Last Summer, some big ‘roided guys made fun of my husband and I for being so skinny. I didn’t care much, I may have even enjoyed the attention a little. My husband however was highly offended. He was so upset, but the tall, skinny, 90 pound man soon became obsessed with getting revenge. We left our beach house early and he went to a local gym. He started working out all day, every day. He hired trainers, bought all sorts of supplements and he had most of his meals made by a meal-prep service. He eventually left his job and so I picked up projects at work to pay for his not working and for his huge bodybuilding expenses. To keep my income high, I needed to almost constantly travel overseas. My husband researched hormones, gear, SARMS and peptides that were sold in that place and where I could obtain them and for how much cash. I could easily slip through customs because I am so slightly built that nobody would look for juice in my luggage, but you couldn’t say that for my husband’s rapidly swelling body. Suddenly my tiny slip of a husband became a huge, lumbering hulk of a muscleman. After a few months, my husband asked me for hundreds of thousands of dollars because he wanted to build his own gym on land that we owned. I asked him if he thought the gym would be financially successful. He told me “No, I don’t think anyone would want to go there. I have outgrown all the weights and machines at my gym!” I looked up at the enormous man who must have already grown over a foot taller from his GH abuse and said, “Well if it’s important to you, then I will find the money and I will just work on more projects. You might not see much of me until next Summer, but I will always get whatever you want!” So I just kept traveling nonstop to get him money, resources and loads of gear. The next thing I knew it was almost July 1st and my office was shutting down for a couple months. When I got home, the gigantic, tanned, juiced up 8 ft 9 muscle whore that was my husband no longer lived in our house: he had to live at his gym. I had to buy a panel truck to transport him to our beach house. We had to bring two matrices outside and sleep under the stars, because he didn’t fit in the house. The next day I was the first to get up and go down to the beach. The big, meatheads started bullying me for being so small and skinny (I was rail-thin from all the work I had done.) then the bullies started to run. I saw my husband approaching (pictured above). I looked up to him and said, “My hero!” He looked down at me and said, “No, you are my hero: you always make all my dreams come true!” I said, “Well it’s good we still love each other after all these years. Now put on your fancy swimsuit: it’s time for us to get to Brad and Dave’s party. I can’t wait for everyone to see my big new husband!” He looked at my gaunt little body that I was nervous for anyone to see because I was now under 70 pounds. Knowing exactly what to say to make me feel better, he looked down at me and said, “I know how you feel, because I want to show off my new skinny husband!” The right man will always make you feel good!
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