Chapter 11

Stepping off the plane, I rolled my shoulders, feeling the ache settle deep into my bones after the long flight. The past month had been grueling—late nights, early mornings, endless meetings—but the thought of coming home to Liz had kept me going. I’d worked hard overseas, both on my career and my body, keeping to a strict workout regime every night. I felt stronger, sharper, like I was becoming the man I was meant to be.

But no matter how determined I was, the real pull had always been her. Liz. My wife. My angel. I’d been anticipating this moment for weeks—seeing her again, holding her in my arms, and ... well, there was one thing in particular I couldn’t get out of my head: her boob job.

We’d agreed on it before I left, but not being there for her recovery had left me restless, almost regretful. I wanted to take care of her, be there for her when she healed. The thought of seeing her new body, though, made my pulse quicken. I couldn’t deny the thrill it gave me.

I stepped through the arrivals gate, running a hand through my hair, exhausted but strong, my mind laser-focused on one thing: finding Liz. And then I saw her.

My breath caught in my throat.

There she stood, like a vision that made the whole airport blur around her. Liz. But ... transformed.

She was impossible to miss—hell, impossible to look away from. Her platinum blonde hair fell sleek and straight over her shoulders, framing her face perfectly. Her makeup was flawless—thick lashes fluttering like butterfly wings over her wide blue eyes, lips painted a glossy baby pink, her pout so exaggerated it looked obscene. The sparkle of her Monroe piercing glinted under the fluorescent lights, drawing my eyes straight to those oversized, plumped lips.

And her body ... Jesus Christ.

Her big, round, pornstar tits strained against the tiny pink halter top she wore, barely constrained, bouncing with every little movement she made. It looked like they might spill out at any second, and I wasn’t sure I’d mind if they did. She wore the smallest white leather shorts I’d ever seen, hugging her ass so tight they looked painted on, the hem leaving her long, tanned legs completely bare. Her pink stiletto heels clicked with every deliberate step she took toward me, the sway of her hips slow and exaggerated. She moved like she was on display—like she knew every man in the room was staring at her.

And they were.

I wasn’t the only one mesmerized. Heads turned, eyes wide. Some men gawked, others whispered to their friends. Even a few women threw her disgusted looks. But Liz? She didn’t seem to notice—or care.

She moved like a goddamn sexbomb, every step, every bounce of her tits, every flick of her tongue over her glossy lips designed to tease. And all of it was for me.

“Hi, stud,” she purred, her voice sweet and dripping with something I couldn’t place—a mixture of innocence and dirty seduction that hit me like a brick. She grinned, her brilliant white smile dazzling, then licked her lips with a slow, casual flick of her tongue stud that sent a jolt straight to my groin.

“Fuck, babe,” I managed to say, my voice hoarse. “You look ... smoking.”

Her pout deepened into something playful, her lashes fluttering as she swayed closer. “Thanks, hun. I wanted to look perfect for you.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. “Liz ... they’re so big.” My gaze dropped to her tits again—how could I not stare? They looked enormous, round, fake, and absolutely perfect.

She giggled softly, her voice carrying that airy, carefree tone I hadn’t heard before. “I thought you’d like ‘em,” she teased, giving them a playful little bounce with her hands. “And I thought ... why stop there?”

I blinked, my eyes snapping back to her face. “Your lips...”

She pouted dramatically, tilting her head like a doll. “You like ‘em, don’t you, babe? I figured while I was at it, I’d make ‘em extra kissable. Just for you.”

I groaned softly, already feeling the heat rise through me. She was wrapping me around her finger, pulling me in without even trying. Everything about her—the way she looked, the way she moved—was designed to make me forget everything else. Any reservations I’d had melted away under the heat of her transformation.

She stepped closer, pressing herself against me, her tits pushing against my chest. I could feel her warmth, the softness of her body, and it made me weak. Her arms wrapped around my neck, and she tilted her face up, her plumped lips hovering just an inch from mine.

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” she whispered, her breath sweet and warm.

“I missed you too,” I murmured, my voice thick.

She kissed me then, and it was nothing like I expected. She didn’t just kiss me—she devoured me. Her lips moved hungrily against mine, her tongue sliding deep into my mouth, the metal stud teasing and flicking in a way that made me groan. It was filthy, desperate, and completely addictive.

When she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, her lips glistening as she smiled up at me. “I missed kissing my big, strong man,” she cooed, her voice sweet and breathless. “It’s been so long.”

I could only stare at her, completely undone. “Jesus, Liz...”

She giggled, stepping back just far enough to spin on her heels, making sure I got the full view of her swaying hips and perfect ass in those tiny shorts. “You’re staring, babe,” she teased over her shoulder, biting her lip.

“Can you blame me?” I shot back, feeling the heat of my arousal burn through my exhaustion.

She turned back to me, batting her lashes as she pressed her hands to my chest. “I just wanted to make sure you liked the new me. I worked so hard to look like your naughty little dream.”

Her words hit me in ways I didn’t expect. There was something so sweet and loving about the way she said it, but also something wicked hiding underneath. She’d changed so much—her look, her voice, her mannerisms—but she was still mine.

“Let’s go home,” I said, my voice low, unable to hide the way my body responded to her. “I need you all to myself.”

She smiled, leaning in to press another kiss to my jaw, her glossy lips leaving a faint mark. “Whatever you want, stud. I’m all yours.”

The drive home was a blur. Liz was next to me, babbling sweetly about how much she’d missed me, her voice lilting and playful. Her hand rested on my thigh, her long pink nails tracing small circles over my jeans, occasionally brushing close enough to make my cock twitch.

“Wait until you see everything, babe,” she purred, her eyes glittering with excitement. “I’ve been waiting for this moment ... forever.” Her new lips curling into a playful pout that sent my mind spiraling into fantasies I hadn’t dared entertain until now.

By the time we stepped through the door, the tension between us was palpable. The moment the door clicked shut, I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Rod...” Liz purred, turning to me with that mischievous sparkle in her eyes. She pressed her body against mine, her massive fake tits squished between us, her nipples hard through the thin fabric of her pink halter top. “I’ve been waiting so long for this...”

My hands found her hips, gripping her tightly as I leaned down, capturing her lips in a fierce kiss. She moaned into my mouth, her tongue sliding against mine, the cold steel of her stud sending jolts of pleasure through me. She tasted sweet, her lipstick slightly sticky, and it drove me wild.

“Fuck, Liz,” I groaned, pulling back just enough to stare at her. “You’re ... unbelievable.”

She giggled, biting her lip as she trailed her nails down my chest. “You like your new and improved slut, don’t you, babe?” she teased, her voice sweet and filthy all at once. “I did it all for you.”

I didn’t have the words. Instead, I scooped her up, her laughter ringing out as I carried her to the bedroom. The second we hit the mattress; it was chaos. Clothes flew in every direction, her halter top discarded to reveal her huge, perfect tits. My hands immediately found them, squeezing, kneading, marveling at how they felt under my palms.

“Do you like them, stud?” Liz asked, her voice breathy as she arched her back, pressing her chest into my hands. “I wanted to make them big enough for you ... to make you want me even more.”

“They’re perfect,” I growled, leaning down to take one of her nipples into my mouth, sucking and biting gently as she moaned and squirmed beneath me.

Her nails raked down my back, her legs wrapping around my waist as she pulled me closer. “You’re so strong,” she whispered, her lips brushing against my ear. “I love how pumped up you’ve gotten, babe. It makes me so fucking wet.”

Her words ignited something primal in me, a raw, untamed desire that I couldn’t control. I moved lower, my mouth trailing down her stomach as I tugged her tiny white shorts off, revealing the glint of her VCH piercing. My cock throbbed at the sight.

“Fuck, Liz,” I muttered, my fingers tracing the delicate jewelry. “You’re a goddamn dream.”

She giggled again, spreading her legs wider. “Then make me scream, stud.”

Our bodies moved together in a frenzy, her moans and cries filling the room as I thrust into her with a newfound intensity. Her dirty talk spurred me on, each filthy phrase dripping from her lips like honey.

“Harder, my stud,” she pleaded, her voice high and breathless. “Take me like I’m yours. I’m your slut, Rod. Your dirty, nasty slut.”

Her words drove me to the edge, each thrust harder, deeper, more desperate. I could see the ecstasy on her face, her eyes glazed with lust as she reached down to play with her clit, her fingers brushing against the piercing with each stroke.

“You’re so fucking tight,” I growled, my hands gripping her hips as I pounded into her. “You feel like heaven, Liz.”

Her head tilted back, her platinum blonde hair spilling across the pillow as she screamed my name. “Rod! Oh god, yes! Stretch me, baby. Make me feel it.”

Her nails dug into my arms as her body trembled beneath me, her orgasm crashing over her in waves. The sight of her—completely lost in pleasure, her fake tits bouncing with every thrust, her lips parted in a silent scream—was enough to send me over the edge.

I pulled out at the last second, stroking myself as I spilled across her new big fake tits, I wanted to claim them as mine. Her reaction surprised me, she took her big boobs in her hands and pushed them up slurping my cum with her mouth as if it was the tastiest treat ever. She moaned softly, her tongue darting out to catch every drop, her eyes locked on mine. “Mmm, thank you, stud,” she whispered, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “I love tasting you.”

Even as the intensity of our passion ebbed, I couldn’t stop staring at her. She was glowing, her skin flushed, her lips still glistening with my release. She looked like a pornstar, a goddess, something too perfect to be real. And yet, she was mine.

As we lay there, tangled together, her head resting on my chest, I felt something deeper than lust settle in my chest. Liz had changed so much, but it wasn’t just her body. She’d transformed herself—her words, her movements, her everything—into this vision of perfection, all for me.

“You’re incredible,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You know that, right?”

She giggled softly, her fingers tracing lazy circles on my chest. “I just want to make you happy, babe. That’s all I care about.”

And she had. Whatever doubts or reservations I’d had before were gone now. Liz had erased them with her love, her dedication, her willingness to embrace every part of herself for me. I felt stronger, a man who deserved such a sex goddess as my wife.

Making myself more beautiful, even artificially, made me feel Zen. All my polishing hours, the pain it drove my efforts, but Rod was my sun, he brought me warmth. Each day, I felt more and more in tune with my new reality. My fake tits, my enhanced lips, my piercings—all of it felt like a part of me now, not something separate or foreign. This body was mine. I loved the way Rod cherished my body, the way his eyes followed me when I walked, the way his hands instinctively found my curves. His adoration was a reward, one I craved and worked tirelessly to earn. Every glance, every groan, every appreciative touch told me I was doing it right.

Mistress’s cameras kept me on edge, but they also reminded me of my purpose. I couldn’t falter. I had to stay perfect—sweet, sexy, slutty, and always devoted to Rod. The fear of disappointing her, of losing everything, lingered at the edges of my mind, but it only drove me to be better. Mistress’s reviews had grown less frequent, her reprimands softer. I was improving, and the satisfaction of that filled me with pride.

My mornings began with my beauty routine. Every step was sacred, a ritual to prepare me for my role. The tanning sessions to keep my skin golden and glowing, the layers of makeup I applied with practiced precision, the time spent ensuring my lashes were flawless and my nails were polished. My body was smooth and hairless thanks to Mistress’s insistence on laser treatments. “No more shaving for me,” I’d said to Rod casually one night, running my hand over my thigh as his eyes darkened with lust.

Yoga became my favorite part of the day. Not just because it kept me limber, but because of the way Rod watched me. I wore the tiniest outfits I could find—white spandex shorts so tight they rode up with every move, cropped tanks that barely contained my fake tits.

I’d stretch slowly, deliberately, arching my back as I held a pose, knowing his eyes were locked on me. Sometimes I’d glance over my shoulder, catching his gaze, and smile sweetly. “Like what you see, babe?” I’d tease, letting my voice carry just enough to reach him.

He never answered with words. Just a heated look that told me everything.

When we went out together, I felt like a queen on his arm. I dressed to turn heads, not just for me but for him. I wanted people to notice us, to see him as the strong, powerful man who had a wife that looked like a dream. My leather pants, thigh-high boots, tight dresses—they were all tools, weapons in my arsenal to boost his standing.

“Jesus, Liz,” he muttered once as I slid into the passenger seat of his car, my short dress riding high on my thighs. “You’re gonna give someone a heart attack.”

I batted my lashes at him, licking my lips with a playful pout. “Just making sure everyone knows how lucky I am to have you,” I said sweetly. “Don’t you love showing me off?”

He smirked, shaking his head, but the way his hand lingered on my thigh told me he loved it just as much as I did.

At home, I made it my mission to keep everything perfect. The house was spotless, the air filled with soft music and the faint scent of vanilla candles. I greeted him at the door every evening, my heels clicking against the tile, my lips glossy and ready for his kiss.

“Hi, stud,” I’d say, wrapping my arms around his neck. “How was your day?”

“Better now,” he’d reply, pulling me close.

I lived for these moments, for the way he held me, the way he looked at me. It made everything—the training, the cameras, the fear—worth it.

But not everything was perfect. My explicit language, drilled into me by Mistress, slipped out so naturally now that I barely noticed it. Once, at a casual dinner with his colleagues, I leaned in and whispered something filthy into his ear, not realizing how loud I’d been.

Rod stiffened, his face flushing as one of his coworkers glanced over. “Liz,” he muttered under his breath, his tone sharp.

I felt my cheeks burn with shame. “Sorry, babe,” I whispered, biting my lip.

His reprimand stung, but it was a reminder to balance my worlds. I couldn’t let Mistress’s training overshadow the life Rod and I were building together.

Every night, as I lay beside him, I felt my happiness grow. The balance was difficult, but I was learning. My every word, every act became a careful blend of devotion and seduction, designed to please both Rod and Mistress.

“Liz,” he murmured one night, his voice soft as he brushed a strand of hair from my face. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

I smiled, my heart swelling with pride. “I just want to make you happy, babe,” I replied, my voice a sweet purr.

And I did. I wanted to make him happy, to keep him satisfied, to be everything he needed.

I was Liz. His to use. His dream. His perfect wife. And with each passing day, I felt more like the Liz is to be written in the stars.

Yoga had become my sanctuary, a place where I could fully connect with my new body, my desires, and the life I was shaping. Each morning, I slid into my tiniest yoga shorts—ones that barely covered my peachy, toned ass—and a skimpy crop top that clung to my fake tits. The fabric teased more than it hid, and I knew Rod’s eyes followed me as I moved through the house, his desire simmering just under the surface.

When I stepped onto my mat, the ritual began. Each pose stretched my body to its limits, my enhancements and piercings a constant reminder of how far I’d come. The weight of my big fake tits pulling slightly as I leaned forward, the tingle of my clit piercing when I tightened my thighs, the pressure of the buttplug Mistress insisted I wear during every session—it was all part of the experience now.

I arched my back in Downward Dog, pushing my ass high in the air, and imagined how I must look to Rod if he walked in. My perfect peachy ass was my pride, the result of my own hard work and Mistress’s relentless insistence. It had become his obsession, and I loved the way he couldn’t keep his hands off it.

“God, babe, look at you,” he’d said the other morning, his voice thick with lust. He’d walked in as I held a pose, his eyes glued to my ass.

I smiled sweetly over my shoulder, swaying my hips just enough to tease him. “Like how am becoming more flexible for you stud?” I purred with a wink of my long false lash, pulling him in.

“You know I do,” he growled, crossing the room in three strides to grab me, his hands squeezing firmly.

Mistress’s training echoed in my mind during each session, her sharp voice a constant reminder of who I was becoming. “Your body is a temple, Liz,” she’d said. “A temple of pleasure. Worship it, and make sure he worships it too.”

And I did. Meditation made me hyper-aware of every part of myself—every enhancement, every piercing, every alteration Mistress had orchestrated. My fake tits were heavy and full, bouncing slightly with every movement. My lips, plump and glossy, tingled whenever I ran my tongue stud over them. Even my ass, stretched and trained for Rod’s pleasure, had become a focal point of my thoughts.

The buttplugs Mistress had me wear were getting larger, pushing me to new limits, both physically and mentally. At first, it had been a challenge, but now the pressure was intoxicating. It made every pose more intense, every stretch a reminder of who I was now.

Rod had noticed the changes, too. He loved my new body, his hands constantly exploring, his voice filled with praise and desire. But it was the way he took me now that truly showed how far we’d come. Anal had become a regular part of our lives, and I’d started leaving bottles of lube in every room, just in case the mood struck him.

He loved my effort, even if he didn’t know the full extent of it. The way he looked at me when I emerged from our bedroom in my shiny new vinyl pants, the way his hands gripped my ass possessively, made it all worth it.

“Damn, Liz,” he muttered, squeezing me firmly. “You look ... incredible.”

I grinned, wiggling my hips against his hands. “You like them? I thought you might,” I teased, my voice light and playful. “You’ve got such good taste, babe.”

“You mean you’ve got good taste,” he corrected, his eyes raking over me.

I giggled, pressing my glossy lips to his cheek. “Maybe it’s a little of both,” I whispered. “You inspire me, stud.”

“Liz, what’s this?” he’d asked one evening, holding up a bottle of lube from the coffee table.

I giggled, biting my lip as I leaned against the couch, my vinyl leggings clinging to every curve. “Just making it easy for you, babe,” I said sweetly. “I know how much you love taking me. Why not make sure you can have my ass whenever you want?”

His groan was all the encouragement I needed. Moments later, I was bent over the armrest, his hands gripping my hips as he filled me completely.

Rod’s confidence had grown with every session, his stamina increasing as he pushed me to new heights. It was primal, raw, and utterly intoxicating.

“Fuck, Liz,” he growled, his hands fisting my hair as I moaned beneath him. “You’re so tight. You feel like heaven.”

I gasped, my voice breaking into a string of filthy pleas. “Yes, baby! Take me deeper. Stretch me. Use me like your dirty little slut!”

My encouragements worked, he stepped up his effort. Feeling his strength, his big rod hammer me. His balls slapping my pierced clit. I came in a climax waving in, just a most fulfilling “Uhhh”. My body a vessel for his pleasure. Grounding me. His voice pulling me outwards again.

“Your ass is so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust, filling my pride.

“Only for you, stud,” I moaned, the sensation of his cock filling me completely sending waves of pleasure through my body. “You make me feel so good. God, I love being your slut.”

I felt dreamy when he finally came and pushed my second orgasm. An Insync primal cry filled the living room, our souls colliding.

Yoga had helped me find balance—not just in my body, but in my mind. It grounded me, made me more aware of my constant state of arousal and desire. Living for pleasure had given me a sense of purpose, a stable mindset that let me embrace my new role without hesitation.

Every day, I found new ways to show Rod how much I loved him, how much I craved him. My beauty routine was sacred, my heels and makeup never abandoned, my enhancements always on full display. And every act, every word I spoke, carried the weight of Mistress’s training.

I caught myself smiling as I stretched into Child’s Pose, my mind wandering to Rod’s reaction when he came home later. I knew he’d love the way I’d styled myself today—tight leggings that showed off my ass, a cropped tank that barely covered my fake tits. And when he saw the bottle of lube I’d placed by the bed, I knew exactly where the night would lead.

I bit my lip, feeling a tingle of excitement course through me. Living for pleasure wasn’t just my reality—it was my purpose. And I was finally learning to enjoy every moment of it.

Walking into the house that day, I felt a surge of energy and pride I hadn’t felt in a long time. The promotion had been a long time coming, and Matt had finally given me the nod: Senior International Officer. It wasn’t just a title; it was a testament to my hard work, my dedication. I had plans now—bigger ones. A bigger house, more luxury, and a life that Liz and I could truly revel in.