Monday, August 3, 2009

MADE-TO-ORDER - chapter 1

chapter 1
By: Mr. Shhh

Brian sat in front of his computer staring at a flashy website. The splash page read " - your muscle fantasy brought to life." A looping soundtrack of erotic moans, grunts and clanking weights got his blood pumping. The page itself was littered with dozens of impossibly gorgeous female bodybuilders, each a sexy super-model packed with sweaty, pumped-up muscles.
A block of text explained the site's concept.
Made-to-order-muscle employs thousands of beautiful, muscular women from across the country to cater to every taste. Each girl is available for posing sessions, private workouts, or whatever your heart desires. Take the time to assemble your perfect body from our detailed list of options and prepare to live your female muscle fantasy.
Further down, Brian found a large button marked "specifications". He clicked it and a new screen opened with a series of questions.
Age: 18-21. 22-30. 31-45. 45-60.
He clicked on 22-30. Younger might have been sexier, but he wanted someone who had put in some serious time in the gym.
Type: White. White. Black. Asian. Hispanic. Indian. Mix.
Brian paused to think. Some of his favourite bodybuilders were from outside of North America. He really liked small Asian girls, especially when they were bulging bulldozers. Black girls often had the best genetics and great, broad shoulders. Still, for his first time out he figured he'd go for old-fashioned American – the kind built like a battleship. He clicked "white".
Eyes: Blue. Green. Brown. Grey.
Hair color: Blonde. Brunette. Red-head. Gray. Other.
Hair length: Shaved. Short. Shoulder-length. Long.
He clicked "green", "brunette", and "short" in quick succession.
Tan: None. Light. Medium. Heavy. Baked.
This one was easy. Brian loved super-deep tans. "Baked" was a no-brainer.
Facial beauty: Ugly. Plain. Cute. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Jaw-dropping.
Brian laughed out loud. Were they serious? What kind of idiot would choose "ugly"? He clicked "jaw-dropping" and imagined a ripped Megan Fox with 20-inch biceps.
Type: Fitness. Light weight BB. Mid-weight BB. Heavy weight BB. Extreme.
Here was the first real challenge. Brian liked all kinds of muscular physiques so long as they were cut to ribbons. Still, it was the "extreme" option that really intrigued him. He had fantasized for years about a fbb so built that she could out-muscle a stage full of men. With a devilish grin, he decided to put the site to the test.
As he clicked "extreme" a warning appeared.
"You are entering the extreme section of made-to-order-muscle. Do you wish to turn back?"
He clicked "no".
Another red screen appeared.
"Are you sure you want to continue?"
Brian groaned and clicked "yes".
Suddenly, a whole new set of choices unfolded before him.
Breast size: Small. Medium. Large. Huge. Super-huge. None.
This was easy. Even though he'd describe himself as a breast man, he was determined to build a relentless mountain of muscularity. That meant nothing but meaty man-pecs. He clicked "none".
Muscle size: Heavy weight female BB. Heavy weight male BB. Extreme.
Once again, Brian chose extreme. A new disclaimer appeared.
"You have chosen a specification that may involve the use of performance enhancing drugs, growth hormones and other chemicals.. Do you wish to continue?"
Brian sat up in his seat. His eyes tightened as he read the disclaimer. Things had suddenly taken a very interesting turn. 'Roids weren't really his thing, mainly because he liked girls with soft voices and smooth skin. On the other hand, if he wanted an eye-popping she-stallion with muscles on top of muscles, then steroids were a no brainer. He clicked to continue.
Dozens of new questions appeared.
Conditioning: Off-season. Contest ready. Extreme. Hyper-extreme. Freakish. Hyper-freakish.
Whoa - the choices were starting to get crazy. Was "contest ready" really the 2nd choice out of 6? For a guy who loved the contest look, this section was a dream come true. He smiled and clicked "hyper-freakish", picturing a sexy beefcake shredded within an inch of her life.
A slider appeared below a CG representation of a well-muscled arm. As Brian moved the slider, a layer of pronounced vascularity appeared. The further he moved the slider, the more swollen the veins became, until the arm was virtually consumed by them. Pushing the slider to the maximum, Brian was astounded at the massively excessive veinage it created. Maximum was a no-brainer.
More sliders followed. It was like a “create a character” screen in a videogame. The number of options was overwhelming. He could do anything!
One slider controlled the thickness of the neck. At the minimum setting, the image showed an impressive tree-stump. Clicking with excited glee, Brian dragged the slider until the neck was twice the width of the head. A second slider increased the definition of her tendons. Brian pushed it to the end.
He continued through endless sliders maxing each and every one. He eventually reached the end of nearly a hundred options. Exhausted, he clicked "review my choices".
Brian scanned the specifications he'd made. It read like the laundry list of a mad-scientist. For a brief moment he was frightened at the Frankenstein he had created. A final message followed with an open form.
"Please add any additional details below."
After a half-hour of meticulous crafting, Brian wasn’t sure what else he could add. He decided to let his mind spill-out unchecked and type whatever words or phrases he could conjure up.
“Scary-huge girl-beast. So ripped, she always looks flexed. Crazy for muscles. Impossible to be too big. Skin ready to rip. Pumped to the max all the time. Bigger than a man. Out of control veins.”
With a cathartic sense of satisfaction, he hit “order”. He was asked for his credit card information to pay for a $500 charge. He choked at the price, but at he was dying to see what kind of girl they would send.
After authorizing the payment, the site told him to expect an email from his girl. He was spat back out to the front page.
Brian heard his inbox chime. Rushing over to his computer, he discovered an email from “Monstra”. The subject read “Hello, Brian.” Opening the message, he found a brief body of text.
Before we get down to business, we should find out if I’m your type. I’ll be at the address below at 11am tomorrow. Don’t be late J. I’ve attached a picture of myself below. -Monstra.
Her name was “Monstra”? Brian instantly pictured some fugly eastern-European weightlifter. He opened the attached jpeg and felt his jaw hit the floor.
The photo showed an unbelievably muscular heart-stopper smiling and flexing her gigantic arms. To his absolute astonishment, she was as big as a top-tier male heavyweight, yet still capped with the dainty head of a beautiful girl. Each of her biceps was as a grapefruit and her shoulders and chest were even bigger. More insane was her bone-dry, razor sharp conditioning. She was a roadmap of striations flexing beneath skin as thin as onion paper. Her abs and thighs showed painful feathering and hugely engorged vascularity. He easily decided that she was the most muscular female he had ever seen.
Amazingly, the girl remained extremely beautiful in spite of possessing the brutish mass of a Nordic strong-man. She was extremely erotic, with fat, swollen lips and lusty eyes. Her face was tight and sharp from an athlete’s diet, yet sexy as hell.
Brian wasted no time typing a response to the message. He'd be there to meet her come hell or high water.
Brian was at the cafe a half hour early. He was fairly calm until he realized that he’d never actually met a flesh and blood bodybuilder. What should he say? Should he mention her muscles? Would he become a drooling vegetable at the mere sight of her? He kept thinking back to her picture and how ripped and sexy she was.
About 5 minutes to 11, he started hearing gasps of disgust all around him. Turning around, he saw some kind of gargantuan flesh mountain coming up the street. The building-thick abomination spotted him and came his way. As it arrived, the human hulk's massive size blotted-out the sun like a block of granite.
"Brian?" It asked in the madly inappropriate voice of a young female. "I'm Monstra."
Brian suddenly couldn't speak. His mind locked-up at the concept that the outrageous assault of bursting muscle-meat in front of him was somehow... female!
The other customers on the patio were in complete shock. A few of them got up and rushed to the washroom. Others went ghost-white. One woman fainted into her chair.
Brian scanned the living testosterone nightmare from head to toe. She was wearing a tight blazer that was seconds away from vaporizing. It was like baby's clothes pulled over a rhinoceros. Buttons were stretched to the max and creaking with each breath - rips were growing in her shoulder seams where her muscles were ready to burst through. Her scandalous miniskirt had tears so large that it was almost totally separated into 2 distinct flaps of cloth. It would have been a clear view to her panties had her blown-up thighs not consumed all the space between her legs.
The girl's mutant size was almost more than his mind could process. For reasons too twisted to comprehend, the genderless muscle-furnace packed the combined weight of any four Mr. Olympia's. Her neck was like twin fire hydrants flanked by traps that resembled king-sized pillows. Her shoulders were three or four basketballs crammed beneath her skin. Arms as thick as old-growth trees rippled uncontrollably and bent almost completely outward from a pumped-up torso that couldn't possibly fit them.
But what really drew Brian’s eyes was the girl's humungous chest. Brain's request for masculine pectorals had come through loud and clear. Monstra didn't just have pecs, she had raging, 34-inch televisions. Her absurdly inadequate coat barely contained each 100 pound pit-bull as they tensed and rippled like caged animals. Brian could easily see dozens of veins clogging the notched center of her sternum before they joined the engorged networks that blanketed her flesh.
Almost buried beneath it all, her tiny head seemed like a mistake on her monumental body. Amazingly, everything Brian had asked was accounted for - short boyish hair, emerald eyes and insane chestnut tan. Her face, on the other hand, was as far from jaw-dropping as he could possibly imagine. At first glance, she barely resembled the photo she had sent, or even a girl at all. Where that woman had been a lean beauty queen, this one had the scary, mummified appearance of a steroid heavyweight starved down to pure sinew. Her frightening lack of body fat made her eyes bug out and her chin and cheekbones punch through her skin. Straining veins surged up her neck in throbbing masses and joined a spaghetti network of ugly vascularity popping through every bit of her face. Her forehead was capped with surging veinage so intense that it virtually covered her features.
"Y-you're.. Monstra?" Brian stammered. "B-But your picture...?"
The beastly bodybuilder smiled lightly causing thick veins around her nose to snarl.
"I’m sorry, but I'm afraid that photo was taken when I was 17 years old. My arms were only about 22 inches back then.”
Brian didn't know what to say. The studly girl-jock before him looked like a terrifying Photoshop enhancement of her e-mail picture, which just yesterday had been the most muscular female he had ever seen. He'd arrived expecting a super-sized heavyweight, not a shaved-gorilla pumped full of growth hormones.
Monstra pulled over a chair and sat down. The metal groaned loudly.
"The agency sent me because you maxed-out the specs on their website. You requested the most muscular girl they have. Here I am. "
Monstra crossed her legs. Stitches snapped all the way up her skirt as her tremendous thighs transmogrified. Pulsing arterial highways snaked across her knees and up into her hips. Every muscle in her legs flared with amplified, harpsichord striations.
Brian felt his guts knotting up. She was so muscular that it was grotesque. All the hard, veiny madness stomped out any hint of feminine sexuality. She was too wide, heavy and masculine to even pretend to be female. Everything was jagged and butched-out, from her giant football pad shoulders to her flaring super-V. Her huge back was wide enough to be an airport runway and seemed to block the entire city behind her.
"Before we continue, there's something you should know." Monstra whispered, leaning over the table. “I’m actually bigger than the maximum specifications allow- quite a bit bigger. By my estimate I exceeded by them in college. I've also been permanently banned from any type of professional competition because I make the heavyweight men look like featherweight women. That’s why I started attaching that old picture to my emails. Even the craziest muscle admirers on the web can barely handle me anymore."
Brian noted an alarming hint of pride in Monstra’s voice. Did she actually enjoy being a gender-bending freak of nature? The notion sent an unexpected shock of excitement down his spine. The thought that this tsunami of hormonal abuse could do anything but horrify him was alarming, yet somehow logical. He'd been dreaming his whole life of a girl with the kind of body that could satisfy his seemingly insatiable muscle lust. Could this ridiculous she-behemoth be the one?
"I guess you could say that I'm checking you out the way you're checking me out. I've been searching for someone who lusts for ultra-hardcore muscularity and you filled out the most outrageous specifications I've ever seen. The girl you requested is the exact kind of physical specimen I dreamed of becoming my for entire life - at least until I got there and took it further."
Monstra bit her lip. Her own words seemed to be turning her on. She could barely contain her arousal as she continued .
"Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve lived for bodybuilding. While I was still in grade school, I was already working out longer and harder than anyone at my local gym. Every day I lifted poundages that would've broken a man twice my age. I loved the pain and pumped iron until there were tears pouring down my face. As I became more and more muscular, my body started to affect the way people looked at me. The more shocked they were, the more I liked it and the harder I hit the weights. I started taking steroids and growth hormones in grade 10. I drank, swallowed and shot anything I could get my hands on. I shovelled pills down my throat by the bottle. I worked out like a screaming, sobbing maniac 7 days a week. I lifted so heavy that I started breaking equipment. On the day I graduated high school, I was 100 pounds heavier than the reigning Mr. Olympia. Today I'm 28 years old."
Brian swallowed hard.
Monstra looked down at her hands. She began balling them into fists causing her sleeves to groan loudly. Heaving boulders of mass swelled beneath the material like rising mountains. Veins and sinew thickened and multiplied until her sleeves suddenly exploded in a symphony of staggering, super-twisted muscularity.
Brian's jaw hit the floor. Monstra's inhuman arms were ripped to a degree that he never thought possible. Even his most demented fantasies paled in comparison to the grotesque orgy of muscles she had packed on her body. Veins as thick as hotdogs pulsed beneath her creaking skin in ugly, surging masses. Her shoulders and triceps displayed the kind of tendon-deep chiselling usually seen in a total body flex. Her thick forearms were nothing but layered, knotted muscles conditioned into writhing suspension cables.
Bringing her hands together, she cupped them softly and pressed together. The buttons on her coat shot off like bullets. Her back tore open from her neck to her waist in a loud rip that caused nearby pedestrians to jump. Slabs of dark brown muscle meat poured outward and utterly destroyed her coat.
Brian sat there slack-jawed as Monstra literally doubled in size. Her lats became so dense that she appeared to grow wings. Only a few strips of cloth remained, caught between her clenching beefcake curves. She seemed to care less that she was otherwise topless in public before a cafe full of horrified eyes. They couldn't begin to explain the twisted Herculean muscle-thing that was hulking-out before them. Her snarling, body-covering veinage and exploding mega-bulges were so jacked that her own fleshed seemed in mortal danger.
Monstra's miniscule head sat buried somewhere between her ever-rising traps and tree-stump neck. Her smiling face betrayed the intense lust she had for her own body. She loved how totally insane she looked, yet she resisted the urge to flex for real. She could get much, much bigger, but she didn't want to give Brian a heart attack. Not yet anyway.
Relaxing her arms, Monstra allowed Brian to get a good, long look at her striated super-pecs. Naked in the late morning sun, they were huge, beastly masses almost too big to believe. Every little movement sent ripples like serrated blades through her bronzy-oak flesh. Veins rode the deep cuts and pumped oceans of blood straight into them.
"So..." Monstra continued with her weird, out of body girl-voice. "Why don't we go back to my place?"

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Where the hell has Mr. Shhh gone?

Unfortunately, I don't have a new story to post at this time, nor will I be able to finish anything anytime soon (time is in short supply right now). For this, I apologize. However, I don't want to let this blog lie dormant any longer, so I've decided to post some pics that are near and dear to my heart. I don't know who the chick below is, but she's the very definition of red-hot fitness muscle. I challenge anyone to find a sexier, more ripped, more muscular girl without stepping into actual bodybuilding. Hot!

Saturday, April 11, 2009

THE HUNGER - prelude part 2

Below is an awesome fan story that was recently submitted by one Muscle Machine's anonymous readers. It takes place directly after the last HUNGER story and features some great writing. Enjoy!

Mercy continued riding down the road in the mid-day sun, her body still bulging and throbbing with engorged muscle. She was a vision of pure muscle fantasy, riding on a powerful steel horse down a long and dusty highway. She saw a small strip mall coming up ahead and decided to try and get some clothes for her naked body. The humming and vibration of the steel engine sent shivers up her muscle engorged clit and she started getting that feeling again. She saw a small store outlet that looked deserted and decided to try there. She parked her hog and hopped off. She opened the door to the small shop and a bell overhead rang her in. The clerk had her back faced to Mercy and didn’t see her come in. She was on a ladder stocking the upper shelves when Mercy walked in. Mercy looked up and saw long, lightly muscled legs that ran up a loose plaid skirt. The clerk had her chestnut brown hair up in a bun and she wore a light olive green turtle neck sweater and glasses. She kind of reminded Mercy of those shy nerdy girls in high school that use to hang out in the libraries all the time. Mercy stood near the ladder and cleared her throat. The clerk was startled and fell back off of the ladder right into Mercy’s strong arms. She felt as light as a paper weight to the muscle bound vixen. As the clerk readjusted her glasses and hair, Mercy was taken aback at the soft brown eyes of the teenager. The Clerk in turn was stunned at her saviours stunning super model face.
“Uh..t-t-thanks for catching me…” she whispered as she stared in awe into Mercy’s beautiful angelic face. Her voice had a soft and innocent quality to it that mesmerized and enticed the red-hot bodybuilder.
‘Um..n-n-no problem…” she stammered back. The clerk had soft full pink lips that were inviting and sensuous. Mercy found herself struggling to not lean in and kiss those beautiful lips.
“I’m Nancy” she said, introducing herself. Mercy inhaled her sweet essence that filled her nostrils and became light headed by the lingering fragrance.
“Hi, Nancy…I’m…” she paused; her eyes closed as she pulled Nancy closer to her and inhaled her perfume. Her B Cup sized breasts enthralled Mercy as her perfume climbed its way up to her, making the hard muscles bulge beneath the leather jacket. “M-m-m Mercy, I’m Mercy…” she said finally.
“I’m guessing you’re needing some clothes huh Mercy?” the bodybuilder opened her eyes from her reverie and blushed at the young teen.
“Oh yeah, sorry bout that” she put the young teen girl down on her feet. This time it was Nancy that gasped, she saw Mercy’s fully pumped muscle-bod engorged and throbbing, even more so now she had unwittingly enticed the massive bodybuilder. Nancy had always had a fetish for muscular men while she was growing up, but this muscle goddess put all her dreams to shame. Mercy was bigger and more vascular than anything that she could imagine, her legs were huge and defined tree trunks of pure muscle. Her calves were rock hard and shaped like diamonds and absolutely pumped to the max. Thick, hose-like veins ran up and down her muscular thighs giving her legs a monstrous, powerful look. Nancy’s eyes followed up to her steel abs that looked like muscle stuffed fists fighting for room on her waist, her stomach was shredded and looked like an anatomy chart. Mercy involuntarily flexed per massive pecs which crumpled like steel, creating 2 solid blocks of pure muscle. Nancy gasped as the muscle valley that her pecs created ran up to her thick, hard traps. The leather jacket looked like it was ready to burst, just like the orgasm that was building inside of Nancy. Mercy’s already heightened senses could smell the pungent juices building in Nancy’s crotch and had an idea.
“I’ll tell you what, let’s cut the bull shit. I need clothes and I know my muscles are turning you on. So how bout I hit a few poses for you in exchange for some threads?” she said cockily. The young girl stared at this she-stud speechlessly, too stunned at not only her bold proposal but also that fact that even tho she did not have a lesbian bone in her body this hard bodied muscle mare was turning her on more so than any of her magazine fantasies. She didn’t need anymore coaxing and quietly walked over and locked the door and lowered the shades so that they could not be bothered.
“Well…” she said as she slowly turned to face the leather clad bodybuilder, “if you want to put it that way…” she continued in a sensuous, sultry voice. Nancy took her glasses off and shook her long brown hair loose and let it cascade over her shoulders. Mercy gasped at her enticing and inviting brown eyes and was immediately wet with anticipation. Nancy knew she had the hulking female mesmerized and under her spell. “We’ll have to take some measurements first…why don’t you do me a favor first tho…” she said softly as she sexily sauntered up to Mercy. The bodybuilder could see the clerks hardening nipples tent her sweatshirt as she walked towards her. Nancy leaned in close to Mercy’s ear, letting her sweet essence invade the bodybuilder’s senses again. Her nipples lightly touched the heavily muscled chest and sent a shockwave of pleasure over the both of them, “its quite clear that your hard…ripped…powerful…muscles are definitely turning me on…”she whispered. Mercy’s senses were beginning to go into overdrive as she emphasized each word. “But what would definitely turn me on is to see you zipper up that leather jacket of yours and flex those powerful muscles out of them”. The very thought of this drove Nancy almost to the breaking point, her breathing became heavy in anticipation of what was about to come. Mercy flexed her massive biceps and could feel them roaring under the tight leather jacket, wanting to break out and tear the thick fabric to pieces. Mercy reached out for the young clerk’s waist and pulled her in so that their bodies were touching. Nancy orgasmed right there as she felt Mercy flex her entire muscled body, she could feel her power and strength which turned her on even more. Mercy couldn’t hold herself back any longer and pulled Nancy in close and planted a deep, passionate kiss on her sensuous pink lips. Nancy felt an electrifying rush of pure ecstasy shoot right thru her body and down to her dripping wet labia. Nancy’s body began to shake and tremble from the surge of hormones and she began pressing in harder onto Mercy’s rock hard, muscular body, feeling the unbelievable hardness of her super pumped muscles. Mercy's tongue invaded the young clerk’s mouth with total abandon as her body began to react to the increased sexual excitement.
Mercy broke the intense kiss and locked eyes with the clerk. Still holding her by her waist with her left arm, she straightened her right arm out and looked lustily in her eyes. Now it was Nancy’s turn to be enthralled as she watched the thick black leather sleeve that covered Mercy’s arm throb and bulge as the red-hot she stud began to pump her arm with muscle by opening and closing her hand into a fist. She hadn’t even begun to flex hard yet as Nancy noticed the leather that covered her forearm begin to stretch out as if it were nothing more than a thin sheet of plastic. Mercy kept going, feeling the blood pump thru her veins, wanting to not just simply flex and tear the leather fabric but wanting to destroy the leather with her muscles. With each pump she visualized her forearm getting harder and more ripped, she pictured in her mind that she wanted it to be the most ripped and shredded forearm in the world. She turned and watches as the bulge of her sleeve began to grow inch by merciless inch, her biceps becoming infuriated at being contained within the tough piece of cow hide flesh, seeking release from its leathery prison. It wasn’t long that Mercy could feel the leather about to explode when she stopped and held her hand open, ready for one last flex, and looked at the helpless young clerk “If its muscle you want babe, then its muscle you’ll get!”
With one final, all-powerful flex of her hand the leather sleeve literally exploded as if it was made of rubber. Her incredibly muscled arm had destroyed all remnants of the leather sleeve, bits and pieces of it on the ground. Nancy was staring at the most muscular arm in the world; veins crisscrossed her forearms like the lines on a well worn map. Her arm throbbed and pulsed as if liquid steel was being pumped into her muscles, her biceps took on the look of an uncut boulder, and she hadn’t even begun to flex yet. A single, hose like vein that had to be at least 3 inches thick ran from her wrist all the way to her lats, separating her mountainous bicep from her sharply defined tricep. The young clerk was utterly mesmerized by the display of muscularity that this steel she-stud was showing. She stared at the massive monster, wanting nothing more than to feel its strength and power between her legs.
“Go ahead…touch it…feel the power…you know you want to…” Mercy whispered to the enthralled teen. Nancy was literally quivering with anticipation as she slowly reached up and put her hand on Mercy’s bicep. It felt hot to the touch, as if it just came out of the oven, the skin paper thin, made the bicep look like it was ready to explode. Then Mercy clenched her fist and began an excruciating slow flex. A soft moan escaped Nancy’s lips as she felt the monster bicep come alive with power. She ran her right hand all over the hard, defined muscle, desiring nothing more than to run her own rock hard nipples over the monster. Her bicep began its agonizingly slow ascent, rising inch by massive inch, becoming more defined by the second. Nancy’s breathing became shallow and labored as she felt the muscle began to peak under her hand, even at only a 45 degree angle she guessed it was near 30 inches already. This made Nancy’s already swollen clit quiver with anticipation, while her left hand kept itself busy feeling the powerful, pillar like neck muscles that bulged and hardened under her sensual touch. Mercy focused even more strength and power into her flex as the monster bicep continued to take the shape of a chiseled boulder, becoming even more defined than any bicep on the planet. Finally, in full flex, Mercy turned to her young captive and whispered, “Well, you wanted to get some measurements…” she let go of the young clerk so that Nancy could begin to measure her bicep.
Nancy reached for the measuring tape, her hands shaking in anticipation of what was about to happen. She took the tape and wrapped it around the monster and almost orgasmed at the number. “Well, what’s it measure babe?”
“T-t-thirty-Nine…i-i-inches…” she said in excitement. She had never been this close to a real live muscle specimen and here she was living out her deepest fantasy with a muscle bound goddess.
“Thirty-Nine? Gimme a sec…” Mercy responded. She gave two more powerful pumps and flexed again. “Now what does it say?”
“oh…my…god…F-f-forty Two…”, that was it. Nancy’s orgasm hit her like a mack truck and she screamed in ecstasy and started falling backwards. Mercy caught her with her right arm just before she hit the floor and held her easily as she would hold a doll.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

THE HUNGER - prelude

The following story takes place before the events of THE HUNGER chapter 1. Special thanks to OZZY for his fantastic artwork. Enjoy!


The throaty roar of Mercy’s Harley echoed across the desert as she pulled into the highway gas station. Stopping in front of the pumps, she pushed out the kickstand and climbed off, the heavy chrome and steel beast compressing painfully beneath her half-ton of dense weight.
The scorching sun was unbearable. A layer of sweat was clinging to every inch of the erotic young bodybuilder, giving her intensely-tanned skin and hard, unyielding curves a slick shine.
Popping off the gas cap, Mercy began to fill her thirsty vehicle. She glanced around while the bike drank up. A cartoonish neon muscle-man buzzed on the sign above the station. Mercy looked at his arm – an exaggerated, Popeye-like bicep ballooned from the figure’s frame. Grinning, she squeezed her own fist and felt her leather coat groan to contain a beastly bicep easily double the size.
The trigger snapped open on the pump. The raven-haired hard body looked at the total – 55 dollars. Digging into her pocket, she found about 20 bucks. Shit.
Just then, a huge semi pulled into the dirt lot behind her. A burly trucker climbed out and peered back into the cab.
“Stay put, Honey.” He ordered. “I just gotta drain the snake.”
Mercy watched him slam the door and march towards the building.

The trucker entered a dingy bathroom and planted himself in front of the urinal. He ignored his surroundings - buzzing light bulb, crusty, graffiti-strewn walls and filthy floor.
Behind him, the door opened. The trucker hardly noticed the new presence as he finished his business.
Turning around, he was surprised to discover Mercy standing before him. He was momentarily taken aback not only by a girl in the men’s room but by her scorching, super model looks.
“I think you got the wrong door, sexy.” The trucker smirked, his raspy voice complimenting his gruff, bearded exterior. If Mercy had to guess, she would’ve put him at 6’5, 250 pounds. That made him a full foot taller than the comparatively small girl, but definitely not heavier.
“Fifty bucks and I’ll hit any pose you want.” Mercy offered mater-of-factly. The Trucker seemed to wait for a punch line, but Mercy was dead serious.
“Hell, you sure ain’t shy.” He laughed.
“I need the money. You interested or not?”
“Why should I give a crap about poses, unless we’re talking doggy style and missionary?” He shot back.
Mercy unzipped her biker jacket. She grabbed the bottom of her t-shirt and pulled it up, revealing the thickest, most staggeringly cut abs he’d ever seen.
“Jesus…!” The trucker muttered, his eyes widening to accept the magnificently sculpted, king-sized 12 pack.
“Fifty bucks. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.”
The trucker fumbled for his wallet and pulled out a couple of bills. Mercy snatched them from his hand.
“Lose the leather, tough guy.” He started, rubbing his beard nervously.
Mercy peeled off her coat and dropped it on the floor.
The trucker’s eyes sprung open further. If he’d been floored by Mercy’s abs, then her shoulders, arms and neck blew him through the wall.
“Fuck… me!” He spurted through his disbelief. “What kind of juice are you shooting?!”
Mercy shifted her stance to give him a better view of her perfect lines.
“What makes you think I’m juicing?” She toyed, knowing full well what he meant. Even in muscle-obsessed America, nobody looked like her.
The biker gawked at the t-shirt struggling to contain her awesome physique. The material was stretched so tight that he could see a million individual details right through it – tendons, striations, vascular systems - all ready to obliterate the shirt with the slightest flex. Her outline was so totally unfeminine that he found himself questioning how she could possibly be a woman, let alone the jail-bait piece of ass she appeared to be. Her shoulders and back, both denser and wider than a fully-padded football player’s, tapered sharply to a waist that was less than a third the size. The colossal super-V it created was only further amplified by her staggering contest condition.
“Where the hell are your tits?” The trucker questioned, his voice rushed and excited.
“Tits are for girls.” The bulging teen answered. Her girly voice, high-pitched and young, betrayed the brutal masculinity of the rest of her.
“What the hell do you think you are then?”
Mercy took her shirt and pulled it over her head. In one fast motion, her studly, muscle-packed torso was naked from the waist up.
“I’m a bodybuilder.” She answered confidently.
The red-hot hard body stood topless before the trucker without a hint of shyness. She seemed used to flaunting her tit-less pecs as if she’d resigned herself to being an unfeeling piece of meat. The swollen girth of each gargantuan chest-block was simply unbelievable. There was no way she could possible fit into a bra or bikini top. Gone was the slightest hint that her breasts had even existed. All soft tissue had been crushed flat and rebuilt into the veiny, television-sized mountain range that stood in their place.
It wouldn’t have been a stretch to imagine Mercy stabbing syringe-loads of growth hormone directly into her chest while blasting those monsters with punishing weight-sets. Even then, with limitless chemicals and bottomless hunger, the demented magnitude of her muscle-tits was still unfathomable. She was nature perverted by sheer, indomitable willpower.
Mercy hooked her thumbs to the waist of her jeans and tightened her shoulders. Each pec crumpled like 100 pounds of aluminum, turning instantly into 2 shredded bricks of bullet proof he-beef. Angry veins snarled across every jagged muscle-strand and joined an out-of-control army that dominated her planetoid delts.
Mercy gazed into the trucker’s eyes with a voracious sexual hunger. The sleazy bathroom peep-show was clearly turning her on.
“Go ahead, tell me what you want. I can be anything - shy school girl with muscles – studly she-man with a pussy.”
The trucker didn’t respond. He was still having trouble accepting the sweaty, testosterone-fueled beefcake.
“Maybe my daddy always wanted a boy. Imagine him forcing me to work out day after day, hour after hour – screaming and crying until my body was harder than any man’s.”
Mercy twisted her stomach. Her baseball-sized abs fought for the limited space on her body. Stark feathering flared and pressed against itself. Veins coiled and pulsed. It seemed like she was packed with more muscles than could even fit.
“Maybe I got bigger than he ever thought possible. Maybe I got so hot that he couldn’t keep his hands off me.”
The raven-haired jock lifted her arms and hit a double bicep flex. She grunted softly as the real breadth of her outrageous physique suddenly unfolded. She wasn’t simply the Olympia-crushing brute she appeared to be – she was much, much bigger than that.
Flexing her basketball biceps, the gender-bending beast almost buried her own face beneath an onslaught of screaming, skin-shredding mega-girth. A quiet moan escaped her lips as she flexed again forcing more detail and definition into her increasingly skinless musculature. She closed her eyes and savored the sensation, almost as if she was reliving the wonderful agony of building every overblown inch.
“You’re getting hot, aren’t you?” The trucker finally blurted, unable to stay silent in the face of Mercy’s twisted lust. “You love what a crazy fucking slut you are! Flex harder!”
Mercy’s eyes opened. She was momentarily taken aback, yet there was no denying it - her engine had started and there was no turning back. A part of her was horrified at what was happening – stripping for cash like a junkie whore in a shit-hole bathroom. But she couldn’t stop herself. Worse still – she needed it.
“Show me everything you’ve got, bitch!” He ordered. Mercy felt her heart racing. He’d show him alright .
The massive teen brought her arms down and turned to her side. Locking her right arm in an “L”, she clutched her wrist and cut loose at full strength. The resulting flex transformed her body like nothing the trucker had ever seen. Hideous, eye-popping detail erupted through her shoulders nearly ripping her skin off. Her chest swelled so hard that it filled every inch of space between her 2 arms.
Veins clawed up her neck as she flexed again and again. The tucker could hear her flesh struggling to contain her. Surging veins popped through her temples and forehead as she poured it on.
“Show me your legs!” The trucker ordered.
Mercy turned again and put her hands behind her head. Placing one leg in front of her, she tensed her thigh until stitches started rip. Bit by bit, her brown, sweat-slicked skin forced itself through the seams of her jeans.
Finally, one hard flex tore the pants in half. Concrete muscles exploded through in a flood of veiny, beefy might. Mercy gasped orgasmically before switching legs and flexing the other one. Her other pant leg shredded in seconds as if it were made out of paper.
The trucker dug into his wallet and pulled out a wad of cash. He held it in front of Mercy like a carrot on a stick.
“There’s near 300 dollars here.”
Mercy looked at him, momentarily pulled from her sexual rush.
He tossed the money on the ground. Looking back at her, he unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his throbbing erection.
Mercy stared. She barely moved, save the rise and fall of her heaving chest.
“Go on. Take the money.” He hissed.
Mercy suddenly snapped back to another time and place. It was her own hazy memory involuntarily barging into the present. She was years younger, though still impressively muscled. She found herself strapped to a piece of crude gym equipment and forced to lift a huge weight stack with her legs.
Behind her, a crowd of men smoked and drank. Mercy cried with each rep to their rapturous delight. Her legs burned like someone had poured gasoline on them. Sweat drenched her body as she powered through set after set.
“Lift that weight, whore!” One of the men demanded. A whip hit her back leaving a red slash across the meaty muscles.
Mercy screamed and fought harder. Her powerful legs surged with awe-inspiring muscularity impossible for a girl her size. Harder she worked. The weight hit the top of the machine with each rep, clanging like a bell. Spit flew from her straining, purple face. Her legs were searing open wounds and every rep was a handful of salt.
“Look at you. You’re dripping wet.” Came the trucker’s voice.
Mercy returned to the moment. She was back in the dingy gas station. She could feel her own wetness seeping through the crotch of her tattered jeans. It wouldn’t be long before a river of steamy girl juice would be running down her legs.
“You know you want the money.” He continued, his boner raging at the sight of the confused Hercules.
More memories came flooding into Mercy’s mind. She was in a dim bedroom riding some strange man like a bucking stud. His hands were all over her chest, squeezing and pinching the small breasts that clung to the bottom of her masculine pecs. The harder she flexed, the harder he fucked her, until she finally orgasmed in a flurry of sinew and veins.
And then she was back again. This time, there was no confusion at all. Dropping to her knees, Mercy grabbed the trucker’s legs and rammed his dick down her throat so hard that he thought she was going to hurt herself. The delirious muscle-titan began sucking and smacking like a depraved animal. The trucker moaned as he sank into a world of intense pleasure. The thought of a muscle-bound bodybuilder surrendering to his every whim was the fantasy to end all fantasies, yet the reality was a thousand times better. Here was a creature of unrelenting will – powerful enough to lift a car or tear him in half with her bare hands, now his depraved sex slave.
Looking down at her, he saw a girl drowning in lust. Her hands, face and neck were covered in spit as she drooled over and licked every inch of his prick. Her free hand was at her crotch furiously rubbing the saturated material, shameless searching for gratification.
It was mere minutes after she had started that the trucker felt himself approaching his apex. The noise, the moaning - the grotesque, surging muscularity filling his entire field of view – it was just too much. And her face – that perfect, virginal angel looking up at him, perverted by the angry vascularity snaking beneath her dried-out skin - she could make a grown man cry.
He could feel Mercy’s iron-grip holding him in place as she demanded the cum from his balls. Her neck muscles crushed his dick like a circle of hydraulic pistons. He finally gave it to her in an explosive burst straight down her throat. One load, two. He sprayed so much cum into her that he expected it to start coming out her ears. When Mercy finally pulled his dick out of her mouth, more jizz spackled her face.
“G-god damn…!!” The man gasped through labored panting. He was absolutely amazed at the load she’d coaxed from him. By the time it ended, her chiseled features were buried beneath an oozing white blanket.
But Mercy was far from finished. Standing up, she grabbed him by the shirt and threw him into one of the stalls. The shocked trucker watched as Mercy’s terrifying shape approached, barely able to fit through the doorway.
Taking the crotch of her jeans, she pulled them down and tossed them aside. The trucker was left face to face with a sexy white thong just big enough to cover her labia. But there was something seriously wrong. The distorted underwear was pulled dental floss-thin across a block of aggressively protruding muscles that formed the most grotesquely developed vagina in the world.
Jesus – was there no end to her insane muscularity? Even her vagina, the last trace of gender identification anywhere on her body was pumped-up beyond comprehension. Internal muscles were fist-sized boulders packed layers deep. Veins were everywhere snarling out of control, swollen to an obscene, cigar thickness to feed the demands of her mutant snatch.
“What have you done?!” The trucker gasped, more appalled than aroused.
Mercy followed his eyes. She splayed her legs wider to show him everything she had. Gritting her teeth, she tightened her abs, legs and everything in between. She grunted softly as her vagina and all related muscles flexed with steel-crushing force.
The effect was like an injection of muscle juice right into her cunt. Everything exploded with unprecedented detail. The ludicrous vascularity tripled along her legs and plugged straight into her pussy. The doomed strip of underwear finally snapped under the pressure like a string holding back a steam roller.
More flexes followed, each one harder and stronger until it was impossible to identify anything between her legs but a single nightmarish quadrant of ripped muscularity.
Mercy positioned herself over the trucker, who had ended up on the toilet seat. Her humongous bulk utterly eclipsed him to the point where she had to hold onto the stall or risk crushing him completely. He didn’t even realize he had a boner until she began to push herself down on him. In one powerful motion, she swallowed the trucker's pole with her frightening monster-vagina.
The sensation was like having his dick was in a vice with someone twisting the handle. He would’ve screamed in pain except the extreme pleasure was even more overwhelming.
Mercy cranked her arms back and began slowly crunching her fists together. Her upper body, already muscular to the point lunacy, ignited with preposterous new amounts of grade-A she-beef. As the trucker surrendered to Mercy’s total supremacy, he witnessed a shocking transformation. Beautiful Mercy, the erotic sex dream rapidly ceased to exist. Her soft face, so effortlessly alluring, became gnarled with strain. Wrinkles and stretches joined popping veins until she was more monster than girl.
Spit spattered the trucker's face as Mercy screamed and cried, mindless amidst her agonizing desire for the ultimate pump. Her fucking became secondary to the desperate, all-consuming expansion she was forcing upon herself.
The walls of the toilet stall creaked as Mercy rode her overwhelmed toy. Bolts snapped at the floor. Tiles cracked.
Mercy’s face twisted until she was red and dripping all over. Her shaking pecs inflated by muscle-stuffed inches with every contraction of her arms, each time growing veinier and freakier than humanly possible. Shoulder and traps bled into one another until they were ridiculous balloons ready to burst.
Water started to leak from the base of the toilet. The trucker felt like the Earth was going to split open. His vision became hazy as all of the blood from his body was sucked through his dick by Mercy’s garbage-crusher snatch. Looking down, his found his entire lower body utterly consumed by Mercy's inhuman legs and crotch.
Finally, the super-human muscle engine reached her nuclear climax. With an uncontrollable shudder, she tore the toilet right out of the floor. Water sprayed everywhere like a Las Vegas fountain, soaking both of them.
Mercy howled into the sky and flexed with all of her being. If she had been on a competition stage at that very moment, she would've eclipsed an entire line-up put together. Each and every muscle on her body was pushed to its zenith and beyond, every ounce of fat stripped bare in the most garish way possible. Even her flesh was just vascular paper so thin and transparent that it looked like her tan had been applied to the muscles themselves.

Mercy walked through the door of the gas station moments later and drew the eyes of everyone inside. She was completely naked save her over-stuffed leather jacket, which was forced open by her heaving upper body. Her creaky, over-burdened skin was beaded with cold water that ran between each of her peaks and valleys.
Everyone watched her walked to the counter, their eyes in awe at the rippling movement in her elephantine thighs and double-bowling ball calves. She seemed unconcerned about her nude pussy or shotgun shell nipples. Gasps and cries circulated the aisles at the extreme grotesquery of her pump. Snarling veins strangled every conceivable surface of hyper-shredded musculature to the point where her very humanity was in question.
The supreme girl-Hercules dropped 50 dollars in front of the cashier. The clerk was rendered useless by the inconceivably gorgeous face perched upon her jacked-up physique.
"Pump number 2..." She spoke with cool detachment.

Exiting into the glaring sun, Mercy put on a pair of sunglasses from her jacket. She climbed back onto her motorcycle and started it up with a roar. Everyone inside the store watched the bulging stallion rev the engine before squealing off in a cloud of dust. She was truly hell on wheels - a living, breathing furnace of sinew with enough raw potential to become the most muscular human being on the planet. But she was damaged goods and she couldn't escape it. She knew her future awaited her somewhere down that endless highway, but so did her past... and it scared the hell out of her.

Friday, March 6, 2009

FemXman is taking artwork commissions!

Here's a chance to support one of the best muscle artists on the web AND get to see your fantasies come to life at the same time! Prices vary depending on complexity but I can tell you first hand that even FemXman's most basic pencil drawings are of an extremely high quality.

Get all the details from the man himself at:


Check out FemXman's new DeviantArt page at:

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

What's what on Muscle Machine

After a whole bunch of quiet, I figured it was time to let everyone know what my status is. First the bad news: business has left little time to work on new stories. And now the good news: new stories are in the works again! I'll try to get something up within the next few weeks.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Anyone who's been coming here for a while knows that I'm a huge admirer of the artist formerly know as FemXman. With the great one retiring from the muscle scene last year, it seemed appropriate to do a retrospective top 10 of my all-time favorite drawings. Let me tell you, limiting it to just 10 was damn fucking hard. There's a lot of talented artists out there, but few have shared such specific tastes with me as Fem. For the sake of protecting his art, I've posted reduced resolution images. Please don't ask for the original files. Here we go!

pic 1 - For slim, (reasonably) realistic muscle, this pic is just about perfect. Her arm holding that pistol is incredible - maybe my single favorite bicep of all time. Fem's rendering of her pecs is almost tactile. The uniform is a little weird, but sexy none the less. The strategically placed straps are pretty rad. Truly a hot female Rambo and a big inspiration for my War Inc. stories.

pic 2 - This is the only version I ever saw of this drawing which is a shame because it's my favorite picture of Fem's character Jewels. Her size is truly gargantuan but just shy of deformed or chunky like most super-gigantic muscle drawings. I love the veins going up her legs, under the posing suit and continuing along her abs. The nip slip is hilarious and sexy (what's the point of the bikini top, anyway?). Her brother gives it great scale, as do the dozens of bottles of oil. Awesome!

pic 3 - I wanted to include an older drawing because I think Fem did some great ones right from the start. While his later stuff is light-years ahead of this, I still find this one fantastic. She'c cute and ripped, massive and dainty all at once. Great mix of size and definition without going too far (for a FemXman pic). Love the pigtails and tiny breasts.

pic 4 - I remember when I first saw this one I almost flipped my lid. It's such a provocative image - as if the barbell wasn't big enough, Kitty's CHAINED extra weights to it just to get a challenge. I think the legs and chest sell how hard she's working. A great expression too. I've always loved girls pushing themselves to this limit and this drawing captures that concept perfectly.

pic 5 - Carmella is one of my favorite FemXman characters. I love every drawing he did of her, but this one is off the charts. The angle he chose gives a clear sense of her ridiculous thickness and bulk. On top of that, Fem was hitting his stride in terms of detailed definition and vascularity here. She is scary huge, yet still "macho" shaped. It's interesting that many of Fem's girls are submissive given their strength - a theme that runs across much of his art. I prefer it to the cliched domination chick.

pic 6 - My #1 Carmella pic. Holly shit balls is she ripped! This has to be the pinnacle of striations and veins in a muscle drawing. FemXman started putting vascularity in his character's faces here which amazingly he make work! And check out that shoulder to waist ratio! His choice of dresses and rendering is stupidly hot. Carmella's not only flaunting her muscles, but challenging anyone who looks at her to accept the craziest physique in the world. I love it!

pic 7 - One of my favorite early FemXman drawings was "Kitty on top", but this upgrade is even better. It's a common fantasy of mine to have a female BB flex to impossible dimensions at the height of her orgasm and this picture nails it. Fem's character Sarah is totally scary here. Manly really - even beastly. But it's the extremity that makes it awesome. Fem's pictures often pushed the envelope, sometimes past common sense or good taste, but that's why I love 'em. I never quite figured out the eyes though. Are they rolled back in her head? Are they closed?

pic 8 - A great all around picture - solid sense of mass and definition, plus look at that arm! Love the shirt ripping from her explosive pump. But it's her expression that makes this one a winner. FemXman perfectly captured the animal spirt to grow. This is a moment of desperate, savage determination. I also love that her head is being swallowed up by her traps and pecs. Even the butch haircut works for her.

pic 9 - I consider this drawing to be the pinnacle of pure giga-mass (a term coined by Fem). Whoever this chick is, she's so over the top that it's stupid. I don't even know what's going on here. Why is that guy's coat ripped? What's with the microphone? But it doesn't matter, the girl is pretty much the culmination of FemXman's experiments into ludicrous size and detail. It's the fact that she's SO disgustingly humongous that this pic works (she's a cutie too, which helps). I found Fem's later giga-mass pics to be bubbly and malformed, but this one retains a semblance of human anatomy while amping to the absolute max. I don't see too many artists beating this one anytime soon. Fem's really the only one who's ever made muscle at this size work.

pic 10 - This was a later character of Fem's named Amanda, which I fell in love with immediately. He didn't get many pics of her uploaded, but what was there were excellent. Fem's best pictures aren't just girls flexing, but stories unto themselves. I figure the story behind this one is "Shy, glasses-wearing office chick gets huge and wins a male BB contest." That's hot - so hot that I started writing the "No Contest" stories. Great overall shape and cute expression. Glasses + muscles = awesome.

That's it. Let me know what you think on the boards!