The World's In Love... With Female Muscle?!

Recent news from the US that some proper science has proved women prefer a toned, muscular look over a skinny one was most welcome here at FMS, not least because it implies the collective "we" now know for sure we've been backing a winner all along.



The study, carried out at the University of Missouri-Kansas, involved accessing photos of the Miss USA winners between 1999 to 2013. These winners, the researchers concluded, have become more muscular over time. In addition, 64 undergraduates were shown pictures of 14 women. "There were two pictures of each - one version depicting her real body, and another where any muscular definition had been digitally removed. This resulted in one 'thin only' image, and another 'toned and thin' picture."



"When participants were shown each image individually, there was no difference in how each was rated. However, when participants were shown the twin images side by side, the more muscular versions of the women were deemed to be more attractive."



The conclusion? There has been a shift in the thin ideal female figure to one that now includes the appearance of physical fitness via muscularity.



Of course, none of this should really be "news" to us cognoscenti. If you saw the story yourself - and it was hard to get away from at the end of January - you were probably, like me, nodding vigorously as the study credited the shift towards muscularity to "an increasing number of women discovering the benefits of weight-training in the gym, 'fitspiration' Instagram accounts, and #strongnotskinny trending on social media."



We shouldn't get too carried away. The 'toned and thin' look is not, I imagine, one we would even recognise as "muscular", unlikely to even hold a candle to your average amateur Bikini competitor, a world away from even the Figure phenoms we adore, light years from our Physique dreams, and in an altogether different universe from the so-called hardcore FBBs. Nevertheless, the study strongly suggests that the women we love are now a step (albeit a baby step) closer to becoming the female physical ideal.



Though this seems unlikely to happen - at this rate anyway - in our lifetimes, I suddenly now feel with absolute confidence that it is going to happen eventually.



In the meantime...

Why not help the world fall in love with female muscle a tiny bit faster?

JUST 2 WEEKS LEFT TO GET YOUR 2018 HOT AND HARD 100 VOTES IN!

January Clearance! [A-D]

"Too many to feature here" is a phrase I seem to have typed a lot over the past year, referring to the vast number of women and/or images the female muscle head is faced with in these instant information times. On the upside, you never go short. The downside for the blogger is there are far too many to feature here - there I go again.

It felt wrong just to forget about the women we intended to feature at some stage during 2017 but didn't. Firstly, the fact they have come to our attention at all is the result of some pretty solid sifting by the FMS research team, and it would just be plain rude to ignore all that hard work. And secondly, it's not the case that we once thought these women were worth posting about and don't anymore - we still do.

The solution we came up with is The FMS January Clearance - we're going to feature all the women who are taking up space in the "TBC" folder on the 2017 planner. And you're getting them all together in a sort of but not really alphabetical order (you'll see what I mean). Further your enjoyment by clicking on the names.

Five beautiful bods a day for seven days. Have fun!


ANGELA YEO



Angela may be familiar because she got a fair bit of attention on the forums last year after switching from a natural federation to the NPC. She debuted at the Kentucky Muscle show and outclassed a (surprisingly large) field to take the Overall title. She also produced an IG clip dubbed the "Sexiest Ab Flex in the World". Want to see it?




BLAKELEE ORTEGA



No f***ing way! is what we everyone says the first time we see beautiful Blakelee's behemoth (allegedly 16") biceps, but unless this "aspiring physique competitor" from Alabama is doctoring every single one of her IG photos, they're real enough.



"You look like a man." "You’re getting too big." "Gross." These are all comments I’ve heard, says Blakelee, and will probably continue to hear. But I never have and never will let comments like this get me down or make me reconsider my passion for bodybuilding. They only let me know I’m right where I need to be!



Nice. She'd be properly scary if she wasn't so damn cute.


CHRISTINA ALEV



Christina is a prime example of a woman we really wanted to post, but whose bio we couldn't quite get down, and her past remains murky to us still. She'll be back on the blog at some stage, but for now we'll share the little we do know about this beauty.



She's originally from Estonia, but now calls Britain home (see? She's got the T-shirt to prove it) and has ruled Masters Bodyfitness in the North-east for the last couple of years, winning back-to-back UKBFF titles. She was 5th in her category at the British Championships in 2016, but (we think she competed) didn't make the top 6 last year.



Forum heads like the veins on her arms. A lot. And it seems some people - "afonsoqf", for example - like her abs a lot too. Seriously, I could be a millionaire, says Christina.


KATIE DAVIES



Don't be fooled by the young Colette Nelson looks (or just me?) or the exotic (Mexican, it turns out) location, "jungle gym" personal trainer Katie is one of ours too.



To say that these beach workout pics caused a bit of a sensation on the forums when they went up would be an understatement. I would not be at all surprised if business at the Tulum resort where Katie plies her trade suddenly got noticeably brisker than normal on or around December 10th as heads booked up their 2018 summer hols.



Bed, board and a daily session with Ms Davies? Yes f***ing please!


LACEY DUNN



She hasn't competed since 2016, but Lacey likes a flex, so despite being "only" a Bikini competitor, she's well worth a mention even before you consider she is a past "Best Abs in Expo" winner at the Arnolds, a Bodybuilding.com talent search winner, and she's got her own podcast. Nearly 350,000 IG followers too. And all this while working through college. We hope she'll be back on stage breaking those Bikini rules again in 2017.



Five more of 2017's left unposted tomorrow.

The (Mis)Adventures of C. Moore Glootz IV

We left my good self residing at Her Majesty's Pleasure.

No sleep that first night I lay awake expecting to be buggered at any moment, I really did. "Indecent exposure", my friends, gets you a shared cell in the wing reserved for others who offences are of a sexual nature, any of them. I didn't know what my cellmate was in for - when I asked he didn't say, which hardly calmed my nerves. I tried again and again to conjure up some comforting gloot-based images. None came to me, and so I lay there, imagining bad bad things, staring at the ceiling, clutching my rough blanket to my chest as if it were a protective cloak. Longest night of C. Moore's life.



Freedom, denied.

Group therapy, compulsory.

"If I could only show you what I'm talking about..."

The laughter. Even our therapist couldn't resist a smile.

What was it exactly about me that they found so funny? I was here to co-operate. That first night had scared the bejesus out of me. I wanted out asap. Sooner than that even.

Slowly, the laughter subsided.

A hand went up.

"Yes, John?"

"I was just wondering, Miss, maybe we should see some pictures of these women he's on about," he started to air jack. "You know, see for ourselves how f***ing irresistible..." He cracked up the room followed. I was surrounded by fools.



I got a pal to print and send some adornments for the cell.

My cellmate - not as scary as I'd imagined - didn't object.

"Not my cup of tea, mate, but it's live and let live, innit."



He even gave me a bit of alone time in exchange for a few quid.

"Yeah, knock yerself out, mate. Mind yer mess though."



Group improved as well. They'd stopped laughing anyway.

Still, it was far from pleasant first few weeks.

Time seemed to stand still. How C. Moore yearned to have unlimited internet access again, and how I despaired at all those brand new muscle butt images I was missing out on. How I longed to go out to the streets and search for new, tight and toned targets.

"Am I making good progress, would you say?"

I collared the therapist, our "Miss", after session one morning.

"Are you...?" She looked genuinely shocked. Was I standing too close? I'd seen others talk privately to her, surely I wasn't breaking any rules... She composed herself.

"Take a seat, will you?"

The next thirty minutes or so were the second most life-changing minutes I have ever experienced. She spelt it out, and - I now realise - for the first time since that big lock in that big door had gone "click", and what's more probably for the first time for many many years - C. Moore listened, really listened. And I learned.



I hadn't actually made any progress at all, she told me. As long as I continued trying to blame the women for my predicament, without even a hint of responsibility for my own actions, no progress would be made. "If you actually listened to the others in the group," she said, "you'd know that already. They've been where you are, blaming their victims. Sooner or later you have to realise it's your fault and you have to change."



C. Moore spent that night lying awake. And the next, and the one after that.



I lay awake and imagined a different life. A number of them in fact. A life without muscle butts, cold turkey, total abstinence, would be, I knew, a life not worth living.

If I was to change, that was not an option...



And so I began the private, hermit-like existence I live now. Occasionally I do have to venture out, and I'd be lying if I said there haven't been a couple of moments when certain urges have had to be resisted, but so far, so good. The memory of my period at Her Majesty's Pleasure with just 18 images, just 36 glorious glootz for company has proved the ultimate deterrent. I've even found some (albeit temporary) employment!



Private worship only. I'm with the majority now.



It feels more comfortable than I ever thought it would.

C. Moore's MOST WANTED, an 18-month 2018-19 calendar containing all 18 images that kept our anti-hero company in his cell through those long dark nights of the soul is available now or postal order from FMS. Send a SAE and a cheque for £25.00 payable to FMS, Inc. to the usual address. Hurry while stocks last!

Glootasm of the Week

This one was a team effort.

And it started with Cindy.

I thought I wouldn't have much in the tank given my excesses over Cathy yesterday. I was sore, don't get me wrong - in a good way, a super-sensitive way, but I wasn't planning on a start-the-day tribute that was too energetic as I checked the old inbox.



BOOM! Instant reaction. Oh Cindy! And then... what's the story with the fan?! Has Cindy achieved a level of hotness at which she constantly needs to have cooling?

Focus!

Hair, tricep, side boob, follow the line of the thong to her beautiful, bounteous bum.

He was online, the sender. C. Moore got in touch, sent him his own treat. Nothing too ridiculous at this stage, a starter pic - Jules at the beach. Thonged up. Showing it off.



Of course he took the bate. [bait? - ed.] I know what I wrote - bate.



Back and forth we went, my "not too energetic" plans turning into an edging session that lasted until lunchtime. If you take your lunch late, that is. These are just some of the highlights that took us both into the Land of Goon and, ultimately, beyond.



Balcony bikini bums - Yarishna, always a pleasure - such a tease, such a sexhibitionist, such glooteal sex appeal; and this unknown, a silhouette (kind of) of dreams, imagining each other on one leg each, working our ways up from those calves with our lips and our tongues. Drooling, pumping, throbbing, dripping, and we've only just started.



BOOM! The world starts to recede. Riding the edge feels so good, so right. Gripping the base hard, letting it pulse, letting it leak just enough to use as lube. Typing a lot to make it last, trying to describe what I imagine that ripped glory must feel like ("warm steel"). We decide to take her on together, her pre-contest slave boys. Naked, pulsing, uncontrollably dripping and spurting as we cover every inch of her hard body in oil.



We transition to "named glootz" and turn our mics on. Riding the edge becomes a lot trickier with no typing - and thus no breaks in motion - to help. Experience counts for a lot at this stage. I keep well away from the head, gripping near the base and going staccato works for me - but you need to find your own way to the happiest place of all.

And so we goon. Speaking becomes tricky enough. I would say we debated the various merits of these magnificent examples of womanly gloothood, but you hardly call my bud yelling "Zoa is FERRRRRRM bruvva!" and me yelling "Yeah but Michaela is HAAAAAAARD dude!" a debate as such, but the pleasure, the sheer physical pleasure (expressed in moans, in gasps, in animal yelps and bellows) flows through our bodies with beautiful intensity, and sharing the feeling takes it to a whole new level of ecstasy.



Eyes rolling back in my head I suggest, as best I can that exhibit A on the train, and exhibit B, in the bedroom are the same girl. He gets it, despite the wildly differing hair colours, and that's why I love doing this with him. With minimal verbal communication and maximum female muscle lovin' telepathy we dream she picks us up on the tube (our tentpoles give us away) and makes us her playthings for one glorious night.



And then he sends me this, and we start the countdown...

"Down from 10, alternate numbers."

"Let's do it bruvva!"



Alessandra Alvez's beautiful bum has the (perhaps dubious) honour of receiving our gargantuan, bucket-filling loads on this occasion, but really they belong to all the magnificent women and all the mighty muscle glootage we have shared today.

The clean up begins. Can it be almost 1.30pm? Was that really the best part of five hours?! And it's November, so it's already starting to get dark outside. Whatever. Today, no matter what happens this afternoon and evening, is already a good day.