June 1st would never be the same. A coordinated terrorist attack. THE coordinated terrorist attack. No one was ready for it. No warning, no terrorist chatter, nothing. The US wasn't prepared for this type of attack. But, here we are, 20 months later, reaping the destructive outcome of what would be called The Haze.
The Haze. Carried out by a group of radical extremists across the United States. They didn't blow up buildings. They didn't directly attack the White House. There was no “symbolic destruction”. No, the terrorists set off explosions, releasing a hazy red mist in highly populated areas: beaches, college campuses, and tourist attractions. Everyone who was there was treated, and seemed to pass all of the medical exams with flying colors. But, then, several months later, the symptoms started.
Women who were caught in The Haze started complaining to their doctors about a general lethargy. They all were beginning to have problems focusing at work, a general loss of energy in their day to day lives. Then, things became worse for the female victims of The Haze. Young girls' physical growth became stunted as their bodies seemed to forget how to grow. Their puberty seemingly slowed or stopped altogether. Adult women watched themselves lose muscle mass and overall strength, soon becoming bedridden. Women were wasting away to nothing, eventually becoming comatose and dying.
Doctors tried different solutions, steroids, antibiotics, amphetamines, even radiation. Nothing worked. Within a year, 92% of the women who were subjected to The Haze were showing varying degrees of symptoms, ranging from severe lethargy to death. And, the numbers were only increasing. Then, the first male diagnosis of Haze-related symptoms occurred. The same lethargy, a loss of muscle mass, weight gain, but also a steady decrease in IQ. Both male and female victims were now showing symptoms of The Haze. There was nothing that the medical community could find to even slow down the onslaught. Then, the unexpected happened. Five cases of Haze-related illness were confirmed in people who weren't present during the attacks! The illness had now become transmittable! Panic began in small towns of infected persons, inciting some dangerous overreactions. But, the government knew that it was just a pre-cursor to more widespread upheaval and unrest if they didn't find a cure.
“Clara, here sweetie, try to sit up.”, Quincy, her husband, spoke softly. “Come on. Try your best.”. But, Clara seemed to ignore his gentle chiding. Four months ago, Clara was in perfect health. She ate well, exercised, and was preparing to run her first Obstacle Course Race. But, then, one day, she called out of work sick. Something she hardly ever did. Then, the next week, she called out sick again. Within a month, it was obvious, Clara had been infected. Immediately, she began dozens of trials, treatments and medications. Nothing seemed to slow her decline. The lethargy, followed by massive weight gain, followed by the mental decline. Within months, Clara had gone from a spry, active 26 year old woman to a shell of her former self. She laid in a hospital bed that Quincy ordered for her, hooked up to machines that all said the same thing, that soon Clare would die. And, there was nothing that could be done for her. Or, could it?
Quincy quickly took a lessor paying job as Junior Researcher for Shyva Pharmeceuticals, a government-backed company whose sole purpose was working on a cure for the infections. Quincy joined the company, determined to help in any way he could. When Clara became sick, it only intensified his focus. Every waking minute was either spent with his declining wife, or at Shyva, working on a cure. But, as Clara's health nosedived, Quincy found it hard to spend as much time at the Lab, to work on the cure. He hired installed a nanny-cam, and hired two full time nurses, to try his best to be both at the Lab, and with Clara. Before too long, he noticed his work slipping, here and there. Nothing major, just a few things he would never miss, if he'd been able to fully focus, he felt. Then, a news of major breakthrough passed over the wires! A partnering genome research group discovered an anomaly. It seemed that the Haze didn't actually attack at our DNA, or was an auto-immune disease, as was first thought. The researchers discovered the Haze actually manipulated it's victims at the CHROMOSONAL level! Looking at victims at various levels of severity, and comparing their chromosomes with still-healthy citizens, a gradual degradation could be seen in their chromosomes, specifically, the X-Chromosome. And, being that women only carry X-Chromosomes, that's why they were the first to show the affects. Men carry both X and Y Chromosomes, which is why they soon after started to show the affects, but not as quickly as women. This was a huge step in the right direction, and every research group in the US started on solutions for the X-Chromosome degradation.
The next following weeks, Quincy worked even harder to find a cure, as he watched his wife wither away. Every treatment only helped temporarily, only keeping her from dying, more than helping her improve. But, Quincy just knew that his work at Shyva was only moments from finding a cure. Quincy worked day and night, even taking some of Clara's meds to stay awake and alert longer, as his work schedule seemed to be getting the better of him. Then, one morning, a fearful thought entered his mind. He sat on the edge of his bed, having a hard time trying to get up from a two-hour power nap. He reached for a dose of Clara medication, and had a very hard time getting the child-proof lid to open. After that struggle, he found it a mental strain just to get focused enough to get dressed properly for the Lab, and had a fog in his mind over the best route to take to avoid a closed street on his normal route to work. Arriving 20 minutes later than normal, Quincy rushed through the Lab, looking for specimen container, totally ignoring the seemingly upbeat murmur of the Lab. He didn't even acknowledge the smile and wave of Janet, another researcher on his team as she told him “We have it! We did it!”. No, Quincy was too preoccupied. Quincy quietly drew a sample of his blood and tested it, away from the rest of the Research Group. His fears had been realized. Quincy was infected and now showing the signs of the Haze.
Quincy walked back from his secluded area, a mix of dread and fear. He knew the paranoia, the fear that others had. He was now infected. He never told his supervisors about Clara's condition, for fear that he would be dismissed. The irony is that they would have dismissed him for just this very reason. He'd be a risk to catch the infection, and a further risk to share it with them. But, he just had to do everything he could to find a cure. He had to take destiny in his hands and do whatever it took to heal his wife! Now the clock was really running out, not only for his wife, but now for him. And now he's now risked the lives of every co-worker who've done nothing but pour every ounce of themselves into this cure for Humanity! It wasn't until a co-worker jumped to hug him, that his attention was taken off of his dismal predicament. “Quincy! We're so EXCITED!!!”, Janet squealed. “We think we've almost found a CURE!”. The word “cure” quickly grabbed Quincy's attention, and he implored the enthusiastic lab tech to tell him more.
“Well, as you already know, the infection attacks the X Chromosome. But, the Y Chromosome is virtually unfazed by the infection. In fact, we've discovered that the Y Chromosome is immune to the infection, and in some rare variations of test subject, the Y Chromosome seems to eradicate the infection altogether!”, Janet sped through a recap of the analysis. Quincy listened with laser-like focus, trying his best to keep up, as his concentration had already begun to show signs of wavering, thanks to his battle with the infection. But, he was still able to follow, mostly. His thoughts were already jumping ahead to human trials, and the timetable for that.
“The data we've collected from our research and simulated trials has been exceptional, and we're almost to the point where Dr. Gordon, the Project Lead, is starting animal testing within the month. He wants to start human trials in 8 months. Then, they'll spend the next year looking at results, and adjust the treatments accordingly. This is a great thing!”, Janet continued to gush. Quincy's concentration left him after hearing “8 months”. “Eight months??? I don't know if Clara has that much time! I could be in a coma in eight months! There has to be a way to speed this process along.”, Quincy thought to himself, ignoring Janet's continued dissertation about the progress and problems they've been encountering in the simulated trials. “...we just haven't been able to find the correct “igniter”. It's like a balancing act.”, Janet spoke as Quincy snapped back, realizing she was still speaking to him. Quincy quickly feigned giving her all his attention, all the while not listening and worrying about he and Clara's future. Janet continued on, “We can't seem to find the right drugs to stabilize the reaction in the simulations. If the drug isn't strong enough, nothing happens. If it's too strong, well, the reaction...”, with that Quincy excused himself, cutting Janet off mid-sentence, and left to check out as much of the data as he could.
Over the following days and weeks, Quincy even further ingrained himself in the research for the Haze-related Infection. He wasn't able to secure a spot on the team that actually handled the cure. But, he was able to work on various simulated strains of cure and test them in computer simulations. The nickname given to the cure around the lab was Super-X. The design was quite simple By infusing new X Chromosomes with traits of the male-specific Y Chromosome, they can be inserted into an infected person, re-write their damaged DNA, and thereby be cured.
As time passed, both he and Clara's conditions began to intensify. Clara was on a steady IV of a mixture of adrenaline and amphetamines to keep her from falling into a coma. Clara was outfitted with an external pacemaker, which also pumped the adrenaline directly into her chest for extreme emergencies. Quincy also found himself taking watered-down doses of Clara's adrenaline just to keep his concentration at a level that allowed him to work effectively. He knew it would only be a matter of time before he succumbed to the infection. Quincy was soon faced with a grave decision as time was running out. He soon found himself trying new things, new DNA, to help perfect Super-X. Adding non-human DNA was the only thing he found that moved along the research. Finally, he was able to get a “mostly” stable reaction with his strain of Super-X. The strict guidelines barred him from passing it on, as his simulated trials still produced too many unpredictable outcomes. In a moment of weakness, Quincy fabricated the success rate of his results, and passed along his data. Janet's team quickly began fabrication for clinical animal trials and study, the last step before human subjects.
Two days later, Quincy sat in a bathroom stall, waiting for his self-injected dose of adrenaline to kick in. It was the highest dose he'd ever needed. Anything higher, and he was risking an immediate heart attack and a painful death on the spot! He watched his hands. They had begun to slightly tremble uncontrollably, a side-effect of the chronic fatigue his body was fighting through. He knew the adrenaline was working, the moment the trembling ceased. This time, it took longer than ever. He knew his time was quickly running out. Janet's team had begun production on the Super-X, and it was only a short time until they'd have a dose fabricated to test. Quincy stared at his trembling left hand and took notice of the time, 4PM. Janet's team should have made at least a few doses by now. Still slightly trembling, he forced his hands in his pockets and began to walk to the testing lab as a loud alarm went off in the hallways. The Emergency Alarm. As best he could, Quincy hurried to Janet's lab.
Quincy arrived at the lab, among a loud commotion. Security Officers were running back and forth, yelling to one another. There was an expelled fire extinguisher on the floor, with foam everywhere. Several of the members of Janet's team sat around, some with only ice packs, others getting more serious medical attention. And a lab door slightly torn from its hinges. Quincy found Janet amid the chaos, trying to direct traffic, and regain control of her lab. “Janet! What the hell happened?”, Quincy asked, coughing as he waved away the floating mist of the fire extinguisher's foam. “I don't know. Bailey was our first try.”, Janet replied in kind. “We gave her an injection of your Super-X mixture. Within thirty minutes, we saw a decrease in outward Haze symptoms. And, she just kept improving. Bailey was perfectly healthy within 70 minutes. Then, all hell broke loose. She escaped the restraints somehow and started attacking us! I'd never seen a chimp so aggressive and strong! It was nothing like...”. Suddenly, before Janet could finish, garbled yelling could be heard on the walkie-talkies of nearby Security, followed by gunshots from somewhere in the facility. Both Janet and Quincy knew that those gunshots involved their test subject, Bailey. Janet quickly ran over to the nearest Security Officer to find out what was going on. In the commotion, Quincy spied a nearby tray full of more doses of Super-X. He quietly made his way over to the tray, swiping the four of the vials, and left the lab to return home to his failing wife. Once at his home lab, Quincy began to study the fabricated samples of Super-X to his home lab for study. Bleary-eyed, he fought off his own fatigue as he studied just exactly how Janet's team fabricated his formula.
Meanwhile, back at the lab, Janet was speaking to her lead researcher, recapping the data from the day's test. “So, what do we know, Gibbs?”. Gibbs handed Janet the data, as he began to speak. “Dr. Manning. We followed the directions to the letter. When the anti-bodies became suppressed, we added the adrenaline catalyst, just as directed.”. Janet read through the crumpled paper. “Okay. You added the 12cc of adrenaline? No more?”. “Correct, Dr. Manning. That's all we gave her, intravenously, as you directed.”, Dr. Gibbs adjusted his glasses. “12cc, and within an hour, there was an outburst of energy, an increase in strength and aggression. Bailey exploded out of her restraints, and started attacking us! I'd never seen anything like it!”. Janet stood there, still studying the lab notes, nodding all the way to what Dr. Gibbs had to say. “If I didn't know better, it seemed like she was TWICE as big, and ten times as mean!”
Quincy was weighing his best options. After studying the Super-X, he was actually able to re-engineer two of the doses, strengthening it. As he walked into his bedroom, his hands shook, as he stood over his fading wife. He questioned his own ability. He feared the possibility of killing his wife with Super-X. His fatigued mind fought itself as he weighed his options and the possible outcomes. The frantic beeping alarm of one of Clara's life support quickly made Quincy's mind up for him. Again, her breathing was dropping too low to survive! He rushed over to Clara as she her breath weakened. He quickly turned up the oxygen on her respirator, and prepared a shot of adrenaline for her. As he sat there, he paused for a moment. He looked at the Super-X nearby. In that moment, Quincy made up his mind. He increased the adrenaline dosage to 50ccs, his fatigue and haste overriding his better judgment. He quickly jammed the syringe into Clara's chest, directly into her heart. He then turned her on her side, and injected the Super-X into the base of her neck, directly into her spinal column. Quincy, laid down alongside her as he took a calming breath, knowing that at least the adrenaline had brought her back from the brink, again. Quincy quietly fell asleep, unable to fight his body's demand for rest and recovery as his own Haze-related symptoms were getting the better of him. He fell unconscious before noting Clara's breathing stabilizing. Soon, her breathing began to improve. Then, Clara's eyes regained focus as she began to blink. Then, as Quincy slept soundly, Clara sat up.
Hours later, Quincy began to stir. As his motions cleared the fog of awakening, he sensed something in the darkened room wasn't right. Clara's heart rate monitor wasn't beeping! His eyes shot open, as he shot up and looked to the machine. It was off! He gasped fearing a power outage, but when he looked to Clara's side of the bed, she wasn't there! From downstairs, Quincy heard footsteps. Reminding himself that Clara's nurses don't come on the weekends, he sprang out of bed to investigate.
As Quincy made his way down the stairs, his senses were greeted with the smells of cooking. Eggs, bacon, ground beef. The shock of what he saw, once he reached the kitchen, almost made him collapse. There was Clara, awake, active, cooking breakfast. “Quincy!! Baby!”, Clara dropped the frying pan on the stove and ran over to the still-amazed Quincy. “Oh my God, baby!!!”, Clara screamed and hugged Quincy tightly. Wrapped up in Clara's embrace, Quincy found it momentarily hard to catch his breath, as she hugged and rocked back and forth. But, he couldn't find room to care about that. This was the best hug he could ever remember. He hugged back as hard as he could. He had his wife back!
Clara bounced back over to the stove to tend to her cooking objectives. Clara had apparently awakened, determined to make up for all the meals she missed cooking while under the effects of The Haze. Quincy was too wrapped up in his joy and relief to care. The Super-X had worked! His wife was awake! “Q...”, Clara spoke melodically. “Have a seat. Some of the food is ready!”. Quincy sat down, unable to erase the Cheshire Cat grin he had. He looked around Clara's turned back, to see what she was making. There he saw what looked like a good third of the food he'd had in the fridge. Eggs were frying, bacon and sausage sizzling, even some hamburger browning. Clara quickly whipped around, plates full of her culinary bounty. The plates were piled high with more food than they'd ever eaten in one sitting before. But, neither Quincy or Clara seemed to be bothered by it. Quincy couldn't help but to take a moment and marvel at his wife's recovery. He sat there, transfixed, taking in his wife, as she dug into the breakfast she'd prepared. As Quincy hand-fed himself his bacon, he couldn't seem to take his eyes away from her. Clara, on the other hand, was more preoccupied with eating than sharing a moment with Quincy across the dining room table. She ate at a ravenous pace, hardly coming up for air it seemed. As he made it halfway through his plate, Clara was already dumping more food onto hers. The only air that she seemed to stop for was a un-Clara-like burp that escaped her as she finished off yet more eggs. His pace of eating only became more slowed as he watched Clara work on yet another plate of breakfast food.
“H-How are you feeling Clara?”, Quincy soon asked, his curiosity and concern getting the better of him. Clara's first response was yet another loud burp. “Oops! Sorry, sweetie. I feel great!”, Clara talked as she swallowed more scrambled eggs. “I feel, really, really good! I just woke up, and I was REALLY hungry, so I came down and started cooking. And, then I ate, and I was still hungry, so I cooked and ate some more. But, I had so much energy! I started to straighten up the house—you were a SLOB with me gone, by the way. You were still asleep, so I didn't want to wake you, so I did the most I could downstairs. I finally was able to make myself sit down for a bit, but then my tummy started growling, so I started cooking more, and then you came down!”. Quincy had to really concentrate to keep up with Clara's rapid speaking pace, something he'd never had problems with before. At that moment, Quincy wondered if his own Haze-related symptoms were again getting the better of him, but looking at Clara's appetite, a small shadow of concern was beginning to form in the back of Quincy's mind.
Another loud belch compelled Clara to lean back in her chair and pat her belly. A smallish bulge could be seen from beneath her oversized nightshirt. “Whew that was great! It really hit the spot!”. “I bet it did, Clara. Now, I want to examine you. You know, just to make sure that you're going to be okay.”, Quincy spoke to Clara. “Oh that can wait, sweetie!”, Clara stood up and spoke to Quincy, still speaking quickly. “I feel great, see!”, with that she pranced around the kitchen, dancing to music only she could hear. “I feel like a million bucks!”. Quincy retorted, “Yeah, I know, but still...”. “Oh, relax!”, Clara cut Quincy off, wrapping her arms around him, kissing him on the cheek. “I feel AMAZING...in fact maybe later on tonight, I can show you just how amazing I feel, inside and out...”, she purred seductively in his ear, before nibbling on it. Yet another alarm went off in Quincy's head. Clara was never the seductive type. “But first...WHEW!”, Clara's face scrunched up. “Before I do anything, I need a shower! I smell a little ripe!”. With that, Clara hugged Quincy tighter than she'd ever hugged him before. Quincy could hear Clara inhaling deeply, almost as if she were taking in his scent. As she exhaled, he swore he heard a slight moan, as again she playfully nibbled and kissed his ear and nape. Quincy couldn't help but to get excited. It had been too long. Too many months without his wife, too many months just sitting around watching her lose her battle with The Haze. But, now, it all seemed over. He'd cured her! He'd worry about getting the cure to Janet's team later. Right now, as he heard Clara begin her shower, knowing he'd saved the love of his life, all he could do is smile.
Meanwhile, back at the lab, Janet's team was still hard at work trying to figure out what happened the day before. The few members who weren't taken to the hospital had poured over the data all night, dissecting everything. “Gibbs!”, Janet called over as she finished her fifth cup of coffee. “Has the hormonal analysis come back, yet?”. Dr. Gibbs, hurried over to Janet, hands full of data. “Y-yes, Doctor. These results just keep getting more and more extraordinary.”. Gibbs handed Janet the test results and continued his verbal analysis of the data. “As we already know, once Bailey received the dose of the Super-X and the instructed amount of adrenaline, it caused an incredible change in her. But, this wasn't just a temporary spike of energy from the adrenaline. The adrenaline did much, much more!”. Janet flipped through the pages of data as Dr. Gibbs continued.
“Once we began the autopsy, the first thing we noticed was her size. According to her baseline data, she should have only weighed 70 lbs. Bailey's body currently weighs closer to 130! We continued to be amazed. Virtually every part of her increased in some way. Her organs, veins, and especially her muscles, all experienced an increase in size and functionality.”, Dr. Gibbs spoke. “We just received the results of The Hormonal Analysis. It showed the planned mutation in her Pituitary Gland, which in turn generated the Anti-Haze Hormone, which was supposed to encourage her cells to create Anti-Haze Antibodies. But before the Hormone could reach the cells, Haze Infection latched on to the Hormone, creating a super hormone with obviously dangerous properties. Seemingly dormant, but still dangerous, properties. And that's what was sent to Bailey's cells and DNA. A virtual powder keg within Bailey. All it needed was a 'spark'. Something to kickstart the metamorphosis...the adrenaline!”. Janet nodded as she accepted the amazing results. “This is amazing! I need to consult with Quincy about these results. I'll call him now!”
Quincy's phone rang just out of earshot, as he began to clean the dishes from Clara's army-sized feast. A smile of relief, satisfaction, and achievement seemed permanently etched on his face. Even his own Haze symptoms seemed to lessen as his jubilation helped his mood. “Oh Quincyyyy”, Clara beckoned from upstairs. “Can you bring me a robe. It's a bit chilly, and I know you don't want me to catch a cold, do you???”. Quincy toweled off his hands and made his way back upstairs, still oblivious to the ringing of his cell phone.
He reached into the hallway linen closet and pulled out her favorite terrycloth robe. “Thanks, Honey!”, Clara exclaimed as she reached her arm out of the cracked bathroom door. The moment Quincy reached out to hand Clara her robe, Clara's other hand reached out suddenly and yanked him into the bathroom. “It's been TOOOO long, Sweetie!” was all Clara said in breathy tones, as she pinned Quincy up against the double sink, splaying grooming products all over. She ravenously kissed him all over, ripping open his T-Shirt as she just couldn't seem to get enough of Quincy, quickly enough. Quincy responded in kind as he became lost in this sudden outburst of sexual fury. Their bodies intertwined as they groped hugged and kissed one another, more aggressively than they'd ever been to one another, with Clara taking the lead. Quincy caressed Clara's body, noting how lean she'd become from being in her coma. Clara in turn, moaned with every stroke of his fingertips. Her flesh was alive like never before. As Quincy tried to gently guide Clara, dictate their making out, Clara fought back. It was a gentle power play, and obviously Clara wasn't interested in losing. Quincy moved forward, off of the sink, only to have Clara push him right back onto the sink. Again he tried, and again Clara resisted. She obviously wanted control this time! One last push by Quincy, and Clara responded with a strength she'd never shown before! Clara gripped Quincy by the neck, forcing his head back to the mirror, and smirked devilishly. “No! I'm in control tonight, baby!”, she growled seductively, as she brought his hand to her face as she nibbled and licked the inside of his wrist. “Now, I want to see you in the bedroom in 45 seconds...I'll be waiting...”. With that ,she picked up her robe, put it on, and walked out of the bathroom, her eyes never leaving her prey. Quincy, leaned against the sink. He was obviously taken aback by Clara's show of dominance. In the quiet of the bathroom he was suspiciously concerned, but incredibly turned on at the same time. He quickly removed his torn T-Shirt, and the rest of his clothes, and made his way to their bedroom.
Quincy crept into the darkened room. At first, he made a mental note to watch his step, for fear of tripping over any cords from the medical equipment, but Clara had already pushed the equipment to the far corner of the room. Clara rushed from behind the bedroom door, slamming it forcefully shut in the process, bear-hugging Quincy. Quincy gasped in pleasure as he felt Clara's thin limbs wrapped around him, exploring his chest and midsection. Clara gently kissed and nibbles as his back, causing him to flinch. “Hmmm...grrrr...you're LATE!”, Clara grunted playfully as she slapped Quincy on the rear and pushed him forward towards the bed. Quincy couldn't help but to be surprised at her show of force, but was excited by her newfound aggression. Another, even more forceful, slap on the rear beckoned him to mount the bed, onto all fours. Quincy could feel Clara come behind him, kneeling behind him on the bed, just before getting pushed again, his face burying into the pillows. Clara then slithered up alongside Quincy just as he lifted his head, only to shove him onto his back. Now, on his back, Quincy reached out to touch Clara, only to have his hand slapped away. “No...not this time...you don't touch me, until I say it's okay...”, Clara hissed out in a sensual, yet commanding, tone. More than willing to play along, he decided to be “disobedient”, and reached out again to stroke her cheek. Clara quickly grabbed his left wrist, and pinned it against the headboard. “What...did I say???”, Clara again growled as she ran her free hand along Quincy's chest. “Not until I SAY SO!”. Quincy continued to feign his disobedience, and tried to free himself from Clara's grip. But, he couldn't. Quincy looked at his wrist, clamped against the headboard only by Clara's own hand, and here he was unable to overpower his 5'4”, 110lb wife?!?! It was then, Quincy noticed an unfamiliar glint in Clara's eye. And, for the first time, Quincy was questioning what he had done.
“Uhghn! You don't do ANYTHING, until I TELL YOU!”, Clara spat roughly as she restrained Quincy. Quincy quickly came to the realization that this aggression was an unforeseen side-effect of the Super-X. “Babe...can you listen for a minute?”, Quincy tried to calmly address the change in Clara's demeanor. “I think we need to get you checked out. You're...different.”. “Shhhh...”, Clara growled, sliding her free hand to the nape of Quincy's neck. “Yes, I'm different. I'm better. I felt it as soon as I awakened. And, it's screaming to get out...do you hear me...SCREAMING!!!”. And with that, Clara's head tilted back, as yet another guttural moan escaped from within her. Quincy's mind raced as he felt the pressure of her grip build against his wrist. Her strength was increasing.
In one motion, Quincy felt Clara pull him up, and he adjusted to a seated position. Still, with her hand at the nape of Quincy's neck, Clara pulled Quincy in for a long, deep sensual kiss. Quincy acquiesced, kissing Clara back. Then, he felt it. There was something unexpected about what he was feeling. In his head, yes, there was an overflow of concern, and even fear. But, there was something else within him. Something else that he was feeling. Being here, being dominated by his wife, feeling the energy she was emitting, as she exerted control, started to turn him on! He could feel the conflict within him, and his concerns began to wane as she kissed him deeply, aggressively, roughly.
It wasn't until Quincy heard a gentle “rip” of fabric, that his attention was brought back to reality. He opened his eyes, and began to try to ease out of his kiss with Clara. But, Clara would have none of that, as she refused to release her ever increasing grip. “Clar...clar..mhffm...”, was all Quincy could muster as Clara ravaged him with kisses. “Clar...clar...clar-ahhh!”, Quincy yelled in pain. The pressure of Clara's grip became too much for Quincy. Only hearing Quincy's pain made Clara let him pull away, but still in her grasp. “Awww, poor sweetie...momma didn't mean it, this time...”, Clara hissed with a sinful look in her eye. “But, you're gonna have to...nggh...understand...”, Clara grunted as she spoke, her voice becoming slightly deeper. “Gah! Things...are going...GNAH...to be different from now on!, Clara continued as Quincy could hear more audible rips in the dimly lit room.
“Look at this!”. With that, Quincy watched as Clara brought her left arm up, flexing her bicep. He watched as she pumped it, and pumped it, and pumped it! He stared, amazed, as he watched it grow, and grow, and GROW! Within seconds, the frilly robe was stretched to its limit, but Clara's bicep was far from done. Quincy couldn't believe his eyes, as the robe relented, her peak slicing through the sleeve. A juicy vein pulsed along the head of the now-exposed bicep as it's mass surged out of the fabric. “Now...ungh! Let's get a better look at her twin!”. With that, Quincy's attention was turned to her right sleeve, the stitching near her shoulder already giving way. Without a problem, Clara snatched the sleeve off of the robe, baring her entire arm. As before, she flexed her right arm, pumping blood through her engorged veins as her girth increased in her forearms, triceps, and biceps.
“Now...kiss it!”, Clara commanded. Before Quincy could say anything, he felt her left hand back of his neck, and she forced the two together: Quincy's lips, butted against Clara's bicep. At first, Quincy struggled out of instinct. But soon, his resistance began to ebb away. He struggled with his conventional thoughts of male dominance, but he found himself more and more turned on by his wife's now-evident power. He became intoxicated as he breathed in her scent. His now free hands explored Clara's midsection, as he felt her abdominals gaining in size. He could even feel the surges of muscle mass in her bicep as his lips locked onto the exposed flesh. It all became too much to resist, as he yielded and gently licked and kissed his Clara's bicep.
“MMM...yes, baby. Kiss it...KISS IT!”, Clara commanded, as Quincy kissed her bicep adoringly. As Clara straddled his thigh, readjusting slightly for her growth, she felt something else growing. Quincy, intoxicated by his wife, had reached a full erection. “Yes...time for the Main Event!”, Clara growled seductively. Clara guided Quincy to slide up the bed, into a fully seated position. The bed creaked in response to the unexpected weight gain from Clara's new mass. Quincy could feel her heat as Clara inhaled and exhaled deeply just off of Quincy's shoulder, as she moved along the bed to straddle him. “I can't promise how gentle I'll be...but you'll love every...minute...of it...”, Clara spoke in a sensual tone, with just a hint of sexual malice. Quincy could only close his eyes, his heart racing with a mixture of fear, excitement, and anticipation. He felt the bed shift, as Clara moved, positioning herself fully over his erect member. He soon felt her hand along him, and gasped as he could feel shadow moving above him.
Clara grunted as she tried to ease Quincy into her. Her steadily increasing size and strength weren't limited to her outward physique. Her vagina tightened as her inner walls firmed with more muscle. Her first attempts were actually blocked by her vaginal folds. She closed her eyes to focus on relaxing her muscles, which she found harder than expected. Quincy could feel the exhalations of her deep breathing, as she tried to calm herself. He felt Clara's hand nervously pulse as she tried to guide his penis into her tight folds. Every surge of growth elicited a increase in strength, Quincy fought against the urge to yelp as her grip around his penis tightened, biting on his lip as he anticipated the pleasure and tried to ignore his current pain. With one large inhale, Clara was finally able to relax enough to open a crack as she guided Quincy's tip in. She exhales, finally allowing him to fit.
Quincy strained as Clara's vagina molded itself around Quincy's penis, her weight fully resting on him. He didn't want to yield, to totally submit. No, Clara would have to make him give in. And, he was determined to put up his best fight. “Ahhh, yessss”, Clara hissed. “I can feel you all in me. It's like I'm alive for the first time!”. Quincy watched Clara become lost in her sensations, her newfound muscle clenching and relaxing, the remains of her robe losing more ground to Clara's hardening frame. Slowly, the bed began to rock, as Clara closed her her eyes and started to grind her hips back and forth. Quincy's curious hands explored Clara's waist and lower back. He could feel her skin stretching, the fat cells thinning out as her bodice tightened. He looked up at Clara, watching her face flinch subtly as she took in all the sensations that was overcoming her. He watched as even her subtle movements triggered more growth. Clara tensed her abs with every breath out, the ridges becoming more and more defined. Clara felt a slight pressure, and looked down to see Quincy's thumbs along her midsection, pressing back against her surge of girth. She smirked as she flexed her core harder, playing back at Quincy. It wasn't long before her cobblestone abs were as granite, unable to be dented by Quincy's pressure. Clara reached down, clamping down on Quincy's hands and wrists. The vice-like pressure of her veined hands and forearms. The pressure forced the strength from Quincy's hands, giving Clara the total control she yearned for. She threw her head back, as her ride was nearing her climax.
Clara quickly became lost. Her eyes closed, she tensed and relaxed every inch of muscle on her growing frame. The rhythm of her sex moved in concert with the final stages of her growth. The bed began to shake violently, banging against the wall, the joints beginning to separate. Quincy was helpless, his hands being crushed under the unyielding power of Clara's grip. With a slight “pop”, Quincy gasped as he felt bones in his left finally give way, and snap. The pain and the pleasure was becoming too much to bear for Quincy. He was unsure what end of the spectrum he was now on. His sensations stole his voice as he tried to beg for release. But, Clara was oblivious to it. She was a runaway train, and he was laying on the tracks. He watched, mystified as Clara's powerful pecs danced into prominence as they took the place of her once-modest breasts. Clara suddenly changed her rhythm, pounding herself into Quincy's lap with more intensity. “Aaaugh!”, was all Quincy could muster as he felt tendons tearing as he felt his hip pop from its socket. “Ngah! Almost...there!”, Clara yelled as she felt his penis harder than it had ever been, and her own orgasm nearing it's crest. Releasing her grip on Quincy's hands, Clara quickly reached behind his head, and snatched his face to her torso, accidentally breaking his nose. Blood began to drip from the wound, as Clara squeezed him tight against her, smothering him. Quincy neared unconsciousness as their sex turned to trauma. Losing track of his reality, he felt himself orgasm deep inside of Clara, fearing the oncoming hand of death.
Furiously grinding against her fallen lover, Clara squeezed him into her as she felt her orgasm. She growled like a wild animal as she felt a sexual release unlike anything she'd ever felt. She bear-hugged Quincy's near-limp body, and swayed as wave after wave of her orgasm came over her. Another crack could be heard from Quincy's shoulder, as he now sported a broken collarbone and dislocated shoulder. As Clara came down, her vision became clear again, as her muscle-bound fury calmed. She released her grip on Quincy, and he slumped backwards onto the bed.
Clara looked down at her chiseled physique, in awe as she felt the power she now possessed. She looked further to see the stains of blood on her abs. Her hands trembled as she rubbed her fingertips in the blood, bringing it to her face. Clara knew to fear what she was looking at, to show concern, knowing that it belonged to the love of her life. But there was now a beast within her, and that beast LOVED the sight of Quincy's blood on her body. It made her feel powerful, and dominant. She looked to her husband's body, laying there motionless beneath her. Again, the beast within her urged her to relish in her conquest, and it prompted a snarled smile from Clara. She slowly rose from off Quincy, the bed creaking as it's stability was now in question. It wasn't until Quincy felt Clara climb from on top of him, that he could whimper in relief. In fact, that was the only way that Clara knew he was still alive. She walked into the bathroom, and returned with a bandages and a towel. Clara kneeled at the bedside, trying her best to be gentle as she started to tend to his injuries. “Quincy, baby...I'm sorry. It was just so much going on inside of me. I promise I'll learn to control it.”, she whispered in Quincy's ear, unsure if he was even conscious enough to understand. “I guess it's now my turn to take care of you. I'll do my best to get you strong, again.”, she wiped away the trails of blood on his face. “Besides, we have to do that again...there's a beast in me that won't be still...”, Quincy's eye popped open in fear and excitement at her last words, knowing that things would never be the same.