Muscles of the Week: Glutes

I am completely addicted to those unnatural small, petite muscular butts like Valerie's! What an achievement in this world of fat asses!
reader response to Pull Up of the Day: Valerie Garcia



Too true, we thought. Time we posted some glutes of granite.

And we are very lucky that FMS' very own Professor of the Trained Posterior, Mr C. Moore Glootz, will be guiding you through this week's Muscles of the Week - lucky not only because of his expertise, but also because a recent incident meant that incarceration at Her Majesty's Pleasure was a real and present danger for Mr Glootz.

Fortunately, he escaped with a (not insignificant) fine and an order to complete a series of psychiatric sessions. So without further ado, it's over to C. Moore...

We need to establish when and why this... he looks around the room like the word he needs is floating on the ceiling or something, this... 'fascination', this... shall we say, 'addiction'? Christ! thinks I, we really are going to need all of the ten full hour sessions the judge felt was necessary for the straightening out of C. Moore if this PhDude or whatever is going to take THAT long to ask when I first got into muscle butts.




So I've brought some examples along with me, and I tell him all about 'Luscious' Laurie, about Erica Kern and Skye Ryland, and I point out what he should be looking out for muscle-wise with the aid of La Ralabate's fine fine rear. And he's all nodding and stuff, and then he says I talk about them "as if" they were art. As if!



So I tell him we ain't seen nothing yet and open the the 'Special Favourites' folder and really get into the minutiae of the glututiae. By the time I'm finished, he's talking all informed, saying Yes, I see, it's the highly developed gluteus medius that gives the hardcore female bodybuillder such a uniquely shaped bottom and stuff like that. Seems I am a good teacher due to all my enthusiasm for my subject no doubt.



And he keeps asking me, How does this picture make you feel?, emphasising the final word just in case I'm hard of hearing or something. So I tell him all the different joys they bring, especially the 'Special Favourites', and he's taking notes and asking if it's P-O-P-P-E-R or P-O-P-A and stuff, all interested in my feelings. And of course I'm really starting to feel it because basically he's getting me to look at Frida's glootz, really LOOK at them as I talk, and then it's on to how Ludmila Kolesnikova's arse looks so much better in a thong than most. And all this starts to get Little C. Moore all woken up.



So as a time-saver I just stand bolt upright, tentpole all proud and stuff, and I guess that I communicated more than enough about my feelings cos the next thing he says is, OK, let's move on... And he wants to talk about the 'incident', like that is the correct word to describe what went down when C. Moore just had to know if that local gym hottie's butt was really as firm as it looked in those tiny shorts.



Turns out, by the way, it totally WAS as firm as it looked. If not firmer. And I tell him I know from personal experience it's absolutely not cool to just be touching anything you want to touch, but I also tell him about the power of The Madness. Imagine, I say, if you had been dreaming of these things twenty-four seven for twenty-five years. Imagine, I say, that in all this time you've seen very very few such tight tiny hot and hard sets of glootz with your own eyes, and never ever in your place of workout. And imagine, I say, how when she's all posing in front of the mirror and checking herself out, you know that really she's posing in front of the mirror so she can check you out checking her out. What would you have done Mr PhDude? Would you really just have walked away for a bit of quiet toilet time in the changing room?



Take your pick, I tell him. Ripped or round? We're into our fifth session now. And I've been loading up my phone with some of the baddest (ie best) muscle butts I can find.



Swear to God, first sight of Marthe Sundby makes him gasp.



He goes all silent so I load up a whole shaft of Marthe's beauty. He's weeping by the time we get through them. C. Moore has always had a pet theory, and guys like Mr PhDude are just the ripest subjects to research it. The premise of my theory? There are two types of men in this world. Those who love muscle women, and those who don't know they love muscle women yet. Seems C. Moore's got one on the turn for an hour a week. And with Marthe's help, I'm going to turn him good.



A little more Marthe coming tomorrow...