muscleaddict

m/m Muscle University

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Ozymandias
2 hours ago, muscleaddict said:

Thanks, matie! Good to see a familiar name from the AJ & Noah thread (that goes for you too @crushme99)! I've been working on it for a while! Feels good to actually get it out there. 

A pleasure as always. I look forward to seeing Woody grow, physically (hehe) and mentally, and maybe even find his muse.

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Built22

Yay another muscle addict epic

Glad you're back writing 🍆😊😁😍

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Shawn1978

Glad you're back, Muscleaddict! I think I'm going to love this story as much as I loved AJ and Noah! Its off to a great start!

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muscleaddict
4 hours ago, Shawn1978 said:

Glad you're back, Muscleaddict! I think I'm going to love this story as much as I loved AJ and Noah! Its off to a great start!

 

11 hours ago, Built22 said:

Yay another muscle addict epic

Glad you're back writing 🍆😊😁😍

Thanks, guys! Good to see more of the regulars from the AJ & Noah thread and I'm glad you're both on board with this one! ☺️  I'll be putting the next chapter up today.

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muscleaddict

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.

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Eadwig

Great start to the story. Another vest ripping pot boiler 😜. Welcome back @muscleaddict

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Gman

I’m so happy you’ve got a new story. I love everything you write. Ticks all my boxes!

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muscleaddict
37 minutes ago, Eadwig said:

Great start to the story. Another vest ripping pot boiler 😜. Welcome back @muscleaddict

Thank you, matie!! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far! 

35 minutes ago, Gman said:

I’m so happy you’ve got a new story. I love everything you write. Ticks all my boxes!

Awwww, thanks mate. That's really sweet of you and awesome to hear! 😊

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Ozymandias

I hope you maintain this pace of chapters! 

Woody feels lost in life...but perhaps this new roommate will change the game?

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muscleaddict
1 hour ago, Ozymandias said:

I hope you maintain this pace of chapters! 

Woody feels lost in life...but perhaps this new roommate will change the game?

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!

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