A Happy Marriage (Cuckolding, feminization, weight gain)

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A Happy Marriage (Cuckolding, feminization, weight gain)

Postby bovinechica » Sun Aug 07, 2022 8:37 am

“Was that…was that good?”

“Yeah babe,” she said, her phone already in her hand. “Yeah, it’s always really nice.” She leaned over to kiss me on my forehead, the slight bend the movement required highlighting her barely defined but newly noticeable obliques. “You’re always so attentive and sweet,” she said, as she opened the lock screen. “Hm, still pretty early. I think I’ll hit the studio for a bit before bed.”

“What? I thought we were going to watch the next episode of that show, what was it called? I bought stuff for sundaes”

“Aw, babe, I’d love to stay in and cuddle with you, but I have all this nervous energy to burn off. I have to be prepared for that deposition tomorrow, and I can never sleep if I’m all jittery like this. Next time, okay babe?”

“No, of course, honey! Yeah, I’m looking forward to getting to spend more time with you, but you gotta take care of your needs. You know I’m never going to be resentful of you taking care of yourself.”

“I know,” she said, ruffling my unruly mop of brown hair. “You’re so supportive. I could never have handled this transition to partner without you in my corner.” She slid off the bed, her muscular, curved thighs following slim calves. Had she gone tanning recently? Her skin was glowing. “Look, this weekend, we’ll have so much time to ourselves. Why don’t you make reservations at the place you’ve been wanting to try? What’s it called, the sushi food truck guy’s fancy one?”

“Etch, or Knife, or something like that. That sounds great baby, I’d love to take you out to celebrate you finishing this. Enjoy your workout!”

She hustled out the door. I admired the sight of my wife’s impressively toned butt in the pair of Lululemons she was wearing. I lazed for a couple of minutes in bed after she left, enjoying the quiet and the post-orgasm lassitude. My belly growled, and I padded out of bed. I headed down the hallway to the staircase- why on earth did we buy a two story house? We didn’t really need the room, and didn’t have kids. My knees protested gently as I crept down. I had quit even the moderate jogging routine I had when I caught Covid, and I desperately needed to get back into it. I considered briefly going now- but it was sweltering hot in Atlanta in August, even at 9:30.

I arrived in the kitchen, pulling the carton of Tillamook mint chip out of the freezer. I scanned the refrigerator- I had been excited about a sundae earlier, but, with Quinn out of the house, decided that I might as well just play video games. Video games required hands. Milkshake it was.

Topping my milkshake off with a generous dose of whipped cream, I wandered over to my home office, tucked behind the living room. It was a more impressive setup then the average person might have; a gleaming Alienware PC with a spanking new graphics card, three screens optimally positioned for gaming. I didn’t need this much hardware for video games- I usually like graphics light RPGS- but I worked from home as a software developer. I didn’t really need a four thousand dollar PC for that, either, but, well, I got paid okay and I didn’t really buy myself much else.
I
was lost wandering the lakes of Liurna when Quinn got home. “Hey baby!” she shouted, practically bounding up the stairs. Startled, “Hey! How was the workout?” I could already hear the showering running before I finished the question.
I had no particular need to be up early, unlike Quinn, who would be leaving at six am-earlier if she felt like getting a session in before heading to the firm. I was impossibly proud of her; at 28, the youngest partner in the history of her firm (and the only woman). She could work from home most days if she wanted, but with so much to prove, she rarely missed out on face time and being physically at her desk.

I loved my job. New challenges and interesting work, GREAT pay, and flexible hours. I maybe had to go be physically present once or twice a month. I’d been doing it since graduating college, though, and I don’t think there was much room for advancement. I had no real interest in management- ideally, I would never talk to anyone at work, if that was possible- and felt no need to put myself out there. I made plenty of money and was decently invested already. And Quinn’s career was really taking off. Staying where I was, comfortable, made a ton of sense to me.

My stomach gurgled as I arose out of the gaming chair. I needed to widen the arms a bit- they had been pressing into the sides of my stomach, and only after getting up did I notice how uncomfortable they’d gotten. I meandered back up the stairs, my belly, probably way too full of dairy for directly before bedtime, jiggling slightly. My shirt had gotten wedged beneath my chubby pecs and my stomach. I didn’t really think of myself as fat, but I had transitioned maybe too comfortably from ‘slim college guy’ to ‘happily married man.’ I was relatively short- 5’7’’- and about 220. It hadn’t been such a big deal when I was lifting, but I had quit that two years ago at the start of the pandemic, and never gotten around to buying any home gym stuff. I naturally had a bit of an appetite. Still, I had never considered myself vain, and Quinn never said anything critical.
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Re: A Happy Marriage (Cuckolding, feminization, weight gain)

Postby bovinechica » Sun Aug 07, 2022 8:39 am

Steam was wafting through the air as Quinn exited the shower, a towel wrapped around her brunette hair and tucked over her small, firm breasts. “You’re going to do great tomorrow, baby.”

“Thanks, Sam! I know, I’m prepared, I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be.”

“You impress me every day. Why don’t I meet you downtown for lunch? We can get sushi.”

“Ugh, I would love to, but I’m meeting with the client at lunch.” She limped slightly as she walked over to the bed.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just wore myself out a little with the squats. I’ll be fine. Hey, I know it’s late, but….do you think you’re up for sex again?”

“Uhm, if you’re up for it!” She slithered over to me, draping her lithe form against my side, snaking a hand to grab my limp penis. Starting slowly, she stroked, growing slightly faster.

It felt great- Quinn put her best into literally everything she did- but, despite her efforts, nothing was happening down there. She continued for a while, and petered out.
I felt…weird. Ashamed. I had never really had this happen before. “Hey, honey, I’m sorry, I guess I’m just not feeling it tonight. I dunno, this…”

“Hey, baby, it’s fine! It’s fine, it’s super normal. Please, don’t feel weird about it.”

“How about I go down on you?”

“No, no, that’s alright honey. Get some sleep! You’ve been sleeping so terrible lately, and I need to be up early.”

Quinn was gone by the time I rolled out of bed that morning. I dumped cream and sugar in Keurig coffee, and started my workday. A usual morning- responding to a pile of pointless emails and check-ins through Slack, delaying actually getting work done for a while. I cracked my knuckles and got through it.

When I got out of my chair around eleven thirty, stomach growling from skipping breakfast aside from coffee, I noticed with a twinge that my back was bothering me. “Too much time spent sitting,” I muttered to myself as I opened Doordash, placing an order at for a meatball marinara from a nearby Italian place. I enjoyed cooking, but if Quinn wasn’t there, I didn’t see the purpose in dirtying up a bunch of dishes.
I was annoyed with myself. Work sent a weekly, aggravating email about tips for mobility and working from a desk; I used to be an avid gym goer, jogger, and bike rider. I was letting my natural inclination from work and hobbies to drive me to laziness.

“Okay. Enough. Time to do something about it!” I nodded to my Han Solo poster, hoping for inspiration. Time to be a man of action and reverse this decline into fatness and laziness. I grabbed my phone again, scrolling backwards through texts, looking for a link Quinn had sent me. Free home workouts, with an instructor she really liked. I was already in shorts and a t-shirt. I marched out to the garage, pleased I was taking control of my life. Alright: “Half-hour Spartan Home
Fitness with Mike.” 21 million views on Youtube in two years. Jeez.

Eleven minutes later, I was sagging on a yoga mat, uncontrollable panting. The instructor, paired to the screen in the garage, was counting out a thirty second plank. I had managed about nine before I had collapsed into a sweaty mess, my arms, core, and thighs screaming for relief. I caught my breath while they finished up. The instructor on the screen leapt to his feet, a thirty second plank (while shouting out numbers!) clearly as little effort for him as picking up a piece of paper. I stared blankly at the screen, my brain not quite working yet, starved from lack of oxygen, resting to jump back in once I had caught my breath a little. I could see why Quinn liked this instructor- he was charismatic, alive with energy, a rich deep baritone alternating between supportive and inspiringly stern with ease. And also, if this was the workout he did himself, then it clearly worked- the guy was built in a way I didn’t think I could achieve if I quit my job and got a personal nutritionist and a weightlifting coach to the stars. Watching him easily flow into lunges, a long leg strutting out with explosive power, bending into it with smooth control, I was both extremely impressed and dejected- there was no way in hell I would ever have a body like that guy. I would have to be practically a foot taller for starters. And I’m pretty sure the over-the-top tattoos on his biceps, which worked for his alpha-male aesthetic, would look absurd on my pale, flabby arms.

I managed to rejoin the video at just about time for a cooldown. Mike was talking through some general life and fitness stuff I was only half listening to. I sagged up, unsteady on my feet, sweating like a pig and breathing hard despite the generous cooldown stretch time, just in time to be walking by the door as it rung. Oh right, sandwich.

I opened the door, t-shirt clinging to my moobs and love handles and practically sheer with sweat, still out of breath. I choked out “Thank you,” to the visibly confused perky young gig worker, gratefully dropping onto the couch with my root beer and twelve inch sandwich. I drank half of the 32 ounce soda before I unwrapped. I looked at the sandwich.

“I probably shouldn’t be eating this if ‘getting back in shape is the goal,’” I said aloud to myself. “Eh. If I keep working out, though, my caloric allowance goes up.” I did some vague math in my head, decided I was okay with the answer, and took a ravenous bite.

I happily munched, pleased with my plan. Obviously, if I got back into weight training, I could be less restrictive with dieting. More muscle on my body = more calories I could eat in a day. It was simple math. I happily chowed down on my sandwich, a droplet of marinara splashing onto my right man boob. “Pecs,” I said to myself firmly. I had them once, and it wouldn’t be a ton of effort to have them again. I was mentally mapping out how I’d look shirtless at Lake Lanier. Quinn was laughing delightedly in my pleasant daydream, as I helped her out of a kayak.
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Re: A Happy Marriage (Cuckolding, feminization, weight gain)

Postby bovinechica » Sun Aug 07, 2022 8:41 am

Quinn wasn’t home until well after dark that night. I was sitting on the couch. I had forced myself to go out for a short walk that night (no sense in wearing myself out on the cardio too soon), and had a couple beers as a reward for myself. An oatmeal stoat wasn’t really a ‘hot, humid,’ night kind of beer, but, sitting in the air conditioned living room and watching that new Batman movie, it was perfect. I have no idea how far into the (ridiculously long) movie I was when Quinn practically leapt into the room, slamming the door behind.

“Oh my god, it went so well,” her normally serious tone replaced by an almost sing-song delight.

“Babe, that’s amazing! Tell me all about it!”

She practically danced around the room, filling me in on the arcane details of the case she was working on. My legal knowledge came entirely second hand, but I could tell from the tone in her voice and her wild gesticulating which parts I was suppose to ‘oooh’ and which parts I was supposed to congratulate her.

“So, anyways!” she said, and I realized from the faint flush of her cheeks that she was slightly tipsy, “Old Arnold himself actually left Tuxedo Park to took me out to dinner, sorry, that was why I was so late!”

“Babe, that’s huge! Getting face time with someone with his name on the damn building! Where’d he take you?” I asked, impressed as ever with my superstar wife.

“Oh my god, to Bone, you know, that one the famous food-truck guy opened? Jeez, you should have seen the way they pulled out all the stops to impress the guy with the black Amex.”

“Oh, babe, that’s amazing! Uhm. I hope you won’t mind going there a second time.”

“Oh. OH, right, yeah baby, no, of course, we were going to go there together. I am so sorry, I mean, of course when he suggested it, I had to…”

“No, no, of course! Babe, why on earth would I be upset about that? This is huge for you.”

I was, of course, annoyed. I had put a deposit down for that table tomorrow night. But I supported her. I wanted her to have the career of her dreams, and that meant that sometimes things I wanted got put on the backburner. For a while. We were committed to having an equitable relationship like that.

“Thank you, Sam. Of course I want to go with you, still! It’ll be great to get all dressed up and go out with you, it’s been too long.” She grinned at me, her sparkling white teeth practically glowing in the room only lit by the (too dark) movie. Robert Pattinson growled something inaudible. “Anyways, I can think of other ways we can celebrate tonight, too.” She looked at me archly, and then, with a little shimmy, walked up the stairs, discarding her suit jacket on the banister as she went.

I followed, groaning a little as I got onto legs that had experienced a lot more exercise then they usually did. She was already undressing in the bedroom, removing the rest of the suit. She looked killer in the fitted Bottega Venata suit. Such a different woman then the plump, shy law student I had met six years ago.

I undressed as well, removing the comic book graphic t-shirt and shorts I was wearing. She looked at me and burst into a giggle.

“Oh?” I was actually hurt, but I put my voice a little over-the-top so it sounded like I was being jokey. “What’s so funny?”

“No, no, you just look so cute in those underwear. I can’t even think if I’ve ever seen you in briefs.”

“Well, Sunday is laundry day. The bottom of the drawer pairs were all I had.”

“Mhm, no, I told you, they’re adorable. Gives you a cute, juicy butt.”

“Oh, thank you,” I said, stressing the ‘a’ as sarcastically as possible.

“Lotsa girls like the dadbod,” she shrugged, doing fascinating things to her pert breasts. “C’mere, let me show you how much I like it.”

She sauntered over to me, and, placing a hand on my chest, pushed my down onto the bed, softly but with some strength behind it. She lifted a leg over my seated form, lowering herself onto my lap, facing me. We kissed for a moment- she still had the taste of whatever expensive wine on her lips, and a scent I didn’t recognize on her body, but she still smelled amazing. And her lips were so perfectly kissable. Her hard thighs squeezed my hips, as she pushed me prone onto the bed, my legs bent at the knees, feet not quite long enough to reach the floor. She adjusted herself, and fit her pussy around my cock. She kept her hands on my chest, pushing me down, working herself into a rhythm as she rode me, slamming her muscular butt down onto me.

“Baby, that feels so good,” I muttered- she had her eyes closed, focused on her gyration atop me. My dick pulsed inside of her.

“Mhm, baby, don’t cum yet, I’m so close,” she moaned. I don’t know if it was that breathy voice or the way she worked her hips atop me, but I came seconds later. She kept going, but my dick was already losing its rigidity. She slammed onto me, frustrated, but it quickly became impossible. She rolled off of me with a “mmphm.”

I leaned over, thinking that I could finger her and help her achieve orgasm that way, but she was already sliding off the bed. She grabbed her phone before she walked into the bathroom.
I lay in the darkness, wet and feeling extremely out of sorts. I had cum like a teenager, barely able to restrain myself, and had lost my erection like I was in a commercial for Viagra. I could hear muffled moans coming from the bathroom. I wasn’t upset about that of course- masturbation was healthy, even in a marriage. I was just frustrated that I wasn’t able to help her with that.

I had fallen slightly asleep when she came back into the room. She had a smile on her face. “Anyways, Sam, on the subject of laundry!” She slid under the covers next to me. “Do you think next week you could take care of that for me? I am so sorry, but I am just so slammed at work I don’t think I’ll be able to pitch in much with housework. Maybe I can call a housecleaner from that app,”

I cut her off. “No, no babe, it’s fine. I work from home, I don’t have to commute! It’s no big deal. You know I’m happy to help out. We’re a team.”

She kissed me on the forehead. “I know, I just feel bad dumping extra work on you. You have a job and need time, too.”

“I tried that workout you sent me, today.” I was hoping, kind of shamefully, that she’d be proud I was taking charge of my life.

“Oh, with Mike? Isn’t he amazing! You have to come to one of his classes with me, sometime.”

“Wait, you actually know the guy?”

“Yeah, silly, he does the Sunday morning class at my gym. It’s a great gig for him, apparently, just two classes a week, and they pay him a bunch. Brings in lots of people who follow him on Instagram or whatever.”
I know the studio…gym…fitness center, whatever, that Quinn went to was fancier than the average Planet Fitness. It was mostly frequented by…well, women like my wife. High achievers. I felt terrible for the pressure on her- being a successful woman nowadays meant having a social-media ready body in addition to a stressful career.

“Yeah, I’d love to take his class with you. Maybe this Sunday?”

“Sure! I have to run errands right after, but we can go together.”

“Hey, I’m sorry for…well, you know.”

“No baby, it’s fine! It’s fine. Maybe you’re under a lot of stress you’re not thinking about or something. I’m not upset or anything, I know that it can feel like…”

“Thanks honey. You’re probably right. Need to start taking better care of myself.” I kissed her on her shoulder. I reached out to loop an arm around her, but she had flopped over to face the wall.

“G’night, Sam.”
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Re: A Happy Marriage (Cuckolding, feminization, weight gain)

Postby bovinechica » Sun Aug 07, 2022 8:43 am

I wheezed for breath, my heart pounding. Over the bass beat, I could hear him shouting “Okay, and now transition…hold it for five, take a breath, and back!” I staggered forward on the mat, almost fell, and managed to stay on my feet.

“Okay, guys, now it really gets tough!”

I collapsed into a Childs pose, which was apparently the proper ‘recovery’ position. I glanced around the room while my lungs screamed in protest and my heart beat so fast I thought it was going to explode. There was a shirtless sixty year old man who was doing a modified version to protect his knees, but other then that, I was the only person in the room who apparently couldn’t keep up. I staggered to my feet, a whole rotation behind the rest of the class, desperately trying to get through the hour long session without making a complete fool of myself. We went into some impossible configuration of limbs which hurt like hell, but at least didn’t demand so much cardio. Okay, stretching I could do.

I had positioned my mat so that Quinn was a little bit further ahead of me, certain that I didn’t want her to see how badly I was going to embarrass myself here. Mike walked through the studio, encouraging and complimenting here and gently but firmly correcting there. He walked over to Quinn.

“That’s almost perfect Quinn. Way to use those core muscles. Just lean into a little deeper here.” He positioned his hand (Jesus, his hands were gigantic) on Quinn’s lower back and guided her deeper into the pose. “There ya’ go. Just like that. Keep those glutes activated.”

“Hey, a new comer! Way to go trying to keep up, it’s so inspiring to see people doing their best. Here, do you mind?” He placed his hand on my lower thigh, positioning it a little further back. Jeez, how did some guys smell like that when they were sweaty and I smelled like a wet dog? “There ya go buddy, way better. Great to see the effort.”

I almost passed out when he had us lay in Corpse pose at the end of the session. “Look, everything you want in life is right there. You just need to take it. Find that strength within you.” I wasn’t really paying attention to the rest of the inspiring speech, my heart was still pounding too hard to think.

I found Quinn in the following scrum, as people rushed to say hi to acquaintances or gather their shoes and cell phones. “Hey honey! You have to come meet Mike!” She had barely broken a sweat. She pulled me by the hand over to the instructor, who was talking to the shirtless guy at the front of the studio.

“Hey Mike! Great session! I finally managed to drag my husband along.”

“Yeah, thanks, it was really good.”

He extended one of those enormous hands forward, and grabbed it in a crushing handshake. I thought he was flexing his forearm, but after he put his hand down, it remained that swollen. No, apparently they just looked like that all the time.

“I’m so glad you came. Great timing that I was doing a beginner’s level class today, I almost never do them. Great hustle today, man. A few more and you can definitely keep up.”

I nodded politely. He continued. “And Quinn, you can practically teach this class. Amazing work, as usual.”

She smiled, gently slapping his iron hard, massive bicep. “Ugh, stop,” she giggled, although I hadn’t found anything particularly funny. “Hey, I had a question for you about that one pose. Gimme two seconds before you leave?” He nodded his firm chin.

We walked out into the parking lot. She kissed me on the cheek. “I’m so happy you got to come to the class. And got to meet Mike! So many people are always trying to get his attention ya’ know, all that influencer nonsense. Anyways, I have to go run by the store, so I’ll be home in a couple hours, okay Sam?” She was already wriggling back towards the gym before I really responded.

On the drive home, I was furious with myself for letting myself get so out of shape. How could I not manage what was basically a fast paced yoga class. I jerked the steering wheel, pulling into a McDonalds drive through. I don’t really know what my thought process was. I was mad at myself. Mad at Quinn for not speaking up. Mad at the class and the monster of a jock who taught it.

“Yeah, can I get….uhhh, a McFlurry. And a Number 1. Large, and a Coke. Uhm. And the crispy chicken, just the sandwich? Yeah, that’s perfect, thanks.”

I ate in the car, air conditioning on full blast. The salt and fat and sugar calmed my annoyed mind down, and the freezing air helped with my still overworked body. Okay. Alright, one of the rules of dieting is that if you break the diet, you don’t spiral. So I needed a comfort meal after such a rough day. I just needed to eat healthy the rest of the day, and not let it get to me.

“Honey! I brought home pizza!” I heard echoing through the house an hour and a half later. Quinn strode into the kitchen where I was doing dishes. “Hey babe! I thought that since we had such a workout this morning, might as well splurge on dinner. It’s from Antico’s, your favorite.”

She deposited the pizza on the breakfast nook, and grabbed plates, a bottle of water, and a beer out of the fridge. She popped open the beer, handed it to me, and sat down, still in her workout clothes from that morning.

“Thanks for coming with me today, baby. I was so happy that you did that. I know working out has been a struggle for you lately, so I’m just proud of you for making the effort.”

“Well of course, honey. I love being able to share things with you, and I know how important fitness has been for you lately.”

She smiled. “Anyways, eat up. I don’t have much time, I have to run back into the office and catch up tonight.”

“Oh, of course. But, hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you…I’ve been hoping to spend more time together, you know? Really reconnect. I feel like we’ve barely seen each other since you got that promotion.”

She had a look on her face that always made my heart melt. “Sam, I know, I know. Look, things should calm down really soon. By the start of fall, hopefully. So many people are out on vacation. I want to spend more time with my best friend, too.” She smiled at me. “And thanks so much for taking over more of the housework.” She grinned. “I’ll find a way to reward you later.”

Over the next two weeks, I barely saw my wife. I struggled through a workout a day. The scale barely moved, and I felt tired all the time. “Okay, muscle weighs more then fat. This is a good thing.”
Quinn brought home take out more and more often. I guess she felt bad that she wasn’t around much the last couple of days, and wanted to pitch in with the home stuff in ways that she could. I didn’t mind doing all the housework. It gave me an excuse to keep mobile, I thought.

By the end of August, the scale read 232.
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Re: A Happy Marriage (Cuckolding, feminization, weight gain)

Postby bovinechica » Sun Aug 07, 2022 8:44 am

Quinn slammed her butt down on me again, her thrusting so powerful it felt like she was going to snap my cock off. “Mhm, you like that don’t you? You like it when I ride you, don’t you?”

“Ugh, yes, baby, I…” I came, hard, inside of her. I expected her to roll off me and move on, like she had been doing whenever we made love over the past two months. Instead, she looked down at me, sternly. She kinda crouched up on the bed, positioning her feet on either side of my belly, and scootched forward. Without warning, she lowered down, positioning her vagina directly above my face, and sat down upon me. “Eat me out,” she commanded, positioning her pussy in
such a way that I didn’t really have an option about it.

I liked going down on my wife. I felt comfortable doing it. Having her just sit on my face while she still had my cum inside of her was not quite the same thing. “Well?” she asked.

I tentatively licked. I had never tasted cum before, the warm saltiness overwhelming my tongue. She squirmed a little, driving herself more firmly on to me. I reached up to grab her butt-she slapped my hands down and ran a hand through my hair, pulling my head up into her. Her other hand ran onto one of my pecs, and she squeezed the soft fat of it, digging her manicured nails into my man boob. I started to put more effort into it, ignoring the weirdness factor of tasting my own cum, trying to satisfy my wife. I could hear her breathing more heavily as I worked at her clit with my tongue. I don’t know how long it went on, trapped between her muscular thighs, sight and sound muffled by her body, but I know my tongue had long since started to get sore by the time she climbed off of me.

“Mhmm, there you go. Good boy,” she murmured. Her phone dinged with a text message notification before I could say anything. I saw her smile broadly as she read the message, and then walk into the bathroom. I could hear her moaning again as she masturbated. Apparently she was needed more despite my best attempts at oral.

I lay in the sticky bed for a while, listening to my wife moaning in pleasure. I wondered if the sudden urge to go masturbate was connected to whatever text she had received. I wasn’t really used to dealing with such strong emotions all at once. Like I’ve said before my life had been…comfortable. Easy. I got to a place I felt at home at, and never really stretched myself beyond that. I didn’t really have the mental fortitude in place to cope with the mélange of thoughts I was having.

I felt…ashamed. Ashamed that I couldn’t manage to please my wife anymore. I went through everything I knew to be true…that almost no women orgasmed through vaginal penetration alone. That premature ejaculation and having problems with rigidity were normal, and that there were ways to cope with them. That my self-worth wasn’t tied to my ability to maintain an erection. I knew all of those things, and right then, believed none of them. I felt pathetic, and wildly emasculated- the way she had squeezed my breast, not all that differently then I had clumsily pawed at a woman’s boob before I learned to be a little more delicate.

I also felt extremely aroused. Quinn enjoyed sex. She initiated it frequently, and I thought of our sex life as pretty healthy for a couple who had been married and living together for five years, and dating for longer. We performed oral for each other pretty regularly, and, if we’d been drinking a little, even try anal every once in a long while. But it had always been…well, kinda vanilla. The wildest thing we’d ever done was buying a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold after Quinn had passed the bar. They’d gotten used twice and now lived somewhere in the garage. So, while our sex life was satisfying, that’s all it was. Pleasant.

This on the other hand…having my wife completely dominate me, just demand what she wanted and expect me to give it to her, was something else. I didn’t watch porn often, and BDSM wasn’t even one of my favorite categories when I infrequently did, but it felt like something straight out of a screen. Feeling the complete loss of control as she had mounted me turned me on in a way I had never expected before.
I was complacent and tended to be a little lazy; I wasn’t stupid. I knew something had been missing from our marriage recently, and if this is what Quinn needed in our sex lives, I was happy to oblige her. It was easier, and maybe it would make her happy. She worked so hard, and she was so caring to me.
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Re: A Happy Marriage (Cuckolding, feminization, weight gain)

Postby bovinechica » Sun Aug 07, 2022 8:46 am

She came out of the bathroom, flushed and satisfied looking. She walked over to the bed, and, seeming to think for a second, just stood rather then joining me. She looked at me with an unreadable expression on her face.

“Hey, Quinn. I know that…well, I know that sex has been a little weird lately. Do you want to talk about it?”

She shrugged and nodded. “Okay, if you want to, Sam.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s been going on with my body, but I’m going to get it checked out. Get a physical, really go harder on taking care of myself. And, look, in the meantime, if you want to be more…forceful, I guess, I don’t really know the right terminology, if that’s what you need, or you need something else, I’m here for you. Whatever you need, baby.”

She grinned that smile I had fallen in love with, her adorable nose crinkling. “Aw, baby, that’s so sweet of you to say. Look, I know that some men just have some problems in the bed sometimes. It’s not a big deal. We’ll get through it together. And look, don’t worry so much about your body. You’re stressing yourself out too much, maybe that’s the problem. Just take it easy, okay?”

“Thank you, Quinn. Hey, why don’t we go out to eat tonight? There’s that new Thai place that opened just down the street.”

“Oh, babe, I’d love to, but I actually just placed a DoorDash order, and then this thing came up that I have to go to….”

“Uhm, what thing?”

“Just a work thing. Don’t worry about it. Feel free to eat the order though, don’t wait up for me. I’m going to hop in the shower. Oh, do you think you could iron that black cocktail dress for me? The one I wore to John and Kate’s wedding reception? I’m kinda in a rush, sorry.”

“Sure, honey, I’d be happy to.”

A little more than a week later, a Sunday, Quinn came home much later from her usual workout, looking very different. She was blonde. Not, like, blonde highlights. Bright, platinum blonde.

“Huh. That’s a different look,” I said from the kitchen, where I was reheating some pizza in the oven.

“Oh, please tell me you like it! I know it’s not really my usual vibe.”

“It’s…it’s extremely sexy babe. What prompted the change?”

“I dunno, just needed something different, I guess. Been trying to listen to my intuition about that more.”

“Well, you look great.” I hesitated. I wanted to tell her she looked a little too sorority girl for the courtroom, but decided not to criticize. “You look so different!” I settled for.

“Well, you know, I think you might look cute with an updated look, too. I miss your long hair! And you’ve had that beard for so long.”

The long hair had worked for me when I was chiseled and tan. I looked like a surfer (which I occasionally was). I was worried on my rounder, chunkier body it would just look feminine. And I’d grown out the beard in order to hide my softening chin.

“Well, I’m happy to try something new!” I responded, as I munched on my third slice of midday pizza.

“Oh, I picked something up from that new bakery. I already had a nibble, so go to town.”

She placed the pink box on the table, opening it up to reveal an assortment of the more bougie baked treats. “Wow, those look delicious, Quinn. I’ve been trying to cut back, though, remember?”

She laughed at me, not even trying to restrain it. “Honey, you’re a fat guy. It’s okay! You know I love you no matter what your body looks like. And I think I’ve told you before that this juicy butt of yours is adorable.”

She sat at the table as I took a tentative bite of an éclair. It was really good. “I’ve been thinking about getting breast implants.”

“Whaa-” I said, through a mouthful of cream. “Honey, you look amazing, you don’t need-“

She cut me off. “Excuse me, did I ask for your opinion? Finish the damn éclair.”

She had never really talked to me this way. I didn’t know what to do except eat the éclair.

She continued. “Yeah, mine are smaller then he’d….I’d like. I think maybe two cup sizes bigger would be good for now. Enough for them to be big and give me cleavage, but not quite enormous, you know.”

I finished the éclair. She plopped another in my hand. “Good boy.”

“Like, I already have the appointment for lip fillers scheduled. The doctor is supposed to be very good. Lots of women at my level get plastic surgery, it’s pretty normalized. Honestly, I should have done it years ago when I was still grinding in that first job out of law school.”

I nodded, and kept eating. I had no idea what was going on…it felt like an escalation of the way she’d been treating me during sex. As I mentioned, I didn’t know a lot about BDSM. Maybe this was part of it.

I couldn’t read her expression again, as she watched me finish the éclair. She looked…pleased. Like she had just accomplished something. She stood up from where she was sitting, peeled off her leggings and panties, and then sat in front of me on the edge of the table. She was definitely a lot more tan then I normally thought of her.

She spread her legs, then took a second just to look at me. “Honestly, Sam, you shouldn’t need me to tell you what I need. Get to it.”

I started eating her out. She had that recognizable salty taste in her again, despite us not having penetrative sex for several days. As I went to work eating her out, she twisted, showing off her impressively cut abs, and grabbed her phone out of her purse. She started scrolling through, responding to a text (I could hear the click-clack of the typing-noise setting she never remembered to turn off). I kept at it, eating her out until my jaw ached, while she watched a TikTok video.
“Ugh, work email. C’mon, it’s Sunday.”

“That’s enough,” she said, pushing my head back out of her legs. She looked around the kitchen, utterly dominant of the situation despite being naked from the waist down. “You know, considering how hard I work, is it so much to ask that you put some more effort into keeping the house clean? I’m not really sure how necessary it is for you to have a job anymore, with what I’m getting paid now.”

She hopped off the table, her muscular thighs tensing as she landed. “I’ll have to think about that.”
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Re: A Happy Marriage (Cuckolding, feminization, weight gain)

Postby badcompany8888 » Sun Aug 07, 2022 7:02 pm

Loving this! The pacing of the story is very good. Can't wait for more!
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Re: A Happy Marriage (Cuckolding, feminization, weight gain)

Postby bovinechica » Mon Aug 08, 2022 4:59 am

Thank you so much! Really appreciate that feedback because I always feel like I escalate way too quickly!!
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Re: A Happy Marriage (Cuckolding, feminization, weight gain)

Postby audipwr87 » Mon Aug 08, 2022 6:58 am

I absolutely love slow burning cuckold stories and this one is shaping up to be a fantastic read!
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Re: A Happy Marriage (Cuckolding, feminization, weight gain)

Postby bovinechica » Mon Aug 08, 2022 4:43 pm

That Sunday marked the moment where things in our marriage really began shifting. With increasing rapidity, the slightly lopsided power dynamic between myself and my wife became more and more tilted. Some of the signs were subtle. Quinn had always just stripped off her formal clothes the moment she walked through the door every evening; it was just a sign of her being excited to be able to get out of uncomfortable formal clothes and into sweatpants and a t-shirt. It was cute.

Nowadays, her carelessness with possessions wasn’t a cute affectation that she was excited to be comfy; it was that she expected me to clean up after her. She’d get home in the evening, and strip naked, tossing briefcase, purse, and outfit aside. I’d hurry to put them away, carefully stowing each item for her convenience.

She, likewise, expected me to have her outfit for the next day prepared. She’d tell me what she was planning on wearing; I’d arrange hangers for her optimal morning routine. While she dressed and prepared, I’d hurry downstairs to make coffee and the protein shake she had each morning. This might be chalked up to just the fact that I had such an easier schedule then her, explained away; some provocations were much more deliberate.

I walked upstairs to bed (my calves groaning with each step) to find Quinn in the center of the bedroom, my clothes strewn about the room.

“Hey baby,” she said. Never my first name anymore; baby, sweetie, sugar. “You’re never going to be thin enough to wear most of these, ever again.” She looked me up and down. I resisted the urge to pull my too-tight t-shirt further down my belly roll.

“And you don’t really need all that many items for going out. It’s not like you ever leave the house anyways.”

She picked up a button down, thought of it quizzically, and then tossed it into one pile.

“Maybe one or two things you won’t completely embarrass me in.”

“I’m sorry, Quinn, wha-“

She cut me off as if she didn’t notice I was speaking, not even looking over to me.

“I think you can keep the workout clothes. I like seeing your fat ass wedged into jogging pants. It’s great motivation for me.”

She tossed a pair of sweats into her keep pile. “But I’m seriously going to have to do some shopping to update your wardrobe. I really just can’t trust you to maintain a proper image.”

She looked disgustedly at the pile of comic book and sci-fi show t-shirts. “On that subject, I think it would be best if we moved the joint account directly into my name. You’ve never been able to make good financial decisions, really. I’ve decided that you can keep your job for the time being, but, from now on, you’ll just give your paycheck directly to me. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you. I can even give you an allowance so that I don’t need to order your lunches for you.”

I steeled my resolve. This was fun for a while-erotic, even. This, though, this was too-

She had finally looked over at me, and saw me psyching myself up. She laughed. A full-throated, clutch your stomach laugh.

“Please. Baby, do you really want to do this?” She cocked her head. “Do you know how I already know you won’t? Because a real man would have already left. A real man would have fucked me one last time, and then walked out the door the second I started to take control. And you won’t.”

I sagged. This was too much. I was too drained, and too confused, and too upset to have this fight right now. Alright, so my wife wanted more power in our relationship.

Well, I wasn’t really using any of it. If it really got to be too much, I still could walk away. She was wrong about that.

“I’m going out for a while. Clean this up,” she said, indicating her ‘keep’ and her ‘get rid of’ piles.

“I’ve ordered you a second dinner. I expect you to have finished every bite of it by the time I get back.” She smiled, more broadly and more genuinely this time. “See, baby? I’ll always take care of you. Just admit that this is easier.”

Three days later. “Get on the scale.”

“What?”

“You know I don’t like repeating myself. Get on the scale.”

“Can you even read the number, fat-ass? Or are your tits in the way?”

I could still see the display. I didn’t want to actually admit it out loud though.

She walked around, squeezing one of my belly rolls as she lithely circled me. “Oh my goodness. 320 pounds. And you’re so short. Jesus. I knew you were a whale, but I didn’t know it was quite this bad.”

“I’ve just been eating what you told me.”

She snorted. “Seriously! That’s your excuse? That you didn’t have the willpower to say no when your wife told you to do something? You would have done this to yourself, sooner or later. I just hurried the process up a bit.”

She bit her lower lip. Her ridiculously full, porn-star perfect lip.

“Well, I thought you had a little time before you fit into these, but they might fit now.”

She walked over to the closet and pulled out a bag; Walmart. Not her usual kind of store.

She saw my confusion. “Oh, baby, Saks doesn’t sell sizes that’d fit you. No, trashy little fatties like you need a place that caters to a lardass.” She perused the bag, and pulled out a full coverage red-lace bra.

“It’s a 46 EE. Well, for now, the band size is probably right, but the cup is probably still too big. For now. Oh well, something to look forward to.”

She tossed it to me. I fumbling, couldn’t catch it out of the air. She put her hand on her hip and stared at me. Sighing, I bent down and picked it up. She continued staring. With clumsy hands, not used to this maneuver, I fuddled with strapping it on. She waited. I managed to hook it first, and then pull it over myself. She cocked her head and looked at me.

“That’s enough new clothes for right this second. Something that needs to be done first.” She laid a couple of towels on the bed, then pointed. I laid down. She rummaged around in the closet again, and pulled out a pack of razors and a container of shaving cream. Pink Venuses.

Laying in the bed, naked except for the bra, she gently but speedily started to shave my chest, lifting each cup to shave what hair remained on my swelling breasts. She continued, my belly hair disappearing. She was on her third razor, removing my facial hair.

She stopped there, for a second. Looking at me. An odd look covered her face. Briefly, it seemed like she was debating something. Her phone chimed- she looked over at it, and smiled.

She pointed it at me, and I heard the unmistakable click of the faux-mechanical camera noise, and then the text messaging sending sound. Whatever minor struggle she had was apparently resolved.

She got out small scissors for this part. Without telling me what she was going to do, she started trimming my pubic hair.

She muttered, loud enough to hear: “You’ve practically grown a fupa.”

Trimmed down much shorter, she took affixed a fresh blade, and then, carefully, began removing the last vestiges of pubes that I had.

She stood and straightened up, admiring her handiwork and taking another picture. “He was right. This look does suit you a lot better.”

She walked over to the sink in the bathroom to wash off her hands. “You can masturbate now. After that, finish shaving your legs and arms. Then come downstairs for lunch. It’s been too long since you’ve filled up that fat gut of yours, and I don’t want you burning a single ounce.”
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