----- Chapter 10 -----

       For the next month or so, working was as much of a pain as living with Jodi was awesome. Essentially, my days would start with a shift at work, where Shari made a point to make me miserable. After work Jodi and I would relax, go on dates, or just fuck like rabbits. It was glorious.

      Everyone at work took notice to how Shari would treat me, especially Elaine, who had more contact with me than Jodi. Shari made a point of keeping Jodi and I separate, which I could understand from a management perspective. It wasn’t that she tried to keep us apart though. Whenever we talked on break or in passing Shari would interrupt or otherwise end the conversation. It got a bit frustrating having Shari breathing down my neck at work all the time.

      And that wasn’t the half of it. Shari Beauchene had a way of making me feel degraded. The way she talked and acted around me left me feeling worthless, and honestly a little objectified.  The best way I can describe it is a weird sort of “reverse feminism”, where I was made to do menial bitch tasks for her all day while she made comments about my physical figure, small stature, or general lack of a spine or intelligence. She made a point of trying to run my self esteem into the ground. And her lack of personal space continued, as she roughly touched me on an almost constant basis.

      Jodi was not particularly appreciative of the way I was being treated, but because Shari was not only my boss but hers as well, she was really unable to do or say anything about it. Because she cared about me, she begged me to stand up for myself, but I just couldn’t do it. Jodi and I had our first argument, which really wasn’t much of an argument. She was concerned that I had no backbone, and I passively diffused the conversation and redirected it by stating that I would rather put up with Shari and get paid than confront her and get fired.

      Despite all this, my relationship with my girlfriend grew dramatically. I loved everything about her, her flaws and her better qualities. Her strengths complemented me well, giving me a degree of confidence that I hadn’t previously had. Likewise, I was able to provide her emotional support and a consistently steady ear. Jodi felt like she could confide anything to me, and she did. I could tell I was an odd sort of “rock” for her, a force that helped her iron out her problems and emotions.

      Our sexual exploits were healthy as well. Jodi teemed with confidence and power, and it showed in the bedroom. There were plenty of times where she would carry me or throw me into her bed, wrestle me down and have her way with me. That was the way that she liked it, and I was happy to oblige her. Sometimes I liked to struggle a bit, to give her a challenge. She enjoyed conquering me, and I knew that in actuality I didn’t stand a chance against her. Some guys might have been put off by a woman who was stronger than they were, but I loved it. I was pretty used to everyone being stronger than me anyways.

      We had a fairly physical encounter one night that left us both in amazement. After we finished Jodi playfully threw on my favorite Zep t-shirt and carried me into the living room. As she made us both a bowl of ice cream and plopped down next to me I decided to ask her why she liked to wrangle me so much.

      “You had me pinned down pretty good there,” I commented. Jodi merely laughed in response, spooning some ice cream into her mouth as she replayed the night in her mind with a smile on her face.

      “Mhmm.”

      I eyed her mischievously. “You like to do that quite a bit, I’ve noticed.”

      She seemed to figure out that I was getting somewhere, but she wasn’t ready to start talking just yet.

      “Yep.”

      I shrugged, “Just… seems a little odd, I guess. Most women like to have their men take control, but you seem to be the opposite. I’m always being held down or tied up or wrestled by you… you know?”

      Jodi raised an eyebrow at my comment. “You have a problem with that?” she challenged.

      Seeing confrontation, I aborted my questioning and stared into my bowl. “No.”

      “Good. Because I noticed some things too,” she gazed down at me from above with a look of confidence and superiority. She had finished her ice cream and set the bowl aside.

      “Yeah?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Like what?”

      She paused to stretch her back a bit, that smug smile still on her face. “Well, most men like women that are smaller than they are, but not you. You seem to like big tall women, and you certainly don’t complain whenever one grabs you like this!” She reached across the couch and pulled my head into her breasts, smothering me.

      I struggled to not spill my ice cream bowl, which Jodi pulled out of my hands and set on the coffee table before wrapping her legs around my waist in a scissor hold.

      Caught in a breast smother and a rib crunching scissor had left me pretty helpless. Jodi toyed with me for a bit before bullying an answer out of me.

      “Do you like me Hankie? Do you like big women? Admit it, you helpless punk!”

      I would have answered, but her breasts muffled my words. It just sort of came out like, “Mmrrrmph!”

      “I think you do. I think you love it when I do this to you!”

      “Mmph!!!”

      “To answer your question from before Hankie, I suppose I do like wrestling you. I like my man helpless, unable to stop me. Just like you are now,” she teased in a girly voice.

      I had pretty much given up. My response was to lay there.

      “So you like big women who are in control, and I like being a big woman in control. Glad we got this out of the way.” She released her crushing hold on my face, allowing me to breathe a bit. Affectionately, she kissed me on my forehead and rested my head gently to her chest. Her soft pillow-like boobs, covered by my t-shirt, provided a great resting place for me to catch my breath.

      She fed me the rest of my ice cream while I was draped over her before announcing she was getting ready for bed. I watched her lovingly as she stood to head to the bathroom. She was totally right. I loved the fact that she was bigger than me. It excited me, and seeing her stand to her full height brought me a slight sexual stir. I was glad to hear her admit that she had a bit of a fetish as well, which made me at ease with my own. It was just another aspect of life where Jodi and I complemented each other.

      I watched as she started brushing her teeth. She was big, for a woman. Hell, she was big for a person. My Zep shirt was tight, like a belly shirt on her. She had her back turned to me, and her form filled the doorframe completely.

      Wait.

      Her frame filled the doorframe. My shirt looked cartoonishly small on her. Something wasn’t right about that. The shirt was big on me, but that was how I liked it. When I had first given it to her it hadn’t been nearly as tight. This was disconcerting.

      I got up and hugged her from behind, feeling the girth of her torso. It definitely felt different. I simply held her until she finished brushing her teeth.

      When she was done she turned around. “Why, hello there,” she said as she raised an eyebrow, curious as to why I was suddenly giving her so much attention.

      “Jodi, do you feel different?”

      “Not really.”

      I couldn’t keep this from her. “You look different, you feel different.”

      “What are you getting at?” She could tell I wasn’t playing around, and was concerned as well.

      “You’re well… I think you’re taller. Like, you’re growing again.”