FBB Video Review #1: Denise Masino and the Leopard Dress

A new recurring feature I’m going to introduce in 2020 is FBB Video Reviews, in which I break down a sexy video featuring a female bodybuilder (or two, or three, or four) doing her thing. The videos could be ones that I personally love or they could come from reader suggestions.

Have a suggestion of one I should review? Email me at ryantakahashi87 (at) yahoo (dot) com. Or you can let me know in the comments below. Whichever you prefer.

For our maiden voyage, let’s dive into one featuring the incomparable Denise Masino. It should be no secret that Denise is my favorite female bodybuilder of all time. She’s amazing beyond words. One can never succinctly describe why she’s so incredible to behold. But she is nevertheless. Denise is sexy, smart, savvy, affable, and delivers exactly what her fans crave. That’s a lethal combination that not too many of her peers can match. A few do, but they’re few and far between.

This particular video looks to have been produced by Denise Masino herself. In today’s world, that seems to be the best bet when you want to create content that fits your own preferred style and tone. You can see more content like this if you become a subscriber on her website.

Watch Video

0:00 – Right off the bat, we see Denise wearing a sexy leopard skin dress that generously shows off her strong arms, thick meaty legs, and curvy feminine figure. She appears to be on the porch of someone’s house (her home or someone else’s residence? Who knows…) in broad daylight. Whether a neighbor was able to sneak a peek at the filming of this video is unknown. If a lucky bastard was able to crouch behind a kitchen window and watch the action unfold, more power to him!

The residence appears to be by a lake, so maybe an alligator was able to witness it all.

0:21 – The lighting isn’t ideal, which probably means the camera’s auto exposure adjustment feature wasn’t working yet. But we are distracted by Denise waving to us. It’s a miracle we haven’t died from cardiac arrest yet.

0:26 – Oh good. The camera’s exposure finally kicks in. We can now see Denise in her full glory!

0:32 – The camera moves down toward the floor and we can clearly see she isn’t wearing any panties. Yowza! It’s difficult to make out what her bits look like, but we’ll eventually find out.

One side note about the music. Yes, the music in porn is much maligned and often parodied. But in this case, it works on a thematic level. The music is upbeat, positive, and not necessarily sexually charged. It communicates openness, fun, and a casual spirit of joy. This video is also filmed outdoors in broad daylight. Not in a dark dungeon or BDSM-themed room. There are no dramatic lighting choices or distracting music. It blends into the background. Denise wants us to relax and enjoy the moment. She allows her body to take centerstage. That’s the only thing that we need to focus on. And it’s safe to say that we definitely are!

1:06 – Denise flexes her arms for us, reminding her audience that she’s a bodybuilder, not just a sexy lady who’s currently performing in an erotic video. The vein popping out of her arm is hard to not notice. When she flexes her left bicep, we instantly know that Denise is a genuinely strong woman – both literally and figuratively. The way she makes her bicep dance up and down is both tantalizing and hypnotic.

2:00 – I’m not into feet, but anyone who happens to be are in for a real treat. Lots of guys are really turned on by this sort of thing, but not me. But hey, I don’t judge. Whatever you’re into is cool with me! I’m in no position to judge someone on their personal fetish.

2:34 – Though I’m not into feet, I am into legs. Holy mackerel! Those heels bring out her calves, hamstrings, and quads like nothing else. I don’t know if she could crush a watermelon between her thighs, but I’d sure like to one day find out.

3:07 – We start to see a bit more of what Denise possesses between her gorgeous legs. Things are still covered up with her dress, but she’s definitely not shy about letting us know that her feminine bits are just as intriguing as the rest of her. She’s got big muscles, but she’s also got alluring stuff where the sun doesn’t traditionally shine. Perhaps soon the sun will in fact shine down there…

3:10 – Our first close-up of Denise’s nether regions. I can sense my heart attack building up inside my nervous system. It’s only a matter of time before my next-door neighbor needs to call an ambulance on my behalf. Maybe the paramedics and I can watch this video together.

4:14 – I’m not sure how comfortable that pose is, but we’re sure enjoying the view! That’s the life of a supermodel, though. You’re constantly forced to contort your body in all sorts of disjointed positions for the sake of getting that perfect sexy shot. We’re all thankful for it, even though it’s probably a pain in the ass to maintain. For that level of commitment, we are eternally grateful.

4:24 – Her top finally comes off, revealing her full breasts and perky nipples. If you need further mental reinforcement that Denise is in fact a feminine woman – and that muscular development does not turn a woman into a man or into a masculine lady – this should be it. Need more persuasion that big muscles on a woman can be incredibly sensual?

4:43 – Our first prominent shot at Denise’s labia. If you aren’t familiar with Miss Masino’s past work, this image may come as a shock to you. If you are already familiar with her, this is the moment we’ve all been waiting for. It’s her calling hard. Her prized possession. Her most famous asset. It’s the part of her that makes us return to her again and again. You will see why a little later.

5:17 – The way she’s stroking it almost looks like she’s preparing it for action. She isn’t masturbating yet. This is almost like “pre-masturbation,” or priming the pump. She’s warming up. She’s casually tossing the football back and forth to her receivers right before kick-off, loosening up her arm in anticipation of the Big Game. But her sport is much different than football, baseball, or basketball. MUCH different!

5:45 – Finally, she’s completely naked! Took her long enough. I was worried there for a while. Totally concerned.

Not really. But whatever. You get my drift.

5:51 – This is our first shot of her entire nude body. This is her. This is Denise. She’s not hiding anything. Her position implies that she’s consciously on full display. Like a priceless marble statue at The Louvre, Miss Masino wants the whole world to see her for who she is. She’s not holding back anymore. No more modesty. This is where Denise announces to the world that she’s a work of art in flesh form. She’s an artist and her own body is her canvas. The dumbbells at the gym are her paintbrush. Her food, supplements, protein shakes, and workout regimen are her paint. She’s a modern-day Michelangelo and this small backyard porch is the Sistine Chapel.

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

6:04 – I love how carelessly and unceremoniously her leopard skin dress is strewn on the floor. It’s like an inconvenience, an afterthought, a minor annoyance. It’s like a large drape covering up the Venus de Milo. It’s a useless piece of fabric that’s preventing us from seeing Denise for who she really is. Or, it’s an oppressive cloth that acts as a proverbial set of handcuffs that holds back Denise’s true nature. Her body deserves to be seen. It’s divine. It defies description. To cover it up is to deny her body its very purpose. To cover it up is akin to burning a book or pouring an expensive bottle of wine down the drain. It’s a terrible waste and demonstrates a blatant disregard for why it exists. Yeah, this is probably a bit too hyperbolic, but Denise Masino has the unique ability to draw that type of attitude out of me.

6:19 – Oh, how pink it is! Now I can discuss this in further detail. Denise’s most famous asset – one that is arguably her moneymaker – is her genitalia. Yes, that sounds odd to say aloud. But it’s 100% true. Her bright pink vagina, thick dark brown labia, and shockingly enormous clitoris are what endear her to her legion of fans. Her prominent genitalia are important for many reasons, but this is chief among them: It proves that women are autonomous sexual beings who are just as entitled to enjoy their bodies as men are.

Denise demonstrates that women are not merely men who lack a penis. They have their own set of genitalia that are unique to them and serve a specific function. The fact that Denise’s bits are larger and more pronounced exemplifies this point. She’s fully capable of experiencing sexual pleasure all by herself, with or without a man (or woman, or whomever). Her vagina isn’t merely an organ that serves the purpose of accepting a man’s penis during intercourse. Her vagina – and the rest of her genitals – can also serve the purpose of providing her pleasure. Reproduction is one purpose. Pleasure is another purpose. Both are legitimate and should be respected. Her large genitalia make this point better than any academic paper could.

7:01 – Denise is inviting us to take a closer look. Don’t mind if we do!

She spreads her labia wide, letting us see the inside of her vagina. If you don’t feel like an amateur OB-GYN, you should by now. Her motioning us to take a closer look is exactly that. An invitation to take a closer look. As opposed to an invitation to enter her sexually through intercourse. I’ve noted before that Denise is unique in that she rarely ever does videos with other men. In fact, I cannot recall ever seeing one like that. Most of her self-produced videos show her just by herself doing solo activities. Occasionally, she’ll have a scene partner or two. But 99.9% of the time, her scene partner(s) are other women. Usually female bodybuilders like her.

Her reluctance (or refusal) to do scenes with men is a personal choice that also works on a strategic level. Because no other men are present on screen with her, we can vicariously insert ourselves into the scene. We can be her imaginary lover. Our fantasy isn’t spoiled by the image of another guy (or multiple guys) doing the deed with her. Rather, we can fantasize in peace knowing we can easily put ourselves in that position without some random dude bro ruining it for us.

So when she motions us to come closer, she’s either telling us to literally take a closer look at her intimate parts or she’s inviting us to fantasize what it would be like to be intimately with her. Either way, it works.

7:38 – This is when things get really, really exciting (as if it hasn’t already). Denise is poking at her erect clit. The size is both eye-popping and shocking. How can a woman get that big? Is it from years of taking steroids? Human growth hormones? Lifting weights? Or was she born this way? I do not claim to know the answer to these questions, but I can guess that drugs played a significant role here. Whatever. The one thing we know for sure is that it isn’t a penis. Denise Masino is a woman. Period, end of story. She isn’t a man. She isn’t trans. Her gender isn’t ambiguous in any way. That large endowment located between her legs is a very large clitoris, not a tiny penis. Even if you are giving her the benefit of the doubt, one cannot help but notice that the shape of her clit resembles the head of a penis. After all, the penis and clitoris are biologically analogous, so that’s not an inaccurate perception. But nevertheless, we know what she has. It ain’t masculine. It’s undeniably feminine.

8:00 – The tip of her clit looks to be the same size as her index finger. Quite impressive!

8:10 – It’s worth noting that Denise doesn’t normally choose to shave or “tide up” her pubic hair. She allows it to remain as is. Lots of porn performers – male and female – shave their pubic hair so that their genitals can be better seen. It also looks cleaner and sexier. But Denise is different. She wants her thick bushy pubic hair to be part of her. She’s telling her audience that she’s not a little girl. She’s not a traditional porn actress. She’s a fully-grown woman. And fully-grown women have pubic hair down there.

Her act of defiance of remaining “bushy” conveys that Denise is an adult who caters to other adults. She’s not interested in immature man-babies coming her way. She wants adult men and women who will enjoy her for who she is to ride the Denise Train. I don’t know about you, but I got my first-class ticket in hand!

8:14 – This is the moment Denise starts stroking her engorged clit with her thumb and index finger. Remarkably, Denise is able to jerk off like a man. Granted, she’s using two fingers instead of her entire hand, but that’s beside the point. How many biologically feminine women can jerk off like Denise is doing here? “Very few” is the answer.

But let’s be clear about one thing: This isn’t Denise “acting like a man.” No, this is a case of Denise acting like a woman while doing an activity that we traditionally associated with men. Women can “jerk off” too if they have the right sized equipment. Clearly, Denise has that at her disposal.

9:24 – Denise continues to stroke her clit. Is she actually bringing herself to orgasm? Eh, maybe. Maybe not. I’d guess she’s truly enjoying it, but not that much. But I could be wrong. Nobody is under the impression that porn accurately portrays real life. It’s about fantasy more than reality. Whether or not Denise is experiencing actual orgasms is secondary to how we feel watching her stroke that beautiful clit up and down. We feel a tremendous amount of eroticism. And that’s the whole point. She’s completing her objectives like a pro.

9:50 – For the first time, we hear Denise speak! She instructs us to “Jerk with me. Jerk it…jerk it.” Denise is usually more vocal in her videos, so this is a rare instance when she remains fairly silent. Some people prefer to cut the unnecessary chatter in porn videos (mostly because the “dialogue” written for such scenes is unbearably awful), but Denise is a different cat. She’s smart, funny, engaging, personable, and likable. You root for her. So you don’t mind if she talks directly to you. It’s like she’s your best friend. A very sexy best friend, that is.

10:18 – More glorious orgasms. Keep ‘em coming! Yes, pun intended.

10:31 – Denise keeps things low key. She doesn’t scream bloody murder when she climaxes or writhes around violently like a demon-possessed child in The Exorcist. Her breathing quickens and she’ll moan at a low volume. Nothing over-the-top. That’s classic Denise. She’s sexy, but she doesn’t “impose” her sexiness on you. She lets her natural self speak for itself. And that’s enough. Subtlety is an art she’s perfected.

10:49 – Once again, we are reminded at how well-endowed she is. Oof!

10:57 – I wonder how she tastes? Probably like fine wine. Unfortunately, I’ll never find out. But I can dream, can I?

11:08 – After a few nice orgasms, Denise decompresses by slowly strokes her labia. She’s satisfied, satiated, and situated finely to take a long nap. After all, she deserves it! As enthralled as we’ve been, we need to let off some steam too. I wonder how…

***

So that’s that. My first FBB Video Review in the bag! I’m unsure if I’ll go quite into so much observational detail moving forward. But anything is possible.

Once again, please email me or let me know below if you have suggestions of other videos I should break down moment-by-moment. This video was a bit longer than most at 11:21. But that doesn’t mean I can’t review others that are of similar length. They just have to be compelling enough.

I hope you had just as much fun as I did. Happy New Year!

Isabelle Turell: Partying Like a Female Muscle Rock Star

Isabelle Turell can party with me anytime.

Some female bodybuilders are accused of “not being feminine enough.” Other female bodybuilders are accused of “being a little too feminine.” It’s impossible to please everybody, so there’s no need to try, right?

Right. But people have their preferences – and they are perfectly entitled to their preferences, the consequences be damned. We all can name our “favorite” female bodybuilder without thinking about it, though some of us may need to include 4 or 5 just to be on the safe side. While the Holy Grail FBB – someone who exhibits a flawless mixture of muscularity, beauty, femininity, and attitude – may not actually exist, one lady in particular comes to mind as someone who’s really darn close.

Isabelle Turell.

Isabelle is a rare woman whose impressive muscle mass doesn’t distract from the rest of her qualities. She’s stunningly gorgeous, curvy, oozes with sexiness, and can make you drop dead in your tracks if you ever saw her. She also has a nerdy side to her that she isn’t shy about sharing with the world. We are blessed to have her around.

She is a multifaceted woman who offers more than you’d think…but at the same time not as much as you’d like. She isn’t complicated, but she isn’t easy to understand. You want her to be a certain way but she won’t go there, yet she delivers exactly what she needs to deliver without disappointing anyone.

More on this later.

Isabelle Turell was born on October 22, 1979 in Tampa, Florida. She currently resides in Terre Haute, Indiana. She’s been an IFBB Pro Bodybuilder since 2008. Her actual bodybuilding career began in 2000 when she competed at the Orlando Classic, demonstrating that “turning pro” isn’t a task to be taken lightly. Her competition history is impressive, having competed at the NPC USA Championship, Ms. International, Wings of Strength, Arnold Classic, Tampa Pro, Omaha Pro, Atlantic City Women’s Pro, Rising Phoenix Arizona Pro, Lenda Murray Classic Pro, and many other regional tournaments. She isn’t just another typical competitor. She’s a serious heavyweight who deserves respect within the industry.

Is she considered “elite?” Eh, not quite. But she’s a prominent figure in the IFBB world and has accomplished things many of us – male or female – cannot even dream of doing. When she isn’t competing, Isabelle provides fitness consulting services and additional information/content if you become a paying member of her website. In this respect, Isabelle earns her living in the same way hundreds of other FBBs earn their living. It goes with the territory.

Isabelle is one of the most multi-faceted female bodybuilders around. One moment she could be wearing a BDSM-themed leather mask and looking to fulfill every single one of your femdom bondage fantasies. The next moment she’s cosplaying as The Hulk or Ghost Rider. She’s part dominatrix, part nerd, part sex kitten, and part world-class athlete with intrigue, class, and mysteriousness sprinkled in throughout.

There’s something about Isabelle that appeals to everyone. She has Amber Deluca’s Powerful Female Muscle Dominatrix vibe but can also pull off Denise Masino’s Fun and Sometimes Nerdy Lady Bodybuilder personality. She appeals to the hardcore fetishists who fantasize about being controlled, dominated, and humiliated by a strong sexy woman; while at the same time her chiseled physique compares favorably to Alina Popa.

She’s fun for the whole family. Assuming your family is into this sort of thing.

Her personality is guarded, so you don’t feel like you know her intimately like you do Denise. Miss Masino could be your best friend or drinking buddy. Isabelle is that cool chick you met at a party once and still exchange an occasional dirty text message with. Miss Turell is certainly sexy but she doesn’t overtly flaunt it like her peers. She lets the little bit of her that she chooses to make public speak for itself. Whether this is intentional or not, Isabelle leaves you wanting more while delivering exactly what she needs to deliver.

The one thing Isabelle won’t deliver to her fans is hardcore porn. That’s not in her repertoire. She’s more than happy being sexy, but she’ll flaunt her sexiness with limitations. These limitations aren’t tragic, however. They’re her choice and we must respect that. But then again, it’s not completely necessary that she go that far in order to satisfy our desires to see her in her full glory.

Isabelle is in her “full glory” when we feel empowered to insert her into our dirtiest fantasies. One of the most intriguing parts of female muscle fandom is that female bodybuilders are able to activate our imaginations in unexplainable ways. We cannot help but think about all sorts of scenarios, circumstances, and erotic fantasies whenever we encounter an image of a beautiful woman with big muscles. Isabelle is no exception.

Isabelle cosplaying as Jessica Rabbit.

When we see a selfie of Isabelle’s smiling face that unashamedly shows off her prodigious cleavage, we cannot help but think about what it would be like to get a handful of her enormous breasts and caress them with tender care. Then our minds turn toward thinking of her with a whip in hand, a long strap-on dildo attached to her crotch, and a leather BDSM mask that accentuates her gorgeous brown eyes. Or, we imagine her as our personal trainer. She pushes us harder and beyond our limits, and generously rewards our killer workout with further, uh, strenuous cardiovascular activities in the gym hot tub.

Or, we see a photo of Isabelle in a bikini and instantly place ourselves on that particular beach with her. Every muscle fiber is on clear display. Not a single soul is in sight. The sun is starting to set, which adds to the urgency of the moment. You kiss her deeply as the waves crash against the shore. Then, Isabelle quickly discards her bikini and stands before you in her Birthday Suit. She looks tantalizing. She invites you to disrobe. You do. Then, you make magic on the beach and end up with sand in every crevice of your body. Then, you make more magic. And more. And more. Finally, totally spent, you walk hand-in-hand with her across the beach as the bright moonlight illuminates the romantic scene.

Or, you look at a fun cosplay pic of Isabelle dressed up as the She-Hulk. Her skin is a brilliant green. You can see every curve of her muscular figure. You imagine what it would be like to be a scientist conducting an “experiment” on her. By day, Isabelle is a shy intern who can barely lift a box of copy paper. But when she gets really angry, she transforms into the She-Hulk! Now, she can bust through a drywall just by throwing her fist through it. And she can lift a car and toss it a hundred feet away without breaking a sweat. You know you shouldn’t make her angry too often, but what the heck? It couldn’t hurt too much! And if it does, so be it.

Or, you scroll through Isabelle’s Instagram page and see her wearing an elegant black cocktail dress. She looks classy and ravishing at the same time. You take her out to dinner at the finest restaurant in the city. All eyes are on her. Nobody can ignore her. It’s not every day that you see a gorgeous sexy woman with bulging muscles strut around like she owns the place. In a way, she does own the place. She owns every environment she finds herself in, to be exact. You enjoy a lovely date night with her, chuckling to yourself as the waitstaff struggles to keep their composure (and focus) as they serve you your meal. It’s quite a sight to behold!

These fantasies – and hundreds more like them – are typical of many fans of female bodybuilders. We aren’t just attracted to women with big muscles. We’re intoxicated by the alluring fantasies they conjure up in our minds. Isabelle Turell, more than any other FBB in the world, elicits this exact reaction in us. She can play any part we give her. That’s the key to understanding her appeal. She can be the sexy wife, domineering mistress, nerdy girlfriend, hardcore personal trainer, elite athlete, world-class celebrity, Divine Muscle Goddess, supermodel, inspirational gym rat, or quirky friend. She can effortlessly play all those roles. Perhaps multiple roles at once, if your imagination is that wild.

She can be anything you want her to be. And that’s why we cannot get enough of her. And that’s why she doesn’t have to be (or do) anything else than what she already is. We don’t need her to be like Yvette Bova, Kathy Connors, or Brandi Mae Akers and produce the kinkiest porn on the Internet. We don’t need her to go outside of her comfort zone or do anything she doesn’t feel like doing. She can just be herself and our minds will do the rest. She gives us enough. And that is enough. No more is required of her.

Isabelle is a fun gal who loves her life and enjoys brightening up the spirits of her fans. She certainly has loyal devotees who breathlessly await her next Instagram post. Will it be one of her pretty face? One that shows off her cleavage? One where we see her flex her enormous biceps? Or a video where she poses for us as if we were the only human being on planet Earth? Which will it be?

Her IG name is fitrockstar. This is fitting. Like most classic rock stars (which seem to be in short supply these days), Isabelle is the life of the party. Her extravagant life is just as interesting as what she does for a living. We aren’t just fascinated by “Isabelle Turell the Professional Bodybuilder.” We’re addicted to “Isabelle Turell the Unstoppable Muscle Goddess.” She cannot be stopped. She cannot be contained. She’s living her best life and we’re simply going along for the ride. We don’t know where we’re going, but that’s none of our concern. We’re just happy to be onboard the Isabelle Train.

Is she taking us to a crowded gymnasium? A bodybuilding competition stage? A bondage dungeon? A sweaty weight room? A secluded beach? A cozy cottage? A luxurious penthouse suite? A fancy 5-star restaurant? A photography studio where all eyes are on her?

We can go to all of those places. Whenever we want to. Because when we think about Isabelle, we can easily place ourselves in any situation. And we’ll feel right at home with her.

Whew! Need more evidence why we love her so damn much? Didn’t think so.

Oh Isabelle. Lovely Isabelle. A sweet princess. A devilish queen. An omnipotent goddess. No matter what she chooses to do next, we’ll be there. Hungry. Wanting more. But not needing more. Because she’s enough. She’s always enough.

Jennifer Kennedy: The Defiant One

Don’t disrespect The Muscle Foxx!

Jennifer Kennedy is the female bodybuilder your Mom and Dad warned you about. The one who would confirm all your deeply held suspicions about the female bodybuilding industry and its competitors. The one who would be the living embodiment of all your fears about muscular women, steroids, gender roles, sexual orientation, identity, and sexual attraction. The one who gives you nightmares, but the fun kind of nightmares that you (sort of) enjoy.

Jenni is not for everyone. I once described Yvette Bova as someone who’s not everyone’s cup of tea. If that’s the case, then Jenni is a sour beverage that even a person crawling through a desert dying of thirst would politely refuse to drink. Miss Kennedy isn’t as polarizing as Miss Bova because Jenni isn’t very prolific in making career choices that might endear her to a small yet dedicated cohort of female muscle fans. More on that later. In fact, Jenni isn’t polarizing at all. There pretty much exists one singular opinion about her that doesn’t appear to be changing any time soon:

Thanks, but no thanks.

Ouch. If that sounds mean, it’s because it is. My personal opinion of her is not that, of course. I really like Jenni. Seriously. I do! She’s unapologetically sexy, doesn’t care what her critics think, and lives her life the way she wants to. How can you hate on that?

All of that being said, let’s address a few delicate caveats:

First, it’s no mystery why Jenni doesn’t appeal to even hardcore supporters of female bodybuilding. She isn’t blessed with the same natural beauty as Cindy Landolt or Jessica Williams. She has a “harder edged” face that will inevitably be blamed on years of using synthetic steroids. Her voice is lower than Barry White’s. She’s feminine-presenting, but any uneducated dolt still has a modicum of justification to question her gender identity.

These caveats don’t mean people have a legitimate reason to insult her. Far from it. Jenni deserves our respect. It’s true that you don’t have to like every female bodybuilder on planet Earth, but that doesn’t give you license to hurl slurs at them either. Jenni isn’t here for that crap. Neither am I.

So don’t call her a “tranny” or any other such derogatory label. Just don’t.

There are two types of FBBs I admire: Female bodybuilders who are naturally beautiful and completely shatter negative stereotypes about muscular women; and female bodybuilders who are not blessed with natural beauty but still confidently strut around as if they do – and don’t care what the so-called “haters” think. The first category is pretty obvious. Who doesn’t enjoy looking upon a gorgeous lady with big curvy muscles? But the latter is where you tend to lose a lot of people, even people who are normally on your side in these debates.

SONY DSC

Miss Kennedy obviously belongs in the second category. She’s defiant. She’s unabashed. She’s proud of who she is. Does she have deeply held insecurities about herself? Probably, yeah. Who doesn’t? But all in all, I’d bet my life’s savings (all $183 of it) that she’s comfortable in her own skin. Like Yvette, Maryse Manios, Roxanne Edwards, and Kathy Connors, Jenni realizes her fanbase is going to be much smaller than her peers. Heck, FBBs have a fairly narrow group of fans to begin with. These aforementioned ladies control an even smaller slice of that small slice. Yours truly may be one of the few people out there who are willing to toot their horns (interpret that as you will!).

However, unlike Yvette and Kathy, Jenni does a limited amount of porn. She’s done some, but not nearly as much as she could be. Kathy has established herself as being an Alpha Female who will dominate you and punish you if you’ve been naughty. Yvette presents herself as a sex-crazed muscle-bound hedonist who enjoys life to the fullest. In other words, they compensate for their lack of natural beauty by taking on public personas that people can easily latch onto (it should be noted that these personas don’t necessarily reflect who these women are in real life. They’re merely how they present themselves to the public). Jenni, to my knowledge, hasn’t really done that to the extent of these other ladies, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t done anything. Simply put, Jenni carries herself as a sultry seductive temptress who will lure you into her trap – and once she’s gotten ahold of you…you don’t want her to let go.

Jennifer Kennedy was born on June 25, 1976 in Michigan. She’s a personal trainer and webcam performer. After competing in gymnastics and track, she got hooked on weightlifting and hasn’t looked back since. She’s been participating in contests going back to at least 2011 (NPC National Championships). Most recently (as of this writing) she participated in the 2019 IFBB Omaha Pro. The Internet is a bit sparse when it comes to listing how she placed at these – and other – contests, so that’s too bad. Overall, it’s fair to say that Jennifer is a respectable competitor, but not elite. She belongs on stage with the best of the best, but she isn’t “the best” quite yet.

Perhaps one day she’ll get there! But for the time being, we’ll have to appreciate her for who she is, not who she’ll one day become.

It’s accurate to describe Jenni as “The Defiant One” This isn’t because she defies stereotypes or breaks down barriers. Rather, it’s because she adheres to stereotypes and doesn’t care if that bothers you. Women like Minna Pajulahti and Wendy Fortino shatter the preconceived notion that muscular women can’t also be beautiful, feminine, and desirable. Jenni isn’t going to do that at all, but that’s not why she’s defiant. She’s defiant because she fits every idiot’s preconceived notions about FBBs and wears them on her sleeve as a badge of honor.

“You’re right,” she may say. “I am not traditionally beautiful. I do have a masculine-looking face. My voice isn’t lyrical. Most guys don’t find me attractive. But, I guarantee you if you were to spend 5 minutes alone with me in my bedroom, you’ll be begging for more in no time!”

She’s the Green Eggs and Ham of female bodybuilders. Sam-I-Am thought he hated green eggs and ham because of how it looked. He stubbornly refused to try it because he had already made up his mind. Or he thought he had already made up his mind. But once he tried a single bite, his eyes were opened to the truth. As it turns out, he actually loves green eggs and ham. Sam-I-Am learned a valuable lesson that day: Don’t knock it unless you’ve tried it.

Also, don’t judge a book by its cover. So that’s two lessons in one day.

At first glance, you aren’t going to like Jenni. You’ll find her repulsive, disgusting, ugly, and hideous. But I can guarantee you that if you just give her a chance, she can change your mind. She can soften your hardened heart. You may end up liking her. Or loving her. Or being completely obsessed with her. Or at the very least, you’ll gain a newfound sense of respect for her. Either way, that’s an improvement.

Jenni isn’t monstrous. But to a closed-minded fool, she might as well be the next kaiju Godzilla battles against amidst the wreckage of a metropolitan city. But to someone with empathy, she’s a cool lady you shouldn’t underestimate.

Not liking Jenni doesn’t make you a misogynist or a Female-Bodybuilding-Fan-in-Name-Only (FBFINO?). Hating her, on the other hand, probably does.

You can not like her. But to be so quick to dismiss her? Yeah, lighten up buddy.

In a strange way, there’s something oddly courageous about Jenni. Something admirable. She performs for webcams. How can you do that unless you have confidence that there are people out there who would pay money to watch you? Obviously there are. Otherwise she wouldn’t be doing it. This proves that – even if the number is fairly small – Jenni has her fair share of fans. Maybe not as much as Denise Masino or Lindsay Mulinazzi, but enough to justify a modest income for her.

Jenni’s defiance is a key reason why that small slice of the FBB Appreciation Society (not a real thing, but play along with me here), which is already a small slice of the general population, loves her so much. It’s hard to say how many “dedicated” followers Jenni has, but it’s probably much larger than you think. Or to put it a different way, it’s not as small as you think. Regardless, Jenni has tapped into a niche that can properly be defined as a sub-niche within a niche:

The Scary-But-In-A-Hot-Kind-Of-Way Female Bodybuilder.

She embodies nearly every single negative stereotype you can think of when it comes to female bodybuilders. She also doesn’t appear to be very interested in remedying those negative perceptions in any way. This is because Jenni has perfected the art of turning a negative into a positive. Instead of trying to “fix” what’s wrong with her (and for the record, there’s absolutely nothing “wrong” with her in the first place) she embraces who she is and uses her already existing assets to her advantage. Her deep voice gives her a commanding presence. Her roughness strikes fear into your heart. Her muscles allow her to dominate you. Her unique appearance requires you to pay attention to her. Her “scariness” whips you into shape. Her peculiar mash-up of masculine and feminine qualities make her memorable. Her sexiness makes her, well, sexy.

None of those qualities are a detriment to her success. Could she be more successful if she were more, uh, “accessible” to a broader audience? Perhaps, yes. But how many conventionally beautiful muscle goddesses can you name off the top of your head? Probably dozens upon dozens, if not hundreds. But how many Muscle Queens of the Macabre Variety can you think of who make you both frightened and strangely aroused at the same time? How many of them make you feel nauseated…yet you admit you cannot look away no matter how hard you try?

We all know who can make us feel that way.

SONY DSC

Jenni is a lot like a schlocky horror movie. The horrific violence you see on the screen makes you sick to your stomach. You get queasy watching hapless teenagers get decapitated, disemboweled, dismembered, burned to a crisp, skinned alive, eaten alive, tortured, stabbed, drowned, sliced in half with a chainsaw, gutted with a fishing hook, smashed with a hammer, ripped from limb to limb with a machete, punctured with an arrow, beaten with a baseball bat, or shot in the genitals. But instead of running out of the movie theater screaming like a madman, you stay in your seat and watch the dreadfulness unfold right before your very eyes. It’s entertainment. Sick and twisted entertainment, but that’s what it is nevertheless. It’s simultaneously appalling and fun.

And you know what? There’s a small part of you that actually enjoys watching these things happen to these innocent people. You want to enjoy immoral pre-marital sex? Well, the price you pay is having your innards pulled out of your stomach shortly after your orgasm. For some desperate people, that might be a worthwhile tradeoff.

In a convoluted kind of way, Jennifer Kennedy is sort of like that. Sort of. She’s entertaining. She’s enthralling. She’s captivating. She’s intriguing. You want to see what she does next, even if your instincts tell you to turn it off and scrub your eyeballs with Clorox. You need to know who this woman is and what she’s all about. She’s enticing. Almost too enticing. You may feel a bit guilty when she starts to grow on you, but hey, what’s the harm in that?

Who cares? Nobody is going to judge you. Even if someone does, just ignore them and proceed living your life. After all, being fond of Jenni can be intoxicating. In a naughty sort of way, it almost makes you feel – oh, what’s that word again?

Oh yeah. Defiant.

Beauty is Overrated

Stephanie Marie definitely isn’t overrated.

“Beauty,” as it is traditionally defined, makes no mention of emotions, feelings, or involuntary intuitive reactions. Yet, the concept of beauty – especially the way we use it in everyday conversation – goes way beyond aesthetics.

For example:

Merriam-Webster’s definition of beauty is “the quality or aggregate of qualities in a person or thing that gives pleasure to the senses or pleasurably exalts the mind or spirit.”

“Gives pleasure to the senses” is a great way of phrasing it. There are, after all, five senses – with sight being just one of them. One can appreciate a rose bush by admiring its beauty, then leaning over and smelling its scent. But you probably wouldn’t want to eat it. And roses don’t make any noise, so there’s nothing to hear. And be careful before you touch it! Those thorns can be prickly.

So one can admire a beautiful thing with more than just one sense. Two or three, perhaps. But there’s another sense that is almost never acknowledged. A sense that is, if you think about it, arguably more important:

The emotional sense.

The sight of a beautiful person can make you feel many things. Lust, longing, exasperation, infatuation, nervousness, giddiness, curiosity, etc. Perhaps the reason why a beautiful person has such power over us isn’t just because of how they look – it’s how they make us feel.

Coco Crush is so damn beautiful.

And this has less to do with who they are and more to do with who we are. Or what we’ve gone through, or what we’ve experienced, or what we’re currently dealing with in our personal lives. For example, you could be minding your own business at the grocery store. You just need to pick up a few items – green peppers, celery, a red onion, and a few quarts of beef stock – for tonight’s dinner. You should be in and out in a hot minute. Suddenly, out of nowhere you see a gorgeous young lady perusing through the salad greens section looking for fresh spinach that isn’t too soggy. She’s beautiful. The most beautiful person you’ve seen in a while. The way she walks, moves, and behaves is like poetry in motion. But you’re not just captivated by her immense beauty. You’re reminded of your high school crush, the one who “got away.” You’re reminded of your own loneliness and your burning need for someone to cuddle with tonight when you’re watching late night TV. You’re reminded of how special this planet can be at times, when a flawless work of art can literally appear out of nowhere unexpectedly and make your heart stop beating.

You know she’s physically beautiful, yet she’s more than that. She makes you feel things. Strong things. Things you wish you could forget. Things you wish you could capture in a bottle and uncork whenever you want to. Things you cannot explain, but you know in your heart is as real as a rainstorm. In other words, “beauty” isn’t just an aesthetic. It’s an experience.

This helps explain why many of us love female bodybuilders so much. We aren’t just attracted to their muscles, curves, strength, confidence, and inspiring stories. We love them because they make us react in ways that are both predictable and inexplicable. We love them because we cannot stop loving them. They’re an unquenchable thirst. A hunger that never ceases.

We can look at a picture of Cindy Landolt and notice many things. Her face is pretty and her muscles are poetic, but her appeal goes way beyond those things. We sense raw energy radiating out of every pore of her immaculate body. It’s almost visible. It’s nearly tangible. To look upon her is to feel like you’re in the presence of a Divine Being. She’s often labeled a “Goddess” by her fans (myself included) and for good reason. She looks too good to be true. The fact she actually is a real-life human being adds to her mystique. How can someone be that beautiful? It’s difficult to wrap our minds around this reality. Yet it’s true. Cindy makes our minds rattle in a million different directions. And it’s not just because of her obvious beauty.

It’s because of her – and many other female bodybuilders – effect on our psyches.

Amanda Ferre looking absolutely gorgeous.

Female bodybuilders are alluring for reasons that go beyond what you can see on the outside. It’s not just their unusually large muscles that capture our attention. When we regard upon a beautiful female bodybuilder, our daydreaming activities go into overdrive. We want her to pick us up and toss us to the ground like a ragdoll. We desire to touch her muscles. We want to ask her to flex her biceps while we measure them with a sewing tape measure. How big is she? When she flexes at maximum capacity, how large can she grow? 16 inches? 18 inches?

Uh, 20 inches?

Is that even possible? Has any woman in the history of the world ever developed biceps that exceeded 20 inches? Maybe, but I’m yet to have seen it. That doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened before, of course. Renné Toney supposedly holds the record at 21 inches. I highly doubt too many other women have been able to match that, let alone exceed it.

God damn. The very thought of a woman having 21-inch biceps is mind boggling. It’s inconceivable. It’s beyond belief. Yet, she did at one point in her life attain such a measurement. Guys who are insecure or full of self-loathing will immediately scream at the top of their lungs “Steroids, steroids, steroids!” But those of us who respect female bodybuilders and don’t hate ourselves will instead react with “You go girl!”

See the difference?

The same could be said for Tina Lockwood’s thighs. Or Becca Swanson’s career achievements. Or Nataliya Kuznetsova’s entire existence. Or what Shannon Courtney was able to do at such an early age. These ladies defy our expectations of what the female human body is capable of doing. In their own way, they’ve set the bar higher and higher than any of us (or most of us) thought was even possible. To react with derision is unfortunate. It probably says more about the person choosing to think that way more than anything else. But thankfully, for every troll who types mean comments like “She’s probably got a dick” or “She’s actually a man” on a random YouTube video, there are thousands of other people who treat these women with the respect they deserve.

Isabelle Turell makes me react quite irrationally.

How funny it is that female bodybuilders can make us react in such two completely opposite ways. We react with either scorn or praise. Disgust or lust. Hatred or eternal adoration. Dismissiveness or uncontrollable fandom. There’s basically no middle ground. At all. It’s truly a fascinating phenomenon to witness.

This is why “beauty is overrated.” We value beauty because it’s obvious. It’s plain to see. It’s simple to explain. It doesn’t require any thinking. It’s all around us all the time. You don’t need to travel far to see a billboard, television commercial, print advertisement, or pop-up window that features a beautiful person – male or female. It’s deeply engrained into our multimedia landscape. Sex sells, as the adage goes. Heck, it’s so pervasive it’s easy to not notice it.

Yet, beauty unto itself is fairly limited. A pretty face can be forgettable. A shapely body you see in a magazine may draw your attention momentarily, but it’ll fade off into the distance once something else replaces it. The smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies? The sound of your favorite song playing over the PA system? The feeling of cool air cascading off your face on a sweltering hot summer day? All of those things can replace the memory of a beautiful magazine cover model because she’s a dime a dozen (no offense to her). Her beauty is considerable, but it’s not enough. We want to feel something. A connection. A memory. An involuntary reaction.

A nameless Victoria’s Secret underwear model cannot compete with Isabelle Turell or Lindsay Mulinazzi. The nameless model looks nice but doesn’t elicit any emotional reaction out of us. We notice their beauty and move on with our lives. Isabelle and Lindsay, on the other hand, make us want to beg for their attention. Get down on our knees and worship them. Shell out hundreds of dollars in cash to purchase their merchandise. Praise them as queens or goddesses. Use hyperbolic language when describing them. Travel to the furthest ends of the earth just to meet them for a single hour. Stay up late watching videos of them when we have to go to work the next day. Do things we normally wouldn’t do like set up a muscle worship appointment or fantasy wrestling session – all in secret, naturally.

Beauty in complete isolation is neat. But it does not give us a complete picture of the situation. Some people – and this includes non-bodybuilders – have a pull on us that almost seems magical. Remember your grade school crush? I sure do. I still think about her. I recently stalked her on Facebook and saw that she’s happily married with a newborn child. She’s kind of pretty, but not nearly as drop dead gorgeous as I thought of her at the time. In this case, distance and time did not make the heart grow fonder. Quite the opposite. But I clearly remember being 12 years old and not being able to keep my eyes off her. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. She was sweet, smart, nice, and good looking. I was enchanted with her.

We all have similar stories we can tell. Many of us have current stories in similar vein that we can tell. Crushes are exactly that: they crush us. They shatter our ability to think rationally. They stomp all over our sense of self-preservation and force us to act foolishly. We are enthralled by them, taken in by them, infatuated with them. It’s strong. It’s focused. It’s nearly unbreakable.

And when it does break, it tears our hearts in half.

Do you know what this ultimately means? It means beauty is not just overrated, but somewhat misunderstood. We give pure physical beauty more credit than it deserves. It can initially capture our attention, but it’s not enough to keep us tuned in. We need more if we want to continue to be playing the game. We need an emotional bond. A cathartic connection. A spiritual awakening. We need our heartstrings tugged at in addition to blood flowing to our private parts. This isn’t just explained by love or lust. It’s something else. Something…less tangible.

Now, comparing your schoolyard crush to your adult fascination with female bodybuilders is not completely analogous. They are two different things. Yet, the general idea remains the same. They both have us in the palm of their hands. They control the situation, not us. They have the power. All the power. It’s not even close. It’s more than a magic spell. It’s more mysterious than a love potion because this is completely organic. It’s natural. No special sauce is needed.

What kind of beauty is unforgettable to you?

Go back to the beginning of this article and reread Merriam-Webster’s definition of “beauty.” Notice the word “spirit” at the very end. That’s significant. Do not trivialize this. To “pleasurably exalt the spirit” is quite a turn of phrase. It seems to connotate a religious awakening; a divine experience that transcends the mortal body. This is why we tend to use ethereal language when describing female bodybuilders. It’s just like a religious experience. A conversion. A death and resurrection all happening at once.

Beauty is overrated because it places too much emphasis on the person who is being described as beautiful. This isn’t a knock against them, but rather an observation that what really matters is the person experiencing the beauty. What are they thinking? Hoping? Dreaming about? Fearful of? Wishing would happen with all their might?

The fact I’ve been writing about female bodybuilders and female muscle fetishism for seven years now – yes, it’s been that long – is proof that FBBs have a profound grip on me. It’s everlasting. Sure, sometimes it wanes for a bit, but it never goes away. I don’t think that’s even possible.

FBBs are important to me and will continue to be a massive part of my life. The same is probably true for many of you too. And the reason this is true isn’t just because FBBs are physically beautiful creatures. It’s because they have the keen ability to draw out wild thoughts and fantasies from us. They make us act irrationally. They cannot leave our imaginations. They’re living rent free in our heads – and we are grateful landlords who refuse to ask for back payments.

Because it’s not just about how beautiful they are. It’s how beautiful we make them out to be.

Who Wants To Be a Female Bodybuilder?

Who wouldn’t want to become Larissa Reis for a single day?

Over the years I’ve received quite a few emails from readers sharing their own female bodybuilder-related fantasies. After all, I have not been shy about sharing my own from time to time. Most of them are pretty standard – a wish list of FBBs they would like to get intimate with, for example – but occasionally some of them will stick in my mind.

One in particular that I find fascinating is the fantasy of actually becoming a female bodybuilder, perhaps for only a day or two.

For those of us who love female bodybuilders, we mostly fantasize about being with them and doing certain activities with them. Wrestling, muscle worship, BDSM activities, making love, dating, romancing, courting, and so on. Some are pretty mundane…and others are more kinky. But nothing too out of the ordinary, assuming your horizons are as conventionally wide as the general population’s. Yet, how many of you have thought about – through magic or some other supernatural means – literally becoming a real-life female bodybuilder?

Personally, I have not thought about this too extensively. But I will admit that it has crossed my mind on occasion. It would be rather fun to become an FBB, even for a single day. In the spirit of “going with the flow,” let’s think this through:

Imagine you go to bed one night feeling a bit down in the dumps. Life is boring. Life hasn’t always gone your way. Your job stinks. Your love life is a hot mess. Your dumpy apartment is getting even dumpier…and your landlord just announced your monthly rent is about to go up. You feel like your life has passed you over. All the good luck went to someone else. You’re just stuck with the leftovers. And not the good kind of leftovers you get from after Thanksgiving. You’re left with the bland deli sandwiches and tasteless store-bought cookies that cost more to make than it does to purchase. You go to bed that night wishing, even if it’s temporary, that you could wake up and experience something new.

Something exciting. Something out-of-the-ordinary. Something fun.

Something really, really, really fun.

So, you brush your teeth, take a quick shower, and crawl into bed feeling crummy but strangely hopeful. Unexpectedly hopeful, to be exact. You don’t know why, you just do. Maybe it’s because of the sexy video you just watched of Larissa Reis lying in the sand of some far away beach. Or the other video of Ginger Martin flexing her biceps for the camera. And the final video of Brandi Mae Akers jerking off some lucky sap who doesn’t comprehend quite how lucky he is. You love female bodybuilders (you’ve loved them since you were 9 years old after randomly seeing a picture of Cory Everson on the cover of some fitness magazine at the grocery store) and secretly hope you’ll get to dream about them sometime during the night. Dreams seem so real when you’re in the middle of them, don’t they?

Magic!

Right. Off to bed!

Maybe you do dream about something pleasant, or maybe you don’t. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is when you finally wake up the next morning. At first, nothing seems strange or out of the ordinary. The alarm clock doesn’t go off. You glance over at the time and see that your clock has stopped. But not in a mechanical failure sort of way. Rather, it’s stopped because time itself has stopped. You don’t need to go to work because things like schedules, deadlines, and obligations have temporarily ceased to matter. Oh, how liberating this feeling is!

But then, you notice something quite odd. You’re naked. You don’t recall going to bed naked, but alas, there you are in the nude. You stretch your body and notice how bulky your arms suddenly have become. Gosh, did all that going to the gym and busting my tail finally pay off? How awesome would that be? Finally, I’ve done something right!

But that’s not it. No, not at all. You lift, but not that much. This is something else entirely.

Finally, you sit up in bed and lift the covers off your body. And what you see both frightens and excites you.

You’ve become another person!

And not just any other person, but a woman. You’ve changed genders! And…uh, your level of muscularity. Hm, this is odd indeed! You leap out of bed and run to the bathroom to look in the mirror. And what you see in the mirror’s reflection confirms what you think has just transpired. You’re a whole new person! A female bodybuilder, to be precise.

A lovely, beautiful female bodybuilder. You’re covered from head to toe with large, bulging muscles. You’re totally ripped. Your arms are the size of cantaloupes. Your back is as wide as a door frame. Your thighs are as thick as tree trunks. Your glutes are as firm as a bowling ball. Your penis…

Hold on. You no longer have a penis! You have something much smaller, something that sort of resembles a dick but clearly isn’t…

Holy shit.

Wow!!!

It’s a clitoris. An enormous one! That largest in the world, in fact. Oh shit. Holy fucking shit, this is incredible! How can you possibly explain what has just happened? You can’t, which adds to the mystery and intrigue. But you cannot even attempt to wrap your mind around that now. Who knows how long this blessing will last? Ten minutes? An hour? A whole day? A week? A year? Um, forever? Probably not, but who wants to risk wasting a single second?

If you were to magically become an FBB, would you touch yourself in bed like Hunter Morgan?

What you do after this is totally up to you, my dear reader. I can probably make an accurate guess about how you’d spend your time as an FBB incarnate. You’d probably touch yourself. All over. You’d masturbate. You’d flex in the mirror. You’d go out in public and see how random people react to you. You’d dress in scantily clad fashion. Or maybe you’d dress in nothing at all! That would really get people staring at you. I think I’d try that first. Go out for a casual stroll wearing nothing but my Birthday Suit, showcasing my strong muscles for all to see, whether they want to or not. That would be fun. And a valuable opportunity to conduct a “social experiment.”

Ah yes, all in the name of “science.”

So, what would you do if you could magically transform yourself into a real-life female bodybuilder? If you knew it would wear off in 24 hours (Cinderella-style), what would you do? Who would you meet? What activities would you try out? The possibilities are endless. Email me at ryantakahashi87 (at) yahoo (dot) com or share your thoughts in the comment section below.

I might publish the most interesting responses. Or not. We’ll see.

Truth or Dare (part two)

A sexy boudoir photoshoot.

Continued from part one

“Uh, I beg your pardon? Are you being serious right now?”

Shawna scoots closer to me on the couch, making my heart stop during mid-beat. I can feel the heat emanating from her body. She pats my right knee and tickles my thigh. My breathing stops. Then she leans over and kisses my neck. The hairs on the back of my head flutter in response. Her musky smell is unmistakable, yet it’s as sweet as perfume.

“Deadly serious, sweetheart,” she begins. “Like I said, I’m feeling adventurous tonight. What do you say?”

What else can I say? I figured I’d never be able to go “all the way” with her ever, but apparently tonight is my chance. Well, if you consider anal to be going all the way. Which, considering my dick hasn’t penetrated her at all up to this point, it sort of is. So what do I have to lose?

“I’d love to! Yeah, let’s do it.” With that reply of affirmation, Shawna excitedly gets up and scurries to her bedroom.

“Wait here, darling! I’ll be back in a jiffy.” Nervously, I remain seated on her sofa. My toes have curled up tightly, a sign that I’m feeling anxious. Can you blame me?

After what seemed like an eternity, Shawna returns to the living room with a bottle of scented oil. Peach seems to be what she selected. I’ve never seen her this giddy before! Her gorgeous eyes are open wide, she’s fidgety, and she cannot sit still to save her life. I can only imagine what the next few minutes are going to be like…

“It’s been a long time since I’ve done anal, but I know my body pretty well,” she says. After nodding her head at me, I begin to undress. Shawna is wearing sweatpants and an old college t-shirt. She’s already barefoot. I neatly pile my clothes in the corner of the room, with my phone and wallet lying on top if it. I’m already erect, which should come as no surprise to anyone. Soon, Shawna is completely nude as well. And she looks just as gorgeous as ever. She’s squatting heavier right now, which is evident by the advanced thickness of her thighs, hamstrings, and butt. God, her butt is perfect. So shapely, rounded, and full. I cannot believe I’m about to enter it in a short while.

Shawna isn’t wearing any makeup, which doesn’t matter because she’s a natural beauty. I swear she’s even more beautiful without makeup. But maybe I’m biased because I like her so much. She spreads a few blankets on the floor with the reverential meticulousness of a religious ceremony. Finally, she gets on her knees and wags a finger at me. I sit down next to her. We kiss. She strokes my hardened penis, tickles my scrotum, and sticks her tongue deep inside my mouth. Before I penetrate her, she wants to penetrate me first. She’s marking her territory. I do nothing but surrender to her authority.

Jessica Williams looking as hot as any woman can possibly look.

“The key to successful anal sex is adequately preparing the anus,” she explains with the serious candor of an academic. “Let’s oil up your fingers. Then, I want you to open me up.” Shawna dabs some of the sweet fluid onto my fingers. I cannot think. My brain is frozen. I can barely move. I need her to take control because I have no fucking clue what I’ve just gotten myself into! Next, Shawna gets on all fours and sticks her perfectly sculpted ass upward. My hand dripping with scented oil, I take a deep breath and observe where my fingers are about to go.

Her anus looks pretty.

Yes, that’s a rather strange observation to make, but it’s true. It’s dark brown. It’s small. It’s tight. It looks like a cosmic black hole, which is funny unto itself. She shaves her pubic hair, so the surrounding area is as smooth as it can be. Hesitantly, I stick my right index finger inside her. Slowly. Thankfully, I clipped my fingernails earlier this week (coincidentally, of course) so there’s no risk of inadvertently injuring her. I would never want to cause her any pain. Shawna moans in response to my penetration, which I hope is an indication I’m doing this right.

“Do you like that?”

“Yes, I do darling. Thank you!” Emboldened, I stick my entire index finger up her anus. It’s as tight as I’d imagine it would be. Shawna is breathing rhythmically, which keeps her relaxed. I stop, not knowing if I should continue or not. But she isn’t giving any signs that I’m hurting her. Then, I slowly stick my middle finger inside her, with my index finger still there. She groans louder, but still isn’t showing any hints of pain. I playfully experiment with thrusting my fingers in and out of her. In and out. In and out. Rhythmically. Leisurely. Shawna purrs like a kitten.

Hey, I think I’m getting the hang of this!

I move my fingers in a circular motion. She doesn’t speak. I can’t see her face, but I’m guessing her eyes are closed. She’s drinking in this moment. She’s feeling every sensation and treasuring it. Finally, I thrust my ring finger inside her, making it three total. Shawna is in heaven.

“Oh, fuck yeah…!”

Shawna rarely swears. She grew up Presbyterian, after all. So if she’s casually dropping the f-bomb, that means something.

“Oh, baby, you know how to please a lady.” Shawna drops her butt close to my knees. “I think you’ve adequately prepared me. Now let’s prepare you…”

She reaches over and snatches the bottle of oil. I hold my breath. Shawna drips a small amount onto her fingers, wraps them around my erection, and moistens me up. I try my hardest not to accidentally come prematurely! Once my manhood is glistening with lubrication, Shawna declares her desire to get the party started.

“You’re now ready. I’ve been ready. Let’s do this.”

Autumn Raby looking ready.

Oh boy. This is it. For all the marbles. It’s Game 7 of the World Series. Bottom of the 9th. Two outs. Down by three. Bases loaded. 3-2 count. This is where I need to come through in the clutch. This is my time! Time to prove my worth!

Dear God. I need to stop being so damn overdramatic.

I close my eyes, sigh, and open them slowly. I take a moment to observe how the light shining from the nearest ceiling fan perfectly shows off Shawna’s big muscles. They’re curvy, hard, strong, and unmistakably feminine. She’s breathing deeply, almost like she’s preparing to meditate on top of a snow-capped mountain for the next twenty years. I can feel my heart pounding a million beats per minute. Faster than a European techno remix album.

“What are you waiting for?” Shawna impatiently inquires. That wakes me out of my internal monologuing. I pat her on the butt for good measure.

“Uh, nothing.”

I pause. Then, I grab my penis. It’s still erect, as hard as it can be. It’s also dripping wet. With my left hand, I hold on to her left hip. Her denseness turns me on further. With my right hand, I grip the base of my penis. The tip hovers over her prepared entryway. Shawna’s breathing has steadied. I can stay like this forever, but that wouldn’t do either of us any good. So, I go in for the kill.

Gradually, I squeeze the broad head of my manhood inside her anus. It’s difficult at first, but the lube definitely helps. Shawna moans. I’m too nervous to feel any kind of pleasure. Once the whole tip is inside, I brace both of her hips and push in all the way. Inch by inch. As methodically as I can handle it. Once I’m completely inside, Shawna playfully wiggles her butt from side to side.

“Oh, damn. Mmmmmmm. I love this!” Shawna exclaims.

Fully confident, I move in and out of her rhythmically. She’s so tight, despite the work my fingers did earlier. Once I get past the initial shock of realizing that my dick is inside a beautiful muscular woman’s anal cavity, I begin to enjoy the experience.

“Ooh, this is different…” my braindead self observes aloud. “I also love this!”

Still on all fours, Shawna’s moans turn to growls. I cannot even begin to describe the noises I’m making. We must look like wild animals mating in the jungle. The primitive position we’re in, mixed with our involuntary guttural noises, is very beast-like. But we are two wild beasts. In this moment, Shawna and I are no longer human beings living in the civilized world. We are primordial creatures experiencing selfish pleasure for its own sake. Shawna has stopped moving, choosing to only experience my thrusting. My pace quickens in anticipation of my inevitable climax. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.

“Oh fuck!” Shawna screams.

“Ohhh!” I also scream.

One final powerful thrust later, I collapse on top of Shawna’s massive body as I empty myself into her. On and on my spurts last, as if she’s draining every drop out of me. She can have all of it if she wants. Shawna falls to the floor on her tummy. Her heavy breathing lifts me off the ground – up and down, up and down, up and down. We stay like that for several minutes. I lean over and kiss the mounds of her back muscles. She’s as wide as a freight train.

Whew.

This is what Shawna’s living room looks like.

Eventually, I roll off her. We face each other on our sides on top of the blankets. My softened penis dangles freely. Shawna pinches it playfully. One last tiny drop of semen leaks out. It drips onto the blanket. Shawna giggles. Then we kiss. The tips of our tongues do a little dance. We continue to kiss for the next four or five minutes. When will we stop?

Finally, Shawna stands up. She rubs her sore anus and twists her torso from side to side, causing her back to make a distinctive cracking sound. She groans in pain. I cannot believe how loud it is! I guess all those years of heavy weightlifting has taken its toll on Shawna’s body. Her physique is eyepopping, but it does come at a cost. She then notices me noticing her back cracking. I can tell she quickly wants to change the subject.

“That was amazing, darling.” Shawna leans over and kisses me, possessing me with her lips. After her momentary display of vulnerability, she wants nothing more than to reassert her power and dominance. “I need to clean myself off. But when I get back, it’ll be your turn in our little Truth or Dare game. Be right back!”

Shawna disappears into the bathroom. I remain on the floor, laying on top of a pile of comfy blankets. But I cannot help but still think about what just happened. For the first time ever, Shawna was vulnerable. She looked insecure. Was she thinking about aging? Is being with me a reminder that she’s no longer a young woman, but a woman approaching middle age? Like I said before, I have no idea how old she is. But she must be 15 or maybe 20 years older than me. She’s as gorgeous as a supermodel and the crow’s feet around her eyes do not diminish her considerable beauty one bit.

A bottle of sensual oil.

Hm. Maybe I’m overthinking things here. Which is funny considering I just made love to her!

Well, anally made love to her. Which is the same thing, right?

Uh, right?

My train of thought is shattered when Shawna sneaks up behind me and lifts me up off the floor. I gasp. She kisses my neck and playfully wrestles me onto the couch. We laugh. After a few moments of silence, I finally speak.

“Okay. You gave me a dare. I’ll give you a truth. Are you ready?”

She sits up and crosses her massive legs. “Ready as I’ll ever be!”

“Great,” I begin. I take a deep breath to gin up the courage to ask my question.

“Does size matter?”

The Hyperfeminine Muscular Woman

Minna Pajulahti is too hot for words.

Female bodybuilders are no strangers to the hurtful accusation that they’re not actually women. That they aren’t feminine enough. That they’re turning into men or want to become men. That men aren’t going to like them because of their muscles. That “real women” don’t look like that. That they actually look like men. That they’re confused about their gender.

And so on and so forth.

These slurs are so common I’m guessing most FBBs have achieved the ability to mentally block them out. They have a filter installed in their brain that allows them to ignore stupid opinions that have no merit. At least, I hope so. I cannot imagine how dreadfully annoying it is to have your appearance mocked just because you choose to lift weights, supplement, and bulk up like any other gym bro. Or that your personal definition of “empowerment” requires you to look different than the other girls – and that not everybody is on board with that.

Because of this toxic reality, it is not surprising that many female bodybuilders have decided – whether this is intentional or not is difficult to assess – to counter these slanders by presenting themselves in explicitly feminine terms. Think of it as compensating for their lack of “traditional femininity” by acting more outwardly feminine than they normally would.

Some examples of this include:

  • Getting breast implants
  • Wearing a lot of makeup (even more than usual)
  • Wearing sexy dresses
  • Wearing stylish clothing
  • Smiling, laughing, giggling, and doing whatever she can to appear less “threatening”
  • Posting pictures on Instagram of her doing traditionally “feminine” activities like trying on new clothes, shoe shopping, kissing her boyfriend/husband, playing with dogs, playing with kids, being a “mom,” cooking, cleaning, etc.
  • Promoting brands/products/stores that are traditionally aimed at women
  • Doing porn in which she has sex with men, with the man (or group of men) being in the “dominant” role and the muscular woman in the “submissive” role
  • Or doing porn where the man and muscular woman are equals
  • Choosing not to talk if her voice is too low
  • Doing photoshoots in which her face is edited to look more feminine and less hard edged
  • Avoiding talking about steroids, hormonal supplements, and anything that can be perceived as compromising her “womanhood”

It saddens me to think that female bodybuilders do these things not because they want to but because they feel like they have to. Yet, I am torn on this topic. On one hand, I am a strong believer that everybody has the right to craft their own identity to be whatever they want it to be. They shouldn’t give in to pressure to conform, fit in, or go with the flow. On the other hand, if being “traditionally feminine” is what they genuinely want to do, then nothing should stop them from being that. It’s a tough line to draw in the sand because I do not know what every FBB is thinking and feeling.

Don’t mess with Jayne Trcka. She has handcuffs!

Maybe some FBBs actually enjoy doing activities that are considered “feminine.” Or maybe they do it because they don’t want to alienate anybody. Or, like I said before, they want to appear less “threatening,” as if the sight of a woman with big muscles is somehow considered inherently threatening. Threatening to whom, exactly?

The Hyperfeminine Muscular Woman is a fascinating case study. What do we think of her? Is she compromising her identity by pretending to be something she isn’t, or is that who she really is?

At the end of the day, we don’t really know. But I do know this phenomenon does exist. For example, I can’t recall where I saw this but I remember reading an Instagram post in which Minna Pajulahti says she sometimes acts overtly feminine because she doesn’t want people to think of female bodybuilders as not being real women. That’s paraphrasing her rationale, unfortunately. So she does things like deadlift a crazy amount of weight, drop the bar to the floor, and strike a Beyoncé-like pose at the end as the “kicker.” Why dance around and strike diva poses? Because it reinforces her femininity, which apparently gets compromised when she’s deadlifting, squatting, bench pressing, and lift a ton of weight.

I am not criticizing Minna, of course. I love her and would never do that! But I will acknowledge that I think it’s a bit sad that she feels the need to do this. Not tragic, but mildly sad. Being strong doesn’t mean she isn’t feminine. Doing masculine-labeled activities does not mean she isn’t feminine. Having a nontraditional physique does not mean she isn’t feminine. All of that is complete and utter bullshit.

Minna Pajulahti is a feminine woman. So is Victoria Dominguez. And Kathy Connors. And Jennifer Kennedy. And Gillian Kovack. And Rene Campbell. And Wanda Moore. And Lauren Powers. And Rhonda Lee Quaresma. And Dena Westerfield. And many, many others.

What do all these beautiful women have in common? They’ve all had their feminine identities questioned. Or challenged. Or denied. I’ve seen them labeled “trannies” or “dykes” and other idiotic slurs. The stupidity of people who feel compelled to insult and troll innocent people is boundless. But that is the world we live in today.

Rene Campbell isn’t here for your rude comments.

What makes the existence of the Hyperfeminine Muscular Woman so frustrating is that we don’t know if it’s genuine or not. Are they acting overtly feminine because that’s who they truly are or because that’s how they think society wants them to be? To segment that last part even further, do they act aggressively feminine because they want to be accepted by society (whatever that means) or because they feel the need to overcompensate? The negative stereotypes that surround female bodybuilders are real, hurtful, and pervasive. Perhaps some FBBs feel compelled to dispel these perceptions by acting way more feminine than they’d normally want to. Either way, it’s sad.

It’s sad because I don’t want any muscular woman to act differently just because they want to please others. That’s heartbreaking. I want female bodybuilders to be who they are and not apologize for it. If being traditionally feminine is who they are, so be it. If they feel more comfortable being “butch” or androgynous, so be it. If acting and appearing more masculine is what floats their boat, so be it. Regardless, I just want every FBB to feel at home in their own skin. Whatever that entails.

But I don’t want to dismiss the fact that outside perceptions do matter, even if we don’t want them to. As individuals, we do have to conform to certain social standards if we want to fit in. At least, whenever we’re in public. Especially in the professional world. Being viewed as a scary butch devil lady may be fun as an online persona, but it’s not going to help you land any customer service jobs. Many FBBs are also personal trainers. They can’t appear too intimidating if they want to gain new clients.

There’s also the moral obligation to consider on top of this. When female bodybuilders choose to act and look “hyperfeminine,” are they actually doing harm to femininity without realizing it? For example, we tend to hold narrow views of what masculinity and femininity look like. It shouldn’t take a Gillette ad campaign to tell us that. Shouldn’t FBBs act however they want to act as a statement that “feminine” can be a much larger tent than it currently is? This could also challenge whether or not “masculinity” and “femininity” are real things. Or to what extent we’re allowed to box in people in these categories.

Roxanne Edwards slaying the bodybuilding stage.

It’s unfair to demand that every popular female bodybuilder is obliged to be an ambassador for female bodybuilders everywhere. They are not symbols. They are individuals. Yet, this obligation is unavoidable. Every time an FBB makes an appearance on TV or in a mainstream Hollywood movie, they represent FBBs as a whole – whether they want to or not. Jayne Trcka appeared in Scary Movie (2000) as the comically androgynous gym teacher Miss Mann. She was great in it, even though I cringe watching her scene. It plays for laughs every single negative stereotype you can imagine regarding muscular women. It reinforces the perceptions that women like Cindy Landolt and Aspen Rae shatter with every new Instagram post. Yet, they aren’t invited to appear in movies or TV shows.

But I am not criticizing Jayne. She’s awesome. She’s beautiful, smart, funny, and kind. She isn’t traditionally feminine, but there’s no doubt she’s a woman. She’s a 100% woman. She doesn’t have a secret penis tucked between her legs. And I totally understand why she took that role. You don’t say “no” to a mainstream Hollywood gig. Unless you’re Leonardo DiCaprio or Margot Robbie and you have studios begging you to be in their movie, most working actors have to accept whatever job is available to them. So I don’t begrudge Jayne one bit. I don’t blame her. And I hope none of you do either.

Therefore, Hyperfeminine Muscular Women are caught between a rock and a hard place. They’re damned if they do and damned if they don’t. Female bodybuilders who make absolutely no attempt to act more feminine are also making a difficult choice. They’re also stuck in a Catch-22. But at the end of the day, all this boils down to us. Whether we choose to accept a muscular woman for who she is depends entirely on us. Not her. We choose to embrace her butchness if that’s the road she’s chosen to traverse. We also choose to deny her femininity if she doesn’t uphold our personal standards of what femininity means. It’s a choice. A personal choice. We can either love her for who she is…or not.

Personally, I’ve never questioned the gender identity of any female bodybuilder. Even the ones who are the most masculine presenting. The ones with the deep voice, shrunken breasts, abrasive personality, large muscles, masculine facial features, and large bulge in their panties. They are women, even if 99% of us don’t acknowledge it. They aren’t tearing down femininity; they’re redefining it. Or expanding it. Or challenging us to rethink how we define gender as it is.

The truth is that the “Hyperfeminine Muscular Woman” persona is a performance. The Traditionally Feminine Muscular Woman isn’t. Most likely, an FBB who acts really, really, really, really feminine is putting on a show. She’s intentionally playing a part. She’s an actor and all the world’s a stage. And we are the audience, even if some of us are throwing popcorn at the performers like low-life jerks.

Or do you prefer someone as unquestionably feminine as Courtney Tillia?

This makes me sad. As it should all of you who sympathize with these ladies. When push comes to shove, I want every FBB in the world to feel comfortable in their own skin. I want them to embrace themselves. After all, how can anyone love you if you can’t even love yourself? I want every FBB to wake up each morning, look themselves in the mirror, and say to their reflection “Damn, I look good!” I want these ladies to take joy in looking the way they look, regardless of what anyone else says.

If they feel beautiful with a butch haircut, tattoos, and piercings everywhere, I support that.

If they feel beautiful with long flowy hair, glowing skin, and pouty red lips, I support that.

If they feel beautiful wearing makeup, I support that.

If they feel beautiful wearing no makeup, I support that.

If they feel beautiful slaying in a sexy red cocktail dress, I support that.

If they feel beautiful wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, I support that.

If they feel beautiful acting flamboyantly sexy, I support that.

If they feel beautiful acting quiet, humble, and lowkey, I support that.

If they feel beautiful with big bulging muscles, I support that.

If they feel beautiful with smaller curvier muscles, I support that.

If they feel beautiful playing the “tough girl” role, I support that.

If they feel beautiful playing the “nice girl” role, I support that.

Hopefully, you get my point. I want every muscular woman to feel empowered to be who they are. I wish every FBB can one day figure out who they truly are. Not everyone reaches that point of self-realization. This conversation shouldn’t have anything to do with haters, critics, or trolls. They can go to Hell. Instead, this should be more focused on what muscular women want out of their lives. Do they want to change the world, or do they just want to change themselves? It doesn’t matter as long as they eventually find the path they want to walk down.

And once they reach the end of that path, nothing should stand in their way. Not the haters, not anyone. Because it doesn’t matter what anyone says. When a female bodybuilder is at the peak of her powers, she isn’t listening to what the outside world thinks of her. She’s only celebrating her accomplishments, her goals, her dreams, her life. She’s at her most beautiful when she’s doing this one simple thing:

Being herself.