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

[DennisFLL]

7 minutes ago, DarkLord said:

Definitely so))

I can guess what your saying DarkLord and yes, it's about time for a nice roll in the hay for these two guys!

[muscleaddict]

58 minutes ago, Shade said:

Oz and Deano just need to fuck already.

Looks like Deano saw your comment... 

[S01]

This is so meta

So hoping that either would steal a kiss, if at all, I guess I need to wait for ch14. 

Now if I were there, I'd seriously would try and figure out where that one room in the hotel was (no I wouldn't. I'm way too chicken felgercarb to really do so ).

[Kons]

Im waiting for Adam to surprisingly show up at the posedown to add in the drama

[muscleaddict]

12 hours ago, Kons said:

Im waiting for Adam to surprisingly show up at the posedown to add in the drama

Maybe he does!

[muscleaddict]

So as the McCarthy Classic competition/guest posing part is coming up I thought I'd do a rundown of the fictional bodybuilders referenced by Deano and others to be competing...

 

Mitchell “The Machine” Murray - Canadian guy. In his mid to late twenties and only turned pro a few years ago but now placing high in top bodybuilding competitions. Described by Deano as a freak, with shocking size and crazy vascularity - particularly in the legs. Also described as being good looking, like a bodybuilding version of Chris Pratt.

 

Felix King - Black monster with crazy abs/turtle roid gut which Deano would love to have. IFBB veteran who's been competing for years, often cracking the top 10 in the Mr O. Described by Deano as a legend and is tipped to win the show. 

 

Chris “Freaky Peaks” Jackson - Another IFBB pro veteran who’s been competing for years. He’s probably past his prime but he’s still a monster. He’s famous for his huge freaky biceps (hence the nickname) which look like baseballs bulging off his arms. One has this freaky vein running over it too. They were particularly freaky when he was an amateur. Even though they are bigger now, they don't look quite as out of proportion. The rest of his physique has caught up with them. Featured in my "Charlie's Secret" story as one of the bodybuilders filmed backstage by the protagonist. He was also referenced in "AJ & Noah" - AJ had a poster of him on his bedroom wall.

 

Austin “The Kapman” Kaplan - Blonde American guy with huge watermelon delts and crazy quad conditioning. Deano has always found the rest of his physique a bit meh, stating he doesn’t have "that bubble look". Notorious for being a cocky poser. Always sticking out his tongue, scrunching up his face and grunting/yelling. Deano likens Ozzie's posing to his. Also wears the tiniest shiniest posers and is know for pulling the straps of his trunks up when he hits his front lat spreads.

 

Nathan Marrett - Black mid to late twenties guy from South London who graduated from Muscle University a few years ago. Great overall size with an impressive physique. Good looking dude. Used to train at the same guy as Ash.

 

Rick “The Beef” Tucker - One of Montgomery’s most well known graduates. He studied there about six years ago. Last year he cracked the top ten at the Mr Olympia. Bald dude who has a ginger beard off-season and a thick Geordie accent. Was referenced in "Deano's Summer" with Ryan North saying he once met him.

[DennisFLL]

Thanks, MuscleAddict, for this staging of the bodybuilding competition we're all about to experience.  And in the previous post for your hinting (teasing!) that Adam might descend on Chicago?  I think we're all in for several upcoming great chapters!  

[muscleaddict]

Fourteen

When I wake up early the next morning, the weight of what’s happening today hits me and I feel this overwhelming mix of excitement and nerves. Because today is the day I step on stage to guest pose at one of the biggest bodybuilding shows on the IFBB calendar. In front of a huge audience of muscle fans and bodybuilders alike, including THE Brad McCarthy. I guess you could say I’ve come a fair way since sneaking that muscle magazine he was on the front of into my backpack at my dad’s gym all those years ago.

I look over at the bed next to mine. Seth “Ozzie” Osman is still asleep, his back to me. All I can see is that twatty fucking mohawk on the pillow. So much for Walker sorting out the room situation yesterday. I completely forgot about the whole thing last night so I didn’t mention it to him. I guess I was kind of distracted by the huge bronzed muscle monsters and famous jacked bodybuilders bulging underneath their tracksuits who me and the other lads actually got to fucking meet and talk to at the backstage meet and greet after last night’s press conference. Fucking. Mental!

The first of which was Felix King. Even just shaking hands with him and being so close to such a fucking legend was surreal. I was completely starstruck. And he was so warm and friendly. As most of the bodybuilders were as me and the other lads made our way around the room. 

All except for Chris “Freaky Peaky” Jackson, who wasn’t necessarily rude, but he barely spoke to me, and he kind of seemed like he didn't wanna be there. But I didn’t care. Because it was Chris Jackson. I met Chris fucking “FREAKY PEAKS” Jackson.

Some were chattier than others. I got pictures with some of them. With others, the opportunity kind of passed before they were talking to someone else. But two guys in particular made an impression on me. Two bodybuilders I can’t seem to get out of my head.

I reach for my phone from the bedside table next to my bed and load up Instagram. A ton more likes and comments have come in on the picture I posted last night of me standing next to one of those two bodybuilders. Mitchell “The Machine” Murray. Who was more monstrous and better looking in the flesh than I could have imagined.

Just standing in front of him. Being engulfed by his sheer mass. I was so fucking turned on. By his massive shoulders. By his enormous chest bulging underneath his tracksuit. By his gorgeous Chris Pratt looks and hot buzz-cut hair. Even his fucking hands were hot as hell. They were SO bronzed. And veiny. He was so warm and friendly too. And I knew (I fucking KNEW) that if he were a fellow student (or a trainee teaching assistant) at Muscle University, I would fall for him in a fucking second.

I haven’t posted the picture of the other bodybuilder who made an impression on him yet. If I’m completely honest, I wasn’t even THAT bothered about meeting Montgomery graduate Nathan Marrett (Ash’s supposed gym buddy back in London).

But straight away, I just got this really good vibe from him. He’s a lot better looking in person. He’s about six foot. He’s also built like a fucking tank. (Adam Lloyd who?) And he just exuded this incredible warmth. 

And get this - when I told him my name was Deano, he asked me if I had any connection to Deano’s Gym! When I told him about my dad, he got really excited and told me a story about how when he was younger he pissed off his then-girlfriend on a day trip to Brighton because all he cared about was getting a picture of himself standing outside my dad’s infamous gym. A picture he then dugout on his phone to show me. 

The other funny thing (which I haven’t told Mafra about yet) is that when I asked him about his also rather famous South London gym and told him Ash trains there when he's back home, he looked over at Ash and pulled a face as if he’d never seen him before in his life. Ha!

Ozzie starts to stir in the bed next to mine, then stops. It doesn’t look like he’s waking up yet. I go to his (now public) Instagram profile I’m now following. The first pic is the one he uploaded last night when we got back to the hotel room. A shot of him posing next to his favourite bodybuilder Austin “Kapman” Kaplan (who was so much better looking in real life it has to be said). Both of them squeezing a crab most muscular with their tongues out. I kid you fucking not! 

Not that I’d tell him this, but I can’t deny how secretly impressed I am that Ozzie had the balls to talk IFBB pro bodybuilder Austin Kaplan into posing like that for a photo. I suppose I should write a comment since Ozzie wrote that nice one on the pic of me and Tommy Foster. I’m not completely convinced I could actually bring myself to do that. To actually say something nice about Ozzie! And now I’m smiling at that thought.

I start scrolling down Ozzie’s profile and see various pictures of him posing. Some topless. Some just wearing a vest. I see his thick veiny biceps blowing up. His balloon-like tits bulging off his chest. And those crazy-shaped cobblestone abs. And yep. Just like I did when I watched him pose back at uni, and when he was lying next to me on my bed yesterday, I’m now rock hard under my duvet. 

Jesus - I wonder what he’d think if he knew his body turned me on? Would he be freaked out? And what would he think if he knew that I liked lads? I might be completely wrong, but for some reason, I don’t feel like Ozzie would have a problem with it. He’d probably just pull a face and shrug.

On second thoughts, knowing Ozzie (well - as much as I do!), if he found out the image of his crazy abs and bouncing pecs gave me a hard on, he’d probably just ENDLESSLY take the piss and wind me up about it. Constantly flexing at me and bouncing his tits. “Does THIS turn you on?” Then he’d flex his biceps. “What about this?” Then he’d crunch down into an abs and thighs pose. “Spunked in your velvet posers yet, Little Dude?”

And then something happens which completely pulls me from my thoughts. A text message comes through on my phone. From Adam Lloyd! Fuck. My heart leaps into my throat. I can’t believe he's actually texted.

Good luck today, Deano. I’ll be watching on the live stream.

I have no idea what to think. On one hand - I dunno, I kind of like that he’s text me. Even though he went weird on me and blatantly ignored and avoided me for most of that last week back at uni. I guess he’s just being nice. Or maybe it’s another attempt to make amends.

But on the other hand - why? Why did he text me TODAY? Because now I’m thinking about him. Ugh. And now I have to reply. Because if I don’t, it makes me look like a dick. 

I text him back with a simple thanks which is probably a bit crap but he can’t honestly expect much more from me. I put my phone down and lie my head back down on the pillow, thinking that maybe I’ll be able to get a bit more sleep since it’s so early.

But my mind is occupied. With thoughts of Adam Lloyd. I’m thinking about the night I went round to his dorm room for a gaming night. Was that really just two weeks ago? I’m thinking about sitting next to his huge bulging mass on his little two-seater sofa. How we came out to each other. His flirty comment about how there’s nothing wrong with being a short arse. “Not if they look like you!” 

And I’m thinking about when I was stood at his door and he said he wanted to hug me. And how our fingers stayed touching for longer than they needed to when he fist bumped me. And the way he was looking at me as it was happening. The electricity I felt at that moment. That undeniable chemistry between us.

If Adam hadn’t gone weird on me. If he hadn’t found out about the whole Woody, Luke, Facebook thing, I probably would have gone over to his again last Saturday night like he suggested. Would something have happened if I had? Between me and Adam Lloyd? Even though he’s my sort of teacher. 

Could something STILL happen between us? Even though he knows what I did to Woody and Luke. He did say we should catch up when I’m back. And now he’s text me to wish me luck. But is that what I want? I DO like him. Well … I felt myself liking him. But after that last week, I really don’t know if I want to go down that road again. I just don’t think I handle the whole guy thing very well. Adam. Harry the Bouncer. Ryan North. Sebastian fucking Wood. It always seems to go disastrously wrong at some point. And I don’t like what it does to me. It’s like, it sends me fucking crazy. I sometimes wonder whether certain things affect me more than they do other people. 

A few hours later I’m perched on my bed and putting my socks on. Me and Ozzie are about to head down to meet the other lads in the hotel reception. Then we’ll be making our way to the convention centre.

“Nickname TBC - what d’you think?”

I look up to see Ozzie holding up a pair of the shiniest lime green posing trunks I’ve ever seen. His body is covered up by that black tracksuit he often wears.

“What the fuck are those?” I ask, with my face screwed up.

His mouth curls into a little smile and his too big eyes widen. “THESE …,” he says, holding up the lime green monstrosities, “are posers! Better than those awful velvet things you insist on wearing!”

I roll my eyes and shake my head in response. “Or the purple ones?” he asks, holding up an equally shiny pair of trunks with the other hand.

I raise an eyebrow. “The purple. They’re slightly less hideous.”

“Green it is!” he says. I shake my head and roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth to cover up my smirk. “Wanna borrow the purple ones?”

I pull a weirded out face, ignoring the part of my mind that’s actually kind of turned on by that thought. Of wearing a pair of Ozzie’s posing trunks. Jesus. Maybe I AM a weirdo like Ozzie.

When we’re in the hotel corridor with our bags thrown over our shoulders, Ozzie suddenly gasps and hits my chest with the back of his tanned and veiny hand. “I’ve got it!”

“Huh?!”

His face erupts into this big excited, mischievous grin. “Your new nickname!”

I side-eye him, dreading what he’s about to say to me.

“Picture the scene. It’s the Easter holidays. You're back home in Brighton. Hanging out at your dad’s gym. You turn around - and look who comes walking through the door! You probably say something like, “UGH! What the fuck are you doing here?” And I say, “Yo yo yo! All right, Tank Arse?”

What the - did he just say what I think he said? I cautiously look over at him. He’s smirking and rolling his tongue around the inside of his mouth. 

“What?” I say, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Tank Arse! You know, cause …,” then he looks down to my arse and widens his eyes.

I shake my head, REALLY trying not to smile. I can’t believe he just called me that.

“You don’t like it?” 

“No!” I say, flatly. There’s this slight awkwardness there. Probably because Ozzie just made reference to the size of my arse! And I’m now more sure than ever that he’d take the piss if he knew what effect his bouncing pecs and flexed biceps occasionally had on my body.  

“Anyway - WHY would you be at my dad’s gym?”

“When me and dad come to visit you in the Easter holidays!”

I roll my eyes. I quite like how Ozzie says the word “you” in his Welsh accent. Like “ooh”. Never pronouncing the Y. “Come to visit ooh!” And then I suddenly have a scary thought.

“Wait - you wouldn’t REALLY come to visit would you?”

He beams at me. “Yeah! Your dad knows my dad. And I get to hang out with my new best mate!” Then he playfully knocks my shoulder with this, giving me this big, genuine smile.

I shake my head and roll my eyes. But I guess I’m smiling a bit too. (Even though I really don’t want to be.) 

“You DO know I’m not gonna talk to you when we get back to uni?”

He lets out a short, sharp laugh. “Savage! You’ve got a bit of a mean streak, Tank Arse!”

“Okay - you SERIOUSLY can’t call me that!”

He groans. “Fine! I guess it’s back to Little Dude then.” 

The first thing I see when I walk into the backstage pump room with the other lads is Mitchell “The Machine” Murray pumping up in a pair of purple posers, not massively unlike the ones Ozzie was holding in the hotel room earlier. Fuuuck. Mitchell The Machine. Fully bronzed up. Looking obscenely huge. His massive tits on display. And his big wonky shaped abs bursting through his slight roid gut. What a fucking image! 

I instinctively turn to Ozzie who’s on my right. I don’t know exactly which of the bodybuilders he’s looking at, but he’s giving me this excited, knowing smirk. And I can’t help smirking back. A weird moment of solidarity between two pocket rocket bodybuilders who have just stepped into the pump room at one of the biggest bodybuilding shows on the IFBB calendar.

I almost can’t believe where I am. And what I’m looking at. I’ve been backstage at bodybuilding shows before, but I’ve never experienced anything like this. I’ve never seen the kind of huge, freaky, bronzed monsters I’m currently looking at. All in posing trunks. Most pumping up. Some just standing around. 

They’re all here. All the monsters I got to meet last night at the meet and greet. Felix King is hitting a most muscular for a lucky blonde cameraman I hear speaking in an English accent. Chris “Freaky Peaks” Jackson is looking monstrous in a pair of emerald green trunks as he chats to another big dude (his trainer maybe?) who’s covered up. Austin “Kapman” Kaplan is pumping up his insane biceps. A look of intense concentration on his face. And fellow Montgomery graduates Rick “The Beef” Tucker and my new mate Nathan Marrett are sitting on little plastic chairs and deep in conversation. Both wearing nothing but trunks. Huge bronzed veiny legs bulging. 

Everywhere I look I see shredded abs, obscene pecs, pumping lats and bulging biceps. Fuck. And the whole room has this atmosphere I’ve never experienced in a pump room before. Every single bodybuilder seems to exude incredible power. It’s like everyone knows how much of a monster they are. A room full of some of the biggest and best muscle freaks on the planet. And six starstruck wanna pro bodybuilding university students from England.

We’re herded to the back of the room where there are some tanning tents and fitness type girls standing around in black branded t-shirts and I’m handed a pair of those black paper style posers bodybuilders get tanned up in. I guess it’s time to get my “Tank Arse” out. 

There’s this weird sort of atmosphere as all six of us start stripping off. It’s like we’re all checking out each other's physiques, but trying not to be too obvious about it. 

Mafra looks as incredible as he always does, with those big slabby pecs and thick abs. And Ash. Fucking hell. Okay - definitely having another one of those moments where I forget that Ash is my most certainly straight and not always great mate. Tits for days. And those fucking arms! Keiran’s physique is predictably good, but Connell’s the one whose physique has surprised me the most. Who the fuck knew all of that was hiding under that black hoodie he always wears? His mass is so thick and hard looking. It's got this kind of grainy look to it too. He’s gonna make one hell of a fucking pro bodybuilder one day.

And then there’s Ozzie. Who I’m actually trying NOT to look at. Because I feel like if he catches me looking he’ll give me one of those annoying ominous smirks or start bouncing his pecs at me or something. But as I’m pulling my trackies down, I manage to get a sneaky look. And I see those pumped lats from the back. And those amazing calves. And that huge thick arse underneath his white boxers. God - it really is annoying how good his physique is.

When we’re all in our little paper posers, I glance over at Ozzie. Those thick tits and veiny arms now in view. And he looks … weirdly serious. Like he’s in his head for some reason. And he doesn’t seem to be looking at me. Which is (again) kind of weird. I’m ushered to a tent, and when I look back, Ozzie’s gone from the spot we were standing in.

As the blonde fitness girl tans me up with the spray tan, I watch my physique transform. I watch the lines in my wonky shaped, blocky abs get deeper and more prominent. I watch everything darken until I’m a bronzed freak, in the best condition I’ve been in for years. Like a mini version of the mass monsters pumping up at the other end of the room.

When I’ve finished tanning up, Mafra holds a towel up in front of me and I slip into my maroon velvet posers, then I do the same for him (only he’s gone for some shiny - ugh! - orange ones). God, I feel good. I’m tanned. I'm shredded. I’m about to get pumped up. I’m like a proper fucking bodybuilder. About to jump on stage and guest pose at one of the world’s biggest bodybuilding shows. 

I pick up my backpack and turn around to find Seth “Ozzie” Osman walking towards me. Ozzie, who’s now bronzed to fuck and wearing his shiny purple posers. Fuck. He looks … fucking amazing actually! Like, seriously fucking amazing. Those wide brutal shoulders. Those big balloon-like tits. Those veins running down his short thick arms. Those cobblestone abs looking more shredded than ever. His quads look fucking shredded too. Jesus. I’m so glad I’m in a room full of people right now. If it were just me and Ozzie, I’m not sure I’d be able to stop from getting hard. I can even feel myself swelling a bit in my posers now, to be honest. Fuck! Okay - calm down. It’s just Ozzie. Annoying cocky twat Ozzie. (Who’s never looked fucking hotter.)

His eyes lock with mine as he walks up to me and Mafra. He’s not being, like, mega cocky or annoying, but there’s this incredible confidence there. Yeah - Ozzie knows he looks amazing. I guess I kind of do too, to be honest.

His mouth curls into a smile. Not one of his annoying cocky ominous smirks either. A proper genuine warm smile. There’s this weird sort of energy all of a sudden. Am I imagining that?

“All right,?” he says. No Little Dude. No Tank Arse.

I nod and say all right back. Mafra looks a bit awkward. Even a little uncomfortable. Am I imagining THAT?

“What happened to the green trunks?” I say, looking down at the bulge in his shiny purple posers. Those abs. Those fucking abs! Ozzie just shrugs. “Changed my mind!” 

Walker walks up to the three of us. “You’ve got about twenty minutes to pump up, lads. Then the presentation starts.”

Fuck. Twenty minutes until Walker, Hancox and Johnny Hoxton head on stage to talk about the Montgomery University of Bodybuilding & Fitness. And then we’re on. This is without a doubt the biggest bodybuilding-related moment I’ve had. Stepping on stage at the McCarthy Classic to guest pose. In front of that huge audience out there. 

“Deano!” Walker says, squeezing my bronzed shoulder. “Can I have a word?” he says, nodding away from the others.

“So I’ve spoken to the lads about the rooms,” Walker says, his face suddenly a little tense. I know EXACTLY where this is headed. I can see it all over his face. 

“Ozzie was right. They didn’t actually discuss the rooms like I told them to,” he explains, before shaking his head and doing a little eye roll. Then he gives me a kind tight-lipped smile. It’s funny - had we had this conversation yesterday, I probably would have been pissed off, but with what’s happening right now, and where I am, I don’t actually care that much. It all seems a bit insignificant.  

“Think you can survive another night without killing him?”

I smile and nod at him. 

“Good lad!” he says, patting my shoulder. “Next year we'll definitely be organising it better.”

Twenty minutes later, as the six of us are waiting in the wings, listening and watching our three lecturers talk about the only university in the world dedicated to turning its students into bodybuilders, including now pro bodybuilders Rick “The Beef” Tucker and Nathan Marrett, all these fucking doubts suddenly start plaguing my mind. That I'm not good enough. That I’m about to make a fool of myself. That no one’s gonna be impressed by my pocket rocket second-year twenty-year-old physique. I mean - I’m the smallest lad of the six of us. I’m not stupid. I know that. Maybe I should have waited until next year when I was bigger and in my final year. Maybe Woody had the right idea by doing exactly that. Maybe he got it right and I got it wrong. Again.

I feel a wave of nerves for Mafra as he takes the stage first. Fuck. Those cheers from the audience as he waddles on, his big arse hanging out of his orange coloured posing trunks. I feel a surprising sense of pride for him as he starts posing. Because that’s my mate up there. I look over (and up) at Ash, who looks back at me with his happy, warm grin and I suddenly wish Shaun was here to complete the foursome and share this moment with us.

When Mafra finishes his routine and walks back over to us, his massive tits and big abs getting closer, his eyes are big and wide and he's got this huge smile on his face that gives me a surge of excitement. Ash is up next. As confident and ever so slightly cocky as his posing always is. And then it’s me. Fuck. This is it. This is what all the build-up, what two months of intense training with Joe Walker (and occasionally Adam Lloyd) have led to.

The commentator says my name, which in itself is fucking surreal. My stomach flips. I don’t know why I do it, but just before I take my first step to the stage, I look around at Ozzie. His bronzed face smiling at me. This sort of cute crooked grin on his face and I feel a weird tug in my stomach.

Holy fuck. That audience. It’s huge! And they’re cheering just for me. This is mental. I’m nervous as hell. But there’s this adrenaline overriding those nerves. My posing music kicks in (a rock cover version of Billie Eilish’s “Bad Guy” I found online which seemed kind of fitting) and I get into the zone and start posing.

I wonder what Brad McCarthy is thinking as I blow up my biceps. Whether Adam Lloyd is watching me on the live stream as my pecs jump up in a front lat spread. I wonder if my dad is watching me on the link I text him as I crunch down on my big, wonky shaped abs or whether he’s struggling to get on it because he’s useless with technology. And I wonder what’s going through Seth “Ozzie” Osman’s mind to the side of the stage as I take his advice and finish my routine with a crab most muscular pose.

And then it’s all over. And I feel this incredible buzz and sense of pride as I leave the stage and head back to the lads to crazy applause from the audience. When I get backstage, Connell slaps me on the shoulder, Mafra and Ash fist bump me and Ozzie is just giving me this sort of ominous smirk. 

“Nice one, Deano!” Walker says, squeezing my bronzed shoulder.

I watch Connell, Kieran and then Ozzie guest pose from the side of the stage. Ozzie is as cocky as expected. Perhaps even more fucking so! Grunting with his poses. Sticking his tongue out. Scrunching up his face. All the lads seem to approve. Or at least find it funny. And I hate to admit that I spend most of the time smirking (in between the eye-rolling and internal groans). And out of all six of us, Ozzie hands down gets the biggest audience reaction and loudest applause. And I’m weirdly pleased for him.

I’m trying not to smile so much when he comes backstage. But it’s REALLY fucking hard. He clocks me, a big fuck-off grin on his bad boy-like face. And I just bite my lip and grin back at him. 

“Embarrassing enough for you, Little Dude?” he says, standing next to me. His bronzed shredded muscle right there next to mine.

 I roll my eyes. “Mortifying! I couldn’t even watch!” I say, still smirking. 

He just grins back at me. And then I have a crazy thought. Wait - are me and Ozzie friends now? I mean, YES he’s fucking annoying. But, I dunno, this might sound fucking absurd but I think there’s a part of me that actually kind of likes him now. On some strange level. In VERY small doses. Jesus! What the fuck is wrong with me?

The commentator is on stage asking the audience if they want to see the Montgomery University students on stage again for a posedown? Me and Ozzie exchange excited smiles as the audience cheers and claps in response. And then a guy working at the show gives the six of us the nod to go back on.

We all rush to the front of the stage as a rock song starts playing loudly. I have no plan. I’m just gonna flex and pose. And before I know it, I’ve got my hands on the side of my quads and I’m squeezing out a most muscular. Mafra’s on one side. Connell on the other. All the lads are moving around the stage. The crowd is going nuts. And I just keep on flexing. A front lat spread. A side chest. My biceps blow up. My pecs pop. Fuck! This is what it’s all about. Flexing and posing and showing off my bronzed slabs of shredded muscle with a bunch of other junior bodybuilders. Six of the best bodybuilders Muscle University has to offer. And I’m one of them. I’m one of those shredded freaks. One of those future pro bodybuilders.

I’m squeezing another most muscular. My fists pushed together. Biceps popping. Pecs tightening. And now six foot two Ash and his bulging mass is suddenly stood next to me. I look over and he gives me a wide-eyed excited look. His fucking monstrous arm goes around my shoulder (fuck!) he lifts his other arm over his head and crunches his abs. Still with Ash’s heavy mass around me and engulfing me, I imitate the pose. Fuck. What a moment.

I look at the audience head on, and oh my God - I spot him. Brad fucking McCarthy. THE Brad McCarthy. The first bodybuilder I ever blew a load to. The first bodybuilder I ever obsessed about. Whose image on the front of one of dad’s gym magazines made an impression on and took hold of me like nothing ever had before.

And yes, he’s obviously older. And no longer the mass muscle monster he once was. But God - it’s so fucking surreal to see him in the flesh. He holds up his phone. Either taking a picture. Or maybe even shooting a video. And even though he’s probably not, it honestly feels like he’s looking directly at me.

Ash unwraps his arm from around me and I turn to my side to squeeze a side chest pose. There can’t be much longer left of the posedown now. It feels like it’s winding down. I’m squeezing, My pec is popping. I’m showing off my bronzed shredded pocket rocket physique for the biggest audience I’ve ever posed for. And now someone is nudging my forearm. I turn around to find Seth “Ozzie” Osman with this big cheeky grin on his bronzed up bad boy face and I feel this instant unexpected warmth. 

He’s doing some kind of motion with his arms. I know EXACTLY what Ozzie’s trying to initiate. If he’d have suggested or proposed this backstage beforehand, I would have flatly refused. But the crowd, the atmosphere, the adrenaline pumping through me - why the fuck wouldn’t I? 

I spin around to face Ozzie head-on. His beaming face in front of me. His thick bronzed mass bulging before me. Those tits. Those shoulders. Those. Fucking. Abs! He’s bringing his arms and elbows up and out to the sides. And I'm doing the same. And then he brings his bronzed face into mine. And our foreheads are suddenly touching. Our heads together. Ozzie’s face is right there. His too big eyes. His cute boyish nose. His lips and mouth. Right. Fucking. There. And then …, “ARRRGGGHHH!” I close my eyes and fucking SQUEEZE hard. Our arms coming down into an explosive head to head most muscular. Ozzie’s roaring with the pose. And then the music stops. And the audience is going nuts. And it feels like me and Seth “Ozzie” Osman just stole the whole fucking posedown.

The commentator’s giving us one last shout out to an applause of cheers and claps and the six of us make our way off stage. I feel a warm hand briefly touch my back and I look over to see Ozzie beaming back at me. One of those genuine smiles. And even though it’s now all over, it was worth every second. Everything that led to this moment. The training. The work. Having to share a room with Ozzie. Putting up with Shaun’s mood swings. Fuck it - maybe even the crap I went through with that whole Adam Lloyd mess. It was ALL fucking worth it. To feel that high. To have the adrenaline I’m still experiencing. Of being on that stage. Of having this moment. It was worth every single second. And I’d do it all again in a fucking heartbeat. 

[DawnFire98]

AAHHH! THIS IS PURE DISTILLED AWESOMENESS! 

You made the excitement and joy palpable. It felt like I was there, walking around backstage and seeing these shredded, godly beefcakes. The muscle descriptions are always on top. Credits to the author!

And Deano. D-E-A-N-O! Sometimes, it’s almost scary how much I care about him and the other students. Like: I was so proud of him standing there on stage and posing like the “Pocket Rocket” that he is. His evolution up to this point is enthralling and beautiful to see. Also: how he and our boy Ozzie get along is just wicked! So many funny scenes.

Maybe I forgot something; if so I´ll just edit it in.

All in all: 12 out of 10 from me, @muscleaddict.

[Bjort]

Fantastic!!!