Way stronger
by Plowjack



Bob thought his luck was going pretty well. He had a solid career underway in
stocks and finance and had bought a country dream-house at 30 years old. He
still had friends from college and a life outside of work, and that's where he
met his biggest piece of luck - his 24-year-old new wife Helena. Tall,
athletic, blonde and sharp, Helena was a friend of a friend's wife that he had
met over beers and bonfire. She was a lab tech on a management track, but when
the music got turned up, man, could she shake it. Instantly attracted, Bob was
still overjoyed at his good fortune in landing her for a wife. Their sex-life
was delightful, and they seemed to be settling into compatibility after a
year.

Helena had been a cheerleader in college, and she still hit the gym regularly.
Bob was an occasional runner, and he went when she dragged him. He found her
bubbly enthusiasm for exercise a little boring, and tended to hit the
treadmill with an e-book.

"Honey, I'm tired of driving to the gym," she said one day over breakfast. She
was in summer jammies - a tiny top and panties - and her round breasts and
sculpted chest caught the morning light. Bob was inclined to listen as he
looked.

"I want you to buy us a good home weight machine and treadmill. I haven't been
here for a winter yet, but I won't be using the pool then, and I like being
able to be snug at home," her sweet lips were just fun to watch, an she knew
it as she smiled prettily at him.

"Sure, babydoll," he said; the money wasn't an issue; "you go ahead and put it
on the house card."

"I want you to promise me you'll use it, honey" she said, lightly, "gotta keep
up."

She just blinked at his funny expression, and got another cup of coffee.

Helena handled the arrangement of a home gym as efficiently as everything she
did. In about a week the movers arrived up their long driveway and a large
weight-and-pulley device was erected, filling a corner of the spare room that
had an attached bath. The treadmill took another corner, and a rack of
kettlebells and one for towels appeared. The next morning, as Bob was having
coffee and media he heard the sound of clanking as Helena began her series of
morning workouts. Sounds of showering and hair-drying followed, and his lovely
wife appeared in her bathrobe.

"That's what I've been wanting, honey," she said, kissing his cheek and
getting her fruit and yogurt, "hop out of bed and heat up my muscles. Makes me
feel great."

"That's very ... strenuous," Bob said, smiling, "a little early for me."

"I know you like the body, baby," she said, and her robe parted to display her
cleavage and belly, "still got the abs, just like college," she said, and he
was mesmerized to see her belly harden into a double row of stony muscles. His
wife smiled as he gently stroked the armor plates that he knew went all the
way down.

"You know, throwing a grown woman overhead isn't just about upper body
strength - it takes core strength, too," she said, and her muscles rippled as
she tensed again.

"Ohmygod, come back to bed with me," Bob said, standing and taking her hand.

"Sorry baby," she said, and Bob was stopped cold by her grip, then pulled
backward by her hand in turn, "I have some extra work today I told Vanessa I'd
get done. It should only be an hour or two, tops. Maybe while I'm gone you
should play with the weight machine."

In her usual brisk way she was up, dressed and out the door while Bob was
still finishing his coffee. Bob enjoyed watching her walk to the car in her
tight jeans and blazer. Admirable as well as lovely, he thought.

OK, let's look at the stuff. The new 'home gym' was air-cool and clean. The
weight machine was a big contraption - he could reach the overhead bar with
extended arms. There were strap-pulls, and links and pulleys ... all kind of
confusing. OK - overhead bar ... he could figure that out. He gripped the bar
by the grips and pulled. It seemed fixed in place. He looked for a catch, and
followed the cables down to the weight-stacks. He tried again, and with
concentration he pulled the bar downward, a few inches, before his arms were
jerked upward again and the weights fell with a clank.

He checked, and the weights were set at what looked like 150 lbs. Geez, he
thought, no wonder ... very funny Helena - leave the weights set for giants.
He played around for a while, then did a set of 15 with 40 lbs, and another
with 50. His arms were feeling it by the time he was done. Geez, maybe he did
need to 'keep up'. Well, that was enough for now. He dressed for the weather,
in little shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt.

Helena arrived before lunch, and Bob stood to greet her.

"So, I think I'm joining a women's rugby league, honey," she proclaimed.

"Rugby?" he repeated, "I do like you with all of your teeth, dear."

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, and she hugged him in turn,
squeezing him to her. At 6' tall he was several inches taller, but she pulled
him to her, not the other way round. Her hand on his neck was firm as she held
his mouth down to her for a minute. By the time she broke off he was steamy
and stiffening.

"Ooo baby," he growled, but she smiled up at him.

"Did you lift?" she asked. Funny moment to ask, he thought.

"I gave it a go," he said, "but it's a little complicated."

"Yeah, I thought that might be the case. C'mon," she said and began guiding
him toward the door.

"Wait, you mean right now," he said, and resisted, but she gripped his butt
hard in one strong hand and he hopped forward as she pushed him along.

"Yes, right now. I've got a problem, see ... " and they were in the gym,
"Vanessa's arms are bigger than mine! My goddess, Bob, she's 40 years old!"

She stood by the rack of towels and quickly stripped to bra and panties. What
a body! Thick round legs supported an ass like a globe. Her tiny waste was
armored with muscle and her upper body - chest, back and shoulder, were thick
and rippling with muscle. Bob had never thought she looked heavy or thick,
really - he thought of her as perfectly-shaped. Now she began flexing her arms
and chest. She picked up a kettlebell marked 40 and began to swing it easily
from hand to hand, then curled it a few times with her right arm.

"Here," she said, and casually handed it to Bob. Unthinking he grabbed it, but
when she released it his arm was jerked hard to the floor, his effort to catch
it causing him pain.

"Ow," he complained and rubbed his wrenched right arm.

His wife stood watching him, a little smirk on her lips, her hands on her
wide, muscular hips.

"Ooo, sorry, honey, I thought you'd have that. Anyway, look at this."

She flexed her right arm, once twice, three times, and her biceps popped,
growing like a stone out of her arm. She flexed hard and an irregular peak
appeared, her triceps thickening.

"Look at this muscle, Bob. Almost 15 inches thick, but that old cougar Vanessa
had to measure out at over 16! Sure she's six feet tall, but I can't have it,"
she struck a double-biceps pose, her chest swelling behind her round breasts.
"I'm the strongest," she said, and sounded like she meant it.

Bob was speechless, but he was drawn magnetically toward her.

"Strongest ... " he mumbled, and ran his hands up her chest to caress her
shoulders. She seemed so much ... bigger, now.

"Feel this, honey," she said quietly, and flexed her right arm in front of
him. He smoothed his hand over her piled muscle, and then squeezed with his
fingers. She flexed again and he felt the boulder get bigger.

"Wh ... wh ... " he was stuttering ... his pretty little wife ... "where did
you get muscles like this?"

She chuckled, and put her left arm around his neck, gathering him to her.

"Oh Bobby, I've always had huge muscles. I don't flex them for most people -
it's kind of freaky, and it makes men scared. I know you've felt 'em. You like
to hold on to them while we fuck, don't you?"

"I do," he said quietly, and wrapped both hands around her arm, "But you're so
big, and ... hard." His cock was hard too, he noticed. Just thinking about
squeezing his wife's big arms as she bounced on him had him sprung.

"Not big enough - I'm gonna put an inch of muscle on these arms this year,
dude. Stand fuckin' back. Now look, what's up here," she said going to the
machine.

"Well it was cute of you to leave that monster weight in place. That was the
first time I almost pulled my shoulders out today," he said, rubbing his arm
again.

Helena was looking at the bar, and then reached up with one hand, grabbed the
bar at the cable and pulled it down smoothly. She did a few reps, then did the
same with her other hand. It was set at the same weight on which Bob had worn
out both arms earlier.

"So, yeah," she said, her attention shifting, "if you want to do one-handed
stuff, it would be better to ... " she stopped and saw her husband blushing.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry ... you used both hands to pull this weight?"

He admitted it, but again accused her of setting the weight ridiculously high
for him.

"Come over here, Bob," she said, and he watched her set the stack back at 150
lbs.

"Now, this is heavy for me, but I've been planning to do the rugby thing, so I
need muscle," she squared her body and did 8 smooth pulls of the heavy weight.

"Come here, darling," she cooed, and she placed his hands on her upper arms
and shoulders, then did 10 more pulls, as Bob gently squeezed. Finished, she
turned and smiled at his obvious erection poking the front of his shorts then
took it between her fingers.

"Bobby like muscles, yeah, I always knew. Guys that don't, don't ask me out.
You love to feel my thick arms, love it when I bearhug my little squeezy, and
I haven't found an end to how long you'll kiss my thighs. I should have shown
you my real muscles sooner ... we've wasted time. Here - come on and do a
little thing for me ... "

She quickly reset the weight to 75 lbs.

"I'm sure you were underestimating yourself, honey, she said with a kiss, "you
have nice muscles. Here, get your stance right, and go for eight".

He made four and a half, before his arms began to tremble. Helena spotted his
efforts, and finally added a little of her strength to let him mostly
accomplish the set.

"Good boy," she kissed him again, "now flex for me, baby."

Blushing, he flexed both arms, throwing his shoulders back and his chest out.
It made him feel big before his smaller wife, for a moment. Then she giggled.

"Come on, flex a few times, get some pump," she teased, and ran a hand over
his right arm. She held his biceps as he pumped, but then squeezed it, and
smiled. "It's kinda big, but it's kinda soft, honey". He felt her hard hand
compress his flesh, and he flexed again, but her thumb was pressing into his
muscle hard.

"Ow!" he whined as her thumb forced him to quit his flex.

"Ooo, I'm sorry ... I don't know my own strength, I guess. Is that it? Hey,
don't get soft down there ... " she was rubbing the front of his shorts. He
responded under her hand, even as his arm ached from her rough grip.

"Now I'll take 'ems to bed," she cooed.

She kept him in bed the rest of the day, using him as a sex-doll. He was
unable to resist her body - she could move his arms and legs at will, press
him under a knee immobile, pin both wrists in the fingers of one hand. She
rode him and bounced him on top of her like a pillow, and covered him in
hickeys. When she was done Bob felt like he had endured a combination deep
massage, sex-carnival and beating. He had repeatedly sworn obedience, and made
his wife come repeatedly while she kept him on the edge. Finally she held him
tenderly in a soft headlock as she worked him to his only orgasm of the night
by hand.

"My little boy," she softly said as she stroked and milked his softening cock,
"I knew you were weak, you obviously don't have muscles, but you're really so
soft and ... submissive, I think." She flexed her muscular arm again under his
nose, "Do you want to fight me, Bobby?"

"Fight you?" he sounded frightened, "you're so strong, Helena, I can't ... "
he heard himself, and they both laughed together.

"Yes, submissive, and so puny that it doesn't matter whether you submit - I
can do what I want with my little Bobby. I do want you to lift though, honey
... if you work hard maybe you can be half as strong as your wife."

The next morning he was told to getup, shower and make breakfast, wearing
boxers. He felt beaten, humiliated and thoroughly satisfied and enchanted. He
was covered in her marks, his biceps ringed in squeeze-bruises, his hips and
nipples sore. Every twinge made him hot, though he doubted he could get hard
again. Helena looked like a goddess to him, as she walked around the house in
nothing but tiny panties. She was sweet and warm to him.

"My sweetie ... I loved that ... " after a while she became her usual brisk
self.

"Alright, Bobby, you can get dressed, and I have a shopping list for you," she
said with a seemingly complete expectation of simple obedience. He simply
obeyed.

The shopping took him rather longer than expected, and it was nearly noon by
the time he returned. He was surprised to see cars in his long driveway.
Pulling up to the service door he thought about bringing in the five-gallon
jugs of water he had bought. His arms hurt. He started with the shopping bags
of groceries, and noted that he heard women's voices from the pool. He got one
five-gallon jug up the short stairs, and was startled by a deep female voice.

"Hey Bob, let me help."

A tall brunette ... ok, wedge sandals, bikini coverup ... big ... trooped past
him and out the door. He heard the hatch of his car slam and she trooped back
in, one jug held by the neck of each hand.

"Right, one of these here," she effortlessly hoisted it to the counter, "and
one to the pool. Hi, I'm Vanessa ... come on, Bob - meet the girls."

Vanessa ... bigger arms than Helena ... Helena's arms ... her muscles ... Bob
rubbed his bruised biceps, and felt himself twitch. Vanessa was, indeed, built
like a tank, with hips bigger than her muscular shoulders and a trim waist.
Her triceps stood thick as she carried the water jog to the deck and easily
flipped it into the cooler. The 'girls' were five women sitting at the little
tables, already working big iced drinks; Vanessa, two big women who wore the
typical look of a dyke couple, a black woman and a thin, rangy blonde. All
were in swimwear or robes.

As Bob walked out behind her he heard Helena laughing.

"So, I love doing science, but my Bobby is so good with the money. I love our
little paradise, here. You know what's funny though? I got Bobby to buy me a
solid pro weight machine - so nice. But the most fun thing about it so far is
that I found out that I'm way stronger than him!"

The women laughed together. "He's not an athlete, is he?" "Cute though ... "
Bob felt his face grow hot, and he started to scoot toward the door, head
down.

"Bobby, don't," Helena said firmly, "you bring your pretty ass right here to
me."

The women were treated to the sight of the 35-year-old man doing as he was
told. Helena dropped her robe as he approached, her muscular bikini body
obviously superior to his.

"Bobby honey, you know I'm way stronger than you, right? Come right here and
sit on my knees, honey," she patted her thighs, and Bob found it exciting to
sit on her thick thighs.

Bob, reached a crisis, as he felt himself drawn helplessly to his wife's
dominant sexuality. His 'manhood' still squirmed but ... she was so strong ...
her muscles ... he might as well try to fight Superman ... he felt so small
... weak.

The girls chuckled and raised their glasses to Helena as her husband snuggled
into her side and wrapped his hands around her arm. His ass slid into her lap
as his head rested on her big shoulder. She felt his hands squeeze, and she
flexed her biceps. He squeezed again, and made a little sound.

"Way stronger, darling," he said, "she had to help me lift half of what she
can."

"Ooo, little wimp," the girls laughed, "isn't he sweet ... " "I'd fuck the
daylights out of that ... ".

"Now Beth," Helena said sternly, and she wrapped her arms around Bob's
shoulders, "Bobby is my man, and you'll keep your hands off him. Look how soft
he is ... " she cooed, and wrapped him tighter, as she flexed her right arm in
front of him.

"That's nice, Hel," he heard, as the women appreciated her development, "what
a peak ... that's muscle, boy."

Bob caressed her arm, and she felt him squirm in her lap. She tickled the
front of his shorts.

"He's hard, girls," she said, kissing him and gripping his dick with two
fingers, "big muscles make him all excited. Stand up, honey." He obeyed, and
she kept her hand on his crotch, gently squeezing.

"Now you take that to the bed room. I want you naked and waiting on my bed,
and ready to be hard - no jacking that off! I'll be in to check on you, but
we'll have another drink or three, sweetie."

As Bobby walked away quickly, hand over his erection, he heard her say

"I don't think I'll let him use the weights ... I like him weak ... "