I usually draw what excites me, and what excites me is stuff that actually can happen and girls that actually could exist. I don't like superhuman strength (lifting cars, lifting a guy with one finger), enhanced photos of cute girls with unreal biceps. The idea that these things can't happen or don't exist, is a turn off or me.
Now you may say: wait a minute, the girls in your comics don't exist either! No woman looks like that. That's true and not true. It's certainly true that my women are ideals. You will be hard put to find a wonderfully cute, 6 feet five (or taller), ubermuscular, big-breasted and very strong woman in the real world, like the ones that populate Amazonias. However, each of their characteristics (how pretty, strong, tall, muscular, heavy...) they are is realistic in itself. It's mainly the combination that is not very realistic. But so in theory, these women could exist.
Sometimes my girls look really really tall - unrealistically so. But you have to remember two things: 1. there are women out there of 7 feet tall (they are just very rare; and of course usually they don't have muscles). And 2. the guys they are with are really really small (sometimes like just 5 feet one or something). So the contrast that you see is not unrealistic.
Look at Gillian and Robbie here for instance (from the Hot Summer series):
I imagine Gillian to be almost seven feet tall, while Robbie is a bit over five feet. And Gillian is in heels. Maybe these are not entirely the right measurements for these proportions (maybe Robbie should be a bit smaller than over five feet), but I think it's close enough. In any case, the contrast between the girls and the boys that you find in my comics does, more or less, exist. Just make the boys tiny enough and the girls big enough. See for instance this pic:
So the bottom line is: even though the situations and people in my comics may not exist or are extremely rare, they could exist in theory. And that's what excites me :)
This is a text story I (JS) wrote :)
Gretchen was sitting on the bed. It was late afternoon. The windows of her room on the 17th floor of Mandarin hotel gave her a wonderful view over Singapore. Gretchen was dressed with a black, white rimmed tank top and red boxer shorts. At her feet was a big dumbell she had just been using for bicep curls.
Gretchen was a bodybuilder. She was 25 years old and had started working out at 16. Almost ten years of working out four times a week had resulted in one powerhouse of a body - a body which she loved, though most guys would think she was too muscular. But who gave a fuck what they thought. That was always Gretchen’s unspoken reaction. She wouldn’t be with a guy who didn’t appreciate her muscles anyway. And besides, she was stronger than any of those narrow-minded idiots.
That’s what counted: strength and muscles. Nothing much else mattered. Bodybuilding was what Gretchen lived for. Still sitting on the bed, she stretched her right leg, toes bent inward, and looked at the shape of her big calves, and above that, huge thighs with big quads on it.
She flexed and unflexed the calves, then the thighs. Her legs looked like treetrunks, and were just as strong, though they could potentially be quite a bit bigger than they were. She had stopped excercising and building them too much since some time. As she had grown during the years, she had been forced to discard piece after piece of clothing. Right now, she had a couple of pants she really liked, and so avoided to grow in her legs - something which otherwise would be quite easy to do. Even though the constatation that a pair of jeans didn’t fit anymore because she had outgrown it always gave her a feeling of achievement, she just coudn’t afford buying a lot of new clothes every six months or so.
Gretchen beat her thigh with her fist a couple of times and was satisfied with its hardness. Then she stroked the quadriceps muscle, and moved her hand up, up, over her abs. There was a solid, rock hard six pack that she was quite proud of.
She traced her finger further up, let it go over her firm right breast, and then felt the pecs above it. They were solid. She let them dance, first left, then right, and thought again how amazing it was that she could move muscles that most men hardly had at all.
When her finger went over her shoulder and she felt again how big it was, a soft moan of excitement escaped Gretchen’s lips. She often got a tiny bit excited when looking at or touching her own muscles. How could she not: they were so big and so strong, and that was arousing.
But it was of course her biceps that were her pride. At 42 cm, she outmuscled most men. She traced the big vein that ran across her right bicep and moaned again. Her guns were pumped, and also the rest of her body was in great shape. She had just spent three hours in the hotel gym (that was in addition to her morning workout, where she had done pushups, pullups and situps - more than most men could ever hope to do). Today - right now! - she wanted to be at her biggest, because Eddie was going to arrive any moment now.
He was travelling for work in Singapore, and he and Gretchen had agreed that she would take a flight there and check in in a hotel on the night he would arrive.
Any moment now…
Gretchen was a bit nervous. She got up and walked to the bathroom. In front of the big mirror, she hit a double biceps pose and pouted with her mouth. Yes, it looked good. She hoped Eddie would think she was big enough.
They had never seen each other but had met on Facebook a few months ago. Eddie clearly was obsessed with strong, muscular women, spending all his days drawing them. It was his drawings that Gretchen had discovered. They had found out that they liked the same things - or rather, opposite things. Eddie loved to be small and weak, Gretchen loved being strong and muscular. Gretchen was a bit taller and heavier than Eddie, and both of them loved that. Gretchen’s muscles were of course a lot bigger than Eddie’s. His biceps were only 31cm and Gretchen had asked him “why he was so small” - something which had turned Eddie on a lot.
Oh Eddie… she thought. Finally a man who could appreciate her muscles and strength. As they had talked, the two had discovered that they were incredibly compatible in terms of their desires. Eddie wanted to be lifted, wanted to feel small and helpless, wanted to submit to Gretchen and maybe at times even dominated and a bit hurt by her. It was all music to Gretchen’s ears. She got hot everytime she thought about all this. All that Eddie wanted, she wanted too. She would show him who was the boss. She would OVERPOWER him...
She checked the time on her phone: almost four - which was the time Eddie had estimated he would be here. His plane should have landed at 2.45 and taking into account checkout, baggage and the taxi to the hotel... God, the tension was almost unbearable. Gretchen thought about how first dates like these must be for other women. They might have the additional problem that they could actually be fearing that the guy they would meet was - in spite of appropriate and normal behavior online - actually a madman or a freak who might hurt them. That wasn't a concern to Gretchen, who was strong enough to take on two guys.
Still, she remained nervous. Did feeling in love online, on facebook, translate to being in love when you met? Maybe in real life she would be entirely turned off by Eddie? Or he of her... And how would they greet each other? With a kiss? A hug?
It turned out all her worries were for nothing. Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the door. It couldn't be Eddie because he would need a keycard to get up to her floor, and he didn't have one. She got up and walked to the door, and opened it.
It was Eddie. Small, lovely Eddie, and instantly she saw that everything was all right. He was dressed in jeans and a tshirt, a suitcase standing right next to him.
"Hi Gretchen," he said. There was a big smile on his face. She believed he liked what he was seeing.
"Eddie! Oh Eddie! Finally! Come in!"
She closed the door behind him, they turned towards each other and hugged. It was all very smooth and spontaneous.
"Did you have a good trip?" Gretchen asked after they had let go of each other.
"It was quite ok," Eddie said, looking at her, his mouth open.
Then there was silence for one second.
"Eddie...," Gretchen said. And then, she gently put her hands on Eddie's shoulders, moved Eddie sidewards, and bent down. She put her right arm under Eddie's butt, and lifted him like that, using just one arm. She saw Eddie swallow and guessed it was from excitement.
"Let me take care of you, my little one," she said. "You're very light, by the way."
"Oh man, this is... wonderful," Eddie said.
"Bring your leg up," Gretchen said.
Eddie did so, and Gretchen untied his shoe and threw it on the floor. Then she took of his sock. Eddie spontaneously brought up his other leg and Gretchen repeated.
"How do you like being carried, Eddie? Is it like you fantasised?" During their Facebook chats, Eddie had mentioned his desire to be lifted and carried by his strong Gretchen a lot. She knew he loved to be lifted in all kinds of ways, and the more these lifts testified to Gretchen's power, the better he liked it, he had said. That was quite alright of course for the bodybuilder, who just loved to show off her strength. She had thought a one arm lift was a good start.
"It's even better," Eddie said. Gretchen was happy to notice that his voice was not entirely steady. He was visibly impressed. She loved it.
She walked to the window with Eddie on her one arm
"You like the view honey?" she asked. It was indeed a beautiful view. The room was luxurious and expensive, but they had thought a nice room was only fitting for their first encounter.
"Eh, sure," Eddie said, not looking outside at all but looking somewhere in the direction of her left bicep.
Gretchen was amazed at how comfortable all this felt. They had seen each other for five minutes, and here was already lifting the little boy as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Well, maybe it was the most natural thing in the world. At least to them: a small man who loved big girls, and a big girl who loved small, weak men. What, indeed, could be more natural for them than what they were doing right now?
Gretchen already could feel the power and was enjoying it immensely. She enjoyed the amazed and aroused expression on Eddie's face, his glances at her bicep and chest, and his feet dangling in the air.
"Let's take a walk," Gretchen said. Without effort she walked the distance to the big bathroom, and faced the huge mirror that was there.
"Look at us, Eddie", she said. It did come out as an order.
Eddie looked in the mirror and moaned with excitement. Then big Gretchen's hand went to the bottom of Eddie's t-shirt. She pulled it up and up, over his head and then dropped it on the floor.
"Let's see my Eddie's little body," she said. "Look."
As Eddie looked in the mirror, Gretchen flexed her left bicep and a little cry escaped Eddie's mouth.
"Oh my god," he said. "Oh my god Gretchen! Is it..."
"Yes," Gretchen said. "Like I promised you. 42 cm." She had told Eddie that by the time they would meet, this would be the size of her bicep.
"You did it... just like you wanted." Eddie clearly wanted to touch the bicep, but was holding back. Gretchen liked that. She wanted to give permission first, but she'd let him sweat just a tiny bit before she would.
"All for you baby. Bicep workouts every day for the last six months."
"42 cm is over 16 inches right?
"That sounds right," Gretchen said.
"Oh, you’re so big. There’s hardly any women on the planet bigger than you," Eddie said.
"You got that right. And not many men are as small as my Eddie. I'm 80 kg now. What are you honey?"
"I'm 62 kg."
"Mmmmmmmm. With 32 cm biceps still"
"Oh baby. My weak, small, baby. Touch it now."
Eddie put his hand on Gretchen's left bicep and gasped again. Under his hand, Gretchen flexed and unflexed the big muscle. Here, finally, was a man - or maybe, in spite of his age, "boy" was a better word for the little creature - who appreciated Gretchen's physique and her power. No, appreciated was not the right word.
From the online conversations, Gretchen knew that he adored it. Was obsessed with it. Worshipped it. That was the guy she always had dreamed of. Someone who knew what it took to build a body like this, and who wanted to submit to it. Someone she could overpower and smother and, if they both wanted, crush with her muscles. Ooooooh
Gretchen felt herself getting wet from just thinking these things.
"This is just incredible," Eddie said. "So beautiful, I can't... can't... oh my god..."
“I know you have now words my little Eddie. You’ve been waiting for this moment all your life. Just enjoy it. No need to say something. Just keep touching, admiring, worshipping…”
Eddie then flexed his left bicep, held is as close as possible to Gretchen’s, and looked at her. Gretchen didn’t need any words from him to know what he wanted. She would give it to him…
“Oh my baby,” she said, “My poor baby. You want to compare? You want to compare your arm to the arm of a girl who has been training five days a week for the last nine years? You want to see how much smaller and weaker you are then me?”
“Oh yes… yes…” Eddie’s eyes were pleading, he seemed to be almost crying with excitement.
“31 cm versus 42, baby,” Gretchen said in a seductive voice. “That means my bicep is thirty percent bigger than yours.” She smiled. “But let me tell you a secret.” And then she easily moved the boy a bit closer to her, so that his ear was close to her mouth.
“30 percent bigger, but at least 200 percent as strong,” she whispered in Eddie’s ear.
This time Eddie moaned as if he was going to come then and there. Gretchen had to laugh.
“Does it turn you on, baby? Does it turn you on when I talk to you like this? When I tell you how much bigger and stronger I am than you?”
“Ye-ees,” Eddie whimpered. He seemed completely out of control, mad with desire for her muscles. Gretchen loved it.
Gretchen walked back to the main room, still carrying Eddie on one arm. Then she put him on the side of the bed, so that he was sitting on it. Next, she stepped back, and flexed for him.
“Let’s play,” she said.
to be continued
This is a guest post by The Schmoe
No matter how many times I see comments like ‘marry me’ on youtube videos or pics of muscular women, it always makes me laugh and cringe in equal measure. You would hope that such comments are made for dramatic effect or with tongue firmly in cheek, but I suspect that this is not the case. While it is by no means all, a lot of schmoes appear to have a worrying amount of difficulty telling the difference between fantasy and reality, between love and lust. As someone who identifies with the schmoe label myself, to see the level of delusion at play among some schmoes is intriguing. At the most basic level it shows a jaw dropping (although amusing) lack of understanding of the complexities of human relationships.
As stated earlier, I have a genuine respect for muscle women as athletes. I am aware of and admire, the huge sacrifices these women make and the dedication to their sport. However, when I sit down to ‘enjoy’ female muscle websites, I don’t do so to understand more about their sport or what makes them tick. It is a functional pursuit aimed at satisfying a sexual urge. With all due respect to muscle women out there, I think that will hardly come as a revelation. We’re not saying we don’t respect you, we’re not saying we don’t admire you, we’re just being honest that you make us horny as hell and we get off while looking at your photos. For some of us, it’s the only sexual release we get and speaking as someone who has been an atheist for over 20 years, priesthood isn’t an option so I need something to stimulate me.
That is why I’m genuinely a little concerned by the ‘marry me’ brigade. (They don’t even ask , will you marry me, it is more an instruction than a question as if it is an automatic assumption that their fantasy of choice is going to willingly drop everything and commit to living with a random internet guy who for all they know, may be an axe murderer, have extreme ‘mommy issues, have a microscopic penis and/or a superfluous third nipple) They do not appear to understand the basic difference between love and lust, fantasy and reality, between the fulfilment of a masturbatory fantasy and a life long commitment to share your life with another human being.
Female bodybuilders and other muscle women turn me on like crazy. I lust after these women, much more than I lust after any other type of woman or physique. Marriage however is not just something that horny people do so they can fuck each other more often. It is or at least it should be a commitment to share your life, your heart and your soul with someone who accepts you warts and all (and vice versa). Just say for arguments’ sake I do hit the jackpot and end up in a relationship with a female bodybuilder. (Hey, don’t laugh, I’m sure there are plenty of muscle women out there who have fetishes for vertically challenged men with man boobs who look like the lovechild of a hipster and a political prisoner) When I commit to dating (not to mind marrying) a bodybuilder, I am not just committing to the individual, I am committing to their world, to their unorthodox lifestyle. I am committing to being there for them through their intense dieting and everything that goes along with it, the vulnerability, the self-doubt, the mood swings. Yes fbbs look insanely sexy during competition prep, but that is just one aspect. A woman in that intense training regime needs a man who can understand this lifestyle. Not all fbbs require their men to live the lifestyle, some actually prefer them not to, but even living around this lifestyle requires a deep level of empathy that not all men can achieve. As much as some schmoes may like to think otherwise, you wanting to be her slave and bitch is not enough to make a muscle woman make a long term commitment to you. I mean seriously, she’s carb depleted, she’s tired, she’s drained, do you really think she’ll have nothing else on her mind other than having sex with you? Oh please. Some women in that state, just want you to listen. They want you to leave them rant about their day and their frustration. They want a man who will genuinely love and respect, who will reassure them and be there for them. Other women just want you to leave them the fuck alone. That’s all right too, but you have to be man enough to accept that their world does not revolve around you. Nor, does it revolve completely around bodybuilding, they have outside interests and lives too you know. They have values, hopes dreams, aspirations and if you really expect them to marry you, you are buying into all of this too, not just the awesome body you masturbate to online. This is where it gets complicated. Just supposing again I am in a relationship with an fbb. Then I find out that her value systems are totally incompatible with mine? What happens then? I’ll tell you what happens, I’m out the door. As a far left atheist, I could never maintain a relationship with a conservative Christian, no matter how sexy her muscles were, or even how nice she was otherwise. When values clash, long term relationships cease to be maintainable. Maybe some schmoes have no stringent value system. Fair enough, but maybe the muscle beauty you expect to marry you does have one. Then you’re toast. You have to step up to the plate and be the type of man she needs or she’s not going to commit.
There is nothing wrong with your fantasies, but marriage, or even a long term relationship is a deeply complex dance, involving the coming together of two bodies, minds, hearts and souls. Don’t expect your wet dreams to come true just because you want them to. It is not fair to the woman you expect to commit to you, and it’s not fair on you.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not painting myself as an expert here or some kind of saint who doesn't give into his urges, I'm just aware that human relationships are complicated and need more to survive than a foundation of subservience and lust.
This is a guest post by The Schmoe
For those of you unfamiliar with the term, while the word does have other meanings, in the context I refer to it, it is a slang term used to describe people (primarily men) who worship muscles. (primarly female.) While it is ordinarily meant in a condescending and derogatory sense by muscular women who hold such men in contempt, I use the label openly and proudly. For as long as I remember I have been fascinated by strength and muscle. I remember as a young boy being mesmerised by Wonder Woman bending guns or the Incredible Hulk ripping cars assunder with his powerful musclebound arms. I remember seeing female bodybuilding contests on Screensport and being blown away. As soon as I was old enough to understand such things, the interest went from mere curiosity to something intensely sexual. I no longer just found muscle and strength interesting, I found it arousing. Yet for a long time, access to images was difficult, I would spot an odd magazine cover with a muscular woman or an article in a newspaper, it was rare enough to find such things in Ireland. So at this stage, my love of female muscle though conscious to me, was something I could rarely explored. I oggled and wanked to the same images that most early teenage boys have access to and get aroused by. Movie stars, glamour models, athletes, TV presnters. Women like Elle McPherson, Claudia Schiffer, Kathy Lloyd, Melinda Messenger. I got hard to these women I fantasised about them, like any normal boy my age, but on the rare occasions I saw muscle women in the media it felt like a real treat.
When I first found online that many other people besides me like muscular women, I thought: wow there are more people exactly like me. But I was generalizing a little bit too much, I think.
The women in my fantasies and my comics are: 1. muscular, 2. strong, 3. tall, 4. dominant and 5. sexy. I thought it kind of was like this for all fans of female muscle, but that didn't turn out to be true. If I discovered anything through running this little comic business for two years now, it's that this fetish is incredibly diverse, with many variations, categories, subtleties. Among the people who like muscular women, many apparently don't necessarily need them to be strong or dominant. The muscles in itself can be enough of a turnon. I also make my girls a lot bigger and taller than many other people I guess would like them. That's because the domination aspect is so important to me.
There are also people who are into domination, of course, but not into muscular women, or even strength. For them it's mostly about mental domination. For me, the combination is interesting: strength and muscle offer so many more possibilities for domination, and I especially like the idea that the musclewoman doesn't need and tools are armor: she's strong enough to take care of the boys with just her bare arms.
There are people who are into tall girls, but don't need muscle or strength - although the domination aspect mostly seems to be present here.
There are people who are into strong girls, but don't necessarily need the muscle. They love girls lifting cars and doing superhuman strength feats, like bending bars and other stuff.
Then of course there is the whole muscle growth fetish, which seems to be a big turn on for many people within this field. People seem to particularly the conversion from an average or even weak girl into a tall, strong female.
And then there are countless small variations, themes, topics, relationships, eras, pieces of clothing... that turn particular people on a lot.
So you see, it's impossible to make the ideal story for everyone at the same time, cause everyone is so different, even within this field.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy what I make, and I hope it comes pretty close to your fantasies :)
Today I changed the currency from dollars to euros.
The reason is that I discovered that in addition to the commission paypal takes (it can be up to 7% or so per sale), they also charge me when I move money from my paypal account to my bank account and there's a currency conversion involved. This so called "currency conversion fee" is actually an extra 3.5 %
Now that I'm writing about money, let me explain what I keep from my stories.
Suppose my sales for a month are 5000$
First of all, part of this will be taxes (those among you living in Europe are charged taxes (between 17 and 25% or so percent, depending on your country). These are deducted.
Next, there's all the costs: website+apps, buying of 3dmodels, and all other kinds of things for my business. When I deduct these, I have what's called the net profit. From that, in my country, the government will first take 20% for social security, and then it will take about 45% of whatever is left.
So in total, if I sell you a 10$ story, I see no more than 3, maybe 4 dollars of that in my pocket.
Just so you have an idea :)
I know there's many fans of the growth genre. Fans have different reasons to like girls growing in muscle size (and height). Some of them like the contrast with how it was before. Others like the role reversal element: once a girl grows muscles, she can start bossing around her boyfriend (or anyone around her).
The main difference in tastes among growth fans, however, seems to concern the rate of growth. Either growth is very gradual, or it is very sudden. When it's gradual, it is the result of natural means: hard work with the weights. When it's sudden, the cause is unnatural: it can be a magic potion or a some kind of growth formula.
My personal preference for stories is always realism (even though arguably none of my stories is entirely realistic, as my girls are a bit bigger and stronger than realistically possible I guess). Therefore I prefer slow growth. Stories that include slow growth are especially Katie, Revenge and Amber and Julian (in the latter it is especially Marjorie's growth that we witness). Sudden (magical) growth stories are the Growing Muscles Series (seven episodes at this moment) and the newly released Girls that Grow. In the rest of my stories, the girl comes in big and stays big.
Let me know your preference...
I understand that many people have concerns about privacy and security on a site like this. Some people are afraid that others (family members...) will find out about their desires. Others are afraid that they won't get their product, or that they'll get spam in their mailbox, etc.
Let me assure you of some things.
First of all, I understand you want to be discrete about this passion of yours. It's not reallly something we want other to find out about. So that's why I'm committed to protect your privacy as best as I can:
In other words: I want you to enjoy these stories and I'm giving you a safe and discrete experience.
Any questions? Let me know at jstilton2000 at gmail dot com.