Karaoke, Krispy Kreme doughnuts, sambuca shots, big bummed Australian bodybuilders, evil bitch cunt bosses from hell and potential mystery wannabe bodybuilders! What do all these things have in common?! They all feature in this new, short, one part story!
I teased this a few months ago when I posted the third part of "Charlie's Secret". It's partly set in an office, takes place over a Thursday evening/Friday, and although it's inspired by true events it is mostly fictional. It's pretty different to anything I've posted before (although there are echoes of "Charlie's Secret" in there) in terms of the style of writing and probably won't be to everyone's taste (it's also perhaps not as exciting or eventful as my other stories) but I wanted to take a risk and write something which was a little bit different. I also really liked the idea of writing a story set in an office as it fits into that notion of huge freaky muscle in ordinary surroundings which I've always loved the idea of!
I've already made a start on the next part of "Charlie's Secret" which will be the next story posted, but I also like the idea of posting more shorter, one part stories like this one, with each story being different in terms of style and content (I feel like an all out muscle worship/protagonist creaming his pants at the touch of a freakishly striated pair of glutes story might be slightly overdue) so that may be a future plan!
And finally, as always, a massive thanks in advance to everyone who makes the effort to read this! If just one person enjoys reading it, then that's good enough for me.
9:00 - My brain feels like it's been replaced by a dead badger, there’s a pounding in my head that refuses to quit, my whole body is clouded with fatigue and my mouth is drier than Jimmy Saville’s crotch at an over 16’s disco. I’m sitting at my desk at work and all I want is to be back under the duvet in my bed with my head on the pillow and sleep until it's mid day, or until I feel even half way human again. In other words, I am suffering from the mother of all monster hangovers and I have no idea how I'm going to manage to get through this entire fucking day of emails, meetings and evil bitch cunt bosses who seem to have embarked on a personal mission to make my life a living hell. FUCK YOU TRISHA MILLS.
9:05 - “Dan, do you want the breakfast menu?” One half of the reason I’m currently wondering whether I can make it through the day without collapsing on to my keyboard is now standing over me tempting me with the traditional office Friday breakfast menu. The other half comes in Chloe’s equally perky and annoyingly persuasive sidekick Emma. The two of whom, as well as being in that early to mid twenties phase of life where the most important thing is getting legendarily shit faced at every opportunity and no night out is a good one unless you wake up the next morning in a pool of your own urine, all but harassed me to join them on a Thursday night after work drink at The George.
I pause before I answer Chloe’s question, not because I’m unsure of my reply but because I’m trying to figure out how and why the hell she doesn’t look even the slightest bit hungover. “Come on, it’s Fat Friday,” Chloe teases. I grunt and take the menu, as usual keeping my true feelings about Fat Friday (that it’s basically a way for the girls in my team to eat as much crap as they like and not feel guilty about it) to myself.
9:10 - As I begin to tackle the easiest possible task of my day, my mind suddenly drifts to the events of what was supposed to be “just one drink” after work but turned into a night of drunken debauchery, containing several mortifyingly embarrassing parts which I’m sure I’ll be reminded of every single day for the rest of my stay at Third Hill Publishing. My mind then wanders to what happened upon returning home from the pub at around 11:30, and for about the seven-hundredth time that morning, I get a flash of just one of the many mind blowing images that filled up my laptop screen.
5:40 - I'm sitting in a booth at The George, the nearest pub to work, with my “just one drink”. Chloe and Emma are no doubt still in the ladies at work, making themselves up to a ridiculous degree for a Thursday night at The George, and the rest of my team are currently a no show so I’m so I'm left sitting with the two people from my team I speak to the least. Joanne tries her best to keep the conversation going by telling Rob and I about some crime fiction novel I, for one, have absolutely no interest in reading, but it's not enough to cover up the unspoken awkwardness between three people who really don't have that much to say to each other, and I find myself anxiously looking to the door in hope that someone else I know has entered the building.
5:45 - Thom’s here! I practically breathe a sigh of relief as he bounces up to our booth in that lovely tight fitted shirt he always wears with the sleeves rolled up, his meaty gym trained arms and solid chest clearly visible through the material (WOOF)! FYI, I love Thom! He asks us if we want another drink. My yes is shamefully eager and I’m not sure if it's because I badly need another alcohol beverage (fifteen minutes in and the "just one drink" plan is already up the shitter) or because I have the urge to say yes to everything Thom says. Want another drink Dan? Yes! Want to spend the whole night mentally undressing me across the table Dan? Yes! Want to rip the buttons of my tight fitted shirt off with your teeth and snog my fucking face off Dan? YES YES FUCKING YES!
6:00 - Chloe and Emma arrive, as expected, having put way too much effort into their appearances. They both exude a kind of confidence that says “yeah, I know I look fucking hot,” which doesn't seem to have gone unnoticed by the group. Joanne’s expression of disapproval is, without a doubt, the most comical moment of the day so far, and a clearly intimidated and flustered looking Rob looks like he’s just been caught by his mum with his pants around his ankles and his hand clamped round his dick mid-masturbation. Thom, however, remains completely unfazed, no doubt much to the annoyance of Chloe and Emma.
6:20 - With my second rum and coke almost finished and the conversation turning to a subject I have absolutely no knowledge of, or interest in (last night’s episode of "The Great British Bake Off") I start to prepare my exit speech, which will no doubt be met with protest from Chloe and Emma, when Joanne beats me to it. I’m envious of the way she unapologetically just announces she has to go and how little fanfare she receives at her announcement. I decide this is my ideal opportunity to also make my escape. As soon as the words, “I might set off too,” leave my mouth I know I've made a fundamental error. Might set off? Might?! Fucking idiot! Just say you have to go for Christ’s sake! “YOU’RE not going anywhere,” comes Chloe's answer. After a brief battle of wills, I reason with Chloe and Emma and agree to stay for one more drink. Chloe looks rather smug with having won me over, seemingly oblivious to the fact that what really persuaded me to stay was Thom joining in the protest and expressing how nice it is that I’ve decided to socialise with them as it doesn't happen very often. I’d no doubt have taken this as a little patronising if I didn’t spend most working hours thinking of all the potential ways I could convince him to take his shirt off.
6:45 - The alcohol has officially kicked in, The George is getting busier and the atmosphere has taken a shift. Rob announces he’s getting another round in and as I look at my almost empty glass, I suddenly realise I don’t want to go home.
7:15 - I’m now sitting next to Thom who is telling me about some barbeque he’s going to on Saturday. God he’s fucking sexy. Even the acne scarring on his left cheek is fucking sexy. I look down and see that solid looking chest filling out his shirt and his modest sized gym trained arms stretching the material and wonder what the rest of his torso looks like underneath. I have no doubt Thom’s tummy is tight and flat, but is there a hint of any six pack abs seeping through? Thom with a six pack! Thom with ABS! Seriously Thom, just take that fucking shirt off!
7:45 - Chloe has now said, “What happened to going home Dan?” about three times. Rob and Emma have been excitedly talking about something called “The Shields of Marvel” for the past twenty minutes, which, from what I can gather has something to do with superheroes and has some “fit British bloke” in it (according to Emma). Thom’s still got his shirt on.
8:00 - I’m half way through the longest conversation with Emma I’ve ever had and I’ve just realised that I actually quite like her. Thom’s not showing any signs that he intends to remove his shirt.
8:15 - Thom suddenly suggests that we do some shots. “YES! Let's do shots!” comes Emma’s reply. Oh God. Please no! This is where many a good night out has turned into utter chaos. I try to protest, but before I know it Thom is handing me a slightly sticky shot glass of clear liquid and I’m catching that all too familiar scent of sambuca. The taste burns my mouth and I’m filled with the knowledge that a) anything could now happen in the next few hours b) anything could now happen in the next few hours but I might not remember it and c) tomorrow at work I’m going to be absolutely fucked!
8:45 - The suggestion of more shots prompts Rob to announce he’s leaving. More sambuca is handed to me in a shot glass as Emma puts hers and Chloe’s name down on the karaoke list.
9:00 - Emma and Chloe are attempting to entertain the pub crowd with their rendition of Katy Perry’s “Roar”, which sounds a lot like two cats having their tails fed into a mincer.
9:30 - Thom’s arm is around me and I’m 99.9% sure it’s down to the sambuca!
9:35 - I’m standing in front of a mic on the karaoke stage with Chloe and Emma either side of me and I’m 99.9% sure it's down to the sambuca!
9:36 - Chloe, Emma and I are now giving the unwilling members of The George audience a rendition of “Into The Groove” and I’m 99.9% sure we sound FUCKING AWFUL!
9:45 - I’m at the bar buying another round of sambuca shots which was entirely my idea. Chloe refuses, saying she can't stomach anymore. Emma drinks without hesitation then feels the need to inform us she actually has the next day off work (BITCH)!
9:50 - I’m confessing to my colleagues just how much I hate our boss Trisha Mills, and my theory that she is in fact Satan himself reincarnated as a forty something year old, eighteen stone-ish blonde woman with an arse the size of Jupiter. Thom’s slightly less ambitious theory is that she’s simply “an absolute bitch”. I like my theory better.
10:00 - The karaoke presenter is apparently calling us up to the stage (Thom included). I had no prior knowledge that this was going to happen and judging by Thom’s face, neither did he.
10:02 - “YEEEEAA-HEEEHH….YOUR SEX IS ON FIRE….”
10:15 - A very drunk looking but absolutely fucking gorgeous man is chatting to Emma (BITCH)!
10:20 - Thom has disappeared to the toilet and Chloe is telling me that she can’t work out whether I like her or not. I want to tell her that she’ll get to an age where she stops giving so much of a fuck about whether people like her or not. Instead I just assure her that I do.
10:25 - A very drunk looking but absolutely fucking gorgeous man is now snogging the fucking face off Emma (BITCH BITCH BITCH)!
10:30 - I'm back on the karaoke stage for the third time in an hour, this time sharing the mic with only Chloe.
10:32 - “ALL THE LOVEEERS…that have gone before…they don’t compare to you…” and with the word “you” I stretch my arm out and point at Thom. I’m not entirely sure if he’s actually noticed or not so I’m simply telling myself that he hasn’t.
10:40 - Thom is getting text messages on his phone and telling us that he has to go soon because someone called Anna “isn’t happy”.
10:42 - I discover that Anna is, in fact, Thom’s girlfriend who he lives with and I’ve suddenly never hated a single person more than I hate Anna!
10:45 - I discover that Anna is Swedish and runs her own modelling agency at the age of 28 and I’ve never hated a single person more than I hate bitch face fucking Anna!
10:47 - I discover that Anna is blonde and sickeningly beautiful (Thom is showing me a picture of her on his phone) and I FUCKING HATE YOU ANNA!!
10:55 - I’m back on the karaoke stage, this time without the company of my colleagues.
10:57 - “I'm giving it my all, but I’m not the girl (I'd forgotten about that lyric when I stumbled up to the guy in charge of the karaoke telling him he had to let me do one more song but at this point I’m far too drunk to be embarrassed about singing it) you’re taking home…ooh-ooh-ooh…I keep dancing on my own…”
11:10 - I’m on the tube home with some other equally drunk people and I make a plan of action. Get home, eat something, take some paracetamol, have lots of water and maybe, maybe I won’t feel too bad when my alarm goes off at 7:45 Friday morning.
11:30 - I’m home, but before my plan is put into place I’m checking a few sites on my laptop. I attempt to switch tabs in Safari but accidentally hit one of the bookmark links placed above it and I suddenly find myself on YouTube. I instantly notice some new videos have been uploaded from one of my favourite subscriptions and I can’t resist but click on one.
11:31 - I expand the screen and change settings to the highest quality and I’m faced with the back of a black stage. A ridiculous eighteen seconds into the video and something is finally happening.
9:15 - “Jo, you should have seen Dan on the karaoke!” FUCKKKK! OFFFFF! Chloe is still doing the rounds with the breakfast menu. “Wow, Dan, I didn’t think you were the type to do karaoke!” That’s because…I’M FUCKING NOT!
9:17 - “Morning, guys!” Thom’s arrival reminds me what the best thing about dress down Friday is. I usually get to see him in a t-shirt, his nicely pumped and modestly biceps peeking underneath the sleeve, as is the case on this particular Friday. W-O-O-F!!
10:00 - “Whose turn is it to get the Krispy Kremes today?" Chloe is asking. As part of Fat Friday, the members of my team take it in turns to treck to Tesco to buy Krispy Kreme doughnuts. I internally groan because I know exactly where the conversation is heading. “Dan, when was the last time you went?” FUCKOFFFUCKOFFFUCKOFF. “I think it might be your turn, Dan.” Seriously, Chloe, just FUCK OFF.
10:20 - Breakfast has been consumed and I feel about 5% more human than I did before. Thom is picking up a copy of The Bookseller from the cupboard at the end of my bank of desks and my heart skips just a tiny bit when he shuffles towards me. “How are you feeling today, Dan?” God he looks fucking fit in that t-shirt. “Hmmmm, a bit rough!” I’M FUCKING DYING. “Same! I think it was the sambuca shots that did it,” is Thom’s reply. If I didn’t fancy Thom so much I might be slightly tempted to remind him that those sambuca shots were his bloody idea. “I think that was my idea wasn't it?” comes his reply. Smart, considerate, self aware, effortlessly cool, and fit as fucking fuck. I LOVE YOU THOM.
11:05 - I’ve been staring at a blank email reply for the last five minutes in an attempt to compose something but my brain appears to have officially stopped working. I make a vow to never go drinking with my workmates on a week night again.
11:10 - I’ve now written two words (“Hi Rebecca”) of my email but I now seem to have lost all ability to both think and type. I WANT TO GO HOME.
11:25 - I lock my PC and head to the men’s toilets, not because I actually need to use the facilities, but because I need to sit in a quiet cubicle with my head in my lap wishing the world would fuck off and die for five minutes.
11:30 - In the knowledge that I can get away with being absent from my desk for a little bit longer, I get my phone out and check my emails. A light bulb goes off inside my head and I open up the YouTube app, that I never use, on my phone. It’s not exactly the easiest thing to navigate but once I get the hang of it I end up on the channel of the uploader of the video I watched the night before. After an excruciatingly long few seconds after attempting to open it, my heart sinks when nothing but the words “playback is not available on this video on your device” appears on my screen. BOLLOCKS.
11:35 - I swipe my pass to get back into the office, only there’s a delivery man with a package hovering by the door. Addressing me, he says, “I just need a signature for this.” I momentarily hesitate as I’ve never actually signed for a package at work before but I’ve seen other people do it. I take the smallish package and it rattles. It feels like some kind of tub and I’m instantly intrigued.
11:37 - As I head back to my desk I look at the package I’ve just signed for and realise there’s no name on it - only the company’s. I'm unsure of what to do until I remember an email from my boss and evil arch nemesis Trisha Mills on the subject of signing for deliveries (she seems to get very passionate over these sorts of trivial things - approximately two to three passive aggressive emails are sent daily on people not putting their mugs in the dishwasher - give me fucking strength).
11:38 - I’ve managed to find Trisha’s email on the matter. “If you sign for any packages or deliveries, it then becomes your responsibility to let the recipient know and ensure they receive it. If you are unsure who the addressee is check on the Intranet directory to make sure they work here, sign for the package and let them know. Do not accept or sign for any deliveries if the recipient does not work here, if it’s for another company or if it doesn't have a recipient name on.” BIG FAT HAIRY BOLLOCKS.
11:40 - Chloe is telling me I’ll have to send an email round using the group email address asking if anyone’s expecting a delivery. This means every single person in the department will see the email, including the evil bitch cunt boss from hell. I’M FUCKING SCREWED.
11:50 - Sexy Thom and his very lovely, gym pumped arms which are teasingly showing underneath the sleeve of his t shirt (Christ I’ve got it bad!) is back at my desk asking if I’ve seen a copy of the new Trevor Shilling book. He picks up the mystery parcel and shakes it when it rattles. When I remind him that we’re not supposed to sign for deliveries without a name on as imposed by the evil walrus lady and that I’ll probably have to send a group email to everyone, he agrees that I’m royally fucking buggered.
11:51 - “Why don’t you open it, Dan? You might be able to get an idea of who it’s for.” Chloe’s suggestion sounds like it could potentially get me even more in the shit so I hesitate, but she and Thom reason that it’s perfectly forgivable given there’s no name on it and could save me from having to send that email and get me into trouble with the cake scoffing she-devil.
11:52 - I open up the padded envelope to see the lid of some kind of black tub. As I pull the tub fully out of the packaging, my heart leaps into my throat and I feel myself slightly blushing as I stare at the item I'm now holding in front of my work colleagues. A picture of the bronzed, shredded torso of a bodybuilder with deeply cut six pack abs and tight striated pecs sits on the label of a tub of muscle building supplements under two bold words; “EXTREME MASS”.
11:31 - I cry out an overwhelmed, “FUCK!” as the most breathtakingly huge and shockingly shredded bodybuilder in shiny purple posing trunks waddles into view on the YouTube video I’m watching and fills up my laptop screen. Every single body part of Luke Foss from Australia (as revealed in the video’s title) is insatiably thick, outrageously huge and shredded beyond perfection. Thick feathered quads, monstrously huge watermelon delts, pumped slabby muscle tits which hang off his chest, freakishly huge, vein plastered biceps and triceps and a breathtakingly beautiful, perfectly carved out midsection with insanely shredded serratus and peeled blocky abs which burst through his stomach all make up Luke’s barely human, beyond freaky physique. Every inch of his bulging mass of incredible muscle is covered in dick thin skin, coated in the most gorgeous golden competition tan and snaked in the nastiest, freak-show worthy veins. Luke is no older than his late twenties and, although not the most conventionally handsome bodybuilder I’ve ever seen, he’s still incredibly sexy in the looks department, a little rough around the edges and extremely masculine looking, all complimented by an endearingly boyish charm.
11:32 - Luke lifts up both of his arms and cranks down hard into a front double bicep, revealing insanely huge peaks bulging underneath, which stretch his inhumanly thin skin. As he does so, he contorts his sexy face and arrogantly opens his mouth wide as if roaring like some kind of lion, displaying the kind of shamelessly cheeky, over the top cocky, and power packed attitude many bodybuilders do in competition, and which never fails to drive me absolutely nuts.
Luke twists his physique to the side, lifts one arm over his head, and with the other fist clenched, he cranks down hard into a side crunch pose, his eyes jammed shut, and his face outrageously and arrogantly scrunched as much as it possibly can be, in another display of shamelessly cocky posing. I cry out an, “OH FUCK!” as Luke’s blocks of perfectly peeled ab muscle crunch together and pop from his torso, and his devastatingly shredded serratus, intercoastals and obliques are proudly displayed to the audience. My mind can’t quite fathom how one bodybuilder can be so shockingly shredded, while packing in some serious mass and be such an insanely hot and cocky poser.
I need to see the side crunch side pose again, but as I go to hit pause, I suddenly realise Luke is tilting his upper body back, and then crunching down into another pose, only this time his eyes are fully open, and instead of scrunching up his face like an escaped mental patient, he’s opening his mouth again in another playfully aggressive and hyper-masculine mouth roar. Just before he releases the pose, he animatedly and violently nods his head at the audience while mouthing a, “YEAH!” The bulge in my work trousers is begging for me to touch it, but instead, I hit pause on the video, and find the spot just before he hits his front double bicep to watch the whole thing again.
11:33 - I unfasten my belt and unzip my trousers. Just as Luke cranks down into a pose and his freakishly thin skin stretched biceps blow up to an unnatural degree, I tug on the head of my rock hard dick through the soft cotton material of my boxer shorts and let out a pleasurable groan. My dick feels incredibly sensitive, like it might explode at any given second, and as Luke hits that first side crunch/face scrunched like a nutter pose again, a spot of wet pre-cum leaks through the white cotton material of my boxers.
After Luke’s second side crunch/mouth wide open as if roaring like a wild animal pose, he brings his right arm up into an awesome side chest, his insatiably thick right pectoral muscle momentarily jumping up then back into place as he grits his teeth and, in another ridiculously cocky move, twists his face as if snarling at the audience. I groan as I tug on my throbbing hard on, the now wet head feels as if it’s bursting to explode, and I still can't believe I’ve managed to find a bodybuilder so incredibly catered to my taste.
Just when I start to think that the video, or the subject in it, can’t possibly get any more unbelievably hot, Luke spins around to face the rear of the stage, and I physically gasp, as my laptop screen is filled with the image of what is, undoubtedly, a set of one of the most unfathomably thick, and monstrously huge arse cheeks I have ever seen blowing out of a pair of shiny posing trunks.
11:54 - “OH MY GOD!” is Chloe’s first reaction upon seeing the hard, tanned pecs and freakishly sliced abs of the shredded bodybuilder on the front of the tub of muscle supplements, while, “That's some serious muscle!” is Thom’s. If only they knew what kind of impact seeing the sliced up, deeply carved abdominals and full, striated pecs of an insanely jacked up muscle freak had on me. As my workmates, who were presumably unaccustomed to seeing such images of freakishly ripped muscle men shared their opinions over the contents of the mystery parcel, half of me wanted the ground to swallow me whole, while the other half was internally amused at both the surrealness of the situation, and the reactions I was hearing. The world of extreme bodybuilding and freaky muscle mass I knew all too much about had suddenly intruded in to my perfectly normal, everyday office. Two worlds as far apart as any could be had suddenly collided and I was caught in the middle. It was now up to me to find out which of my workmates, at the least had an interest in building a certain amount of muscle mass, or, in the most extreme example, had a yearning to be a ripped, shiny posing trunk sporting muscle freak with shredded six pack abs, biceps as big as their head and lines in their bum cheeks.
11:55 - “Who in the office looks like that?” is the next question posed by Thom. The irony being that Thom is, in fact, the closest thing to a ripped bodybuilder in the whole office, with the second closest thing probably being myself. There were a few guys in the office who looked quite fit, but my only guess was that someone was clearly looking to make some kind of drastic transformation, as none of them looked as if they were ready to embark on a course of some pretty serious looking muscle building supplements. A crazy but brilliant thought enters my head. What if they are, in fact Thom’s and he’s just too embarrassed to admit it? I suddenly imagine coming out of one of the cubicles in the men’s toilets to be met by a slightly sheepish Thom, who addresses me. “Mate, I have a confession. Please don’t tell anyone, but the muscle supplements are mine. I didn’t wanna say anything back in the office but, yeah, basically I wanna get huge mate. Huge AND ripped. Did you see the state of those six pack abs on that muscle dude on the the front of the bottle? I bloody want them more than anything! Shredded abs. Tight pecs. Ripped glutes. I wanna blow up. I wanna get shredded. I wanna be so fucking JACKED!”
11:56 - “Ooooh, I wanna know whose they are now. Send the email round Dan!” Chloe seems almost as intrigued to find out who the mystery wannabe muscle man is as I am. “How about this, Dan,” Thom is addressing me, still holding the supplements, “if no one claims them, we take half each and get ripped together?” OH MY FUCKING GOD! The thought of Thom and I in the gym pumping up and getting shredded, then rocking up to the office on dress down Friday with our huge guns popping out of our matching t-shirts is doing nothing to tame the shameless semi hard on in my jeans caused by my previous “Thom in the toilets” fantasy. I sheepishly laugh, while Thom adds, “I don’t think Anna would be too happy with that!” THAT BITCH HAS GOT TO DIE.
12:00 - The curiosity of knowing who’s clearly attempting to steal Thom’s title of being the office stud far out ways the potential shit I’ll receive from Trisha Mills so I send the group email. “Hi everyone. Is anyone expecting a delivery? I’ve just signed for a parcel but unfortunately it doesn’t have a name on it. Regards, Dan.”
12:10 - Something the size of a whale with a face that looks like a bulldog licking piss of a nettle is storming up to my desk. “Where's this parcel then?” Oh, hello to you too Trisha. I’m doing good, thanks for asking, and how are you today? I hand the parcel to my boss who takes the bottle of “EXTREME MASS” out, raises one eyebrow, grimaces, looks completely disgusted (presumably at the image of the deep, freaky abs and hard, tight pecs) and puts it back in the packaging. “Didn’t you check to see who it was for?” WALRUS! “Well, you shouldn’t have signed for it. We never sign for things that don’t have a name.” Big fat cake scoffing WALRUS! “Well it’s your responsibility now Dan. DON’T do it again.”
12:20 - Twenty minutes later and no email replies, or sign of the lad in the office who potentially wants abs so shredded they could double up as a cheese grater.
12:25 - Chloe has done some calculations and apparently it is, indeed, my turn to get the Krispy Kreme doughnuts this afternoon. I wish I had as much work capacity as Chloe to do such things.
12:30 - Thirty minutes later and still no email replies, or sign of the lad in the office who potentially wants pecs so big he can balance his dinner plate on them. I NEED TO KNOW WHO IT IS.
12:45 - I return from another trip to the gents to an excited Chloe. “Dan, I think we’ve found out who the parcels for.” OH MY GOD YES! “A guy called Steve from Little Tree just phoned and asked for you, he said you’d signed for a delivery for him?” Little Tree is the name of the publishers on the next floor up. They specialise in children’s and young adult fiction books and come under the Third Hill Publishing umbrella. I look at the address on the package again to see no floor number printed. It hadn’t even occurred to me that the parcel might be for someone from Little Tree.
12:46 - I suddenly feel a ridiculous wave of nervousness as I pick up the phone and dial the number Chloe has handed to me on a post it note. A man answers in a deep tone and friendly Northern accent which I find instantly sexy. “Afternoon, Little Tree, Steve speaking.” When I tell him who I am, his tone becomes surprisingly friendly. “Oh yeah, I’ve been expecting a parcel to be delivered. I checked on the Internet and it's saying you signed for it this morning? We’ve had problems with things being delivered to your floor before.” God his voice is sexy. I suddenly have the overwhelming urge to know what Steve looks like. “I’m just going into a meeting now but do you mind if I come down and get it afterwards?“ I tell him yes, both curious and excited to finally be faced with the mystery man who is either on a mission to get insanely hot, chiselled six to eight pack tummy muscles, or just wants to put on a bit of muscle (I like the first theory better).
12:50 - “Dan, do you mind going for a one o’clock lunch?” Joanne is asking me. My immediate answer is no. If Steve the wannabe bodybuilder (PHWOAR) isn’t out of his meeting in the next ten minutes then I’ll most likely miss him. “Erm…do you mind if I go a bit later?” “Well, it’s just with their not being many in today and me and Chloe being in that meeting at two, there’s not gonna be many of us here.” BOLLOCKS BOLLOCKS BOLLOCKS! “Erm…well I might go a bit later than one, but I’ll definitely make sure I’m back at two.” Luke went into a meeting five minutes ago, which means he’s very likely to be out in the next hour, when I’m at bloody lunch.
1:00 - I’m tweeting about an upcoming literary prize award and there’s still no sign of Steve, the lad who potentially already has his colour of posing trunks chosen for his first bodybuilding competition.
1:05 - I’m replying to an email to Ashley in the sales team and there's still no sign of Steve, the lad who may or may not already spend most evenings in his bedroom practising his bodybuilding poses in front of the mirror.
1:10 - I’m aimlessly staring at my desktop hoping that it looks like I’m doing some work when I’m actually not because my head still hurts and I should be at bloody lunch and there’s still no sign of Steve, the lad who could one day make guys fill their pants up just by flexing his muscles in a brightly coloured posing pouch while contorting his face into the most shamelessly cocky expressions imaginable (FUCK YEAH STEVE)!
1:15 - I really can’t wait anymore so I pick up Steve’s muscle building supplements and shove them in my bag. It’s not that I’m dying to know what Steve looks like, I’m simply being considerate by taking his parcel to his floor while I’m on my way back from my lunch break when surely he’ll be out of his meeting (and that will be my answer if anyone asks why they couldn't find the parcel when Steve came down to pick it up while I was at lunch).
1:20 - I’m on my way to Tesco to pick up the doughnuts and I suddenly feel marginally guilty and disloyal to Thom for having spent the last thirty minutes thinking about another guy at work. I STILL LOVE YOU THOM.
1:30 - As I purchase two big boxes of Krispy Kremes, I think about Steve itching to get started on a course of his “EXTREME MASS” muscle supplements and feel like the worlds fattest bastard (or in other words, Trisha Mills).
1:40 - On my way through town I notice two people handing out leaflets, who are stood either side of a stand with three big words printed on it; “IS SATAN REAL?” It takes all of my effort not to walk over to the two of them and say, “Yes, Satan is real. In fact she works in my office. Would you like to come and meet her?”
1:45 - I suddenly imagine Steve hovering at my desk having finished his meeting as a drooling Chloe rifles through my draws trying to find his muscle building supplements. Oooopsie!
1:55 - Armed with my two big boxes of Krispy Kreme doughnuts, I hit the button in the lift for the floor above mine, aka the floor Steve works on. I suddenly feel stupidly nervous, so I bring myself back down to Earth by telling myself that Steve could, in fact, be completely ordinary sized, unattractively out of shape, and not in the least bit sexy.
1:56 - I’m slightly surprised that my pass works to get into the Little Tree office. I hover around the door for a few seconds until a short, pretty and friendly blonde woman asks me if she can help. “Erm, I’m from Third Hill downstairs. I’ve got a parcel for Steve?” Don’t offer to take it off me. Do NOT offer to take it off me. She looks at the two boxes of Krispy Kremes in my hand. “I’m not sure even he can manage all of those,” she says laughing. “Do you wanna hang on just a second and I’ll see if he’s at his desk?" she asks. I agree and as she walks off her comment about even Steve not being able to manage eating two boxes of doughnuts lingers in my mind. He’s clearly a lad who likes to consume a lot of calories. And what kind of lads do that? HUGE, RIPPED, POSING TRUNK SPORTING BODYBUILDERS! And then I suddenly panic. What if Steve is still in his meeting, or has gone to lunch? Surely his perky, pint sized colleague will just take the package from me, and the logical thing would clearly be to leave it with her, which leaves me with a new dilemma. How do I explain to someone I’ve just met that I’m part of a very elite group of gay men who spend many a night blasting massive creamy loads over videos of obscenely huge, inhumanly shredded muscle freaks with lines in their bums and for whom the possibility of an actual, or budding bodybuilder working in the same building as them is a prospect more exiting than most people could ever comprehend?
I’m awkwardly lingering by the door, glancing at the corner Steve’s colleague’s disappeared from, fully expecting to see her petite 5’6 figure re-appear. When a very different figure appears instead and strides towards me, my stomach leaps into my chest and I momentarily feel like I may have slipped into some kind of alternative reality. I almost have to catch my breathe as the man who is, undoubtedly, the once mystery owner of the “EXTREME MASS” bodybuilding supplements approaches me.
11:34 - I groan an, “Oh God,” barely able to comprehend how one man’s arse can be so monstrously big. It looks like someone stuck a bicycle pump up Luke’s bum and went mental with the pedal, pumping up his buttocks until they’re almost fit to burst. About two inches of Luke’s endlessly beefy bum cheeks are covered by the back of his shiny purple posing trunks, most of which is now residing in the crack separating his gigantic sized glutes.
As Luke hits a back double bicep, his beefy bum meat (all 200 lbs of it) wobbles and as he tenses with the peak of the pose, striations peak through the drum tight skin of each terrifyingly enormous arse cheek. I cry an “OH FUCK!” as the head of my dick suddenly feels dangerously close to exploding and I suddenly put a break on the wheels by quickly taking my hand off my cock, in the knowledge that I’m about three tugs away from blasting the most epic sized load.
Luke quickly spins around to face the audience and, with force, he stomps one of his monstrously thick quads down, throws his arms behind the back of his head, momentarily opens his mouth as if taking a breath, then, with his eyes jammed tight shut, exaggeratedly puffs out his cheeks and then cranks down into an abs and thighs pose, a loud hissing exhaling noise plays over his posing music as he blows it out. His beautifully shredded ab blocks crunch together and his face now contorted into a cheeky scrunch. Holding the pose, Luke tilts his upper body to the left, then to the right, then back again, ensuring the audience are treated to his anatomy chart like midsection, all the time making a bid for the title of bodybuilding’s greatest face scruncher.
11:35 - I have the overwhelming need to see Luke’s immense abs and thighs pose again. As I find the spot just before he outrageously stomps his right quad down, most probably causing a crack on the floor of the fucking stage, I cautiously and gently start tugging on my throbbing cock again. Sliced quads, puffed out cheeks, beautiful abs, shredded serattus, loud hissing and packed purple posers all threaten to cause a spunk tsunami in my underwear in what is undoubtedly some of the hottest abs and thighs action I think I’ve ever seen. I’m absolutely bursting to blow my load, and it’s a small miracle that it hasn’t already happened, but the video’s not finished yet.
Luke relaxes from his incredible abs and thighs pose, but, in a matter of seconds, he's lifting both of his arms up and preparing to blast out what is unmistakably my all time favourite pose. I’d be slightly disappointed that Luke’s choice of most muscular is in an upstanding, hands clasped together style of pose and not, as I expected, a crab most muscular, if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s accompanied by, without a doubt, his most outrageously cocky expression yet. While arrogantly grimacing to an insane degree, he cheekily sticks out his tongue and violently shakes his head as he cranks down into his pose. As the camera suddenly zooms in on his incredibly shredded and shockingly muscular physique I suddenly notice streaks of sweat trickling down his phenomenally pumped slabs of pec muscle and inhumanly carved out midsection.
11:36 - I’m tugging on my dick with abandon, groaning with pleasure, fully in the knowledge that I’m about to blast a load at any given second, while Luke is lifting his arms up again seemingly about to hit another pose. As he cranks down hard into a massive crab most muscular, while outrageously opening his mouth wide in, what has to be, one of the most shamelessly arrogant mouth roaring expressions I’ve ever seen a bodybuilder pulling, every superhuman sized slab of granite hard, thinly skinned, sweat and tan drenched muscle exploding and erupting and Luke displaying the most phenomenally cocky and powerful attitude, my whole body is filled with the most intense orgasmic pleasure, I cry out a loud groan, and a fountain of hot, wet cum is pumping into the crotch of my boxer shorts. As I sit basking in post orgasmic pleasure with a satisfied smirk on my face and soaking wet undies, barely able to believe how good my orgasm was, Luke is faced to the rear of the audience again and waddling off stage, his unfathomably huge and ridiculously thick bum cheeks wobbling like crazy in his shiny purple posers with every single step.
1:57 - “Hi. Are you Dan?” OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD. I mumble something completely incomprehensible in reply as my mind attempts to cope with the person standing before me. I have no idea whether Steve from Little Tree has used the “EXTREME MASS” bodybuilding supplements he’s about to receive before, and I’m hardly about to ask, but he’s clearly been using some kind of muscle building products. His arms alone, which are bulging out of a tight fitted white t-shirt, are absolutely fucking ridiculous. In fact, I don’t think I've ever witnessed a person with such outrageously pumped, and insanely thick arms before in the flesh. His wide, thick chest is filling out the front of his t shirt, and peeking just above the small V around the neck, is the top of the clearly visible groove separating both of his pecs. His neck is thick and solid, his legs chunky, and his whole (roughly) 5’9 tall frame is wide and bigger than the average man’s. I can’t see any sign of a protruding stomach underneath his t shirt, but I’m imagining a gorgeously chiselled, impressively hard stomach, with a faintly lined (depending on lighting) six pack which will one day be full on stomach popping blocks of freaky looking, deeply grooved, splat-your-pants worthy ab muscle. Not satisfied with just owning an abnormally and dangerously bordering on freakishly muscular physique, Steve also happens to incredibly sexy in the looks department, with brunette hair, a slightly tanned complexion and extremely masculine and strong facial features. Standing before me is a man who has already transcended a normal level of hotness and is now clearly on the road to becoming a full on ripped bodybuilder, capable of making grown men cum in their pants at the mere fucking thought of them.
“I’m not sure why the parcel got delivered to your floor but it’s happened to a couple of guys up here.” This is your turn to speak. Say something. Anything. LOOK AT THOSE FUCKING ARMS!! “Erm...yeah, there was no name on it.” THEY’RE FUCKING HUUUUUUGE!! “And it was addressed to Third Hill.” SERIOUSLY...HOW ARE YOUR ARMS SO FUCKING HUGE?! “Huh, that’s strange. I should probably have them sent to my home next time.” Still unable to take in just how insanely hot this mini bodybuilder in the making who’s been sat one floor above me the whole nine months I’ve been working in the building is, I suddenly can’t help thinking that there’s an ever so slight resemblance in the looks department between Steve and Luke Foss; the huge, shredded bodybuilder I’d shot a massive load to not fifteen hours ago. I also can’t help noticing how extremely friendly and down to Earth this soon to be posing trunk wearing stud of a muscle boy is.
1:58 - Struggling a little with holding two boxes of Krispy Kremes, I attempt to retrieve Steve’s tub of “EXTREME MASS” from my backpack, when Steve suddenly dives for the boxes of doughnuts and takes them from me in order help me out. Arms like fucking tree trunks, a neck like a rhino bull’s, ACTUAL pecs, ridiculously good looking, friendly, considerate, and an absolute fucking sweetheart. THOM WHO?! As I hand Steve his parcel, I suddenly feel embarrassed, not only that I’ve yet to mention the fact I’ve opened it, but also at the thought of what’s inside. “Erm...sorry, we opened it to try and see if we could figure who it was for,” I sheepishly say. Steve looks completely unfazed and replies, “Ahhh, that’s OK. Don’t worry about it,” and I suddenly have the urge to mention what is now on both of our minds; Steve’s tub of “EXTREME MASS” bodybuilding supplements which, presumably, are to aid in his arms becoming even more monstrously huge, his neck even more incredibly thick, and those shy six pack abs even more impressively prominent.
Steve is handing me back the boxes of Krispy Kremes and I feel a slight wave of disappointment that our encounter is now drawing to a close. “That’s a lot of doughnuts,” Steve comments. “Yeah,” I say smiling. “It’s Fat Friday!” “Eurgh! People on this floor have started using that phrase,” Steve says with slight contempt, clearly sharing my negative view on the whole concept. “I don’t actually like these,” I say, nodding to the two boxes of doughnuts in my hand. “Hmmm. No,” he replies shaking his head. “Not for me either thanks.” And then, while patting his stomach, he cheekily adds, “Not good for the abs.” OH MY SHITTING FUCK! I can’t quite fathom that he’s actually just said the word “abs” to me. I blush slightly, sheepishly smile, and without any prior thought I suddenly blurt out, “Hmmmm. More like Flex Friday!” You did NOT just say that! YOU FUCKING TWAT! But before I have time to run out of the door with my head hung in shame hating every fibre of my socially retarded being, Steve is letting out a cheeky chuckle and is beaming a huge and incredibly sexy smile. “Flex Friday!” he repeats in a chirpy manner. “I like that!” And then, Steve brings up his right forearm, and, looking down at his huge arm, he clenches his fist, his monstrously sized bicep erupts and bulges into the most jaw dropping flex, and he lets out the most outrageously cheeky and playful, “Grrrrrrrr!” W-O-FUCKING-O-FUCKING-FUCKING-F!!
And if anyone's curious as to who inspired the character of Luke Foss, the two main bodybuilders I had in my mind were (yep, you guessed it!) Steve "HOW IS MY ARSE IS SO FUCKING HUGE?" Orton...
...and this outrageously cocky (and bloody sexy) Greek bodybuilder by the name of Lefteris Sidiropoulos!