Married Bliss

[sevenpeight]

Thanks muchly Seldom. Here's a short postscript on the pussy control... more to follow:

A few days later, I noticed that the toilet seat was left up. My heart leapt into my throat at the possibility that I might have offended Helen. "Are you using that dear?" She boomed behind me, bemused at the sight of her husband staring at the toilet. "No," I stuttered, beginning to put the seat down. She reached past me with a massive arm to stop its halt. "That's okay," she assured me, "leave it up." I backed away, confused, as my wife spread her legs and leaned against the back wall of the bathroom. She sighed with relief as she unleashed a steady stream aimed perfectly into the cistern. I was gobsmacked. She turned her head part-way back towards me. "Far more convenient the way you boys do it," she chuckled over the strong ongoing stream. It seemed there was no end to her muscle control.

[sevenpeight]

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[seldom]

Awesome, I love it! Perhaps even her pee can be dominant, super hard stream and super concentrated and hot.

[sevenpeight]

Having long ago left behind the realm of normal human physiology, Helen began other modifications.

The tattoos came first, astonishingly intricate patterns and images wrapped in a sleeve around one arm. This was not an ordinary tattoo, but one that seemed to writhe and reform itself as Helen's monstrous arm flexed and bulged. It had been created through a collaboration between a world-leading plastic surgeon, a renowned tattoo artist, a surrealist painter feted as the next Dali and a nano-engineer who designed and built special tools for the endeavour. The stark contrast between the arm with the sleeve and the bare arm served to emphasise the enormity of each one.

The tattoos also found a small hold on my wife's face. A tribal design adorned her lips, the dark ink emphasised her domineering air. Like a Barbarian queen on the frontiers of Empire — savage and formidable. It took my breath away. Unlike many who caught the tattoo bug, Helen stopped at two. They were strategically deployed to underscore her power. But that was not the end of the body mods.

The next to come was revealed one evening when I got home from visiting our eldest in a new apartment she'd begun renting. Helen was sitting at the computer in our bedroom's anteroom, playing an muscle-building RPG she'd commissioned from MagnusMagneto and AtariBoy. She was furiously jacking her big clit when I walked into the room.

She was grunting and rutting like a bull in mating season. Her back was now a good six and a half feet wide. Heavy lats threw deep shadows and her triceps were ominously bloated. Immediately erect, I quickly disrobed and prostrated myself to her side.

Helen paused and swivelled her chair around to face me. The chair's base glinted in the reflected light from the wall mirrors. It was made from the same polished tungsten as so much of the household furniture that needed to take her weight.

I was captivated by the sight of her clit. It had to be at least six inches, with a five inch diameter, and covered in thick veins. It was slick with her precum, which also coated the seat. I don't know how long I was staring at the beast between her legs. It had enchanted me and time became a vortex.

At some point I came to my senses and looked up to see my wife and mistress staring down at me. As our eyes locked, she rose to her full imposing height. A two metre tall pharaonic statue come to life.

Slowly, she unfurled her meat wings. My breath shallowed in anticipation of the forthcoming display of power. The mistress did not disappoint. With astounding speed she cranked down into a animalistic most-muscular pose, pecs bursting with potency, waves of dense muscle rolling over them. Her traps leapt to attention, swallowing her neck. Then, cranking the pose to new levels of density and definition, she unleashed her latest body mod. As the flex peaked, displaying every muscle in excruciating detail, she lashed out her prehensile tongue to reveal a line of five spherical studs down the centre of the thick appendage. She whipped it back and forth, cranking the flex once more.

My cock was openly seeping now, throbbing madly as my balls churned. Helen took a step forward, leaned in and tensed her body beyond what I'd imagined to be its maximally flexed state, her serpentine tongue with its new adornments on full display. She dragged the tongue heavily from the base of my neck upward as I quivered with the potential bubbling within me. Her tongue and it's smooth hard studs reached my ear as she slowly pulled away, the tip of the tongue flicking at my ear canal.  "Cum..." she growled and all was lost. I drenched her in cum, screaming with relief, my milky juices plastering her face, her pecs, falling on her herculean quads.

She palmed the back of my head in her monster hand and her tongue invaded my mouth and throat, it thrashed about like an untamed wild thing. I panicked and grasped futilely at the great trunk of Helen's forearm, pulling on it like a child trying to uproot a mighty sequoia. Helen drew me further in, her lips mashing mine as her tongue wrapped around my tongue, pulling and squeezing, dominating me body and soul.

[bertmacklinsbrother]

Helen is becoming a true beast!  This is a wonderful story.

[aspect]

Wow! Love where this is going. She should sharpen her teeth like a shark too.

[sevenpeight]

Thanks guys. The strong stream of hot urine was what I had in mind in the last instalment. You can imagine the steroid content in it would be enough to fuel an entire bodybuilding gym. I thought about teeth sharpening. Not for now. But anything is possible in the long run. Stay tuned. And thanks for the karma too!

When she released me, after an age, I licked and cleaned her as she flexed and fingered herself, occasionally flicking out her tongue and dragging its metal protuberances over the hard peaks and jagged cliffs of her arms. The low gravel groans emanating from her as her own uber-muscularity fuelled her lust was pure sex. When I was finished, her meaty paw again encircled my head and pushed me on to her heavy pussy lips, which parted to meet mine.

I kissed and sucked and nibbled as her free hand vigorously wanked her rock hard she-cock. Grunting loudly with pleasure, she shoved me hard to seal her pussy with my lips and gushed a hot torrent of cum into me. I took every last drop and came up gasping for air, wiping my lips. My mistress was pleased.

[szerep]

Seriously good work. Love the body modifications as well.

[phil123]

By drinking all her cum he is getting a Dose of steroids.

Hope he is also getting bigger fulfilling her needs. She has already a bigger she cock than his member.

Please go on.

[sevenpeight]

Thanks for the encouragement everyone. Means a lot. I guess our narrator would be getting a healthy dose of roofs from that gusher of cum. And he certainly wants to please his wife and mistress, as you'll soon observe. But if you're waiting for him to reclaim any sort of masculinity relative to Helen... I'm afraid that's quite unlikely.

Having sated Helen's voracious libido, at least momentarily, we moved to the en-suite and I began cleaning the densely-packed, rugged landscapes of my wife's titanic body, at times rising to my tiptoes to reach the broad surfaces of her upper shoulders and the thick soaring arches of her traps.

"Have you thought about your birthday Goddess?" I ventured as I worked. Helen has never asked me to call her "mistress" or "goddess" or the other appellations i attached to her. But I knew it excited her when I did. And sure enough, she shoved her metallically-bejewelled tongue into my throat as her big hands squeezed and lifted my butt in response to my question. Both of our cocks stood to attention.

Helen paused, grappling with her supercharged sexual appetite. Ultimately, she controlled herself and put me down, pinning me against the wall as she leaned into me. I began licking and flicking her big nipples as she responded to my query. "Chez Olim" she growled through gritted teeth. I could feel her monster clit throbbing on top of my increasingly overshadowed member, but still she held back. "Table for two at 8pm on Friday night."

I was surprised. Helen didn't mention the kids at all. Moreover, she rarely frequented public places these days. Chez Olim was the most expensive and exclusive restaurant in the city. Celebrities seeking to avoid the spotlight avoided Olim's. Paparazzi were permanently stationed as close to the entrance as they could get. Being seen there ensured that people "in the know" would know you. But nothing about Helen could be taken for granted.

[taoschild]

Simply fantastic Seven. Your adept description is intoxicating and among the best.  Thanks again for contributing to Stealing Muscle and I hope you'll work with us again for the next anthology for charity. 

[sevenpeight]

Thanks guys. Would love to collaborate again Taoschild. And stay tuned for more abs and pussy Buns

Although my wife had managed to tame her savage appetite, the provocation of the immense, rock-hard, power-soaked potential of her steaming body was too much for me. "Please Mistress!" I blurted out desperately before catching myself.

It had been a long time since I'd seen Helen's anger flare. But then again, it had been a long time since I'd done anything that might have deviated from her express wishes. My wife's features set into a stern scowl. "Dry me!" she thundered, putting the fear of god into me. I did as I was bade. I was quivering with fear as I patted dry colossal peaks and deep canyons of muscle. My cock and balls might have shrivelled up and disappeared inside me from fear, but the sexual power my wife exuded and the training she'd imbued in me kept me stiff as a rod.

By the time I'd finished buffing the monumental body in front of me, the heat rising off it had dried me completely.

My mistress spun around and snatched me up by the neck. I was alarmed by the span of her monster hand, which wrapped completely around my twig neck. As my vision narrowed, I honed in on the great hulking mass of triceps muscle bulging from my wife's tremendous arm. My 100 Kg weight was causing it to bunch and bulge to demented proportions. But before I blacked out, I felt myself thrown onto the bed. Helen smiled down at me benevolently. "Poor pet," she said, "I was only playing." Her heroic arms slowly curled themselves into an enormous, diamond cut, double-biceps pose. "How can you resist..." she cranked the massive arms down in front of her, rolling the brutally striated muscles of her 8-inch deep pectorals and solidifying them into bunched, hardened, armour plating.

So much blood had rushed to my dick that it was thrashing about like a crazed snake, choked by bloated veins desperately trying to keep pace. Still the Mistress' strict training held. Despite a mess of precum coating my glans, I held back the building orgasm.

My mistress, her enormous chest still holding its ferocious flex, hoisted me once more by the neck. This time, she flipped me upside down, her rough hands working their way their way down my inverted body as she lowered my mouth to her dripping sex. I hungrily devoured her big clit, marvelling at its girth as it filled my mouth. She shuddered immediately and ejaculated hot spurts of jism into my face and onto the bedsheets. She must have been terrifically aroused.

Helen's thumb began to gently and firmly circle my anus. While I continued licking her still-erect member like a delicious popsicle, Helen's prehensile tongue wrapped itself around my own electrified man-meat. The smooth round ball-bearing pearcings contrasted with the hot, meaty flesh of her probing tongue. Having curled her meaty appendage completely around mine, she swallowed me to the hilt and then mumbled "Cum. Now!" I came so hard that I thought I'd pass out from the intensity of the sexual explosion married with the immense relief of pressure that had been building to critical levels.

I shuddered to a finish as my wife flipped me back right-way up. Smiling at me again she placed two big hands either side of my head. They were so large, I felt my entire skull encased in them. Her giant limbs contracted, bicep peaks bursting to life as she brought my face to hers. As I opened my lips, Helen disgorged my own steaming sour cum into my mouth. I gulped it down greedily, hungry to please my mistress. She wiped her pussy lips with a thick finger and shoved the digit into my mouth, slowly twisting it to ensure I cleaned every last smidgen. It was heaven to taste her again. "Thank you mistress!" I exclaimed. She gave my neck one last squeeze, forearm bulging ominously, and dropped me back on the bed. "Clean up the sheets," she commanded.

[giantgirl7foot2]

Ugh, I love how huge she is, would love to be able to simply imagine their comparisons! Keep up the awesome descriptions!

[WapWap]

Your writing is so expressive and erotic.  I'm loving this story!

[sevenpeight]

Thanks for the feedback!

I got busy over the next few days selecting what I would wear for the special evening. I wanted both to make her proud and to excite her. It was one of two difficult projects I had to undertake — the other was figuring out what one gets for someone who truly has everything she could want. In the end, I tapped Helen's discrete family office honchos for the present — technically they were also my employees, but only technically. Accessing her vast business networks, I was able to create something truly unique. 

The night arrived and I sat waiting in the formal lounge off to the side of our foyer, waiting for Helen to emerge, as nervous as a debutante awaiting the night of her ball.

I had selected a black chiffon shirt which shimmered in the downlighting and offered tantalising peeks at my own chiselled torso and abs. Black silk pockets on each breast covered my nipples. The shirt was offset by a jaunty peacock-feather bow tie.

For trousers, I'd chosen shot-silk black and gold slacks with side adjusters. These had been tailored to fall loosely at the front but to fit snuggly around my cheeks — I knew Helen would enjoy the visual appetiser. Less romantically, but essential from a practical perspective, was the jockstrap I wore for underwear, which was necessary to restrain my cock.

The slacks were matched with a casual jacket in the same finish. Black leather Italian loafers finished off the outfit.

I was fussing with a pair of jade and topaz opal cuff links, selected to match my bow tie, when Helen purred appreciatively from the doorway. A purr is probably the wrong word. It was more a low satisfied growl.

[sevenpeight]

I breathed in and tried to take in more of what I was seeing. An obsidian choker circled a neck that was so yoked that the choker could have been wound twice round my thigh. And still the choker looked strained by the girth it was moulded to. It gathered together a luxurious muted gold gown that gleamed dully, richly in the downlighting and clung like a second skin to the mistress' insanely pumped pectorals, highlighting every sickening striation. The expensive material was pulled taught over proud four inch long nipples. Below Helen's thick pectoral shelf, the sinuous gold skin displayed in infinite detail her tortuously cut monster abs, each one bulging and flexing and vying for attention as Helen moved.

The dress had a narrowly cut bodice, leaving my wife's menacing muscle wings to flare and bulge in full spectacular view. Also on display were Helen's impossibly hypertrophic and tightly interwoven obliques and serratus. Any connoisseur of musculature could easily spend hours poring over these intricately detailed squadrons of power. That is if they could tear their eyes off the massive Belgian Blue-proportioned limbs that hung heavily from mutant shoulders.

Below all of this spectacular power, my wife's dress was gathered again at a wide obsidian belt that matched the choker. The belt was draped over the dense corded braids of Helen's Adonis muscles, fitting its contours like custom contoured armour. I knew that her waist was thick and gnarly, too big to put my arms all the way around. But contrasted against her astoundingly wide shoulders and the dense layers of her massive back, her waist seemed positively waspish — an optical illusion of titanic proportions.

From there, the dress fell as a heavy waterfall down to Helen's ankles. Deep slits travelled the full height of her legs. With each thundering step, psychedelic icebergs of quad meat were thrust forward. The twisted bastions of power were sculpted into deformed muscle bellies that hung many inches forward of her knees, casting deep shadows of unspeakable terror.

Below her hidden knees, balloons of power swelled and hardened like monster quartzite crystals bursting from Helen's shins. Black patent leather heels, reinforced in Tungsten, added 6 terrifying inches to her colossal height. Seated, as I was, I had to crane my neck back to attempt to take in all of her.