Frustrated Phineas And His Fat Wife

Phineas waited, trying not to tremble as his wife stomped in from her Weight Watchers meeting. She walked past Finny as he stood awkwardly holding the vacuum cleaner.

She went into the bathroom and slammed the door.

That can't be good, he thought dejectedly.

Adair was a gorgeous woman. She had her flaming red hair in a crew cut, but she had nice full breasts and a round ass, and wore a lot of low cut tank tops. But of course, like so many women, she thought she was fat.

Phineas had told Adair repeatedly, "I don't like skinny model-types, I hate women who look like small boys." He'd even told her about the aerobics scene in Tom Wolfe's novel where these girls were dismissed as "Boys with Breasts."

But of course on that occasion, Adair had thought that Finny was implying she was pudgy, and she'd ripped down his pants and slashed his bottom with the broken off car ariel she'd used as a weapon in her gang-girl days.

Phineas smiled at the memory of the very first time he'd met Adair, she'd been holding that radio antenna, a relic from a long time ago, everyone in Buttermilk Falls had XM in their cars, or listened on their phones to Spottify.

She'd had this ancient car ariel, and been wearing a leather jacket and a miniskirt, and smoking with the other gang-girls as Finny had been walking by with fellow students from Buttermilk Technical Institute.

He'd noticed her, and their eyes had locked, and yes, she had waved the car antenna at him, and shouted, breasts bouncing 'Hey there faggot, mince on by, you're not man enough for this."

And he'd stopped, almost dropping his textbooks and slide rule and protested, stammering that he was not a homosexual, and the whole time he kept trying not to stare at her tits, who wore a leather jacket with a tube top?

She'd ordered Finny to take her to dinner, Adair had, and things had developed...

On the third date, she'd been amazed that a twenty-three year old man, a BTI honor student fantasized about being spanked by a nineteen year old ex-con...

But she'd obliged!

And for the first couple of years they'd played femdom games, and she'd tied him up, and he'd looked the other way when came home with her lip gloss smeared, having obviously been pawed over by one of her male "buddies."

She'd laughed when Finny had brought home the chastity tube, but been quite satisfied with his behavior after she'd locked him up....

Mouthing off--two weeks locked. Neglecting the dishes, a month.

But after she'd begun worrying about her weight, she'd taken it out on him. The whippings with the car ariel and the saucepan and the fan belt, etc, had been painful and upsetting, and once she'd cuffed him to the ceiling, suspended through a eyehook rope attached to a block of ice...

The other end of the rope was in a split Y that pulled poor Phineas up by his nipples!

He hadn't been dropped till the ice melted, and that was just because she was on a plateau from weight loss, and diets got on her nerves.

And of course, Finny never gained weight, he was a little pissant, so Adair found this just intolerable and worried that he was "judgy".

Finny was due to jerk off. He'd been locked for four months now, and a lot of it had been because they were both busy with work, and then he had to keep the house cleaned.

Adair had been having her ashes hauled by her boss at the refinery, and so she wasn't home too much, either.

But she'd been seeing his woebegone looks, and although usually any sort of "hint" got her mad, she was mellowing this time.

Finny knew better than to verbally hint that he was really, really horny.

The last time he'd done that, Adair had smiled kittenishly and told him to take off his clothes, and when he'd stripped down and approached her for a little whoopee, she'd taken him across her knee and given him forty with the hairbrush and another six weeks celibate for "whining".

But now he had just hoped she would be in a good mood. It was just like when his father's little irritations affected whether or not Finny could use the car back in his youth.

Now Adair came out again from the bathroom. She'd stripped to her bikini underwear, and apparently even that hadn't made the results from the scale palatable.

"The goddamned Weight Watchers weigh in got me at one-fifty, and the scale here has me at one fifty-fucking-three!"

Adair burst into tears. Perhaps that was better than rage. She'd implied she might unlock him and fuck him tonight, if she didn't feel too unattractive.

But if he could even just play with himself, maybe while she catcalled and threw beer cans, or whipped his ass as he wanked away, on his suffering knees, that would be enough.

Even if she put poor Finny in the pink nightie he wore when serving beer and snacks to her poker buddies and made him jerk off that way...

Or had him blow the creep next door, who was sort of in the closet, and THEN get his masturbation privileges...

Now, Finny took Adair in his arms, and fluffed her crew cut and kissed her cheek and her neck. He had to be careful. If he said she wasn't fat, she might get mad because she didn't actually say that...

Or he could offer to fix the scale so it was more accurate.

In seventeen years of marriage, he understood and predicted his wife not at all.

"The worst part is, Tuttle says he will dump me if I don't lose some weight!"

Francis Englebert Tuttle was Adair's handsome boss, and he was about ten years younger than she was. Finny hated him, except of course that he put Adair in a good mood...sometimes.

"What-what can I do?" He knew he had to practice what women call "I-care" listening. Women aren't about solutions suggested. He'd learned this in very painful ways by his greaser hoodlum, chubby wife.

Tears streaming down Adair's face, she looked up at her husband.

"You believe I can lose weight if I want to, right?"

"Y-yes." Finny said carefully, helplessly.

"And it can happen fast, right?"

"Well, it's not safe to lose more than two pounds a week, I've read."

"Well, my nutritionist says I am on a plateau again, and probably won't lose anything for about five weeks, and then, at the two pounds a week, that would be a month after that, so two and a half months..."

Finny cocked his head. Her tits looked so good in the bikini top, and her white though tattooed hands with their red nails were moving all over him, and she squeezed his crotch.

As Finny was not allowed to wear clothing in the house, his bare nuts sent the message to his dick that it was horny-time...right?

Phineas winced as Adair stroked his crotch a bit. She was somewhat shorter than he was, so it was no reach.

Now his dick swelled against the tube, oh how it hurts!

She's smiling, though. Is this good news for me?

"I figure the best way to suffer this out--because Tuttle says he won't fuck me again till I drop like, ten pounds, is to have you empathize with me. So, I know you've not cum in some months, but I'm not going to unlock you to beat your meat till Tuttle welcomes me back in his bed. He wants me at one-thirty five and I'm one-fifty now."

She gave Finny a long kiss and let go of his chastity belt, and indicated he could return to his vacuuming.