Search Results for "man"

Happy Hormones Crip Walking 1
(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.

Flexy Romance
(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.

The Lipstick Detective
(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.

Summer Gig: Session Wrestling
(Artwork: Legendary artist Jupiter 1)

Amy shows off her huge muscles to an admiring man.

Pizza Girl part one
(Undisclosed)

Yes. I deliver pizza. Because someone has to, and I need a job. With the economy how it is post-Brexit (I still don't understand how we got conned into that) well-paying jobs are as rare as hen's teeth. So I'm a pizza delivery girl. And I'm Pizzagirl because a weird accident happened with the pizza microwave plus pineapple plus anchovies, which should normally never come in contact, let alone on top of pizza. Superman came from Krypton, Batman came from Gotham City, Wonder Woman came from Themyscira. I come from Neasden in London. Superman has superpowers because he's Kryptonese, Batman because he spends a lot of money on gadgets, Wonder Woman because she's an Amazon. Me? See above - the accident. Superman, Batman and WW all have secret identities, so when the accident happened, I realised I needed one. Because superheroes don't get paid. Can you imagine? Superman swoops down and saves a falling woman and then invoices her for $600. Wonder Woman worked part time at Taco Whiz and takes home minimum wage. No chance. So for my secret identity, I put on a pair of plain glass spectacles, because apparently that's all you need. But to be totally sure of secrecy, I also wore my hair in a ponytail instead of the falling locks that Pizzagirl wears.

The Black Burqa illustrated, part seven
(Undisclosed)

The Black Burqas have attracted the notice of the patriarchy. I know this because they sent a man dressed in a black burqa with the intention of signing up. So they found a short guy, got him to talk in a squeaky voice and to walk without stamping his feet. He lasted about five minutes. He wasn't even able to lift 100 kilograms, so we ripped off his burqa and checked his genitals. Busted! Some of the sisters were all for punishing him severely and sending him on his way, a few wanted to kill him, but Sfiyah came up with a very clever idea. "We can keep him, and use him to feed misleading information back to his bosses." "Never," he said, "I won't betray my brothers." "Then you're no use to us," said Sfiyah, "give him to Basma, she'll play with him for a while and then kill him." Basma lifted her face veil, showed her teeth in a chilling grin, and licked her lips. Then she pulled out her tiny, but very sharp, knife. "What do you want me to do?" asked the terrified man. "Give him to me," I said, "I'll look after him, and if he resists, Basma, you can have him." Basma really hates men, and enjoys hurting them; long term. He'd probably lose his sanity after a few weeks. But I'd take care of him, and he'd be great as a double agent. So I took him home. Raafid wanted to know who she was, and why she was in his home? "Your home?" I asked. "Your home," he amended. "And mind your own business, this is Black Burqa business." Raafid shut up. He knew his place, and definitely didn't want a couple of Black Burqas on his case. And for obvious reasons, he thought that the person in this particular black burqa was a woman. "What's your name," I asked my fearful captive. "Abdullah," he replied. "So now you're also my slave," I told him. "And you will continue to wear your burqa and pose as a woman." Abdullah swallowed and nodded. I interrogated him about his mission, and how he was to report back to his superiors. As we talked, I held his hand, squeezing very gently by with the implied threat that I could crush it like a toothpaste tube. And I reminded him about Basma, and her tiny, but very sharp, knife. So he told me everything, and he was too terror-stricken to make up any lies.

The Black Burqa illustrated, part three
(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."

Ruthenia mission
(Undisclosed)

Zrinka Ryovska is six foot nine and built like a bull. She comes from Ruthenia, visits a geek, and explains to him that he is going to be a voluntary sperm donor to a million Ruthenian women. To make this possible, Zrinka will send a bodyguard to protect him - Magda, nearly seven feet tall, her muscles hardened by twenty years of pulling an 800 pound plough through hard scrabble ground. And Mikayla, a milkmaid, six feet four. She was able to bring a well-trained man to orgasm thirty times in a day's activity.

Amy's Conquest 3 redux
(Undisclosed)

Amy's Conquest 3 Redux Amy dons her classic schoolgirl uniform and wrestles guys as a summer job. Later backstage, the sexy teenage Amazon ravishes a man in the shower and 2 in the locker room.

Babette the boxer
(Story and Artwork: Diana the Valkyrie)

Babette is a very pretty and very tall girl. At six feet seven inches, she towers above most men. But what she has in inches, she lacks in brainpower. When she leave college, she gets a couple of low-paid jobs, until she accidentally find that she has a talent for boxing, because she has small, hard fists and a very long reach. Babette can smack a man in the head long before he can reach any part of her. She meets Marty, who acts as her manager, and supervises her training, including building up her muscles. The story culminates with a boxing match against Victor, who gets totaly destroyed in a very short time.