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):

Tall Gillian and short Robbie
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"

"31, actually."

"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…”

“Oh yes…”

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.

big female bodybuilder and schmoe

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.


What Schmoes Need to Understand about Muscle Women

Earlier, I gave you a little insight into the inner workings of the mind  of a schmoe, from my internal frame of reference. (I cannot speak for anyone else) It was made clear that for schmoes, at least  from my viewpoint, our fascination in muscles and strength is intensely sexual. I don't go onto female muscle websites out of intellectual curiosity or to engage in debate. I engage with such resources primarily for one reason- sexual gratification. I apologise if that sounds rude, but newsflash people, humans are sexual beings. I see no difference in what I do than in people using conventional pornography, reading 'dirty' magazines etc. The only difference is the women I get aroused by are a hell of a lot bigger and can lift a lot more. I see nothing wrong in fantasising about such women or openly sharing my fantasies with my fellow schmoes. Also, these women are no fools, they know when they do magazine/website shoots etc, that the reason they can make money from doing so is because there is a market. They also know, I'm sure that when men view these shoots or websites, they do so for largely sexual reasons. It is up to individual bodybuilders/ muscle women to make up their own minds about how they feel about this. All this being said, before you all go dismissing me as some kind of mysoginist or pervert, I would just like to point out some things about muscle women that us schmoes need to understand. Things that many schmoes (myself included) can often lose sight of in the height of our sexual arousal.

1. Muscle women are (incredible) athletes. So, you have loaded  up the laptop/computer/ tablet etc have logged onto your favourite female muscle site(s) and am ready to do some, ahem, extensive research, shall we call it. As you do your 'research' and bring yourself to the point of ecstacy, it is important to be mindful that these ripped, pumped, bronzed goddesses, whose muscles send you into overdrive so easily, do not do what they do, so you can get a boner. In the event of bodybuilders and competitive lifters/ crossfitters etc, their primary goal in building their physique is to compete. They sacrifice themselves in terms of diet, social life etc to attain the highest levels of physical performance for their chosen sports. That your sexual arousal may provide an extra revenue stream for them is a side issue. Regardless of whether or not an individual schmoe is into the sporting aspect of bodybuilding or not (personally I'm not), they should respect the incredible dedication of these magnificent women, no less than they would any athlete in any sport. Furthermore, many bodybuilders/ strength athletes have overcome  enormous personal struggles to get to where they are and are truly inspiring. This doesn't mean there is anything wrong with the fact you think about them sexually and/or they give you a hard on, it just means you should appreciate there is a lot more to them than this.

2. Muscle women are not your personal playthings. So okay, we've established that muscle women turn schmoes on. We've also established that while schmoes may be shy in day to day lives about expressing this, in their virtual schmoe universe, they hold no such inhibitions. Many schmoes will take part in muscle worship sessions, many will take part in webcam sessions. They can do this, because many muscle women, realising that such services are potentially lucrative, are willing to provide these. The level of enthusiasm for this and the extent of the sexual element on offer varies wildly. I will not get into the ins and outs of what is on offer, by whom and where. Those of us that use these services (however rarely) know the score, as do the women providing them. What is important however is to remember, that those who pay the piper do not call the tune. Just because a woman is willing to give a schmoe a happy ending during a session or talk dirty and/or go nude during a webcam, does not mean the schmoe should feel any sense of entitlement. Any service provided is at the discretion of the woman involved and at ALL times, their dignity and integrity needs to be respected. They are not some kind of performing monkey. If you don't give due respect you shouldn't expect a quality service.

3. Muscle women are human beings. It seems ridiculous to have to say this, but there is at least a perception that schmoes do not always give due consideration to the fact that muscle women have personal lives and families. They are wives, girlfriends, daughters, mothers, sisters, aunts, friends etc. They are trainers, paramedics, cops, soldiers, teachers, web designers, nutritionists, therapists, doctors, whatever the case may be. Real women, with real personalities. Most, like most people generally are lovely human beings. Women with soft, kind hearts in contrast to their hard muscles. Some, like in all walks of life, may not be as nice. Some will view schmoes with thinly veiled contempt, others will respect schmoes for the contribution they make to the female muscle industry, others still will genuinely like many schmoes and there are stories of genuine friendships being formed and in very rare cases, romantic and sexual relationships blossoming. Whatever the case, it is important for us schmoes to realise that the sexual and sporting identities of our favourite muscle women are only a small part of their human story. Is any of this going to stop me logging on to my favourite websites and fantasising about these incredibly muscular beauties? Not for a second. However, I do owe them the same courtesy and respect that I owe any other human being. In most cases we do not see the real person behind those glorious muscles, any more than they see the real person behind each schmoe. So by all means, fap away to your heart's content, just be mindful that they are so much more than just muscles on demand.
This is a guestpost by The Schmoe
Okay, so I've given you a little insight into what got me into muscle worship. Also, I gave what is hopefully  a sympathetic portrayal of what men like me need to understand and respect about the women that drive us so wild. However for every ying there is a yang and here are some things I ask muscle women to try to understand about schmoes.

1. Just because you turn us on doesn't make us deviants. Yes, we look at images of you online. Yes those images usually make us sexually aroused and yes, this often means that one of our hands is occupied while looking at those images/videos. However all beings are sexual, we all fantasise about someone and those of us not in relationships have no other means to satisfy those desires. It doesn't mean we are perverts or deviants, it just means there is life in the old dog yet.
2. You are not the only type of women we find attractive. Yes we dig your muscles, yes muscular females are our ultimate fantasies, but very few women look like you, so don't think that when you're not around or when we're not viewing muscle sites that we're not experiencing sexual attraction. I love women. A lot. All shapes and sizes turn me on. I work at a public desk, if I don't see at least 5-10 customers every day that I find sexually attractive, I consider it a very bad day at the office (literally.) Just because I happen to be crap with women, doesn't mean I'm not interested in them. Yes it is a very big bonus for me if a woman can throw me around like a little rag doll and or has biceps that could open a pickle jar. However, that is not a prerequisite for turning me on. I'm sure other schmoes are similar. Although I do know anecdotally that there are some schmoes who ONLY find muscular women attractive.
3. We have lives too. I am not going to lie. I spend a lot of my spare time on female muscle websites. However, for 37 hours of the week, I am at work. I also study part time. I already have a masters' degree, I run half marathons occasionally, I'm involved in extra curricular activites, I have a social life. I have many other strings to my bow. So please don't dismiss me or other schmoes as 'just' schmoes.
4. Schmoes (most of us anyway) are good people. I'm Irish and was raised in a traditional Irish catholic family. (I'm very much a secular atheist these days.) I was taught to respect people, to take people as I find them, to never disrespect or humiliate people. Human rights, labour rights, dignity and compassion are central tenets of my value system. Just because you turn me on and I might have what the church I was born into may call 'impure thoughts' about you on a regular basis, does not mean I don't value and respect you intrinsically as a human being. I have done a lot of charity work both at home and abroad. I have worked with the homeless, with kids with special needs and am very active in suicide prevention and mental health. I don't expect a pat on the back for any of this, I am merely using these things to illustrate that if you think those of us who worship female muscles have nothing in our lives more noble and fulfilling than choking the chicken while oggling your granite like physiques, think again. I'm sure some schmoes are arseholes, but my experience of those I have encountered online is very much that of ordinary decent men (many family men) who live normal lives and do the best they can for those around us. Now none of us expect you to become ouf bffs, but  I'm just saying that if you were to look past the stereotypes and take us as we are, you might be pleasantly surprised :)


Original source

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.

Then when I was 17, we got the internet for the first time and things changed. Suddenly my curiosity could be satisfied more easily. I could oggle muscle women, I could view them on screen, wank to them if the coast was clear, or print out their pictures and wank to them in my own time. As years went by my attraction to muscular powerful women became more and more insatiable. Now don't get me wrong, I was and still am attracted to regular women as well, but being shy and very uncomfortable around women (not as friends, just the ones I'm attracted to), having normal romantic or sexual relationships with women is something I find virtually impossible to achieve. This made 'virtual women' all the more important for my sexual release and for me that was increasingly becoming about muscular women. In fact, there was a certain similarity to the life of a man who becomes hooked on drugs. You start out on the soft stuff, then that no longer cuts it. You need harder and harder stuff and more and more of it. Thankfully I never experimented with drugs, nor was I ever tempted to. I just don't see the point. However, when it came to muscle women, I was and remain addicted and addicted bad. It is an addiction I have neither the inclination nor respurces to kick. It started out with the ripped, toned fitness model types, then I gradually moved on to bigger and bigger. By my mid 20s, I began to realise that as much as I have always been attracted to big tits, when it came to muscle women I preferred hard pecs. The women I wanked off to and fantasised about most often, were no longer the Jamie Easons or Corey Nadines of this world as sexy and all as they are, they became the Christine Envalls, the Colette Guimonds, the Aleesha Youngs, the Sarah Hayes', the Julie Bourassas, I wanted veins, I wanted bulk, I wanted striations, pec bouncing, aggression. As much as I still liked a pretty face, that now became an added bonus, rather than a pre-requisite. I also got into the more extreme side of female muscle fiction. It allowed me access to a world where my sthenolagnia (sexual attraction to muscle) and cratolagnia (sexual attraction to strength) were not hindered by reality. Where I was free to enjoy women whose muscles were so enormous they made the Incredible Hulk look like Pee Wee Herman, where their strength and power was so extreme that they could tear superman apart like he was plasticine. Maybe that sounds weird to people, but you've got to understand one thing. Attraction to female muscle and strength is still such a taboo, that being open about it is not an option for most of us. So the female muscle websites provide me with a sanctuary, with somewhere where I can be myself and at least try to satisfy my insatiable strength and muscle lust. I almost said, without judgement, but unfortunately that is far from the truth. For a group of people so misunderstood, muscle worshipers are depressingly condescending and judgemental of each other. There is so much politics and ego within the hideen world of muscle worship, it is unreal. That, however, is a story for another post.

So what is it about muscles that send me so over the edge? It's hard to define, but for me, I see the muscular female physique as an art form. Each muscular lady is like a wonderfully erotic sculpture, more beautiful and magical thatn anything Michaelangelo could have even imagined, The muscular female form is simply breathtaking. I just can't get enough of it, I find the view particularly hypnotic from the back, for reasons I struggle to find an explanation for.

So I hope you enjoy the blog. Unfortunately, my blog entries will be all text for the foreseeable future. Partially because I'm crap at adding images and partially because I'm paranoid of breaching copyright. I hope however that this largely anonymous blog will be at least intriguing to the reader, be they a committed schmoe, a total outsider or even a muscular female interested to know a little more about what goes on in the minds of those of us, whom their magnificent muscles excite so much.

Happy muscle worshipping folks.
Original source

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.

big female bodybuilder katie

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:

  • I'll never pass on your data to anyone else.
  • nothing is ever sent to your home; everything is digital (actually, you don't need to enter real home address details)
  • if you don't subscribe to the mailing list, you won't get emails (except order confirmation mails, abandoned cart reminders and a request to write a review). Do keep in mind that being on the mailing list is very interesting though.
  • this website runs on Shopify, a secure state of the art, SSL encrypted e-commerce platform; payment is secured by Paypal.
  • Your paypal or credit card statement will mention Ilustre as the company. Nothing else.
  • if there's ever a problem with your download, I get it sorted out as fast as possible.

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.

big, muscular katie at the computer


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