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      Help contribute, donate via PayPal or join with a monthly Patreon contribution.   01/01/17

      To help raise funds I've introduced a monthly contribution option called Pateron. This service allows you to pledge a monthly contribution plus allows me to offer you some rewards for your contribution. If you have any questions you may PM me. If you'd like to make that contribution please click on the image below:      
    • CMiller

      NEWS: Discord Server & Clubs (aka Groups) are back!   08/19/17

      Hello everyone I'm back with a couple big updates! Firstly we now have a Discord server, this is a real-time chat messaging client you can run on your phone, desktop, or anywhere. It's a pretty powerful desktop application that enables people to chat together, and with multiple channels you can find people interested in what you're interested in. If you don't already have a Discord account it's pretty easy to get one, just click the following invite link to get started: https://discord.gg/Ahzu9jC Secondly I'm proud to announce the return of Groups, it's been renamed to Clubs and is now available here: https://muscle-growth.org/clubs/. This system is entirely user generated and allows users to create groups of their own based on any subject they want. Go ahead and try it now, visit the link above to get started if you want to create or join a group!   As always thank you to all of our donators and Patreon contributors who keep the forums going! 


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  1. Charlie's Secret

    Thanks mate! Yeah - there's a lot more to come!
  2. Charlie's Secret

    Amazingly, during the days which followed before my next class, where I would find out the outcome of my placement, my mind felt fairly relaxed. Every now and then I would experience a moment of sheer panic that I had made a huge mistake. To make myself feel better, I reasoned that even if I got the placement and I decided at the very last moment if I couldn’t go through with it, I could always just fake an illness. It wasn’t until I was sat back in Professor Walsh’s classroom that the butterflies started to kick in. I was anxiously waiting for some kind of eye contact from the Professor, wondering whether she would glance at me again and her expression would give away her thoughts on why this slim guy, who clearly had no obvious interest in bodybuilding, would chose it as one of his placement options. So far, there was nothing, but the nerves were growing by the second in anticipation of what was to come. It was only until about ten minutes before the end of the lesson that I was put out of my misery. As copies of the list were handed around to raised, excited voices, my nerves were unbearable. It literally felt like someone was squeezing the insides of my stomach. I desperately tried not to look at Professor Walsh in case we made eye contact. Whatever suspicions had already formed in her head would certainly be further fuelled by the fact I had suddenly turned into a quivering mess. As the pile of lists made it’s way down my row of desks towards me, I suddenly realised how badly I actually wanted to see my name against the bodybuilding placement. A muscle video I had watched the previous night suddenly flashed in my head, and as I thought about the insanely handsome, competition conditioned muscle monster pumping up his enormous, paper thin skin encased biceps backstage at a bodybuilding show in his indecently shiny blue posing trunks I had shot a load to, the list was in my hands, my eyes were shooting down the page, and there it was. Filming Backstage at a Local Bodybuilding Competition CHARLIE STEATHAM YES!! My heart leaped into my throat, and the nerves were suddenly replaced by sheer elation. But then, as I looked again, I noticed I wasn’t the only person on the placement. Filming Backstage at a Local Bodybuilding Competition CHARLIE STEATHAM BILLY HORVATH OH GOD!! BILLY HOR-FUCKING-VATH OH PLEASE GOD NO!! I had been so fraught with whether to put the placement as one of my choices in the first place, and what the Professor would think if I did, that I hadn’t given a second thought to the person I would actually be sharing the placement with, and even if I had, I would have never anticipated it would be the most annoying, obnoxious and unlikeable person in the class. In my few short months at the university, I don’t think I had ever seen Billy Horvath crack anything even closely resembling a smile. He was a pretentious, joyless, friendless individual with an opinion on everything, which was often opposed to that of everyone else in the class, including Professor Walsh. He was just about the last person I would ever want to share any kind of experience with, least of all this one. I glanced over at Billy, who was staring at the list. His face was red, his teeth were clenched, and he looked like he was about thirty seconds away from committing some violent act of crime. Billy was not a happy man at the best of times, but I knew the face of an incredibly pissed off person when I saw it. I usually didn’t waste too much time in getting my things together and leaving the classroom after my lectures had finished, and this one was no different. That was until I saw a flustered and determined looking Billy charging towards the Professor’s desk. I purposely held myself back, pretending to read the lecture notes I had just spent the last hour making, glancing up discreetly to see what was going on between Billy and the Professor. I wasn’t close enough to hear the conversation, but Billy was aggravated and clearly not happy, while the Professor looked diplomatic but stern, firmly shaking her head, which only seemed to aggravate Billy more. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the conversation entailed. Billy was clearly trying to argue his way out of being on his chosen placement, and Walsh was firmly telling him that he was staying on it, whether he liked it or not. As much fun as it was to see Billy getting some sort of comeuppance for generally being the obnoxious person he was, this was one occasion where I would have liked to have seen fate on his side. When an enraged Billy had left, and the Professor was left subtly shaking her head at her desk, I quickly gathered my things to make an exit. Have you ever known something was about to happen before it actually does? Almost like for a split second you develop this psychic ability, and somehow you just know what’s about to occur, and then a second later, it does? That’s exactly what happened to me when Professor Walsh called my name just before I reached the door to exit the classroom, and even though I knew it was going to happen, I was still taken a back when it did. “Charlie!” Fuck! “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Fuck fuck shitting buggering fuck!! A jolt of fear shot through me. Not long before, I had been desperately trying to avoid eye contact with her and now she wanted to speak to me, and I had absolutely no idea what it was she had to say. As I tentatively edged towards the Professor’s desk, she was looking at me with a look of genuine concern. “Charlie, I just wanted to make sure you are OK with your placement?” You mean you want to know why the hell I want to spend an entire day surrounded by a bunch of disgustingly muscular, grotesquely huge muscle FREAKS of nature caked in oil and tan and wearing nothing but brightly coloured posing pouches? Of course, this could have been my opportunity to offer some kind of explanation as to why someone like me would have the slightest bit of interest in being involved in the filming of a bodybuilding competition., even if that explanation were ultimately to be a lie. But I just couldn’t think that fast. “Erm…yeah. I mean it’s an opportunity to gain some hands on experience isn’t it?” I reasoned. And a years supply of material for the fucking WANK BANK in my head!! Grrrrr-RUFF!! “I know it wasn’t your first choice but competition was really tough this year. A lot of students weren’t placed on any of their choices,” she explained. Your bother’s a bodybuilder. Tell her your brother’s a bodybuilder. THAT’S why you chose the placement. You have some small, vague interest and knowledge of bodybuilding because your brother is a bodybuilder. “Well to be honest, I didn’t think my chances of getting a place on the other two were that great, so I thought I’d pick one of the more interesting placements from the obscure options that I didn’t think would that be popular.” I didn’t make a habit of lying but in some instances, like this one, it was necessary. She smiled, and I could see in her face that she was genuine and sincere, and any possible suspicions I thought she may have had were all just paranoid thoughts in my head. “I knew you’d have a mature attitude about the experience, Charlie, and I know you’re the type of person who will gain something out of whatever type of filming you’re placed on,” she continued. I decided in that moment that I actually really liked Professor Walsh. I suddenly had an image of randomly running into her at an obscure book launch in New York in five years time, where she’d confess to me how she’d always thought I was the student who had the potential to achieve the most out of my class. “And you know we’ve had students on this placement before and we’ve generally had really good feedback. Some of the smaller camera crews let you get a lot more involved in the filming than the bigger ones. I think you might be pleasantly surprised, Charlie.” Pleasantly surprised at how many times I manage NOT to instantly ejaculate in my pants?! I was genuinely excited to hear this, and nodded along, but my mind had also, once again, drifted to the online video I’d watched the night before of the bodybuilder backstage at a competition pumping and posing for the camera. More than once whilst watching it, I’d imagined that I was on the other side of that camera, mere inches away from him. It was probably best that the Professor was wrapping up our conversation at this point, as something just a little south of my belt buckle was beginning to swell. I started to leave when she called me back. “Oh, and, Charlie, try not to let anyone…” she paused for a moment, as if trying to find appropriate word to use, “affect your experience.” Her eyes widened, and it was as close as her expression could get to rolling her eyes or acting inappropriately for a Professor. She was clearly talking about my new filming buddie, Mr Horvath. In that moment, and for the first time, I suddenly developed a curiosity as to what Billy would make of the pumped up muscle monsters we’d be filming a week on Saturday. I couldn’t help smiling at the thought of small, weedy, over opinionated Billy surrounded by a bunch of humongous, egotistical bodybuilders, pumping, posing and flexing their superhuman sized muscle. As I left the Professor’s classroom and headed back to my dorm room, a huge smile erupted on my face. The whole situation suddenly felt incredibly surreal and exciting, and for that moment at least, all of the nerves, doubts and fears had all but disappeared. If only they had stayed that way the morning of the work placement. The morning of the actual bodybuilding competition that was about to take the place in the arts theatre I was staring at head on, wondering what on earth I had been thinking to ever believe I could actually go through with the experience. The nerves hadn’t just reappeared that moment either. They’d been slowly creeping back for the days leading up to the placement, getting stronger and more unsettling. With the big day finally here, I felt like my stomach had literally been invaded by a group of miniature people who were tying every single one of my intestines into the tightest of knots. I was an absolute wreck, and before I had time to run in the opposite direction to hide under my duvet, never to face Professor Walsh or set foot in her classroom again, the unwelcome, short, slight figure of Billy Horvath was obnoxiously striding towards me, looking as characteristically gloomy as ever. Billy Horvath always seemed like he was about ten seconds away from saying something that would annoy, offend, or insult you. “So, you’re the other sucker who got this joke of a placement?” Annoyed? Check! “Professor Walsh must think as highly of you as she does of me!” Offended? Check! “Maybe if you actually made some contribution to the class every now and then her opinion might change!” Insulted? Check check fucking CHECK!! Billy clearly liked the sound of his own voice outside of Professor Walsh’s lectures as much as he did during them. “So, Charlie Steatham, can you please tell me what the hell we’re supposed to learn from being at a place like this?” he asked. Oooh…erm…I dunno Billy. How about learning how NOT to be an absolute fucking TWAT?! “Ummm, well we are gonna be operating cameras on a legitimate film crew,” I reasoned. Billy scoffed. “Do you know I didn’t tell anyone where I was going today? I’m that embarrassed,” he exclaimed. “I could be on an actual movie set, or at a television studio right now. Even a music video for a shitty boy band would be better than this. I mean, bodybuilding? Ugh! It’s fucking gross. A bunch of disgusting, brain-dead, meatheads.” Twat twat wanking buggering TWAT!! “And I see your as full of opinions as ever, Steatham?” I wasn’t a confrontational person, but Billy was pushing me to the edge. “Look, Billy, I really don’t care where we are or what we’re filming,” I explained. “I just want to get in there and see what I can gain from the whole thing. You know, make the most of this opportunity? Did anyone force you to come today?” “Oh, he has a voice! Some more of that in class and you might actually end up on a real studio set instead of standing outside here next time.” Billy was beginning to really aggravate me. “I have a voice. I just don’t feel the need to use it at every given opportunity. You see, I also have this thing called social awareness. Knowing when people don’t want to hear my voice. Knowing when people actually want me to shut up.” Billy’s eyes were wider than I’d ever seen them. He’d got the message, so he responded in typically obnoxious, annoying fashion. He sarcastically sucked his lips into his mouth while animatedly nodding, and imitating the action of a zip going over his lips with his fingers. I sighed, and shook my head. I waited for him to say something, but he wasn’t budging. Neither was that idiotic, wide eyed, lips sucked in, “not saying a word” expression. I stared at the theatre head on, and a very slight twitch of nerves fluttered in my stomach, which amazingly, felt pretty good, because it was about fifty times less intense than what I had felt before Billy’s arrival. For all his incredible annoyances, Billy had calmed my nerves. As he followed me towards the theatre, I realised how comforting it was to have someone with me in this incredibly nerve wrecking experience. Even if that person was someone like Billy Horvath. The whole experience suddenly became very real the moment I was stood in the theatre foyer and facing a huge poster with the words BODYBUILDING CHAMPIONSHIPS boldly written on it, and a large picture of the head and upper torso of a massive, ripped, competition conditioned muscle freak. His ridiculously huge, insanely shredded torso was exploding into a crab most muscular pose. Every flat out freaky inch of him was painted in bronzed tan. His body a mass of bumps, ripples and veins. His phenomenally sized arms were flexed to the max, and his traps were bulging up to his earlobes. As he squeezed every incredible, otherworldly muscle, his eyes were jammed tight shut, and his mouth was forced as wide open as humanly possible in the most unashamedly arrogant and testosterone fuelled facial expression. Although it was the kind of image I’d become so accustomed to seeing, ever since I innocently browsed through that magazine in my parents living room all those years ago, it was also the type of thing I’d only ever seen in the privacy of my own bedroom. But here it was in a public setting. This large, bold, unapologetic image of a monstrous sized, shredded to the heavens, outrageously cocky muscle bull in all his absurdly conditioned, arrogantly superior glory. Staring at me as if to say, “Yes, Charlie, this crazy world of extreme muscle you’ve been fantasising over all these years really does exist, and you’ve just stepped smack bang into the middle of it.” I nervously looked over at Billy, who was staring at the poster with his mouth hanging slightly open and his face curled into an expression of confusion, disgust, and pure fear. Before I had time to guess what was going through his head, I suddenly had my first glimpse of some genuine, real life muscle. My heat fluttered and my eyes widened at the image of a bodybuilder who I instantly recognised as Blaine Holton, standing with his arms folded, talking to a regular, non bodybuilding guy. Although he was covered up by a black tracksuit, he looked absolutely monstrous, with a torso which looked about twice the width of the man he was talking to. Blaine Holton was stupidly handsome and masculine looking, with the craziest square lantern jaw, and a massive, gorgeous smile he loved to flash at the camera. He was outrageously cocky too. In the few online videos I’d seen of him, he’d cheekily scrunched up his gorgeous face, and arrogantly snapped his mouth wide open as if shouting a loud, cocky, “YEAH!” while flexing and squeezing his muscle, which just so happened to be astonishingly thick and dense. Like massive, fleshy balloons of beef bulging off his carcass, all shrink wrapped in the tightest and most attractive silky smooth skin. Not only was I very well acquainted with this mountain of incredible muscle, I’d lost countless amounts of cum watching him flex, squeeze, pump and pose. And now, here he was, standing just yards away from me, looking even more incredibly handsome than in any picture I’d seen, or any video I’d watched. His competition ready muscle bursting underneath his clothing, ready to pump and pose for a camera I could quite possibly be on the other side of in the none too distant future. My thoughts were broken as an overly cheerful, slim man in a checked shirt, clutching a clipboard, approached me and Billy. “Are you guys looking for directions?” He’d clearly been trained on how to be pleasant and cheerful, even if someone like Billy, who was glaring at him with a look of disdain, was so unnecessarily rude to him. “We’re here to do some work,” I replied, before pausing. It was absurd given where we were, but I was a little embarrassed to say the words out loud, but I had no choice, so I continued. “Filming backstage at the bodybuilding show?” I felt myself blushing slightly at saying the word “bodybuilding” out loud. It was a fairly controversial word at the best of times, but for me, it also had so much hidden meaning to it. “Ahhh, I’ll just find someone to assist you guys.” As Mr Cheerful disappeared, Billy broke his record five minutes of silence. “I can not believe I am here,” he said slowly through gritted teeth. “Let’s just make the most of it shall we, Billy?” I sighed. I was determined not to let him get the better of me. It wasn’t long before Mr Cheerful was bouncing back towards us with another man in tow. “OK, gentlemen, this is Bryan Macleod. He’s part of the film crew and you’ll be reporting to him today.” Bryan Macleod was in his late thirties, possibly early forties. Although no one could have mistaken him for being one of the competitors in the day’s bodybuilding show, he’d clearly spent a fair few hours at the gym. He was broad, with a full and thick looking chest which bulged underneath his bright blue t-shirt, which also nicely showed off his pumped, modestly sized biceps, and exposed his solid looking, slightly furry forearms. He was bald, but in a sexy way, and although he was very masculine and butch looking, his big, slightly twinkly eyes and the rather gorgeous, warm smile he wore as he introduced himself, gave him a slight pretty boy quality. A very slight femininity in his voice and his general mannerisms couldn’t hide the fact that to the eager eye, he was, in fact, gay. As his warm strong hand gripped and shook mine, I instantly felt an attraction. Bryan gave Billy the same warm, friendly introduction he had given me, and Billy gave him the same rude, unfriendly response he had given everyone that day. “OK, guys, if you’d like to follow me I’ll give you a quick overview of what you’ll be doing today. Then I’ll introduce you to some of the camera crew and get you started.” As Bryan turned, the printed words of “LIVE FOR THE PUMP” were revealed on the back of his t-shirt. I couldn’t help but smile. I’d known Bryan for approximately four minutes and not only did I have a huge amount of respect for him, I also suddenly had a yearning desire to be like him. A confident, well muscled gay guy who not only worked on a camera crew filming huge, shredded muscle freaks at a bodybuilding competition, but was also confident enough to walk around in public wearing t-shirt’s with cheeky muscle related phrases. I suddenly wondered whether there was any chance that he was as completely crazy about, and insanely turned on by muscle as I was? As I followed the built, butch, sexy figure of Bryan Macleod (who in my head I’d now nicknamed Bryan MacWoofityWoof) across the foyer of the theatre, through some double doors and along some corridors, with a sulky Billy Horvath (who in my head I’d now nicknamed Billy Hor-FuckOffAndDisappearUpYourOwnArse-vath) in tow, not knowing what the next few hours were about to entail, the nerves had all but disappeared, and all I could feel now was an overwhelming mixture of excitement and elation.
  3. Charlie's Secret

    Thanks matie! I hope you enjoy it!
  4. Charlie's Secret

    It's a pretty awesome fantasy scenario isn't it mate? Being in a pump room surrounded by huge freaks, all pumping up, posing and flexing in their posing trunks. All eager to hit some poses for your camera lens.
  5. Charlie's Secret

    Thanks guys!
  6. Charlie's Secret

    Awww - thanks, mate! Hope you enjoy it this time around too.
  7. Charlie's Secret

    This is a story I wrote years ago for my "Muscle Addicts Inc" blog. I've been going over it and making a few tweaks here and there and thought I'd share it here as I work on it. It's far from perfect but some of you guys might like it, or parts of it anyway! CHARLIE’S SECRET One My name is Charlie Steatham and I have a secret. It’s not a secret because it’s something I’m ashamed of. On the contrary, it’s something I love having. A part of me I wouldn’t ever want to change. It’s just not the kind of thing that would really be appropriate to tell a person in most given situations, or the kind of thing the majority of people would really understand even if I did. Let me tell you how I came to discover I even had this secret to keep. It was one Saturday afternoon back in England. I was home alone and innocently flicking through a magazine my parents bought weekly, which specialised in, of all things, radio and television listings. I wasn’t really reading it, just half heartedly turning the pages, stopping every now and then to linger on the odd thing which caught my attention, unbeknownst to me that I was about to stumble on to something which would have the strangest, and most incredible effect on me. An effect like nothing had ever had on me before. Something which would lead me to a world I never even knew existed. I remember feeling my eyes physically widening when I first saw the picture, and how it felt like my heart actually stopped beating for just a millisecond of time. Staring at it, I couldn’t quite get my head around what I was seeing, and why it seemed to have me so completely transfixed. Staring up at me from the page, was the most grotesquely muscular man I had ever seen. Every single one of his body parts was enormous. From the neck up he just looked like an ordinary man, he was handsome for sure, with nothing particularly special about his features, except for the fact his skin was a dark bronzed colour with an oily shine, but from the neck down, his whole body was a mass of gigantically huge, almost cartoon-like balloons of hard, smooth, muscle, bulging so much they looked as if they were about to burst. Every muscle was deeply separated, and most had a number of thick, wiry veins running across them. I had seen muscular guys before. Movie stars and athletes with six packs and tight, hard toned bodies, but the man in this image was something else entirely. He didn’t even look like a human being. He looked like a new superior species of the human race. A sick experiment gone wrong. Some kind of otherworldly creature, computer generated for a superhero film. As this monstrously massive muscle freak of nature, completely naked except for a small, shiny, green pouch covering his genitals, his hands resting on the top of his enormously thick legs, biting down on his lower lip and his face contorted into an almost arrogant but hugely proud expression, like he was having a whale of a time simply just possessing that freakishly huge, anatomy chart like body, stared up at me from the pages of this incredibly ordinary magazine in the living room of my parents incredibly ordinary house, I was completely and utterly hypnotised. My heart was pounding, my mind was racing, and for some reason, my penis was rock hard, twitching and pushing against the material of my boxers and jeans which were now struggling to contain it. This thing which had unexpectedly intruded on me from another world seemed to have this incredible hold and power over me, and I had now idea why. It didn’t feel wrong, but I knew that whatever this effect it was having on me was, it definitely wasn’t of the ordinary. After staring at the image for what seemed like hours, I forced myself out of my muscle obsessed trance, and tried to focus my mind on something else, but I couldn’t. My mind had been invaded, and my thoughts completely taken over by the image of that freakishly huge mountain of enormous muscle. I needed to see it again. I took the magazine into my bedroom and lay on my side on the bed, my upper body perched up by my elbow, the magazine next to me, flat on the bed. I flicked through the pages to try and find the image, and when I did, it was like I was seeing it for the first time all over again. I had no idea what was happening to me, all I knew was that in front of me was something so amazing and special. I had never desired anything more than this specimen of extreme muscle mass. This huge, hulking mountain of thick, superhuman muscle with his air of incredible power, extreme arrogance and hyper masculinity was the most beautiful and sexually provocative thing I had ever laid eyes on. I reached for my throbbing hard on, bulging and straining through my jeans, gently squeezed and started tugging. Soon enough I was popping open the buttons of my jeans and my white cotton boxer encased hard on was sticking out. I tugged and wanked, all the time staring at the muscle freak before me. Staring at the huge mounds of croquet ball shaped muscles which popped from his arms and fought for space with his perfectly smooth and insatiably thick chest, which looked like it was made of marble, but had tiny, wiry veins spread across the upper half. Staring at how his deeply carved shoulders ballooned like two watermelons trapped under bronzed tinted skin, which tightly stretched across the enormous, smooth muscle and looked unhealthily thin. Staring at his six beautifully shaped stomach muscles which looked like they had been carved with a knife. Staring at the incredible mass of lines and ripples etched into his tremendously large, hard looking leg muscles, and while staring at this presumably once ordinary sized man who’d built and moulded his entire body to extreme proportions and made himself look like a member of an entirely new, superior species, who looked up at me from my bed with an expression of complete and utter self satisfaction, and his air of incredible power and arrogance, my entire body seemingly shook, the most pleasurable sensation I’d ever had consumed my entire body, I let out a loud groan of ecstasy and my boxers filled up with a wet creamy liquid. Staring at a picture of, who I later found out was one of the top professional American bodybuilders of the time, hitting a most muscular pose on stage at a bodybuilding competition in probably the best condition of his career, I’d masturbated and made myself cum for the first time in my life. From that moment on, I’ve been completely obsessed with huge, freaky muscle. Nothing turns me on more than the image of competition ready, monstrously muscular, indecently shredded bodybuilders who live and breathe for being huge, who love nothing more than to climb into small, brightly coloured posing trunks, made of the shiniest material imaginable, and to stand in front of a camera, or an audience, and flex, tense and squeeze their cartoonishly big, deliciously carved, deeply separated balloons of thick, hardcore muscle mass, looking both impossibly beautiful and inhumanly grotesque in equal measures, loving every single moment of showing off their phenomenally built, superhero-worthy, circus sideshow freak-like bodies. As one can imagine, it’s a fantasy that stubbornly stays at that; a fantasy. How many ripped and peeled competitive bodybuilders sporting biceps bigger than the size of the average man’s head do you see walking round your local supermarket? None. And how many jacked and shredded muscle freaks one week away from competing at their fourth bodybuilding show of the year do you see on a Friday night at the local pub? Absolutely zero. Of course, there have been some very rare, and exceptionally brilliant moments where I’ve encountered fairly big guys sporting some pretty decently sized muscle, one or two of whom could have easily stepped onto a bodybuilding stage at some point, at various places, and of course, those moments will probably be forever etched into my memory, but for the most part, genuinely huge muscle guys, and certainly bodybuilders like the one in the magazine I found all those years ago, and the ones I have spent countless hours watching and viewing ever since, still remain an extremely elusive and rare breed. The world of extreme bodybuilding is an exceptionally small one, to which I have no ties or belonging to. Except for finding the courage to attend a bodybuilding show which I’ve yet to do, it’s a world I didn’t think there was much chance I would ever step into. That was, until today. Or to be more precise, two Tuesday’s ago, when Professor Walsh (officially my favourite lecturer from the university in California I’m temporarily studying at for a term) presented myself and my fellow students from my Video and Audio Production Techniques class with a list of the options for the first, one day work experience placement of the semester. This is a day where every student on the course has the opportunity to participate in the filming of various types of film, television and video productions. Every student has to select three options, and the Professor tries her best to assign the student to one of their choices. This is not always possible though because, as you can imagine, some of the options are more popular than others and there are only so many students allowed on each placement. Some of the students, usually the louder, more extroverted ones, were intent on getting the big gigs like production on the set of a film, and popular television talk shows. Personally, I was happy with anything that would give me some experience. Copies of the list were passed around to raised voices and excited chatter. I scanned the list to see, sure enough, a well known television talk show, work on an independent film, the set of a fairly well known cop show from cable who were filming in the area, work for a local news television station, and some more fairly obscure productions. Although nothing was particularly standing out as something I had a real desire to do, it all sounded pretty exciting. And then, as my eyes steered down to the bottom of the page, they suddenly widened, my heart leaped into my throat, and I almost couldn’t believe what I saw written on the last line, as the very last option; Filming Backstage at a Local Bodybuilding Competition. My head was spinning. Was this really happening? Was the universe finally providing me with an entry into this world I never thought I would enter? I kept checking the list, looking at the words again, just to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating, and sure enough, there it was. My opportunity to be at, and take part in the filming of an actual bodybuilding competition. I suddenly pictured myself backstage at a bodybuilding competition, in a space packed full of massive, bronzed painted muscle men wearing nothing but tiny sized, thinly strapped posing trunks, each pair shinier and brighter than the next. Every single superhuman muscle brute of a man intensely pumping up his shockingly huge muscles, grunting and huffing with every lift as their huge slabs of man meat strain and bulge through their completely hairless, drum tight skin, and me, standing next to a cameraman, closely filming every single pump of a massive, competition conditioned All American muscle freak, mere inches away from his blown up balloons of bulging, rippling muscle. The fact that I was looking at the opportunity to be in the presence of the kind of muscle bulls I’d been wanking off over for years and to see their enormous, freaky muscle up close in person was mind blowing. However, it terrified me just as much as it excited me. The two days which followed were spent agonising over what to do with this opportunity I’d been unexpectedly faced with. My mind was completely split in half. It felt like two voices had invaded my head, one voice saying, “You have to do this. This is a rare, once in a lifetime opportunity and you will never get this again. It will absolutely amazing, it will blow your mind and you’ll get to see real life, genuine muscle freaks pumping, flexing and posing close up. Deep down you know you want to do this, and if you don’t, you will always regret it.” Meanwhile, the other voice was shouting, “Don’t be stupid, you can’t do this. You will make a fool of yourself. You will feel uncomfortable and nervous. People will look at you and think you are strange. And how will you explain your reason for wanting to do this to your classmates, and Professor Walsh?” One minute, a certain voice would sound clearer than the other, and I would make what I thought was my final decision. But then, out of nowhere, the other voice would suddenly shout up again, and I’d start to doubt my decision again. Even on the day of handing in our choices, sitting in Professor Walsh’s class, with five minutes to spare before the lesson came to a close, I still hadn’t made my final decision. I also knew that if I selected the bodybuilding competition, there was a very good chance I would get the placement. I couldn’t say for definite, but I knew it was fairly unlikely that any of my other classmates would select it as an option. There were a couple of guys in my class with a little bit of muscle on them who clearly went to the gym, but I would have been highly surprised if any of them had a genuine interest in bodybuilding. It was, without a doubt, one of those obscure placements to make up the numbers which nobody wanted to end up on. Well, almost nobody. Professor Walsh was wrapping up the lesson. “OK, class, you might have noticed this red box at the front of my desk.” This was it. My time was up. “By now I presume you’ve all made your three choices for next weekend’s work experience placement”, Professor Walsh continued. “If you’d like to place your completed sheets into the box as you leave. Please keep in mind, you are not guaranteed a place on any of your choices. We will do our best to assign you to one of your choices, but due to limited spaces on each placement, in some cases this will not be possible.” My classmates had started to shift and while everyone was getting out their sheets and gathering their bags in order to leave, I was staring at my sheet with my pen anxiously hovering over it. Two of my choices had been ticked, which just left one. The words “Bodybuilding Competition” leered up at me, testing my every nerve and ounce of bravery. My pen was wavering from the tick box next to it, to the box next to the option of “Production on a Music Video.” The voices in my head both clearer and more frantic than ever, one in battle with the other. Bodybuilding Competition Charlie, you HAVE to do this! Music Video Don’t be stupid. You will make a fool of yourself. Bodybuilding Competition Just imagine it! Real life, genuine muscle freaks pumping, flexing and posing close up! Music Video You will feel uncomfortable and nervous. People will look at you, and think you are strange! Bodybuilding Competition Deep down you know you want to do this, and if you don’t, you know you will ALWAYS regret it! And with one quick motion, I ticked the box next to my third and final option, and my fate was sealed. My heart was pounding as I approached the box on Professor Walsh’s desk, and my hands were shaking slightly as I dropped the sheet in. The second after, I glanced up to see Professor Walsh looking at me behind her desk. A friendly smile was trying to mask an expression of curiosity and slight confusion. She had clearly noticed my anxiety and I felt a sharp, brief pinch that I might have been rumbled. The incident quickly faded from memory, and as I left the classroom and walked along the corridor, the strongest emotion of elation, sheer pride and an overwhelming feeling that I had just done something amazing came over me. I had just taken one step closer to that crazy, amazing world of huge, freaky muscle I never thought I would ever be able to enter.
  8. Worship session, beach adventure, part 1

    Wow!! This is both exceptionally hot and very well written! Great job, mate!
  9. Have You Seen These Posing Trunks?

    Glad you guys liked it!
  10. Have You Seen These Posing Trunks?

    Thanks mate!
  11. Have You Seen These Posing Trunks?

    Thanks for all your feedback mate - I loved writing it. The diary format was particularly fun!
  12. Have You Seen These Posing Trunks?

    Saturday February 24th Dear Muscle Diary, Sorry I haven’t written in a while. I’ve been a little busy since my encounter with Liam “The Guns” Watson. I’ve joined a new gym, which isn’t quite the hardcore bodybuilding gym that Deano’s is, but it’s a step up from my old one. My (fit but straight) mate from work has written me out a new training plan, which is practically killing me, but I’ve gained ten pounds since I started and almost added an inch to both of my biceps (something which hasn’t gone unnoticed by my work mates!) so something’s definitely working. Things have also taken a bit of an unexpected turn on the dating front too. Neither of us meant for it to happen, but a few months back, Ste finally got his kiss. It was amazing, passionate, horny (God it was fucking horny!) and it just felt right. Who would have thought? It seemed to open up all of these buried feelings and I now see Ste in an entirely different light. All of the things I loved about him as a friend are still there, but there’s this extra layer too. Oh, and he loves feeling my biceps when we’re going at it (blush). And most other times too, in fact. Speaking of biceps, I haven’t seen Liam since he made me cum in my boxers by letting me feel one of his insanely huge, fully flexed biceps in his bedroom, but we do chat fairly regularly on Instagram. I’m always making him laugh with my enthusiastic, encouraging, and not at all bordering on stalker-ish comments. Oh, and he’s just as cheeky, charming and endearing on the web as he was in person. Oh, and he looked absolutely INSANE at the bodybuilding show two days after our encounter; full, thick and shredded to the bone with his bright blue Mohawk and matching shiny blue posers. The posers I’d found in the launderette several months ago. The first ever posers I tried on, and spunked in (sorry Liam, mate - but I guess what you don’t know won’t hurt you). I still sometimes wish I had those posers back. Mostly just for sentimental value. Oh, and speaking of posers, I have more to tell you on that front too. It’s fair to say that I’ve taken my love of tiny, shiny posing trunks to a whole other level. I’ll explain more in my next entry, but to kick off things off again, diary, let’s start with a new list. Here are the five greatest (and horniest!) muscle related moments of my life so far... 1. The moment I opened up my first copy of Flex magazine. 2. Going to my very first bodybuilding show and seeing real life muscle freaks in the flesh. 3. Finding a pair of Liam “The Guns” Watson’s posing trunks in my washing at my local launderette. 4. Cumming in my pants while squeezing one of Liam’s infamous biceps in the middle of his bedroom. 5. The moment Liam “The Guns” Watson reposted an Instagram picture on my newly made account (username: “posingtrunkaddict”) with the caption; “Have you seen these posing trunks? Biggest and best collection I think I’ve ever seen.” Yours, Oscar Grimes THE END
  13. Have You Seen These Posing Trunks?

    Flustered, panting, and with spunk trickling down the inside of my leg, I looked up at Liam’s handsome face and wide eyes to find an expression of complete and utter shock. He seemed unable to render any sort of speech. His eyes were darting from my face to my crotch. He seemed confused, but also concerned. “Oscar! Are you OK?!” OH GOD. OH JESUS. “Yeah!” I nervously replied. “Did you just do what I think you did?” “I’m sorry!” I cried. I was partly mortified, partly on the most amazing high because I’d just experienced the single most intense orgasm of my life while squeezing the enormous sized bicep of a real life bodybuilder. “Hey, mate! It’s ok!” he said, looking slightly embarrassed. “I've heard of this kind of thing happening. A few bodybuilders I know sometimes - wait, are you on roids?!” It would have been a great cover story. I’d heard of bodybuilders experiencing premature ejaculation as a side effect of taking steroids. I’d read the rather horny stories about guys accidentally and spontaneously cumming in their pants as they squeezed out their last rep of a set at the gym. But I felt like it would lead to more questions and probably provoke an unnecessary web of lies, so I shook my head. “Oh!” Liam replied. “Wait! Did I cause that?!” I winced and nodded. I’d just ejaculated in front of the man. There was no point trying to hide anything now. “Did that happen because you felt my BICEP?!” he asked. “Yes, mate!” I seemed to have gone completely passed the point of panicking, and was now just fully willing to accept whatever the fuck was coming next. “HOLY SHIT!!” Liam cried. He’d been so calm and cool throughout the entire meeting that this sudden outburst completely threw me. “I mean ... I know some people get turned on by my muscles. Well, let’s be honest, mostly guys! But ... FUCKING HELL!! This is just NUTS!” Of all the ways Liam could have reacted to me accidentally shooting a load in my undies because I simply touched his bicep, this was one of the best, second only to him whipping off his top and giving me free reign to touch every other single part of his body (and thus probably causing yet another explosion in my pants). “Wait! Does this sort of thing happen to you a lot?” he asked. “When you, you know ... get turned on?” I shook my head. “No. It’s never happened to me before in my life. It really was because, well ... I felt your bicep!” “FUCK!” he exclaimed. And that was when the most incredible thing out of everything happened. Liam’s face softened, his expression changed from shock to pride, and his mouth curled into the cockiest grin. Liam was clearly on some kind of immense high in the knowledge that someone had cum in their pants just from touching his flexed bicep. It was incredibly infectious, and I couldn’t help but giddly grin back at him, as we both stood there, revelling in this bizarre but special moment that had occurred between us. I was almost certain that no ordinary straight man would have been as comfortable as Liam in a similar type of situation. But Liam was no ordinary man. He obviously knew what kind of effect his body had on others. He’d probably heard stories of other bodybuilders indulging in acts of worship for lads like me who were crazy about huge, freaky muscle. “So, I’m guessing you’re into muscle just as much as you’re into posing trunks?” he cheekily asked me. I sheepishly grinned. “Kinda!” “Big day for you then, Oscar!” he exclaimed. I sheepishly grinned, but as the high of Liam’s reaction started to wear off, a feeling of embarrassment about the whole situation suddenly crept in. “Hey, Liam, I’m sorry if I ... freaked you out.” He shrugged. “I was a little freaked. More just surprised though! I mean ... I thought you were ... doing what you were doing. I thought maybe you just had some kind of medical problem though. I didn't think it was because you were touching my bicep!” “Are you sure it was that?” he asked again. “Definitely!” I replied. He grinned uncontrollably again. “Maybe I could rent this baby out,” he said looking down at his right relaxed arm. “Come and meet The Incredible Bicep Man,” he joked. “One single touch and you're guaranteed to jizz in your jeans!” OH MY FUCKING GOD!! Shocked, and amused, I laughed out loud at Liam’s outrageously cheeky (and rather fucking horny!) joke, which seemed to inflate his ego even more. “You can be my first testimony, Oscar.” As I looked up at the man who’d moulded and transformed himself into a magnificent muscle bull so unbelievably hot that just a simple touch of his body was enough to make someone cum, I remember thinking one thing; I’ll be anything you fucking want me to be, Liam. Testimony. Backstage helper and tanning buddie. Human spunk bucket for you to pump your cum into on a nightly bases (SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT)! “Hey! What are you doing Sunday?” Anything you fucking want me to! “Ummm … nothing,” I replied casually, while inside trying to control my excitement at what was coming next. Was Liam about to invite me round to his flat again? I knew he most likely straight, but maybe making someone spunk in their pants just from the merely touching him was such an incredible ego trip that he wanted to experience it again? “You should come to the show!” he said. My heart sank slightly, and I was bought back to reality. But, still, it was a really nice gesture. “You could wear your new posing trunks!” he cheekily added, gesturing to the ruby red posers clutched in my left hand. Through the excitement of cumming in my pants from touching one half of Liam’s infamous “Guns”, I’d completely forgotten that I now had a brand new pair of shiny posers to enjoy. And not just a pair that had accidentally been left in a washing machine, but a pair that been gifted to me from a huge, gorgeous muscle bull. I decided in that moment that it would be my first pair of many. That I would make it my mission to have a posing trunk collection just as big and just as hot as Liam’s. It was when I was at Liam’s door that he gave me a second causal invite. “Oh, and you should definitely come to Deano’s. I know it has a reputation, but most of the lads are really friendly. Everyone there just wants to build muscle. We’ll got those biceps bigger,” he said, once again checking out my arms again. “Maybe you can do to someone what I just did to you,” he said, his face lighting up and his mischievous grin filling up half of his face. Adorable dimples and all. I thought about Ste, and his reaction when he touched my flexed bicep last weekend. I wondered what the chances of making him cum in his pants were, if I got my biceps big enough. Maybe that can be my second mission, along with matching Liam’s trunk collection! I stood on the opposite side of Liam “The Guns” Watson front door, sad that the encounter had ended, amazed that it had happened at all, and took one last look at the bodybuilder who, last weekend I’d shot a load to while looking at a picture of him blowing up his biceps in his bedroom while wearing his best pair of shiny posers, and who, tonight, had made me cum in my pants, not by touching myself, but by touching, squeezing, feeling and worshipping one of his ginormous sized, nickname earning biceps. The bodybuilder who, much like Ste did last Saturday night, made me grin and blush as he called out my nickname whilst I was walking away from his front door. “See you later … Mr Biceps!” The bodybuilder who will forever be in my memory, whether I see him flexing on a bodybuilding stage on Sunday, bump into while pumping up my biceps at Deano’s Gym, or never see again outside of his Instagram page (which would be just fine too), but regularly spunk to pictures and videos of wearing one of the many items from my future collection of shiny, tiny posing trunks. Yours, Oscar Grimes (squeezer of one of Liam Watson’s nickname earning guns!)
  14. Have You Seen These Posing Trunks?

    Hehe! I'm virtually done so you won't have to wait long for the rest!
  15. Have You Seen These Posing Trunks?

    Liam stalled and spun back around to face me with a look of surprise. “Yes, mate?” What are you doing? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! I feared I was crossing a line, but it was too late to back out at that point. Heart pounding in my chest, I gulped and nervously began to talk. “I LOVE the trunks. Thanks for giving them to me! And I loved the posing. That was fucking awesome! There’s just, ummm… one more thing before I go,” I said. I couldn’t quite believe what I was doing. That I had the nerve to act on the impulse inside me at that moment. But I knew that I’d never get this chance again. That I’d never be standing in the bedroom of a gorgeous competitive bodybuilder who’d just spontaneously flexed for me. A bodybuilder so easy going and relaxed that he actually understood my impulse to sniff a pair of his posing trunks behind his back. A bodybuilder so cheeky and charming that he might just grant me this one last request. Liam smiled, a look of clarity forming on his face. “You want a photo with me?” he asked. “No!” I said, fearing even more that I was going too far. “Erm …” I began, but then another look of clarity formed on Liam’s face, and this one was accompanied with a cocky and mischievous smirk. A smirk which told me he knew exactly what I was trying to ask him. “You wanna feel of “The Guns”?” he said, in an almost insanely casual tone. OH GOD. OH FUCK. OH JESUS. “Ummm …” I nervously replied, the pounding in my chest going into overdrive, while feeling so overwhelmed at what was unfolding that I was completely incapable of saying a simple, “Yes,” out loud. Liam playfully rolled his eyes. “I should have known! Everybody always wants to feel The Guns!” OHGODOHOGDOHGOD! Before I had to time to process another thought, Liam was walking towards me until the superhuman sized mountain of muscle he’d be waddling onto a bodybuilding stage in two days time was just mere inches away from my regular sized body. FUCK! I had seen so many pictures and videos of bodybuilders on the Internet. Sat in the audience of bodybuilding shows and watched competition conditioned muscle freaks flexing on stage. And I’d been stood in the same room, just feet away from a very such type of bodybuilder as he flexed and posed and blew up his biceps for me. But this. This was something else. Being in such close proximity of a man so freakishly huge and muscular. Taking in his masculine scent. Being in the same small space as the huge slabs of bronzed painted, competition ready mass bulging off his body. Liam was the hottest and most beautiful man I’d ever been in the presence of, and I’m almost sure that if he simply put his arms around me and leaned in for a kiss at that moment, I’d pretty much ejaculate on the spot. In other words, it was, single handily, the most erotic moment of my life. I had no idea then that it was about to be bettered. “Flexed or un-flexed?” Liam casually asked. OH MY FUCKING CHRIST! “Ummm … flexed?” IS THIS ACTUALLY FUCKING HAPPENING?! Liam grinned. A devlisih, knowing, and ever so slightly flirtatious grinned. “Shoulda guessed!” he cheekily said. The whole thing seemed to happen in slow motion. Liam bringing up his forearm so that it was stretched across his midsection, pushing his elbow and arm towards me, the way an old fashioned gentlemen would offer a woman his arm for a dance. Liam clenching his fist, and me, watching as a huge, croquet ball shaped bicep erupted from his left upper arm. That huge, freaky, hose pipe vein I’d loved so much in his Instagram pictures, now right in front of me, snaking over his marble hard bicep, covered by only the thinnest of skin (how, how, HOW can a man’s skin be so thin)? Bronze painted. Competition ready. A bicep made to be marvelled at, adored and worshipped. “FUCK!!” I cried, again. I couldn't help myself. It was both the most surreal and most magnificent image my eyes had ever seen. The fully flexed bicep muscle of a real life bodybuilder. And it was mine for the taking. Mine to feel. And touch. And squeeze. And worship. I had imagined it just moments before while watching him flex. I’d wished for it, and now it was happening. It was actually fucking happening! I had fantasised about being in such a situation so many times. I had imagined all of the emotions that I might feel. Amazed. Dumbfounded. Turned on to an obscene degree. Never once did I imagine that placing my hands on the flexed bicep of a huge, competition conditioned bodybuilder would result in what happened when my fingers made contact with Liam’s “The Guns” Watson’s gigantic sized, fully flexed right bicep, felt that freaky vein throbbing under my fingertips and grasped on tight to the ball of otherworldly muscle. It was like some kind of magnetic reaction. Feeling the thing that turned me on more than anything else in the world (yes - even more than tiny, shiny posing trunks) and the sensation of that warm-to-the-touch ball of rock hard, vein covered muscle caused some kind of hidden switch in my body to go off. The same switch that goes off when you’re a sleeping teenager and you unexpectedly get woken up in the middle of a sex crazed dream to find yourself lying in sticky sheets. The switch that goes off when your dick is plunging in and out of a hot guy’s arse, and his tight fleshy hole is clamped around the head of your hard, throbbing dick. The switch that goes off when you’re sitting at your laptop on a Saturday night, after having turned down an offer from a cutie patootie in a black leather cap because you’d rather be at home watching huge, shredded muscle freaks blowing up their enormous sized biceps while you’re wearing a pair of that very bodybuilder’s shiny blue posing trunks you amazingly found at your local launderette and you know you can’t take it anymore. The switch that goes off when, grabbing on to, and digging your fingers into the enormous sized bicep of the hottest bodybuilder in town, you’re so immensely and unequivocally turned on that thick wads of spunk start shooting out of your cock and filling up your boxer shorts. I had always wondered what it would feel like to orgasm without touch. Whether it was even possible. And what would render me so turned on to cause it. I now have the answer to all those questions. In reverse order; feeling and squeezing the hard, flexed bicep of Liam “The Guns” Watson. Yes, it’s very much possible. And like your whole fucking body is exploding with cum. Like a thousand stars are shooting out of you. Like you’ve been transported to another realm of pleasure, and there’s no knowing how or when you’ll return. I was aware of Liam being there as it was happening. Aware that there was another person in close proximity as my whole body was shaking and trembling and I was releasing groans of extreme pleasure. But it wasn’t until the cum had stopped blasting out of my cock, and the intensity of the orgasm had died, that I suddenly started to panic as to what Liam’s reaction would be. And just what the hell was going through his mind. Flustered, panting, and with spunk trickling down the inside of my leg, I looked up at Liam’s handsome face and wide eyes to find an expression of complete and utter shock.