Author: [jcboyd] Losing a Battle With Chemicals Over Moderation

[jcboyd]

Hi All...

With the blessing of the fantastic BMB, here's a small side story on Amy & Brian from My Wife Jennifer.  This is a one-off and not necessarily consistent with BMB's main story.  This picks up right after Brian and Amy's Saturday workout at the gym in the Summer of 2009 in the main story.  Hope y'all enjoy it

Losing a Battle With Chemicals Over Moderation
by jcboyd
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A Brian & Amy Side Story
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We walked out of the gym, Amy’s lengthening strides pushing her out in front of me across the blacktop of the parking lot.  While in the gym I’d been hurrying, quickening my pace to keep up with how much faster she moved now just from the added length and strength in her legs, now I walked along at my normal pace, not really even seeing her blooming body just a few steps ahead.  Instead I was lost in thought, looking downward thinking how disappointing it felt to have Amy not embracing what was happening to her – not recognizing how amazing it was – and basically clueless to how it excited me.

Ahead, she twisted, tossing a look back at me.

“Hurry up slow poke.”  She was smiling.  I think then I noticed that the pony tail itself was longer – maybe for the first time I noticed how such faster her hair was growing from the protein I was forcing her to eat.

She reached my Jeep and turned around, a flash of impatient in her usually happy eyes. She was standing at the back of my Jeep, yoga pants wrapped around her newly-sweeping quads and flaring out below her calves that each day seemed to fill more and more of the pant leg. The matching sweat jacket was zipped up, not quite halfway, her sports bra and her pert tits still there, but noticeably pushed outward, broader and thicker above her half-zipped jacket from the pecs rapidly growing beneath her still curvy breasts.  I think I realized right then that the half-zipped jacket wasn’t a choice, but that her upper body was growing so much and so fast, Amy couldn’t zip the jacket up any further.  But whatever dawning recognition I had was distracted by another change screaming for attention, her nipples, pushed out and erect, lengthening gradually as they were hard almost constantly now visible through the fabric of that sports bra.  They’d become more and more inviting like that in the last few weeks and incredibly sensitive when I’d tease them when we were alone.

“Sorry,” I said as I walked up to her. “Ready to go home?”

I was rewarded with a smile and a kiss – her happy dancing eyes now looking straight in mine – not glancing up as they did a few months before, not her going up on tiptoe to give me a welcoming kiss on my lips, just leaning in and gently kissing me straight-on since we were pretty much the same height now.

“You know it.  But no gross protein shakes.”

I gave a half smile and a chuckle. “Of course not.”

She climbed into the Jeep as I ambled around the other side – the canvas roof and sides were on but I’d unzipped the windows at least with the summer heat.

Even with the windows unzipped, it was still warmed inside the Jeep than even walking across the parking lot.  I knew once I got up to speed, driving back to our place the air would flow through the half-open Jeep and col off.  But as I was backing up, Amy huffed.

“It’s freaking HOT in here, Brian.  I know you like the whole cool-guy Jeep thing, but seriously, can we get some AC going?”  There was an edge in her voice, as I came out of reverse and clutched through neutral and into first to pull away I looked over.   

I watched for a second.  Those happy dancing eyes were gone.  They were still blue and I thought beautiful but there was a barely restrained sudden rage behind them.  I could see her jaw working, the skin across her cheeks pulling taut, her cheekbones suddenly sharp and more pronounced. I got lost for a second realizing how much harder her usually soft and typically feminine face looked right then.  Angular. Leaner.  The line of her jaw was set.  Sweat beaded on her upper lip and the sides of her face, rivulets at her hairline where she’d pulled her back into that pony tail, and rolling down the side of her face through the downy but still blond hairs that has recently started creeping down the sides of her face from her temples.  Her usually full lips set in a solid straight, narrow line. The once soft curve of her chin was sharper now, more square and pronounced, taking a shape with noticeable corners and prominence.

I smiled.  “Give it a sec.  The wind will blow once I’m on the road.”

There was a grunt and she flopped back against the seat as I moved through the gears pulling out on to the main road.  The wind did start blowing through and cooled us off as I sped up.  I glanced over.

She’d unzipped the jacket and I could see how much harder and leaner her abs had gotten in these few short week – even with her sitting down and somewhat slumped in the passenger seat.  My eyes went wide for a second, off the road.

A horn blared.

“What the FUCK Brian!!  Are you trying to get us killed!”  It was Amy yelling but the voice cracked and sounded raspy in the shout. In my distraction I’d drifted a bit and an oncoming car reminded me to pay attention.

“Sorry.” I mumbled, glancing up at the road and back at Amy. “I guess I like looking at you more than the road.”

That made her laugh.  And like that, the bubbly, happy, smile was back.  She leaned over and kissed my check.

“Forgiven. But is still too hot in this thing even with the windows off”

Leaning back she started to shrug out of the jacket.  I forced myself to stay eyes-on the road, turning up music in the car, even as I stopped at the next traffic light.

“OMG, I LOVE this song!”  Bubbly Amy was back, lifting her arms above her head and singing out while we waited in traffic for the light to turn.  Smiling I looked over, noticing with a start the thickness in her shoulders and upper arms as she swayed with them above her head, her elbows bent to keep her hands from getting the canvas roof of the Jeep, now so much closer to her head and outstretched hands from her growing body.

I was staring again.  Thankfully this time stopped at a traffic light.  I was smiling looking over at Amy, watching the show of her arms and shoulders, noticing the new fullness and shape.. seeing the veins popping at her elbows and starting to be visible down her forearms.  Suddenly, there was a retching sound.

“Ugh.”  It was Amy, clearing her throat. 

“Hon, are you ok?”

She put one hand out on the dash, making it easy to see the length of her sinewy arms and to notice how the long sinews of muscle were bunching and swelling more and more, looking fuller and harder, the added bulge of veins starting to push up through the thinning skin of her extended forearm.  Her other arm was bent back to the base of her neck, her hand pushed against her upper chest as she kept clearing her throat, the veins pushing out on the back of her hand clearly noticeable, her throat working to clear whatever it was feeling was stuck there.  The cords of muscle and tendons of her neck flexing as she tried to work out whatever discomfort she clearly was feeling in her throat.  Apart from the fleeting thought that she’d sucked down a gnat or something, my mind was only registering the wholesale changes I could see in her body. The new structure and shape visible in her corded neck, the veins starting to cover her arms and the new swells of muscle adding on to her original curvy feminine body.

“Ugh, just, feel like something is caught…” she trailed off is a rasp as a horn blew behind me. The light had turned.

She sat there holding that position, brows furrowed and heavily swallowing as I drove on.  Her opposite hand gripped the dash, making her forearms flex and ripple.  Over the wind blowing through the half-open Jeep I couldn’t hear her repeatedly trying to clear her throat, but as I glanced over, I could see her frowning trying to work out whatever she was feeling.  We hit another light and stopped.

“Seriously, Amy, are you ok?” I asked with genuine concern.  She swallowed hard and looked over at me.

“There. I think it’s ok, whatever it was,” there was a small smile as she spoke that suddenly vanished, the bright light in those blue eyes suddenly dark and the rage flickering in it again.  The last word had come out as a croak, crackling slightly in a deeper register. “UGH. Whatever. Let’s get home,” she croaked out again, more resigned that angry.

The last few minutes passed quickly getting back to our apartment complex.  As I turned into the lot in front of our building, Amy put her left hand over my right as it rested on the gear shift.  I downshifted into first and pulled into a space, parking and clutching into neutral without brushing her hand away.  I felt her fingers interlace with mine.  She’d moved over in the passenger seat, close to the center console, her rounded fuller shoulders nearly brushing mine.  Looking down I could notice her once slim, almost elegant fingers were changing with alarming speed day by day now.  Her French manicure was still there – if anything the nails looked better from all the protein she was eating, she’d even commented that she didn’t need gels any more to make her nails look nice, that the serum was making her nails naturally better and beautiful – but her fingers were thicker, her hand meatier and larger, with those veins pulsing more and more as what she was taking remade her.  I flipped my hand over to truly hold hers with our fingers laced together and looked over.  Her face was even with min.

“You know,” I smiled into her sparkly blue eyes, “to get out of the Jeep, I need my hand back.”

She leaned in and kissed me, hungrily, pushing her tongue deep into my mouth and to the back of my throat.  Her right hand reach across and grabbed by crotch, feeling how instantly hard I was from her suddenly furious kiss.  “I’m in REALLY good shape now, you think you can catch me?”  Those blue eyes were dancing again.  She pulled her hand away, whipped open the half-door of the Jeep, grabbed her gym bag and in impossibly long strides raced up the 3 flights of stairs in the garden apartment complex to our door.

I did not take my time going after her.

She was fumbling for her keys in the side pocket of the gym bag at the door when I caught up, panting.

“Gotcha,” I breathed, trying to catch my breath.  My hands were on her hips, behind her, leaning in and kissing her ear and then down the nape of her neck, kissing lower toward the top of her spine to avoid the edge of her hairline that was now creeping down the back of her neck.

“So you think,” she answered mischievously, plunging the key into the lock and opening the door.  The gym bag was hurled into the apartment.  She reached back and grabbed my hand and pulled me in, slamming the door closed and pushing me against it.

“God dammit Brian,” she was in my face, kissing me between words, “I feel so freaking good after that workout, I just want to have you to top it off.”

There was aggression in her voice and in her hands pulling at my shorts and shirt.  She hadn’t been breathing heavily from her sprint up the stairs, but now she was panting, her voice an urgent whisper, hiding the cracking rasp I’d heard on the drive home.  That darkness was back in those blue eyes. Not from anger (I hoped) but with urgency, aggression, and demanding desire.  She pulled my shirt out of my shorts, her rapidly increasing strength pulling off the rest of my clothes and pulling me against her hardening body.  I kissed her lips and down her chin, my hands finding the straps of the sports bra and pulling them down to the sides and over the swell of her delts.  She pushed herself against me with force, pressing me back against the door with her new size and increasing bulk, the half-undone sports bra pressed against my chest, but with her breasts and her now constantly hard, erect nipples pushing through the fabric and against me.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, arching her neck back as I kissed down her chin and her throat to her upper chest. “Fuck me. Now.”

I didn’t need to be asked twice.  I scooped her up, stumbling unexpectedly at the weight she now carried but pushing through it so she wouldn’t notice.  I made it to the bedroom and pulled off her yoga pants.  Or peeled them off with how they were filled by her quads.  She sat up and pulled the sports bra over her head, yanking with force as it got snagged on her lats as they flared with her arms overhead. “So fucking tight,” she muttered as she wrenched it free.  “Whatever.”  The sports bra was flying across the room.

Amy grabbed my arm at the wrist and pulled me to the bed, straddling over me as I landed, mounting up over my thighs as she wriggled out of her thong.

She started riding me.  My hands holding her waist and pulling her down on me as she loomed above, my hips feeling the bulk of her burgeoning body and she pummeled my shaft.

It was relentless as it had become the last many weeks. 

When she finally collapsed down on top of me, our legs twisted together, her head on my shoulder and my feet ending above her ankle as she scooted down to rest in my nook, I kissed her forehead, smelling the sweat and sex, and amazing at the hardness her body now had after just a few weeks.

“You’re going to laugh,” Amy said breaking whatever reverie I was in.

“Mmhmm?”

“I’m hungry,” she said quietly. “And, I swear you’ll laugh, I actually WANT one of those gross protein shakes.”

I didn’t need to be asked twice.

[Jeremy Lightning]

Very nice, I loved what I read here, about her sexually aggressive behavior and her hunger changing in terms of wanting one of those "gross" protein shakes, obviously the feminine steroid drug is working it's magic in her, very cool to see. I look forward to more. k+!

[phil123]

“I’m hungry,” she said quietly. “And, I swear you’ll laugh, I actually WANT one of those gross protein shakes.”

Great story. So she will grow more and more.
Looking forward to next installment

[jcboyd]

Thanks to all who read and karma'd and enjoyed.  There will be more (in some consultation with BMB).  Also - a special thank you to @martybong who was the inspiration for the title!

You're most welcome dude.

[jcboyd]

I liked it.  Short but sweet.  I could have easily believed that BMB had written it.

Thanks Jerusalem - high praise indeed - and I'd say BMB and I had numerous offline convos about this and the development of it.  They are his characters and I wasn't going to write something that didn;t relate to his universe and vision - even if his tastes and mine are a bit different.

 

[dixon145]

Did you ever get agreement to take your story concept forward?

[jcboyd]

Thanks all.  Outlining and logistics being worked out.....

[TimGee250]

I like the possible parallel between Amy and Jenn, with Jennifer getting more excited by her transformation and Amy getting more and more horrified.  I look forward to seeing more.

[jcboyd]

  Is that a hint?

[spar1988]

I think it may well be.... in his defence tho this was a stroller addition to the story from Amy's transformation

[jcboyd]

So I know it's been 18 months since the last bump on here, but after all that time, my modest contribution to the fabulous BMB's "My Wife Jennifer" universe is ready (and proofed and blessed by the man BMB himself)

Set after Amy quitts Wiley's, but before the confrontation at Jen's house in BMB's last chapter, this is a bit of a backstory on how Amy and Brian stumbled into Sequence 2 - so vividly shown by BMB in his last chapter of "My Wife Jennifer"

Enjoy!

Losing a Battle With Chemicals Over Moderation:  A Brian and Amy Side Story

Midnight Snack

Fall 2009

I woke up from a dead sleep.

“FUCK!” came thundering from up the short hallway of our apartment.  “FUCK! FUCK”! FUCK!”  It was like a dull roar reverberating in my ears.  The covers next to me had been thrown back and the other half of the bed was empty.

“GODDAMMIT FUCK!!!!” came the rough deep screaming again from up the hall.

I pushed the bedsheets off me and stood unsteadily.  The clock on the nightstand said 1:48 a.m..  I’d been home not even three hours, bone tired after pulling a double shift at work.  I’d gotten a promotion at work a few months earlier.  It was more money and actual responsibility – which was great – but sometimes the shifts ran long or doubled up having to deal with issues and problems. I’d been having way too many of those days the last few weeks.  It meant I really hadn’t seen Amy except for the outline of her sleeping form when I’d finally roll in at night and slip into bed, not wanting to wake her from her own peaceful sleep – or risk waking her to only have her ravage me beyond my already exhausted condition after 15 hours in corporate drone hell.

“MOTHERFUCKER!”

The ironic thing was that I’d gotten promoted right after Amy had quit her job at Wiley’s.  So just when she was finally fully bought into how the Feminox trials were remaking her – embracing the changes I found so erotic and enticing and desirable – our time together was incredibly curtailed as my work demands pressed me into real adulting.

For Amy, quitting Wiley’s changed her whole outlook on her life.  She was excited for the gym and training with her had stopped being a chance for me to teach her something and had quickly morphed into me pushing myself to try and keep up with what she kept calling “All this energy and power I feel inside!”

It had started the morning after she’d come home after quitting and destroying her old manager’s hand in the process.  I’d been a little worried there’d be a police report out that whole incident but in truth nothing ever came of it. Instead, Amy had bounded out of bed early the very next morning (after first waking me up by riding my morning wood to complete explosion) and headed down to our gym.  She was back within the hour, while I was still in bed trying to get moving for the day with the announcement that she’d gotten a new job at the front desk of the gym we belonged to and she was just back to change clothes because she had a shift starting right away.  By the evening, all the vision boards around our small apartment with articles and pictures clipped from Vogue and Cosmo were gone, replaced with clippings from Muscle & Fitness Hers and Oxygen.  It was cute.  And in a way, laughable, as then 6’ 190lb Amy already outclassed the airbrushed fitness models in those magazines.

After that, she’d been a fixture at the front desk.  Her long blond har and beautiful face with dazzling blue eyes welcoming hardcore athletes and generic gym bros alike to the gym I’d been going to for years through college and where I’d brought Amy when she’d started the Feminox trials to take advantage of the chemical enhancements that the cocktail of whatever Feminox was giving her, reshaping her body in a way that I could not get enough of.

And luckily for me, she couldn’t get enough of me.  That morning “warm up” of fucking me awake was typical.  She had the early shift tin the gym, bounding out of bed by 5:00 a.m. to open the gym, so come  4:30 in the morning she was stroking my member  and riding me hard to start her day off with two, three, four screaming orgasms in a row.

And screams that every two or three days featured a crack and a yelp as her voice broke and moved into a deeper register.  Usually accompanied by a ”FUCK!” and her slamming her hips down hard on my shaft., making me stifle a groan under her rapidly increasing weight and crushing mass grinding her swollen clit against the base of my shaft.

It was unbelievable. 

I know I was screaming with pleasure as I exploded inside her.  But no one could have heard me over the deepening throaty growling moans erupting from Amy.

By the time I recovered and tried to get some extra sleep in before I had to be at work, I could usually stop in at the gym to see Amy and get my own lift in on occasion.  After a while, keeping up my own lifting even without Amy training with me was necessary for self-preservation to manage some level of fitness and increase in strength to barely keep pace with the changes mutating every part of Amy’s formerly petite form.  There were definitely bros at the gym who looked on with envy at the supermodel tall but bodybuilder jacked blond who’d unfold herself from behind the reception desk and nearly knock me over when I’d walk in.  And the gym managers obviously tolerated it when Amy would grab me and pull me into an empty sales office and fuck me  silly more often that not when I’d get there. 

But our time together was always brief.  My job was managing a shift at a call center and that was 24x7 business.  My management shift had me working Wednesdays through Sundays – Monday and Tuesday were my weekend.  Amy had a more typical Monday-Friday schedule since she opened the gym every morning at 5 a.m.  Even on weekends though she was up and out early (after banging me awake) and near as I could tell, she’d literally spend the entire day at the gym training with the biggest meatheads in the place. 

We were living together, but hardly ever actually together, except to sleep, and that usually meant also for mind-blowing sex with Amy’s ever escalating needs and nearly overwhelming strength.  I could notice changes week by week when I’d make it into the gym on days when work didn’t call me in earlier than usual.  The staff polo shirt she’d wear  would be noticeably tighter and strained some weeks, the sleeves bunching and riding up on her shoulders as her biceps bulged bigger and thicker, pulsing blue veins rippling across her arms.  Every few weeks getting ready for work, I could hear her through my sex and exhaustion hazed mind groaning to get into those shirts and then sleepily see her roll her shoulders and flex her widening yet tapered back and the seams explode, exposing ridges of slabbed muscle bulging across her upper back.  I know I was half asleep and maybe it was a trick in my sleepy eyes, but my God, it was hot to see her body exploding with all that thick mass and ever bulkier size.

And that brought me just a couple of months later to find myself standing shakily right outside the kitchen in our apartment, looking down at the figure squatting on the floor, desperately trying to clean up what looked like an entire canister of protein powered that had exploded.  A light pink camisole top was barely clinging to her back, riding up and straining to contain her flaring lats, the thin spaghetti straps sliding outwards down her traps, caught, awkwardly, where the rounded cap of her shoulders met the rising mountain of traps, visible with her blond hair thrown up on top of her head in a messy bun, ever darker and coarser hair creeping down the nape of her neck.. thickening and darkening from the effects of the chemical mixture Feminox kept pouring into her body.  The ridges of muscle visible along the sides of her spine bulged through the thin camisole, exposed below the hem of the fraying tank top, running down toward her thick, round, bulging ass, immodestly “covered” by a thong, which Amy had taken to wearing more and more because, as she put it, “nothing covers my butt anymore, and if I get new panties, in a week, I’m outgrowing them anyway so whatever.”  Strands and curls of darker blonde hair spread up from the top of the thong along the small of her back, arcing down over the taut globes of her ass, a stark reminder that as much as I couldn’t get enough of the hard, sexy, muscular body that was growing and changing every day, there was a weird price being paid by Amy in this transformation, begging the question of whether she was becoming a muscular supermodel like she envisioned, or whether the Feminox serum was making her into something else, something wholly different and beyond being a woman with extraordinary muscles.

“Amy? What -?”

The response was violent.

“Don’t YOU fucking start with me now,” Amy rasped, rising out of her crouch.  “I am not going to fucking take you giving me shit for this!” 

As she snapped at me, she stood, a sudden bulk filling the space between us.  Her hands were balled into fists, every sinew of muscle from her vein wrapped forearms to thick, full, massive biceps, crisscrossed with still more blue throbbing veins, leading to rounded delts standing out in sharp relief, wide, full and massive, threatening to overwhelm the small space of the apartment kitchen.  The once elegant feminine curve of her neck obscured by thick bunched traps flexing against a vein-corded pillar of muscle now wider than her square and angular jaw.   Her blue eyes were blazing again, beautiful to me, but frighteningly intense with barely controlled rage flaming our at me.

“Whoa, Amy – I’m barely awake – what’s going on?” I managed to stutter.

“What’s fucking going on?  I’m hungry Brian.  I am always insanely hungry.  Everything I’m doing, everything that keeps happening to me, that’s always constant with it, I’m hungry and need to eat!”

She was yelling, but  the tail end of every third word cut off as her voice cracked and strained, it made the heat of her words choke off into a kind of rasping, choked whine.  She shrugged helplessly at the mess in the kitchen, her traps swelling higher and lats pushing her arms further out to the sides with even that innocuous movement.

“And there’s nothing here, I ate everything earlier before you came home.  But then I remembered I’d found that tub of ‘Mass Gainer’ powder under the sink.  You obviously haven’t been using it, so it’s been able to help me at night when I wake up to eat…”

I was dumbfounded. “You wake up at night to eat?”

She smirked.  “Duh.  It’s fucking endless, the need to eat.  You’re dead to the world anyway, I can’t even get you awake afterwards to fuck me.  I’ve got to take care of myself.”  There was a halfhearted tone of exasperation in the rasping of the words.  “At least you’re functional when I need you when I get up for work and the gym.”

She closed the space between us, filling it with her immensity. Her hand reaching toward me, reach int my shorts and grabbing my cock.  The smirk morphed into a feral grin, hungry, for more than just food.

“You can always wake me up if you need something,” I replied, my own hands coming up and starting to run up and down the writhing musculature and squirming veins of her engorged and bulging arms.

And just like that, the intensity of attraction was gone in her eyes.

“That’s fucking bullshit Brian.  Look at you right now, you’re not into me, you’re just into my muscles, when you’re awake enough to actually notice how much I’ve grown.  I’m a freak now and for whatever fucking reason that’s the only thing you give a fuck about!”

She was startlingly close now as she growled into my face, her eyes dipped down to look into mine, three inches shorter than she was now, my hands helplessly resting on the flexed mounds of her biceps as she crowded closer.

“See?” her voice dropped, quieter, but deeper than ever. “You can’t even touch me like I’m a woman.  Every time we fuck, every time you touch me.  Every time we sit on the goddamn couch like we used to, like normal people do, your hands are on my quads, or my arms, or you’re kissing my trap things, not even my neck like you used to….”

She trailed off again, voice breaking and dropping, but the rage dying off as suddenly as it had sparked. She sniffed and lifted her head back up, still nodding down slightly to look at me.  I looked up to see her eyes, to see if that loving light was back, wanting to reach up and kiss her.

She saw the look in my eyes and started to smile.  My eyes dropped to her lips, feeling her hands below my waist again, stroking me needlessly since I was already hard and throbbing instantly to her touch.    Letting go of her arms, I dropped my hands to her hips, reaching behind to clasp the small of her back and pushing up taller to kiss her smiling lips.

I don’t know if it was the sensation of feeling that coarse hair along the small of her back as I tried to pull her bulky form closer to me, or that as I came closer to kissing her, I could see the wisps of hair dotting her upper lip and speckling of a slight golden brown stubble along the laugh lines of her face toward her chin, but I hesitated as she came closer to me.

And like that, the  hint of real love and attraction was snuffed out.

“What?  Now what the fuck is it? You can’t even kiss me?”   She’d released my cock and was drew up to her full height now.  Inhaling.  Her chest expanding.

“What Brian?  Now you’re not turned on?  Now this is too much for you?  Once second you’re fucking hard in my hand, coming to kiss me and then I get close and you pull away?”

The camisole tank was riding up her torso even more as she stepped closer and I stepped back.  It was plastered to her chest, her wide areolae visible through the fabric stretched to near translucence, outsized on her chest, which was all pecs, the curve and softness of her bouncy breasts now gone, dissolved into the thick plates of muscle pushing out, straining to rip the misplaced feminine camisole from her enraged and engorged body.  The plating of her abs flexed sharper with each shouted word and deep shuddering breath.  The trail of hair running from her navel down to the top of her thong, darker in that moment than I’d noticed before, widening and it plunged toward what I knew was her rapidly overgrowing snatch, with the bulge of her constantly engorged and rapidly growing clit pushed through the fabric, visible even amid the unruly pubic hair curling around the edges of the thong itself, spreading darker down the inside of her thick rippling quads 

“You don’t like this?” she growled, low and threatening this time, voice like gravel on metal, more rumbling than articulate, her hands gesturing to the heaving pecs pushing the fraying tank top to its limits. “Christ Brian, you loved my tits but you promised me, that me getting stronger was even hotter for you, that you wanted my chest like this over ‘saggy fatty boobs’ – that’s what you said.  What you promised!  But instead, you’re grossed out.”

I’d been stepping back and away from her but it didn’t matter.  Her longer legs matched me as I stumbled back slamming into the back wall of the hallway as she reached out with one impossibly long arm, her thick, meaty hand squarely on my chest, massive in how it spread across my torso, effortlessly pining me to the wall, her capped shoulders rolling and flexing as her mass blotted out everything else.

“No Amy!  I’m not grossed out. I love you!  I love everything about you!  I’m in awe of how you’ve remade yourself and taken advantage of  this chance.  That’s what I love about you, that you had the strength as a person to work this hard and embrace what Feminox is doing for you.”
She’d relaxed her rippling outstretched arm slightly and I’d managed to pull my hands up and reach between us, my hands resting on those bullet hard nipples pushing through the straining tank top.  I leaned in more as she dropped her arm down to her side and leaned closer to me, my mouth fighting back the drool of seeing such insanely sexy and thick muscle so close.  Her bulging upper chest was there under my hands and I started kissing the top of her chest, taking my tongue and licking down the deep crease between her pecs, tasting her sweat, feeling how the texture of her once so smooth skin had roughened and the layers of thick muscles had grown, building her chest, eviscerating the formerly full swell of what had once been her breasts, teasing and stroking those hard long nipples with my fingertips.

I thought I was giving her what she wanted.

“Fucking stop Brian!”  Amy spun me around and away from the wall. “You don’t get to just do that and get away from dealing with this.”

“Dealing with what Amy?”  She was against the wall now, I was a few feet away, staring back at her in exasperation.

“Dealing with the fact that these changes happening to me aren’t going to stop. Dealing with the fact that I have to wax my face like every fucking day to not have a beard growing like a dude.  That I go through a razor every damn day trying to keep my legs smooth and it doesn’t fucking matter because by the time I’m home and showering before bed, I’m all hairy again.  Nevermind what I keep finding growing all over my chest and back like every other day.  I feel like I barely look like a girl any more, as much as I have a pussy and love fucking you, I eat more than the biggest guys at the gym and basically out lift all of them too and everyone who calls the gym thinks I’m a  guy when I answer the phone.  Shit like that which you’re completely oblivious to but that comes with my body growing and changing.  Shit that I fucking hate, but you told me was worth letting happen to me if it meant me getting bigger and taller and stronger.”

The anger was ebbing away, now bordering on tears, quiet rasping sobs thrumming to the surface of her emotions.

I glanced away and then quickly stepped back down the hall to our bedroom.  Racing for the messenger bag I used to carry stuff to and from work, fumbling to pull something from it.

“Brian!”  It was like a roar.  Half angry.  Half devastated.

I raced back to the kitchen, sliding on the tile. She had stepped back into the kitchen from the hallway when I’d dashed back to the bedroom, but was standing there, filling the small space, her hands clenched again in fists, her jawline set, the muscles and tendons of her neck standing out like thick cords of cable, veins wrapping around those, the lines of her face all hard angles.  Her bright eyed blond beauty I’d first been attracted to was still there, just changed now into a chiseled, lean, enhanced version of itself, but probably just past perfect as the new flaws of how the serum was remaking her were more noticeable now with the facial hair obvious even across the room and hair creeping down the sides of that striking face.

“Amy, I don’t know what else I can do.  I don’t know what else I can say.”  My heart was racing now. Pounding in my chest and ears. “But we’ve been on this road together and I can’t think of any more ways to keep reassuring  you that I love you and as much as I loved you before, I love you more every day and with every change.  I’m done trying to convince you.  I want you and only you.”

She looked at me confused.  It was maybe the most we’d actually spoken in months since she quit Wiley’s and I got promoted.  But through it all when we were together I couldn’t imagine being anywhere, or with anyone, else.  I could only hope she felt the same way.

“Amy,” my voice cracked. “Fuck it,” I mumbled and dropped to one knee, landing in a sticky mess of vanilla mass gainer powder, turning the small box I’d retrieved from my work bag around and snapping the hinge open.

“Amy, I love you, and I want every part of you every day in every way.  Will you marry me?”

And with that, she crumpled.  The rage and angry emotion fell away all at once.  Tears rolling down her face and she dropped to the floor with me, awash in the vanilla scented powder, her thick callused hands touching my face and reaching for the ring in the box.

She didn’t say anything for a while.

Plucking the ring out of the felt box with her thumb and forefinger, she looked at me quizzically.   To be fair, the  ring looked comically small as she held it.

“How long have you had this, Brian?”  I told her I’d gotten it a little while  after she quit Wiley’s and I got my new job.  That I’d gotten a bonus and spent it on the ring, waiting to find  the right time to give it to her.

She smiled.

“That was a couple of inches and  35lbs ago, Brian.  You know you’re going to have to get this resized.” 

The laughing and smiling eyes were back.

“I know.  But maybe I should size it up a bit.  I mean, whatever size you are now, you won’t be for long.”

She reached over and kissed me, gently and with love.  Maybe for the first time in months.  “You do have a point.  But first, can we do something with this mess?  I’m still starving and you know how I get when I’m hungry.”

# # # #

The number I dialed rang a few times.

“It’s 4 o’clock in the morning.”  The reply from the other end had a weird accent I always noticed was there.

“It’s Amy.”

“I have caller ID.  I know.”

What a bitch. Whatever. 

“You said to call as soon as I had an answer for you.”

There was a big sigh on the other end of the line.  “Indeed.”

Seriously.  What a bitch.  Well, I guess I don’t have to like her.  I just need her to help me grow. 

“Well, I’m in for whatever it is you want me to do.”

“Really.  And the boyfriend?  You’re certain he won’t leave you when this starts.”

I felt myself smile.

“Fiancé now. He says all he wants is to be there for me as I change more and more.  He’s obsessed with my body.   And I just need to be bigger.  You know that.  I told you that.”  I was gritting my teeth to stay quiet and not wake Brian up.  My throat fucking hurt again. I could feel my voice ready to crack and drop.  Again.

“Four o’clock this afternoon.  We’ll start Sequence 2.”

“Sequence 2? What the fuck is that?”

“What will give you what you say you want,” came the reply.

And the line went dead.

[bertmacklinsbrother]

Just wanted to drop in and say congrats on posting this wonderful addition to the My Wife Jennifer storyline!

[governor]

I hope Amy . . . and Jennifer (. . . and real life fbbs . . . and other women . . .) come to embrace their beards and other hair!

Is the new serum going to give her some animal features? I keep getting that feeling.

[First-Second]

This is some damn good stuff. Realistic characterization, great descriptions, and a nice driving concept. Love it!

[phil123]

soooo good!!! I love this!!! And I hope for more!!!!!!!!!