The Interview
(Artwork: ZGannero)

I am undefeated, she smiled, Against the other girls and guys. You wrestle guys? I inquired. Sure. Why not? It is good competition. She paused for a moment. A wry smile appeared on her face. Do you find that strange or intriguing? she asked, raising her eyebrow for emphasis.

Community College Muscle Coeds
(Undisclosed)

Amy and Jessica decide to christen the end of Community College by ravishing their professor!

Mucle Mama Pupetta
(Story: Diana the Valkyrie, Artwork: ZGannero, Original Character: cee666)

I'm six feet seven, high heels take me up to seven feet. Yes, there are advantages in being tall, but there's also drawbacks. It's nice to be able to see over the heads in a crowd, but it's not so nice banging my head on projections that assume that no-one is more than six feet. This is both a blessing and a curse. It's a blessing because people stop and stare at me, it's a curse because that causes pedestrian traffic jams. It's a blessing that I don't need a bra, they support themselves rather well, but that leaves me with quite a lot of wobble. Think jelly on a plate. Yes, I can run, they're firm enough for that, but skipping rope? No way. It's a blessing because I can cause very strong erections just by standing still; it's a curse because my breasts are a major cause of premature ejaculations, and those ejaculations are usually in such volume that the ejaculator is incapable for further sexual activity for hours. And that, of course, is very frustrating for me. And it's a curse because people used to ask me: Are those real? Which is why I started wearing little or nothing above the waist, because then no-one asked me silly questions about my tits.

Rough sex at the gym part 2
(Story: Arnoldziffel1, Artwork: Tan Yk)

A fitness girl throws caution to the winds and makes a chalenge. Her feeble punches did nothing. Then the beating began. Punches to her face, a full nelson that almost killed her, and then her head was pounded into the ground. This was brutality expressed in anger, with a side order of brain damage.

Pizza Girl part three
(Undisclosed)

Today I was attacked again - the guy wanted the money I was carrying. He was waving a knife around, but it was a dinner knife and he looked really stupid with it. "OK, OK," I said, "My life isn't worth the cash I'm carrying, it's on the bicycle, I'll just get it." But also on the bicycle was my hockey stick, and that's a yard long. I unclipped it, and swung at his head, as one does. He ducked, of course, but I caught him a good one on the shoulder. He yelled "Bitch" and came at me with the knife, but I got him on the left ear with the second swipe of my stick, and he staggered. Why a hockey stick, you might be wondering. Because a baseball bat looks like a weapon, but a hockey stick looks like sports equipment. Which it is, and I've had plenty of practice with it. So he was still coming at me with his cutlery, so after I'd bounced my hockey stick off his left ear, I did a follow through, spun round and smashed my weapon into his right ear. Now he was dazed, but he still had his knife, so I lined up carefully and whacked his right hand, cracking his knuckles and causing him to drop the blade. Now he was disarmed, I suppose I could have just got on the pizza bike and rode off, but my blood was up and I wasn't going to stop now. The standard strike with a hockey stick is, of course, to the shins, followed by an "Oops, sorry about that!". So I took careful aim, raised the stick and brought it down as hard as I could. There was a satisfying "Crack!" and I knew that my assailant was finished. So I put my hockey stick back on its bracket, got on the pizza bike and rode off into the sunset. Or I would have, but it was night time so I rode off into the moonlight.

Too big
(Story: Diana the Valkyrie, Artwork: Robolord and Diana the Valkyrie)

Elaine has a problem - she's too big. Not fat, but big. Her ambition is to join the college football team. Not a "girls team", but THE team. That's how she meets Jeremy, who is much too small for the team, and both of their lives are changed. They both fall in love. Her first date with him went very well, but for her second date, she needs a really posh dress, which she doesn't have. And she can't buy one, because she's ... too big. She visits a dressmaker who takes her remarkable measurements, and gets a quote for $600. She raises the cash by challenging, and defeating, one of the football team, at wrestling. So she can pay for new new dress, and the second date with Jeremy goes well, and ends with a powerful display of what it's like for Jeremy to have sex with a girl who is ten times as strong as he is.

Pizza Girl part two
(Undisclosed)

Revenge is a dish best served brass monkeys, unlike pizza. So, the next time I see Eric, I use my Pizzagirl power to step on the pedals and catch up with him. I silently approach from behind, and blast him with my compressed air powered horn, sounding at 130 decibels just like a 56 ton 18 wheel truck mere inches behind him. He was suitably startled, swerved, wobbled, wobbled some more and went down, making a very satisfactory scrunching sound as he hit the deck. "Good morning, Eric," I called out merrily as I sailed past. Karma soon caught up with me - it started raining. Cats and dogs. So I reacted the way I always do - I got wet. But the pizza was safely tucked away in my insulated pannier, and I was able to deliver it, still hot. I stood there looking like a drowned kitten while the customer fetched some bread, which wetness I believe contributed to the handsome tip he gave me. Another contribution might have been the way that my wet shirt clung to my thrupenny bits. I'll take whatever I can get, except getting stiffed.

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.