Muscle Lads, Inc.

[BrzNLA]

On 10/23/2023 at 12:50 PM, muscleaddict said:

Oh yeah, I've definitely cringed reading older stories back. Haha! I also find it really hard not to be in editing mode when I'm reading my older stories. Even if it's just the grammar. Thanks for this though, mate. And I will definitely carry on experimenting and trying different things. That's something I'm keen to do!

As for more Deano and Ozzie, I don't have any plans at the moment but I definitely wouldn't rule it out! 

That’s awesome to hear it mate. Your stories are so fun to read and I love your storytelling style. Keep on going mate.

[muscleaddict]

On 10/23/2023 at 8:31 PM, DennisFLL said:

Ozzie and Deano are certainly among my favorites.  But I haven't heard anyone mention AJ Jones, from just a few years ago.  Anyone out there remember him? 

I'm expecting him to get a fair few votes too (insert AJ emoji: ).

[muscleaddict]

On 10/24/2023 at 9:26 PM, IronandGold said:

I laughed. thank you. way to lock up the nick and Danny storyline. just the sweetest.

like Nick, I would have spent all day wondering if Danny was gonna change his mind. Danny handled it like a champ.

Bless you, mate. Now I'm thinking about it, Danny is possibly one of my most mature, level-headed characters. Which is why chapters from Danny's point of view probably wouldn't have been as much fun! 

[muscleaddict]

Here we go. The final chapter and as pre-warned, it's quite a lengthy one!

TWENTY-FOUR

ALFIE

My head is an absolute fucking mess. Last week I got drunk and kissed Curtis. Yesterday I got drunk and kissed Nick. I really just need to stop getting drunk and kissing lads.

The crazy thing is, I’ve never really questioned my sexuality before. Well … at least not until what happened in Curtis’ room last weekend. I always just assumed I was straight. I mean - I know there are rumours about me being bisexual, but that’s only because I’m friendly (and occasionally I guess a little flirty) with the gay fans on Instagram. Right? And yes I have a gay dad. And a gay coach. And now I have a gay flatmate too. And I’m okay with all of that. But I’ve always thought of myself as being straight. I mean - I'm Alfie Winters. Of course I’ve always just thought I was straight!

But there are a couple of things that are bugging me. Things that keep coming into my head and niggling away at me. So I’ve had sex with girls. (Obviously!) And I’ve even had a couple of girlfriends, though nothing serious. One of them I even sort of forgot about while we were together!

But I don’t think I’ve ever really liked a girl that much. I’ve never really been out with a girl and been really excited just at the thought of seeing her. Or found myself thinking about her (like, a LOT) even when she wasn’t around. And getting this sort of warm, fuzzy feeling every time I do. Just like I do with Curtis.

And I definitely don't remember ever kissing a girl and not being able to stop thinking about it afterwards. Wanting to be back there in her bedroom. With my hands on her waist. My lips on hers. Scooping and cuddling her up in my arms. Just like I fucking do with Curtis.

And when I take Curtis out of the equation, when I think about lads in general, I do find myself looking at certain lads in the gym, at shows, on social media, even just on TV or walking around town and thinking to myself that they're cute or handsome or whatever. Or noticing how amazing certain bodybuilders' physiques are. How amazing the shapes of their abs are. Or how incredible their thick, shredded glutes look. But don’t all lads do that? Especially bodybuilders? Surely we appreciate huge, shredded, crazily developed fellow muscle freaks more than anyone?

And then there’s Max O’Reilly. Max was a junior bodybuilder I became friends with when I first started training at The Muscle Factory. He was only a year older than me. He didn’t have the most amazing physique or anything. He had some decent size but he was pretty lean. He was so chuffing handsome too. When he smiled his face just sort of transformed and he became even MORE handsome. Anyway, me and Max hung out quite a bit. We even did a show together. Then he moved to London for uni and stopped bodybuilding and I haven’t seen him in years. 

I hardly ever think about Max O'Reilly now. But back then. When he was living in Manchester and training at The Muscle Factory and the two of us were mates - I thought about him. A lot. In fact, I think I was a little bit obsessed with him. And now I’m starting to think - did I actually like Max O Reilly? Were those feelings towards him more than just friendship? Is a similar thing now happening with my adorable, yellow woolly jumper-wearing, children's author-slash-special needs teacher friend Curtis Mayhew?

My stomach clenches as I pick up my phone and look at the icon for the Instagram app. Has Curtis messaged me again since his last DM last week? A message I never replied to. A part of me WANTS him to have. I brace myself as I head into the app. And then my stomach drops. There are no notifications there. Curtis hasn't messaged me again.

I shut down the Instagram app and go to my unread emails instead. They’re mostly from Netflix and various muscle-related websites. I select most of them to delete and then I suddenly stop when I see a familiar name amongst the emails. Why is Kevin emailing me? I sit up and rest my back against my bedroom wall, feeling a twinge of nerves as I go into the email. Am I about to get a written bollocking in email form from my dad’s boyfriend? Surely not. Kevin said he understood. He’s pretty much the only person who has.

My eyes scan down the email.

Hey Alf - I hope you’re okay after Colin’s birthday. I know you’re struggling with the whole drag thing but could you do me a little favour? When you have a spare five minutes could you please just check out the below link and have a read? It’s an interview your dad did for a website a couple of years ago. You’re completely valid to feel the way you do but it might help the situation a little.

Take care, kiddo.

P.S. Your dad doesn’t know I’m doing this and would probably kill me if he found out!

I close my eyes. For some reason, I feel a sting and my eyes suddenly water. Kevin really is a good guy. And I was a complete fucking shit to him when I was a gobby little teenager. And he just took it all. Just because I was his boyfriend’s son. 

I put my phone down and grab my laptop instead. I sit back down on my bed and lean my back against the wall again. My chest tightens as I open up Kevin’s email and click on the link. I have no idea what I’m getting into or what I’m about to read, but I know I have to do this. I owe it to Kevin. And I owe it to my dad too, I guess. 

As soon as the website opens my stomach clenches tightly. I wince slightly at the image of my dad dressed up in his drag persona Ms Vera Monsoon. Make-up, wig, dress, the works. It’s obviously from a professional photo shoot because he looks a little different to how he did on stage. More … glamorous, I guess? My glamorous drag queen dad. I take a deep breath and start to read the interview.

My dad’s talking about his style of drag. Comedy. Camp. Pretty old-school, apparently. He tells the interviewer which drag queens he looks up to. Who inspires him. None of this is particularly interesting to me. It would probably be a bit like my dad reading an interview with a bodybuilder.

The interviewer mentions the fact that he came to drag later in life, which makes sense, and the fact that he was married to a woman. My dad reveals that he didn’t think being gay was an option because his parents were deeply religious, which I sort of knew from things my mum has told me. That he felt like being straight and marrying a woman and having a family was the right thing to do. The normal thing to do. And then he reveals that he doesn’t have a relationship with his parents.

My stomach pulls. I look away from the laptop. And now I’m suddenly remembering the few times my mum (never my dad) took me to see my paternal grandparents. How my dad’s mum was a little frosty and uptight and didn’t really know how to speak to me and my brother. I remember thinking that she seemed like a slightly scary head teacher. And Dad’s dad seeming fairly nice, if a little vacant.

God - imagine not wanting to have anything to do with your son just because he’s gay. I just can’t make sense of that.

I carry on reading. He tells the interviewer he has a good relationship with his ex-wife now, but there’s still a lot of guilt there too. My stomach feels heavy. I always sided with my mum when I was younger. I always thought how awful it must have been for her to have married a guy who was secretly gay. How humiliating it must have been when she found out her husband would rather live with a man called Kevin, who he collects teapots and Royal Family memorabilia with. I never really thought about the other side of the story. My dad’s side.

He goes on to tell the interviewer how the experience of being married and lying to himself and everyone around him has helped him realise how important it is to live authentically. And how drag was like a lifeline after he came out to his wife and his parents and broke away from that life of lying. How drag was a lifeline when he was at his lowest. 

I think back to what Ross said to me in this very room when he came to visit me all those weeks ago. That drag was important to Dad. Ugh. I hate it when Ross is right. My brother might be annoying and kind of pompous sometimes but he’s pretty much always right.

And then I suddenly sit up straighter. Because the interviewer is asking my dad about his sons. About me and Ross and whether we know that he does drag. Dad says we don’t. I scroll up to the top of the page. The article is dated from two years ago. So Ross didn’t know two years ago. I scroll back down and carry on reading.

It’s a conversation I know I need to have with them at some point. It didn’t feel necessary to tell them when they were younger, but now they’re both in their twenties it’s something that I’ve started to think about. But it’s something that makes me nervous. To be honest, it’s pretty terrifying. I think it’s the fear of rejection. And God knows I’ve had enough of that. That they won't be able to accept me doing drag. My boys are the best thing that ever happened to me. 

Jesus, Dad. The interviewer mentions that my dad pauses for a moment and implies that he becomes emotional. Fucking hell. My eyes water again. 

I think some queer people live in this constant fear that the people we love won’t accept us for who we are. I’ve already come out as gay. But I guess there’s one more hurdle I have to face on my path to acceptance.

The interviewer asks Dad what his ideal outcome would be. His sons coming to his drag shows etc. But my dad says no.

I wouldn’t expect that. Should I? I don’t know. I guess it’s a nice idea, but it doesn’t really feel that essential that they’d come to my shows. I guess more than anything I just want them to know that their dad’s a drag queen and for them to accept it and for it not to be a big enough problem that it affects our relationship. I get there might be a bit of embarrassment there. They’re lads after all. And they’re both straight. I guess it’s what we all want as queer people. To know we’re accepted and understood. But above all that, ultimately, I just want my boys to be okay.

I shut down my laptop and close my eyes. It feels like someone’s lifted the blinkers off my eyes. Like someone’s pulled the blinds open. All of those words from Dad's interview are swirling around my head. My stomach pulls. And I’m suddenly flooded with guilt. At the way I’ve acted. At the way I’ve BEEN acting. 

I bite my lip and open up my laptop again. I go to Google and do the very thing I’ve been so afraid to do. I do a search on my dad’s drag name. Ms Vera Monsoon. (I don’t know anything about drag, but that name is kind of catchy, no?) His Instagram comes up straight away. I feel a tug in my stomach as I click on it. Wait - he’s got MORE fucking Instagram followers than I have? Fair play, Dad! 

And there he is. In all his drag queen glory. And I still find it strange. Seeing him like that. But at least now I understand. A little bit more, anyway. His latest post is advertising a drag night where he’s performing. I’m pretty sure it’s at the bar we went to last time. And wait - it’s today. Bank Holiday Monday. My insides suddenly clench. I think I know what I need to do.

I walk into the kitchen to find Danny with his back to me and Nick sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen table taking a bite of pizza. He moans and looks like he’s having an orgasm. I laugh out loud, and he sees me and chuckles too.

“Enjoying that?”

Nick nods and goofily grins and he carries on munching away on what I assume is his first taste of pizza in four weeks. I look down and suddenly realise what’s on his black hoodie.

“Are you … wearing a Panthers hoodie?”

Danny spins around fully, and it’s now that I can see he’s wearing the exact same hoodie. What the fuck is going on? First, they’re sharing clothes. Now they’re wearing MATCHING hoodies?!

Nick looks sheepish and nods. I swear he’s blushing a little.

“Oh. You went to Panthers then?” I ask, my stomach clenching

Nick shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“I got him the hoodie,” Danny says casually like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Want some pizza?” 

Was I supposed to get Nick a Muscle Factory hoodie all those weeks ago?

“Erm. Sure.”

Danny hands me a slice of pizza. “So … you two are just wearing the same clothes now?”

Nick and Danny glance at each other and exchange a knowing smirk.

“It was the only colour they had,” Danny says, with a shrug. Still acting like all of this is completely normal.

“Are you trying to turn Nick into some sort of mini-me version of yourself?” I say. I mean it to sound like a joke, but I don’t think it comes out that way.

“Why?” Danny says, matter-of-factly. “You jealous?”

Nick looks at me and his mouth curls into a little grin. Danny remains deadpan, but I know Danny King well enough to know he’s fucking with me.

“Yeah,” I say, pulling a face. “I want a mate who wears the exact same clothes as I do. Cause THAT’S not weird,” I joke before I bite into my pizza, suddenly wondering what I’d look like in a yellow woolly jumper. 

“So … now that no one’s training for anything, do you two, erm … fancy going out somewhere? Tonight? Since it’s a bank holiday and all?”

“Where?” Nick asks.

“Same bar as last time? There’s this show on,” I say, swallowing and feeling nervous. “A drag show.” Nick and Danny exchange a look.

“I’m up for it!” Danny says casually, clearly sensing that I don't want to make a big deal of it.

Nick nods. “Sounds good,” he says, looking surprised and giving me a kind little smile.

“Cool! In about an hour?” I say, putting the pizza crust on Nick’s plate and pretending like everything's normal. “PLEASE don’t wear those hoodies though!”

An hour or so later and me, Nick and Danny are all heading towards Canal Street in our skinny jeans and tight t-shirts. I keep getting waves of nerves when I think about what I’m walking into. But I know I need to do this. I’m so glad Nick and Danny are here.

“Woah,” Nick says as we turn onto Canal Street. “Déjà vu!" 

I look at Nick and we exchange smiles.

“Only this time, Danny can drink,” I say.

“Oh yeah!” Nick says in an excited tone. “I’ve never seen you drunk,” he says to Danny. There’s a certain way Nick talks and looks at Danny. It’s different to how he is with me. Danny gives Nick a sort of cute smile.

“He’s actually nice to me when he’s drunk,” I tease.

“I’m always nice to you.”

“Mmmm. When you’re not making jokes about me being a midget.”

“That’s not me not making jokes, though. That’s just me stating facts.”

“Yeah, well at least I’m not fifty per cent gorilla.”

Danny laughs. “That’s not really an insult though.”

I look over at Danny and we exchange smiles.

“So Alfie’s a midget and Danny’s part-gorilla,” Nick says. What does that make me?”

“The nicest, most adorable guy ever,” I say. “Well … when you’re not shagging your coach’s boyfriend in public toilets.”

Nick rolls his eyes. But he’s got this cute, bashful smirk on his face. Presumably because of what I just labelled him. I won’t tell him that I’m now thinking that I probably got that wrong. The second nicest, most adorable guy ever is probably more accurate. Behind a certain someone else I know.

When we reach the entrance to the lively pub, the big beefy bouncer on the door looks wide-eyed at the three of us before fixating on Danny (and so it begins) and lets us all in the pub. 

The place is packed and buzzing. We’re getting shit loads of looks as usual. I always feel this sort of excited rush whenever I go to gay places. Everyone’s just so warm and welcoming. It’s almost like I’m meant to be here. In a weird sort of way.

As I’m standing at the bar with Danny and Nick I spot someone suddenly coming towards me with determination. My stomach tightens. It’s Kenny - the ridiculously tall Black guy from my dad’s birthday. The one who was really friendly and flirty. Only this time he’s in full fucking drag. 

“Oh my God. You’ve multiplied!” he (she?) cries, before kissing me on my both cheeks which I don’t think I’ve ever done before in my life and putting his (her?) arm around me.

I cautiously look at Danny, who doesn’t really seem phased by his presence. Nick seems to be in awe of him.

“This is Nick and Danny.”

“Hello, whichever one you are,” he says, looking straight at Danny. I bark out a laugh, then feel bad for Nick. But then Kenny puts his arm around Nick. “Awww, you’re cute too,” he teases.

“Thanks!” Nick squeaks awkwardly. “Can I, erm … have a selfie?”

What the hell? 

“Of course!”

And now I’m taking a picture of Nick and my dad’s drag queen friend, Kenny, for reasons I’m not quite sure of.

“Babe - you do know your dad’s performing here in a bit?” Kenny says, looking genuinely concerned.

My chest tightens. “I know.”

He nods and then gives me a kind smile before saying bye and strutting off. Jesus. All of these drag queens have so much confidence. It’s hard not to be in awe of that.

“Alf - how do you know Mariah Fairy?” Nick says, wide eyed.

Danny laughs. “What a name.”

“He was at my dad’s birthday. Why?”

“She’s famous!”

My eyes drift over to where my dad’s apparently famous friend is standing. Wait - is that - the guy next to him turns around and I feel a pinch of nerves when I see that yep, it’s Kevin. He gives me a tight-lipped smile and briefly holds his pint glass up.

“Who’s that?” Nick asks me.

I swallow. “That’s my stepdad,” I reply, surprising myself. I’ve never described Kevin in that way before, but at the end of the day, I guess that’s what he is.

And then another drag queen is on the microphone addressing the whole pub and my stomach clenches with nerves as the three of us find a spot to stand. He makes a joke about how they’ve got “some big butch lads in the audience tonight” at which point Kevin spins around and cheekily smiles at me.

The drag queen announces the first performer, and my insides clench when he introduces the “iconic” and “legendary” Ms Veera Monsoon and I suddenly have a panicked thought that I shouldn’t be doing this. That this whole thing is one huge mistake. And then something happens. I feel something tugging on my arm. I look down to find Nick has linked my arm with his. I look up at the flatmate I drunkenly kissed yesterday to find him giving me this sort of cute, kind, tight-lipped smile and my heart expands.

The audience starts cheering, which I can’t quite bring myself to do. And soon enough, here he is. On stage in his wig and sparkly dress. Ms Vera Monsoon. My dad, the drag queen. I feel my body tense up. It’s still weird seeing him dressed like this, but now I know what all of this means to my dad. What me just being here will mean to him.

As the set goes on, it’s hard not to notice how much my dad loves being on that stage. He’s thriving. I guess I can relate to that at least. I even find myself laughing at some of the jokes. Because he IS funny. And all the time my dad's on stage, Nick is gripping my arm with his.

I keep waiting for signs that my dad has noticed me in the audience, but so far there hasn't been any. But just as the music for ABBA’s “Waterloo” starts up, the moment comes. He’s spotted me. His expression falters. I don't know what my face is doing right now, but I hope I don’t look too uncomfortable.

“Are you okay?” Nick shouts into my ear.

I nod and offer up a smile. “Is this just your excuse to feel me up?” I say, tugging at his arm. Nick rolls his eyes and grins at me.

“Are we okay, after, you know … yesterday?” I ask him.

Nick pulls a reassuring face and nods.

“I can't believe you’ve met someone new already. You move fast!”

Nick sheepishly grins. And soon enough the performance is over. And the crowd are cheering. And I find myself clapping too. And then something hits me which I definitely didn’t expect. I feel proud. Of my big gay drag queen dad in his sparkly bloody dress.

And now I need to do something else. I neck my drink back and walk over to Kevin, feeling the eyes of pretty much everyone on me as I burst out of my tight white t-shirt.

“Ey up, kiddo,” Kevin says to me with a big warm smile.

“All right, Kev.”

“This is a nice surprise.”

“I, erm … got your email,” I say, feeling awkward all of a sudden. Kevin just gives me a tight-lipped smile and nods.

“Will he be out soon? My dad?”

“He should be. You could go backstage and see him if you want?”

My chest tightens at the suggestion. Although … maybe it would be better to speak to him somewhere more private rather than out here with everyone around.

“Would I be allowed?”

Kevin pulls a face and nods. And now I’m following Kevin through the bar and towards a door near the toilets. My stomach pulls as I walk into a small dressing room with my dad sitting in front of a mirror. Still fully dragged up. Still dressed as a woman. He stops still when he sees me and spins around in his chair.

“Visitor for you, miss. Your dad’s such a diva he gets his own dressing room,” Kevin jokes.

Dad looks at me. He’s smiling, but I can tell he’s nervous. I’m nervous too. 

“Ey up, Alf.”

It’s so weird. It’s my dad talking. In his normal voice. But it’s coming out of this larger-than-life female impersonator in a glittery dress and big blonde wig.

“All right, Dad.”

“I’ll leave you lads alone,” Kevin says, giving my shoulder a warm squeeze. I almost don’t want him to go.

Dad’s looking at me. Things suddenly feel awkward.

“Well, I want to ask if you enjoyed the show but … maybe that’s slightly wishful thinking.”

I bite my lip. “I kind of did?” I say, wincing. 

“Apart from the bit where your old dad was dressed as a woman,” he jokes, with a kind smile.

“Dad. Umm. I’m sorry. You know. For what I said at your birthday.”

He looks so touched. Wow.

“Alf - I know it must be weird for you! It would be weird for most people to see their dad dressed like this. Why do you think I waited so long to tell you? Not that I did tell you!”

I bite my lip and nod. “It IS a bit weird. But … I think I’m getting used to it.”

My dad smiles and the atmosphere in the room suddenly relaxes.

“Does this help?” he asks, removing his wig.

“It helps a little. You still look a bit weird though.”

Dad laughs.

“When you texted me. You know … the day after. I didn’t really think, ‘Right, I’m just gonna ignore him.’ I just … I dunno …”

“Thought if you ignored the problem it would just go away?”

A laugh escapes my lips. “Yeah!”

“Alf, I’ve spent most of my life hoping my problems will go away if I just ignore them.”

I find myself smiling at my dad. But then my chest suddenly tightens. Because I’m thinking about another problem I've been ignoring. Another person whose messages I haven't replied to.

“Can I ask you something?”

My dad gives me a warm smile. “Anything.”

I swallow. “How come … you told Ross and not me?”

My dad laughs. “I didn’t! Ross found out by accident. I’d liked some post or comment on Instagram, I think, and it led him to my drag profile.”

He gives me a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh right,” I say, suddenly feeling a little lighter.

“You know, Alf, your brother wasn’t one hundred per cent okay with it at first, either!”

I let out a shocked laugh. “You’re kidding?!”

“Nope.”

I’m smiling and shaking my head. I can't believe it!

“What a fucking hypocrite!”

Dad laughs. “Language, Alf! I’m still your dad.”

I smile at him.

“I wanted to sit you both down and tell you at some point but …” he says, rolling his eyes. “Out of the two of you, you were the one I was worried about telling the most.”

A pang of guilt hits me.

“I had a feeling you might struggle with it more. You were always the more laddish one. With all of your bodybuilding and stuff. But … even though you might not like to think it, you’ve always been a bit more sensitive than your brother too,” he says, giving me a kind smile.

My stomach pulls. I don't really know what to say to that. But I guess it's true.

“Kevin said … something about you two coming to one of my bodybuilding shows?" I say. "He said you think I’d be embarrassed? Well ... I actually wouldn’t!”

My dad smiles in response. I can see that means a lot to him.

“Even if I turned up like this?” he quips. I don't respond and my dad laughs. “Don’t look so worried. I’m joking! I would love to come to your show, Alfie.”

My chest expands and I smile at him.

“Although I think Kevin might have an alternative motive?”

I look at my dad blankly.

“He’s always had a thing for Muscle Marys!”

I grin in response, not really knowing what that means, but getting the gist of it anyway.

“Dad …” my chest tightens. “I think I like someone,” I say, surprising myself. I swallow.

“And ... it’s not a girl.”

Oh wow. Saying those words wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be. It almost feels like a weight has been lifted. My dad gives me a tight-lipped smile. He looks like he might cry.

“Oh, Alf.”

Wait - did my dad know? Even before I did?

“And … I don't know know if that makes me gay. Or bisexual. But … I kind of can’t stop thinking about him.”

And kissing him. I can’t stop thinking about kissing Curtis. Sweet, adorable Curtis Mayhew and his yellow woolly jumper.

“I think it’s easy to get caught up in labels. And you know, Alf. I know it’s a cliche but things are so much easier for you youngsters now.”

“I think ... I’ve maybe always sort of known?" I say. "Maybe it was just too big of a thing to wrap my head around. Or maybe I was too afraid to really think about it?”

Wow. I don't really know where that came from. But I know what I'm saying is true. 

“I can relate to that!” my dad says. “Well, you know your mum and I will love you whatever.”

I nod, feeling a sting in my eyes. “I don't think I’ll be dressing up like a girl any time soon though.”

My dad laughs. “With that body? I don’t think you could pull it off, Alf!”

I smile at my dad, now trying to picture my part-gorilla flatmate Danny King as a drag queen.

“Can I take a picture of us? You know … with you like that? I kinda wanna text it to Ross!”

My dad narrows his eyes at me suspiciously but smiles. “Will you two ever stop trying to get one up on each other?”

My dad puts his wig back on as I get my phone out and snap a selfie of the two of us smiling into the camera. My chest expands as I look at the picture and I text it to my brother with a caption.

I’ve decided Dancing Queen is my favourite song after all.

I feel a smug sense of satisfaction as I hit send. I tell my dad I’ll see him in a little while and leave his dressing room. As I head out, my phone chimes with a reply from Ross.

I’m glad you finally decided to grow up.

I roll my eyes and smile as I put my phone back in my pocket.

As I walk back up to Nick and Danny, I’m suddenly filled with this rush of love and warmth. For my dad. For Kevin, who I’m definitely going to start referring to as my stepdad. And for my flatmates too. Who are also two of my closest mates, I guess.

But then I notice something. The way Nick and Danny are talking is odd. It looks a little intense. And as I approach the two of them, I sense this weird atmosphere. Nick looks kind of nervous. And now I suddenly feel nervous too. Why do I get the sense I was just being talked about? There’s definitely something going on. I know that much.

“Everything okay?” I ask, suspiciously. Nick bites his lip and nods.

“Okay. What if I’ve missed?”

Nick shoots a look at Danny. He looks a bit awkward too, but not as much as Nick.

“We’ve … got something to tell you,” Danny says.

I don't think I've ever seen Nick looking this nervous. I almost want to laugh.

“Okay?”

It all happens so fast. But without another word, Danny wraps his arms around Nick’s torso from the back. Then he rests his chin on Nick’s shoulder. This cute smile emerges on Nick’s face. What the - and all of a sudden, I’m hit with this unexpected burst of happiness.

“Wait - you two?!”

Nick bites his lip and grins and Danny nods. Nick and Danny. Danny and Nick. Bloody hell.

“Hang on - YOU’RE gay?” I ask Danny. I can’t believe this.

Danny gives a casual shrug. “Bisexual.”

I don’t know how to feel. Shock that Danny King likes lads. Happy that he and Nick are a thing. Kind of pissed off that Danny never told me. But along with all of that, I also feel strangely comforted. That I’m not alone. That Danny King is just like me. All this time. Danny was just like me.

“Jesus. Is anyone straight around here?”

“You know we’re literally on the gayest street in the country?” Danny says.

Nick gives me a warm smile and I smile back. I can’t help thinking how fucking cute they look together. Especially this image right now. Danny’s big tanned arms around Nick. Squeezing him. Nick gripping onto Danny’s veiny forearm. I feel a weird pull in my stomach. 

“I guess that explains borrowing each other's clothes. And the matching hoodies.”

“I told you. It was the only colour they had,” Danny says. But I’m not so convinced. “Nick, I think it’s your round.”

Nick twists his head to look at Danny, then at me. “Okay,” he says, clearly taking the hint. He wriggles out of Danny’s grip and heads to the bar, leaving me alone with Danny King.

“How come you never told me?” I ask my ridiculously huge, handsome and now bisexual friend. Danny King is bisexual!

He shrugs. “I didn’t really have a reason to.”

I pull a face. “Fair enough.”

"I just ... don't really like making a big deal out of it. Even if it kind of is. Everything okay with your old man?”

I slowly nod. “Yeah. I mean … it’s still a bit weird. Seeing him dressed up like that. I think I must be the only bodybuilder in the world who has a drag queen for a dad.”

Danny smirks. “Well, you DO like to be different.”

“Hang on - so, if you fancy lads, does that mean all this time we’ve lived together you’ve secretly wanted to shag me?"

Danny gives me a look. “How many times do I have to tell you, mate? I’m not into midget sex.”

I smile and Danny smirks back at me. Then his expression turns serious.

“Is everything else okay?”

My stomach twists. 

“Erm.”

I don’t really know what Danny’s talking about here. Wait - does he know? Has Nick said something to him?

“I think so?” I say, trying to sound casual, but not quite sure if I’m pulling it off.

Danny puts his hands firmly on my shoulders. “You know you can talk to me, mate. About anything!”

What the fuck? The atmosphere suddenly eases with Nick coming back. “All right?” he says, handing me my drink. Danny takes his grip off me.

“Yep. Your new boyfriend was just trying to feel me up,” I joke. 

“Nick - aren’t those your mates over there?” Danny says.

I turn around and spot Nick’s friends. The sassy lesbian and the fun, flirty gay guy from that night I saw my dad in drag for the first time.

“Oh God,” Nick groans. “I don't think I have the energy for Benji tonight. I’m surprised Curtis isn’t with them.”

My heart jumps into my throat at the mention of that name.

“Wait - what? Curtis who?”

Nick pulls a face. “YOUR Curtis!” he says like it's obvious.

My Curtis! My heart pinches. I’m so confused. Why would Curtis be with Nick’s friends?

“They’re all friends apparently," Nick tells me. "I only found out today. I ran into all three of them on the way to The Muscle Factory.”

“You saw Curtis?”

I realise how weird my voice is. But Nick saw Curtis. Today!

“Was ... he okay?” I ask, swallowing hard.

Nick looks confused. “Ummm. Yeah! Well, he seemed a bit … I dunno, off, I guess. I think maybe he's a bit unsure about the whole Liverpool thing? I guess it’s a big step.”

My stomach pulls and I don’t know why. What is Nick talking about?

“What Liverpool thing?"

I feel a sense of dread. Like I’m not going to like whatever Nick’s about to say.

“Erm,” Nick suddenly looks a bit sheepish. “Curtis has got a new teaching job in Liverpool.”

I feel a jolt of panic. Fuck. What the fuck?

“Has he not told you?”

My stomach is churning. My mind is racing. Curts is moving to Liverpool? That can't be right. Can it? Curtis mentioned Liverpool the last time I saw him. He was going there last weekend to visit a mate. But he never said anything about a job interview.

Curtis is going to Liverpool? Curtis is leaving Manchester? Why didn’t he tell me? And then I suddenly realise why. Because I haven’t been speaking to him. Because I never replied to that DM he sent me after the last time I saw him.

I get my phone out and open up Instagram and for the first time in almost a week, I open up my inbox. But instead of seeing Curtis’ shredded_muscle_lover97 handle it just says “Instagram User”. What the fuck? I click on the handle, but instead of being taken to his page, I get a “Page not found”. Did Curtis delete his Instagram? Why has Curtis deleted his Instagram? Panic shoots through me.

I could DM him on his regular author profile. The one with “best-selling children's author” in his bio. The one he showed me the first time we met. Or I could text him. I head to the messaging app on my phone. I type a message.

Are you moving to Liverpool?

I hover my finger over the send button, but something stops me. Because what right do I have to just text him out of the blue? And what if he doesn’t respond? And what if he does? What do I say then? How do I say to Curtis that I don't want him to go? That I think I like him. No - that I KNOW I like him. That I can’t stop thinking about him. About kissing him. About his hands being on my chest. Feeling my biceps. How it felt to put my arms on his waist and kiss him. How do I tell him all of that over a fucking text?

I don’t even think about what I do next. I turn to Nick and Danny. “I think I’m gonna go.”

“What? Why?” Danny asks.

I swallow. “I kind of need to do something.”

I look at Nick. He furrows his eyebrows in concern.

“I kind of need to see Curtis.”

Nick’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open. Like he’s now just realising. And then his face softens and his mouth curls into a warm grin. I roll my eyes and smile back at him. 

And then I leave Danny King and Nick Malone to do the thing I know I need to do. 

Half an hour later I’m in East Didsbury standing in front of and looking up at the block of flats Curtis Mayhew lives in. I flashback to the weekend before last. Me being drunk and having just caused a scene at my dad’s birthday. I remember how excited I was that day standing on Curtis’ doorstep. To see where he lived. To see Curtis full stop. I still feel that now. I’m nervous too, obviously. But there’s something else surging through me. This steely determination. I have no idea how this is going to go. But I know I have to be here. I know I have to do this.

A couple of people walk past me into the building, their heads turning at the image of the bodybuilder bulging out of his tight white t-shirt. I take advantage of the open door and sneak into the building behind them so I don’t have to press Curtis’ buzzer. 

And now I’m on the doorstep to his flat. Number 21 according to the DM still on my phone from the now-deleted profile. My stomach pulls. Curtis deleted his Instagram. Is that because of me? Because he no longer wants anything to do with me? My chest tightens as I ring his doorbell. I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to say.

There’s no answer. I can’t hear any sound coming from inside of the flat. Because Curtis isn’t in. Fuck. I ring the doorbell again but nothing. No one comes. My heart drops. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I get my phone out and turn around. And then I hear a clicking noise and my heart leaps into my throat. I turn around to see the door opening.

“Alfie?”

And there stands Curtis Mayhew. With his blondey, light-brunette hair. And his wholesome heart-shaped face. Looking surprised to see me. Oh - and he’s wearing his yellow woolly jumper! The jumper I love so fucking much.

“Hey,” I say.

Curtis looks so confused.

“What are you …” he begins, but he trails off.

I swallow. “Can we talk?”

Curtis nods and lets me into his flat. I hear voices in the kitchen. Presumably his flatmate and someone else. I follow Curtis into his bedroom. The bedroom where that kiss happened. And where I completely freaked out afterwards. My stomach pulls at the memory.

Curtis awkwardly puts his hands in his jeans pockets and stands in the middle of the room. I hate how things are between us. Compared to how they were before. I guess that’s my fault.

“What’s up, Alfie?” Curtis says softly.

Oh shit. This is the part where I’m supposed to start talking.

“Don’t go to Liverpool!” I blurt out, with determination.

Curtis’ eyes widen. Then he looks confused. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

“Nick told me.”

Curtis nods. “Right …” he says, looking unsure.

“You can’t go,” I say, sounding less confident.

“Why not?” Curtis says, folding his arms and giving me this look. It's like he can tell my confidence is dwindling.

I swallow. “Because …” my chest tightens. Don’t lose your nerve now, Alfie.

“Because of what, Alfie?”

Curtis is looking at me. The silence in the room is getting more awkward by the second. All I have to do is say it. I just have to say the words.

“Because you were right."

Curtis’ expression softens.

"What you said to me the last time I was here. In this room. You were right. There IS something going on between us.”

Curtis bites his lip.

“I don’t really understand it. And I know I’m not supposed to be gay. Because I’m Alfie Winters. And my dad is gay. And he’s a drag queen."

I know I'm rambling on. I know I'm saying a bunch of stuff I don't need to but I can't seem to stop myself.

"And I’m not supposed to be like my dad who left us when he was four and now collects teapots with a man called Kevin but ... I have all these feelings. And all these thoughts. About you. About us.”

Curtis gently bites his lip.

“When I’m around you. Even when I’m just DM’ing you on Instagram. The way I feel. No one’s ever made me feel like that.”

The words just keep pouring out. Like they’re bursting to come out.

“And last week. When you were feeling my biceps. And my chest. When we kissed each other.”

I take a step closer to Curtis. One step closer to that yellow woolly jumper. And the adorable, amazing guy who's wearing it.

“I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about that kiss. And all I’ve wanted to do since then is kiss you again.”

Curtis isn't talking. He's just looking at me. But I can see from his face what those words mean. What all of this means to him.

“And THAT’S why you shouldn’t go to Liverpool.”

I finally stop talking. Silence fills the room as I wait for Curtis to reply. And then ...

“You … want to kiss me again?”

I take another step closer to Curtis, wrap my arms under his and around his back, push my torso against his torso and do the very thing I just told him I wanted to do. I kiss Curtis. I’m kissing Curtis. MY Curtis.

And it’s even more amazing. And even more special than before.

"Does that answer your question?"

Curtis laughs. The cutest, little laugh.

“And you’re not freaking out this time?”

I smile and shake my head, then I gently push my forehead against his. My arms are still wrapped around him. I'm squeezing him. Breathing him in. And this all feels right. Me and Curtis Mayhew. It just feels so right.

“So …” I say, pulling my face away from him, while still gripping onto him tight. “I've been thinking about the book you're gonna write about the bodybuilder. You know - the cute, loveable one who wears novelty socks and has pixie ears?”

Curtis' mouth curls into the cutest grin.

"And I think I've thought of a problem for him."

Curtis arches an eyebrow, still grinning.

“A dilemma to drive the story forward. You know - like you said."

“Go on.”

“So - get this. The bodybuilder starts DM’ing this muscle lover guy on Instagram who makes him laugh with all of these funny messages. And then, on a random Monday night when they’re both in London for work, the short-arsed bodybuilder and the muscle lover from Instagram meet in person.”

“Sounds …” Curtis pulls a face, “somewhat believable.”

I laugh. “It turns out, the muscle lover guy is this really cute children’s author slash special needs.”

Curtis’ mouth curls into this dreamy grin.

“Who also wears a yellow woolly jumper.”

“Hmmm. Are you sure it’s not highly fashionable, mustard-coloured knitwear?”

"No," I reply, shaking my head. “It’s a yellow woolly jumper.”

Curtis laughs. “So where does the big dilemma come in?”

“Well … the bodybuilder is straight. Supposedly! But … he can’t stop thinking about the Instagram guy. He does all this crazy stuff. Like inviting him to a friend's birthday to try and set him up with his gay flatmate, when really it’s just so he can see him again. And taking him to Tesco where he drops his joggers and flexes in his shiny pink Next Level Posers in the middle of an aisle. Oh … and he turns up to his school dressed like The Hulk.”

Curtis arches an eyebrow. “That sounds like it could be a particularly popular chapter with the readers.”

“Oh, it would be.”

“So what happens?”

“Well ... they eventually kiss each other,” I say, squeezing Curtis. He bites his lip. “The bodybuilder freaks out. But you know … eventually, he realises he’s been a right knob and then goes round to his house.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep. And the bodybuilder begs the teacher not to take the job in Liverpool. And … he asks the muscle lover to be his boyfriend.”

Curtis' eyes widen. “Boyfriend?!” 

The way he's looking at me right now. It's just SO fucking cute.

"Yep!" I say, squeezing Curtis tighter.

“What do you say? Will you stay in Manchester? With me? Will you be my boyfriend?”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m dead sure! I'm SO fucking sure. I don’t really know if I’m gay or if I’m bi yet, but I know I wanna be your boyfriend. I’m not wearing matching jumpers though.”

Curtis laughs. ”What?”

I shake my head. “Doesn't matter.”

Curtis grins as he grips onto my arms. His happy, amazed face scanning my muscular body. Like he can’t believe this is happening. I guess I can’t either.

“Is your dad really a drag queen?”

I laugh. “Yeah!”

“That’s ... pretty fucking awesome!" Curtis replies. "So ... this book that I'm supposedly going to write. About the bodybuilder and the muscle lover?"

"In the yellow woolly jumper!"

Curtis laughs. "How it’s going to end?”

I bring my lips to his and kiss Curtis again. And now our foreheads are touching. I’m still squeezing him hard. And then I answer Curtis Mayhew's question. (Curtis Mayhew. My fucking boyfriend!)

"Probably a bit like this.”

THE END

[Maxum]

Lovely ending. Thank you.

 

[MuscleJoe]

Omg. Omg. I’m just so happy

[biggymnast84]

Absolutely FANTASTIC wrap up to this story @muscleaddict!! You’ve done it again! 

[Louis24689383]

Everything will be alright in the end, if it's not alright, it's not the end.

Your stories always make me ponder what'll happen next. I see a future where Danny and Nick start a renowned gym in Hatton Chapel, the Tortoise's Shell.

Danny becomes a "Open Physique Class" bodybuilder, the class between Classic Physique and Open, with no weight limitations. But you need to be able to do a vacuum and your physique remains to be appealing and curvy. The first Mr. Olympia was the very waspy, huge arsed, wide lats, absolutely shredded French-Canadian Rémi Grenier. And currently Danny King.

Nick has outgrown Danny, not that Danny minds, as there's just more of Nick to love. He has become good friends with Montgomery University professor and Mr. Olympia competitor Luke Henderson, both of them absolute freaky monsters. Both always in the first call out, both not clutching the gold just yet. 

Alfie has become a proper sought-after coach, especially doing well with pocket rockets, and known for his showing off antics, often acompanying the world famous drag star Mrs. Veera Monsoon. Their act is to die for. 

I see a whole story unfolding there, but I could never get it as beautifully and lovingly told as Muscleaddict. Well slap my tits my eyes were getting quite watery again. 

Cheers mate for another stunning story.

P.S. the story should involve a ruined Vauxhall Astra 'cause it most certainly could not fit Danny and Nick. Or a demolished Crash set up, proper smashed to smithereens as these behomoths tried to wiggle their big bottoms in a place it couldn't fit 50lbs ago.

[StormWeaver]

I have really enjoyed reading this story - you have a real gift for writing. Thank you for sharing it with all of us.

[HawkShark]

Lovely story, and definitely a tear inducing ending. 

Thank you for writing it