mario2007 Posted May 31, 2023 Share Posted May 31, 2023 muscleaddict, everything you write is AWESOME. 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
muscleaddict Posted May 31, 2023 Author Share Posted May 31, 2023 1 minute ago, mario2007 said: muscleaddict, everything you write is AWESOME. Thank you, mate! For that comment, you can have chapter three... 2 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Popular Post muscleaddict Posted May 31, 2023 Author Popular Post Share Posted May 31, 2023 THREE NICK It’s been two days since I sent a text message to Mason - the hot muscle daddy who I met at Utopia the weekend before last and had amazingly hot sex with. Two days of constantly checking my phone to see if he’s replied and wondering why he hasn’t. Two days of asking myself why the fuck I even texted him in the first place. It was the first time I’d reached out to him since we exchanged numbers that Sunday morning before I left his flat. I didn’t want to text him when I was back home at my parents' in Leicester. I told myself I was playing it cool. But honestly? I think a part of me was afraid I wouldn’t hear back from him. And that I’d just be sitting in my room at my parents' waiting for a guy I’d only met once to text me back. As opposed to now sitting in my new room in Manchester waiting for a guy I’ve only met once to text me back! The thing is - it was such a good fucking night. And the sex was so hot. And Mason seemed so into me. Not just after we first went back to his, but the morning after too. I just keep replaying everything over in my head. The moment I bumped into him in the club. The way he kissed me in the taxi. Making me call him Sir. When he sat on my fucking cock and flexed for me. His balloon-like pecs. Those thick biceps. The silver chain. His slightly furry forearms. The sticky-out ears. The zigzag vein at the side of his head. And those piercing blue-grey eyes which spent so much time looking into mine as he was kissing me. Telling me how cute I was. “Hot little sexy muscle nerd” were the words he used. He was clearly into me. So why the fuck hasn't he replied to my text? I reach for my phone in my pocket, fully expecting to experience that all too familiar stomach drop when I don’t see a text from Mason sitting on my screen. Even though my phone’s on vibrate. Even though I’m pretty sure I would have heard the sound notification. But what if Mason the Hot Muscle Daddy actually HAS texted me back? That tiny glimmer of hope is there when I retrieve my phone. But in less than a second, it’s replaced by that predicted crush of disappointment. I load up Instagram on my phone and for the umpteenth time this week, I type the name Mason in the search bar and scroll down the list of results. No hot muscle daddies. No mature shredded bodybuilders. No sign of any bald veiny heads or sticky-out ears. It would help if I knew his surname. Although that’s not exactly the type of thing you ask someone you pull in a club. Maybe he’s on there under another name. Or maybe he just doesn’t have an Instagram. I think back to what he said about The Muscle Factory. That it's full of people showing off. That there are too many posers. Maybe he has similar thoughts about bodybuilders who post endless pictures and videos of themselves on social media. Especially bodybuilders who post videos of themselves posing in busy shopping areas wearing nothing but shiny orange posing trunks and trainers. Just like my new fucking flatmate, Alfie Winters, did yesterday! (A video I happened to have watched a dozen times and which I think I love just a little bit more every time I do.) I almost wish I was starting my internship this week instead of next. At least that would give me a distraction from the Mason text drama. But I do have a distraction today, at least. A pretty big one in fact. Because, in about an hour's time, I’m going to embark on my very first visit to The Muscle Factory - one of Manchester’s biggest and most notorious bodybuilding gyms. Alfie is meeting me there after he’s finished training a client at another gym he works at. I was so relieved when he asked me if he wanted to go together yesterday. I’d be a hell of a lot more nervous if I was going solo. I have no idea whether his comment about having to do an initiation was a joke or not but I’m trying not to think about too much! After much stressing over what to wear for my first visit to The Muscle Factory, my backpack’s packed and I’m ready to head out. But as I open my bedroom door, I hear something which causes my stomach to tighten with nerves. There’s someone in the kitchen, and I have a pretty good idea as to who that someone is. The flatmate I haven’t actually seen or spoken to since I moved in yesterday. The flatmate I barely spoke to when I came to view the room the weekend before last. Or more accurately - the flatmate who barely spoke to me. I could easily pretend I haven’t noticed or heard and just quietly sneak out. The front door to the flat is only a couple of feet away from my bedroom door. But it feels kind of rude. It feels like I should really go and talk to him. I mean - we are living together. I’m gonna have to talk to him sooner or later. My insides sharply twist as I walk down the hall and approach the kitchen and living room area. To say Danny King wasn’t exactly warm or friendly towards me when I came to view the room would be an understatement. But then … he did agree to me moving in. I’m almost taken aback when I walk into the room to the image of Danny cooking one of his no doubt many prep meals at the stove with his back to me. Last time he was covered up by a Panther's Gym hoodie. This time he’s wearing black trackies and a tight white t-shirt. Everything about Danny King from the back is just so ridiculously and effortlessly sexy. The back of his neatly shaved head. His bull neck. The back of his thick upper arms bulging around and under the sleeves of his t-shirt. His meaty lats sticking out either side of his back. His impossibly small waist. And that stupidly big arse nestled in his trackies. (Christ alive.) And now I’m supposed to talk to him. Is it too late to turn around and quietly sneak out? Yes - because he’s turned his head and spotted me. Just standing there silently watching him like a complete and utter weirdo. “All right,” he says, his tone a little friendlier than last time, but looking a little weirded out. “Yeah, you?” Why does my voice sound odd? “You off out?” “Erm. Yeah. Just … the gym. Muscle Factory. I'm, erm, meeting Alfie there.” Jesus. This is so awkward. He looks awkward. And I feel awkward. “Cool,” Danny says casually, turning back to his cooking. My heart drops. Is that all I’m getting? But then he fully turns around. His big pecs bulging under his t-shirt. His stomach a little bloated. He’s only twenty-five and he already has a bit of a roid gut. God, that’s hot. “You been before?” he asks me. He still looks a little awkward, but I can tell he’s trying to make an effort. Which is just about the best thing that’s happened to me today so far. “Nah. First time. Alfie says you’re competing soon?” He turns back briefly to check whatever’s boiling on the cooker. What is Danny King going to look like with a post-show carb blow-up? “Yeah. Six weeks.” “Cool. Well … good luck!” As soon as the words come out, I realise how idiotic they are. Good luck? As if I’m not gonna be seeing him pretty much every day from now until then. As if we're not fucking living together. The corner of Danny’s mouth curls into a smirk before he turns around again. Like he’s laughing at me for that ridiculous thing I just said. Which I don’t blame him for one bit. Or maybe he's just laughing at me in general. And now I want to disappear. I say, “See ya!” and walk out of the kitchen. And my whole body tenses up. Because Danny King doesn't say goodbye back. He just carries on cooking his fucking food. And as I leave the flat and make my way to the tram, I can't help thinking - was that really fucking rude of him? Or am I just being over-sensitive? I think back to what Mason said about Danny that night. That he keeps himself to himself. That he doesn’t really talk much. That some people think he’s arrogant. I’ve only had two interactions with him so far, but I can definitely see why people might draw that conclusion. It’s kind of hard NOT to wonder whether Danny King is arrogant, to be honest. He definitely gives off a certain vibe. Like he thinks he’s better than me. But then … look at him compared to me. Look how far advanced he is in his bodybuilding. Look at that arse. Those arms. That annoyingly handsome face. Maybe those thoughts are kind of justified. And now I’m thinking about Mason again. (Great!) Maybe he didn’t actually get my text message. Or maybe he saw it, got distracted and completely forgot to reply. I get my phone out when I’m on the tram and open up the messaging app. I look at the text, just sitting there, not replied to. Maybe I should just send him another one. A dozen possible ideas for a follow-up text come into my head. Hi, how are you? (Completely ignoring the fact he ignored my previous message.) Did you get my other text? (Would that make seem like a pushover?) Not gonna bother replying then? (Assertive. Confrontational. Straight to the fucking point.) As if I would ever have the guts to text Mason that last option. I go to my text conversation with Liv and text her instead. So you know the hot muscle daddy I pulled at Utopia? I text him for the first time two days ago. No reply!! Three dots tell me Liv’s replying to my text. That’s your punishment for leading Benji on! Kidding!! Hmmm. You said he was really into you though. Just send him another text. Swallow your pride. Be flirty. Be direct! And now I’m smiling. That’s … actually really good advice. Liv’s typing another text. How are the flatmates? I type a reply. One is really nice and friendly! (The short, cute, possibly bisexual one!) I’m on the way to meet him now. He’s taking me to The Muscle Factory! One is not so friendly. (The big, hot, definitely straight one!) My stop’s coming up so I unlock my phone and stand up. I’m thinking about Liv’s advice. Be direct. Tell Mason the Hot Muscle Daddy what I want. If I don’t - if I just give in to the fact that he’s ghosted me - I’ll never get anywhere. I’ll never get anything again from Mason. I may not even see him again. When I get to The Muscle Factory, Alfie Winters is leaning up against the wall next to the entrance of the gym. He’s wearing the same blue gym-branded hoodie he was wearing yesterday and looking at his phone. I wasn't sure if Alfie would actually wait outside or make me meet him inside. I can't help thinking it’s kind of sweet that he did the latter. “All right?” he says when he sees me, putting his phone in his pocket. “Ready to start your mission to get huge and shredded?” I can’t help giddily grinning at Alfie’s comment as I follow him into the building and take my very first steps inside Manchester’s most iconic bodybuilding gym. I don’t know why but it completely takes me back when Alfie Winters takes his hoodie off in the changing rooms to reveal a tight-fitted white vest. It’s hardly an unusual thing for a bodybuilder to train in a vest. I’ve seen Alfie in the gym in a vest on Instagram. I just didn’t really prepare myself to be faced with Alfie’s physique bulging out of a vest for the first time since that day I viewed the room. (And a vest a lot tighter than the olive green one he wore that time.) It’s hard not to stare at and feel a little bit intimidated by Alfie’s perfectly round delts. Or his short, stacked arms. Or his thick pecs spilling out of the top of his vest. Even Alfie’s forearms are crazy thick. I can’t help thinking that those forearms are also kind of strangely cute? “You okay?” Alfie asks me as if we head out of the changing rooms and towards the gym floor. “Mmmm,” I say, not looking at him. Because maybe if I can’t see those fucking arms and those little bulging traps that are quite possibly the cutest traps I’ve ever seen, I can actually talk to Alfie Winters like a normal person again. “Don’t be nervous,” he says, in a kind tone. “No one will even look at you. No offence!” I let out a little laugh. “None taken,” I say with sincerity as I look over to see him smiling back. I’ve mentioned how cute Alfie Winters is before, right? The Muscle Factory is pretty much how I imagined it to be from all the pictures and videos I’ve seen on the Internet. A huge clean space with tons of modern machines, occupied by some seriously huge dudes. Some in t-shirts. Some covered up by hoodies. Some bulging out of vests like Alfie. I’m also a little surprised at just how many non-bodybuilders are here too. As for the walls - well they’re plastered with posters of famous British bodybuilders through the ages. From Charles Montgomery and 90’s legends like Johnny Hoxton right up to current pros like Liam “The Guns” Watson and recent Mr Olympia competitor Nathan Marrett. “Is it how you imagined?” Alfie asks me. “Mmmm. Pretty much!” “What would mummy say about the posters?” Alfie’s mouth curls into a cute, teasing grin. Right before I spot a fairly built guy in a red t-shirt with some kind of muscle brand written on it walking towards us with a friendly smile on his face. He’s older than me and Alfie. I’d say in his mid to late thirties. Brunette hair. A strong jaw. He’s not like, knock-you-round-the-head handsome but definitely he’s a good-looking guy. He’s not a mass monster but his arms look pretty meaty. I’m guessing he’s competed at some point, if not recently. And he actually looks sort of familiar. Maybe I’ve seen him on Instagram. “All right?” he says to Alfie. He seems so warm and friendly. “Jason … this is Nick. The new flatmate.” Jason. Yeah - that name sounds about right. “Oh, THIS is your new flatmate?” He gives me a sympathetic look. “I’m so sorry, mate.” Alfie gives Jason a sarcastic smile and I look between the two of them smiling. Even though Jason’s friendly, I still feel kind of shy around him. “Jason’s my coach. He helped me in my last show. He's one of the best trainers here!” I look at the text on Jason’s t-shirt again. “TEAM FOX”. Yeah - I’ve definitely seen this guy on the Internet before. Jason eyes Alfie suspiciously. “What are YOU after?” “Just being nice! Oh, AND … Jason was the one who filmed my latest Instagram video.” He turns to me. “You’ve seen that, right? The one of me posing in the street in my orange trunks?” I think my cheeks have gone red. “Ummm. Yeah.” “It was Jason’s idea.” Jason gives Alfie a wide-eyed look and then turns to me. “It was bloody NOT my idea, thank you very much.” Alfie laughs and Jason tells us to have a good workout and leaves us to it. Alfie tells me how good of a guy Jason Fox is. How he used to be a bodybuilder but now focuses on training. How he’s trained a few guys to their pro cards. He tells me how he made amazing gains when they started working together for Alfie’s recent show and that not only is Jason his coach but he’s also become a good mate as well. And as Alfie is telling all of this, I can’t help feeling, not so much jealousy, but more of a longing. To have what Alfie has with Jason Fox. To meet some amazing coach and bodybuilder who helps me make loads of gains. And who I then become genuine friends with. Which I really hope is what’s happening with Alfie. I feel like it is. I feel like we’re becoming friends. Even though we haven’t known each other long. Even though I literally just moved into the same flat as him yesterday. After an hour of training and Alfie’s arms and shoulders getting increasingly and more ridiculously pumped, Alfie takes me to the infamous Juice Room, which is basically a place with a bar that serves drinks, smoothies and shakes and where bodybuilders hang out. I’ve seen so many pictures of the Juice Room on the Internet. It’s pretty fucking surreal to actually be in it. To see it in real life. I’m not entirely sure I would have had the guts to even come in here if I were by myself. And it dawns on me that this whole experience and first trip to The Muscle Factory has been made so much better by the fact I’ve been accompanied by Alfie Winters. “So, erm … what happened with the other guy who came to view the room?” I ask him as we’re getting our stuff together and heading out of the gym. Alfie furrows his eyebrows a little. “Oh!” he then says, seeming to remember who I’m talking about. He lets out a little laugh. “I, erm … think he was a bit freaked out!” I give Alfie a confused look. “By the fact me and Danny were bodybuilders.” “Oh right. Was he not a bodybuilder himself then?” Alfie laughs again. “Nope! It was a guy who works with Danny’s brother. He was looking for a room and Danny’s brother told him we had one. I don’t think he told him we were bodybuilders though. He looked like he was gonna crap his pants at any moment. His eyes were going all over the place.” Huh. Something suddenly dawns on me. Wait - was THAT why Danny King gave Alfie that look when he insinuated the room was mine? Because the guy viewing the room after me was someone who works with his brother, who’d hooked him up with the room viewing? It kind of makes sense. So maybe the problem wasn’t actually me? Or at least not ALL me. Maybe Danny wasn’t that opposed to me moving in after all? My chest suddenly feels lighter. And I'm finding it hard to fight back a smile. “Are you heading back home?” I ask Alfie outside the entrance. Alfie stops still and gives me a mischievous grin. “Are you forgetting something?” “Erm …” “Nick - I told you if you wanted to be a Muscle Factory boy you’d have to do an initiation!” I feel a stab of nerves. Alfie laughs. “Nick - you can’t come to The Muscle Factory and not take a picture in front of the flexing bull.” Oh. I know exactly what he’s talking about. Alfie’s looking up, above my head. When I turn around I suddenly realise where we’re standing. Right above me is the famous and iconic Muscle Factory bull. It’s basically a mural of a big red muscle bull flexing in a front double biceps pose painted on the outside of the building. It’s become a bit of a trend for bodybuilders visiting the gym to have a picture taken in front of the bull while also flexing a front double biceps to imitate the pose. I’ve always loved seeing those pictures on Instagram. There was a big show here in Manchester last year called the McCarthy Classic UK where loads of famous American pros came over to either compete or attend the show. Pretty much all of them took pictures where they were flexing in front of the Muscle Factory bull. Some topless. Some in just t-shirts and vests. But the idea of ME doing that very thing fills me with dread. “Ummm … I dunno,” I tell Alfie. He gives me a look. “Do I have to flex though?” Alfie laughs. “YES, you have to flex! And you definitely have to take your hoodie off.” My stomach twists with nerves. “But … there are people walking past.” Alfie's lips curl into a cute, warm grin. “Just pretend it’s just you and me,” he says. I feel a pinch in my chest. I think I might be blushing a bit. “It’ll literally take two seconds, Nick. And you don’t have to post the picture to your Instagram!” I bite my lip. I want to. I really want to do it. “Let’s take it slowly. Firstly … the hoodie.” I sigh and reluctantly take my grey hoodie off. “I feel like people are looking!” “Okay - why don't you close your eyes?” I do as Alfie instructs. “Now bring your arms up into a double biceps.” I can’t believe I’m doing this. I lift up my arms. I'm clenching both fists. I'm flexing my biceps. God knows what I look like. Some weirdo flexing in the street with his eyes closed. “Relax your face. And … open your eyes!” As I obey Alfie and nervously open my eyes, I’m surprised to notice that not that many people are actually looking at us. I feel a surprising pang of disappointment. “One last order. Smiiiile!” I do so, not necessarily for the picture but because Alfie makes me laugh. I drop my arms and a grinning Alfie drops my phone. “A bodybuilder who’s embarrassed to flex. How did you cope at your competitions?” he teases. “That’s … different,” I tell Alfie, feeling my cheeks redden again. “Nick! Your biceps look awesome!” Alfie says, handing me back my phone so I can see the picture he's just taken. Oh wow. My biceps DO look awesome stretching the sleeves of the white t-shirt I’m wearing. I can’t believe I got a picture flexing in front of the iconic flexing Muscle Factory bull. This wave of happiness sweeps through me. “You got a text, by the way. When I was taking the picture.” Oh shit. My chest tightens. I’d finally managed to forget all about Mason the Hot Muscle Daddy. Could it be him? Could he have finally texted me back? My chest tightens when I head into the messaging app. But it’s not a text from Mason. It’s just Liv. Did you text him yet? I remember what Liv suggested earlier. To text Mason again. To be direct. To be flirty. To tell him what I want. I make the decision that that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I'm going to text Mason again. But I'm not going to it right now. Because I don’t want to ruin my current mood. This afternoon has been fucking awesome. Training at The Muscle Factory. Seeing some proper bodybuilders. Meeting Alfie’s coach. Flexing in front of the iconic flexing bull. All with my new flatmate Alfie Winters. In his tight little gym vest. With his perfectly round delts, short, stacked arms and crazy thick forearms. And his cute little traps. But yeah. I’m definitely going to text Mason the Hot Muscle Daddy again. I just need to find the right moment to do it. 31 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
crushme99 Posted May 31, 2023 Share Posted May 31, 2023 Somehow, our group of MA's fans needs to assemble the right group – oh, excuse me, "a proper group" – of serious studly bodybuilders as cast members. For what? Well, for this story… which is pretty much unfolding like a movie script. MA gets to conduct auditions and direct the film, of course. But he will need several dozen extras to serve as the hands-on muscle worshipers of all the cast members. I wonder where we could find those extras? Where oh where? Really superior writing, MA. This is so good. 4 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Jtchef2 Posted June 1, 2023 Share Posted June 1, 2023 Another amazing chapter. Keep them coming 3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mickeypuk Posted June 3, 2023 Share Posted June 3, 2023 This going to be another epic novel More twists and turns keeping us hooked with baited breathe to know what is happening next 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
muscleaddict Posted June 3, 2023 Author Share Posted June 3, 2023 On 6/1/2023 at 8:18 AM, Jtchef2 said: Another amazing chapter. Keep them coming Thank you, mate. Lots more to come! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
muscleaddict Posted June 3, 2023 Author Share Posted June 3, 2023 3 hours ago, Mickeypuk said: This going to be another epic novel More twists and turns keeping us hooked with baited breathe to know what is happening next Actually it's pretty boring stuff, mate. No twists. No turns. And definitely no cliffhangers. 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
muscleaddict Posted June 3, 2023 Author Share Posted June 3, 2023 On 5/31/2023 at 7:03 PM, crushme99 said: Somehow, our group of MA's fans needs to assemble the right group – oh, excuse me, "a proper group" – of serious studly bodybuilders as cast members. For what? Well, for this story… which is pretty much unfolding like a movie script. MA gets to conduct auditions and direct the film, of course. But he will need several dozen extras to serve as the hands-on muscle worshipers of all the cast members. I wonder where we could find those extras? Where oh where? Really superior writing, MA. This is so good. Haha! Funnily enough, I came across a Spanish bodybuilder on Instagram recently who isn't a million miles away from what I imagine Danny to look like. Albeit, a prettier version. We'd have to rough him up a bit if he were gonna play Danny. And obviously, test out his Mancunian accent. 9 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
crushme99 Posted June 3, 2023 Share Posted June 3, 2023 4 hours ago, muscleaddict said: Haha! Funnily enough, I came across a Spanish bodybuilder on Instagram recently who isn't a million miles away from what I imagine Danny to look like. Albeit, a prettier version. We'd have to rough him up a bit if he were gonna play Danny. And obviously, test out his Mancunian accent. Sign him up. Immediately. If his accent is too terrible we can always pull a Henry Higgins on him. 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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