Married Bliss

[sevenpeight]

A few weeks after the pasta sauce incident, I pulled into the driveway from a grocery run. I turned off the engine to hear the now-familiar sound of heavy metal clanking in the garage. It had become a regular soundtrack for me to beat off to, thinking about my ever growing muscle woman.

Helen finished her workout just as I raised the boot to get the bags out. "Hey there!" She chirruped, grabbing a handful of my arse. She kissed me passionately, her tongue bullying its way into my throat. An immovable hand on the back of my head held it in place as Helen enjoyed my increasingly panicked squirming. She broke off with a mischievous grin. "Let me give you a hand", she said, still smiling, as I fought to refill my lungs with precious air.

I'd normally take at least three trips to ferry a weekly shop into the kitchen (two thirds of that slated for Helen's insatiable appetite). She bundled together more and more bags. Soon she had the entire boot-full gathered into her hands. I'd caught my breath by now and was looking at Helen with incredulity. Could she really be that strong? Three trips for that volume of food was pretty good. Two would have been impressive for a grown man in excellent shape. One trip was ... incredible. Helen cocked an eyebrow at me. She had an unnerving knack for knowing what was in my head.

A quick heave, a quiet grunt, and the great mass of food was hoisted up and out of the boot and travelling toward the kitchen. Helen's musculature exploded with the effort. I followed her dumbly into the house, my shorts tented. As she lifted the bags on to the kitchen bench, I realised her upper back now protruded further from her frame than her bust. Dense tectonic plates of muscle collided together and heaved outward like I was watching the formation of a mighty mountain range, with geological time sped up a million fold. Helen had  built layer upon layer of thick unyielding muscle. I was pretty sure she was now two normal human beings deep at the shoulder. The grocery bags landed with a thud on the kitchen counter and Helen turned slowly to face me.

[sevenpeight]

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[sevenpeight]

Thick, bloated, veins pulsed all over her inhuman physique. Muscle fibres twitched in her arms and chest. The girth of her forearms defied belief, each one as thick as my thigh. She lifted her arms and slowly curled her hands into tight fists. Tendons jumped in her overdeveloped forearms like hydraulic pistons jumping to life. She brought them down towards her shoulders and her biceps surged upward like hot rocks exploding in a volcanic eruption. Momentous megaliths with split peaks towering high. "Do you like this temple I've built...?" Helen asked quietly. I swallowed and nodded yes. "Well then," Helen continued, "come over here, scale this wall of muscle and worship."

Years earlier, when we were first married, Helen had found an accumulation of months of porn in private browser windows that I'd carelessly left open on an iPad. She was surprisingly sanguine about it. She asked me if I was into bodybuilders and muscle. Having been found out, I answered her truthfully — yes, I was. To my astonishment at the time, that's all she cared about — that I told her the truth and didn't try to dissemble. She dropped the subject and asked nothing more.

Until her recent transformation, we didn't mention it again. But that episode meant that she now knew, without discussion, that I would not only support her in her new passion but be positively thrilled by it. Don't get me wrong — I'm not saying she did it for me, or even that she would have done anything different if I'd had misgivings about her choices — but secure in the knowledge that I'd be excited by the muscular beast she'd become, she unleashed the full force of her hypertrophic sexuality at me.

I jumped at her invitation, passionately exploring her magnificent jutting peaks of muscle and the deep ravines between them, tasting and probing every undulation with my eager tongue. I worked my way from the jagged apex of her 16 inch biceps to the craggy bloated heads of her shoulders. I gnawed and clawed at her soaring traps. I dove into the deep groove between her clavicles, lapping up the sweat from her workout and revelling in the musk of her powerful pheromones. Helen grabbed my hair and pulled my head back, plunging her tongue into me, her hard inch long nipples pushing into my chest. Her sudden sexual aggression took my breath away. She released me and smiled. "The kids... she whispered throatily. "To be continued."

[sevenpeight]

The rest of the day was punctuated with temptation and taunts.

As I vacuumed the living room, Helen silently squatted down next to the sofa, grasped it with both hands, gripped the frame, and lifted it, holding the whole structure aloft. I was stunned for a moment into immobility, as I tried to comprehend what I was seeing. Helen grimace-smiled at me and I quickly began vacuuming under the sofa, clearing away dust and cruft that had accumulated over a long period. So high was Helen holding the sofa, that barely needing to duck.

While I moved the vacuum cleaner around, I stole glances as my inhumanly strong wife. I could see Helen's arms starting to redden deeply at the exertion, trembling slightly. I hurriedly finished and stepped out from under the furniture. Helen quietly placed the sofa back down on the ground with perfect poise and control.

She shook her arms out in a mind-boggling display of heaving muscularity. Great slabs of shredded beef swayed back and forth, their gargantuan mass creating a hypnotic inertia to their movement. Still in mid-sway, Helen began working the stiffness out of her fingers. A mesmerising cacophony of sinew and vascularity burst across her immense forearms. She suddenly snapped every muscle fibre to attention. Hard dense muscle, cut like quartz, exploded from her fingers up to her painfully shredded shoulders. A cum-slick escaped my dick as Helen sauntered away, humming "Tonight, tonight" from West Side Story. Traditionally a trilling soprano sound, Helen transformed it into a warm baritone, causing my breath to catch.

[sevenpeight]

Great to hear you're enjoying it - thanks everyone for the karma. Here's the next part:

Nighttime crawled closer as I desperately watched the minute hand of the kitchen clock. I was preparing steak for dinner. My woman loved red meat. I could practically see her nostrils flare with the scent of it like a hunter on the trail. I had just ground salt and pepper over 6 sirloins when a predatory arm reached past me, a sweaty mess of muscles extending, moving sleekly beneath the skin like a boa constrictor reaching towards its prey. She grabbed up the largest cut, a full kilo of raw butchered animal.

I turned to watch in astonishment as Helen gripped it in her taloned hands, ripping chunks of red iron-laden meat with her powerful jaws. Braided cables pulled taut on her massive neck, which was now thicker around than my thighs. It bulged as great hunks of meat were ferried towards her tight cobbled muscle belly.

She inhaled the full kilo of meat, gristle and all. As the last of it disappeared into her insatiable maw, she looked over and grinned at me, wiping away a smear of blood that had come to coat her monster jaw and squared off chin, a few stray drops splattering on the floor at her feet. She leaned in and placed a bloody hand on my shoulder, the weight of it electrifying. "Don't worry, I'm still plenty hungry," she growled. Her strong hand roughly fondled the bulge that I hadn't even realise had grown big and aching in my shorts.

Helen devoured another two large steaks at the dinner table. These were only slightly less blue than the first. This time she ate with a fork and steak knife, though with the same gusto. Meanwhile, the rest of the family worked through their 200 gram rib eye fillets at a comparative snail's pace. To the kids' surprise and fascination, their mother finished the huge mound of food on her plate with a mighty burp of satisfaction. As they stared at her, Helen excused herself with a deep belly laugh and slipped in a wink.

[sevenpeight]

After dinner, Helen thrilled the kids by lifting one in each arm to carry them up to their beds. They were 10 and 11, meaning they were just young enough to still be happy about being carried around and yet heavy enough that it had been some years since we'd willingly done so. Now, Helen told them to stand on their dining chairs, placed herself between them, bent down slightly and slipped her formidable arms around their knees. She let out an exaggerated groan as she lifted, and I watched as our 30kg and 40kg kids slowly rose into the air, squealing with delight. As Helen returned to full height, carrying two small people without a trace of strain, she winked at me lasciviously and turned to take the kids up to bed.

She started towards the stairs, displaying a back as large as an alpha silverback gorilla's. If it had eaten every other gorilla in the troupe and then trained until its back muscles were trying to rip through its skin. It was a vast landscape of dense, shredded, musculature, riddled with veins. I don't think I knew that backs could have visible veins to that point. It was as though the muscle was so dense and occupied so much space, the veins had nowhere to fit, and had been pushed to the surface, snaking around beneath that dangerously stretched, nearly transparent skin.

Helen's traps looked like a beast was climbing over a mountain peak, coiled and ready to pounce. Her lats spilled out around her overworked tank top, obscene amounts of exposed meat seemingly swallowing up the lycra. A deep crevice ran down the centre of her back, from her neck right down to the top of her tight booty shorts which barely held on to the top of her glutes. Glutes which Helen tensed and held with each step, causing round bowling balls to contract into ultra-dense, rocky meteors buried by some unimaginable force in the alien landscape of her ultra-cut hamstrings. Clench, hold, explode, clench, hold, explode... it was impossible to tear my eyes away.

She paused at the foot of the stairs and then turned sideways, looking back at me with raised eyebrows — "Mama's growing; the munchkins are growing, we're going to need a bigger house soon!" The kids collapsed into more giggles. Helen literally had to walk up the staircase at an angle to fit through. It was all I could take.

[sevenpeight]

Knowing it would take a while to corral the kids into bed, I whipped out my member and started stroking it as I replayed the muscle, strength, sexuality and aggressiveness of my wife throughout the day. I quickly blew a massive load, stifling a groan as my balls heaved with the pent up arousal. Relieved, and confident that Helen would stimulate me into a back-to-back performance soon, I hurried myself to clean up.

I was putting the last of the cutlery in the dishwasher when I heard the stairs creaking under Helen's unmistakable bulk.

I turned around to see her framed on the staircase landing. She was so wide, that the walls of the bottom flight of stairs hid part of left arm. She had changed out of her workout gear and was now wearing a sheer black crotchless g-string and 4 inch black patent leather platform heels. I wondered when and where she had bought all this. Her chest meat, thick and proud, was unadorned — any bra would have been functionally superfluous.

My heart was a drum in my ribcage as she slowly started down the stairs. She turned herself sideways to fit into the stairway, but once she was on to the stairs she righted herself to face me. This caused her massive arms and linebacker shoulders to completely block the stairwell. She moved slowly, her arms cramped scraping against the walls as she moved down, shoulder forced forward as she crammed into the top-small space. The stairwell was large enough for two normal adults to pass each other. Helen was the size of two grown adults. And it was all muscle. My dick lurched in my shorts.

Helen stepped off the bottom step and, released from the confines of the stairwell, shrugged her shoulders back and stretched her neck. It was breathtaking seeing such great masses of flesh in motion. Tendons, striations and veins rippled and shifted everywhere. Then she locked her eyes on me and I knew how my ancestors felt on the savannah, stalked by a large and dangerous animal, immobilised by fear. She walked toward me slowly, deliberately, her long powerful legs eating up the distance quickly.

She towered over me. We were about the same height in bare feet. Given Helen's 4 inch heels, my eyes rested on her over-developed jaws. Atop the calcified bones were layers of tightly woven muscles, thick and furrowed. Sensing my gaze, she clenched jaws, causing the muscles to bulge and harden. My breathing became shallow as I looked up to meet her gaze. She looked back unflinchingly, her eyes boring into me, the thick perfume of her lust pervading the air between us.

Without ceremony, her strong hands gripped my sides and I felt myself lifted off the floor. I gasped as I was thrown over Helen's shoulder and carried upstairs to the bedroom, the dishwasher left yawning open.

[phil123]

Great chapters and I hope for more.

[QBikk]

I really like your story, curious to read what comes next.

[sevenpeight]

My eyes were glued to those marvellous glutes as I bounced around on my wife's back. Closer up I realised how big they really were. When I had been watching her earlier, they seemed to contract with very concentrated clench as she walked. Now I discovered that even in their ultra-dense contracted form, each one would more than fill my hand at full stretch. At the limits of their full bulbous expansion, each spectacular globe was larger than my head. My breath was ragged with desperate excitement by the time we got to the top of the stairs.

Upstairs, her spectacular patent leather heels clicked heavily down the corridor as each diamond hard calf repeatedly exploded with power, definition and vascularity until we reached our bedroom door. We had just squeezed through the doorway when I was thrown a good 3 metres clear through the air to land squarely on the bed.

I quickly scrambled round to find Helen climbing on to the bed after me, still wearing her heels, engorged clit pointed at me like a deadly weapon. As I instinctively backed up, Helen pursued me, finally backing me up against the bed-head. Her mighty legs akimbo, she aggressively thrust her throbbing hard clit into my mouth. Helen had never enjoyed sitting or kneeling while I pleasured her orally. She had always insisted on lying on her back. Now all of a sudden she was standing at full intimidating height holding my head steady with both hands while she thrust her hips powerfully and ground her sex against my face. She was grunting like a wild animal as she rode me to climax, finally yelling in triumph and squirting burst after mighty burst of she-cum into my face and chest.

I was shellshocked and enormously turned on as we collapsed on to the bed together.

Helen turned to me at length. "We gotta talk about roids", she said matter-of-factly.

"Okay," I responded, uncomfortably.

[sevenpeight]

PS: thanks for the support!

[wowser1016]

I really love the image you painted of the loving playful mother turned into a dominant muscular wife. K+

[sevenpeight]

Thanks Wowser! Hopefully you'll like the upcoming transition even more — the next chapter is a bit of a scene-setter:

I wondered what there was to talk about. She obviously took them. True, she worked out night and day, pushed herself beyond all human limits. But even so, without some chemical assistance, no man or woman could become a pulsing, writhing, beast of muscle and veins at this scale and intensity.

I knew what she was doing. She knew that I knew what she was doing.  We'd never discussed it or needed to. It had happened out of my sight and largely out of my mind.

But now, Helen explained what she currently used, how and why. Then came the part she wanted to talk about. She wanted to escalate her regimen — more powerful gear, more often, with fewer breaks.

"I want you to be on-board with this decision," she said seriously. She explained that it would change things. She wanted to push to boundaries.

People already gawked and chattered when she was in public. After this, she said, many would be more than shocked — they would be disgusted. Some family and friends might draw away.

I was running through a mental list of our family and friends, considering which ones I would welcome a bit of a break from.

But Helen was deadly serious. She took my hand. I might enjoy pictures of bodybuilders on the internet, she explained, but I would have to think about how I would find living with such an extreme physique in real life, every day, with all the social consequences it brought.

Before I could answer, Helen went on. There would likely be side effects. She might develop very noticeable acne, her bones could calcify — most noticeably changing the structure of her face — more of her body would require shaving, her voice might get deeper, her hairline could recede. I'd need to deal with all that.

Once again I started to speak and once again Helen silenced me — there was more. "These are powerful substances," she said solemnly, "they could affect my emotions and ... emotional regulation." Now I was quiet of my own accord, trying to absorb the implications of what Helen was saying. "If I get depressed," she continued after a while, "you may need to get me professional help." I nodded slowly. "But more likely, I could lose my temper ... a lot... and get more competitive about things... more aggressive." I nodded some more.

"Baby," she said softly, "you may need to do more of the childcare — I don't want to lose my temper with the kids if there's a way of avoiding it." It was classic Helen. She was clear and rational. She was pursuing a life changing passion, but she neither starry-eyed about it, nor was she flinching away from the choices or hurdles she was confronting.

I started wondering if I could go part time at work, and what effect that would have on our budget. "You're thinking about the bills," Helen said, interrupting my reverie, "and the mortgage." She always had been good knowing what was going on in my head. "It's a trade off. If you can do more with the kids, I can go harder at work. I can channel the aggression there. Throwing stuff around and doing a bit of bullying actually gets you ahead in a cutthroat business." I was searching her face, and she was searching mine. "If I do it, and I succeed, I'm going to need to spend more hours at the office. And when I add in training time, you might..." she wasn't sure of the next part, "... have to pick up pretty much all the domestic duties."

She was done.

[mrshhh]

I freakin' loved this story.  Now I freakin love this story, times a bazillion!

[taoschild]

Great addition. I love the rationalisation of potentially getting emotional along with the preparation for role reversal.

[bstretcher20]

I like the turn this last chapter took. :-)