Friday, 5 September 2014


You know the feeling when you come across a female bodybuilder you've not been aware of before and she just takes your breath away. Or when you find a Tumblr blog, or a forum you didn't know about, and they're like just little goldmines.

And you think, why have I never heard of her, never heard of this, before?

Well, when I came across Her Muscular Grace on Tumblr, thanks to a repost on Shirtrippers of a story from way back in October 2012. Why have I never seen this before? I thought to myself. This is one of the most erotic stories I have ever read!

The blog is, in the words of the author, An artistic erotic experiment on the awe-inspiring subject of muscular females, and the essence of their relationship with the men who worship them, through short stories inspired by photos of said females.

It began with a bang in September 2012 with 16 pieces of fiction, got slightly less intense the following month with just three, and then there was nothing until a single post in January 2013, and that was it. Sadly, there hasn't been anything since.

If you are or know of this author's whereabouts now, I'd really love to get in touch.

By far my favourite piece is Warrior Queen, which I have taken the enormous liberty of reproducing here and adding images to the original photo of Zoa Linsey in full flow, which inspired the original piece, I believe. I have, though, kept the original (poetry like?) punctuation and spacing as far as possible.

Like all the best erotic female muscle fiction, it tells the story from a woman's point of view (though not necessarily a muscular woman's). Quite honestly, I find it so convincing that I wonder whether it is indeed a piece of fiction at all...


She groans and goes through one more rep. Teeth clenched. Veins popping.

I don’t care that I’ve paused in the middle of the gym.

I am a girl, a neophyte to the gym, watching in awe this display of muscle dominance. I am not alone.

Everyone in the gym has stopped in their tracks and are looking at Her.

She’s in a trance, intoxicated with her fury.

“I don’t believe it, she’s pushing the whole stack” a guy next to me whispers in religious awe to no one in particular. I feel dizzy and grasp his arm, my heavy breasts brushing him.

He might think I’m coming on to him some part of me thinks.

I’m not and anyway he doesn’t.

Steadying myself I release him.

He’s also hypnotized by the sight of Her. Under the same spell. His mouth open.

She yells, a primal thing, and Her veins become angry snakes under Her skin. Blood pumping, Her face turns red.

She completes the movement. She must be done. Must Be.

But No.

One more rep.

I’m wet.

She roars, a barbaric scream, a howl and moves the metal. Her muscles expanding, growing as I watch, She defeats the steel.

Surely this is it.

“ONE. MORE!” She Demands and my knees grow weak.

I am on fire below, my tension following Hers, vibrating at the same frequency as Her titanic movements, building to release in tune to Her feat.

She will do this I realize. I do not know to what I’m referring to.

Unmistakable sounds of pleasure escape my mouth now. I moan. My breath becomes heavy.

I do not care, nor is there anything for it.

She is the Steel, She has locked on the Steel and She is One with it, bending it to Her will.

Her face contorted in rage, in pain.

Or is feverish ecstasy?



Hers are the sounds of Orgasm I realize. Fulfillment. Not pain but conquest.

As her muscles expand in one final thrust, she releases a scream, in triumph and holds it.

Holds it.

Holds it.

No one breathes. The tension is feverish.

I bite my lip. I taste blood on the tip of my tongue.

She controls the steel.

Only Now releasing the weights.

As they slam violently into place, I can feel, we can all feel, the tremor, a small quake.

I come.

Violently. Completely.

I close my eyes and my moan of surrender is swept in the sound of metal on metal.


Time starts again. Sounds of people and metal moving are heard.

I manage to place my ragged breath under a semblance of control.

I dare to raise my eyes.

She sits there still. A Warrior Queen on Her throne.

Looking straight at me.

Looking into me.

My eyes grow wide.

Her Muscular Grace, October 2012

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