Calorie Girl

[>_< 0_0]

Obviously, one of the first things Tara has to figure out is how to cram as much “fuel” into herself as she can. Donuts and cheesecake binging will only go so far! She’ll need to find an ultra-dense, easily consumed food or drink to maximize her powers. Perhaps a technician can rig something for her, or better yet she can thwart a mad scientist who makes a fattening food that just happens to backfire on him when he uses it on Tara 😆 I picture “camelback” backpack that Tara could wear and drink from as she goes.

Another idea: Tara’s powers can get stronger the fatter she gets — if only getting fat was so easy! Which it isn’t, especially not for someone who burns enough calories to power a tractor. She’ll try her best. Hopefully it isn’t a bad influence on her mother.

Plot idea: there is an intricate crime network of food tycoons aiming to fatten the city for mysterious reasons. As Tara thwarts one crime boss and mad scientist after another, the gangs realize they have a new threat: a superhero not only immune to their fattening methods, but fueled by it! They have to get creative, mainly by fattening others. Examples: hypnotizing her mother to turn her into a massive, overprotective milf who grounds Tara, turning a random girl into a sort of patient zero that makes others around her fat or hungry, sabotaging a lingerie catwalk event, setting-up a secret “reverse gym,” or other such things

[>_< 0_0]

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!

[flyer33]

6 minutes 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!

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...

[Batman76]

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.

[Batman76]

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"

[scl04]

This has been great so far in both "canon" and the "side-chapters", I'm looking forward to more!

[>_< 0_0]

Most excellent. You and Flyer33’s writing styles are starting to merge, which means your power levels are syncing.

Any plans to add these to DA?

[Batman76]

I suppose I can, might be an issue with the ever troubling formatting. 

 

Gotta finish the next piece with silver pathfinder Friday first

[Disaster98]

This story is amazing.. Will we have the chance of see Lara farting? 😅🤭🤭

[flyer33]

3 hours ago, Disaster98 said:

This story is amazing.. Will we have the chance of see Lara farting? 😅🤭🤭

It's a possibility, but who is Lara? I mean, I'm not entirely innocent of renaming characters mid story, because "I'm sure her name was X, and I certainly don't need to check my own writing." But I'm sure that there are Laura Lawson, milfish ace reporter who overeats like a pig in a cake shop, and Tara Tate, Calorie Girl. Which one?

On 6/2/2021 at 1:29 PM, >_< 0_0 said:

Any plans to add these to DA?

I started a DA yonks ago, Flyer33, for story chapters. I never really got along with the formatting, but I could put some stories up if there's a demand. Or Batman is welcome to post Calorie Girl if he wants.  

On 6/2/2021 at 12:35 PM, scl04 said:

This has been great so far in both "canon" and the "side-chapters", I'm looking forward to more!

Cheers! Probably a training chapter in the Bat Fat Cave next, but no promises on schedule. 

[Disaster98]

On 3/6/2021 at 23:04, flyer33 said:

È una possibilità, ma chi è Lara? Voglio dire, non sono del tutto innocente nel rinominare i personaggi a metà della storia, perché "Sono sicuro che il suo nome fosse X, e di certo non ho bisogno di controllare la mia scrittura". Ma sono sicuro che ci sono Laura Lawson, giornalista asso milf che mangia troppo come un maiale in una pasticceria, e Tara Tate, Calorie Girl. Quale?

Ho aperto un procuratore distrettuale fa, Flyer33, per i capitoli delle storie. Non sono mai andato molto d'accordo con la formattazione, ma potrei pubblicare alcune storie se c'è una richiesta. Oppure Batman può postare Calorie Girl se vuole.  

Saluti! Probabilmente un capitolo di allenamento nella  Bat  Fat Cave il prossimo, ma nessuna promessa nei tempi previsti. 

Damn What a fool!  The corrector corrected her name 😅.  However it would be fun to see Laura Lawson getting sick and begging gassy

[Batman76]

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..."

 

[Batman76]

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..."

[scl04]

Really great chapters, the interactions and descriptions in both of them were on point and I enjoyed it a lot. I'm looking forward to the training for both new superheroines and what is the deal with the succubi in the future and her plan to fatten up the city.

[flyer33]

These are brilliant chapters! I love Dahlia Drake already, the balance of 75% mean rich hottie and 25% powerhouse with a growing sense of justice, and I'm looking forward to writing Helena "training" Tara, by inventing ways to pack some pounds of fat reserves onto Calorie Girl. 

Anyway, I'm on a beach at the moment, and here is the next chapter - which was going to involve Tara's training, but that will come next after a chapter about horny Plains City girls versus Laura Lawson.

 

Chapter 5: The Fat Cave (part 1)

 

Great cities have reputations. Plains City had several. First, as the great nexus of the Midwest, where corroded smokestacks belched fumes and wealth into the nation, and coal-mining dynasts rubbed shoulders at haute couture fashion shows with old money political families and famous scholars in every field from engineering to esotery. Second, as a longstanding member of the “Top 5 Fattest Cities in America” club: Plains City's infamously large portions of calorie-heavy food having destroyed the figures of generations of young hotties, their metabolisms and heroic sexercise regimes inevitably not able keep up forever with their gluttony. Third, and consequently, Plains City was infamous for its young women being not only hotties but also the thirstiest and most sex-hungry hotties in North America. Indeed, Plains City was one of few metropoles where the average young woman aspired to burn off more calories in bed than at the gym; and the figure of 800 calories-a-day was oft cited at brunches and cocktail parties as the grueling amount of aerobics a well-fed hottie was aiming to do on top of her boyfriends.

Not every woman in Plains City could handle 800 calories of sex every day. But two of them who certainly could, and who put a great deal of effort into keeping up Plains City's average, were Candi duVal and Yolanda Jones. Both of the rich girls were interns at More Magazine. And, at this moment, both were striding along the plush carpets of the Luxuria Hotel. Hunting their latest prey: their super-stud coworker, Devon Drake!

“Urp!” Candi emitted a wet burp after taking a long chug from one of the cartons of heavy cream she was carrying. She was dressed as if for a beach-themed party, a glittery green bikini and skimpy sarong cladding her heavy breasts, her thick love handles, and curvy rump “Are you sure I have to chug both of these, Yo? You know I'm lactose intolerant, and heavy cream gives me tummy ache and gas!”

Yolanda Jones took a long pull from her own open carton of heavy cream, before tipping it upside down to drain the last few drops onto her eager tongue. Then she unscrewed the cap of her next carton – all the better to ensure her own still-youthfully pert but heavyset curves, in her black lifeguard swimsuit, remained significantly more bombastic than Candi's.

“You want to get into Devon's shorts, Cands?”

“Burp! Oh, tummy ache! I'm gonna bloat! Yeah, like, totes, Yolanda!”

“Then quit whining and chug your cream! The worse your tummy feels, the harder you're going make Devon's cock! You've seen the way he looks at Ms Lawson when she staggers back from a restaurant review looking like she's gonna pop with twins!” Yolanda demanded of her friend.

“Ugh. Lucky cow! Oh, I feel sick!”

Yolanda sighed theatrically. Candi duVal, Yolanda's best friend, was going to be one of her worst five threesome partners of the month if she kept moaning like this!

“Suck it up and keep it down until after we've fucked, Cands! One of us needs to look seven months pregnant so that super-stud gets horny and fucks us! You know  that's what he's into with Ms Lawson! And I don't bloat that much. You, on the other hand, just have to eat a burrito and half a glass of milk, and you inflate like a fucking weather balloon! So chug your fucking cream, and lay back and dream about your turn getting fucked by super farm-boy!”

“Oh!” Candi moaned. She emitted a pained burp and leant against the hallway wall. She clutched her bare, distended, and urgently-gurgling belly.

Yolanda looked around from the door on which she'd rapped four times with her knuckles.

“Quit moaning and think sexy, Cands! We may be best friends, but I will force feed you every last drop of cream in this city with a funnel if that's what it takes to get Devon Drake's gigantic cock into me!” Yolanda barked.

“Ugh!” Candi whined, and doubled over some more as her guts churned.

FFFFAAaaaaart!

Candi whimpered.

“Good thinking, Cands. He's probably into that too.” Yolanda mused. “You fart away and get him horny for us, while I fuck him! You can have a ride when you feel better...”

“Ouchie!” Fart! Urp!

Candi duVal doubled over from the agonising consequences of all the lactose-rich cream she'd let Yolanda talk her into binge-chugging. It wasn't fair! She was probably going to get five pounds fatter from all this – but she was in too much discomfort to even think of getting a fuck out of it. At least she was, until her super-stud coworker with the body of a demigod opened his hotel room door wearing just a white fluffy towel that was totally incapable of concealing his massive erection.

“Hey, Laura! Oh, my...” Devon Drake exclaimed smoothly, pectoral muscles and biceps freshly-showered and bulging like ripe melons. Candi would have swooned, were her guts not in so much pain. Yolanda did swoon, but, felicitously, she was able to catch herself against Devon's super-buff chest.

“Oh, hey Devon!” Yolanda oozed.

“Um. Hey Yolanda and Candi!”

“Oh, were you expecting Miss Lawson?” Yolanda asked coyly as she gave the buff stud a hug and attempted to wrap her arms around his muscular chest.

Yolanda was being super deceitful. She knew perfectly well that Devon Drake had been expecting Ms Laura Lawson to knock on his hotel room door. But Yolanda knew better.

“Um, kinda!” Devon Drake explained.

Yolanda smiled her most alluring smile. She'd done painstaking research, and undertaken no little trickery involving the magazine's publication schedule, to thwart Devon's hopes of Laura Lawson joining him in his hotel room for a hard and steamy fucking, but she didn't let it show.

“Oh! I'm sorry, Devon!” Yolanda stroked his arm. “Ms Lawson was called away from the office by the Editor to do an emergency restaurant review. For a special menu at Le Cochon Grosse, so I'm sure she'll be far too stuffed to come to see you today... Oh!” Yolanda lied fluently. “I'm not sure if my info is correct, but I gathered from my sources that Ms Lawson has forced you to help her with a special assignment, reviewing the most romantic hotels in Plains City for couples to have an affair?”

Devon gulped, as he watched Yolanda pat her heavy, swimsuit-clad breasts. He was expecting to meet the woman with whom he was hopelessly in lust, Laura Lawson. The ace older journalist had shamelessly abused her power as a senior reporter, to make Devon Drake help her with reviewing the hospitality at ten of Plains City's most expensive “Lust Hotels” which drew custom from the city's large population of couples conducting illicit affairs. But Devon had not been in any way unhappy with that, because his role in Laura's plan had been to fuck the woman he lusted after more than any other – the milfish exemplar of gluttonous weight gain herself, Laura Lawson – in every imaginable position, on every conceivable piece of furniture, in ten different expensive hotel rooms over the course of a fortnight.

“But since Ms Lawson can't come this afternoon, because she's feeling too fat and stuffed, not to mention that she's over thirty years old and she can't fuck as hard as she used to...” Yolanda said breathily. “Candi and I thought we would come along and help you out! We're happy for you to fuck both of us until it hurts, and then fuck us some more! Um, if, of course, that would be helpful for your little assignment, Mr Drake? Oh, or, also, if you like, we could just fuck you in case you happen to be horny? We're both only nineteen, but we're very sexperienced!”

In the background, Candi burped wetly and sobbed quietly about her aching tummy.

“Oh, and...” Yolanda added to sweeten the deal, as she noticed her super-stud prey's engorged package growing even huger under his fluffy towel. “I've just accidentally eaten three quarts of heavy cream, and I happen to have another one with me. But I'm feeling a little bit fat at the moment and I could only chug it if can get plenty of sexercise afterwards! So... What do you say, Devon? Could I help you with your assignment, and perhaps enjoy a little bit of heavy cream into the bargain?”

Yolanda patted her tummy. It sloshed a little, within her bulging swimsuit.

The sight was almost too much for the Wisconsinite stud. He panted with lust, as his bloodstream flooded with the puissant hormones of his Zaftonite genetic heritage, alpha-testosterone swelling his already bulging muscles and hardening them with the strength to tear crystal steel like tissue paper. Any horny young man would have lusted to pump his cream into a Plains City girl even half as hot, curvaceous, and thirsty as Yolanda or Candi; and for a half-Zaftonite stud who could barely see through his testosterone haze, though his heightened senses could feel Yolanda's lustfully pounding heart, and the engorged, hot, wet state of her fupa, their offer was literally irresistible! And so, to Yolanda's delight, it was only a matter of seconds before she found herself lifted like a soft toy and squished against the plush wall, being pumped – and gushing – like an oil well! In between breathless gasps of pleasure, and waves of almost-pain from her stretched-to-the-limit pussy, she managed to thank her lucky stars she'd had the foresight to prep herself with plenty of lube: her latest stud was even harder and more engorged than she'd imagined in her wildest dreams!

Candi duVal wanted her turn too! The poor rich-girl had a horrible tummy ache due to her lactose intolerance combined with Yolanda's forcing her to chug half a gallon of heavy cream. But, although it hardly seemed humanly possible and it made the bulging blonde's eyes water from the effort of squeezing herself onto her ride, her painfully engorged and gassy guts made Devon even harder than Yolanda. Still, Candi was in too much gastric distress to manage anything more than a little cowgirl, followed by a long burping and farting session with Devon rubbing oil onto the blonde's belly and heavy breasts. Then a naked, cream-chugging Yolanda wanted more cowgirl, and their super-stud was too horny to do anything but get straight to work.

At this point, however, Yolanda's scheme came apart.

The sound of a key turning preceded, by seconds, the entrance of ace reporter, and woman of Devon Drake's wettest dreams, Laura Lawson herself! Who was, even she would have admitted, looking fat in a way not even her forgiving wrap dress could conceal.

“Oh, Honey! Momma's just eaten a twenty-one course gourmet lunch, and she's feeling as fat as a pig and needs a real hard fucking to help get her figure back! Get me outta this wrap dress – it makes me look nine months pregnant – and get your huge cock in me right now!!” Laura called from the other side of the hotel suite from the bedroom where Candi was diving for cover behind a sofa – and where Yolanda should have followed suit, except that she was too close to a tectonic cowgirl orgasm to do anything but bounce hard on Devon's massive cock and scream “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Laura Lawson very soon noticed the scene. She arched a cynical eyebrow as Yolanda Jones reached the highest-pitched screaming orgasm of her life, and Devon's hot cream exploded into her with so much force Laura could swear the heavily-curvaceous intern lifted clean off the bed.

“Yolanda Jones!” Laura barked with all the authority of a dreaded editorial senior. “Get off my intern right now! He's my fuck toy, not yours, and you may count yourself very lucky if I settle for punishing you by having him spank your bottom raw, rather than firing you for outrageous misbehaviour as you so richly deserve!”

Ms Lawson's tirade was, however, entirely lost on Ms Jones, because Yolanda's eyes had already rolled upwards as she passed out from an orgasm too strong for her pampered, fat, rich-girl body to handle. Instead, she slumped forward into unconsciousness, her heavy breasts slamming onto Devon's face.

“And as for you, Mr Drake!” Laura continued. “Put down that skinny little whore right now! You need a real woman, and...”

Laura untied the silk belt of her wrap dress, and let the green silk fall aside to reveal her totally naked, zaftig body. She was stuffed! A gut-busting menu at Le Cochon Grosse had given Laura a stomach as hard and swollen as a ripe watermelon, that even the bloated Ms Candi duVal could not compete with. And that was on top of a lower body flabby with love handles, ripe hips, and a hefty badonk that Yolanda was no match for.

Laura patted her swollen belly, and let her breasts sway heavily as she swung herself on top of the irresistibly stud-like Devon Drake. She picked up Yolanda's half empty carton of heavy cream and tipped it down her throat in one practiced chug.

“...Urp! Momma needs to fuck off some of the two dress sizes you've made her gain before she goes up a third!”

 

* *

 

 

[Batman76]

Goddamn but Laura is fucking hot

[flyer33]

54 minutes ago, Batman76 said:

Goddamn but Laura is fucking hot

I'm pleased with how thirsty and fat Laura has come out. I think the idea for having Ms Laura Lawson as Tara's boss came about because you mentioned you'd like to see some more horny Lois Lane fiction, and I thought I owed you a few chapters you might like. DC Universe Overweight has, I think, an awesomely thirsty Lois Lane. I'm writing her as an Expy, because I don't know the canon so well, but it's all good I guess.

 

[>_< 0_0]

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. 

[Batman76]

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.

[flyer33]

Chapter 5: The Fat Cave (part 2)

 

Tara Tate, any reasonable observer would agree, had a very nice ass.

“More waffles, Flaca?” Demanded Ms Andi Korin, herself until recently the possessor of the world's most admired derrière.

“Mmm! Yes, please!” Enthused Tara Tate, at the prospect of having her plate refilled with even more mountains of calories, without even having to ask – which she normally did by this point in an eating session.

Indeed, if an irate fitness goddess had set out to inspire jealously and despair in the heart of a fading former supermodel who had spoiled her once-divine figure by overindulgence, the rear view of Tara Tate might well be the final iteration of her design. This was in spite of Tara herself lamenting her lack of bootylicious bulk.

Andi Korin had, in fact, spent an hour or so drooling over Ms Tara Tate's flawlessly tight ass in skimpy skintight pink Lycra running shorts. This had mostly involved Ms Korin drooling over the pictures captured by the security cameras which the first Shade had installed to monitor the approach to his Darke Canyon base of operations. It was to this, somewhat dated, hideout that Andi Korin's paramour – and newly fiancée – Helena Hunt had invited Tara Tate's alter ego, Calorie Girl, for super-heroine training. The video feed had displayed countless frames of Tara's slender legs and the ass she'd inherited from her supermodel mom, as Tara levered herself up rock steps, or generally stood around looking lost with her derrière facing a camera while failing to properly read the map which had mysteriously appeared under her pillow the previous night.

*

A little earlier, Tara had eventually found her way to the old Shade sanctuary, where Helena Hunt had given the speedster a pep talk and slapped a fitness tracker on Tara's slender wrist. Ms Tate had gazed in awe as Helena introduced her real, as well as secret identity to the leggy heiress. Ostensibly, this was Helena's way of expressing her faith in Calorie Girl; but Andi suspected it was also a good excuse for Helena to avoid battling into her too-tight Shade armor. Anyway, Helena had immediately dispatched Tara on a training run...

Tara's expression had shifted from elated awe at her invitation to join a superhero team, into one of maximal horror as Helena Hunt had revealed how she intended to motivate Calorie Girl into learning to control her speed instead of constantly crashing like she had during the Batter Baron fight. Helena Hunt had pulled a lever, and a bulletproof glass display case was suddenly illuminated by artful spotlights. Above the impenetrable glass box sat a tank of green goo; and, imprisoned in the glass chamber beneath was Tara Tate's most treasured possession in the world: a mid-sized fluffy pink unicorn toy gradually shedding glitter onto its surroundings.

“NO! Not Sparkles!” Tara had screamed, and lunged at Shade with an ear-splitting sonic boom – only to be caught by the wrist and slammed painfully into the cave's rock wall.

“Ouchie! Let Sparkles go, you heartless brute!” Tara yelled as she tried in vain to pull free.

“You want me to let your friend go, Calorie Girl?”

“Yes!” Tara squeaked. “Please, Ms Hunt!”

Shade sighed.

“You have a hell of a lot to learn, Calorie Girl. Do you think Plains City's vile villains would free your friend just because you ask nicely?”

Tara sniffed.

“Um, no?”

Shade released Tara's arm. Then pointed a remote control at a screen, which switched to display a fluttering flag in a corn field beside a big road.

“That's right, Tara. You'll need to beat their death-traps for yourself! Lucky for us, almost all super-villains suffer from an irresistible urge to make their traps slightly flawed. In today's little training exercise, for example, the key to that impenetrable glass case is attached to the flagpole picture in that screen, and you have exactly one minute, starting now, to go bring it back before your soft toy is gone forever in a shower of ultra-corrosive molecular acid...”

“Um!” Tara paled. “But, but!”

“The location is shown on the map in your fitness tracker, Tara. As, by the way, is your minute countdown. You can make it, if you learn not to keep crashing!” Helena sighed. “You might want to start out, Tara. Indiana isn't that close to Plains City. Turn left at the bottom of the canyon, by the way.”

“Aaaah!” Tara screamed, and vanished with a rush of air and a flash of kinetic lightning that left Andi Korin blinking furiously.

Helena squeezed the plump Latina ex-supermodel's shoulder. “Could you put up the tracking monitor, please Darling?”

“Of course, Amor.” Andi obliged.

A crude 1990's outline map of the Midwestern states appeared on Andi's cathode ray screen, and a fast moving red dot and some numbers.

“Ay Carumba! She really love that unicorn!”

Andi Korin gazed enviously at the display. Not so much at the speed attached to Calorie Girl's red marker as it moved perceptibly across Ohio at Mach ten, and climbing. What Ms Korin really envied was the rolling “Calories Burned” counter, with the first three numbers changing too fast to see.

Oh! Korin sucked in her tummy. Seventy-five thousand calories in twenty seconds! That's like twenty pounds! That's almost all the weight those bastardos put on me in the Model Wars! And – ahem – pretty much the same amount I've filled out since I had to sort-of retire! If I could borrow that lucky Flaca's speed I could model jeans and lingerie again! Hell, by the time she runs back I could be in runway shape again!

“You just have to know how to motivate people, Honey.” Helena smirked. “How many times has she crashed yet?”

Andi eyed the numbers on the outdated display.

“Um, three...” Andi sucked in breath through her lips as Tara's track kinked. “Oh, ouchio! Four.”

“Okay. Let's see if it's less on her way back.”

Helena gave Andi's round breasts a squeeze.

“Amor?” The Latina inquired. “You wouldn't really melt her favourite soft toy, would you?”

Helena squeezed harder.

“Of course I would, Honey...”

The ex-supermodel gasped, and only partly because her nipple was being squished too tight.

“... But in this case the so-called acid in the tank is actually green jello. You can have some with cream later, if you like?”

The Latina fretted automatically about what Helena's offer would do to her figure, as her tummy rumbled involuntarily at the mention of cream. Damn that long-acting Lord-Corp appetite stimulant!

“However.” Helena added. “You mustn't have too much!”

“Oh, Amor!” Andi exclaimed. “Am I getting too much plump for you?”

Helena Hunt licked her glossy lips and stroked her girlfriend. “No. I just think Calorie Girl's gonna need most of the cream!”

“Gulp!”

Tara Tate's speed marker was slowing rapidly. She just couldn't maintain the multi miles-per-second she needed! She must be terribly exhausted!” Andi thought with a mixture of sympathy and jealously for the taut butt she herself had lost.

At that moment, a pair of flaming tracks and a sonic boom ran through the Shade cave and came to a crashing stop when their source, the lightning fast blur of Calorie Girl, crashed against the indestructible glass of the display cabinet, sobbed the word, “Ouchie!” and fumbled desperately with a key while the antique red timer overhead reached 00-00.

“No!” Tara exclaimed in panic, as precisely zero of the green jello descended from its tank onto the glittery pink unicorn that was her oldest friend.

Helena fixed Tara with a strict look. But the leggy new super-heroine was too exhausted to meet it, and instead slumped onto the floor where Helena tipped a water bucket over her burning trainers.

“Lucky Sparkles, this time, Tara.” Said Helena.

Helena glanced at Tara's fitness tracker. “We'll try again for real tomorrow. After Andi's fed you back up, and maybe added some fat reserves so you don't tire out at the end.”

Calorie Girl groaned sadly, as ex supermodel Andi Korin knelt beside her to pour some high sugar energy drink in the direction of Tara's mouth.

“Come on, Tara!” The model said jealously. “You get to eat all my favourite foods! About a hundred of each!”

 

*

 

Tara Tate slurped the last of her waffles. At least, she'd assumed they were the last of her waffles. To her surprise – and another sensation Tara wasn't used to – a new platter appeared with another dozen, plus extra syrup.

“There's more maple syrup in the crate. I could maybe blend it with some fruit and cream for you?” Suggested supermodel Andi Korin, while slurping her fingers of chocolate sauce and cream which had oozed off the side of the waffle plate.

Being binge-fed by a famous supermodel, not to mention discovering that said (ex) supermodel ate like a pig herself when she thought no-one was looking, was an odd experience for Tara.

“Urp! You're like, the anti-version of my Mom.” Tara remarked, feeling a bit sick. “She doesn't like it when I keep asking for more helpings. But you won't let me stop. I feel kinda weird! Like, maybe, um...”

Tara was looking for the word “Full.” Except it was an unfamiliar word for her.

“... A teeny bit sick. Could I have a little nap to digest all those waffles and cheesecakes, please, Ms Korin?”

The Latina's eyes hardened. She took a bite from a nearby donut.

“No!”

“AW!” Tara groaned. Ms Korin was as much a hard-ass as Ms Lawson, in her own way!

“Oh, Honey. I would let you, but Helena, my Carino, will force feed me anything I don't feed you. So you must to eat everything, lest I will grow fat! Gulp!” Andi swallowed her bite of chocolate donut, which was far from her first. “Except this donut. Everything else, you eat! Otherwise you'll stay in calorie deficit, and you'll be as powerless as I am!”

Tara burped. She glanced up from the leather couch she'd been carried to. “Fuck! I look pregnant!”

“Is Okay for you!” Andi Korin huffed. “You'll digest this in an hour, and you can burn it off in a half minute! This junk gives me tummy ache for days, and it's made me fat! And it's all that bitch Leandra Lord's fault!”

Tara slumped back on the couch and let the waffles keep coming. It wasn't like she'd be able to get past the vicious Helena Hunt, even if she could escape the feeding clutches of Ms Korin. Plus, Tara lurved being gorged. It just would be nicer if it hadn't been fifty thousand calories in a couple of hours, and she was allowed to graze at a nice, tranquil 10000 kcals an hour or so...

“Ms Lord?” Tara asked, intrigued. “She's at all the best parties. But she doesn't talk to me much. She's got nice hair, though...”

Andi Korin snorted.

“No she doesn't. Not her own, anyway. She bought it all herself.”

“Really, urp! Hey gimme a minute!” Tara burped through a mouthful of donut with treacle filling.

Tara's protest was interrupted, as Helena Hunt stalked in, followed by a 6-foot-plus auburn haired hottie with impressively huge breasts. Looked like a farm girl, Tara thought. She tried to stand up, but she was still weak from her training run, and Andi shoved her back down on the couch easily. Then scooped more waffles into Tara's face.

“Mmph!”

Helena's lips curled.

“Eat up, Tara! Your next training run's cancelled. My sources just turned up a hot tip! It seems like the Model Wars are back on! One of Leandra Lord's associates is planning to hit the April Fashion Expo! Only problem is, we don't know if she's planning to hit the Lingerie or Jeans event. And so, since Andi and I can hardly sneak undercover in the fashion world any more, I'm sending you... Along with our second newest recruit. Tara, meet Dahlia Drake. Dahlia: this is Tara Tate, be nice to her. Tara's going to be your partner, and she'll be going undercover in the Lingerie event. You, Dahlia, will be sneaky-sneaky modelling Jeans..”

“What! The! Fuck!” Exclaimed Dahlia Drake in a tone of outraged shock. “She's getting Lingerie?”

Dahlia used both hands to lift her magnificent E or F cups for emphasis.

“I was born to model lingerie!” Dahlia protested loudly. “My mom was literally the hottest and highest-paid lingerie model ever!”

Helena Hunt was in no mood to tolerate dissent from her second-newest recruit.

“You, Dahlia, Honey, were born with your mother's propensity to overeat and under-exercise, as well as a physique to die for. And, consequently, while you may, with the right shapewear – on which Andi will advise you – currently pass for an extremely sexy jeans model, you are much too fat to pull off a lingerie show!”

“Huh!” Dahlia gasped sharply.

Helena continued.

“Meanwhile, somewhere underneath that veritable lake of spilled cream, waffle crumbs, and chocolate sauce, Ms Tate has the facial features and bone structure of the most celebrated Miss Universe of all time; in addition to a quite sufficient C-cup in combination with a figure that will assuredly not look incongruously fat when seen alongside serious, professional, Plains City lingerie models!”

Dahlia Drake seethed inwardly, but she hid it so as not to incite Helena Hunt to kick her ass again. Besides, she was too excited at the prospect of a mission! And a mission in which she would be given the identity of a highly-paid model in Helena Hunt's legendary fashion stable – albeit only in the Jeans division. Therefore, Dahlia seethed quietly, and resolved to out-do the waffle-drenched “Tara Tate.” Perhaps, in the process, Dahlia Drake could embarrass her leggy C-cup ally, while simultaneously demonstrating Helena's folly in denying Lingerie to Dahlia, and, of course, succeeding in her undercover mission, whatever it might turn out to involve.

“Hello, Tara!” Dahlia introduced herself sweetly. “Do you have much modelling experience?”

Tara Tate tried to sit up and answer, but was temporarily delayed by an, “Mmph!” as Andi Korin pushed her down and shoved more waffles into her mouth. Probably, Tara thought as she chewed, she had too much heavy cream and sauce on her shoulders and hair for Dahlia to be immediately convinced of her modelling potential – not that, so far as Tara was concerned, she really relished the prospect of modelling at all, since it was too much her hard-assed mom's thing. But, anyway, modelling beat having the psychotic Ms Hunt threaten to dissolve Sparkles again, so Lingerie modelling it was!

“Gulp. Um, a little.” Tara replied. “And I have waffles, too. Do you want waffles, Dahlia? I got waffles to spare.”

That said, Tara slumped backwards into a very brief sugar coma.

 

* *

[>_< 0_0]

Man, but Calorie Girl sure needs a lot of calories! Some sort of device that allows her to siphon excess calories from others around her would really help her out. Then again, it would need to be turned off if it she started feeling full...

[Batman76]

Oh dear fuck this is glorious 

[Batman76]

I've got an idea for how Dahlia would be getting ready for the show too, if you didn't want to write that part.

[Batman76]

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…”

[flyer33]

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.