[Fonk]

When I finished writing The Magnificent Kelly, I said to myself that I wouldn't be doing a sequel.

So here it is. ::)

————

The Magnificent Kelly Gets Married

It's the morning after the best night of my life.

Life had been so weird for me since the changes (described here). At the company's behest, I started working out to check if my ability to gain muscle mass has increased. The short answer is that it has. My body is even bigger than last time I wrote, when it was beyond most people's imagination. It seems to know what it's doing, though, so I've still got full range of movement. The only problem is that, when I stand with my arms by my sides, my unflexed biceps push into my boobs. If that's my only problem, you'd think my life is pretty sweet, right? No. It's been hard.

There's so much that I can't do now, so many places I can't go. I'm just too big to get in buses and cars; whenever I want to go somewhere, Mike has been stashing me in the back of a Transit van. If I want to get on a plane, I have to have a seat to myself in first class. Revolving doors are a no-no, except for the big ones they have at some supermarkets now. Even ordinary doorways can be difficult – I have to turn sideways, duck, hold my breath, then scuttle in sideways like a crab. Most cinemas and restaurants cannot cater for me and I've been thrown out of some pubs for being a fire hazard! Can you believe it?

Clothes are just a nightmare. I can just about slip into extra-large panties, as long as I don't flex my glutes, but only the very largest tops can cover my breasts. Even with those, I've got a file on my computer to tot up how many tops I've ripped and how they were destroyed: breathing too deeply, flexing my biceps or getting erect nipples. They only just about cover my boobs, too, which means I can get a draught up my cleavage. That doesn't half feel odd. After going through twenty-odd shirts, I gave up and custom-ordered all sorts of clothes, which has been really expensive.

Thank God I don't need a bra any more.

And there have been so many phone calls about photo shoots. You might not believe it, but it's pretty hard to go unnoticed when you're an eight foot tall woman with muscles bigger than Mr. Olympia (and all natural, too). Everyone's wanted a piece of little old me: Flex, Muscle Mag, even FHM and the national newspapers! I said no to them all (though I did do an article for New Scientist). I want to keep my privacy as much as possible, which I know sounds daft. Really, though, all I want is to go to work, do my mad science thang and build a life with Mike. And now I've got one.

Once we were completely sure that Mike was OK and that there wouldn't be any relapses of what we're calling the Monster Incident, we started going out. He took me to great places where we could be alone and not get pestered by people so much. He made me so happy. Kissing him was the best feeling. I don't know how he'd got so good at it! I know that really, people think I'm a freak – I get reminded nearly every time I step out of the house – but he made me feel normal, wanted, loved. We never made love, though – I think he was scared about it, though he never said and I didn't want to bring it up. Anyway, a year ago he proposed. Of course, I accepted!

Mike too had been asked to start working out, just to check if the formula – which still has yet to go into full production – had had a lasting effect on his body after I administered my antidote. Well, either it has, or he has great genetics: he's asleep upstairs, and these days he looks like a really buff male model. Not overtly strong-looking, like a bodybuilder; just athletically, sexily strong. His hair hasn't grown back, though, and after this long, we don't think it will. As he says, though, he won't need to bother with shaving ever again!

We made the arrangements really quickly. We've both got friends who got very bogged down with getting their wedding sorted, so we knew it would be better to get them out of the way as soon as possible. We decided to throw caution to the wind and invited everyone we knew, including some of my old colleagues from California. Somewhere along the way, I plucked up the courage to go and have a dress fitting. I picked out a place I'd seen on the Internet that said it catered for the bigger woman. Knowing full well that I would be the biggest woman they'd ever have, I booked an appointment for them to take my measurements.

I had three fittings in all. The first one was the funniest: the poor fitter had to fetch a stepladder and the sort of measuring tape you'd use to get the dimensions of rooms. They also insisted on taking out insurance against me changing body size before the wedding (meaning they'd have to make expensive last-minute adjustments to the dress); I didn't change a bit thanks to my sensible body. I did pay them a lot for their services, but they did do a fantastic job – I don't think I will ever look more beautiful. Frighteningly, the date we'd set for the wedding came about far too quickly and, yes, it was yesterday.

Yesterday morning I was a big bundle of nerves. My Mum and sister didn't help, running around like mad things. All I wanted was for it to be over. Once the hairdresser and dress fitters had finished with me, it was time to head for the church, a beautiful place on the edge of a lake, very picturesque. I'd met most of Mike's family, but the distant cousins and old friends were seeing me for the first time. Most of them managed not to look too shocked, to their credit, though I did hear one little boy ask why Mike was marrying a giant.

We'd had a few run-throughs with the priest, so he was relatively unconcerned to see me. He gave a lovely sermon. After we kissed at the end of the ceremony, everything was a bit of a blur. The reception was held at a stately home; I think someone in the company pulled in a few favours to get it for us. The best man's speech was littered with the inevitable "big" and "built" jokes, and an awful lot of the guys could do nothing but stare at my boobs, but the food was great, Mike's speech was touching and smart, and everyone said how lovely we looked together, even the little boy. He was so sweet. He asked me if I was a superhero like Superman. I just laughed, but Mike had overheard him and told him I was his own personal superhero. Mike's, that is, not the boy's!

We danced and drank the night away, just like any other couple on their wedding day, smiling and laughing with our guests and watching with twinges of sadness as they gradually drifted away. Just after midnight, there was only us left. We didn't realise and kept on dancing for a good ten minutes! I spotted that we were alone and, laughing and joking all the while, we moved off to our bedroom. My heart was beating faster than it had for a good long while. Once we reached our door, though, we immediately faced a problem.

Mike is something of a traditionalist, God bless him. So, when we came to our bedroom, he wanted to carry me over the threshold. Now we're talking over half a tonne of woman here… let's just say I was a little apprehensive about. Well, my baby cracked his knuckles and he lifted from the knees and, yes, he carried me through the doorway. I was worried that he'd broken or strained something, but no, thank God! Then came the moment I'd been waiting for for close to seven years.

Standing on the specially reinforced bed, Mike unzipped my dress whilst I unpinned my hair. I shifted the dress onto a chair as Mike dropped down. I was naked. When I whipped around to face Mike again, his jaw just dropped. He'd never seen me naked before – as himself, at any rate – and even though it's hard to hide my figure, I don't think he fully appreciated how big I am. My boobs stick out sixteen inches from my chest. I was hot to get things going, so my nipples were fully erect, a good three inches long. My eight-pack abs are carved so deeply I can store screwdrivers in them – very handy for practical stuff in the lab! My shoulders are as wide as some cars and my biceps are bigger around than most women's chests. My legs are thicker than the thickest tree trunks and my very well-rounded glutes are as wide as a single bed. Mike couldn't speak – couldn't move – for a few minutes. I decided to take the initiative and kissed him out of his reverie.

"I've waited so long for this," I whispered as I took his jacket off. Slowly, careful not to poke an eye out with my nipples, I unbuttoned his shirt. He pulled and pinched my nipples, almost shocked that they were real. I trembled at his touch. Each button revealed more and more of his chiselled, gorgeous torso until I whipped it off and threw it aside. Then came the real treat. I kneeled and slipped his trousers off, though there was something inside getting in my way. When I'd managed it, Mike gasped in relief, and I saw why: his cock was huge, the longest and thickest I'd ever seen. For a couple of seconds I just marvelled at my husband, but lust took me over and I lifted him into the air. I grabbed an ass cheek in each hand as he put his legs over my shoulders. Hungrily I lifted that massive rod to my lips.

He felt weightless as I worked him into my mouth inch by inch, gulping up more and more of his throbbing rocket cock. He groaned louder and louder as I used all my skill on him. I couldn't fit it all in, but I was only an inch short (mental note: measure Mike!). After a good few minutes he managed to croak "I'm gonna…" before he shot his load into my mouth. I swallowed it all and set him gently back on the floor. All he could do for a few seconds was say "Wow" over and over. I just smiled and waited for the recovery. Once he came back to his senses, he made me lie on the bed with my legs spread and then went down on me.

I'd had my fair share of oral sex – having an English accent in America opens up many doors! – but nothing like this. He knew exactly where to go, exactly what to do. The clitoris is not a button to be pressed when you want to turn a woman on, gents – you have to sneak up on it. Mike did that in spades, and he caressed any part of my body that got near. His attentions got me orgasming harder than I ever had before. It was a good job that the bed was reinforced, let me tell you, though I did tear the duvet into pieces as I writhed. After I lost count of the earth-shattering orgasms he'd given me, I begged off. You can have too much of a good thing, after all! Obediently Mike moved his head away. I looked up and saw that he was hard again. I raised an eyebrow meaningfully – he nodded, having caught my drift, and climbed on to the bed and into me.

At the back of my mind I wondered if Mike's size was going to hurt, but when he started his slow, rhythmic thrusts my body adapted. I'm not even sore. I wrapped my legs around him as he ran his hands across my superstrong stomach and bulging breasts. I groaned but tried not to shift around too much, mindful that after the duvet, the mattress would be next if I let myself go too much. I began to caress him gently, wherever I could reach – along his broad shoulders, down his powerful arms, brushing his strong chest. He'd got into a great rhythm and I was moaning loudly, clenching and unclenching my fists as I felt the biggest orgasm of the night building. Briefly I hoped that the room had been sound-proofed.

Then it happened. I came, screaming louder than I had done all night. Just half a second later I felt Mike coming too. He collapsed, panting, onto my stomach and I hugged him close to me. We stayed like that for a couple of minutes, just getting our respective breaths back. I'd never been as happy in my life, and I said so. Smiling happily, Mike kissed up my torso. Gradually he reached my face, where he had to lie next to me because of my breasts, and whispered that he loved me. I nearly cried. I took my baby in my arms and, finally exhausted, we fell asleep like that.

This morning I woke up before him, stretched and got dressed. I'm writing this in the dining room. Some of our guests are still here, making their way through breakfast with hangovers (thank God I don't get them any more!). The men (and some of the women!) are staring at me like I'm their breakfast – I'm getting used to it, and it's sort of nice, but there's only one man in the whole world I want to be staring at me like that. And here he is.

— The End —

[The_Pimp_NeonBlack]

A most excellent and entertaining story that doth tackle many unspoken issue of our beloved genre.

Kudos unto you, dear Fonk, for your work.

Peace
Neon

[Max]

For not being a sequel, you have done a great job my friend  ;D

Honestly, it was a great little story and I like to see more of Kelly. I'm happy that she got married.

Good job Fonk. 😉

Max

[Author]

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