Jump to content
  • Announcements

    • CMiller

      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! 

Recommended Posts

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



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





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.



“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.

  • Like 2
  • Upvote 2

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now