The Making of a Slut Wife

It began innocently enough. My wife of eight years, Julie and I weren't having sex anymore. We'd gone from sex twice a week to once a month then to nothing. We hadn't fucked in over a year. She was short, curvy woman with a b cup and a round ass. She turned heads wherever she went. Unfortunately, her lack of interest in sex translated to me resorting to porn for satisfaction. I stayed up and got off after she went to bed, every night. She knew. She didn't care. She said porn was disgusting and left it at that.

I watched so much porn that I was forgetting what real sex was like. What usually happens when a person watches too much porn, is they constantly require more extreme fetishes in order to achieve the same level of satisfaction. Mine went from doggie style, to anal, to ass worship, to facesitting, to femdom, to pegging and ultimately stopped at cuckolding. And so every night, all I could picture was Julie getting fucked by huge cocks while I watched videos. I wanted her to be a nympho slut, and she was the polar opposite, a prude.

Then one day a package arrived. It was addressed to the 18 year old son of our neighbors. He was a college student and judging by his size, a bodybuilder. The shipper must have written down the wrong house number. I was also expecting a package, so I opened it before realizing it wasn't mine.

It was full of anabolic steroids, dozens of syringes, vials and pills. There were five different types in three dozen bottles. I wasn't sure how much it equated to, but after some research it looked to be about a year's worth.

At first I was going to deliver it next door, like a good samaritan. But while reading on how much the package equated to, I came across a forum post on a website that made me reconsider. The author of the post described in detail how wildly out of control his girlfriend's sex drive was after only a few weeks of her doing steroids. The gears in my head started spinning, and I wondered if there was a chance it could do the same to Julie.

There was no way I would convince her to take steroids. And I knew that if I risked giving her some covertly, it could cost me my marriage. But there was also the chance that it could fix my marriage. It took three days of weighing the pros and cons before I decided. First, I asked Julie if she'd be willing to see a sex therapist with me to attempt to fix our sex life. She flat out refused, citing "All therapists do is brainwash people," followed by "It's normal for people to not be interested in sex." That sealed the deal. I realized that if I didn't try to fix my marriage, it was inevitably doomed.

Julie and I had a morning ritual. I usually cooked breakfast while she showered. Then we would eat together. Afterward, she would leave for work. Then I would shower and leave for work. She loved orange juice. She had it every morning with breakfast.

I decided to hide the steroids in the basement. I had a small woodworking shop setup downstairs and she never went in there. I planned to switch them all into different colored plain bottles, then my cat did as cats usually do, knock things over. They were all carefully arranged on a tray, which he sent crashing to the floor. He meowed, then scurried off. I cursed, then carefully picked up all the pills, but I didn't know which was which. They were all plain white pills. So I put them all in the same jar.

The next morning I crushed up two and put them in her orange juice. They immediately dissolved. I tested it to see if it tasted different, but it didn't. Then I served it to her with breakfast. I felt a wave of guilt at first when I watched her down the glass. But it was assuaged with a self reminder that this would either do something benificial, or nothing at all.

I kissed her goodbye as she left for work, then went downstairs and destroyed all the evidence I could. I didn't know what to do with the syringes so I placed them and the dozen vials of synthetic testosterone into a small lockbox I had downstairs. I hid the box under the floorboards below my table saw. I was confident there was no chance it would be found. I then left for work, quietly reminding myself that the ends justified the means.

I wasn't sure what to expect. I hoped for immediate changes but didn't see any. There was nothing out of the ordinary until the sixth day. Julie joined me for breakfast as usual. But at the end of her meal she said, "I'm still hungry. I could easily have eaten double that. I don't know whats, UUUUUUURRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP" her sentence was interrupted by a five second belch. "Oh my, excuse me," she said afterward. In all the years we'd been together I'd never heard her burp that loud, not even close. I watched as she downed her orange juice and wondered if it had to do with the steroids. "I think I'm stopping for a snack on the way to work," she said.

The following morning she asked me to cook her four eggs instead of two, with extra toast. I happily obliged.

"I don't know what's gotten over me. Yesterday I stopped and ate two chocolate bars and a bag of chips on my way to work. Then after work I stopped at McDonald's for a double big mac meal before coming home for supper. I need to eat less. I don't want to get fat." She said as she chugged her morning orange juice.

Instead of spiking her glass, I decided to spike the carton of orange juice in the fridge. I never drank it, and she never had more than one glass so it was easy to moderate, until today. Today she went straight for the carton after drinking down the glass I gave her. She chugged the remainder of the carton and tossed it in the recycling bin. "That was so good," she said as she leaned against counter. "Oh my god, BBBBBRRRRAAAAPPPPPP, I'm such a pig," She said, as a huge belch interrupted her sentence halfway through. I wasn't sure exactly why, but her belching was a huge turn on. I was beginning to get hard

I didn't want her to get fat. But I learned that steroids increased metabolism, meaning she would burn fat at an incredible rate so long as she did some cardio. She jogged at the gym every day during her lunch break. So I wasn't worried.

She was wearing a tight skirt which accentuated her round ass. "You know it's been a while since we had sex," I said.

She replied "I've actually been thinking about it for the last few days," she dazed off aimlessly into space as she finished her sentence. She quickly regained her composure and said, "Maybe tonight. We'll see,"

After she left for work I went into the dirty laundry hamper and grabbed a pair of her underwear. It smelled like her pussy. I had a fantasy where she tied me up, stuffed her dirtiest panties in my mouth then dominated me. I got off thinking of that in almost record time.

I had a difficult time focusing at work. All I could think about was that I suspected the steroids were working. She seemed more open to the idea of sex at least. I daydreamed about the possibility of her turning into a sex addict. But I was also concerned by her drinking all that orange juice for breakfast. She suddenly had the appetite of a horse. I didn't anticipate that. I wondered if there would be other things I didn't anticipate. I read that steroids can cause personality changes, raise aggression levels and cause women to exhibit masculine characteristics. I hoped none of those things would happen.

When I got home, Julie's car was there, "She shouldn't be here for another hour," I thought.

I walked in and saw she was laying down on the couch, empty chocolate bar wrappers all around her. And three empty big mac boxes. I gently shook her to wake her up, "Hey, I'm home. Why are you home early?"

She looked almost sad. Something was definitely bothering her. "I did something terrible," she said.

I sat down and asked, "What did you do?"

She looked away then said, "I went to the gym at lunch and while I was jogging I saw the neighbor's son there. The college kid who looks like a bodybuilder. I watched him lift. Then I realized I couldn't stop watching him lift. And I was getting turned on watching him. I'm so sorry, I never think things like that. I felt so guilty I took the afternoon off to come home and get it off my mind. Please don't hate me."

"Honey, there's nothing wrong with having a fantasy about someone else. It happens to people all the time. They just don't act on it. I don't hate you." I replied.

She looked relieved. "Thank you," she said.

"Looks like you had a big snack when you got home," I said laughing.

"I'm still hungry but I'm not eating. I need to get my appetite under control." She said.

"You said you were horny earlier. How about now?" I asked.

"No, not now, I feel fat and bloated from eating so much. I feel disgusting. And I'm so gassy. I can't stop farting," she replied.

Swing and a miss. My hopes were dashed but I wasn't ready to give up. I'd picked up groceries on my way home and made sure to buy extra orange juice. I decided to go back to spiking her morning glass, in case she decided to drink straight from the carton again.

That night she locked herself in the washroom. She saw me gaming and thought I would be on the computer all night. I'd never seen her lock the door. I wondered what she was doing in there. I suspected she was horny, masturbating about her day at the gym. She didn't own sex toys. And she mentioned several times during the course of our marriage that she'd only masturbated a handful of times in her life.

I fell asleep on the couch downstairs that night. Again I felt guilty doing this to her. But it was this or divorce. And I didn't want to lose her.

For the next five days she was distant and barely spoke. She always seemed distracted. As though there was something on her mind. She still ate like a pig and I made sure she had all the food she wanted. She also mentioned that she upped her daily cardio from 25 minutes to 45 to make up for her overeating.

She continued locking herself in the bathroom at night after I started gaming. I was now fairly certain she was masturbating in there, but I had no proof. So I decided to install a tiny camera inside the air vent in the bathroom. You couldn't see it unless you opened the vent. It hadn't been opened in well over a year. And I was the only one who ever went in there. I knew I wouldn't get caught but I didn't like spying on her. However, I needed to know if my suspicions were correct.

That night proceeded in much the same fashion. We made small talk over supper. She told me she was thinking of getting a personal trainer and nutritionist to help her manage her workouts. We watched TV for a couple hours, then I told her I was going on the computer and that I had a big night of gaming ahead of me. She kissed me on the cheek and told me to have fun.

I pretended to be listening to music while gaming but in reality I was carefully listening to her move around the house. She spent a few minutes in the bedroom, then kitchen. I heard her shut the fridge then walk upstairs. I heard the bathroom door shut. Just to be safe, I decided not to watch the video footage right away. I would wait until the next morning after she'd gone to work because I had the day off. She left the bathroom after nearly an hour, went back to then kitchen, then went to bed. I joined her an hour later. She was fast asleep. I wrapped my arm around her and fell asleep. She turned over and mumbled "I love you," just before falling back to sleep.

The next morning she asked for even more food. She was irritable. She said "You know how hungry I've been, make sure you cook more for breakfast from now on." That was out of character for her. She was usually a cheerful morning person. She quickly apologized, "Sorry, I just feel moody this morning. I didn't mean to snap."

She ate six eggs, three toast and a pile of home fries. After she polished off the plate of food, she pushed it aside and gripped her hands on the edge of the table in from of her. She let out a long, loud belch. "BBBBBBBBBBRRRRAAAAAAAAPPPPPP." then she looked over at me and said, "I know that's gross. But it feels good letting it out."

"That's fine honey. I don't think it's gross at all. It's actually pretty impressive. I wish I could belch like that," I replied.

"Well this is new for me. But that's what I get for eating so much," she said. She looked aside and me and squinted for a moment, "Oh god, and this," she said as she lifted her ass off the chair slightly and let out a fart, "PPPPRRRRFFFFTTT."

I was surprised. She never farted openly around me. "Wow, I've never heard you fart like that before," I said.

She looked slightly embarrassed. "That's because I only ever let out small ones and held them in until no one was around. But since I've been eating like a pig, I'm getting so much gas. And it hurts to keep it in. Yesterday I counted them. I let out 47 farts, can you believe that?. I kept going to the bathroom at work just to pass gas. If it bothers you, I'll excuse myself and not fart around you," she replied.

"It doesn't bother me at all, like burping it's natural," I said. What I didn't tell her was that her new noncaring attitude was a huge turn on. She was always so stuck up, so prissy, so careful about everything that this change was welcome.

She got up and put her dishes in the sink. "Somehow I've only gained two lbs in the last three weeks. I upped my cardio a lot. And I scheduled an appointment with Dr. Ansley next week. I'll talk to her about maybe getting appetite suppressants. Because like right now I'm hungry again. I just had a huge meal and could probably eat another full plate. This can't be normal. Maybe it's genetic, my parents are both fat. Maybe they had appetite issues too and it's just starting with me." She said.

As she was leaving the kitchen, she suddenly stopped and said "So for example, this doesn't bother you?" She leaned forward and stuck her ass out slightly and let another loud fart at least five seconds long, "PPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRFFFFFFFFFT."

She giggled afterward. She was wearing tight jeans that accentuated her round ass. And seeing her stick it out turned me on. I fought back an erection and saw her out the door a few moments later. I stared at her ass as she walked to her car. All I could think of was how much she was turning me on. I was so focused on what happened in the kitchen that I almost forgot I had a video to watch.

I locked the door and went to the computer room. I found the recording saved in a hidden folder. She never used the computer but I thought that I should take extra precautions just in case. I clicked on it and it began to play. It recorded the entire day, so I fast forwarded it to the point she entered the bathroom.

The video showed her entering the bathroom with a cucumber in her hand. I immediately knew my suspicions were right. She got undressed, put her hands between her legs and started playing with herself. A couple minutes later she put a towel on the floor and laid down on it. The camera view was perfect. I couldn't ask for a better angle. I could see her pussy glistening wet. The cucumber was at least ten inches long and thicker than my cock. She lined it up and shoved it in. It looked like there was some resistance but it went in with a squelch after a few tries. She let out a loud moan. She was pumping the cucumber in her pussy with one hand and rubbing her clit with the other.

I was hard as a rock. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. My prudish wife was moaning like a cheap whore while she played with herself on the bathroom floor. I began masturbating along with the video and after about ten minutes she had a leg shaking orgasm. She rested for a moment, then stood up. She looked at herself in the mirror and was looking at herself. I couldn't see the reflection but from the angle, she looked flushed. She put her hand to her stomach and let out a series of long, loud farts and belches. After they subsided she laid back down and began masturbating with the cucumber again. She let out a few more farts as she was masturbating. Suddenly, she let out a huge moan followed by "Yes, Kevin, yes!!", then had another leg shaking orgasm. This was too much for me. I came harder than I ever had before in my life. A rope of cum shot across the computer screen.

My mind was racing. The neighbor's kid was named Kevin. She must have been thinking about him during that. I wondered what it would be like seeing her petite body ravaged by a huge bodybuilder like him. It didn't take me long to get hard again and I got off a second time after watching the rest of the video. It was just more of her burping, farting and masturbating, until she finally got dressed and left the bathroom.

The rest of the day was a write off. I jerked off another three times before she came home. She was chatty during supper. She told me how she tried weightlifting today and was surprised by how strong she was. We watched tv and I wanted to ask about sex but I was so spent that if she said yes, I felt I wouldn't be able to.

I went to the computer room to game and she went into the bathroom again. I made sure to record it. I figured there was no need to rush now that she was horny. I decided to spend some time enjoying her bathroom scenes for now. There would be plenty of time for sex later.

The following week was much of the same. I recorded her masturbating. They were up to a full hour now. Sometimes she came six or seven times before stopping. She moaned a lot and occasionally said Kevin's name.

When Friday night came, I told her to stay out after work until six and she'd have a nice surprise waiting for her when she got home. I cooked supper and set a romantic dinner for two at the dining room table. When she arrived she was in a great mood. "This has been such a great week," she said. I agreed. It had been for both of us.

During supper we talked about all kinds of things. I poured her two glasses of wine. I made spaghetti and meatballs, one of her favorite dishes. I made sure to make extra for her. She ended up having three big plates. She drank five glasses of wine and was noticeably tipsy. Her stomach was distended from how much she had eaten.

"Did you get me drunk to take advantage of me?" She said laughing. Before I could respond she said, "let's go to the couch,"

She sprawled out on the couch with her legs spread open. She was wearing a short skirt with her underwear beneath. "I want you to eat my pussy," she said as she drank back the rest of her glass of wine.

"Only if I get to fuck you after," I replied.

She nodded her head and smiled. "Wait, get me another drink first," she said. Maybe it was the wine but I wasn't used to her giving commands.

I grabbed a couple beers and went back to the living room. She'd taken her underwear off and her legs were spread wide. "What are you waiting for?" She said.

I passed her a beer and got down on my knees. I sucked on her clit and licked it while fingering her pussy. "You're so good at that. I forgot how good" she said. It was true. I hadn't gone down on her in years. And she hadn't asked for it for years. After ten minutes or so she stopped me and said "I want to cum with you inside me," I was already rock hard. I got undressed and she looked at my cock and said "mmm".

I held her legs up, spread apart, as I slid my cock in her. There wasn't much resistance. I thought that after not fucking for so long, she'd be as tight as a vice grip. I guess the cucumber was stretching her out more than I thought.

I thrust for five minutes while she moaned with her eyes closed. The sight of her intoxicated, easy and willing was too much. I could normally hold back from cumming, but this time I couldn't. "I'm cumming," I said.

"No, stop! Not before I cum!" Julie yelled. But it was too late. I came in her, then pulled out.

"Give me a few minutes to get hard and we can try again," I said.