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Calorie Girl


flyer33

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5 hours ago, flyer33 said:

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

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

Thanks, I wanted something totally dumb. 

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

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

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6 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

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

The Terminal lance comic.

 

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4 hours ago, Batman76 said:

The Terminal lance comic.

 

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

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

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1 hour ago, >_< 0_0 said:

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

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

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

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

Dahlia though will wind up biiiigggg

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Short piece about shorts going to pieces:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A little too mightily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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13 hours ago, Batman76 said:

The brass button punched through the hollow door next to Georgia’s head, leaving a fist sized hole through the fake wood, and kept going to shatter a window, rip a limb off a tree and knock over a power pole, sending the area into a blackout.

Lol, Dahlia's going to need some adamantine-laced shapewear if she's gonna model jeans at the Fashion Expo. Unless she just plans to suck in for the duration of her runway spots. 

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8 hours ago, flyer33 said:

Lol, Dahlia's going to need some adamantine-laced shapewear if she's gonna model jeans at the Fashion Expo. Unless she just plans to suck in for the duration of her runway spots. 

oh yeah, it'll be a problem.

Here's the arrival to the party:

During Dahlia’s days, Sigma Alpha Theta had often been called to serve alumni events. Although she’d loved any excuse to get glammed up and get attention, the towering ginger had really hated dealing with alumni. Age comes for everyone, or just about, and dealing with the ghosts of Christmas future was a true disgust for the pageant winning cheerleader. Whether it was seeing former sorority queens turned into pregnancy fattened moms with bods jammed into shape wear and botox pinning up their wrinkles glaring at her flat belly and high breasts with undisguised jealousy or ex-foot ball heroes swollen fat as ticks by beer and barbecue after they’d stopped exercising drooling over huge boobs, Dahlia had been so grossed out she’d promised never to go to a college party after graduating. She’d spent most of the quick flight to a small park by the EAT sorority house ruminating on how she was going to be the flabby alumni getting catty comments about her unhideable gut, slowly grinding down on her powers to the point her flight had wobbled a bit.

“What the fuck is goign on with this place?” Dahlia asked, her expectations totally reversed as the pair approached the big sorority house.

Um, demons Dahlia,” Georgia reminded her, “weird succubi feeder demons that only you can fight due to you being a half alien super woman.”

“Yeah, but these are college students, they’re supposed to be in like, the best shape of their lives and instead they’re...blimps! We’re practically the thinnest one here, like, look at that girl, she’s a whale!” Might Girl pointed out, literally.

Georgia and Dahlia had gotten heftier of late, both crossing the line into out right overweight. But they were able to walk without a waddle and still had a basic female shape, something that couldn’t be said for the rest of the young adults around them. Dahlia’s 195lb frame was the smallest in sight by over a hundred and fifty pounds!

The young woman that Dahlia had pointed out didn’t hear them, deeply engrossed on a towering ice cream cone being eaten in a most unorthodox manner.

“Jeff, hold *puff* on, I need another lick!” the girl whined, “lean it over!”

She was a long haired brunette, somewhat tall but not up to Dahlia’s height. And about as wide, with an ass so girthy it wouldn’t fit in most cars. The enormous double sack of pale lard hung out of a pair of athletic shorts stretched into a thong, merging into thighs thick as Dahlia’s bust measurement that were themselves merging with her cankles. A food stained and hopelessly small t-shirt with a “Plains City Gymnastics” logo was stretched transparent over volley ball breasts and grain sack arms, not even trying to cover a knee length apron gut. Her flabby arms and swollen fingers were busy manipulating of all things a walker that she leaned her quarter ton bulk upon, meaning her boyfriend had to hold the ice cream.

“One sec Kate, I’m *munch* finishing mine,” Jeff replied, munching down on a vanilla cone.

Although not as fat as Kate, Jeff was no light weight himself. Georgia’s 150lb weight and Dahlia’s 195lb body wouldn’t get within fifty pounds of him added together, his body gone totally rolly polly. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans that had practically exploded outwards, button destroyed and zipper shredded, held on purely by friction of his waddling thighs. A pregnant looking beer keg belly loomed well ahead of him and a white shirt that implausibly said “Plains City U Cross Country Captain” was stretched across moobs bigger than Dahlia’s F cups. One bingo winged arm shoved a waffle cone stacked a foot high with ice cream scoops into his mouth, while the other trembled to hold a similar confection to Kate.

They were about average size for the student body at Plains City U, much of which was waddling towards the castle like EAT sorority house.

“Let’s get some info...and stop hovering,” Georgia reminded Dahlia, tugging her back to earth, “just because people that fat turn you on.”

“I’m not...unnffff...turned on,” a red faced Dahlia said, her own forty five pound gain small potatoes compared to these cow sized coeds who she wanted to be sandwiched between, “I’m just uh, you stay here. I’ll deal with talking to them…”

She dashed off before Georgia could stop her, keeping her powers barely in check as her aroused state made her hormone production go mad.

“Hey, you two guys, could you give me a hand?” Dahlia asked, strategically pressing out her chest for maximum cleavage.

The hopeful model had decided to forgo leggings for a little black dress. Sequenced jet fabric looked amazing on her, although even with her stomach strategically held in it hugged her paunch like a second skin. Thankfully Dahlia’s prized assets pressed the pressed the bust line to the breaking point to distract from her beer belly. Of course, her underwear/butt cheeks popped into view if she didn’t stand absolutely straight but that wasn’t a major problem at this kind of party.

The F cups were still the smallest boobs in the conversation by at least three cupsizes.

“Uh yeah?” Jeff asked, barely noticing Dahlia’s tits, a first for the stacked ginger, and actually eyeing her with some...disgust?

“Jeff, hold the ice cream higher, if I take my hands off the walker I’ll fall!” Kate whined, awkwardly leaning her porcine proportions over to lick at the cone in her boyfriend’s swollen fingers, “and eat while you *munch* talk! Otherwise you’ll burn calories and *belch* get cut from the team!”

Dahlia raised an eyebrow, her tits not working was forcing her brain to actually function for the first time since she’d gone from A cups to DD over a summer. This pair of apparently active athletes were wanting to add more calories? What the hell? And not being turned on by her?

“Just couldn’t help over hearing you two were trying to put on some weight…,” Dahlia asked, trying to keep her jaw from hitting the floor at the thought of feeding these two human hippos sick and fucking them both to the breaking point, “isn’t that a little odd for athletes…”

Jeff’s sweaty face glowered on the other side of his ice cream cone, “Hey, I know I’m small for a runner but *urp* I’ve got a gland issue!”

“And I know *munch* It’s weird a gymnast can still walk, but I’ve got thin genes!” Kate complained, “and the *slurp* mobility scooter store is back ordered!”

“And we’d have driven to the *huff* party but, my car’s shocks are out. Not that you should try and *urp* body shame us, skinny. God, you’re gross. You can probably see your toes” Jeff said, out of breath from talking so much and fumbling for an inhaler.

“You probably don’t even have diabetes,” Kate agreed, pausing to chow down on about a thousand calories of ice cream, “don’t know how you *huff* can stand to be in public. I haven’t been that skinny since like...thursday. Do you even *puff* tube feed?”

Given it was Tuesday, Dahlia raised an eyebrow. She was gaining weight quickly herself, but not to the point of hundreds of pounds per day. And it felt downright bizarre to be skinny shamed when she was near 200lbs.

“So this weight you’ve gained is...recent. Did you by any chance go to an EAT thirsty thursday party?” Dahlia asked.

“Of *urp* course,” Jeff said, turning from inhaler to ice cream, “they’ve always got the hottest girls, except for Kate.”

“Aww, you’re sweet babe. But I know you, urp, love me for my brains. You dated me back when I was a 100lbs!” the quarter ton Kate said, slurping ice cream, “but we’re going there now. I hear they’ve got a chocolate fountain room!”

“Thanks for that...info,” Dahlia said, stepping around them, which required going off the side walk.

The wobbling pair waddled very slowly off, a stunned Dahlia walking back towards Georgia.

“How’d that go?” Georgia asked her.

“I think I just got skinny shamed, which felt...weird I”ll admit,” Might Girl said, “but EAT is definitely the source of this. Those two were skinny when they went there five days ago and now...well a hundred pounds a day doesn’t keep my orgasms at bay….errr, I mean they got really big. So we’re on track for finding demons…in there…”

The local EAT chapter house was a huge gothic structure, its tall grey brick facade and corner towers resembling a haunted castle. A wooden double door was open to the evening air, allowing a slow flood of panting, wheezing, elephantine students entry and pulsating music to pour out. Along with the music was a strange scent that ran the gamut from sweet to sour to savory to salty to umami but stayed delicious throughout. 

“I know that like, my average grade matched my cup size but I think we need a plan,” Dahlia said, “they’re cooking something weird in there that’s probably causing this mass onset obesity, so we need to be careful…”

Might Girl turned from the imposing house to see her fuck buddy best friend had her mouth hanging open. The brilliant, slowly thickening Georgia was drooling in a way she normally only did on seeing both Drake twins advancing on her in the buff with sex toys and ice cream in hand. Dahlia was as yet unaware that she was immune to the hallucinatory effect of the food, but could clearly see it was affecting the fully human Georgia.

“Alright, as I’m not the fighter you are,” the plump Georgia theorized, “so I’ll go in and get some food to analyze…”

“Okay, but that seems...dangerous,” Dahlia sighed, as Georgia broke out into a run.

The plump physical trainer might have hit overweight, but while she’d packed on the poundage she was still quite fit and fast. She nimbly ran around the bovine student body waddling into the huge sorority house, disappearing into the bulked out throng inside. Dahlia thought a minute how it was odd for the risk averse Georgia to go in to a literal house of demonic feeders alone...then several more wondering what was taking so long.

“Okay, I should not have let her take so long going in there...this looks like a job for Might Girl,” Dahlia said, reaching into her purse for her costume.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Next part of Might Girl's mission and intro of a new character, the perpetually horny and painfully needing to be cool magical PI Adam Wrong:

Humid night air sticking his button up to his skin in the alleyway behind his dorm, Adam Wright took a very deep breath as he considered the cigarette in his hand.

Everyone knew smoking was terrible for you. Cancer, emphysema, rapid aging, teeth yellowing etc. He wasn't an idiot.

But on the other hand it would look really, really cool. Maybe cool enough to impress that cute chubette in his latin class or possibly even one of those new super heroines appearing in town.

The college senior knew that he absolutely needed to look cool. His high school acne clearing up via meds, the MMA club helping him lose his high school nerd soda gut and get some biceps and his brand new leather trench coat over a well fitted suit helped, as did the recently grown and no longer patchy 5 o'clock shadow. It had come in with the extra 3 inches of height along with the barter he’d made for hsi soul.

Along with no small amount of magic.

But the issue was, Magic ran purely off of focus and self confidence. And the 22 year old virgin magician’s barely used magic was  the only possible weapon Adam had against the malignant force infesting his college and classmates. If he didn’t get his head straight he’d just get killed...which was difficult given that this demonic force was fattening up every pretty college coed into a food obsessed human hog, their weight outpacing the national debt. He’d been amazed to see the cheer leading and track teams rioting over ice cream at the dining hall and been stunned to see them gain sixty pounds a day, enough to know that magic was at hand.

Which was a problem, as Adam had an absolutely raging and never utilized gaining fetish.

“Alright Adam, you can do this, you can do this,” the young warlock said, looking down at the cigarette as music and munching sounds began to pulse from the EAT house a block away, “Just light the cigarette, set off your warding spells and go in there and kick some ass…”

The somewhat choked up phrase didn’t stir his own confidence, so he repeated the phrase putting a thick, street wise Cockney accent learned mostly from Warhammer 40K memes, Mary Poppins and Michael Caine into it: “Blimey, this is a proper tosser, ain’t it old boy? Time to get stuck in with the boyz and smash some cunts, roit?”

Adam lit the cigarette with a snap of his finger, using the glowing ember to trace a protective ward in the air. A magical shield surrounded him, protecting him from the addicting smells flowing from the succubi infested sorority. He smiled, considered smoking the cigarette and stepped from the door way….just as the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen floated down from the sky to land in the alleyway in front of him and started peeling her clothes off.

….

“Jesus fuck Georgia, what the fuck are you thinking? Running in there like an idiot? You’re the smart cute one, I’m the bitchy sexy model with super powers one,” Dahlia Drake muttered to herself, “I have not had to think since I hit a DD cup and now, with your admittedly cute, thick, wide and growing ass on the line, I’ve got to be not just the beauty and of course the brawn but the brains too? If you didn’t look so fucking hot tubby I’d be tempted to leave you!”

Dahlia tugged carefully at her very snug one little black dress, not wanting to rip a favorite garment for when she, inevitably of course, lost this little bit of new job chub and got her abs back. Unfortunately, no matter how temporary the growing paunch was or how much she sucked in, the extra inches on her once flat waist were stretching the black fabric skin tight and the zipper was extremely stuck.

“Come on, come on, go you bastard come on, give it to me go, go!” Dahlia snarled, tugging desperately at the zipper and forgetting she could punch a hole through tank armor with her pinky.

The dress ripped like a plastic bag filled with panic bought gasoline in the back of a Floridian’s humvee. Instead of gas pouring out, the half zaftonite’s tanned and quite untoned body popped into view. Plump round hemisphere buns with a small patch of cellulite and a couple tiger stripes divided by an undersized black thong, jiggling little love handles only recently come into existence, the start of a roll of virgin fresh back fat, and a very tight bra band. The black band dug deep into soft, tan shoulders, freckles highlighting it. One of the 40 F cup Bra’s clasps had come undone under the pressure of her engorged G cups, titty fat mushrooming out of the black underwire.

“FUUUUCCCKKK, I loved that dress! I had that great fucking five some in that,” Dahlia snarled, tossing it over her shoulder where it landed on the unseen Adam’s shoulders, “god damn it why did I have to gain forty five pounds since graduation? I’m getting so fucking fat and chubby and jiggly and my thighs touch and nothing fits and I can’t stop fucking eating, eating and eating, ugh I’m practically...plus sized. No, goddamn it, you’re fucking better than moping around, you’re not a fucking flat chested, brace faced geek anymore. You’re fucking Might Girl, Dahlia Drake, don’t think that way. Damn it, focus Dahlia, focus, focus. Your best friend is brainwashed and probably, errmmmm, certainly uhmm, eating her way out of those skin tight short shorts with demon food and gaining pounds by the minnnnnuttteee...okay, good, focus on how Georgia’s getting fatter and bouncier and not that much, no, noughty hand! Alright, powered up, let’s go...fuck after I put my costume on!”

The towering, busty more than a bit plump ex-athlete turned vigilante put down her clutch purse and started taking off her bra. It came off with a single tug, Dahlia pulling it away to stuff into her clutch and reveal a pair of staggering knockers. Gloriou as a winter sunrise, bouncy as a new trampoline, pert as A cups thanks to her super strength, quite perfectly and unrealistically round and thanks to all of Dahlia’s stress eating recently plumped up to G cup size. Her invincible skin literally shimmered around the engorged mammary tissue, cherry red and cherry sized nipples pointing straight ahead.

Dahlia bent to pick up her costume, several rolls forming on her belly. She’d stopped sucking in after the dress was off, her soft beer gut unleashed, creasing over her panties. The roundness was quite noticeable now, hard abs turned fully squishy by a six pack a night, a 1700 calorie latte at breakfast and more sweets, savories and diet ruining junk than could be counted. It was only her partial Zaftonite metabolism that prevented Might Girl’s gut from out running her breasts, burning off more calories than she deserved. The red head’s bust was currently in the lead, but in six months Dahlia’s previous abs had eclipsed her college era DD cups and closing fast on her new Gs. Her once waspish waist was basically gone, budding love handles hanging a half inch over her hips, and her belly button was deepening with a single shiny white stretchmark hiding beneath it.

“Costume, costume, no not a condom, a costume...there!” Dahlia smiled, grabbing what looked like a lipstick container.

What popped out of it wasn’t cherry red No. 9, but a crimson one piece. She grabbed the bullet proof fabric from the air, stepping into the form fitting fabric. Helena Hunt had had the miracle costume whipped up at the double, and guessing that the softened Zaftonite would only get bigger, had made it stretchy. Dahlia didn’t even have to suck in to get the red one piece on, its strategic boob window cradling her tanned cleavage above the arches of a golden M that was stretched to illegibility. She buckled on a wide, girdling belt that pinched her love handles into an artificial waistline and threw on her over sized pauldrons and fluttering white half cape. Last of all she stepped into a pair of thigh high faux leather boots, their chunky, six inch platform heels making the tall girl look positively gigantic.

“Okay, ready, hot as fuck, passibly skinny and ready to kick some ass!” Dahlia cheered herself up, floating up to stash her purse in a dry gutter, “in a house full of the fattest fat fucks I’ve ever imagined!”

She floated upwards, ready to burst through a wall...and realized she didn’t have her mask or her hair.

“Fuck, people are going to recognize me immediately if they can see my eyes and hair. With them covered up, I could be almost anyone,” the 6’1, 195lb, G cup, red haired chested wannabe Insta model reminded herself.

She turned, hovering in mid air and opened her purse again. A few puffs from a small, Hunt Industries spray bottle turned her shoulder length crimson curls into golden locks that shimmered in the light of the setting sun, but as she put it back, her domino mask fell out of the clutch...and onto the stunned, drooling face of junior warlock Adam Wright.

“Uhhh,” Adam muttered, trying to remember English before this chubby goddess.

“Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Dahlia winced, blue eyes narrowing in shock.

The curse words from this Queen’s sailor’s mouth snapped Adam’s IQ up to room temperature. He, like every one in the city who wasn’t a pure gay or asexual had seen the video of Might Girl’s first demonic battle before Hunt Industries had scrubbed the footage from every site that wasn’t a porn distrutor. Recognition spurred him to try and not sound like a total idiot.

“MIG-, er,Might Girl I presume,” Adam said, crushing a squawk and going into cockney after the first syllable.

“Uh, ...no. Absolutely not, why would you think so?” the flying woman with the unattainable body denied, cursing herself for saying her actual name while she got dressed without so much as thinking to check with her super hearing.

“The b-,” Adam began, beginning to say “Belly” before realizing she’d probably kill him and noting that “BOOBS” wasn’t much better, “big golden M on your chest gives it away a bit. That and the flying.”

“I’m not…,” Dahlia looked down, she couldn’t see the underside of her chest but could see she was 12 feet off the ground, “...fine, yes. I’m Might Girl. And not a natural blonde but keep quiet about that and my eye color...and anything you might have overheard me mutter…Mr. Weird alley dwelling pervert.”

“Wouldn’t spill a bean even to the Queen, love. And I’m straight as an arrow shot from English yew, we’re in the same business so to speak. Name’s Adam Wr,” Adam coughed, his embarrassment at seeing this goddess making him almost say his actual name, not aided by both immense arousal and the horrific smell of the cigarette, “Wrong. Adam Wrong. I...just tellyported in from ole blighty a second ago and saw your  Blood-God red curls go golden as the sunrise, so I didn’t hear a bleeding thing love. Just here for a fine night of demon hunting.”

Dahlia raised an eyebrow. The guy was about her height, built pretty lean and had a face and hair she’d classify as low maintenance cute. However he wasn’t flying like she always did or vibrating like Calorie Girl or so superior like that stupid sexy Helena Hunt. He didn’t even have like, an eye patch or a machine gun cannon. Dahlia’s honed mean girl senses smelled nerd , helped by recognizing the warhammer references dashed liberally into his fake accent.

Not that she would ever, ever, ever admit knowing what that even was.

“Demon hunting? Listen rookie, this is an official operation and I don’t have time to run a virgin through his paces,” Dahlia snarked, crossing her sort of powerfully built arms under her vast bosom to a creak of kevlar, “so go back to whatever nerd hole you crawled out of and wait for the all clear, demons might be real but everyone knows magic is fake. That would be ridiculous.”

Adam was hanging by a thread. He’d already been working himself up to fight succubi and probably die but now a veritable goddess of a girl with breasts like pillows and a succulent starter belly straight out of an online fetish art site was staring down her nose at him like the girl’s he’d asked out at prom. Not getting his soul eaten sounded nice...but he’d literally rather go to Hell than see this perfect woman think poorly of him.

And he was already going to hell anyway, wasn’t he?

“Ha, says the girl hovering above the ground?” Adam coughed, “watch this.”

He sketched another symbol in the air with the cigarette, a septagram to levitate the mask on his shoulder to her face. Unfortunately the combination of Might Girl’s cover girl face and porn star bust heaving as she inhaled made his attention waver. 

“Watch what? You age yourself? Don’t get that smoke at me, I don’t know if I have Zaftonite immortality yet...I mean, you’ll get cancer I don’t have to worry about,” Dahlia said, unimpressed and waving a hand, an earth quake shooting through her bust.

“Okay, it takes a few tries sometimes, its magic not science like  you flying, just watch!” Adam demanded, waving the cigarette while closing his eyes and thinking of cold showers and baseballs.

Magic flared, the diabolical pact Adam had made with the succubi of Lust Lillith called into being. Red energy surrounded the domino mask and made it shoot fast as a bullet into Dahlia’s face with a wet smack. If she’d been human Dahlia would have been decapitated, but thankfully kiloton weaponry would be needed to give her a nose bleed so she was merely disguised.

“...Okay, so you’re not completely useless. Perhaps,” Dahlia admitted, “and I could use an extra set of eyes in there. Don’t eat anything and keep your eyes on my back.”

Adam had gotten a good look at her back already but had just enough knowledge not to say that, knowing it would be cringey and disrespectful.

“How about we both keep our eyes on each other’s back and on any succubi?” Adam asked, “and are you, well the food there is intoxicating to anyone not shielded like I am. Wouldn’t want your figure getting…”

Might Girl glared, Adam realized that all the magic in Hell wouldn’t help him if she got pissy.

“Less spectacular,” he stammered, “not that a little cushion would be amiss on you, because size is a number and curves are in, right?”

Dahlia let a ghost of a smile touch her lips, “I’m immune, thanks to my zafonite powers...probably...but let’s go, I’ve got a friend who’s probably hitting Obesity as we speak…”

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This is excellent. Adam Wrong is a really interesting new character, and maybe cute enough for Dahlia to enjoy... If he were meant to be English, I think his accent would be against the Geneva Convention (think Daphne in Frasier) - but, in fact, he appears to have carefully cultivated his accent from a variety of cultural sources, so it's actually pretty funny and works! 

I have a rough idea about the next chapter at the Fashion Expo, but haven't written it yet and I look forward to seeing how this chapter goes..

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3 hours ago, flyer33 said:

This is excellent. Adam Wrong is a really interesting new character, and maybe cute enough for Dahlia to enjoy... If he were meant to be English, I think his accent would be against the Geneva Convention (think Daphne in Frasier) - but, in fact, he appears to have carefully cultivated his accent from a variety of cultural sources, so it's actually pretty funny and works! 

I have a rough idea about the next chapter at the Fashion Expo, but haven't written it yet and I look forward to seeing how this chapter goes..

Thanks, wanted Dahlia to have the chance to build up a bit of a harem. 

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Alright, here we go, next part. Adam and Dahlia's plan runs into complications, namely that they're dealing with a succubi of lust and gluttony while both being chubby chasers...shame about that. some of Adam's quick thinking might save the day...at further cost to Dahlia's waistline.

Dahlia was used to making an entrance.

    Her towering height and mountainous chest drew the eye immediately. Any one not looking would soon hear her booming voice. The effect would only be amplified by her wearing a bright red one piece, it's kevlar weave squeezing her G cup chest towards her chin, cherry red thigh highs gripping her long, softened legs and a fluttering white half cape behind her.

    And also floating a few feet off the ground.

    "Alright, evil doing demon sluts. Get away from the fatties and line up to get punched in the ovary!" Might Girl bellowed as she swooped into the main room of the EAT sorority.

    "Don't think anyone heard you love," Adam said behind her.

    The young warlock wasn't keen to step past her. For one, she was invincible and he wasn't. For another, the combo of daily squat sessions and a rising body fat percentage had pumped up Dahlia's buns to peak size. The succulent tan spheres hung out of Dahlia's suit, a new stretch mark cutting through a fresh patch of cellulite.

    "Well, that's uhhhh... Because... Oh boy, this is something else...," Dahlia replied, stunned by what she saw.

    The quarter ton couple of barely mobile athletes might Girl had seen earlier were set opposite on couches, recognizable only by shredded gear they'd been pouring out of earlier. In the minutes since, they'd packed on hundreds of pounds, their already bovine bodies turned elephantine. Necks had vanished beneath chin seas, jowls merging with shoulders and cheeks swelled so round their eyes had closed up. Breasts like canoes, tipped with nipples bigger than dinner plates, sprawled across stomachs the size of a truck’s hood that rested upon the tile. Ass fat poured over the armrests of the couch, hips too wide for double doors visibly splintering the furniture and blobby bulk making them 6 feet tall while sitting. Stiff, unbendable arms hung out at straight angles, unable to so much as touch a chin there was so much fat around them, fingers swollen as ripe bannanas. What could be seen of their legs were so swollen they didn’t appear human, nothing but stretchmarks, cellulite and folds.

 Dozens of other ex-athletes were littered around the hall, cheerleaders, runners, swimmers, gymnasts, basketball players and footballers alike turned into human hippos. Bright pink candles flickered, a cloying smell of incense rising from their wicks, and a banner was stretched over the large inner stairs: “Happy Body Positivity Day!”

Each would have been the fattest human being Dahlia, who’’s mom had been too fat to drive for fifteen years, had ever seen. Her own recent weight gain wasn’t even worthy of the name,  just having a waist and a fixed number of chins made ginger look a different species than the human whale pod around her...which to be honest she was.

“Unnnnnnn,” Dahlia gasped, blue eyes watching how the obscene hulks were suckling on steel and plastic tubes coming down from the ceiling, a gleaming black-brown substance that could only be hot fudge.

Thoughts of saving anyone were going bye bye from Dahlia’s head. She needed to be surrounded by tons of adoring fat, its hot and sweaty and succulent softness swallowing her up. She needed to swim in it, to fondle its creased sensitivity wherever she looked…

Adam on the other hand was mostly terrified. He was a chubby chaser through and through but he still preferred BMIs in the double digits. People so huge that their gender couldn’t be guessed at was a bit past what he wanted...but he was still mightily turned on by Might Girl openly masturbating in front of him. One gloved hand was pushed under her bottoms and furiously rubbing, the other was pushing a tit towards her own mouth.

“Hey what are you doing...uh,” Adam said in his actual Ohio accent before correcting himself and tugging on Dahlia’s cape, “Uh, I mean, pardon love but while I know it isn’t Queen Vickies’ time, I don’t think that type of touch is what you want to be doing in public.”

“Unnn….what, what do you...fuck!” Dahlia gasped, startled from her sexual obsession.

Her cheeks actually reddened to see she had pulled one of her own boobs out. Far more able to deal with being half human than admitting that she had a rampant fat fetish, Dahlia crammed the plump tit back into her top at speed.

“Uh, demon magic side effect. Common occurrence. I don’t think any of these people are going to be answering questions, I don’t think any honestly know we’re here,” the currently blonde heroine gulped, “I don’t see my friend anywhere so let’s go uh…”

Adam, a mix of afraid and turned on by the impossibly sexy, ultra thick super woman coughed, “maybe following the tubes love? And I don’t mean the underground…”

The pair hurried up the stairs, Dahlia taking no small amount of glances at the sea of sweating lard they left behind. Following the bundles of tubes, joining together ever larger and a smell of delicious food, they came upon a large second floor room that could only be described as a throne room. Before them was a massive circular table, every inch covered with delicious, succulent and fattening fare ranging from cheap mozzarella sticks to the highest priced filets. On a large platform, a huge and gothic chair carved of black and red marble loomed, spiked and barbed enough to resemble a Goth masochist’s wet dream. 

In between the two was Georgia Junk-Food, her tan-brown body having split her snug clothes like a peeled orange, shorts and crop top replaced with a metal bikini fit for a girl fifty pounds smaller that left nothing to the imagination. Dahlia’s eyes bulged to see her frequent fuck buddy having left thickness behind and settled for full on obesity. Georgia’s dainty double chin had popped into a meaty triple, her plump waist swollen out into a mid thigh apron and her wide and deep but firm and round butt having collapsed into a sea of crinkled cellulite. As they stared, the normally intelligent young woman’s shoveled fried food into her mouth with her plump hands, eyes clouded over in a haze. 

Dahlia started to drool seeing her corpulent chub, while Adam’s already firm erection got dangerously hard...the fear he had from seeing the aura of gluttony around Georgia not softening it.

“Ah, Might Girl,” a silky voice purred, “so good to see you. Call me Milicent, why don’t we spe-urk!”

Standing behind Georgia was a tall white girl, wearing only a see through dress of white gauze. She was rail thin, body delicate and trim with barely a curve at her hip and an A cup’s slight bulge. Tiny, delicate horns erupted from her curly brown hair, while her teeth were all sharp fangs. 

“How about you turn my friend, who I, Might Girl do not know, back to normal instead?” Dahlia demanded.

The half zaftonite had shot across the room, grabbing the Succubi by the throat in a heartbeat.

“Ah, but why would you do that?” the Succubi rasped, not looking afraid despite the floating super human holding her neck, “You don’t want that, do you Dahlia?”

The flying heroine was taken a bit a back, actually lowering her up raised right fist, “I don’t? No, of course I do! Look at her, she’s all...she’s all…”

Dahlia had known Georgia since they were kids. Georgia had always been hard and lean, growing up into an ultra fit health nut. Her personal trainers physique going to ** over the last months had had an immense effect on the Ginger, her long hidden fat fetish awakened by the other cheer leader’s abs turning into a paunch, her thigh gap closing in and her butt eating her clothes. Seeing her now, swollen beyond off season thickness or mid-twenties spread into the same permanent obesity Georgia’s loser sisters had embraced was really driving the heroine on. 

“Immense? Obese? A corpulent pig in human clothing?” the succubi smiled, “Just what a lesser species deserves to be? What you want them to be?”

“I, no, I don’t want her to, uh, she’s not lesser,” the flying woman gulped, face turning red and sweat covering her.

“Of course she is! She’s human, you’re Zaftonite. You’re invincible, immortal, perfect,” the Succubi Miillicent purred, “or almost.”

“Hey, I’m hot as fuck!” Dahlia demanded, unconsciously sucking in her paunch which had bulged out a bit as she got aroused.

“In a thick way, but you’re not at your best with a belly like that. But it can be removed,” Milicent offered, voice sweet as honey.

“Removed? What no way, I’m not trading you my soul to lose at most five pounds of new job weight,” Dahlia objected.

“Five pounds? Try fifty,” the demon grinned, “and rising. You’re getting fat, just like your mom. Your looks are going to go and go fast, you know it as well as I do. You can barely squeeze that gut into a size twelve pair of jeans and in a few months it’ll be past your breasts. You’ll get fatter and fatter and fatter, till no one will want to even look at you. You’ll be a complete, ignorable loser like you were before you got hot. You’ll have to go back to Wisconsin and marry a farmer! Your tits will hit the floor by the time your thirty!”

Dahlia’s energy levels were failing, the super heroine plunging downwards. Already her arm was trembling to hold up the succubi, while her relaxed, no longer sucked in stomach was starting ot poke out of the bottom strap of her one piece. The whipsaw blows to her body confidence and barbs at her deepest fears broke any defense of pride or reason. In comparison, the Succubi was growing, horns now a foot long and vast wings curling behind her. She loomed over the super heroine, her illusion fading away.

“But it doesn’t have to be Dahlia,” Millicent cooed, “I’m not like my idiot cousin Lillith, the one you blew up at the restaurant. She was a crude feeder demon, I’m more sophisticated. I turn others into feeders, something you’ve already done. Didn’t it feel so good to tube feed your little friend there? To bulge her belly out and make her love the feeling of being gorged? I’m a High Succubus, a patroness of feeders, I’ll make you a deal…”

“I’m not, ugh,” Dahlia gasped, uncaring how the succubi knew her name, “not going to sell you my soul…”

“Sell your soul? How ridiculous, demons don’t operate on souls, we operate on emotion. And all I need from you is the smug, superior satisfaction you feel when you feed someone up. Feed your friends, Might Girl, feed your enemies. That skinny mini Calorie Girl who gets more Insta likes than you? Make her thighs so thick she can’t walk. That fat butted bitch Helena Hunt? Put so many pork rinds in her that she can’t even stand. Visit home and see how all the other girls of your class have three kids and butts so big they can’t get out of their parent’s basement. Let that superiority flow through you and into me, and in return…”

Adam, for his part, was flickering through his grimoire. The new leather journal was filled with hastily scrawled incantations and spells for some information that would help.

“Might Girl, careful there! She’ll give you what you want in exchange for...uh, what you were already going to do…,” Adam gasped, cursing himself for not helping.

“And in return, I’ll make you skinny again,” the demoness promised, “you’ll go back to a 20 BMI with a six pack and a thigh gap. A waist that you have to belt size fours over. Thighs that don’t rub, a chin that doesn’t double. You can even keep your fat girl boobs, can you imagine that? A size four with G cups?”

“I, um, ...that would be pretty great…,” Might Girl muttered.

“You’ll be able to eat anything you want. Fried ice cream for breakfast and a twenty four pack of beer for lunch and never gaining a single ounce,” Milicent purred, “just agree with me and spend the rest of eternity, fit as can be, feeding up fat slugs like your ex-friend Georgia there. In fact, every pound you’d gain would instead go to inflate her fat, useless slug body until she goes ...pop! Then you can find a lover more fitting of your glorious physique…”

A blue eye glanced down at Georgia. Her friend Georgia, the brains of their operation, Dahlia’s most dependable bond and best friend for years.

“How about instead,” Might Girl purred breathily, leaning in, vast bosom and plush belly pressing into the succubi’s flat chest, getting her lips close to Millicent’s mouth, “when you’re trying to seduce me, you remember I like a girl with something to grab on too!”

There was a large rip that sounded, erasing the surprise from the Succubi’s mouth as Dahlia’s immense strength was put to use. Millicent’s body shriveled up, turning into ash.

“Dumb fuck, Theta’s before sluts, everyone knows that even if Theta’s are sluts,” the super heroine smirked, floating down to Georgia’s corpulent side, “Hey Georgia, you hear me? Bad news is you’re gonna need to shop in a new store category, good news is I got you before you hit immobility.”

Adam, blinking, was still thumbing through his spell book. Something was wrong.

“This was too easy, a high succbus is an extremely dangerous creature, supernatural affects on her victims should have faded immediately,” Adam gulped, so shocked he almost forgot his accent, “uh, love.”

“Yeah and I’m a genuine bad bitch, I don’t know what it says in your Monster Manual but it probably doesn’t have a Zaftonite entry in it saying we always win no matter what,” Dahlia snorted, gently shaking Georgia, “Hey, co-Captain? Wakey wakey, we’ve got to get you out of here before you need blood pressure meds.”

Georgia snorted and yawned, six chins chowing and rubbed her eyes with plump fingers, “Dahlia? Are you *yawn* I had the weirdest dream, you were a super heroine...and getting kinda chubby....”

Dahlia snorted, “your one to talk, it’s a good thing you moved up to management, I dont think the Breastaurant has shorts for the size of your booty.”

Dahlia bent down, picking up the obese Georgia. The basically bare woman was a ball of rolls and bulges, pure butter, but she struggled and grabbed a take out box of fried chicken. Adam was briefly distracted from finding the entry for a High Succubus by the wobbling.

“One sec, I’m hungry, need one for the road,” Georgia moaned, popping open the box, “don’t want to waste away…”

“Yeah, there’s not much danger of that...but then again, if you get a little fatter I don’t think anyone will notice,” the super heroine sighed as Georgia opened the box and stuck a hand in.

Meanwhile, Adam’s eyes widened as he read, sphincter tightening, “Heads up, girl! High Succubi have to be salted and splashed with holy water! If not they’ll just possess anyone unprotected nearby! A mage can see that they have a pink halo around them and...oh shit watch out!”

“For what?” the unconcerned but pretty horny Dahlia asked.

Dahlia was watching Adam/the wobble of Georgia’s belly and not her friend’s hand. The trainer’s fat fingers grabbed a small, glowing pink jewel from the chicken box and unceremoniously plunged it into Dahlia’s cavernous cleavage!

“For a chunk of zaftonite crystal, you stupid whore!” Georgia cackled in Milicent’s voice, horns shooting up through her black hair.

Might Girl had a moment to curse, but her powers crapped out as the crystal touched her inner boob flesh. Instantly she was taken from an alien super being able to bench a battleship to a chunkily thick girl who, while strong, didn’t have the might to hold up the morbidly obese Georgia! The pear/apple hybrid hopped off her stunned friend, wings growing off of her body and most of her corpulence fading away. Her belly went from an apron to just waistless and puffy, her thighs got some tone back and lost their folds, while her ass went from too big for doors to just plain phat. She sat on the throne and giggled, soft curves bouncing.

Adam, not thinking tactically, ran over to his stunned ally. The wind had been driven from Might girl’s suddenly vulnerable body.

“Holy shit are you alright?” Adam asked, trying to help the coughing woman up.

“Ugh, fuck, no. Zaftonite crystal, as long as its stuck to me I’m human,” the powerless girl groaned, gesturing at her tits, “we’ve gotta get it off of me!”

“Get it, um, off of ...you?” the young warlock asked, voice midwestern as they came as he looked at the head sized hooters before him.

“I’ve got gloves on, just dig in there and find it virgin!” Dahlia commanded, grabbing his free hand and shoving it into the boob canyon.

Adam’s mind froze up as the pillowy flesh wrapped around his fingers. Dahlia’s boobs were packed tight, smelling of her perfume and gloriously warm. Knowledge of what he was doing vanished alongside who he was or where he was for several long seconds.

“Having fun there, witch boy?” Dahlia asked, slightly annoyed.

“Um, sorry just a bit…,” Adam replied, hand so overwhelmed he could barely feel.

The warlock’s vision was going in and out, his heart rate too high. But he didn’t quite miss Dahlia suddenly begin admitting a pink aura of possession.

“Just too focused on titties to remember that a High succubus can infect anyone unprotected, even multiple people at the same time? Like a powerless half Zaftonite?” Millicent’s voice purred from Dahlia’s mouth, “did you forget that, virgin?”

Adam gulped, trying to stand up but Dahlia’s left leg knocked him down before he could get up. In a moment he was pinned to the ground, her strong, thick thighs wrapped around his arms as she perched on his waist. She squeezed, powerlust flashing in her possessed eyes and making him grunt. Even powerless and chubby, Dahlia had the physique of a strong farm girl and was much stronger than the shorter, slighter Adam.

“Now you, you little chubby chasing nerd, would you be surprised to learn your the real goal here? A half zaftonite is nice, but she’s such a slut she’s already feeding me plenty with her lust,” the patroness of Feeders purred, “but you? A sexually frustrated magic user so dumb he was walking into here without back up? That is pure catnip, the things I can do with you. Why, once we bulk up your powers we could turn the great lakes into cola or reverse entropy so exercise makes women gain fat! So, how about a deal big boy?”

Struggling to get air, the terrified wizard gasped, “Too late girl, already traded in the old soul…”

“Oh yes, to a succubi of pure lust, one of my cousins. But as I said, I care about emotion, not souls,” Millicent giggled and writhed, making Dahlia’s huge tits bounce as she ground on his groin, “What do you want instead? Oh, I think I know what you want!”

The possessed ex-cheerleader bounced upwards, doing a backflip. Although officially overweight, the muscle memory remained and Dahlia’s body suffered nothing worse than her belt popping off. The demoness stood in the half alien’s curvy, glorious frame, hands on her ample hips.

“You want a 6’ foot, G cup blonde just on the verge of overweight. A woman you’d be too scared to ever talk to if it wasn’t for this cuddly, cute little gut catching up to her boobs,” Millicent made Dahlia grin, “that enough to make your little fat fetish boner pop?”

“I, uh, that would be wrong,” he gulped, hand going to his spell book to try and find something to counter this, “she’s literally not herself…”

He felt the spell book get pulled away, Dahlia’s body suddenly right there. She pressed her boobs into his face, making his brain nearly short out and his groin get damp with pre-cum.

“What do you care? You already sold your soul for magical powers, dumbshit, officially you’re a bad person,” Millicent giggled, throwing the book over her shoulder, “what do you want, is the question? You want Dahlia as sexy, super heroine girlfriend? Or how about as your devoted wife who wants nothing more than for you to pump her up with kids?”

Adam gulped again, finding his mouth dry. He had some holy water and salt to counter the succubi, but for that to work he’d need the spell...which was in the book the possessed Dahlia had stolen! Plus she’d need to stay still, which was unlikely given the tubby superheroine could kick his ass powers or not. He needed both a distraction and numbers…

“Well, what do you want?” Millicent demanded, tapping Dahlia’s massive chest and bouncing on her high heels, G cups heaving as she snapped her arms into an I, “An invitation? Do you want me to give you an I?”

Where a small rip was showing between the two mountainous boobs, all that unsupported bouncing by the heroine’s titties overdoing even Kevlar’s limits. A spark of an idea popped in his hopeless mind, one Dahlia wouldn’t forgive him for but...she might get a chance to kick his ass herself first...

“She’s...a little thin isn’t she?” Adam gulped, “still practically skinny, I think she’d look better with a few pounds…”

“Oh, there’s my little chubby chaser,” the demoness grinned, “How much? Four hundred? Five hundred?”

“Just, how about  you just start eating and I”ll let you know when to stop…,” Adam offered.

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Okay, the last part of this section, where Adam has to think with his head, not that one, to get Dahlia unpossessed. but even back to normal, will she ever forgive him for pushing her over the line from thick to chubby?

“Its so easy that everyone in this town has the same easy fetish, can you imagine if it was something actually weird?” Dahlia asked, “then I’d actually have to work to corrupt people!”

It wasn’t actually Dahlia though, Adam reminded himself, even though the sounds were coming from Might Girl’s plump lips. The young warlock hadn’t known the stunning superheroine very long, but he was certain she was possessed. For one thing, the half-Zaftonite wasn’t sucking her stomach in as normal, but instead pushing her belly out as far as she could, until the seams of her one piece were visibly straining. The fat-phobic ex-cheerleader would never draw attention to her stomach like that, as far as the Classic’s major could guess.

Aslo, Dahlia’s eyes were blue and not a bright glowing pink normally.

“Hey, my tits are down here,” the possessed superheroine purred, thrusting out Dahlia’s mountainous mammaries.

The tiny rip in her costume top spread slightly.

“Uh, I can tell,” Adam gasped, trying to keep his head straight despite the throbbing from his well, head.

“Of course you can, you dream of tits like this, don’t you?” the currently blonde, currently possessed currently teetering on the edge of overweight Might Girl grinned, coupling the massive jugs and just slightly increasing the rip at the top, “fuck you’d probably come in two seconds if I took this off.”

The warlock couldn’t quite disagree. Dahlia Drake was probably the hottest woman he’d ever seen or even imagined. It wasn’t just the immense, world breaking power or the massive, back breaking boobs (although that helped). But the sense of emotional fragility beneath the confidence, the kindness beneath the arrogance and the hints of nerddom beneath the false alpha bitch cover…

And the budding tubbiness didn’t hurt either.

“But if you want me to eat my way out of it, sure thing. Chubby bitch was already nearing the breaking point,” the demoness Millicent laughed through Dahlia’s mouth, sitting at the loaded buffet table and picking up an immense foot long chili dog, “ready, big boy?”

She didn’t eat the chili dog as much as she made love to it. A nip here, a bite there, a suck here and a slurp there. Throwing in several orgasmic moans and pants, the demon finished off the tube of meat, chili and vegetables in moments. She patted her already swelling stomach, dabbed a bit of chili off her cleavage and smiled.

“Worth infinite power, eh Adam? Want to be actually effortlessly cool, with a trail of fattened up girls of the week behind you, their gluttony feeding me up to the rank of arch succubus?” Millicent grinned, Dahlia’s perfect white teeth flashing.

Adam nodded, slowly, mesmerized and on the point of going just from seeing the feast, “Sure thing love, but ‘ow about a few more pounds on you?”

The succubi laughed, “Oh don’t worry, I didn’t forget our little deal…”

With a predator’s ferocity, Millicent turned her ire on the massive buffet table. Burgers went down and cakes were demolished, the possessed heroine gorging as if she still had all of her powers. Her belly began to bulge outwards, the calories Millicent was eating going right to Dahlia’s body.

“Look at this, look at her, she’s really starting to pork up, isn’t she?” the succubi giggled as she expanded, “I can feel her double chin really coming in, she’s going to hate that. She can spanx down her beer gut but a fat girl face? Oh and what’s this? This suit is getting tighter and tighter at the stomach…”

There was a small “pop!” as Dahlia’s white belt gave way. Between bloat and additional fat, might Girl’s stomach was swelling out past the point of a cute little pooch. Her love handles were edging past her hips while her belly was forming a full roundness, her waistline basically gone. The kevlar suit stretched around it, soft tan flesh peaking out at the bottom and over the sides, Dahlia’s panties showing as the one piece lost coverage. More and more boob was popping into view, the expansion of her belly pulling the costume down, while the smaller stream of calories going to her chest was splitting the golden M deeper and deeper, the full shape of each breast visible to the staggeringly hard Adam.

“Oh God, this suit is getting so damned tight. It’s digging right into her clit, whew, she’s about to cream her pants. I can feel her in here, you know? And she’s so fucking pissed at you, you pervert. Betraying her like this for your own pervert desires and after watching her get undressed?” Millicent teased, rubbing the plumpness at her possessed waist, “Especially as she thought you were cute.”

That brought a faint cough from Adam, “She thought I was...well, never mind about that. What is important is that I did, entirely by accident mind you, see her partly undressed. Which made me realize something you, in all your diabolical mastery, don’t know.”

“Oh? And what is that?” Millicent giggled, the vibration causing her barely supported breasts to heave against the disintegrating suit just as she shoved another foot long chili dog into her face.

“That Might Girl doesn’t wear a bra,” Adam said.

“RIP” went Dahlia’s suit, the kevlar unable to take the transition of her breasts into an H cup. The colossal, still immensely round boobs shredded the red kevlar like condom on prom night, bursting out loud and proud. Adam felt a surge of lust and longing, stopped from actual release by the Zaftonite crystal shooting out from Dahlia’s chest and hitting him in the groin. Dahlia stood up, first groggily and then with increasing anger as she came too, her Zaftonite powers purging the possession from her body.

A snarl angrier than any devil’s split the young heroine’s face as she came too. Anger at the seeming betrayal of Adam and fury at her helplessness of being depowered and possessed was burned off by the apocalyptic rage at having gotten even tubbier! She could feel her stomach bulge outwards, a softness that was no temporary bloat but a permanent state of tubbiness. Looking down showed boobs bigger than her head but her stomach was just behind them, her weight focus shifting from hour glass to apple as she pushed well past 200lbs. The self confidence shock hit her powers, not depowering her but she’d struggle to pick up a tank until she got her head wrapped around this.

Not wanting to show weakness, she darted her eyes to her savior/betrayer, Adam. He was laying on the ground in a most painful manner, legs crossed and making mewling noises, hands around the cursed crystal remnant of Zafton. Having delivered no small number of crotch shots before, Dahlia felt a wince of sympathy, her natural kindness bubbling out under her adopted mean girl persona.

But she decided to cover it up with some anger rather than let anyone know she cared.

“Jesus Christ what the actual fuck?” the topless half angry half alien snarled, “Fattening me up was the only idea you could come up with you stupid virgin pervert bastard!? You could have asked her for a strip tease or a titty job, I’d much rather be cleaning my face off than needing spanx to get into a size fourteen! Do you know how long its going to take to work this off? Goddamn it my belly is fucking jiggling from talking to you, that bitch must have put fifteen pounds on me in five minutes!”

“Sorry to hear that,” Adam moaned, falling to the ground, legs crossed and hand between them, afraid that something important had broken.

“Yeah well, um, you surely deserve it but are you okay?” the super heroine asked, instinctually sucking in her stomach and trying to thrust her mammoth chest out even farther to cover up the new weight, “Uh, shit dude do you have healing magic or do I need to take you to the hospital?”

The possessed Georgia, silent this whole time, pounced on Dahlia before she could press further. Rolling in a tangle of limbs, the two plumped up sorority alumni shattered tables and spilled food, a white chocolate fountain spilling onto both of them. Reduced from the trap of obesity down to merely curvaceously tubby, the possessed girl had a demon’s strength that almost matched Dahlia, who was finding her self confidence quite reduced due to the extra pounds.

“Damn it, get over here and help exorcize her! She’s stronger than the other one I fought,” Dahlia grunted, absent mindedly licking white fudge off of her lips, “and I can’t rip my best friend’s head off!”

“I’m far stronger than the mere common succubi you killed before,” Milicent boasted through Georgia’s mouth, driving an elbow into Dahlia’s full paunch, “Or maybe you’ve just gone to seed, tubby!”

“Oh fuck you, this is your fault!” the chocolate covered Dahlia snarled, struggling to contain her slippery opponent.

Adam pushed himself to his feet, waddling over and wondering why the hell two plumped out, basically bare women had to be wrestling in chocolate right after he’d had a traumatic groin injury. He pulled a steel flask of holy water stolen from the school chapel from his suit coat, pouring it down onto Georgia’s face. The possessed woman screamed loud and long, vomiting pink fog that coalesced into Millicent’s real shape.

“Ugh, you little worms, do you have any idea how long this plan took to make? It was the work of eons and now Succubi-Queen Glutea will-URK,” the Succubi began to rant, only to be immediately cut off by Dahlia’s fist entering her skull.

Might Girl flicked demonic ichor from her glove, the succubi’s corpse evaporating before her eyes, “Is it dead for real this time?”

“Ugh, I think so,” Adam moaned, working on a healing hex to tend his shattered balls, “just give me a moment to get the voice to its normal octave…”

‘Oh poor baby, just a minor injury. I gained like...fuck how much did I gain? Are these, fuck I have love handles now!” Dahlia groaned, rubbing her thickened waist, “do you have any skinny magic by chance? Fuck, wait, Georgia?”

Her best friend lay on the ground, covered in chocolate and stuffed to the gills. Already edging into chubby territory, the personal trainer was looking down right chunky now if a far cry from the morbidly obese version of herself she’d been. No muscle tone could be gleaned on her body, thick thighs pressing together and soft torso bulging outwards.

“Ugh, that was...could have been worse but I think I’m off fried food and chocolate forever,” Georgia groaned, sitting up with belly rolls forming.

“Yeah and I think I’m off foot longs for at least a week,” Dahlia admitted, “Hey, wait, the succubi is dead? Why am I still fat?”

Curing his damaged groin, Adam managed to recover his grimoire, “High Succubi like dear dead Millicent leave permanent effects on their victims, specifically the last ten minutes or so of their possession sticks. Which means we’ll have a house full of confused and angry jocks and hot girls angry over their new flab once they wake up, with no memory of how they got here or got chubby.”

“Ugh, this isn’t going to help my follower count but I think we should fly out before they get a chance to recognize us. We won’t get any credit for leaving them chubby,” Might Girl muttered, “I’m never catching up to Calorie Girl at this rate, damn it. Do you have a way to teleport out of here Adam or do you need a ride?”

Adam, eyes already drifting back to the gigantic pair of heaving, naked, white chocolate covered breasts, politely coughed, “I uh, can handle it but how about your number...just in case you need some help… with a case…”

“I don’t think you’re able to remember any numbers right now, but I’ll tell you what, I’ll find you and give it to you soon. I can hear far too much of what happens in the city anyway,” she snorted, picking up the exhausted Georgia, “say, get rid of that crystal for me. I’ll count it as a favor…”

                        ….

“And that’s how I saved all the sorority girls,” Dahlia reported proudly to her boss.

It was Monday morning and Dahlia looked far different. Her hair was back to its natural red worn in a bun, trying to distract from the softness creeping up her chin. She was in a new size fourteen skirt suit, top button of her blouse undone to draw the eye for her heavy chest. The tan, freckled spheres heaved and bounced with each breath, pushed up to the max by the largest, firmest underwire push up made by Hunt Fashion. 

“With no casualties,” Helena Hunt replied, daintily sucking down a calorie heavy latte with a plump hand bearing an engagement ring.

“Apart from the succubi! Who was permanently killed,” the redhead beamed proudly.

“And the athletic hopes of Plains City University in all sports for the next season,” Helena said dryly, picking up a freshly printed news paper with a headline “FRESHMAN 50???”, “as well as thirteen girls with possible contracts for my agency.”

“Well, uh, you should have seen them before I got there! They were huge, like, fucking gigantic,” the towering heroine covered, face reddening.

“And you’ve clearly put on weight during the fight, weight you didn’t need,” Helena pointed out, driving a manicured nail into Dahlia’s waist.

The redhead was wearing her suit jacket buttoned under her breasts. Between some control garments and the button her new belly wasn’t so apparent...unless you were a sharp eyed fashion mogul always on the lookout for new poundage. Dahlia’s waistline was now, generously, thick with no taper and plenty of bulge. She looked like she was showing and her profile showed her stomach wasn’t far behind her chest.

“Well, yes, but I’ll work it off,” the now over 200lb Dahlia claimed, “and uh, I killed it before it could say more but I think the Demons are working for something bigger, some sort of devil queen…”

Normally, Helena would have had an eye out for crime fighting details. But with her mind under careful control to let various evil schemes run free, the veteran vigilante merely snorted.

“Unlikely, demons don’t have any sort of planning, they’re creatures of appetite. There’s no big plan or evil overlord there,” she said, going back to her latte, “your officially on a diet until you get back under 200lbs. I can’t be seen to have a fat assistant.”

Helena herself was looking pretty hefty, plenty of post-engagement dinners and banquets giving her a frightening amount of heft to her hips. But the hypnotized heroine was as blind to that as to any idea of helping Dahlia accept her own weight gain, continuously making decisions that imperiled Plains City’s defenses. Her mother, Lady Death, had programmed her daughter to make decisions that would cripple more than her own powers.

“Uh, I’m not that fat,” the younger heroine whined, “and I saved people…”

“...I’ll admit you did. Good initiative there, but be careful of involving sidekicks. Or allying with spell casters, they’re unreliable,” Helena said, picking up her newspaper, “stay away from this Adam Wrong character. And go get me the print outs on the new runway models, I think one of them gained a few ounces and I need to compare their ribs. And some more pastries, the last ones never showed up.”

Dahlia glared at her employer, stomping off with a click of heels and a bounce of ounces. Telling the pneumatic redhead not to do something was by far the best way to get her to do something, and right now she’d just been told to stay away from her latest ally and to go on a diet. Once she got to a quiet staircase, a brief burst of super speed covered her work for a while and allowed her the time to put an ear out for extreme areas of nerdiness. A further burst of speed had her at a just opened game/hobby store at the Plains City mall, Adam Wrong in civilian guise carefully going over inventory and not noticing the towering redhead pouring out of a business suit.

Smiling, the half zaftonite leaned over, gigantic jugs filling the warlock’s face and coughed.

“Hey, I’ve heard you got some real nerd shit on sale here,” the ex-cheerleader said breathily, smiling as the warlock sat up with a start at the gigantic rack in his face.

“Oh, yes we’ve...uh, ‘ello MG,” Adam coughed, startled to see his ally of Friday sitting on his desk, “what uh, fancy seeing you here…”

“Oh no, I totally hang out in game stores all the time,” the heroine snorted, picking up a model of a demon lord, “especially ones with crappy brush strokes on the display models. Seriously, thin your paints. You work here when you’re not cockney?”

“Uh, its a cover...but yes...although more owner operator, the classics major is to help with the magic,” Adam admitted.

“Oh, you’re own boss huh?” Dahlia grinned, leaning forwards, the desk groaning to warn her she wasn’t a light weight anymore, “In that case, how about you take me out to lunch?”

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  • 6 months later...

I just found this amazing entry, and I haven't been able to stop reading it, sadly the last update have been a few months ago, is there any plan on continuing this series? Sorry if it sound too pushy, I'm just amazed by this stories and would like to know if I should keep my hopes up for something new coming up.

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  • 4 months later...

Here you go, @Kaldr ! 

 

Fashion Week, part 1

 

While Plains City's two most recently appointed superheroines scoured its Fashion Expo for signs of demonic interference – as well as for cheesecake shops and hot male models respectively – Laura Lawson was putting everything she had into her own investigative assignment. Which, specifically, was a More Magazine review on the relative merits of five of the sexiest items of maternity lingerie the great fashion houses were releasing at this year's Expo.

Normally, Ms Laura Lawson would spit nails at the notion of writing such mass-market junk as “Kinky Pregnant Lifeguard Uniform or Third-Trimester Negligee: which makes my man harder?” However that was before she'd snagged the all-American farmboy and all-round ultra-stud Devon Drake into her bed – and the prospect of having him fuck her stupid on company time, and then getting to write a bragging article about her sexcapades, was enough to turn the cynical journalist's brain softer than whipped cream. The new, helplessly in-lust Ms Lawson was instead focused on only one question. She knew Devon Drake had a huge fetish for bellies and overfeeding her, so: just how many times could she make him creampie her if she stuffed down a blouse-busting lunch and then modelled her swollen figure in a kinky crotchless lifeguard swimsuit for him?

And thus, More Magazine's sex editor found herself gripping the frame of her bed for dear life, as Devon Drake helped her evaluate lingerie item # 3 (said lifeguard swimsuit) – by pounding her harder than the ground of an artillery proving range, bringing her to so many epic orgasms in quick succession that she screamed herself hoarse, and pumping her full with such huge creampies that Laura was sure she could feel her uterus bulge and swell from the load! And there were two more pregnancy lingerie items to “evaluate for sex appeal” and Devon Drake showed no sign that he would ever tire of pounding her senseless in this one! It was at this point Laura Lawson began to fear that if she had one more orgasm she might expire from heart failure; or if Devon's colossal cock pumped one more load into her she might instead burst with squelchy lethality from too much hot cream!

“Nnyygheh!” Laura screamed desperately with all the volume she could manage between panting for air. “Too much! Stop it, Farmboy! I... pant... Can't take... gasp... Anymore!”

“I can't stop!” Devon gasped back, in between pumping himself into her, each time slamming the bed frame harder into the wall and making Laura gasp from the earthquake magnitude pressure within her pussy. “You're so fucking hot, Ms Lawson! Uhn ... I need to...”

Laura screamed as Devon's cock pumped another hot creampie – surely the most immense yet – into her already swollen belly! She felt hot fluid splurt out of her overfilled vagina – so stuffed already with his cream that some of the new excess had nowhere to go but surge around the huge cock that was twelve-plus deep inside her, and spray over Laura's legs clear down to her ankles! Simultaneously, the pressure from his gigantic load propelled her a whole pillow width up the bed. Laura felt her head bump the bedframe, and at the same time the sensation of her lower belly stretching bigger – bloated not only with food, but her lover's hot cream, and unable to contain another drop without stretching to fill out her maternity lifeguard swimsuit like she really was pregnant! Her eyes rolled upwards as the overtaxed pleasure centres of her brain responded to the hard fucking in the only way they knew how.

After some time, Laura Lawson opened bleary eyes and managed to focus her attention, after a couple of false starts, on the muscular sex god of a farm boy who was on top of her – as well as still twelve inches deep, and smothering her lips with electrifying kisses. She kissed back for some time, and groaned as Devon Drake continued to fuck her... Until Laura realised he was about to splurt in her again, and managed to summon up some of her natural angriness at the concept that she might burst in the process!

“Uhn! Harder, harder... No, stop it, you brute!” Laura Lawson groaned, her back arching from another near-orgasm. “Stop treating my uterus like a water-balloon, you over-endowed farmyard beast!”

But the cynical reporter's indignation only intensified as her words proved too much for Devon's horny mind to bear, and he once again splurted a huge load, causing Laura to groan in pain and pleasure as her legs got a fresh spraying of hot cream, and her belly swelled even more!

“Stop it! One more drop and I swear I'm gonna burst!” Laura screamed.

Happily, Laura's fear was not realised, as Devon's massive climax had flooded the half-Zaftonite superstud with fresh hormones – alpha testosterone and hyper-adrenalin – even his superhuman body was unaccustomed to handling in such quantity, and he slumped comatose on top of Laura's voluptuously swollen body. This did mean, irksomely for the easily-ired editor, that she found herself pinned under a great mass of steely muscles and grade-A boyfriend physqiue that were even denser than they looked. And there was no sign that Devon would recover consciousness from his sex-coma anytime soon, so it was with much angry snarling that Laura tried to prise him off of her. No dice: he was too heavy, and Laura Lawson's once-hard musculature had steadily faded into milfish chub over the years. Still, Laura was a stubborn woman and she did eventually, with the aid of a whole tub of petroleum lube, manage to slide herself free.

Feeling splattered, exhausted, and almost mortally oversexed, Laura Lawson staggered to the shower, and then into a maternity pencil skirt that had arrived with her lingerie samples. It was the only garment suitable right then! The combination of serial overeating and a marathon session of being pumped full of Devon Drake's hot cream had left the milf journalist with a belly that five months pregnant, and impossible to squeeze into her usual business attire, despite Laura already having dressed that morning in an outfit three dress sizes above her ideal!

Oversexed, but also oddly hungry, Laura slipped outside, intent on sating her appetite with some of the Fashion Expo's excellent and ample free food. A triple-scoop gelato cone and a burrito didn't quite do the trick, and it was with a greedy gulp that she sampled from a can of a new energy drink she'd been handed by some scantily clad and skinny model at one of the Lordcorp promotional stands.

“Hah!” Laura Lawson chortled at the name of the energy drink: Sin. “Lordslurp: SIN. Tagline: It's sinfully sweet! Worth a try, I guess!”

Laura Lawson took a sip from the can. And then, after gasping from the sweet sugar deliciousness, a long gulp!

“Oh, my!” Laura panted. “I think I'm going to have to do a More Magazine special food editorial on this drink! Its tastes absolutely divine!

Not for the first time in her career, Laura Lawson's perception was along the right lines, but slightly misdirected. Lordslurp: SIN was not divine in origin, but quite the opposite! Its hellish sugar content made it irresistible to all but the strongest of mortal wills. And also fattening. Unnaturally fattening!

But Laura Lawson, clad in a forgiving maternity skirt and still in a daze from her sex marathon, didn't notice her ass swelling an inch fatter as she finished the can of new soda, and walked purposefully back to the promotional stall to collect another few! 

 

*


 

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I was inspired to give a small update on dahlia as well: 

Dahlia Drake felt like pinching herself, because the 6’2 stunner felt like she must be dreaming.

Being a model and walking a runway had been Dahlia’s biggest dream, ever since she was a kid. A scrawny, awkward and shy kid, one who’d dreamed of positive, worshipful attention as she pranced down the catwalk to the flash of cameras. To a girl who’d been an overlooked geek before a massive growth spurt, being a model had seemed heavenly…

And of course, Dahlia’s tightly encoded zaftonite DNA would be hyper charged to receive such attention!

The super powered ex-cheerleader, conqueror of a few hundred bedrooms and half a dozen minor super villains, was sweating and nervous. Her stomach was full of butterflies, her palms were sweating and her heart was pounding. She was really here, really about to walk a catwalk!

But there was just one problem for Dahlia…or rather, about fifty of them.

For Dahlia Drake, otherwise known as Might Girl, wasn’t the rail thin, ultra fit cheer captain she had been. With no practice to keep her fit, Dahlia’s natural laziness had taken over and the redhead had started to fatten up. Toss in a few encounters with super villains, that all seemed determined to fatten her up!, her normal best friend/girlfriend and trainer George Junk-Food turning into a fatty and a budding relationship with a nerdy warlock that made her too relaxed to remember she was a hot mean girl with a figure to watch, and the towering young heroine wasn’t getting fat anymore…she was fat!

Standing in her underwear, a red thong and matching push up bra, Dahlia was feeling extremely self conscious. Instead of a chiseled six pack, she had a soft, flabby looking midsection, love handles starting to sprout over her hips, any sign of her once narrow waist eliminated as her love handles started to hang over her hips. However, her stomach looked strangely flat despite the sideways bulges, evidence that Dahlia was unconsciously sucking in. Mammoth breasts fit comfortably into her H cup bra, her oldest still fitting garment which suggested that Dahlia’s upper growth had peaked. Although a tough training regimen of high gravity workouts had puffed Dahlia’s butt up with hard muscle, plenty of fat had layered over it too, with the first dots of cellulite making their appearance. She was very, very aware that her thighs were touching and was as a result standing with her legs spread, to make sure she didn’t have to confront the fifty pounds she’d put in since last year.

There really was no lying about it anymore, Dahlia wasn’t thin anymore, she was down right chubby! The horrible self realization made the redhead’s self esteem based powers wobble, right now she felt weak as a kitten. Thoughts of being worthless and ugly and weak pounded through her head, each spasm of self hate chipping a ton off of her max bench.

“Look at yourself, you let yourself get fucking fat!” Her inner self loathing insisted, “Look at this gut! It’s starting to catch up with your tits! You’re turning into an apple! You're going to be a lonely loser again!"

Until another voice interrupted.

“Stop sucking in your barriga, I need to get a good measure on you,” Andii Korin told her, the two of them in a changing room located at the cavernous backstage of the massive Hunt Hall stadium where the fashion show would be.

“My…my what?” Dahlia asked, looking over at the other ginger, shaken from her thoughts.

Not helping was the presence of Brazilian Andii Korin in the same small room! The biggest model of the past decade, Dahli had had a crush on the vivacious Latina for several years. Of course, recent events in Andii’s life had only increased the size of that crush along with Andii!

Helena Hunt’s fiancee flounced her own crimson curls back over a softened shoulder, the action sending a minor shake across her entire body. Long gone was the ex-super villain’s taut and toned physique, softened and thickened to look more like a middle aged house wife and less like a multi time cover girl. Andii’s leggy hourglass body had inverted to that of a dumpy pear, her widening hips flaring out past forty inches, firm butt bulging to the size of basketballs and her lithe thighs chunking into each other. The model’s firm four pack had sloshed up to a pinchable beer gut and an unfortunately disproportionate amount of chub had wrecked the redhead’s jawline. 

“Your Barriga, you know, ah, I hate English,” Andii suggested with a wave of a hand holding a measuring tape as she began sashaying forwards, her wide ass swinging of its own volition.

To the chunk loving Dahlia, the latina had only gotten even sexier. The ex-cheerleader’s mouth went dry as her boss’ fiance got even closer, body jiggling out of the over-snug shorts and button stretched blouse. Her depleted super powers bounced right back up, Dahlia’s love of chunky girls overcoming her own self criticism to let the omega-testosterone flow! This bottom heavy redhead looked like an angel…which only made the next action so unexpected!

“This!” Andii said, poking Dahlia’s tummy with a green painted finger nail.

Andii’s long nail snapped against the impermeable paunch. Dahlia looked down past her breasts, at the stomach that was really chasing after her tits, and awkwardly blushed. Realizing that her stomach was obviously sucked in, the super heroine’s self esteem flatlined…as did her powers. She let out a sharp “YEOWCH!” as her now sensitive tummy hit the jagged tip of Andii’s nail.

“Ouch, sorry,” Dahlia admitted, feeling horribly confused as she bounced between aroused and despairing.

“Oh, don’t worry. Super powers are always louca,” the ex-villain snorted, wrapping the measuring tape around the hopeful’s waist, “I used to set my bed on fire every time Helena made me come!”

The bottom heavy brazilian paced around the flabby half-zaftonite, beginning to measure every inch of the tan heroine. Dahlia’s waist was now thirty two inches around, with distinctive rolls forming on her back and next to her breasts. Her hips were at thirty eight and her breasts at forty, although minute stretch marks at Dahlia’s navel suggested her hourglass was going to inverse. Dahlia’s measurements had been taken several weeks earlier to have her kevlar costume stitched up, Andii had checked them earlier in the day and seen that then, the towering girl’s waist had only been thirty inches. Clearly, an apple shape was in her future…

“Oh, you have powers too?” Dahlia asked, trying very hard to not look at the number on the tape…and also very aware of how sexy Andii was, “Is there uh, anyone who doesn’t?”

The mostly retired model’s once peerless thighs were mushrooming out of her shorts, just as her heavy cheeks were poking out too. Cellulite had sprouted in a thick layer across Andii’s covergirl ass. Meanwhile, her blouse buttons strained across swelling DD cups, nipples clear through her lack of bra.

“Oh, I used to. Pyromancy, I could make flames that would burn you even and burned off ten thousand calories a day,” Andi sighed in longing of the days she ate ten pounds of gelato, “ten years ago, I was the biggest pain in Helena’s tight little bunda. She could barely keep up with me fighting…but was a lot better in bed, all those ninja skills with knots and whips are of better use there…but I kept sneaking back out to melt oil execs and steal diamonds in a green feather boa.”

“A feather boa…wait, holy shit you were the Green Fire?” Dahlia asked in realization, making her miss the real measurement of her waist, “I had your action figure when I was twelve…I mean my brother had your action figure when I was twelve…I wasn’t like a geek or anything…”

“Ha, I won’t tell if you don’t,” the portly Andii winked, “but eventually, Helena domesticated me. I lost the powers and ever since I had to fight the weight. For a while I could, but then during the Model Wars last year I well, got a bit motherly.”

The thought of what her hip heavy boss got up to with her hefty girlfriend was rather…intoxicating to Dahlia. Already in the midst of a gaining cycle, both Helena and Korii had been positively ballooning since their engagement. Already the million dollar rings were sitting snug on their swelling fingers and both bottom heavy women’s busts were swelling up. Andii attributed it to some good luck at last, not realizing that Helena was dosing both of them with fertility drugs at night.

Of course, Helena didn’t realize that either.

The once peerless crime fighter was thoroughly hypnotized by her hedonistic mother. Partly to further prod Helena into a life of out of shape obesity and partly to satisfy Lady Death with as many grandchildren as she could get at once.

But that wasn’t the main point right now…

“So you err, lost the powers?” Dahlia asked, blushing red as her hair as Andii unceremoniously unhooked her bra to begin measuring the immensely busty ginger, normally deep and husky voice getting high from nervousness, “How’d, umm, that happen…it wasn’t the fat was it? You don’t lose your powers just because you get fat, do you?”

There was an air of nervousness to Dahlia’s voice. She’d just gotten her super powers, losing them because she was fat seemed incredibly possible!”

“Oh, no. Moreover, I got chunky because I lost the powers. Helena stole the amulet that let me channel an Incan sun goddess,” Andii admitted, mentally calculating that Dahlia could fit two pencils under her breasts comfortably, “granted, I was getting a bit…bad with them. They made me a bit louca…but in exchange, one of the richest women on earth as fiance isn’t so bad, huh?”

The ex-villain got up with a fat girl grunt, tugging down her shorts. That did nothing, given how tightly stuck the size fourteen shorts were on an ass that was at best, a size sixteen. When she did manage to stand, the thoroughly out of shape junk food addict took a moment to catch her breath, wiping sweat from her forehead. Her shirt had ridden up, exposing a squishy muffin top that Dahlia needed to sink her teeth into.

“Helena stole them? Isn’t that kinda, well, dickish?” Dahlia asked through a wave of horniness that made her rise off of her toes, “Couldn’t she have just talked you out of stealing stuff and setting oil tycoons on fire?”

“Oh…yes…but Helena knows best…usually,” Andii puffed, looking over the chunky heroine.

Helena had given her fiance very strict instructions on how to get Dahlia ready for the show. Ones that had been all about reminding the bulging redhead just how big she was getting in the middle. Dahlia had forty pounds on the next heaviest model at the show and the towering redhead had fattened past her height’s ability to hide the bulge. However, as a very aware fat girl herself, Andii decided on a gentler tactic.

“But not always. You, for instance, are a natural lingerie model. Those legs! That bust! That bounce!!! I’m so glad that you’re younger than me, you’d have gotten every shoot and cover I did!” Andii lied by omission, leaving out the love handles and beer belly that had pushed Dahlia into the plus sizes, “Don’t tell anyone, but I think Hell is a bit jealous. She’s not the skinny thing she used to be and is taking it out. She’s probably just jealous you’re so curvy!”

Dahlia blinked, the praise from a famous model bouncing her self esteem back to the stratosphere.

She could do anything.

She could do anyone.

She could beat any villain.

She was Might Girl and she was hot as hell!

“I…you’re right, you’re completely right,” Dahlia grinned, hair blowing in an invisible breeze, “I am incredibly hot and should absolutely be in lingerie! I bet that Hunt’s jaw will hit the ground when she sees how good I look in a thong!”

“Oh, no we can’t do that. Helena is wrong but, err,” Andii stalled.

Because in truth, tongues would wag that Hunt industries was now fielding plus size models should Dahlia walk. It would be downright admitting defeat to Lourd industries…and Helena would be furious. And Andii’s waistline would take the punishment! Helena had already been massively sabotaging the ex-model’s barely attempted diets. If the ex-villainess out right disobeyed, she’d find herself eating all the Gelato Helena’s billions could buy!

And while that sounded heavenly, Andii knew that her rock bottom metabolism would see her own bottom too big to leave her penthouse by year's end!

“You do have the slightest problem area,” Andii suggested, poking Dahlia’s tummy again, which was currently harder than any terrestrial rock, “so, err, let’s just stick to jeans.”

Dahlia dipped a moment, catching herself before she fell and paling in shock, “crap, okay so…it’s not that bad though right?”

“Of course not! Just add in some more cardio, until then, some Hunt brand shapewear will squeeze you flat and narrow…er than you already are,” Andii lied to the naked zaftonite, “now excuse me, I need to go get your clothes…”

Hurrying out backstage, Andii wiped her brow. The Brazilian frequently put her foot in her mouth and didn’t want to either inspire her boss’ disciple into foolishness that would doom Andii’s ass or wipe her out. Hoping she’d struck a middle line, Andii waddled on through the increasingly busy backstage. 

It was an area she’d once ruled like a Queen and where the dumpy redhead was now basically anonymous. She’d fallen fast and hard from the precipice of fame and hotness, having been already forgotten. Anyone who paid attention to the huge assed thirty something assumed she was some personal assistant and instantly forgot about her…

Which let her get to the much ignored craft service table without anyone making any fuss.

“God, keeping these model’s egos in check is hungry work,” Andii said, piling a plate

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5 hours ago, scl04 said:

I'm glad to see this being updated again, I hope to see more soon if possible! (and this last update with Dahlia and Andii was incredible by the way!)

Thanks! I figured dahlia, as a woman obsessed with becoming a model and getting attention, would look up to Andi... And as an FA, would also be drooling over how fat and frumpy the domesticated ex villain has gotten. 

 

Surely her self esteem/arousal based powers pong ponging so rapidly won't have any effects if a super villain attacks the show...

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  • 6 months later...

Chapter 6: The Hefty Hypnotist (part 1)

 

Overnight rain had soaked the gravel driveway to stately Tate Mansion. A limousine circuited the fountain and parked, excavating heavy tracks all the way. A splash of sunrise gold hair brightened the cloudy morning, as the passenger door swung open… And the limo rocked from side to side at the vast weight of the passenger struggling to exit, grunting with the effort of hauling her super-sized frame upright.

Diana Drake’s chubby face flushed with exertion, as she struggled against gravity and the immobilising tightness of her customised bodyshaper. Eventually, she heaved one vast thigh out onto the gravel, then twisted herself sideways a few inches at a time until her belly rotated through the limo door. She sighed from relief that she hadn’t quite gotten too fat, on in-limo snacks, to squeeze out the door unaided. Then she hefted her other bulging leg, flab wobbling under her contouring white pressure tights.

The former Might Woman’s clothes were a total parody of her super heroine era outfits! The full length white compression tights were a necessary concession to Diana Drake being able to walk without painful chafing from thighs with the girth of four-century oaks. Sadly, she needed them as her thighs no longer had the hardness and strength to crush watermelon-sized diamonds – something which she had done some time back in the nineties, to destroy the power crystals of the otherwise invulnerable gemstone golem of Glutorania, a kiloton monstrosity of sorcerously animated stone.

Miles of luxury cashmere wool had gone into making the fleecy white sweater that, for all its acreage, stained taut around Diana’s airbag belly. A belly currently inflated with a “light” ten thousand calorie breakfast, rather than air, of course. Though, really, the sweater was mostly strained around flab, hundreds of pounds of it. If the gluttonous ex super-heroine hadn’t more than quadrupled her size, the oval boob window in her woollen sweater might almost have passed for subtle or demure. But it didn’t… Diana’s boobs had grown from huge but firm to immense and fat, and no miracle of Plains City fashion designers and underwire could restore their former perfection of shape. So they merely bulged, spoiling the intended elegance of her clothes.

Diana Drake sucked in a deep breath, and pushed off from the limo with a grunt. Her blue sneakers dug deep into the wet gravel and slid. Her buried leg muscles trembled from the effort to keep from falling, and the arches of her feet began to ache after a few steps. But the ex Might Woman sucked in air and pressed on. Relying on a mobility scooter, and having to use the back entrance to stately Tate manor – home of the flawless, two-time Miss Universe, Rachel Tate – was absolutely NOT an option!

Rachel Tate, Earth’s most celebrated beauty queen, and four-time Olympic medallist, had been one of very few women who could vie with Might Woman for nineties magazine covers. Not that Diana Drake was jealous… Rachel Tate’s sex appeal just meant that Earth’s greatest super-heroine had only occupied simultaneous covers on all the Big Four fashion magazines eleven times, instead of fourteen. No big deal.

What was a big deal was that Rachel Tate had been the only supermodel ever to turn down the offer of a weekend being forcefed cheesecake and weight gain shakes by Diana Drake! Pretty much every other model or beauty queen on whom Diana had ever wanted to indulge her kinks for feeding and fattening... Had eagerly said yes. Might Woman’s perfect body, heroism, and fame had been irresistible to them all. Rachel Tate had been openly lustful too, and even made the first move on Diana – but then balked at the suggestion of being hand-fed even just one teeny entire chocolate fudge cheesecake, with a little pint of heavy cream that would have barely dented her Olympian abs!

In short, Rachel Tate had a will of iron when it came to fitness and maintaining her sculpted twenty-four inch waistline. And Diana’s intriguing failure to break down that will had made the Zaftonite insatiably horny for weeks. And between that history, plus the totally inconsequential matter of having lost a few magazine covers to her, Diana Drake was not looking forward to seeing Mrs Tate. Or, rather, she was not looking forward to Rachel Tate seeing how Diana had become a supersized slave to her own gluttony and laziness, who could never again vie for a major beauty magazine cover, and indeed could barely walk! But it would be even worse if Diana embarrassed herself in front of the billionaire’s trophy wife, say by being so fat that she had to drive a scooter rather than risk collapsing on the walk to Tate Mansion’s front door!

So Diana struggled up the wet granite steps. She had no choice!

She might no longer be Might Woman, but Diana still had to know about the new superhero in Plains City! After all, her own family, her half-Zaftonite son and daughter, could be at risk if the lure of heroism drew them – as it inevitably would – into some would-be champion’s life.

So there was the question: who is Calorie Girl?

Fortunately, it hadn’t been hard for Diana Drake to learn the answer. Helena Hunt, Plains City’s shadowy and final protector, could undoubtedly have told her. Of course, she wouldn’t: Shade II had a steely commitment to protecting the de-powered former Might Woman from danger, including any involvement with her past life.

But Shade II’s brooding reticence wasn’t actually a problem for Diana Drake…

Because Andi Korin leaked like a sieve! The chubby latina ex super-model had a terrible weakness for super luxury icecream; and Diana Drake happened to be the rich proprietress (and chief icecream sommeliere) of Wisconsin’s top luxury brand! A few gallons of spiced quintuple chocolate chip with quadruple fudge, shipped covertly to Miss Korin every month even though she was constantly supposed to be on a diet, ensured Shade II’s curvy-assed paramour would spill whatever secrets Diana Drake wanted. And, for once, she’d actually wanted.

Calorie Girl, then, was one Tara Tate: eligible heiress turned rail-thin speedster. But what sort of would-be hero was she? Could she be guided? And did she need Diana Drake as mentor, rather than the dangerously cynical Shade II?

Gasping for breath, heart pounding as if she’d gone ten rounds in a rematch with the Champion of Worlds, though in reality she’d only struggled up ten steps, Diana Drake rapped the brass gargoyle door-knocker to stately Tate Mansion.

 

* *

 

One good thing about stone floors, Diana Drake had learned from years of result of gorging her already-obese body ever fatter, is that they don’t creak.

Wooden floors, by comparison, were rather passive aggressive: put anymore than six hundred or certainly seven hundred pounds on one and they squeal like they’re being misused. It had become such a persistent annoyance that Diana had even been impelled to trim back the number of weekly funnel feeding sessions she did for her feeder husband, from six down to five, until the worst offending upstairs floor had been replaced with reinforced concrete.

Anyway. Diana hadn’t expected to care about the stealthiness of stone floors, but, as she struggled not to pant too loudly, it had turned out that she did...
 

*

 

The Tate mansion’s doorman had been a fat lot of use. In fact, he’d refused to admit Diana to see Rachel, and gave every indication he intended to waste her time, with supposedly polite hospitality, until she left. Which seemed odd.

“If you would please wait here in the Wiltshire Lounge, Miss Drake? Mrs Tate will see you in due course.” Diana had been told firmly, by an obsequious valet with an English accent and a face that suggested he did a lot of sneering.

“But, she told me she was free all day!” The ex Might Woman had pouted.

Alas, the expression which once had caused red blooded men to have heart attacks out of urgent desire to please Diana Drake, now only worked on men with a serious fat fetish. Which the snooty English valet apparently was not.

“Mrs Tate is occupied, Miss Drake.” He continued snootily. “I assume you will take scones and sandwiches with tea while you wait?”

You sarcastic English bastard! Diana had seethed. I’m practically starving! I barely ate breakfast, and I had nothing in the car except a couple of XL pizzas, six burritos, and eight milkshakes. Oh, and the Chinese takeout. So you’d better fucking believe I want scones and sandwiches! And don’t you dare put so much emphasis on the “and!”

A tray of sandwiches later, and a delicious cup of tea, and Diana Drake was feeling much calmer.

It probably wasn’t the sandwiches that had improved Diana’s mood. They had been delectable little triangular white finger foods, but the tray had been rather small. It might have been the four baskets of excellent, warm scones, with homemade jams, clotted cream, and butter. But it was probably the rest of the food she’d gorged on between delicate sips of tea. More specifically, it was probably because she’d discovered how to annoy the sarcastic English valet, by sending him for endless little “extras”!

Do you have a few more scones?” Had become, “Perhaps I will have another basket, thank you!” And “Perhaps a little selection of cakes while I wait… Just, oh, one chocolate, one Victoria sponge, a coffee and walnut, and one carrot cake, thank you: I’m on a diet!” Had turned into, “Oh, I didn’t mean just one slice of each! I meant just one whole cake. Of each, in case I wasn’t clear! Would you be a darling and get the rest? I’m famished!

This had, pleasingly, annoyed the unhelpful valet – who continued to refuse to say when Rachel Tate might be available – and Diana had switched into the full on “bratty feedee” mode she usually only used on enthusiastic bedroom partners. “Apple pie, please! Um… Hot chocolate? May I have some icecream…”

Somewhere along the line, Diana had eaten an entire roast ham; and there had been a big basket of breakfast croissants that were probably from yesterday. Four dozen hard boiled eggs probably hadn’t been the most sensible thing to eat on top of that, either.

But, in due course, Diana Drake relaxed in the smug sensation that she’d won! She’d eaten more than the sarcastic, and blatantly obstructive – and now sweating and exhausted – English valet could be bothered to carry! Pleasingly, her final couple of requests, more chocolate cake and a cheeseboard, were served to her by a much better person: a quite cute young man with a west coast accent. He was far more helpful, and Diana soon coaxed some useful information from him…

Of course, Diana knew she’d probably pay for it. She’d stuffed herself stupid, as if she had nothing better to do for the rest of the day that lay in bed and digest while a masseuse took care of her overstuffed belly. She’d probably get a bit of a tummy ache. It had been a huge ham, after all. Oh, and she’d probably blown her chances of being able to stand up and walk back to her care without needing a couple of strong assistants.

However… Speaking of blown… The cute west coast boy caught Diana’s eye, as she spooned the last of a bowl of crumble and pouring cream into her mouth. What particularly caught her eye was the pleasing bulge in his pants.

Like what you – slurp, gulp – see?” Diana asked, with a practiced lick of her lips. Cute west coaster groaned softly. Diana hid a smile behind a huge mouthful of cake. Definitely a fan of excessive curves!

Twenty years earlier… Well, twenty-four, when Diana still had her powers, and probably for a few years after. Anyway, in her prime, Might Woman had been accused of wearing scandalously revealing outfits that were expressly designed to not just distract, but to cause mass heart attacks and seizures among foes and innocent bystanders alike. It was totally unfair! Okay, distraction Diana admitted to. When you have a cleavage that can stop a salvo of fourteen inch shells from a gunship battery, without taking a scratch to anything except your bra, then an outfit with a boob window is absolutely as practical as real armor; and an amazingly effective distraction. But Diana had actually toned down the sluttiness level of her costumes, specifically to decrease the number of traffic accidents that tended to happen when she was in view. The fact was, Diana Drake was HOT, in block capitals… Sure, she was also invincible, and boasted an array of superpowers that were all individually of such unstoppable power that if she were a comic book character the creator would be accused of bad writing. (Laser eyes, and arctic hurricane breath, to go with your god-tier super-strength and indestructibility? Why not add flight too, you hack?) But she was also impossibly hot, and her ability to motivate people by just asking had often been overlooked.

Now, totally losing her powers; and twenty-four years of time; and two pregnancies; and gaining five hundred pounds of flab: all of this had blunted the cutting edge off Diana Drake’s goddess-tier beauty. But she still had a lot: her face was chubby, but could beat supermodels off a magazine cover on a good day, with effort. And, after a lifetime practice seducing thousands of the Earth’s most beautiful males and females, Diana was pretty sure she had more than enough for one cute west-coast chubby chaser. She was kinky too, and dangerously good at identifying the same in others.

Um…” Croaked the cute server. “… I…”

It’s…” Diana tipped the cream bowl back, savouring the taste, and artfully letting a drop fall on the mammoth cleavage displayed in her boob window. “It’s Okay. You can tell me anything. I won’t be offended if you think I’ve eaten far too much and made myself immensely fat!”

Uhn! Uh...” The server groaned.

The swelling bulge in his pants kind of answered for him, though. Hmm. Serious fat admirer! Lucky! Diana gulped another slice of almond cake, and kind of wished she’d asked for donuts. Probably should have asked his name. Oh well.

Diana licked something from her fingers. Seemed like heavy cream.

“In fact…” Diana finished licking some fingers so she could point. “… Name, please?”

“Kelin.”

Odd name. That’s the west coast for you.

Diana ran a hand over the vast dome of her belly. She was hugely tall, but it still dominated her silhouette; so much so she’d had to sit back from the table.

“Kelin. Do you think I have eaten too much?”

The creak of Diana’s reinforced dining chair said yes. But Kelin’s throat seemed too dry to answer, and Diana recognised lust when she saw it. Perhaps he was kinky? If so, it would be a piece of cake to get what she wanted, and end up free to rummage around the mansion.

“Kelin. I would not blame you if you wanted to, for example, spank me? As punishment, obviously, for my naughty and excessive binge eating habits, which have ruined my supermodel figure and left me super fat… As well as, perhaps, additional punishment, for my impolitely forcing you and your colleagues in the kitchens to prepare such a vast quantity of food for me – more than any dozen women should demand, in fact, even if they follow strict gym regimes, which I do not!”

“May I…” Kelin stammered.

“Yes. Come closer!” Diana smiled invitingly.

“… I mean… I meant to ask. May I… Feed you? Some more?”

Diana gave a double take. She’d been a hundred percent certain the cute boy would go straight for spanking! She usually had such a good eye for a spanker! And she’d been sure she could then make him pass out from a blow job, after pumping him for… information about wherever Rachel was hiding. Instead: more feeding? True, she was a fucking glutton, and a full-blooded Zaftonite; but even she had limits! Well, she did now, anyway. Following up an epic food binge with further feeding was sure to give her tummy ache! On the other hand.

Fuck it. Yes. Feed me! Kelin: I’ve been an insatiable calorie whore since… Well, since you were probably jerking off over old pictures of me in lingerie. That’s what every other boy I ever meet used to do, anyway… So yes, sure, even though I’m already fucking stuffed, I’ll let you gorge me some more! What do you want to feed me?”

Cheesecake. Cheesecakes, plural, in fact, was what Kelin wanted to feed Diana. Cheesecakes massive in girth and height, sized for a mansion dessert trolley! Chocolate, naturally… Boston… Cherry… Three huge cheesecakes. And a red fruit tart to match – Diana slurped and licked it down by the fistful off the cute servers hands. And the rest of the cheese, and a bowl of homemade butter, and a beef pie.

More!” Diana gasped, swallowing down the last of the cheesecake.

More? Are you sure?” Kelin groaned in disbelieving pleasure, as Diana licked his hand clean and looked for spilled fruit syrup to lick more.

Yeah! More! I’m still hungry!” Diana gulped down food. “In fact, I’m starving!” Surprisingly! Even my my standards, I’ve basically crammed down two huge binges back to back. Hmm. Must be because I ate a light breakfast, and basically didn’t eat in the car!

“No way, Miss Drake!”

“I think I’ve licked you enough you can call me Diana. Yes way, I’m actually still hungry… Which is odd, even for me. Ugh: maybe it’s a symptom of the menopause!”

Kelin’s eye’s boggled. “You’re like, twenty-five, Miss.. Uh Diana.”

“That’s really cute of you. But… I’m actually… A little over thirty.”

“No way!”

“Yes, way! And, I said I’m still hungry. What you still got in the kitchen?”

Um…”

Diana rolled her eyes.

Heavy cream? Peanut butter?”

Yeah.”

Go fetch!” Diana shoved.

Diana’s vast belly gurgled, and she stood up to massage it. A twinge in her knees prompted her to prop her ass on the dining table – perks of being hugely tall, it was a convenient height. The hardwood beams creaked theatrically.

“Oh shut up. You’re worse than the floorboards!”

Diana’s guts gurgled. Hungry!

“Urgh! I cannot be hungry!” Diana patted her belly – sure enough, the dome strained her bodyshaper more than ever… Getting back in the limo would need some sort of mounting block, and probably grease. “Where is that boy with my cream?”

Duly, Kelin rushed back bearing several cartons and horny expression.

You horny?” Diana smiled.

You’re so hot, Diana!”

Diana felt flushed with adrenalin, from seeing the effect she could still have on a cute, but significantly younger stud.

Good. Well, I’m going to take care of that for you, Kelin. And I promise I’ll be gentle and you’ll recover consciousness soon. Like: definitely later today. But, two things… First, this is not enough cream. It’s like a gallon, do I look like I diet?”

It’s all that’s left, Miss Diana!”

Ugh. Fine. Second. Where is Rachel Tate?”

A dreamy expression came over Kelin’s face.

Kelin.” Diana snapped her fingers. “Your boss was super-unhelpful. I had to binge eat to annoy him – not just because I’m a fucking pig – until he got bored and sent you instead… So, don’t be unhelpful. Tell me where Rachel is!”

She’s… Um…”

Diana pouted. She put effort into it. “I would be so happy if you tell me, Kelin.”

Kelin sighed. His expression was definitely sleepy.

“Mrs Tate is with her hypnotist, Madeline Hatter, who ordered us not to disturb them while they are secluded in the back library. And to bring food! And all the donuts! That’s why we’re out of cream! I’m sorry, Diana…”

Talking seemed to have exhausted Kelin’s energy. He slumped, and slammed onto the table, which cracked ominously under the load.

“Shut up! I’m not that heavy!” Diana exclaimed.

Hatter. Diana had heard the name before, in the old days. Not of a Madeline Hatter. But being a hypnotherapist, entrancing the Tate mansion’s servant(s) would fit. And Miss Hatter would be as deadly dangerous to a fully depowered Zaftonite, as to any human.

Nonetheless, Diana Drake had always has a soft spot for one beauty queen named Rachel Tate. And anyway, there was Tara Tate too. And they could easily both need her help.

And so, hoisting her white cashmere top so that it pulled less around the hundred inch belly where once she’d sported six abs stronger than titanium steel, Diana Drake waddled towards the foyer to find the “back library” and her friend.

 

*

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@flyer33

You are a very gifted writer and, as I already told you elsewhere, Ivwouldn't mind reading your prose on my Kindle (way better than PC or smartphone). I know it's not that easy to sell your stories when plenty of free ones are available but I'm sure that with some editing, advertising and maybe an alluring cover you could find quite a few paying customers. Just my two cents.

 

@Batman76

It's amazing how your additions blend into the main plot, it seems that you two are working side by side and not (presumably) hundreds of miles apart. I only have a small request: please check your spelling because everytime you write "who's" instead of "whose" I sincerely cringe.

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