Muscle Cock Freak Boy Club – Daniel Bundy

Daniel Bundy is a Liverpool based miscreant and verbal terrorist who occasionally writes things to horrify people. He has no discernible talent or redeeming qualities but he once made someone cry with his suggestions in a workshop group. You can enjoy his labrador-like antics by following @SaintBundy on Twitter, and also @ApathyPress because he runs this website and wants to make you all famous. Crack on.

MUSCLE COCK FREAK BOY CLUB
By Daniel Bundy

Hello. My name’s Richard. I’m twenty seven years old, just escaping the clutches of a severe body image crisis and I’d like to tell you how my life has improved as of late.

I was a fat child. I was a fatter teenager. I read pro-ana websites and starved my way to a respectable XS at six one, got boils under my arms, green film under my scalp, but you know the saying. There’s no rest for the shredded.

I bought into men’s fashion. Caught my reflection in mirrors, windows, ponds, puddles, your glasses, metal surfaces, the glass unit I bought for my sick ass TV, which, by the way, casts my reflection when it’s switched off. Pale, thin, chiseled, obsessed with the male form. Wouldn’t you be, in the prime of your life?

I’m definitely a homosexual.
I’m definitely a homosexual.
I’m definitely a massively repressed homosexual but God damn am I beautiful.

The old hag in the canteen? She wants to fuck me. The blonde with the arse in HR? She wants to fuck me. That girl I drove past in the Astra, mud-spattered, drenched, changing the flat on her road bike, pleading as I cruised over to Topman? All she wanted was to get in my car, taste that first drip on the tip of my vascular, terse, masculinity. And then she wanted to fuck me.

But I could never engage. Never had the balls. Not until I joined the club.

A black plastic card came through the letter box, all white swirl and gold letters, my name and a bunch of numbers. From now until the bank breaks, I smash life using a combination of six weekly weight sessions, six weekly injections, a fuck load of chicken breast and brown rice. You think that’s coke around my nostrils? Protein powder, bitch. Super jack psycho bastard beef with all this capital T pumping up my bronzed beautiful body.

Call yourself my friend? I’ll sodomize your soon to be ex in the back seat of  my Astra. She’ll fucking love it, even when I cum in her mouth and never call back. Repellent? That’s a big word for a dyke. Go ahead and fight me. Do you even lift? Do you remember when I said that ironically? Do you remember when you couldn’t get me to exercise? Now you can’t get me to stop.

I’m a one man wrecking crew. I weigh more than I ever as a pudgy little virgin but now I’m cut, crisp, swollen, sun-kissed,  primed and powerful. I’m a monument to God that God worships.

My old clothes don’t fit me. I don’t know who I am anymore, but who the fuck cares? You all know me.

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