Sunday Showdown

Another new alternative to the Sunday Sizzler, the Sunday Showdown will bring you two women, rightly famed for a particular muscle or body part, going head-to head.

Or, in this case, bum-to-bum.

Witness the thickness...

BAKHAR v BARBOSA



Comment box for your verdict and/or suggestions for future Showdown subjects.

Enjoy!

I Just Popped Out For...

... an eyeful of muscular womanhood at the supermarket(?!)



Well, at least the Heavyweight-below-the-waist version purveyed by Mia Sand.

The forums abound with stories of heads coming across big, strong, beautiful women at retail outlets. I seem to recall rather a lot of them take place at DIY (hardware) stores - "she was waiting in line at the checkout, casually holding an entire flat-packed office suite under one mighty arm". Encounters at chemists (drugstores) seem to be common too, which I suppose makes sense - they must take some legal drugs! One tale on the forum whose first rule is... ends up with the lady marrying the (charming, witty, not at all Madness-stricken) head she met one night in the queue for prescriptions.



But if the images FMS has managed to source for this post are anything to go by, your local equivalent of Tesco, Morrisons or the Co-op is where it's at. And surprisingly, you don't have to confine your search to the meat and veg aisles either. The lady might well be shopping for a cheat/treat on the evidence we have. Chocolate?! Wine?! Cake?! Maybe it's only worth a photo on such rare occasions - the weekly loading of enough chicken breast, broccoli and eggs to feed the five thousand into the trolley ain't.



Dare you ask for a flex?



Neither Michelle Vjacobo (left), nor Ria Ward look like they are backward in coming forward to show it off. For one thing those are outfits guaranteed to draw attention in a supermarket-based environment (or indeed any environment), they haven't come all hooded and covered to quickly shop and go, have they?

Dare you ask for a cheeky abs flash?



From my own experience, the only prerequisite for The Madness to descend is that I see a lady with ANY amount of muscle - they needn't be a full-grown FBB (I'd probably spontaneously combust if this ever happened). So Susanne Kleven (above) or Jessica Morgan Canty's ripped abs exhibitionism would be more than enough.



I couldn't even begin to imagine how I'd react in this scenario...



I find it hard to understand why there isn't a line of dudes, tongues hanging out, tentpoles at full mast, shuffling behind her, following her everywhere she goes?

Seriously though, happy hunting but don't go all stalky.



However hard it may be.



Enjoy!

Bum Bakhar BOOM!

It may surprise you to learn that C. Moore is a creature of habit. Rising early, getting the joy trumpet set, and starting work on the first load of the day has been the way it has been for as long as I can remember - even during those regrettable periods when I found myself detained at Her Majesty's pleasure was I able to observe the same routine, even if some cellmates were less understanding than others re my needs.

These days I live an ever more monk-like existence - rarely going out, interacting only with delivery drivers and the occasional hawker. I think of my modest apartment as my cell, my sanctuary, and my morning release as my first daily act of devotion.

The routine keeps me out of trouble, keeps me away from yet more days in court, yet more sessions with the psychiatrists and psychologists, yet more long nights behind high walls with restricted internet access. But the routine is also designed (by yours truly) to maximise the time I have to spend in adoration of the muscular female.

Some say female muscle is their porn. For C. Moore it's religion.

And today my joy trumpet rose - not for the first time, not for the first time this week even, and certainly not for the last time - and rang out in praise of the bum of Bakhar.



BOOM!

I see my hands on her magnificent calves, skin so soft and yet never giving as they continue up to and over her hamstrings onto those monumentally glooty wonders. Quivering with excitement, I wonder if my fingers can fit under those shorts...



BOOM!

The shorts are suddenly gone. Now there is nothing between my face and my objects of worship. I press myself into the centre of her muscle heart just below them, emitting my prayer of devotion in gasps and moans of ecstasy and no little amount of drool...



BOOM!

To the beach. I follow her, like a dog their master, like a bitch in heat. I throb, held in a state of constant arousal by the sheer beauty of her thong-framed rear in motion. "Stop!" she whispers, her words carried on the wind. "Go!", "Come!", "Hold!", "Cum!"...

I pull out. It's too soon. The morning prayer must be a minimum specified length because if too quick, the tribute is too small, and the goddesses would be displeased.

I consider Bakhar from another angle. Her exhibitionism, her fan loyalty, the perks (financial, sure, but also emotional - to be "loved", "worshipped" by a following equivalent to the population of major European city can't be bad for the self-confidence, can it?) of her trade. Her business is that body. Business is good.



BOOM!

She could have 10, 20 guys in that room. 10, 20 joy trumpets sounding out for her so superior posterior. C. Moore obviously arrived a little late and has to take his place at the side, but there are always silver linings and in this case it's the view of both the sacred, untouchable wonder to the front and the excitement and explosions she and her wonders are causing to the side. It feels good to be part of the congregation...



BOOM!!

But even better to be alone with her and them. The garage makes me think of lube for some reason and just as I do my lube of choice starts leaking out. Polish the joy trumpet, make it glisten like her perfect skin sweaty after a hard gloot sesh. My (actual) head begins to tilt back in ecstasy, my eyes begin to roll, and my whole body starts to shake. Moaning, gasping, bucking, gooning, my prayer reaches an ecstatic climax...



BOOM! BOOM!! BOOM!! BOOM!!!

The joy trumpet rings out in four mighty splats against the altar screen. It's the perfect half-gloot peek - the thought she actually walked into the gym like that - which takes me over the edge. I start to chant, "BUM-BA-KHAR-BOOM" as I squeeze out the last few droplets from the twitching, pulsing tribute-maker. "BUM-BA-KHAR-BOOM!"

Morning prayer is over. Time for some Weetabix.

Thunder! Bakhar Nabieva

What's this? There is a part of her above the waist? (forum post)



Despite her best efforts, it's still Bakhar's lower body her fans - and The Sun - get most excited about. Last seen on FMS as recently as October, we doubt the complaints desk will be fielding too many calls bemoaning the fact we've brought her back so soon.



I have competed in Bikini, she says, but currently I have no interest in competing. You have to be on a very restricted diet, no carbohydrates, and the training is no fun when you have no energy. I do not want to expose myself to such torture.



Fortunately though, when it comes to exposing herself for the benefit her sponsors, not to mention the delight of her Instagram followers, Bakhar is plenty interested.



Unsurprisingly, Bakhar is a big fan of the "Brazilian look", and has revealed her number 1 is Gracyanne Barbosa. But can you imagine Gracyanne saying anything like this?

Why do people say "grow some balls"? Bakhar asked us recently. Balls are weak and sensitive. If you wanna be tough grow a vagina. Those things can take a pounding.



Bakhar started lifting because her classmates teased her about her "skinny legs". I decided to change the situation, she says. I was tired of people looking at me.



Her "situation" has, indeed, changed. People still looking though.

Media Watch: Ms Iron Bum (!)

Exactly a month ago, the online arms of the British tabloids got wind of a young and beautiful "fitness model" who had been causing such a stir on social media that she had attracted upwards of three-quarters of a million Instagram followers and her fame had spread into the outer edges of the mainstream American media and beyond.



A Fitness model who has been branded "Miss Iron Bum" has wowed her social media fans by filming a video of her latest training session from behind, gushed The Sun on September 12th. The super-fit star is Bakhar Nabieva, the article continues, a 22-year-old of Azerbaijani origin from Dnipropetrovsk, in western Ukraine.



Now, if you are a female muscle fan who likes to keep up-to-date, it's very unlikely that you haven't heard of Bakhar Nabieva, even before The Sun, The Daily Star and our old friend The Mail filled up their column inches with almost exactly the same pictures and text - which was mostly based on an interview with Ms Iron Bum herself that was done back in April by a Brazilian website called The Saradas (note the "The"!).



It's fitting, I think, that it was a Brazilian website that got the first interview with her, because with her hyper-developed legs and (iron) glutes, it seems to me that Bakhar would fit right into a line-up of Brazilian muscle bombas. And, believe me, if we could organise such a line-up to prove our point, we most certainly would!



However, she's been on the female muscle fan radar since autumn last year, causing many a jaw to hit the floor when her Instagram pics started turning up on the forums and her webcam moniker - "LadySport" (not "Ms Iron Bum") - went round.



The breathless comments attributed to "fans" in the UK stories are, as far as we can ascertain, comments lifted from the (many) filmed-from-behind clips on a (much-viewed) YouTube channel that seems to have fallen foul of an AdRev scam but probably did belong to Bakhar at one point - if you've already followed our link to her Instagram page, and clicked on the YouTube link there, you've already found it.



On the forums, meanwhile, the brethren have been going just as ballistic for Bakhar. From her waist down she has, for one fan, "too much curvy muscle goodness for the human brain to handle". Another refers to her thighs as "the very gates of heaven". "If I never had to look at another thing again in my entire life..." says one poster of a brief Bakhar quad-shaking butt-flexing gif (and he doesn't need to finish his sentence).



So, here she is on FMS, better late than never, the newest muscle girl to break out into mainstream consciousness by the power of social media alone. Well, OK, the power of social media and her stunning looks and killer body. But there is a story behind Bakhar, and The Saradas found it and the UK media reported it verbatim. It's the story of a girl once-bullied who decided she was never going to bullied again. A girl who found herself - and, whether she wanted it or not, fame - by building muscle.



The finger? "To all shit talkers", she says.



Enjoy!