My Strong Wife
by Scheherezade the Amazon



(Chapter One)

I was a college athlete, granted it was soccer and track which did not require
a lot of upper body weight lifting, but I had always been strong and taken
pride in my fitness, which is why it was somewhat surprising when my wife
challenged me to arm-wrestle at my son?s twelfth birthday.

My skill in soccer was minimal, but I was fast and had endurance, which is why
I ended up running middle distance in track, 400 meters up to the 1500. I
excelled in those because I had speed and desire. I did not make it to the
Olympic trials, but I was all league and ran some good times, and the same
skills I had developed on the track catapulted me to immediate success in the
corporate world, so much so that when my wife and I began to have children,
she did not need to work.

My wife was somewhat athletic in high school, from what she says. She hasn?t
told me much about it, but I think there was a smattering of gymnastics and
cheerleading. She might have taken some fitness classes in college; I don?t
know. She was two years behind me at a different college. A drop-dead knockout
with flowing brown hair that fell in waves just below her shoulders, a sexy
smile, and just enough of a fitness level to look great in her clothes and out
of them. She was 5?5? tall, and rarely shared her weight, but I would say she
was probably a smidge over 130. However, having three children in relatively
quick succession did a job on her figure, and raising three of them while I
worked allowed little time for exercise or self. She began wearing bigger and
bulkier clothes to cover the extra weight, and by the time John Junior turned
ten, she had a closet full of them.

That same year, our youngest started 1st grade and was at school every day.
Julie announced that she was going to go back to the gym to do aerobics and
yoga and start getting her figure back. I was happy for her, and encouraged
her to do so, and for the next two years, she went to the gym a few times a
week and seemed much happier with herself. She continued to wear the bulky
clothes, though, so I assumed she had made little progress. I asked her during
those two years, are you still enjoying the gym membership, and she said,
?yes, why do you ask.?

I did not want to say, ?because you seem to be the same size you were when you
joined,? so I kept my mouth shut, as long as she was happy, I was happy too.
As the saying goes, ?happy wife, happy life.?

So there we were two years later supervising John?s birthday party; it was his
first co-ed birthday party since 1st grade. Knowing how awkward these parties
can be, we planned a number of fun activities, but they ran through them
quickly and started doing their own thing.

At one juncture, they started arm-wrestling each other, and established a
winner, Wayne, who had beaten all the boys and after a short struggle had
beaten the strongest girl as well. After that, he was strutting like a
peacock, and John, who never liked Wayne that much, suggested he go against
me.

?Don?t hold back, Dad. He?s an ass hole, whispered my son.

I raised my eyebrows at his choice of words in front of me, and then winked at
him. Our match took all of about eight seconds. I let him start, and he pushed
with everything he had and did not budge my arm. I steadily forced his arm to
the table.

?Now you should arm-wrestle Mrs. Thorndike,? chirped one of the girls.

?I don?t think that would be such a good idea,? I said.

?Why not?? she said. ?It might be fun.?

?Well, I don?t see the point,? I said. ?I just took down the strongest boy in
the seventh grade. It?s nothing to brag about, but I doubt you are as strong
as he is.?

She gave me a look, and I relented.

When she took off her sweatshirt, I saw that her arms, far from being jiggly
and fat, had gained some solid heft that I had not noticed, and there was a
noticeable bulge to her bicep muscle.

We put our arms on the table, and all the kids gathered around. One of them
took out his phone and started to film just in case something interesting
happened.

John put his hands over ours and said, ?Start when I raise my hands off of
yours.?

I decided to use the same strategy I had used against Wayne. I sat back and
did not push at first, evidently she used the same strategy, so I started to
push harder, trying to make it look like I wasn?t working hard at all. Her arm
did not budge. The kids started giggling.

?Looks like Mrs. Thorndike is stronger than you expected, huh Mr. Thorndike.?

I just smiled and said, ?Just giving her a false sense of confidence,? I said.
Then I started to push in earnest. My face was turning red, and yet she showed
no sign of effort. I glanced at her bicep and was astounded at what I saw. It
bulged in an obvious way, and had that vein going over the top that
bodybuilders get. I was sputtering and breathing faster, trying everything to
gain energy and strength for a final push. She reached with her other arm and
grabbed a glass of water and sipped it while she held my strongest effort, and
then, putting the glass down gently, said, ?Time to end this little match,?
and then inexorably pushed my arm down to the table top.

?Woah, this is going on You Tube tonight,? said the obnoxious kid with the
camera. ?Hey Mrs. T, make a muscle for the camera.?

With that, she stood up and peeled her sleeve back to produce a bicep that
absolutely intimidated me and turned me on at the same time.

?Oh My God,? the kids shouted. ?Look at Mrs. T?s muscles. They?re huge.?

Fortunately, the party was scheduled to end right about that time, and some of
the other parents began to show up. Julie had put her sweatshirt on and was
helping me usher the children out of the basement. Within fifteen minutes, all
the kids were gone except our own, whom we quickly ushered to bed.

Later, as we cleaned up in the basement, I asked Julie where she had gotten
her strength.

?Honey, I have been going to the gym for two years; you knew that.?

?Yeah, but I thought you were doing aerobics and yoga?

?Oh, that?s right. I was planning to do that, but I met this charismatic woman
in one of my yoga classes who was, and still is, built like a bodybuilder. She
was gentle and kind and smart, but she looked strong enough to, I don?t know,
play football in the NFL. I asked her how long it had taken to get that way,
and she said, ?Why? Do you want to gain muscles like these??

I told her ?Yes. I have always wanted to be strong and to look like I am,? so
she started me on a different program than I had intended to be on. I have
gotten really strong, stronger even than I showed you tonight.?

This turned me on and intimidated me, a little. ?Just how strong are you?? I
queried. ?I really want to find out.?

?Well, the kids have gone to bed, I guess I can show you,? and with that, she
began to disrobe. She took off her sweatshirt, and I noticed the biceps and
triceps dancing as she used her rams to disrobe. She shimmied her
loose-fitting pants off and then took her T-shirt off. And there before me
stood a five foot five inch dynamo of solid muscle. She had always been a bit
thick waisted, but it seemed he waist had gotten narrower. On the other hand,
her shoulders had gotten wider and more shapely. The vein over her biceps
disappeared under her deltoids, and her chest had some depth to it. Her abs
showed a defined eight pack, striated and veiny. The greatest change was that
her legs had greater size and shape than I had ever remembered, and as she
moved around, I could see that her glutes were round, protruding and powerful.

?I never told you this,? I said, ?but I always wanted to be with a muscular
woman.?

?I know,? she said. ?You weren?t the most careful about hiding the websites
you visited.?

?I?m sorry,? I said, realizing I had probably hurt the woman I loved most in
this world.

?Don?t be. I was hurt a bit at first, but it gave me the motivation to get
this way. And now I am happy to be this way just for my own self esteem.? A
devilish grin took over her face. ?You want to wrestle??

Who was I to say no?

We took our stances and danced around. I dived at her legs, but she rebuffed
me and then grabbed me around the chest and picked me up. The next thing I
knew I was upside down in her vicelike grip. She turned me sideways, let go
for a brief moment and then spun me so she was grabbing my torso from the
front. I could do nothing but flail my arms. Then she brought me down hard on
my back and put my head in a vicelike leg scissors. I tried to do the same,
but her arms overpowered my legs, and I tapped out.

?Nice move, but I think that was a little fluky,? I said.

?OK, two out of three she said. ? I?ll give you an advantage. I?ll start on my
back and you begin on top with your knees on my arms. If you can hold me there
for three seconds, the next one will be the rubber match.?

We got in position, and I said, ?ready set go.?

The next thing I knew, she had extricated her arms from beneath my knees and
pulled them away from the handhold I had on her wrists. She stretched her arms
over her head and got into a position that gymnasts call a bridge. The amazing
thing was, she held this bridge with all my weight sitting on her abdomen.
Then she lowered the bridge and burst back into it so quickly that I flew off
her body. Before I knew it, she had me in a headlock with one arm, and was
grabbing one of my arms with her free one. Before I knew what had happened, I
was immobilized and on my back. I tapped out again. I was coming to the
realization that she was stronger than I was, and it wasn?t even close. I had
a raging erection from feeling her strong muscles dominate me, and from
looking at her gorgeous muscles without her clothes on. She noticed the effect
and said. ?I have another surprise for you. ? Did you know I took it easy on
you in the arm-wrestling match at John?s birthday party??

?Let?s go again,? I said. I think I can do better.

?Maybe you will, because I am going to let you use both arms.? Then she struck
a double bicep pose that made me stand even more strongly at attention.

I knelt down at the sturdy coffee table in the basement. We put our arms up
and I put my left arm up on top and started pushing with the right and pulling
with the left. Nothing happened.

?Start when you want to,? she said.

?OK Go!? I said, and with that, she pulled my arms down almost all the way. I
cheated and used leverage on the table, and could not move it an inch back up,
and finally, mercifully, she put me down, both arms. I was defeated.

She stood up and started doing a posing routine for me. She worked her biceps
hard, and they danced on her arms. Then she did a ?most muscular? pose. Every
muscle stood out in ways I thought were impossible. I was coming closer to
climax, just from watching. Then she turned her back to me and did a butt
cheek dance and then leaned over to display her hamstrings to their greatest
effect. She shifter her weight to right and left to make the muscles of her
legs and but squeeze and relax, squeeze and relax.

The next thing I knew, I was cumming like never before, five six and then
seven squirts ejaculated into my shorts. I groaned with sexual satisfaction.

She turned and smiled. ?I could never have made you climax before without
foreplay and various types of physical stimulation. Now look at you. Totally
exhausted in a heap on the floor.

Then she did another double bicep pose; I started to get hard again.

?But I already came,? I said.

?Yeah, well I didn?t, and I want to get you good and hard for my own
enjoyment. Want to head upstairs??

With that, we retired to our room for some more conventional physical
communication. She liked it; I was happy.

(Chapter Two)

A few days later, since we had been walking on pins and needles for a while, I
asked Julie if she intended to continue her growth in strength and size or if
she intended to maintain. (after all, even if you are totally enraptured with
the look and feel of muscles, the idea of having a wife who is much stronger
than you is emasculating and intimidating)

?I haven?t really decided yet. I have been going religiously for the last two
years and have been growing in both size and strength, a little bit at a time,
since I started,? she said. ?I really like it. Getting strong gives me a sense
of accomplishment and power.?

?Yeah, I see that,? I said, but there was enough hesitation in my voice that
my wife looked momentarily sad. Then she brightened.

?You should come with me and I can get you started. You were always strong and
driven. You can gain muscle too.?

What she did not say but was hidden in the tone of her voice was, ?You?ll
never be as strong as me, but you can feel better about your weak assed self.?

?It?s ok if you don?t, though. I will always love you as my husband, as the
man I fell in love with, and as the family provider and the father of our
kids.?

?I?ll give it some thought,? I said. ?There is something attractive about the
idea of me getting back in shape. Let?s make a date for Saturday afternoon.?

?That?s perfect. All three of the kids have playdates. I was going to be at
the gym anyway.?

So Saturday we got our workout clothes together and drove to the gym. I had
not counted on seeing people we knew there, and when we saw some
acquaintances, I began to get cold feet, but it was too late.

We started with a short warm up of the pulley weights circuit. She set the
weights at the five or six plate level for both of us, and I was able to do
everything she was doing, so I felt pretty good about it. Maybe, when she
physically dominated me in wrestling and arm-wrestling, I had simply been weak
and worn out from the stresses of the workweek.

Then we went into the free weights room. We started with the squat rack. Julie
put a thirty-five pound plate on each end of the bar and demonstrated how to
get under the bar and put it on my shoulders behind my neck.

?How much does this whole thing weigh?? I asked.

?The bar itself is forty-five pounds, plus the seventy that I put on. It comes
to One hundred and fifteen.? She helped me lift it off the rack and walk
slowly back to where I would do the squats. The bar bit into the bones at the
base of my neck, and the whole thing felt heavy and awkward. ?Now bend your
knees and squat down as low as you can go.?

I started to bend my knees and wondered how far I should go. I did not even
reach parallel before I felt I had to stop and stand up.

?You should try to go lower,? Julie said. ?Look, I?ll stand behind you and
support you. This is hard the first time.?

So she stood behind me and put her arms around my waist. It was comforting to
have her strong arms supporting me. This time I went slightly past parallel
and then forced the weight up with her help.

?You try to do the next one without my help,? she said. ?I?ll be here, but you
provide the muscular push.?

I squatted low again and started to push. I pushed and nothing seemed to be
happening. ?Breathe in on the way down and then exhale on the way up.? She
said, ?Now push!?

I managed to do three more with a minimum of her help and finished eight with
her strong assist on the last few.

?Good!? She said in that patronizing way. Then she took the thirty-fives off
and put a forty-five on each end.

?What are you doing? I can?t do that much; I could barely do one hundred and
fifteen.?

?I?m putting my weights on the bar,? she said, and she put a twenty-five pound
plate on each end as well. Then she slid under the bar, shouldered it and
backed up to do her squats. I did a little calculating and realized she was
doing one hundred and eighty-five pounds compared to my one fifteen. Then she
squatted down low and paused a moment. She took a deep breath and exhaled as
she slowly pressed the weight up. The she repeated this movement. Her form and
pace were the same, only she made it look easier with each repetition. She did
not stop until she had done ten good reps with this weight. ?Do you want to do
another set?? she asked.

?No, I?m good!? I said, sheepishly, as I saw her take the twenty-five pounders
off and replace them with another forty-five and a five-pounder on each end.
?I do three sets of ten reps, and I increase them by fifty pounds each time,?
she said as she knocked off another set of ten strong reps, this time with 235
pounds on the bar.

She had another surprise in store for me as she finished her second set. ?I?m
feeling strong today,? she said. ?I think I?ll do three wheels on each end.?
With that, she replaced the two fives with two forty-fives. She was about to
attempt 315 pounds, exactly 200 pounds more than I had essentially failed at.
At this point, a small crowd had gathered to watch a woman who was attempting
?three wheels? for the squat.

Julie scooched under the bar, raised it up, and then stepped back a few small
steps to begin her reps. Once again, she squatted down past parallel, took a
deep breath and pushed herself up. It was definitely harder for her than the
first two sets, but she completed ten good reps, racked the wrights and then
jumped into my arms. ?Honey, that?s my PR. I do so much better when I?m with
you.? Then she kissed me on the lips and hopped down to her feet.

The next exercise was also at the squat rack. It was one-legged squats. I put
one foot, extended, on a bench behind me and used one leg to squat the bar.
This time we each did only one set, but I did it with sixty-five pounds, and
she did it with 185.

Then we did the leg extension machine. I exercised with seven plates for ten
good reps. I was feeling pretty good about myself. Then she did something she
called a drop set, in which she did eight reps with the entire stack of twenty
plates, eight more with a mere eighteen and then eight more with sixteen
plates, all without any rest.

?The problem with this machine is that it has a limit. You can?t go any
heavier than twenty plates,? she complained. Then she had an idea. ?Honey, can
you stand on that bar right there and brace yourself by putting your hands on
my knees?? She got in the seat and set the weights to twenty plates, and I
stood on the machine, adding my 170 pounds to the total. Then I got a ride.
She pushed out a total of sixteen reps with the stack and all my weight. She
then held the last rep at the top of the extension for about ten seconds
before letting it down slowly.

She hopped off the machine and said, ?God my legs feel like jelly,? and she
shook the muscles before she clenched them. I looked at her legs and was
astounded. They looked as if they were twice the size of mine; they probably
weren?t, but they were huge and sexy as hell.

?Can I get my legs to look like that?? I asked.

?Maybe,? she said, ?If you work out four times a week for two years like I
have and start taking the right supplements and eating the right foods. It
doesn?t just come like magic. You have to work at it.?

She did not mean this in a nasty way, and yet it stung a little. She had
earned every inch of her muscles and every ounce of her strength through hard
work, and no amount of my manly testosterone was going to make up for that
work without a lot of effort on my part.

The pattern continued as we went through the weights. Among the more
impressive strength feats was her twelve wide grip pull-ups with ten extra
pounds hanging from a belt. Then she did two one armed pull-ups with each arm
with no extra weight,

We ended with biceps curls. She did a series of exercises for this muscle
group, and I began to see why her biceps were so strong, strong enough to beat
me so easily in arm-wrestling. She started with the preacher bench. I did the
preacher bar with ten pounds on each end for ten repetitions, faltering only a
little at the end. She put twenty-five pound weights on each end plus two
tens.

?Why don?t you just put forty-fives on each end,? I asked.

?You?ll see,? she said. And clicked off ten reps with ninety pounds plus the
eighteen pound Olympic EZ bar. Then she quickly removed a ten from each end
and repeated the reps with the lighter weight, and then repeated it with
twenty fewer pounds. Thirty reps with almost no rest. Then she stretched and
rested two minutes before repeating the preacher curl drop set.

By this time, her biceps were filled with blood and swollen beyond belief, but
she did not stop. She grabbed forty pound dumbbells and 32.5 pounders and
twenty-five pounders and did drop sets to failure of something she called
concentration curls. She did a few other exercises for the biceps before
concluding at the cable cross-over machine by grabbing a handle with each hand
and doing bicep curls in the mirror with her arms stretched out as if she was
doing a double biceps pose. The swelling of her arms from the previous
exercises and the action of performing this exercise made her arms swell to
huge proportions. They looked as big as anybody?s I had ever seen, and the
vein on the top was throbbing with blood with which to fill the muscle
tissues.

She quickly grabbed a cloth tape measure from her bag and measured them. ?They
look bigger than ever,? she whispered to me.? I just have to measure them now,
while they are huge.?

I helped her and was astounded at what I saw. ?Is that number for real?? I
asked.

?You measure them,? she said. I want to make sure I did it right.

So I stretched the tape tightly over the thickest part of her biceps. ?Yep,? I
said, ?Seventeen and a half inches. Pumped. That is simply amazing.?

?Well, they won?t be that way later. They will lose at least an inch, but they
have never been bigger than sixteen and three quarters before. Now do you see
why I want to keep growing and getting stronger? There is a total sense of
self confidence that comes with setting goals and achieving them.?

Then she whispered. ?Let?s go home so I can give you a muscle show and some
other extracurricular activities before the kids come home.?

That we did, with similar results to last time. I was coming to realize there
were tremendous benefits to having a wife who was that strong, that motivated
and who could give me that much sexual pleasure.

?Sweetheart, you can get as strong as you want. I?m so proud of you I can?t
stand it.? Then she did another posing routine for me, waking up my suddenly
very attentive soldier who stood firmly at attention, and we made love for the
third time that afternoon.

The kids didn?t understand why we were both in such a good mood when they got
home. We just smiled and Julie said, ?because we remembered why we had you
children in the first place.?

(Chapter Three)

Now that I knew definitively that my wife had gotten stronger than I was, I
decided to do something to change that. If she could get stronger at the gym,
so could I, and so I hired a personal trainer.

?What brings you to the gym?? he asked. ?What are your goals??

I couldn?t very well tell him that I wanted to be as strong as my 5? 5? wife,
without revealing my weakness, so I said. I used to be in good shape in
college, and I want to get it back. Plus, I have never really worked the upper
body muscles much, so I want to fix that.

?We can do all that,? he said, and went about the business of training me. It
was easier taking instructions from him than it was from my wife, whom I was
supposed to be able to dominate, well if not dominate at least beat in basic
tests of strength. After an hour we had done a fair amount, and I was feeling
tuckered out.

When I got home, I was very tired, and I told Julie, ?I?m gonna sit and relax
for a bit. I?m plumb tuckered out after my workout.?

She said, ?OK, but I was hoping to start moving that pallet of cinder blocks
and bricks to the back. We have to do that before we build the patio and the
new permanent grill.?

?Not today, honey, I am totally beat.?

It occurred to me that I had spent a little over an hour at the gym this
afternoon but that she had been there for three hours in the morning, so I
shrugged and sat in the easy chair and turned on the YES network to watch my
beloved Yankees. As the game progressed, I was aware that I could not hear my
wife puttering around the house, and I looked out the window.

Julie was carrying the cinderblocks to the back by herself. Feeling guilty, I
joined her.

?Why aren?t you using the garden tractor and the trailer?? I asked.

?I found it is faster this way,? she said. ?The trailer can only hold six
cinderblocks before the tires seem to give out, and it only goes three miles
per hour. I can carry eight and go faster.?

I looked at the cinder blocks and picked one up. It felt heavy. Then I saw on
the label, net weight about 32 pounds, 8? x 8? x 16?.

I watched her stack four next to each other and then four on top of them. She
picked up the bottom course, squeezed them together, lifted and then started
walking, well semi-running.

I put one course of four together and tried to do what she had done with
eight. The middle two simply fell. I could not exert enough force to lift four
of them, and she was doing eight. Almost immediately, she reappeared and
stacked eight more together. I lamely picked up two, one in each hand, and
walked to the back. While I walked, she passed me with eight more in her arms.

After a short while, we were finished. I had made eight trips with two, and in
the same time, she had made twelve trips with eight. I looked at my beautiful
wife. She wore a pair of tight exercise shots and a sports bra, and she was
glistening with sweat, which brought out the size of her shoulders and arms.
The pressure she had exerted on the cinderblocks to hold them in place had
required a lot of pectoral strength. I looked at her chest. It seemed her
breasts had gotten smaller but that her chest had gotten bigger.

She caught me looking and squeezed. I saw the size of her pecs seem to grow.
Then she said, ?John, you should see what I can do with these pec muscles.
It?s pretty cool. I have never thought of doing this before. She squeezed the
right one and made it pop, and then, as she relaxed that she squeezed the left
and made it pop. She went alternately back and forth a few times and created
sort of a dance. Then she squeezed them both in a way that created a ripple
effect. As she did this, I saw her look at my protruding member in my shorts.
She smiled.

?I?m glad I have this effect on you,? she said. ?I think I can make you cum by
squeezing your dick between my pecs,? she said sotto voce. ?You wanna go
inside and try??

?Why not?? I said. ?The Yanks are losing anyway.?

Then we went inside and had delightful sex in which she made me come close to
orgasm four times before allowing me to release. As a form of foreplay, she
got on the floor to do pushups and asked me to lie down on top of her.

?Those will be difficult, I may only weigh 175, but those will be hard to do.?

?You want to bet?? she challenged? ?You cook dinner tonight and do the dishes
if I can do twenty.?

?You?re on,? I said.

Then we got into position. She pressed up one, and then another. She began to
slow at seven, but then she pushed through it. Eight, nine, ten. ?Oh, I?m not
sure I can make it. Can we scratch the bet.?

?No,? I said, ?In fact, lets raise the bet. I?ll do food and dishes for a
week.?

?I was hoping you would fall for that.? Then she increased her pace and
clicked of fifteen more with almost no increase in effort. ?Never
underestimate the power of your wife,? she said. And she picked me up in her
arms and took me to bed.

By this time, I was so thoroughly aroused that I thought I would cum in my
pants. She squeezed my erect dick so hard it hurt, and then proceeded
gradually to bring me back to the verge of orgasm. She lowered herself slowly
to put me inside of her and then squeezed her vagina muscles, bringing me to a
level of ecstasy I never knew existed. Then, as she continued to squeeze and
release her internal muscles in a dominant position on top of me, she did a
double biceps pose and kissed each bicep. It was clear she was as sexually
aroused by her domination as I was. Finally, we both shuddered and exploded in
the greatest orgasm of our lives. I collapsed on top of her.

I looked at her and said, ?What would I do without you??

?Probably spend more time on those stupid muscle-girl sites.?

I was, for the moment, embarrassed. ?Well, I don?t need to visit those sites
ever again,? I said sheepishly.

?You better not!? She said, striking her signature double biceps pose, ?Or
else.?

I knew she was not kidding, and I knew the power dynamic of the family had
changed.

(Chapter Four)

When I went downstairs to breakfast, there was a list on the counter of
groceries to buy and the menu for the week, Julie wasn?t wasting any time.
?Pick these up on your way home from work,? she said. ?I want to get to the
gym for an extra-long workout, so I left before you got up. These workouts are
paying dividends, don?t you think? (Smiley face)?

An extra-long workout? What did that mean? She was already spending more time
at the gym than I did, and I was the one trying to catch up. But I had
testosterone on my side. I wasn?t too concerned.

I looked at the list and was surprised to see what it included. Two turkey
breasts, some very lean cuts of beef, a bag of sweet potatoes, a bag of brown
whole grain rice, and tons of greens. I guess the woman she had met at the
gym, who was helping to train my wife, was even having an impact on her diet.
Gone were the potato ships, the chicken wings, the cheese and crackers and the
ice cream. I also noticed, she did not include any wine on her list either.

I had a good day at work, went quickly to the gym afterwards, and then got the
groceries and made dinner. Later that evening I got a head start on some of
the menu items for the week. It seemed I could cook the roast turkey breast
ahead of time, the same for the brown rice and the roasted sweet potatoes. The
greens would take no time at all, so the time for cooking would be ok on a
daily basis, and I would have time for my own workouts. Cool. I would catch up
in not time.

The days passed. I was definitely getting stronger, and was pleased about
that. Every morning I would flex in front of the mirror to see if I could
detect any growth and to admire that, growth or not, my muscles were more
evident than before. I felt I was becoming, ?jacked.?

In those weeks, we finished the patio and the built in grille behind out
house. I was proud that we had designed and built it on our own, without the
cost of expensive landscapers and construction people. It was helpful that I
had spent my college days as manual labor for a company that did that. It was
also helpful that I had a beautiful wife who was now strong enough to help
with some of the heavy lifting involved. We even got our twelve year old to
help with the tamping of the sand and gravel and the mixing of mortar.
Although, watching my wife work back there in her shorts and her tank top was
such a turn on, I had to think of very unsexual things when my son was with
us, just to avoid embarrassing myself. Julia noticed the same thing.

?Honey,? she said. ?The next time John Junior helps us out, I think I?ll wear
one of your work shirts.? I agreed that would be a good idea, as it would
cover more of her body.

She had always liked wearing my old T-shirts, and when she weighed 130 pounds,
they had always been baggy on her. Even when she had gained the pregnancy
weight and only lost some of it, the shirts had hung loosely on her. As the
summer progressed, especially during the three weeks it took us to complete
this project, it seemed those shirts were shrinking. In fact, she was just
getting wider in all the right places, and it was most noticeable when she got
a hard workout from working on the patio.

Because I was the skilled worker of the two of us, I would be the one
measuring and laying the bricks or cinderblocks in place. She would be the one
carrying them over, and bringing the 80-pound bags of sand, concrete and
mortar to the work area. On top of that, she was working out all the time.

On the day we finished the project, I looked over at her as she swept the
patio, and I noticed that the shirt that still fit me just right, was not able
to contain her shoulders. The T-shirt sleeve that fell mid bicep on me had
slid up on her so that half her curved and massive delt showed below the
sleeve of the shirt, and her bicep bulged below it. The cut between the biceps
and the delts was pronounced, and there was a definite line between the long
and short brachii of the biceps. The huge vein, which went over the top of her
bicep, was the thickness of one of my fingers. Further, the logo of the Bills
was stretched out by the width and thickness of her shoulders and chest. The
lower end of the shirt hung as loosely as it ever had, but the upper part was
tighter than all get out.

She saw me looking and knew what I was marveling at. ?Isn?t this cool she
said. My muscles are stretching out a shirt I used to absolutely swim in.?
Then she smiled a devilish smile and said, ?I?m going to try something I?ve
always wanted to do.?

With that statement, she started to flex her arms and chest and shoulders and
then relax and flex again. The fabric of the shirt started to stretch further
and further, and then I heard the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing and
stitches popping. She flexed her biceps, which had little effect, since the
shirt no longer covered them, but it turned me on because her arms had gotten
so big and meaty. Then she flexed her chest and shoulders, and that did the
damage. With each flex, the shirt stretched and stretched to the point of
breaking. Soon my favorite old Buffalo Bills T-shirt was in tatters on the
ground and I was looking at a beautiful Aphrodite with the body of a muscular
Hercules.

I would look at her face and still see the cute little woman I had married;
then I would look at the body and see huge muscles everywhere. Her skin was
still as soft and supple looking as it had always been, but the muscles looked
as if they belonged on a male bodybuilder. With a final flex of her torso, she
burst her sports bra too.

Suddenly, we were both aware that the neighbors might see us. I quickly tore
my loose t-shirt off, and she put it on as quickly as she could. It was as
tight as the previous one had been, but it managed to cover her body without
ripping. Then she stopped flexing, swept me off my feet, and raced upstairs
with me in her arms.

?I am so turned on by that,? she said, ?and I can tell you are too. Take me
now.?

With that she flexed again, destroying a second of my T-shirts, and posed for
me. Now I could see that the one narrow part of her body, her waist, had
indescribable abs. To call them washboard abs was to give too much credit to
the washboard. The ridges on her abdomen looked like a topographical map of
Pennsylvania, deep valleys surrounded by great ridges. ?Punch me.? She said.

I came over and gave her a light punch that would make an ordinary person
wince. Her abs were incredibly hard and did not give at all. Nor did she
flinch.

?No, PUNCH ME! That didn?t hurt in the least.?

So I reared back and punched hard enough to knock the wind out of a normal fit
person. My hand hurt from the contact.

?NO!? She said. ?Really punch me!?

?I can?t punch any harder without breaking bones in my hand,? I told her.

?Then kick me there.?

?You mean, like in martial arts?

?Yes. That?s exactly what I mean,? she said somewhat exasperated, as if asking
your husband to kick you as hard as he could was a normal request.

A little miffed at her tone I gathered myself, took as step towards her and
kicked, hard. Her body lifted off the ground a bit and she landed on her feet
with her hands on her hips, smiling.

?God, I amaze even myself,? she said. ?That did not hurt one bit.? Meanwhile,
I was rubbing my foot, which I thought was going to show bruising the next few
days. Julia had become amazingly strong in every part of her body. She started
posing again, and that brought the predictable reaction from my loins.

?I may have more muscles than you now, but you have great size in the muscle
that counts!? she said with a devilish grin. She hugged me so hard I thought
my ribs would break, and then she carried me into bed.

We made love as we had never done before she got her muscles. I was lucky that
she seemed to be as turned on by her new size and strength as I was. Before,
she had focused a lot on me; today I focused on gratifying her. I massaged her
arms and shoulders and then focused on her legs. Starting with the enormous
and hard calves, I made my way up her legs. I kissed and worshipped her outer
thighs, focusing on each muscle. I grabbed her hamstrings and thighs and
squeezed. She clenched as I did so, bringing me close to orgasm when I saw how
powerful her legs were. I finished with some soft massages on her inner thigh.
She moaned, and I started to lick the area, darting my tongue in and out of
her vagina. Soon she was audibly moaning, and then with a groan she started
convulsing. She had both a clitoral and vaginal orgasm at the same time. Then
I plunged my dick into the soft mountain of flesh between her legs and she
came again. It was only at this point that I focused on myself, and so did
she.

Squeezing and relaxing her inner muscles, she massaged my erection until I
reached the height of pleasure. I was so focused on myself that I did not
notice in the blur of my excitement that her eyes were becoming dilated and
she too was reaching a higher level of excitement. I came with a stifled yell,
and she had a final explosive orgasm, leaving a pool of vaginal fluid in the
bed. I relaxed and fell on top of her.

?Your muscles are the best thing that has ever happened to us,? I said. I have
never enjoyed sex as much, and I have never been so sexually spent.?

?Oh yeah?? she said, ?how spent are you??

?Totally.?

?Well,? she said, ?we are going to have to do something about that.? She
flexed her right arm once, then walked to the bathroom, in her naked state so
I could watcher her butt rise and fall as she walked. There is nothing as
sexually exciting to me as a large muscular butt that is tight enough to
bounce as a woman walks. Julia had always had that ability; it was even
greater now. My reaction was predictable. She turned around and eyed my loins.
?I thought so,? she said.

We went a second time and this time we were done, at least for the time being.

My Strong Wife - Chapter Five

A month or so later, I was well into my exercise regime at the gym and had met
a workout partner who was a big help. He was a bit bigger and stronger than I,
but that gave me something to strive for. He was an engineer with some company
that made robots to build things and replace workers, but I did not hold that
against him. Moreover, it meant that his hours and mine matched up quite well.
All I knew as that he had played a bit of football at a small college, and
knew his way around the weight room.

He introduced me to some weight lifting programs and made sure my technique
was good, allowing me to improve my strength and increase my poundage. My
bench press was much stronger, as I was beginning my pyramid sets with 155 and
working up to 205 before working my way down. I couldn?t do more than about
four or five reps at 205, but I managed eight at each of the other weights.
Moreover, my squats had really improved. A lot of that was due to technique.

I learned how to position the bar so it did not hurt my back as much.
Additionally, I had added a bit of muscular padding to my traps. I was not
about to challenge an Olympic weight lifter, even a strong female weight
lifter, but I was proud of my progress. I told Julie about it when I got home.

?That?s great honey. I?m so proud of you. Keep it up.?

?I?ll be stronger than you soon,? I said with a smile and a wink. She just
smiled back.

?I?ve been making some progress lately myself,? she quietly said in response.
?I am really proud of my quads ? and especially my biceps. Wanna see ?em? I
just was at the gym, and they are really quite pumped.?

She pulled up the sleeve of her new Bills shirt, a large Josh Allen jersey
that would be much harder to shred than my old T-shirt, and then flexed her
right arm. My jaw almost hit the ground. She HAD made progress. Her arm looked
to be as hard as a rock. I reached over and felt it. Yes, it was as hard as it
looked. I tried to wrap my hands around the belly of the bicep, and I couldn?t
come close. Then she flexed a few more times and it seemed to get bigger. Mind
you, this was an arm we had measured at 17.5 inches six weeks before. Now it
was even bigger and had a definite line between the long and short brachii of
the biceps, the effect of which was to make her arm look like it had muscles
on muscles. And it wasn?t just the biceps, the huge size of the triceps, too,
increased the mass of the upper arm, giving the effect of filling out even the
sleeve of the football jersey.

?Should I get that tape measure?? I asked.

?Only if you want,? she said. ?Then again, they do look big to me too. I?m
kind of curious.? Then she took off her shirt and hit a double biceps pose. My
eyes popped out of my head. Not only was each arm huge and cut, the shoulders
were broad and the chest deep and wide.

I took out the tape and draped it over her arm. ?Flex,? I said, and she did. I
figured it would stretch the tape to maybe 17 ?, since she had been incredibly
pumped the last time. However, I also noticed that her triceps were fuller
than before and by a large amount.

?My God,? I said, stretching the tape around the thickest part of her biceps
and pulling it tight. ?Eighteen and a fucking half. ? Did you ever think you
would have eighteen and a half inch arms? ?

?What? Is that what they are? Yesss!? And she pumped them a few times more for
good effect.

?You don?t even sound too surprised.?

?Well, that is what I have been aiming for,? she said. ?I was thrilled when I
reached 17 ? with you that day. But the next day, when I wasn?t pumped from
the workout, the measurement went all the way back down to 16.? ?Well, that?s
pretty good size anyway, and you?re way bigger than that now.? ?They should
be. I have been working my butt off,? she said. ?I do about ten different
biceps movements and multiple sets of them each workout. I also spend an
inordinate amount of time on triceps. And you know me, I like to see
improvement.? She extended her arm and clenched to show me her well developed
horseshoe triceps. There was a thickness there that was noticeable.

My eyes were popping out of my head. I reached out, grabbed her arms and then
her lats. After that, I reached behind her to rub my hands over the extensive
back muscles, pulling her closely as I did. She smiled and grabbed me by the
waist, one hand on each side, and then lifted me up like a ten-pound weight,
tossed me in the air and then caught me, as if she wanted to carry me over the
threshold. Smiling and holding me there, she kissed me tenderly and with love.
In her sweetest voice she said, ?John, not only aren?t you catching up; you
seem to be falling further behind.?

Totally emasculated and yet totally turned on, I looked at her and said
sweetly, ?Shut up and kiss me again,? and she did. Many times. And that wasn?t
all.

(My Strong Wife - Chapter Six)

I continued to go to the gym with my new friend, and I was definitely getting
stronger and bigger. My legs, especially, were growing, as they had been the
source of whatever strength I had in my youth as a soccer player and middle
distance runner in track and field.

On leg days, we would begin with squats and leg presses. I was getting to be
decent at those, and was able to perform squats with as much as two wheels on
each end of the bar. That was a huge improvement from my first day in the gym
with Julie, when I couldn?t squat even 135, because the bar hurt my back and
shoulders too much. I was even doing one legged squats with 135, which I
couldn?t do before.

The smith machine made me feel good about my strength, because I did not need
to hold the weights with my arms and shoulders. I could press well over 300
pounds with that. Six big plates and two twenty-fives.

?That?s 365, Jake!? I told my partner. ?Beat that.?

He added twenty pounds to each end and did exactly as I had bid him to.
?Damn,? I thought. ?I?ll catch that guy soon.? What I said was, ?Hey bro, nice
lift.?

We proceeded to do other leg exercises, including leg extensions and hamstring
curls. I sat at the extension station and warmed up. Then I put the pin under
the twentieth plate to see if I could do the entire stack. I managed to press
it out about five times before I decided to stop. I was actually focusing, in
my routines, on endurance rather than sheer strength, and I did not want to
spoil my routine. In the back of my head, though, I remembered visiting the
gym earlier and watching Julie do a bunch of reps with the entire stack AND
all my weight.

Privately chastened, I hopped on the seat, put the pin under the fifteenth
plate, and knocked out twenty-five good reps. After twelve, I started to feel
the burn; by the time I got to my last five I could barely do them, but seeing
the development of my own thigh muscles made it all worthwhile. I jumped off
the seat and my legs felt like jelly, but I was able to shake them and then
clench, which gave me a good sense of accomplishment, which wasn?t diminished
by the fact that my wife was able to do twice as much weight, for the same
number of reps.

I was about to begin my hamstring curls when there was a bit of a commotion at
the door to the free weights room. (Our gym has separate areas, both of them
spacious, for free weights and machines.) I ignored the commotion and started
my hamstring curls; after fifteen reps, I finished my warm-up set.

Jake had started over towards the source of the commotion. ?You gotta see
this,? he said. I came over quickly. I couldn?t see over the crowd of guys.

I overheard a variety of comments. ?It?s those chicks again? ?Oh my god, what
a show.? ?I told you it was worth watching.? ?I could do that.? ?Yeah, but
it?s your max. They are warming up.? ?Imagine being married to that. She could
beat the crap out of you.? Etc.

I squeezed between two of the guys to get a better look. There before me were
the two most muscular women I had ever seen; then I took a closer look and
realized one of them was Julie. She was settling under a squat bar with six
total plates of 45 pounds. Then she proceeded to squat almost to the floor and
bring the weight in a controlled fashion to her standing position for ten
reps.

Then her partner did the same, before adding another forty-five to each end. I
stared quietly, not wanting to let on, even to Jake, that I was married to one
of those women who were lifting more weight than most of these men could lift.

I watched Julie?s thighs and butt explode in size as she pressed four hundred
and five pounds up for reps. They topped out at five large plates on each end
of the bar. I watched the bar bend slightly under the weight, the weight that
each of these women lifted for eight good repetitions. Then I noticed how
massive their thighs were. Mine were definitely stronger than they had been
before I started lifting, but they stretched the tape to only about 23 inches.
Julie?s had topped that by at least three inches before she squatted. Now they
were engorged with blood. Moreover, every muscle in her thigh stood out in its
individual mass. The outer quad formed a bulge that extended a few inches out
from the knees and the femur, and that muscle continued up to her hip. A huge
bulge arose from just above the kneecap, seemingly pushing the outer thigh
muscle outwards. On top of that, the inner quad, which I later learned was the
vastus medialis, emerged from under the front muscle and bulged at the inner
part of the knee.

She stretched them out by bringing the ankle to her butt and pulling gently
with her arms. Then she turned and, facing away from the group at the door,
proceeded to stretch her hamstrings. I had not really noticed how massive they
had become. While the breadth of her thighs was most impressive, the thickness
and obvious strength of her hams was amazing too. She turned to her side and
rested her weight on the leg that was towards us. Her butt stood out like half
a small watermelon. Her calves were substantial and shapely, but her
hamstrings amazed me as much. The line from her butt to her knee, instead of a
straight line, bulged out in an impressive curve. The entire effect could have
been emasculating, but it had a different effect on me. I realized I had to
move back to the hamstring curl machine, so I could lie down on my front and
hide the raging erection that was emerging in my shorts.

I took the sweat towel from my shoulder and held it, as subtly as I could, in
front of me and made my way to the hamstring curl machine; then I completed my
hamstrings, humbled somewhat but still proud. I showered and raced home.

When I got home, I took out the tape measure and measured my own legs after
the workout. I wanted to see whether they had grown since I started lifting.
They had. I was close on my estimation. I stretched the tape around the
thickest part of my thigh, which was quite high, very close to the hip. It
measured twenty-three and one-quarter inches, and bulges of muscle were
showing faintly under the skin. My calves, too, had some definition and
stretched the tape to fourteen and three-quarter inches.

Two hours later, Julie arrived home. ?How was your workout?? I called.

?It was OK,? she said. ?I was happy with my lifting, but the gym is getting to
be a weird place for me and Athena to lift.?

?How so,? I inquired.

?The two of us are causing quite a stir because of our lifting. I guess it is
flattering to a degree, but it is also a little annoying.?

?I saw you today,? I said sheepishly, ?and you are right about the men. What a
bunch of schmoes.?

?You saw me?? she said. ?Oh, I?m sorry. I didn?t want you to see me lifting
heavy.?

?It?s ok,? I said. ?I am happy with my own progress. Actually, it turned me
on, and I had to go finish my hammy curls to hide my erection.?

Then after a short moment, I asked a simple question. ?How big are your legs?
They look huge. I mean you always had thick legs, probably thicker than mine
because of your natural build, but that was a marginal difference. I mean my
legs have gained in size and strength in the last two months, but you, ? you
look like a statue.?

?Really, you think so? Wanna measure them to see what I?ve got??

?Do I? ? Of course!?

We went to the bedroom, and she disrobed. Just standing there without posing,
she looked like an exaggeration of a Greek God but with beautiful female
features. Her traps showed just enough above her shoulders to let you know
they were there, but not so much as to make her neck look like part of her
shoulders, which were broad and powerful looking. They were so broad that her
incredibly muscular arms hung down straight without hitting her sides. Even
without flexing, the veins in her biceps were evident, and all of this
muscular upper body tapered to a narrow waist with washboard abs. It was all
supported by legs that were so thick she could not stand without having them
spread apart just a little. Each thigh looked as if it was wider than her
narrow waist, and from the front, her thighs looked as if they were wider than
her shoulders. The effect mad my manhood as large as it had ever been. Unlike
my legs, the thickest part of her thigh was about halfway down her leg.

I took out the measuring tape and stretched it around the thickest part. She
then flexed her leg a few times just to make it larger. The tape measured
twenty-nine inches.

?Twenty-nine inches!? I said. ?Twenty-nine fucking inches. I am amazed.?

?Oh gee! I was hoping for thirty,? she said. ?Maybe in a month.?

?Let me see something,? I said, and I measured right at her crotch, which came
to twenty-seven inches; just above the knee, it was merely twenty-four and a
half inches. You get the picture. Every measurement denoted a thickness
greater than my thigh at its thickest point, and her thickest point measured
six and a half inches more than mine did. Not only that, every inch was pure
muscle, no extra fat to make them larger but not really.

I knelt down and worshipped her legs. I rubbed my hands over every swollen
inch of her muscles. I smoothed my hands over her hard calves and then rubbed
up the outer part of the thigs, kissing her huge outer thigh muscles. Then I
grabbed her butt. She gave me a surprise by squeezing them and giggling, and I
realized how strong her butt muscles had become. Then I explored the
magnificence of her hamstrings before finally caressing and kissing her inner
thigh until I came to where her legs met. My shorts were becoming too tight,
so I tore them off.

?While we are measuring,? she said. ?Let?s measure one part of your body that
is definitely bigger than anything I have in that area.? She grabbed the tape
and my penis and measured. ?Were you ever ten inches long before??

?I am?? I asked incredulously.

?Well, almost.? She said, wide eyed. ?I?ll give you that last eighth of an
inch. Better yet, I?ll take it, all of it.? With that, she pushed me down on
the floor on my back and straddled my body, rubbing her crotch against my
large erection. Finally, she was soft enough to take it all in.

The softness of her insides contrasted marvelously with the hardness of her
leg muscles. I rubbed my hands over her thighs, then reached behind to squeeze
her glutes as she rose and fall on my manhood.

?How do you like the strength of these muscles?? she asked, and she squeezed
her vaginal muscles hard.

I was losing any sense of reality or where I was, moaning, breathing heavily
and hard, and tilting my head back.

?Oh my God!? she said. ?I?m seeing colors, reds and blues and pinks and
yellows and Oh ? Oh ? ohhhh!?

We climaxed simultaneously, collapsed on the floor and fell asleep for some
time; I don?t really know how long.

Soon, I awoke. She was on top of me, which allowed me to explore her body some
more, and soon I was in a familiar condition. I rolled over on top of her,
waking her up and said. ?Let?s do it more traditionally this time.?

I lay on top of her and started pumping. Soon, her legs were up in the air and
wrapped around my hips. ?You wanna see how strong these legs are??

?Sure do,? I said. ?Give me all you?ve got.?

?I better not do that,? she said, ?but I?ll give you a squeeze.?

Within moments, I felt pain in my hips that I had never felt before; I thought
she was going to crush my pelvic bones. ?Stop!? I said with urgency. ?Oh my
God! Your legs are as strong as Fuck!?

She eased up, and I relaxed into a rhythm, and soon we were climaxing again,
just not quite as violently. I kissed her gently, and she kissed back. Then
she smiled at me and said, ?I?m sorry if I hurt you. I wasn?t really even
giving more than half my effort. I must be stronger than I thought.?

?Let?s see how strong,? I said, and put my bathrobe on to go downstairs and
get one of the two watermelons we had in the fridge. She laughed when she saw
what I was planning.

?I can make short work of that,? she said.

?Let?s see,? I said. ?I have seen strong women on Youtube struggle a bit with
this.

She put it between her legs, and I said, ?Let?s see how long it takes you.
Most people I have seen take a few seconds, some take fifteen or more and
really struggle. One, two, three, g??

Before I had finished saying go, the watermelon had been pulverized, not just
cracked, but pulverized into multiple pieces on the bathroom floor and a lot
of crushed watermelon.

?That wasn?t hard,? she said. ?Give me something I will struggle with.?

I went to my closet and said, ?nothing here but my basketball. I?ll see if I
can find something a little easier than that.?

?Nope,? she said. ?Don?t bother going off on a search. The kids will be back
from their grandparents? soon. Let me try with that basketball. If I fail, I
fail.? With that, she placed my expensive basketball between her legs and
started squeezing. It got thinner and thinner and longer and longer. Within
ten seconds, it exploded with a force that I did not expect.

She smiled and flexed for me. ?That was easier than I expected.?

?Don?t ever try to squeeze me hard during sex again,? I said. ?You would break
my bones and turn me into pulverized Jonathan.?

She stood up, straddled me with her legs and did a double biceps pose. ?I
wouldn?t need to use my legs to pulverize you,? she said. ?I could use my
hands and arms too.? And she grabbed a tennis ball and squeezed it so hard
with one hand that it popped right there.

?I?s a good thing you love me,? I said.

?Yes,? she said. ?A very good thing, ? for your health.? Then she winked and
smiled and flexed one more time for good measure.?

(My Strong Wife ? Chapter Seven)

In the coming weeks, I learned to accept that I was never going to be as
strong as my amazing wife was. As emasculating as you might think this would
be, (and it certainly was embarrassing for me at times,) her incredible
strength had its benefits. Most of those were in the bedroom, as I have made
clear in the previous chapters.