Weight Room Title Bar

The Training of a Slutty Wife


Steve Ripley was a big, good-looking, rangy rancher in his forties, and I met him in the Remuda Sports Bar. He talked expansively about the many big sports-type photos on the walls like the one opposite the bar -- a huge blowup of a drum majorette who was strutting at the head of a parade, spine back, knee bent, long, bare legs and a short skirt, and marching boots and shako. A very sexy piece indeed! She was about 18 or 19 and her face was turned toward the camera, big grin that showed a great set of choppers. I figured she must be a local celebrity.

Steve Ripley was drinking straight shots of whiskey and I was drinking beer. We hit it off right away and found each other right good company. I asked him about the picture of the drum majorette and he laughed.

"That's my wife," he boomed. "The little lady herself!"

There was a big, dirty grin on his face and on the face of the bartender who was listening in. I wondered what it meant, but Steve downed his drink and said he had to go. I asked Bartender Bill to explain and he grinned even more.

"That there is Bobby Heller -- Miss Round Heels, we used to call her," he said. "She was really something when she was in high school. The town slut and then some! But what a looker! They say she and a girl friend blew the whole football team the year it won the highschool conference."

"How did Steve Sceptre get in with her?"

"Good question. He's 25 years older than her, but he really fell and he kept chasing her for three years until he managed to nail her down and marry her. Everybody said he was a damn fool but he said he'd make her settle down! Famous last words, we all thought.!

"Well, he's lucky to have a looker like that," I said.

"She's changed some in the last seven years," Bill said.

He got busy right then and I could see he didn't want to go on.



Next day I was there when Steve Sceptre came in and we resumed our conversation. He told a rambling story about how he decided he'd marry Bobby the first time he saw her leading a parade.

"Everybody was against it," he admitted.

When he left I talked to the bartender again and he just shrugged and grinned and said: "It's a good story and Steve likes to tell it...He'll be in Thursday about this time...Don't push him -- just drop a hint."

Well, I came back on Thursday and sure enough, Steve was there. We had a couple of drinks and then went out to sit on the veranda. After awhile three women came along the street and I looked them over. They were obviously of the same family, and three generations of it. The grandmother was a hawk=faced, handsome old lady with black hair shot with grey. She had a lot of weight to but carried herself well and had a well-controlled figure. Her daughter was a rather stout matron in her forties who dressed as you might expect. The young one was in her twenties and was a fatty, probably over 230 and with a rolling gait. She looked like a slob who had once been pretty. I saw from Steve's expression that this was his family and he introduced me. The young, fat one, was his wife Bobby. She seemed a little insecure but was quite friendly.

When the ladies continued shopping, we went back in the bar. I told Steve how pleased I was to meet his family. He grinned wolfishly at me.

"Like my cute little wife, Bobby? That's her in the photo up there ten years ago. She used to be the star cheerleader and drum majorette before she married me. I changed all that."

"Isn't she a little young for you?" I asked. "I thought at first the mother was your wife."

Steve ordered drinks for both of us.

"People said that when I started courting her," he admitted cheerfully. "But, boy she was cute!"

"Well, I can see that...But she seems to have changed just a little."

He roared with laughter.

"You bet!" he said proudly. "I was the one who changed her -- turned her into a proper wife... Well, her gran helped a whole lot and her mom helped some. But it was my idea to change the formula. Course it took quite a time and a lot of effort on my part. She sure didn't cooperate much!"

"I-- I don't understand why she's so different! Can't be that long since--"

"It's seven years and I did it all!"

"Could you explain or am I poking my nose in?"

, "Naw, it's alright!...See, what happened was I was lookin" for a young wife and I saw this beauty and fell for her. People told me she was a real slut -- slept with everybody. Gossip said she'd fucked everything around -- she and a girl friend blew the whole football team when it won a championship."

I was pretty startled at hearing a husband being so frank about his wife but he was grinning at me lasciviously and I could see he was quite a different kind of husband. I had an idea he wanted to say quite a lot about the education of his wife and would be happy to hear me talk back in the same vein.

"But didn't you object to her being such a slut?"

Steve grinned confidentially at me. He took a drink and paused before he went on with great confidentiality.

"Hell, no! I liked her spunk! But I intended to marry her and reform her. People told me she'd play me for a patsy and I wouldn't be able to keep her in my bed. But I got to know her grandma, Marnie -- you met her -- and we worked out a plan."

Over the next few days Steve gave me the full story of his courtship of Bobby Heller and their highly eventful marriage. Later, Bobby's grandmother, Marnie, filled in some of the details. It was quite a story...



Bobby Heller was listed in her highschool year book as "Miss R.H" of the year and that was accurate because her name was Roberta Heller. But what the editor meant was that she was "Miss Round Heels." She was one of those bouncy, outgoing girls who makes an ideal cheerleader or drum majorette, voluptuous at 14, big boobed, wide assed, long legged, with a come hither smile and twinkling blue eyes. Every boy wanted her and almost every boy got her. The year the football team won the regional championship, Bobby and Sally West, her best friend, gave the team a treat -- a round robin blow job in the dressing room after the final game. The coach watched benignly -- he had already fucked both girls at half-time.

Bobby ended her education in a blaze of something. In her final year she was low on grades and decided to do something about it. Unhappily, she was caught by the prim vice-principal going down on the principal in his office. Both of them were expelled.

After leaving school, Bobby worked as a waitress and a barmaid and continued her lurid career, which had started when she was a precocious thirteen-year-old. Everybody liked her and almost everybody, male and female, fucked her.

When she was 22 Steve Sceptre decided to marry her. He was a well-to-do farmer, a man of 47 who had been around. He had been an athlete and had worked as a logger, oil rigger and various other manly pursuits. He was also nobody's fool which was the thing that surprised people about him wanting to marry Miss R.H.

Bobby's mother had never been able to -- had never tried. to tell the truth -- control her daughter or her other children. She was a dispirited woman of 47, run to fat and careless of her appearance. Mainly she was self-indulgent. When people told her about Bobby's adventures she just shrugged hopelessly.

Bobby's grandmother was quite another cup of tea. She was a big, handsome, strong-willed woman who lived 500 miles away but heard all the gossip from her friends in town. She frequently wrote to her daughter and told her to put her foot down with Bobby, with her sisters and with her brother. It did no good.

During the engagement, Grandma Marnie came to stay with her daughter and she met Steve at a shower. She liked him -- he was just the kind of man she was attracted to, very much like herself. She also felt sorry for him. So she cultivated him and found he liked her company as much as she liked his.

One day when they were alone together she asked Steve if he knew what he was getting into with Bobby. He laughed and said he did.

"Well, I'll be quite frank with you, Steve," said Mrs. Epper. "I don't think my granddaughter is the kind of girl who will make a particularly good wife. You should know what you're getting into before it's too late. Bobby is my granddaughter and I love her dearly but her mother should have taken a hairbrush to her bottom the way I did. She'd have been a better girl...Doris came out all right but she's weak and she couldn't handle Bobby."

Steve grinned.

"I think of Roberta as a kind of challenge for a husband," he said.

Grandma Marnie gave him a sidelong look.

"Those are famous lost words. Many husbands have thought they could appeal to the better side of their wives."

"I don't intend to appeal. I'm going to persuade Bobby to settle down with a firm hand. And I'll be looking for your advice and help."

Marnie's eyes sparkled.

"You mean you're going to treat Roberta the way I treated her mom?"

"Well, I want to hear all about that... What I have in mind is the full treatment. I'm going to put Bobby into old-fashioned duds, fatten her up a good deal and impose a few restrictions. I think she'll give in after awhile. If she doesn't, she'll go across my knee with her pants down. I'll turn her into a wet-eyed believer!"

Marnie let out a long sigh.

"Well, praise the Lord!" she sighed. "Maybe it will work. You have my undiluted support!...Does Bobbie know what's in store for her?"

Steve chuckled.

"Not at all! I'm sure she thinks she'll go right on with her skedaddling around town. I won't tell her till after the honeymoon. Then the curfew will crash down, the new wardrobe will appear and I'll put her on a crash diet in reverse. Do you think she'll enjoy the strap?"

Grandma Ester shook her head in admiration.

"I can do better than a strap for you! I'll make you a present of the very hairbrush I used on Doris and the other kids. There's nothing like a good heavy maple hairbrush for bringing submission!"

"I'll bet! ... I'll also need your advice on where to get the kind of underwear I intend Bobbie to wear."

"Have you got any ideas?"

"Of course! I intend to put her into old-fashioned bloomers and vests like her mom wears. I think she'll be worried about her boyfriends and girl friends laughing at her."

"What a good idea! I know a lingerie shop where she can be fixed up. They supply me...Now, what about a special diet for her?"

"What do you mean?"

"You should fatten her up. There's nothing that takes a girl out of the round-heels running like a pot belly and a satchel ass. That's one reason I never objected when Doris started eating herself into the fat woman class...I hope you won't mind having a fat wife? It will do a lot to help control her."

Steve thought it over and grinned lewdly.

"That's a hell of an idea, gran!" he said slowly. "Naw, I kind of like big women...You think I should turn Bobby into a woman as big as her mom?"

It was Marnie's turn to smile.

"She may get bigger...But you'd better make your mind up at the start because there'll be no going back -- a woman who gets a real potbelly and a wide ass never loses it. You'll be stuck with her but she'll also be your creation and you'll be the one she worships because there'll be nobody else for her. Are you sure YOU want to have a fat wife? Do you think you'll find her sexually attractive?

Steve nodded slowly and looked reflective.

"That's an interesting point and I'm not sure about the answer," he said. "I'm not sure whether I'll find her as repulsive as a pig when she gets fat and loses her looks. That's the fun of it! I want to deliberately change her into something else -- to put my mark on her permanently. I THINK I'll like her very much that way. But I'm not sure. Do you understand what I mean?"

It was Marnie's turn to smile and nod.

"I love your honesty!" she said. "I'll be very happy to be part of Bobby's transformation. Whatever happens, the change will reform her. And I can hardly wait to see what happens and what it does to you! I feel positively like a female Pygmalion!"

Steve laughed loudly.

"Good for you, gran! We'll have a lot of fun!"

"Thank you, dear boy...We're going to have quite an adventure.".

"Yeah...I can see that... What a hell of a joke to pay on a high kicker! This is going to be FUN!"

"Well, I know a colored woman and her daughter who could look after your house and cook the meals. I'll give them a high fat diet for Bobby and I'm sure they'll make sure she gobbles it up. You can help by bringing home chocolates. They're good for the teeth, too!"

"You're a wonder, gran!" Steve said admiringly. "We'll follow your plan down to the letter."

' He leaned forward and kissed Marnie on the cheek and looked deep into her eyes.

"Thanks, gran!" he said.

She looked back at him and smiled. Then she turned her face and kissed him lingeringly on the lips, a kiss of real sensuality. He put his arms around her and drew her close, prolonging the kiss. Then he withdrew.

"Later, gran," he said ambiguously with a smile of real complicity.



*



The wedding was a big affair with many of Bobby's former and current boyfriends in attendance. Their smirks indicated that they expected to continue. Doris had modified her own white wedding dress for her daughter and she wore it with great style. She was in her element as the center of attraction. Steve had bought a big house with a swimming pool and extensive grounds a couple of blocks from her mother. Gran leased her house, took an apartment close by and moved so she could observe the taming of her granddaughter and help her grandson-in-law.

Steve took Bobby on a trip to Europe and spared no expense. Inside of two weeks after the wedding, Bobby was flirting with French waiters but Steve made no complaint. He found his wife was a terrific fuck, enthusiastic and expert. He loved having her long, slim legs wrapped around his back, her gorgeous, lewd smile showing off her toothpaste-ad teeth, her high breasts and flat belly. When she went down on him he realized her experience made her a very good cock-sucker.

Yet he was also aware that she was probably capable of giving as much pleasure to other men who caught her fancy.

When they moved into the new house Bobby met the new housekeeper -- a colored woman in her forties who was a noted cook. She was a stout, energetic party who used a lot of oil and sugar in her cooking. Steve also fed his wife lots of candy and icecream -- there was always a five pound box of chocolate creams around.

Bobby was well aware of the tendency of women in her family to get fat and she prized her own voluptuous figure. But she was greedy and had no self-restraint. That meant she couldn't resist the chocs despite what it meant to her waistline or her teeth. The impact of that and lots of pasta soon began to show on her thighs and tummy.

A few weeks after they settled in, Bobby disappeared. Steve followed her downtown about 10 pm and found her sitting in her old bar close to a former lover. Without comment, Steve led her out to the car firmly.

She did it again a couple of nights later.

This time Steve didn't follow her. When she came home next morning her husband took her into the kitchen, pulled down her slacks and panties, bent her over his knee and whopped her bare bottom. She was outraged at first and complained angrily, her shouts soon turned to howls of pain.

"There'll be more of that every time you don't come home!" he said.

She screamed rage and threats at him. That very night she stayed out again.

This time he thrashed her with the hairbrush, raising big bruises on her luscious ass. Then he dragged her to a room he had been having remodeled. It was a bedroom with a single bed, one chair and a washbasin. The window was heavily screened. He pushed Bobby in and closed and locked the door. She screamed and protested but he left her there. Once in awhile he would push in a snack through an opening in the wall beside the door. The walls were soundproofed and she screamed herself into silence the first day. After two days, he let her out. She was dirty and disheveled and rushed to the master bedroom to get new clothes. She threw off her old things and quickly took a hot shower. Then, naked, she headed for her dresser, yanking open her underwear drawer.

"Where's my clothes?" she screamed at Steve.

Steve led her to a table with neat stacks of freshly ironed, brand new underwear -- silk and rayon and cotton bloomers and vests, heavy gauge nylon and silk stockings, a couple of girdles, slips and petticoats. When she saw the old-fashioned underwear (which she had learned to despise when she saw it on her mother and grandmother) she screamed again and protested bitterly but Steve told her to put on bloomers and shimmy. She refused and he put her over his knee and gave her a thrashing on the bare ass with a hairbrush. She howled and blubbered and finally agreed to don the hated undies. It went like that for a week with Steve whipping her every day until he broke her spirit and she began wearing the things he wanted without protest. In six weeks she had accepted the face that every morning, without prodding, she climbed into girdle, heavy-duty uplift bra, heavy hose, DK's and vest. She tried to keep her friends from finding out her shame but Marnie and Doris spread the word ! and she took a great deal of kidding. Other husbands sniggered and smirked but they looked at Steven with a good deal of respect and approval. Meanwhile, the diet prescribed by Grandma Marnie was working its magic and Miss R-H was starting to grow into her bloomers. She gained weight at a surprising rate and was up to 150 in no time with the promise of a bulging belly, wide hips and drooping breasts. Marnie and Doris suggested a new depillitant which would be easier than shaving her arms, legs, armpits and face. Actually it was a steroid guaranteed to grow hair fast. When she tried to return to a razor, Steve confiscated it. Inside of three months she had plenty of hair under her arms and on her belly and legs.

She was confused and frightened but Steve looked at her with great satisfaction. He found that she turned him on more than he had expected and he fucked her royally every night and gave her all sorts of presents. He could hardly believe the new woman he had created, especially after she developed a real pot belly and big ass. He had a photographer make several huge blowups of her in her roles as cheerleader and drum majorette and he mounted one in the bedroom where he and she couldn't miss it every night. It gave him a real thrill to compare the slim young beauty in the picture with the pear-shaped slob that she was after a year or so. For a long time she could hardly bear looking at herself and often she would burst into tears (especially when she was standing in front of the mirror in her bloomers with her false teeth in a glass on the dresser. Steve liked coming up behind her naked and running his hands of her bulbous belly and drooping breasts in a way that drew her attention to her looks.) She hardly knew whether she was more scared, or horny, or excited by married life.

In this confused state she finally realized she was a totally new woman. Now she finally lost heart in the struggle and accepted her new self, getting used to her appearance in bloomers and corset, her growing belly and thighs, the hairy legs.

Bobby gradually was absorbed into a completely new society. She found herself welcomed and cossetted by her mom and gran and the three of them spent a lot of time shopping, cooking, dressing, gossiping. Then there were youngish married women who welcomed her to their society and made her feel at home as a fat woman. Gradually she began accepting the sewing room sessions with her mother and grandmother -- the older women were prone to wander around in their underwear without shame or embarrassment, discussing the type of corset that was most comfortable, the great comfort of loose bloomers, the advantages of heavy-gauge stockings. Doris and Marnie were quite open about their talk concerning dentists and plates and feminine hygiene. The older women were often casual in their corsets and they encouraged Bobby to emulate them. Bobby was shy about joining in at first but soon there were three big, bloomered, pot-bellied, satchel--assed, saggy boobs moving casually around and making comments about one another's appearance.

From that point Bobby moved to a stage where she cared little for public opinion -- she got used to being surprised at a party in the bathroom by another housewife or two while she casually pulled up her bloomers and straightened the knee elastics, or discussed the discomforts of wearing a heavy-duty, full-length corset with another woman. She took it casualy even when she found a man staring at her legs and realizing her bloomer elastics were on view.

*

Of course, I was fascinated by this story and I became more and more interested in Steve's women. I saw a good deal of the whole family and I was quite shaken when I found Marnie Eppert was openly flirting with me. I'd never thought I had any interest in older women and I judged Marnie was at least 70. But she had a peculiar fascination. Somehow I couldn't get her out of my head. I'd never had a woman anywhere near that old and was under the general impression that women lost interest in sex after they reached sixty. But Steve's stories indicated she had a very prurient interest in her granddaughter's relations with her husband and it seemed likely that she had a streak of horniness such as Steve described. I met her fairly frequently in the company of the Sceptres and she made it clear that she liked me and welcomed my advances.

One thing led to another and with Steve's blessing I started dating Marnie. I was used to sweet, shy old ladies and I was amazed at how bold and inviting she was. She flirted with me quite openly and was very pleased when she found me responding. It wasn't long before she welcomed me to her bed. I found her a wonderfully horny person with a great and lustful interest in sex. We began by fucking energetically and pretty soon she invited me to move in with her. She was a frank and open person and made no bones about her sexuality, her age, or anything else.

One of the great, unexpected pleasures of living with her was watching the nightly and morningy rituals she went through in undressing and undressing. When we first went to bed she had warned me not to expect her to change. "I'm too old and too set in my ways," she said with a smile. "I'm too comfortable in the way I do things. You'll have to learn what it's like to live with a woman in her seventies."

"But I WANT to learn!" I assured her.

I did, too, but it took awhile because I wasn't fully aware of what I was getting into. For one thing she did things in an ordered way. When it was time to go to bed she would go into the bathroom and strip off her outer clothes. Standing in front of the mirror she would loosen her long, iron-grey hair and then brush it the traditional hundred strokes. With her hair hanging around her waist she would vigorously wash her face, removing all of her lipstick, eyeshadow, rouge and pancake makeup. At this stage she would still be wearing her corset, bloomers, stockings and shoes. Next she would remove her dentures and place them in a plastic bowl with a tablet of dental cleaner. The bowl would be filled with hot water and it would fizz up violenatly. She would smile at herself with jaws apart, seeing her own pink bare gums in the mirror in a kind of grotesque smile. Having false teeth didn't bother her in the least though she was pleased and surprised that I preferred her toothless. Finally she would put on her nightgown and come to bed. All of this took half an hour or longer.

In bed she was as tiger who never got enough and I was sure her grandaughter was no more exciting in bed. She loved to hear me praise her soft, well-cared-for body.

"You know I love that big soft paunch of yours," I'd whisper in her ear. "It feels lovely! So loose and flabby! Just what you'd expect from a 71-year-old paunch! Let me explore every fold!"

"Stop it!" she'd say, but it wasn't deeply felt.

Then I would take her riight nipple and pull it down so that the whole boob stretched.

"I love those stretch marks on your boobs and belly," I'd whisper.

"You leave my breasts alone!" she say with simulated fury. "It's bad enough being old and having flat breasts but you remind me of my age!"

"Honey, I'm going to stretch that right tit down past your navel," I'd said.

"Don't you dare!"

But she soon was laughing and accepted it.

Then it was the turn of her big, wide ass.

"Now this is really something!" I told her. "I like the way an old woman's pelvis spreads and the ass cheeks get so much cellulite."

My cock would start out at half mast but soon it was thrusting between her buttocks seeking her anus. She would squirm with nervous expectation as the cock head slipped into the hollow of her outer asshole.

"Careful!" she'd whisper urgently. "You haven't any vaseline!"

"I'll be careful, but I bet we don't need it."

She'd practically purr as my prick moved against her sensitive anus. Now that she was well broken in the sphinctder muscle didn't really exist any more and there was a mass of loose, flabby skin where there used to be a tight pucker. So the plum sizedd cock head would seat itself easily at the entrance to the rectum.

"Okay, honey! Open up! "

"I don't have to pretend any more," she said wryly but I could feel her buttocks and rectum tense, then relax. You can open an asshole quite a lot that way and every time she relaxed I pushed my cock farther in. She protested that it was hurting, dry like that, but she really liked it and inch by inch it moved into 'her until the glans had cleared the tight tube of the rectum.

We would finish up every night with a sweet, old-fashioned fuck with her long, heavy legs locked around me and her open, empty mouth pressed up to mine, my tongue flicking along her slick gums. It was wonderful to think that at her age she was still having a terrific time in bed.

In the morning the process was reversed with her emerging at the end as a tightly disciplined, handsome woman with a fine white smile, all her flesh firm and glowing. But if we'd had a really good session in the bathroom the right before she'd have to wear a butt plug to keep her from shitting her pants.

I encouraged her to wear heavy guage stockings in varying shades of grey. I loved her big legs and told her so frequently, delighted with the elastic weave that acted as a corset and gave thighs, calves and ankles shape and definition. When she had hooked up her garters, the flesh bulged out provocatively over the tops of her stockings.

She was terribly pleased at the homage I paid to her legs, often quite openly. She confessed to me that as a young woman she had been vain of her legs and liked to show them off. As she began to put on weight she realized they were too big for real, conventional beauty but she did the best she could with suppose.

And then I came along raving about how I loved those legs! I let her know that I loved to push my face up between them, especially with her stockings on, and lap her cunt while she crushed me between them. When she found I liked her to show off her bloomers, she did it at every opportunity, making occasion to let her skirt and slip slide back over her knees, to spread her knees apart so that bloomers were on view, even to toy with a bloomer-elastic "absent mindedly."

*