Trophy Wife Pt. 01

Angela's latest comments made it pretty clear her intention to have a child by Trent was partially done out of spite against her husband's lack of care for her and his obsession with ensuring Trent became the perfect bodybuilder.

"Your father wanted to turn you into the perfect bodybuilder. I'll honor that much about him at least, just to turn you into something greater - the perfect man: loyal, strong, ever erect, caring towards both their woman and children."

Trent gave in, spurting cum over his mother's palm and down her wrist in a slight explosion of seminal fluid. He groaned, she laughed girlishly, licking the streak of cum off her palm.

"Don't want all of this to go to waste, do we?" Angela gripped her son's shaft, somehow stoppering his stream. He hadn't lost any of his rigidity despite cumming. He must've liked what his mother had to say, listening to her purr in his ear. "So...bedroom. Now."

***

Time had slipped into a blur. By the time Trent had finally pulled out of his mother's cum-drenched pussy, looking up at the wall-mounted clock to see it had struck five, half the day had been eaten up by their vigorous and immoral relations. They'd been at it for seven straight hours!

Trent pulled away from the bed, much to Angela's disappointment. She tried teasing him back into bed, twisting her nipple.

"Sorry, I've really gotta get to work. I'll pop round later tonight for some more." Trent had resigned to his mother's love for him. As such, there was now no other woman he'd rather be with until the end of his days.

"But I want round twelve now, darling. You're the owner of the place, so you can go anytime." Angela was disappointed, craving more of her bull son's meat until either one of them passed out — or both. But she also understood. "Fine. But when you get back, we're playing by my rules." Angela pointed to the strap-on casually positioned on the window sill.

Trent chuckled. He left the bedroom and headed towards the bathroom to have a quick shower before leaving for his shift at the gym. But before he could turn the valve, the front door bell sounded. A large shadow cast over the glass pane. There was only person Trent knew with a bod that large.

"Shit. Missus Jones is here." Trent gestured to his mother, hearing her scramble around the room aimlessly trying to find her clothes. Trent tried to make sense of Susan's sudden appearance, trying to find his own clothes in the process, but couldn't find them. "Wat the hell's she doing here?"

When the bell sounded again, this time with more urgency, Trent resigned to take the matter on anyway, approaching the door naked, his cum-soaked cock bobbing between his steps. He made sure to open the door only slightly so only his head was shown. In any case, Susan was surprised.

"Oh, Trent. I never expected to see you here. Thought you'd be with Taylor. Is your mother in? I haven't had a chance to properly extend my condolences since you told me your father died."

Trent had to think fast, his head spinning. "Sh's not feeling very well at the moment. I popped by to make sure everything was in order for the rest of her evening before I set off for work." That ought to be an excuse believable enough, he thought.

Angela played along. Her bare back pressed against the wall, she feigned a throaty cough loud enough to scrunch Susan's face up.

"Sounds pretty bad," Susan said.

An awkward silence suddenly fell between her and Trent, he offering a smile to the woman.

"Actually, now that I know you're here, I wanted to talk to you about Tiffany."

"Yeah?" Trent was starting to lose interest, not to mention patience. He tapped his foot off the floor in a rhythm, hoping it had some kind of supernatural power that would hurry things along. His mind faded out a bit, thinking about other things, in particular, the sex he just had with his mother. He did pick up some things Susan said about Tiffany having acne, cocktailing steroids on an unusually regular basis and signing up for the regionals behind Susan's back.

"It's all sorted out now, though. Just thought you should know."

Trent didn't offer much in the way of a response. Just nodded and smiled. Hopefully that would've been enough.

But Susan wasn't so quick to part ways. She knew something was amiss. Trent wasn't usually this quiet. Not even as the kid she knew him to be all those years back. "Everything okay? You seem kind of out of it today."

"Oh yeah. Just concerned for Mum, you know?"

Susan nodded, understanding Trent's position. It must've been hard on him when his father died. They had such a connection. Susan wouldn't dare think of what would happen to Trent if he lost both his parents two years apart, if what ailed his mother was serious enough. "Well you know where I live, if you need any help."

"Yep."

Susan finally decided to part, heading down the street in the direction of the local supermarket. She issued Trent a distant wave, which he reciprocated quickly before closing the door behind him. When he turned back to the hallway, Angela was stood at the bedroom's threshold in all her nakedness, cupping a hand over her pregnancy with a soft smile. Looking at his mother's silent beauty was enough for Trent's cock to lurch and start stiffening up.

He locked the door.

Round twelve it was, then.

***

"That's it, keep your legs straight. Elbows tucked in. There we go!" The clock had just struck two, bringing Tiffany's training with Susan that day to its second hour, with another two yet to go. The teen didn't usually sweat so much as she was, but no doubt this was due to her cutting the roids from her system and finally feeling the burn from her workouts. Susan was behind, observing Tiffany's form as she brought the barbell up for her twentieth curl. Five sets down, another three to go, starting to falter. "You're doing well, Tiff. Don't stop now, you can do it. Push harder!"

As if Susan's words of encouragement themselves fueled her, Tiffany's will renewed itself, allowing her to push out another few reps. Tiffany was of the mind to think Susan was pushing her harder than usual. It wasn't completely out of the question, considering Tiffany no longer had the benefit of steroids to back her up and give that extra edge. "I-I can't!" she said with struggle, practically gasping for air.

"You can! You just think you can't!"

Susan's choice of words weren't as encouraging as previous. Tiffany's sweaty hand trembled as it started to lose its grip on the barbell. The weights were then swiftly dropped, the teen quickly following behind as her knees dug into the mat. She rubbed her hands gently, repulsed by the visible calluses forming on her palms.

"Ewww!"

Susan chuckled. "I'd get used to seeing them if I were you. You didn't get them until now because you've never worked this hard." She offered Tiffany a towel to wipe down her arms glistening with sweat. Her protein shake was given next, a cream-colored goop mix. Susan knew Tiffany hated working this hard, but it was through that labour achievements and successes were marked. "And you've never worked this hard because of the stuff you'd been taking."

Tiffany was catching her breath. She caught most of what Susan was saying, her deep exhales blanking words out here and there. Her biceps had become swollen from blood being pumped to them, a network of veins popping to the surface of her skin. "I just don't get it though," she responded between breaths.

"Huh?"

"Why work me this hard?" Tiffany had her suspicions, but didn't want to make them known in case she ended up being wrong. Something she wasn't keen on.

Susan, though, smirked. "I thought a little differently about something."

Tiffany's brow was raised in curiosity.

"Well, look at you!" Susan guided Tiffany over to the posing mirror. "You're far too big to be considered an amateur. And I see no point in you losing all that hard work just to fit into a category."

"So..." The teen was unable to resist presenting herself in an abs and thighs pose, smiling as the definition in her abs popped out as though she'd wholly swallowed six bricks and her thighs had a distinctive teardrop.

Susan rolled her eyes. She knew Tiffany was smart enough to know what she was getting at. The teen may have been blonde, but Susan never knew her to have blonde 'moments.' "I changed my mind about letting you compete. You won't be going for the amateurs. I'm putting you forward for something different."

Tiffany's response was, of course, predictable, yet still had a sense of surprise to it. The squeal of excitement was expected, but Susan never anticipated being the casualty of a bear hug. She felt the oxygen escape from her lungs as Tiffany squeezed as she cheered and thanked the older woman endlessly. Tiffany was unaware of her strength, Susan's ribs being pressed inwards.

"Okay, Tiff...you can let me go now."

Susan was released from Tiffany's deadly squeeze, brushing herself down and catching her breath. She made a mental note to herself: don't be so close to Tiffany next time you break good news.

"So, why did you say I had to take the amateurs if I'm not?"

"I was angry at you for signing up for the regionals behind my back. You should've talked to me about it first. But you won't be doing those either."

"So if I'm not taking part in the regionals, what contest am I doing?"

Susan smiled knowingly.

***

"Miss Mass? Susan, are you serious?" Robert found it hard to believe his wife would let Tiffany compete in a contest as grueling as Miss Mass, especially considering the outcome last time. Robert remembered spending days at Susan's bedside at the hospital. The trophy was nearly in the bag, too, only for her to faint at the last minute from dehydration. "Tiffany's younger than you when you competed in it. And you lost!"

Susan stood at the kitchen island chopping and cutting ingredients to add to their dinner for the evening. She understood Robert's concern but was adamant in her decision, was confident Tiffany could actually pull it off. "She's also bigger."

Robert scoffed, turning away. He was no pro when it came to bodybuilding, but was at least knowledgeable enough to understand the dangers. He glanced at his wife's diamond-hard calves, bigger than his own, a gentle layer of vascularity cresting at the edges curving around to swoop and meet her quads. "Size isn't everything, Susan. Tiffany's just a teenager. She doesn't have the same mental fortitude as you. Girls her age should be focusing on their education, not the size of their biceps."

"There's no reason why she can't do both." Susan turned to Robert, placing her hand over his, resulting in the husband and wife sharing a rare of moment of care between them. Susan knew Robert's comment about size was, indeed, true, but she also knew there was nothing to worry about. "Darling, It's been years since I tanked the Miss Mass. I've learned so much since then. We can only go upwards from here," she said, returning to the chopping.

Robert wasn't entirely convinced, but was starting to come around. He still had his doubts, questions that needed answering, but knew they weren't going to sway Susan's judgment either way. "Obviously I don't know as much about bodybuilding as you, but if you want Tiffany to truly win this, doesn't that mean you're gonna have to forgo your rule about her using steroids?"

Susan sighed, putting the knife down. As much as she hated to admit it, Robert was right. There was only so much growing a body could do naturally, but the Miss Mass contest was asking for a lot of it. When push would inevitably turn to shove, Susan would have to put Tiffany on steroid cycles on a regular basis. Susan wanted Tiffany to win, but she also loved her like a mother would her daughter. "I'll keep her on the softer stuff."

"I think that's best," Robert said with a nod. He looked at the clock on the wall, the time nearing seven. The family didn't usually have dinner so late in the day, but preparations had to be made for Tiffany's arrival, having been extended an invitation by Susan. "She should be here soon."

"I just hope the girls don't make things awkward for her," Susan said with concern. She knew Billie and Clara already had opinions about their mother being an obsessive bodybuilder and weren't best pleased when they found out she took Tiffany on as a protégé. It just meant she'd spend more time with someone else's kid than her own.

"It'll be fine so long as you don't focus on Tiffany," Robert said matter-of-factly.

Susan nodded as the doorbell rang.

***

It was Billie who opened the door to Tiffany, her eyes widening in disbelief as she laid eyes on the comparatively shorter yet wider teenager dressed in a green parka with slim-fit jeans that helped accentuate her bulging calves and even larger thighs. Billie didn't say anything for the first few moments, her mind racing in its attempt to fully register Tiffany, who eventually broke the silence, offering a handshake in turn.

"Hi there, you must be Billie. I'm Tiffany, your mother's uh, I guess you could say client." Tiffany's demeanor was chirpier than usual, likely trying to help paint a pretty picture of herself for Susan's sake. Billie took Tiffany's hand in silence, but the teen's grip took her by surprise — it felt like she'd just put her hand in a vice!

"Fuck!" Billie wasn't one to offer expletives often, pulling her hand away to rub it, but this particularly occasion certainly called for it.

"Oops, sorry. Still haven't gotten to grips with my strength yet," Tiffany giggled.

Billie gestured Tiffany into the house, quietly muttering to herself as the pain still lingered on her knuckles, though beginning to fade, albeit not at a favorable pace. Would she have to put some ice on it, she thought, watching Tiffany remove her jacket and hang it up next to the family's.

"Jesus."

"What?" Tiffany queried, confused. She caught Billie staring at her arms aired from he top, clearly taken aback by their size, considerably larger than they ought to be for someone the teen's age. In point of fact, they were on par with a professional bodybuilder's. "Oh, these?" Tiffany smiled, bringing her arm up into a flex, the peak rising higher than it had earlier that day. "These guns are sixteen-inchers. But you should see them when they're primed."

Tiffany sniffed, picking up a scent moving powerfully through the house, bringing a knowing smile to her face. "Oh, chicken? Sweet! Time to get some protein! I'm so hungry I could a horse."

"I bet," Billie muttered to herself softly, sizing Tiffany up from calf to neck.

***

It was Clara's turn to be surprised by Tiffany, though more so in regards to her voracious appetite as she gorged on the generous helpings of food laid out on the kitchen table. There was so much, describing the offerings as a 'feast' wouldn't be that far off from the truth, and Tiffany had her hands in all f it by some point. All the same, Clara watched the ballooned blonde opposite her gnaw on two chicken drumsticks at once while eying a third positioned neatly within arm's reach.

Robert shared in his daughters' disbelief, watching Tiffany down a fresh glass of water as though she hadn't drank in days, the liquid running down the front of her neck as she guzzled greedily. Robert leaned towards Susan, whispering into her ear. "I know you said she's a growing girl and is liable to eat a lot, but...this is a lot."

Susan didn't want to admit it, but even she was struggling to understand how Tiffany could pack away so much food into her system. Sure, she was a teenager and was prone to eating a lot of food anyway because of that, but it was just— "I know," she responded softly, "even I'm struggling to eat what I have here. She's just hoovering it up like there's no tomorrow."

"Tell me you've got spare meals in the fridge. I don't think she'll be stopping anytime soon."

Susan chuckled nervously, refraining from responding knowing Robert wouldn't like the answer.

It was Billie who decided to break the awkward silence between the two sisters and Tiffany, having refrained from saying almost anything since they hit the table. "So, uh...how long have you been working out for, Tiffany?"

"About six months," was the gorging teen's casual response between bites, grabbing that third drumstick she eyed earlier, alongside two corncobs and refilled the glass for the fourth time. "I was originally a cheerleader, but decided to quit when I wanted to try something a bit more daring, you know?"

Billie offered her mother a very specific glance. Six months. Tiffany had been working out, practically bodybuilding for six months and she was already that big? Billie wasn't ignorant of the possibility — no, the fact — her mother refrained from bringing up: Tiffany was obviously on something, or at least had been. There was no way she was that big in such a short time without some kind of 'help.'

"Well, it's definitely paying off at least," Clara said, finally breaking her silence. It seemed she didn't catch onto the harsh reality concerning Tiffany's growth as quick as her sister, believing the teen's progress to be all natural.

"Thanks! Obviously I've only been your mother's client for a few weeks, but she's helped me a lot, not just physically, but mentally too."

Susan smiled, taking pleasure in the recognition Tiffany expressed towards her. Robert shared in the moment, taking his wife's hand and squeezing it lovingly.

"That said, I've definitely grown a bit because of her help." Of course Tiffany couldn't resist flexing to get her point across, raising her arm up and pulling back her sleeve to reveal the sixteen-inch arm hiding underneath, smiling proudly as its peak rose sharply, a cute vein cresting it. "Reckon I'd be lagging behind a bit if it wasn't for her."

"Fucking hell, that's huge," Clara proclaimed, clearly mesmerized.

Tiffany giggled, relishing in the attention.

"Okay girls, that's enough. We're here to eat," Susan commented. "There's plenty of time for that sort of stuff later."

Everyone returned to eating. It was Tiffany's turn to offer questions, in particular, the eldest daughter of the host. "You know, I'm actually quite surprised, Billie, that you haven't followed in your mother's footsteps."

"Huh?"

"Bodybuilding, I mean. I thought what your mother spends most of her time doing would've rubbed off on you. Statistically speaking, the descendants of bodybuilders continue the family's tradition of performing in the sport more often than not. I read about it in an article recently."

Billie offered Tiffany a look that wasn't particularly inviting, though the teen herself didn't catch it, going back to her meal after her casual comment. "What do you mean, that I should be a bodybuilder just because my mother's one?"

It was clear Tiffany didn't filter out whether her words would do more harm than good. She didn't know the circumstances regarding Billie's relationship with her mother.

"Billie, I'm sure Tiffany didn't mean it like that," Susan said, hopeful.

"Yeah? Well, what did she mean by that? Curious choice of words, wouldn't you say?" Billie was livid. Being insulted by a teenager like that wasn't something she was going to let slip. But Tiffany just didn't have any inkling of the truth. "Just so you know, Tiffany, you got it all wrong. Nothing my mother did rubbed off on me, or Clara, because she never gave a shit about us."

"Billie!" Susan called out.

But Billie ignored her. "Didn't spend a second of her time around us sometimes, even missed birthdays, Christmases, fucking funerals because she was too busy in the gym getting her swole on, making sure she made progress."

Tiffany was deadpan. She definitely didn't expect to invoke anger from Billie, even if she did already know about Susan's past transgressions in spending little to no time with her family.