Couple Goals

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Happy wife, happy life

Andrew was enthusiastic, supportive and loving. All reasons why he signed himself and his wife, Raye, up to gym memberships when Raye expressed a desire to shed some post-pregnancy baby weight.

What Andrew was not, was consistent, determined or motivated. Which is why his gym visits gradually tapered off. Raye, on the other hand, took the bit between her teeth. Day after day, week after week, month after month. Year in and year out. Raye hit her goals, and set new ones.

Five years later, the difference in outcomes was readily evident.

Despite a hectic life ruled by school drop offs and pick ups, weekend sporting activities, kids parties and full time work, Raye's gym routine was sacrosanct. Before and after work and on the weekends, it was Andrew who did most of the parenting and the "life admin" while Raye spent gruelling hours hardening her jacked, ripped, body.

Through successive rounds of setting ever more ambitious her goals, shedding pregnancy weight had become a distant memory. She was now focused on being rock-hard across every facet of her eye-wateringly shredded body— paring away the last vestiges of body fat. Tearing and rebuilding layers of hard won muscle mass. She had no intention to compete, but she would regularly compare herself to professional bodybuilders, critiquing her ever-widening lat-to-waist ratio... guessing at the depth of her adonis belt relative to the top IFBB figure competitors.

Raye's obsession permeated every part of their lives. More than three-quarters of the pantry was given over to jumbo sized supplements and powders. The basement became a fully decked out gym. When most parents went out, they packed a bag for their kid - snacks, water bottle, change of clothes, toy. Andrew also packed a bag for his wife — extra meals, powder and mixer, resistance bands, gym clothes. Raye ate healthy, so they all ate healthy.

Raye's metabolism was so supercharged, that she was constantly hot. So around the house, she wore less and less. Often in booty shorts and a tank top. She worked out in the nude. Her breast tissue had long since given way to thick quivering pecs which needed no support at all. This was a feature she enjoyed maybe the most of her new body. After chest day, she would test her
muscle control, tensing her pecs and watching them bounce hypnotically to the rapid beat of her workout music, before slow rolling the muscle from top to bottom and back in a perfectly controlled wave of muscular discipline.

Every muscle group was trained to the same peak performance, from glutes that morphed from bulbous muscle to cratered hollows through to twisting her forearms to watch the cords of hypertrophic sinew roil and slide over each other.

Andrew, ever-supportive, would prepare her exacting and numerous meals and keep up with the mountains of sweaty laundry, all while running little Tom around to one engagement after another.

While some might have been put out by the demands placed on them, Andrew was devoted to his wife and infatuated with her body. As it had evolved, he had become increasingly enthralled by it. During love-making, he'd run his hands over the harsh lines of her abdomen, worshipping the crevices between Raye's sharply etched 8-pack. He licked and kissed her vascular neck.

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When you come to a fork in the road, chose the path less traveled

The truth is that Andrew loved his wife so completely, that he likely would have moulded himself to any path she chose. Had Raye become a waif, he would have exulted in her willowy body. Had she embraced her curves, he would have indulged in her sensuality. But she hadn't done either of those things. Instead, she'd taken the path of becoming a yoked beast of a woman.

At times, Andrew had to hold on for dear life as his muscular wife straddled him and rode him reverse cow-girl style, slamming her rock-hard glutes into his hips again and again, leaving him bruised and tender. Even as his body was being pummelled, he'd marvel at the immensity of Raye's back, the armour-plated cobra's hood expanded to unbelievable limits.

The morning after one of these pummelling sessions, Andrew was walking stiffly around the kitchen making breakfast, still a little worse for wear, when Raye came up from her morning workout. It was 7am. Tom had not yet come down. Raye had been working out for two hours already. Her white tank and shorts combo, thrown on before she came up, were both soaked in sweat, leaving little to the imagination. Her thick nipples dented the fabric of her top, dark aereola clearly visible under the drenched and deformed fabric.

"Baby," she said, "I've been thinking..."

She explained that she'd hit a plateau in her progress. Andrew eyed her body skeptically. Raye seemed less likely to have hit a plateau than to have achieved the pinnacle of what the human body was capable of being. But she went on to describe her issue as being one of mass. She didn't think she could put on more muscle mass without some assistance.

Some may have hesitated at this. Legality, side effects, body image issues. There were plenty of potential objections. But not Andrew. "I got you babe," he said. He saw his role as providing for his family and he wasn't about to stop doing that now.

Raye grabbed him in a bear hug and squeezed. His ribs immediately whined in protest before Raye stopped. He now had bruised ribs to match his bruised pelvis. He'd have to watch himself, he thought, or he'd soon be a mangled mess. As Raye wolfed down the porridge he had prepared for her, Andrew realised that the bear hug had also left his clothes damp from the curtain of sweat coating Raye. He'd have to do a quick wardrobe change before the school run.

The rest of the day, Andrew ignored work and researched. Through the weekend, he was googling during Tom's soccer match, guitar lesson and while the laundry was going. He talked to doctors, asked questions on forums and discords and read every piece of information about gear that he could lay his hands on.

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