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

[muscleaddict]

22 hours ago, Mdlftr said:

I laughed out loud!  For Deano to express anything that openly would take years of therapy -- probably including electro shock therapy!!

LOL

 

SO much of Deano's life goes on in his head - it never sees the light of day or gets verbalized. 

Haha! Yeah - it's never gonna happen! 

Us Brits don't really do therapy anyway. We just get the Custard Creams out and put the kettle on.

[Mickeypuk]

10 hours ago, muscleaddict said:

Haha! Yeah - it's never gonna happen! 

Us Brits don't really do therapy anyway. We just get the Custard Creams out and put the kettle on.

I’m more a bourbon cream guy but will gladly share a coffee with you

[muscleaddict]

PART TWO

Eleven

When you spend ten months of the year on the campus of a university for bodybuilders, surrounded by fellow muscle lads and ex-bodybuilding teachers, it’s easy to forget that in the real world, the sight of a group of bodybuilders (or even just ONE bodybuilder) is something of a rarity. And likely to cause a few stares from any regular-sized passers-by. 

Which is EXACTLY what is happening right now as I’m standing in Glasgow airport, queuing up for check-in, with five of my fellow bodybuilding students and three of my ex-competitive bodybuilding teachers.

Even though most of us are covered up by hoodies and tracksuits (apart from Hancox who’s just wearing a white t-shirt) people are definitely looking. And giving us second glances. Some just look intrigued. Others look weirded out. And then there’s the group of lads who don’t look like strangers to the gym but are definitely not bodybuilders and are huddled not far from us, blatantly just staring and talking about us. They even remind me of my brother’s mates a bit. 

It’s hard to know what’s going through their heads. Admiration. Intimidation. Maybe even envy. Because they’d love to be as big as us. They’d love to be pumped up bodybuilders making their way to one of the biggest events on the IFBB calendar to step on stage and flex and pose in nothing but posing trunks.

I won’t lie. Getting that kind of attention. Receiving those looks from people. It’s kind of intoxicating. But then - it always has been. Whether it’s a group of lads at Glasgow airport, regular-sized non-bodybuilding folk on a train back home or lads in a gay bar on the Brighton seafront.

I’m also feeling that kind of excited buzz that comes with being at an airport for a trip away. It strikes me that this is the first time I’m actually going abroad without my parents. Me, Nick and Tony have talked about doing a lads holiday before but it’s never actually happened.

My dad phoned me last night. He actually told me to “enjoy myself”. My dad! I almost dropped my fucking phone out of shock. He did then say, “Don’t get showing yourself up!” I’m not exactly sure how he’d expect me to do that. 

As we’re all sitting in those plastic chairs after checking in and killing time before we board, I start to notice three little groups forming. Actually no - make that four!

There’s me, Ash and Mafra sitting together. Then two of the third-years, Kieran and Connell. Then the three lecturers sat opposite us. And then my best mate - Seth “Ozzie” Osman, sitting a few seats down from the lecturers by himself in a green “Montgomery University” hoodie and blue trackies. Playing with his phone. His headphones in. Chewing on gum. Skin more tanned than any of the other lads (he’s definitely already put a coat on even though we’re getting tanned up on the day). In his own little world. Not seeming like he gives a shit about anything. In other words - being his usual Ozzie self. 

But then - Keiran and Connell scoot over to sit next to Ash (Keiran looking rather hot in a bright red tracksuit and Connell looking his usual rough around the edges self in a black hoodie). I can’t hear anything that’s being said because I’ve got Bombay Bicycle Club playing in my ears through my headphones, but suddenly, Ash and the two-third years are stood up, Ash is saying something to Mafra, and then the three of them are gone. 

Huh. We haven’t even got to Chicago yet and Ash has already ditched us for a bigger duo of lads. I look over at Mafra who gives me a knowing smirk. Like he’s thinking the same thing I am. I lazily hold up my fist to Mafra and he bumps it. Then I casually look over to find Ozzie looking at me and fucking smirking. One of those weird, ominous smirks like he’s judging me. Ugh! What-the-fuck-ever. I am NOT gonna not let that twat wind me up on this trip. 

I turn back to scrolling through the Instagram feed on my phone and stop at a post of Rick “The Beef” Tucker cranking out an abs and thighs in red trunks in a hotel room. Fuck! His quads look fucking sick. Crazy conditioning. And everything’s bulging and popping as it always does. I once read a description of Rick online which suited him perfectly - “a beautiful balloon animal.” And he really fucking IS.

I notice the location on the pic. Union Plaza Hotel. Wait - I’m SURE that’s the name of the hotel we’re staying at. I ask Mafra but he’s unsure. I look opposite to find Johnny Hoxton - the only teacher currently among us. It would be HIM, wouldn’t it?

He notices us looking, widens his eyes as if he knows we want to ask him something. Then he grabs his little travel bag and sits down next to me. “All right, lads?” he says.

I clear my throat and ask him the name of the hotel we’re staying at. And yep. It’s Union Plaza Hotel. The very hotel Rick “The Beef” Tucker is flexing his crazily conditioned balloon animal mass in right at this very moment. I show Johnny the post on my phone. Which feels … weird! It’s like something you’d do with your mate. Not your university lecturer you were once convinced pretty much hated you.

“He caused me a bit of grief back in the day!” Johnny says, pulling a playful face. I smirk and roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth. Feeling a bit weird about that comment. Because the same could no doubt be said about me. Johnny seems to be giving me this look with a tight-lipped smile as if he’s thinking the same thing.

“Excited for what’s ahead then, Deano?”

I nod and tell him yeah. Feeling a bit sheepish about this whole encounter.

“You’ve earned it!” he says, firmly. This genuine smile on his face. I feel a pinch of something in my chest. I don’t know why Johnny looking at me like he is and saying those words to me means so much to me. But it does. It really does. At least there’s ONE person who doesn’t hold what happened last year against me. 

Unlike certain teacher training assistants, who I half expected to text me today wishing me good luck for the trip. He hasn’t, though. And I don’t think he will either. My mind drifts back to yesterday in the gym. Adam Lloyd nervously saying we should catch up when I’m back. And that look on his face when I just flatly said, “Maybe”. Did he really expect anything more? Ugh. I don't want to think about that right now. I don’t want to think about the absolute mess that is me and Adam Lloyd.

I turn back to my phone and a shredded Rick Tucker. Flexing in the same hotel we’ll be checking into in about twelve hours time. I wonder who else is staying at the hotel. Mitchell "The Machine" Murray maybe? Will I be walking down a hotel corridor to find him strutting towards me? Huge and bronzed. Or maybe I’ll turn a corner to find Ash’s old gym buddy Nathan Marrett outrageously posing for a camera with his trackies around his ankles in the middle of the fucking corridor. 

Ash and the third-years come back from wherever they’ve been. Kieran and Connell go back to where they were sitting. Ash next to Mafra. And I suddenly feel like I was being stupid earlier. Thinking that Ash had ditched us. Why can’t Ash be mates with both us and those third-year lads? Maybe I should be making an effort with them. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t. We already have something in common. Other than being bodybuilders. A shared dislike for a certain mohawked short arsed third year.

An hour or so later and we’re finally boarding our flight to Chicago. Cue more stares from the other passengers. Plus the male cabin crew member who greeted us at the door of the plane, whose eyes practically fucking popped out of their sockets as we filed on the plane one after the other.

Keiran and Connell are already getting settled in their seats. In the aisle opposite them are the three lecturers. Johnny directs me and Mafra to the three seats behind them, Mafra getting in first for the window seat. For some reason, I stupidly agreed to take the middle seat because I’m the smallest of the three of us. And Ash, who’s trailing behind us, needs the aisle seat for his long (and massive fucking legs). 

It’s only when I’m sat down that I’m suddenly reminded of the fact that plane seats are NOT designed for bodybuilders. Jesus. Christ. Mafra’s spilling out onto my seat. And soon I'll have six foot two muscle monster Ash on the other side. Ten hours of this? Fucking hell.

Walker twists his head around. “Comfy enough, lads?” he says, with a playful grin.

I pull a face and roll my eyes. I feel a presence next to me. And then - what the fuck? What. The. Actual. Fuck? It’s not Ash suddenly sitting next to me. But Seth fucking “Ozzie” Osman. With his mohawk. And tanned skin. And green Montgomery University hoodie.

“Ash is sitting there!” I tell him, my voice sounding panicked.

He shakes his head. “I ain’t sitting over there,” he says, flatly, referring to the empty seat next to his fellow third years.

Ash is suddenly standing over us, in the aisle. His mouth hung open as he stares down at the scene. Clearly as flabbergasted as I am.

Johnny and Hancox both twist their heads around, sensing a scene unfolding.

“He’s in my seat!” Ash cries to the lecturers.

“Come on, lads!” Johnny says, impatiently.

“I’m not sitting over there!” Ozzie protests, his voice rising and sounding more urgent.

Ash groans. “Fine!” he says, giving up and taking the seat next to Keiran.

No. No, no, NO. This can not be happening. The teachers turn around again, problem apparently solved. Except it’s not. Because I’m sitting next to Seth fucking “Ozzie” Osman! The most annoying bodybuilder I’ve ever come into contact with during my time at the Montgomery University of Bodybuilding & Fitness. For the next ten hours!

I’m glaring at him. He looks over and does that ANNOYING fucking smirk. Which then turns into this big wide comical grin. “All right, Little Dude?” 

“Switch seats with me!” I say to Mafra. He looks at me confused like he can’t work out if I’m joking or not.

Ozzie lets out a twattish laugh to himself in response. ARGH! 

“Just … don’t talk to me!” I say, flatly.

He leans forward to look at Mafra. “Is he always this dramatic?”

I lean my head back and close my eyes. Determined to ignore him. I can do this. I ignored my mum for several months last year because I was pissed off at her. I can ignore some annoying, cocky twat with a mohawk for ten hours. No problem.

“We can use this time to bond, Little Dude!” he says, patting my arm. “Get to know each other!”

Breathe. Do NOT react. Just act like he’s not there. 

“D.E.A.N.O!”

ARGH!

“D.E.A.N.O!”

I snap my eyes open and glare at Ozzie. He’s giving me this twattish smug grin, rolling his tongue around the inside of his mouth. Like he knows EXACTLY how much he’s winding me up. But it doesn’t stop there. He carries on fucking singing. More animated than I’ve ever seen him.

“He is D, Deano. He is E, enormous …,”

What the FUCK? Is this actually happening? Mafra’s grinning. Walker twists his head around. “All right there, Britney?”

Ozzie does this big grin, clearly loving the attention.

“He is A, a pocket rocket!”

Ash and the third years spin their heads around. I can hear them sniggering. I’m so fucking embarrassed. Ozzie’s not embarrassed though. Not one single bit. 

“He is N, not a cocky poser!” 

“Deano - you have my permission to smack him one,” Walker says.

“Do I have permission to throw him out the bloody window?” Hancox says dryly.

Ozzie pulls a stupid eeek face. “Ooop! Aggressive!” he says, now smiling. This guy just does NOT give a fuck, does he?

More quietly this time, he sings one last line. “He is O-OH-oh!” As if he’s just singing for me this time. And now he’s just grinning at me. This little, amused smile. Just for me. It's like he’s DARING me to smile back. 

I roll my eyes, look away, and roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth.

“Is that a little smile?” Ozzie says, in this stupid voice as if he’s talking to a kid. An equally stupid look on his twattish tanned face. He’s not wrong though. I AM finding it really hard not to smile.

“You’re SO annoying!” I say, shaking my head.

“But funny too, apparently!”

I pull a face. “You’re a weirdo.”

Ozzie lets out a short, sharp laugh. “I’m a bodybuilder! My life’s ambition is to scare small children and give OAP’s heart attacks. Oh, and my favourite pastime is pec bouncing …,” he straightens up his back and I watch his pecs dance under his soft green hoodie, “of COURSE I’m a fucking weirdo.”

Then his mouth curls into a smug smirk. “You’re not exactly NORMAL yourself, Little Dude!” he says. As if he knows me or something. 

I roll my eyes and look away. Then I close my eyes and lean my head back. Suddenly finding it a lot easier not to smile. Because I have ten hours of this. Sitting next to Seth fucking “Ozzie” Osman. Making up stupid songs and bouncing his pecs at me. On some kind of personal mission to annoy the hell out of me. Or maybe get chucked out of the plane window by Mike Hancox.

Someone fucking kill me now. 

A few hours into the flight to Chicago, when I’m halfway through some awful comedy film starring The Rock, a miracle happens. Seth “Ozzie” Osman falls asleep. 

This is AFTER he turned to me and Mafra, said, “Boys - do you dare me to flex in the aisle?” Then stood up, lifted his arms up in a big pretend yawn, then bought them back down into a double bicep pose (for FUCK’S sake) with his lips pursed in cocky fashion, before leaning forward into a quick crab most muscular (I kid you fucking NOT). 

Hancox, who’d caught the whole scene, was shaking his head. I turned to a smiling Mafra, practically lost for words.

“I kinda like him!” Mafra confessed. I looked at him wide-eyed in disbelief. “He’s funny!” 

Jesus! When he wakes up, I’m tempted to take the piss out of him for falling asleep. But I REALLY don’t want to encourage him. He’s a bit more chilled out after that. No more songs. No more posing in the aisle. I’m surprised he doesn't go off to see if there are any pensioners on the plane he can give a heart attack to.

By the time the plane finally lands, pretty much everyone is low on energy. Partly because it’s about four in the morning British time. Ugh. I feel like I could sleep for a fucking week. And yet, there’s an undeniable air of excitement. Because we’re here. In Chicago, America. For one of the biggest bodybuilding shows on the planet.

It’s weird hearing everyone in the airport talking in American accents. It feels like I’ve slipped into a film. Keiran, Connell, Johnny and Hancox take the first cab to the hotel, leaving the rest of us to take the second. I make sure to stand as far away from fucking Ozzie as I can while we’re waiting outside the airport because I’ve had enough of sitting next to him for one lifetime. I have no idea if I’ll have to sit next to him again on the flight home. I might make Mafra sit next to him. I might even just sit next to the other third years. We may even be mates by then. I’ll stress about that when we have to leave on Sunday.

By the time we get to our big fancy looking hotel, I feel like I’m ready to collapse. Ash and Mafra are roommates back at Montgomery so we agreed they’d bunk up and let me have the single room. I was half expecting Ash to put up a fight and say he wanted it instead. Not that I would’ve minded sharing with Mafra, to be fair.

Walker seems to be taking a long time to get us checked in. He turns around, a slight look of confusion on his face. “Lads - who’s sharing with who?”

“Me and Mafra,” Ash says.

“I’m on my own,” I tell him. 

He frowns. “Okay, We’ve only got two twin rooms left for you guys.”

Huh? I look at Ash. Then Mafra. Everyone’s got these looks on their faces. I look over to Ozzie, who’s buried in his phone, not paying attention. And then it hits me. No. No, no, NO. This can not be happening. I feel panicked. My chest is tight.

“Ozzie, mate - which one of you third years was supposed to have a single room?”

He pulls a face and shrugs. For FUCK’S sake.

“Didn’t you sort it out with Kieran and Connell like I told you to?”

“I don’t talk to those two!” he says, almost like the idea is fucking crazy.

Walker groans and shakes his head. “It looks like Keiran and Connell have both taken singles.”

I feel sick. And fucking pissed off. “I’m supposed to have my own room! We agreed it!”

Walker gets his phone out. “Let me try the lads,” he says, putting his phone to his ear.

Okay, don't panic. They’ll switch. Walker will MAKE them switch. Surely this is not going to go down the route I’m fearing it is. I can’t even bring myself to entertain that possibility right now.

Me, Ash and Mafra are giving each other looks. Then Ash looks at Mafra and I SWEAR he fucking smirks a little. Like he’s laughing at my misfortune.

I look at Ozzie. He’s straight-faced. He seems a bit baffled by the whole thing. 

“Neither of the lads is answering,” Walker says. He lets out a big sigh. “Right - this is what I’m proposing. Deano and Ozzie - you two share with each other tonight …,”

ARGH! FUCK. NO.

“We’ll talk to the lads tomorrow and see if we can sort something out then.”

This. Can. Not. Be. Happening. I look over at Ozzie. He shrugs and says, “I don’t care,” but there’s this weird look on his face that tells me he’s secretly bothered.

“Deano?” Walker says, giving me this look. “One night, mate!”

My stomach’s churning. I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Fine!”

Walker pats me on the back. “Good man. Try not to bloody kill each other!” he jokes.

Ozzie doesn’t respond. He definitely looks bothered though. Or maybe he’s just embarrassed by the fact that I blatantly don’t wanna share with him. Could Seth “Ozzie” Osman actually have feelings? No - this is fucking Ozzie we’re talking about. The guy who strolls in late to every single meeting chewing on gum without a care in the world. The guy who sings on planes and poses in the middle of the aisle. And who didn’t give a shit when I ripped apart his posing. As if he’d care that I didn’t wanna share a room with him.

We take the lift to our rooms. To my TWIN fucking room. That I’ll be sharing with an annoying, mohawked pec bouncer who seems intent on winding me up at every given opportunity. I can not believe those third-year twats have screwed me over like this. If only we’d taken the first cab. This wouldn’t be happening if we had. At least this is only for one night. Walker says he’ll sort this out tomorrow. He BETTER fucking had.

Walker’s room is in the opposite direction to ours and Mafra and Ash’s room comes up first. I’m tempted to start knocking on random doors until I find both Kieran and Connell. Or whoever we find first, I’ll just drag them out and make them share with Ozzie and take their room for myself. (As if that would ever fucking work!)

Ozzie dumps his suitcase and crashes down on one of the beds when we get to the room (without even negotiating with me first). He gets his phone out and gets lost in it. He hasn’t said one word to me since we got here. Is he pissed off at me? I really can’t tell. I should be thankful I suppose. At least he’s not singing at me and trying to wind me up. But his silence is making things feel kind of awkward. 

“I think I might just crash,” I say to him.

“Do what you want, Little Dude,” he says, without looking up from his phone. He doesn’t really say it in a rude way. It’s more like … he genuinely just doesn’t care. Huh. Fine by me!

When I come out of the bathroom, he’s already in bed. His thick tanned arms and shoulders bulging out of the top of the bed’s duvet as he plays with his phone (again). I think he might be topless. 

I feel weirdly self-conscious when I take my trackies off and change into a vest to sleep in. Which is ridiculous. I’ve already been stood in front of Ozzie in just my posing trunks. And will be again on Saturday. On stage. Backstage. In the tanning tents.

“So, Little Dude … who you most looking forward to meeting tomorrow?” Ozzie says in his thick Welsh accent, still not looking up from his phone. Okay - so maybe he’s not mad at me after all. Maybe I got that completely wrong.

“Erm. Probably Mitchell “The Machine” Murray?” I say as I climb into the bed about six or so feet from his. 

He screws up his face (ugh!) still not taking his eyes away from his screen. “Really?!”

“Yeah?!” I say, defensively. He pulls another face. (UGH!) “You know he’s got a good shot of winning?”

“Mmmm,” he finally puts his phone down. Then he rolls on his side to face me. His shoulders look fucking huge over the covers. Arms bulging. And those thick pecs. It really annoys me how good this guy’s physique is. His head doesn’t seem to go with his body. Maybe it’s because he’s quite baby-faced.

“But he’s a newbie. I thought you were gonna say, like, Felix King?”

I pull a face and shrug. IS it weird that I’m more looking forward to seeing someone like The Machine? I mean … yeah, of course I wanna meet Felix King. He’s, like, a total legend. But he doesn’t have those crazy leg veins. He doesn’t look like Chris Pratt. I probably wouldn’t fall for him and get my heart broken by him if he were a trainer at my dad’s gym.

“What about you?” I ask him.

“Easy. Austin Kaplan!”

I let out a groan. “Shoulda known!”

Austin Kaplan is this tall, blonde American dude who’s kind of quirky looking. He’s SO fucking cocky with his posing. He’s kind of known for it. He’s always sticking his tongue out, scrunching up his face and grunting and yelling with his posing. And he always does this thing where he pulls up the straps of his trunks (which are ALWAYS the shiny kind) for his front lat spreads. I’m not fucking surprised Ozzie’s a fan. Now that I think about it, some of Ozzie’s moves are actually very Austin Kaplan-like. 

“The Kapman’s a fucking legend!” Ozzie says, now smiling a little. “Don’t tell me - his posing’s too cocky for you?”

“Yep!” I say, flatly. 

“You’ve gotta admire him for his physique though!”

“Mmmm. I mean - the delts, yeah. And the quad conditioning. But … I dunno. I’ve always found the rest of him a bit … meh. His physique is kind of flat, you know? His muscles don’t have that bubble look.”

“Like ours do, you mean?” 

Ozzie’s got this sort of cheeky smile on his face. I shrug, finding it hard not to smile back.

“Oh, Little Dude …,” Ozzie says with a dramatic sigh, “if we’re gonna be best mates, we NEED to sort your posing out!”

I side-eye him from my bed. I clear my throat pointedly. “Going to sleep,” I announce, turning away from him and flopping my head down on the pillow.

“You need new trunks too!” 

I close my eyes, completely ignoring him. I hear Ozzie switching off the light near his bed and I open my eyes to find darkness.

“Pssst. Little Dude,” Ozzie says in a hushed voice,

ARGH!

“What?” I say, through gritted teeth.

“I have a confession.”

I groan and ask him what through gritted teeth. 

“I planned it.”

There’s a pause.

“You and me sharing a room.”

I open my eyes. Okay - he’s joking, right? He MUST be joking. 

“I told Kieran and Connell we wanted to share, so they could have the two singles.”

I sit up and spin around. “Are you being serious?!”

There’s another pause. And then I hear a little chuckle. “Nope!”

I groan and lie back down. “You’re a knob!”

“Oh yeah. About that. See ... I know you like to PRETEND that you don’t like me …,”

“I’m really not pretending!” I interrupt. 

Ozzie laughs. “Savage! Anyway - I have a theory. Wanna hear?”

“Nope!” I say flatly. Although there’s a part of me that’s strangely curious to know what he’s about to say.

“I’m gonna tell you, anyway. Thing is … sometimes when we don’t like people, or we have a problem with someone, I think it’s because we see things in them that we recognise in ourselves.”

Ummm … okay? What the hell is he going on about?

“And maybe it’s stuff about ourselves that we don’t like?”

“I have NO idea what you’re talking about,” I say flatly. But my brain is ticking over. “That can’t be true anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m nothing like you.”

“Okay, Little Dude,” he says casually. “Keep telling yourself that.” I can practically hear him smirking.

For fuck’s sake. Ozzie doesn’t speak again (thank fuck). But now I’m suddenly more alert. And I’m thinking about what he just said. How the hell am I like Ozzie? There’s literally NO ONE like Ozzie. He’s one of a fucking kind. We’re both short arses and our dad’s own gyms. That’s it. That’s where the similarities end. What could I possibly recognise in Ozzie that I don’t like about myself? The boy is talking complete and utter bollocks.

I realise I’m being ridiculous and put my new unwanted roommate out of my head and finally drift off to sleep. Thank God I only have to put up with him for one night.

[DarkLord]

New intrigues, a new secret, and ... "old" Dino, a fascinating continuation of the story)) Thank you for that, muscleaddict . 

[DennisFLL]

Looks like Ozzie and Deano may actually 'like' each other after all?  But there's so much more muscle in Chicago to see and get to know this weekend.  We need to find out soon where this is going, MA! 

[muscleaddict]

35 minutes ago, DarkLord said:

New intrigues, a new secret, and ... "old" Dino, a fascinating continuation of the story)) Thank you for that, muscleaddict . 

Or even Deano!  Glad you're enjoying it, mate.

24 minutes ago, DennisFLL said:

Looks like Ozzie and Deano may actually 'like' each other after all? 

Hmmm. I'm not sure how Deano would react to that prediction! 

[S01]

Was at a bodybuilding contest today, again. Or rather more of a fitness happening, with too much bikini something and whatever physique and a few bodybuilding classes. Did not see one Montgomery U student, prodigy or alumnus. So disappointed.

Maybe one from a sister uni, but his conditioning was off, as was his tan, so sad to see him become 5th. I'd volunteer for consolation duty. 

Anyroad, guess my joy as I had been hoping that I'd find a new instalment of my favourite serial, as I found a new instalment.

L.O.V.E.  I.T.

So looking forward to see how it unravels. Is Seth SO much more alike D.E.A.N.O oh oh oh? MA I need a word with you. This is upsetting me way too much

[Caliban11]

Ok, I'm kinda into Ozzie now

[DawnFire98]

3 hours ago, Caliban11 said:

Ok, I'm kinda into Ozzie now

Yup, I'm warming up to him, too. And I think, Ozzie might have caught feelings for our Pocket Rocket.

My theory or perdiction goes like: Either a few hours before or after the contest, Ozzie is going to kiss Deano, leading to the same situation Deano had with Woody in "Muscle University". Would be an interesting parallel. We'll just have to wait and see what @muscleaddict cooks up.

[muscleaddict]

13 hours ago, suske said:

Was at a bodybuilding contest today, again. Or rather more of a fitness happening, with too much bikini something and whatever physique and a few bodybuilding classes. Did not see one Montgomery U student, prodigy or alumnus. So disappointed.

Maybe one from a sister uni, but his conditioning was off, as was his tan, so sad to see him become 5th. I'd volunteer for consolation duty. 

Anyroad, guess my joy as I had been hoping that I'd find a new instalment of my favourite serial, as I found a new instalment.

L.O.V.E.  I.T.

So looking forward to see how it unravels. Is Seth SO much more alike D.E.A.N.O oh oh oh? MA I need a word with you. This is upsetting me way too much

Are you anywhere near Scotland? Just book a train ticket for the day of the end of term bodybuilding show. 

4 hours ago, Caliban11 said:

Ok, I'm kinda into Ozzie now

So that makes two people who now like him - you and Mafra.