My male personality

You know, this sounds very weird, but I was little, I used to dream about having a male personality or alter ego. I was a scrappy kind of tomboy with a lot of brothers and male relatives and no sisters. I was often regularly asked by friends if I was a boy or girl.

His name was something like Chris (a masculinized version of my own name) and he was always my age but he was big, strong, at least a head taller than the other boys. He was a baseball player (a star pitcher, of course) and he was also a master fencer, skilled at the bow and arrow, knew how to hack computers, and he was friends with wolves. While I was an overweight little girl, he was extremely good looking and strong: he was Cuban, like me (in some versions), with these hypnotic kind of green eyes and very dark mocha skin.

I made up several mutually contradictory backstories for Chris. In one of them he grew up in Alaska by his arctic explorer father that left him under mysterious circumstances. In another version (which I made up after I saw HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME) he was a gypsy boy from India who lost his memory.

He would always do things like wrestle velociraptors that attacked Prospect Park in Brooklyn, leaping from a fire escape to wrangle a one, or defiantly swallowing a key while being held hostage by gangsters. He was like Jonny Quest, except he didn't need a Race Bannon, as he could scrap like a tiger and pilot any kind of plane or submarine. He was another part Marty McFly, a boy next door on a skateboard who would do things like follow smugglers by holding on and riding atop the roof of their car. He never used firearms, but he had (at various points) a boomerang and a gun that shot needles coated in poison.

I recall creating a few archenemies for him to fight, the sort of things you're only capable of when you're a kid: one of them was a carnivorous, bright orange gelatinous cube.

I guess there's a theory in here that the reason I created this sort of daydream alter ego was the exact same reasons other girls daydream about horses and ponies: as a way of safely expressing pre-pubescent and pubescent sexual feelings, with a figure of fascination that is a repository of male virile qualities, freedom and masculinity. In my case, a strong, athletic boy instead of the usual horse or pony. This, by the way, is also closely related to why women are afraid of bugs: the fear of bugs is closely connected to the fear of rape, because bugs crawl and touch all over and get into secret places.

What's interesting too is Chris was never "my" boyfriend. He did, however, catch the eye of many other girls, including a Radio City Music Hall Rockette and a few female teachers, and a few cartoon characters; I always imagined him dating Sabrina the Teenaged Witch from the Archie comics. There's an argument to be made here that the creation of a male personality represented a "safe" way to express some of my same-sex desires. It wasn't "me" that had a crush on Angie or wondered what it was like to kiss her, but rather "Chris."

Anyway, eventually Chris and his many adventures disappeared the same age I started wearing lipstick. I was thinking about him in passing the other day, and if Chris had aged right along with me, he probably would have become a muscle stud. I always imagined him having a brawny build, rather like Richard Sandrak: already having well defined pecs. For some reason, I also thought of him having especially big legs in proportion to the rest of his body, with giant calves like a cannonball stuffed behind his shin, or thighs that stood out in tight jeans. He would certainly have become a hunk if he got older, no question. Even as a girl, I imagined him winning these competitions by a mile where boys flex their arms to see who's the biggest.

I can just imagine him now: shoulders as big as a doorway, but with the gliding grace of a male gymnast, a waist so narrow he could inhale and create a hollow under his ribcage. Still the same old hypnotic green eyes that glow in the dark like a cat's, and the same dark skin. His natural strength, enviable genetics and massive frame would have led to him being an easygainer: pumping up muscles quickly. He would have been a handsome track star and football player, but he would have been brilliant enough to make even the nerds nervous to play Chess with him.

I'm curious to see how Chris would have handled the two big obsessions of teen boys: girls and cars. I doubt he would have had as ruthless and angsty an adolescence as I did, with my functional anorexia/bulimia and general overachieving oddness that got me labeled "Queen of the Nerds."

I can imagine quite a few very dashing career choices he would ultimately have taken: He-Man scientist/explorer (he'd probably be in the middle of his Masters degree, just like me, but he'd have already studied biology/ecology in the Amazon and Gobi desert, and no doubt wrestled a Yeti in Tibet), or Air Force pilot.

The studliest male muscular fictional characters of all time

Sandokan

I don't much care for nice guys. I love baaaaad boys, however.

A dashing, rakish rogue, with smooth cinnamon dark skin and gypsy-light eyes, Sandokan is a pirate called "the Tiger of Malaysia," a sort of uberman for whom morality doesn't apply. Sandokan's stories were set against the backdrop of India, Malaysia, and Borneo in the sail age, where he was a hoop-earring wearing native chief that fought against the British and imperialism. Sandokan was always bigger than life: he had a secret cavern and pirate city filled with treasure, and when we first see him it's as a dark silouette shown only by the momentary flare of a lightning bolt.

He's dark, scary, and loves to ravage female prisoners in his power. That last part I just made up, but I always imagined he would. Though Sandokan is a studly Asian guy that always seemed to get together with these blonde women, which makes me wonder why this series wasn't voted the greatest of all time among every Pakistani math major I've ever known.

I had to read Emilio Salgari in a Spanish language translation of the original Italian, however, because he's pretty much unknown in the English speaking world. By the way, here's a fun fact: I'm actually fully bilingual. People that watch me do mathematics are often startled to see me switch between the languages when counting, one number in English and another in Spanish. Part of the reason Sandokan isn't as well known in the English speaking world is because of the anti-Imperialism and anti-British message of his stories, whereas adventure writers like Kipling and H. Rider Haggard that specialized in telling Americans and British the lies they liked to hear about themselves. Che Guevara read all 50 of Salgari's novels, and so did Isabel Allende and Umberto Eco. Just like it's cool for intellectuals to find cool, ironic appreciation in non-literary adventure novels - think Gore Vidal (who always looked like a real-life Fred from Scooby-Doo that got old along with the rest of us) and his introduction to ERB's Tarzan - Emilio Salgari is the same for Spanish-language writers.

In a wonderful bit of synchronicity, Steve Reeves played Sandokan in several movies, and I've always thought he was at his best doing Thief of Baghdad orientalist stuff, as opposed to the sword n' sandal stuff he always did.

Lion-O

Now this one I'm sort of embarassed to admit, but I've had a crush on him since, oh, about age 4. I loved the bizarre and exotic color of his catseyes, the masculine swell of his chin (again with the chins, but I think it's the secret to a masculine look: a strong lower face). He was brawny and muscular, but in a way I think is the secret to a good physique: a small waisted way that implies sleekness, low body fat, immense speed, and grace.

I also always liked that Lion-O was a sweet guy. He wasn't the gutsy, macho hero of other adventure stories, but somebody for whom all the stories were something of a learning experience, and the other characters his teachers.

He could stand to get a haircut, of course. No way he's ever going to beat Jayce's skunk hair for the sexiest hair on Saturday morning.

I'm sure none of the male watchers of that show had a problem with this, but it always bugged me that none of the Thundercats ever had any real relationships or love. Now, I'm not saying my heroine Cheetara should shack up with somebody...I'm kind of glad that Cheetara was there as a heroine in her own right and not as one of their "girlfriends." But still.

Also: am I the only one that thinks Wiley-Kit is going to be hot when he grows up?

Just me? Okay.

Tarzan

What can I say about the gloriously godlike Tarzan, a flawless muscle stud in a loincloth, with long hair and a beardless strong jaw? There's nothing more gloriously sexy and masculine than a dark tanned, nut-brown wild man that will wrestle a tiger for you with his iron muscles and bare hands, wearing a wispy scrap of a loincloth.

I always thought that I would make a better mate for Tarzan than Jane, who was a more than a bit of a twit. Apparently, I'm not the only one: Jane Goodall thought very much the same thing when she was growing up.

Steve Reeves: Greatest Bodybuilder of all time

Here's my all-time favorite story about the jaw-droppingly handsome, masculine, flawless and symmetrical Steve Reeves:

Steve was filming this or that Spaghetti Hercules movie in rural, small town Italy, and he decided to leave the location for a while to go into town to buy some milk and bananas. Steve was in partial Hercules costume. When he entered a store, an Italian woman's eyes popped out, and she started screaming hysterically, "Oh my God, he's the Son of Zeus! You can tell my his arms! Oh my God, he's the Son of Zeus!" Naturally this started to gather a crowd of people in the town, and they mobbed Reeves and refused to let him go until he flexed his brawny, all-meat cannons for them, which set out a round of applause and awe.

I guess the reason I always liked this story was because it just goes to show how Steve was so godlike, brawny and blue-eyed that he didn't seem real at all, he was a mythic and heroic character.

One thing I've always noticed about the great fictional muscular adventure characters of the 20th Century is, I've never seen a real-life actor that was as believeable or buyable as a Tarzan, Conan or Hercules, as a painting of said character. This, incidentally, also goes for the ladies as well: Linda Carter was my she-ro when I was watching her in reruns as a girl, but I was depressed to discover years later how flat of an ass she actually had.

Steve Reeves seems to be the exception. He looked every inch the flawless, Greco-Roman sculpture of the male figure, handsome and strong. He's also the only guy I know that could pull off a well-groomed beard - and I'm well known for being anti-facial hair.

My all-time favorite Steve Reeves movie would not be any of his Hercules pictures, but actually WHITE WARRIOR (1959) where Reeves plays a chiseled, clean-limbed honorable Muslim warrior from the Caucasus that fights the Tsar in the 1850s. It was based on Leo Tolstoy's last novel, HADJI MURAT, and since I'm a big Tolstoy geek, when I read about Reeves's filmography I gravitated to this movie right away. Whereas Tolstoy's novel was about the horror of war and the conflict between religious and secular society very much like his famous WAR AND PEACE, the movie HADJI MURAT was an adventure movie with white horses and 1850s Russian opulence, a spectacle movie with daring escapes. Unlike a lot of Sword n' Sandal movies, this one was actually pretty unpredictable, as opposed to the by-the-numbers Sword n' Sandal films, and is definitely a cut above the rest of this genre. Reeves plays a Caucasus horse-riding nomad with a love of freedom and a hatred for Mother Russia.

The highlight of the movie was when Steve Reeves peeled his shirt off his rockhard, tanned body to impress some captive Russian girl with his prowess at wrestling. The shock of seeing Reeves's articulated, glistening male torso is a little like that of getting slapped in the face.

There is one Steve Reeves movie that I've never seen, and that's the one he did where he fought Gordon "Tarzan" Scott. DUEL OF THE TITANS features the two as Romulus and Remus. Though if I was director, it would involve a whole lot less of the two (ahem) twins fighting, and a heck of a lot more of them competing for me.

Muscle Growth: the Video Game

I've never been a big video gamer, except when my brother had an original Nintendo and he suffered the indignity of his baby sister kicking his ass at Tetris and Kid Icarus. But "Altered Beast" was brought to my attention by a friend and it is definitely worth a look as it is apparently the muscle growth video game. As an intriguing historical footnote, "Altered Beast" was the game the original Sega Genesis came with prior to Sonic the Hedgehog.

The premise of the game is (and I swear to God I am not making a word of this up) you play a guy that is commanded by Zeus to rise from the grave to save his daughter, Athena, from a demon that dragged her to hell. I haven't seen this level of insane juxtaposition since HERCULES AGAINST THE MONGOLS, which was about as historically accurate as ABRAHAM LINCOLN AGAINST THE MONGOLS.

But it gets better. The premise of the game is that you kill two-headed dogs to steal energy balls (!) that cause you to simultaneously grow muscles and lose more clothing, until you're a massive, powerhouse Mr. Universe with 300-style red man-panties (Mommy likes!). I have no idea if this game has a gay subtext, but then again there's a scene where a naked greased up muscleman in a speedo fights a unicorn so I'm going with a big YES. In the end, your character rescues Athena from the underworld as a werewolf and the two are shown in love and married (I have the furries' full attention now, I see). So I guess the game should be called "Altered Beastiality."

Watch a playthrough of the first level so you see I'm not lying.

Esperanto Grrl, the internet's answer to Eartha Kitt

I feel terrible for even thinking anything bad about people that read my work and like it, because honestly, I don't have enough fans to really get that picky. I love to hear from anyone that's read my work, because it's very validating and makes me feel what I do is worthwhile...which is very important, because I don't get paid for this. Comments and praise are what keep me going.

All that said, I do feel there are some people that have embraced my erotic fiction for reasons that make me very uncomfortable.

One of them is an undercurrent of homophobia. The inarguable fact is that a significant percentage of people that write fiction in my particular specialized area, muscle growth, are gay men. So, when male readers come along and tell me "hey, it's so great you're writing some straight muscle growth stories, it's great you're standing up to the homos that are shouting you down" I feel a little uncomfortable and disturbed. Mostly because it isn't true: the majority of my fans are gay men, who have been very welcoming and think I have a unique voice. I feel a little silly now for writing stories all this time under a genderless pen name.

The truth is, I'm a bisexual oddball nerd girl that's a sexual omnivore, and I have more in common with my gay male readers on the Evolution Archive and elsewhere, than with the straight readers on places like literotica and EpicLust.

How to write a muscle growth story

I get asked for advice by bright-eyed, bushy-tailed young writers all the time, that want to bring their own erotic muscle fantasies to life. Here's a few tips:

Put lots of thought into your opening sentence. It’s the single most important part of the story because you want to entice people into reading the story. It’s a “hook” that gets attention. Throw in the sexiest part of your story, or something shocking, just to get attention and make the story stand out. Since people read these stories to be turned on, make your opening sentence something sexy. It doesn’t have to be sex, but it should be an expression of sexual desire, or someone lusting for muscle, or offer the promise of sex or adventure to come.

Every word should be calculated to have an effect of arousal on your reader. Every word in a horror story creates a sense of fear, so horror writers choose every word for the effect on the reader. Likewise, everything in your story should be something sexy. It doesn’t all have to be sex, but it should be sexy. For muscle guys, demonstrating strength is sexy, going to the gym is sexy, or the shower room.

Find out what you like and then write about it. This should be obvious, but there’s a temptation to write what you think other people want to read. In the end, this doesn’t please anybody because there’s nothing unique about your story. Are you sexually attracted to Native American guys? (And why not, with all that hair?) Are you a furry? I guarantee no matter what you’re into, they’ll be someone, somewhere that says, “FINALLY! Someone with my exact same love for guys with giant tongues!” And you’ve earned yourself a devoted new fan. And who knows? If you do it right, you can give other people a whole new sexual interest. Fetishes are a little like Gonorrhea: they can be sexually transmitted.

Basically what I’m saying here is, find your own unique voice. Are you a sensitive person that loves romance and passionate sex on an emotional level? Write that way, because you have something to contribute.

Describe unusual muscles and don’t use numerical measurements. Don’t use measurements unless you absolutely have to: use comparisons and descriptions to get a jist. For that matter, describe muscles that are sexy but aren’t commonly described. Nothing gives a man size and mass like the traps, for instance. Are they like footballs stuffed under the skin, or sloping pyramids to either side of his bull neck?

Don't think in terms of the traditional story. You can if you want to, and it really improves your work. But really, muscle growth stories aren't "stories" in the traditional sense. They're an exhibition, sort of like a trapeeze act, and you have to think in terms of things that wow.

Use all five senses. How does a muscleman smell? Taste, when you lick him? What’s his voice sound like?

Do research and don’t make obvious mistakes. The reason I write this is because I’ve gotten a little tired of male writers making hilarious mistakes about how bra sizes work. By the way, DD and E-cup are the exact same size, for instance.

If you’re writing a multiple part story, some new situation has to happen every chapter. It doesn’t matter how long a chapter is, but there needs to be at least one plot point, change of scenery, introduction of a new character, or something new at least once per chapter. Even if your chapter has sex in it, you should at least have some new element to it: different position, different participants. If you’re like me and have a plastic sexuality, do different types of sex: male-male, then male-female, or female/female.

The best looking men in the world: “Mr. Israel” Sagi Kalev and Nick Manzoni

“Mr. Israel” Sagi Kalev

He’s got abs you could smash your hand on if you tried to belly punch him, and he’s got the smouldering hunk heat of a male soap opera star. Which, come to think of it, he is: he was on Young and the Restless. He was also an Israeli military officer, so he’s also “a guy in uniform.”

Check him out!

Nick Manzoni

You know, I just realized exactly what it is I like about Nick Manzoni: he’s basically a sexy version of the Karate Kid. Except he never met Mr. Miyagi and turned to the gym instead for help in beating up those asshole California blonde guys.

My Crushes

Even though this blog is dedicated to muscular guys, I don't just like muscle studs. In fact, there are a whole mess of guys and gals I think I hot.


Sean Connery



My all-time favorite Sean Connery movie has to be DARBY O'GILL AND THE LITTLE PEOPLE, where Sean Connery sings and dances tunes like "My Pretty Irish Girl." It has to be seen to be believed.



The reason I consider this to be a totally Sean Conneryesque movie is because in this film, at the start of his career, Sir Sean was trying to be Dick van Dyke, only with a little more sex appeal. Yet even in the family-friendly Darby O'Gill where he was trying his darndest to be squeaky clean, Connery played a character that was very "dirty" and had too much of an intensely dark "bad" sex appeal. It was sort of like watching a porn star play Snow White.


Michael J. Fox

Hey, who didn't have a crush on Michael J. Fox? He's the cutest, ultimate guy next door. Sure, he's not tall, but I'm not weird about it. I'm five foot if I stretch, and I like the idea boys can come in bite-sized packages.

Unfortunately, this story doesn't have a happy ending. A few months ago, I was on the Upper East Side facing Central Park East, and I saw Michael J. Fox on Fifth Avenue. He looked about 60 years old, and I didn't recognize him at first. After seeing him, I had to go into a coffee place, have a good cry. What's especially insulting are the people that claim Michael J. Fox is faking his illness. I tell you, he's not faking anything, not a bit. I wish him the best in fighting Parkinson's.

Oded Fehr



One of the most dashing, handsome, heroic sort of leading man, Oded Fehr is every ten year old girl's dream of a handsome prince. By far the most attractive part of Oded Fehr is his voice: foreign accented, romantic. Recently, though, Oded Fehr cut his gorgeous long hunk hair, which is immensely depressing and actually emasculating.



Geena Davis

One theme I've wanted to explore for some time is the idea that, with same-sex attraction, there's a very blurred line between desire for someone and desire to BE someone. I guess it's like that with me and Geena: I want to BE her. I want to have my face shaped like hers and have a cute little dimpled chin and be over six feet tall (no, seriously).


Patricia Vazquez

I don't exactly have a crush on her, but I do respect her immensely. Every story I've ever heard about Patricia Vazquez raises my estimation of her.



The first time I saw her is in THE MUMMY (which incidentally, also gave the world Oded Fehr). She had a grand total of five minutes of screen time, but she made an impression. Every single trailer for the movie had her in body paint. In the flashback scenes to Ancient Egypt, it was obvious none of the actors really spoke a lick of Egyptian and they were reading their lines phonetically. All except for Pat - she spoke Egyptian like it was her native language. Now that I give the matter some thought, it was actually a little creepy.



Here's another Vazquez story: she had to play a corpse in THE MUMMY. Which is really a part better suited to Gwyneth Paltrow (oooooh, burn!). Anyway, she's supposed to be dead, and in part of the film a rat leaps from Oscar Winner Rachel Weisz onto her. There Pat lay, unmoving and dead as a corpse. Finally, the director shouted "cut!" And Pat immediately leaped up and started screaming. She had a deadly fear of rats!

And that's how Pat turned her one small part into a huge one come MUMMY RETURNS. Just goes to show what you can do with a little class and professionalism, and a whole lot of body paint.