After a few moments of anger, they finally resigned. Even though the seminar had started in the worst possible way, they were both ambitious enough not to take this too hard. Getting some more coffee, they started planning their research.
The next two weeks were spent researching literature and compiling two preliminary reports on the subject. Raffaela joined all kinds of specialist websites on the subject and analysed the available debates. Valerie joined her at first, but they soon found out that cooperation wasn’t at all possible. They simply got into each other’s way. Relief came when she suggested digging into the university library’s remota. As a result, they were easily able to evade each other. While Raffaela posed as a curious novice in all things female muscle, Valerie worked herself through piles and piles of bizarre material, including pornographic fiction, comics, even a radio drama.
When they finally agreed to meet again, their heads were filled with the strangest imagery they had yet encountered. Raffaela had insisted going to Valerie’s place. She mostly wanted to be indignant over her partner’s lifestyle, but was also curious. They met in front of her flat and Valerie reluctantly unlocked the door. It opened on a large 19th century flat, composed of five large rooms. The whole thing was dark, ancient furniture covered in dust and books. Enormous quantities of books. Books and notes. Photocopies. Files. Digital media. On the floor, a fine walkway had been cleared to allow access to the kitchen. As the women carefully progressed through the mess, Raffaela stared in total astonishment. Although she was far from being a bibliophile, she saw at least four first editions of famous scientific treatises on the way. The kitchen appeared to be the only room not entirely encroached by books, but still, the kitchen table held three freshly dusted tomes from the early 19th century. Valerie quickly removed some books from a chair, wiped the grime from it and offered it to Raffaela. She then set up the percolator. When it was ready, she poured the liquid into a faded gift cup from a forgotten political party and sat down herself.
Raffaela sipped at the less than average brew, pursed her lips and said:
“Quite a museum you have here. Beautiful collection, but you could work on the arrangement.”
She stared at her blouse’s sleeve which was now dusty and stained by some unknown reddish liquid.
“I like it this way. Besides, I’d never get it sorted for others. I find my way, that’s enough. Anyway, I found these two in the bedroom.”
She pushed the tomes to her partner and explained:
“They’re fetishistic novels from the 18th century, reedited in France, probably Lyon, in 1807. It’s a philosophical journey to the ‘land of the amazons’. The heroes are a philosopher and his servant. They find the lost city of the amazons in Brazil and spend most of book I caressing muscles of disdainful females. It’s not terribly well-written and copies parts of ‘Candide’ almost word-by-word. On the other hand, this is an excellent starting point for our literature part. It even has engravings.”
She flipped through the pages, eventually reaching an inserted sheet of better quality paper. It showed a very muscular woman, clearly traced from an anatomy chart, being kissed and licked by two men in a state of half-dress, their erections clearly visible through their trousers.
Raffaela looked at it, then flatly remarked:
“Oh joy.” She put the book down. “Still, I’ve got to hand it to you, this is excellent work. Anything else?”
“I found fifty relevant texts and images from historical sources which we can easily incorporate. It’s amazing what they keep in the depths of their libraries. How about you?”
“I’ve analysed the transcripts and asked around myself. The access to the scene is actually not too difficult: There are professional performers which can be contacted via the internet or phone. Since the whole concept of muscle worship need not include sex, it’s actually legal, as long as nobody gets hurt. There’s also an easy connection via gyms. However, since there is a strong social bias against it, getting people to talk about their fetish may get difficult.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“We could start by interviewing one of the performers. This shouldn’t be too difficult. Once this is done, we’ll just have to find out how to get to the customers.”
Valerie interrupted her:
“This is hardly undercover participant observation, isn’t it?”
“Actually, I’ve been thinking about it. You’re right. We might as well just hire one and pose as clients ourselves. This will give us even better insight and we might get to understand the whole mess.”
“This is the worst plan ever. I’m hardly an actress in this way.”
“It’s okay, you’ll be the timid first timer.”
“And you?”
“I’ll be the curious first timer.”

A week later, they had booked a hotel room and hired one of the performers from one of the websites Raffaela had visited. The woman’s name was Diana, she appeared to be a non-competing bodybuilder, doing this to pay her bills besides a regular job.
Raffaela had got her to agree on being filmed during the action. This had increased the price by quite a bit, but the researchers were willing to pay. They arrived on location hours before the planned start. Raffaela spent 45 minutes on the phone, talking to her boyfriend, while Valerie was getting used to the room. At first, she just checked the bedroom, but then disappeared into the bathroom for a while. When Raffaela was done, she knocked on the door. At last, Valerie replied:
“Yes? What do you want?”
“What are you doing? You’ve been in there for half an hour.”
“Nothing. I’m just not feeling well.”
Raffaela gave the door a worried glance.
“You’re not going to chicken out, are you?”
“No. Of course not. I just want to… I’m not used to…”
“Quit stalling. What’s going on?”
“I haven’t slept away from home for years.”
“So?”
“And I haven’t been in my underwear in front of someone else since I was a kid.”
Raffaela averted her eyes. She internally damned the professor. Why her?
“Listen. I know this is stressing for you, but I’m just as nervous as you. I just want to do this well. You want it too, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“So please, try to keep your cool. I’ll get you something to keep down your panic. Please open the door now.”
She walked over to her bag and got the hip flask she had swiped from her boyfriend. She had brought it since she was just as nervous herself.
The door was unlocked. Raffaela let herself in.
Valerie was sitting on the toilet, shaking slowly. Oh, great. She poured a finger of whisky for them and offered the plastic cup to her desperate partner. The drink soon proved to be efficient. Valerie calmed down a bit. Raffaela then gently coaxed her to strip to her underwear.
At last, they were both ready. Raffaela had put on decent but appropriate make-up and lacy underwear, while the rather plump Valerie had revealed her sports bra. They both took advantage of the hotel bathrobes and waited excitedly.

When the time had come, there was a knock on the door. Valerie started to twitch again. Raffaela took a deep breath and opened the door. Outside stood a rather short, but very stocky woman in a coat.
“Is this Ms. Marke?”
Raffaela nodded. Pseudonyms are excellent.