[Lingster]

One of the things I love is when a woman’s sudden new musculature is revealed in a social setting and results in her embarrassment. I think it’s the juxtapositioning of power and powerlessness that makes it such a turn-on for me. There are brief snippets of this in Nomdreserv’s latest story "Personal Demons" that demonstrate this:

Lisa started relating as much of her adventures as she could, and she and Lynnette happily worked in between exclamations and blushes.  Lisa noticed they were almost out of their bottled Elysian Spring water, and went into the stockroom to open a new case.  She considered calling Lynnette to help her lift it, but was surprised to find that she managed it quite easily.  She walked back out holding the large box.

“Whoa!  Let me help you,” Lynnette scolded, running to grab the side of the box.

“It’s nothing,” Lisa replied breezily.  “It must be only half full or something.”

But after setting it down and opening it, they found a full case of heavy bottles inside.  There was an uncomfortable silence.  Lisa crossed her arms self-consciously, feeling a tightening in her sleeves and across her back as she did so. She reached up surreptitiously to explore the hardness and unexpected bulges of her upper arm.  Lynnette caught both movements.

“So, um, you did say he turned you back to normal, right?” she asked.

“I thought so,” Lisa admitted doubtfully. “Maybe not all the way back?”

“Fine,” Lynnette announced airily, apparently unconcerned by Lisa’s newly baseball-sized biceps and broad shoulders.  “Guess who’s doing all the stockroom work today?”

And despite being the purported boss, Lisa could hardly argue with that.

And then later on in the story:

Lisa had taken the opportunity to do a lot of the heavy lifting, loading and rearranging work they had put off for so long, reorganizing the back room and doing repair work in the old store they rented.  She had planned to ask Bob to come in some weekend and help, but now found she could do all of it easily herself.  In fact, the boxes and furniture seemed to get lighter and lighter the more she worked.

Lynnette came in and found Lisa pushing a set of shelves into place almost effortlessly. 

“Ooh, muscles,” she gushed teasingly, coming over to rub Lisa’s prominent biceps.  She paused as she did so, feeling the surprisingly large and rock-hard muscle that wasn’t even dented by her fingers.

Lisa pulled her arm back in embarrassment. 

“So, um, how are things going out front?” she asked, trying to make her biceps smaller by relaxing it.  It stayed stubbornly round on her arm, as though refusing to retreat after being awakened.

You can find the whole story at Nomdreserv’s site. There’s muscle growth and other growth scattered throughout, but the parts I quote come from chapters 7 & 8.

[Mark Newman]

I know why I like that scene. It points out one of the differences between the way (at least the way I perceive the way) women view muscles and men. Can you imagine a man being embarrassed about having muscles too large? Yet women do try to hide their muscles when they have them, or joke about them. A scene like this brings home the fact that these are female muscles and reinforces what makes the scene arousing for a FMG lover. It’s not just a character with a woman’s name. It’s a real girl!

[Cowprobe]

Also it adds a bit of comedy when the gal manages to hide her physical advancement out of embarrasment until her clothing no longer is able do disguise those changes.

Also known as the baggy sweats bait and switch. 😳

[nsl2050]

It can be a bit of a double edged sword. In an ideal situation the woman is embarrased by the attention, but either accedes reluctantly to a requested flex, or flexes privatedly to herself later. Otherwise you run the risk of prompting the fear that a lot of us have that our wives or girlfriends will go to the gym, get some muscle, but stop because they don’t like it.

This touches on something Linster said elsewhere about being reluctant to turn up to the company barbecue with an IFBB pro on his arm. Some of us would prefer that the woman had muscles but that they’re somehow just for us, and they only get shown off in private (probably in the bedroom).

We project ourselves into the stories that we read, looking for a world we’d like to live in (where muscle growth magic amulets are ten a penny), or situations we’d like to find ourselves in: the girl at the office has biceps and only we properly appreciate them.

I also feel this is why so much effort is put into the reveal (baggy sweats, business suits etc.) because we know that there’s scant little female muscle out there, and we like to think that there’s more out there, but it’s hidden away.

Perhaps we either want the world to change around us to make our (and I hate to use the word) fetish normal, or we want it to stay in private. I realise that we all have a slightly different outlook on these things, so I may be speaking only for myself.

[Mark Newman]

Well, you’re speaking for me too. You describe the world of a hidden desire and hidden fulfillment very well. Although to generalize more, this is also the nature of male sexual desire (I won’t speak for women here). We look at the female body. The clothes hide the body and reveal it. They draw our attention while keeping us out. We mentally undress the women we work with and the women we pass by. We (at least I) can’t help it. The muscularity is another layer. Is it there? What can we do to make it burst out? Can it happen in reality or just in our minds?

I wonder whether my own focus on transformation and power transfer is another side of the "reveal" as you call it.

I also wonder whether if our fetish were normal it would lose some of its excitement.

[Historian]

That’s a good point, Marknew. Do we FMGers’ take a perverse pleasure in being very much a minority? (Most of the growth Yahoo clubs I’ve visited top out at about 3000-4000 member). Maybe that’s half the fun. I would bet serious money that at least half the sites on the Internet are "standard" (softcore/hardcore) porn, yet they do absolutely nothing for me.

[Author]

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