Boutique Physique Fetish 1
Price: 6.00
(Story by DTM, Artwork: Jupiter 1)
An exotically beautiful Asian Amazon with a compact gymnast's body and steel hard frame, a towering Ebony Goddess with long, lean, powerful muscles flowing all over her statuesque physique, and none other than an increasingly iconic buxom blond bombshell with the unreal beauty to match her unrivaled muscle packed body. Each of them dressed in barely-there string bikinis, which showed off virtually every inch of their super fit frames to those around watching and cheering them on, doing so at a fever pitch as they came to the end of their first initiation task, bringing them one step forward to officially joining this very select Sorority House. Their hard, fit, tight and muscle packed bodies popping, bursting and breaking apart a series of extremely durable foods items, doing so in a race against the clock, to see if they could accomplish their task in their previously discussed time limit. A task that consisted of each of these buff beauties destroying an assortment of watermelons, rock melons, apples, and other hard-skinned produce; doing so with their rock-hard bodies, in very specific ways. The crushing of apples in such muscular girl's flexing arms seemed all too common these days, which is why these girls here had to do so within their thick, pulsating pecs. Shoving the biggest, firmest, hardest looking apples their future Sisters could find into their beefy breasts, and with suddenly savage squeezes crushing them all to pieces, sending rivers of sweet tasting apple juice flowing down their rippling cleavage and into washboard abs.
Asian Amazon gymnast body steel hard frame Ebony Goddess powerful muscles statuesque physique iconic buxom blond bombshell string bikinis super fit frames Sorority House muscle packed bodies durable foods items time limit watermelons rock melons apples hard-skinned produce muscular girl's flexing arms pecs beefy breasts savage squeezes apple juice rippling cleavage washboard abs
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Muscle Oni (Ju Tanka) 1
Price: 6.00
(Story: Lil Guy, Artwork: ZGannero)
She was a pure monster of muscle and sex "Ass not so bad either," She Thought She lifted her robe showing massive glutes. They were buns of pure steal "Lets see if this body is just for show" She dropped down and started doing some pushed up. She got up to 500 pushed up and then even sweat. She switches to arm and did 1000 "Hmm not so bad," She Thought She grabbed the bed and lifted it up with one hand. She lifted it over her head walking around the room She found her senses were heighten. She could smell and hear better. If she concentrated, she could hear from miles away. The costume. The colors of it were orange and red. The Kimono gave people a nice view of her breast. She was deep into the Alphabet when it come to breast size. Her tits felt amazing. They were full and womanly. She flexed her pectoral making them bounce. They were large, Over G cups. They stood out in pride defying gravity. Her feet were 16 inches. Her mom had put in some sandals that she could step in easy on. She found putting on the mask changed the way she saw herself. She felt confident and powerful. The adrenaline pumping through her. She could feel the heart beating in her chest like a Thunder. She felt ALIVE.
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Happy Hormones Crip Walking 1
Price: 6.00
(Story: DTM, Artwork: Jupiter 1)
Amy stepped out of the doorway, her massive, half-naked, golden tan body rippling with muscles. She was dressed in her favorite 'little schoolgirl' uniform, an outfit that left little to the imagination. Small black schoolgirl shoes adorned her feet, as white socks wrapped their way up her huge calves (barely able to cover their diamond hard shape). A way too-tight schoolgirl blouse was tied just below her chest, almost unable to contain her breasts. Her visible washboard abs, rippling with muscle, flexed as she softly breathed in and out. Around her waist was a tiny skirt that barely covered her massive tree trunk thighs. Teddy bear panties were visible underneath the skirt, starting to get slightly damp with arousal. Her face was made up to look young: rosy cheeks and a brilliant white smile. Her always-present pigtails hung from either side of her head, and bounced as she strode over to the man behind the desk.
Amy stepped out doorway massive half-naked golden tan body rippling muscles dressed favorite little schoolgirl uniform outfit imagination small black schoolgirl shoes adorned feet white socks wrapped huge calves diamond hard shape way too-tight schoolgirl blouse tied below chest unable contain breasts visible washboard abs flexed softly breathed waist tiny skirt barely covered massive tree trunk thighs teddy bear panties visible underneath skirt slightly damp arousal face made up look young rosy cheeks brilliant white smile always-present pigtails hung either side head bounced strode man behind desk
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Flexy Romance
Price: 8.00
(Story: Arnold Ziffel @arnoldziffel1, Artwork: Tan Yk @tanyk)
She was a blonde. A blonde to make blind man blink. You could almost hear the creaking of fabric strained against all the stiffening cocks. It was not just a bunch of the dudes; some of the girls got all nippily and excited around her, too. It was like she was royal, the uber-babe of all babes, and her fans were bowing before her. With a rather apologetic smile, she re-stacked her heavy textbook pile on one steel ingot of a forearm. Shoulders worthy of a fullback were exposed in her sleeveless, short-waisted hoodie. It left her taut stomach half exposed, flat as concrete and apparently just as hard. She had thickly cabled columns of bulging muscle shapes on teardrop thighs that could squeeze me into the next life, petite knees and then calves that must have been 20 inches if they did not snap the tape wrapped around them. The quintessential hottie. This could be the one I hadd been looking for. 'Are you okay, Trish?' an XXXL beef-o-saurus yelled, glaring at me like a German Shepherd on guard duty.
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The Lipstick Detective
Price: 8.00
(Story: Arnoldziffel1, Artwork: Tan Yk)
'Greece!' Billie wasn not punching the heavy bag at the Gargoyle Gym, she was pummeling it. Punishing it, actually. speed boxing. She flurried her fists against the heavy bag, delivering a powerful jolt with each strike. She threw hooks, crosses, jabs, and uppercuts, all with precise accuracy and tremendous strength. The bag bounced wildly on its chain, hanging tough against the onslaught of punches. She grinned at Andy, then sneered at the bag like it was an enemy. Billie finished her workout with a blistering Left, Left, Right blitzkrieg that knocked it off the hanger, slamming into the nearby wall. 'Okay, all done!' The manager groaned. 'Really, Billie? Again?' After a quick shower she changed into her work clothes. She examined what she saw in the mirror: A solid 200 pounds of toned muscle packed onto a 5 foot 7 inch frame with a ghost of baby fat here and there. Pretty, pert breasts supported by a pectoral wall. Six abs the size of her fists proudly making their presence known below her peaches and cream skin. She slipped on a sleeveless shirt and flexed her right arm, a rock hard hill of muscle forming beside her big shoulder. 'Flabby bitch!' she laughed.
Greece Billie heavy bag Gargoyle Gym speed boxing hooks crosses jabs uppercuts accuracy strength Andy enemy Left Right blitzkrieg manager shower work clothes mirror muscle toned frame baby fat breasts pectoral wall abs skin sleeveless shirt flexed rock hard muscle flabby
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Firebrand muscular women
Price: 8.00
(Story: DTM, Artwork: Jupiter 1)
Amy and Jessica take Robert Scott through the most exhaustive and exhausting sexual experience of his life. Amy's mom, Elizabeth, is the fourth participant in this sexual explosion, adding her muscles and experiece to the fray.
Amy Jessica Robert Scott exhaustive exhausting sexual experience Elizabeth fourth participant sexual explosion muscles experience
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The Black Burqa illustrated, part six
Price: 8.00
(Undisclosed)
"Those high powered rifles can go straight through even Kevlar" he told me. "Yes," I agreed. Actually, I was surprised that no-one had guessed that we'd kitted out our women with steel plate armour - armour much heavier than an ordinary man could carry. And that steel armour, weighing about a hundred pounds would deflect an AR-15 round. We knew this, because we'd tested it. "But what if the shooter had gone for a head shot?" That was certainly a possibility, but gun training was to aim for the centre mass, because a head is a much smaller target. "If he'd gone for a head shot, it would certainly have been "Goodnight Gracie", but we sent in three Black Burqas, and even if one was killed, it would be a good trade for the lives of the thirty off springs that he was holding hostage." "That's incredibly brave," said the interviewer. "We're women," I replied. "And we're mothers. off springs are the purpose of our existence. You'd need to be a mother yourself to understand, but here's a simple way to put it. The female of the species is more deadly than the male." I continued. "Men talk. Men negotiate. Men compromise, and while that is appropriate for many purposes, when it comes to off springs, there is no doubt, no hesitation and no compromise. Our Black Burqas had one and only one purpose. If the police had tried to stop them, they would have been swept aside. If one had been shot then the other two would have continued to rescue those off springs." "The shooter was in a real mess when the police went in, wasn't that excessive?" he asked. I repeated, "There is no compromise. No negotiation. Anyone who threatens our off springs, gets the immediate white-hot fury of the female of the species. In this case, what happened exactly was, a punch to the belly to incapacitate him and double him up, a knee lifted to meet the face coming down and break the nose and teeth, and a double-fist rabbit punch to knock him out and lay him flat on the ground. And when a Black Burqa delivers that triple whammy, the recipient is knocked cold for the next several hours. And if it's delivered too hard and the guy dies, then we're not going to weep for him, he threatened our off springs with death." "And if in the course of taking down an active shooter with a gun, he gets injured, then I'm not going to apologize to him. Even if he loses a few fingers when the gun is seized and is unable to fire a gun in future, then that's just a consequence of his decision to pick up a gun and kill our off springs."
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The Black Burqa illustrated, part three
Price: 8.00
(Undisclosed)
I was just burning some toast to go with the soggy beans for Raafid's supper, when Sfiyah turned up, and she had someone with her. Who? I don't know, she was dressed head to toe in a black burqa. "Hey," Sfiyah said. "Hey hey," I replied, "what's the timing for toast again?" She looked at what was pretty much charcoal. "About ten minutes ago," she answered, "this is Asma. She wants to be a Black Burqa." I blinked. A what? Apparently, my appearance at the masjid had led to some confusion, mostly because Sfiyah also wore a black burqa when she went there to douse the lights. So people already thought there were two of us, and if two, why not three? The great thing about a burqa, is that no-one could actually see me. It was like a disguise, only better. So no-one, except me and Sfiyah, knew the secret identity of the Black Burqa. I suppose Raafid might have guessed, but he was too intimidated by me to tell anyone. It must be terrible to live with someone who, at any time, might inflict painful violence on you. I know this, because that's how I had lived for years and years. "Who was that mysterious woman?" people were asking each other, and the guesses were all over the place. Every woman around here was wearing a niqab with a face veil; a burqa was only a small step further. Who was that masked woman? Asma spoke. "I've been through eight years of beatings. And each time he didn't kill me, he made me stronger. And now I want to be like you, a Black Burqa. I want to help all the women who are being trodden on and treated unjustly. We women are supposed to be treated like queens; too many of us get treated like serfs."
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The Black Burqa illustrated, part two
Price: 8.00
(Undisclosed)
Sfiyah visited just now, and she was quite excited. "Ayesha, I have a task for you." Uh-oh, I thought, she wants me to bake a cake, and I'm a really rotten cook. But that wasn't it. "You know Jawaria?" "You mean the one married to Dawud?" "That's right," said Sfiyah. "Well I was with her yesterday, and she has a big bruise on her cheek." "How did that happen?" "She said she bent over and hit it on a tap, but I don't believe that's true." "Why would she lie?" "To avoid the shame of admitting that her husband beats her. You remember, you didn't tell anyone when Raafid was beating you." "So why is it your problem?" I asked. "It's a problem for all of us," she replied. "We are all sisters, and so we must care for each other." "Maybe he had a good reason to beat her?" I wondered. Sfiyah gave me a withering look. "Like Raafid had a good reason to beat you?" "Good point," I admitted. "So what do you want me to do about it?" "I think you should Raafid him. Do what you did to Raafid." "But that was different. He was going to marry off Maryam when she was only thirteen, and I just lost my cool at him." Sfiyah shook her head. "That was the trigger. But the real reason was all the abuse you took over so many years. Well, now Jawaria needs your help." "Why me?"
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The Black Burqa illustrated, part one
Price: 8.00
(Undisclosed)
My name is Ayesha. I am a pious Muslima, married to Raafid, my four off springs are Maryam, Gamali, Nasif and baby Kaadiha. I wear the veil, because I am a modest woman. I'm not smart like my friend Sfiyah. She seems to know everything. I read my Quran, and I'm still rather ignorant, unskilled and often I don't understand what people are saying. But I'm happy. At least, I was happy, until Raafid decided that he didn't like my cooking. To be honest, I don't blame him - cooking is one of the many skills I've never mastered. My food comes in two varieties, soggy or burned. So for the last two years, we've been at loggerheads. First, he spoke to me and told me to improve my cooking. I asked "How?" but he didn't have an answer. Then he tried to punish me by not joining me in bed. That's supposed to be a punishment? And when neither of those worked, he started beating me. They say that what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. That seemed to be true for me - I noticed that I was thickening in the places where the blows landed. And it was hard muscle, protecting my body from Raafid's rod. He kept it hanging on a hook on the wall, and I knew that when he took it down, I was in for another beating.
Ayesha pious Muslima married Raafid Maryam Gamali Nasif baby Kaadiha veil modest smart Sfiyah Quran ignorant unskilled happy cooking blame mastered food soggy burned loggerheads improve punish bed beating kill stronger thickening places blows muscle protecting body Raafid rod hanging hook wall
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