Muscle Lads, Inc.

[muscleaddict]

On 6/10/2023 at 3:47 PM, DennisFLL said:

Wow!  Incredible interaction between the characters!  Who of the flat-mates will be dropping their beads first?   Who's going to be soon wanking whom?  Perfectly paced and twisting just right as the characters dance with each other, slowly revealing their emotions and libidos.  And MA, loved also your funny ending with Alfie's drag-queen dad! 

Dropping beads? Now you guys are teaching me sayings because I had to Google that one!  Glad you enjoyed the chapter, mate and the twist with Alfie's dad. It did make me smile when you made the comment about the possibilities of where Alfie having a gay dad could go! 

[muscleaddict]

On 6/10/2023 at 7:12 PM, Ozymandias said:

Danny is a curious one. There’s more to him. I’m keeping my eye on him.

There are some more Danny-orientated chapters on the way, so you'll definitely get to know him more! 

1 hour ago, Kamaswami said:

Whenever I think of Alfie's dad the only thing that comes to mind is the character Leslie from the British tv show Benidorm.

Haha!! That made me laugh, mate! Vera is definitely more polished looking than that! 

[DennisFLL]

18 minutes ago, muscleaddict said:

Dropping beads? Now you guys are teaching me sayings because I had to Google that one!   

Drop one's beads - "to reveal that your gay."

I would guess that it's not part of the Mancunian lingo?  Or from anywhere else in the UK! 

 

[calhoun]

I'm in the USA, and used to hear the phrase "dropping your pearls" in my youth.  But I'm now of a certain age, and I doubt that it's used anymore. 

[DennisFLL]

8 minutes ago, calhoun said:

I'm in the USA, and used to hear the phrase "dropping your pearls" in my youth.  But I'm now of a certain age, and I doubt that it's used anymore. 

I still hear from time to time 'dropping one's beads.'  I'm originally from NYC and this was always used there.  Usually in the context of one friend asking the other if someone is gay. The other responded, "I don't know, he hasn't dropped his beads yet."

[Built22]

So if Alfie isn't the bi one by means of deduction that means Danny is??

Unless Alfie is trying to hide it??

 

Just getting better 

Your stories should be on netflix 

 

[muscleaddict]

2 hours ago, Built22 said:

So if Alfie isn't the bi one by means of deduction that means Danny is??

Unless Alfie is trying to hide it??

 

Just getting better 

Your stories should be on netflix 

 

I'm afraid not, mate. Nick would have said something to his friends about the bisexual rumours when talking about his new flatmates, hence Benji asking Alfie if he was "the bisexual one." 

As for Netflix - is the world ready for cute bodybuilders with huge biceps, humongous sized arses spilling out of shiny trunks and Deano Snr? 

[Mickeypuk]

On 6/11/2023 at 8:09 PM, muscleaddict said:

There are some more Danny-orientated chapters on the way, so you'll definitely get to know him more! 

Haha!! That made me laugh, mate! Vera is definitely more polished looking than that! 

Living near Brighton I can vouch that drag queens look amazing 

[muscleaddict]

SIX

ALFIE

“Mate - are you sure you’re okay?” Danny asks me as the two of us walk from the pub back to the flat, after having left Nick with his friends.

“I’m fine!” I say in a tone that says, why the hell wouldn’t I be, without looking at my flatmate.

I’m not fine, though. Because I’ve just seen my dad wearing a fucking dress and a blonde wig with a full face of make-up, cracking jokes and singing some ridiculous song to an entire pub full of people (including my flatmates) while calling himself Vera. Fucking Vera!

“Did you know your dad did … that?”

I wish Danny would just stop talking. I know he’s only trying to be nice, but I really DON’T want to talk about the fact that I just found out that my dad is a fucking drag queen!

“Yep,” I reply, in a short, sharp manner, hoping he’ll take the hint.

Obviously, that’s a lie. I’ve known my dad was gay for years. I know that’s why he left me, my mum and my younger brother when I was only four years old. And that his mate, Kevin, who would sometimes come out with us on our weekends together and who would always be around at Christmas and other family occasions was actually his long-term boyfriend. 

And yes, it was kind of tough for me to get my head around at first. Yes, I hid it from my friends at the time. Yes, I was a right little shit to Kevin for a good year or so after I found out. But I got over it. I understood why he left us. I accepted the fact that I have a gay dad. 

But this? This drag queen thing? I honestly had no clue. And I really don’t know how I’m supposed to process this information. I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to think after seeing my dad wearing a sparkly bloody dress and pretending to be a woman. 

Why did I have to take Nick and Danny to a gay pub? Why did I have to choose THAT fucking gay pub? Why did I have to pick the night when my dad was going to be on stage performing as a drag queen?

“Do you think Nick’s gay?” Danny asks me.

MY DAD’S A FUCKING DRAG QUEEN.

“Erm. I haven’t really thought about it. Why?”

“Dunno,” Danny says. “Just … I get that impression. His friends, I guess.”

I look over at Danny but he’s not looking back. Maybe Nick IS gay. It kind of adds up now that I think about it. His friends are gay. And he seemed really relaxed and comfortable in that pub.

“You know when I told his mate that I wasn’t bisexual?”

Danny lets out a little laugh. “Yeah?”

“Nick seemed, I dunno, kinda disappointed?”

Danny’s lips curl into a little smile. Wait - what if Nick likes me? I mean … he’s only known me for a week. So he can’t like me THAT much. But he could have a crush on me. Why am I smiling to myself at that thought?

“I mean … he DOES wear pink posing trunks,” I reason.

Danny barks out a laugh. “Did you seriously just say that? Mate - YOU wear pink posing trunks. I could give you a long list of definitely NOT gay professional bodybuilders who wear pink posing trunks.”

Maybe that WAS a bit of a stupid comment.

“Okay, smart arse,” I say, smiling at my flatmate and actually feeling something close to normal for the first time since I found out that my dad moonlights as a woman called Vera Monsoon.

“How do you know Nick wears pink trunks?” Danny asks.

“Erm … he showed me pics from his last competition,” I reply.

Danny just half-heartedly nods.

“He won’t put them on his Instagram, though.”

“I know,” Danny says, his mouth curling into a knowing grin. “I looked at his profile when we were back in the pub.”

“That boy cares too much about what people think.”

As I say it, I realise that that’s kind of ironic, given tonight’s events. Given how much it bothered me that my dad was standing in front of me and my friends in a dress. 

“Mmmm,” Danny replies. “He needs to get over that if he’s gonna be a bodybuilder.”

I smile at my future pro bodybuilder of a flatmate. “That’s exactly what I said to him.”

I wake up the next day to find a text message sitting on my phone from my dad. 

Hi Alf. That was a nice surprise last night. Are you okay? Do you want to talk about anything?

I almost choke when I read it. A “nice surprise”? Is he fucking kidding me? I should reply, Yeah - that was really nice when you walked up to me in front of all my mates while dressed like a fucking woman, Dad!

And no - I don't want to fucking talk about the fact you dress up like a woman. Or anything else, for that matter.

I think about heading to Instagram and searching for the name Vera Monsoon. No - I’m not quite ready to see that yet. And I don’t think I actually want to talk to my dad right now. Maybe by tonight, I’ll feel differently. But right now, I don't feel like dealing with what happened at that pub last night. Or replying to that text message. I’m not sure if my dad really deserves a reply right now. Maybe a part of me wants to almost punish him.

By the time Monday morning comes and I’m up early and getting ready to head to London to see my sponsor, Got Shredz Nutrition, I still haven’t replied to Dad’s text message. I haven’t even looked at it since I first read it. I kind of just want to forget that it even exists. That Saturday night never happened.

I pick up my holdall and head out to catch my train and practically collide with Nick in the hallway. I’m a little taken aback. He’s wearing a tie and a shirt which hugs his body and is fairly tight around his upper arms, which look much thicker than normal. His pecs peeking underneath the material. His hair looks extra styled and neat. 

“Wow! You look … smart!”

Nick bites his lip and does an awkward smile. Huh. I don’t really know what’s happening, but he looks weird. He seems weird.

“You nervous? About your first day?”

“Ummm. A bit, I guess.”

Okay, something’s definitely up. And I don’t think it’s the work thing. It’s like there’s this weird atmosphere between us. Like something’s happened since I last saw him.

“Missed you yesterday,” I said.

“Er, yeah. I just stayed at Liv’s.”

Now that I think about it, Nick didn’t come into the kitchen or living room when he got in last night around seven. He just stayed in his room.

“Good night Saturday?” 

“Mmmm,” he mumbles, pulling a face like it wasn’t. I want to tell him that it wasn’t exactly a good night for me either, but I don’t.

I wish Nick good luck for his first day at his internship and tell him I need to go to catch my train to London and he awkwardly says bye. And as I’m heading to Manchester Picadilly, the whole thing is playing on my mind. 

Why was that so awkward? Is Nick pissed off at me? Is it because of the way I acted over the dad thing on Saturday night? The way I was with him when he said hello and Nick and Danny were right there? Could he tell I was embarrassed and felt weird about the whole thing? I guess I was a bit funny with my dad. A little rude maybe. I guess I did practically run out of the pub as quickly as I could. Maybe Nick now thinks I’m some massive homophobe who has a problem with the fact that his dad does drag? Which, if I’m being honest … I guess I kind of do?

Or maybe it’s the whole bisexual thing. Maybe he genuinely thought I was into lads and he’s disappointed now that he's found out I’m straight. Or maybe he’s just a bit embarrassed that he told his friends I was bi when I’m not?

Or maybe he was just genuinely feeling nervous about his first day at work? Maybe he thought he looked like a bit of a knob in his work clothes. (Nick definitely didn’t look like a knob in his work clothes.)

After getting the usual glances from people at the train station, even though I’m wearing my blue hoodie from The Muscle Factory, I’m now settled in on the train and on my way to London. To pass the time I load up a photo album on my phone which includes a bunch of pictures I took in my bedroom the day after my last show. The album contains shots of me hitting different poses in different coloured trunks and socks combos. 

I’m kind of famous for my novelty socks on Instagram. It kinda happened by accident. I uploaded a picture of myself wearing a pair with little pizzas on them one day and people seemed to go nuts over them. So then it became a thing. Me posting pictures and videos flexing in just trunks and novelty socks.

Every now and then I delve into this particular album and post a picture from it to Instagram. I have other albums too, but pics from this particular set always prove extra popular. It probably helps that I was in the best fucking condition of my life. The trunks and socks probably help too though!

I choose a shot of me hitting an abs and thighs in my shiny green Next Level Posers branded trunks and red socks with little pineapples on them and upload it with a completely random caption.

Did anyone ever find out where Cotton Eyed Joe DID come from, though? (P.S. The trunks STILL aren’t for sale so don’t DM.)

Seeing the likes and comments come in should keep me entertained for a little while while I’m stuck on this train. I also know there's a good chance people will see the comment about not DM’ing me as an invitation to do the opposite.

And sure enough, it isn’t long before the little red notification pops up to tell me I have a direct message. Only it’s not from some random user offering me £100 for my trunks. It’s from my new Instagram buddie, shredded_muscle_lover97. Before I even read the message I’m smiling. Because I know whatever is in this message is about to make me laugh. 

Genuine question. Is there any colour of posing trunks you DON’T own??

Okay - it’s not as funny as his previous DM’s, but I’m still grinning into my phone.

Haha! Erm. I don’t have yellow, silver or black!

A few moments later his reply comes through.

You would look so fucking good in silver! Black? Meh! They’re boring anyway

I instantly think of Danny. To be fair, those black trunks Danny often wears are still shiny. I type a reply, still grinning into my phone.

Ha! That’s what I’ve always said about black trunks. Silver eh? Hmmm. I may have to go on to the Next Level Posers website

His (whoever he is!) reply comes through seconds later.

DO IT! DO IT DO IT!

I grin and look up from my phone to catch some random business-type dude in a suit eyeballing me. He looks sheepish and quickly looks down. God knows what’s going through his head. But I can’t help smiling at what just happened.

I think of a reply to my new DM buddie. It feels kind of brave. But … fuck it. I’m stuck on this train for the next two hours. What else is there to do?

So what’s your favourite colour of trunks to see on a bodybuilder?

I bite my lip and wait for his reply. Why do I feel kind of nervous?

BEST QUESTION ANYONE’S EVER ASKED ME!

I let out a little laugh and the guy in the suit looks up again. This time he gives me a shy little smile. Hmmm. I wonder if he’d be up for filming a video of me posing in the aisle of the carriage? My new muscle loving Instagram buddie sends through another message.

So golden trunks are awesome (and I LOVE yours ) and I’ve always loved blue trunks (shiny ones OF COURSE!) but I think my absolute favourite has to be pink! There’s just something so fucking cool about seeing a shredded bronzed bodybuilder in shiny hot pink posers!

I want to reply back and tell him I couldn’t agree with his last sentiment more. That blue trunks are awesome but I also have a personal preference for green and purple. And that yeah - I fucking LOVE my sparkly golden posers too. Instead, I go back to the photo album I was in before and find the shots I took wearing those very golden posers. I select one of me hitting a front lat spread with the trunks pulled up with my black and yellow Star Wars socks. A cocky fuck-off smirk on my face. It’s funny - I actually remember taking this very specific shot.

I send it to shredded_muscle_lover97 with the caption: Oh. What - THESE golden trunks?

I feel a surprising pull of nerves as I hit send. Sending random muscle admirers pictures not yet posted. Have I lost my fucking mind? His reply comes through seconds later.

OMG!! Is that an exclusive pic? I’m honoured!!

This guy is so fucking sweet.

Oh, and you look fucking AWESOME, by the way. (Pssst. Cute socks too! )

I type a reply.

Haha! It will get posted eventually! Thanks, I love my Star Wars socks

I go back into my photo album. What’s the harm in sending just one more picture?

Hot pink posers huh? Are these pink enough?

Then I send a picture of myself squeezing a most muscular with a scrunched up face and eat shit grin while wearing my shiniest pink trunks and Hot Dog patterned socks pulled up to my shins. I actually can’t believe I haven’t posted this one on Instagram yet. It’s such a fucking badass shot.

I’M DYING HERE!! YOU’RE ACTUALLY KILLING ME! 

I grin like crazy into my phone. I think about replying, telling him that one of my flatmates has the very same pair of posing trunks. But that feels a bit too personal. I’m not really sure I should be revealing that sort of information to a random dude on Instagram. No matter how fun it is to exchange messages with him. 

But now I’m suddenly wondering what this guy would think of Nick’s competition pics. I’m guessing he wouldn’t quite have the same reaction as he does to mine given the size difference between me and Nick.

And then I have another thought - this guy could be anyone. I have no idea who he is. Or how old he is. (Is 97 the year he was born?) I could literally be chatting to anyone. He could be a fucking celebrity for all I know! I could be chatting to some mega rich, world famous celebrity who has a secret thing for shredded bodybuilders in shiny posing trunks.

As you can probably tell I had a bit of a private fashion show that day

His reply comes through in seconds.

Haha! You can’t have enough pics for future Instagram posts!

Yeah - this guy fucking gets it. (Mega rich, world famous celebrity or not.)

Exactly!

The train conductor asks me for my ticket. After which I go back to my phone, smiling at the prospect of having received another message from shredded_muscle_lover97. I feel a surprising pang of disappointment that there’s nothing there. I’m guessing he has to work. He can’t sit talking to bodybuilders on Instagram all day. Though something tells me he wouldn’t actually mind that.

I head to his profile to check it out. Wow! This guy really IS a muscle fan. There are loads of pictures and videos of bodybuilders. All awesome guys. Most of them I love. Some of them I’ve never seen or heard of before! He has excellent taste in muscle. I’m scrolling down, and then I spot something which makes me smile. He’s posted a picture of Danny! There’s a caption to accompany it where he’s gushing over him. Saying how handsome he is. HA! If only he knew he was my flatmate. Maybe he does? I’m sure one of us has mentioned it on Instagram at some point in time.

I scroll down further and spot something which makes me smile even more. A picture of me! On stage at the Johnny Hoxton Classic a few weeks ago squeezing a crab most muscular in my shiny purple trunks with my eyes jammed shut and my face scrunched up. I fucking LOVE that picture. I click on the post and oh wow! He hasn’t just written a caption. He’s practically written a short story!

Things to love about Alfie Winters...

What the hell?!

The brutal round boulder fucking shoulders.

You fucking know it.

The shredded bumpy abs that pop out of his tummy.

Love it!

The sheer fucking quality of muscle he’s managed to pack onto his short-arsed pocket rocket frame.

“Short-arsed”? Ha! I guess I can’t really argue with that!

The fact that he’s a bit of a cutie!

Grinning my fucking face off!

The cute sticky-out pixie ears!

Grinning harder!!

His taste in fucking TRUNKS! Which are always super shiny.

Why do I love that he mentioned the trunks? 

The cocky, in-your-face, power-packed attitude when he’s on stage.

I mean - what’s the point of competing if you’re not gonna have fun on stage? 

I decide to have fun with this. I know he stopped messaging me so he’s probably working or busy doing something else, but I message him the post with a caption underneath.

Erm…what are you saying about my ears??

A few minutes later he messages me back. I have an image of him in a big office meeting room sitting around a big table playing with his phone hoping his boss doesn’t notice.

OMG!! It was meant as a compliment!! SORRY! I’ll delete it if you want.

What the hell? I’m smiling at the message - but I also feel a little bad. 

Haha! Dude - I’m joking! You’re not the first to say that about my ears P.S. I love the post!

Was the blushing face too much? Shit! 

PHEW! Everything I say is 100% meant as complimentary!! You’re one of my favourite bodybuilders! And YAY - you like the post!

I'm smiling at the message, but then I have this weird pang in my chest. Like I’m maybe taking things too far with this guy? I mean - who’s to say he’s not relaying all of this to his fellow muscle lover friends who he chats to on the Internet? Sharing the pics I sent? Taking screenshots of my messages? God - he probably is! In any case, this feels like a good point to stop. I close down Instagram to take away the temptation of replying and don’t open it up again for the rest of the train journey.

I meet the Got Shredz Nutrition guys at this big, well-known bodybuilding gym in East London, which I can’t help thinking is inferior to The Muscle Factory in pretty much every way. We shoot a training video for their website where I’m wearing one of their Got Shredz Nutrition vests and then they take me out to lunch and we chat about bodybuilding and the upcoming Tiger Classic North West that Danny’s competing in next month. 

Tomorrow I have a big photoshoot with this big named photographer guy in another big famous gym in Brixton with them, but for today, I’m pretty much done.

I eventually sign in to the pretty basic hotel near London Bridge the guys have booked for me. By around six o’clock, I’m literally just lying on my hotel bed watching crap TV, bored out of my fucking skull.

I’m in London. In a hotel that’s paid for. With fuck all to do. 

I could text my dad back. Eesh - no. I really don’t wanna deal with that whole mess right now. I still don’t really know how I feel about what happened on Saturday night. Seeing my dad like that. Dressed the way he was. Acting the way he did. How am I supposed to talk about something if I don’t know how I feel about it?

I could text Nick and ask him how his first day at his Internship went. And maybe get some clue as to why things were so fucking weird and awkward between us this morning.

I could do another Ask Me Anything and sit here doing that for the next hour. But I don’t want to do any of that stuff. I want to actually DO something. I want to go OUT.

I jump off the bed and take a selfie where I’m flexing my biceps in one arm with the hotel room in the background. Then I upload it with a caption.

Bored and lonely in a London hotel! Is anyone around to entertain me on this random Monday night?

I know I’m asking for trouble with this post. I’ll no doubt get a ton of flirty comments from gay muscle lovers about how they’d love to entertain me in a hotel room. I also know the post might seem a bit … desperate? But fuck it. It’s worth a shot. Maybe there’s a London based bodybuilder following me who’d jump at the chance to meet Alfie Winters in person, go to a Five Guys and chat all things muscle and bodybuilding related for a couple of hours? And if no one replies, I can just delete the post.

Nothing happens for about twenty minutes or so. And then I feel excited when I get a DM. But it’s just from Danny King.

Just have a wank, bruv.

I bark out a laugh and reply telling him I’ve had two already but only one was to a picture of him. Messaging Danny seems to bring me back down to Earth and now I suddenly feel like a bit of a knob for uploading that post. I decide to delete it, but then notice I have another DM waiting for me. I grin when I notice it’s from shredded_muscle_lover97.

Erm. So, I don’t know how serious your post was and I might be completely embarrassing myself here and being COMPLETELY fucking crazy but I’m actually in London myself for work! I’m staying with some friends in Shoreditch.

What the - I sit up and stare at the message. This guy is in London too? This guy I know nothing about and who could be a mega rich, world famous celebrity who has a secret thing for shredded bodybuilders in shiny posing trunks?

There’s something about the thought of meeting this guy that actually really appeals to me. I mean - it’s fucking nuts! Straight bodybuilders don’t meet the gay muscle lover guys you see on Instagram and Twitter who call them things like cute and hot and gush over the pics. It just doesn’t happen! 

But I think that’s maybe why it appeals so much to me. It’s so fucking out there. It’s so unusual. So unprecedented. 

Could I? Should I? I type a reply, my stomach doing this weird mix of nerves and excitement.

So you’re in London too? Ummm … I was sort of half serious! I’m just bored and stuck in this hotel for the night. I thought maybe a bodybuilder or someone following me might be around! (Is that desperate? )

I bite my lip as the three dots appear. It takes a ridiculous amount of time for the message to come through. He’s probably stressing over what to say and maybe deleting things and re-typing.

Desperate Bodybuilders. I definitely would have watched that TV show! Well, erm … I’m not a bodybuilder but the offers there. If you wanna maybe meet up and do something? (I’m pretty normal and nice! Well … normal-ish! )

My chest expands. What the fuck am I supposed to say? What the fuck am I supposed to do? This is crazy. Actually crazy! And then, without warning … something else comes through. It’s a photograph with the caption: This is me!

And now I’m looking at a picture of the guy behind this profile. The guy who loves shredded bodybuilders and shiny trunks so much (particularly golden, blue and pink ones). The guy who loves MY trunks so much. The guy who apparently classes me as one of his favourite bodybuilders.

He looks about my age, maybe a little older. He’s got blondey, light-brunette hair, a sort of healthy, heart-shaped face and a little bit of stubble. He’s wearing a checked shirt. The picture looks a little staged. Like it’s maybe a professional picture. He’s smiling with his mouth closed. A sort of modest but confident smile. And wow. He DOES look normal. And nice! Sort of wholesome and innocent looking, I guess. And completely and utterly harmless. I find myself smiling as I look at the picture. Because the face and the messages now seem to weirdly go together perfectly.

Okay - I have two options here. I can keep chatting to this guy for a little bit longer before gently brushing him off and rejecting his invitation to meet up. Stay here. Watch more crap TV and go to bed. 

Or I can do something completely crazy and meet a genuine bodybuilding fan who seems and looks completely harmless while getting the hell out of this hotel room and actually having something close to an adventure.

I type a message to shredded_muscle_lover97.

Okay, let’s do it! Where do you want to meet?

A heady rush of excitement courses through me as the message sends. I guess I’m going on an adventure.

[DennisFLL]

Loving it and where this is going.  With Muscle-Addict do we ever not?  Alfie having a "date" with a dreamy eyed muscle-worshiper - will he now see a side of himself that he didn't know existed? 

And what's going on with Nick?  is he secretly pining for Alfie?  Or Danny?  Or the bald-daddy from a few chapters ago? 

Oh the possibilities!

And Alfie, if you're listening, text your dad.