“…these gargantuan glorious muscle magazines didn't influence us, they recognised us for what we already were: muscle lovers.”
Eddie V.
At Muscle Service, we love to hear from our fans. And this week, I am happy to share an article written by Twitter fan @MuscleWorshipKing aka M.W. King! He reached out to us, wanting to share in the fun job of professional porn journalism, and offered to write some articles for the site. We were more than happy to entertain the idea and asked him to write about where his fascination with muscle came from. So he then immediately jumped at the chance. Check out his origin story below!
Golden. Bulging. Vascular. Humongous. Muscle. Instantly the connection was made. There was no before nor after, there was only ever the innate desire – untouched and unearthed but ever present. Muscle magazines. Those beautiful beacons that called out to us, called out to our innate beings, called us home. Before we ever even knew what sexuality was, before we knew what bodybuilding was, before we knew about power, strength, size, before we knew about sport or fitness – we knew muscle. We knew it inherently. An in-built love of glistening, gigantic musculature. The heart-racing power of FLEX magazine that tore into our souls across a store, the flush-faced force of Muscular Development exposing our lusts on our faces, the commanding supremacy of Muscle & Fitness – these gargantuan glorious muscle magazines didn’t influence us, they recognised us for what we already were: muscle lovers. Not just any muscle lovers but hulking huge, shredded, alpha, roided giants of muscle. The lovers of the biggest, most vascular, most ripped, men in the world. The strongest, most sculpted men there had ever been. Works of art, cast from Gods. Shining examples of what men could be, the ultimate male physique. We were born with the knowledge without ever being taught. Muscle magazines were magnetism is motion – pulling us to them and drawing us closer to ourselves.
Pre-pubescent, one stood in awe of bodybuilders and didn’t yet know why but were simply mesmerized by muscle, only when puberty hit did it all fall into place. Those magazines were porn. Pure porn. Better than porn. Filth. Sex. Better than sex. Fantasy upon fantasy. Hyper masculine, saturated with testosterone yet so very, very homoerotic. Whether lycra clad or short-shorts wearing, whether barely-there stringer or torn denim, these men were overflowing with oiled, enormous, mind-blowing (and load-blowing) mega muscle.
I remember psyching myself up to buy one for the first time at about 13. My heart pounding, pacing round the store not wanting people to see me pick it up, face red with embarrassment, fear, excitement and sexual longing. I even went to an out-of-town store so I didn’t accidentally bump into any one I knew. But this muscle lust was too strong to deny. I KNEW I loved muscle even before I knew it. It was as if the colossal power of their muscle was mirrored in the immense need I had to have the magazine. It overcame any fear I had, gave me courage like that of the bodybuilders I desired. I purposely didn’t steal the magazine. I wanted to go to the counter, to look the cashier in the eye and buy the muscle magazine. I wanted to have pride in myself, my sexuality, my muscle men. I honoured myself by honouring them. I picked up the magazine, strewn with monstrous muscle, unflinching, unhiding and placed it on the counter – throbbing with excitement – and became a man. A muscle lover. And proud.
We hope you enjoyed M.W. King's writings. If you'd like to share your own origin story on where your fascination with porn came from feel free to reach out or email us at eddie@muscleservice.com
