Trophy Wife Pt. 01

Tiffany's latest upload, a simple image of her in an abs and thighs pose, garnered over 5000 views in the few hours since its publication earlier that day, hand in hand with 3500 comments — all of which were positive — and nearly just as many favorites. Tiffany was ecstatic by all this, of course, and celebrated by posting another image, a pouting selfie of her flexing her bicep so the other sleeve was torn to match the other, a layer of veins cresting across the peak.

It didn't take long for the first comment to come through, posted by GreenBear23. They were usually the first to comment. Most of the time the comments from them were sweet, and usually made Tiffany smile, just like now, notwithstanding the outbreak of acne she didn't care to hide.

"Steaks are ready!" Jackie called up.

"Time to feed," Tiffany chuckled, kissing her bicep peak.

***

Trent and Taylor didn't strictly love one another. Not like how Romeo loved Juliet or Paris loved Helen. From his perspective, Trent merely 'loved' Taylor to keep on his mother's good side, while Taylor reciprocated by loving her future husband only for the money it would earn her, which she'd spend on steroids and hormones. They both knew neither of them was treasured by the other.

But the sex. The sex was great! More often than not — like now — Taylor was on top, controlling the ostensibly passionate moment she shared with Trent in a reverse missionary position. Of course Trent was a big guy in his own right, but Taylor was considerably larger and heavier, her control reinforced by her weight bearing down on his waist as she rocked her hips and felt Trent's cock push up inside her. Trent didn't mind the pain that much — or the fact he was being dominated, for that matter.

Their eyes rarely met, even as Taylor's pussy bore down on Trent's cock and locked it in place, but on this rare occasion where she did happen to look, it was with a face of distrust. "What's with you?" Her voice was gruffer than usual.

"Huh?" Trent was, understandably, confused.

"I've had you inside me for the better half of two hours and you haven't came once." Taylor shifted her weight so Trent's cock slid out of her like a snake slithering out of a hole, his abnormally large shaft hitting off his chest with a dull thud. "What's the point in having a cock that big if it doesn't even work as it should?"

"It works," Trent shot back. His confidence waned upon hearing Taylor's remark. What he said was true, of course. It was just...he wasn't that into Taylor. The outbreak of acne across her back and face, the ever-deepening voice...it was all just a turn-off. The sex was only great because Trent happened to have a dormant liking for being dominated. Even then, he never did...release.

That was when Trent's mobile buzzed on the nearby bedside table. He reached for it, much to Taylor's chagrin. It was his mother.

"I have to take this."

Taylor grumbled as she pulled away from the bed, wrapping a bed gown clearly starting to get too small for her around her mushroomed frame, and sat at the makeup table. A face of disdain came over her as she observed Trent focusing whole-heartedly on the text exchange with his mother. "What does she want?"

Trent didn't immediately respond, knowing Taylor wouldn't react all that well. Thumbing his phone's screen, he postulated how was best to respond. Lying wouldn't do any better than telling the truth, but at least the truth wouldn't hurt Trent's heart as much as the lie. "Wants to know if you've taken the pills I showed you. Wants to know if you're pregnant yet."

Trent wasn't sure if her reaction was on account of roid rage or the evident dislike of her mother-in-law because of her obvious smothering and invasiveness, but Taylor punched the makeup table's mirror when she heard Trent say that. "Damn your mother. This arrangement between us won't do any good if she keeps breathing down our necks like that. If I'm pregnant, I'll let her know!"

Trent stammered a bit, not sure how to respond to that. He agreed with Taylor somewhat that his mother was invasive, but to insult her the way she did hurt him. "Are you...pregnant?"

It was Taylor's turn to be silent, looking at her reflection, then past her shoulder to Trent thumbing the phone again. "No. Besides, I don't think I can get pregnant now anyway."

Trent's expression through the makeup table mirror — that of pain — cut into Taylor a bit. She didn't expect his emotion to affect her so much. She wasn't exactly upset, but was disappointed in the fact she failed him anyway. "What do you mean?"

Taylor explained. "Taking all those roids and hormones finally caught up with me I guess. I haven't had a desire to fuck in months, even before the arrangement with your mother was made." She paused for a moment, realizing where her train of thought was heading. She wondered if it was worth telling Trent the truth. Then the realization hit her. He told her the truth. She would have to reciprocate. "Just so you know: I only agreed to the contract so I could—"

"—get the money for more roids. I know." Trent always knew. Taylor likely had no intention of actually raising the child she'd give birth to. So maybe the fact she was now infertile was actually a mercy. Trent wasn't angered by Taylor's truth. He pitied her, moving in closer to hug her from behind. "Don't worry. We'll figure this out."

***

Tiffany's mother Jackie entered the living room with a tea tray in hand, shaky with nerves. Placing it on the small table between both couches. She happened to glance at Susan and gulped. Tiffany had often spoken to her mother about Susan, but negated to trust in the comments she made about her size. However, now she was inclined to believe every one of them. Despite not possessing such a mentality, Susan was intimidating to Jackie.

"So...to what do I owe the pleasure, Missus, uh..."

"Jones. But you can call me Susan."

"Call me Jackie."

Susan took one of the tea mugs and grabbed the packet of ginger biscuits, hoarding them for herself. God, did that last workout make her hungry. She'd eat a horse if she could. "I'm here to talk about Tiffany."

"She's coming along great, isn't she?" Jackie's words came with a sense of cheer, much to Susan's surprise. She took the opposing mug and chocolate eclairs. "Put on four pounds of weight this past week, she told me. She said she signed on to compete in the regionals, is that true?"

This was news to Susan, of course. To the best of her knowledge, the regionals were only a few weeks away, and Tiffany was nowhere near ready mentally to take them on. But Susan could also see how thrilled Jackie was at the prospect of her daughter competing, so she conceded. "Yes. Yes, we're working on making some final touches to her regimen to maximize her output."

"That's great!"

"But that's not why I'm here." Susan really didn't want to dampen Jackie's mood, seeing her smile slip and fall flat into a deadpan stare, but the fact was there was something more important that needed discussing. "I'm here to talk about her evident drug use."

Jackie's expression contorted itself into something Susan didn't quite expect. Her response reflected it, in turn. "Oh, I thought you were going to tell me she'd been fooling around with boys. No, I know all about the steroids she's been taking."

"You...you do?"

"Oh yes. I'm open-minded about most things, really. Of course, we had a discussion about it first as a family, but we all agreed, so long as it's done so in moderation, Tiffany could use them."

"But they're not being used in moderation, that's the point." Susan opted to let Jackie's initial comment slide, but couldn't ignore the bigger problem at hand. "You haven't noticed anything different about her lately? A deeper voice? Acne outbreak?"

Jackie was confused. Truthfully, she was at least aware of Tiffany's increasingly deep voice, but reckon it was due to a sore throat and so thought nothing of it. She also thought the acne outbreak was nothing but puberty playing its usual cruel game. Even so, Jackie's confusion told Susan all she needed to hear.

"Could you bring her in here, please?"

"She's in the middle of her workout—"

Susan shot Jackie a glare that cut so deep into the woman that she shivered. Jackie complied, opening the basement door, behind which deep grunts were heard.

"Tiff, can you come up here for a sec?"

Tiffany's grunt as she re-racked the bench-press bar was enough of a tell for Susan to know things had gotten a little bit out of hand. Though not visible in her expression, concern filled the woman as the teen came up from the basement, the stairs creaking and groaning under her mushroomed weight. When Tiffany's face finally came into the light, Susan sighed. Her entire right cheek had developed an outbreak of acne, some spots larger than others.

Susan shot a damning glance at Jackie, but she didn't notice, smiling at her daughter.

"Hey Missus Jones." Tiffany had inadvertently confirmed Susan's fears — her voice was deeper. Not only that, but more so than Susan's at the same age when she started using. It stood to reason, then, that Tiffany had at some point decided to blatantly disregard the safety of dosages and instead injected as much as what pleased her.

"Can you turn your back to me for a second, sweetie?" Susan hoped the other fear she had wouldn't be confirmed, watching Tiffany turn, but she couldn't resist pulling into a double bicep pose, pulling tightly at her top's fabric. Any tighter and the thing would bust.

"My back's huge, isn't it? Wouldn't be surprised if it ends up bigger than yours before the week's out, Missus Jones."

Susan wasn't going to to deny Tiffany being right. The teen had only been under the woman's wing for the better half of a week and the width of her back was already catching up. The same could be said for her thighs, close to pressing against the door frame.

"That's the back of a future champion," Jackie casually let out.

Susan lifted the rear of Tiffany's airtight gym top to get a closer look at her skin. She then regretted that decision, seeing her other fear being realized. Tiffany's back was swarmed with acne from the nape of her neck down to her waistline. Susan's concern for Tiffany heightened.

"Tiffany, what have you been using?" The fact the teen was quite obviously perversely abusing aside, Susan just had to know what she was using. Whatever it was, it wasn't anything like Susan had done in the past.

"I've been giving her a cocktail of all the steroids she has," Jackie blurted out.

"What?" Susan wasn't going to let Jackie's respondent confused expression slide this time. It had to be an act anyway. "Jackie, it's bad enough Tiffany's abusing at her age in general. She doesn't need a cocktail of everything too!"

"But you said you drank them too," Tiffany shot back, making a point.

"On rare occasions. Tiffany, it looks like you're having one with every fucking meal. I told you: moderation." Susan's heart was broken. This all reminded her too much of herself, of her own past transgressions and addiction. She turned to Jackie with a deathly glare. "This is abuse."

Jackie scoffed. "How dare you accuse me of abusing my own child. Who do you think you are, acting all high-and-mighty? You're not much better, from what Tiffany's been telling me."

It wasn't the first time Susan heard that comment, and yet it stung just as sharply as it did the first, like a knife pierced her heart. Even so, she wasn't going to let the same old snide remark demoralize her. "What about the father? He in on it too?"

"There is no father. Not really. I had a drunken fling some years back and he knocked me up." It was obvious recalling this particular moment in Jackie's past hurt her. "Never once saw Tiffany in his life. He was more than happy to pay the child support though."

"Sounds like a deadbeat," Susan retorted sharply. It was only after he words rolled from her tongue that she realized the severity of them. She prepared herself for the expected slap from Jackie. But it didn't come, much to the woman's surprise.

"On that we both agree," Jackie said.

An awkward silence fell, which Tiffany eventually decided to break with a perfunctory cough, getting both women's attention. "You both finished?"

Susan watched a solitary vein thick as her finger snake up the length of the teen's back, the floorboards creaking as Tiffany turned to face the women. Susan couldn't help but sigh slightly when she finally noticed Tiffany's jaw was somewhat squarish in shape, but she didn't say anything.

"Taking the cocktail that much was my idea. I didn't know I had to use that in moderation too."

Susan scoffed. "It's common sense, Tiffany. If you're supposed to use the steroids in general with moderation, what made you think the cocktail would be any different?"

"Point taken," Tiffany said with guilt.

Susan turned to Jackie. "Sorry about that. It's just...this reminds me too much of my own past. Don't want Tiffany to repeat my own mistakes."

Jackie nodded.

"With that in mind, if I ever find out Tiffany's abusing again, we're finished.

"What?" Tiffany was distraught.

"That's right. From here on out we're doing it naturally." Susan knew Tiffany would protest ot just now, but afterwards. It didn't matter though. Susan's word was law.

"But the regionals—"

"Ah yes. You signed up for those behind my back, didn't you?" Susan didn't have to look at her to know Jackie was surprised. "Don't worry, I'll let you compete. In the juniors."

"What? That's not fair! Mum—"

"Your mother isn't your trainer. I am. Your mother doesn't know anything about the sport. I do. Just because you're catching up with me in terms of size doesn't mean you know any better. I do."

"Mum—"

"Susan's right, sweetie."

Tiffany stormed back down into the basement, the floorboards and stairs creaking under the teen's weight.

"She'll come around," Susan said. "She'll have to, knowing there'll be nobody else she can turn to."

The two women trailed off to the front door, where a realization struck Susan. A realization that pained her: in the face of the fact she was trying to mend fences with her own teenage daughters, Susan cared more for Tiffany than them.

***

Trent panicked. He wasn't sure how his mother would react to the news Taylor was infertile. Angela was so set on wanting a grandchild from them that only God knew what to expect now. Would she throw a fit of rage? Condemn Taylor? The possibilities were endless and that was why Trent was so agitated.

He entered his mother's house. It was surprisingly quiet. Usually, the TV blared over most things at ten in the morning, but all that was heard was silence. The eerie kind. It troubled Trent, urging him through the door and into the hallway.

"Mum?"

"In here, sweetie," Angela called from the living room, her back turned to Trent, doing yoga in front of the TV, which itself was off, complete with yoga pants and an open-sleeve gym top. Seeing his mother do yoga intrigued Trent. She never was one for it before, otherwise going on lengthy walks if the weather was nice enough. So this was different. Curious even. "Pass me my shake, will you?"

Trent complied, grabbing the protein shake from the coffee table near the couch. Next to the protein shake were two family-size bars of dark chocolate. Angela wasn't one for eating chocolate either. "Mum, what's going on?" Trent asked, watching her bend her body into the Janu Sirsasana pose.

"How are things with you and Taylor?" Judging by her tone, it sounded as if Angela was deflecting Trent's question with her own, which he was obviously in no rush to answer. Instead, Trent watched his mother in silence, twisting and contorting her lithe frame into another pose. "Did you come to tell me she's pregnant?"

Trent only offered silence in response. The kind of silence that ultimately betrayed him. Even if he just stuttered, it wouldn't have been so bad as it turned out to be. Angela relaxed, craning her neck to her left shoulder, flashing a concerned glance.

Trent knew he'd dug himself into a hole. There was no point in lying now. His own body and mind betrayed him to his mother. "Taylor's infertile."

Angela's response wasn't quite what Trent expected. She was still angry, as evidenced by the contorted visage she flashed upon hearing the news, but then relaxed, taking a deep breath before drinking her shake. "I knew she couldn't live up to the task. Oh well."

"Wait, you're not angry?" Trent honestly expected his mother to, as aforementioned, throw a fit over him breaking the unfortunate news regarding Taylor. But she seemed oddly content with it.

"Well, I'm upset about it, but there's very little point in being angry now." Angela finished her protein shake and placed the carton to her side. She stretched her legs out as if readying to stand. "Can you pass me the chocolate?"

Trent, of course, complied, but before handing the chocolate over, he realized, looking at it intently. "Wait, I remember. Dad used to say you only ate dark chocolate when you were—"

Now standing, Angela slowly turned to face Trent, the gym top stretched outwards slightly, her hands cupping her small paunch protectively.

"—Pregnant," Trent finished, seeing his mother's smile grow as he concluded his line of thought.

"Trent, sweetie. We're having twins."

"How..." Trent's mind was predictably reeling from the news. How was his mother pregnant? How long had she been hiding the fact? How— He sighed, connecting the dots as his mother thumbed her navel. "You took the fertility pills too, didn't you? You said you were on the pill."

"I am. Just not the one you thought." Angela took Trent's hand, guiding it to her paunch. She could see her son's concern and surmised it would fade away when he felt his child kicked his palm, which indeed did happen. "You made this. Aren't you proud?"

Trent didn't know what to think. He pulled his hand away, looked at his mother, who looked back at him.

"The plan never was for you to give me a grandchild through Taylor."

"It was for you to have one with me," Trent realized.

"Yes. Taylor was just the means to an end, darling. I used her to get to you." Angela moved in on Trent, pressing her belly against his muscled torso, running her hand over his bulging shaft. "Before that though, I had to get your father out the way."

Trent's brow furrowed with confusion, not sure what his mother meant by that. He looked into her eyes, as if trying to look deep into her mind and uncover the way it worked, uncover what she meant. When the slight smirk formed across her lips, the truth dawned on him, hitting him like a brick.

"He didn't die of a heart attack. You killed him! Why?"

"I realized he wasn't as faithful as I thought, cheating on me with a whore and getting her pregnant. Outside of that, he was obsessed with turning you into the perfect bodybuilder. At the time when I wanted another child, his dick stopped working because of all the steroids he'd taken." Angela unbuckled Trent's belt and whipped out his cock to stroke it as she continued, looking up to stare lovingly into his eyes. "I didn't find out about the bastard child until last year when he got drunk one night. So I spiked his protein shake and his heart gave out. "

Trent moaned as his mother picked up the pace of her stroking. He definitely didn't expect to get hard over listening to his mother explain how she killed his father.

"But you're faithful, aren't you? You wouldn't have given me your baby otherwise. The pills do their job well enough, but they won't work without your natural contribution, which you generously provided several times." Angela smirked at Trent's face contorting into something that suggested struggle, Any second now he would lose control and spurt his load. Any second now. "Your father shouldn't roll around in his grave too much. His legacy will still continue. It'll just be growing in me."