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Muscular Women Fiction / Reunion

« Last post by Piv on April 18, 2026, 09:04:08 pm »

Reunion

As you know, my girlfriend had been lifting weights and was getting very close to beating me at arm wrestling. She could already beat me at wrestling sometimes—we were very evenly matched in strength.

But that “dream” ended when she broke up with me.

This is a kind of “what if” story about what might have happened next. In reality, I know we’ll never get back together. But here are two imagined endings…

Account 1

It had been six weeks since we split up.

We still talked most nights on the phone—the connection was still there. So I decided to invite her over. It felt strange, almost like a first date again. Maybe seeing me would remind her of what she missed.

I cleaned the flat, lit some candles, and put on soft music. Then I waited nervously for her to arrive.

When she came up the stairs, my heart was racing.

She looked amazing. A new haircut—but just as beautiful as ever.

We hugged, and it felt just like before.

After dinner, we sat and talked. It felt natural. She clearly still cared about me—and I knew I still loved her.

She went to make coffee, and as she did, she slipped off her cardigan.

I noticed immediately—her arms had changed.

They looked firmer, more defined.

“Wow… have you been working out?” I asked.

She smiled and flexed slightly.

There was no doubt—she had gotten stronger.

I walked over and lightly touched her arm. It felt solid. The moment lingered, then I stepped back and sat down again.

She returned with the coffee but didn’t sit on the sofa. Instead, she sat by the table and rested her arm on it.

“Well… you’re not scared, are you?” she said with a grin.

I hesitated.

We had always been close in strength—but now she clearly had the advantage.

Still, I sat down across from her.

We clasped hands.

Her grip was as strong as ever.

We started.

At first, neither of us moved—but then I realized something: she wasn’t struggling.

I was.

She smiled as I strained.

“Lost it, Jamie?” she teased.

I gave everything I had—but slowly, steadily, she began to push my arm back.

Then—down.

She pinned me.

“Rematch?” she laughed.

I rubbed my arm, still surprised.

“What have you been doing?” I asked.

She looked at me for a moment, then said:

“If—and only if—we ever get back together… I’m the one in control this time. No more arguments. No more upsetting me… or I might have to use my strength on you.”

She laughed—but there was something real behind it.

She wasn’t joking about being stronger.

I thought about it.

Did I really want that kind of dynamic?

Honestly… yes.

I leaned in and kissed her.

Account 2

After the breakup, we gradually spoke less and less.

Eventually, we stopped talking altogether.

Two years passed.

She had finished college by then. I was still single. I had dated a few women—but none of them felt like she did.

One Friday afternoon, I was shopping in town.

I was holding up a shirt, unsure about it, when I heard a familiar voice behind me:

“Not your color.”

I turned around.

It was her.

Kelly.

She looked… different.

Confident. Strong. Striking.

We went for coffee and caught up on the past two years. Neither of us had found anyone serious.

I knew we wouldn’t get back together—but I still missed her.

So I took a chance.

“Do you want to come back to mine?” I asked.

She agreed.

Back at my place, I went to the bedroom while she changed.

When she walked out, I froze.

She had completely transformed.

She looked like an athlete—strong, defined, powerful.

“Wait…” I said, stunned.

“You don’t like it?” she asked, half-smiling.

“No—it’s just… I didn’t expect this.”

She smiled and flexed slightly.

There was no doubt—she was far stronger than before.

We moved closer, and the old connection came back instantly.

Then she suddenly pushed me back onto the bed.

“Remember when we used to play-fight?” she said.

I smiled nervously.

She pinned my arms with ease.

I couldn’t move.

“Still think you can take me?” she teased.

I knew the answer.

Not anymore.

She let me go and lay back.

“Your turn,” she said.

I tried—but it was obvious she was letting me.

Within seconds, she reversed the position effortlessly.

I couldn’t resist her strength at all.

She laughed softly.

“Nothing’s changed,” she said.

But everything had.

She was stronger now—much stronger.

And somehow… that didn’t push me away.

It drew me in.

End

Muscular Women Fiction / Re: My Experience

« Last post by Piv on April 18, 2026, 09:03:19 pm »

ACCOUNT No. 2: SHE DOUBTS

This is the continuation of my true story.

Since discovering the incredible power in my younger sister’s legs, I took every opportunity to practice leg wrestling with her. Of course, she won almost 100% of the rounds—and that was exactly what I wanted. In fact, I am now convinced that she sometimes let me win one or two rounds, depending on how many we played.

Our matches had at least three rounds, but often nine or more. If we played only three rounds, she would usually win them all. If we played twelve or more, she might let me win one or two—probably so I wouldn’t feel completely humiliated. But no matter what, she always won the match overall.

The Incident

One day, after we hadn’t played for a while—and without me thinking about it at all—I saw her sitting on the living room sofa, reading a magazine.

Her feet were flat on the cushion, and her legs were bent at a 90-degree angle, supporting what she was reading. She was wearing a mini-skirt, so I could clearly see her legs.

I walked past her once, without paying attention. Then, after walking around the table, I passed by her again.

Suddenly—before I even had time to understand what was happening—I felt an incredibly powerful push at the lower part of my back, slightly to the right.

The force spun me halfway around and threw me across the room. I landed about five meters away, sitting on the floor with my back against the radiator.

I was completely stunned by the impact—almost knocked out.

It took me several seconds to recover. When I finally came back to my senses, I saw my younger sister laughing, clearly amused by what she had just done.

I must have looked ridiculous.

Still dazed, I managed to say:
“What’s wrong with you? Are you crazy? You could have seriously hurt me!”

Still laughing, she replied:
“I just wanted to see if I had strong legs!”

I couldn’t believe it.

“Yes—you do have strong legs,” I answered. “I’ve already told you—you have incredible strength in your legs!”

She smiled and said:
“Do you want to have a leg-wrestling match?”

After what had just happened, I couldn’t refuse.

The Match

I remember that it turned into a major match—and she won every single round, easily.

She completely dominated me.

I was weak and powerless against the incredible strength of her legs, which seemed even stronger than before. I could offer only minimal resistance.

Compared to hers, my leg strength felt insignificant.

Mentally, I was almost knocked out for the second time that day.

Still unsteady, I watched her leave the room, laughing and clearly satisfied with what she had done. I thought to myself that she must now be fully aware of her strength—especially the extraordinary power of her legs.

And yet, strangely, I was also happy to have been completely defeated by her.

I felt both embarrassed and proud—embarrassed to have been overpowered, but proud of how strong my younger sister was.

What Caused It?

Fortunately, she didn’t suggest an arm-wrestling rematch—because I was so exhausted that she would probably have beaten me there too. I didn’t want two humiliations in one day.

Later, I found the magazine she had been reading.

That’s when I understood.

There was an illustration in a story showing a young girl kicking a door open with a powerful thrust of her leg while trying to escape.

That was what had inspired her.

She had simply wanted to test her strength—and I ended up being the “door.”

She hadn’t meant to hurt me. She just didn’t realize how strong she really was—especially considering that she had pushed me using only one leg.

Even today, I sometimes think: if there had been a door behind me instead of a radiator and a wall, she might have smashed it open just like in the illustration.

That thought still makes me a little uneasy.

Even now, as I write this, it’s hard to believe it really happened. It felt so unreal.

And yet, as you will see in the continuation, she still wasn’t fully convinced of the incredible power in her legs.

As for me, I was becoming more and more convinced that girls might actually be the stronger sex.

To be continued…

Muscular Women Fiction / My Experience

« Last post by Piv on April 18, 2026, 09:01:47 pm »

My Experience

What you are about to read in Account No. 1 and the following sections is based on real events, as I remember them.

However, some details or comments may be inaccurate due to my imperfect memory. I have not tried to exaggerate, add, or remove elements in order to distort reality.

This is simply what truly happened between me and my younger sister. I have not tried to portray myself negatively or favor my sister.

ACCOUNT No. 1: THE DISCOVERY

This happened a few years ago, when I was still young. Like many boys, I had questions about girls—especially one that had been on my mind for some time:

Are girls weaker than boys, equally strong, or stronger?

Deep down, I had a feeling they might be as strong as we are, but I had no proof. Our usual upbringing tended to make us believe the opposite.

Years passed, and I still had no answer—until one day, I saw an opportunity.

After a few days, I managed to convince my younger sister—who was smaller and lighter than me—to have an arm-wrestling match.

I was surprised to beat her relatively easily. Was she holding back? Was she not trying her hardest? In any case, I won most of the rounds that day.

So I concluded that maybe my intuition was wrong, and that boys really were stronger.

Still, I wanted confirmation. I decided to give her another chance to prove she might be stronger than me.

Another day, I suggested a rematch—this time, a friendly wrestling match.

To my surprise, she accepted. Maybe she didn’t want to remain defeated after the arm-wrestling.

I brought her to my bedroom and quickly explained the rules: the goal was to pin the opponent on the bed for at least 10 seconds to win a round.

First Round

After a short struggle—pushing and pulling—I managed to get her under me, pin her arms, and hold her down for 10 seconds.

I won the first round, and again I thought boys were stronger.

But I had doubts. She didn’t seem to fight freely. Was she letting me win? She didn’t resist much.

Second Round

For the second round, I decided to give her more freedom—to help her gain confidence and fight properly.

I didn’t go as hard as before. After a brief struggle, she managed to pin me the same way I had pinned her.

She seemed happy to beat me—and honestly, so was I.

Was she finally going to fight at full strength?

Third Round

Now I assumed she wouldn’t hold back. So I fought seriously again.

After a longer struggle, I managed to flip her onto her stomach. I held her ankles, keeping her legs bent and pinned down. I thought she couldn’t move anymore—that I had won.

Then I challenged her:

“I bet you won’t be able to push me off before the 10 seconds are up.”

What happened next shocked me.

She pushed herself up on her forearms while I held her ankles tightly, pressing down with all my weight and strength.

(Since I weighed around 175 pounds at the time, I wasn’t small or weak. She was about 120 pounds.)

Suddenly, her hips lifted off the bed. Without any sound of effort, she raised herself.

Then I felt a powerful force against my wrists.

I pushed with everything I had—but it was useless.

She pushed me back, steadily and irresistibly. Her legs extended as if nothing could stop them. It felt as though I weighed nothing.

In that moment, it felt like she was pushing far more than 200 pounds.

I was thrown backward onto the bed behind me, still weakly holding her ankles, completely stunned.

She immediately turned, got on top of me, pinned my arms, counted 10 seconds—and won the match.

I couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Thinking it might have been luck, we repeated the same position five times.

She did it again—all five times.

I was exhausted, shocked, and overwhelmed.

But now I had my answer: girls could be incredibly strong—especially in their legs.

Still, I wanted absolute confirmation.

She had beaten my arms using her legs—but what if we compared leg strength directly?

Since leg muscles are the strongest in the human body, I assumed boys would still be stronger—especially an older brother compared to his younger sister.

I thought I would finally prove that boys were stronger.

But I was completely wrong.

The Leg Strength Test

We sat facing each other on two beds. I explained that I wanted to test our leg strength.

She lay back with her arms at her sides and her legs bent at 90 degrees. I did the same, placing my feet against hers.

First, I showed her the movement without resistance, easily pushing her legs toward her chest.

Then I asked her to resist.

I pushed. Her legs moved slightly—then stopped.

After a minute, they hadn’t moved any further. I was already getting tired.

I pushed harder the second time. Same result.

Exhausted, I stopped.

I asked her if she had struggled.

She replied: “No. I wasn’t really trying. I thought it would be harder.”

I was stunned.

Then it was her turn.

I told her to push my legs toward my chest while I resisted.

She pushed.

In three seconds, my legs were fully folded against my chest.

I asked to try again.

Two seconds.

Again.

Instantly.

Each time, it was effortless for her.

I couldn’t believe it.

Finally, I told her:

“You have incredible strength in your legs.”

At that moment, I realized just how much stronger her legs were than mine.

It’s difficult for a boy to accept being overpowered—especially by his younger sister.

From that day on, I knew I would want to test myself against her as often as possible in leg wrestling.

To be continued...

Muscular Women Fiction / Still Karens Girl

« Last post by Piv on April 18, 2026, 09:00:48 pm »

Still Karen’s Girl

My close friends and I went to a very large, rough school. People tended to stick with others like themselves, and we were probably seen as the “weak” group.

At 18, I was about 6'0" and very slender—around 150 pounds. In our class was a girl named Karen Jones. Karen was a real tomboy. She was the same height as me but heavier, and she often beat boys in fights. She had lovely blonde hair and was quite pretty, though she never made much effort with her appearance.

I don’t remember how it started, but one day people began talking about Karen fighting me. I refused to admit she was stronger or tougher—but the thought of facing her terrified me. Karen became loud and confrontational, and I was relieved when the class ended.

A few days later, I was alone in a quiet part of the playground when she found me.

“I’m tougher than you—and we both know it,” she said.

I protested weakly, saying I wouldn’t fight a girl.

She stepped closer, right into my space.

“You’re a coward,” she whispered. “You know I’d beat you. So you’ve got two choices: fight me—and if you lose, I’ll leave you alone—or… you become one of my girls.”

I didn’t understand.

“What do you mean? I don’t want to fight you,” I admitted.

She smiled.

“There are other boys who won’t fight me. They admit I’m the boss. Instead, they give me their pocket money every week. I give some back—but I decide how much.”

She pushed lightly against me. I felt small. She felt strong.

“I call them my girls,” she added, “because they’re not real boys—and they’ll never be men.”

Then she looked straight at me.

“So… are you a boy? Or one of my girls?”

I hesitated… then gave in.

“I’ll give you the money.”

I hated myself—but I couldn’t face fighting her.

Every Monday, I handed over my pocket money. She would return some of it, sometimes most of it. It wasn’t really about the money—it was about control.

Over the next year, Karen changed. She grew a little taller, became slimmer, and started taking more care of her appearance. The tomboy faded, replaced by a confident, attractive young woman.

But I was still afraid of her.

She dated plenty of boys and often teased me, saying she could never date me—because I was “one of her girls.”

Eventually, I left school and, with it, Karen.

Those years had been miserable, but over time I built a successful career and tried to forget how I had given in back then.

Ten years later, I was in a casino in a nearby town.

After some time at the tables, I went to the bar.

Behind it… was Karen.

I could hardly believe it.

She looked incredible—wearing a black cocktail dress, stockings, and heels. Confident, elegant… and undeniably striking.

For a moment, I almost walked away.

But instead, I approached her.

She recognized me immediately.

“Hello, Stevie,” she said.

The old nickname hit me instantly.

“It’s Steve now,” I replied. “I’ll have a beer.”

She smiled—and handed me my drink in a feminine glass.

“That’s not the right glass,” I said, irritated.

“Oh, I think it is,” she replied softly. “I still think of you as one of my girls. I often wonder… do the women in your life know you’re not really a man?”

That stung.

“I’m not a boy anymore, Karen. I’m a man. And I don’t see why I shouldn’t complain about this.”

She took my hand.

Immediately, I felt that old vulnerability. Her grip was firm—confident.

“First,” she said calmly, “I’m the manager here. Second, you’re still my girl—unless you prove otherwise. And third… you’re not a man.”

I pulled my hand back.

“Well, we can’t fight in here—but I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

She raised her arm on the table in a classic arm-wrestling position.

“Alright,” she said. “Prove it.”

I took her hand.

Before we began, she leaned in slightly.

“Are you sure?” she asked quietly. “If you lose… nothing changes.”

“Just say go,” I replied.

“Go.”

I pushed with everything I had.

But she didn’t move.

Not even slightly.

She smiled calmly while I strained.

“You have lovely eyes, Stevie,” she said softly. “You’ll make someone very happy one day.”

I gritted my teeth, pushing harder—until my arm burned.

Then, slowly, she began to push back.

I looked into her eyes.

She was calm. Confident. In control.

And stronger.

Far stronger.

My resistance faded.

My hand hit the table.

She kept holding my hand there.

“Now tell me,” she said quietly, “are you a man?”

I hesitated.

“No.”

“Still my girl?”

Her grip tightened.

“Yes.”

She released me.

I stepped back, shaken.

As I left, I knew one thing:

Some things don’t change.

Muscular Women Fiction / Christmas with the In-Laws

« Last post by Piv on April 18, 2026, 08:51:23 pm »

Christmas with the In-Laws

For the past few months, my girlfriend and I had been arm wrestling regularly. She had no idea about my fascination with strength, but every time we locked hands, it thrilled me.

She was surprisingly strong. She swam a bit and did occasional light workouts—not a bodybuilder by any means—but her arms were firm, and over time she had become a real challenge for me.

Still, I was stronger. She had never beaten me—except maybe after several matches in a row when I was exhausted.

As Christmas approached, we planned to visit her mom for dinner. Her mom lived with her husband and my girlfriend’s older sister, Jennifer.

I got along well with her mom and stepdad. Jennifer was different—we didn’t always see eye to eye, though we stayed civil.

Two weeks before Christmas, my girlfriend mentioned something that caught my attention.

“She’s turned into a bit of a hardbody,” she said about Jennifer.

I tried to sound casual.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s really toned. Strong. Her arms look amazing.”

Now I was intrigued.

“How do you know?”

“Mom told me,” she shrugged.

I pushed a bit further.

“You haven’t arm wrestled her?”

She laughed.

“No way. I wouldn’t stand a chance. Honestly… you might struggle too.”

I laughed it off—but the thought stuck with me.

Christmas Day arrived, and I couldn’t help but be curious.

During dinner, the conversation eventually drifted toward Jennifer’s workouts.

“…and he even came to the gym with me the other day,” Jennifer said casually.

I jumped in.

“Oh yeah? Kelly told me you’ve been training.”

Jennifer smiled and lifted her arm.

When she flexed, I was stunned.

Her arm still looked slim—but the muscle that appeared was incredible. Defined, compact, and powerful-looking.

“Wow,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to arm wrestle you.”

She smirked.

“You might not have much choice later.”

After dinner, we moved on to games—charades, of all things.

“This is boring,” my girlfriend said suddenly.

“Well, what do you suggest?” her mom asked.

“How about Jennifer arm wrestling Jamie?”

My heart sank.

This was it.

Jennifer paused, then looked at me.

“Are you okay with that?”

She sounded confident. Too confident.

I couldn’t back down—not in front of everyone.

I walked to the table.

“Well, I’ve never lost to a girl,” I said, trying to sound sure of myself, “and I don’t plan to start now.”

She just smiled.

We locked hands.

Her grip was strong—immediately stronger than I expected.

As we started, I pushed hard and gained a slight advantage.

Just as I thought.

Strong—but still beatable.

I smiled.

Then I looked at her again.

She was smiling too.

No—grinning.

My movement stopped.

Then slowly… it reversed.

I pushed harder—nothing.

She wasn’t even struggling.

“Come on, Jennifer!” her mom cheered.

I tried everything—but I couldn’t stop her.

She drove my arm down and pinned me.

The room erupted in applause.

I shook her hand.

“Guess I’ve been slacking,” I muttered.

She smirked.

“Guess so.”

The message was clear.

She knew she was stronger.

Then she spoke again.

“Why doesn’t Jamie arm wrestle Kelly?”

I froze.

This was worse.

I knew how close Kelly and I were.

If I lost…

I didn’t want to think about it.

I tried to deflect.

“Why not you and Alan?” I said.

Jennifer shook her head.

“Already tried. He’s stronger than me.”

Then she added:

“But you and Kelly? That’s a fair match.”

There was no way out.

Kelly hesitated—then nodded.

“Alright… but Jamie’s stronger than me.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Jennifer said.

We took our positions.

Her grip tightened around my hand—just like always.

We started.

At first, it was a stalemate.

Then I pushed.

Nothing.

She wasn’t moving.

Something had changed.

I saw it in her eyes.

Confidence.

She twisted her wrist slightly—and suddenly I was losing ground.

“Go on, Kelly!” Jennifer shouted.

I fought back—but I was only slowing her down.

She laughed—not mockingly, just surprised.

Then, with one final push—

She pinned me.

“I did it!” she shouted, jumping up.

I sat there, stunned.

“Well done,” I said finally. “Looks like I need to start training.”

She flexed playfully.

“You’ll need more than that.”

Later that evening, after a few drinks, her mom brought it up again.

“Let’s see those muscles again, Jennifer.”

Jennifer flexed proudly.

“Your turn, Kelly.”

Kelly followed—less defined, but still strong.

Then her mom turned to me.

“What about you, Jamie?”

I laughed nervously.

“I think we’ve seen enough.”

Then she said something unexpected:

“I wonder if you could beat me.”

I laughed.

No one else did.

Soon enough, I found myself at the table again.

My arm was already tired, but I was confident.

This would be an easy win.

We started.

I pushed—and quickly gained ground.

Just as expected.

Then—

It stopped.

She held.

I pushed harder.

Nothing.

My arm began to burn.

Then slowly…

She pushed back.

Panic set in.

I tried everything—but I was exhausted.

She kept going.

Steady.

Unstoppable.

Until—

My hand hit the table.

The room burst into laughter and cheers.

I sat there in disbelief.

“You’re weaker than you look,” Jennifer joked.

“Don’t look at me,” Kelly added, laughing. “You’ve got no excuses now.”

I looked at Paula.

She hadn’t even trained.

And yet… she had beaten me.

That was the moment I made a decision.

Things had to change.

I was joining a gym.

Next time… things would be different.

To be continued…

WPW Memorable Female Muscle & Hall of Legends Videos / WPW 075 - Joanne McCartney

« Last post by Female Bodybuilding on April 18, 2026, 08:22:30 pm »

WPW 075 - Joanne McCartney

Quote

This video, WPW 75, was on a flyer in September 1987 which said "we are back from the USA and Nationals of that year" and are treated to the fruits of our labor that year, starting with Joanne. Though this was our first video for Joanne, she is well known to her fans as she has had alot of coverage in our magazines. Her footage here was taken on two occasion at 5'7" 162 pounds two months before her contest and at 154 pounds at the time of her USA show when she was ripped. Therefore, she poses in a bunch of great looking outfits- black dress, red dress,couple of bikinis, tights halter...all dubbed with classical music though her scenes lead off with live gymwork in the gym with live sound as she does a work out featuring alot of live curls and she hits alot of shots after doing many reps. She became known as having the best calves in the sport, though as you will see on the video her biceps and chest were great also. Again, this was our first video with her but also had lots of follow ups on WPW 100, 119, 176 and WPW 208. The young looking 27 year old remained attractive for those years after this video and she shows off her slightly British accent during the interview.

1.9GB total

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Female Bodybuilding, Physique, Fitness, Figure, Wellness, Bikini & Fit Model Contest Photos & News / Re: 2026 IFBB Puerto Rico Pro

« Last post by genin723 on April 18, 2026, 08:21:33 pm »

WPW Memorable Female Muscle & Hall of Legends Videos / WPW 100 - Joanne McCartney

« Last post by Female Bodybuilding on April 18, 2026, 07:59:24 pm »

WPW 100 - Joanne McCartney

Quote

We taped Joanne in 1988 and even early on she was known for having the best calves in the sport, so perhaps if you get this video you will wonder why we lead off with close-up bicep shots? Well, you have to watch this video where she poses in many outfits - bikinis, leotard and dresses - to see that very soon after hitting the scene opening bicep shots we move quickly to her calves in heels. She continues to pose in 6-7 outfits with live sound mostly, posing inside and outdoors before closing with her interview. We had several previous shootings with Joanne and those were Super 8 transfers on WPW 75, then we had a session a year after this one, and that is on WPW 119, though pieces of each of those are on each other. If you would like more of her, she is also on WPW 176 which is all new, and on WPW 208 she was taped again with 3 other women. But back to this video, WPW 100, it is only Joanne on the video, but has a small amount of WPW 75 on it. The video closes out with her interview. As said, she was a complete physique who was about 5'8" 160 pounds, but don't let her unreal calves take from her complete physique, which she had including the very large biceps and back posing, together with thigh shots- one of the best women ever and for many years.