in with his own orgasmic screams as he climaxed and came inside me.

"Lick my armpit, boy." Boy? What is this...I'm a fuckin beast...and how old is this guy? Surely I'm older than him...he looks so young. Who does he think he is? Two very muscular men were grappling nude, and the bigger of the two had the smaller trapped in a vice...his legs were wrapped around the small guy's waist and legs, immobilizing his lower body, and one of his powerful hands was trying to press the small guy's head into the opposite armpit (that arm was flexing it's bicep in a display of dominance). The smaller guy resisted and squirmed, but it was futile...there was NO way he would get out of this. They'd already been wrestling for an hour, and every few minutes the big guy disabled him. The big guy gave a final forceful push on the small guy's head, and he succumbed, planting his face deep in the big guy's armpit where he let out his tongue and began to lick. "Small" guy...when the fuck did 6' and 245 become small... But the other man was enormous. Standing 6'2", he was 280, cut. He was the true beast. "That's right. I'm your master now, boy." The beast released the small guy from his full body vice and they both stood up; the small guy was visibly exhausted. "Suck my pec." What? "Don't make me wait, boy." He grabbed the small guy's head again (this time with both of his hands) and pulled it hard against his chest so the nose wedged into the deep crevice between the two mounds. The small guy yielded, placing his hands on the beast's hips and obeying the command. He opened his mouth and began licking and sucking the sweaty pecs, but the beast did not let go of his head: he kept a powerful grip to make sure his boy would not break mouth worship for even a second. The beast guided his boy's head to a nipple and held it there while he sucked the sensitive tit. The beast closed his eyes and moaned. "Yeah. Good boy. Suck that nip." The beast's dick became erect. He put his hands on the small guy's shoulders and pushed him down to his knees, grabbed his head again and drove it toward the 9" shaft. The small guy opened his mouth as wide as he could and took the thick member. The beast rammed his pelvis forward with one powerful thrust and the entire shaft was in his mouth. It hurt, and the small guy grunted as he strained his jaw and throat to take the penis. Holding the small guy's hair, the beast began pumping his hips. The small guy grunted again. And again. It was hard work taking that cock! Minutes passed, but the beast never slowed his pace; even as he came, he continued to thrust. The small guy swallowed the cum as it poured into his throat and the beast released the man's head and pulled his dick out of his mouth. But he wasn't finished. Before the small guy could stand up the beast pushed him down onto his hands and leaned over him from behind, placing his own hands on his shoulders. He pressed his firm dick into the small man's butt, who groaned with pleasure, and fucked him on the floor. Aexn had claimed another toy. ****** Aexn was now 20 years old. After high school, he didn't bother going to college because he had no need for a job: enough pervy rich dudes paid him to flex, or fuck, or to just spit on them and condescend them. He focused all his energy on building muscle, finding new guys to fuck, and fucking them. The "small" man Aexn fucked was recently new to the city and had met Aexn at his gym, where Aexn saw him staring at him while they were lifting. Of course, Aexn couldn't resist adding another bodybuilder to his fuck-nagerie. He loved dominating older muscle. He loved flexing his own muscles and making such big strong men feel weak and inferior. He loved the look on their faces when they learned he was half their age and yet superior; their realization that forevermore, this mere kid would dominate their bodies and asses. He loved how "total tops" would moan and squirm and wail in submission as Aexn fucked them to oblivion. Most of all, Aexn loved standing over their wasted bodies after he wrestled and fucked them, making them look up at their master to admire his superior power and shape; he loved being their god who they worshiped. There was a spattering of men in the city Aexn knew could still dominate him; two were exceptional: both stood over 6'5" and weighed more than 330 pounds of thick, round, drool-worthy muscle. Both men kept slaves in their houses (one kept bois, and the other kept muscle-bound pups). Aexn liked that these two men were so powerful because it motivated him to grow even bigger. He hoped to one day make them both his own slaves. In the meantime, they would often call on him to wrestle and fuck, or to worship, and Aexn never hesitated with either of them. The man who kept muscle-bound pups, and whose name was Mark, sometimes let Aexn play with his pups (none of them yet came close to Aexn's size or strength). Mark would watch as Aexn easily pinned them and pumped their asses. Sometimes Mark would tag-team with Aexn, filling both holes of an eager pup while Mark and Aexn grabbed each other's muscles; and sometimes Mark would sandwhich Aexn, filling his ass while he filled the pup's. Usually when they met, though, Mark would wrestle Aexn alone, and he'd always pin him and maul his ass. He'd flex his gargantuan muscles and Aexn would gape and grope. Mark badly wanted Aexn for himself, but knew he could never have him that way, so he was content when they did meet. Aexn was often invited to orgies. Groups of 4, 5, or 6 muscle guys and bodybuilders would get together to worship each other's bodies and cocks. Aexn always quickly became the center of attention. A dozen hands would find their way onto Aexn's body to touch, squeeze, and caress his rock-hard bulges. Mouths would close over his cock, tongues would lick his ass, and lips would press on his nipples. They would worship his strength as he lifted two, three, or four of them at a time on his shoulders, with his hands, and on his back. It was ecstasy for Aexn, who typically came a dozen or more times at these parties: in asses, in mouths, on faces, on bodies. If a guy shot his cum on Aexn, he'd grab their head and smear their face in it, forcing them to lick it off and calling them his "dirty bitch". He'd then flip them over, rape their ass, and cum on their back to turn the tables. Once, while Aexn was drunk and fucking a beefy hairy man at one of these parties, an athletic jock (very small compared to Aexn) tried to stick his penis in Aexn's ass. Aexn turned fast and pushed the guy so hard against a wall that all the wind was knocked out of him. Aexn wanted to shove his fist up the guy's butt and parade him around the room like a flag in retaliation. But though Aexn was aggressive and dominant, he wasn't sadistic. Instead, he released the guy from the wall and pushed his head down to his pulsing cock. He rammed his dick hard in the guy's throat, and with each thrust made the guy's head bobble back; Aexn's hand clasped the guy's hair to keep him from pulling away. Aexn made him drink his cum, and warned him to never stick his dick there again or he might get a fist up his ass. There were a few men Aexn had fucked, who afterward wanted to submit themselves wholly to him, knowing that this giant would keep growing for some time. They wanted to be his personal slaves who he would keep, take care of, command, and use for his exclusive pleasure. Aexn had his own house, and with all the money wealthy freaks gave him for private shows and sex, he could afford to feed a few extra mouths. He kept three men locked in his basement, which he had converted to a sex dungeon. He had met two of them at clubs and acquired them when he was 19, and the other at his gym within the last few months. All three were bodybuilders. Their heights were 5'8", 5'9", and 6'1", their weights 195, 210, and 250, and their ages 36, 28, and 43 respectively. Aexn called them his sons, and despite the stark age differences, they all loved the fantasy of their young bull-master as their muscle-god-"daddy". Sometimes he sat them on his lap to suckle his nipples, sometimes one on either leg. Sometimes he'd hold them with their legs around his waist, carrying them like toddlers. Sometimes he worked out with them. Usually he'd flex for them, or wrestle them into submission (sometimes he'd wrestle all three at once), or fuck them. When he flexed, if Aexn permitted it, they touched and felt his muscles and sucked his cock. The slaves' duties at home (aside from servicing Aexn's body) included preparing all meals, general cleaning, and working out with each other to keep in top shape all the time. It was also their duty to scrub every inch of Aexn's body whenever he showered at home, and then to get him off in the water. Most nights the four men would lie together on a giant round bed Aexn had purchased for the basement, and his three slaves would caress and fondle his body and cock before they went to sleep. Aexn would grab them to direct their movements, and he would rub their bodies. Aexn's slaves were good slaves, eager to fulfill all of their duties (especially when it involved touching their rippling master). And though Aexn couldn't complain about all the service and sex he had from his vast collection of muscle-sex partners, he still desired more: bigger muscle for himself; bigger muscle on the men he dominated; bigger muscle slaves.

Jack slowly flexed his left pectoral. A deep striation rolled up the thick slab of muscle. He flexed his right one. His left again. Perfect control. Perfect shape. He leaned forward a bit and raised his forearms to shape an 'x' in front of his chest, then lifted his arms into a double bicep pose. He straightened back his posture again, his lats flared out beneath his still flexed arms, and he froze. All I could do was stare up at him. I had no words, no thoughts. I didn't blink. A fire burned inside my chest. I was lying on my back on the floor. Jack was kneeling over my mid-section, resting his bottom on my boxer covered groin. He was heavy and I liked the pressure of his body on top of mine. My hands rested contentedly on his ankles, my thumbs gently caressing his upper thighs. I didn't know what time it was...it must have been past 1 by now...I didn't care. My focus was undividedly on Jack...as it had been for hours. First we had talked, then we flirted, then I touched his bicep, then he started flexing...and here I am now: lying under a mammoth, watching his show. Jack was staring down at me, his eyes locked on mine. He lowered his arms from his pose and leaned forward again, bringing one arm down front, grazing my chest as he moved, and flexed that bicep again, right in front of my face. I gasped slightly. Jack said "grab it." I did not hesitate and both my hands were clasped on his arm. Holy fuck. My eyes widened and I gaped. I was grasping a stone. A living fucking stone. I knew Jack felt my boner throbbing beneath his ass. But he didn't move. Hands still clasped on his bicep, I lifted my head a little and kissed his forearm. I looked at Jack's face. He was smiling broadly and looking at me. I couldn't help myself, I wanted to kiss him. Badly and now. The fire inside me was now a raging inferno. I released his bicep and grabbed his wide shoulders then lifted my torso so my face met his; our lips linked. Jack placed his hands on the floor, flanking my shoulders, and adjusted his legs so he was sprawled over me. He slid a hand under my back and lifted my torso very close to his. He rose to his knees and I pulled my legs out from under him so we could stand up together. Our lips never pulled apart as we stood up. He was taller than me, and I leaned forward on my feet to gain a little extra height as I wrapped my arms over his shoulders and around his neck. His hand, still pressed on my back, held me firm against himself while his other hand began to caress and tickle my side. I squeezed him tight and he squeezed back. Arms still around his shoulders, I lifted myself and wrapped my legs around his waist. He held me and kissed me, and began to slowly sway. Both our eyes were closed. My passion for Jack was growing and I was beginning to feel something deeper than the flames in my chest... I pulled my lips away from his and we both opened our eyes to look at each other. He stood so effortlessly, as though he wasn't holding the weight of a grown man. I rested my head against his neck, making a pillow of his tall trapezius. He held me there, and one of his hands began to rub my upper back. He kissed the back of my head and squeezed me again. "Hey" said Jack and he indicated for me to let go. I released my legs and arms and stood apart from him while he planked himself on the floor, poised to do pushups. I was puzzled. "Climb on my back" he said, "I want you to be my weight." I laid myself on top of him and once I was settled, he lowered himself to the floor and pushed himself back up. He pumped out an easy 20 reps before I grabbed his triceps to feel their power while he worked. Neither of us counted, but he must have pushed 100 reps before he stopped. We both stood up and I gasped loudly at the sight of his pumped body; his chest and arms looked even bigger and his abs looked more defined. He told me to lie down on my back and I did. He reached a hand down to me then told me to grab it tight and to keep my body rigid. My feet became a fulcrum as he curled my weight. For some time Jack demonstrated his strength, lifting my body in various forms and positions. During each lift, I groped any part of that powerful body I could get my hands on. Jack started flexing again, this time more rapidly. His body was thoroughly pumped and I believed I was now staring at Adonis himself. His erection tented his underwear and I could tell he was heating up and becoming more aggressive. He grabbed my right hand and pressed it firm against one of his pecs while he flexed the muscle. I quivered as I felt that hard rippling striation creep beneath my palm. Then he flexed a bicep and took hold of my head with his free hand, pushing my face toward the flexed muscle. I kissed it and licked it, and he continued to squeeze my face against his arm. Very soon I was running my hands and mouth all over his chiseled body. He pushed me and pulled me, and pressed me and squeezed me, making sure I knew every inch of his solid physique. Now and again he moaned with pleasure as I found his most sensitive places. I liked his strength. I liked when he commanded my movements. I loved to worship this massive god. ****** "Tyler," Jack said, "I want to hold you." I didn't say anything. Jack picked me up, one arm supporting my back, the other below my knees. I rested my head against his shoulder and placed a hand on his chest. He simply stood in the center of the room with me in his arms. We were both silent. The sun was just below the horizon now, preparing to show itself, and the room was turning a faint gray-blue. Jack kissed the top of my head, and still he held me. He carried me into his bedroom and set me down on his bed. I rolled onto my side as he crawled in next to me and pressed himself against my back. He wrapped his arm over my torso and squeezed me tight. "I think I love you." He whispered. We both fell asleep.

At 18 years old, Aexn had already fucked more men than most guys do by the time they're 30. He was always athletic, but now he was a big muscle stud. Standing 6'2", and weighing in at 240lbs of dense rippling muscle, when he wanted to 'get some' all he had to do was go to one of the gay clubs in the city and wait for the right boy to come along (he called any man smaller than him "boy", though most guys he fucked were 10+ years his senior). Bouncers never carded him; they all thought he was hott, and he had already fucked several of them (pansy bitches, most were twice his age and still not as strong as him). He loved to dominate older bodybuilders because he loved feeling superior and strong. Aexn didn't care for other guys his age. None of them could hold a candle to his size or strength. He knew of several faggy twinks and fatties and "straight" jocks who couldn't keep their eyes off him in classes or the hallways at school. Even a few teachers wanted a piece of him; he recognized the faggy ones by the way their gaze lingered on him just a moment too long while scanning their students. In study hall, Aexn often caught Mr. Prechin staring at his massive muscles from the desk at the front of the room, his mouth always drooped slightly open. Aexn knew the old queen would drop to his knees in an instant if asked, even though he had a wife. But Aexn didn't want to fuck any oldies who weren't hott. One of the janitors at school was a mid-30's college drop-out with salt-and-pepper hair who stood 6' and weighed a muscular 200lbs. Earlier in the year, Aexn fucked the guy in a closet while the rest of the school was in class. He hadn't asked his name or even spoke to him. The man had been inconspicuously (or so he believed) following Aexn between classes and to and from his locker. The janitors closet was between two restrooms, and when Aexn suspected the man was following him, he went into the men's bathroom next to the closet. When he came out the janitor was standing in front of the open closet (just as Aexn expected), pretending he was looking for cleaning supplies, but obviously he was still looking at Aexn. Aexn locked eyes with the man's. Nobody else was around. They stood still for a moment, looking at each other. Aexn stepped forward and kissed the man before he could react. He then shoved the guy into the closet and went in after him, closing the door behind. In the dark room, they made out for a while first, groping each others muscles. Aexn yanked the man's pants down to his knees and unzipped his own. He forcibly spun the guy around, pulled out his own hard cock, spat on it for lube, and pressed its head against the mans anus. He pushed hard, and when the head went in, the man let out a yelp of pain. Aexn shoved his 9" shaft all the way up the guy's ass and began to wildly thrust. Two periods passed before he finished that day. Aexn would fuck him a dozen more times in the following months: during school, after school, and once or twice at the guy's house. The only other staff he'd fucked at school was an interim assistant football coach, who'd asked Aexn 8 times in 3 days to join the football team. The final time, he asked Aexn to go with him into the empty coaches office to discuss the opportunity. Aexn went into the office with the man (26 and a meager 185 at 5'10") and again told him "no". The man said "please reconsider" and offered Aexn scholarships and told him of all the physical and interpersonal benefits of playing football. Aexn looked at him while he prattled (he was kinda cute for a persistent and scrawny douche) and flexed his pecs beneath his shirt. The guy's eyes flickered to catch a glimpse of the tight muscles flexing and his speech momentarily sputtered, and Aexn knew the line was set. He raised his arms above his head as though to stretch and brought them down into a double bicep flex. The man's words trailed off and he was lost in the impressive mounds. Aexn smiled slightly and pulled down his pants, exposing his rising boner. He grabbed the back of the guy's head and pushed it down to his groin. The man resisted a little, but quickly submitted and kneeled because he really did want that cock. His mouth took to Aexn's member like a vacuum pump to air. With his hand still gripping the man's hair, Aexn thrusted his hips and bonked the guy's face against his pelvis. After some time, he shot his load deep in the man's throat. The man gagged a little, but swallowed it all. He didn't bother Aexn again. That happened some months ago, and the man's position had since been filled by a new regular assistant coach. Outside of school, the clubs, and his gym, Aexn enjoyed walking downtown in the city. He'd always sport a tank-top and skin-tight shorts. Aexn was a magnet and faggots' eyes were magnetized. Sometimes the eyes belonged to businessmen, sometimes to lawyers or politicians or other self-important men. Most often they belonged to run-of-the-mill blue-collar drones. He loved the way men looked at him: he loved being the object of their desires; he loved their lust. He loved his own superiority. He didn't often fuck these men who looked at him on the sidewalks this way (they were too "average" and too desperate), but now and then he'd pluck one up (if they were muscular enough). Unless they were very attractive, he would not kiss them; he'd fuck them at their place for an hour or two, then cum in their ass or on their face, then leave. Or he'd go into a toilet stall or dark office with one of these men and fuck their eager face for a quicky. Once in a blue moon, Aexn would lock eyes with a muscle beast bigger than himself. He always hooked up with the guys like this. Usually they'd be barely strong enough to pin Herculean Aexn to submission, but sometimes they were so massive that even he seemed small by comparison. Most of these bigger guys topped Aexn after they pinned him, but some of them submitted to him, knowing that in a few short years Aexn would be bigger and stronger than them anyway. Aexn knew it too, and each time his own ass was stretched, he took mental note of the guy doing it so that in a few years he could reverse roles on them. He'd already become bigger than two mature bodybuilders who had liked fucking him earlier this year, and now he was their master in bed. You see, Aexn cared deeply about only two things: muscle and fucking. He knew that he would not stop building muscle until he was the dominant master of even the biggest bodybuilders and power-lifters. Aexn was alpha.

Thanks for all the comments, part four should be up by the weekend at the earliest. Read Part One HERE Read Part Two HERE Liquid Manhood Chapter Three “You are in very good health Mr Wington” the doctor finally said after poking and checking Barrett out for nearly an hour The doctor had seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in having Barrett strip, the older man’s hands running along the ridges of Barrett’s stomach and chest. Ridges that to most people would of been considered amazing to possess, but Barrett knew they weren’t as cut as they had been last week. “We’ll have to wait for the test results to come back in a few days, but from what I can tell you are a fit healthy man in his early 20s” the doctor added, flicking through a chart Barrett looked the doctor in his almost-orange-with-fake-tan face, annoyance plastered over Barrett’s handsome, but exhausted features. “Nearly two months back when you gave me my start of the year physical you said I was the most healthy person you’d ever saw” Barrett explained Even back then the doctor has spent more time than he needed to feel out Barrett’s body. He remembered the doctor fingering each solid brick of Barrett’s abs. Shaking off the memory of the obvious groping he heaved himself off the examination table, pulling at the bottom of his shirt to hide his still amazingly ripped abs. He’d been doing it more and more recently, he just had this thought in the back of his head that he was on display, like he was suddenly all self conscious. He even dug out an old long sleeved shirt from his closet to hide the thick toned pillars he called arms. The Barrett Wington who had always tried to not wear a shirt suddenly didn't want anyone to look at him. “Yes…well Mr Wington, that was last month” the doctor replied “You still are in very good shape, and very good health” There it was, ’very good’, not ‘amazing’ or ‘incredible’. Barrett was used to being perfect, ‘very good’ was a demotion. “Like I said when you arrived and when you called last week” the doctor continued “You might just have a bug, happens a lot in the first few months of the academic year” Barrett just nodded, the doctor was most likely right. A virus or infection was the only explanation for how Barrett felt, and how it seemed the entire football team were feeling the same. The doctor handed Barrett a small box of pills. “Takes these twice a day” the doctor said “Should give your immune system a little boost” Barrett just nodded again, finding it harder to find his voice, like he was getting nervous around people. As he left the doctor called back “Come back in a few days, we’ll have your results then, but remember to take it easy.” Barrett ignored him and slowly walked back to the frat house, scratching at his crotch the entire way. His jock strap was still itchy, even though he’d had it washed everyday since the itching started. He probably shouldn't wear it anymore, but he just couldn't get comfy in other underwear. It was like he’d gotten used to the itchy jock. Going to the local clinic felt like a waste of time, he’d felt like shit all week. It had messed with his workouts, even football practice had been terrible. Coach Peters nearly burst a vein bellowing at the failing athletes, and at Barrett especially. But Barrett had a horrible thought in the back of his mind, a virus could cause every symptom he had. It would cause the soreness, the exhaustion, the failure to be an active jock, but even with Barrett’s basic knowledge of biology he knew that nothing could make your feet a size smaller. He stared at his feet as he walked, both out of a want not to make eye contact with others and to also examine his feet. Barrett’s size 15 sneakers were feeling loose. Maybe it was time Barrett pulled out his old size 14s. Barrett’s next step ended up with his shoe being left behind. His eyes widened and Barrett quickly slipped his foot back into the too big sneaker. His pace quickened and he crossed his meaty arms over his still impressive chest defensively, on second thought he’d borrow a frat bro’s size 13s. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Chris and Melvin sat in the greasy pizzeria just outside of campus, huddled in a booth a back. The red leather seats fraying and the table still stained from the meals of the last few dozen diners. The dingy restaurant was Paulie’s Pizza, a place famous on campus as the go to place for a cheap meal, just as long as you liked pizza. Paulie, if that was his name was a Persian who clothes were always stained with pizza grease, he was as Italian as Super Mario. But Melvin had to admit he did make a good pizza. The nerdy student was chowing down on a large slice of pepperoni. Chris just stared over his expensive sunglasses at the other students in the restaurant, tightly held in his hand was a specimen cup of emerald green liquid, it was the elixir. A week had passed since they'd started collecting the liquid by draining the football team and Chris had finally decided to test the elixir out on a human. Melvin’s roommate had been very encouraged by the change to Burt the cactus, and even more encouraged by the change in the football team. Everyday Chris would describe all the small changes he’d seen in the athletes, he barely breathed as he hurried out the sighting of Barrett Wington’s shoe falling off his foot yesterday. Melvin was sure that Chris has jerked off that night thinking about Barrett’s feet shrinking. “See anyone yet” Melvin said between bites of pizza Chris nodded with a small smirk on his lips. “Stefan, that German student who's staying for a semester” Chris said in a quiet voice Melvin craned his head around to look for Stefan, he wasn't being subtle. Stefan was sitting at one of the tables in the middle of the restaurant, he was alone and clicking on his phone. He was fair skinned and very blonde. How Melvin imagined all Germans to look, he was lean, but probable had a very average body under his loose hoody. “Why him” Melvin asked returning his gaze to Chris Chris shook his head at Melvin, angry at Melvin’s obvious stares. He explained slowly and with fierce patronisation in his voice “Stefan is the best candidate because he’ll be returning to Germany in a month” Melvin nodded, his voice a little shaken by Chris’ mild anger “So his change won’t attract much attention” Chris nodded and then pulled himself out of the booth. Melvin watched Chris slip past the tables and other patrons, he passed the counter where plates of food waited for the waiters to delivery them to their tables. As he passed Chris poured the sample cup of elixir over one of the plates. Chris quickly vanished into restaurant restroom, always trying not to draw suspicion. Melvin again with his eyes obviously pointed at Stefan watched the short dark haired waiter with a name tag reading ‘Zack’ place a plate of elixir soaked pineapple pizza at Stefan’s table. Chris returned, maybe walking a little too fast. He slapped Melvin on the shoulder to get him to stop staring at Stefan. Melvin looked down at his half eaten pizza slice, picking at the stringy cheese. He heard Chris swear under his breath. “What” Melvin asked without looking “He fucking left” Chris muttered, slapping the table, no one looked towards the bang in the loud restaurant Melvin looked over to Stefan’s table, and it was empty. The pizza hadn't been touched. “Looks like he got a text, and he just left” Chris explained “The idiot paid for the pizza and everything” “So…another target” Melvin asked Chris nodded “Yea….I’ll do some more searching and find someone to dose” The two roommates got up and left, Chris muttering about how stupid people were and how they never did what they should do. Chris not even letting Melvin finish his pizza. Neither of them noticing Zack the waiter with the greasy olive toned skin return to clean the table, or how Zack even though he hated pineapple eagerly ate the abandoned elixir soaked pizza on his way back to the kitchen as Paulie didn't let his waiters have a lunch break. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Sean kept pulling at his shirt, but not because it was tight or because it was riding up his belly. He was pulling at it because it was loose, it hung around his neck and stomach. For the first time in years he was standing in front of and checking himself out in a mirror. The sink below it was flushed lime green, Sean had just washed his mouth out with Mountain Dew. He’d noticed the bottle was a darker green than normal, and the taste was a little different. More savory, almost salty, maybe he’d just picked up a soon to be out of date bottle. The strange tasting beverage wasn’t taking up much of Sean’s attention though, the sight in the mirror was more interesting. Even though he looked just like he always remembered, ginger, chubby and below average, there was something different. He wasn't as plump as before, his face and neck were thinner. There was even the hint of some bone structure peaking through. Nearly every piece of clothing he owned felt looser, except for his shoes. He looked leaner, healthier, like he’d been eating right. Which was wrong, the take out boxes in the trash can a few feet away saw to that. Sean had always thought he could do with losing some weight, and the mirror was proving him right. He just didn't have the mind and will to do it. But he liked the new him looking back from the mirror. Slimmer, eyes a little brighter and not a spot in sight on his pale skin. He even seemed to be holding himself taller. He turned from the mirror and swung his shoulder bag on, it was stuffed with books, but Sean could hardly feel the weight. With a smile on his face, and without his usual setup of headphones blasting music to repel any social interaction he headed out of his room for the campus library. Sean made sure his door was locked and walked straight into a raven haired boy. It was Chris from next-door, close behind him was a quiet blond nerdy boy. Sean didn't know his name, but had seen him enough times to know he was Chris’ roommate. Chris stepped back from Sean, quickly scanning who it was who’d bumped into him. Sean smiled politely at both boys, the blond with the crooked nose smiled back. Chris though stepped forward so he was inches away from Sean, staring him down. Sean surprised himself and almost laughed at the lithe boy’s attempt at intimidation. “What do you think you’re doing” Chris sneered down at Sean The taller boy stared down at him from behind expensive designer glasses. Sean had guessed that Chris was about 6ft tall when he first saw him moving in a few weeks back, but now Sean was maybe an inch shorter then him. This revelation caused a shot of excitement to drop right into Sean’s balls, he’d gotten taller. He’d never in his wildest dreams thought he’d reach 6ft, and he was now a hair’s length away. “I’m heading to the library” Sean explained knocking himself out of his thoughts, and surprising himself with how confident he sounded. Suddenly Chris’ slightly angular face softened “Oh, you mean the Haber Library” Sean nodded, knowing this was leading somewhere. Chris just smiled with perfectly straight pearly whites. The blond boy sighed in relief, Chris must get angry at the drop of a hat. “My last name is Haber you know” Chris stated grandly Sean just shook his head at the arrogant dark haired boy. Chris was attractive by anyone’s standards, but the speed at which he could switch from mild anger to lording something over someone else turned Sean off the high cheekboned student. Chris flicked his glossy black fringe “Yes, we’re an old family, been going to this college since its founding” Sean again just nodded, adding an ‘oh really’ for good measure. He could feel his cock hardening as he stared at Chris’ pretty face, his libibo had been sky high the last few days. He felt dirty getting hard over such an arrogant jerk. “We Habers were here long before the Wingtons” Chris continued rolling his eyes at the dorm room corridor “This shit hole is all they can throw together” Sean remembered the dorm room was named Wington Dormitory, he also remembered that some guy on the football team was called Wington. He then thought ‘It’s a shit hole you live in Chris’ but he stopped himself. Chris gave Sean a friendly slap on the shoulder, it didn't jiggly like it would of a week ago. “Have a good one” Chris smiled widely, seemingly having forgotten the earlier insult Sean watched Chris and the blond vanish into their dorm room. He chuckled to himself and head out, even whistling a little tune. As he left the main doors of the dormitory his nostrils flared and his cock throbbed. There was something rich and musky in the air. He followed it. The thick stench led to the trash cans, they were piled high with trash, having not been emptied this week. Perched on a slant between two black trash bags was a cactus. A large green cactus with a dark red flower atop it. Sean liberated the plant from the trash and inhaled deeply. He only got the small whiff putrid trash, the rest of his sinuses were filled with the musk rising off the cactus. Sean hid the potted cactus behind the trash cans, he’d return for it after he’d finished in the library. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Zack Buffone, like a lot of wait staff was a drama major, and like a lot of drama majors he never imagined he’d be a waiter. But he needed the money, college didn't pay for itself, especially when you had a father disappointed at your life choices. His dorm room in the Wington Building was like most other dorm rooms, two beds, a shared desk and with the simple decorations that each of the roommates had placed around to make it feel like home. Zack had placed a few posters on the wall above his bed, all of them for Broadway musicals. Rent, Wicked and Les Miserables to be specific. His roommate Lance, a golden blonde beach boy had two posters one an idolised version of his native San Diego and the other of some band that Zack was sure he only had up because it was the ‘in’ thing to do. Zack and Lance were different people, Lance naturally athletic, he’d even taken to lacrosse at the start of the year like he was born for it. While Zack was creative, and desperately trying to make a name for himself in the college drama department. They rarely talked, but they had talked it had always been civil, mostly about how to log onto the college computer system, or about their neighbour and his noisy arguments with his girlfriend. But right now their shared room looked like a tornado had torn through it. A neatly kept pile of Lance’s business books had been strewn across the desk. The desk chair had been knocked over and Lance’s mattress had been partly pulled off of the bed’s base. On Zack’s bed lay the tattered remains of his Paulie’s Pizzeria workshirt, like something had burst out of it. Sweat had drenched the sheets and the mattress appeared to be permanently imprinted by the sudden weight of a much too large occupant. The air was thick with the ripe smell of fresh cum and the sound of flesh slapping flesh bounced off the walls. A layer of musk was descending over the dorm room, the odour of sweat and muscle. Zack was standing at the small sink and mirror that all dorm rooms in the Wington building had. This wasn’t the Zack who’d waited tables the day before, the Zack who’d come home in a sweat and collapsed exhausted onto his bed, the Zack who was already feeling the effects of the cup of elixir he’d been accidentally dosed with. A cocky smirk lined his newly chiseled face, his right arm up and flexing. He wasn’t skinny anymore, his arm was thick with muscle. The rounded bicep bulging with the slightest movement. The rest of his body was just as big as his arm. His hand every now and then would grope at the meaty pecs he now owned, his entire body shining with a hearty olive tone. His black hair was glossy and now ran over his boulder like shoulders. Zack now towered above his dorm room, having grew over half a foot. He guessed he had to be at least 6’5 now, and with over a 100lbs of extra mass. Since nothing of his would fit him he’d steal something from Lance’s closet. He doubted anything of Lance’s would be anything but skintight. He was excited, barely thinking about what could've caused his growth. He was too busy stretching out his new muscles. Zack had tried out a number of poses, learning how to get his new muscles to listen to his commands. Lance though was having a completely different experience. Between Zack's newly thickened muscle thighs and with his head painfully banging against the sink was Lance. His hazel eyes bloodshot and teary, his jaw sore and Zack’s monstrous horsedick stretching out and down his throat. Zack’s rounded bare ass flexed with each thrust as he fucked his roommates struggling mouth. Lance had given up punching at Zack’s thighs and ass after the second load of cum had been shot down his gullet. Zack left hand was gripping tightly to Lance’s golden locks, “Fuck…….” Zack said for maybe the dozenth time His voice was deeper, richer and oozed confidence. An almost natural authority, it was how he’d got Lance onto his knees after their brief struggle. The smaller blonde boy didn't know how to pick a fight. He’d punched Zack in his steel hard abs, probably thinking Zack had broken into the room. He remembered asking what Lance wanted, the blondes eyes on Zack's bulge. The newly grown muscle man cupped his crotch, the blonde's eyes only widened. Then something just clicked into place in Zack’s head and he grabbed Lance by the throat and tossed him onto the floor. He cock slapped Lance’s beach tanned face a few times, then went to force open Lance's mouth, only to find it already opened wide. That was nearly two hours ago. Zack looked down his thick smooth pecs at Lance’s spit and cum covered face, he smirked. “You enjoying that” he asked He loosened his grip on Lance’s hair, his thrusting slowed. Lance’s head moved as much as it could, he didn’t need Zack to fuck his throat, he appeared more then happy to impale himself on Zack’s meat rod. A few drops of fresh sweat fell onto Lance’s hungry eyes, the cock tight in his throat, but Lance kept sucking. Zack just boomed out a laugh “I fucking knew it, weird that I’d wanted you to fuck me when we met” His speed returning to his thrusts “Never thought seeing you choke on my dick would of been the better option” With that he pulled out, Lance gasping for air. Zack’s fat cock swung for a second before rising up to slap at his six pack. Lacne’s hands were still holding onto Zack’s huge thighs. Zack pulled him to his feet. Happy to have Lance at chest level, he bounced his pecs in quick succession. Zack caught the growing bulge in Lance’s boxer shorts and smiled. He pushed Lance towards the beds, and gave his perky ass a slap that probably stung. “Pick a bed, I want to dump this load in your ass” he ordered.

The new Zack

Part 11 The doctor put Paul in the scanner to reactivate as much myostatin as he could and gave him an infusion of the normal stuff, too. Paul thought about giving the doctor a good punch in the face and leaving, but obviously the doctor was not able to fully stop the growth and Paul did not want to end up like Robert. "Well," Paul thought, "Robert's size was amazing and now I wouldn't mind being that big eventually, but if it happened to me over a couple months rather than just one week, that was worth not being in the kind of pain and danger that Robert was in." "There was very little deactivated myostatin in your system this time," the doctor reported. "Since you still experienced growth, the nano-switches might have destroyed your myostatin system. You're going to continue to grow muscle very easily, unless we repair that system. Infusions of the normal myostatin will help regulate it, so I think I can let you have some physical activity, but nothing more than a brisk walk this week. Come in the beginning of next week and I might have figured out enough to formulate a long-term treatment plan. I'll have something that might help Robert by then, too." Paul grabbed five chicken cordon bleu pizzas on his way back to Robert's place. Robert was still in the bathtub, but the water was drained. Paul could hear Robert's stomach grumbling as he brought in the pizzas. Robert ate a whole pizza in about one minute, then rubbed his belly saying, "That tasted so good!" Two minutes later, he ate the second pizza almost as quickly. As he was working on the third, I called to order Chinese food. "Thanks for bringing the food," Robert mumbled between mouthfuls of pizza. "I ate everything I had here yesterday, and didn't realize how hungry I was from the pain in the rest of my body." He finished the pizzas and already seemed less stressed. In fact, it was just another minute before he fell asleep. He was still kinda wet and just had some kind of boxer brief, or maybe a swimsuit, on. It looked more like a thong, because it had ridden up over his basketball-sized glutes. Paul put a towel over him and decided to let him rest. He was almost out the door when Robert drifted back awake. "Hey, I have some lotion in the wrestling room. Could you grab it for me?" he asked with his eyes barely open, before falling back asleep. Paul found some body oil, a bunch of sex toys and also a rolled-up measuring tape. He left the toys there, but figured he might as well get some scientific data on how big Robert was. Paul grabbed his arm first and felt his biceps fill one hand and the triceps the other with more to spare. Robert stayed fast asleep as Paul measured what he could. Robert's arm was 19" around, not even flexed. His chest was tricky to measure, but it was about 50 inches. His quads look mutant: the muscle had muscles, and it was about 30" inches around. As Paul measured, he left a coat of oil, and saw several bruised areas. Robert's skin even broke open a bit on his leg, and it bled just a little. As Paul watched the couple drops of blood drip underneath him, he wondered if Robert's blood could carry the treatment on to someone else... or if Sasha's blood could. Robert stirred, growling and moaning, and Paul turned to leave again before Robert said, "I'm hungry again." "I ordered delivery. Do you like Chinese?" Paul asked. "Sounds awesome. Fuck, I'm horny, too," Robert added, and Paul noticed Robert's dick tenting and straining against the skimpy, wet fabric. Paul was ambivalent about helping Robert with that problem, and before he could decide what, if anything, he would offer to do, they heard a knock and a yell from the door. "Dragon House!" As Robert ate through the boxes with his hands, Paul got a call from the doctor and stepped outside the bathroom. "Robert does have altered myostatin very similar to yours," the doctor reported. "It's hard to tell if that's from nano-switches, but that's highly likely. Also, I ran additional tests and both of your hormone levels are elevated like a teenager. The treatment may cause a second puberty through a sort of backwards stimulation. It's probably helped your body keep up with the growth, and it explains why you've gotten taller." "I've gotten taller?" Paul asked surprised. "A couple inches. Part of it might be posture and strengthening of the spine, but there's definitely some minor skeletal growth. You didn't notice?" "My body's been changing so much, I guess I didn't." "I might be able to enhance that effect and help the skin and connective tissue grow along with the muscle. Robert's situation might not be as bad as I feared, as long as he rests and is able to heal. Let me know if his condition worsens. It will take a few tries to get the combination of amino acids right. If we're a bit lucky, I'll just have it ready when you come in. How is Robert?" "The food is doing him good. He's still in the bath tub, but I dried him off a bit and put body oil on his skin. He's eating again now." "Body oil: good idea. He shouldn't eat too much too fast," the doctor warned. "What? Why not?" Paul responded, worried that Robert was again in danger. "He might throw up," the doctor said simply. "but it sounds like you got things under control there. I'll get back to work." Paul returned to find Robert halfway through the Chinese food with a distended belly and it did look like he was going to puke. Instead, he let out a loud belch and fell back asleep. Paul left to restock Robert's kitchen, including a few tubs of mass-gainer protein powder. He found Robert asleep, but he had finished the Chinese food. Paul made a protein shake for himself and left a few ice-cold shakes and the phone with a few take-out menus within Robert's reach, and a note saying he'd be back in the morning. Robert stirred enough to change positions, but was otherwise unconscious. Paul thought about dragging him to the bed, but he wasn't sure Robert's skin could take it and he had felt warm enough with just the towel over him. --- Paul was surprised that Sasha was home when he got back. Sasha explained that he left work early to do shopping, since he tore out of the last thing he had that was big enough for him. He tried to get 3XL when he could so that he'd have clothes to grow into, as well, and bought a few things for Paul who had been relying on just a few XXL essentials that were straining to hold together. Then, Paul realized he had Robert's measuring tape in his pocket and held it out with a grin to Sasha, who needed no explanation and grabbed it out of Paul's hand. "You first," he said. Paul had never measured his individual body parts and the idea that they merited their own numbers was exciting. Since he only had Robert for comparison, the numbers didn't sound that amazing, but Sasha seemed very impressed. 20.5" arms, 16" forearms, 56.5" chest, 29" waist, 29" quads, 16" calves. "Damn, your legs are as thick as your waist!" Sasha exclaimed. "Ok, your turn," I replied. He had 18" arms, 15" forearms, 50" chest, also 29" quads, but a 31" waist, and 15.5" calves. "Your chest doesn't look much smaller than mine," Paul commented. "Yeah, but your back is wide as a barn," Sasha replied as he finally couldn't keep his hands off of Paul's body and pulled him in for a kiss. They made out for a few minutes and took off their shirts, but the momentum was broken when both of their stomachs grumbled loudly. "First things first," said Sasha and he got started on making dinner, but neither of them put their shirts back on. Paul filled Sasha in on his conversations with the doctor and his care of Robert, but left out the oil and measuring. He also shared his curiosity about if Robert's or Sasha's blood could affect other people. "Should we try it?" Sasha asked. "Is there someone you want to grow?" Paul countered. "Well, some people at work have been especially admiring, and I don't think they'd mind some growth of their own." "You have admirers at work?" Paul asked, feeling a bit jealous and maybe guilty. After his interaction with Robert, he wondered if Sasha had people measuring him and oiling him up. "Not as many as you'd have," Sasha replied, giving Paul a smile. "And if a couple other people got some serious muscle, maybe I wouldn't be such an oddity." "Honestly," Paul decided to say, "it's your blood now, but you should explain that there is some danger, especially for skinny guys like me and Robert that it was designed for. I think you should start with just a small drop of blood if you do share it." "Well, I'm not a flebosisist or whatever, so I wasn't gonna empty a vein for someone. I'll think about it. I guess it needs to be someone I can trust to keep a secret, too." They both were pensive the rest of the evening. Paul felt like he had an exhausting day, so he turned in early as Sasha sorted through his clothes. --- Paul woke to Sasha saying he was hitting the gym before work. After another hour in bed, Paul had breakfast and walked over to Robert's. It was a cold day, judging by how bundled up other people were, but Paul was comfortable in just a sweatsuit that Sasha had bought him. The familiar yearning to exercise hit him so he quickened to a fast walk, almost a jog. Paul felt so good, that he almost went around the block for no reason, but he felt he should check on Robert. Paul found him on the couch. Well, most of him was on the couch; a decent amount of him didn't fit. He still had barely anything on, and several pizza boxes lay around the room. Paul again was amazed by the size of him and wasn't sure if he had gotten even bigger. He realized he had left the measuring tape at home, and hoped he could get it back before Robert noticed it was gone. This was one guy that nobody would want to see mad, so Paul called out tentatively, "Robert?" "Huh? What? Oh, you're back. Ugh. The pain's still there, but not so bad. Thanks for the food yesterday. The pizza guy tried to help to get me over here, but I think I pretty much did it on my own. Each step hurt my knees, but I used the walls a bit and made it." Robert's stomach audibly grumbled, so Paul offered to make breakfast. "I don't have anything," Robert complained. "I restocked yesterday. How about an omelette and sausage?" "You're an angel. Yes, as much as you can make. Thanks for helping me. I can't help thinking I deserve this misery. I kinda took advantage of you when we met up." "That was a dick move," Paul replied as he started on breakfast. "But it ended up being a good time, and you taught me a few moves I used on my roommate." "Ha. He is a cute stud, but too young for me. Are you two dating?" "I'm not sure. This whole growth thing has been weird. Hot, but weird. I sometimes feel like he's just into my new muscle." "Well, you do look like a heavyweight bodybuilder, even with those clothes on." "I want to get bigger," Paul blurted out. Seeing Robert again, and hearing himself described as a bodybuilder, Paul realized that he did want to build his body, and he could be doing so much more to make it happen. In fact, he wanted to be as big as Robert. "No," Paul thought to himself, "I want to be bigger." Robert smiled, having a notion of Robert's thoughts. "I don't know how you've been able to take it slow. Even after I realized my growth was causing problems, I couldn't stop. Once I heal up enough to workout again, I'll probably be back on this couch again in agony." "The doctor is working on something to help with the uneven growth; I mean, the muscle over everything else. And a way to slow it down." "But we don't want to slow it down, do we?" Robert asked with a knowing smile. "Not really," Paul admitted.