[Fonk]

She looks gorgeous! 😮 Thanks for posting her!

[Fonk]

That's a nice ending, sir. I'm looking forward to a chapter 2 for your young man and his wife!

[Fonk]

Beautiful work! Thanks for sharing them. 🙂

[Fonk]

This is maybe the end of Sylvie? I hope you've enjoyed the story.

—————————

When Sylvie woke up she felt, snuggled up to her, their heads resting on the pillows of her biceps, her two one-night lovers.

A burning and athletic night! She didn't let them take the initiative for a second. And, during the poor imitations of fights that she allowed them, if she had let them believe for a moment that they might escape, it was to better crush them with her Juno-esque power. When they left, they would doubtless hobble to a physiotherapist, who would be mightily confused by their multiple bruises!

They woke too, filled with wonder at her. Grégory had taken her bicep in both hands to kiss it and massage it, crying like a baby, whilst Alexandre rubbed his face on the washboard of her abdominals. She smiled happily. She would have to get rid of them – this afternoon she was going to fetch Luc from the airport…

For the moment she wanted to give her converts a little goodbye pleasure. Her hands worked their way under the sheets, sliding the length of the two men's thin thighs and grabbing both their sexes, erected to her femininity. She gently caressed them whilst they explored, with their hungry mouths and greedy hands, the strict contours of her magnificent body.

"This is how a woman should be!" she thought, whilst her two fragile lovers forgot their spasmodic seed in the vice of her fingers.

"Can we see you again… Goddess?" Grégory murmured.
"Please…" Alexandre whispered.

"No doubt," Sylvie thought on her way to the airport.

The flow of passengers and people waiting for them had dried up. A few sparse people wandered here and there, reminding him that he had been waiting for more than 30 minutes.

"This isn't like Sylvie," he grumbled. "She must have gotten stuck in traffic…" he reasoned. A large silhouette was signalling to him. She was standing with her back to the windows, so he couldn't make her out very well… but it must have been Sylvie, though something about her didn't seem quite right.. He quickly walked over to her – it was his wife, though something about her seemed off.

"Ah!" he thought, "it's that coat… strange, with this heat. And she's put high heels on… that's weird, she never wears them…"

"Hi honey!" Sylvie said. "Did you have a good flight?"

"It was OK. A bit long."

Luc was five foot nine, Sylvie five foot eleven. Perched as she was on the heels, she had to bend down to be able to kiss him. It irritated him a bit. Until then she had always chosen to wear flat shoes, and he had been grateful. It was absurd, since he admitted that it was the height of the woman who would become his wife that had attracted him to her in the first place. The human being is full of contradictions!

"That coat…" he grumbled. "It makes you look like a wrestler!"

"Don't you like it? I was cold. And, it's part of the surprise I talked to you about."

"Oh?"

Sylvie grabbed the case and shamelessly put her hand on her spouse's butt to push him towards the exit. Three weeks of abstinence had exacerbated Luc's libido and, imitating her, he put his hand on his wife's rump. Sylvie's butt felt so hard he couldn't stop himself jumping with surprise; even though he'd squeezed forcefully, almost wanting to hurt her… just a little, of course. Nothing. He got the impression he was trying to squeeze a block of marble. He chased these thoughts out of his mind and followed his wife to the car.

The first desire Luc wanted to sate was to have a shower. Whilst he abandoned himself to the wet caress of the hot water he heard Sylvie serving drinks. Glistening with sweat, he went into the lounge, where his wife was still wearing that ridiculous trench coat.

"Come on," he protested. "You can take that off."

She walked towards him and, with a gentle shove, pushed him onto the sofa. She handed him a glass, which she clinked with hers. She took a little sip and then dimmed the lights.

"Are you ready for your surprise, my love?"

"Is it under that coat?" Luc joked, still astonished by the build that the garment gave her.

"Yes," Sylvie admitted. "But we need to get the atmosphere ready! I promise it'll be worth the wait! Beyond your wildest dreams!"

"Nice underwear," Luc started to think, tantalised by the idea of the erotic discovery.

Sylvie put a CD on the tray of the machine and hazy music filled the lounge. She dimmed the lights a little more and went to stand in the circle of light in the middle of the room (she'd seen that in a film). Undulating like algae in a tropical current she began to unbutton her coat. Once the last button was undone she slid the garment down the length of her body and, like Aphrodite, her unbearable magnificence was revealed through the smoke.

"My God…" Luc breathed, as the glass broke on the floor.

"My Goddess," Sylvie corrected him, moving closer.

She took him in the cradle of her arms. He was so light! So light that she danced around the room, holding him out in front of her.

"My God…" Luc repeated.

She brought him close to her chest with one arm so that she could, with her free hand, deliver a resounding smack to his poor, thin bottom.

"Hey!" he protested.

"My Goddess, honey. Am I not your goddess?" Once again she brought her hand down. He tried to free himself from the vice which had thrust him against the Herculean body of his wife. In vain. The only effect his feeble effort had was to make her laugh.

"Honey, honey, I have such marvellous plans for the two of us!" She took him towards the bedroom in her arms, and placed him delicately on the bed.

"Yes," she continued. "Wonderful plans to make you happy…" She crushed him with all her weight and watched as his fragile pleasure woke up, and finished, "It's up to you to accept them, or not. For the moment, I just want to make love to you."

"Oh yes… yes, my goddess," Luc chanted, the happiness that he still did not recognise escaping in gentle tears that fell onto the monumental chest of the most beautiful bodybuilder in his collection.

[Fonk]

My stories tend to involve girls who are on the slightly plump side. My current heroine (if you can call it "current", given that I haven't worked on it in over a month :-[), Callie, though, is less than average in terms of weight.

As for future stories involving less than average characters, while I wouldn't rule one out, I can't see myself doing anything like that soon.

[Fonk]

I like the abs. ;D

[Fonk]

OK, that's interesting… something a bit more moral? I do wonder when she'll come clean… maybe she doesn't need to do that. Anyway, thanks for this part, and looking forward to more!

[Fonk]

I agree with Jimmy, to be honest – you can't help but include your personal philosophies somewhere along the line in a story. They run right through you, and though you may try to keep them out of your stories, they'll find a way in. In my case, it's that my heroines always try to do the right thing according to their own beliefs.

That sounds small and/or lame, but I'd like to think that it's fairly difficult to actually do so all the time.

[Fonk]

Part 3…

——————-

Chapter 3 – It's Taking Shape

The car stopped in front of the house and Sylvie guided the three other passengers towards the door. She trembled. As much audacity as anticipated pleasure which would bring her to – she was sure! – the end of her plans.

She whispered a few words to Françoise, who burst out laughing.

"Right! This isn't all, guys," Sylvie's brown-haired friend announced, "but I'm afraid I can't stay here with you. Have a great time, boys!" And with that, and trailing two astonished looks from the two young men, Françoise left.

"Hey!" Sylvie exclaimed. "I'm here, though: ENTIRELY ready for anything!" She had really emphasised the word "entirely". Ostentatiously she closed the heavy door behind the trio – which, and it had to have crossed the minds of her prey, was no longer an exit door – and threw the key in a desk drawer.

"Voila!" she said, in a sing-song voice. "I'm all yours!"

"What do you want?" Grégori managed to say. Sylvie eyed them with a mixture of scorn and amusement.

Perched on the endless heels that she had come to love recently as much as she had avoided them before, she dominated her minuscule admirers, being head and shoulders above them. She nodded her head and deigned to respond.

"Your veneration and your fear." In spite of, or maybe because of, their incredulous stupor, she continued.

"I want you to learn, in your mind, body and soul, that I am the woman to whom, starting from today, you belong for ever."

She felt herself a goddess, demanding the adoration of her worshippers. Who demanded their entire and unconditional devotion. A goddess who is feared as much as hoped for. One who filled the poor horizon of her hopeless worshippers as she waited.

"You're nuts!" Alexandre exploded.

"Let us go!" Grégori demanded as he walked towards the desk where the precious key to their liberty was lying.

The slap cracked onto Grégori's cheek like an explosion, sending him falling backwards before he managed to groggily stop himself on the living room sofa. Alexandre had just enough time to try to a defensive gesture before he suffered the same fate and joined his poor unlucky companion.

"Well," Sylvie growled, "it seems you are hesitant in your devotion! I'll just have to heat it up a little for you! Strip."

As they seemed a little worried about carrying out the command, she took a step towards them and boomed, whilst lifting a heavy and threatening hand towards them, "Now!"

With clumsy haste the two young men, this time, obeyed.

"Good grief, these guys look awful! What were they doing during their time in the gym?!" she thought. Their pitifully small arms were barely lined with, with a lot of generosity, you would have to call their biceps. As for their torsos… they looked rather like anemic xylophones than vast bellows from Hepaistos's forge!

"Wow!" he young blonde exploded with laughter when faced with the distressing spectacle of her victims' anatomies. "Didn't your mummies feed you?"

She took her sweater and jeans off to proudly display her impossible body to the trembling youths.

"Look! Look at what a woman is!"

She flexed her arms and contracted her shoulders, abdominals, thighs and calves in a lustful muscular feast in which the hardness and power fought against the painful softness of her satin smooth curves.

Did they have the talent of the ancient Greek bards, who could sing of her beauty and unbearable force? Almost certainly not… however, in their own slightly frustrated way they told her how beautiful she was. They stammered some clumsy and fearful compliments in homage to her unpossessable beauty. But the most vibrant account had slid from between their thighs, where it had cautiously hidden up to that point. Vibrant was really the word! When Sylvie, sliding her lacy white panties and matching bra from her body to appear in dazzling nudity, the two men expressed their unconditional surrender in an inextinguishable splash of seminal fervour.

"This time, I forgive you," she said. "Come and show your goddess who much you admire her. And, if I am convinced of your love, I will give you permission to be free."

Subjugated, drowning in their own emotions, the two little things joined her.

Something like an immense tenderness submerged Sylvie. She thought of the little prince who one day dared to stroke a fox. She had tamed these two little foxes. She now had to take care of them.

She shook her pretty blonde head to rid herself of the heavy thought for the moment. Circling the waists of her dumb prey, she carried them, like two young children, to the bed, open to strange and restless promises!

[Fonk]

Here's the continuation, in English.

—————–

Three weeks had passed already. Luc would be back from his business trip to the Emirates the next day. She had promised a surprise for his return. The little man was not going to be disappointed!

Facing one of the immense mirrors in the gym, she flexed her arms to make her biceps swell. Françoise, who had been training with her and given her lots of pearls of wisdom at the start of her training, let out a long, admiring whistle.

"I never thought anyone could get results like these in such a short time! You are very gifted…"

"Thanks!" Sylvie replied to this connoisseur's comment.

She looked at herself in the mirror, looking back. She looked over it as you would an unusual object. A work of art. It was true that her results were, at the very least, spectacular! She played with her biceps a little, delighted by their volume and hardness. Many of the men at the gym were jealous of Sylvie's biceps.

"Honey," Françoise whispered in her ear, "you're going to give those two not-so-secret admirers a stroke!"

She turned her head and surprised those two not-so-secret admirers, as Françoise had called them. She knew exactly who they were, as they were finding it difficult to disguise their admiration.

At the start Sylvie had taken them to be a couple of jokers who went to the gym to stare rather than train. Small and skinny, the two poor things struggled to move the weights just as much today as the first day they'd come in. Sylvie thought nothing of them.

Subjected to the look she was giving them, the pair blushed to crimson. She burst out laughing and, under the surprised stare of Françoise, walked over to them.

"God! They really are small and skinny!" she thought. She felt herself a colossus when she faced them. She could doubtless beat them up with one hand tied behind her back, and that before they could even move. That thought made her tremble with pleasure. How beautiful, how strong she felt. How powerful and terrible, irresistible. She had never felt such certainty about holding her destiny in the palm of her hand.

"Hi," she simpered exaggeratedly. "My name's Sylvie. What's yours?"

"Errrrr…" mumbled the first, sweat pouring down his face.

"Ummmmm…" bleated the second. There was a lump in his shorts that betrayed a level of emotion on the point of catastrophe.

"Well, Er and Um, my friend and I want to know if you'd come out for a drink with us?"

"Oh yes!" the first couldn't stop himself from saying.

"Yeeeees," the second mumbled, whose ridiculous shorts were currently decorated with an accusatory circle.

Er was in fact called Grégori, and Um Alexandre. They managed to get to know their two "conquests" when they finally managed to recover a bit (a very tiny bit) of assurance. Grégori sat down in the fron of the Clio with Françoise, whilst Sylvie shared the back seat with Alexandre.

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