The Cuckold Diet Challenge

Author's Note: While this IS a work of fiction, I do already have one "real-life" friend who after reading this story decided to put her husband on the plan...more or less. Sorry John. Erica LOVED the idea.

"The Cuckold Diet Challenge"

My name is Rick. Richard Earl Anderson is the full–blown version, but for the purposes of our relationship, you can call me Rick. The story I am about to share with you is frightening on many levels. First, because never in my wildest dreams would I have thought my wife Danielle to be capable of such cruelty. Second, because even if I had imagined her doing so, I never could have seen myself being drawn into such a trap. Finally, given the state of the average American male's waistline, My story should frighten the men among you and possibly encourage the women among you to similar acts of treachery.

It all began about a year ago. Danielle and I were a happy, well-adjusted couple. I was 44 years old, Danielle a shining 35. I suppose I ought to give you a bit more background than that, so here you go.

I met Danielle when she interned at my law firm after her first year of law school. She was a bright, eager student, five foot four inches tall, 110 pounds, with beautiful, slightly curly red hair, dancing green eyes, a beautiful, full smile, nice legs, a 34b cup and that freckled pale white skin that ONLY works on redheads. I was a freshly minted partner, five foot ten, 170 pounds, grey eyes, black, professional hair and an athletic build. I was attracted to Danielle instantly, but the firm had let it be known that dating interns was a "hanging offense." I followed protocol meticulously, but we did occasionally run into each other in the break room, and even had a lunch or two together when we happened to be out with the same group. She gave me a smile here, I gave her a nod there, and towards the end of the summer she crooked her pretty, little finger and drew me across the room like I was on a string to help her with a file. At that point, I was toast.

On her last day, Danielle walked up to me and said, "Mr. Anderson, I know I haven't worked for you directly, but I was hoping I could leave a copy of my resume with you anyway. This firm doesn't like to use interns twice, and frankly, I feel I could broaden my experience by interning in a non-profit firm next year. If you know of one that might be hiring part-time or needs an intern for next summer, would you mind sharing my resume?"

"I'd be delighted," I choked. Smooth Rick, real smooth. "In fact, I have a friend from law school who has a small, non-profit shop. He can probably use some part time help during the school year. I'll call him tomorrow. Do you mind if I call and tell you what he said?"

"You can call me anytime, Mr. Anderson," she coyly replied.

I did call my friend, he did hire her, and Danielle and I started dating shortly thereafter. We got along well, and the sex was really good. She was adventurous, and we always had a good time in bed. She loved receiving oral, and I loved to give it, so we got along in bed as well as out. We fell in love, and married the summer after her second year. For those of you struggling with the math, I was 33 and she had just turned 24.

Danielle finished law school and went to work with my friend full time, making sure the poorest among our fair city had legal representation when they needed it. She took time off a year later to have our twins, Erin and Eric, and went back to work part-time six months later. I advanced at my firm, becoming the managing partner (a great stepping stone to senior partner) at the age of 38. With luck, I would be the boss by the time I was 45. My extremely "for profit" work provided Danielle with the income she needed to pursue her more charitable goals. It worked for us.

The twins grew, and when they were in kindergarten, Danielle resumed a more full-time professional schedule. She was a litigator at heart, but only took cases and clients she believed in. She still managed to keep her figure, but I did not.

The lunches that I once spent at the gym had become lunches at my desk or rich, club lunches with the senior partner. When I finally got off work, I wanted to take Erin to dance or coach Eric's baseball team. I've never been a morning person, so the thought of getting up at 5 A.M. to exercise was repugnant to me. What was the result you may ask? My once svelte, 170 pound body had seriously changed. By the time I was 44, I was up to 255. Ouch, that hurts to even type.

Over the years, Danielle had been patient with me about my weight, still taking the time and effort to be sexy for me, and taking very good care of me in bed. However, she also bought my clothes, and my ever expanding waistline was not lost on her when she had to get larger sizes for my suits. We had donated a veritable fortune in used suits to younger associates, her clients, and the local half-way house (they need decent clothes for job interviews). My weight had become a sore point with Danielle a couple of years prior, and it continued to grow as my clothing did. She reached the tipping point at a most unusual time – the day I made senior partner. She showed up at the firm and smiled as I was made the boss, went to dinner with the outgoing senior, the new managing partner and their wives, and was the perfect lady in public. On the long drive home, she finally decided to broach the subject she had been seething about head on.

"Rick," she stared, "I'm so proud of everything you've accomplished professionally. You're a great lawyer, a good manager, and I'm certain you're going to take that firm to new heights. You're a good provider, a good husband, and an even better father. I adore you and the twins a re certain you hung the moon."

"I sense a 'but' coming," I interjected.

"No one has ever accused you of being dumb, either," she smiled. "We need to talk about our sex life."

"What's wrong with it? I mean, I know I've put on a couple of pounds, but..."

"A couple? You call 85 pounds in 11 years "a couple'? Please."

"If I'm so gross, how come you still have sex with me?"

"Because you're my husband and I love you. I like making you happy."

"So I'm another one of your pro-bono cases?"

"Pro 'boner,' but yes, that's what you have become sexually for me. I need some relief."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I need sex that's good for me."

"How do you propose getting that if not with me?"

"I'm soooooo glad you asked," she answered a bit too quickly. "I have a three-pronged plan of attack. First, you need to decide what kind of boss you want to be. You want your employees to keep their lives in balance, so YOU have to keep your life in balance. Hire an extra assistant, rely on the junior partners, give counsel, don't do everything yourself. Take that two hour lunch to go to the gym rather than drink with the partners. Hell, take one of them with you everyday. How does that sound so far?"

"That seems reasonable enough, I guess. We can afford another top-flite paralegal and another senior assistant. What else do you have in mind?"

"I'm glad you're with me so far," she continued. "I'm going to hire a cook at home. We can afford it, and we've been eating way too much fast food. I'm still going to come home at three, but my time will be spent working and playing with our children, not preparing the meals. Are you still with me?" she questioned.

"Absolutely. As long as there's no tofu."

Danielle smiled, chuckled, and continued, "It will be tofu free, I promise. We've covered diet and exercise. Now, to the third part of my plan of attack. Motivation. Tonight, we can do almost anything you want in bed, it's your big night. After tonight, things are going to change significantly. Starting tomorrow, you pay to play."

"You're sending me to a hooker?" I asked. "Between the new help and the cook, where am I going to get that kind of money?"

"Ha-ha. No, you WISH I was sending you to a hooker," Danielle replied sarcastically. "You have to pay me. But don't worry, I'll provide the money you'll be giving back to me. I have purchased a medical scale and placed it in our bathroom. You will weigh in tomorrow and each Saturday after that. Lose one pound in a week, get one credit, lose two pounds, get two, etc. You may redeem your credits with me at the following rates of service. A hand job will cost you one, a blow job three and intercourse five. Credits may be carried over from week to week."

"That seems a little steep." I was getting a bit concerned.

"Deal with it. I've been advancing you sex for years." Her tone told me I was right to be concerned.

"How does this help you have sex you enjoy?" I had to admit, I was intrigued.

"Two ways. First, I'll know you're trying and I can reward it. Second, there's a stick to go with the carrot."

"Okay, tell me about the stick," I said, totally unsure if I wanted to hear this.

"At least three times a month, I will get properly fucked by someone whose dick I don't have to hunt for beneath a layer of flab."

"What? YOU'RE going to screw around behind my back?"

"Heavens no," Danielle replied in a matter of fact tone, "I'm going to do it right in front of you!"

"Uh, excuse me?" I asked incredulously.

"You heard me correctly. Until your weight is at LEAST down to 200, I'm going 'out to eat. And if you gain weight in any week, it's going to get real ugly."

"What if I don't agree?" I asked, curious even if I didn't want to know the answer.

"You will," she said grimly.

"Why would I?"

"Because I know about Susan in Boston."

My heart sank, but I persisted, "Who's that?"

"The $3000 a night hooker you stayed with last time you were in Boston. Would you like to see the video? I have to be honest, that probably was the last straw. To be certain, I'll take your wallet. I have a new card for you, and I have set up a credit alert to see if you open any new personal or business accounts. Keep your firm card. I know you wouldn't use the firm's money for personal pleasure. That would cost way too much. Think of this as a reminder that screwing around on me costs way too much as well. To put it bluntly, you'll agree or you'll lose me AND the kids."

She had me over a barrel and I knew it. Every civil judge in the city adored Danielle. If she sued me for divorce for adultery, I would get totally wiped out. We pulled into the driveway and I said, "You've thought of everything, haven't you?"

"Indeed I have," she replied. Reaching into her briefcase, she pulled out a contract. "Read it carefully," she cooed. "This document is going to govern your pathetic sex life."

"I'll read it in the morning," I said, hoping she would forget about it.

"Ok, then. I'm going to bed. You need to bring that document, signed to our room by midnight, or you can forget about the last free night I promised."

She left the car, walked through the garage and into the house. I sat in the car and read the contract. There was a lot of legalese, but the major points boiled down to:

1.I would hire another executive assistant and an additional associate to work directly for me. If the partner's objected, I would offer to pay for it out of my own pocket.

2.I would hire a cook of Danielle's choosing.

3.I would use the extra time I was creating with the additional staff to exercise at least four days Monday – Friday, and would exercise on ether Saturday or Sunday.

4.I would limit myself to three alcoholic drinks a week.

5.I would get one credit certificate for each pound lost in a week. Credits would be redeemable at the rate of one per hand job, three per blow job and five for intercourse (all forms of foreplay included). Anal was specifically not available for purchase using credits.

6.I would wear a locked, semi-hard chastity device under my pants when I was away from the house.

7.I would not be allowed to masturbate at home. Any evidence of masturbation would forfeit any credits I had earned that week. Other penalties, as deemed necessary by Danielle, would be in place regarding violation of the masturbation policy.

8.At least three times a month, Danielle would have sex with someone other than me. The time, place and partners were to be of her choosing. I would be present or be required to see all encounters on video. My participation may or may not be required during said encounters. Additional encounters could be added by Danielle as punishment for my failures or by purchase with her body.

I had to hand it to her. She really HAD thought of everything. I signed and dated the contract, folded it, put it in my coat pocket and walked into the house. I stopped by the first floor master suite and knocked on the door. "Come in," Danielle called politely.

I walked in, and saw her sitting on the Queen Anne bench at the foot of the bed, still fully dressed in her emerald green suit, complete with matching heels. I walked in, pulled the contract out and handed it to her. She grinned and said, "Good boy. Now go get me a bottle of white wine on ice and a glass. I need o be a little drunk to let you do everything you want tonight. Then go upstairs, kiss the kids goodnight, pay Jennifer for watching the twins and drive her home. Knock on our bedroom door again when you have returned."

"Yes, Dear," I replied, and left to do her bidding. I was SO turned on.

The 15 minute drive to Jennifer's house was the longest of my life. Our 15 year-old babysitter attempted small talk, but I was pre-occupied. All I cared about was delivering her safely and getting back home. I willed myself to drive faster, and made great time on the return trip.

I knocked on the door and entered our bedroom when I was invited. The wine bottle was empty and turned upside down in the ice bucket. Danielle threw back the last of it in her glass, grinned, put the glass own and said, "Get your fat ass over here. I'm yours for the night. I want you to know everything you did with that whore in Boston. I looked at her web site. Like the outfit I bought after going there?" She stood up and did a twirl.

I did like it very much. The black, satin corset had lace at both the top and the bottom, and the top pushed Danielle's perfect breasts up just right. The matching opera gloves were sheer black lace, the matching thong had garters that attached to black stockings, which led down my wife's shapely leg to her spiked black heels. She had a sheer piece of black mesh thrown around her shoulders. My button down, conservative, non-profit attorney did in fact look like a VERY expensive pro.

"What do you think?" she slurred. "Would someone pay three grand for me?"

"Absolutely," I said, my voice choked with desire.

"Then get over here and treat me like you treated your whore. Don't forget, this is your freebie. In the morning, the whore is gone, and you become MY bitch."

I needed no further instruction. I walked over to Danielle and said, "Susan undressed me." I got slapped for my trouble.

"You will not use her name again. To remind you of your transgressions all night you will refer to her as 'the whore' or she.' Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Dear."

"Good. Now you say she undressed you?" I nodded, and Danielle began to slowly undress me and tease me all the while. A nibble on my ear, a graze of my crotch, a kiss on my nipple – I was in agony.

When she was done, Danielle asked, "What did she do next?"

"She took one of my balls in her mouth and sucked it gently, then the other, all while stroking my cock. Slowly and lightly."

"Like this?"

"Ohhhh, yes. Just like that." I was hard as a rock. "Then she took both of them in her mouth at the same time." Danielle complied. "And sucked harder, and harder until I thought they were going to come off." She continued working as I described and I moaned in sweet pain. "Then she pulled her lips off with the tension still on each ball. I remember the 'pop' it made for each one."

Pull, then pop went one nut, then the other. I almost cried. We continued on with oral to completion, and for the first time in our marriage Danielle swallowed. I went down on her while my dick was reloading and stayed down till she came in my mouth, something she normally won't do for me.

When I was ready to go again, we did it doggy style on the edge of the bed, and when I came deep inside Danielle, I knelt down behind her and licked it all out of her and down my throat. I flipped her over and continued eating her until she came again. Then I was ready to go for the third time, and I wanted her ass. Danielle's never let me go there before, and started to balk when I leaned onto her asshole. "But SHE let me, Dear" I said.

"Well, if she let you, then I guess I should too." She apparently had not thought of EVERY possibility.

I laid her down on her stomach and stood behind her. I did something else I had never done with Danielle and spanked her perfect little ass until it was red. I then spread my legs and pushed hers together. I grabbed her hair and pulled her face up so I could hear her when I entered her virgin ass for the first time. Slowly, I pushed in, causing her to whimper in pain, so I drew back to the lip of her anus and put my dick all the way in.

"Ahoww! Damn, that hurts. Make it so it doesn't hurt," she begged.

"Only one way to do that," I said. I kept thrusting until the "ows" turned into "ohs." Finally, when she came hard, I was able to cum inside her ass. I pulled out, watched it seep out of her asshole and then fell down beside her on the bed

"Anything else?" Danielle asked when she had caught her breath.

"She cleaned my up with a nice, hot, wet towel," I replied.

Danielle pushed herself off the bed and went into the bathroom. She returned with the hot towel and cleaned my up very well. She then kissed me goodnight, said, "Three grand, huh? Did she do anything better than I just did it?"

"It was sooooo much better with you," I answered.

"Then why haven't you ever asked me for or taken those kind of liberties with me?"

"Because you're my wife, not a whore. And because you never even let me lick you to completion, much less drink your cum."

"Hmm...interesting. I have to sleep on that one. Good night. I'm going to take a bath. Remember, new rules in the morning."

"Yes, Dear." I said and floated off to sleep.

The next morning, Danielle met me in the bathroom and I weighed in. 253 pounds. Ugh. She didn't chide me, she simply wrote it on a spread sheet on a clipboard and said, "Ok. Let's get this device on you."

The chastity device she had chosen was like a curved, hard plastic cast for my cock. I could use my male organ fine in the restroom (the head would keep me from "falling back"), but in the bedroom I would be totally useless in this thing. Any attempt at an erection would result in severe pain. When Danielle had finished locking me away, she stood up, smiled, and said, "Now then, what shall we make the kids for breakfast?"

We went out to the kitchen and we could hear that the twins were in the great room watching cartoons already. Danielle was seriously hung over and it had been a very late night for my 44 year-old body, so I started the coffee. I then padded off to the great room to ask the kids what they wanted for breakfast.

"Waffles with powdered sugar, Daddy," said Erin.

"Bacon, please," Eric chimed in.

"Sounds good to me," I replied, and headed back to the kitchen.

I slipped Danielle her coffee, and received a whispered, "God BLESS you" for my trouble. She looked a little like a red-haired "Cousin It" over her steaming mug. I wasn't sure if she was drinking it with her mouth or her beak, but she was content for the moment.

When breakfast was ready, I called everyone to the table. Two cups and six Tylenol later, Danielle was feeling a little better. She even managed to go get the paper and bring it back to the table. We tip well, so our paper is always at our door, not at the end of the driveway, which was probably what made the ordeal achievable for her. I put the plates of waffles and bacon in front of everyone and we said grace. The kids started to eat, and I picked up a piece of bacon and raised it to my lips. I got "the stare."