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?”

eBook Preview – “Muscle Love: Confessions of a Muscle Worshipper”

Muscle Love

I don’t often endorse products, but I came across a new eBook that fans of female bodybuilders should consider purchasing: Muscle Love: Confessions of a Muscle Worshipper.

The authors, Richard and Jayne Greye, contacted me about promoting their new book on my blog. I joyfully obliged. Here’s a summary that they provided me:

Jacket Cover: Meet Rick, the guy-next-door with a muscle fetish that started at eighteen with an encounter with an older, muscular woman. This full-length novel follows his quest to explore his obsession with muscular women and his struggle to reconcile this need with the rest of his life. He hides this side of himself, satisfying his urges in clandestine liaisons, until he meets a woman with the desire to get big and revels in her transformation. But what happens when she surpasses his fantasies and wants to dominate him? “Muscle Love” is a full-length novel which is both a compelling emotional and physical growth story as the two main characters deal with loss and find redemption in each other and their shared interest in strength. Their story is filled with difficulties, sexual discoveries and in the end, a new understanding of what it means to be strong.

Sounds intriguing! I haven’t read it myself – I hardly have any free time anymore – but I highly encourage all of you to download it and enjoy it at your leisure. Here’s how you can buy it:

Amazonhttps://www.amazon.com/dp/B07H6Y2HSY

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/895860

Applehttps://itunes.apple.com/us/book/muscle-love-confessions-of-a-muscle-worshipper/id1436735652

Interested in learning more about the author? Read this interview with Richard featured on Smashwords’ website:

Interview: https://www.smashwords.com/interview/JayneGreye

Know of any other female muscle-themed fiction books out there? I’ve personally read Chemical Pink and Devil and Disciple – The Temptation. Both are must-reads for FBB fans. Let me know in the comments below.

The Vulnerable Female Bodybuilder

The seemingly invincible Ginger Martin.

Female bodybuilders are strong. They seem invincible. Unstoppable. Powerful. Authoritative. A force of nature. One who shall not be reckoned with.

If you mess with her, she’ll mess with you. And you don’t want that to happen to you. Trust us.

Fans of female bodybuilders have put these ladies onto a pedestal, one in which they don’t seem to be human. FBBs are often described in quasi-spiritual terms; using words such as “goddess,” “angel,” or “queen.” These words evoke ethereal images of immortals walking amongst men. FBBs are somehow not human because a “normal” human can never actually look that breathtakingly beautiful. Regular human beings are not able to make your heart skip a beat, your jaw drop to the floor, and a chill run down your spine just by simply posting an untouched photo of themselves on Instagram.

But alas, many FBBs are able to do just that. Many times over, in fact.

Yet, in the back of our minds we know that FBBs are not actually goddesses. They are flesh and blood human beings with feelings, thoughts, fears, insecurities, families, hobbies, and faults. We know that intellectually, on a theoretical level. But emotionally, we cannot help but view these ladies as invulnerable angels whose unique beauty somehow endow them with some sort of shield against typical human imperfections.

In our fantasies, our favorite FBBs are warriors who can slay thousands of enemies at a time. They’re powerful deities who can make the most formidable kingdoms tremble to their knees. They’re sirens who can enslave men to do their will. They’re so breathtakingly beautiful you cannot imagine a moment when they’d ever be sad, intimidated, or not in control.

Yet…

…yet we know the reality of things is much more mundane. But we don’t want to think about that. We’d rather focus on an FBB’s perfections instead of her basic humanity. However, it is worthwhile to keep this important point in mind: Female bodybuilders are much more vulnerable than you’d think.

Here’s why:

First, female bodybuilders exist in a world that doesn’t always accept them for who they are.

The aesthetic of a woman with big muscles certainly excites some of us, but not all of us. As incomprehensible as this sounds, not everyone appreciates the beauty of female bodybuilders. Some are disgusted by a nontraditional feminine figure that doesn’t fit into the narrow box society has come to define. This could be caused by people not liking what they’re not familiar with, but it goes deeper than that.

They’re disgusted because the sight of veins popping out of a muscular arm isn’t terribly appealing – regardless of the gender of the person it belongs to. But especially if it’s a female arm. We’re taught to believe that a beautiful woman should be smooth, angular, and soft. Female bodybuilders are not smooth, angular, and soft. They’re rough, bulky, and coarse. Their bodies do not fit within the acceptable parameters society (properly understood, that is) has arbitrarily established. And because of that, female bodybuilders are always at a disadvantage when it comes to breaking into the entertainment and modeling industries. Even the fitness industry seems to prefer the “fit” look instead of the hypermuscular look.

This lack of acceptance has pushed the female bodybuilding community underground, away from mainstream attention. Is there any need to bring up the unfortunate demise of the Ms. Olympia contest?

Of course, there will always be the token role in a sitcom for a “muscle chick” who shows up, looks menacing, and does something comedic to the male star like kick his ass or wallop him at arm wrestling. They’re not there as a character, but as comedic foil. It’s a bit dehumanizing, but when it’s slim pickings in the entertainment industry, beggars can’t be choosers. You have to accept whatever paying job you can get. Jayne Trcka’s role in Scary Movie (2000) exploits every single negative stereotype about female bodybuilders you can possibly imagine. But from her perspective, it’s a paying job in a major Hollywood production. Can you really blame her?

Kathy Johansson enjoying fun in the sun.

Second, and this point is directly related to the first one, female bodybuilding isn’t a very lucrative profession.

There’s almost no money to be made through competitions. Traditional modeling jobs don’t pay a whole lot no matter what your body type happens to be. You can work as a personal trainer or fitness coach, but being a bodybuilder isn’t necessarily an advantage. It’s not a disadvantage (as far as one can tell), but there are no “bonus points” to be had from being a bodybuilder except for it gives you an extra sense of validity. But not everyone thinks that’s a deal breaker.

And living the life of a bodybuilder isn’t cheap either. The food and supplementation alone costs quite a bit of money if you’re trying to eat clean, often, and strategically. It takes time to go to the gym, lift, do cardio, stretch, shower, and go home to eat and devour a protein shake. It’s challenging to balance working full time, training as a bodybuilder (even if you’re not competing professionally), and enjoying personal time with friends and family. It boggles the mind to ponder how male and female bodybuilders are able to do it.

In other words, female bodybuilders are essentially normal people like us with much different kinds of living expenses. Unlike pro baseball or basketball players, pro bodybuilders aren’t making $20 million per year. They need to hold down a regular 9-5 job just like the rest of us, except squeeze in several hours of training on top of that. You don’t need to be a life coach to understand the difficulties of balancing all of these priorities.

But where exactly is the money at? Well, one can make plenty of dough if they’re willing to offer muscle worship or wrestling sessions. Which conveniently transitions us to our next point:

Being a session provider can be a risky business.

If you need a primer on what “muscle worship” means, you can read all about it in a prior post. While most of us think (and fantasize) about muscle worship and wrestling sessions from the perspective of the client, we mustn’t ignore the provider’s side of the story. Even if rules are set and established beforehand, participating in a fantasy wrestling session can be quite risky.

You never know when you’ll accidentally get injured. Or intentionally get injured by someone with less-than-honorable intentions (there are a lot of strangely insecure guys who feel like they have something to “prove” to a well-meaning FBB who is just trying to earn a living). Or meet a creepy person who stalks you afterward – both online and perhaps even in-person. Stalkers affect all sorts of people, but female bodybuilders are a special breed. They’re as rare as a solar eclipse, which can drive a person whose mental state is already “shaky” at best to do things that definitely cross the line of sane behavior.

For these reasons, FBBs often lay down ground rules before the session even begins. They want to know how much you weigh if you’re interested in “lift and carry” activities. They want to make clear that the wrestling is for fantasy purposes only, as opposed to being a recreation of the Olympic trials. They want to be clear that “tap out” rules will be honored by both sides. In other words, they want to know that they – and the participant – will be safe at all times.

Honest accidents without any malice will inevitably happen from time to time. That is unfortunate, but a reasonable risk one faces when engaging in such strenuous activities. If you want a job without any physical hazards, get a desk job where you sit at a computer and type all day long. But that is not what an FBB who offers muscle worship/fantasy wrestling appointments chooses to do.

A coy looking Tina Nguyen.

Injuries stink for obvious reasons. They hurt, can lead to future health problems, and can be demoralizing. Injuries also inhibit your ability to train, work, travel, and live comfortably. And when your body and health are central to your income stream, being hurt is a double whammy. It’s difficult to earn a living when you’re preoccupied with healing up from a recent torn ligament or fractured bone.

Any lifestyle that is that physically demanding with carry with it inherent risks. And when you throw in clients who may or may not be familiar with you (not every session provider asks for a reference or makes background checks), you never know what sort of person you’ll be spending the next hour or two with. That can be a scary proposition, no matter how emotionally and physically strong you are.

On top of all that, travelling from city to city takes you away from your friends and family for long stretches of time. It’s hard to imagine what that type of life is like unless you’ve lived it. If you have young children – or even older children – being away from them for long periods of time can be stressful. Think of it from the mother’s perspective. Then the children’s. See why this can be a volatile profession?

The next point goes along with that concept: Being a female bodybuilder can be really awkward at times – both for you and your loved ones.

Can you imagine being a little kid and having a mom who “doesn’t look like the other moms?” She’s a lot bigger, stronger, and physically imposing than Billy and Jimmy’s moms. She even has a deeper voice, smaller boobs, and more veins popping out of her arms than is typically considered, uh, typical. And she can bench press more than all the dads out there.

Talk about awkward.

This idea is directly connected to the first point about FBBs living in a world that doesn’t always accept them for who they are. This explores that very concept from everyone else’s perspective.

The older kids get, the more vicious the rumors will become. It doesn’t take a hardboiled private detective to find out what happens at those mysterious muscle worship sessions. It doesn’t take an avid porn aficionado to stumble upon an obscure video of an FBB giving a blow job or hand job to a nameless and faceless beta male client. This sort of information is out there for anyone who is willing to search for it. And not every blog is as respectful as the one you’re currently reading right now. Some blogs and comment sections (ah, yes. The dreaded “comments section” that has single-handedly contributed to the catastrophic dumbing down of our society) can be quite crude in describing what goes on behind closed doors. And come to think of it, it isn’t necessarily crudeness that makes this an issue. Just the basic knowledge that prominent FBBs provide sessions as a side gig is enough to get people to chat, gossip, and speculate on what actually is going on in those remote hotel rooms.

Rumors are rumors, but when rumors are spread widely and loudly enough, they start to become “fact,” even if they are not actually facts. No need to bring up “fake news,” is there?

Can you imagine being a normal kid who does a Google search on your mom and discovers she gives hand jobs to hundreds of guys across the world each year? And she does it for cash that eventually will help fund your college tuition? Talk about an epic discovery that you’d want to erase from your memory “Eternal Sunshine-style.”

Can you imagine being teased for this by the other kids whose parents are more “normal,” if such a thing even exists? Perhaps your FBB mama is remarkably open about her life’s work. Or maybe she tries to shield you from it. In today’s Internet age, it’s nearly impossible to keep something like that under wraps forever. Eventually, the truth will come out if you wait long enough. Nothing can stay hidden for good. Not anymore. We’re far beyond that point. If there’s a grainy video of you – even if this video is more than twenty years old – doing something even slightly embarrassing (never mind performing sexual acts on strangers), you know for a fact it will eventually smack you in the face. Usually when you least expect it. And especially when you don’t ask for it.

Kiana Phi showing off her hard work.

Here’s a true story that I feel compelled to share: Not too long ago a real-life female bodybuilder whom I’ve met for a muscle worship session once before contacted me via e-mail about a recent blog post I had written. She kindly asked that I remove a photo of her that appears in it. The blog article wasn’t about her specifically, but I wanted her picture to be in it because I like her so much.

I dutifully did remove it, carrying out her request as swiftly as I could. She didn’t want her name and reputation to be tarnished. She didn’t want to be associated with an underground subculture that could come back to haunt her, her husband, and her kids.

She didn’t want her daughters to be teased about what their beloved mama does with men in hotel rooms across America. Even if these rumors aren’t based in reality, that doesn’t matter. Harmful gossip is harmful regardless of its truthfulness. I removed her photo because I didn’t want to upset her, but I also did so because I instantly put myself in her shoes. I choose to remain anonymous on this blog because I wouldn’t want my friends and family to know about my unusual fetish. I can grant myself anonymity with very little effort on my part. For an FBB who is considered a “celebrity” in the eyes of many people worldwide, they do not have that luxury.

Public figures cannot control what people say about them. And not everyone can pay a high-quality spin team, PR representative, or “search engine scrubber” who can find creative ways to hide bad stuff said about you. It’s just not possible in today’s interconnected and plugged-in world to totally control your online reputation. I can create a Ryan Takahashi avatar and establish whatever persona I want to. Public figures cannot do that as easily.

Isabelle Turell – what a woman!

This is something I must – and the rest of you, too – keep in mind at all times. When you write about an FBB, wrestler, or session provider on an Internet chat forum, you’re not just communicating to the people with whom you’re directly corresponding. You’re also spreading information – and this includes both accurate and inaccurate information – to the world at large. That’s someone’s reputation. That’s someone’s mom, sister, wife, friend, or lover. That’s another human being, not a brand new air conditioner that deserves a four star rating out of five.

When you call her a whore, you’re saying that about a person with feelings. When you reveal what goes on behind closed doors without honoring her anonymity, you risk harming her reputation. It makes perfect sense why many FBBs are reluctant about allowing people to write reviews about them on chat forums. Who knows what some disgruntled yahoo will say to a captivated audience?

Female bodybuilders are some of the strongest willed people on planet Earth. But they are not invincible. They are flesh and blood human beings who are just as vulnerable as you or I. They may not seem like it in the fever pitch depths of our imaginations, but this is the truth. They are vulnerable, often times in ways you cannot see or understand.

In My Own Words: Zack from San Diego

Alina Popa wants you to share your personal story!

Exactly four years ago – holy cow, time sure flies! – I posted on this blog a message calling for readers to submit their own personal stories about how they discovered female bodybuilders, why they love them so much, and what they wish they could tell the world about this shared interest. All anonymously, of course.

Sadly, in the past four years I haven’t gotten a whole lot of feedback from you folks. Oh well. But last week ago a brave soul finally reached out to me and provided answers to the questions I suggested. His name is Zack and he resides in (perpetually) sunny San Diego.

He comes across as a female muscle fan who thinks deeply about his love for FBBs. I’m sure that describes much of you out there! So, read what he has to say. And if you feel compelled to contribute your own thoughts, feel free to email me at ryantakahashi87 (at) yahoo (dot) com. Here’s my original post calling for reader submissions in case you need further context.

You can answer the questions I’ve posed, or you can just spew your thoughts out on your computer and send them my way. Whichever you prefer!

So, without further ado, here’s what Zack has to say, in his own words:

***

San Diego, where it’s the same weather 365 days out of the year.

When did I first discover my love for female muscle?

It all started when I was a 14-year-old high school freshman with hormones that started berserking like typical young men at that stage. One day, I was watching an episode of Fear Factor and I saw one female contestant who wasn’t exactly a “bodybuilder” type but was still well-built and did a couple “poses” before attempting a stunt that required some great physical capabilities. At the time, I was also taking a PE class that had some classroom-esque instruction in the gym involving weight training and my PE teacher was talking about what men and women each like to gain when working with weights (men obviously putting on size, but women wanting to stay firm and sturdy, etc.).

I started pondering the female stature even more to the point where I’d keep an eye out for those Bowflex commercials to catch women toning their symmetrics and continuing my Fear Factor viewings hoping to catch a glimpse of women with the real awesome statures. One day it finally occurred to me to use the wonderful tool of Google to find images of the real treasures and I was hooked. They were a safer alternative to Playboy because many of my peers had to be careful if we ever dared to seek a Playboy magazine in our old man’s secret stash (LOL). As I progressed through high school, my passion for these goddesses was known only to my mom and my sister who would occasionally glance through the internet browsing history on our computer, but they didn’t know what it was evolving into. I even stumbled upon an exercise book on my mom’s bookshelf by the great Rachel McLish, which I would discreetly glance through every now and then.

After my sophomore year, I took a part-time job at a grocery store near my house which gave me convenient access to Oxygen magazine, which I would purchase at the self-checkout machines to avoid any of my coworkers asking me questions about this hidden passion of mine. I guess you could tag it (and still can) as my “guilty pleasure.” Midway through junior year, after a few months of ogling over these glorious goddesses on paper, I had a deep dream one night and it finally happened. I woke up at about 2:00 a.m. after feeling an amazing vision involving a really close bond with the magnificent Monica Brant that resulted in my “little soldiers” deploying themselves for the very first time.

Why do I admire female bodybuilders?

For starters, let’s say I would much rather have Wonder Woman as my girlfriend instead of Sleeping Beauty (LOL).

I admire women of physical and mental strength because just as a typical woman loves a man with confidence, I would want my potential suitor to have the same qualities in herself. During our early years, we become so fixated on comparing ourselves to others that often times we forget about trying to be the best version of our individual selves. If anything, I wholeheartedly embrace my differences because they are a part of what enables me to write my own life’s story by viewing the world from my own perception rather than somebody else’s tunnel vision. Women who are not ashamed/afraid and embrace the fact that they are different turn me on. Muscle is a natural element of the human body for both men and women. Bodybuilding is a sport and form of art; neither of which are reserved for either gender in the first place.

However, I do draw the line somewhere. When it comes to female bodybuilders, the details that determine whether they maintain their femininity or cross the line into the dark territory of being masculine come not from the size of their muscles, but rather their shape and symmetry. If they have deep voices, hair growing in places it shouldn’t be, square-pecs, square-jaw, or other physical traits that are exclusive to men, I am turned off by it and rather ashamed that they would wreck themselves with steroids, destroying and disgracing a pure form of art in the process.

Have I ever met a female bodybuilder (or a woman with a lot of muscles)? If so, what were the circumstances?

Plenty of times, yes. However, I have yet to secure a date with them because they are a scarce thing to find and whenever I’ve encountered them they are either taken or in a situation where it is not easy to strike up a conversation that could possibly lead to a date. It’s happened at the gym and at fitness expos too. Just got to keep my eyes open, wait for the right timing, and it’ll happen. Patience is one of the highest virtues I pride myself on.

Have you ever engaged in a muscle worship or BDSM session with an FBB? If so, how did it go?

I did have one with a prominent FBB from Latin America whom I won’t name for privacy reasons and it went very well. I speak some Spanish (her native tongue) and had a good time and would definitely see her again if I ever travel back to Florida.

How would you react to someone who says that a guy (or gal) who likes female bodybuilders is strange, weird, kooky in the head, etc.?

It’s happened already but I am more than capable of shrugging it off because haters are gonna hate.

Have I ever told anyone that I’m into female muscle?

Through the course of my Navy career thus far I have been on two deployments and porn is naturally an essential for the occasion and I did show to my shipmates the special stash of FBB videos (including nude ones) on my computer which I’ve accumulated over the years. A couple of my friends who are already fitness buffs themselves enjoyed it but everybody else gave the typical negative comments.

If I could tell someone who doesn’t understand your attraction to female muscle one thing, what would it be?

Muscle is a natural element of the human body. That goes for males AND females.

The Strap-On Fantasy: Ready, Willing, and Well-Endowed

Denise Masino showing Lisa Cross who’s the boss.

Imagine you’re lying on the ground with your hands and feet tied together with rope. There’s a gag in your mouth. You cannot speak a word. You struggle to move. But for some odd reason, you feel no desire to speak or move. You just lie there. Waiting. In complete silence.

Suddenly, a door opens. The silence is broken. You cannot look behind you, but you can clearly hear the clank of high heels banging against the cement floor. The steps come closer. And closer. And closer. Finally, the clanking stops. You hear a low gravelly voice barking out orders. It sounds masculine, but strangely feminine at the same time. But instead of being confused or perplexed, you’re frightened, nervous, and uncontrollably aroused all at the same time.

A strong pair of hands takes hold of you and turns you around. Finally, you see who it is that has graced your presence. It is that of a muscular woman. Tall, confident, and ripped from head to toe with big bulging muscles, she’s a sight you’ve never seen before. You will never forget this moment, the moment your eyes first see her size and strength. It is forever burned into your memory. And for that, you are eternally grateful.

You look at her gorgeous face, then her pecs, shoulders, biceps, six-pack abdomen, and her tree trunk thighs. She definitely goes to the gym regularly! But the one thing that you cannot help but notice is the enormous strap-on attached to her pelvis. Your eyes focus on a huge ten inch long black dildo hanging between her legs. It is the most intimidating thing you’ve ever witnessed. It looks hard, violent, and unforgiving. It is a tool of punishment. It is her way of asserting her deserving and rightful dominance.

However, no matter how scared you get, there’s a small part of you that desires that dildo to penetrate you. You want it shoved deep inside your body, invading your most intimate parts. You want her to be the one to do it. And from the way she positions herself over you, it appears as though that’s precisely what’s about to happen. Again, you are powerless to object. You cannot escape from your fate. She is going to do it. Hard. Over and over again. Until she decides to stop, not when you decide it should stop. She may want to penetrate you for hours. Or maybe for only a few minutes. Or seconds. Regardless, it’s her choice…not yours.

You fully expect the penetration to hurt immensely. It will be the most painful and humiliating experience of your life. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. You want this to happen, even though you’re terrified out of your wits. You’re sweating. Your heart is racing a million miles per second. If the dildo doesn’t kill you, cardiac arrest might instead. But if that were to happen, it would be tragic but at least you will die happy.

The moment of truth is approaching. She parts your thighs, preparing to enter you. She licks her lips. She grabs onto the black dildo and strokes it up and down as suggestively as possible. She then takes out a bottle of lubricant and dabs a small amount onto her fingers. She reaches down and smears it on you. It feels cold, but comforting. The anticipation has reached a fever pitch. It’ll only be a few moments until she finally enters you. She smiles. You grimace, but you also remain calm. You’ve accepted your fate. You choose to accept what’s coming to you.

At last, she positions her dildo right at your entrance, and she squeezes it in…

Alright, wake up sweetheart! It’s time for school.

Huh? What just happened?

If the following anecdote arouses you in any way, I suppose that means I’ve done my job, which is to act as a (de facto) scribe of your dirtiest inner thoughts. Your fantasy world may not be this vivid or kinky, but I’m sure you’ve had your moments. I can guarantee it. Whether you’re truly into kink or if you’re more vanilla, you’ve probably at some point during your female muscle fandom watched a video or two that features a strong powerful woman wearing a strap-on dildo.

Melissa Dettwiller cannot help but submit to Lynn McCrossin (may she rest in peace).

Maybe she’s penetrating a guy. Or a woman. Or a fellow female bodybuilder. Or maybe she’s just by herself and she’s teasing you with it. No matter the circumstances, this fantasy scenario is not uncommon within the female muscle fan community (believe it or not, such a community actually exists!). Watching a hypermuscular woman wear a gigantic strap-on dildo – the color specifications can differ depending on who you are – can be quite arousing, even if BDSM isn’t necessarily your “thing.”

Why is that? Why do we enjoy watching Angela Salvagno or Yvette Bova wear a strap-on around their waists while they prepare to unleash pain and humiliation upon a hapless victim? How many of us wish we were that victim? Or at the very least, how many of us wish we could witness in-person this act of tyranny up close?

The Strap-On Fantasy is a fascinating one to ponder about. It covers a wide range of ideas that exemplify why female muscle fandom is so perplexing. Whether we secretly wish for an FBB wearing a strap-on to enter us where the sun doesn’t shine or whether we get turned on watching it happen to somebody else, let’s dig deep into this phenomena further (no pun intended).

The first major observation is that many female muscle lovers enjoy watching a muscular woman assert her sexual dominance. Many of us don’t fantasize about making love to an FBB as if she were our equal (although I do!). Rather, many of us desire that she take control, declare her sexual sovereignty, and do whatever she wants with us. However, such a fantasy isn’t just reduced to a powerful woman “being on top” in the bedroom. It takes it one step further.

Any woman – muscular or not – can assert her dominance in the bedroom. Either she decides what transpires or she determines the pace of play. Whichever it is, neither option is particular unusual or noteworthy. But when you add the element of a strap-on into the mix, things get a bit dicey. A muscular woman with a strap-on attached to her isn’t trying to become more “masculine” or “man-like.” It certainly appears that way, but underneath the surface we come to realize that a strap-on isn’t just a fake penis. It’s an external (and material) symbol of sexual dominance.

As a society, we view the penis – for better or for worse – as a symbol of sexual sovereignty. It’s an external organ that, when stimulated, provides pleasure for the person who has it. Women have organs that provide her sexual pleasure as well (her vagina and clitoris, primarily), but neither organ is pronounced enough for our psyches to relegate them as “vehicles of pleasure.” The vagina is internal and the clitoris is very small. For this reason, when we were little kids we thought that “boys have a penis” and “girls don’t have a penis,” as opposed to “girls have a vagina.” Girls do have a vagina, but it’s less obvious. Women can have orgasms without a partner, but far too many across the world aren’t explicitly aware of this ability. You can’t learn anything unless you’re taught, right?

Given this backdrop, a muscular woman wearing a strap-on is an exaggerated and crude way for her to showcase her sexual abilities. It’s her way of communicating to the world that she possesses (even in an artificial sense) a sexual organ that exists for the purpose of giving her sexual pleasure. Obviously, a strap-on is just a toy and doesn’t actually provide her pleasure (unless it’s a double sided strap-on), but that’s beside the point. It’s all about symbolism. If we associate a large sexual organ with sexual dominance, a strap-on hammers this point home unlike anything else.

Along the same wavelength, our culture tends to associate sexual dominance with the ability to penetrate. If you can penetrate your partner, that makes you powerful. It makes your partner subordinate to you. It makes him or her passive. It makes you the active participant who’s initiating the coital act. You are not surrendering your body’s autonomy by allowing someone else to enter it. You are the invader, not the invaded. If all of this sounds violent, it certainly does. On a more serious note, that’s often why we consider rape the highest of all crimes, perhaps worse than murder. Or at the very least, it’s the crime that’s just below murder as the worst possible crime you can commit against another human being. There’s something unholy about entering another person’s body without permission or with ill intent. It’s unseemly, discomforting, and appalling to comprehend. These sentiments stem from our cultural associations of “the ability to penetrate” with “strength” and “being penetrated” with “weakness.”

There’s nothing weak about Angela Salvagno.

Fair or unfair, that’s how we tend to view these matters. I am not here to argue whether or not I like this; rather I’m just pointing out the way things are. So the bottom line is this: Sexual dominance can take many forms, but the ability to penetrate your partner with a pronounced sexual organ is chief among them. Because women do not (normally) possess such an organ, a strap-on is the next best thing; a symbolic way for them to exhibit their power, independence, and authority.

The second major observation is that we enjoy watching female bodybuilders hug that fine line between “feminine” and “masculine.”

Of course, we love muscular women because they’re women with big beautiful muscles. Not because we think they look like men. And not because they exhibit qualities that we traditionally associate with masculinity. Female bodybuilders are feminine. They’re just a different kind of feminine. Or, they’re an “enhanced” version of feminine that embraces muscular curves in addition to her conventional curves.

But on second thought, perhaps there’s a shred of truth to the stereotype that guys who love muscular women are, whether they realize it or not, also embracing the FBB’s “masculine-lite” qualities. Or maybe, and this sounds much more plausible, guys like us are really turned on by strong ladies who walk that fine line between what we are and are not supposed to be attracted to.

We love watching a beautiful feminine FBB sport a large strap-on dildo not because it appears she has a penis – and thus appears to be a “man” of sorts – but because she doesn’t really, but she acts like she does. As men, we may or may not be proud of our phalluses. We may like the power it gives us, or at least the perceived power it gives us. And we love seeing our favorite FBBs share in that power, even if it’s superficial and temporary. Deep down inside our dirty imaginations, we secretly want our FBBs to be strong, powerful, and well-endowed. We want them to act like men while still being women. In our minds, acting masculine doesn’t make you masculine. You can exhibit masculine qualities while still being unquestionably feminine in nature.

As I’ve written before many times, female muscle fans love large clits because it’s their way of demonstrating their sexual power. It’s a (albeit, smaller in size) phallic-like external organ that gives sensual pleasure when stimulated by one’s self or by a partner. It provides orgasm. It becomes engorged when aroused. It grows in size when aroused. And if it’s large enough, it can be sucked on or jerked off to the point of climax. Sound familiar?

Due to extra testosterone in the body caused by both muscle growth and taking synthetic steroids, women bodybuilders often see their clitorises grow significantly in size. There’s a perfectly rational scientific explanation for this phenomenon. So the “female phallus” theme is more evident when we’re dealing with ladies such as Denise Masino (a goddess among men), Angela Salvagno, and Brandi Mae Akers. These women possess abnormally large clits that are gorgeous, sexually alluring, and allow them to demonstrate their power in the bedroom.

We all know that Denise, Angela, and Brandi Mae do not have penises. They have clitorises and vaginas just like every other woman. But without a doubt, the shape of the meat between their legs is noteworthy and sets them apart from the rest of the female species. Their status as women is undeniable. Nobody – at least, nobody with a fully functioning brain – seriously believes these ladies are anything but ladies. Internet trolls aside, it is because they’re strong, beautiful, confident, sexy, and feminine that we love them so damn much. They’ve captured our hearts because they break the mold of what society traditionally expects women to look like while still retaining much of that mold. They don’t defy these notions so much as they redefine them. And that is an impressive feat.

Yet, we are still intrigued by tiny voices inside our heads that tell us there’s more to these ladies than meets the eye. Is it that these ladies expand the definition of “feminine,” as I’ve argued above? Or, do they shatter these definitions completely and flesh out the argument that there’s actually no such thing as “masculine” and “feminine?” Are these labels real or perceived? Are they based on objective biological scientific fact or are they shallow and archaic holdovers from a less enlightened time? Maybe straight men aren’t actually attracted to women…they’re attracted to femininity, regardless of who (or what) exhibits these characteristics.

This brings to mind all sorts of questions regarding sexual orientation, the nature of gender, and whether or not our understanding of biology is totally accurate. But suffice to say is that we know what we like and do not like. Sometimes, someone will come along and challenge our previously held conceptions of our personal preferences. This can be a good thing, but it can also be a confusing thing. The world is a complicated place, indeed.

Meet Mistress Kiana, a London-based erotic service provider.

There is something intriguing about people who are androgynous. We may or may not be attracted to them regardless of who they are – or claim that they are. Female bodybuilders are not always cleanly in the “feminine” category, mostly because the definition of “feminine” changes depending on who is doing the defining. FBBs can walk that fine line between the labels we choose to place on each other and ourselves. Perhaps this ambiguity is what enthralls us the most.

The Strap-On Fantasy forces us to reconsider why we associate a penis with masculinity. After all, we know not to associate big muscles with masculinity. We can think of hundreds of examples of big muscles being very feminine. Muscles are universal, not monopolized only by men. So by that logic, why should we associate a large phallus hanging between one’s legs as being solely masculine as well? What if, instead of the strap-on being designed to look like a penis, it were designed to look like a comically oversized clit? I have no clue if such a contraption actually exists, but the idea should bring a smile to your face.

So, we love seeing a strong woman with a fake penis, but only because it enhances her femininity, not because her appearance traverses into the territory of masculinity. Got that? Don’t worry if you find this confusing. I do too!

The third major observation is how intertwined the concepts of strength, power, and sexuality are. I’ve touched on a lot of these ideas already, so here’s what I’ll say about this. It seems nearly impossible to separate a female bodybuilder from her sex appeal. She isn’t a robot. She isn’t a machine. She’s a flesh-and-blood human being who strives to sculpt the “perfect body” as she sees it. And such an endeavor will inevitably augment her sex appeal. Whether this is intentional or unintentional, as casual onlookers we cannot train our eyes to see things differently. We cannot help but look at a female bodybuilder as a sexual object.

Perhaps we also see her as an athlete, trainer, entrepreneur, model, wife, mother, sister, community leader, celebrity, and most of all, a human being. But how can you not also look at her beauty and find your mind drifting off into all sorts of erotic places?

Don’t make Mistress Treasure (Victoria Dominguez) angry!

Connected to a female bodybuilder’s body is her strength and power. I define “strength” as her pure physical strength and “power” as the dominion she has over her surroundings, including the people around her. We are drawn to FBBs not just because of what they look like, but also because of how they act and what they can do. It arouses us to see them lifting heavy weights at the gym. It turns us on to watch them grapple a helpless male opponent to the ground while he begs for mercy – and doesn’t receive it. We may not fantasize about being the hapless chap whose face turns red while his torso is contorted in all sorts of unpleasant directions, but we sure enjoy witnessing it. Or at least, many of us do. I’m not super into that sort of thing, but whatever.

It’s not enough for us to see our favorite FBBs be strong. We need them to act strong. And not just do stunts like bend steel or crush an apple with her bare hands. That’s all fine and dandy, but what really gets our blood boiling is seeing an FBB exhibit her strength through her sexuality.

These concepts cannot be separated, no matter how much we try to. Strength, power, and sexuality are almost synonymous at this point. They aren’t of course, but that doesn’t stop us from thinking about these ideas within the same framework.

The final major observation is this: No strap-on dildo can possibly compete with a real penis. Regardless of the size of your penis – whether you think it’s small, medium-sized, or large – no dildo in the world can act as a substitute for the real thing. Women often say that as much as they love masturbating with a dildo, nothing beats the feeling and knowledge of a man’s actual flesh entering her. Synthetic materials can provide the same orgasmic effect, but it’s not psychologically the same.

A female bodybuilder wearing a strap-on is just that – a female bodybuilder wearing a strap-on. She isn’t an “honorary” man. She isn’t actually well-endowed. Her endowment is fake. She’s still a woman and a man is still a man. Even a man being anally penetrated by a woman wearing a strap-on is still a man. The power she derives from having a phallus is superficial and disappears the moment she takes it off. A man, on the other hand, never relinquishes that power.

Perhaps this is why erectile dysfunction is considered such a bruise to one’s ego. The inability to produce an erection consistently (or at all) is essentially a form of emasculation. His penis isn’t literally cut off, but it might as well be. It’s limp. It’s useless. It cannot bring a woman to orgasm. In a way, the failure to bring a woman to a satisfying climax is the height of emasculation.

Never mind he can’t bring pleasure to himself. That’s almost beside the point. He cannot successfully penetrate his female partner – which in turns makes him less of a man. “Male enhancement” medication sells like hotcakes for a reason.

However, despite all that, even a small and limp penis is still much more potent – mostly in a symbolic sense – than every single dildo sitting on the shelves of every single sex shop in the world. As an elongated piece of meat that protrudes outside of the body, a phallus is the ultimate symbol for maleness. Women, even muscular women, have no such external symbol. No strap-on ever created in a factory can compete in the long-term with the real thing. An FBB wearing a strap-on has power in the bedroom only temporarily. As I mentioned earlier, the moment she takes it off she instantly returns back to her normal state. She is “emasculated” as well – figuratively speaking, that is.

Porn star Ava Devine teaching a lesson to naughty Brandi Mae Akers.

It provides a small amount of giddiness knowing that men still hold the ultimate bargaining chip: a perfectly functional and real penis. No FBB can possibly match that. Regardless of how big her muscles get and how large her dildo is, she’s not even close to being a man. She can never actually be one of us.

But alas, is that necessarily a bad thing? Sexual power can come from anyone, no matter what is hanging (or not hanging) between their legs. So does it really matter whether a man has a penis and an FBB has a strap-on – or no strap-on at all?

Let’s think of it this way: the next time you see Angela Salvagno or Brandi Mae Akers wearing a large dildo around their waists, ask yourself this question:

Does the strap-on complete her dominating presence, or does it merely complement it?

In other words, does she even need the strap-on in the first place, or is it just a fun toy for her to play with for the time being? In the back of your mind, do you secretly wish that she actually has a phallus hanging between her legs? It could be a penis that co-exists with her vagina or it could be a clitoris that’s grown far larger than normal. Either way, is that a must? Do you clamor for her to have such an endowment? Or are you perfectly content with her having a slit between her legs and allow her muscularity to speak for itself?

Muscles give women power. The penis gives men power. When a woman can have both, it’s understandable why we’d have such vivid daydreams that prevent us from getting to school on time.

This is the Moment When She is at the Peak of Her Power

Tina Nguyen is at her most powerful right here.

She stares straight ahead, her gaze can pierce through your soul. She’s exhausted. She’s fatigued. She’s determined. She’s ready.

With 65-pound dumbbells in each hand, hanging casually next to her hips, she takes in a deep breath and regards herself in the mirror – not out of vanity, but out of a concern for maintaining proper form and technique. She’s a professional in mind and spirit, though not in livelihood (yet).

With astonishing confidence, grace, and strength, she lifts one dumbbell up to her chest, the cold metal barely grazing her collarbone. She exhales and slowly lowers the heavy weight back to her side, returning it perfectly to where it previously was. Then she lifts the other dumbbell upward in the exact same manner, this time her other collarbone experiences the unforgiving touch of the frosty iron. All the while, curious onlookers can see large veins running down her hardened biceps as she powers through these lifts. It seems like with each repetition, the veins get more pronounced as her biceps grow larger and larger.

The blood rushing into her arms coincides with the blood rushing into the private areas of the males in close proximity. They are unable to concentrate on their own workouts because they are too distracted by hers.

But none of them would have it any other way.

Oh boy. Have you ever experienced a scenario similar to this? I know I have. Maybe not at my local gym – though there have been a few isolated incidents – but certainly while watching Internet videos of female bodybuilders lifting heavy weights. If you haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing such a beautiful phenomenon in recent days, drop whatever you are doing and conduct a few Google searches to whet your starving appetite.

For people who love female bodybuilders, athletes, weightlifters, and fitness models, there are few things that turn us on more than to watch our beloved ladies grind at the gym. Glamour photoshoots behind a pristine white backdrop are fine. So are professionally-done photo sessions taken on an immaculate white sandy beach. But few pieces of media can seriously contend with a video (even if it’s grainy and shot on an iPhone) that showcases a muscular woman laboring hard to become – or remain – a muscular woman.

Indeed, workout videos are our porn. This is nothing new. There already exists a blog post exploring this topic. However, what deserves further examination is a specific moment in these videos that particularly makes our hearts leap out of our chests:

The moment of muscle peak.

This is probably best exemplified in the above example of a female bodybuilder doing bicep curls. But it’s even more evident when she’s doing preacher curls. Preacher curls are, in case you are not familiar with exercise jargon – isolation lifts in which you place your arms against an incline bench (or pad) and lift either a barbell or dumbbell upward toward your chest, targeting specifically your biceps. Visually speaking, preacher curls make for excellent video fodder because you can noticeably see the participant’s biceps swelling up as he or she completes the lift.

Sexy muscle mama Dena Anne Weiner.

When we see a muscle-bound woman’s face strain as she struggles to finish the final repetition of her grueling set, it’s difficult to watch this with zero physical reaction. How can your pulse not start to race, your heart beat a little faster, and blood not rush to your groin? I’d stop being such an adamant female muscle lover if such reactions ceased to take place inside me.

It is at this moment when her biceps are at its largest. “The Moment of Muscle Peak” is so arousing because it symbolizes in a single still frame why we love female bodybuilders so much: They had to earn their gorgeous muscles through hard work and hard work only. No shortcuts, no underserving gains, and certainly no free passes. She didn’t earn her muscles by paying a plastic surgeon to implant them underneath her skin. She may take drugs, but drugs alone do not produce large muscle mass. That only comes from expending sweat, energy, and burning more calories than some of us consume.

Here is the video that inspired me to write this post. It shows world-renowned Swiss female bodybuilder Jay Fuchs doing preacher curls at the gym. Follow her (or periodically revisit) her Instagram account if you don’t already. She completes a few repetitions of preacher curls with her left arm. We see the veins pop out of her skin. We see her bicep grow to its largest possible size. We see it expand and contract. We witness how tired she must be. We empathize with her struggle and admire how she is able to persevere through it. But we also notice how beautifully her bicep “jumps” up as she squeezes the dumbbell close to her chest. It’s as though it’s going to burst open. We are amazed how her skin is able to physically contain so much swollen flesh.

But alas, her muscles are able to expand and contract without her skin peeling open. What a miracle! After she is done with her set, she drops the dumbbell on the floor and flexes for her audience. We now see, in a classic sequence, the simple dynamic of “cause and effect.” We see her lifting weights at the gym. And now we see the results of her years of hard work!

How Miss Fuchs transformed herself into an Angelic Muscle Goddess isn’t a mystery. It’s not a secret. There’s no magic potion that made it happen. It’s all out in the open. The ways and means are as simple as it gets: Hard work, hard work, and more hard work. She has nothing to hide. She also has everything to gain. So do we.

The aforementioned Jay Fuchs.

Jay Fuch’s social media feed, as well as the feeds of hundreds of other beautiful muscular women around the globe, provides a simple yet provocatively arousing look into why some men love muscular women so damn much. “The Moment of Muscle Peak” isn’t just confined to when her muscles are actually at its largest. It’s the exact moment (or moments) when you symbolically get to witness what it is that separates a muscular woman from a “normal looking” woman. It’s the moment when it stops being all fun and games and, as the colloquialism goes, “shit gets real.”

Maybe it’s when Minna Pajulahti is attempting an impressive single deadlift. Or when Lisa Cross finishes her last squat. Perhaps it’s seeing Theresa Ivancik grunt her way toward completing a set of shoulder presses. Or seeing a female Olympic sprinter cross the finish line. Or a lady CrossFit athlete climbing up and down a rope.

It’s the moment when she’s at the peak of her power. When she’s actively doing the hard work necessary to transform herself into a better version of herself. It’s not for show. She’s not showing off for the camera or trying to put on a performance. She doesn’t care if she’s wearing makeup or if she looks “camera ready.” All of that is inconsequential nonsense. The only thing on her mind is finishing her set, breathing steadily, and moving on to the next lift. The rest will take care of itself. She doesn’t care one iota if her hair is unkempt or if she doesn’t quite look like a polished supermodel. After all, when you have muscles that big…who has the right to criticize you?

The Moment of Muscle Peak is when she is at her most unstoppable. It’s when we are helpless to do anything else but witness “true beauty” in action. Unlike a boring and passive Sleeping Beauty, a female bodybuilder busting her tail at the gym is a Wide Awake Muscle Queen Who Refuses to Take Shortcuts and Deserves Her Accolades. She ain’t no princess, sweetheart. She isn’t even a queen, despite the idiomatic expression. Instead, she’s a peasant. She’s Cinderella without the Fairy Godmother granting her temporary “princess status” until the clock strikes midnight.

She’s so damn beautiful because she’s a peasant who earned her regal status not by merely wearing a tiara, but by building up so much muscle on her body that you can’t help but mindlessly stare at her while you struggle to pick up your jaw off the floor.

The biceps on Monique Jones are enough to give me a heart attack.

A female bodybuilder isn’t at her most powerful when she’s got some hapless guy in a headlock or a scissor hold. Nor is she at the height of her authority when she has someone tied to a bed while she squeezes his balls until he begs her to stop. That is, in my humble opinion, a somewhat superficial form of expressing one’s power. Rather, she’s at the height of her power when she’s all alone in the weight room, with sweat dripping down her face, struggling to finish that one final rep before she can’t handle it anymore. Afterward, as she’s breathing hard like a racehorse and chugging down water to help her recover, she’s at her weakest. But in her weakness she finds her strength. She punishes her body so that it can emerge even more powerful than before. She’s drained of her energy for now, but not for very long. Eventually, she’ll refuel and rest up to the point where she can do it all again…this time harder and more strenuously than before.

Female bodybuilders are lone wolves. They aren’t lonely by choice, rather it’s a byproduct of the life they’ve chosen to lead. More often than not, her workouts are not made public. A short 30-second video clip posted on YouTube or Instagram doesn’t do justice to her full training regimen. It’s not even a drop in the bucket. The vast majority of the time she’s all alone at the gym (or at least, she’s all alone in her own personal bubble) away from smartphone cameras or preying eyes. She grinds away for several hours a week in the privacy of her own little world. She spends an inordinate amount of time cooking unglamorous food that tastes the same but plays a crucial role in helping her build muscle mass. She’s constantly reading up on supplementation tips and making valuable contacts – both in-person and online – who can help her succeed at her dream of living life as a bodybuilder.

These lone wolves do have their moment in the spotlight, however. They do compete in bodybuilding shows. They do pose for sexy photo or video shoots. They do meet starry-eyed clients for muscle worship or wrestling sessions. They do walk out in public and see the stunned faces on complete strangers who were not expecting to randomly see a woman with so much muscle. When you’re an entrepreneurial female bodybuilder, it’s impossible to be kept a secret forever.

Muscle goddess Angie Semsch.

But once again, that’s just a drop in the proverbial bucket. The process it takes to be a bodybuilder isn’t for the faint of heart, nor is it terribly exciting day-in and day-out. But for those of us who do appreciate the arduous journey it takes to become a Divine Muscle Goddess, we cannot help but stare with our undivided attention as she’s lifting that heavy dumbbell. In that moment, she’s defying gravity, challenging our preconceived notions, and taking one step closer toward reaching her final destination. We can’t always describe why we love watching this; but we do regardless.

The Moment of Muscle Peak, therefore, has two meanings: It’s both the moment when her muscles are at its most swollen and strained; and it’s the moment when she’s at her most empowered. It’s both literal and figurative. When Jay Fuchs is isolating her biceps and lifting that dumbbell toward her beautiful chest, she’s showing us two sides of her personality. One side is her willingness to do the hard work necessary to develop large muscles. The other side is her devotion to striving toward an ideal.

And what is that ideal? She wants to be the best version of herself that she can possibly be. She refuses to settle for anything less than that. And why would she? What would be the point?

As fans of Miss Fuchs and countless others like her, we do not see any other point. Seriously. If you can think of a reason why Jay shouldn’t pursue her personal ideal, you can tell us after we’ve picked up our jaws off the floor.

Please Don’t Be a Jerk

Who would want to be a jerk toward Margie Martin?

Who would want to be a jerk toward Margie Martin?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Please note that none of the women whose photos are featured in this blog post are women whom I’ve met for muscle worship sessions. I have no idea if any of these ladies even offer such services. I’m just sharing their images because I love looking at pictures of strong beautiful ladies! Thank you.

***

It is not too often that I use this platform – and I suppose my blog can be considered a “platform” of sorts – to chastise anyone. Maybe it’s my upbringing, where “calling people out” in a public manner just isn’t encouraged. Or maybe it’s because I value my readers and I don’t want to offend them when it’s not totally necessary.

Regardless, when an issue comes up that I feel is important enough to give attention to, I will do it. Not because it’s my “duty” or anything like that, but because I have values and I respect female bodybuilders.

I’ve met quite a few female bodybuilders over the past half-decade. By my count, I’ve seen 13 female bodybuilders (a few I’ve seen twice) for muscle worship sessions since 2013. Naturally, I am a very curious person when it comes to these female bodybuilders. So I like to ask questions about their training regimen, eating habits, travel schedule, weird experiences meeting with clients, funny anecdotes, and anything else that strikes my fancy.

But, it is the “weird experiences meeting with clients” that often reveal the most enlightening bits of information.

Not surprising, people are strange. Some clients want a female bodybuilder to punch them in the face until their noses bleed. Others want a female bodybuilder to whip them with a long piece of leather until red marks appear all over their skin. One FBB intimated a story of a gentleman who received sexual pleasure from having broken lightbulb shards spread across his chest while she steps on him with her high heels.

Different strokes for different folks, I guess.

However, one consistent story I keep hearing about is idiot people who email/text with FBBs about setting up an appointment but have no actual intentions of doing so. The narrative is predictable: Someone emails an FBB who is planning to travel to their city. They exchange a few messages agreeing on the terms of the appointment. Finally, they agree on a date and time to meet. The day arrives…and voilà! This person is a no-show.

They might insist in a frantic-sounding text that they’re running late or are lost and will get to the hotel as soon as possible. But that’s just a pack of lies. They never show up and never intended to show up in the first place. Hell, this person may not actually live in the area. So the FBB is left without a client and $350 (give or take) that she thought she’d earn for her services but will not.

Talk about disappointing. It’s like being stood up on a date. But instead of having a broken heart or a wounded ego, you’ve missed out on an opportunity to earn some much-needed cash. Meanwhile, the person leaving the FBB standing on the proverbial altar probably has no clue how irresponsible and inconsiderate they’ve just been. No damn clue whatsoever.

Gillian Kovack by the pool.

Gillian Kovack by the pool.

And does this happen often? You bet it does. I don’t know exactly how often, but often enough that session providers need to take precautionary measures to ensure it doesn’t happen. But no matter how thorough you are, there will always be dummies among us who manage to flake out when the spotlight becomes too bright.

Hm. Why would someone do this?

One theory is that some people get a sexual thrill from merely communicating with an FBB. They find muscular women to be mysterious, alluring, and erotically exciting. I agree with all this, but that’s no excuse to be a jerk. These jackasses pretend like they’re interested in paying for a muscle worship or wrestling session but are only doing so because they think it’s appealing to exchange empty emails with them.

These are lonely and insufferable buffoons who give the rest of us a bad name. I once met an FBB for a session who told me I was her only client during her stay in Seattle. She’d been in contact with four or five other guys…but all of them bailed out except for me. If it weren’t for yours truly, she would have spent her entire trip alone in her hotel room and would have lost a lot of money on air fare and hotel expenses. I was embarrassed to hear that. I apologized to her for the stupid behavior of my fellow Seattleites. She was gracious and told me I wasn’t to blame for any of this. She was right, but I still felt bad for her.

I understand that FBBs are incredible women who deserve our attention, respect, and awe. But that’s no excuse for stringing them along just because you find it thrilling to text with them a few times. Is that how pathetic you are? Seriously? Please.

Lori Emory giving us a sexy side pose.

Lori Emory giving us a sexy side pose.

One FBB told me of a jerk who lied to her about wanting to set up a wrestling appointment happened to live 3,000 miles away from the city she was at! She was visiting the West Coast and this idiot lived on the East Coast but insisted he was “just outside the hotel lobby” and “would be knocking on her door at any moment.” Complete and utter BS. I got angry when I heard this. I cannot imagine how angry she was at the time when it was happening to her.

Another theory is that too many people intend to set up a legitimate session with an FBB and simply chicken out when the day arrives. Whether it’s for moral or psychological reasons, they can’t bring themselves to actually walk into that hotel, take the elevator up to her room, and knock on her door. Cold feet happens to the best of us, including blind dates, brides, grooms, potential bank robbers (remember the beginning of “Dog Day Afternoon?”), terrorists, and would-be presidential candidates.

I am less upset at people like this because they, in good faith, actually wanted to meet an FBB/wrestler for an appointment. I understand that it can be nerve-wracking. I understand for many people with certain social/religious upbringings, doing something like this can be a giant leap that sounds great from a distance but becomes less desirable when the moment of truth comes. We’re all human and we all come from different cultural backgrounds.

But one should be honest with themselves. If you don’t have the internal fortitude to follow through with your promises, you should be aware of this and act accordingly. There’s a reason why so many session providers request a deposit and/or references. They want to know if you’re legitimate. They want to know if you’re trustworthy. They want assurance that you’re not a flake. Most of all, they want to know if you’re worth their time and effort.

Sarah Dunlap doing her thang.

Sarah Dunlap doing her thang.

I get it. You regard female bodybuilders to be angels on Earth. Divine. Ethereal. Majestic. Supernatural. Out-of-this-world. Celestial. Heavenly. Goddesses. Immortals among mortals. And so on and so forth.

Guess what? They’re human beings just like you and I. For them, providing sessions isn’t just a hobby. It’s business. It’s how many of them make their livelihood. It’s part of their job. You’re probably aware that the vast majority of professional bodybuilders (male and female) cannot make a viable living just from winning contests. They need other reliable sources of income to pay for food, rent, transportation, and other necessary living expenses.

So when you flake out, that’s sort of like your boss telling you that the three hours of overtime you worked yesterday won’t show up on your next paycheck. Nor will it ever show up on any future paycheck. You basically worked for free. That’s three hours that you can’t get back. How upset would that make you?

But I think the “chickening out” factor is relatively small. I think the first reason is far more prevalent, but I could be wrong about this. People are so captivated by muscular women that they must communicate with them because it’s the closest way they can interact with them without actually interacting with them. It’s like celebrity worship.

No, it’s not like celebrity worship. It is a form of celebrity worship. Maybe not for the general public, but for those of us who love muscular women, FBBs are our celebrities. We treat them just like others treat pro football players, pop singers, movie stars, and charismatic politicians. The thrill you get from spotting your favorite actor at a shopping mall in Beverly Hills is identical to the thrill you get from receiving text messages from your favorite FBB.

Female bodybuilders encounter so many flakes they can all fit into a box of breakfast cereal.

Female bodybuilders encounter so many flakes they can all fit into a box of breakfast cereal.

That, however, is no excuse to waste their time just because you get your jollies exchanging e-mails with them in your spare time. Do you have any idea how many e-mail messages session providers are inundated with every single day? Enough that many of them probably need a part-time secretary to read and respond to them all. One FBB told me she can tell from how well (or poorly) an e-mail is written whether this person is legitimate or not. Messages that are impolite, badly written, chock-full of spelling and grammatical errors, and incoherent are most likely from people who have no serious intent of following through with setting up an appointment.

You know what? I can believe that 100%. More often than not, they’re probably right.

The lesson to be learned is simple: Don’t be a jerk. Please. For the sake of session providers, those of us who respect and adore FBBs, and for yourself, do the decent thing and don’t waste people’s valuable time. It’s sad that such advice needs to be dished out when it should be obvious to most of us. But that’s the world we live in. What is obvious isn’t, which makes it not so obvious, I suppose.

Let’s end on a more positive note. Whether we’re talking about interacting with female bodybuilders, your next-door neighbors, or your in-laws, not being a jerk is not enough. You should treat everyone with the same considerations that you would like to receive. Be nice, and the world will smile back at you.

Errrr, at the very least, I will smile back at you!