Sunday 26 August 2018

MUSCLE FICTION STORY: AJ & NOAH (PART 1)

OK guys...here we go! The first part of my new story "AJ & Noah"!

It follows muscle addict Noah Cook, who is spending his summer break from uni at his parents in the town he grew up (boring Little Denton - where nothing ever happens). Noah's convinced he's in for an uneventful summer. That is until he bumps into one of his school friends, AJ Jones, who, in the four years since Noah last saw him, has transformed into a mini muscle bull of a competitive bodybuilder, with enormous arms and huge tits which strain through the material of his Tesco's work shirt.

The story references every bodybuilder from "Charlie's Secret", including Chris "Freaky Peaks" Jackson, Blaine Holton and Tommy Foster (now a 212 pro nicknamed "The Tank")! And also Liam "The Guns" Watson from "Have You Seen These Posing Trunks?".

And I've managed to find a brilliantly talented illustrator and fellow muscle addict who goes by the name of "Reeddune" who has very kindly put together the below design for me and did an amazing job of bringing the characters to life! Check out his Instagram here and his Tumblr here. He also draws a fantastic Flex Lewis!


AJ & NOAH

Prologue

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the first time I saw AJ Jones.

It was the first day back at school after the summer holidays. There was a sense of excitement amongst my classmates. Not just because everyone was seeing their friends again, but because, for the first time ever, a new boy was joining our class.

I spotted him standing in the middle of the playground looking completely lost. He was shorter and smaller than all of the other boys in my year group. He had brunette hair. Green eyes. And he was nervously chewing on the sleeve of his purple school jumper.

I really didn’t know what it was about this boy, but I was transfixed. It felt like the whole world had turned to black and white and he was the only thing left in colour.

I knew two things in that moment; that AJ Jones was special, and that I wanted to be his friend.

I had no idea at the time just how special he’d end up being.

One

I've often wondered what goes through the mind of a bodybuilder when he’s standing on stage in competition. Thick slabs of muscle bulging off his frame in every conceivable direction. His obscenely developed body parts like balloons of muscle that have been pumped and blown up to an unreal degree. All shrink wrapped in dick thin skin which struggle to contain the sheer mass underneath.

Each body part separated by lines, rips and cuts the majority of humans don’t see on their bodies in a lifetime. His whole body painted dark bronze and polished with oil. Not one single hair below his neckline. Completely naked except for a minuscule, thinly strapped, brightly coloured posing pouch.

To some, the most grotesque and horrifying image in the world. To others, the most erotic. So erotic the mere thought, let alone the image, of is enough to cause ejaculation.

What must it feel like to be one of the most muscular men on the planet? To look down and see nothing but excessively huge mass? To see two enormous plates of pec muscle hanging over thick, blocky abs which burst through your stomach? To see gigantic sized quads with muscle separation you’d normally only see on images of anatomy charts?

And just how big of a rush would it be to flex and show off your superhuman slabs and mounds of muscle as an audience of hundreds before you ogle, marvel and stare at your freakiness?

As I lay on my bed with my laptop open in the bedroom I’d grown up in, watching a video of Blaine Holton, one of the biggest and most well known professional bodybuilders in the last five years, flexing on stage in a guest posing spot, all of those questions were running through my mind.

What did this absurdly handsome, square jawed, thirty-something American bodybuilder feel when he was standing at the edge of a stage flexing his impossibly huge biceps for a cheering audience of non muscle freaks? Pride at what he’d achieved by pushing his body to unspeakable limits and building his biceps to twenty plus inches? Power at the knowledge that he was the biggest and most muscular man in the room?

“Noah …”

And what did this two hundred and fifty plus pounds muscle bull think when he cranked out an abs and thighs pose on stage and looked down at his own inhuman physique? Was he freaked out by the mounds of crazily detailed mass staring back at him? Turned on, even, by the bronzed painted lumps and bumps of thick, freakish muscle and shiny, posing trunk covered bulge? Did he ever wonder whether he’d taken his physique too far? Or was he so accustomed to seeing the image of his own huge muscle that he felt absolutely no different to what the average built person saw when they looked down at their body?

“No-aaaah …”

And just what was going through the mind of one of the world’s best bodybuilders as he walked off the stage and made his way through the audience of fully clothed, average built spectators, hitting poses and flexing his muscles as they gawped and stared and frantically took pictures of the spectacle before them? Did he realise how many of them would have loved to be in his shoes, even for just one minute? Did he wonder how many of the audience members before him would have loved to get their hands on his ridiculously developed muscles? Was he drunk with power, basking in the glory of being a roided out muscle freak? Or was he dying to flee the theatre so he could be all alone and spend the night staring at his own freakish creation in the mirror, whilst squeezing, touching and worshipping every inch of his insanely shredded, beyond human slabs of muscle?

“NOAH!”

ARGHHHH!!

I slammed down the lid of my laptop, sprung off my bed and opened my bedroom door.

“WHAT?!” I yelled in frustration. Whenever I went back to my parents, I always resorted back to being a teenager. Wanking off to bodybuilders in my bedroom and shouting at my mother. Often for no, or very little reason.

“I just want to ask you something! There’s no need to shout like that!” my mother said calmly from the bottom of the stairs.

Five or so years ago I wouldn’t have felt any guilt about shouting at my mother for interrupting me watching a video of a flexing, roided muscle bull in my bedroom. Now, I felt like the world’s biggest dick.

“I’m busy!” I replied, my tone deliberately lighter.

 “Ooooh, you’re always busy,” she groaned. “God knows what you do on that computer!”

Hmmm. Wanking off to videos of bodybuilders on YouTube. Wanking off to pictures of bodybuilders on Instagram. Occasionally chatting to other like minded muscle addicts about wanking off to bodybuilders on Twitter.

My mum asked me if I’d do her a favour and go to Tesco to pick up a few things for dinner because she had to go to and visit my nan. I said yes, partly because I felt guilty about snapping at her, but also because doing this favour gave me a reason to leave the house. A sense of purpose, even, for the afternoon, which made me feel completely pathetic.

“Fancy shouting at your poor mother!” she said. Then she did a pretend sob which I couldn’t help but smile at, even though I was still annoyed that she’d interrupted me watching a video of Blaine Holton strutting through an audience in nothing but his shiny red posers, just as he was cranking out a brutal most muscular in the face of an extremely lucky audience member.

I’ve always found it amazing how easily we forget things. And how our memories have a habit of only selecting the positive when thinking about a situation we’re no longer in. In all of the times I thought about spending the summer at my parents, I never once factored in the possibility that they might annoy me, or that I might grow bored.

The irony was, I had been looking forward to being back home for a few months. But all I had wanted during those first few weeks of my summer break was to be back in London. Why is almost every place inherently more appealing when we’re not actually there?

As I walked into my local Tesco a feeling of dread hit me. I had this sudden, strong intuition that I was going to bump into someone I knew. If it wasn’t someone shopping there, it would probably be one of the workers. When I was in sixth form, half of my year seemed to work there, including my best friend Naomi.

Maybe if I tried to avoid eye contact with everyone in a blue Tesco work shirt I’d reduce the risk of having to make small talk with a classmate I never really liked who was also back from university for the summer. Or someone who hadn’t gone to university at all, and had spent the past two years working in a supermarket.

Fifteen minutes and no familiar faces later, I was heading towards the self service checkout and that’s when I saw him.

Every single secret lover of huge, freaky muscle will be familiar with the incredible rush that comes with seeing a real life bodybuilder in a public setting.

It’s such an incredibly surreal and amazing experience. To be walking down the street, or boarding a tube, or even walking down the meat aisle of your local Tesco and be suddenly faced with an excessively built and muscular man. Or even a genuine, bona fide bodybuilder.

Exactly like the one I’d suddenly spotted, with his back to me in an extraordinarily tight fitted blue Tesco polo shirt, conversing with a well to do looking elderly woman, who was gawping at the frighteningly muscular lad before her with a look of sheer horror.

I couldn’t stop staring at him. Everything but his height was big. His shoulders ridiculously broad, his back absurdly wide and the rear of his upper arms indecently muscular. Even his perfectly round arse looked huge as it struggled to contain the material of his extremely tight, black work trousers. Fuck!

I could tell he was young, even from the back. A mini muscle bull in the making. A potential juniour competitive bodybuilder. Working right here in my local fucking Tesco. Practically fucking bursting out of his work uniform.

I didn’t think I’d ever been that sexually attracted to the rear image of anyone before. Even the back of his head was hot. With his short graded, light brown hair, which got thicker at the top. And his mini bull neck. GRRRRR!

Ridiculously, my heart started to pound as I got closer to, surely, the beefiest shelf stacker in Tesco’s employment history. Once I’d walked past him, I’d be able to conspicuously turn around to catch a glimpse of him from the front. But I didn’t need to, because the woman he was talking to was walking away, and when I was barely a few metres away from him, the potential competitive juniour bodybuilder turned around, my heart leapt into my throat and my stomach violently lurched. Because standing in front of me, now a mini mountain of muscle in a tight fitted Tesco polo shirt, was my old school friend, AJ Jones.

“Noah?!”

FUCKING HELL!

I felt like my legs were going to give way. My mind just couldn’t cope with what was happening. The walls of reality seemed to melting before me, because standing in front of me was a huge and insanely fucking cute bodybuilder with tits which strained through his polo shirt, and a pair of the most enormous and outrageously muscular arms I’d seen on any lad of any age in person. And that bodybuilder just so happened to be one of my old best friends from school.

“It’s AJ!” he exclaimed.

“Hi!” I nervously replied. “Sorry! I do recognise you. You just look … different!”

About a hundred pounds of arms, tits and arse different!

AJ smirked. A cocky, adorable and gorgeous grin. To match his oh so gorgeous face. Oh God. How can AJ Jones be gorgeous? How can AJ Jones be a fucking bodybuilder?!

“I get that a lot,” he said, nodding and pursing his lips. “I think it’s the hair!”

I laughed and he grinned back at me. A warm, nostalgic feeling came over me and, just for a moment, he wasn’t this ridiculously buff muscle boy whose arse I’d not long been checking out. He was AJ, my old friend from school, who I hadn’t spoken to since we’d drifted apart and found new, very different friend groups about seven or eight years ago.

“What are you up to now?” AJ asked.

“I’m at uni,” I replied, looking at the lucky Tesco name badge sat on his unfathomably thick chest.

Ha! I win, I thought. And then immediately I hated myself.

“Which uni?”

“Goldsmiths, in London. I’m back home for the summer.”

“Back in boring Little Denton!” AJ said, playfully rolling his eyes.

Boring Little Denton. Where nothing ever happens. Except for the boy who used to eat Tipp-Ex at school growing up to be the type of obscenely muscular, roid munching bodybuilder you regularly blow loads over. Fuck.

“Nothing changes much round here!” he added.

It was such a ridiculous statement that I couldn’t refrain from making a joke. “No, you look exactly the same as you did at school!”

Then it was AJ’s turn to laugh, which made me blush, and feel ever so slightly giddy, because I just made a bodybuilder laugh. A bodybuilder whose upper arms looked about twice as thick as mine.

I tried not be obvious, but it was almost impossible to be in such close proximity to a guy that muscular without my eyes veering south of his face. How on Earth had Tesco found a t-shirt to fit AJ? Not that it had fit. One single most muscular and his tits would have probably ripped straight through the material. And his arms. Fucking hell those arms. What did those biceps look like flexed, either side of his absurdly cute face?

He hadn’t stayed on for the sixth form, so I hadn’t seen him for four years. I hadn’t even heard about him. He definitely hadn’t been working at Tesco at the same time Naomi had because she would have mentioned it. What had AJ been doing in the past four years that had caused such an extreme transformation? Presumably, spending an enormous amount of time in the gym, consuming a shit load of calories and probably taking a course of steroids, or two.

Maybe I hadn’t won after all. Because he looked like THAT, and I looked like, well, me.

I had one physical advantage over AJ, though. The same one I’d always had, even when we were younger. I was about four inches taller in height than him. He’d always been short. Right from that very first time I’d spotted him in the school playground, right up until the time he’d left school at sixteen. Maybe he was on a mission to be as wide as he was tall? At this rate, he’d probably succeed. He’d be ripping up the stage with the likes of Tommy “The Tank” Foster and all of the other notoriously short but stacked 212 class competing bodybuilders in no time. AJ Jones. A flexing bodybuilder. Seriously, what kind of cosmic, fucked up shit was going on?

“AJ! Can you jump on till seven please?” A hard faced and slightly scary looking woman had interrupted us.

AJ pulled a face as she walked away. “I’d better go!” he said. My heart sank. This couldn’t be it. Surely, the universe wouldn’t give me something so mind bogglingly amazing and then just swipe it away from me less than five minutes later?

“Good to see you again, mate!” AJ said, with a genuine warmth.

Ask for his number! Just ask for his number, I thought. But I couldn’t. It didn’t feel appropriate.

And so, I watched AJ Jones walk away with an ever so slight waddle, his thighs visibly thick under his work trousers, his back impossibly broad, and his arse so big and beefy it bordered on obscene. AJ Jones, the bodybuilder. AJ Jones, my old friend from school. AJ Jones, who used to eat fucking Tipp-Ex.

Two

As I handed my mother the shopping I’d picked up for her, I wondered if she’d ever seen AJ Jones at Tesco. She shopped there every week, sometimes more than once, so all logic said that she must have done. Maybe she hadn’t realised it was him considering the last time he’d been at our house he’d probably weighed about fifty pounds?

I contemplated telling her that I’d ran into him but, rather absurdly, even just the thought of mentioning my encounter with AJ caused my cheeks to go red.

“Have you stopped shouting at your mummy now?” she said playfully.

I grinned and rolled my eyes. “Oh, erm … don’t forget I’m going out tonight,” I cautiously said.

“Who with?” she asked, inquisitively.

Oh God!

“I told you yesterday. Someone from school!” I replied, perhaps a little too defensively.

“Hmmmm!” she said in a suspicious tone while narrowing her eyes.

I didn’t know how, but my mother almost always knew when I was lying.

“Are you sure you‘re not meeting someone from one of those Internet gay sex dating apps?”

GAAAHH!!

“You can tell me if you are, Noah! You know I’m broad minded!”

Fucking kill me now!

I groaned and left the room. I knew it was ridiculous. Twenty years old and lying to my mum about what I was doing and who I was going out with.

The annoying thing was, she was right. I was meeting a guy off the Internet, but as if I was going to confess that to my fucking mother. It just didn’t feel right to talk about those types of things with her. No matter how “broad minded” she claimed to be.

I thought about texting Naomi on the train and telling her about AJ. Naomi was the only person who knew about my love for huge, muscle freaks. She’d even bought me my very first muscle magazine when I was fifteen.

“You won’t believe who I ran into at Tesco’s earlier. AJ Jones. And oh yeah … he’s a fucking BODYBUILDER!”

But something stopped me. I didn’t feel ready to tell anyone about my encounter with AJ Jones. It almost felt too special to share.

The truth was, of course, I’d barely been able to stop thinking about it since. Usually I’d be slightly nervous about meeting a guy off the Internet, but all I could think about was AJ Jones standing in the meat aisle in his blue Tesco work shirt. And his massive tits. And those fucking guns. And that grin. And how fucking cute he was. How impossibly fucking cute. Oh God. When did AJ Jones get so cute? When did AJ Jones get so HUGE?

But I was feeling something else too. Something I always felt when I saw an excessively muscular guy in public. It wasn’t so much envy. More a desire that was so strong it was almost overwhelming. A desire to be that muscular myself. To look in the mirror and see a bodybuilder looking back at me. If only for just one day.

I only ever felt it when I saw muscle in real life, and it usually passed quite quickly. But that time it wasn’t. It was lingering in my mind. Because it wasn’t just some stranger I’d seen on the tube or walking down the street. It was AJ Jones, who was once the smallest kid in the class.

I was almost relieved when I was stood outside of a gay pub in town, the nerves of my Internet date had finally kicked in and I was no longer thinking about AJ. There’s always the risk that an Internet date could go horribly wrong. No matter how much you talk to someone on the Internet, or how many pictures of them you see, you can never really prepare for what it’s going to be like to be face to face with them in the flesh. And then there’s the worry of what they’ll think of you. What if you’re a massive disappointment and their hearts drop the minute they see you and you’re not quite what they were expecting? Usually you can tell if that’s the case. There’s a look they give you. God, I hate that look.

As soon as I saw Eddie walking towards me, however, all of those worries seemed to slip away. The first thing that struck me about my date was how ridiculously confident he seemed. He may have been extremely good at hiding it, but I couldn’t see any hint of worry, nerves or disappointment in his face as he approached me. It relaxed me almost instantly.

“Have you been here before?” Eddie asked me as we sat on a sofa having just bought the first round of drinks.

“No. I like it though!” I replied.

“I know it’s kinda trashy, but it’s a lot more relaxed than somewhere like The Underground. It’s a more mixed crowd. And there’s no attitude.”

I told Eddie all about university and the English Literature degree I was studying for. About being at home in Little Denton and how I’d applied to do some work experience placements at some publishing companies in London but was probably going to spend most of the summer bumming around and wanking off to videos of muscle freaks (only I left out the part about wanking off to muscle freaks).

In turn, he told me about the office job he’d had since he’d graduated from uni the year before, about the acting group he was a part of, and a little bit about his geeky but rather adorable affiliation with superhero films. And it was easy and comfortable and I was having a much better night than I had anticipated.

As we continued talking, I started to see a whole summer of possibilities opening up ahead of me. Because this was what I needed. A nice, friendly, slightly geeky and admittedly rather charming gay guy like Eddie to go drinking with while I was stuck back in Little Denton.

“I have a bit of a confession,” I said as Eddie came back with a third round of drinks. “I’ve never seen a superhero film!”

“WHAT?! How is that possible?”

“Actually, no. I’ve seen bits of one of the Spiderman films!” I replied. “The one where he looks in the mirror and he’s suddenly all buff?”

I kind of love casually talking about things like bodybuilders, muscle guys and muscle growth with people. Partly just to see what their reaction will be, but also because I love playing dumb and innocent about such things, while secretly thinking, “HA! You have no idea about my rampant love for excessively shredded bodybuilders in tiny, shiny posing trunks. How often I check my Instagram for new pictures of my favourite freaks, how many bodybuilding related channels I’m subscribed to on YouTube and how many pairs of boxer shorts I regularly blow loads into over competition conditioned, attitude packed beef monsters. Fuck yeah!”

Eddie grinned and nodded along. “That’s a classic scene. I think a lot of teenage boys who watched that film probably fantasised about that happening to them!”

And with that comment, I was suddenly thinking about AJ Jones again and wondering whether he was one such boy. Maybe that very scene was responsible for AJ’s transformation into the mini mountain of excessively built muscle mass I was faced with earlier that day in the middle of Tesco?

I almost couldn’t quite believe what I said to Eddie next.

“That’s just reminded me of something that happened to me today. I saw an old from school who I haven’t seen for years. He was always so tiny. Really short and skinny. And now he’s fucking MASSIVE. Like … practically a bodybuilder!” I felt a rush of adrenaline, not only at saying the word “bodybuilder” out loud, but talking about my encounter with AJ with someone.

“Wow!” Eddie replied. “Maybe he got bitten by a really big spider?”

I grinned. “He was kinda hot actually,” I confessed, blushing slightly. “Which was a bit weird, ‘cause he was, like, one of my best friends at school!”

“So that’s what I’ve got to compete with?” Eddie asked flirtatiously. “I’d better start going to the gym then!”

And with that comment, my summer of possibilities suddenly didn’t look so likely. Or at least not with the possibilities I had imagined. Because Eddie wasn’t interested in meeting someone to hang out and go drinking with. He fancied me. Of course he fucking fancied me. Because the guys I’m never attracted to always do, and the ones I think are hot very rarely ever reciprocate the feeling.

Not that Eddie was unattractive. At all. He was handsome in his own way. Nicely built, stylish brown hair and a cute smile. Bookish and smart looking. The type of guy you wouldn’t immediately find super hot, but once you got to know, became increasingly more attractive. And maybe there was something there. And so, when he leant in to kiss me before I left to catch the last train home to Little Denton, I reciprocated. And it was kinda nice. And I definitely felt a bit of chemistry. But I really did just want to meet a local gay guy to go drinking with.

There is something I love about catching the train home when you’re slightly pissed and you’re buzzing from a night out. Even if you’re in a carriage full of drunk people. I’d already received a text from Eddie when I checked my phone. “Great to meet you, handsome. Hopefully we can meet up again soon! x”.

And I smiled, because I’d had an awesome night out and Eddie was great, and I had wanted to see him again. Plus he’d called me handsome. I switched on my mobile data and received a new Facebook notification. As soon as I opened it, all thoughts of Eddie disappeared. My heart leapt into my throat as I read the words in front of me; AJ Jones has requested you as a friend.

Three

A panic like no other shot through me when I opened up AJ Jones’ Facebook profile on the train full of passengers. Because staring back at me was a picture of a shredded bodybuilder, covered in bronzed competition tan, standing on stage in nothing but a pair of shiny lime, green posing trunks and cranking out a crab most muscular pose with his mouth cheekily wide open. FUCKING HELL.

I shiftily glanced around. The woman sitting next to me was too engrossed in her own phone to have spotted the picture of the grotesque looking muscle freak that had just popped up on my screen. Phew. Panic over. But then something else set in. Excitement. Adrenaline. Bewilderment. Because, as expected earlier that day, AJ Jones, who wanted to be my friend on Facebook, was a competitive bodybuilder. Oh my fucking GOD.

And I was dying. BURSTING, in fact, to see his profile picture again. I wanted every single person in the train carriage to fuck the fuck off so I could look at the image that was imprinted on my brain. That muscle. The attitude. The shiny lime green trunks. FUCK.

It felt like the longest train journey ever, but when I was finally home and in the comfort of my own bedroom, I was able to see the picture again in all it’s otherworldly glory. I almost couldn’t believe what I was looking at. AJ Jones, my old friend from school, on stage at a bodybuilding show, flexing his muscles and cranking up the ‘tude in a pair of the nastiest posing trunks imaginable.

As I fully delved into AJ’s Facebook page I discovered a whole host of amazing pictures. AJ flexing backstage with various other shredded freaks in competition tan, cheeky bathroom selfies he’d taken while flexing and holiday snaps of him, either topless or bulging out of tiny vests.

But none were as surreal or incredible as the various pictures of AJ on stage showing off his shockingly shredded, mass packed physique. Brutally huge, round boulder shoulders, outrageous sized biceps, brilliantly detailed quads, gorgeous shaped tummy popping abdominals, a pair of the thickest, chest popping muscle tits and a set of obscenely developed, beautifully round glutes barely contained by the shiny material of his posers all stared up at from my laptop screen. He really was a like a mini Mr Olympia in the making.

And the ‘tude. Fucking HELL the ‘tude. AJ always had a fun, cheeky, mischievous side when we’d been friends at school. That had evidently resulted in AJ The Bodybuilder being a cocky as fuck poser on stage, pulling cheeky, animated facial expressions with every single pose he hit. If his mouth wasn’t arrogantly wide open, a huge, proud and admittedly gorgeous grin was plastered on his scrunched to buggery face. His tongue even made an appearance in a few cheeky shots.

As I looked at a picture of him hitting a front lat spread on stage while outrageously pulling up the straps of his shiny, lime green posing trunks, his whole gloriously bronzed painted body shredded and bulging with thick, developed mass and his lips pursed into an arrogant expression, I completely forgot that I was looking at a guy I used to have sleepovers with.

I was just looking at an insanely hot, shredded bodybuilder flexing his muscles on stage. And, like the majority of times I look at shredded, flexing bodybuilders, I was rock hard and insanely turned on. I couldn’t stop myself. I had to wank off. I needed to spunk a load to the cocky, roided up muscle freak on my laptop screen, who’d transformed and moulded his physique to become something barely human.

And so I looked at his astonishing beef. The crazy veins snaking down his arms. His rock hard, gorgeous shaped ab blocks. His thick tits jumping up to his chin. Those insane fucking quads. That shiny, lime green poser bulge. That absurdly hot expression on this impossibly cute face. And I came. Fucking HELL did I cum. The most tremendous load in my boxers. FUCK YEAH!

And then? Panic. Guilt. A slight feeling of wrongness. Because I’d just spunked off to AJ fucking Jones! What the FUCK?! What would he think if he knew? Surely he’d be weirded out. We were friends once. And now I was wanking off over a picture of him on the Internet.

When I woke up the next morning, sober, but my head still thick and cloudy, I was considerably kinder to myself about the whole situation. So we were friends at school? Well, now he’s a fucking bodybuilder, I reasoned, and an obscenely hot one at that. What kind of muscle addict would I be if I hadn’t been turned on by him flexing on stage with his poser straps pulled up? Still, I vowed to not wank off over AJ again.

It was a relatively easy task. Even if I did get a hard on every time I even thought about AJ’s pictures. Which was a lot in the days which followed. Every now and then I would take a sneaky peek at his profile again. I even wondered whether he’d message me. “Good to see you the other day, mate. Hey, here’s an idea. Wanna come round to my house and watch me flex in my shiny, lime green posing trunks? Cheeky, cocky facial expressions and all!” Pant pant fucking pant! He didn’t message me, of course. Because why would he? I was just an old school friend he’d bumped into one day at work. I probably rarely factored into his thoughts at all.

My encounter with AJ had sparked something else in me, though. That overwhelming desire to be a bodybuilder had subsided, but I was suddenly both eager and motivated to join the gym again. I had been so good at going during my first year of university, but then I’d come home for the summer and I’d just slipped out of the habit. But this summer would be different. It was the perfect time to get back into it again.

The Little Denton Leisure Centre probably didn’t have the best of gyms, but it was both cheap, and within walking distance of my parents’ house, so it would have to do.

As I was rushing to get ready on the morning of my induction to the gym, I received a text from Naomi.

“OH MY GOD! I just saw AJ Jones on your Facebook. I can’t believe that’s him!!”

I smiled instantly when I read it. I hadn’t wanted to share our encounter with Naomi the previous Friday, but I was suddenly keen to talk about it.

“I KNOW!! I actually bumped into him in Tesco. He works there now and he’s huge! It’s fucking bonkers.”

Three dots appeared on my phone to tell me she was replying.

“Really? Haha! I bet you had a right perv. He’s just up your street.”

Ridiculously I blushed, but I loved how up front she was. As always. I became friends with Naomi not long after AJ and I drifted apart at school. When you’ve been friends with someone for that long you can pretty much say anything to them.

“Hmmm. I guess he has gotten kinda hot.”

And then I sent my favourite emoji. The cheeky looking one with the one eye closed and tongue sticking out. If AJ were an emoji, he’d definitely be that one.

Three dots.

“I know you too well.”

And suddenly I missed Naomi like hell. I completely understood why she’d stayed in Brighton over the summer but there was no question the following two and half months would have been a lot more bearable if she had decided to come back to Little Denton like me. Sure, there were a couple of my school friends also back home for the summer who I’d already met up with once or twice, and I obviously now had my potential new gay friend Eddie to hang out with, but none of them could really compare to Naomi. None of them really knew me like she did.

Our texts had also made me feel a lot better about the AJ situation. More specifically, my new found, overwhelming attraction for a boy who’d decided to transform himself into the kind of shredded muscle freak I’d been going nuts over for years.

I hadn’t been to the Little Denton Leisure Centre since I was a kid. And yet, as soon as I walked in, the strong scent of chlorine was so familiar that it felt like I’d only been in there the day before.

I informed the guy at reception (a rather fit and slightly beefy looking lad in a tight, black, work t-shirt) that I was there for my gym induction. He gave me a form to fill out, told me to take a seat and that someone would be with me shortly.

The form asked me what my goals were for joining the gym. I ticked “To build muscle” and “Improve fitness level” and wondered why there was no option for “To become a shredded muscle freak and stand on stage flexing in shiny, lime green posing trunks”.

I was so engrossed that I hadn’t notice the person I was waiting for had arrived and was now stood over me.

“Alright, Noah!”

OH MY FUCKING GOD!

I recognised his voice instantly. I looked up and was suddenly right back in the meat aisle of Tesco. The walls of reality melting away, my mind racing, adrenaline pulsating through my body and strongly suspecting that I may never be in the presence of a human being so incredibly hot again.

Beaming down at me with that oh-so familiar and gorgeous grin, his obscenely developed upper body bulging out of a similar black t-shirt to the one the guy on reception was wearing, was the junior competitive bodybuilder whose picture I’d wanked off to just five nights before and who I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since.

Saturday 11 August 2018

NEW "MUSCLE FICTION STORIES" PAGE

OK guys, I've talked about my plans for a page with links to my stories for a little while and now I've finally done one! Link here, or click on the image below.

You'll find links on there to Charlie's Secret, Flex Friday, The Day I Became A Muscle Freak, Dan and Jake, Mikey The Human Muscle Morph and Have You Seen These Posing Trunks? and a few other short stories and unfinished works posted here and there.


I've been going over these stories the past few months and it's been both interesting and fun to read them in retrospect! It's always hard to judge stuff you've written yourself but I definitely have a better opinion of some over others.

I'd say my best three are probably "Charlie's Secret", "Mikey The Human Morph" and "Have You Seen These Posing Trunks?"

I'm also still working on my new story which I'm planning to start sharing very soon, both here and on the Muscle Growth Forums. It's called "AJ & Noah" and it's about a muscle addict called Noah who is back at his parents on his summer break from university. A few weeks in he bumps into his old school friend AJ working at his local Tesco who, it's safe to say, has gone through a bit of a transformation since Noah last saw him! The pair then rekindle their friendship over the course of the summer.

I won't say any more than that right now but I'm excited to get it out there and for people to read it!

And if anyone's tired of me sharing pictures of my posing trunk collection, tough muscle titties 'cause here's a few more! Admittedly it's not much of a collection at the moment but I'm planning to expand!



Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...