Sunday, May 7, 2017

"CUTE LITTLE MUSCLE BLOCK" by Fatfoxlower (aka Ffuffle)

Jenna's looking THICK in this new pic by Fatfoxlower (aka Ffuffle).  Check out his wonderful artwork at:

Also, there's finally a new Jenna story in the works (yay) by the two of us - just a fun little side-story thing.  This pic is sort of a "proof of concept" for that.  

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

"PEC SHOWDOWN" by Ayanamifan

This amazing picture came out of a Pictaro TV commission stream Ayanamifan did recently.  What's particularly awesome about it is how it turned out feeling like a "missing scene" from my old story, The Club.  

What we have here is cute little Jenna Steele having a furious pec-centric pose-down against Aya's original character, Jo.  As Jenna's finding out first hand, Jo's nick name isn't "Pec Girl" for nothing.  

Amazing work by an amazing artist!  Check out all of Aya's Jo pics HERE

Wednesday, June 8, 2016


Meet "Chloe".  She's a new character that I had the privilege of creating with the amazing artist, Ayanamifan.  This awesome pic of Chloe is from Ayanamifan's DeviantArt page, and the story below is our first crack at defining who she is.  Chloe's definitely a work in progress, but we're having a blast starting from scratch with her and trying something new (and something familiar - yes, the glasses are very Jenna). 

By Ayanamifan & Mr.Shhh

Chloe had almost finished her grueling arm routine when Jack came home.  Over the course of the afternoon, she’d worked her way through almost all of her intimidating dumbbell collection, and Jack noticed immediately.  Though massively muscular from head to toe, Chloe’s huge arms were absolutely throbbing.  Shimmering beneath a layer of sweat, her biceps were bloated footballs crawling with hugely, impossibly swollen veinage.
“Hnnnggg…!”  Chloe grunted as she dropped the 200 pound dumbbells she had in each hand.   They shook the floor and cracked the bare concrete beneath her.
Jack approached the beautiful, 20 year old bodybuilder as she gasped for air – her meaty, 100% masculine pecs swelling and rippling beneath a wet, girly-purple workout top.
“Looks like someone’s trying to put some muscle on those bread sticks you call arms,” Jack teased. 
Chloe smiled lightly from beneath a set of cute wire rim glasses.  Her big eyes and short, platinum blonde hair painted an adorable picture, while her fantastically thick lips and Olympian he-man physique were that of an insatiable sex-god.
“Let’s see how they look.  Flex for me.  Double biceps.”  Jack commanded.
Chloe turned obediently and raised her massive arms, wincing noticeably.  She had worked them so goddamn hard over the last several hours that she could barely lift them.  Despite the pain it caused, she flexed with everything she had and produced a brutal, gender-destroying pair of tendon-shredded biceps.    
Jack examined her Herculean pose without emotion.  Chloe dutifully held her flex, straining to smile despite the acid she was pumping through her shaking arms.
“Is that all?  Flex like you mean it!”   Jack barked.
Chloe bit her lip and shut her eyes.  Fighting to contain an agonizing scream, she lowered her arms, shook them out and then hit her pose again, this time with twice the Earth-shaking effort.  Chloe opened her eyes and willed herself to smile while her burning, veins popping from her forehead as her enormously ballooning biceps fought to tear through her own skin.
“They need more work I’m sorry to say.”  Jack concluded matter-of-factly.  He glanced over at Chloe’s largest, most intimidating set of dumbbells sitting undisturbed at end of the rack.  “I think you’d better start cranking out reps with those big ones.”
Chloe had relaxed her throbbing arms when Jack motioned her over with his eyes.
“R-right now?” She asked, surprised.
“We’re not getting any younger.”  Jack shot back, holding his gaze.
 With a glint of trepidation, Chloe took several floor-shaking steps to the dumbbells in question.  They were humongous and utterly intimidating, even to her.  A quick assessment put them in the neighborhood of 400 pounds.
Without hesitation, Chloe took both weights in a powerful grip.  Monstrous veins surged through her sinewy hands and twisted around her forearms.
                Raising her face to the sky, Chloe grunted painfully and lifted the weights off the rack.  Tendons surged furiously through her bulldog neck.   Her entire body exploded with straining, shredded definition, testing the limits of her stretchy workout clothes. 
“H-how many do you want?”  Chloe asked obligingly while struggling just to hold the dumbbells at her sides.
“Well since your arms are so puny, they’re going to need a top to bottom overhaul.  Why don’t you start doing reps until I decide out how much is enough.”
For a brief second, Chloe looked at Jack with disbelief.  Slowly she lowered her gaze to the huge weights.
With a window-rattling cry, Chloe willed the first barbell up, than the other.  Despite their sheer immensity, and her already exhausted muscles, her form was perfect - even machine-like.  To Jack’s amazement, she was soon pounding-out reps at a blistering pace, grunting and sweating, her massive arms swelling visibly larger with each pump. 
After a full hour of non-stop bicep torture, Chloe was somehow still going.  Sweat was pouring off her so profusely that the floor drain couldn’t collect it fast enough and the carpet in the next room was starting to get wet.
Jack had never seen Chloe so hideously pumped, especially her arms.  Even her normally beautiful face was contorted with effort and frighteningly pumped.  Tears were running between the pulsating veins and striated facial muscles that her full-body pump was bringing to the fore.
Despite how powerfully Chloe had completed her last two-hundreds of reps, she was starting to slow down.  This didn’t please Jack.     
“It’s barely been an hour and you’re fading already?”  He taunted.  “You might as well throw in the towel now!” 
“No!  W-won’t… s-stop!”  Chloe spat apologetically before letting out the deepest, scariest, most masculine roar Jack had ever heard.
Unleashing some deep, monstrous rage, Chloe flexed with all of her might, causing her entire upper body to absolutely detonate like a steroid nuclear weapon.  Her massive pecs – already cut to shreds and surging veins, swelled so massively that her soaked-through top exploded to shreds. 
Standing before Jack topless and hideously hormone-jacked, the beyond-masculine muscle freak resumed churning out reps at her previous tendon-burning pace.
“Much better.”  Jack nodded.  “Now be sure to keep up that rhythm while I have some dinner.  Watching you pump those weights has really worked up an appetite.”
 Midnight.  Chloe’s endless agonized cries filled the deep, darkened gym as she continued to pump the two massive dumbbells.  Alone in the hot, sweaty darkness, Chloe continued to complete bicep curls, though at a substantially slowed pace. 
Her pumped-up physique was simply beyond belief - an indescribable orgy of hysterical, hose-sized veins and flesh-shredding monster striations exploding everywhere.  Every inch of her was disgustingly, preposterously swole and absurdly man-shamming. 
How many bicep-bursting reps had she completed?  A thousand?   Three thousand?  Yet she soldiered on, fighting through inhuman agony to crank out one more slicing, razorblade cutting curl after another. 
Jack appeared at the edge of the darkness and peered in at the truly monstrous muscle-beast. 
“You’re doing great, Chloe.”  Jack congratulated.  “Keep it up and we’ll see how those biceps look in the morning.”
Chloe barely managed the strength to swallow her horror at the torturous thought of all the reps still ahead of her.  And yet something sexually monstrous twitched with excitement in her over-stuffed workout panties, straining them unnaturally.   
Jack turned off all but a single light above Chloe’s rippling, golden-bronzed body and went to bed.
It was 7am when Jack emerged from the master bedroom.  Chloe’s screams and roars, her sobbing and crying had been there when he left untold hours ago and to his amazement, immediately greeted him upon his return to the gym.
Collapsed onto her knees in an inch-deep pool of her still-raining sweat – the tatters of her destroyed top littered around her – Chloe was impossibly, somehow still clutching the gigantic 400 pound dumbbells. 
Her obscenely bulbous, watermelon-sized biceps and ankle-thick veins were splayed out over her thighs and looked far bigger than them, while the weights in her hands mostly rested on the ground as she still fought with every molecule of her being to curl them. 
Jack hardly recognized the muscle-monster before him.  Chloe had worked herself to horrible level of grotesque muscle-pump the human body shouldn’t have been capable of.  He watched her, obliviously fighting against her own broken body to move the weights, her bloodshot eyes beady and wild.  Even her face was jacked full of ugly, flexing muscularity. 
“5 more reps, you pussy.”  Jack announced, revealing his presence.
To his delight, Chloe’s immediate reaction was unlike anything he could imagine.  There was no breaking Chloe, and certainly no stopping her.  Instead, her veiny, muscle-pumped lips slowly curled with twisted delight at her master’s command.  Her muscular tongue brushed across her lust-swelling lips as she opened her eyes widely. 
All of the air was sucked from the room as Chloe charged-up a mighty battle-roar.
“HHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGG!”  She screamed in the most guttural he-man bellow imaginable.  It was as if Chloe’s veins had been injected with a mix of Nitrous Oxide and testosterone.  Jack was amazed she didn’t sprout a chest full of body hair right there.  
Flexing to the size of overgrown pumpkins, Chloe’s biceps surged with terrifying power.  Veins thickened even huger as she willed her arms to action and rose up from her knees bringing both massive weights with her.
Veins absolutely exploded through Chloe’s furious, hyper-flexed face as she crunched out 5 perfect, powerful reps.  In fact the only thing that stood in her way were her own unbelievably bloated biceps, which were so pumped that they restricted her own range of motion. 
The giant dumbbells dropped to the ground with the weight of twin bank vaults.  
Chloe’s enormous steroid pecs rose and fell like pulsating meat-microwaves as she sucked in air roomfuls of air.  Her arms hung hilariously outward from her sides – a ridiculous cartoon exaggeration of the world’s most pumped-up muscle man. 
“W-what...”  Chloe spat between labored breaths.  “… N-next?”   

Saturday, February 13, 2016

"CUTE LITTLE JENNA" by Fatfoxlower

Hey everyone, I've returned from the ether with a new piece of Jenna artwork.  This time it's by the talented artist, Fatfoxlower.  I first became aware of Fatfoxlower about a year ago when he posted a few sketches of Jenna on his Deviantart page.  I thought his sketches were amazing and he said that he enjoyed my Hardbody stories.  He mentioned that he hoped to do a "finished" Jenna drawing one day and wow, did he finally deliver. 

Fatfoxlower has an incredibly unique style to be sure.  His angular drawing, use of textures and hard, defining lines make his work stand out.  He's also fearless in his depiction of extreme muscularity, which I love.  Like Ayanamifan's drawing, this is Jenna at her most pumped, freaky and huge.  Fatfoxlower also isn't afraid to get monstrous with Jenna's face, yet he retains her sexuality and beauty.  And those veins - so thick and substantial!  He's definitely got a way with vascularity.  

If you like what you see, check out more at

Saturday, March 28, 2015


Part 2

The hours leading up to my dinner date with Tina were spent being mercilessly ridiculed by my 3 friends.  They couldn’t fathom why out of all the women on the ship, I’d pursue a musclebound she-man like Tina.  In their eyes she was practically a guy with bolt-on tits, which made me a raging homo.  Hell, I was worried they might be right about Tina given the massive meat-bulge I’d seen stretching her bikini bottoms.   
But even with all the taunting and harassment and panty-straining terror, I still found myself on cloud nine.  Why?  Because I was about to live a life-long dream.  I was about to go on a date with a mother fucking female bodybuilder!  Holy shit!  A flesh and blood female bodybuilder was meeting ME for dinner!
I was so elated that I’d temporarily forgotten how only hours earlier I’d been completely overwhelmed by Tina’s boundry-smashing muscularity.  As the hour approached and my anxiety returned, I tried to tell myself that I’d over-reacted.  After all, I’d never before in all my years of muscle-obsession seen a single bodybuilder, real or imagined that I considered “too muscular”. 
               Yet I was still anxious – scared that I couldn’t handle the magnitude of Tina’s outrageous physique.  In an effort to calm my nerves, I Googled “Tina Brody bodybuilder” on my laptop.  I found numerous competition pictures dating back to the 2000s.  The most common pics were from the 2003 Ultra-Class Bodybuilding Championships.  I learned how at only 18 years old, Tina had defeated an all-male line-up of the sport’s then-best heavyweights.  Her physique was magnificent – a masterpiece of bulging beef and testosterone virility massively superior to any man – yet almost comically malnourished compared to the woman I was meeting.  Facially she was almost an entirely other person.  I had to examine multiple pictures just to recognize a hint of likeness.  She’d been unquestionably gorgeous then - intensely sexual and fresh-faced, like a sultry model pasted onto a bodybuilder’s physique.   How dramatically the hormones and steroids had changed her was almost beyond my comprehension.
               I spent so long looking at online pictures that I almost forgot about our actual date.  I became obsessed with finding something – anything – that matched the ‘roided-up behemoth I was about to dine with.  The only recent pictures I could find were from her very last competition in 2008 and despite sporting more than twice the muscle-mass than she’d had in 2003 (which was unbelievable in itself), she was still nowhere near as jacked as she’d been by the pool.
               I found myself pondering numerous questions.  Even at 18 Tina had been a world-class muscle-freak, but how much chemical abuse did it take to change a woman THAT much?  Why had Tina not competed in the last 6 years?  And what had she been doing in that time that necessitated such estrogen-murdering muscle-development? 
I arrived in a sharp suit in the nick of time for our date – mostly excited but a little bit terrified.  While I waited for Tina, an endless parade of eligible girls passed me by.  Thoughts of my friends’ hazing filled my mind.  Many of the girls were stunners, yet I’d happily give them all up for this one date with Tina.
Looking up from my watch I spotted Tina approaching down the hall.  Even prepared for her, I still felt the wind knocked out of me at the sight of her incomprehensible muscles.  As she grew closer and the details of her body became clearer, she went from massive to jaw-dropping to a walking aberration of nature.  She was a creature beyond my wildest imagination.  Her shoulders and lats alone were so colossally beef-swollen that she filled the hallway – I mean literally filled it as couples passing her struggled to squeeze by.    
As Tina stopped to greet me, I struggled like before to find my breath.  This one-woman steroid industry had packed herself into a dress the size of a circus tent that was still way too small to tame her.  The poor gown, full of glimmering sequins, elegant curves and a flowing lower half, did absolutely nothing to soften the rock-hard anatomy threatening to destroy it.  If anything, the preposterously too-small dress made Tina look even more masculine (and had already ruptured several seams just from the walk over). 
The strapless garment had even more trouble with Tina’s silicone chest.  It would’ve been too much already to expect the dress to contain Tina’s ruthlessly meaty he-pecs, but it also had to contend with her huge fake titties, which were smashed together in an eruption of ballooning cleavage.  On top of that, each shot glass-sized nipple stood so pervertedly erect that I felt like I was going to choke on them.
I was already drunk on bulging girl-muscle and I hadn’t even noticed the abnormally large purse Tina carried over her shoulder.  It was about as big as a pillow sack and stuffed to bursting.  The thing must have weighed 40 pounds.  Was she carrying around dumbbells in there?  Then Tina gazed at me with her sexy, lust-filled eyes and I forgot instantly about her mystery bag. 
She’d made herself up spectacularly, her every feature pronounced and amplified, particularly her giant erotic lips.  Her patchy hair was up in a sophisticated bun that left a few dangling curls framing her overgrown cheek bones.  She had on sparkling earrings and a diamond barbell necklace that was buried several inches into the oaken enormity of her Redwood neck. 
For an instant I could almost see the sexy young beauty that had won the 2003 Ultra-Class standing before me.  If I squinted hard enough, I could imagine the tiniest, faintest glimmer of that gorgeous girl.  She had been a sensual goddess in the early 2000s and that searing hotness still existed on some deep, genetic level.  But a decade spent pressing iron, a fortune blown on steroids and enough hormones to grow two cocks had conspired viciously together.  She was a fucking chemical super-mutant.
The sultry make-up made it even more tragic how seriously steroid-fucked her face was.  All the hormone horror and caveman bone growth was way more twisted when she was trying desperately to look like a woman – and she was trying really, really hard.  But not even a million-dollar makeover could hide how dried-out, shriveled-up and tendon-shredded her looks were.  
There were the fat, furious veins crawling all over her neck and snarling through the thin skin of her face.  She had massive mutant-league veins everywhere – on her cheeks, her jaw, squirming up her nose.  There were horrendous, fist-sized vein-wads pulsating on her forehead like alien tentacles.  But that was just the tip of the iceberg.
Her thick, masculine jaw, her superhero chin cleft, her sunken bug-eyes, none of it was what really what messed her up.  THAT didn’t become apparent until she opened her mouth.
As Tina spoke to me I could hardly believe my eyeballs.  Enormous steroid muscles came to life beneath the entirety of her face.  All the hideous heaps of vascularity and the structure of her face itself shifted and tensed in a series of straining, coordinated muscle-masses.  Striations and vicious knotting protruded through her wire-tight flesh, subdividing her flexing features and showing off a sick level of nightmarish ultra-conditioning.    
I was so shell-shocked by the Mr. Olympia most-muscular happening to Tina’s face that I missed everything she said to me.  I should’ve been running for the hills at this point but some twisted part of me was getting really turned-on.  Obsessed seemed a wholly inadequate word to describe what Tina was.  Standing before me was the hugest, thickest, most disgustingly hyper-developed bodybuilder I’d ever seen.  The thought of fucking her seemed akin to sticking my dick in a meat grinder.  And here I was about to have dinner with her. 
Our poor hostess practically had a heart-attack when she appeared to seat us.  A second later the entire restaurant ground to a halt.  Tina didn’t seem at all embarrassed by the scene her heaving muscles were causing, nor did she notice when a few more stitches tore in her dress while we following the shaken hostess through the crowd. 
We took a table by the window as the last dim light of the sun set over the ocean.  I ordered a bottle of red wine, which Tina mentioned brought out her vascularity.  I looked at the 3 foot thick forearms she had rested on the tabled, each one so grossly vein-stuffed that she appeared to be wearing sleeves made out of hotdogs and told her that it was impossible for her to get any more vascular.   She laughed a ‘roidy baritone laugh and admitted that she’d skipped her afternoon workout so that she wouldn’t be too pumped for our date.  She didn’t want to scare me too much – at least not yet, she added playfully. 
I nervously gazed at Tina’s literally SUV-sized upper body and struggled to imagine how she could possibly get more pumped.  Her muscles seemed hysterically swollen and loudly stretched her skin with the slightest movement.  Her veins were so unnervingly blood-drunk that their bloated girth changed the outline of her body.  She had a few dozen python-thick arterial monstrosities squirming between the striated grooves of her pecs that I couldn’t take my eyes off of.   Hell, even her huge silicone tits were vascular.   
Those tits – holy shit.  I had to fight not to nakedly stare at Tina’s comic book boobs.  They were the fakest, most ridiculous looking things I’d ever seen and launched off of her chest like two plastic basketballs.  The funny thing was, for as big as they were, they actually seemed quite small atop the endless rippling girth of her pecs.  They also weren’t working, as I assumed they were there to counterbalance her crushing masculinity.  But Tina was so fantastically butch that they did nothing to feminize and just made her look like an even bigger freak. 
Tina noticed my gaze and told me she’d gotten them towards the end of her IFBB career.  She’d regularly lost points for being too masculine and at the time was sick of being mistaken for a man in her daily life.  Trying to act cool, I asked if she liked them and she admitted that she hadn’t at first.  But after she quit mainstream bodybuilding she began to change her mind.  The bigger her muscles got, the faker they looked.  She found the contrast sexy but there was a problem.  As she packed on ever huger muscle-mass, they looked increasingly small until her original c-cups were barely bee-stings on her bursting dimensions.  She revealed to me that she’d had bigger implants installed three more times.  Swallowing a huge lump, I asked her how big her breasts were now.  She told me they were triple-Es and she’d likely have to go up to Fs or even Gs at the rate she was still growing.
We continued to talk for a while before being rudely interrupted by Tina’s phone.  I assumed it was her friends calling her but to my surprise it was an alarm.  Tina glanced at the screen and politely excused herself.  She picked up her huge, heavy bag and with a warm smile told me that she’d be back in a moment. 
A moment ended up being closer to a half-hour.  Just as I was starting to think I’d been stood-up, Tina reappeared – only something was immediately different.  Sitting back down across from me, I couldn’t believe my eyes.  Everything about Tina was dramatically intensified.  Her dress had split open in a dozen more places and big, boulder-sized swells of shredded muscle-beef were layered explosively on top of her previous muscularity.  Her entire body appeared to be on the verge of eruption – her every muscle and vein alarmingly swollen.  Her huge traps and neck were even thicker than before and were literally crushing her tiny head like a grape.  Each savagely defined blade of her wrecking ball deltoids seemed to contain the mass and width of an adult male - and even with shoulders so elephant-sized, her freak show lats STILL outstripped them, with each side of her back about as big as a SMART car.
All I could do was stare.  Tina’s dress was under so much stress now that about 80 percent of her silicone tits were bulging nakedly in front of me.  I could see her damn areolas playing peek-a-boo.  The agonizingly sliced, testosterone-jacked air conditioners she called pecs were almost 100 percent covered by multiple squirming layers of veins – some of them as thick as my fucking ankle.    
Tina turned to rest her bag at our feet and I noticed that it was now empty.  I then saw to my heart-stopping surprise that she had a large syringe sticking out of her shoulder.  She turned back to face me and I noticed two more syringes stuck in her – one in her left bicep and the other jabbed deeply into one of her pecs.
I covered my mouth in shock and tried to subtly motion to the multiple needles stabbed into my muscle-monster date.  Tina wasn’t sure what I was hinting at and I had to tell her matter-of-factly that she had three fucking steroid injection syringes sticking out of her body.
Tina seemed more annoyed than embarrassed and pulled the needles out.  She added them to a dozen more in her bag and told me that she was always forgetting a few.     
At the risk of getting slapped in the face by a woman with biceps bigger than a basketball, I asked Tina point-blank if she used steroids.  Truly there had a never been a more pointless question in history.  Was water wet?  Was salt salty?  So why did I ask it then?  I guess I’d always wanted to hear a female bodybuilder say out loud that they abused steroids.  Tina seemed amused by my nerve and simply asked me “What do you think?”
Her non-answer was as clear and definitive a “yes” as I could’ve gotten.  I mean, she was so muscular that she seemed permanently hooked to a steroid drip.  I told her that she looked like she took more steroids than all the other bodybuilders combined.  Instead of taking offence to my response, Tina laughed, smiled at me and replied “maybe I do.”
My dick instantly turned rock hard as Tina locked her lustful eyes with mine.  Fuck – she was serious.  She took a seductive sip of wine and licked her lips in a slow, sexy circle. 
Maybe Tina didn’t realize that her face was a revolting muscle and vein super-orgy, or maybe she liked looking like a steroid muscle-mutant.  Whatever the case, this butched-out she-stud was openly flirting with me – and I’ll be god damned if it wasn’t the kinkiest thing ever.
Tina told me that she was currently prepping for the toughest competition of her career and she needed to do a massive cycle every 4-5 hours.
My jaw hit the floor.  Holy fucking shit.  That 50-pound bag had been full of steroids?  And she had to inject that much every 5 hours?!  No wonder she looked like a muscle-growth science experiment, I blurted.  Tina’s smile curled devilishly and she added that it was still early in her training and that she’d be ramping up the ‘roids in the coming weeks.  With a hint of anger, she told me she was going to show those bulging bitches what REAL muscles looked like.  
My dick was starting to get painfully hard.   I wanted to know what this contest was that she was prepping for.  I mean, wasn’t she retired? 
Tina revealed that towards the end of her mainstream career, she’d started to outgrow official competitions.  Even the heavyweight men’s division began deducting points for her over-the-top muscle-mass.  That’s when she discovered a whole new world of illegal, underground competitions.  Unlike the structure of sanctioned shows, underground competitions revealed themselves gradually and only as she won them.  They were seemingly endless, with one ultra-hardcore title unlocking the door to an even more extreme one.  Soon she was being flown to twisted private competitions run by obsessed billionaires offering thousands in black-market steroids as their prize purses. 
And hardcore steroids were an absolute necessity.   With Tina’s gifted genetics, she’d dominated the mainstream world, but the underground circuit was a whole new ball game.  This was where the real freaks lived – men and women who knew no limits and had transformed themselves in living, breathing bodybuilding abominations.  Tina was in the most incredible shape of her life when she stepped on the stage of her first illegal show.  She was 485 pounds of shredded girl-beef – a total mass-mutant by anyone’s definition.  Yet despite winning the show, she did so by a hair’s breadth, and the girls in the next “division” were even bigger super-freaks.
That was six years ago.   Since then Tina had done thousands of cycles, taken hundreds of thousands of pills.  The sheer lunatic intensity of the underground scene demanded the maximum of her muscle-building potential and much more.  Even in the “off-season” she was taking 40-50 different steroids, at least 10 different hormones and even some “don’t ask, don’t tell” shit.   When prepping for a contest, those numbers would double and were getting more outrageous with every new show.
But it was worth it.  With psychotic determination, Tina had clawed her way through the ranks, winning some of the most twisted competitions there were.  She was going up against “women” that were 700 pounds of testosterone muscle-horror.  These were the most ruthlessly masculinized mountains of she-muscle imaginable – their sexuality utterly obliterated by oceans of chemicals.  And yet toe to toe on stage, the hot auditorium lights glistening off their oiled-up physiques, she was savagely out-muscling every one of them.  And the rabbit hole just kept going deeper.
I was almost caught up to the present now.  Tina explained that she had spent the last 7 months prepping for the most intense competition of her life.  The stories she’d heard about past winners were beyond belief.  So she trained with a fury and dedication that would massively transform her already titanic body.  At the apex of her prep she was taking over 100 steroids and injecting enough HGH to grow a mountain-man beard.  Her voice – already unnaturally deep from half a decade of crazy steroid abuse – had dropped another few octaves just in the run-up to the show.  By the time she stepped on stage she was literally sweating man-hormones and was losing hair in clumps.  She had a roid-gut the size of a beer keg and even the bone-structure of her face had changed.  She looked like a caveman Mr. Olympia with the muscles of the Incredible Hulk.  The night of the show she weighed a mind-boggling 790 pounds at zero percent body fat.  And she didn’t even place in the top five. 
I was speechless hearing Tina’s story.  She told me that her girlfriends had convinced her to take this cruise as a much needed break.  They thought she regretted becoming the jaw-dropping muscle-horror that illegal bodybuilding had turned her into.  What they didn’t realize was that she was more addicted than ever to getting fucking huge.  And not just huge – unnaturally, impossibly fucking MASSIVE.  Like a desperate crack addict, the more of a roid-freak she’d become, the bigger she wanted to get.  It gave Tina an ultimate kinky thrill every time a stranger looked at her explosively-swollen muscles and wanted to run away in terror.  She lived to cause scenes wherever she went, all the time, with absolutely everyone who looked at her.  These days there wasn’t a piece of clothing she could buy, no matter how stupidly baggy that could hide the brutal shape, size and swollen vascularity of her ripped physique.  She was 100% steroid muscle-mass – all the time.   
With a bravery that surprised myself, I asked her what she thought about the devastating anabolic side-effects – her shockingly deep man-voice and her facial transformation into a literal Frankenstein’s monster.  To my surprise, I could feel her arousal intensify as if I were turning a dial.  Tina didn’t just accept her becoming an androgynous testosterone muscle-beast – she RELISHED it.  She told me that she’d occasionally look back at pictures of the soft, girlish, barely-400 pound champion bodybuilder she was 6 years ago and feel embarrassed that she’d ever considered herself muscular.  Compared to the freaks she was facing in the underground circuit, her younger mainstream physique was practically that of a fitness competitor.  Tina seemed almost angry that her body was actually quite resistant to the worst side-effects of anabolic steroids.  She didn’t grow body hair, she didn’t have acne, and all of the other ugly changes were proportionately weak considering the overwhelming volume of drugs she took.  She was even teased backstage for being “pretty” – something I could hardly believe coming out of the mouth of the most repulsively steroid-pumped bodybuilder I’d ever seen. 
Then something happened that I’ll never forget for as long as I live.  Tina looked me in the eyes and asked me if I thought she was muscular enough.        
The question was so patently ridiculous that I wasn’t sure I heard her right.  Tina was supremely, ferociously ultra-muscular to a stomach-turning degree.  She repelled even the most bodybuilder-obsessed part of me.  Every time I looked at her she seemed even more shredded and tremendous, as if my brain and eyeballs were still struggling to accept the totality of her monstrous mega-mass.  Yet despite being a horrible hormone-jacked she-man, her sheer demented enormity was a major turn-on. 
I admitted with some difficulty that she was pretty scary looking.  Tina tightened her gaze and prodded me to be honest.  I took a deep breath and told her that she was ugly, freakish and completely terrifying.  That said, I had to admit that I desperately wanted to see her flex those huge, bulging guns.  Maybe it was the part of a person that looks at a car crash speaking, but I needed to see how insanely ultra-pumped she could make herself.    
Tina bit her lip hard enough that the thick veins in her forehead bulged even more outrageously.  She told me that for the rest of the night, she was my own personal steroid freak – and I could anything I wanted with her.