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Calorie Girl


flyer33

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  • 1 year later...

I like the Zafton idea to be honest, super man but only if horny for fat girls sounds amazing! As for crystals, literally anything is possible, I've got some extra ideas in one of the entries for an origin

 

 

So some possible allies and villains, villains first!

 

Madame Mass: a concubine of Queen Louis XVI, whos unbelievable figure drew many envious eyes until courtly decadence fattened her up and made the king's eye go to younger, thinner women. Spending her fortune on a magical amulet to restore her youth succeeded, giving her magical powers in the process. But the necklace was stolen during the revolution, leaving her a ghost trapped inside. When the necklace winds up in plains city, say around Laura's neck, madame Mass possesses her, slimming her down and using her restored powers to fatten up any fit woman in sight....like Tara!

Lady Death: a matchless fighter who pretends to be an ancient princess of a Himilayan assassin cult to hide she's really a  Michigan woman named Cathy Li. The cult she took over in the late 80s  is real though, with powerful resources, namely the Vanity pools. These subterranean lakes form wherever women fretting too much about their weight, those who bathe in them with the proper rites are returned to physical perfection for ten years, with the bonus of moderate mystical powers. Lady Death killed the last leader of the cult with the help of the vigilante Shade, her lover/sworn enemy/father of her genetically engineered daughter Helena. She cares little for petty crime but lives for beating the crap out of powerful opponents with kung fu to fuel her ego and ritually sacrifice them for her once in a decade rebirths. She killed Shade for her most recent one a decade ago, earning her daughters hatred, and is back in town scouting out new worthy opponents for her next bath...

Knock Out: Meek and mousey, but sweet and loyal Kayla Kain is an unlikely friend of Tara's and the reason the rich socialite passed any high school class. The sole short, skinny nerdy girl in a family of sports stars and models, she grew up in their shadow, slowly being more and more resentful. But the genius young scientist research into genetic manipulation unlocks her alter ego, Pin Up! With the looks of a fitness model, the boobs of a porn model the speed and strength of a bullet train, the appetite of a bear and the morals of a mafia don, the gorgeous stunner spends every night taking over the criminal underworld and eating/screwing to her hearts desire. Kayla takes the damage, waking up stuffed, exhausted and rapidly gaining weight!

Freya: Norse goddess of sex, magic and war, she's come to plains city for fighting and fucking. Completely invincible, she soon has Tara and other heroes as her slaves in Valkenberg, a mystical realm. The only way to beat her: get her fattened up and then knocked up until she turns into Frigga, sweet and matronly goddess of mother hood. But who will do the deed...

Glutea the grand: once an angel of purity who fell and became an immobile demoness of sloth and gluttony, glutea delights in turning the noble, athletic and diligent into the fat, lazy and slothful. Her cult has infiltrated the city government, pushing anti athletic (no bike lanes, no gym licenses, a salad tax, no sports leagues) and pro obesity (tax free  food, restaurants only zoning, free vending machines, multiple fast food restaurants at school cafeterias, plus size hypnosis add campaigns) that leave plains city the fattest town in america! Glutea avatar is currently disguised as the mayor's assistant, an ethereally skinny young woman. But as the city gets fatter and lazier, her power grows and even those with a super metabolism might find the pounds stacking...

Leandra Lord: a super genius ceo of a fast food chain with a powerful hatred of supers after a super heroes slip up made her fat in college. Made perfect again via chemical means, at the cost of her hair, Lord dreams of a world where everyone has become a fat, dull eyed cow in thrall to the hyper addictive chemicals Lord adds to their food, being an expert at finding ways to depower heroines. And if that fails, well she has plenty of fire power in her power armor!

 

As for some allies:

Shade II, Helena Holmes: genetically designed and raised to be the ultimate assassin by a secretive cult, she was freed by the deceased hero Shade and made his side kick and adopted daughter, inheriting his publishing company (which owns More Magazine) when he died. In control of her own diet for the first time and in fat trap Plains city, the socialite is in the middle of an embarrassing, slow weight gain that is starting to affect her performance, something she stubbornly denies. Currently twenty eight and sixty pounds above her fighting weight, she's still stronger and faster than regular humans, but her genetic boosters are wearing off as the pounds pile up, making her half as effective than at her best. A brilliant fighter and tactician, she remains a very resourceful veteran hero who could take a rookie or three under their wing... And may need too given how tight her utility belt is getting! Her primary enemies are various gangs and maniacs, as well as her own immortal and totally amoral assassin cult leader mother Lady Death, who switches between trying to kill her daughter, taunting her weight and pestering her for grand b**s.

Diana Drake: in the mid 90s, Might Woman was the most famous hero on earth, a blonde flying brick with a feisty personality and the best rack on the planet. A Zafton refugee who's power was fed by discreetly fattening up models at the agency her alter ego Diana drake ran, she seemed unbeatable... Until a young leandra Lord dosed her with earth's only sample of gold zaftonite, rendering her forever powerless! Diana has long since become a house wife to a rich ice cream magnate in Wisconsin, having had two kids (Devon and Daliah) and become unrecognizable due to gaining three hundred pounds. Both studly farm boy Devon and curvy farm girl Daliah have moved to plains city and unknowingly inherited their mom's powers, which will kick in as soon as they've gotten enough of a rush from watching attractive women gain weight... Not hard in this town! On seeing a new generation of heroes arise, she heads back to plains city to mentor them... Whether they want the giant, near mobility scooter bound milfs help or not!

Devon Drake, Might Man/DaliahDrake, Might Woman II: the twins of the former might woman, both thought they were normal humans. Life on a dairy farm with a kind if demanding mother made them grow up consciencous, kind and gorgeous, at the pinnacle of their towns athletics. It wasn't until late college and some beer weight settling onto the curvy physiques of their cheer leader girl friends that the two received the hormonal rush that unlocked their power set. Both are extremely selfless and kind, but are also naive to the point they don't know their mom is an alien or that their twin is also a super, despite not wearing masks. Their flying brick powers activate after seeing an attractive woman have a "fat moment" either complaining about her weight while pointing out problem areas, wearing clothes that fail to fit, grossly over eating, tearing clothing or struggling with exercise. This must be in person and lasts for a few days, gradually fading. Devon has taken a job as an intern at more magazine while Daliah is a waitress at a super hero themed hours/aspiring model. Being human/Zafton hybrids, they both lack one of their mom's old powers: Devon doesn't have heat vision or super hearing, while Daliah lacks super hearing and a super metabolism, which hasn't bothered her... Yet.

Adam Wrong, PI: a young minor wizard and handsome detective specializing in solving paranormal mysteries. Unfortunately a curse by Glutea means he can't leave plains city limits, double unfortunately his magical powers don't work if he's distracted by a sexy woman and triple unfortunately he has a fat fetish, sharply limiting his utility. 

 

 

 

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Tell me about it. If the stars align tonight I might get my da story completed, then it's just a collab, the calling epilogue and then back to DC to wrap that up! I'm planning to try and finish some old stories too this summer, but keep getting ideas, lol.

 

Anyway....

Devon drake accidentally knocking up Laura, leading her to meet the even fatter and only a little older/fatter Diana who she idolized as a kid would be pretty funny.

the super girl analogue would get powers by tempting her co waitresses into over eating out of the cheap costumes they wear/persuading her room mate to embrace body positivity, but not notice her own increasing gain as a paunch grows under her huge boobs.

The batgirl analogues increasing tubbiness could make her a good power source for either of the Zafton twins, especially if her kevlar costume isn't a match for her new ass. She can also be a victim of the model weight gain scandal Laura was investigating, her corrupt board wanting her fat and happy and off their backs.

A villain known as the anti fit equation, a weight loss AI driven mad from a virus picked up on a weight gain porn board. It seizes computers and smart phones, hypnotizing women into over eating!

 

 

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While Calorie Girl was the city's newest sensation, it was true that there had been other heroes before her.

And while the new speedster's abilities were mighty, or would be when fully tested, her predecessor Might Woman had been far, far more powerful indeed. A city busting power house of steely muscle and a drool worthy mass of muscular curves that was the last daughter of the dead planet Zafton, Diana Drake, super model by day and super heroine by night. She'd earned back to back covers on prestigious magazines and saved the world repeatedly with her immense amount of mighty powers. All while sleeping her way through the city's most eligible bachelors and bachelorettes, eating her body weight in ice cream once a week and sabotaging the diets of every woman around her to ensure she had the little hormonal pep to keep her powers humming.

But that had been over twenty years ago.

And twenty four years without her powers, while eating as if she still had them and having twins, had changed Might Woman for the...rounder.

Diana Drake was in that happy, blissful, half asleep wonderland where she could forget she wasnt invincible anymore, only reached after a couple gallons of rocky road topped with a pint or three of hot fudge when she got the news there was a new heroine.

There was always something that ended the blonde milfs blissful  post lunch snack ritual. Once it had been various natural disasters and attacks, summoning her alter ego Might Woman to save the day. The last daughter of Zafton had saved lives by the million, jailed villains by the thousand and ruined waists by the hundred to keep her powers full. Coincidentally that had put her at the forefront of the modeling world and the super hero one, as the nineties sexiest and most powerful woman.

But that had been a long time ago, back when the human appearing Diana had scored a new magazine cover per week and six to seven new sexual partners per week as a highly fashionable, bisexual bomb bombshell super model with a six pack abs and a 40 inch bust.

Who'd still eaten thirty thousand or so calories on a light day, as the delicious earth food hit a tongue evolved to live off of crystals and caused an immediate dairy addiction.

Then, after her first and final defeat had left her forever powerless there had been other distractions: the pain of her stomach as the now powerless Zafton woman found her capacity no longer limitless. That had been followed by the pinch of wastebands and then the pop of buttons as her abs padded over into a paunch.

Realizing her powers weren't coming back, Diana had gotten married. To the handsome, muscular Wisconsin football player she'd dated in high school turned dairy magnate who'd watched rather gleefully when during a got milk? campaign a bikini clad Diana had guzzled nine gallons of heavy cream without bloating. He'd been dim enough to never put two and two together with her old identity, not that anyone else had either, but also had kept up the thrice daily minimum oral sessions the Zafton needed, even as she grew increasingly zaftig.

Diana had told herself that she'd tame her appetite after her six pack had turned into a paunch requiring control garments, as well as start her own business and finish college. The once feisty woman had failed all three goals. Exercise was no fun without powers and dieting a curse, especially when her husband's hyper successful ice cream line gave her gallons of free stuff a day. She'd been chubby getting married, full on plump after gaining thirty pounds on her honey moon and obese by the time she gave birth. Luckily and unluckily, her husband had been just as much of a chubby chaser as she had been during her modeling days so her sex life had been good. But as swelling ankles and breasts tested her during pregnancy, the proud might woman decided to relax and became nothing more than a bloated trophy wife, intellectually and physically lazy, her inflating figure a testament to her family's prosperity. It was customary for prosperous farmers to keep a wife too fat and useless for any chore and the models inflation made her the biggest trophy of all. Diana only cared about stuffing her face, having sex and eventually helicoptering her kids though their athletic events until they'd gone to college.

The blob shaped woman in the customized office chair of would easily have made four of the not at all light figure of the old Might Woman. She was still 6'2 but had long, long ago out grown her height's ability to hide her bulk. Her famous G cups had swelled to a K and an M respectfully, straining a sweat stained customized push up bra that sighed with each breath, the sea of tan cleavage behind them rippling like the tide. Beneath them was a massive gut, so big that Diana was unable to drive a car. Matching it was a butt four feet wide, long merged with her calves to be a match for her apron gut. Normally the waterfall of fat dropped to her monstrous calves, but currently a factory worth it Spanx was containing it up into massive dome. She wore straining negligee that would be exchanged for customized skirt suits after her next snack, so she could head to her dead husband's factory and check on things by eating more ice cream. At a quarter ton and chronologically fifty five Diana looked strangely vibrant.

Despite the loss of her powers, she remained a Zaftonite, product of long genetic engineering. Her blood pressure was still borderline normal, diabetes would never trouble her and her tan skin lacked stretch marks. Dianas metabolism was still that of a twenty year old runner, despite not waking more than a thousand steps a day for years, testimony to just how much she ate. If the acres of fat had been removed from her, she'd have looked at most thirty five and her hair was still a vibrant gold. 

She still spent thousands a month in her appearance but nothing towards burning any of her bulk. The vain woman was now a feedee instead of a feeder, since her husband had died three years ago she'd even begun employing a milf loving set of feeders to keep her fat and happy 

But as the news came on and Diana snorted awake, from a pleasant memory of saving the 1999 Victoria's secret fashion show models and then a week long orgy that had left the human women tubby for months, it was clear the weight was taxing her.

"Ugh, I hate the news. Always so unpleasant," she yawned, five chins wobbling, "where's the remote..."

Said remote was on the coffee table of her living room. 

Ten feet away.

The woman who'd thrashed the Red Ravager over Warsaw in 1990 pathetically reached out an arm thick as her old chest for a long moment. When that failed, she let out a pitious moan, letting the arm flop onto her paunch. Shed gone ten rounds with the champion of worlds to preserve Earth's freedom in 92 but just holding the droopy limb out made it's buried muscle burn.

Slowly wiggling side to side, hauling herself up with a large metal bar installed by her chair for that purpose, Might Woman slowly rose up with a groan of joints. The effort made her sweat and puff, more than diverting a Texas sized meteor in 96 had, and the woman who'd raced around the world ten times in a minute in 94 to stop the parasitoid invasion took a short fumbling step forwards.  Her knees were hurting and already her feet were swelling up but Might woman never quit! 

With a groan of triumph, Diana put manicured sausage fingers into her target... The handle of her mobility scooter.

Diana had been using one since 2007, her weight so long stalled at just below immobile her kids had never seen her so much as hurry. Gasping in relief, the once invincible heroine slowly motored over to the coffee table, the scooters battery about to die. She fumblingly used a handy scoop to pick up the remote, fat fingers clumsily fumbling for a new channel.

Might Woman would have preferred pornography, although her weak, stubby limbs prevented get doing much with even they most salacious feedee porn. Instead her fat fingers turned up the volume!

"And today in Plains city, an unusual story," the anchor, rail thin blonde Mandy Maine, "the first super hero, super villain fight in nearly twenty years!"

"A s-super fight?" Diana asked blue eyes huge.

"Yes a super fight, between a mysterious speedster dubbed Calorie Girl by this enterprising reporter and a madman calling himself the Batter Baton!" The trim anchor said, footage showing streets covered in thick batter and tubby citizens, "apart from vague and never proven sightings of the so called "Shade", this is the first time a super hero has been in Plains city since there disappearance of famed heroine Might Woman in 2000. Are we seeing a new generation of heroes?"

As her own much smaller image flashed on screen, Diana's stuffed gut flipped inside her. Breaking out in a cold sweat, she began the laborious job of turning her scooter around and panting for her servants to pack her luggage and get the lear jet fueled up. If new heroes were entering the stage, they'd need to be warned!

Because the villains who'd turned her from the world's strongest defender to its fattest, laziest milf were still out there!

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I had an idea just now that Zafton collapsed due to the combined tonnage of its female population, the civilizations love of fat girls having led to an unsustainable sexual arms race, with Diana shot away from the planet with dna altered to have a super metabolism...that unfortunately was disabled.

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Anyway, here's the other side of the power spectrum, Lady Shade, the heroine so stealthy no one noticed she existed...

 

In the pent house of a Plains City high rise, a relaxing classical music mix was suddenly cut off by an emergency news alert.

"All citizens are urged to avoid the six block district near the city's main police precinct as what appears to be a super villain attack is taking place!" Mandy Maine said, "we're seeing a super villain, super hero match up for the first time in years here in Plain's city!"

That made a pair of steely black eyes pop open, Plains City's sole defender for the past fifteen years jumping to attention from her yoga pose!

"A full villain? And in the day time, no less!" Helena Hunt, CEO of Hunt Publishing snarled from the floor, "what fiendishness!"

Since the depowering of Might Woman and the fall of the old Hero League, the general public had been convinced that there were no more costumed crusaders. But they were wrong, deeply so, as the secretive hero known only as the Shade had protected Plains City from the shadows for another decade. That Shade was himself long dead, betrayed and murdered but his legacy lived on in the shape of Shade Girl...or Lady Shade more appropriately, given she was pressing thirty.

Nor would anyone looking at her current form assume she was a vigilante!

Helena rolled nimbly up to her feet from her yoga mat with a ballerina's grace...pausing only to tug on her spandex panties as her belly popped over them. Unconscious of the wiggle in her hips, the plump and pale heroine left her exercise partner behind, a dark tan woman letting out a frustrated groan and collapsing onto the mat to pant and sweat.

"Helena dear, really, let the police handle this, we were just getting into the groove!" the red haired Brazilian model Andi Korin sighed, batting her long lashes in a fruitless attempt to get Helena back to the yoga mat, "Come dear please, that ice cream place on 3rd and 8th is calling me and if I don't have you around I"ll never resist it!"

"Once I beat this batter shooting weirdo I'll take you out for a treat, just like the old days," Helena insisted, touching an innocuous button on her wall to make a hidden wardrobe pop out, a ninja's jet black armor and weapon's not gleaming.

"In the old days my butt was smooth and my thighs didn't touch. I don't need you feeding my fat ass anymore, I swear Helena, since starting this diet with you I've only gotten fatter!" the s accented redhead moaned, patting her thick lower body for emphasis, jiggles shooting along her thick thighs and up to her jiggly belly, "This yoga is no good!"

"Yoga is a perfect strength building exercise, old girl, you'd know it if you stayed at it without needing a break every five minutes!" the black haired Helena told her, stripping off her workout gear.

That super model Andi Korin and fashion/publishing mogul Helena Hunt were dating wouldn't have surprised anyone. Brazillian model and the wild child socialite had been off again and on again for years. Nor would anyone be surprised at the cover girl Andi looking a bit dumpy given the aftermath of the Plains City model wars, which had ended inconclusively only a few months ago. Lord Industries and Hunt Publishing had gone to war, bulking up its others models and aiming at each other's CEOs via doses of appetite stimulants and hired feeders. Lord had had more models hit but Hunt had suffered the highest ranking casualties: top model Andi and Helena herself!

The 5'9 Andi was famous for her perfect legs and bulging butt, both voted sexiest in the world several years running with her abs and breasts being in the top ten. Unfortunately a feeder disguised as a dietician had dosed Andi with a drug carrying a significant cocktail of appetite stimulants and metabolic depressors, while her bribed personal trainer had put her on a routine heavy with meditation and light on actual calorie burning. Thus stimulated, the 32 year old model's latina genes had gone into overdrive, taking her from unattainable perfect to suburban mom dumpy, with a filled in thigh gap, love handles eroding her hour glass figure and plenty of cellulite over her once perfectly round butt. Gossip mags had had a field day when she'd walked Plains City fashion show with cottage cheese craters up and down her lumpy ass and heavy thighs rubbing together or when her insurance company said it wouldn't pay out the billion dollar policy on her ruined legs due to "Weight gain being an act of God."

"Ay carumba, I know I'm chunky anymore, as if the tabloids would let me forget! If I saw one more More Magazine paparazzo while I'm getting my daily starbucks I'd set them on fire if I still could!," she sighed, patting her not so little gut, "but are you sure you can fight this guy in your...condition? Want some help?"

Years earlier, the model had been an aspiring super villain with flame powers and flight, using her good looks as cover for various thefts. Helena had beaten her, depowered her by hiding away her mystical amulet and reformed her, as well as dating and hiring her. Andi knew she got a bit nuts when her powers had been active but the energy she could burn with pyromancy would help her thighs from touching!

"ha, not on your life. You know how impulsive those powers made you, besides I couldn't give them back if I wanted," Lady Shade said smuggly, standing naked and grabbing her under armor, "and what condition do you mean?"

Andi considered what to say.

Helena Hunt's public image wasn't of the spoiled daughter of a billionaire, she was known as a wild party girl who'd had to model eating disgusting Lord Corp burgers in a bikini after her father had cut her off during one drunken rampage too many had tarnished the family name. Since her father's death, she'd left running the massive enterprise to middle men and stayed an impressive party girl long after her cohorts had retired.

But the truth was, Helena was the world's last remaining superheroine. Born from a eugenics experiment, she was sharp as a razor and strong as an ox, able to dodge bullets and bend steel despite being a slender wisp of a woman.She'd been raised by the mysterious cult of the All Mother, turned into the perfect heir for that nefarious group of assassins' current ruler, her own mother Lady Death. But Helena had escaped at a young age, becoming the side kick to her biological father, the Shade, known to the public as Michael Hunt. Since his death, she'd fought from the shadows, preventing the rise of many other super villains and letting the world think it was at peace.

"Well, Helena its just, well," Andi tried to say as Helena got her pants up, "you're not your best, you know that some one at Lord spiked you with a genetic cleanser during the model war, you've lost your abilities..."

"My genetic boosters are fading, not gone," Helena said gruffly, face going bitter at the reminder someone had robbed her of powers, "I know I'm not as strong as I was or as fast, but I'm still much more so than the average person or even my father, who fought crime with no powers at all! When they're gone, I'll just have to fight smarter! I'm certain I can take down a man with a batter mecha!"

It was true that Helena's moderately enhanced abilities were fading away at a rapid clip. Once she could have sprinted a mile in a minute, now she struggled to do five. Similarly, her old 500lb bench press was down to a struggling three hundred and falling. But the real problem being considered under Andi's curly red hair wasn't what was declining but what was growing!

"I know that Helena, Amor, its just that...you've gotten a bit..." Andi considered.

During the model war, Andi had packed on twenty five pounds and added twenty more afterwards,more than her leggy build could hide and then some. And the much shorter Helena had gained just as much, for despite never weighing over 110lbs, she'd had a diet overwhelmingly packed with junk food burned off by her active life style and genetic prowess. Now all of that unthinking eating was becoming apparent, Helena's days of being deceptively slender were ending even before her enhanced abilities were!

For being 5'5, Helena had had long and slender legs. Legs that were now plush and cuddly, starting to touch at their tops. Girlish hips had flared outwards into a bottom heavy girth, while her tiny, taut butt had puffed up until they were as big as her latina GF's. Despite looking so skinny, Lady Shade had had some pretty solid abs...now a rather puffy looking paunch that had sparked several bump watches from her own gossip mags. Her perfect patrician's features were as yet untouched save for the most delicate little double chin growing beneath her jaw line.The billionaire was looking rather chunky and out of shape, her BMI having pushed her into officially overweight. She was still exercising every day, but until her genetic gifts wore off completely the exercise wasn't enough to really burn anything, perversely she was in too good of shape to lose weight still! Not that Helena looked it, her flabby body devoid of tone. Together she and Andi looked more like flabby trophy wives going out for fattening snacks rather than a super model and her super heroine girlfriend.

"A bit what, Andi? Please spit it out, you know I've got to get going," Helena asked, hauling her black kevlar pants up her thighs, which fought back at the tight armor's passage, leggings getting stuck at the mid thigh.

"A bit well," the model wavered, knowing that her perfectionist GF had never admitted gaining a single ounce.

How the secretive superheroine hadn't noticed the near fifty pound gain was a mystery to Andi. Surely she felt her thighs chafe and her belly bounce, or how chairs were more comfortable or how snug her clothes were. But it had been several months since Helena had dressed as the Lady Shade, having kept most of the super crime down with stealthy take downs for years, that perhaps she merely couldn't admit it even to herself.

But she was saved by the metaphorical bell.

"It appears that a super heroine has arrived on scene and she seems to be defeating the batter baron!" the news caster explained as blurs shot across the screen.

"Another heroine?" Andi asked, brow rising in surprise.

"A rookie, one who's going to need some *Ugh* serious training," Helena muttered, still battling to get her pants over her engorged butt, "I'm going to need to make sure she knows the stakes of this game..."

It took time, the heroine literally squeezing her pudgy body into her tight fitting armor, but soon the warrior was in her intimidating black armor, katanna over her shoulder. She swung through the night, leaving Andi alone.

"Ugh, this diet is never going to start,"the chunky model sighed, already looking at food ads on her phone, "unless...I fatten her up enough she has to acknowledge it..."

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3 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

How did I miss this? I love the world building you’ve started! Your styles mesh together really well — Flyer’s feasts and Batman’s bods. With powers combined, we have Captain Planet

Lol, we've got some really good stuff coming up... start of her gain, busty bisexual cheer leader having her fat fetish activate super powers level good in fact

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  • 3 weeks later...

The hypnotherapist mentioned has some interesting potential. Aside from obviously making Mrs. Tate eat herself obese, doctor hatter could put a mental block on Tara's power usage, where she can't make herself go super speed anymore. But she still has her speedster appetite and gets the curves she's always wanted... And then a lot more, while her allies try to get her powers re-activated with various zany schemes!

2 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

And also... omg I’m really into this... and also as to how this crime syndicate is revealed, I think the best way is what I call “reverse onion.” Tara defeats some low-ranking boss, who leads to another, higher boss, and so on. Each time she thinks she’s found the real “boss,” there’s another with an even bigger master plan. The whole conspiracy unravels like an onion being peeled from the inside-out!

One of my ideas is a demon princess of gluttony and sloth to go with the corporate villains, I'll detail a bit more when I get my next snippet up later about the new Might Girl.

2 hours ago, flyer33 said:

An onion being peeled from the inside out sounds like some sort of non-Euclidean cosmic horror. Anyway, I'm looking forward to whatever Tara has to resort to to fuel her calorie-hungry powers. Fortunately (or unfortunately, for Tara), I think Helena Hunt is the kind of resourceful and ruthless character who will come up with a range of ways to energise her speedster ally, even if it means feeding her weight gain shake from a vat between missions...

Oh yes and Helena and her girlfriend Kory will probably get caught in the splash radius. Lady Shade probably has some deep wg fetishes she wants her super model girlfriend to go through, while Anders wants her girlfriend to stop crime fighting and to settle down. Possibly into a mobility scooter.

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Anyway, here's the origin story if the new Might Girl!

Ex cheer leader and Insta influencer Daliah Drake is trying to cut it in the cut throat modeling world of plains city, working at a costumed Breastaraunt to pay the bills her miserable ice cream company heiress allowance won't until she gets hired.  Unbeknownst to her, her party life style, fast food addiction and laziness are slowly wrecking her bikini model figure... All to the plan of a truly hellish plot!

But what no one knows, is that Daliah is also heiress to the power and mantle of Might Woman! She just needs to get a bit turned on by someone else chubbing up for the powers to kick in... And better hope they come with a super metabolism because her suit is already too tight!

....

Daliah Drake's day hadn't been going well. 

It had started off with her latest insta selfie only getting 150K likes. Then while stopping for her daily dozen donuts she'd gotten a rejection email from a modelling agency over her boobs being too big for their spring catalogue, now her work uniform didn't fit!

"Today sucks," the red haired bomb shell muttered as she shoe horned herself into the skin tight maid uniform at the Fantasy Babes Breastaraunt.

Getting out of Wisconsin to Plains City had seemed like such a good idea. Her mobility scooter bound mom had wanted them both at home, in the family business and married with kids, seeing her daughters bisexuality as nothing more than a way for her to get double grand kids. In fact she'd been so livid that the twins had gone to Plains City she'd cut their allowance to a pitiful $1,000 a week!  Second, it had seemed like a sure thing she'd quickly get a modeling contact! After all, Daliah was gorgeous wasn't she? Six feet and two inches of runners legs, perfectly flat belly and plump F cup gazongas beneath her heart shaped face, she'd always been the hottest hottie among her friend group. And of course, her mom had been the biggest model of the 90s, surely her daughter would be the big shot of the 2020s!

But bad luck had bedeviled Daliah. Plains City wasn't Wisconsin, it seemed like every woman here was hot as hell. Granted, often a little padded and milfish above thirty but hot. And while Daliah's blue eyes and big rack were nice, booties and hips were currently what was wanted and no amount of squats had ever pumped a single inch into the gorgeous farm girls butt. And to top it off, that rich bitch billionaire Helena Hunt had written "Too high of a Fat Potential" onto her head shot, circling Daliah's otherwise flat waist!

"What does she know, stupid rich girl," the millionaire young woman muttered, straining to get her costumes corset done up.

From top of the pyramid in Wisconsin, Daliah had fallen far. Rather than the palatial family farm house she was sharing a small apartment with her dork brother who still had everyone fooled he was a handsome stud rather than the dweeby dork boyscout he'd been before a growth spurt in high school. Granted, she'd been pretty geeky herself before her girls had grown in but that wasn't the point. What was the point was that it wasn't fair she was reduced to relying on an only fans and tips from a breastaraunt when she should be in centerfolds and covers!

"Hey Daliah, having some trouble there?" came a cheery voice at her side.

"Oh hey Gorge, yeah my laces are all tangled up," the blonde complained, "can you give me a tug?"

In contrast to the towering, Wisconsin white and stacked Daliah, her best friend and occasional fuck buddy Georgia Junk-Food was a short, petite woman who's genes were a blended cocktail from across the planet courtesy of several generations of black army officer Junks bringing back war brides from France, Algeria,  Vietnam and Kuwait. An army brat working through a masters in cryptography to join the CIA, Georgia was lean and muscular from her side gig as a trainer. Her Arabian nights inspired costume distracted from her flat chest by highlighting chiseled abs and an absurdly round booty disproportionately big to her otherwise small build.

"Sure girl, but I'm not sure if they're tangled," she said, hauling on the laces "or if you're just getting soft. You've been hitting the complimentary food pretty hard..."

"Please, any weight I gain goes to my boobs," Daliah winced, the costume cutting hard into her waist, "I've always been able to eat whatever I want."

"Yeah, tell it to the fat squeezing out between these laces," Georgia pointed out, pinching a roll, "you're getting a gut girl. Most girls either cut back the fried food or blow up at twenty three and your four food groups are fried dough, red meat, booze and ice cream ."

"I'm just a little bloated today," Daliah dodged, "it'll go down..."

"Maybe if you finally take my hot yoga class, otherwise you're going to pop this costume before long!" her friend said.

"Please, I work out plenty," the ginger sniffed.

This was a lie. While Dahlia had had six weekly work out sessions during college cheerleading, on top of personal trainer sessions and a dieticians diet plan enforced by her hypocritical mother, those were gone after graduation. She ate like a pig and drank like a fish, not having done any exercise beyond cowgirl style in eight months. The results weren't that bad, not as much as she deserved to have gained, but she'd gained a long delayed freshman fifteen, mostly concentrated at her waist. It wasn't a big belly at all but she did have an inch to pinch now instead of a washboard and a fat roll was oozing out of most of her outfits, none of her tops quite meeting her waist thanks to a muffin top. Viewed in profile it was a distinct curve, and she was now prone to bloating after her abs had weakened.  Not that she'd noticed, vain she might be, but Dahlia had been raised to be an airhead. If she couldn't screw it, wear it, eat it or drive it, then she didn't care about it. Her mother Diana hadnt wanted Dahlia to indulge in the same heroic instincts that had destroyed her long ago, subconsciously pushing her daughter to self focused apathy.

But that was starting to change, like a lot of other things.

"Maybe you should focus your efforts on those who need it most," Dahlia grunted as Georgia tied off her laces, "some of these girls are getting... Hefty."

It was true that the other waitresses in the changing room were showing signs of chub. There a farmer's daughter who couldn't button her cut offs thanks to her beer belly, there a life guard who's butt was bulging out of her red one piece, there a fairy tale princess who's boobs were about to pop her bodice. 

"Yeah, I've got no idea why our new management mandated an employee lunch time for all the waitresses. The old company had us doing weekly weigh ins and didn't let us even eat here,"Georgia agreed, "now the Mayor's office says we have to? This is a breastaraunt, the customers are supposed to be fat and we're supposed to be skinny. The food here is pure grease, even my butt is getting bigger!"

She turned to demonstrate, the slightly increased and somewhat softer buns hanging from her harem pants. Still firm as memory foam thanks to the trainers hundred squat a day regimen, Georgia s  butt was getting flat out big, bulging to the sides and starting to touch her thighs.

It was the first time Dahlia had felt that, a strange desire at odds with her whole life. It wasn't just lust, she was familiar with that. The cheerleader had had most of her own team and only failed to bag the whole football team due to get brother being on it and she and Georgia had slept together several times before. But screwing lean hard bodies had felt like marking a score board, now that she was aware of all the soft squish around her, Dahlia was feeling much different! Her cheeks reddened, her heart thundered and her mouth dried. All she could think of was fat, fat, fat!

"Alright there, girl friend?" Georgia asked.

"Uhh ...," Dahlia gulped, odd thoughts whirring in her head, "I mean, I've eaten here everyday and haven't gained anything, but it's not fair they have to eat here..."

For once, she felt a sharp injustice! Born rich and pretty Dahlia hadn't cared a fig for anyone else, growing up selfish she spoiled. But seeing the girls around her stuff new pounds into old costumes, worry on their faces, she felt a strange sympathy! They'd been wronged, hurt even and someone had to fix it! Someone like her!

"Costume is just a bit snug, I think you tied it too tight," she lied.

"What ever you need to tell yourself girl. But if you don't start tightening up those abs soon, your gut is gonna pass your boobs," Georgia grinned, "now come on, pre Shift lunch is starting soon, maybe that corset will stop you eating so much!"

Walking behind her friend to the tables management had set for them, Dahlias eyes were glued to the bounce of her friends brown booty. Much as she'd teased Dahlia, Georgia had gained just as much weight. That ass wobbled and bounced like jello!

Just as strange feelings were going through Dahlias head, weirder transformations were happening inside her. For all she looked kind a human hotty, she was really a half alien hybrid, her mother being the last daughter of Zafton! And while Diana Drake had long been depowered, she'd passed her gifts passively along to her children, where they were now awakening!

With every bounce of Georgia's plump butt, a new surge of hormones was unleashed into Dahlias blood stream. Omega estrogen and alpha testosterone, enzymes that would burst a human heart if they so much as touched their blood surged through her, sharpening senses and strengthening muscles. The endurance she'd lost from not exercising for six months came back with friends, an amazing energy shooting through her body which felt lighter than air! When she tapped open the door from locker room to dining room, it almost flew off it's hinges!

"Whoa, that almost broke the wall!" Georgia exclaimed.

"Sorry, I've been, uh, lifting a lot," Dahlia fibbed, for her cheer muscles had gone soft over the last months, her old routine beyond her.

Or had been, for the slightly softened red head could now have lifted her whole cheer team with a flick of her finger!

The new sensations only got stronger and stranger during lunch. Dahlia hearing got sharper with every straining seam she heard. The girls around her were getting thick and feeling pinched, a bit of misery and shame oozing out of them along side love handles and saddle bags. That this included her went unnoticed, the painful pinch of her undersized corset into her starter belly had faded. This wasn't due to her losing weight, but as her Zaftonite powers activated, thousand pound bombs would be needed to get Dahlia's attention!

"Is it really loud in here to you?" She asked through her donut bun and fried chicken sandwich, chipotle mayo dripping to her rack.

"No, why would it be?" Georgia answered, despite her tightening thong sounding like screaming cat as it sank into her hips, the miniscule thickening a hurricane of noise to Dahlia.

"I'm, I'm just gonna step outside," she gulped, grabbing sandwich and shake with her.

By the time she got out side, the shake was running dry. Dahlia's appetite was rising faster than ever. Her mother's vanished abilities were coming to her faster than ever: super strength, super speed, flight, invincibility... Everything but the metabolism that had let the old Might woman eat like a pig and not gain an ounce! 

That would probably not have consequences later.

But for now, Dahlia's concern was for more shake!

"Damn it, no pockets," she muttered as the door closed behind her, patting her micro skirt and corset, realizing she had no pockets and had left her keys in her purse.

She put a hand on the alley door, in the hopes it hadn't locked automatically. At the slightest push, the lock snapped! Dahlia stumbled inside, tripping over her high heels and falling... But didn't land, instead floating above the linoleum.

"Ok, I know I promised mom I wouldn't swear but I also said I would be a virgin on my wedding day, so what the fuck!?" The floating red head asked, slowly spinning in mid air, generous cleavage threatening to pop out of her top, "am I flying..."

A new noise cut over her whisper, coming from the managers office! Cruella Crush was the Fantasy Babes new manager, rail thin and vindictive woman without so much as a curve.

"...Yes mistress, the little sluts are starting to show. The new additives you've sourced, combined with the free mandatory lunch for employees is really buttering them up. One ginger bimbo has been walking around with a muffin top already!"

The girl in question frowned, unsure who was being discussed but feeling sorry for her. 

"Yes, I'm about to add another dose of powder to the shake mix now," Cruella laughed, "by this time next month they'll all be officially over weight!"

Cruella was poisoning the shakes! And worse, she was about to open the door and find Dahlia floating there! Kicking up, she was soon above the door, which opened beneath her and just missed her bulging breasts. Cruella walked out giggling to herself, carrying a jug of white powder and heading to the currently unoccupied kitchen. 

Dahlia glared. If this bitch thought she could fatten up her friend she had another thing coming! Granted, Dahlia needed a way to make her pay without losing her paycheck and free food, least she have to depend on just her allowance and only fans. Her blue eyes flashed around, falling on an open costume rack that had a rarely used costume: the red leotard and white cape of nineties heroine Might Woman!

"No one cares about super heroes anymore... But she won't recognize me with a blonde wig and domino mask!" Dahlia grinned.

It was a strange twist of fate that Might Woman's daughter was about to wear her old costume. Dahlia was as unaware that her mother was the storied heroine as she was that the costume was going to be snug at the waistline, but she'd knew she wouldn't let someone hurt others on her watch!

Born as she might be to succeed Might Woman, the costume didn't fit Dahlia Drake very well.

Granted, that's because it was made for a very lean woman of normal height, with padding to puff up a flat chest into heroic mountains. Dahlia had the blood of hard working swedish farmers on one side and genetically perfect Zaftonites on the other. At her leanest she still had a 28 inch waist and a 40 inch under bust measurement thanks to her broad ribcage. Thanks to avoiding any cardio for months and typically blowing past the recommended daily value of calories and saturated fat by breakfast, the tall gingers waist was up to thirty inches. A soft bulge broke into small rolls as she fought with the suits zipper, her soft tummy bulging at her side, while her heavy rack bounced and shook against the too small spandex like twin bowls of peaches and cream yogurt.

 

"Who was this made for, Ants? Oh crap!" The waitress hissed, her eyes widened as a small tug ripped the zipper right off, "I guess this wasn't made for real women..."

Abandoning the effort, Daliah scavenged the blonde wig, white cape and domino mask from the ripped costume. She grabbed a micro skirt and a long sleeve cheer top from other costumes, which mostly fit. Granted, thigh fat mushroomed at the bottom as her morning runs had been dropped for big breakfast, swapping lean quads with soft fat, her thigh gap nearly closed. And she had a roll of belly fat muffin topping over the painted on pants, her daily twelve pack of craft IPA turning her old abs into an adorable beer belly that jiggled just above her camel toe. If she'd had any ass at all, it wouldn't fit but thankfully the spare fabric was enough to let the skirt hang in for dear life. 

"Maybe Georgia was right, I do not remember being so soft" the disguised ginger muttered, "oh well, super heroes can't get fat, right? This should burn off the lard..."

Feeling a bit ashamed by her little starter gut,Dahlia instead focused on how her hefty e cups were about to burst the confines of her t shirt. Her college Dds were blossoming, so really she was just filling out, no need to diet, right?. She set the cantaloupe sized mammaries just right, adjusted her cape and wig and floated into the kitchen. There, her slender manager was just finishing pouring a jug of white powder into the huge shake machine.

"Stop right there, criminal scum!" Dahlia proclaimed, trying to hide her Wisconsin accent, "you're under arrest for attempts to fatten! Drop the jug and come with me!"

Cruella looked at the ridiculous sight of the tall, slightly paunchy blonde in front of her. Only her hovering six inches above the floor made her any sort of threat. Was this a hero, here? 

"Oh what a treat," the size zero mean queen grinned, showing chiklet white teeth, "what will you do if I don't come with you?"

"Ugh...I hadn't thought about that but...umm...I guess tie you up and Drag you?" Dahlia thought.

The farm girl thought of her self as big and strong. During her cheer days she'd been a steel whip, the strongest per pound athlete at Wisconsin state and a farm girl who'd milked cows, castrated steers and tossed eighty pound hay bales before her daily workouts. She privately considered how six months of inactivity might have hurt her bench, but then again she did have super powers now!

"Oh, you and what core muscles?" Cruella sneered, "maybe try some sit ups before fighting crime... Say what's your name?"

"Err...Might...," Dahlia paused, feeling too young for Woman, "Girl!"

"Well well, Might Girl, you luscious, spoiled, delicious, juicy morsel," Cruella purred, eyes glowing red, "why don't you try?"

Cruella's shadow lengthened on the wall. Curling horns burst from her head, her pale skin turning blood red and black feathered wings emerging from her back. Her skinny mini physique expanded out, big hips shredding her pencil skirt, a pampered gut popping buttons and her bra popping off at the pressure of G cup torpedo breasts, nipples pierced with eight pointed stars.

"I could use the exercise," the minor demon cackled.

The plump succubus of gluttony jumped forwards, talons flashing at Dahlia's soft tummy. Claws that would eviscerate a main battle tank flashed... And smacked against the layer of chub.

"Ow, that kinda hurt a little," Dahlia said, her tummy bearing a red hand print, "and holy shit what the fuck!"

The cheerleader wasn't a religious girl, she'd been in too many threesomes for that, but she knew evil when she saw it. A punch to the jaw sent demonic fangs flying, the sonic boom shattering windows and sending the demon stumbling back. Boiling green blood pouring from her mouth, the demon jumped up, grabbed the heroine by the back of her head and slammed it into a marble counter top.

"Just die!" Cruella screamed, slamming the disguised woman's head again and again into the counter.

"Hey, that kinda stung!" Dahlia said, pushing herself up to standing but the demon kept slamming her face again and again into the rock.

More screams sounded, the scantily clad waitresses following the noise and screaming to see a demon fighting a superheroine. Might Girl used the distraction to slip the hold, getting the tubby demon into a head lock.

"Give up now, what ever you are, or I'll err...pop your horns off like a randy goat!" The farm girl threatened, kind of enjoying the feeling of the demons plump shoulders.

Instead, Cruella's clawed hand grabbed a hose attached to the shake machines storage tank. Chocolate goo spurted out and she shoved it behind her into Dahlia's face. The cheerleader hadn't ever refused a shake and sucked down on reflex. Literally able to suck a golf ball through a hose now, the ten gallon tank emptied in heartbeats. Given her powers though, Dahlia was fine, belly bulging a bit pregnantly but not dying thanks to get enhanced constitution.

"Hey that's *urp* the weight gain mix!" Dahlia hissed, "Good thing I, *belch* Might Girl am immune thanks to my Zaftonite powers!!"

"I doubt it, tubby," the plump demoness hissed, breaking free with a cry of triumph.

The angered and very much not immune half Zaftonite lunged to grab the curly black ram horns of her for and pulled! Cruella burst apart like rotten fruit to her surprise, might Girl not knowing her own strength. The demon screamed and began evaporating into cherry red smoke, leaving behind not a trace.

"Okay, that was...weird," Dahlia admitted turning to see that her friend Georgia was just uploading the whole video!

"Holy crap, that was amazing! Are you single! How did you do that!? Can you fly!? Did you know she was a demon!? Are you Might Woman's daughter?"  babbled from the wide hipped girls mouth, her own stomach bloated from a big meal, "do you need a trainer?"

"Uhh...no one the last one but yes on they others..." Dahlia tried to settle on, trying to strike a heroic pose and suck in her swollen belly as Georgia hit upload.

As soon as the video ended, Dahlia's domino mask, held in by a literal thread, fell off. Georgia looked at her friend, blinking.

"Dahlia, wait... Your might Woman's daughter?" She asked in confusion.

"Please, might woman wouldn't turn into a total fat ass like my mom," Dahlia said, grabbing the mask with a grunt, "now help me get changed out of this before the cops show..."

The girls hurried out to begin stuffing Dahlia back into a French maid uniform.

And not noticing the camera above them.

.....

"Sign here please, and here and here," the seductive secretary of Mayor Regina Large smiled.

Tall as a fishing pole and just as thin, the spritely secretary with her prim skirt suit and pixie cut seemed a total professional. Which was at odds with her surrounding, the palatial mayor's office with it's deep carpet, oil paintings of plump ancient Romans feasting, a massive walnut table and groaning eating couch. Vats of bubbling soup and platters of streaming meat competed for space with towers of cookies and stacks of pies, the table a monument to sugar, trans fats and cholesterol.

"It's .... so much too do... And I'm hungry...," The mayor moaned, "I just can't... Stop eating..."

Regina Large had been a former Miss Ohio that had run marathons with her daughter a year ago, a nutritionist claiming she was going to tone up the fattest city in America. Now she was a quarter ton blob, her day consisting of eating until she passed out, her neck rolls hanging over her heavy boobs and her 65' waist spilling from her mumu. Her fit doctor husband had quit his practice to open a mobility scooter store and had bigger boobs than his wife did now. While their cross country captain, shoe in for valedictorian daughter had dropped out of High School senior year to work at MacLords burger chain, where she was hoping to eat herself big enough to go on disability by the time she turned twenty.

"I know, I know, but the city needs these new ordinances! Everyone is far too thin, the city's lard and corn syrup markets far too regulated! Sign here and here, gyms won't ban themselves from being built and it's only fair MacLords burgers run the dining halls of every college in town!" the secretary grinned, picking up the mayor's huge arm and signing for her, "now back to eating piggy, and as always thank you so much for saying you'd trade your soul to be mayor..."

Gorgia the Great, succubus Queen of gluttony, giggled as she left the office and it's barely mobile inhabitant.  Summoned from Hell's depths by an errand word, she was well on her way to making this the fattest city in America, every jiggling pound added to Midwestern waists feeding her power by the minute. True form hidden, Gorgias slender legs hurried her through city hall. Thin, efficient succubi manned each post, doing their part to make the town that much bigger. Every real worker was at least home bound, enchanted to eat themselves spherical, the city government entirely in Gorgias hand.

One stopped the Queen, holding up an iPad bearing footage of Might Girl.

"Hmmm, I always knew Cruella was soft," Gorgia said dispassionately," Heroes are bad for business and there's too many of them as is. We'll need to make sure this one is...grounded"

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  • 3 weeks later...

The next part of Might Girl's saga that I wrote on my phone while on a trip:

    Georgia Junk-Food had expected to get out of her pants that night. 

    She wasn't some dumb damsel in distress and hadn't really been in any danger anyway. But seeing a real life demon brought out the endorphins and near death experiences made the body want to rapidly reproduce. Especially when seeing her bestie/more than occasional fuck buddy Dahlia in action. Georgia liked her partners tall and strong, now that Dahlia could rip a devil in half the thought of those arms around her have Georgia stiff nipples and a wet clit. It’d be better of course if Dahlia's gorgeous twin brother could be invited in too, kinky and just a bit taboo, yes but getting her face in those tits while having that dick take her at the same time?

    It made the weight she’d put on from tonight more than worth it...until she realized how much food dahlia was going to order.

    "Want some more pizza?" Dahlia asked, licking her lips as she popped open yet another box, greasy pepperoni and buttery crust gleaming.

    "Dahlia, I'm gonna blow if I breathe that in too much," Georgia moaned, rubbing her domed out stomach, "and I can feel pimples forming all ready, at the same rate my ass is growing out of my shorts."

    Georgia was wearing a pair of cut offs and a crop top, a bit slutty but she knew she had the body for it: leggy, fit and toned...not as toned as she was but not jiggly either. Best to use it before the fed Intelligence desk job she wanted and the three kids she planned gave her the water bed belly and couch cushion ass her mother and sisters had. Unfortunately the tight, skin holding denim shorts had transitioned from sexily snug to too tight torture!

    The size two shorts were a second skin. The edges of her cinnamon brown buns were hanging out of the back, their increased softness an embarrassment to a girl proud of her glorious glutes and the tops of her dark tan derriere cheeks peaked over the wasteband. Her thighs mushroomed out of the short legs, soft inner edges oh so close to touching as Georgia out ate her work out regimen. Her tummy had started muffin topping a few weeks ago when her abs had layered over from her daily belt buster but with a full large pizza and bread sticks and her own two liter of sugary soda and a few beers had made the now size six girl look full term pregnant. Her domed gut, easily past her modest boobs, was harder than her abs had ever been from sheer turgidness. Georgia's belly button had popped out and her swollen belly had undid her zipper, letting Dahlia see pink panties under a straining button.

    "Hey girl, as soon as the edible really kicks in, I'll rip those shorts off myself!" Dahlia grinned, "but if you're too much of a little bitch... I'll finish your half!" 

    "Ugh, you sure you need that, Might Girl?" Georgia groaned, as her friend dug in.

    The stuffed personal trainer had been telling herself she needed to cut down since the mayor's office had made that bizarre mandatory lunch program, having felt herself hey squishier. But while the part time personal trainers brown waist no longer had a six pack, it was so least flat when she wasn't full! Something certain people couldn't boast!

    "Yeah, I just killed like a demon today, Georgia. That probably burned like five k calories!" Dahlia over estimated by three zeros, "besides. I'm might Girl now, super heroes don't get fat. Duh."

    Georgia looked over at her friend, who's cheer leader body was clearly in the off season. Dahlia wasn't bloated from the gallons of weight gain shake she'd had pumped down her throat, but clearly it had already distributed itself! A plump starter belly bulged outward in the shadow of her borderline F cups, an oh so soft outward curve almost touching her thighs. Her breasts looked fantastic but Georgia had had her face between those corn fed milkers to realize their round perfection was as yet unchanged. Meanwhile, the straps of Dahlia's lacy purple panties were biting into not so little love handles. Uncaring of her toneless look, the other ex cheerleader made a sandwich of two meat lovers slices, three bread sticks and plenty of garlic butter before chowing down. 

    "But we don't know why you're a super hero!"Georgia objected as grease and sauce dripped down into her ginger friends generous freckled cleavage canyon, "we don't know what you can do or how strong this is or even if it can last!"

    "Of course we know. Obviously my real mom was Might Woman," Dahlia theorized between pizza sandwiches, "she stopped being a hero to have me and gave little me to my mom to raise then got sucked into like, an alt dimension or something."

    The more obvious and true answer, that the quarter ton blob Diana Drake had once been Might Woman and lost her powers didn't filter through Dahlias ginger haired head.

    "It's why I can fly and eat what ever I want without gaining weight," Dahlia shrugged, heavy boobs jostling magnificently, "while shes so fat. Now that I've gotten my powers I can go fight crime and stuff."

    That Diana had been a famous model in her day wasn't considered, as that might mean Dahlia confronting that she might expand like her mom!

    "Ok, sure why not," Georgia sighed, knowing convincing her friend wasnt going to consider anything else, "but do you know how to fight crime? You had a 2.0 grade average, only because you slept with the hot nerds."

    "Don't sell yourself short. Your notes got me through world history," Dahlia chuckled, her blue eyes locked on the other girls bloated belly.

    "Yeah, I remember when you insisted that England won the American revolution," Georgia sighed, "at least come practice with me tomorrow, we need to know what you can do. We're off work until the hole in the roof gets patched and a new manager gets named."

    "Ugh, I hate working out. But sure," Dahlia yawned, hearing a car park outside her and her brothers rented house via her super hearing, "oh thank God, more pizza. I was starving!"

    Ignoring her stuffed friends astonished stare, Dahlia floated up from her seat and settled in front of the door. The tall, busty and bloated red head fixed her curly hair on the mirror and got some grease on her face.

    "Uhh, Dahlia, you realize your shirt is not on, right?" Georgia sighed.

    "Duh, figured we could get free food out of a squeeze offer. Devilino's," Dahlia answered, naming a pizza place unknowingly manned by succubi, "has really cute and really easy drivers. And I think that edible is kicking in as I'm both really horny and really hungry."

    "Oh dear God your incorrigible," Georgia moaned, struggling to her feet, button pinching far too painfully, "I've got plenty of cash and your mom is rich you slut."

    The stuffed trainer walked over, shorts popping seems and tried pulling her wallet from a too snug pocket. The motion was enough to make that stressed jean button pop off with a bang. Brass flew towards Dahlia's invincible face, pinging off of her brow as the full, soft brown gut lurched into view. Georgia's Kuwaiti mother had passed on a sharp mind and a tendency towards guts to her three daughters, as Might Girl greedily noted, taking in the turgidness of the hopeful Feds  upper gut and the start of a fupa. 

    "Damn, Georgia, you've been eating good," Dahlia purred, "and it looks good on you..."

    The half human red head began stalking forwards until her own stomach bumped into the mixed race girl and her boobs threatened to smother her. Georgia moaned as Dahlia's nimble fingers pressed into her suddenly exposed stomach and gently took one of the ginger's erect nipples in her mouth.

    Which was when the door opened to show the tall, broad shouldered form of Dahlia's hunky brother, Devon. To Dahlia's eyes, the muscular intern had a strange air if energy to him... That she put down to him getting laid by her enhanced sense of smell. With her powers she could easily hear his heart rate rise as he took in the bloated gut if his sister's best friend. 

    "Uhh, girls why are you doing that in the hall way? I thought the house rule was no sex out of the bed rooms or showers" the football player sighed with mild exasperation.

    "Hey, when you get an only fans that pays half the rent, you can dictate where I don't screw," Dahlia insisted, "and we weren't having sex we were, uhh, just waiting for the pizza guy... Who you can pay for us because my work place got attached by a demon and I need to relax!"

    Devon and most of the internet interested in feederism had seen the video already but he went white as a sheet on hearing her say it was at her work.

    "What? Demons are real? And one attacked your job?" He demanded in shock, " thank God that super hero was there."

    "Uhh yeah, she was super cool. And really fucking hot, probably a size two. I got her number and am probably going to bang her soon," Dahlia boasted, "I'd invite you but you're a pervert who only dates chubby chicks!"

    That was enough to make Georgia unlatch her lips from Dahlia's pink nipples, "Wait, what!"

    The army brat had had a crush on her part time girlfriend's brother for months and only the no friends siblings rule had kept her from making a move.

    "I just... That's a little unfair, I like a wide range of girls," Devon stammered 

    "Emphasis on wide. In High School he dated the cross country captain. She went from state record holder to asthmatic three hundred pounder in like a year," Dahlia teased, turning herself on at the memory, "she's still fat now, has to use a wheel chair. But I got home coming queen instead of her, so fuck yes."

    "Rebecca had a glandular issue," Devon insisted, "and I wasn't going to dump her just because she put on a hundred pounds!"

    "Oh did you feed her a lot of glands?" Dahlia joked.

    "Get me some ice cream and you can fuck me," Georgia said, surprised to hear it herself, “You can feed me right out of these shorts, they’re about to pop right off…”

    "Holy shit but that edible hit you hard," Dahlia laughed, "you hear what you're saying? But fuck, ice cream sounds good. Alright loser, get us a couple pints and you can watch me fuck her while you feed her...."

                    …..

 

    Dahlia hadn't ever been a morning person, sleeping in was her life's passion.

    So when her cheerleading days ended, the bouncy breasted red head had happily dropped the five am runs and sunrise lifting for lazy mornings and big breakfasts. But the demands of super heroing had made the soft tummied half Zaftonite get up at the ungodly early morning hour of 7 am to train her new abilities.

    "Ugh, how does anyone get up this early?" The ginger yawned, slightest double chin forming under her jaw.

    "It's not even early, most people who are going to exercise have done it already," Georgia reminded her as she unlocked the doors if the gym she worked at, "how did you get so lazy so fast?"

    "I'm not lazy, I stopped three traffic accidents on the way here," Might Girl yawned, "like, I moved a truck off of a bridge. It was like lifting a toy... Where is everyone?"

    The once popular gym was empty, weights dusty and track abandoned.

    "Traffic has been real slow here. Ever since the mayor pushed those new zoning rules that require two restaurants on each side of a gym, it feels like everyone coming here gets distracted," Georgia explained, "now let's get to work with some stretches..."

    The short, tan girl performed a perfect lunge. Her globular booty flexed tightly against the back of her snug purple Lycra leggings, a testament to her fitness. They were just the slightest bit snug from ice cream bloating, but Georgia bet she'd burned almost as many calories as she'd eaten. The trainer had ridden both Dahlia and her brother to a lather, ending the night stuffed, sore and cream pied. The tall farm raised twins had kept switching between Georgia’s mouth and slit, pushing her through three orgasms before she’d finally passed out and had to service both of them at once. She had an IUD that should hopefully prevent the kind of accident that had derailed the academic careers of her older sisters but if it failed, well getting knocked up by a ripped, rich boy with a cock like a red bull can wasn't the worst thing.

    "Ugh, why would I stretch? I lifted a truck fine," Dahlia sighed, "not like I'm going to tear anything."

    "Beyond your pants and bra you mean?" Georgia laughed.

    Dahlia flushed in embarrassment. She was wearing incredibly skimpy gear, spandex shorts and sports bra, both cherry red and last worn months earlier. Her freckled boobs surged out of the bra, nipples nearly breaking through and under boob leaking out. The shorts pinched all around her waist, her silky soft starter belly and lively little love handles made prominent by the tight fabric. That she'd clearly gained a good bit of weight since her cheerleading days embarrassed the vain girl, who was glad her red once piece costume covered her problem areas.

    "It's not that tight," Dahlia gulped, not knowing what the embarrassment was doing to her.

    In the heroines blood, the omega testosterone and alpha estrogen molecules released by her pituitary gland at her sexual lust at fat girls in peril were already dropping, her body but making more until she was turned on by fatties again. The shame at her own weight gain flushed them out further, unknowingly dropping Dahlia's power!

    "Girl, I look like I've been in the off season," the trim if not super defined Georgia said, "you look like you spend all your time on the bench. No offense."

    "I'll show you bench," the nascent heroine muttered.

    Seething, Dahlia stalked towards a bench and began loading up it's bar with weights. When there were three hundred pounds in each side, the leggy red head slid under it and pushed up with one hand. The weight rose up and down easily, Dahlia smiling and tossing the bar up to catch with her other hand. Three sets of thirty shot by in one minute, the ginger not even sweating.

    "Bench that," she smiled, sitting up and simultaneously feeling little fat rolls across her belly while looking straight at a motivational mural of a completely shredded woman's eight pack.

    Combined, the shame and guilt dropped Dahlia's Zaftonite hormonal levels a bit more.

    "I'm not gonna try, this is your work out remember? Let's get to work on you," Georgia reminded, "starting with the ab machine."

    "Pfft, abs ...uh...schmlabs," Dahlia laughed off, feeling just a bit sore.

    Might Girls work out began a sharp downward spiral. Each jerk and push of her super strength used up more energy, burning through her dwindling super hormones. And as she tired, flagging self confidence and the lean physiques of the girls on murals around her sapped her confidence even lower. Dahlia started to feel sore after 80 reps of 500 pound curls and her under used glutes began to quiver as she squatted a thousand pounds.  She started on the lap track moving so fast her running shoes left melted rubber behind but was barely over street speeds by the time she finished her five mile. Sweat stained her sports gear and the hopeful model was huffing and puffing, her out of shape breath sending her self confidence spiralling.

    "Need a breather there?" Georgia asked, keeping careful notes on how her friend was faring, smiling as she came to a conclusion,"I know girls your size don't do well with cardio..."

    "I "huff" don't have time to breathe," the gasping heroine said, plopping back down on a bench.

    With a forced grin and ignoring the jiggle of her stomach, Dahlia flopped down under the bar and pushed. To her shock it felt heavy, rising off the plate with difficulty. She snarled at the sudden weakness and pushed...too little avail. The bar came down even as lactic acid burned in her arms, hard metal hitting soft boob.

    "Fuck, spot, spot!" The terrified heroine yelped, convinced she was trapped under six hundred pounds, "get a fork lift!"

    To her surprise, Dahlia easily bent over and removed the bar.

    "Fuck, but how did you do that?" Dahlia gasped.

    "Because it was only a fifty pound bar," the much more clever trainer reminded her, gesturing to the small weights and picking up a note book.

    "Fifty pounds.... But.. Shit, I'm might Girl! I should be able to lift fifty pounds!" The shocked Ginger seethed, her levels at baseline human.

    "Well that leads me to good news and bad news. Bad news is you seem to have a battery of some sorts. When you use your powers or when I tease your about that gut you've got going on, they get weaker," Georgia suggested, "good news is that batteries can be recharged."

    "Fuck me but how?" Dahlia asked, muscles screaming at their first workout in six slothful months.

    "Exactly. Remember when you first started feeling weird, in the changing room when I pointed out how chubby our coworkers were getting and how even my ass was growing?" The dark haired girl reminded, eyes on Dahlia's flushed face getting even more red.

    "Uhh, a little," the sore red head admitted.

    "And remember last night when I was absolutely stuffed with ice cream and milk shakes, to the point I couldn't even see my clit? And your brother was just ramming me from behind and pumping more and more into my pussy while you kept feeding me ice cream off your tits, with my stuffed belly rubbing all over yours?" Georgia went on, seeing her friend's blue eyes get dreamy and her lips tremble.

    "Ugh, it was so hot," Dahlia groaned, nipples engorging as she began to release more super hormones into her bloodstream.

    "And how I came so hard and you just kept feeding me?" Georgia reminded," but you put the milk shake on your pussy and I lapped it up because I was just so hungry?"

    "Fuck that was in my top five orgasms...," Dahlia groaned, one hand touching her fit and the other her slit.

    "And you started hovering because you're a chubby chaser?" Georgia asked dryly.

    Dahlia's blue eyes snapped open, a death glare in their azure orbs.

    "I. Am. Not," the Might Girl insisted, only to realize her soreness was gone and she was hovering above the floor.

    "Of course you are, your twin brother is and your dad probably was too. Given how big your mom is," Georgia smiled, "it's common sense, you get empowered by what turns you on."

    "Please, there's no way I'm some sort of fat chasing degenerate like my brother," Dahlia said.

    "Girl, you can't take your eyes off me since I went up a pant size," Georgia reminded, "and if your brother would put a ring on me, I'd get mobility scooter big to get that kind of dick every night. I swear he vibrated."

    "Ok, maybe I'm a little, tiny bit turned on by you getting a little tiny bit softer," Dahlia gulped, "but that doesn't mean anything..."

    "Aside from you being in a perfect position to help save Plains city," a refined voice said behind them, "if you can keep up with the training...."

    Both startled fuck buddies turned to see an elegantly dressed woman perched on a nearby chair. Jet black hair clung tight to her head, while her black eyes glowed in an stately face that suggested she was mixed race. Her black skirt suit must have cost as much as Dahlia's car and clearly needed an up grade.

    Tight stockings were made transparent across plump legs, runs starting at the inner thigh. Round hips stretched the skirt until it whiskered around a chubby lower tummy that strained her buttons , belt clinging tight to the midsection chunk. She even had a tiny little double chin.

    But for all that she looked... familiar.

    "Wait, I remember you from the Lordcorp burger commercials... Your fucking Helena Hunt!" Dahlia hissed, anger rising that her portfolio had been rejected by this chunker over potential weight gain!

    And getting even hornier to see how cuddly and plump and soft this vaunted beauty was!

    "No, my girl friend is fucking Helena Hunt. I on the other hand, am CEO of Hunt industries and the only active crime fighter in this city for fifteen years," the early thirties aristocrat reminded, "and I'm here to offer you a job...."

    Being offered a job by Helena Hunt was literally Dahlia's dream. Going from posting glorified selfies on Insta and flashing tit on only fans to being a legit model with an actual career and an agent and her own place she didn't have to share with her pervert twin brother was a dream come true.

    "You bitch!" Dahlia snarled, blue eyes glowing red and hovering up six feet in the air, "take your modeling job and shove it sideways up your fat ass!"

    A small smirk crossed Hunts soft face, "I must say, I don't usually hear talk like that from hopeful models with declining ** followings and bot inflated Insta accounts. Especially when they clearly need professional help to tame the early twenties spread. Carbs are meant to be part of the food pyramid, love, not the whole thing and deep fried."

    The newly repowered Might Girl vibrated in anger... And dropped a few feet as  the fat shaming hit her. That she boosted her Instagram wasn't hard to figure out, but she'd been hiding her only fans decline pretty closely. Her fans weren't happy about the post college chub she was gaining and it showed in her bank account! As she outgrew her ability to suck in, fans were abandoning her fit slimmer models!

    "I...I you fucking rejected me!" Dahlia seethed, making herself levitate back up and grabbing a six hundred pound bench bar like it was nothing, "I was Miss Minnesota three weeks before I sent you my portfolio! I actually went on a damn diet to get in the best possible shape! And you still rejected me!"

    "Most Miss Minnesota's are trying to fit their baby bumps behind a register at the Piggly wiggly a year later," The fashion mogul explained calmly, not at all seeming to care she was angering a woman with the power of a battleship, "and a girl with tits like you? I've seen a hundred better and they all end the same way: they start putting on weight when their teenage metabolism runs out and try to crash diet. That shrinks their breasts down to A cups. Every time."

    Real fear shot through Dahlia. The not quite so little gut her midsection had turned into was bad, a suggestion that she was fated to turn into her barely mobile mother. But her pride and joys going flat? She even risked a look down to make sure they were still popping out of her bra... Only to see the newly grown F cups floating free!

    "Not that you seem to be crash dieting" Helena commented, still sitting on the desk but some how holding Dahlia's stretched out sports bra, "although mistreating your girls by shoving them into a mere 38DDD at your size is down right abusive. If you weren't a Zaftonite you'd be hitting the floor by thirty. You need proper support."

    "How the fuck did you do that!?" The now topless ginger demanded, sweaty boobs shining, "and how did you know I was a Zaftonite!?"

    "Damn it Dahlia, don't tell her you're a Zaftonite!" Georgia called from behind her friend, "and don't threaten one of the richest women in the city with a dumbbell!"

    A tired laugh escaped Helena's plump lips, "I'm very practiced at moving without being heard. And you arent practiced at all with your powers. There's been no sightings of flying cheerleaders before your friend with the budding pear shape's little video  and Might Woman swore she'd raise her children as normals. So I'm guessing that you have no idea of your limits. Have you even been in a fight before yesterday? That demon was the weakest breed of succubus and you still only won because of your very fragile powers. You need training if you hope not too get killed on your second day."

    That answer was a no. Dahlia's wealth, good looks and generally dating most of the hockey or football teams at once had prevented her from needing to use force before finding out demons were real. But pride prevented her from admitting that, just like it prevented her from asking how Hunt knew her mother. In truth, Dahlia's ego was pretty fragile, she was a sweet ex nerd pretending to be a mean girl and the demon Cruella had actually scared the shit out of her. 

    But her pride wouldn't let the lightly padded red head admit that.

    "Why do I need training when I've got super powers?" The catty Dahlia asked, "and why would I get it from an over the hill, fat, spoiled rich girl like you?"

    Helenas left eye twitched, just slightly.

    She stood up, high heels clicking on the polished concrete. Nimble hands removed a college tuition in rings and pearls, before taking off her suit jacket. Without it, Helena's tubbiness was very apparent, not some out of shape tummy chub like Dahlia or a little padding over muscle like Georgia, but real plump pudge.  The rail thin, taut ab look that Helena had shown in many a fashion show in her model days was gone, replaced with a round tummy that stretched her buttons apart and wide mommy hips.

    "The speedster girl was so much more polite. But, You might have a point, I'm not so young anymore. My girlfriend wants wedding bells and little feet going pitter patter instead of sexual tension and roof top chases," the brunette woman said dispassionately, undoing the buttons on her shirt, "Mother has stopped asking me when I'm giving her grandkids to if I still can. My knuckles hurt after a long fight and I need to stretch before I go to bed, otherwise my back screams in the morning. People have started recommending me Botox specialists."

    The once famously thin mogul carefully folded her designer shirt. It's absence didn't reveal hidden muscles, instead a creamy beer belly with a standing roll starting and a couple stretch marks about her deep belly button. Soft, chubby arms didn't look very martial and her push up bra held small fat girl boobs instead of pecs. She bent and the fatty tummy split into rolls as she peeled off her skirt. Helenas once narrow hips had gotten seriously wide and as she put away the skirt her famously taut butts cellulite and stretch marks were clear to see out of outgrown panties, a preview of what Georgia could look forwards too as her butt inflated and fitness failed.

    "... Why are you taking off your clothes?" Dahlia asked, sweat pouring off her body in nervous horniness.

    Helena Hunt had been her idol growing up. A spoiled party girl model who drank like a fish and ate like a pig while still swimming in a size zero, before becoming one of the most famously ruthless and successful fashion moguls in the world, showing the nay Sayers rules didn't apply to her. Seeing the skinny mini model with the tubby, clearly overweight physique of a trophy wife gone to seed set the chubby chasing half Zaftonites hormones nuts. The abs that had helped make her bisexual were now a serious ** belly hanging over their panties! The butt that had made her an ass woman had merged with now rubbing thighs!

    "Because they're expensive and I don't want any of your blood on them," Helena explained calmly as she walked, thighs rasping and high heels clicking, towards Dahlia, "if you can take on a demon, surely you can take on a spoiled, over the hill, rich girl."

    "I uh, don't want to hurt you... although I totally could!" Dahlia insisted, holding up the stuff hundred pound barbell like a crucifix, "so um, stop!"

    Dimples shown on either side of Helena's lips, new additions to a softer face.

    "Let's have a wager. If you can hit me once, I'll let you go crime fight on your own and sign you for a cover. With no weight clause," the mogul smiled.

    "Holy fuck really?" an ecstatic Dahlia asked, not believing her ears.

    "And when you kick the shit out of her?" Georgia asked, having backed away, the army brat seeing the murder in Hunts eyes.

    "Dahlia accepts my tutelage, takes a job as my assistant, " Helena smiled, "and pays for dinner tonight. My choice."

    "Ha, easy mon-oh fuck," Dahlia gasped as the first drop kick hit her in the solar plexus

 

        Dahlia had taken hits before.

    Due to her 6'1 height and predigious strength, the once fit ginger had always been bottom of the cheer pyramid and had often had the whole edifice go down on her. And one prom night had had half the foot ball team do the same to her from the opposite direction. But Helena Hunt hit like a freight train, far harder than the demonic Cruella had to the point that the topless Might Girl actually felt pain as she was knocked back several feet!

    "Ho-how did you do that!?" The red haired girl gasped, bent in half at the waist, her tummy formed into rolls, as she watched the plump mogul stalk forwards.

    "Could be several reasons," Helena's cultured accent purred, honey across the Zaftonites libido, "maybe I'm also a Zaftonite. Maybe I've got magical abilities. Maybe I'm a shape shifting alien. Maybe you're attracted to me and that let's me through the bioelectrical force field surrounding you."

    Dahlia glared, trying to not think of that bouncy belly and gently chafing thighs, "I'm uhh, that is entirely bull crap!"

    "Then why are your nipples so pointy?" Helena asked.

    A glance down made Dahlia's face go red as her hair, her nipples were rock hard. She looked up only to see the tubby fashion icon had vanished!

    "Where the hell did you go!" The farm girl demanded, only for the world to go black as something was thrown over her eyes!

    "A bit of advice, don't take your eyes off the enemy," Helena said from behind her.

    Dahlia snarled and spun, dumbbell club hitting nothing but air as her free hand tugged at a silky black fabric that refused to tear!

    "What is this? How the hell is it not breaking?" Dahlia demanded, swinging randomly, workout equipment shattering before her club.

    "It's my bra, I might only have b cups but I take good care of them. Gen mod spider silk, carbon nanotube padding, adamantium under wire. You could break it if your powers were working at their full... But if they were, your tits wouldn't have started sagging," Helena insisted.

    The anger in Dahlia's heart rose higher. Her girls were her pride and joy, their arrival having turned her into the bad bitch she was! The thought of them sagging was as terrible as being reminded that her abs were gone! 

    The cut to her self confidence was severe, the weight in Dahlia's hand suddenly heavy and her floating feet scraping the ground. Her heart thundered and she found herself breathing hard, sweat pouring off of her.

    "Nor would you have so much cellulite on your ass," Helena said, hauling up on her foe's  far tight shorts to give her an awful wedgie.

    Dahlia yelped in more shock than pain, flash backs to middle school bullying when she'd been a scrawny nerd passing through her blindfolded eyes. That made her powers crap out completely, the woman dropping her far too heavy club with a clunk. She didn't hit the ground though, finding that Helena was holding her up by her underwear!

    "Shit, shit, let me go!" The pained Might Girl struggled hopelessly.

    "Are you ready to accept my tutelage and abandon your pride?" Helena asked, voice just a bit strained.

    "Ugh, yes, alright? You beat me, now put me down!" Dahlia admitted, boobs swaying.

    She was dropped to her knees and the bra effortlessly pulled from her head. Blinking and trying to pull her panties on, the super powered farm girl turned around just in time to see the billionaire clasp her black bra across her plump, pale breasts. She was breathing a little heavy and slick with sweat, belly sticking out with every breath she took.

    "Good. Your training starts at 4 am at my mansion, your job as my office assistant starts at 7 am," The dark haired woman explained,  turning back to her clothes, "get dressed and get your wallet, I've worked up an appetite."

    Dahlia was about to mention that her wallet and clothes were at home but the sight of Helena's heavy, bouncy cheeks hanging from her too tight underwear rapidly repowered her.

                    …..

    Helena Hunt, billionaire sole owner of Hunt Conglomerate, exuded elegant grace. Granted, she was now we'll padded and plump, a new pear with a hint of a waddle. But Dahlia, if asked, would have guessed her new Boss' seam straining donk had been built by long business lunch's at five star restaurants and whipped cream loaded frappes from highly trained barristas. 

    Not from literal hills of barbecue.

    The tall ginger heroine had zipped home using her revitalized powers to change and grab her purse. When Helena had told her the lunch date was at Butch's BBQ, Dahlia had felt relief. First because her stagnant only fans couldn't take a five star restaurant and because her thickening waist couldn't fit into any of her outgrown classy outfits. She'd arrived at the eatery in a grey t and pink sweats, her old fat day clothes that were now too tight: the pant's draw string stretched far too snug to tie, the shirt exposed three inches of plump lower tummy and vacuum wrapped her breasts.

    Until she'd seen Helena, already at the small eatery with Georgia via limousine, be greeted by name from the hulking owner Butch and taken to her "usual booth with the usual orders."

    Food had started coming: mountains of steaming pork ribs in oceans of thick, bubbling sauce. Pyramids of corn bread biscuits glistening with butter. Forests of smoked vegetables and swamps of smoked fruit. Helena had wrapped a napkin under her cute double chin and gracefully undone her skirt's button. Tension had unzipped her strained zipper before the delicately plump asian woman had opened her mouth and began to devour everything before her.

    "Don't worry if you can't catch up to me," the short Helena cautioned, "you're a bit of a light weight!"

    “Oh, I am certain that I’ll beat you. I might not have fought before yesterday, but I’ve been over eating for years!” the ex cheer leader bragged, patting her stomach and blushing when it jiggled, having genuinely forgotten she was tubby anymore.

    “I’m just gonna have a light serving or two,” Georgia said, the non-hero a bit turned on at the sexual tension, enough to remember the double stuffing from the night before and deciding that getting a little thicker wasn’t the worst idea, “Uh...maybe three…”

    Dahlia's had terrible eating habits that were just now catching up to her. She ate too much, ate too quickly and ate too much junk, stretching out her stomach and giving her a truly ludicrous appetite, especially after her first workout in six months. She'd been proud of how much she could eat, granted that had been connected to how little stuck to her, but despite growing a belly, Dahlia was certain of her dietary prowess. Combined with her competitive nature, she wasn't about to let a woman half her height out eat her! Especially after just getting her butt so humiliatingly kicked!

    Six entire stacks of saucy ribs, thirty corn bread biscuits and too much smoked fruit to count  later...Dahlia was still going. As was Helena, the two super heroes eating themselves round well after Georgia had passed out with a domed out tummy.

    "Ho-how? How can you eat like that?" Dahlia said through a full mouth, "I'm like, half an alien Goddess or something. But you're just, urp, a rich lady!"

    Her face was covered in sauce, a splatter of orange red that went down to her sweaty breasts. An already tubby belly was stretched spherical, audibly sloshing as her now outtie belly button touched the table. Dahlia was having to lean past her globular gut to grab more food, determined not to quit!  

    "I'm just the richest lady on the east coast," Helena corrected, sucking meat off of a rib without spilling one drop of sauce, "and I'm a bit more than human. Your mother was Might Woman, she was the light of the Hero League. My father the Shade was it's shadow and I was built to surpass him."

    "So you're...a robot?" Dahlia asked, her suppressed intelligence struggling past nearly a decade of mean girl vapidness.

    "...No. I'm a human weapon, a genetics experiment made by the cult of the all mother. Specifically their psychotic leader Lady Death, who combined her own altered DNA with my father, the Shade Hector Hunt," Helena said, popping a biscuit into her mouth, "enhanced strength, speed and durability. Not to a Zaftonite standard but I've been training since I could walk to fight."

    "No offense, but you don't look much like a human weapon...," Dahlia responded, trying to bring up Helenas hip heavy, soft physique nicely without calling her fat to her face.

    "I know I'm slight and delicate," the 5'4 and 170 lb woman responded, eating another rib, "I was made as the perfect assassin, someone able to get in and unseen. My father rescued me when I was a child and I became his apprentice until his death. This was not long after your mother was depowered and fled the city, but I couldn't leave it. Since then, I've been keeping the city safe from the shadows. But my time is passing."

    Helena looked like it was her time to go into labor. Her stomach was stretched round as a ball, the buttons on her shirt barely holding on as pale diamonds of flesh gleamed. The question wasn't why she was tubby, if this was how she usually ate the question was how she could still walk! An already considerable paunch had doubled in size, swelling without sign of stopping!

    "Uh, wait," Dahlia asked, trying to look up from the deliciously stuffed woman, her exposed fat girl fetish screaming at her to kiss that pale dome, "passing? Are you dying?"

    "No, just my time as a hero," Helena said sadly, a button flying off, "six months ago I was poisoned, a synthetic toxin that's slowly but surely stripping me of my powers. I'm already half way to normal and by Christmas well, I'll be like every other thirty one year old ex model."

    Pure fear shot through Dahlias blue eyes, "holy shit, people can take my powers?"

    "Not yours, not easily. I'm just a modified human, your mother was the last daughter of Zafton. Their genome is so strong that you and your brother are basically pure bloods, maybe without one or two minor powers, but the only thing that can strip you of power is Gold Zaftonite. As far as I know, the only sample in existence was used on your mother twenty three years ago," Helena burped, standing up easily despite having a waist line thrice what she'd say down with, "while you have a weakness to magic and Zaftonite crystals, like the ones I have on my toe rings, the only thing that can stop you at the moment is a lack of self confidence and running out of energy. Your powers are just starting to flex, doubting yourself limits the energy you get from fetishizing fat women."

    "Hehe, I don't um, that's not really my bag....," The red head gulped, impossibly embarrassed at her idol knowing her shameful fetish.

    "It's imprinted on your genome. Ancient Zaftonite society bred for genetic perfection, but it was a matriarchal theocracy worshipping obese god queens, a rare breed born without a hyper metabolism. Those who could witness the gluttony and girth first hand were given a rush of power by released hormones. the god queens were constantly charged by being attracted to themselves, becoming the source of their own power," Helena explained, fishing a stack of hundreds from her designer purse for the tip, "Your mother told me this, to tell you when it was time. She assumed that you'd have a hidden fetish like her, but that you'd have a hyper metabolism like she did. Luckily for us, you don't and appear quite inclined to gaining weight when not exercising."

    Dahlia looked down at her incredibly stuffed stomach. She looked like an ad for a stomach soother, her gluttony clearly fattening her up.

    "Oh great, lucky for me," the red head sighed, "I can get fat ... Wait how am I gonna get fat if I'm training? And why did my mom tell you this?"

    "Your mother...," Helena said softly, "She inspired everyone to do better but losing her power broke her. She knew even then that she'd have difficulty telling you this, that she was hiding herself away in fear. As for your training, most of it will be strength training and sparring, but as for the rest... We’re going to teach you to embrace body positivity..."

 

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and what's going on with Helena.... a demanding mother who wants grand kids!

 

Helena Hunt didn’t bother zipping up her skirt as she left the BBQ den.

There was no need, given that the size twelve silk garment was being held up quite well by the pressure generated by the vigilante’s ample hips. Helena’s once fatless derriere had spread rapidly when the calories began to stick, all the fatty meat and sugary sauce she’d gorged on rapidly clinging to her lower belly, hips and butt. So tight were the seams that ever waddle of her delicately soft thighs made a little bit more soft pale flesh show.

Not that the Lady Shade thought about it, her keen strategic mind already thinking about planning the next phase of the eternal war on crime. Both Calorie Girl and Might Girl could be excellent soldiers against the many forces corrupting Plains City, provided that they were trained. The Speedster needed to pack on some serious fat reserves and the Zaftonite needed to learn to accept herself, but Helena was certain she could train them.

While Might Girl, heavier by a couple pounds and lighter by nearly a thousand dollars for the bill, carried her stuffed friend Georgia home, Helena’s ride was a luxurious limousine. The CEO’s stiletto heels click clacked across the ground, sending rippling waves through her soft body. From her plush calves to her rasping thighs, up over her now 40 inch hips and through her cuddly belly and pinchable cheeks, Helena had lost the rail thin litheness that had made her a fashion icon and a dangerous vigilante.

“Thank you, Heidi. Back to the pent house, I’ve worked up an appetite for my beloved Andi,” the vigilante said to the tall, Amazonian German driver holding the door open for her.

“Perhaps some ice cream for Fraulein Korin?” the former German GS9 officer asked her.

“Oh yes, she does love that. Especially when she’s on some silly diet, it will cheer her up no end, I”m certain,” Helena agreed, bending down to sit, "I don't know why she resists so much, she looks so good chubby."

Enormously bloated as she was, even the expensive fabric of Helena’s designer blouse couldn’t take the pressure. Button’s pinged off like a machine gun, the sweat stained blouse falling open to reveal Helena’s water melon sized stomach and black bra. Rather than show alarm at her gluttony ruining yet more clothing, Helena didn’t even notice, but instead slid her shapely derriere across the leather seats, thinking of her girlfriend's inflated booty.

The limo pulled off smoothly, cutting through Plains City’s grid of busy streets. Between workout, beating and the long, long, long lunch, many hours had passed, that dangerous post lunch lul arriving. Helena began to drift off, she’d had a long night doing a patrol that was quite difficult for some reason before teaching the new rookie to respect her betters. And of course, even though she was still somewhat super human, Helena had a lot of food to digest.

But even though her abs had turned into a plump gut, the Shade’s instincts were still sharp as a freshly split diamond. 

When the limousine took a wrong turn from the gourmet gelato parlor that Andi couldn’t resist, one of Helena’s opal black eyes slid open.

“Heidi, this isn’t the right way,” the CEO said, only for the divider between driver and passenger to close.

“Shit,” Helena snapped, springing into action as the locks shut.

Her personal limo was armored enough to withstand an airstrike, so Helena didn’t bother trying to throw herself at the windows. She pulled open her purse to alert Andi, only for the phone’s signal to be blocked. Cursing she slid open a hidden panel in the seat, grabbing open her utility belt and black armored costume. 

“I don’t know what they’re paying you for this, Heidi, but it won’t be enough,” Helena promised, hauling her utility belt around her waist, only for the black metal and rubber to fail to connect!

“What, sabotaging my belt too?” Helena snarled, not cosignant to her belt being designed for a woman with a 22 inch waist when she had a 32 inch gut when not stuffed.

A sharp turn knocked the brunette onto her well padded butt, her high heels flying off. Helena pushed herself up, skirt shredding to show her thong. The car came to a fast stop, making the ungainly heroine fall over. She rolled up, pulling a razor sharp shade-a-rang and a set of taser knuckles from her belt and jumping through the opening door.

Five black armored women waited for her, their frames lithe and well used swords in their hands. Helena still brought them down with sharp kicks, precise parries and fast punches. Less than a minute and a half later, only the panting, near naked billionaire was still standing, finding herself in a dark garage. Covered in sweat, beat red and heavily panting.

And not alone.

“Oh wonderful, darling, wonderful,” a high, british accented voice echoed down from the upper gantry over polite clapping, “still able to drop five top tier assassins when near naked! Of course, you’re down twenty seconds from last time…”

Helena wasn’t sure what the reference to ‘last time’ was, but a small snarl spread across her face at the cultured voice.

“Lady Death,” the vigilante growled.

“Please, darling. It’s just us, you can call me mommy,” the voice giggled.

A hydraulic platform lowered down from the darkness, a tall woman standing dramatically upon it. The resemblance to Helena was close, too close to deny the words. However, this woman was a full head taller, standing in at a leggy 5’10. And unlike the wide hipped, soft tummied vigilante, she was in spectacular shape. Designer jeans distressed from hip to ankle showed svelte tan legs, while her crop top was hiked up high to show a taut six pack. Her breasts were twice the flat chested Helena’s size, perfect DD globes that hovered without a bra. Gaudy rings covered her manicured fingers, while she was as gaudily made up as any Insta influencer.

“I’ll call you that when you renounce your dedication to evil,” Helena growled, “what’s going on here?”

“Please, darling, I spend nine months getting all fat and frumpy for your sake, you never call, I still don’t have grandchildren and when we meet you don’t even call me mother! It doesnt look good for the All Mother’s High Priestess to not have any grand children,” the world’s greatest Assassin huffed, her sharp chinned face protesting innocence, “besides, why would I want this gorgeous visage to turn into a hag’s face?”

Lady Death looked innocent, with her huge brown eyes and hip length black hair. While Helena was a beautiful thirty one year old, her mother would have been carded at any bar in the city, looking a decade younger than her own child.

“Perhaps to match your disgusting soul,” Helena growled, sucking in air for a fight as her mother effortlessly jumped off the hydraulic press, did a triple back flip and landed on her own stiletto heels.

“Oh pooh to your insults,” Lady Death yawned, “they’re beneath you. And I’m not going to fight you dear, not yet. Let’s catch up, its been a whole week.”

“We haven’t talked in years, not since I foiled your attempt to blow up the Olympics. Or did the Vanity Pools stop preserving your mind?” the Shade shot back at the circling assassin.

“One shouldn’t taunt their mother, especially when you’ve got laugh lines coming in,” Lady Death said to her, “but like a good little daughter, you come meet me for a chat every week. We talk about all the grand b**s you’re going to give me and how much youve eaten and what clothes you can’t fit into anymore and how lovely your little girlfriend is…”

“Are...are you mad?” Helena asked in pure puzzlement, “none of that’s happened!”

There was real concern in her voice. Lady Death, or Carol Li as shed once been known, might be a mass murdering cult leader kept artificially young due to sacrificing enemies in supernatural pools but she really was Helena’s mother. The heroine had been born and bred in the cult, from the days when Lady Death had been an occasional ally of her father, the Shade. Helena had escaped as a child and fought her mother often, but it didnt mean she wanted her to go apparently mad!

“Oh, it has indeed. We even talk about how delightfully fat you’re getting and go over all your little fat girl moments!” Lady Death smiled, a school girl giggle going through her lips.

“We should check your eyes as well as your mind, its obvious that I’m not fat!” Helena sneered, truly and totally unaware on how much weight shed packed on.

“Oh this gets cuter and cuter the fatter and fatter you get,” Lady Death smiled and pounced.

Helena was the best trained fighter on the planet and possessed potent enhancements. But those enhancements had faded by half, Lady Death’s plunges into the Vanity Pools had left her super human and the assassin cultist had taught her daughter everything she knew. Laughing like a mad woman, the assassin jumped over her daughter and delivered a loud smack to her ballooned buns upon landing.

A blush shot up Helena’s face and she spun around, only to see her mother’s smile.

“Helena Hunt’s grown a butt,” Lady Death purred.

“...What...what are you…,” Helena blinked, an intense hypnotic suggestion falling away from her.

She stepped back and suddenly felt the rasping of her thighs. The jiggling of her hips. The bouncing of her waterbed butt! The wobble of her double chin! How her clothes were shredded, how she was so painfully full! Helena wasn't just a little soft, she was full on fat, having gained at least 40 pounds!

“I’m...look at what you’ve done to me!” Helena gasped, both enraged and horrified at her slender, svelte physique having turned plump and lazy in an instant from her perspective, "I'm...I'm I'm a sow! What is this magic?"

"Oh I wouldn't go that far. While I certainly wouldn't want an ass like that, its quite cute on you. You're not even obese yet, dear Helena! But you will be soon," Lady Death laughed, brushing her silky hair back, “No magic, just some mesmerism, darling daughter, that I’ve borrowed from a dear friend. A little bit of distraction to keep you from seeing all the soft, cuddly pounds that you’ve gained since I started taking away your powers!”

Helena’s ebony eyes narrowed in abject rage, “My powers...it was you! You were the one who dosed me during the Model Wars between Lord Corp and Me!”

“Between Lord Corp and you? My my dear, you are not the same detective your father was. I was the one who was fattening up everyone!” Lady Death giggled, “Just to power up the Vanity Pool nexus under the city, a big shining, magical meta-beacon to bring in everything from aliens to demons to that dreadful Lord woman into town! All I had to do was arrange some feeders, spike some drinks and you never knew what hit you! Especially you daughter, who so loved the gifts the All Mother gave you, despite you spurning her cult! So I decided to take them away from you! I crept into your room at night, with you all curled up with that beautiful Brazilian and slipped a magical tonic down your throat!”

Helena roared and jumped towards her poisoner. But her jump was clumsy, Lady Death easily spinning away and smacking her daughter on the ass again. Helena clumsily fell to her knees, the kevlar in her stockings preventing a scrap. She pushed herself up and snapped a telegraphed series of punches, the cult leader giggling as she dodged away.

“What-what is this?” Helena gasped, rapidly running out of breath.

“This? Oh the skills I taught you, well I didn’t want you being dangerous did I? Not only does this hypnotic state keep you from realizing how fat you’re getting, but when I say the phrase you lose all access to your martial arts’ skills!” Lady Death giggled, pinching her daughter’s cheeks.

Helena snapped a few more punches, the assassin easily dodging them all before grabbing a soft wrist. Before she knew it, Helena found herself pinned to the floor, Lady Death’s strong thighs gripping her shoulders tight. The assassin pulled a small vial from her pocket, pouring the bright green liquid down the vigilante's mouth. Helena groaned, feeling her body tremble, muscles weakening just a bit more.

“Why don’t you just kill me?” Helena gasped.

“Kill you? What am I, a monster? No! I gave you everything dear: enhanced speed and strength, the best training, everything needed to help me take over your father's company and then the entire world! And what did you do?” Lady Death frowned, “You ran away because I wanted you to kill a few people! All to follow some idiot cause of justice, the same career that got your father killed!”

“Because you stabbed him to death!” the pinned vigilante snapped.

“Oh here we go, bringing up that Christmas again!” Lady Death sighed, holding her thighs tighter around Helena’s plump body and resting her lean hips on her daughter’s stuffed gut, pulling a strange amulet out of her cleavage, “but dear you can stop struggling to reach the taser you keep on your nipple ring. I’m not going to kill you either, I really do love you in my own way. I want you safe and happy and with children of your own! So I’m going to make sure you fatten up until you’re too big to even think of fighting crime, about 280lbs or so, then you can retire, stop foiling my plans and give me grand children to spoil!"

Helena didn’t stop struggling, although it wasn’t doing much good. Everytime she tried to move towards a counter she found it slipping away, her body writhing helplessly. Lady Death just smiled, taking the strange silver amulet out and waving it before her daughter’s eyes.

“Now forget, forget that you’re getting fat, forget that I’m stealing your powers, forget that you ever saw me here at all…” Lady Death smiled, her daughter's eyes locking onto the hypnotic amulet, "when I say "Helena Hunt Wants to Glut", you'll forget this happened, not notice you're gaining weight, order your clothes upsized and oh...let's say propose to your girlfriend. You've been stringing her along for years and its not like she can model much longer with an ass that fat...”

About an hour later, the doors to the expensive gym of Helena's mansion opened up. The billionaire vigilante, wearing a snug but fitting size fourteen skirt suit recently given to her, entered with a rasp of soft thighs. Her swollen stomach had gone down a bit and the brunettes' arms were carrying a five gallon drum of triple fudge gelato that rested on her paunch.

"Ooof, Boa tarde love," super model Andi Korin huffed to her girlfriend, "i'll be off to see you in just a moment, I need to burn some calories!"

The tan skinned Brazillian model was laboring upon an elliptical machine. Her sweat slick and ice cream fed thighs smacked together with every step, while her basketball buns bounced and wobbled madly, greedily eating up her tiny spandex shorts. Despite being on a strict diet, just begun that week, Andi's bloated stomach indicated a very heavy late lunch not too long ago.The ginger's workout platform faced a wall, where a centerfold from last year of her svelte older self displaying lean legs and a flat stomach now long lost. That the paunchy, huge assed woman waddling along was separated by that lithe beauty by only months seemed insane.

"Workouts are over rated compared to dieting, love. Only a speedster can out run their forks," Helena said, licking her lips to see all that luscious butt bounce, stretchmarks starting to make their way across those glorious buns and their existing cellulite, "how was the new keto diet today?"

"Ahhh...well, I ...well I was a bit bad. The cellulite spread a bit down my thighs and I binged. There was a lot of meat in what I ate," the sweaty model admitted sheepishly, getting down from the elliptical, "and um, a lot of potatoes....oh no, Helena no, is that Gelato? You know I can't resist it, its...oh God you'll need to roll me out of here!"

Helena stalked forwards, as merciless as she was towards any criminal and luxuriating in the power she had over the tan red head, just as much as she was turned on by her luscious curves.

"Its just some gelato, you know we bonded over gelato right after I depowered you," Helena purred, "Let's have some, for old times' sake..."

The plush bikini model bit her plump lip, drooling for the airy ice cream but also blanching. Her hands were on her paunchy tummy, hanging over her snug shorts. They traced her bloated curves, feeling engorged buns and chaffing thighs.

"Oh Helena, meu amor," Andi gulped, "I'd love some but...oh but I'm getting so fat! At the nutritionist today I was up another three pounds over last week! She said that if I don't start losing weight soon, it's going to stick to me! And I've got to get back to a size four for the winter issue!"

"Andi, love, I don't think you'll need to worry about that. No one's going to say no to the CEO's wife," Helena smiled, kneeling down in front of her taller girlfriend with the heavy tub of gelato in her hand.

"Wife...Helena, do you mean...," the model gulped, plump and trembling fingers flipping open the tub of gelato to reveal ice cold desert...and a gold ring with a gleaming black diamond on it, "Oh God, oh God!"

The model took it from the ice cream, sucking off the gelato and slid it on her finger, her face growing a puzzled look as she realized it was the wrong size, 'But, amor, its too big..."

"You'll grow into it," Helena smiled.

Many streets away, a lithe figure stared through binoculars at the romantic scene in the pent house.

"Oh my, you're never ready when they propose," Lady Death sniffed, wiping tears away with a kerchief, "I'm so happy she's happy...and that she'll be off my back..."

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3 minutes ago, >_< 0_0 said:

The character development in this is so good! How do you two make a coherent plot when you’re so far away from each other? Everything is so consistent so far, and the feedism being an alien genetic trait is a nice touch in particular (and surprisingly relatable).

This would make a good animated series. Probably DC style too. 

Instead of Invincible, it would be "insatiable".

The plot coherence so far is just building from each other.

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Dahlia and Georgia have to "adult":

Hard core athletic training wasn’t a new thing to Dahlia Drake, despite her decadent appearance.

Her ass might have lost its muscle and her abs turned to pudge, but the young half human woman was only six months removed from a ripped cheerleader. Throwing routines and pyramid stands weren’t that different than the training Lady Shade was having her undergo. Okay, there were hard light holograms of demons and aliens and long retired supervillains for her to punch. Instead of a trendy gym with lots of cute boys and girls around, she was in a secretive cave full of late 90s technology. And the weights she was squatting were decommissioned main battle tanks in order to give her ass a challenge. And instead of running she was flying at high speed in a wind tunnel. But while the naturally slothful glutton muttered and complained the whole time, it wasn’t that unenjoyable. Exercise can be fun to those not in completely terrible shape, especially with a motivational aide.

Which for Dahlia, had been the semi-retired supermodel Andi Korin doing ‘yoga’ in front of her.

The half zaftonite was an ass girl to her squishy core, which meant she couldn’t take her eyes off of the bouncing brazillian beauty’s booty. Andi was wearing a pair of skin tight, ultra short shorts four sizes too small, her globular ass cheeks hanging out of it. Being so spoiled by her fiance meant the Latina ginger’s weight was only going up, she was fifty pounds above the jaw dropping supermodel she’d been and barreling full on into middle age obesity. Watching that big, cellulite spackled ass wobble and bounce as Andi struggled through basic poses, with a donut break here and there.

So despite her recently acquired poundage, the training wasn’t a problem for Dahlia. No, as the days turned into weeks following her humiliating defeat by Helena, the problem turned out to be her new day job.

“I need the paper copies of those covers!” Helena would demand the moment Dahlia got into the office, hair still wet from a shower, “get them, now! And my breakfast!”

“Coming!” Dahlia groaned, hurrying on in her pumps and wishing she could use her powers in Hunt Tower.

She hit print from her phone as she left the cathedral like top floor, hurrying down stairs and bracing herself for more hell.

Being the assistant to her juvenile crush should have been a dream job. And apart from the staggering pay, $5K per week which made dropping her OnlyFans more than bearable, Dahlia found it a nightmare. Helena was paranoid about computers, not allowing any electronic devices in the top floor of her building and demanding paper files be brought to her round the clock, and for Dahlia to bring her snack after snack after snack. Which wasn’t bad, apart from Dahlia being on a diet to lose her potentially depowering jelly belly and her tendency to stress eat!

Every other time Dahlia bought Helena a treat, she had to buy herself one too just to make herself not snap the office building in half. Which meant that despite her training regimen, Might Girl’s weight was still slowly rising, making her size ten dress clothes increasingly tight. Part of it was from her glutes inflating back up and her leg muscles coming back, but she wasn’t having to lay down to button barely month old clothes because she was working out too hard. Dahlia’s huge height made her sizing hard to pin, but she was about to pop out of the equivalent of size tens. And she knew size twelves were the real fat girl territory.

Something the other girls in the office noticed.

Fashion work tended to draw the both the sweetest and bitchiest of girls. Which was why Dahlia (rich, spoiled and effortlessly attractive but also possessing a strong sense of justice under her mean girl false front) had wanted to be a model. But many of Hunt Media Conglomerated’s assisstant’s and secretaries were the type of A grade bitches Dahlia could only aspire to be.

“So brave to wear that dress at your size!” one size zero blonde chirpped as the bosses’ new assistant went through the intern cubicle pool.

“Uh, thanks,” Dahlia fumed, wanting to deck the blonde bitch, ‘you going out with tits that flat is my inspiration.”

“Can you give me the store you got that from? It would look so cute on my mom!” a jazzer sized skinny mini asked.

“I’ll tell her next time I’m done fucking her,” Might Girl returned.

“Hey, we accidentally ordered a pizza with our salads, we put it on your desk!” another interchangeable rail thin blonde smiled.

“Yeah, if you ate some you might have to throw up twice a day,” Dahlia grumbled, grabbing a print out and beginning the process again as she walked back.

It was an incredibly annoying daily grind. The super powered, mightily endowed young woman could hear every giggling, catty comment about her admittedly kind of soft stomach in the building. Even after the model wars had blown up several of the size zeros they didn’t change their tunes, eagerly falling on a girl with some extra pounds. 

The one person they didn’t target was Helena Hunt, who was more terrifying than adult acne, wine bloat and late periods combined. Lady Shade’s ass might be getting too big for her chair, but she was still sharp as a razor and harsh as a whip.

“Here’s the papers you asked for, Miss Hunt!” Dahlia huffed, getting back into her office.

Helean took the printed pictures without looking at her, immediately analyzing the far too perfect, photoshopped waist of the model on the cover. Her squint meant the CEO was unhappy, despite her own tummy visibly straining her skirt button. But she stamped them with her “Acceptable” stamp, leading Dahlia to sigh in relief.

“And my triple fudge soy milk latte with three shots of butterscotch americano and extra whipped cream? With my lemon curd cheese cake slice and dark chocolate eclair?” the ultra rich crimefighter asked.

“Uhh, shit I’ll go get it!” Dahlia sighed, going towards the window to fly down.

“No, not that way. Compartmentalize your life, Miss Drake, or lose both sides,” Helena told her, “take the stairs, you look like you could use them anyway.”

Dahlia saved her swearing until she’d gotten to the stairwell.

                    …..

“Another day working in paradise,” Georgia Junk Food sighed to herself, “deep fried with blue cheese poured on, paradise.”

The CIA hopeful, Linguist PhD candidate, clientless personal trainer and for general manager of Babe World Breastaurant placed a plate heavy with double fried boneless buffalo bites onto a table. Orange as a wildfire and just as hot, the insane sodium content and staggering amounts of transfats obliterated any nutritional value from the chicken’ breast’s protein. Georgia would have strongly advised any client of hers from even touching such a pile of deep fried meat, worried not just for their waist but for their arteries. However, Georgia said nothing as the meal wasn’t for anyone but herself.

“Glad I’ve got a milkshake to wash it down,” the gorgeous army brat sighed, setting another 1600 kcal of dairy product and sugar next to the plate.

Georgia sat down, wincing as the brass button of her cut off shorts bit deep into her stomach. Her brown eyes bulged in concern, a temporary battle between her personal trainer and college cheer leader pride at not undoing a button and a desire for comfort before she ate another three thousand calories. Comfort won out, Georgia sucking in her stomach to have enough slack to get her button off. Upon relaxing her stomach there was no need to undo the zipper, her belly’s soft pressure easily undoing the fastener.

“Jesus I look big. These are size tens, the last stop before official fat girl-dom,” the cinnamon skinned woman gulped, spearing a fried piece of chicken on her fork and tapping her compounding pudge, “you really need to get this in hand Georgia...or your gut is going to outgrow your own hands!”

The last month had been very interesting. She’d been named the new manager for the restaurant, going from less than minimum wage and tips to nearly $50,000 a year. The lack of clients at her gym and relaxation of her old exercise regimen meant she’d had some actual free time for once in her life. And she’d been having threesomes four or five times per week with Dahlia and her brother, she was still sore from the night before and her jaw was a bit cramped from giving the newspaper intern a pre-work blow job.

But there’d been a cost.

“You’re turning into a fat fucking slut,” Georgia sighed, dipping the fried chicken into ranch and eating it.

Being a manager at World Babe’s meant being there for two full shifts, which due to Plains’ City’s odd nutrition laws required Georgia eat two full meals there. The extra calories weren’t being burned off either. A people pleaser by birth, Georgia wanted to bang both Drake twins as often as possible. Her old routine of hard core cardio and strength training had been greatly relaxed: Georgia was down to a mile run and a circuit of weight training every day, barely enough to keep her muscles firm under her growing pudge. Add in the fact that the short woman was being stuffed like a pinata every night at Dahlia and Devon’s with fattening treats refilled any calories she burned off. That morning she’d weighed in at 150lbs, at her height making her officially overweight by BMI and probably fat percentage too. Even worse, her doctorate work was getting more and more difficult too, she wasn’t sure if it was a natural thing or if the Drake twins were fucking her stupid as well as stuffing her fat. Not just putting off assignments for threesomes, but Georgia found herself starring off into space thinking of sex more and more.

“And I’m not stopping myself either,” Georgia admitted, shoveling more of the burning hot chicken wings into her mouth.

Dahlia and Devon being aliens made a lot of sense, as the sex with them was out of this fucking world. Dahlia’s tongue moved a hundred miles per minute, having it on her nipples or her clit made Georgia’s eyes cross for hours. While Devon’s dick practically vibrated with each thrust, its long length and round girth should have hurt but instead made Georgia come for what felt like an hour. Both twins had fingers that felt like the touch of God when they ran up her spine or touched her breasts and the way they rubbed and tickled her belly as they stuffed her full of soda and ice cream was making the trainer blush just thinking of it. Being sandwiched between the two of them was an exhilarating rush, she didn’t think Devon knew about the whole super power thing but Georgia could feel the megatons of pent up power when he was inside her. Knowing at any moment the two half aliens could pop her like a grape made the orgasms’ even better, the ultimate submissive fantasy. She’d had the best orgasm of her life twenty nine days in a row, with Devon’s rock hard body pressing into her soft front, his perfect inside her and meeting the strap on Dahlia was wearing as she took Georgia from behind, her monstrous breasts’ wrapping around the ex-cheerleader’s head.

“I’ll stop eventually, 200lbs is the limit. If I gain healthily and still exercise and watch my blood sugar and cholesterol, that’s not really that fat,” the gaining girl told herself as she shoved more greasy food into her mouth and sucked down more liquid fat, “or just stop taking birth control and live off Devon’s and or Dahlia’s ice cream money…No Georgia, shut up, you sound like your sisters…”

The youngest of four, Georgia had seen her smart, pretty, fit older sisters all with big plans and guaranteed athletic/academic scholarships all have ‘slip ups’ requiring fast marriages to handsome young military officers. The marriages worked out well, she had a lot of nieces and nephews, but the trio of elder Junk-Foods had one by one turned into the obese, dull eyed dependapotomuses the girls had made fun of in their youth. Her oldest sister, 35, was on a waiting list for a mobility scooter and her youngest, just three years Georgia’s senior, was pre-diabetic. None of them had done a single scrap of exercise, earned a dollar of their own or read anything more challenging than a More Magazine gossip rag in years. Talking to them showed they’d become completely vacuous on the inside, Georgia had noticed they were having difficulty with math they’d let their brains rot on day time tv so badly.

“No, no slipping up on your birth control damn it. Stay smart and stay skinny,” Georgia sighed, rubbing her paunch, “relatively skinny…just kind of obese...2021 skinny…”

As she ate, Georgia cast eyes around her restaurant. World Babe’s ran like a well oiled machine under her efficient hand, wait times were down and food quality was up. Georgia had even required her waitresses to put in some treadmill time at her gym after their shifts and used a legal loop hole to have them eat salads at the mandatory meal times. As a result their weights had stabilized at a nice, curvy thick/soft fit level, with just starting to brush thighs and subtle tummies peaking out under their heavy busts. It was a pleasing look to Georgia’s budding fat fetish, although she couldn’t help but notice that she was getting girthier than her employees. 

Georgia had gained about thirty pounds in the last month, at 150lbs on a 5’2 frame, no longer looking like a fitness trainer. She had a real ** belly anymore, it got rolls when she sat down, was decidedly past her barely changed boobs and had started to brush her thighs. Stretch marks were even starting around her belly button. Combined with her ass getting seriously round and fluffy as the fat coated its muscle and the PhD candidate was stretching the limits of the term “thick”. She could feel every jiggle and wiggle when she worked out, her weighted crunch routine becoming an attritional war against her rolls wobbling and when brushing her teeth her cheeks and underarms had begun to wobble. She was under no illusion that this was healthy fat either, she’d meticulously planned out a high calorie diet of natural fats and carbs but had never even started it, preferring readily available grease and sugar. Given her family’s tendency toward’s health problems, Georgia knew she really needed to make a change and fast.

“Maybe this whole “fat kick” should end,” the manager muttered, only for her heart to flutter in a purely romantic manner.

This wasn’t caused by her truly terrible diet of late either, no. Georgia was sat in the very back of World Babes, where she could watch her employees flirt and her girthy customers eat. It also gave her a great view of the front door, which had just been entered by an angel.

“Tomorrow,” Georgia gulped as her fuck buddy walked towards her, “one more day as a fat girl, one more stuffing threesome…”

Dahlia Drake was hot as fuck in her normal attire of outgrown athletic shorts and a tank top. But glammed up for work at a fashion office, she had the effect of an atomic bomb on the eye. The towering ginger was dressed to the nines: knee high black leather boots with four inch heels that made the 6 footer even taller, pantyhose stretched tight over her long, long luscious, just starting to touch legs. With each click-clack of her heels a jiggle went up the ginger’s curvy body, shaking her skin tight lime green dress. A great deal of that bounce was in Dahlia’s head sized cleavage, the new F cups pressed high and tight by an underwire bra and drawing stares from half the restaurant. But of course, some was in the new superheroine’s soft paunch too, despite Dahlia wearing a wide belt to girdle her bit more than a starter belly in. The effect was far from perfect, a muffin top running over and under the taut black leather.

“Dear God, I’m going to come,” Georgia whispered to herself, cheeks going red and very aware of how her skin tight cut offs dug into her clit.

“Ugh, I swear to fucking God I hate working there,” Dahlia complained, “scoot over I’m hungry!”

“Trouble in your dream job? I thought you loved fashion?” Georgia asked as her towering fuck buddy plopped her butt onto the bench next to her.

The half zaftonite put a little too much oomph into it, sending Georgia’s taut bubble butt off the seat a few inches. When she landed, she was sure she felt a few seams pop.

“I love wearing sexy clothes, not like, working,” Dahlia huffed, looking at Georgia’s plate as the plumping girl ate the rest of the fried food, “Ugh, that looks so gooooodddddd, get me three please….”

“Uh uh, Miss Hunt said you were on a diet until you got your whole body image issues under control. And as she’s the owner of this restaurant now, I think, I’m following her orders, you’re having a salad until that belly stops jiggling,” Georgia pointed out, “speaking of, your belt looks like it’s out another notch.”

“I’m...just bloated,” Might Girl lied, blatantly, “I’ve got a super period and is not like you have room to talk, you look...ummmm ready to pop...seriously, you look soft Georgia. Like, that belly is just so round…”

“A small sacrifice to keep my girlfriend’s powers at full,” Georgia hiccuped, another seam popping, “Not that you lack for targets my little chubby chasing giantess…”

“I’m not, that much of a chubby chaser,” Dahlia lied again, still ashamed to admit it even to the girl she stuffed and fucked every night, “although that farmer’s daughter outfit is turning me on, ugh why are you so hot chubby, fuck...but yeah, there’s kind of a weight problem going on…”

A glance across the room would struggle to find anyone who wasn’t medically overweight, male or female. Former college athletes only a few years from university filled booths with their lazy bulk, spilling beer and wing sauce into their man tits as their beer bellies pressed into the tables, loudly criticizing those on 24/7 sports channels as if they could have played over a minute anymore. Twenty-something office girls who should have been at their physical peak swapped diet tips and workout strategies while gorging on salty appetizers and sucking down their 1800th calorie of sugar water that day, before their grease laden burgers were laid down in front of them. Even the waitresses were all thick anymore, unmodified costumes hanging on to round butts and falling off of swelling tits.

Dahlia felt her powers hum as she released her super zaftonite hormones. She’d fucked the increasingly thick Georgia, but she’d never had a real, real fatty. Before a month ago a six pack had been a requirement for her, but now the red head was thinking of sex with real super sized opposites. She’d thought one of the ex-foot ball players had been cute when she started, but how would it be when his gut had to be lifted up to get his dick into her? Several of those office girls had seemed seductively elegant months ago, what about now when her face would be buried in thigh fat to get to their pussies?

“I think I’m strong enough to pick up the city anymore,” Dahlia gulped.

“Welcome to the obesity epidemic, capitol Plains City, USA,” Georgia agreed, “population, soon to be us.”

They were interrupted by the waitress bringing Dahlia’s bare salad, just the sight of its tasteless greens making the redhead huff. But to their surprise their former cohort, a thick asian girl who’s round ass was falling out of a naughty nun costume, also sat down two tall chocolate milk shakes down for them.

“Oh no, Ashley,” Georgia said, “I already had one on the house and if I have anymore dairy I won’t fit in my car.”

“I’ll take hers,” Dahlia grinned.

“And Dahlia’s on a diet,” the manager pointed out.

“Restaurant rules, boss,” Ashley said, “if someone buys a pretty lady a drink, it has to be delivered. Up to you to drink it or not.”

“Someone thinks I’m pretty?” the super model/super hero’s attention loving daughter asked, “um, of course they did. I’m gorgeous.”

“Yeah, who sent these to us?” Georgia asked.

“Those ladies over there, excuse me though, I’m about to go on lunch,” Ashley said, “fucking starving, are you sure I have to eat a salad boss?”

“Yes, Ashley. You’ve gained forty pounds in the last year and we don’t have the budgets for costumes, so yes you do,” Georgia told her, “you’ll thank me when you don’t get diabetes.”

Dahlia’s eyes were drawn to a rarity in the fatty breastaurant: actually thin girls. There were three of them, absolutely rail thin women in tight pink crop tops and size zero skinny jeans. Each of the crop tops had greek lettering on them, which she immediate read as “Sigma Alpha Theta” or to those who hadn’t been to hundreds of keggers or been a sorority sister, “EAT”. The premier “slutty cheerleader” sorority in the country, the half Zaftonite wasn’t surprised they were hot. She was surprised at two girl’s in pledge shirts who each had to weigh five hundred pounds.

They were in food stained cheer uniforms stretched sheer over their bodies, each of the skirts made from two skirts safety pinned together and the tops barely holding up their head sized tits. Dahlia had grown up with a seriously obese mom and could tell that these girls had not just a full blown food addiction but had recently blown up due to their stretchmarks.

“Our sorority, damn when I was president we couldn’t even eat at a place like this,” Dahlia sighed, looking at their tiny thighs, “ugh, I feel old. And fat. And fat. And a little horny.”

One of the rail thin women got up and approached their table, eyes and smile huge, “Hey, we couldn’t help but guess, were  you two EAT at college?”

“Yeah we were, Wisconsin chapter,” Dahlia said, feeling fatter by the second looking at this girl’s collar bone, “...six months ago, ugh.”

“Oh my god I knew you had to be, only someone from EAT could be so hot. We’re having a party tonight and I think you’d have a hell of a time there…” the blonde smiled, handing over a flier and not waiting for an answer, “we’ve got a really good buffet this year. Unfortunately the pledges were a slim picking but if we get some tasty alums like you there we could change that..."

The slender blonde stalked away, shaking her tiny hips.

“Ugh, look at that butt. Its so ...not fat,” Dahlia groaned, “I remember when I was that skinny…”

“You know that had to be a demon right?” Georgia asked her, “like, absolutely that was a demon. “A hell of a time”? all  of her teeth were canines when she said that and I could see horns through her hair, this is clearly a trap. They’ve obviously taken over the sorority to fatten people up.”

“...why didn’t I think of that?” Dahlia asked.

“What?”

“...Nothing, well, we’ll stop them...after I drink this milkshake…”

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5 hours ago, flyer33 said:

A fiendish layer-cake of a chapter! Dahlia's allies attempting to force the gluttonous half-Zaftonite (sans super-metabolism) to eat healthy. Her bro Devon (arguably a more useful hero, due to Laura Lawson, and half of Plains City, being eager to gorge themselves fat for his pleasure and alpha-testosterone fueled empowerment) being the sibling who wasn't recruited by Helena Hunt. Dahlia falling for an obvious succubus trap, because, in her own way, she's as inexperienced and vulnerable to trickery as Tara.  And Georgia Junk-Food seeing through said plot, on account of being actually smart.

Also, the \Sigma \Alpha \Tau sorority is hilarious. 

Thanks, I wanted something totally dumb. 

And Devon would be a way better hero in terms of only being distracted by the chubby hotties and not the food, unlike his sister and Tara who get distracted by both! 

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6 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

I think the convos you’ve been writing in this story is the best and wittiest you’ve done so far. It gives me a big Buffy the Vampire Slayer vibe. Also, whichever one of you made the Georgia character knows me very well. She has pushed all of my buttons... who taught you about the dependas?

The Terminal lance comic.

 

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1 hour ago, >_< 0_0 said:

That comic is actually the best newspaper comic I’ve read. It’s also extremely accurate. That one apple during a hike... the perfectly-sized rock for sleeping on...

Anyway, another thing I like about the calorie girl story is that since you’re writing together without sharing notes, the plot could theoretically go anywhere. Even the authors don’t know exactly what will happen

My next scene will be Dahlia and Georgia trying to squeeze into college party clothes from a year/forty pounds earlier...

I'm trying to do a different dynamic with Georgia. Someone aware they're gaining, not really wanting to be fat, able to stop but liking the feederism sex more than they dislike the gain. She'll definitely have a ceiling where she stabilizes.

Dahlia though will wind up biiiigggg

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Short piece about shorts going to pieces:

There comes a place and a time in everyone’s life when they’re forced to confront that they’re not as young as they used to be.

For Dahlia Drake, the mighty Might Girl, that place was her bedroom and that time was when she was twenty three and getting ready for her first college party in nearly a year.

“Come on, come on you stupid thing, get over my ass!” Dahlia huffed, making demands of her favorite pair of jean cut offs.

To call them shorts would have been a stretch, given that the designer denim was cut so short the pockets hung out and its back was trimmed into a thong. Dahlia had had to suck into put them on...back when she was a hundred and fifty five pound cheerleader. In those days there hadn’t been any visible fat on the tall ginger save for her freckled DD cups, her body polished, freckled bronze from head to toe.

“Just, fit damn it!” the redheaded heroine demanded, feeling the fabric roll at last up her ass and trying to ignore the audible stretch of the tiny garment’s seams, “Ugh, knew I shouldn’t have done so many squats, no wonder my shorts are even tighter, my ass got more ripped…”

“Hey Dahl, you about ready too...uhh, are you seriously trying to put those on?” Georgia asked, entering the room to find her crime fighting friend, “You have to realize there’s no way those are going to fit, right?”

“Speak for yourself, ugh,” the super powered half alien huffed, “these are my lucky shorts, I’ve never not gotten laid wearing them!”

Georgia sighed, as much at the double negative as at seeing her fuck buddy hovering in mid air as she fought with her shorts. Dahlia had taken to hovering in mid air whenever out of civilian eye shot, claiming it was “rest” when Georgia knew it was laziness. The mixed race woman had basically moved into the Drake household, to be a convenient power source for Dahlia’s lust based powers and the literally addictive sex the twins provided. That later aspect flooded through Georgia’s keen mind, her new fat fetish surging just like Dahlia’s stomach split into rolls as she fought her shorts. 

“Yeah, those were your lucky shorts,” Georgia said, folding her arms over her chest,”in college, like forty or fifty pounds ago. You are not going to get into those at your weight.”

Dahlia glared at her friend, then yelped as the blow to her self confidence kicked her powers to the curb. The superheroine fell a foot and a half stopping herself six inches above the ground with a groan of effort.

“I’ve been dropping weight for the past month,” Dahlia objected, a fact they both knew to be false.

Sloth and gluttony had done away with the heroine’s abs over the last months, giving her a soft tummy. Another month of over snacking and cheat day after cheat day had thickened her middle further. Dahlia’s ribs and hip bones had faded from view as her tits sprouted side spillage and her love handles began hanging over her hips. She didn't really have a waistline anymore, middle just thickening out in all directions and thicker than her hips. Her stomach was a real beer gut, forming into rolls at the slightest bend. Georgia felt herself get wet to realize that although Dahlia’s boobs were filling her F cup bra to capacity, her puffy stomach was catching up to them. 

“I mean, you got your butt back I’ll admit. But you know squats don’t really burn fat, right?” Dahlia said, leaning against the door frame,“You look fucking amazing girl, seriously I could come now but you need to dress for the body you have. I know I’m chunky anymore, its why I’m wearing shapewear and a pair of size tens.”

The mixed race Phd candidate was looking seriously thick. Her shorts were painted on, thighs clearing touching and button strained at the pressure of a well fed ** belly edging past her boobs. Love handles were hanging over the sides of it, a sliver of chocolate tan flesh flickering in and out of view beneath the bright pink fabric of her old EAT sorority Tee. The shirt had been made for a girl with a six pack, not a beer belly and needed to be upsized from a small size just to deal with how the short sleeves began pinching her softening arms. The only thing unchanged was her breasts, still a B and likely to stay there as all of Georgia’s overweight female relatives were all flat chested despite all being morbidly obese. Despite exercising every day still, the heavy meals at the Breastaurant and the nightly stuffings from the Drake twins had made the once rail thin trainer officially overweight.

Seeing the fitness trainer looking so delectably thick, her love handle was pressing into the door frame, made Dahlia shoot back up, the surge of horniness overcoming her bruised ego.

“Dear God above you’re fucking thick…but these will totally fit,” Dahlia gasped, inhaling mightily.

A little too mightily.

A massive gust of wind whipped through the room, a miniature hurricane that sent papers and blankets flying and knocked Georgia off her feet as Might Girl activated her super breath for the first time. Her already huge bosom rose higher, bra popping open and letting her breasts spill out. Despite popping the bra, Dahlia managed to suck her stomach in, the squishy paunch flattening back to a memory of her old firmness, and forced the size six jeans closed.

“There, see, totally fits,” Dahlia whispered, still sucking in her stomach and not daring to let it out.

“Uh, yeah. You’ve got some leggings to wear, right?” Georgia asked, getting up with a little bit of difficulty due to how tightly her own leggings squeezed her.

“Why would *erk* I need *ugh* leggings, these *ugh* fit fine,” Dahlia whispered, holding her breath in for dear life.

“Because your super strength ripped those jeans in half,” The smarter girl replied dryly to the floating woman.

“...What? No, it fits!” Dahlia gasped, turning around and letting out her breath in relief to see that although her ass had swallowed the denim thong, it was intact.

Released from its hold, Might Girl’s beer belly surged forth with the force of an 18 wheeler doing 100 mph. Mere denim and brass couldn’t withstand such an assault, seams shredded with a terrifying rip and her button shot off faster than a bullet. The brass button punched through the hollow door next to Georgia’s head, leaving a fist sized hole through the fake wood, and kept going to shatter a window, rip a limb off a tree and knock over a power pole, sending the area into a blackout.

“Yeah, totally fits,” Georgia sighed, looking at the plump, invitingly soft bulge of Dahlia’s lower stomach, totally naked “just uh, I’ll get you some leggings...and panties.”

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