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  2. nypup2train

    super-powers Beware the Uncorrupted (Part 14 Added 9/18/21)

    Mr. Osopher (...may I call you Phil?) — I'm only a little ways through this and still catching up, so no real reactions yet, but I do have a minor suggestion. I normally use the site with the default (dark) theme, so it's not really an issue personally, but when I saw that pink text there my accessibility-dar went off. (Even worse superpower than the Feather-Levitator!) So I experimentally switched over to the light theme, just to have a look-see. The results were... as poor as I'd feared. However, as I said, I do have a suggestion! The pink text effect is fine and works well for the story, but to make it readable to all users of the site regardless what theme they've selected, it would be a good idea to also set the background color on that text. The post editor lets you control both the foreground and the background, and generally it's not a great idea to set one without the other. Most text colors are really only appropriate for one theme or the other. (The default auto-switching body color excepted, of course.) While text colored like this (where I've also explicitly set the background color, to match the dark theme's default background color in fact) doesn't look great in the light theme, it looks a hell of a lot better than text colored like this (which is what light-theme readers would currently see). Just an observation. Now, back to the story of the most insufferably gung-ho flash mob the world has ever known — horrors! (Though I wouldn't object if Princess felt like compelling them all to whip out a couple verses of "Thriller", all the same...)
  3. Today
  4. biggymnast84

    m/m Deano, Again: A Muscle University Story (Deano Story 3)

    Back to waiting in suspense!! You are such an amazing writer!!
  5. Iamthebrat

    Iamthebrat

    Daddy’s back from the gym.

    7447E667-CB07-43BE-B366-4F8279BD4E80.jpeg

    1. Show previous comments  1 more
    2. Iamthebrat

      Iamthebrat

      Maybe that’s the first photo I’ve taken where my MEAT isn’t blocking everything either!

      P.s. PUMP IS UNREAL STILL 

    3. Fullmetalballer3

      Fullmetalballer3

      Chest is looking full!

    4. shadownexus

      shadownexus

      I'd totally give you a rub down and  easy your post work out soreness 😉

  6. Ro20316

    muscle growth Megadrol (Chapters 1 - 9)

    Why do i feel yhings are going to chnage on his job. I bet eh has seen his fair share of big muscle guys there. I wonder what they will think of his growing body
  7. Tjdonger

    m/m The Repository - Part 4 (Completed, 9/21/21)

    Splendid. Captivating. Motivational. Sexy. Perfect. All words to describe your work here. Thank you! Truly one of my favs….
  8. Wrestlejock646

    m/m Deano, Again: A Muscle University Story (Deano Story 3)

    I already know this is going to be one (mostly) fun ride! Nothing better than counting the days til muscleaddict posts another chapter!!
  9. Wrestlejock646

    m/m The Repository - Part 4 (Completed, 9/21/21)

    Amazing from start to finish! Is this the finish or is The Repository Part 5 to follow? I'm feeling like I could use more fizzing! Definitely added to my Top 10 All-Time Best Summer Muscle Stories List! Thanks TQuintA!!
  10. Jlb423

    m/m Deano, Again: A Muscle University Story (Deano Story 3)

    So good to be here again!!
  11. Theone1

    muscle growth Megadrol (Chapters 1 - 9)

    9: After a big dinner of mashed potatoes, asparagus and these thick sixteen ounce steaks that were beyond delicious – I had to go home. The food was phenomenal, apparently the steaks were marinated for a day and a half and they were cooked medium rare, as we both liked it that way…Apparently he really put the emphasis on rare because one could almost hear a little mooing sound. I found myself driving home, just a bit…distraught. I did not want to leave Ben’s house, and oddly enough I had grown more comfortable in the confines of his basement, or the dining room where we ate our steaks, or on the back patio where I watched him grill without his shirt on. I was not beside myself or anything, but in short order I grown rather attached to the prospect of being there and found myself wishing to make it as soon as possible. Next, came a sense of dread. Working for the Oakland County Prison was just a nightmare to be honest. Not only did I have to drive like forty minutes because I for whatever reason had no direct way to the place, I just found the environment so unpleasant, which is weird because who would think that about a literal prison, right? My job was routine, and mind numbingly dull. I had my patients, murderers and rapists aplenty, line up outside my office. Single file one after the other, pissed off they have to waste their time waiting for me to stick them with a needle or give them some low dose pain killer than does not work anymore for them. “Fairy” I heard that a lot from the old-timers. “Faggot.” Weirdly enough the rapists were keen on this word more than others. “Queer.” Said the hicks from the upper peninsula. And anything you can imagine, I heard it. Not all of them were bad. Most prisoners just had a shitty demeanor and said little. A couple, like Holt or Tuscola (their last names is how I knew these guys), were actually quite friendly. I never bothered to learn what they did for fear that it would change my perspective of them. But above all else, it was the staff I worked with. Brain dead, drone like, joyless, edgy bastards almost every fucking one. The fellow nurses, hated their jobs and treated prisoners like shit which made for a vicious cycle that would ruin my day unnecessarily. The guards, I don’t know, just looked down on me for not being a guard. It was a massive clique that made up a majority of non-prisoners. I was not allowed in. But at the capstone of this pyramid of constant misery was Terry Vander, the warden. An angry, small man of 5’ 1” and what I imagine Napoleon was like without any hint of charm or temper. This goon would frequently come around the nursing office and do these nonsensical performance evaluations where it was just a literal excuse to call us nursing staff shit to our faces. Seriously! The one nurse that I half-way liked, a sweet old lady named Joyce said to me: “He just does this, it’s him blowing off steam not one of has been fired. Don’t talk back and say yes sir, no sir when appropriate. And you’ll get your annual raise.” There would be no fucking way I was gonna make it to an annual raise. I would not last that long, I had worked there three months and while I made top dollar for how little I had to actually do I could not stand this production-line style torture. And I don’t know what Vander’s problem was for me in particular, maybe it got out I was gay but he just would rail on every little detail. Wrinkle in my scrubs? He said on my first day inspection “What the holy fuck, you sloppy millennial? Iron your uniform before you come into work looking like some degenerate.” Patient processing running behind schedule (which was often)? “Pick. Up. The. Pace! I swear, these young guys that come through here are absolute gutterballs!” He one time said. I could go on. I prefer not to, thinking about it still boils my blood. For some reason he loved calling me “Gutterball”. And I hated it! This is what would await me tomorrow. I almost did not want to go to sleep. But I had to be up god awful early, 5:30 just to make it there on time and get let through the gates. Which was a hassle all its own. I showered and head for bed, and suddenly my body just relaxed. As soon as I got under my covers I almost seemed to just get pulled away into a deep, restful slumber… …I opened my eyes, something felt off. My head was pressed against my headboard, and my feet were resting on the floor in front of my bed. My alarm clock had gone off and I rolled over and SLAM! The whole thing was smashed to smithereens! “What the fuck?” I said to myself but had little time to think. The shifting of my body had caused a trembling throughout my bedframe. Suddenly the legs gave out and I and my mattress were dropped half a foot to the floor. I urgently stood up and crashed my head right into the ceiling above me before I could even fully stand up…the nine-foot ceiling... I fell backwards onto my bed and landed with a heavy thump. My ass bounced on the mattress, flattening the aluminum frame below it. I looked up in the growing light of dawn and only a few feet above my head were a tremendous hole in the plaster that was scattering dust and debris on my bedroom floor. I then took stock of my surroundings. They had shrunk! By a lot! I was suddenly very much just trapped in this tiny version of my room! What’s more my naked self was sitting on my mattress which was barely bigger than an ottoman to me now. At first, I was rather alarmed, who wouldn’t be when they found out they were trapped? But as I looked down at my legs, which extended across three quarters of the length of my bedroom, I realized something. They were sliding across the carpet, farther and farther away, but simultaneously getting bigger! I looked at my legs and gasped! They were tremendous! I went to feel my rippling quads, and due to my suddenly augmented size, I did not realize how big my arms were. My left arm tore through the wall between me and the living room, creating a huge gash that you could see my furniture through. I tore through it like paper! And I wasn’t even trying! As my weight increased, I started to press down harder and harder on the mattress which at first deceived me, I thought just my legs were growing longer. But I realized that the mattress itself was getting smaller and smaller relative to my ass, pretty soon my cock and testicles, burgeoning with more and more size, dropped over the edge and landed on my carpet. The fibers gracing my balls felt awesome, and it would have started to make me horny if I wasn’t freaked out at all the damage I was causing. I rested back against my wall; I could literally feel my back sliding steadily upward against it. My lats expanding, cracking the drywall with my torso’s weight. I should have been more alarmed than I was, but quickly this was being placed with an orgasmic sensation that bristled through my entire body. More than anything all of this felt so fucking good! And as my head inched closer and closer to the ceiling and the bedroom became more and more confined, I figured that there was no going back, and I shrugged. I began to stand up, in a dramatic slow way. Arching my back as I did, so that the debris that would fall from the roof would roll off me easily. I pressed through the attic like it were nothing, the wood snapping at the stunning amount of force my most insouciant movement would make. The force of my body itself growing was enough to split apart the rafters! I caught a glimpse into my unused attic moments before it would be no more, it looked so tiny! I had gone up here only once and could barely stand up when I was 6’3”! but now I could hardly fit both of my hands inside the remaining area! I felt the shingles roll down my shoulders as I cracked through the final layer of my roof. I brought my arms up as I stood up to my full height, I was easily taller than my house! The noise I was making was incredibly loud, what a wake up call my neighbors would have today! Crash! I shifted my stance as I lifted my arms up into a glorious double biceps pose, causing my feet to rip through the exterior walls of the house, my toes poked huge holes bigger than watermelons in the siding and pushed more and more of the wall outward as my soles continued to press on in their growth. Suddenly the structural integrity of my house’s eastern wall gave out entirely as I flexed my quads, and half of it came down. “YEAH!” I hollered out in as I flexed my huge, inflating pecs. I stepped forward, into my backyard. All around me were trees. Tiny thin, little twigs and sticks that I could grab in my hand. I needed to use my muscles, they begged for some sort of exertion, I was overcome with desire to use my newfound and exponentially exploding strength! I started ripping the whole trees from the ground like I was plucking carrots. Most of the ones I started with only reached my pecs! And those were quickly shrinking, it was as if my growth were accelerating in response to this very easy effort! I would toss the trees over my shoulder, and they would soar clear over my house and into the road where it caused a car accident, by landing on some poor shrimp’s Subaru! I noticed this after I ripped up a few more trees, I turned around to see my handiwork. I could easily see over the crest of my house. There were flashing headlights and the car alarm was going off. Poor little shit was killed on impact, oh well! My neighbors had come from out of there houses to inspect what the hell happened. I was surprised they did not see my gigantic head from over my roof. One thing is for sure, they saw me coming! At first they felt it. Thump. Thump. Thump! And then they heard me, “OOPS DID I DO THAT?” I laughed and the crowd dispersed in all out panic! God this was so fucking great! I was having the time of my life, and I decided to take a little walk as more and more size just would not stop coming into me. I wanted people to see me, the real me, the giant I was destined to become. I walked down my road, my huge feet taking up the entire right side! I decided to stick to the flow of traffic so as to not accidentally crush admirers as I passed. These little people were wise to pull over, and either worship me with total awe or fear by running away. I loved how the pavement felt beneath my huge feet. It would crack and split and give way super easily. It reminded me of when I was a kid and I would walk on the shallow shore of a lake my cousin lived on during winter. The ice was barely a few millimeters thick and would rupture under the weight of my body. The asphalt did so more and more with each passing step. I got a mile down the road in under two minutes just by walking (I was walking over 30 miles per hour!) And I looked behind me. Next to a myriad of parked cars that had pulled over from their busy commute in total fear and bewilderment, I saw the line of my footsteps each one growing in area and the amount of destruction. Now I was leaving perfect imprints of my toes and the ball of my foot, breaking down into the underlayers of soil below the surface of the road. I wiggled my toes and literally powderized the asphalt as my hulking, massive body came looming in on downtown Tyson. I had to widen my stance, pretty soon both my feet fit neatly between the road lines on both lanes. “GOOD MORNING, MICHIGAN!” I bellowed out, my powerful voice rolling across the landscape like a thunderclap, being heard as far away as Windsor, Ontario. I stood proudly over the puny main drag of Tyson, everything looked so pathetic! Whole apartments, multi-story structures barely reached my diamond cut abs. I must have been well over 150 feet tall! And still I was just getting BIGGER each passing second! “DAMN YOU ARE SO FUCKING SMALL!” I announced, my voice causing cars to quiver on their shocks, the whole of Tyson privileged with my colossal form. I advanced further into the shrinking town. Buildings were being tested by the sheer immensity of my footfalls. I found myself on M-9, traffic was at a standstill with the morning rush hour! I looked down the road, bumper to bumper traffic, unable to go anywhere! People were fleeing their cars, and if they weren’t they certainly did after my next pronouncement. “HOPE YOU ALL GOT INSURANCE, BECAUSE AN ACT OF GOD IS BLOWING THROUGH TOWN!” And without delay I started stepping up the highway, flattening two or three cars with each step. I was slow and deliberate, ambling along as I felt the crunch and crinkling of cars and trucks underneath my huge sole, now at least 30 feet in length and 10 feet wide! The grinding and smashing of the metal and glass against my impenetrable skin felt absolutely orgasmic, with each step I was asserting my incomparable power on the shrimps that seemed barely two inches high to me now! The amount of damage I slowly unleashed on the highway was completely unheard-of. I crushed a hundred if not more cars in the matter of a couple minutes. And more and more damage was wrecked on the surrounding shops and apartments as a giant of my phenomenal weight passed. If any scale had been able to weigh me, it would have read upwards of 2800 TONS. My feet would pass through the pavement and rupture and flatten the water and sewage lines under the road, as flattened heaps of what were once cars fell into the holes I would make progressively larger and deeper as I strolled north. Cars who had just arrived to see my little walk through the downtown tried U-turning to hurriedly escape my rapidly advancing footsteps. This caused several accidents and a pile-up. I was moving closer to 40 miles per hour now and after sweeping a pile of cars that had crashed into each other out of the way with my giant foot, I turned around to admire what I had done. Downtown Tyson looks like it had suffered an earthquake the likes of which Michigan would never see, on par with the greatest ones in history like the San Francisco quake of 1906. Water shot from ruined mains, flooding the parts of the street mercifully left free from my powerful weight, whereas more and more wreckage and sewage filled the sinkholes I had pounded into the roadway. Electrical fires ignited and immediately began to incinerate the debris of buildings who’s facades gave out, which had caused the fires from falling against the power lines. I took a look around, I could see for miles! And for miles, these puny little bugs could see me! I could see Detroit on the horizon, I looked around and could see almost all of Oakland county before me, and in the distance, a familiar and disgusting looking gray blob. Just North of the towering financial capital that was Rochester Hills, was Oakland Prison. A Giant like me, couldn’t be bothered to sticking with the roadway any more. It was too restrictive. I started making a Beeline for my place of work. I quickened my pace into that of a purposed walk. I did not pay any mind to what or who I was crushing, or what stood in my path. At first it was the brick townhouse structures that lined the main drag of Tyson. Then it was residential houses and side streets, either crushed entirely under my feet, or obliterated by the swing of them. My powerful legs, now they themselves over 150 feet in length as I surged higher and higher into the morning sky, would cause whole houses to collapse as I brought my unrelenting tonnage to the ground. I came across Fenwood Lake, a big sandy beach haven with houses upon houses desperately choking each other to compete for space on the shore. I strode through into like it was a puddle, and at the deepest point, the water barely reached my ankles! This created a deluge the likes of which the area had never seen! Thousands of gallons were displaced onto the shore, flooding and destroying once highly-sought after real estate. The initial wave that broke the shore was literally strong enough to wash away cabins. Vacation homes to the tiny insignificant losers who would now forever have to crane their necks up, Up, UP to see even the steel hard wall of my 8 pack. Praying that I did not destroy their lives and homes with the most careless action. I left the lake fifty feet taller than when I had entered, each step I took had devastating consequences. I laughed hardily, “HAHAHAHAHA!” the water left in Fenwood (almost half of it was now on land) shook violently at the vibration of my laughter. “HERE GUYS, LET ME FILL HER BACK UP FOR YA” I aimed my gigantic 50 foot long cock as I stood on the wreckage of the town ashore. I let loose a torrent of hot, steamy urine that began to fill the half-drained lake with ferocity. I tilted my head back, “AH FUCK, THAT FEELS SOOOOO GOOD!” I Moaned at the lake was almost entirely replenished with my piss. I finished the deed with a laugh of absolute ecstasy and looked at my ever-shrinking surroundings. I was truly unstoppable; I was having so much fun just doing whatever the fuck I pleased. But where there was carelessness, now there was a mission. Then I saw it again. My heart started to pound. I stared at the Oakland Prison some twenty miles away with intent anger. I stepped towards it, moving I would guess at nearly 50 miles per hour. Two steps and I said to myself “THIS IS TAKING TOO LONG! WHY WALK WHEN YOU CAN RUN?” I lurched forward with a furious change of pace, and immediately houses in the surrounding area would explode as if a nuclear bomb had detonated. Michigan was the land of 11,000 lakes, but I added more with each of my next steps. Within just 5 minutes I had with not much effort jogged the nearly twenty-mile expanse between me and Oakland County Prison. This meant I was running somewhere around 240 Miles per hour!!! I was moving faster than a single engine plane could through the sky! And I did not even break a sweat!! By the time I arrived, it was the only structure within a one-mile radius structurally sound enough to bear the intensity of my massive weight. “TERRY VANDER, WHERE ARE YOUUUU?” I called out in a sing-songy voice, I knew he was inside. “COME OUT, COME OUT WHEREEVER YOU ARE!” I scanned the prison yard and nothing. Suddenly a rapid popping and flashing came from one of the guard towers. They were shooting at me! And I couldn’t even feel it! The towers barely reached my cock, and they had the foolishness to shoot at me? Me? A 500-foot-tall God! I did a lat spread to emphasize my superiority as I laughed! I swatted at the guard tower like one would a fly, completely pulverizing the structure and much of the wall and fencing causing the entirety of the prison population in the yard to frantically try to escape. They were smart for doing so. “IF I DON’T SEE THAT FAT LITTLE FUCK VANDER IN THIRTY SECONDS EVERY ONE IN THIS BUILDING IS GONNA END UP A SMEAR UNDER MY FOOT!” I commanded with deafening authority. I almost began to laugh, as I thought of the destruction of the prison just by lightly jogging up to it. The Guards cringing in terror, heard my demand to see their boss. Suddenly an exodus of blue little ants centered on an ashen gray dot fled the building. They had brought me to him. “VANDER YOU FUCKING PATHETHIC LITTLE MITE, YOUR TIME HAS COME.” My voice boomed across the land, I brought my foot down on the south western wing of the prison, decimating half of it under my sole alone. I looked down on the amorphous gray blob of my former boss turned flea. He did not run for he was paralyzed with fear. I assume, for all I know he could have had a stroke from the terror of my voice alone, I couldn’t tell he was too little to make out! I could just tell it was him, petrified. “YOU HAVE ANY LAST WORDS?” I asked the Warden slated for my wrath. Whatever words came from him sounded so distant and tiny that I could not ever register it. I just burst out with a laugh that caused recently damaged sections of the prison to continuously collapse from the sonic force I generated. ‘HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! YOU MISERABLE RUNT, I CAN’T EVEN HEAR YOU YOU’RE SO INSIGNIFCANTLY TINY! I CAN’T WAIT TO DO THIS!” I Then proceeded to straddle the yard in which Vander was trapped. I looked down at him and he ogled up at me, falling to his knees and begging for mercy! I then with all my might brought my fist down to the earth in one cataclysmic blow centered directly on the Warden, completely disintegrating any semblance of what could make him even close to human, turning him to a small red paste smeared on the knuckle of my middle finger. Oakland County Prison, and well, Oakland County and most of Detroit could not withstand such seismic force and in a 7 mile radius I saw anything that dared crest above the tree line (or the top part of my feet) collapse immediately. From the small amount of effort I exerted my body literally doubled in size to well over 1400 feet in height. I gazed around, the damage was total. My dick elevated it’s self to a tremendous and throbbing length of 200 feet long. My huge throbbing member was easily the length and thickness of the Leaning Tower of Pisa in Italy. I started stroking my titanic shaft, I could literally feel my cock growing in my hand as my feet continued to push through the carnage I had caused so easily. My toes would sink lower into the bedrock, as my ankles, my calves and quads would soar higher and higher, expanding with each breath I took. I ran my hands down my pecs and abs, so perfectly defined and more than anything so DEADLY STRONG. I was a muscle god that knew no comparison, a divine being that will forever own this world. I resumed jerking my tremendous, insatiably horny dick. I bit my lower lip and started to grind my hips, sending minor quakes throughout the Midwest. Hundreds of gallons of precum splashed down on the earth below, flooding a crater I had made at my feet. “LOOK AT YOUR BEAUTIFUL NEW GOD” I proclaimed across the heavens, “FEAR AND WORSHIP ME, OR ELSE THIS WILL HAPPEN TO YOU!” And there I unleashed a monumental blast! Never had…there in history…been such… …A mess on my goddamn sheets! I woke up to find the covers soaked in my cum! “Fuck!” I said, “Guess I gotta wash these!” I got up and gathered my covers and head to the washing machine and reflected on the awesome, completely fantastical dream that I just had/was having recently. Then I cringed, “Why’d I think about the Leaning Tower of Pisa?” I shook it off, I’m a kinky weirdo. I’ve come to embrace it. To love it. What I have never been able to do is accept being late for work, even to my most current shit job. And when I saw I was already 20 minutes tardy I cried “Oh my god! I’m so late!” I slammed the linen into the washer and started the old reliable thing up. I went straight for the bathroom to brush my teeth and to rinse the cum off my abs. Wait, my abs? I was looking in the mirror, “No way!” I said to myself, “I have a four pack!”
  12. ROIDEDmusclepig

    ROIDEDmusclepig

    Get MASSIVE. GET WHORED

    F7E12840-44EC-4665-82A0-D749E54D05D2.png

  13. Yesterday
  14. Charwantstolift

    m/m The Repository - Part 4 (Completed, 9/21/21)

    I love this story so much! Thank you TQuintA!
  15. MrMeanour

    m/m The Repository - Part 4 (Completed, 9/21/21)

    Jaw droppingly fabulous. I hope this story never ends
  16. actorsarecool

    m/m The Repository - Part 4 (Completed, 9/21/21)

    Easily one of the best stories on the forum (and the web) from one of the best writers! Kudos @TQuintA!
  17. TQuintA

    m/m The Repository - Part 4 (Completed, 9/21/21)

    English is my first language. I think it was one of my responders who said English wasn't their first language. But thanks for the lovely compliment.
  18. portamivia

    m/m The Repository - Part 4 (Completed, 9/21/21)

    Oh my oh my. What an incredible story! And you said English isn’t even your first language? I hate you! *runs away, crying
  19. DawnFire98

    m/m The Repository - Part 4 (Completed, 9/21/21)

    @TQuintA Your writing leaves me with my jaw on the floor. How you describe these muscles is just so detailed and colorful! I can learn a lot from you.
  20. DennisFLL

    m/m Deano, Again: A Muscle University Story (Deano Story 3)

    Just when I thought Deano might peek a little out of the closet at MU, it appears that door will be tightly shut for a while longer. Our pocket-rocket is feeling the so familiar shame/fear of rejection. Wonderfully written, MuscleAddict, and fun reading with the new characters. Is Adam a potential love interest for Deano? And what will happen when he and Woody go to Chicago? Stay tuned with the next chapter coming hopefully soon.
  21. TQuintA

    m/m The Repository - Part 4 (Completed, 9/21/21)

    Part 4 – The Hollywood Hunk Chapter 14 “You’re making it sound so simplistic,” I said to Shafe and Marietta over breakfast the next morning. I’d slept better than I had in weeks, and I felt completely myself. I was still adjusting to being twice the size of a normal man, twice as thick, twice as heavy, and twice as hard, but I suspected I’d be getting used to that for a while. I’d spent the early morning cleaning up the mess I’d made and hiring a contractor to fix my wall. When I’d explained what I’d learned in my meditation, they’d laughed. “It’s not just a feeling. It’s a deep, profound, understanding of sharing.” “You make it sound like a Care Bear Stare,” Marietta said, pointing at me with her spoon. “It’s the embodied sense of transcendental interconnectedness with the fundamental one-ness of all existence,” I said. “It’s profound. And if Shafe hadn’t gotten me into meditation eight years ago, I still wouldn’t have realized it.” “We’re sorry we laughed,” Shafe said. “People laugh at us for going to psychics and reading our horoscopes. We should’ve been more respectful.” “Thank you,” I said. “Your aura’s much clearer now,” Marietta said. “Sunshine yellow.” “Glad to hear it,” I said. “It’s still a little hazy,” she added, squinting at me, “but I suspect that’s because you miss your boyfriend.” I looked at Shafe. “Can she really see my aura?” He raised his eyebrows indicating the answer should be self-explanatory. “Right. Sorry. I forgot what world I lived in.” Shafe put his arm around my shoulders and leaned on me. I was shocked how light he felt. Shafe was the biggest and buffest he’d ever been, and he felt insignificant compared to my godly musculature. Then, he affectionately pat my head and said, “Do you know why we’ve been friends for so long?” Shafe sounded serious. I’d never really heard him sound this serious when he wasn’t meditating. “I haven’t spoken to Flynn in ten years, and the longest you and I have been without speaking is ten months. Did you never think to ask why?” “You like my company?” I said with a mouth full of oatmeal. “That, duh. But it’s more than that. You’re my proof.” I’d never heard anyone say “duh” in such a serious tone before. “I believed in all this mystical stuff long before I met you. And you’re my proof. It’s because of you that I know that at least some of it is real.” “We still don’t know if astrology’s true,” I said. “You’re right. I don’t.” Shafe put his free hand on Marietta’s. “But believing in this stuff leads me to good things, so I’m just going with it. It’s like you said. The fundamental interconnectedness of all existence. If I hadn’t come over to your place to cheer you up about Jason being in Vancouver, I never would’ve met Marietta.” “We didn’t laugh because we didn’t believe you,” Marietta said. “We laughed because your revelation was so obvious to us.” She put down her spoon. “I’d pinch your cheek,” she continued, “but your face is so buff, I think I’d hurt my fingers.” After breakfast, I FaceTimed with H. K. to apologize for my pages being late. It was my first time being late ever, and he could see from my inhuman size that I had really been missing Jason, so he gave me a pass. “If it gets that bad again, just call me,” he said. Then, I went through all the mail Jason had sent—most were short love notes, but there were some small gifts sprinkled in. “So many of these came with bow ties,” Marietta said. “That horny little bugger,” I replied, smiling and blushing. “Told you it was a sex thing,” Shafe added. The rest of Jason’s three month absence was a lot more bearable now that the fizzing was forever under control. The goal now became restoring a sense of normality when I was more massively muscular than any normal person. The main thing that helped was thinking about Jason, especially that he’d be home soon. I used the cards and notes he’d sent me to create a collage over the newly reconstructed wall. The gifts that couldn’t be fastened to a wall were built up into a shrine in front of it. Working on my books also helped. As did hanging with Shafe, Marietta, and H. K. And I was starting to get used to my 370 pounds of mass. We special ordered some clothes (since I didn’t have anything to wear if I wanted to leave the house). Once you got to my size, everything was shapeless and baggy, sort of like wearing circus tents, but I was decent to leave the condo when I wanted. More and more people were staring at me with shock and horror, but especially when I was with Marietta and Shafe, I took it as a badge of pride. The biggest challenges with my size were honestly just maneuvering around my own body. I had to readjust to typing, cooking, showering—everything. Shaving was a nightmare, now. My recent hormone surge meant I had to shave twice as often to keep my beard tamed, and the inhuman size and unrelenting hardness of my pecs and biceps made it so hard to reach my face. Raising my arm to my face was like maneuvering a ham around a watermelon. Like a child, I also had to learn how to tie my shoes again. My fingers had practically doubled in thickness, and my thighs and chest competed with space and blocked my view. One day, the three of us went to the beach because the weather was beautiful, and I wanted to go somewhere I didn’t have to wear a shirt. I still hated wearing sleeveless shirts, and my cannonball biceps destroyed so many sleeves with the slightest flex. And the heaving cliffs of my chest made any shirt that could fit over them drape over my torso, obscuring my abs in billowing fabric, hiding how trim my waist was. I just wanted to leave the house and not have to deal with a shirt. A few hours at the beach, I felt so in my element, the hot sun on my giant muscles, the salt water cascading off of me in a thunderous splash when I emerged from a dip. It was serene. I had such a good time that I wanted to run along the beach, to really feel the wind. I had to learn how to run again. My thighs bumped into each other so much that I fell my first three tries at running. By the end of the three months, though, I had mostly mastered my new size. Did I plan on staying this size forever? Not really. But, I wasn’t going to pretend I wasn’t loving every second of it. The day Jason was scheduled to come back, I was waiting for him in his house. He walked through the front door, and my heart nearly dropped. I saw his face, and I radiated with joy. He looked incredible. He always looked sexy—the black hair, the crooked, dimpled half-smile—but he was even more intensely sexy than usual. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, so he had stubble—I’d only seen him stubbly first thing in the morning, and I’d never seen a few days’ growth like this. It looked amazing on him. On top of all of that, he was big and buff. He looked bigger than he did in Vancouver. “Oh my god, Miles,” Jason said, slamming the door behind him. “And here I thought I was going to surprise you!” “You did!” I said. “You look even bigger than I remember.” “I am,” he said, flexing his bicep, which threatened the sleeve of his shirt. “Every time I lost motivation, Curtis mentioned you. And how if you were there, I could do another rep, or another five pounds. The man was relentless.” Jason flexed his pecs, and they swelled out into a beautiful thick mountain of brawn. He looked solid and dense, thick and meaty. I could tell that his pecs too had some hair on them, unlike his normal shaved self. “I was only supposed to put on 30 pounds, but I put on 37. You’re looking at 222 pounds of Jason Prentiss.” He turned around so I could take in his broad shoulders, his pert ass, and his thick legs. Then he lifted up his shirt to show me his 8-pack was returned. “I tried to make it 225, a nice round number, but…” he shrugged, and his shoulders rose and fell beautifully. “Do that again,” I said. He shrugged again, and it was a sight to behold. “Do I look like that when I shrug?” I said, shrugging. “You look like an avalanche when you shrug, especially now. What happened to meditating?” I explained everything to him. Everything. Jason looked me up and down. “370. Bigger than you’ve ever been.” He paused for a second. “I love it. I don’t know why I ever fought against this.” He put his hand in between my pecs, and it went all the way down to the third knuckle, so I squeezed it, trapping it there. “I just want to fuck you right here and now,” I said. “We haven’t seen each other in three months. Vacation sex sounds lovely.” “Oh, I have something even better than vacation sex in mind, but I’m going to want you naked first.” “By all means,” Jason said as he stripped. His pants struggled a little around his thickened thighs. His shirt struggled a little around his pecs and shoulders. Soon enough, he was standing there naked. His pecs were so big that they had a little shadow underneath them, and there was a respectable sprinkling of diminutive hairs all over them, the same jet black as his head. His arms were so big that they almost looked flexed even relaxed. His legs were mighty and round. And all of him was cut and shredded and defined. He was my living statue. “Very well, Miles. What’s your fun idea?” “Well, everyone but me seems to have forgotten something, and I don’t know how. But I’m more than happy to remind you. You can have your 30 pounds back.” Jason’s eyes grew wide. My body diminished slightly, down to a still monstrous 340, but smaller than it had just been. “I hadn’t put that together,” Jason said. “I just thought that I had given you those muscles.” “You never said I could keep them,” I said. Jason felt it first in his ass, which thickened and bloomed, rounding out into a beautiful crest of thick beef. His ass looked mighty, and I just wanted to bite into it. But then I was distracted by his thickening quads. They bulged with more power, forcing him to widen his stance and spread his legs wide. His calves also bulged out, thick and proud, with that heart shape etched into them. I moved my eyes north, past his cock, up to his abs. They had intensified and thickened, the lines between them more carved and more pronounced. His 8-pack was now the Platonic form of 8-packs: majestic and powerful, thick and refined, tight and impenetrable. His back thickened too, bellowing out into a hood-like thickness as his lats pushed outwards, broadening his back. It was full of bulges and sinews, mountains and valleys, an anatomy chart of a back. His shoulders jutted outwards, broadening him even further, the caps of his shoulders rounding out into thick spheres of power, his delts and traps rising up closer to his ears, his neck thickening into a column of muscle. He turned back around and I saw his arms had kept up with his back. His biceps had blossomed into weapons of beautiful thickness—bodybuilder big. His triceps swept backwards in the other direction. His forearms had burgeoned into relief. Gloriously, his chest filled, expanded, pressed out. He had a round, developed expanse of chest, the striations and separations of fibers noticeable, even unflexed. And when he did flex his chest, it blew out into a thick wall of muscle, thrusting off his chest, and then dropping off suddenly over his abs. Jason’s hands crawled all over his body, and he looked at himself in the nearest mirror. “My god,” he said. “I look so impossibly hot. This is how I’ve always wanted to look,” he admitted. He turned to look at me. “I desperately want to go somewhere and show this muscle off.” “Let’s do it, then.” “I can’t. I am very recognizable, and once we get spotted, we’ll get swarmed with press, and I have no way of explaining being a 252 pound muscle stud.” “I learned something important from Puck,” I said. “If you change your hair and your eyes, you look like a completely new person. Also, Jason Prentiss has never been this big, and Jason Prentiss doesn’t have any body hair whatsoever.” “I can’t change my hair this close to the start of a movie shoot,” Jason said. I went over to his front hallway closet and pulled out four canisters of temporary hair spray color. As I tossed each can, I said, “You can be green, pink, blue, or purple.” He caught each canister, and now his arms were full. “And you can tell me what color you want me to be. I’ll even spray my beard.” “It washes out?” he asked, a tone of hope in his voice. “If we follow the instructions on the can and shower it off tonight before we go to bed, yes. It might take a second shower, but it’ll wash out.” “And how will we disguise my eyes?” I handed him his sunglasses from his jacket pocket. “It’s so obvious,” he said, self-deprecatingly. “As long as no one gets close enough to see your dimple, we should be fine. And with me next to you, no one’s getting close to you unless I want them to.” “Where should we go?” he asked eagerly. “Where do you want to go?” Forty minutes later, Jason was dressed in the tightest dancing clothes I’d ever seen: a silken black button down and scandalously tight slacks. His shirt was so small on him he had to leave the top three buttons undone, and his pants were so tight I could see his dick bulge in front. His hair was sprayed a radical pink; he’d even managed to spray his eyebrows. Especially with the reflective sunglasses covering his eyes, he looked like a total stud. I followed behind him in a completely unbuttoned white dress shirt and off-white dress pants that barely contained my massive thighs and ass. I was a walking obscenity, but I was street legal. My hair and beard were dyed a radioactive blue, and I wore an identical pair of sunglasses as Jason. We went out dancing at a normal gay dance club, one we’d never been to before. When the bouncer stopped us at the door, for a moment I thought everything was over. He looked at the two of us, a little suspiciously, then turned to Jason and said, “Are you Jason Prentiss?” Jason scoffed and said, “I get that all the time. Prentiss wishes he was this jacked,” he bragged, flexing his biceps and pecs, threatening to burst the shirtsleeves open. “And I’ve never seen him in a movie with this either,” Jason added, tearing open his shirt to reveal his 8-pack. “My mistake,” the bouncer said. When we got inside, Jason turned to me and said, “I didn’t even lie to him.” After that, the lighting of the club helped us hide Jason’s identity. We danced close and tight, sweaty and hot for hours. I was thrilled to grind my massive, muscular body against Jason’s hard, dense body. Everyone stared with lust and envy. And anyone who got close enough to really drink us in stared with especial lust and envy, considering my 9 inches and Jason’s 8 were at full mast and fully visible for most of the night. After the first hour or so, we also gave up the pretense of dancing and made out on the floor. I kissed him intensely, running my hands over his hot, hard pecs. He leaned in and kissed back, his right hand running through the forest of my chest hair, his left hand stroking the length of my cock through the pants. We were a spectacle, and everyone wished they were us. When we paused for air, Jason sighed into my ear, “I’ve missed you so much, Miles. You drive me wild.” And then we went right back to dancing, making out, and showing off to the crowd. After a few hours, though, our hairspray was melting, the colors running down our faces, and we just wanted to head back home. Jason’s shower was somehow big enough for us both to shower together, even at our staggering sizes. I scrubbed the pink out of his hair as he scrubbed the blue out of mine. I washed the thick, meaty canvas of his chest and abs, loving the tickle of nascent body hair; he shampooed my carpet of chest hair while fondling me, his fingers trying to find purchase in my impenetrable thickness. I washed the hills and valleys of his back, dipping down to clean his ass thoroughly. He reciprocated, cleaning the peaks and ridges of my muscular back, paying extra thorough attention to my impossibly beefy ass. Even cleaning armpits, legs, ears, arms—everything felt sexual in that shower. We left the shower, the drain swirling with purplish suds, and ran to the bedroom. Jason pushed me backwards onto the bed. I still had about 90 pounds of muscle on him, so it didn’t knock me over, but I really felt his push in a way I never had before, so I played into it and fell over like a chopped down tree. He climbed on top of me. We were both still wet from the shower, so as he kneeled over me, a few drops of water dripped from the tip of his nose, chest, and penis as he looked down at me. From this angle, he looked even bigger, all red and swollen, his cock turgid and ready. Then, almost without warning, he was inside of me. He fucked me powerfully, harder than I’d ever been fucked in years, maybe ever, maybe by anyone. I could feel his muscle with each deep thrust of his hips. I reached up to pull him into a kiss, but he held my arms above my head, pinned to the bed. Then, holding me there, he leaned in and kissed me. It was intense and passionate. Even though he was playing at dominating me and overpowering me, what I felt was safe, secure, and seen. After a night of foreplay on the dance floor, Jason was quick to explode. After a few explosive bursts of vulgarity, he said, “I never want to stop making love to you.” I still hadn’t come yet, and with sin in his eyes, Jason put a few pillows under my head, and then he lowered himself to be even with my cock. He took my entire cockhead in his mouth, never breaking eye contact the whole time. He slowly lowered himself down my cock, and as he did so, I realized why he had tilted my head up. He intended to stare into my eyes the whole time he sucked my cock, and he knew my pecs would obscure the view if he didn’t set the stage. Part of the tableau was still blocked by my inhumanly large pecs, but staring at my beyond-buff, bodybuilder-big boyfriend take my whole cock into his mouth while staring wolfishly at me the whole time, all of my buttons were being pressed. I shot long, I shot hard. It was an intense orgasm, voluminous in every sense of the word, and Jason took every drop. We knew that was just round one, that there were at least two more rounds tonight before we went to bed, but we decided to enjoy an intermission in each other’s arms. “Are your balls bigger?” he asked. “Indeed they are.” “I like it,” he said, nuzzling closer to me. While I cradled him on my chest, Jason looked at himself and all of his glorious muscle. “I’ve always wanted to be this big. Always. I even tried to get bigger with Curtis’s help, and it seems with my genes, I could never get this big naturally. But now I am.” I reached around him and fondled his chest. It felt amazing to have this man, my lover, my man, the size of a pro heavyweight bodybuilder in my hands. “And you always can be,” I said. “As long as you’re with me, you can deposit your muscles with me, so you can go out in the world and be Hollywood celebrity Jason Prentiss, and then you can come home to me and be this mega-superhero of a man.” “And what about you? Are you really comfortable going about in the world being so impossibly huge?” “I already did it, and the world didn’t end. No one discovered my secret. The stares I get mostly turn me on. My publishers know about it, and my friends have already seen me blow up huge in a short period of time, back when I dated Puck. And if I ever get tired of being ultra-huge, I do have about 70 pounds of muscle I can lose.” After a shrug, I added, “But I doubt I’ll ever want to.” Jason purred contentedly. Then, in a surprisingly sad tone, he added, “Being away from you for two weeks in Vancouver was going to kill me. Three months apart nearly broke me. If I hadn’t sent you something in the mail every day, I would have broken. If we ever watch Curtis’s reality show, I want to warn you, I will be that annoying person who cries in every episode. I missed you that much. All of that, and now, this.” He gestured to his massive chest. “I never want to be away from you again.” “Me neither,” I said. I held him tighter and added, “Let’s not. Let’s stay like this forever.” “At some point, we’ll need to have breakfast and buy shoes and things like that. But let’s do the next best thing. Let’s stay together forever.” END OF PART 4
  22. muscleaddict

    m/m Deano, Again: A Muscle University Story (Deano Story 3)

    Two “Bruv - I BETTER get picked for the programme,” Ash says to me as we walk through Prince Hall to our Digital Marketing and Social Media for Bodybuilders lecture. “I swear to God if I don’t!” “I don’t think you need to worry, Ash,” I say, reassuringly as I look up at him. Oh yeah - Ash is six foot two by the way. Six foot fucking TWO. You can imagine what we look like side by side. He gives a little smile back and I have one of those moments where I forget that Ashley Mosaku is my DEFINITELY straight mate and, instead, I just see one incredibly hot bodybuilder. With big brown eyes and strong masculine features. Oh and humongous tits and massive guns which strain under his brown skin. It’s probably no surprise that pretty much everyone is talking about the Future Pro’s Training Programme since the announcement the other day. Well, almost everyone. Shaun hasn’t mentioned it. I didn’t really notice at first. But then, when me, Shaun and Ash were walking back from the gym yesterday and Ash was talking about the bodybuilders already confirmed for the McCarthy Classic (including IFBB pro-veteran Chris “Freaky Peaks” Jackson and mass monster and all-round bodybuilding legend Felix King) I couldn’t help but notice that Shaun was oddly quiet. And that’s when it dawned on me that he hadn’t actually mentioned the programme since the day it had been announced. Then Ash asked me if he thought we’d actually get to meet the pro bodybuilders competing. WE. As in me and Ash. Shaun not included. I looked over at my roommate and he pulled a little face with his eyebrows furrowed. As if he disagreed with Ash’s assumptions that we’d automatically get places. Which I can kind of understand. Shaun was a bit quiet when we got back to our room afterwards. I sort of wanted to ask him if he was okay. But I’ve NEVER asked him that. We don’t talk about serious stuff. Like, ever. So I didn’t say a word. Even though he was clearly bothered about something. And I had a pretty good idea of what that something was. “Do you think Mafra’ll be alright, though?” Ash asks me. I look at him confused. “With the application form?” he clarifies. “What do you mean?” Ash gives me this pointed look. “The essay questions. He struggles with stuff like that.” I nod and pull a face. I didn’t really know that about Eric. Ash then tells me he often helps him out with his coursework and essays, which kinda takes me back a little. I clear my throat. “Ash?” I say. He turns and looks at me weird, and I know why. Because of how serious the tone of my voice just was. Because (just like with Shaun) me and Ash NEVER talk about anything serious. “Do you think we should maybe, like, not talk about the training programme so much in front of Shaun?” Ash screws his face up. “Shaun knows he won’t get a place!” he says casually, obviously unfazed. “Mmmm. I guess. Just … I don’t wanna rub it in.” “Who else do you think they might pick?” he asks, completely ignoring what I just said. I feel a pinch in my chest. “Mmmm. Dunno really,” I lie, not looking at him. “I’m not even sure if they’ll pick ME yet!” Ash turns to me with his face screwed up. “Nah, bruv. You’re definitely getting picked!” He smiles at me again (that kinda crooked but undoubtedly hot smile he does) and I forget who he is for another moment. “Plus, you know, they’ll probably want at least ONE short-arse!” he teases as we approach Walker’s classroom. I look up and smirk at him and he cheekily grins back. As we walk into the classroom, Ash holds out his fist for me to bump and I oblige. My eyes land on Luke Henderson sitting at his desk, his much thicker second-year arms bulging under the sleeves of a black Stranger Things t-shirt. He’s just staring at us. Or, more accurately, staring at ME. His face is hard to read, but whatever he’s thinking, I’m sure it’s not good. In fact, I’m pretty sure that Luke Henderson still hates my fucking guts. I should probably tell you about my lecturer Dave Walker. He’s probably my second favourite teacher here at Montgomery, after Hancox. I can tell he likes me too. I think that might be because he’s a fellow short arse. He doesn’t take any shit, but he’s way more relaxed than Hancox. You can have a laugh with him. Like a lot of the lecturers here, Walker used to be a bodybuilder (though he never turned pro). I’ve never actually said this to anyone, but he actually reminds me a little bit of my dad. If only in terms of looks. He’s got a bald head. Sticky out ears. You wouldn’t fucking mess with him but he’s definitely more approachable than Hancox. And my dad, for that matter. And he’s about twice as easygoing as both of them. I’ve seen videos of Walker competing online. The dude was ALWAYS shredded to fuck. Oh, and he was a cocky fucker too. Always stomping around the stage and pulling funny faces. I guess I can let him off for that though. It’s only when I take my seat next to Ash and face the front of the room that I suddenly notice that Dave Walker isn’t the only person at the front of the classroom looking out at us. Because seated in a chair to the left of where Walker is now stood, facing the class as he plays with an iPad in his hands, is some random big bodybuilder dude bulging (and I fucking MEAN bulging!) underneath a bright red hoodie. A bodybuilder who, it has to be said, looks strangely familiar. ”Right - morning, lads,” Walker calls in his thick Northern accent (I want to say Yorkshire but I’m not too sure). “Hope you all had a good break over Christmas.” At this point, the mystery bodybuilder is now looking up at Walker with the rest of us. Have I noticed that he isn’t exactly the worst looking guy I’ve ever seen? Am I awake and fucking breathing? “Right - so you’ve all probably noticed this absolute tank at the front of the room!” The mystery bodybuilder’s mouth erupts into an almost coy grin. I can't seem to look away from him. “This is Adam Lloyd.” Adam (a name which oddly really suits him) looks out to the room and nods at no one in particular. I feel a weird pinch of nerves. Just from someone looking in my direction. (Ridiculous!) “Adam graduated last year with his pro card,” Walker explains. Wait - I DO know this guy. Well, I’ve seen him before at least. At the end of year bodybuilding show last summer. He wasn’t the biggest third year, and he wasn’t super cocky or anything, but he definitely got my attention. Partly because of his brutal shoulders, thick pecs and crazy fucking quad definition. I remember noticing how much his quads flared out. But he also got my attention because he was pretty much the best looking dude on the stage. And here he is. Fully clothed and, for some reason, back at Muscle University and sitting in on my first Digital Marketing and Social Media for Bodybuilders lecture of the term. “Adam’s back at Montgomery until the end of the school year as my trainee teaching assistant,” Walker explains. “He’ll be sitting in and helping out and eventually doing some lectures himself.” Huh. Okay - I don't mean to be a judgemental twat or anything, but I can't help thinking - why would someone come BACK to Montgomery after graduating with their pro card? It’s just a bit, well … odd. Walker invites Adam to step up and introduce himself. It’s only then that I realise that Walker wasn’t kidding. He really IS an absolute tank. Even though he’s covered up by his hoodie, which I can now see is a Montgomery University hoodie like mine. Only his is red. And probably about three sizes larger. I almost want to laugh. Because he completely dwarfs Walker. Jesus - is this what people see when Ash and I are standing side by side? “All right, lads?” Adam says in a fairly neutral accent. He seems a little awkward, but he’s definitely confident. It can’t be easy standing in front of and talking to a classroom of jacked bodybuilders. He tells us that he’s come back to Montgomery because he’s always been interested in teaching. And instead of going straight into competing in bodybuilding shows like a fair amount of graduates do, he wanted to take a few years off to make some more gains. Which actually makes a lot of sense. A lot of Montgomery guys who go straight into competing are completely out of their depth in their first pro shows. As Adam continues to talk, I can’t help thinking that he kind of reminds me of someone. I don’t really know who. Someone famous maybe? I also can’t help noticing how big his ears are. I don’t really remember those from the show. Perhaps I was too busy looking at his crazy quads and balloon-like pecs. But yeah - he has these massive jug ears that stick out. Maybe pixie eared Walker hired him to make himself feel better. I start smirking at that thought. But as I do, Adam’s eyes fall on me and stay there. Fuck! I feel a sharp panic and stop smirking. He breaks eye contact and looks away. Great - so now there’s a chance he thinks I was laughing at him? Way to make a fucking good impression, Deano. If only I could telepathically tell him that I definitely wasn’t laughing at him. And that I actually find his jug ears kind of … cute? Along with his small, sort of boyish features, which make for a pretty hot combination with his beast-sized body, big jawline and general masculine meathead-but-make-him-cute qualities. Then again, maybe it’s best that he DOESN’T hear those thoughts. When my lectures have finished for the day, I head back to my room and start filling out my application form for the Future Pro’s Training Programme. Is it sad that I was even a little excited to start filling it out? Halfway through drafting the first essay question, Shaun comes back to our room back from the gym. We’ve barely spoken about the programme. I don’t even know if he’s going to apply. Honestly? I’m a little nervous to bring it up. Which I know is ridiculous. But when he’s perched on the edge of his bed topless, his impressive shoulders looking properly cooked, I feel a surge of bravery. I clear my throat. “Just doing my application for the programme,” I tell him, before biting my lip and looking straight at the screen. There’s an awkward pause. Fuck. I look up from the screen and over at him. “Cool!” he says casually, before taking a big swig of his protein shake. “You not gonna apply, mate?” Mate? I never call him mate. Jesus - I’m turning into my dad. Using the word “mate” when treading on sensitive subjects. Or when I think something’s wrong. Shaun pulls a face and sighs. “Nah. Can’t be bothered, to be honest. And,” he pauses, “well, they’re not gonna pick ME are they?” I feel a pull in my stomach. “You never know!” I say to him. But I do know. And so does Shaun. He gives me this pointed look like, “Come on, mate. Of COURSE I don’t stand a fucking chance”. And something seems to shift in the room. The atmosphere suddenly feels lighter. “You must be fucking buzzing though,” Shaun says. “McCarthy Classic!” I nod and bite my lip to hide my smile. “It would be cool. IF they pick me.” “Well you’ve got more chance than me, D!” Shaun says, standing up and digging into his chest of drawers and pulling out a t-shirt. My eyes linger a bit too long on the freckles on Shaun’s pumped back. I wonder if Adam Lloyd has freckles. Probably not, considering he’s a fucking brunette. “You know who they MIGHT pick though,” Shaun says, ominously as he sits back down on his bed. I feel a pinch of nerves as I look over to see him smirking. I roll my eyes, smirk and go back to my laptop. Shaun might not know the full history of me and Woody, but he remembers how much he used to annoy the fuck out of me in our first year. He annoyed Shaun too, I guess. “I actually kinda miss first year Posing Practice,” Shaun confesses. I look up at him and can’t help smiling (in spite of myself). We used to wind up Woody and Luke so much. I guess we were kind of twats back then. It was just so EASY. And I was desperate for Woody’s attention. Shaun just didn’t know why. (And he still doesn’t.) He asks me if I remember the time we took the piss out of Luke’s most musculars and Woody flipped out and pushed me. How the fuck could I ever forget? That was what kick started the whole joint assignment thing with Woody. Which led me to kissing him. And finding that picture Luke had drawn of the two of them kissing. “Awww. What will Henderson do if Woody goes to the McCarthy?” Shaun says mockingly as he throws himself back on his bed. I don’t respond. “Without his little BUM buddy!” I feel a sharp twist in my gut, which is worsened when Shaun lets out a twattish Josh-like laugh. I know it’s just a stupid comment, but something about it really pisses me off. I've even made comments like that in the past. But a lot’s changed since then. I go to the gym not long after that. I think I just needed to get away from Shaun for a bit. I’m still feeling pissed off about his comment during my workout. I keep thinking - what if Shaun DID know I liked lads? What would he think if he knew exactly what went down with me and Woody last year? I guess I’ll never know. Because, more than ever, I’m certain that he, Ash, Eric Mafra and all the other lads here don’t ever need to know.
  23. MuscleLion

    MuscleLion

    Chest and shoulders today! I had a wicked pump!

    IMG_20210921_125641_384.jpg

    IMG_20210921_125641_536.jpg

    IMG_20210921_125641_707.jpg

    IMG_20210921_125641_765.jpg

    1. BDJBoy

      BDJBoy

      looking good buddy

  24. musclepuppy

    musclepuppy

    Been a few years. Sadly fell into dark spots n lost weight. Back into growing now though. :)

    1. themiifiit

      themiifiit

      Glad you made it out the otherside man. I'm sure you'll be bigger than ever in no time!

    2. theuknown

      theuknown

      always rooting for you - hope to see you add your size back and then some

  25. ROIDEDmusclepig

    ROIDEDmusclepig

    Getting back on gear and its making my hole HUNGRY to get FUCKED so I can GROW MASSIVE

    1. muscldad

      muscldad

      fuck yeah.....build your muscles to intensify the hunger for breeding

    2. ROIDEDmusclepig

      ROIDEDmusclepig

      FUCK YEAH

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