By KettleCharlie

The week before Ben’s first show passed in a blur of positively controlled excitement. Still in the University, he had an essay to finish and deliver so that he could spend the week at home and in the gym---a week that would finish with the show.

I went to collect him on the Sunday afternoon and as he approached me across “The Green”, I could easily see the effects of Nick’s dietary instruction and sense the growing excitement as well as the confident spring in his step. He was ready and eager and hungry. When we were seated in the car I put my hand on his leg and he flexed his quad filling me with wonder and awe, but we drove home keeping the conversation on academia only; his essays (the next one on Napoleon), his progress, learning to play chess, jogging with a partner-guide and his discovery of a classical music composer called, let me get this right, Janacek.

Ben and I enjoyed the night together and the next morning, as arranged, I delivered him to the gym. He greeted Laura with a friendly hug and a kiss on the cheek, Nick with a handshake and hug and Jake---

Ben quietly sniffed the body in front of him then swept his arms around encircling Jake. “It’s Jake, isn’t it?” he asked and poor Jake, in ecstasy, could only mumble, “Yeah”, before Ben, feeling with his fingers, happily congratulated him on the work he must have done. “You have grown”, Ben said, “I can feel it”. Then Ben stripped down to his CKs and Nick took him through the compulsory poses. He was beautiful. I could try to describe him but I know I’m biased so I’ll wait until the contest. After all, on that Monday morning, he was so close, but there was work still to be done.

Nick took him through a quiet, intense workout and after Ben had showered and dried off, there was another session of stretching and posing. The Nick produced a small parcel, (wrapped carefully by Jake), which he gave to Ben, telling him that it was a present from all of us.

----it was, too, from the four of us and several of the gym users, including a couple of guys who were old hands at contests, and even Mr Hughes and Mrs Pataki---

Ben opened his present. It was a superb posing slip. He felt it carefully, smelt it, then dropped his sweats and CKs to put on his new crafted poser. It fitted beautifully, and we could see it was more than a poser; it was a thong with a bag in front.

“It’s sort of stretchy”, Ben laughed as he casually adjusted his cock inside.

“It needs to be with your package to contain” said Nick. “You look great, Ben” Laura added. In reply, Ben gave us a quick most muscular and we could see what the other competitors had to conquer. Jake was entranced and his eyes never left that body. I went over to Ben, held him close and told him that the poser was mainly a bright green –like holly leaves, with some highlights of a softer apple green. It fitted just as it should, covering everything required by political correctness and prudery but making sure that everyone would know just was being covered by it.

As Nick had worked with me before my first show, so now he did with Ben. He assumed the role of Mother Hen. Even though Ben had been following instructions for several months, we all received strict instructions for the coming week. Laura became group cook, with Jake as assistant cook and bottle washer and he willingly accepted the responsibility. He was growing both physically and mentally.

On Monday afternoon, Ben called out, “Where’s Jake?”

“Here”, Jake answered.

“Ned has told me that you are going to help oil me at the show. Thanks, Jake---I’ll need all the help I can get”

There was a tiny pause before Jake mumbled, “Glad to help, Ben”

“Would you like Jake to take you centre-stage for your posing routine?” I asked.

“Good idea”

Ben smiled at me, knowing I wanted to do that myself.

“Ah, the posing routine!” Nick interrupted, “I hope you’ve got one!”

It was that kind of an atmosphere---we were joshing each other and being serious about the work and the preparation and the excitement all at the same time.

“Sure”, said Ben, “Tomorrow? Still needs a little more work”. •

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