bodybuilding – Page 8 – The Adventures of Ryan Takahashi

Educating Jonathan – Part Four

Classic muscle beauty: The incomparable Minna Pajulahti.

Jonathan opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. Mistress Nguvu decides to speak next.

“Did you hear me, Jonathan?”

He makes eye contact with her. Her stern look tells him she means business. Jonathan has no intention of getting on her bad side. God forbid that would ever happen.

“Yes, I heard you, Mistress. What kind of help do you need from me exactly?” If there was anything valuable Jonathan learned from that human sexuality class, it was that any dominatrix who is worth anything will always desire to be called “Mistress” whenever possible. Any breach of protocol grants one’s self the right to be punished. Jonathan does not want to be “punished” by this formidable woman.

“Good. Come closer. I want to show you something,” she says.

Like a faithful dog, Jonathan approaches the Mistress as instructed. He feels timid around her but wildly excited at the same time. Mistress Nguvu senses his meekness and relishes the sensual power she has over him. Despite her years and years of experience as a professional dominatrix, she still experiences that tingling exhilaration when a rookie “subordinate” subjects her with proper reverence when called upon to demonstrate it.

“Do you see my cock? Do you see how beautiful it is?” The Mistress strokes her gigantic black dildo up and down its enormous shaft. Jonathan feels a bit insecure, but instead chooses to ignore his emotions. Now is neither the time nor the place to relive his personal insecurities.

“Yes, I see your beautiful cock. It’s so big.”

“Yes it is. And I want to show Samantha here how big and beautiful it can be. Look inside the black bag and take out the bottle of oil,” the Mistress instructs.

Without hesitation, Jonathan goes to the bag and digs inside it. He finds a bottle of baby oil. Dr. Sammy is still on the floor, tears streaming down her face. Jonathan didn’t know whether to feel sorry for her or be creeped out by her behavior. He hands the bottle to the Mistress and holds his breath.

Mistress Nguvu opens the bottle and pours a generous amount of oil onto the palm of her hand. Jonathan sees large calluses protruding across her hand and up her fingers. Decades of weightlifting will do that to your skin. It’s the body’s way of protecting itself from repeated abuse. He wonders if Samantha’s body will demonstrate a similar defense mechanism.

“You seem like an obedient boy, Jonathan. Will you obey my commands?”

Jonathan blinks. “Yes, Mistress. I will obey your every word.” He almost tips over. Thankfully, he retains his balance. The Mistress smears the oil all over the dildo, making sure all nine inches are dutifully covered. Samantha sits up and rubs her eyes. Liquid eyeliner streaks across her beautiful face. She’s stopped sobbing, but still has the sniffles. An ominous roar of thunder makes itself heard outside. All three of them stop what they’re doing and look out the window. Seconds later, a subtle streak of lightning follows, as if on cue. The Mistress rumbles in laughter and touches Jonathan on the shoulder. He shudders at the sensation of her warm fingers brushing against his cold skin.

“We are People of Color. We deserve to teach this worthless white cunt a lesson in humility, don’t you agree?” Jonathan nods in agreement. He doesn’t know if the Mistress sees this, but she proceeds as if she knew how he responded.

“Good. Now is the proper time for us to punish this little fucking white bitch in a way she deserves. Are you hard yet?” Mistress Nguvu reaches down and wraps her fingers around Jonathan’s limp penis. He gasps. Samantha’s eyes widen in anticipation. Her breathing stops. The Mistress lightly jerks Jonathan’s manhood and feels it fill her palm. She smiles, showing off her pearly white teeth. “Good boy, good boy Jonathan. Good boy.”

Rene Campbell showing off her hard work.

Samantha rubs her reddened torso to ease the pain. The worst has already passed, but a faint hint of ache still lingers. She licks her lips.

“Now, go over to her and put your Asian penis inside her mouth. She knows what to do from there,” the Mistress instructs, playfully pushing Jonathan toward the professor. He obliges without protest.

“Don’t you, little white bitch?”

The gorgeous professor bobs her head up and down. Dr. Sammy positions herself on all fours and sticks her bottom out in front of Mistress Nguvu. Jonathan sits down on the edge of the bed and sighs. Samantha obediently crawls toward him. She looks at him and communicates the message “trust me” with her eyes. For whatever reason, Jonathan feels secure by this silent demonstration of consensual verification.

Mistress Nguvu walks over to Samantha and sticks a single finger inside her anus. She struggles to stifle a moan. A second finger enters her shortly after. Jonathan’s erect penis sways back and forth again. The professor extends her tongue outward and licks his sensitive tip. He lets out a deep groan and closes his eyes. The Mistress inserts a third finger and then a fourth. As Jonathan’s entire manhood is engulfed by Dr. Sammy’s mouth, Nguvu’s entire fist finds itself inside her anus. Finally ready to take in the ultimate prize, the strong black woman removes her fist and substitutes it with her oiled up nine inch long strap-on dildo. Inserting it with deliberate intent, she wants to assert her dominance without giving her worthless bitch any unnecessary unpleasantness.

“You know what to do next, slut. Suck on his small Asian cock while I ride you with my large black dick!”

Caught off guard by the Mistress’s description of his manhood being a “small Asian cock,” Jonathan almost makes a sound of protest just as Dr. Sammy submissively starts to perform fellatio on him. At the same time, Mistress Nguvu grips Samantha’s hips and strokes her dildo in and out of her tight anal cavity. The pleasure he derives from the oral sex distracts him from thinking about how the hell a nine inch long dildo can possibly fit inside someone’s anus. The young Asian graduate student decides to ponder such matters at a later time.

“Oh yeah, suck on it. Suck on it real good as I shove my big black cock inside your ass. Take it, you fucking piece of shit.” Still uncomfortable with hearing such foul language, Jonathan closes his eyes again and looks upward toward the Heavens. He feels himself close to climax. Samantha nearly chokes as she once again fights away tears. She’s feeling a tremendous amount of pain from the dildo intruding her tight anus, but she accepts it as a suitable punishment for the generations of systemic racism her people have lashed out against Mistress Nguvu’s and Jonathan’s people.

“When you’re about to come, tell us so this dirty little white slut knows when to stop,” the Mistress instructs to Jonathan. Samantha refuses to relinquish the pace at which she sucks his penis. He tries to concentrate but cannot. His vision blurs. Waves of pleasure roll through his body. He knows he’s close. The Mistress also refuses to surrender her torrid in-and-out thrusting of Dr. Sammy’s abused cavity.

Finally, he senses the end is near. He decides to acknowledge this fact.

“I’m about to come!”

Mistress Nguvu intensifies her thrusts. She slaps Samantha on the back to instruct her to cease the fellatio. She removes Jonathan’s penis from her mouth and waits.

The wait doesn’t last long.

Jonathan groans as he spurts his semen all over Samantha’s beautiful face. The waves of his ejaculation seem to go on forever. Eventually, they stop and he collapses backward onto the bed. Mistress Nguvu pulls out of Samantha’s bottom and peers into her face. It is completely covered in warm white liquid. She laughs, the sound of her husky voice reverberating throughout the whole room.

“That’s a good girl. Yes, a very good girl indeed.” Nguvu strokes Dr. Sammy’s hair like an owner would pet a cat. Jonathan swears Samantha starts to purr like a satisfied feline. All he knows is that he is the truly satisfied one!

A long silence follows. No one knows for sure for how long, but that doesn’t seem to matter to anyone. At last, Samantha stands up and goes to the bathroom. She closes the door behind her. The sound of running water follows. Mistress Nguvu, who has now fallen out of “character,” removes the strap-on dildo from her waist and cleans it with a disinfectant wipe. She takes another wipe from her pack and offers it to Jonathan.

“Would you like this? To clean up after yourself?”

Jonathan nods his head and takes the wipe from the Mistress. He cleans his penis and tosses it into a nearby trashcan. He really needs to pee, but must wait patiently until Samantha returns from the bathroom. Nguvu places the dildo back inside the bag. An awkward moment takes place between Jonathan and the Mistress as they look at each other but have nothing constructive or practical to say. Finally, Jonathan cordially breaks the silence.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Jonathan, but you already know that.” He extends his hand toward Nguvu. She follows suit and shakes his hand. Her tight grip takes Jonathan by surprise. Could she break every bone in his body if she wanted to? Jonathan has no doubts she could if she were so inclined to demonstrate her incredible strength. He hopes he never gets on her “bad” side. The consequences would be disastrous.

“Charmed. I was a bit surprised Sammy wanted to start things off without proper introductions, but she was ‘in the moment’ and couldn’t be bothered with basic pleasantries,” Mistress Nguvu observes. “I don’t blame her one bit. She’s a passionate one, that’s for damn sure.”

Jonathan smirks. “Yes, she is. Have you ever read any of her writings? She speaks from the heart. There’s a lot to admire about that.” He realizes he’s still stark naked, but for whatever inexplicable reason he chooses not to clothe himself yet.

“You’re right about that. I adore her. She provides a level of insight that not too many people can match. She’s truly a one-of-a-kind.”

A moment later, Samantha comes out of the bathroom in a much more upbeat mood. She’s put on a bathrobe (a comfortable dark purple fleece robe Jonathan’s grandmother gave him for Christmas a few years ago) and appears to be “out of character” as well. She and Nguvu hug. Then they share a brief kiss. It is at this moment that Jonathan becomes more self-conscious about his nudity and contemplates putting on something to make things less strange.

“Go ahead and put something on, sweetie,” Samantha suggests, as if she could read minds.

Taking her advice, Jonathan puts on a pair of underwear, gym shorts and an old t-shirt. Mistress Nguvu takes out a bottle of water from her coat and drinks from it. Samantha stands behind her and sensually rubs her broad shoulders. Now that the fog of war has cleared, Jonathan takes a long look at the Mistress and marvels at her impressive muscular physique. He’s seen guys with big muscles, but never a woman with so much from head to toe. Jonathan’s never been into “muscle chicks,” but Nguvu is forcing him to reconsider his position.

“You have a nice apartment, Jonathan,” the Mistress says. Jonathan abruptly breaks out of his spell.

“Thank you. I’ve been here for about a year and a half. The rent isn’t too shabby. I like it a lot.”

“It sure beats my crummy little house down in Puyallup. I should consider moving to the big city. I think I’d like it once I get used to it.” Dr. Sammy leans over and kisses Nguvu’s bulging right bicep. In response, the Mistress flexes her arm to accentuate her bicep peak. A tight bundle of muscle emerges from the top of her swollen arm. Dr. Sammy gasps.

“You would sure get a lot more customers if you moved up here, Mistress. You should really consider it.” Mistress Nguvu turns around and wraps her strong arms around the professor. She playfully lifts her up and drops her to her feet. Dr. Sammy audibly moans, as if responding erotically to the Mistress’s impressive display of brute strength. Jonathan chuckles and turns on all the lights in the room so that he could get a complete glimpse of his guests. Spent, Dr. Sammy sits down on a nearby sofa.

“You look so cute together,” Jonathan observes. “Tell me, Mistress. You have got to be a professional bodybuilder, right? I mean, there aren’t too many women in this world who look like you.”

The Mistress takes a step toward him, which sends a jolt of nervous energy through his body. He knows she means no harm, but he cannot help but react this way to her imposing physical presence.

“I used to compete professionally, yes. But not anymore. I stopped competing about five years ago. But in my heyday, I was one of the world’s premiere female bodybuilders. I still lift, obviously!” Nguvu shows off a series of bodybuilder poses, much to the delight of her audience. Dr. Sammy cheers and applauds for her while Jonathan could do nothing but stand there and stare at her. Totally mesmerized by Nguvu’s impeccable combination of size, strength, grace, beauty and femininity, he can say for certain that he’s never met (or seen, for that matter) a woman like her before. He doubts he’ll ever meet a woman like her again in his life. He’s definitely positive about that.

Before the Mistress could finish all her poses, a sudden knock at the door surprises everyone. Dr. Sammy jumps up to her feet. Nguvu turns her head toward the door. Jonathan looks at a clock on the wall and sees the current time is 2:36 a.m. Who could that possibly be? Nobody would ever have any reason to knock on his door at this hour! They weren’t being too loud. These walls are faultlessly soundproof. Jonathan walks toward the door and peers through the small peep hole.

“Who is it?” Dr. Sammy inquires.

“Let me check,” Jonathan says.

The hallway of his apartment building is usually well-lit no matter time of the day it is. The 17^th floor has only four tenants, as most of the residents live on floors one through twelve. However, Jonathan struggles to see who it is that’s waiting on the other side. He thinks there are two or three people, but he could be wrong. Fearing nothing, Jonathan cracks open the door.

“Hello? Who is it? Are we being too loud?”

The person standing directly in front of the door kicks it open violently. Jonathan stumbles backward and falls to the floor. Dr. Sammy screams. Nguvu is frozen with terror. Four men dressed in black storm into the apartment unit and draw guns with silencers directly at all three of them. The fourth man calmly closes the door and points his gun at Jonathan’s head.

“Stand up. Slowly. Don’t try anything stupid,” he commands.

Jonathan does as he’s told. The other three men surround Mistress Nguvu and Samantha, who have huddled together in the southeast corner of the room. All four men are wearing clown masks, black trench coats, camouflage pants, military boots and bullet-proof vests. The fourth man, who is significantly shorter than his henchmen, points his gun in the direction of Nguvu and Dr. Sammy. Jonathan takes that as a hint to move toward them. He shuffles his feet to where they’re quivering and positions his body in front of the women.

“Alright, let’s make this simple. Don’t try anything stupid, any of you. First of all, are you Dr. Samantha Prescott?” Everyone looks at her. Dr. Sammy nods her head. “Good. Now, listen to me very carefully. We’re all going to go downstairs to the parking garage. I don’t know who the fuck you two are, but because you’re here with her, we’re taking you all hostage.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Mistress Nguvu asks. Jonathan senses a level of fear in her voice that he never knew was possible for a strong woman of her stature. Muscles or not, a man with a gun changes the equation really quick.

“That’s none of your fucking business, bitch. What’s going on here, some kind of fetish party?” The man looks around at the dildo, whip, oil and the Mistress’s outfit. “No matter. Kinky bastards. Here, put these on.”

The man motions to one of his colleagues. One of the men takes out three identical clown masks from his coat and hands them to his hostages.

“Do it. Put them on. Now!”

Jonathan, Dr. Samantha and Mistress Nguvu reluctantly put on the clown masks. Two of the men walk toward the front door.

“Good. Don’t say a word. If any of you scream, attempt to run away, or pull off any other stupid shit, we’ll put a bullet inside every single one of you. Don’t test us. Got it?”

The three hostages nod their heads to acknowledge their understanding of his orders.

“Fantastic. Fucking fantastic. Alright, let’s head out. Not a single word will be spoken by any of you, understand? If anyone asks who we are or where we’re going, I’m the only one who will speak. Got it?”

Once again, the three hostages nod their heads.

“Great. Let’s head out.” With that, the seven of them walk out toward the elevator. Not a single soul is in the hallway. Jonathan isn’t very religious, but right now he is praying to every deity known to the Universe. He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t know who these men are or what they plan to do with them. He just wants this whole ordeal to come to an end.

They get into an elevator. Forty-five seconds go by, which seem like an eternity. The elevator doors open and the seven clown mask-donning figures walk toward a dark red SUV.

“Get in,” a voice commands.

Jonathan, Dr. Samantha and Mistress Nguvu, still wearing the clown masks, sit in the back of the SUV. Two of the men sit in front while the other two men get into a separate car. One of the men collects the clown masks and gives them black cloth to put over their heads instead. The three hostages put them on. The cloth completely blinds them. They cannot see a thing.

Satisfied with their hostages’ blindness, the driver turns on the ignition, puts the SUV in reverse, exits the parking garage and within minutes they’re travelling on the open road toward an uncertain fate.

Denise Masino Might Be the Greatest Female Bodybuilder of All Time (NSFW)

A woman of Denise Masino’s caliber deserves a tribute blog post, wouldn’t you agree?

It’s not too often that I’ll make firm declarative statements on this blog, but here’s one for the record:

Denise Masino might be the greatest female bodybuilder of all time.

Uh, what? Really? Out of all the thousands of women in this world who’ve pursued the sport of bodybuilding at some point in their lives, is Denise Masino really the GOAT (Greatest of All Time)? Surely there must be someone else, like Iris Kyle or Cory Everson, who should really take this prize. What on earth are you thinking, Ryan?

Well, hear me out on this. My opinion here is based less on competitive merits and more on entrepreneurial success. So maybe the “Greatest Female Bodybuilder of All Time” is a bit inaccurate. Perhaps “Greatest Female Bodybuilding Businesswoman of All Time” is closer to the truth.

First, some background information on Ms. Masino.

Denise Masino was born Denise Sanchez on May 1, 1968 in Brooklyn, New York. Her parents are from Puerto Rican descent. A diminutive 5’2”, Denise was married to Robert Masino for 14 years before her current marriage to Gregg R. Simpson, a filmmaker. She credits her parents for instilling in her a hard work ethic and belief in her ability to carve her own pathway to success. Clearly, her parents taught their daughter well.

Her competitive history is respectable but not overly impressive. She won her first contest in 1994 by being the first overall winner at the 94’ NPC Florida Championships. Between the mid-1990s to 2007, Denise placed consistently in the top 10 in competitions such as the NPC Nationals, Jan Tana Classic, Ms. International and the most prestigious of them all, the Ms. Olympia. Her best placement at the Olympia was 2^nd in 2004 in the lightweight category.

Nevertheless, Denise has made her mark on the world of female bodybuilding by being a shrewd businesswoman. She has many assets and isn’t afraid to show every single one of them off. Denise has graced such publications as Muscle & Fitness, Flex Magazine, Muscular Development, Muscle Mag, Women’s Physique World, Playboy Europe and others. She’s also appeared in a few independent films and has made a handful of television appearances. She remains on good terms with her ex-husband Robert and frequently collaborates with him on projects. Denise currently lives in Fort Myers, Florida but regularly visits Los Angeles for business purposes.

Alright, now that that’s out of the way, let’s get into why I believe Denise deserves such high praise.

In a previous blog article, I listed my top 10 favorite female bodybuilders and foolishly ranked Denise at #4. Big mistake! She should be my #1 favorite, which is where she stands as of right now. No disrespect to anyone else, but Denise is clearly a head above the rest. I hope I don’t offend any of my faithful readers who are actual FBBs themselves! I love you all dearly, too!

However, Denise has an incredible arsenal of talents and assets that are unmatched compared to her competition. She has an almost flawless combination of natural beauty, muscularity, intelligence, business savvy and personality that makes her a winner in all categories. She’s a gorgeous muscle woman who’s unquestionably feminine and celebrates her femininity. She’s highly intelligent but doesn’t condescend down to anyone. She’s sexy but playful at the same time. She’s not afraid to become erotic for the camera but never resorts to crudity or crass behavior. She’s also not afraid to showcase her most unforgettable physical asset (we’ll get into this later) and does so with class, dignity and pride. She reveals a lot about herself but keeps just enough under wraps so that we keep begging her for more. I could be wrong about some of this, but I should never let facts get in the way of a good argument!

Denise showing off her most talked about asset.

Luckily for us, Denise is quite active in the adult film industry. Though not a “star” in the traditional sense, for anyone who loves female muscle, she’s a superstar. But it’s not just her large volume of erotic videos that endear her to us; it’s her personality that makes her so irresistible.

I get the feeling Denise is the one who crafts her own image. She obviously has a team of marketing professionals (web designer, videographer, photographer, copywriter, etc.) who work closely with her to build her brand, but without Denise’s own shrewdness, none of that would make a difference. Denise knows what people want and is not afraid to deliver with a bang. She’s also smart enough to deny her fans just enough so that they remain hopelessly intrigued with her forever. These are rare talents.

Denise’s brand is simple yet brilliant. She’s a beautiful, strong woman who loves sex, embraces her sexuality, loves to have fun in her life and isn’t afraid to be herself…all while maintaining an approachable, friendly persona. Denise Masino isn’t intimidating. She isn’t scary. She isn’t a powerful female muscle Goddess who will dominate you or humiliate you. She’s essentially that cool lady at the bar who will shoot pool with the guys and can probably bench press more than all of them. Her sexiness doesn’t feel forced. Her personality doesn’t appear to be manufactured. It’s all real. It’s genuine. You can trust Denise to be just Denise.

In reality, every media star has to craft a somewhat fake persona to a certain degree. We all know our favorite Hollywood movie stars aren’t necessarily in reality how they act on the red carpet or while sitting next to Jimmy Fallon’s desk. Hollywood can be very fake. We all know this. So to a degree, how Denise comes across in interviews and in her videos may or may not be how she is in real life. But I’d wager that’s pretty darn close to being the real Denise Masino.

Her personality is what really stands out. I genuinely would want to sit down with her and chat with her over a few beers. She could be wearing sweat pants, a fuzzy parka and no make-up and I’d still want to hang out with her. She’s an undeniably beautiful woman, but she also appears to be sweet, genuine and has a lot to say about certain things.

Outside of who Denise is as a person, everyone who knows about her will remember her for one particularly striking physical asset:

Her enormous clitoris.

And, to an extent, her meaty labia.

Yes, it’s unusual for anyone to hone in on someone’s genitalia like that (or is it?), but her large feminine endowment is without a doubt her most memorable physical trait. But it’s not this endowment that unto itself adds to her legend (although it most certainly takes on a life of its own), it’s how open she is to showing it off. I’ve written before why men – and women – are fascinated with a female bodybuilder’s genitalia, so there’s no need to get too detailed into this. However, it is crucial to understand that what lies between her legs is one of the most enticing and sexually titillating features I’ve ever seen on any human being, male or female.

I would argue that Angela Salvagno also possesses between her legs beautiful feminine flesh that matches Ms. Masino’s, but that’s not entirely the point here. Denise does an expert job at exploiting her best physical attribute for the camera in a way that challenges us to look away. We cannot look away. Whether we’re disgusted by her clitoris or we’re uncontrollably aroused by it, either way once we’ve seen what she has, there’s no turning back. She has us in the palm of her hand and we’re powerless to resist.

I can’t even.

Let’s be very clear here. Many female bodybuilders possess enlarged clits. They are not penises. Not by a long shot. A feminine endowment is in no way comparable (though biologically symmetrical) to a male endowment. Female bodybuilders are women – period, end of story. There’s no debating this. But we’re especially intrigued by FBBs because their physical strength and atypical anatomical features come just close enough to traversing into the territory of masculinity…but remain clearly set in the realm of femininity.

When Denise masturbates for the camera, we watch her not as a woman masturbating like a woman, but rather as a woman masturbating like a man. She “jerks off” her clit very much like how guys jerk off their penises. When she climaxes, we half-way expect her to ejaculate semen like the rest of us. She doesn’t of course, but the thought is still in the back of our minds. In this respect, Denise almost seems like “one of the guys” while still unambiguously remaining a woman. When Denise experiments with a clit pump, her sensitive nub of flesh nearly grows to the size of a small penis, which further titillates our imagination. We know she doesn’t have a penis, but it looks so much like one that we seem to (at least momentarily) identify with her.

Perhaps that’s it. Maybe thanks to our society’s increasing sexual multilateralism, the stark differences between “men” and “women” are starting to crumble. It isn’t enough for “men to be men” and “women to be women.” We sort of like it when a woman temporarily takes on masculine characteristics while staying true to her established feminine identity. Not only does she sort of “become one of us,” we can still find her sexually attractive as a woman at the same time.

In our modern age of social media, media saturation, sexual pluralism and postmodern sexual mores, it’s not enough to just look at photos of a beautiful woman or watch her engage in sexual activities for the camera. We also want to know who she is as a person. If she seems like a “pretty cool chick,” we feel more at ease in watching her do her thing. Perhaps this is a victory of sorts for 20^th century Feminism. We don’t see women as being mere sexual objects. We see them as peers who can also carry immense sexual appeal. I don’t know if that counts as a “victory” per se, so I’ll leave that conclusion up to you.

I have one final observation to point out. Pay attention to what kinds of videos and photos Denise participates in. She’s either by herself (going solo) or in the company of other women. She’s never, to my knowledge, done any videos or photoshoots with other men. Perhaps content like that exists somewhere, but I’ve yet to locate it. If it does, feel free to send it to me! I will, ahem, gladly study it for academic enlightenment.

Looking like one sexy college co-ed.

So she’s seen either performing solo or engaging in sex with other women. She masturbates, poses for the camera, uses a clit pump, has cunnilingus performed on her by another FBB, allows an FBB to penetrate her with a dildo or strap-on, penetrates herself with a dildo, and engages in other activities that don’t involve a man. I’m guessing she chooses to do this because she’s married and doesn’t want to put her husband in an awkward situation, so I get that completely. But this also works to her advantage whether she intends it to or not.

It allows guys like me to fantasize. I know she’s married. I know I have a snowball’s chance in Hades to ever have sex with her. However, I can watch her have sex with other women and not feel jealous. I can watch dildos penetrate her but not feel slighted or excluded in any way. But I’ve never seen an actual man’s penis penetrate her. I know she probably gets plenty of sex in her everyday life, but that makes not a lick of difference. In my own personal fantasy world, I can continue to imagine what it would be like for me and Denise to enjoy a romantic evening consisting of a candle-lit dinner, an expensive bottle of wine, a glowing fireplace, and a long warm evening of lovemaking.

Obviously I’ll never be able to experience that with her. But that’s the beauty of fantasy. It’s your own reality, independent from actual reality. And her choice to never do any scenes or photos with other men makes it easier for me to have these fantasies. My fantasies aren’t “spoiled” by images of real guys having sex with her. There’s no “other man” for me to compete with. Yes, I know she’s married. And I’m sure Denise and her husband have an active sex life that rivals that of the characters in a romance novel. But that’s not important. In my own mind, that “only man” could be me. Heck, in my dreams, it is me.

Denise being Denise. What I’d give to be her left hand at this moment in time.

So that’s it. That’s why Denise Masino might be the “Greatest Female Bodybuilding Businesswoman of All Time.” She understands branding better than few others in the industry. Denise knows what makes her marketable and isn’t afraid to use it to her advantage. More power to her. She’s stunningly beautiful yet approachable. She’s sweet yet possesses a kinkier side. She’s a strong independent woman, but she appeals to men of all types. She’s the type of woman you want to be your friend and your girlfriend at the same time. She has physical assets that she isn’t shy about showing off. She’s proud of what makes her unique. There’s a lot to be said about confidence. Confidence is sexy, no doubt about it. She allows us to indulge in our fantasies while smartly not going too far and mistakenly ruining the fantasy. She is who she is and is damn proud of it.

This is a difficult balance. Only a shrewd businesswoman can maintain this persona year after year with impeccable precision. That’s Denise for you. I get the feeling she doesn’t struggle to build her brand. She does it seamlessly. It’s second nature to her. It’s tough being a self-made entrepreneur in today’s stagnant globalized economy when you work in an industry that’s shunning women more and more. But if there’s anybody who can do it successfully and with grace, it’s her.

Sex Sells! Especially if You’re an Entrepreneurial Female Bodybuilder

Ready to get your beach body back? Timea Majorova would make the perfect poster child!

Clichés become clichés because they’re based on, for the most part, a certain degree of observable truth. They may not be true in the purest sense, but conventional wisdom has a funny way of speaking to reality more often than not.

No matter how sick and tired we get of hearing tired adages like “the early bird gets the worm” or “birds of a feather flock together,” we keep seeing them used over and over again because…well, they’re true. Maybe not true 100 percent of the time, but enough times that we don’t retire them to Cliché Heaven.

Here’s another one. “Sex sells.” Does it? Does sex actually sell? You bet your horny ass it does.

Why? Simple explanation: No matter how old we get, how mature we think we become, or how pious we try to act, the erotic will always catch our attention. Always. Especially if it hits right in your wheelhouse. Sex does indeed sell. And in a world that’s dictated by the health and vitality of the free markets, you can bet with both hands that sex will continue to sell as long as it remains a reliable source of profit.

Every Victoria’s Secret magazine spread, shampoo commercial or Abercrombie & Fitch mall banner preys upon this very philosophy. Sex sells anything from TV subscriptions to hair brushes. In fact, it’s so pervasive in our society that we don’t always notice it. I’d go even further and say that it’s so saturated in our culture that sometimes sex doesn’t sell because we’ve become so accustomed to it. If it ceases to titillate us, we might ignore it. So this is why every advertising agency has to keep on pushing the boundaries of good taste as the years go on. When a beautiful girl in a cute dress can be overshadowed by a sexy woman in a g-string bikini, you know it’s only a matter of time when all-out nudity will be considered acceptable in the public sphere.

Female bodybuilders know this reality all too well. As I’ve discussed before, the lifestyle of being a bodybuilder can be quite costly. The monetary rewards that come with competing can be few and far between. Only the elite level athletes are able to make a substantial income from the sport alone. Few others are selected to endorse products that can help generate additional revenue. So many FBBs are stuck having to ride the gravy train of our favorite cliché. Sex sells.

Hop on while you can. All aboard! Next stop, Hornyville, USA!

So how do FBBs sell their sexuality? There are many ways. Sexy workout videos are one way. Sexy photoshoots are another. Also, sexy websites and social media posts can keep fans enthralled. Live webcam shows, specialty content for “members only” and sexy merchandise are par for the course. Then you can go deeper and add sensual sessions to the mix. Whether an FBB offers BDSM services or muscle worship sessions, a slew of appointments from eager fans can add up pretty quickly to a lot of dough. If that doesn’t seem like enough, there’s the good old fashioned “adult entertainment” industry. Don’t tell me you’ve never been curious to explore what that’s all about!

There are probably other ways that FBBs take advantage of the free market, but what I mentioned above pretty much covers most of it.

However, there are a lot of people who are uncomfortable by all this. They might not necessarily say it out loud, but for many folks the idea of a female bodybuilder using her sexuality for financial gain is disconcerting. There are many reasons for this, so let’s dive right into it.

First, the most prominent argument is that taking advantage of one’s sexuality demeans the sport and one’s peers within the sport, male or female. Female athletes across all sports already are gratuitously sexualized, so this only adds additional fuel to the fire. This makes a lot of sense. In many ways, a female bodybuilder doesn’t just act on her own behalf. She also acts – although not intentionally – on behalf of every single female bodybuilder in existence. It’s not fair, but that’s the way it is.

Understandably, male and female bodybuilders alike struggle to fit into the mainstream of global competitive sports. Today, bodybuilding seems more like a fringe subculture than a universally recognized sporting industry. How many people can identify Peyton Manning if he were to walk down a crowded street? Since he’s just won his second Super Bowl, I’d imagine quite a lot. On the other hand, how many people could identify by name Phil Heath? He’d definitely stand out for being such a large human being, but we can all agree he doesn’t have nearly the face or name recognition as Mr. Manning, LeBron James, Steph Curry or Serena Williams.

This isn’t meant to insult Mr. Heath or anybody else in the bodybuilding world. This is meant to point out a simple fact that the sport isn’t mainstream. Not by a long shot. So how do you make it more mainstream? Quite simply, it has to resemble other mainstream sports. Unfortunately, when a female bodybuilder is seen using her sexuality to make a living, in the minds of the general public this starts to make the sport look more like a muscle beauty contest than the U.S. Open. It’s understandable why so many male and female bodybuilders are uncomfortable by the marriage of their sport with overt sexual expression.

It’s easy to see why a pro bodybuilder would be offended by women who choose to also work in the session business and adult entertainment industry. No one wants their profession viewed by the public with subtle associations of prostitution and pornography. Please keep in mind that I’m not calling FBBs who do sessions “prostitutes.” I am not making that distinction. What I am saying is that this association is not outside the realm of comprehension. The human brain is a funny thing. If a dog quacks like a duck, we may subconsciously think it’s a duck, even though our eyes tell us a different story. FBBs who choose to do sessions and pornographic films are still athletes, even though our brains may tell us they’re sex workers instead. And whatever negative stereotypes we hold against sex workers will unfairly be thrust upon these women whether we acknowledge it or not.

The future of the sport, Danielle Reardon.

Second, using sexuality to make a viable income is seen not just as demeaning to the sport, but also demeaning to the individual. The “sex sells” mantra is so well-known that it’s become an easy way to make a quick buck. What can a Hollywood producer do to make sure his upcoming summer blockbuster makes even more money? Easy! Give the female lead a topless scene. How can a TV producer ensure her pilot sitcom will garner substantial ratings? Simple! Create a promo where one of the female characters comes out wearing a bikini. How can a CEO sell more sticks of deodorant? Ah ha! Shoot a commercial where a slovenly slacker dude buys the product, uses it and within seconds finds himself surrounded by hordes of young beautiful sorority co-eds. That’ll have the deodorant flying off the shelves!

“Sex sells,” therefore, feels like you’re selling out. It appears like you cannot sell your product on its own merits, thus you have to “sex” it up in order to grab people’s attention. I can see why this rubs people the wrong way whenever they see a female bodybuilder using her sexuality for financial gain. Why can’t a female athlete just be an athlete, not a “sexy female athlete?”

This is a valid concern. All too often female athletes of every sport are forced (either directly or indirectly) to sexualize their image in order to substantiate their bank accounts. We all know the vast majority of women athletes aren’t super rich like many of their male counterparts, so any extra income they can legitimately earn must be pursued.

Third, the “sex sells” mantra perhaps also demeans the rest of us. Are we such sex-crazed horny animals that we won’t buy a tube of toothpaste unless a beautiful woman is shown brushing her pearly whites with them? Are we so dimwitted that a girl in a bikini must be the determining factor in helping us decide which car we want to purchase? I mean, cars are pretty expensive. Some have better gas mileage than others. Others last longer. But if I see an ad with a blonde bimbo plastered all over it, by golly I’m going to spend a quarter of my yearly income on that!

Check out the beautiful smile of Roberta Toth!

Well, as silly as all this sounds, there might be an element of truth to it. I don’t think we’re incapable of controlling our sexual urges, but maybe I have a more optimistic viewpoint of human behavior than I should. But hopefully you get where I’m coming from. I tend to also get peeved when I see marketing ploys that shamelessly exploit sexuality in a completely unnecessary manner. Did they really have to go there? I guess they must think we’re all idiots. Perhaps we are…

To be fair, I don’t think advertising moguls actually think we’re all horned up bunny rabbits. I think the overuse of the “sex sells” philosophy reflects a lack of creativity and laziness rather than a low opinion of society. But I could be wrong.

So I can see why a lot of us instinctively react negatively when we see female bodybuilders utilizing their sex appeal for personal gain. We can be protective creatures. We want to maintain a righteous sense of dignity toward the institutions we respect, whether we’re talking about the bodybuilding industry, the world of female sports or the human race. I’m not here to criticize anyone’s personal moral or ethical sensibilities. Everyone comes from a different path in life. However, I do believe it is imperative that we look at the world through somebody else’s eyes for once. If you’re a dedicated and passionate female bodybuilder who exists in a male-dominated sport that’s increasingly marginalizing competitors like you, well, I don’t blame you for doing whatever you can to make a living. I’m not a female bodybuilder, so I don’t know what “the struggle” is like.

But I do possess a basic understanding of economics. Sometimes, “sex sells” makes perfect business sense. I don’t have fancy pie charts or Excel spreadsheets to back me up, but if your current business model isn’t producing adequate streams of revenue, keeping on hammering away at the status quo would be financial suicide. A willingness to adapt to new market conditions is vital for survival. We may not like it (at first, or ever), but you can’t argue with bankruptcy.

In many respects, female bodybuilders have to think of themselves less as athletes and more as entrepreneurs. I will explore this topic in future blog posts, so I won’t get too deep into this right now. For now, let’s just say it appears to be the wave of the future. It’s perfectly understandable why the marriage between bodybuilding and sexuality makes a lot of people uncomfortable. Your personal values notwithstanding, it could come across like a desperate last attempt to revive a dying industry.

The “sex sells” business model, however, doesn’t have to appear like a Hail Mary pass to the end zone to save the season. Could we see it instead as an alternative form of the sport? Or not part of the sport at all? There are a lot of female bodybuilders who refuse to market themselves as sex objects. I respect that. They have every right to portray themselves in any light they choose. However, so do the women who willingly (and proudly) showcase their sex appeal for adoring fans. Why all the judgment? Why do we have to fight each other?

One of the undeniable superstars of the sport today, Tina Chandler.

If we can’t agree to disagree, then perhaps in the interim we can do our best to make a clear distinction between the sport of female bodybuilding and the independent business ventures of individual female bodybuilders – whether these women officially compete or not. Many FBBs compete sparingly. Some not at all. Regardless, they’re allowed to develop their personal brands in any way they choose. I’m a full supporter of self-empowerment.

The entertainment/media industry can be a harsh one. There’s no questioning that. Sports fall under this category, and we know for sure it can be an unforgiving world. Rarely do professional athletes live perfect storybook lives. The industry can chew up the best of us and spit us out at a moment’s notice without pomp or circumstance. Whatever you got to do to survive is sometimes the only path you can choose. If you have to choose between abandoning the profession you love or violating your principles every now and then, do you really wish ill on anyone who chooses the latter?

“Sex sells” is an undeniable truth. However, is it truthful because that’s the way it is, or because we allow it to be true? I cannot answer that fully, but I can see what’s right in front of my eyes. There are plenty of beautiful and intelligent female bodybuilders who happily make a living doing what they do thanks to their irresistible sex appeal. If they receive professional fulfillment and joy showing off their gorgeous bodies to adoring fans, I have absolutely no quarrel with that.

Come Again? Female Bodybuilders and Orgasms (NSFW)

A picture-perfect scene involving Autumn Raby and Denise Masino.

The mind of a female muscle fan can go to strange places. Trust me. WordPress conveniently allows me to see what search engine terms people are using that lead them to stumble upon my blog. A lot of it is predictable. Most of it is pretty raunchy. But all of it is perfectly understandable. People are, by their very nature, curious beings.

Female bodybuilders can be fascinating creatures. Can you blame anyone for wanting to learn more about them? I emphatically cannot.

Google searches can tell a lot about what’s on somebody’s mind. It’s a much safer way to discover information compared to asking someone. Would you want to casually discuss around the water cooler with your co-workers the topic of how to make your girlfriend squirt? Yeah, probably not. Unless you work at a sex toy store, such conversation is – generally speaking – considered “inappropriate.” It’s best to find out about that stuff on your own.

Hence, the beautiful and glorious anonymity of the Internet. Unless you have a significant other or precocious child reading through your browser history, what you search for online in the privacy of your own home is strictly between you and your computer. Even if an inquiring poltergeist is hovering by and watching over your shoulder, I’m sure it will keep his or her lips sealed. Dead men tell no tales, as the old saying goes.

One such prominent search engine term that frequently refers people to my blog deals with female bodybuilders and their vaginas. “Female muscle pussy,” “FBB pussy,” or “sexy muscle clit” are a sampling of what I’m talking about. Variations change slightly, but the theme is consistent. People are intrigued by the genitalia of a strong muscular woman.

To be fair, it’s not unusual for men (and women) of all ages to be inquisitive about the subject of what lies between a woman’s legs. I was too when I was a snot-nosed teenager. Heck, I still am even as an adult. No matter how wise or experienced you become in terms of dealing with the ladies, a man’s thirst for knowledge about the opposite sex never ceases. There always seems to be more to know, right? There’s a reason why we continue in the present day to study the phenomenon of human mating on a scientific and social level – even though humanity has been having sex for thousands and thousands of years. The topic will always tickle our fancy (insert bad pun here).

But in regards to female bodybuilders, the topic of their vaginas takes on a special tone. We’re not just dealing with normal women. We’re dealing with strong, muscular goddesses who seem to be from another planet. Their “otherworldliness” makes the subject of their bodies and sexuality all the more intriguing. I’ve written before on this, but I’d like to take this opportunity to explore this from a slightly different angle. Shall we?

Let’s talk about orgasms.

Ever since the glory days of adolescence, most of us (I cannot for sure say “all,” but that’s a whole other conversation) experience orgasms on a regular basis. Some every day. Others less frequently than that. Whatever. We’re not being judgmental around here. Of those orgasms we experience, some are generated by a partner (or multiple partners, depending on how kinky you happen to be) during the act of coitus. Others – and perhaps the majority for many of us – come through masturbation. Regardless of the circumstances in which you “get off,” orgasms are a natural part of our existence. They give us pleasure. They help release pent-up tension. They make sex worthwhile. They make masturbation not an act of selfishness, but of self-care. They can help us sleep at night or cure a nagging headache. They make the process of reproduction possible. They give us incentive to want to find a mate and reproduce. In other words, orgasms are undeniably an important facet of the human experience. They’re so imperative that researchers have written mountain loads of books on the subject. There are whole industries dedicated to helping get people “in the mood” to have an orgasm. There’s medication available to us to help people achieve orgasm when certain physiological functions aren’t working properly.

If Desiree Ellis approached me in a smoke-filled film noir-style bar, oh boy... — If Desiree Ellis approached me in a smoke-filled film noir-style bar, oh boy…

You get the idea. Orgasms matter a great deal to us. As they should. There’s no debating that. Without getting too deeply into religion and certain social mores, suffice to say that the vast majority of us can agree that experiencing orgasms is a great thing for all of us to do. Orgasms are a good thing, yes?

This explains why there are a significant number of Internet users who are curious about female bodybuilders, their genitalia and how they experience sex. Are their orgasms similar to mine? Are their orgasms similar to my wife’s? The questions can be endless. Inquiring minds need to know! Here is a short selection of some more:

Do muscular women experience more intense orgasms?
Does a female bodybuilder with an enormous clit experience better orgasms?
Is an FBB’s vagina tighter and more muscular than a normal woman’s?
Do FBBs spend extra time working out their vaginas so they can have more pleasurable orgasms? If so, what can I (or my girlfriend) do to achieve the same thing?
Are female bodybuilders always horny?
Does having more testosterone than normal women make FBBs less interested in sex? In men? In having orgasms? In doing other “girly” things?
What does a female bodybuilder’s vagina look like? Is it different than mine?
How do FBBs masturbate? And where can I go to watch some in action………?

Have any of you ever pondered these matters? I’ll admit with full disclosure that I have. Oh, boy. My dirty mind can go to strange places if I have nothing better to think about. I can guarantee that I am not alone in this. Thanks to WordPress’ analytics page, I have proof that confirms my suspicions. We all have dirty minds. Some of us are more proactive than others in indulging it.

All of this brings us to the $500,000 question. What is it like for a female bodybuilder to have an orgasm? Are they more pleasurable than others? Or maybe less pleasurable? Do her muscle contractions last longer? Are they more intense? Is it easier for her to experience an orgasm because her clitoris is much bigger than normal? Or, is it easier for her to come because her vagina is especially tight?

I am not an expert in human anatomy, so I cannot (and should not) attempt to answer these questions directly. Plus, I’m a dude. I don’t have a vagina and never have. What authority do I carry to speak on this subject? Not a whole lot, I can tell you that.

However, I can speak to the concept of exploring why this subject mesmerizes so many of us. And what all of this means. Let’s begin with what I do know.

Amber DeLuca better have more fun in the bedroom. She definitely deserves it!

First, the vagina is a muscle. We often refer to it as an organ, but it’s not a traditional organ like the penis. It’s a tube-shaped fibro-muscular part of a woman’s genital tract that stretches from the vulva to the uterus (or the cervix, if we want to get really technical). We’re all aware of its role in sexual intercourse and childbirth. But that first fact stands out above all else. The vagina is a muscle. Female bodybuilders have big muscles. So…in an attempt to connect the cerebral dots, do FBBs have bigger vaginas than non-muscular women? Or more specifically, do they possess stronger vaginas?

I highly doubt an inordinate amount of research has been done on these specific questions. What reason would we have to pour millions of research grant money into finding out if female bodybuilders have more intense orgasms than the rest of the female population? The scientific process utilized to seek out useful data would be enthralling to witness, but nevertheless we can all agree such an experiment would never occur. We still don’t have a definitive cure for cancer, am I right?

I suspect female bodybuilders experience sex and sexual pleasure in the exact same ways non-muscular women do. Bench pressing, deadlifting, squatting and bicep curls don’t strengthen the vaginal muscles. Kegel exercises, on the other hand, do. For the unenlightened amongst you, Kegel exercises are a series of physical activities that aim to strengthen the pelvic floor muscles. By squeezing the levator muscles for five seconds and releasing them in a repetitive manner, you strengthen your urinary tract, uterus, bladder, small intestine and rectum. For women, it helps prevent urinary incontinence after childbirth and general urinary problems for men (and women). Any obstetrician worth a grain of salt should recommend a pregnant woman do Kegel exercises during and after pregnancy.

Unless a female bodybuilder is spending a substantial amount of her time doing Kegel exercises in addition to her usual grueling workout regimen, I don’t foresee any logical reason why an FBB would have a more muscular nether region than normal women. But then again, I’m neither a bodybuilder nor a woman, so what do I know?

So this finally gets us to the $1 million question. Why does it matter? Why are so many of us out there going on Google, Bing or Yahoo and researching whether the muscular women we love also happen to experience more intense orgasms? What’s the big deal?

Well, that’s a much more thought-provoking discussion.

Deep down inside, many of us female muscle fans have this inherent belief that female bodybuilders are somehow superhuman. Like Superman, Spider-Man, the Hulk or Wonder Woman, FBBs seem to possess special abilities beyond the rest of us. Even us menfolk. Their muscle definition, dedication, mental fortitude, attention to detail, pure brute strength and divinely sculpted bodies defy all normal expectations of the limits of human achievement. We’re obviously impressed by the aesthetic accomplishments of male bodybuilders, but even more so for their female counterparts. We’re conditioned to expect to see men walk around with big biceps and broad shoulders. That’s no big deal. But when we see a woman strutting around the neighborhood with a similar look, it raises even more eyebrows. “Wow!” – people think – “That’s really impressive!”

Subconsciously, we also think this “superhuman” motif spills over into other arenas of life. For example, the arena of sex. If female bodybuilders have exceptional muscle mass, exceptional grit, exceptional toughness and exceptional strength, why wouldn’t she also have exceptional sexual abilities? We may not overtly believe this, but it makes perfect sense that these thoughts would cross our minds.

We need more pin-up ladies like Tatiana Anderson.

Additionally, this might be something that we want to believe. Most of us fans of female bodybuilders are attracted to them as human beings. We can all agree Desiree Ellis is a fine physical specimen. And if she were to randomly approach you and sensually whisper in your ear “make love to me all night long,” who would dare turn her down? I sure wouldn’t!

So there is undeniably an element of fantasy at play here. Call it “wishful thinking,” but let’s simply refer to it as fantasy. We want to believe that one of the perks of being a bodybuilder is the ability to experience enhanced orgasms. We want her to be rewarded for her hard work by having a better time in the bedroom than her less muscular peers. Perhaps that’s it. Deep down inside, we want female bodybuilders to experience more pleasurable orgasms for two reasons: 1. It’s incredibly hot to think about, and 2. We believe she deserves it.

After all the sacrifices FBBs go through to achieve their desired look day-in and day-out, don’t they deserve extra fun in the sun? The arduous journey they travel to sculpt their beautiful bodies should come with added bonuses, wouldn’t you say? If an “average built” woman achieves a level 6 or 7 orgasm during sex, shouldn’t a female bodybuilder be allowed to experience a level 10 or 11? Heck, why not 13 or 14?

If you think about it, what tangible benefits come with being a bodybuilder other than monetary rewards (which only go to an exclusive number of professional competitors) and external accolades? Perhaps a healthier body than most other people, but years and years of bodybuilding can eventually takes its toll. Increased risk of injury and the negative effects of steroids (or whatever drugs you choose to take) come with the territory. None of us are naïve about this.

So, perhaps in our heart of hearts, we want FBBs to be able to have more fun in the bedroom because we want to see them rewarded for being willing to make these endless sacrifices. A little incentive never hurt anyone, right? We’re curious whether FBBs experience better orgasms not because we have any practical reasons for finding out why, but rather because we really, really, really want them to. They deserve it! They absolutely deserve all the physical pleasure their bodies are able to grant them. They spend so much time in the gym punishing their bodies. Why can’t they be able to reward their bodies with much needed fleshly delights every once in a while?

I am infinitely interested in what lies between Angela Salvagno's legs. — I am infinitely interested in what lies between Angela Salvagno’s legs.

Obviously, we all universally believe female bodybuilders deserve all the benefits that come from trudging through their demanding lifestyles. Adoring fans? Check. Lucrative endorsement deals? Check. Public recognition for the fruits of their labor? Double check. Better sexual experiences? Oh yeah. That’s definitely a check!

Maybe these inquisitive Google searches aren’t a reflection of our own curiosity so much as a testament to how much we genuinely love strong women. We love them so much we instinctively wish that they are able to indulge in carnal experiences that are completely unknown to their peers who choose not to be bodybuilders. People who work hard should be compensated accordingly. None of us can disagree with that.

Not every female bodybuilder will make a lot of money. Not every female bodybuilder will become famous. Not every female bodybuilder will receive the appropriate level of public adoration they deserve. But perhaps, maybe in an alternative parallel universe, somewhere in a galaxy far, far away, there exists a reality where all female bodybuilders can experience the most intense, gratifying, shamelessly hedonistic, eyes-rolling-in-the-back-of-the-head, beautiful orgasms ever known to humankind.

People who are disgusted by female bodybuilders would undoubtedly be jealous if such a reality were possible. Wouldn’t that be a gorgeous example of poetic justice?

A Muscular Woman is Always Nude in Public, Even When Fully Clothed

Kathy Johansson, a strong black woman in the flesh.

Female bodybuilders are caught in a perpetual problem. One they can temporarily try to remedy, but one that will always face them as long as they choose to be bodybuilders.

Imagine this scenario: A world class female bodybuilder goes to the grocery store. She walks down the produce section and selects her desired fruits and vegetables. She notices out of the corner of her eye two teenage boys staring at her incessantly. They can’t help themselves. She thinks nothing of it. Then she strolls through the breakfast cereal aisle to choose which granola she wants to eat in the mornings. Once again, she sees a little old grandma straining her weary eyes to determine whether or not the figure in front of her is a male or a female. The old woman doesn’t say a single word, but the FBB knows exactly what she’s thinking. A few moments later, she moves on to the meat section and tries to calculate in her head how many pounds of chicken and steak will last her for the rest of the week. Before she can make a definitive determination, our heroic FBB – almost on cue – spots a family of four pointing at her and whispering to each other. For the third time in the past ten minutes, she blocks out this experience and tries her best to maintain a dignified aura of “normalcy.”

For our hypothetical FBB, this is not a unique sequence of events. This is daily life. This happens all day, every day. There’s no stopping it. But over time, she’s come to expect all this unwanted attention. After all, it is unusual to see a woman with so much muscle on her body. She’s not naïve. She knows the typical person minding their own business doesn’t expect to come across a human female with the muscle mass of an NFL defensive end. But that doesn’t make the feeling of being a “circus freak” go away. It doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

This scenario illustrates a simple fact: A muscular woman is always nude in public, even when she’s fully clothed.

As a general rule, public nudity is discouraged in our society. Not just in the Western Euro-American world, but all over the planet. Call it a product of Adam and Eve, the Forbidden Fruit and the Garden of Eden; but whatever the reason is, every single one of us wears clothes for a reason. Besides, we don’t want to freeze to death every winter, do we? And let’s face it. Some of us would prefer not to see certain people naked. Ugh. We’ll leave it at that.

Whether we choose to wear pants, skirts, dresses, shirts, sweaters, socks, shoes, jackets, coats, scarves, slippers, neckties, nylon stockings, boots, robes, or jorts (denim shorts, something we need to legally ban), wearing clothes is both expected and something that’s not debated. Yes, occasionally we’ll read about local municipalities trying to outlaw bikini coffee stands, nude beaches and strip clubs, but overall the expectation that everyone wears clothes goes unspoken. Heck, public nudity is so taboo that something as mundane as a mother breastfeeding her baby will occasionally raise eyebrows from inadvertent onlookers. It’s unfortunate, but that’s the way things are these days.

I wouldn't mind seeing Diana Tyuleneva naked in public. — I wouldn’t mind seeing Diana Tyuleneva naked in public.

But there are some people in this world who can’t entirely cover up their bodies. Bodybuilders, both male and female, have silhouettes that stand out from the rest of us. They can wear baggy pants and large winter overcoats all they want, but you can’t do that during the broiling heat of July. So for the vast majority of the year, when a female bodybuilder struts around in public, she can’t help but garner attention to herself – even if she’s not seeking it.

This attention won’t always be unwelcome. Nor will it always be negative. I’d wager a guess that it’s a mixed bag. Positive attention, negative attention…it’s all part of the packaged deal of living life as a professional (or as a dedicated amateur) bodybuilder. Of course, it goes without saying that public harassment is never warranted. Don’t bother people when they don’t want to be bothered. Nobody ever “asks” to be bothered, but FBBs are in the unique position of pulling attention their direction whether they want it or not.

Thus, female bodybuilders can never actually hide who they are. They are always naked. Not in the technical sense, but in the sense that their identity is always on full display to the world. But, if you think about it, isn’t that the point? Bodybuilders – whether they intend to compete or not – are trying to sculpt their bodies to fit a certain preferred aesthetic. Maximizing muscle mass, maintaining perfect symmetry, achieving the “chiseled” look, you name it. It’s all part of a master plan to attain “perfection.”

So it’s not unfathomable why female bodybuilders attract so much unprovoked attention. Not only do their bodies look different, they intentionally seek to look different. A female bodybuilder’s hard work is evident in every square inch of her body. Nothing is hidden from plain sight. So when people can’t help but stare at an FBB’s body when she minding her own business in public, can you really blame them? It might be a tired cliché to say “it is what it is,” but clichés start for a reason.

What we’re discussing here isn’t a major problem, but instead a fascinating insight into what it’s like to walk in the shoes of a female bodybuilder. They are always bare. They are always nude. They are vulnerable to unwanted attention in ways not too many of us can comprehend.

Lauranda Nall, a young up-and-coming blonde muscle bombshell.

Additionally, FBBs are nude not just in an aesthetic sense, but in a social sense. People have certain stereotypes attached to female bodybuilders. Many are fair, many are undeniably unfair. Let’s go back to the grocery store anecdote from earlier. What do you think the two teenage boys, elderly grandmother and family of four – not to mention the check-out line clerk, deli employees and the countless shoppers who aren’t in the story but definitely exist in the same environment – are talking about or thinking about when they see our protagonist up close and personal? What assumptions do they have about her? What prejudices do they hold against her? Here is a small sample of some the thoughts that might be going through their heads:

“Is that a man or a woman?”
“Somebody needs to go to the gym less!”
“Gross!”
“That’s nasty! Who would want to look like that?”
“I wonder if her boyfriend is the ‘woman’ in the relationship…”
“Boyfriend? She’s probably a lesbian. And a scary one at that.”
“She probably has a penis hiding somewhere!”
“Tranny. Without a doubt.”
“She’s probably single. Most guys would be too scared to be with her.”
“She’s a freak on steroids.”
“Boy, if I ever got her mad, she’d probably pummel me to death!”
“Seriously. Why the fuck does she want to be that buff? Doesn’t she know that’s disgusting and no guy wants their girlfriend to be like that?”
“Steroids. That’s it. That’s the only logical explanation. I wonder who sells to her…”

And blah, blah, blah. It goes on and on and on. So, unfortunately, not only is an FBB bare in the physical sense, she’s also bare in the psychological sense. People start to make assumptions about her lifestyle, relationships, sexual preferences, emotional attitudes, behavior patterns, opinions, and so on. To compare, there are a lot of people in this world who physically stand out from the rest of the general public. Someone who’s really tall or really short can catch your eye. But the difference is that you know they can’t help it. How tall or short you are as a human being is determined by genetics, not lifestyle choices.

But being as insanely muscular as a bodybuilder? That’s totally intentional. That’s not a mistake. That’s all strategic.

Being a remarkably muscular person opens up a whole can of worms of stereotypes, prejudices and cognitive dissonance. The same could also be said for very overweight people and people who make unusual fashion choices. But we’re more accustomed to seeing people with a lot of body fat than we are seeing women with huge amounts of muscle. So our reactions are going to be that much stronger.

Most of us want to blend into the crowd. Even those of us who say we “want to be different” do so within certain socially-acceptable boundaries. Shaved hair, a nose ring, hot pink stockings or tattoos may have been distasteful a generation ago, but it’s not much to blink at today. So how do you genuinely separate yourself from the herd? Simple. Be a woman with a body like Brigita Brezovac. Do all the eating, lifting, supplementation and resting necessary to achieve that look. That’ll turn heads in a hurry!

Brigita Brezovac would definitely turn my head in a hurry.

Let’s shift this conversation toward the subject of public nudity itself. What exactly about the human body is taboo? Besides multigenerational tradition dictating that we all clothe ourselves, in the Western world it’s not taboo to show a little bit of skin. We can show bare arms, legs, faces and shoulders without too much trouble. But a woman showing her bare chest? That would be unacceptable. A man letting his penis hang loose? Same deal. Do that and you spend the night in jail. Do that in front of an elementary school and you get tracked by the government for the rest of your life. These rules, it goes without saying, are quite strict!

The parts of our bodies that we really have to cover up are our genitals, butt and for women, their nipples. She can show most of her breasts without much trouble. But expose her areola? Watch out!

Generally speaking, we use the Beach Rule to decide what is or what is not acceptable. Can you wear it at the beach without getting kicked out? Alright, then it’s fine. I won’t get into too much detail as to how we established these social rules to begin with, but they follow a similar pattern: If it can be used for reproduction and nursing one’s young, it shouldn’t be seen out in the open. The penis and the vagina obviously play an important role in conceiving a child. The vagina also plays a role in giving birth to the child. And her breasts are crucial to feeding her child once he or she is born. So there’s that: Conception, birth and nurturing. The three common elements that tie together the parts of the human body we can’t show in public.

But more than that, the three body parts that we can’t show in public – the penis, vagina and a woman’s breasts – also share another element in common. They distinguish men from women. Men have a penis, women have a vagina. Men have flat breasts, women have larger breasts. The parts of our bodies that identify who we are, strangely enough, are the parts we can’t freely show off. I can’t explain why, I just know that’s the way things are.

Jennifer Abrams is showing us muscles aren't just for men. Women can have them too! — Jennifer Abrams is showing us muscles aren’t just for men. Women can have them too!

So, what about muscles? Muscles are something that men have traditionally had a monopoly on. From the statue of David to the characters in Frank Miller’s “300,” men are the ones who are physically strong and determined. Women, however, are not expected to be as physically dominant as their male counterparts. Thus, in addition to genitalia, muscles are another part of the body that separates masculinity from femininity.

Therefore, when a woman is seen with big muscles, she is clearly breaking that paradigm. She’s shattering her subordinate role and challenging men in an arena where they’ve always had the upper hand. Kathy Johansson shows us that a strong black woman can be a literal strong black woman, not someone whose strength is defined by emotional grit. I have no doubt that Kathy has incredible mental fortitude, but her physical strength is what puts her on a level playing field with men.

Thus, an FBB’s muscles don’t just expose her nakedness. They expose our nakedness too! They challenge a physically weak man’s masculine credibility. They challenge our perceptions about the differences between the genders. They defy our standards of beauty, sexuality, gender roles and power structures. A female bodybuilder’s muscles don’t just expose who she is. They also expose who we are. Our beliefs, assumptions and habits are put on display. We become vulnerable as well. Who am I as a man if a woman can work hard enough to achieve strength that surpasses mine? What kind of a man am I?

I’m not saying these assumptions are good or bad, nor that our reactions are justified or unjustified. What I’m saying is that a muscular woman’s body exposes not just what we think of her…but also what we think of ourselves. Her ability to smash perceptions forces us to reevaluate what we believe. Should we treat people differently? Should we treat ourselves differently?

This is why the subject of female bodybuilding and female bodybuilders will always fascinate me. There are an endless number of topics we can discuss related to this. Muscular women are gems. They work so hard to look the way they look. And their beautiful bodies are specimens we cannot look away from. But there’s more to it than that. When we look upon the body of a female bodybuilder, we’re not just looking at her.

We’re also looking within at ourselves.

Are You Ready for Your Close-Up?

Who is ready for becoming an international media superstar? It could be YOU!

Stories have the power to change the world. Fables, parables, tragedies, comedies, oral tales, campfire stories, books, poems, movies, TV shows, playground gossip, the list goes on. Stories of all kind help us understand the world around us. Without them, what would the human experience be like? That is a scenario I would not want to encounter.

Love stories especially have a special drawing power. They entice audiences into an intoxicating grasp. How else can you explain the immortal popularity of William Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet?

The reason for this pseudo-philosophical introduction is to invite you to consider participating in a unique opportunity to tell your own story. I’m going to venture a guess that most of my readers are fans of female bodybuilders. More specifically, I’d say the vast majority of you are guys who are fans of female bodybuilders. Am I far off? I sure hope not.

So, here’s the deal: I was recently contacted by a representative of Waddell Media, a media production company based in Northern Ireland that creates documentaries and “specialist factual programmes” for UK, Irish and international audiences. Judging from Google Maps, their office is located in Belfast. I never heard of these folks before one of their employees contacted me last week, but they seem to be a legitimate professional media company that produces high quality work.

As you can expect, one of their upcoming projects deals with the subject of female bodybuilders and the men who love them. A huge surprise, isn’t it? Well, they obviously did a thorough Google search and randomly stumbled upon yours truly. The Internet can be a fascinating place. Where else can someone in Northern Ireland research guys who are into muscular women and run into a humble blogger from Seattle like me? What a world we live in!

I’m told they’re working on creating a TV documentary on the subject of female bodybuilders and love. They’ve already reached out to a few FBBs to ask them to be interviewed about dating and finding love in a world that can be either repulsed by or deeply fetishistic towards muscular women. They also want to interview guys who are actively searching for a muscular woman with which to settle down and have a relationship with.

At first they asked if I would be interested in being an interview subject. I told them I am not because I am not actually interested in dating or marrying a muscular woman. If one were to come into my life and spark my romantic interest, I would be all in. But I am not actively going down that path. So, they would like to know if any of YOU are interested in helping them out.

A previous Waddell Media project entitled "Paul & Nick's Big American Food Trip." — A previous Waddell Media project entitled “Paul & Nick’s Big American Food Trip.”

You would have to be comfortable to appear on camera. I don’t know exactly how they’ll work with folks who live outside of the UK, but I’m assuming with Skype freely available to most of us, that would be a viable solution to solving the problem of physical distance. But I will not speak for them. You can reach out to them directly if you feel compelled to participate in their TV project.

Are you searching for love? Are you seeking out a beautiful muscular woman to settle down with and call “The One?” If so, Waddell Media needs you! Will you lend a helping hand?

Interested applicants can contact Mairead Kelly at mairead@waddellmedia.com or call 01144 28904 27646. I am not familiar with making international telephone calls, but I’m going to venture a guess and say you might have to pay a bit to speak with Mairead on the phone. Just send her an e-mail. That would be much easier.

Good luck! I definitely look forward to watching this documentary whenever it’s completed. Perhaps I’ll get to see one of you getting your moment in the spotlight!

Are you ready for your close-up? You better be.

Addressing the Elephant in the Room: Female Bodybuilding and Steroids

Don't inject yourself with anything the shady guy on Facebook gives you. The sketchy guy on Twitter, on the other hand, is probably more reputable. — Don’t inject yourself with anything the shady guy on Facebook gives you. The sketchy guy on Twitter, on the other hand, is probably more reputable.

There’s a large elephant in the room that needs to be addressed.

No, it’s not Dumbo. Or Babar. Or any of the ones that carried historical figures like Hannibal or Alexander the Great into battle. We’re addressing a different kind of elephant, one that’s taking up entirely too much space but none of us are willing to acknowledge.

Sigh. As a female muscle fan, I’m not against talking about this subject, but it’s unavoidable. So here it goes.

Steroids.

There. I said it. Steroids. Steroids. Steroids. Steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeroooooooooooooooids.

Steroids.

According to the world-famous online encyclopedia known as Wikipedia, steroids – or, in this case, anabolic steroids – are defined as:

“Anabolic steroids, technically known as anabolic-androgenic steroids (AAS), are drugs that are structurally related to the cyclic steroid rings system and have similar effects to testosterone in the body. They increase protein within cells, especially in skeletal muscles. Anabolic steroids also have androgenic and virilizing properties, including the development and maintenance of masculine characteristics such as the growth of the vocal cords, testicles (primary sexual characteristics) and body hair (secondary sexual characteristics).”

Got all that? I am not a scientist, so I don’t entirely understand the biological properties of anabolic steroids and what exactly they do to the human body. However, we basically all know what they do. They are drugs that help you develop muscle mass. They aren’t a magic pill that transforms you into Ronnie Coleman overnight, but they sure can help you get “big” if maximizing your size is your primary goal.

I will also admit that I am not an expert on the issue of drug use in the sport of professional bodybuilding. If you ask me questions about what policies the IFBB should change, how many pro bodybuilders (both male and female) use steroids, how to technically define “steroids,” or anything like that, I will shrug my shoulders and honestly tell you “I have no f***ing clue.”

I may not be that rude, but you get the point. I don’t have the time, patience, or inclination to diligently research this topic before writing this article. So I am no expert. Alright. Let’s move on.

None of us are naïve. We know many of our favorite bodybuilders and athletes “dope” in order to become and remain top elite competitors. When I look back upon the baseball legends I grew up watching during the 1990s and early 2000s, I now know many of them were “juicing” their way to 50+ home runs, 120+ RBIs and other statistics that earned them Hall of Fame consideration. Some of them are enshrined in Cooperstown, many of them are not – and may never will.

Does juicing still go on in pro sports? Of course. Without a doubt. Methods of testing have definitely improved, but no system is perfect. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. A few people are going to slip through the cracks here and there. Whatever. Just as long as we enjoy watching them play, does it really matter what substances they choose to put into their bodies?

Poor Barry Bonds. The poster child for steroid use in professional sports. He was one heck of a ballplayer regardless.

Before I get too off track, let’s break down the topic of female bodybuilding and steroids in the most logical and honest way possible. Please, feel free to comment down below or send me an e-mail at ryantakahashi87 (at) yahoo (dot) com to provide your thoughts. Perhaps your perspective will differ from mine.

Whew. Okay, let’s dive into this deep swimming pool of mixed emotions head-first. Onward!

1. A lot of female bodybuilders take steroids, and that’s perfectly okay

It is a fact that many of our favorite FBBs take steroids to help them get big. It’s an undeniable fact. The reaction many people glean from this most likely sounds something like this:

See? She’s not that strong at all! The only reason why she’s bigger than most guys is because she juices, just like Lance Armstrong and Barry Bonds. I told you so! She’s not really that strong!!!

Fair point. Without the help of synthetic drugs, many FBBs would not be able to become bigger than a lot of men. But I think this criticism misses the larger point about why a lot of guys love female bodybuilders.

We love their beautiful bodies. We love looking at their hard work put on display. Steroids may enhance the fruits of your labor, but they do not replace your labor. No matter what drugs they take or how strategic they are in taking them, no FBB got to be that big without commitment, arduous hard work, dedication, smart planning and making enormous personal sacrifices. As mentioned before, steroids are not a magic pill that can transform Taylor Swift into Debi Laszewski with the flip of a switch.

Granted, lots of us who love FBBs admire them because they’ve achieved a level of muscle mass unmatched by guys who take the “natural” route. So I guess in that respect, we have to burst their bubble. Sorry. It’s not what you think it is.

But nevertheless, that’s not the point here. At the end of the day, we love muscular women because we think they’re tremendously beautiful. Regardless of how they got there, we appreciate the finished product with a degree of awe that’s unmatchable. In my opinion, it’s perfectly okay for a woman to take steroids if they will help her achieve her desired physique. Just as long as she’s safe and always takes her long-term health into consideration, I have no issue here. The elite bodybuilders have professional trainers and doctors advising them on which drugs to take, how many to take, when to take them, and how to determine when enough is enough. It becomes supremely dangerous when someone goes rogue and recklessly pops pills or injects themselves with God-knows-what without consulting an expert.

Don’t do that. It won’t end well.

I perfectly understand that a lot of huge muscular women take drugs. In fact, a few of the FBBs I’ve met in real life admit to taking drugs. But that doesn’t change my opinion of them one iota. They’re still strong gorgeous women who deserve immense praise for their hard work, steadfast belief in themselves and willingness to break social taboos in pursuit of their personal definition of “beautiful.”

As female bodybuilding fans, we’re not arbiters of truth and justice. We’re admirers of beauty. We love these women because they’re so incredibly beautiful. We know they would not be able to achieve that kind of muscularity without “help,” but what difference does that make? Just as we’re aware that many of our favorite celebrities undergo plastic surgery to look younger, slimmer or more beautiful, we love FBBs despite knowing their look may not be 100 percent “natural.”

2. Drugs is only an issue of ethics when we’re dealing with athletic competition

Overall, if a woman decides to use drugs to help her achieve an abnormal level of muscle mass, do we care if that helps her land photo gigs, video shoots and erotic session clients? No, we don’t. So at the end of the day, what difference does it make if our favorite female muscle celebrities (in our world, they’re totally celebrities!) are taking drugs to help them look a certain way? None whatsoever.

However, admittedly things change when we’re dealing with athletic competition. And not just bodybuilding – this includes basketball, tennis, MMA, softball, volleyball, sprinting, etc. No one wants a cheater to win the Gold Medal at the Olympics. But if that same person wants to earn a living becoming a muscle dominatrix to consenting adult clients, that doesn’t nearly matter as much.

So in reality, we only care about the ethics of doping when it comes to high stakes athletic competition. We all want a fair playing field. Whether we’re talking about HGH, spitting on baseballs or deflating footballs, no one wants to see a cheater win. It sucks. It makes you angry and lose faith in the integrity of the sport. Therefore, any professional league that wants to see itself exist in 20 years should vehemently crack down on illegal drug use to weed out the cheaters. It makes business sense.

If such a button existed where you could transform Taylor Swift into Debi Laszewski instantaneously, I would do it before you could finish your sentence.

But a female bodybuilder who uses her body to sell muscle worship appointments, video views and website memberships? She can do whatever the hell she wants with her body. It’s her body and her business. Let her take whatever she wants if she feels like it will help her earn a living. As female muscle fans, we don’t care. We love these women and their beautiful physiques. We shell out our hard earned dollars because we feel they’re worth it.

Know why? Because they totally are.

But when it comes to the business of professional (and high profile amateur) sports, where winners and losers are determined solely by head-to-head competition, we want fairness to be guaranteed in every conceivable way. It isn’t unethical to take drugs, unless you do so to earn an unfair advantage over someone who chooses not to. It’s as simple as that.

3. Repeated use of steroids do have side effects, but we’re totally fine with that

It’s no mystery the effects steroids can have on a woman’s body. Increased muscle mass and levels of testosterone can lead to a deepened voice, more body hair, shrunken breasts, more “masculine” facial features, balding, an enlarged clitoris (which, for the record, is not a penis), aggressive behavior, and other physical/emotional changes.

In fact, these side effects are what turn people off the most from female bodybuilders. Arguably, if female bodybuilders could maintain large muscle mass without having to sacrifice a single degree of traditional “femininity,” one could foresee a reality where FBBs would be way more popular in mainstream culture than they currently are. However, this is not the reality. So, society is stuck in this weird grey area of treating female bodybuilders as women who aren’t fully “women.” We know they are by definition, but there’s enough ambiguity going on to give us major pause.

It sucks for these women, but it is what it is. People have their prejudices. Changing them can be an almost unconquerable challenge.

But, alas, most female bodybuilding fans would argue the side effects inherent in steroid use are not that big of a deal. Or, more precisely, they’re not a deal breaker. Side effects are fine, just as long as they don’t cross certain boundaries.

This is perhaps one of the most common misconceptions about female muscle fetishism. Those of us who love muscular women don’t like all muscular women. Just because you love Italian food doesn’t mean you love every single Italian restaurant in existence. Truth be told, you probably despise more Italian restaurants than you love because of the fact that you’re such a snob. I can tell you from personal experience that there are a few prominent female bodybuilders whom I do not feel attracted to. While I can find a certain degree of beauty in almost all muscular women, overly masculine facial features and other “freaky” side effects totally turn me off. But that is usually the exception and not the rule.

Some people are disgusted by the masculinization effects of steroid use in muscular women. I get that. But the larger point is that female muscle fans are not unaware of that. We know that, accept it, and still find them beautiful despite their unconventional appearances.

4. Fantasy is almost always more appealing than reality

The truth is, the vast majority of guys who love female bodybuilders understand that many of them didn’t achieve high levels of muscularity “naturally.” We’re not naïve about how the world operates. We understand biological restrictions are almost impossible to break through. But this somewhat miss the point about a female bodybuilder’s appeal.

For a lot of us, we love female bodybuilders mostly because we love to fantasize about them. Who they are in real life is not as important as what exists in our imaginations. Of course, once we get to actually meet a few FBBs, we almost always end up liking them as people. But from a distance, fantasy is a powerful driving force in female muscle fandom.

Everyone’s fantasy is different. Worshipping her muscles. Treating her like a Goddess. Being her slave. Being punished for our naughty behavior. Finding out who the real “weaker sex” truly is. And so on. The fantasies may be different, but the general takeaway stays the same: reality isn’t that important.

Reality has its place, but not always. The vast majority of female muscle fans rarely get to personally meet (either in a public or private setting) their idols. Therefore, our fandom mostly consists of what’s in our imaginations. We love strong women for a variety of reasons. Whether there are elements of fantasy, BDSM, curiosity, sexual fetishism or something else entirely at play, who they really are, and how they got to be that big and strong, are secondary to us.

Some people are into Female Muscle Growth (FMG) stories and art. I am not really one of them. But if you are into that sort of thing, go for it. Illustration by Grissse.

That isn’t to say that we disrespect who they are as people. On the contrary, most FBB fans have a tremendous amount of genuine respect for the women they idolize. I’d go as far as to say that we treat these women just the way modern day feminists want all women to be treated. So we aren’t indifferent toward who FBBs are as human beings. Rather, their drawing power is derived from the deep recesses of our imaginations.

So if we find out an FBB takes steroids, growth hormones and other supplements to achieve their superhuman muscularity, that isn’t an issue with us. We love the finished product. We love what their beautiful bodies do for our creative minds. The “spark” they provide us cannot be put into words, but rather images, thoughts and feelings that are almost impossible to articulate.

For many of us, the steroid issue isn’t an issue at all. We’re not ignorant about it. We’re not neglecting it. We just don’t care. People love to fantasize even though they know the foundation of their fantasies is built on a house of cards. It doesn’t matter. Reality has its place. So does fantasy. The lines shouldn’t always have to cross.

5. There will always be a little bit of denial going on

Admittedly, denial will always happen. Some people embrace the “ignorance is bliss” mantra. They know it’s happening but choose to either downplay or ignore it. I’m probably a bit in this category. I know many of my favorite FBBs take drugs. I know they might regret it in the future if (or when) the negative side effects come back to haunt them. I know it’s practically impossible for a woman to develop muscle mass that would make a male bodybuilder jealous without some “assistance.”

I get it. But I don’t always want to think about that. I love fantasizing about these strong beautiful women dominating the bullies who taunt them with sexist remarks. I love imagining what it would be like to make love to a gorgeous muscular woman without having to think about excess body hair or stinky odor that comes with taking steroids. I love thinking about all these things…knowing full well reality doesn’t always match up with fantasy.

When we live life through rose tinted glasses, we tend to idealize those we love. We hold them in higher regards than they deserve. We put them on a pedestal and worship the very ground they walk on. This leads, inevitably, to us overlooking their flaws. We justify their bad behavior. We pick-and-choose which parts of them to celebrate and which parts to ignore. In terms of muscular women, we revel in their strength without fully thinking about what it took for them to achieve that strength. We’re not stupid. We just don’t want to let facts get in the way of our fun.

Facts. Such an inconvenient cog in the engine, am I right? But alas, we know the deal. We know a woman cannot achieve that elite level of muscular development without “help.” We know freaky genetics, maniacal hard work, hardcore dieting and sheer willpower is not enough. We know natural biology cannot be altered overnight. Perhaps thousands of years from now women will evolve to become physically superior to men, but today is not that day. Whatever. Why spoil the fun?

6. What is the actual harm of using steroids?

This point is not meant to be scientific. I am perfectly aware that unwise steroid use can lead to cardiac problems, high blood pressure, liver issues and other negative health consequences. What I’m really trying to say is this:

What’s the big deal if woman uses steroids responsibly?

The answer is simple. It feels like cheating. In point #2, I discuss that steroids only really matter within the context of athletic competitions. That still rings true. But from a cultural perspective, using steroids to get big still feels like you’re “cheating the system.” Or, at the very least, cheating your natural biology.

Bodybuilding, whether you do it professionally or not, is the ultimate personalized sport. Victory or loss, however you define it, is purely determined by your own merit. Unlike team sports, a bad fumble or blown save by a teammate won’t cost you the game. You’re not even competing directly against anyone, such as in tennis or racquetball. The best comparison is golf, a sport in which you compete against others, but you’re mostly competing against yourself. But golf has elements such as weather and course conditions affecting the outcomes of games. Bodybuilding is a sport more based on preparation than game-day performance.

But more than that, a lot of us are amateur bodybuilders, whether we think of ourselves in those terms or not. Let’s face it. We don’t just go to the gym because we want to “stay healthy” or “shed a few pounds.” Some of us may think that way, but most of us workout because…well, we want to look good. We want to look good naked, as Kevin Spacey’s character in American Beauty states. He’s telling the truth. That’s 99 percent of the reason why we exert so much of our time and energy in the gym. We may not have any genuine aspirations to compete, but in our own little world, we’re all trying to develop biceps like Phil Heath.

I cannot confirm that Karen Zaremba was a "natural" bodybuilder, but I suspect she was. — I cannot confirm that Karen Zaremba was a “natural” bodybuilder, but I suspect she was.

This explains the backlash against steroid use in general, not just in the context of female bodybuilding. When we see someone walking around with bigger guns than us, we feel jealous. When we find out they had “help” building those huge arms, we feel a little better about ourselves knowing our inadequate gains can be explained by the fact we don’t “cheat.”

This simply explains why we get such a visceral gut reaction when we find out an FBB takes steroids. It feels like they’ve broken our trust. We feel betrayed that their impressive strength wasn’t achieved fairly. It makes us feel more secure about our own bodies knowing their superiority has an alternative explanation.

In conclusion, what is the actual harm of an FBB taking steroids responsibly? Well, not much. If it helps her advance her career, so be it. That’s none of our business. Is she betraying our trust? No, unless she explicitly lied about not taking drugs. Does that make her any less of a strong woman? Of course not. Steroids are not a magic pill that transforms you into a ripped comic book character with the snap of your fingers. Hard work still matters.

The “Steroid Issue” will always haunt bodybuilders, athletes and gym rats, both male and female. It’s unavoidable. In today’s world, it’s understandable why we’d all be suspicious. The proliferation of the underground drug market has expanded well beyond dark alleys and dimly lit parking lots. Online marketplaces, both on the so-called “surface web” and the nefarious-sounding “deep web,” make acquiring drugs as easy as it’s ever been.

But the flip side of the issue is this: As long as no one is getting hurt or gaining an unfair competitive advantage, what harm do steroids actually cause? Scientific issues aside, it’s mostly a blow to one’s personal sense of integrity.

Integrity. There we are. There’s the core of the problem. Integrity.

At the end of the day, we feel a bodybuilder’s integrity should be called into question if we discover they take steroids to help them get big. Personally, this knowledge does not make me change my opinion about any particular male or female bodybuilder. After all, building muscle is their primary goal. If they receive biomedical “assistance” along the way, so be it. I won’t judge them too harshly, especially when we live in an age where much worse crimes are being committed on a daily basis.

So there you have it. Undoubtedly, we will never settle this issue. Some will always feel uncomfortable by the presence of steroids in bodybuilding. Others will have no problem with it whatsoever. And there will be those who are either indifferent or undecided. Whatever. You can feel however you feel about it. Just know this: Everyone makes choices in their lives. These choices are made to help maximize how much they can get out of life. What jobs we work at, where we live, what foods we eat, who we choose to love, who we hang out with, what entertainment we partake in, etc. If a bodybuilder, male or female, believes taking drugs will help him or her maximize their own personal definition of “happiness” or “fulfillment,” I say we should let them. Of course, every choice has pros and cons. Taking steroids has drawbacks. It’s not a decision that comes risk-free. On the contrary, human growth hormones and the like can be very dangerous if they’re taken without proper medical consultation. This is why you should never trust the shady guy standing on a street corner or the anonymous vendor who sends you a cryptic message on Facebook.

Steroids are here to stay. Judge the people who take them however you want to. But keep this in mind: They take them for a reason. Do you fully understand that reason?

The Impeccable Female Form

Would I consider Jay Fuchs to be "perfect?" In a word, "yes!" — Would I consider Jay Fuchs to be “perfect?” In a word, “yes!”

What defines the perfect female body?

It’s a more difficult question to answer than you’d think. For those of us who are attracted to women, we just know beauty when we see it. We can’t describe it. We can’t explain it. We can’t quantify it. We just know what a beautiful female body looks like whenever we are fortunate enough to come across one.

If you took a poll of hundreds of straight men (and perhaps some lesbian women) to describe the “perfect female form,” the answers you’d get would probably be pretty predictable:

Gorgeous face.

Big boobs.

Sleek arms.

Long, smooth legs.

Rounded butt.

Hour-glass hips.

Curved back.

Yadda, yadda, yadda. Certain adjectives may change, but the general idea stays the same. Our collective definition of the perfect female form is for the most part fairly uniform.

But for fans of female bodybuilders, our personal definition of perfection is significantly different. We prefer not sleek arms, but bulging arms. We love long legs, but we’d rather gaze upon veiny thighs the size of tree trunks. We love calves big enough to crush a watermelon. We love breasts just like any other guy, but we’re perfectly willing to sacrifice noticeable cleavage if it means her broad pecs are allowed to shine boldly.

Everyone has a different definition of “perfect.” The results from this imaginary poll may be varied, but odds are they will share in common the aesthetic we’ve come to accept in today’s world: a perfect combination of slenderness with curves.

Call it the “Marilyn Monroe Look.” Or what Cindy Crawford was back in the 1990s. Or Kim Kardashian today. Famous sex icons come and go, but beauty is more or less timeless. True, historians will point out that light skin was considered beautiful back in the Middle Ages because it demonstrated wealth and prestige. People with tan skin were considered poor because they had to labor outdoors all day long, as opposed to their pale skinned peers who had servants do their dirty work instead. Today, almost the exact opposite is in vogue. Tanned skin communicates healthiness, vitality and trendiness. There’s a reason why tanning salons are so darn popular. Tanning practically seems like a full-time job for some people these days. Giving people tans definitely is, that’s for sure.

A vast majority of us would consider the women you see on the cover of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit magazines or featured in Victoria’s Secret ads to be the peak of female beauty. The names and faces may change over time, but atypical-looking women usually don’t find themselves so widely plastered across such media. Caitlyn Jenner being a unique exception, what most of us consider “beautiful” can typically be widely agreed upon.

So this begs the question: If beauty is, by and large, relatively universal, can the same go for perfection? Is the “perfect female form” something we can widely recognize? Or do differences of opinion make this conversation moot?

Marilyn Monroe, the greatest sex icon of her generation, perhaps of all time.

The best way to answer this question is to pose yet another question: What specifically defines “perfect?” In baseball parlance, a “perfect game” is when a starting pitcher retires all 27 batters in a row without giving up a single hit, walk, hit-batter or error. No one reaches first base in a nine inning ballgame under any circumstances whatsoever. Even if an error is committed by a defensive player, which is obviously not the fault of the pitcher, the perfect game is undone. If the center fielder accidentally drops a can-of-corn pop fly, the perfect game ends, even if 99.999999 percent of the time he makes that catch.

So, in baseball, “perfect” isn’t a passive state of being; it’s an accomplishment. Something isn’t perfect simply by being deemed perfect. Perfection isn’t passive. It’s active. It requires work. It requires meticulous labor to reach a goal. Leonardo da Vinci’s “La Joconde” (better known as the “Mona Lisa”) didn’t happen by accident. He didn’t just splatter paint onto a canvas Jackson Pollock-style and call it good. Rather, he put much thought into his process and painstakingly worked to render his creation. That’s why art critics call it a “masterpiece.” That’s also why these same critics cringe at what is known today as “modern art.” While it could be bold and expressive, a lot of the modern art you see hung up at respectable museums don’t appear to be that artistic. I’m no art connoisseur myself, but I can certainly see the difference between a Rembrandt and a dried up piece of animal dung meant to represent the existential nihilism derived from our excessive militaristic oppressive capitalistic Euro-American-centric hetero-normative patriarchy.

What just happened? I don’t know.

The point is that perfection is an end goal, not just a mere label we place onto an object. The Impeccable Female Form is perhaps not just an opinion, but a commentary on the state of femaleness, cultural aesthetic and male/female dichotomy. For example, Michelangelo’s sculpture of David is considered a Renaissance masterpiece. Created in the early 16^th century, the marble male nude of the Biblical hero David represents the height of human power. In the Old Testament, David was a hero who defeated his enemies with help from the Almighty. David is The Man if there ever was anyone who deserved that nickname.

The sculpture, at the time, symbolized the zenith of the human form. Standing tall and proud, David’s muscular stature and overwhelming confidence should instill fear into his enemies. Not even the mighty Goliath stood a chance against our celebrated hero. Meant to signify the fierce independence of the Republic of Florence, between 1501 and 1504 Michelangelo crafted his legendary masterwork with the political implications of power, authority and the almost God-like importance of one man on Earth, in mind.

In David, we’re supposed to see exactly that. A man with God-like implications here on Earth. Thus, in a very literal sense, David perhaps was supposed to represent the Impeccable Human Form. In a world dominated by men, “human” became synonymous with “male.” Female beauty was almost kept in a separate category. Male beauty was human beauty. If humans were created in the image of God, it make sense a perfect looking human would be the closest we can ever get to actually witnessing God up-close-and-personal.

"David" by Michelangelo. — “David” by Michelangelo.

The perfect human form, therefore, now has the element of the divine attached to it. If men are gods, are women goddesses?

The answer is unequivocally “yes.” Women are indeed goddesses. A perfect female form would in fact be a close reflection of divinity, just as male perfection was once considered. Zeus may be wholly powerful among all gods, but Athena shouldn’t be disrespected in her own right. The ancient Greeks believed the gods in the heavens shaped the affairs of the men and women below. They even personified their gods into the images of men and women. How interesting.

This is a long way of getting to the point that should be obvious to us all: the Impeccable Female Form should reflect the same strength, gracefulness, power and beauty we’ve come to appreciate in today’s female bodybuilders. Alas, our much beloved muscle bunnies aren’t just athletes. They’re symbols of human perfection. And they didn’t get that way by accident or privilege. They earned it with their sweat, dedication, hard work and treasure.

Like a pitcher tossing a perfect game or a bowler rolling a perfect game, they had to earn their stripes. David, likewise, wasn’t deified (as much as a mortal man can be) arbitrarily. He had to go out and defeat Goliath. Then he had to rise through the ranks and become King of Judah. Whether you’re religious or not is not the point here. The point is that perfection is never granted passively. You have to earn it every step of the way.

This explains why many women (and men) resort to plastic surgery, fad diets and unauthorized medication (which may or may not be effective) to achieve the “perfect look.” Most of us are not born flawlessly beautiful. Most of us look at Monica Bellucci on the silver screen and think to ourselves; “I’ll never look that beautiful because she was born that way.”

Indeed, beauty is genetic. There’s no escaping that fact. No amount of makeup or trips to the surgeon’s office will undo what Mother Nature (a.k.a., your family’s gene pool) gave you. However, we’re not necessarily talking about facial beauty. We’re talking about the human form, which is what your silhouette looks like. We’re referring to not what you look like in a mirror, but what you look like behind a white screen and bright light.

As a young lad growing up in the late 90s and early 2000s, ex-WWF diva Rena Mero was my first major celebrity crush.

You can, to a point, control what your silhouette looks like. Female bodybuilders are doing that every single day of their lives. What they choose to eat, when they choose to eat, when and how they lift weights, when they sleep, what supplements they take…all of these choices are carefully made to ensure their bodies can look a certain way. Crafting a perfect combination of muscularity, symmetry and femininity, FBBs are truly artists in every sense of the word. Just as our friend Michelangelo sculpted with marble, FBBs work with their own flesh and blood. Sounds pretty hardcore, doesn’t it?

If we assume female bodybuilders to be artists, are they not working toward the goal of attaining perfection? Even world champion bodybuilders should never rest on their laurels and assume they’ve “arrived.” That sort of complacency breeds mediocrity. The mindset of a champion dictates that you constantly work toward self-improvement, regardless of what people say or how tangibly “good” you already are at your sport. In this respect, female bodybuilders (and their male counterparts) are indeed artists, striving toward sculpting their perfect masterpiece with the materials given to them by God. As Amedeo Modigliani used a paintbrush and palette as his tools, a bodybuilder uses dumbbells, barbells, and food as theirs.

So it makes perfect sense for the Impeccable Female Form to come from a bodybuilder. After all, they “earn” their physique through hard work, dedication, scientific precision and sacrifice. No one wants “perfection” to be a product of passive entitlement. A slender looking woman may in fact be beautiful, but isn’t there something to be said for a physique that’s very darn difficult to attain? Looking like Alina Popa is a challenge that only an elite number of women will ever be able to achieve. Her flawless balance between being highly muscular and unquestionably feminine makes her as unique of an athlete as there’s ever been. And that is no exaggeration.

This is not to disrespect or discount the challenges of maintaining a “traditional” feminine look. The point of this blog post isn’t to shame or condemn any particular body type. Instead, I’m trying to illustrate a larger point: the ideal female form – or perhaps, better yet, the quintessential female form – should lean more toward the muscular than the skinny. Bulky rather than thin. Bigger instead of smaller. You get the idea.

The simple argument that the Impeccable Female Form should be that of a bodybuilder implies that strength should be a crucial facet to femininity. Ignore any of that talk about the “weaker sex.” That’s complete and total nonsense. If we genuinely want to lift up women as being strong, independent beings, this paradigm shift is a welcomed first step. Aesthetically speaking, if the Impeccable Female Form is defined as being muscular, curvy and strong – does this not communicate empowerment more than mere words? Words are cheap. Action is not.

Besides making an obvious feminist statement, a Muscular Feminine Ideal does more to break down negative stereotypes than anything else. For as much as our society preaches the importance of “female empowerment,” how seriously do we accept this? Do we truly mean that, or are we more interested in patting ourselves on the back and verbalizing what we want instead of actually pursuing what we want to see change? I leave the answer to these questions to you.

Whether or not anyone will ever accept this frame of mind is not the point. Not everyone will agree that muscularity should have anything to do with how we define female beauty. Nor should we all agree to this. But as female muscle fans, we share the inherent belief that there’s a reason why we love strong women beyond simple lust. I believe that wholeheartedly. We may not explicitly know it, but we know female bodybuilders represent something bigger. A female bodybuilder isn’t just a competitive athlete; no different than a soccer player, basketball player or tennis player. We know they belong in a separate category apart from the rest. Am I right?

Indeed, there is something noteworthy going on. Bodybuilders, both male and female, symbolize the highest form of human achievement. They represent the human being at its pinnacle of perfection. There’s a reason why Michelangelo chose to portray David as a strong warrior instead of a skinny average Joe. Wonder Woman may not traditionally be illustrated as being muscular, but you definitely can tell the artists who draw her would definitely do that if they were given more lenient creative license. That might not help them sell more comic books per se, but they would be making a pretty bold statement in doing so.

The Impeccable Female Form personified in Lindsay Mulinazzi.

Deep down inside, female muscle fans wish more women in society looked like Larissa Reis or Shannon Courtney. Not necessarily out of selfish fetishistic reasons (although that is a major part of it), but because we truly believe society would be better for it. The Impeccable Female (and Male) Form isn’t just about determining what kind of eye candy we like best. It’s more than that. It’s about maximizing what it means to be a human being, a creation of God (or whatever higher power you believe in). If we assume the Imago Dei theological concept to be ingrained into Western culture, we take on the belief that bodybuilders of all genders are doing what they can to become Divine.

Not in a literal sense, but in a figurative sense. A muscular man or woman isn’t actually a god, but they’re the closest we can get here on Earth.

So, what exactly defines the perfect female body? Divine. Intentional. Elite. Strong. Powerful. Potent. Authoritative. Commanding. Muscular. All of these things.

Regardless of your ideological or theological background, every single female muscle fan knows the women they love are bigger – and not just literally – than most of the people we encounter day-in and day-out. They represent something tangibly deific. We don’t refer to them as “goddesses” for no good reason.

Oh yeah. Goddess. I do seem to recall that label being put onto a female bodybuilder at least once or twice. Now we all know why that is. We view them as belonging to a higher status than the rest of us. They’re gods among men, or goddesses among women. We intrinsically know this to be true.

The Impeccable Female Form explains all of this. Muscles are a form of physical Nirvana that every one of us is striving to achieve. Maybe not in any practical sense, but we feel it intuitively. I’ve never considered my love for female muscle to have a spiritual component, but the more I think about it, perhaps it does.

Maybe we female muscle fans are helping usher in a new age of Enlightenment. Are we the forbearers of a shift toward a higher level of Consciousness?

Uh, yeah. Probably not. But it sure is fun to think about. This is probably overthinking things, but life is too short to shortchange yourself. Don’t be afraid to take pride in your female muscle fandom. You may not be a modern day culture warrior, but you are definitely on the right track. Muscular women are beautiful, and our world would be a better place if every man, woman and child felt that way.

Can I get an “amen?”

A Female Muscle Fetish Isn’t as Complicated as You Might Think

The reason why Jill St. Laurent is gorgeous definitely isn't complicated. — The reason why Jill St. Laurent is gorgeous definitely isn’t complicated.

Sometimes in life, we tend to overthink things.

Nobody needs to spend twenty minutes thinking about which brand of hair coloring they need to buy. Or a whole hour organizing your wardrobe for the day. Or testing out twelve different fad diets only to discover that none of them actually work.

Overthinking things can be exhausting. It can waste your time, money, energy and faith in your own judgement. Don’t we all wish someone would have the good sense to knock us over the head and tell us this before it becomes a problematic obsession?

Yes, perhaps we do. But our tendency to overthink things can usually be remedied by following this general guideline: KISS.

Keep It Simple, Stupid.

In other words, sometimes the simplest explanations are the best. Occam’s Razor, anyone?

The same could be said about female muscle fetishism. We all have our own explanations as to why and how we got into female muscle. Everyone has their unique personal story. And the truth is, anecdotes can be remarkably insightful in explaining so much about our lives. For some, it was a single magazine cover that did it. For others, it was following the career of one specific female bodybuilder. Maybe you caught a glimpse on television of a female bodybuilding competition back in the good old days of the 1980s. Regardless, everyone remembers the time they “discovered” this amazing world and had their eyes opened to an aesthetic that transcends “traditional” standards of female beauty.

There are psychologists, sex experts and ordinary people everywhere who try to “explain away” the larger meaning of these personal stories. Do they reflect hidden insecurity? Or do they reveal latent homosexuality? Are guys who are into “muscle chicks” self-hating men? Do they secretly wish to be physically dominated by their girlfriends? Are they sexual deviants who need counseling? Is this a sign of obsessive behavior that can eventually consume his entire life?

Yikes. That got out of hand in a hurry. Perhaps not all of these stereotypes immediately come to mind when you learn a guy really digs strong women. But certainly these thoughts cross your mind at some level. If it does, don’t worry. Here’s something that will bring ultimate clarity to this situation.

We’re overthinking things. Maybe, just maybe, female muscle fetishism isn’t that complicated. It’s just a simple form of lust that’s inherent in all of us (or, almost all of us).

Hm. An interesting thought. So a guy who drools over the Ms. Olympia contestants is no different than a middle school boy who drools over the girls in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issues? Well, I’ll be darned!

Remember when Pamela Anderson was strutting her stuff on Baywatch? The 90s were a glorious time, indeed.

Most of us guys know what we’re referring to. Face it. We all kept a hidden stash of dirty (or semi-dirty) magazines under our bed. Or old VHS tapes of cinematic sex scenes in the sock drawer. Or porn we printed off the computer when mom and dad were out of the house. Raise your hand if this described you when you were a lad of 14.

You can put your hands down now. Thank you for participating in this unscientific study.

Now turn the clock forward 10-25 years. You’re now a fully grown adult. You might be married, in a relationship, divorced, or single. It doesn’t matter. You’ve ditched the contraband magazines for more sophisticated resources. In the decades between your teen years and adulthood, you expanded your preferences to include beautiful women with more…bulk.

Yes, bulk. Adult women with more muscular development than the pop stars, movie starlets and celebrity socialites of yesteryear. Of course, you might still retain a faint nostalgic lust for these types of females, but you’ve moved on to bigger (emphasis on “bigger”) and better options. You prefer a brawnier look. You prefer fitness models, athletes and bodybuilders over silicone-enhanced Playboy bunnies, Photoshopped fashion models and Botox-injected Hollywood ingénues. So these new preferences can coexist with your old preferences. Expanding your horizons doesn’t mean shutting yourself off to the “old.” It means incorporating more things into the “new.”

So, with that in mind, what’s changed? Why is it considered socially normal for a teen boy with raging hormones to obsess over “mainstream” looking girls but it raises eyebrows when an adult man can’t stop fantasizing about being crushed between the legs of a female Olympic powerlifter?

Lust is, simply put, simple. Whatever floats your boat, right? Whether you’re into skinny women, rotund women, muscular women, skinny men, rotund men, muscular men, light skin, dark skin, tall, short, long hair, short hair, hairy legs, green eyes, tattoos, or whatever else you can think of, does it really matter? What does one’s preferences say about that person?

Uh, who knows and who cares?

But this is not meant to breed any kind of negativity. By and large, guys who dig muscular women are not a persecuted class by any stretch of the imagination. Not even close. That has never been a contention of myself or, to my knowledge, anyone else for that matter. But all the blatant misconceptions can get annoying after a while.

Taylor Smith is everything you could have asked for. EVERYTHING.

On a side note, if being annoyed is the worst thing any of us ever experience, then consider us to be lucky. Very lucky.

The real message is this: female muscle fetishism probably doesn’t have an explanation beyond simple carnal lust. The same lust we started to feel when we reached the age of puberty. Remember that adolescent madness we went through when those icky girls with cooties suddenly transformed into immaculate creatures of divine beauty? Yeah, of course you do. Remember when you first thought of female bodybuilders as gross, freaks of nature she-males who are disgusting to look at…but now you consider them to be Amazonian Goddesses of Higher Consciousness?

Same deal. We might be exaggerating a bit, but the basic idea should ring true. Human attraction isn’t that complicated. It’s what allows for human civilization to persist for generations upon generations. The “Circle of Life” stops the moment we find no reason to find a partner, copulate, reproduce and sow the seeds for the future of humanity. Lust is instrumental to the survival of our species. It can get us in trouble at times, but without it, none of us would be here today.

Some guys are into long legs. Other guys are into muscular legs. Some gentlemen prefer blondes. Other gentlemen prefer blondes with bulging biceps and a six-pack abdomen. Some men want to watch the world burn. Other men fantasize about a Powerful Muscle Goddess lighting the torch.

All of this is to say that not everything in life has a clear and clean explanation. Not every sexual kink has to be picked apart and analyzed like the stock market. Sometimes, it is what it is. That sounds boring and un-academic, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the most prudent answer.

Nobody is denying that it can seem a bit odd for a guy to obsess over muscular women. Men are, theoretically speaking, the stronger sex. This is a role that has given us (both fairly and unfairly and with mixed results) dominance in the social sphere over our female counterparts. Who would want to abdicate that kind of power by allowing (even in a playful context) a woman to take on the “stronger sex” role? Wouldn’t guys feel intimidated by being in the presence of a muscular woman? Would that challenge his manhood? Would she attempt to challenge his manhood? What happens if he “loses?” Would this change his very identity? Why risk it in the first place?

Strong yet sexy, sturdy but feminine, striking yet accessible. Rita Sargo is all that.

But these questions might be completely irrelevant. In fact, one could argue they are all tone deaf to the reality of things. Female muscle fetishism most likely has nothing to do with gender roles, gender identity, self-esteem or even sexual orientation. It’s just one particular tool he has in his toolshed of lust, right next to the “Shy Catholic School Girl” and “Sexy Older Librarian Wearing a Skimpy French Maid Outfit” fetishes.

On a side note, I don’t know what a “Toolshed of Lust” would look like, but I can imagine the possibilities.

On second thought, let’s not!

In conclusion, I’ve discovered an irony in this whole essay. I could have simplified my thesis by merely stating:

A female muscle fetish isn’t as complicated as you might think.

Well, that’s sort of the title of this blog article. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in our modern age of Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and social media, it’s that our shrinking attention spans are making it so that all we have the time or the inclination to do is read the headline and be on our merry way. Nobody wants to read anymore. That takes effort that I could be using watching Netflix or ordering an overpriced caramel macchiato at the eight different Starbucks located across the street. But I digress, the actual point is that this whole 1,898 word (which, by the way, is an exact word count) essay isn’t really necessary to make my point.

Don’t overthink the concept of female muscle fetishism. You can, but you might be wasting your time. It’s not pointless or futile, but probably unnecessary. We do lots of things in life that are unnecessary. We put “lol” at the end of every text message despite the fact we didn’t actually laugh out loud. We say “just sayin’” after getting done saying something. Maybe overanalyzing certain sexual fetishes is a similar exercise in frivolity.

Some guys love muscle chicks. Why? They just do.

BAM.

Bridgette – A Star is Born (part four)

At exactly 5:58 p.m., Sean is waiting outside the Downtown Convention Center. His sweaty palm grips his phone like a slugger clutching a bat. He has a text message ready for Bridgette. All he needs to do is press “send” and the message will be sent to her.

Well, what exactly is he waiting for?

He looks at his phone. 5:59. One more minute.

His pre-written message says “Hi Bridgette! It’s Sean. I’m waiting outside the Convention Center. I’m here!” Simple enough. Sean knows Bridgette has his number in her phone already, but he figured identifying himself wouldn’t hurt. He glances at his phone again. It’s now 6:00. Okay, time to send off this puppy…

Then his phone buzzes. He answers it. It’s her.

“Hi Sean! Are you outside?”

“Yes, I am. I was about to send you a text letting you know where I am, but you beat me to the punch. I’m here!” It’s a bit chilly, but not unbearable. He’d rather be inside though, in the presence of the most gorgeous muscle lady in the known Universe.

“Awesome! I’ll let you in through the back door. It’s on the west side of the building. There’s a sign that says ‘Talent Entrance,’ or something like that. Do you know what I’m talking about?” Sean scoots himself to the west side of the Downtown Convention Center and indeed sees a brass sign above a bamboo wooden door that says “Talent Entrance.” He sees a homeless guy sleeping next to it with an empty bottle of Hennessy and a used marijuana joint. He tells Bridgette that he’s right at the entrance.

“Great! I’ll be down in a minute or two!” She hangs up on him. He waits for her to open the door. He wishes she’d come sooner because the stench of the homeless man is starting to give him a massive headache. Soon enough, the bamboo doors open and he marvels at the woman standing inside it. Bridgette. The Blonde Muscle Goddess. Dressed in jeans and a revealing lavender tank top, all her muscles look primed and pumped. She is a spectacle to behold.

“Sean! Come in. Hurry. The show starts in an hour but I have tons of press interviews to do. Do you know TMZ is here?” Bridgette ushers him inside a dazzling maze of humanity. The smell of spray tan permeates his senses. Everywhere, around every corner and every hallway, he sees what seems like hundreds of fit and muscular men and women of all shapes and sizes. Buff dudes with biceps as large as basketballs. Women with thighs that could crush a watermelon. Men and women with bodies like Greek Gods and Goddesses. They could bend steel, push a truck up a mountain and rip a phone book in half if they wanted to. Sean couldn’t take in what he was seeing with his own eyes. Bridgette was holding his hand and running toward somewhere, darting between oiled up musclemen and musclewomen. He hardly had time to catch his breath.

Eventually, they arrive at her dressing room. As the “Marquee Guest Poser,” Bridgette is entitled to a dressing room all to herself. Small and cramped, it does the job. Mirrors on three of the four sides, the room is both very hot (from all the lights) and smelly. He doubts anyone has cleaned this tiny room in years. He would usually be disgusted by all this, but the room had a very distinct musky “Bridgette” smell that he found so incredibly intoxicating.

“Sorry for rushing you over here. You probably saw all the camera people and photographers out there. If any of them saw you with me, they might start to suspect that you’re the star of that infamous video of mine,” Bridgette says.

“Hey, no problem. I understand. Thank you for respecting my privacy,” he says. “You look amazing as always, Bridgette.” She leans over and kisses him deeply. It steals his breath. When their lips depart, she reaches down and feels his arousal. Sean blushes at his instantaneous hardness.

“I can tell that you think I’m amazing. Look at you! Already hard. Naughty boy.” Bridgette turns from him and applies ruby red lipstick on her gorgeous luscious lips. Sean exhales and sits down on the nearest available chair. He listens outside and hears two male bodybuilders arguing over who has better calves. He also hears a female sports reporter interviewing one of the female figure competitors. Regardless of the pandemonium happening beyond these walls, he could only think about the gorgeous woman standing before him.

“I can be a naughty boy, yes.”

“Well, we’ll have more time to explore that later. For now, I got to get ready. Can you please hand me my mascara?” She points to a small black tube lying next to him. He hands it to her. She begins to apply the mascara onto her eyebrows when all of a sudden a quiet voice comes out of the PA system.

“Miss Beaulieu, you’re needed in the Media Room in five minutes. Thank you.”

Bridgette presses a red button on the wall. “Gotcha. Thanks.”

“It looks as though I have to do some media sessions with these reporters. Lots of them will be asking about our video. Right afterward I have to get back stage and get ready for my performance. I’m opening the show, if you can believe that.” Bridgette stands up and takes off her tank top. Wearing no bra, he could see every mound of muscle on her broad back. He looks at her tiny breasts and the incredibly long and thick nipples protruding out of them. She smiles at him.

“Like what you see, Sean?” She teases him by pinching her nipples and licking her lips.

“Nah, I’ve seen better.”

Bridgette laughs and playfully punches him in the arm. Though she didn’t mean any harm by it, her brute strength is hard to control. Her light tap on his bicep is enough to leave a stinging pain. He doesn’t mind.

I imagine Bridgette's lips would look as luscious as these. — I imagine Bridgette’s lips would look as luscious as these.

“You mean little boy! God, I should punish you for being so mean. Perhaps later, no?” She removes her jeans and slips off her tennis shoes. Her massive quads are enough to make his heart pump a little faster. She unzips her bag and takes out an absolutely stunning lily white cocktail dress. She shows it to him.

“Tell me honestly. Should I go with underwear or without?”

“Oh, without underwear. No doubt about it. That would be supremely hot. Go for it, Bridgette dear.” His eyes still have not left her legs. Long and abundant, he could only imagine having them wrapped around his neck and being helplessly at her mercy. He wanted to be helpless. He wanted her to control him.

“Okay, you got it. Naughty it is.” Bridgette slips off her panties and reveals her plump, jaw-dropping clitoris. Almost three inches long, he remembers his reaction the first time he saw it. But nothing could ever prepare him for seeing it again up-close-and-personal.

Bridgette puts on the white dress. It generously shows off every inch of her powerful figure. Very little is left to the imagination. That’s the way she likes it.

“Alright, I got to go. Oh, I almost forgot!” She reaches into her bag and takes out a nametag. She gives it to him and Sean pins it to his shirt. The nametag identifies his name and says he’s a “VIP.”

“A VIP? What privileges does this entail?”

“You get to sit in the first five rows of the Convention Hall. And you get a free drink at the bar! My treat.” She puts on a pair of sexy 4-inch black stiletto heels. The sparkly tip shines a light that could probably be seen from a hundred miles.

“Gotta go. See you after the show! Text me to let me know where you are,” she says. “As you can tell, there are several thousand people here and it can be easy to lose each other.” They kiss and she leaves the dressing room. Sean sits around for a while, all alone, and ponders how he ever got to be so damn lucky.

45 minutes later Sean is sitting in the front row of a jam-packed Convention Hall. Thousands of people, many of them bodybuilders, many of them not, have found their way to their respective seats. He opens his program and discovers Bridgette isn’t actually performing first, but somewhere in the middle of the evening’s festivities. Disappointed, Sean could do nothing but sit back and watch the endless stream of competitors roll on.

Male fitness. Female fitness. Male physique. Female physique. Junior competitors. High school competitors. Female figure. Female bikini.

Nothing but faceless people, of all shapes and sizes, standing around trying to get noticed. A lot of the competitors were quite remarkable, but Sean knows Bridgette knocks them all down a notch. Her flawless balance of beauty, traditional femininity, and pure muscularity is unparalleled. No one compares to her. None of the female competitors are nearly as radiant and charismatic as her. None.

An hour in. Sean yawns. Then, the MC makes an important announcement:

“Ladies and gentlemen, you are now in for a treat. She is a nationally-known competitive female bodybuilder. A world class athlete. In 2006 she won her first contest at the Tampa Classic. She followed that up in 2008 by finishing in the top five at her first shot at the Bay Area Cup. Between 2010 and 2015 she has been a top 50-ranked female competitor. Her sights are now set on the Ms. Olympia. Recently, she has gained viral fame for her ventures in the world of adult entertainment.”

An awkward murmur rises from the crowd. Sean blushes. Are they harshly judging her? Are they labeling her a “whore?” He hopes nobody thinks of Bridgette like that.

“Now, please sit back, relax and give it up for…BRIDGETTE BEAULIEU!”

The catty chatter ends and raucous applause begins. Lights go down. The people become quiet. A lump of nervousness sits high in Sean’s throat. It’s about to begin.

Spotlight on Bridgette. She stands there with her head down. Then, the first few beats of “Dark Horse” by Katy Perry blare across the PA speakers. Bridgette’s head whips up and she surveys the crowd. She strikes a sexy Beyoncé-like pose, her hips bouncing upward like a marionette puppet. As Katy begins to sing, Bridgette twirls, bends, leaps and dances her way toward further stardom. As graceful as a ballerina and as sexy as a Las Vegas showgirl, Bridgette moves with the fluidity of a professional dancer in the body of a powerful bodybuilder. Nobody in the room could blink.

Sean could not look away as Bridgette dances to her heart’s delight. His heart skips a beat after she completes a seemingly endless series of Fouettés without stopping. Her 1080 degree spin in the air brings down the house. As Katy wraps up the song, it’s no mystery why Bridgette became an overnight sensation. She knows how to captivate an audience like no other performer in history.

The lights go down. Blackout. The lights come back up. There she is. Bridgette takes a step forward and bows. Then, bedlam. Total bedlam. Everyone in the audience expresses their unanimous approval by giving her an enthusiastic standing ovation. Including Sean. Hoots, hollers, endless applause and shouts of admiration fill the room. Bridgette takes it all in and waves to her adoring fans. She struts off the stage with her captivated audience begging for more. But, like an expert tease, she denies them any further engagement.

Holland Canter showing off her impressive biceps. Can I touch?

The rest of the evening went downhill from there. Sean reluctantly watched group after group of male and female bodybuilders stand up on stage, pose for what seemed like forever, and walk off looking smug and annoyingly arrogant. This went on for what felt like a week. While many of the competitors looked great (a few of the female contestants made his heart flutter), none of them could compare with Bridgette. None. This assessment made him yearn to be with her even more. Sean could do nothing but look at his phone and count down the minutes until he could see her again.

Throughout his entire life, Sean never felt comfortable in large crowds. He isn’t claustrophobic, but he prefers more intimate settings versus public spaces. The smell of spray tan, sweat and cheap whiskey didn’t help, though.

As if the show wasn’t bad enough, the party afterward was far worse. Within minutes of the competition coming to an end (and the winners being called back on stage for group photos), almost everyone in attendance shifted away from the auditorium and crammed themselves in a (relatively) small ballroom across the hotel lobby. The massive number of people, combined with terribly loud music, assaulted Sean’s senses. It was nearing 10 p.m. and Sean already wanted some alone time with Bridgette. He wanted to compliment her on her crowd-pleasing stage performance. He wanted to hold her, kiss her and find an excuse to make love to her. He wanted her so badly he could scream.

He stood at one corner of the ballroom, next to the drink bar, and watched Bridgette from a distance. There she is, talking, laughing and networking with bodybuilding celebrities, media types and corporate sponsors. Everyone seems enthralled with her. Hardly anybody cared to speak to any of the actual winners from the evening’s competition.

Minutes pass by. Sean continues to sip on his vodka and tonic while he watches countless people dance, mingle and flirt the night away. The irony being, of course, even though Sean is surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of people, he feels lonely. All he wants is to be with Bridgette. Is that too much to ask?

“Fuck this,” Sean mutters under his breath. He sees out of the corner of his eye a large screen door leading to a balcony outside. He decides to check it out so he could get some fresh air.

Meanwhile, Bridgette pauses from some innocuous conversation she’s having with a horde of bodybuilding fans to watch Sean leave the room. She thinks of an excuse to leave this discussion circle so she could go talk to him. She intuitively senses his loneliness. As she struggles to navigate through the crowd, Sean steps outside onto the long balcony and sighs with relief.

Finally, he could breathe. If he had to endure one more minute of that hot, smelly, mayhem-filled room, he might pass out and need CPR to be resuscitated. The cool evening air is refreshing. The long outside balcony offers him a little peace and quiet from the sea of humanity congregating inside. He could finally be alone for a few moments.

He doesn’t expect Bridgette to come out and visit him. She’s too busy schmoozing with the movers and shakers of the bodybuilding industry. She’s preoccupied with enjoying her newfound celebrity status. She needs to build her brand and do whatever she can to become the international superstar she deserves to be.

Moments pass, and a few other people start to wander outside as well. Drinks in hand, one guy (who looks to be a professional bodybuilder himself) is talking to someone on his cell phone. An older lady, who clearly is not a bodybuilder, has a martini in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. They pay no attention to Sean. He prefers it stays that way. Eventually, both of them leave and Sean is left alone once again. He has only himself and his thoughts. He takes out his phone and checks the time. 10:45 p.m. The night is still young. Anything can happen.

Indeed, something does happen. A familiar voice, one that Sean has grown accustomed to, breaks the silence.

“Hey there, stranger. Not a big fan of crowds?”

Sean turns around and knows exactly who it is. It’s Bridgette. Also with a drink in hand (from the looks of it, a Long Island Ice Tea would be his guess), she looks as radiant as ever. Sweaty and still looking gorgeous, Sean notices some of her makeup has smeared across her flawless face. He doesn’t mind. The image of Bridgette looking a little rough around the edges starts to turn him on.

Who's in the mood for a gin and tonic? — Who’s in the mood for a gin and tonic?

“You’re here. With me. Shouldn’t you be with your adoring fans?” Bridgette and Sean share a brief kiss. He quickly looks around to see if anyone is watching them. She doesn’t seem as concerned.

“I need to take a break from those people. You can only hang out with egocentric bodybuilders and media vultures for only so long,” Bridgette says. “I want to keep my sanity, if you get my drift.”

“Yeah, I understand. Totally. I don’t like crowds of people. It makes me uncomfortable. But you seem to enjoy it,” Sean replies.

“To tell you the truth, I actually do like it. I love working a crowd. I love entertaining them. Enthralling them. I love it when people watch me. I guess I’m a voyeur’s dream come true.” She takes a sip of her cocktail and leans over the cedar wood railing of the balcony. Sean peers out into the city landscape and takes in how beautiful Seattle looks at night.

“Says the porn star. Didn’t you once have sex with some random Asian dude on camera?” Sean teases. Bridgette throws back her head and laughs.

“Yes, I believe I actually once did that! And, correct me if I’m wrong, didn’t that video go viral overnight and put me on the international porn map?”

“More like mainstream map. Everyone across the world knows who you are now. You’re practically a household name. That is, households who are comfortable talking about porn.” A cool breeze flows by, lifting Bridgette’s impeccable blonde hair over her shoulders. It wasn’t chilly outside, but both Bridgette and Sean could feel that wind pick up.

“God, that was so risky. You could’ve been anyone. Thank God you were as sweet and kind as I thought you would be.” Bridgette leans over and kisses Sean again. This time, they hold their lips together for a longer time than usual, wanting to savor this beautiful moment for as long as possible. By now, they don’t care if anyone catches them being intimate together. They want to share this kiss as if it were the last kiss they would ever experience together.

Susanna Tirpak is the perfect combination of beauty, femininity and muscularity. Agreed?

“Thank you, Bridgette. Thank you. I’m glad you’re equally sweet and kind. You’re not just a pretty face with big muscles. You’re so much more than that.” Bridgette puts down her drink and takes one step closer to him. He could feel the heat of her body emanating out of every pore. She touches his face and rubs her strong thighs against his.

“I know I’m much more than that. But you’re right. I’m a risk-taker. I love being naughty. I love doing things impulsively. I suppose you could call it a weakness of mine.” Sean feels her biceps while looking into her pretty blue eyes. She smiles, blushing at the sincerity of his gentle touch.

“A weakness? I was under the impression there wasn’t a single weak part about you.”

“You’re way to flattering of me, Sean! I can be very impulsive at times.” Going in for the kill, Sean leans forward and whispers into Bridgette’s ear.

“Are you feeling impulsive right now?” He slaps her on the butt, causing her to gasp audibly. Feeling defensive at first at his sudden spanking of her, Bridgette then realizes what just happened. He wants to fuck her. Right here. Right now.

“Hell yes, I feel impulsive right now, you dirty boy. Come here!” Forsaking all of her inhibitions, she grabs Sean’s head and kisses him again, biting his lower lip in the process. She didn’t break the skin, but she’s damn close. Sean eyes a small glass table sitting off to the side. He clutches her hips and guides her toward it. She gets the idea. Bridgette lifts her dress up and exposes her bare feminine parts to him. She then sits on top of the table and spreads her legs as wide as she could without ripping her expensive dress. Sean unzips his pants and pulls out his penis. It’s already engorged and ready for her.

They share a brief moment of eye contact, but immediately decide to cut to the chase. Sean reaches down and feels her dripping wet vagina. He pinches her long, thick clitoris, which makes her throw her head back and moan out loud. After kissing her neck and breasts, Sean positions his penis at her moist entrance and enters her without hesitation. They both groan loudly at their intimate joining.

“I want it like this, Sean. This is how I want it. Now fuck me until I beg you to stop!” Bridgette commands. She wraps her long, powerful legs around Sean’s waist, which only allows him to penetrate her deeper. What thrills them both is the knowledge that at any moment, someone could walk in on them. Someone could also spot them from the ground or witness them in action from a nearby building. Out in the open, for the entire world to watch, Bridgette and Sean make love with an urgency neither one of them could explain.

Sean pumps into her as she unbuttons his shirt and kisses his chest. He tries to wrap his arms around her, but Bridgette’s thick torso makes that almost impossible. He’s surprised she hasn’t busted out of her dress yet. How the dress’s fabric could contain her muscular body is a complete mystery to him.

“I’ve wanted to do this, to be with you like this, for a long time, Bridgette baby. Ever since that beautiful night, darling,” Sean quietly says. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a small crowd gather around the balcony entrance. Eight or nine people. Bridgette notices a couple of people on the ground stop what they’re doing and look up to see them. One woman even pulls out her phone and starts recording them in action. Being an irresponsible voyeur, Bridgette doesn’t care they’re drawing an impromptu audience. In fact, she welcomes it. Sean isn’t quite so sure. He wants to make love to her without stopping. If complete strangers are there to witness it, so be it.

Sweat dripping down their faces, Sean slides in and out of her rhythmically. Bridgette deep kisses him and tightens her legs around him. Sean feels his back crack. A flash of someone’s camera phone goes off. But this only empowers them to make love more furious than ever before. Bridgette gasps as Sean’s manhood penetrates her as deep as it can go. She can sense that he’s close to the edge. She squeezes her vagina around him out of sheer selfishness of wanting to milk as much pleasure out of him as possible.

Sean pumps once more into Bridgette, whispering something inaudible in her ear. He can’t remember what he said to her. She couldn’t quite understand what it was either. But that one last thrust into her body makes him come hard. He empties himself into her recklessly with a curiously voyeuristic audience watching them. Bridgette releases her vagina around his manhood, which leads to her coming as well.

Their heavy breathing intensifies as Sean and Bridgette’s orgasmic waves come to a slow end. Still as hard as a rock inside her, they share a long, passionate kiss, much to the pleasure of the people around them. Applause and shouts of encouragement pour from all directions. But the two lovers couldn’t hear them. They only cared for each other. This moment belongs to them, nobody else.

Eventually, the crowd scatters away. Sean pulls out of Bridgette and zips his pants back up. Bridgette scoots off the table and wipes dirt off her dress. A professional photographer, who happened to capture some video of their coupling, asks for permission to publish this footage on his website. Bridgette and Sean unconditionally say “yes.” To hell with what the world thinks. Bridgette and Sean are the Universe’s newest power couple…and they want everyone to know it.

“I’ll see you later, in my room,” Bridgette says.

“Yes. Later. I’ll be waiting for you outside your hotel. Take as long as you like, darling,” Sean says.

They share one last kiss. Bridgette saunters back indoors to the rowdy party. Sean remains on the balcony, staring at her walk away, without a care in the world.