Muscle Lads, Inc.

[muscleaddict]

This is a new story I've been working on (a similar size and length to my last big story Deano, Again) which centres around a group of bodybuilders sharing a flat in Manchester. Unlike my last few stories, this one features completely new characters and has no connection to the Muscle University/Deano series. However, as with most of my stories, there are a couple of nods and references to past stories and characters.

This story doesn't stray too far from what people know me for. However, unlike my previous stories which were all told from the point of view of just one character, this one features multiple points of view with the chapters mostly alternating between two of the flatmates. 

On a final note - this first chapter is the longest of the story so if you're slightly put off by the length I promise you that most of the follow-up chapters are considerably shorter!

 

MUSCLE LADS, INC.

ONE

NICK

My heart is pounding as I approach the big red brick building with green framed windows Google Maps has been guiding me towards for the last twenty minutes. This is ridiculous. Why am I so nervous? Okay - that’s a stupid question. I KNOW why I’m nervous. I know why my stomach’s currently doing somersaults and why my heart feels like it’s in my throat. Because I’m about to meet Alfie Winters and Danny King. Two of the best young amateur bodybuilders in Manchester. Probably in the whole country, for that matter. Two bodybuilders I’ve admired and followed on Instagram for years.

I couldn’t believe it when I saw Alfie’s Instagram Story this morning. It almost felt too good to be true. Maybe it actually is? And obviously, I was nervous when I sent him that DM telling him I was interested. I doubted whether I should. But I knew that if I didn’t take a chance and send him that message, I’d end up regretting it. And then Alfie sent me a reply which was SO fucking friendly and my head has been spinning with all of these thoughts and hopes and fantasies ever since.

And yet - as I stand at the front door of the building Alfie and Danny live in and scan the buzzer for flat number seventeen, all I can think is - what the hell are these two incredible bodybuilders going to think when they open the door to an average sized, awkward looking, nerdy guy in glasses?

Okay, so “average-sized” is a bit misleading. I’ve actually done two bodybuilding competitions. The first one was last summer after I’d finished university. And the second one was just last weekend. I came fourth in the junior category of a local show back home in Leicester. Which explains why I'm currently abnormally tanned and have been getting weird looks from people on the street for the past week. 

But despite the still shredded abs and leg striations currently hiding under my hoodie and jeans, it still feels a little weird to describe myself as a bodybuilder. Like if I actually said to someone, “I’m a bodybuilder”, there’s a very good chance they’d look me up and down and screw up their face in confusion.

Maybe I’m being a bit hard on myself. Because, while I’m definitely no bull-necked Montgomery University-type tank struggling to fit through doorways by the time they’re twenty-one, I have got quite a bit of muscle on my six-foot frame. My arms are pretty thick for a start. Enough for heads to turn when I walk down the street wearing a t-shirt or vest during the summer. But by bodybuilding measures, I’m still pretty lean. I guess I’m one of those guys who looks pretty average and then shocks everyone by lifting up his t-shirt to reveal a set of shredded fucking abs.

Hopefully, all of that will change in the next few years. That’s the goal anyway. To pack on more size. To keep learning. To keep growing. To keep getting better. So that one day I can proudly say “I’m a bodybuilder” with conviction and without fear of being laughed at. To be just as good as the two bodybuilders whose doorstep I’m now standing on and whose flat I’m now buzzing as my heart hammers in my chest. To maybe even be on the same bodybuilding stage as one or both of them one day competing alongside them.

A deep voice comes through the intercom saying hello. I think it might be Alfie rather than Danny but I can’t quite say for sure.

“Ummm. Hi,” I say back, awkwardly. “It’s Nick. To see the room?”

The voice says something I can’t quite catch, a buzzing noise comes through the speaker and I hear the click of the front door opening. At this point, my nerves are off the charts. And they only get worse when I climb the stairs to the third floor. 

They only really start to ease when I’m suddenly faced with the image of Alife Winters filling up the door frame to his and Danny King’s flat. His big, round shoulders and jacked arms are bulging out of an Army-like olive green vest to a ridiculous degree. And the top of his thick pecs is spilling out of the material. Wow. I mean - seriously wow. He’s much bigger in the flesh. Is this guy really only a couple of years older than me? A wave of inferiority sweeps through me. 

Maybe I shouldn’t have worn this bloody hoodie so Alfie and Danny could see my impressively thick and still bronzed arms?

Something flickers across Alfie’s face when he spots me. I don't know if it’s surprise or disappointment or something else. Maybe I look bigger in my pictures on Instagram? But then his face transforms into a welcoming smile which relaxes me instantly.

“Nick, yeah?”

“Yep!” I reply, smiling back. Partly to be friendly. Partly because it’s pretty hard not to smile at the image of a jacked up muscle plug of a short-arsed bodybuilder spilling out of his vest who’s not entirely unattractive face-wise and who’s standing in front of you ready to welcome you into your flat.

I also can’t help thinking how considerate it is that he decided to wait for me this way to save me from wandering the halls looking for the flat number.

“You found it all right, then?” Alfie asks.

“Yep. Just about!”

I have no idea why I said that because I had no trouble finding the flat at all.

“Jesus,” Alfie says, looking up at me as I follow him through the doorway and enter the flat. “How tall are you?”

“Ummm. Six foot,” I reply, suddenly becoming very aware of the height difference between us. He must only be about five foot seven at the most.

“I knew I should have put a height restriction on the ad,” Alfie jokes, as we enter a room made up of a living room on one side and a kitchen area on the other. 

“So this is the lounge. Kitchen's over there,” Alfie says. “The TV’s mine. But, you know … use it as much as you want. We’ve got Netflix.”

The room is bright, spacious and modern with big comfy-looking blue sofas and a huge television. The far back wall has exposed bricks. I think property agents and landlords would probably market this as a New York style apartment. I’ve seen a couple of similar flats described as such in my search for a place to live in Manchester over the past few days.

The only clue that bodybuilders live here is a big poster of Mitchell “The Machine” Murray squeezing out a brutal crab most muscular with his mouth wide open stuck to the wall above one of the sofas. Muscle exploding. Veins everywhere. Attitude through the roof. I wonder what my parents will say about that when they drop me off. IF they drop me off here. That’s a big if.

“You a fan?” Alfie asks, looking from me to the poster of Mitchell Murray. He’s got an almost teasing smirk on his face which makes me feel instantly nervous. I swear my cheeks are getting flushed.

“Mmmm,” I say, looking away from Alfie and back to the grotesque muscle screaming for my attention from the wall of the living space. “Isn’t everyone?”

I look back at Alfie Winters who’s giving me this big, warm grin. Did I mention the fact that Alfie Winters is kind of cute? Okay - more than just kind of. He’s got these small boyish features. A button nose. Nicely styled brunette hair. I wonder if he’s ever felt self-conscious about his ears. It’s not that they’re big. But they’re quirky-shaped and kind of stick out. They’re like little pixie ears. Somehow they just make him more attractive though.

I’m suddenly pulled from my thoughts and my insides tighten. Because the other bodybuilder who lives here has just walked into the room. A bodybuilder who’s even bigger and more well-known than Alfie Winters. 

Unlike Alfie though, Danny King is covered up by a black hoodie with the words Panther’s Gym written on the front. No guesses as to which of the two most hardcore bodybuilding gyms in Manchester Danny attends. But even though he’s covered up, he looks like a right fucking tank. I know exactly what’s hiding under that hoodie. Thick slabs of hard, shredded meat. Gorgeous thick pecs. Blocky abs. Big, boulder shoulders. How twenty-five year old Danny King is still an amateur is anyone’s guess. It can't be long before he gets his pro card. 

There are so many contrasts between Alfie and Danny. Danny’s much taller. I'd say about the same height as I am. And where Alfie’s cute and boyish-looking, Danny’s kind of rough around the edges, but still handsome. Really handsome actually. He’s got brunette hair which is shaved at the sides and medium length on top. A strong jaw. He looks like a bit of a lad’s lad, I guess. The type of guy who I'd never have been friends with at school. I know I only just met the guy, but I’m also not getting the same warm, friendly vibes that I get from Alfie. There’s something about him which is kind of intimidating. Okay - very intimidating.

“Danny, mate - this is Nick,” Alfie says. “The guy about the room?”

Danny King gives me a half-hearted nod and mumbles, “All right,” with an unimpressed look on his face. My heart sinks to the pit of my fucking stomach as Danny turns away and heads into the kitchen area. I think I now know why someone coined the phrase ‘never meet your idols’.

“I’ll show you the room,” Alfie says, seemingly unfazed by Danny’s less-than-friendly welcome towards me. 

As I follow him, I can’t help taking a sneaky look back at Danny, who’s now got his broad back to me, making himself a shake in the kitchen. The big cushions that make up his arse bulging underneath and stretching the material of his black joggers. I’m not being funny - but if a potential new flatmate is coming around to view a room in your flat, shouldn’t you at least make a bit of an effort with him? 

Is it me? Did Danny and Alfie discuss what type of flatmate they wanted beforehand and decided an absolute must was that he had to be a seasoned bodybuilder? And then I showed up with my two bodybuilding trophies and barely there calves?

I’m tempted to ask Alfie if Danny is okay but it feels like it would be a weird question considering I literally just met the guy. As I follow him into the room, my eyes go down to the thick arse cheeks nestled into Alfie’s grey shorts, then further down to the thick calf muscles bulging off the back of his lower legs, then further down to the bright yellow socks he’s wearing which are patterned with little watermelons. I bite my lip to cover up my smile. Alfie Winters does this thing on Instagram where he poses in his (always shiny and hot as fuck) trunks and a pair of novelty socks pulled up to his ankles. It’s a sort of quirky little thing he’s known for doing. And people go mad for Alfie Winter’s novelty socks. Me included. Even if I’m not that vocal about it.

“So where do you live at the moment, mate?” Alfie asks me as I scan the bright, decent-sized bedroom I can definitely see myself living in. 

“Oh, erm … with my parents in Leicester. That’s where I’m from,” I explain, turning around to see Alfie with his short thick arms folded across his chest. Must. Not. Stare. (Is drooling okay though?) 

“So why Manchester?”

“Ummm. Well, my best friend lives here. I used to come and visit her when she was at uni and … I just kinda love it here, I guess. I’ve already got an internship here.”

“Oh cool. What doing?”

“Digital Marketing. It’s working for an agency.”

“That sounds pretty mint,” Alfie enthusiastically replies in his cute Mancunian accent. “You can give me some tips for Instagram,” he adds with a grin so cute I’m now wondering how sensible it is to move in which a lad you’re probably going to fall in love with in the space of a week.

“You’re, erm … a personal trainer, aren’t you?”

As soon as the question escapes my lips I feel a sharp panic. I don’t want Alfie Winters to think I’ve been stalking him on Instagram or anything.

Something flickers across his face and his lips briefly curl into an ominous little grin which makes me feel like I’ve just been rumbled.

“Yeah. Just one of the high street gyms. And I’ve got a few sponsors too. So … are you gonna be a Muscle Factory boy when you move here?” he asks with a teasing look. 

I fail not to smirk back and nod. “Yeah. I think so!”

Alfie playfully squints at me. “Yeah - I don’t really see you as a Panthers guy,” he teases. Before I have a chance to reply, Alfie shoots me another question.

“You’re a Classic Physique guy, yeah?”

I feel like I’ve just been winded. I know for a fact my face just dropped. 

“Ummm. Nah. Bodybuilding.”

Alfie’s expression flickers like he’s realised what he’s said and he awkwardly nods.

“I’ve just done, like, a few shows,” I explain. “Nothing major.”

“And now you’re moving to Manchester to train at The Muscle Factory and become a shredded monster?” he teases with a cheeky smirk, redeeming himself for his earlier blunder. I bite my lip and grin back, feeling a little sheepish all of a sudden.

We drift back into the living room and I feel both nervous and excited at the prospect of facing Danny King again. He’s sitting on one of the sofas with his face buried in his phone. He looks like such a monster just casually sitting there in his hoodie and joggers. With his veiny hands and his annoyingly good looks. He doesn’t even look up when we sit on the other sofa. Which feels kind of rude.

“So, ummm … have you got many people looking at the room?” I ask.

Alfie looks at Danny, who still isn’t looking up. “Just another guy later, but … you messaged us first, so …”

I feel a jolt of excitement. But that quickly vanishes. Because NOW Danny looks up. He gives Alfie a pointed look, his eyebrows furrowed. As if he strongly disagrees with the suggestion that the room is mine just because I messaged Alfie first.

And now I know that it’s definitely me. That this guy clearly has some kind of problem with me. Then Danny looks at me, not smiling. Just … looking at me. This kind of unnerving stare. Like he’s properly checking me out for the first time now that it's been suggested that I may actually be moving into the flat. 

And now I don't know what the hell to think.

“Any more questions, mate?” Alfie asks. Danny’s still glaring at me. I suddenly feel like I want this sofa to swallow me up. I have no idea what’s going through Danny King’s head, but I’m sure it’s not good.

I DO have questions. A few of them, in fact. Are the rumours that you’re bisexual true, Alfie? Why does Danny King seem to hate so much? And would I be getting the same unnerving glares and cold reception if I were some Montgomery University graduated monster and not just some geeky-looking guy in specs from Leicester who has all but two bodybuilding shows under his belt?

There's no world in which any of those questions are appropriate to ask. So I just meekly shake my head instead and decide to get the hell out of this flat as quickly as possible with no goodbye or acknowledgement from my new best friend, Danny King. 

As I say bye to Alfie and make my way to exit the building, all of my hopes and wild fantasies of living and becoming friends with two of Manchester’s best amateur bodybuilders shrink and disappear into nothing.

Later that night I’m standing in the queue for Utopia - a big once-a-month queer club night at one of the city’s biggest club venues, huddled together with my best friend Liv, who I’m currently staying with and her very gay flatmate, Benji, who’s made no secret of the fact that he fancies me. 

“I don’t know why don’t you just move in with us,” Benji quips. “We’ll split the rent three ways.”

“Excuse me - I’m not having my living room turned into a bedroom,” Liv retorts.

“It’s not just YOUR living room,” Benji grumbles.

“Mmmm. I kinda need my own room,” I tell him.

“You could always just share my room,” Benji teases, wrapping his arm around mine so they’re linked.

Liv makes an audible groan and I fail not to smile at Benji’s flirting. And maybe even blush a little. Benji is actually a really sweet guy. I mean - he’s not my type at all. He’s camp as Christmas for a start. Plus - I guess you could say he’s missing a few physical attributes that I normally go for. But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about what would happen if I gave in to Benji’s flirting. How he’d react if I lunged my face towards his and snogged his admittedly cute face off.

I didn’t go into too much detail about what happened at the room viewing with Liv and Benji. I imagine the conversation that went down between Alfie and Danny when I left the flat. Alfie saying that I seemed nice. Danny pulling a face and saying they should wait for the next guy to show up. And then some super confident muscle bull of a bodybuilder who’s been competing for years and who Danny recognises from Panthers showing up to view the room and the decision being promptly made that he’s the flatmate for them and not that awkward nerd who came around earlier.

Will Alfie Winters even get back to me to tell me the news or will he be too embarrassed after his blunder of implying the room was mine just because I messaged him first, which I have to say, feels like a bit stupid to me?

I guess whatever happens I’ll be seeing Alfie Winters at The Muscle Factory when I eventually get my room sorted and move here. I can’t imagine him not even giving me a friendly hello.

“Don't you think we’d make a good couple though?” Benji says, tightening his grip on my arm. “The big beefy himbo and the small geek.”

A laugh escapes my lips. I’m tempted to ask, “Which one am I?” but I stop myself. If Benji thinks I’m big and beefy, what would he think of the two mini muscle bulls of junior bodybuilders I met earlier today?

One of the guys standing in the queue in front of us glances around and quickly looks at me. Then his eyes go down to my arms. I guess my biceps do look pretty great in this tight-fitted blue t-shirt. Two seconds later he turns around again and gives me a shy little smile. I imagine that took a bit of courage.

It’s kind of adorable. And the guy’s actually really handsome. And it would be so easy for me to pull him. But - ugh - I don't know if this makes me sound really shallow, but I know that what I REALLY want isn’t just a regular-sized guy. No matter how nice and cute and handsome he happens to be.

We lose my new admirer once we get inside the club. I’ve never been to Utopia before and I didn’t really know what to expect but this place is pretty amazing. A huge high-ceilinged club with thumping uplifting house music full of all types of people all here to have an amazing night. It’s like a wonderland of queerness. 

Me, Liv and Benji make our way to the bar, passing people dressed in crazy club kid outfits, drag queens who look incredible and a few other people who stick out from the mass of clubbers. And I’m just here wearing skinny jeans and a tight blue t-shirt. And yet - I feel quite a few eyes on me. Hot guys smile at me. One guy even reaches out and places a hand on my back. It’s uninvited, but I’m flattered. All because I look pretty buff in the tight blue t-shirt I'm wearing. I can’t help but wonder what kind of reaction possibly bisexual Alfie Winters would get if he strolled in wearing that olive green vest he was wearing earlier today. Arms, pecs and shoulders bulging. And now I’m wondering - would Alfie Winters come to a place like Utopia? Would Danny King come to a place like Utopia? I think I already know the answer to the latter. 

“So, Mr Malone …” Benji begins with a mischievous look on his face when the three of us are standing at the bar. “I have a little present for you!” 

Before I have a chance to ask him what, he’s putting something into the palm of my left hand.

“Ummm. What is it?” I ask, looking at the little round yellow pill now resting in between my fingers.

“What’s going on?” Liv asks, leaning into us. I show her Benji’s “present”. “Oh great - so you guys are gonna be off your faces?” she says, rolling her eyes.

“I’ve got one for you too, Olivia.”

“What does it do?” I ask. 

Benji laughs. “God, he’s adorable!” he says to Liv, before turning back to me.  “How can someone who looks like you be so innocent?”

“Why don’t you just do half?” Liv suggests.

Benji groans. “He’s a big boy. He’ll be able to handle it. Do the whole thing, Nick.”

I suddenly like feel I’m in a cartoon. Benji is the little devil on my left shoulder and Liv’s the angel on the right. I look at the little yellow pill again between my fingers. I’ve never really done recreational drugs before. But this club. The people. The atmosphere. I’m suddenly feeling reckless. Without too much more deliberation, I put the whole thing in my mouth and wince at the bitter taste of swallowing it, to a grinning and excited-looking Benji. Who’s strangely never looked cuter.

Half an hour later and me, Liv and Benji are huddled together dancing. Or at least I'm trying to. I don't think I’m actually moving that much. If I’m being honest I feel like a bit of a twat. Am I doing this dancing right or do I just look like a knob? I don’t think I’ll be going clubbing much when I move to Manchester. I think I’ll just stick to trying to become a muscle beast at The Muscle Factory and desperately trying to befriend Alfie Winters.

Recreational drugs are also way overrated. I mean - yes, I feel a bit of a buzz. But is this really what everybody raves about? I leave Liv and Benji and escape to the toilets. I check my phone in a cubicle to find no text messages from Alfie. My insides tighten in anticipation when I open up Instagram. Because maybe he's DM’ed me there instead. But my heart soon drops. Because there’s no notification to tell me I have a message. 

I start to type in a name in the search bar, but something stops me when I’m halfway through. I don't think looking at the Instagram of a bodybuilder who clearly didn't think that much of me despite me hardly saying two words to him is a particularly healthy thing to do. So I type in another name instead.

And now I’m smiling into my phone because I’m looking at a picture of a bronzed and shredded Alfie Winters hitting a front lat spread in what I presume is his bedroom in a pair of shiny purple posing trunks (to be fair, Alfie’s trunks are never NOT shiny) with a pair of Stranger Things socks pulled right up to his shins. I know this was taken around the time of his last competition a few weeks ago because he’s posted a couple of similar ones since then.

I let out a little laugh and bite my lip as I read the caption Alfie has written to accompany the picture.

Sorry, folks. These trunks aren't for sale. (I know some of you will DM me to ask anyway!)

Will I ever be brave enough to post a caption as outrageous as that? Will I ever have random guys messaging me on Instagram asking to buy my used posing trunks? Right now, I’m not even brave enough to post pictures of myself in competition for fear of what people might say and think. For being judged, I guess. Which I know makes me sound completely pathetic. 

I put my phone away and head back out to my friends. But as I’m walking through the crowd of clubbers, something starts to happen. My arms suddenly feel light and airy. There’s this tingling sensation going up and down them. Which spreads to my whole body. And then … as I reach Liv and Benji, out of nowhere, this intense rush sweeps through me and takes over my body.

“Are you okay?” my best friend asks as she grabs both of my arms. I’m not sure if I AM okay. Because I’ve never felt like this before. I guess this is what happens when you decide to be reckless and neck little yellow pill’s given to you by your mate’s flirty flatmate.

“Just relax!” Liv instructs. Relax. Okay - I can do that. Because yes, I’m a little freaked out, but I know that I’m safe with Liv. And even though I don't actually know him that well, I know I’m in good company with Benji too. 

And so I take Liv's advice. I try to relax. I try to stop freaking out. And when I do, all of a sudden, I’m in the middle of having what is probably one of the best fucking nights out of my life. I love this place. I love this club. I love Liv. And I kinda love Benji too. Cute, sweet Benji, who is now tugging on the bottom of my t-shirt and trying to coax me into taking it off. Which really doesn’t take much doing. 

As soon as I peel my bright blue t-shirt off my torso, it’s like an instant reaction. And it’s not just because Benji is staring at my bumpy shredded abs with his mouth hung open. It feels like all eyes are suddenly on me. And man - it’s such a fucking rush! I never display my torso in public like this.

I close my eyes and feel the heady rush of the chemicals. And now - there are hands on me. Planted on my waist. I open my eyes to see Benji giving me this dreamy little smile. Benji - who’s not my type at all but who’s sweet and funny and cute. Benji - who’s gripping my waist. Benji - whose face is now inching towards mine. Benji - who I’m now kissing. 

And it’s nice. And kind of horny. But when we part lips, he’s giving me this look that makes my chest tighten. Still gripping onto my waist, Benji leans into my ear. “I really like you!”

I feel a sharp panic. I look at Liv behind Benji, who’s giving me this look. Like she’s warning me. Don’t mess around with Benji. Don’t break Benji’s heart. (Like I’ve ever broken anyone’s heart before!)

He’s got this look in his eyes. This look of hope, I guess. And I know I need to stop what I’m doing. I know that doing anything more than just kissing Benji will be a mistake. 

“Ummm … I’ll be back in a bit!” I say to him, suddenly feeling like I need to escape. And quickly. 

“Okay!” he says, looking at me with those big eyes full of hope and desperation.

I start to walk away from Benji and Liv and through the crowd of sweaty clubbers with my t-shirt tucked into the waistband of my jeans. Most of them are looking at me. Some of them smiling at me. Some of them even touching me. Because I’m pretty sure I’m the most shredded guy in this club. I'm pretty sure I'm the only guy here who can call himself a bodybuilder.

Until I’m suddenly not. 

Because standing in front of me right now looking just as surprised and awestruck as I imagine I do is another shirtless bodybuilder. And God he’s sexy. Holy fucking hell he’s sexy.

I almost can’t believe what I’m seeing. Is this a mirage? Or am I having some kind of drug-induced hallucination?

This guy is about five inches shorter than me. I’m guessing late thirties. Maybe even early forties. He’s completely bald. Has piercing blue-grey eyes. Handsome, smouldering looks. And these sticky-out ears. And there’s a big sexy vein zigzagging across the right side of his head.

As for the body. Holy fuck. Okay, so he’s not like a mass monster or anything. He actually has quite a small frame. But the amount and sheer quality of muscle he’s managed to pack onto that frame is incredible. He has these perfectly round shoulders. Thick, tanned arms. These hot-as-fuck wavy-lined abs. And the pecs. Fuck ME the pecs. They’re like bunched up balloons of muscle fighting for space on his chest. The kind of pecs that twitch and dance with the slightest of movements. Even the silver chain buried in his neckline and running across the top of his thick pecs is unspeakably hot.

“Oh my God!” he says to me.

We’re both just staring at each other. And then this beyond hot bonafide muscle daddy before me curls his mouth into the most fuck-off sexy grin. 

“Where did YOU come from?” he asks like he can’t quite believe what’s standing in front of him.

“Ummm, Leicester!” I tell him, leaning closer to his ear.

As soon the words escape my mouth I realise how fucking stupid they sounded. He wasn't actually asking me where I was from! I swear - sometimes I’m such a social retard.

Sometimes when people speak to me or ask me a question, it’s like my brain goes into a panic. And I can’t think of my reply quickly enough. And I end up just sprouting this verbal diarrhoea. Or saying something completely stupid. Like I did just then.

But my mystery silver chain-wearing muscle daddy of a bodybuilder doesn’t seem to care. In fact, his smile gets even bigger (and sexier). Like maybe he found what I just said sort of cute?

His hand goes on my waist and he moves his lips closer to my ear. “Have you taken something?”

I bite my lip and nod. His hand is not moving from my waist. And I feel so much. Chemistry. Electricity. Between me and this bald, veiny-headed, slightly sweaty muscle daddy. His thick, balloon-like pecs right there. His crazily thick shoulders. It’s like there’s an incredible hotness radiating from his body. 

“Do you wanna come back to mine?”

I can’t think of anything I want more.

I nod at the muscle daddy. He smirks at me, reaches for my hand with his, wraps his fingers around mine and leads me out of the club.

So many people are staring as I’m led out of the club and across the street to a taxi by the short, jacked bodybuilder I met literally two minutes ago. It might be the fact that we’re two male bodybuilders holding hands in public. And the fact that we’re both fucking shirtless. I can’t quite believe this is happening. And I can’t quite believe how hot this mystery muscle daddy is. 

“Didn’t you have a t-shirt?” I ask him as we approach the taxi. Mine’s still tucked into the waistband of my jeans but his is nowhere to be seen. He shrugs and pulls a face like he doesn't care before smirking at me.

We get into the back of the taxi and he tells the driver the place where we’re heading which I don't recognise at all. Then he wraps his big, meaty, slightly furry forearm around my leg, his fingers gripping my inner thigh and my cock forcefully throbs in my jeans. I can see the thick veins pulsing under the hair of his forearm.

“What’s your name?” I ask him.

But the muscle daddy doesn’t reply. Instead, he lunges his face towards mine and starts kissing me hard. His tongue in my mouth. His huge bare sweaty shoulder pressed up against mine. The taste of his mouth. The feel of his hard sweaty muscle. Even his scent. It’s all just so intoxicating. Almost unbearably horny.

He stops kissing me. And now I’m just looking into those gorgeous blue-grey eyes. Every single fucking thing about this guy is sexy. The face. The body. The silver chain. That zigzagging vein on the side of his bald head.

He’s like the epitome of masculinity. The ultimate muscle daddy. I feel like totally submitting to this guy. Letting him do whatever the fuck he wants to do to me.

“My name’s Nick,” I tell him.

His mouth curls into a big, sexy grin. Like he maybe thinks I’m cute or something. His grip gets tighter on my thigh.

“I’m Mason,” he tells me. Even his voice is hot. Deep, masculine and surprisingly well-spoken.

“But you can call me Sir,” he says, straight-faced. 

I don’t know if it’s the chemicals in my body. I don't know if I’d have had a different reaction to what Mason just said if I hadn't taken whatever Benji gave me back at Utopia. Whether I would have thought it was weird. Or just laughed. But I don’t even deliberate over what to do next.

“Yes, Sir!” I say, feeling an unexpected rush. 

“Good boy!” he replies in an assertive tone.

Why is hearing Mason calling me that so hot? Sir. Good boy. This is completely new territory for me. But I'm totally into it. Maybe it’s the chemicals, but right now, I’m completely prepared to do whatever this insanely hot muscle daddy wants. 

As soon as we’re out of the taxi Mason grabs my hand with his. And he doesn’t let go until we’re at the door to his flat. Hand in hand with his bald sweaty shirtless bodybuilder. All the time I’m rock fucking hard.

I should have guessed that the moment we stepped inside his flat I’d be pushed up against the wall with Mason kissing me hard. His thick balloon-like pecs pushed against my toned chest. His wavy-lined turtle tummy abs against my little, narrow bumpy ones.

“What gym do you train at?” I ask Mason as I fall back on his bed. I really want to know whether he’s a Muscle Factory bodybuilder or a Panthers guy. But he doesn’t reply. He just yanks down my jeans and boxers with determination. All the time with this insanely sexy look on his face.

And now his lips are around my cock. My hands are running around over his bald veiny head. I’m gripping onto his sticky-out ears. He’s sucking me hard and fast. I feel like I'm fucking transcending.

Mason frees his lips and looks up at me. The sexiest fucking grin on his face. “Wanna fuck me, boy?”

“Yeah!” I reply, gripping onto his shoulder blades.

His eyebrows rise up in a stern expression.

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Good boy!” Mason says, sitting up straight and climbing on top of my legs and mounting me.

My hands grip onto his thick hard legs as he grips my cock and positions himself over it. What. A. Fucking. Image. This smoulderingly handsome bald-headed mature bodybuilder with his thick pillow-like pecs and wavy lined abs sitting on top of me. Towering over me. Dominating me. And then he sits down and … fuuuuck. I’m inside Mason. My cock is inside of him. He’s riding me. I’m fucking this hot bald muscle daddy bodybuilder I know barely anything about.

This hot bald muscle daddy bodybuilder who’s bringing his arms up into a front double biceps pose. He’s flexing while I’m fucking him. His eyes go to the gloriously pumped balls of muscle bulging from his upper arm and he arrogantly purses his lips. Like he’s admiring his own flexed muscle. Like he’s proud of it. Like he’s totally getting off on the fact that he’s a bodybuilder.

My hands run up his stomach. Feeling his rock hard, slightly bloated abs. He looks down at me, still flexing his biceps, still with that smug fucking look on his face. His lips arrogantly pursed. And then his mouth curls into the sexiest smirk. Still the epitome of masculinity. Still the ultimate muscle daddy. 

When my hands reach Mason’s chest, he brings his arms down and squeezes so his pecs tense and flex and the muscle explodes under my fingers. His arms now by his side, he brings his right forearm up and clenches his fist into another flex and my hands slip to the biceps muscles now bulging off his upper arm. I’m squeezing Mason’s rock hard, marble-to-the-touch biceps muscles. Worshipping the freaky biceps of a hot bald muscle daddy bodybuilder who’s riding my fucking cock. 

“Want me to pose, boy?” Mason barks.

“Yes, Sir!”

He puts his fists on his waist and manoeuvres his upper body into a front lat spread. Lips pursed, he lets out a hot grunt as he reaches the peak of the pose. My hands run over his arms. His pecs. Down to his lats now peaking out under his armpits. All the time he’s riding me. All the time I’m fucking him.

He then throws his arms behind his head and as he sits down on my cock, his big abs crunch and pop before my eyes. The hard, bloated abs of a roided-up daddy. Crunching and flexing before me. Just as I put my hands on his crunched abs he brings his arms down and with his fists pushed together squeezes out a most muscular pose with a cocky, animalistic, “YEAH!” 

My hands run over every muscle. Everything hard and squeezed and flexed. The look on Mason's face. The attitude. The dominance. The sheer fucking power. He grunts again as he continues to flex and ride my cock. All the time still riding me. All the time still fucking him.

I’m fucking this hot bald muscle daddy bodybuilder while feeling his thick biceps and squeezed pecs. I’m worshipping him. I’m quivering in his presence. I know how lucky I am. To be with him. To be inside him. To be fucking him. He may as well as well be the hottest and biggest bodybuilder on the planet. Right now he is. Right now he’s hotter than any other muscle freak in the world.

He starts riding my cock faster. I’m fucking him harder. How can anything be hotter than this? Two bodybuilders fucking each other. My dick deep inside this daddy with his freakish biceps and God-tier tits. I’m consumed by his muscle. By his mass. By his everything. 

He’s riding me faster. Flexing harder. Grunting louder. Two sweaty bodybuilders fucking. Mason's flexing. I feel like I’m gonna cum. He’s grunting. I’m really gonna cum. The hot muscle daddy riding my cock unleashes this loud, powerful groan as he bounces on my cock. Thick ropes of cum erupt from his cock and shower my toned pecs and shredded bumpy abs as the most intense pleasure courses through my body and consumes every part of me. 

And now I’m groaning. Screaming loudly. My whole body is on fire. My whole body feels like it’s exploding. Because I’m cumming. I’m cumming inside this hot jacked muscle daddy bodybuilder who’s now lying flat on top of me, laughing and catching his breath. 

“Fuuuuck!” Mason cries dramatically.

I laugh as he grins at me wildly. Looking as sexy as ever. Perhaps even more so. We stay like that for a few moments. Him on top of me. Me clinging onto his warm sticky back. A sweaty mass of thick muscle pinning me to the bed. Jesus. Fucking. Christ. I’m on such a high. Are all my nights out in Manchester going to end like this? 

Mason sighs and looks me in the eye. Like he’s studying my face.

“Are all the muscle lads in Leicester as hot as you?” he asks, his lip curling into a fuck-off sexy smirk. I grin back, still gripping onto him. Right now it doesn’t feel like anything matters but me being here with him. Me and Mason the Hot Muscle Daddy might as well be the only two people in the world.

“I’m actually moving to Manchester,” I tell him.

Something flickers across Mason’s face. Just for a second. It’s almost like I just delivered him bad news. Did I imagine that?

“Awesome!” he says, his face softening. And now he looks genuinely pleased. 

“Mmmm. I’m trying to get my room sorted.”

I suddenly have a crazy fantasy whereby Mason makes me an offer to stay here in his flat. To live here with him. 

“Do you go to Utopia a lot?” I ask him.

He pulls a face. “Every now and then.”

“Do you get many bodybuilders in there?”

Mason grins. “No. Although I did take a straight bodybuilder mate there once. He loved all the attention he got.” He grips my waist hard. “You are definitely a find!” he purrs. God those eyes. God that face. God that everything.

“So do you go to The Muscle Factory?”

Mason mischievously grins. He pauses before answering. Am I asking too many questions? Is this not okay? 

“I train at Panthers. The Muscle Factory’s a bit showy-offy for me. Too many posers.”

I nod and furrow my eyebrows. “Oh right. Just … you kind of seemed to like posing earlier!” I say, smirking at him.

Mason lets out a little laugh. “You know what I mean. Panthers is purely about the bodybuilding. No one cares who’s there or … who MIGHT be there. Or who’s looking at them.”

Huh. I had my heart set on training at The Muscle Factory. It’s pretty much the most famous gym in Manchester, after all. One of the most famous bodybuilding gyms in the country, for that matter. From what I’ve seen and heard it’s a big, clean gym, which is kind of flashy with tons of modern machines and multiple rooms and areas. Loads of famous bodybuilders have trained there. It also homes some of the best and most well-known personal trainers in Manchester.

Panthers, on the other hand, is an old-school hardcore dungeon gym which is anything but flashy. In fact, it looks like a bit of a shithole from the pictures I’ve seen on the Internet. It’s a no-frills gym with old scruffy weight machines which haven’t been updated for decades. It’s almost the complete opposite of The Muscle Factory.

I never really pictured myself training there. But hearing Mason comparing the two gyms, I actually quite like what I’m hearing about Panthers. I’m definitely more intrigued if nothing else.

“I think you’d like it,” Mason says, with an ominous little smirk and an arched eyebrow. My chest starts to pulse with excitement. Is that some kind of invitation? Is that him saying that he wants to see me again? I’m suddenly picturing Mason taking me on my first visit to Panther’s Gym. Looking after me. Holding my hand. You know. That sort of thing.

“I don't think you’d turn as many heads in there as you did tonight, though!”

I suddenly feel sheepish and smile, while looking down at Mason's arms. The thick furry slightly tanned arms of a mature bodybuilder. Is it possible to pause time and stay lying in this bed forever? That’s pretty much how I feel right now. 

“So … do you know Danny King?” I ask him, feeling weirdly nervous all of a sudden and picturing Danny in his black Panthers hoodie yesterday afternoon.

“Of course! Everyone knows Danny.”

“What’s he like?” I ask, gripping a little tighter onto Mason’s back.

“Mmmm. Nice guy. Doesn’t really talk much. Well … not at the gym, anyway. Keeps himself to himself. Some people think he’s a bit arrogant but … I don't think he is.”

I nod. I’m tempted to tell him that I actually met Danny King yesterday and my general impression of him wasn’t hugely positive, but I decide to keep that information to myself.

“Why? You got a little thing for Danny?” Mason asks, with a teasing smirk.

I screw my face up. “Nah.”

Mason smirks like he doesn’t believes me. “Wouldn’t blame you if you did. He’s a hot little fucker.” He squeezes my waist again. “Like you!” he purrs. He slips his hand down my body, grabs my cock in his hand and squeezes. I’m swelling instantly. He makes an “Mmmm!” sound as he squeezes my swelling cock harder while bringing his lips to mine and kissing me again. This time softer and more gentle than before. Here we go again.

I have no idea what time we finally drift off to sleep. Or what time it is when we both eventually wake up. My body aches like I've run a fucking marathon. I feel more self-conscious in the light of day. I have no idea what I look like. But I get the sense that I definitely don’t look my best. If it’s anything like the way my body feels right now.

But I’m still buzzing from last night. From everything that happened with Mason. Meeting him. Coming back here. Having amazingly hot sex. He seems just as into me this morning too as he was last night. Touching me. Kissing me. I really could stay here all day if he asked me to.

When he leaves me alone and heads to the bathroom, I step out of his bed and dig out my phone from the pocket of my jeans lying crumpled up on Mason’s bedroom floor. I have two missed calls from Liv and a text asking where I am. 

I suddenly have a flashback to last night of kissing Benji in the club. That look of hope and desperation on his face. Him leaning into me and saying, “I really like you.”

I take my phone back to Mason’s bed and go into the Instagram app. The little red icon is showing, telling me there’s a DM waiting for me. I don’t think anything of it, but when I see who it’s from, my chest tightens sharply and I suddenly sit up straight. Because Alfie Winters has sent me a message.

Hey, Nick. Thanks for coming around yesterday. The room is yours if you want it!

Holy fucking - what?! I got the room? Is this a joke? I stare at the message. Trying to make sense of the words. I got the room. They want me to live with them. Alfie Winters and Danny King want me to be their flatmate.

And now I’m thinking back to yesterday. The way Danny was with me. Kind of cold and rude. And that look he gave Alfie when he suggested the room was mine. I wonder what happened after I left. Maybe Alfie managed to talk Danny around. Maybe the other guy who was viewing the room didn’t show up. Maybe he was even less of a bodybuilder than I am. Who the fuck knows. But I got the room. I’m actually going to be living with them.

Mason comes back into the bedroom. He looks at me suspiciously. Like he knows something’s going down.

“Everything okay?” he asks, climbing back into bed and putting his arm around my waist, his body pushed right up against my side.

I drop my phone, tell him yeah and grip onto one of his thick arms, grinning and feeling like I want to melt into his skin.

“Mmmm. You are so fucking cute,” he purrs.

My grin gets bigger as I grip tighter.

“Like a hot little sexy muscle nerd!”

Before I can answer, he’s kissing me again. The minty taste of toothpaste filling up my mouth. His hand slips down and grips my cock again.

“Mmmm. I reckon you’ve got at least one more load in you,” he teases. “Wanna cum again?”

“Yeah!” I say, gripping his thick arm tight and looking into his piercing blue-grey eyes.

He arches an eyebrow. “Are you forgetting something? Yes …?”

I smirk like crazy. “Yes, Sir!”

Mason smirks back at me. So. Fucking. Sexy. 

“Good boy!” he purrs, giving my cock another hard squeeze.

Here we go again.

[Edrian2012]

I love it, I hope Benji has a chance I love when there is a Twink nerd and a bodybuilder love story, but idk if this is this case but thank you

[muscleaddict]

43 minutes ago, Edrian2012 said:

I love it, I hope Benji has a chance I love when there is a Twink nerd and a bodybuilder love story, but idk if this is this case but thank you

Glad you're enjoying it so far!  I don't want to give anything away but this first chapter is really just scratching the surface!

[DennisFLL]

It's great, but of course with MuscleAddict that's to be expected!   I'm enjoying Nick's character development, which is going very smoothly, and he's quite the muscle-slut we want to read about.  Sounds like he may have a bit of a thing for Alfie, which perhaps we'll enjoy reading about once he moves in.   And can't wait to read the other character's points of view. 

Welcome back, MA...the reading fun for your fans begins now.   

[muscleaddict]

19 minutes ago, DennisFLL said:

It's great, but of course with MuscleAddict that's to be expected!   I'm enjoying Nick's character development, which is going very smoothly, and he's quite the muscle-slut we want to read about.  Sounds like he may have a bit of a thing for Alfie, which perhaps we'll enjoy reading about once he moves in.   And can't wait to read the other character's points of view. 

Welcome back, MA...the reading fun for your fans begins now.   

Bless you, Dennis! It's always slightly nerve-wracking sharing a new story here, this one perhaps a little more so than my last few Deano stories because no one knows these characters, but the fact I have an audience of guys here, including yourself, who like my writing definitely gives me a little boost of confidence!  This chapter has quite a hedonistic feel compared to a lot of the rest of the story. I wanted Nick to arrive in Manchester with a bang! 

[crushme99]

MA, our unmet friend, you have another hit on your hands.  Your development of new characters is excellent, your set-up of situations is engaging, and - as always - you have a true and deep understanding of the visceral grip that SERIOUS MUSCLE can have on us.  You are a treasure, MA.  Really.

[Maxum]

Thanks for getting to some muscle sex and worship early in the story. While I appreciate the purpose and effect of a slow wind-up to romantic interests, I'm glad to get a sex scene from you in the first chapter. I know there's a lot more good stuff to come. Looking forward to it.

M

[biggymnast84]

My god MA, every story I read of yours plays out like a movie in my head. Your descriptors are insane!! I can’t wait to see if Nick accepts the apartment and which gym he chooses. I wonder what will happen with Benji? So many questions!! Patiently waiting till part two….

[dredlifter]

UFFF!  YESSS!

That's how you write bodybuilder sex!  I don't know why there isn't more posing-while-fucking content in the world

I can relate so much with the main character.  Realistically I know I'm kinda big, but it's so hard to consider myself a real bodybuilder.  

Now I need to find myself a shaved-head bodybuilder daddy oof. 

[muscleaddict]

18 hours ago, crushme99 said:

MA, our unmet friend, you have another hit on your hands.  Your development of new characters is excellent, your set-up of situations is engaging, and - as always - you have a true and deep understanding of the visceral grip that SERIOUS MUSCLE can have on us.  You are a treasure, MA.  Really.

Thank you so much for the lovely feedback @crushme99. You are way too kind! Probably like most of us here, I've had quite a few years of experience being in that grip of huge, freaky, flexing muscle. (And it never gets fucking tiring or old!)