Under Pressure

I made sure to be extremely thorough showing my gratitude. So did she. We ended up needing to shower again before getting dressed to get to our reservation. It was a nicer place, French cuisine (and they called it cuisine, too, this was not one we could afford to go to frequently). I got into a dressy shirt and slacks, finding the fit looser than it used to be. Gave me an excuse to pull out one of the ones I hadn't fit into in a while, with the silver tie. I was looking good.

Observers could be forgiven for not realizing I existed, however. Lucy stepped out in a little red shoulderless dress that fit her like her own skin. I could see her abs through it, along with acres of cleavage. It ended just at the knee, low enough that nobody would be able to see anything but more than high enough for me, knowing that there was nothing underneath it.

She had to blow me again to get me down enough to fit back into those pants, gently sucking on the tip as I shot into her waiting mouth.

I could see the valets rolling their eyes as I drove up. My commuter car was not one that promised generous tips. The one who stepped forward to open the door, only to find my wife there, probably started mentally composing a Dear Penthouse letter on the spot. The crowd parted for us easily, the Maitre D' barely able to look at his notes to confirm our reservation. Any time I could take my own eyes off of her, I was internally laughing up a storm at their reactions. It was like they had never seen a seductive 6'2" supermodel with enormous boobs in a skintight dress before.

Our table was off to one side, and after we settled down and decided on orders we got to an old, shared hobby of ours. People watching. There never was anything quite like seeing how everyone went about their day, often with a dry joke or serious consideration at some point. The game was a bit different this time, though.

"One... two... three, four, five..."

"What are you counting, Lucy?"

"The number of people I catch red-handed staring at me who immediately try to turn to their table and pretend they weren't."

This time, I couldn't help but laugh. To think that our little table would be the center of attention for once. "You know what would be more fun, love? Look over two tables to your left."

"The bunch of guys in business suits?"

"That's them. Looks like they're here to close out something important. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to make one of them spill their drink or get removed from this fine dining establishment without getting us removed in return."

"I like the way you think, love. Watch your elbows, the soup is coming." And so it was. A flavorful number featuring chopped something or other in a white cream broth, I could never remember the names. Then again, I'd later barely be able to remember the soup. Just what my wife did with it.

She waited for an opportunity, one where at least a couple of them were looking straight at her. It didn't take very long, I could hear their conversation fade in and out as people lost their trains of thought in her cleavage. One of those times, she took three actions at the same time.

First, she took an exaggerated breath in, making her chest look even bigger than before and slipping delicious millimeters up out of her neckline

Second, she turned to face directly towards the business group

And third, she "missed" her mouth with a half-spoonful of creamy soup, splashing it directly on said cleavage.

To say that drinks were spilled was an understatement. At least one fell out of his chair entirely. At one table off to the right a bit, an angry girlfriend or wife threw her water in her significant other's face. A waiter in the area tripped, landing two plates on the carpet instead of the table they should have gone to.

That said, she still technically failed her mission. The Maitre D' came over personally about three minutes later, as we were still giggling like schoolchildren and finishing our soup course. He was equal parts apologetic, stern, and looking down her dress as well as he asked us to please leave.

I guess the soup ended up free, since we had to leave before the bill came. I'll take what I can get, but that left us short by more than half of our date. "So, uh... sorry for egging you on."

"Oh, don't be. I'm the one who swatted a mosquito with a cannonball."

"Can't argue that point. Still, what would you like to do?"

"You know what? Maybe something a little different. Hit a bar?"

"Hah, that

is

different. Lead the way."

---

She had to readjust the seat a bit to drive, and even then the steering wheel kept brushing her chest, the look on her face telling me that this was having a major effect on her. The bar she stopped at a short time later was trendy, in the same general area as the restaurant we had just left. Perhaps three or four blocks over. The sign above the door said "The Hourglass", lit but not in neon. There was a significant line outside, as well, and this time around I didn't have reservations to get us in the door. Not that it mattered. She walked up and the sea of humanity parted like Moses was behind us raising a staff.

This continued all the way inside, directly to the bar itself, as I followed closely in her wake. The DJ was playing something about twenty years too young for my tastes, but with a pleasant beat underneath. The bar itself was full, until she approached it, at which point the two seats directly in her path became suddenly available, their previous occupants scooting to the sides with a sense of both urgency and admiration. Her merest smile and nod of acknowledgement seemed enough to make it worth it for them.

The bartender was a man around our age who materialized in front of us as though he teleported there, drinks page in hand, but she already seemed to know what to order. Mine was a beer, one of my favorites and one I hadn't seen anywhere walking in. Hers was... too many words long and sounding fruity, with the word "virgin" in there somewhere. We ordered wings as well, the soup from before was nice but wouldn't hold for the rest of the evening.

She looked at me with admiration as we settled there, but I was the first to speak. "Didn't know you've been here before. I didn't even know it existed."

"I haven't. Saw the sign for it as you drove us to the other place."

"Really? You ordered for the two of us without needing to look at the menu, and I was actively looking for Killian's on the way in but didn't see it."

"Oh, that. Read them on someone else's menu as we walked past a booth." I was floored, and her own brain caught up to the words that came out of her mouth a second later. "Wait a second. I read it off a menu as we walked by? How did I do that?"

"I think you said it yourself this morning. A lot more than your body got the treatment." My brain was trying to fly in five different directions at once, but this one was not hard to spot. "You're seeing better, processing the info better, and using it better. It's more than just motivation, love. It's more than your sexy body. I married you loving the body you were in, but that wouldn't have held us together for more than a month. Your mind has always been what kept me. I mean, even after years out of the active field, I trusted you to grade things I brought home. Your outside just matches your inside now."

She breathed a bit more, eyes closed. From the look, one which was still so familiar despite being on a face that had changed so much, she was doing her best to put things in order, one by one, in her head for safekeeping and further use. Getting used to how her new and improved body worked was its own adventure, but stuff going on inside your own head was always scarier. She was still doing that when the wings and drinks came out. Her hand was steady reaching for her glass, and her kissable lips offset the bright blue of the drink as I watched her take her first sip.

Me? I took a good swig of my own beer. She had apparently decided she was driving when she ordered the virgin cocktail.

The wings were good. Large, really saucy, and they had that perfect spice to it and good, crackly skin too. I reached for a napkin, when I noticed the first bone on my wife's plate. It was absolutely clean. No skin, no meat, no sauce left on it. I looked at her as she picked up the second one, taking bites out of it that left nothing at all on her lips, perfectly devouring it. She looked at me and decided to smile again, in that newly predatory way, as she stuck her finger in her mouth and very deliberately sucked the sauce off of it. I'm not sure if I moaned, but I know I heard someone else do so. "So, Jay. You said something earlier about a surprise. Care to enlighten me?"

"Ah, can't a guy have some suspense?" She pouted a bit, knowing I was joking. "Alright, alright. Let me wipe off my fingers..." She decided to do it for me, taking my right hand and sucking the sauce off of them the same way she did her own. I got hard instantly, and had to wait a few seconds to get my heartrate back down to something in the "aerobic" range before I went on. Once I did, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, which I had printed off not long before she came to bed last night.

On it were my latest extrapolations of her body, and the 21st point was marked with a question mark.

I continued to enjoy my plate as I saw her face display open signs of shock. She was hyperventilating (somehow still sexy doing so), mouthing her way through her mental monologue. "When? When did you figure this out?"

"Figuring it out is a bad term for it, I think. This is strictly theoretical, I have no idea if that point actually exists, but I got this idea last night while you were napping and played with it the same way I did the other maps, just using one more overlay."

She fell silent. Drinking some of her drink, eating almost all of the wings on her plate as she thought. Still quiet, still thinking, she drank some more. "If this works, if this is a thing, what do you think will happen? I mean, look at me." I had been doing so, with enthusiasm, constantly. "I'm arguably the sexiest woman on the planet right now, and it's all thanks to you. How far does this go?"

"I do not know. I'll tell you that there is no debate on the fact that you look better than anyone I've ever seen, whether on screen, in person, or in a magazine in the dead of night. That's only half the sexiness, though. There's so much more to you than a body. I'm willing to go for it, but you are the one getting changed. If you want to try it, I will. If you don't, I'm still the luckiest man on Earth."

She kept thinking for a bit. I finished my drink. I saw the look on her face the moment she made up her mind. She didn't reply with words, immediately. Instead, she looked me straight in the eye, and took up her last remaining wing. Her mouth opened, she took the entire wing in her mouth except for the very tip, closed her lips over it, and slowly pulled the wing out, now absolutely clean. All while maintaining unbroken eye contact with me. She swallowed. So did I, hard. "Pay, and let's go."

I realized that there was a ring of absolute silence around us. Nobody within ten feet of us seemed to be able to breathe, staring at a scene that belonged in porn. I turned to the bartender and signaled for the check. He walked up to us, breathing hard and unsteady. "You look like me. I want to know how the hell you hooked someone like her, man. Tell me that, and I'll pick up your tab."

Lucy stood up and, still with her eyes on me, replied for me. "He gives absolutely incredible massages."

---

While she drove us back, quickly and carefully, I looked over my notes for one last time. If it was there, if we were going to do this, I wanted to make absolutely sure to get it right. I wasn't going to take any chances, even pulling up the original website on my phone to reread the mysticism piece.

We got home, hearts pounding. We walked to the bedroom, she shed her clothing as I stripped out of mine. I picked a different massage oil than the first couple of nights, hoping the lavender scent would help calm her down for this. It had in the past. I turned to the bed. Despite the dim lighting, there she was. Lucy looked like she was in a boudoir photoshoot, one which would make the career of the photographer forever. I paused and took a good mental picture of her, not knowing where this would end.

We began again, I was massaging her all over, much like I had nearly a week before. She started on her belly, her legs and back and ass looking like they were carved directly from my dreams. As I oiled her up from head to toe, I made sure to push deep into her muscles. I could feel her tension and nervousness, and I could feel them melt away as I did everything I could to relax her. As I applied some extra pressure at one certain point in the middle of her back, the one that started this journey, she started to moan. I worked my way up past the shoulder blades to the ones just above them as well, ensuring they were fully set. I gently but firmly found the juncture between skull and spine, releasing the stress from there as well. At the side of her knees, I could feel her battling to retain her self-control. I massaged the arches of her feet, watching her toes curl in pleasure.

I rolled her over, getting back to work on her front. My hands sank into her soft and beautiful breasts as I sought the points that were their own reward. By her armpits, I made sure that the pleasure kept flowing. I did the same at her wrists and ring fingers, her hands grasping at mine for a moment as I paused to reassure her I was still there.

She was breathing hard as I came to the ones just beneath her ribcage, whimpering as the sensations became overwhelming. Her core was flexing as I hit the last two points within the cradle of her hips, almost preventing me from getting to them. Finally, it was time. The final, 21st point would theoretically be right between the previous two. It was directly at the point where vagina met womb, over the cervix, near a place I had learned was called the Root chakra. I began to massage it, taking care not to hurt her. There was nothing but soft organs in the area, nothing to brace against, but as I was about to give up I felt it. Deep within, tiny and almost imperceptible, but there. I would have missed it entirely, even knowing it was there, three days prior.

As hard as I tried, though, I could not get it to release. I couldn't press hard enough without anything to press against. You wouldn't know it from Lucy's panting moans, though. "Jay, I want you inside of me. I want you to be a part of me as I do this. I want you to feel it with me." She turned her body so that her now-spread legs were inviting me in, and I took the invitation gladly. I pumped into her a few times, feeling her from the inside as she massaged and milked me almost unconsciously, and pressed myself as far into her as I could so that I could hold there. She came for me then, moaning my name and begging me to do what I was there for.

When I resumed, the point had moved slightly. My presence within her had pushed it ever so slightly towards the front of her abdomen, her orgasm had made it easier to feel and to manipulate. I began to work it again, and this time I had something to brace against. My unbelievably hard penis was there, I could feel my hands as I worked on her. Still, the point would not release for me, the energies it contained remaining locked away.

One final detail snapped sharp into my mind. We needed a channel, an outer representation of the clarity we sought. Wordlessly, I took her left hand and laid it on my own, and I swear the diamond on her ring began to glitter with a light that the room did not have. I looked at her, straight into those sapphire eyes, and told her "we are almost there. When I press down, I need you to press down with me." She couldn't seem to make herself speak, but nodded, several short shakes of her head confirming that she understood. I took one more breath, feeling the point one last time, and abandoning all caution pressed down into it.

This time, it let go with a nearly-audible pop.

She immediately started orgasming again. This time, though, the effects were different. I raised my hand up, holding hers, and saw glowing blue lines forming into an intricate heart-shaped design over her womb. More of these lines began on the two sides of it, from the previous points within her hips. They trailed down her legs, around her back, and up her sides. They formed more abstract and symmetrical patterns across her chest, moving down her arms to her wrists and ring fingers, and her eyes started to glow with them as they came up her neck.

The ongoing orgasm only intensified as those lines grew brighter and brighter. Her body began to change once again, growing even more. Her breasts rose like the sun, coming to dominate her torso. Her muscles stood out as they developed even further, and from the feel inside of her the ones I could see were not the only ones that gained power. As I watched, the very few imperfections on her were wiped away. Every inch of her was individually as sexy as any full nude spread in a magazine.

Finally, I could feel something else change within her. Specifically, I could feel much, much deeper within her as her sacred core drew my hardness further and further into her. I could feel the powerful orgasm gaining rhythm and purpose, and those glowing eyes snapped open and onto mine as the first coherent words came out of her mouth in the last five minutes. "Cum for me, love. Cum within me, and complete me."

I came, the pleasure so intense that it was nearly pain. I could feel the contractions and action traveling through my entire body, my toes curling and my hands holding hers. I came and came and came for longer than I thought possible, though the realm of "possible" stopped being relevant long prior to this. We were both yelling our ecstasy, even once she leaned up and planted her lips upon mine. We finished together, joined at the lips, the hands and at our centers. Together, we were perfect and whole, and together we fell unconscious there.

---

I awoke to the light of the sun streaming into our window, still within my wife's still-pulsing pussy. My head was resting upon a pair of enormous, pillowy breasts, looking nearly twice the size they had been even the day before. My pulse picked back up rapidly, as I went from dozing to wide awake in under six seconds. Those glowing lines, connecting the twenty-one points I had opened in an elegant and complex flowing pattern, were still there, though dimmer than last night. It had not been a dream. None of this week had been a dream.

I slowly pulled myself out of her, getting ready to stand, but without her moving on the outside her insides gripped me, pulling back in, and massaged me in incredible and indescribable ways until I exploded within her again, intense enough that I saw stars. Her body let me go, then, but pulling out took much longer than expected.

I pulled out... and out... and

out.

Her breasts were not the only things that looked like they had doubled, I had gone from being merely above average to having easily over a foot of equipment there. A faintly glowing blue design, much like hers, ringed its base. My eyes drifted back up to Lucy, tracing every delicious nook and cranny of her body. Those enormous breasts of course drew my gaze back, and I noticed that gravity just wasn't exerting as much of an influence on them as it should. They were high and proud even as she laid on her back.

Incongruous, the word "antigravititties" briefly crossed my mind.

I closed my eyes, and the image of her was still there. I never wanted to let it go. Stumbling slightly, I got myself to the bathroom and leaned on the countertop, breathing hard as I processed everything. My eyes opened, and I really looked at myself for the first time.