DC Universe Overweight

[Batman76]

The start of something else sprawling and with too many characters from me, written because I'm bored due to work being cancelled due to pandemic. Again, DC because I'm totally unoriginal and derivative even of myself. There'll be several plot lines spanning through this, most of them focusing on characters/relationships I didn't touch on last time I wrote on of these here. I've been rough drafting this for a while on writing.com and have a good idea of where I want to go with it, but it will still probably go a little differently than it did there.

 

DC Universe Overweight.

Chapter 1: The Former(ly Fit) Villains

In the pitch black pit of Gotham’s criminal underworld, the greatest venom was aimed not at crime fighters (be they bat themed vigilantes or the police). It wasn’t aimed at rival criminals, be they old fashioned crooks, pushers and gangsters or costumed lunatics out for massive paydays and massive body counts. It wasn’t even aimed for snitches and back stabbers, for everyone knew that if a Bat dangled you off a skyscraper you’d eventually have to give in.

 

No, the worst bile was reserved for those who went straight. Criminals who put crime behind them, who abandoned thievery and graft in exchange for disgustingly honest work. Insults were heaped upon them, that they’d lost their edge, lost their nerve and worst of all, gone soft.

 

“Oof, who’da thought how accurate that last insult is,” Dr. Harleen Quinzel said to herself one morning, wincing as she examined her rump in the mirror, “it's like I’m smuggling waffle batter back there already and the story’s just started!”

 

Quinzel, or Harley as she liked to be called or Harley Quinn as she’d been called as a criminal, was a pale blonde woman of medium height and on the edge of thirty. Tortured semi-voluntarily into insanity by the super criminal known as the Joker, Harley had been one of the most dangerous criminals in the crime benighted burg. Olympic champion skills at gymnastics had been combined with an unhinged mental state to fight, steal, scam and on occasion kill her way across Gotham’s underworld, first as Joker’s moll and then on her own once she’d started breaking free.

 

“Hey, stop with the backstory, that’s not what people came to see!” the accented ex-criminal suggested.

 

Even now, with her mind trending towards’ sanish Harley retained a detached view of her reality. Inanimate objects still talked to her, her internal dialogue often argued with her and she would often swear that her life was being described to an unseen audience by an omniscient narrator.

 

“Omniscient my overfed tuchus! I know you had to google that!” Quinn returned, then went back to looking at her backside, “Oof, hey Mr. Omniscient, you know a way to get this back to normal?”

 

A gymnastics scholarship had put Quinn through college. It had been a routine she’d kept up as a Psych and as a criminal, keeping the young woman toned, fast and surprisingly strong. Her relatively long legs had been defined and muscular, with strong calves and powerful thighs. She’d had a six pack when training hard and just a defined abdomen otherwise. Although her breasts had been small, Harley’s pride had been her rear end: a creamy 38 inch badonkadonk that turned any underwear into a thong and made any pants she wore scandalous. It was tight enough to bounce a coin off of and begged to be slapped.

 

“Fuck right it was perfect, a real muscle butt,” Quinn replied to the narrator, “why’d you bury it under all this flubber!”

 

Once Harley had, mostly, put crime in her rear-view mirror, she’d had to drop most of her exercises to try and keep her head above financial water. Those hard forged gymnast muscles had started softening, while Harley’s always fierce appetite had continued unabated. Her high caloric needs meant she’d never developed healthy eating habits, usually feasting until over full on junk like pizza, hot dogs and cheap Chinese food. Coupled with no exercise, it meant she’d gained forty pounds in half a year and gotten up to a once unthinkable 170lbs.

 

“Okay, me eating like a pig is a bit canonical but don’t lay me being a chubster on anyone but you perv!” Harley defended, double chin really showing as she looked up at where she thought the narrator’s voice was coming from.

 

An antipsychotic drug that reduced most violent impulses making her lethargic and hungrier didn’t help. Its extra influence having accelerated her weight gain to the point that Harley was now fifty pounds over her old 130lb standard.

 

“You’re a regular comedian,” the 180lb woman grumbled, feeling herself get a bit squishier than she’d been somehow.

 

Six months post retirement had done a number on the once fit clown princess of crime. Her face was mostly untouched, save for a floppy fat roll dangling beneath her chin at most angles. Harley’s firm abdominals had gotten soft and soggy, if she sucked in her belly as hard as she could the pale flesh was just a little untoned but when fully relaxed, Quinn’s midriff was now half way between a starter belly and a beer gut. It was thick enough she could place three fingers beneath its lower slope and bounce it up and down or grab it with both hands. Growing love handles flanked the milky buddha belly, big enough to squeeze tight during sex.

 

“Yeah, that’s what they’re for ya pervert virgin,” Quinn grumbled, patting the side fat where her ribs had once been visible, “like you’d even know what to do with a girl as b-e-a-u-tiful as me.”

 

Harley had never been much upstairs, but packing on fifty pounds had made them worse. They’d grown rather saggy, sloppy and floppy, sagging inside her b-cup bra and drooping like a woman ten years older.

 

“Hey, don’t I at least get fat girl boobs?” she hissed at the omniscient narrator, then reconsidered, “alright, fine. Ya ain’t a virgin and are good with girls. And your narration is real professional and funny.”

 

Quinn adjusted her tight blue bra against her swollen breasts. She’d put on fifty pounds in the last six months, plenty of puppy fat coming with it. Her small gymnast boobs had swelled up like dough in an oven, threatening to pop the band of her blue 34D bra. She considered that she didn’t really need a bra, her chest was just as perky as it ever had been despite Quinn bearing a proud set of fat girl boobs.

 

“Now that’s more like it!” Quinn’s heavily accented voice squealed, jostling her tits against the fabric to test their realness, “if I said you were super smart and buff and gave a girl great cunnilingus would ya make me skinny again?”

 

Unfortunately nothing was going to make Quinn thin again save for brutal exercise and a merciless diet.

 

“Rats,” Harley said, crossing her flabby upper arms over her bust.

 

While Harley’s bust had grown, her always wide hips meant she’d been destined to be a pear. Day by day the muscles of her ass had been replaced bit by bit with squishy fat. Once perfectly round, the overfed cheeks had grown wide and succumbed to gravity, sagging like a fatty housewife. Her ass drooped, hanging out of her red thong panties and starting to merge with her equally thick thighs. Stretchmarks raced across her skin, patterns of cellulite spreading alongside them. If Harley had had the urge to measure them, she’d have found that her backside’s widest point was now 42 inches across.

 

“Hey, I ain’t that fat yet. The story is just starting moron,” Harley snapped, “across is just one face, you mean around.”

 

Harley’s ass was now 43 inches around at its widest point, which was much lower than it had been, the 185lb woman's caboose seeming to grow every time she looked away from it.

 

“Haha, very fucking funny,” the pscyh grumbled, “ya gonna point out how my thick flabby thighs rub whenever I walk now and have got cellulite on em? Or how I’ve got these wobbly linebacker cankles now?”

 

Harley’s examination of herself was stopped by a shout from the living room of her shared apartment.

 

“Harley, are you ready yet? I want to stop and get breakfast before we start the meeting,” her partner in crime/roommate and girlfriend Poison Ivy yelled, "you know how cranky I get when I don't eat enough."

 

“Just gotta get some clothes on, Red!” Harley yelled back, waddling over to her closet and searching for something that would reliably fit.

 

“Well hurry up, I’m hungry!” the plant hybrid and fellow ex-con whined, “someone ate all the doughnuts we’d bought for breakfast last night!”

 

Harley blushed that evidence of her midnight snacking had been found...although she’d only had three of the half dozen donuts meaning that Ivy must have polished off the rest on her own moonlight feast. That idea turned her on to a small degree, her girlfriend’s unrestrained gluttony combined with denial about as sexy as things got to her.

 

“Gotta say there’s worse fetishes to get saddled with for a story’s sake,” Harley admitted, pulling out clothes and struggling her buttery body into them.

 

Abandoning a life of crime had brought severe financial downsides to Harley. Her student loan payments had come back with a vengeance while she lacked any ability to put her psych degree due to losing her license. At first she’d had to work at the skeevy Hooter’s knock off Superbabes as a waitress, portraying a more scantily clad than normal version of herself but the increasing weight brought on by the free food meant she’d eventually been let go. Right now she and Ivy were working on something big but until it paid off, the two had to scrimp where they could.

 

Which meant no new clothes until the old ones were absolutely outgrown.

 

“What a stupid way to try and save money,” Harley grunted, stomach forming into soft rolls as she worked her stockings up her doughy legs.

 

The tights were size tens, four weeks old and dangerously snug. They formed so tight around her jiggly cankles and inflated thighs that she might as well not have worn anything, but they at least covered up the cellulite and stretch marks from easy view. Thin patches wore on Harley’s chafing inner thighs, a warning that the leggings weren’t going to last much longer.

 

“Guess that shows me for getting too thick for any of my pants,” Quinn grumbled, working on buttoning up her skirt.

 

The black fabric was painted on, space showing between all of the buttons and the line of her thong could be seen through the sheer cloth. She bent very carefully to pick up a work shirt, sucking in her flabbiness to get the shirt tails into the skirt. Quinn kept her paunch sucked in as long as she could to get all the buttons done up, feeling a pressure spike when she had to at last let her tummy out. A once baggy and now snug blazer went over it, only two of its three buttons fastenable.

 

“Yesh, I’d have to be crazy to go out in this,” the insane woman said to herself, sliding on a pair of high heels by feel, “good thing I am.”

 

Quinn waddled out of her bed room, finding her better half waiting impatiently at the door.

 

The considerably saner Pamela Isley was staring at a wrist watch and tapping her foot, looking up when Quinn arrived and immediately frowning.

 

“You’re really wearing that to our big meeting?” Ivy asked, red eye brow rising in exasperation, “You know how much is riding on us getting this contract, don’t you Harley?”

 

“Would you rather I wear the size eight slacks I can’t get over my thighs? Or maybe the blouse that I can’t button across my stomach?” Quinn returned, jiggling some belly fat to demonstrate, “this is what I’ve got to work with, unless you want to lend me your shape wear, Red.”

 

Quinn wasn’t the only mostly ex-supervillain to let herself go after giving up crime. The former eco-terrorist turned start-up queen Ivy was no longer the waifish dryad who’d had the city in terror. The botanist retained her dark auburn hair, slightly green skin and petite, 5’1 height but unlike Harley she’d never been a serious exercise nut, depending too much on her plant based powers to fight and a diet to stay slim. The same aggression dampening antipsychotics as her girl friend had kicked that diet out the window just as stress cravings and a middle age spread had come knocking, not that Ivy would admit it.

 

“Harley my shapewear is just to deal with little problem areas,” Ivy lied, hand going to her belly, “it wouldn’t hide an issue as large as yours.”

 

Anyone with eyes could see that Ivy had gained just as much weight as Harley. The dryad’s lean face had grown round and puffy, chubby chipmunk cheeks robbing her face of its previous angular beauty. Pillowy shoulders and chunky arms tested Ivy’s grey dress to the limit and she hadn’t even tried to do all of her buttons.

 

If she’d been forced to acknowledge that, Ivy would have said it was all due to her stupendous and all natural bustline. For such a short, slim girl Ivy’s chest had always been large, hovering at the C/D line but her lime tinted tatas had absorbed quite a few of the calories the gluttonous woman took in every day. Eye catching F cup melons surged out of Ivy’s chest, the tear shaped bosoms kept high by some very expensive lingerie that was replaced the instant it got snug, despite the pair’s financial situation. The redhead wasn’t going to let her best assets get droopy.

 

“Yeah, a little problem area,” Harley said with an eye roll, taking her bright blue peepers off Ivy’s assets and looking down at the strangely smooth surface of the green girl’s stomach, “you can lie to everyone else Red, but not the girl who gives you belly rubs when you eat too much. I know just how big your belly is under them girdles.”

 

Ivy’s waistline had once been a tiny 21 inches during her active criminal days, back when she weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet. But that had been seventy pounds ago and big as the apple shaped ex-con’s breasts had grown, most of her fat had gone right to her midsection. The short woman’s gut wouldn’t stop swelling out, going from perfectly flat to pinch ably soft to decadently plump to already sagging beer gut over the last months as she outpaced Harely’s gain by twenty pounds.

 

“I...bloat up when you feed me too much,” Ivy huffed, as if she didn’t beg for the feeding when it happened every night, guzzling chocolate sauce and heavy cream until her belly button popped into an outie, “it's all temporary swelling.”

 

“Yeah, you temporarily grew such a big belly you need two layers of shapewear to fit into a size ten dress,” the taller Harley laughed, poking the clear outline of Ivy’s girdle, “A few more months on funnel feeding and I bet you’ll be wider than you are tall!”

 

Ivy’s greenish cheeks turned beat red in lustful embarrassment, her chubby hand pushing away Harley’s soft finger, “Please, spare me the jokes. I’ve gotten a little bloated but once this sale goes off and we get some free time and better food, I’ll burn this off in no time.”

 

The ex-supervillain might beg and plead to be fed and fondled when it was sexy time with her equally chubby girlfriend, but in any other circumstance Ivy refused to admit having gained more than five pounds. Despite her stomach starting to rest on her thighs when she sat down without a girdle on and her feet being incognito beneath her tummy's fat slopes for a month.

 

“I hope not, you look so cute chubby,” Harley giggled, waddling over to the counter of their shared apartment’s kitchen and picking up a heavy cooler, her weakened arms sagging at the weight, “Hey narrator, how weak do you think I am? I ain’t so bad yet I can't lift up a cooler, save that for chapter eight at least."

 

“Harley, quit talking at the ceiling,” Ivy sighed, her friend's frequent responses to an otherwise inaudible narrator“bring the cupcakes and come along. I don’t want to waste this appointment, it's not every day you get a meeting with an executive at Wayne Enterprises.”

[Batman76]

35 minutes ago, CyrilFiggus said:

That was delightful! The way you describe Harley and Ivy's figures is wonderful, and I got a chuckle out of the Duck Amok-like banter between Harley and the narrator. Looking forward to seeing where this goes and how it differs from the interactive!

Thanks. The next little swerve will be coming soon

[Batman76]

3 minutes ago, Kara Zor El To Serve Human said:

Batman76

Have you seen Twilight Zone To Serve Man?

I indeed have

[Batman76]

2 hours ago, Kara Zor El To Serve Human said:

Batman76

Would you willing to write Fanfic Story alike Twilight Zone's Infamous Episode To Serve Man and To Serve Man Novel

Kyptronian replace Kanamit

Sara Lance and Laurel Lance replace Michael Chambers

Linda Park replace Patty

Not right now

[Batman76]

6 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

Wow, this is good! Once I realized that Harley was arguing with a narrator that was warping reality, it got twice as fun to read. Also, I know exactly what art on DA inspired this!!

Yeah, that art was the kick in the rear for finally writing this.

 

And I wanted to go a bit postmodern in it

[Batman76]

1 hour ago, trollforce said:

Hi, great story as usual, but could I suggest you to convert the text into normal comment font in Curvage? For some reason, your entire story is black when viewed in dark mode.

Should be fixed now, It was a text error from copy pasting this from a google doc.

[Batman76]

No actual weight gain and not many fatties in this chapter...but it opens with sex at least. Its all set up for the next, this is plot heavier than I'd planned.

Chapter 2: The Lean, Mean Cat

 

Selina Kyle had been working for this moment for eleven years.

 

A decade of honing her body into a fast and agile weapon. A decade of learning to crack safes, pick locks and hack the world’s best security systems. A decade of scaling skyscrapers barehanded in frigid winters. A decade with some occasional imprisonment under an assumed identity. A decade of kicking the shit out of men two or times her weight while she made off with her ill begotten gains.

 

“How are you going to escape this Batman?” Selina purred to herself, pouty lips stretching into a feral grin, “you don’t have your utility belt, your hands are bound tight, I’ve got you know!”

 

The most troublesome of these men was the one she had pinned at the moment. The Batman, the living shadow of justice and vengeance, who had cut a one man swath through Gotham’s criminal underworld. He’d chased Selina through roof tops and forests, deserts and cocktail parties, even though she was just an extraordinary thief with the occasional kill under her narrow belt. Plans to avoid or kill him had always been foiled, the Bat having an extraordinary sixth sense for danger that bordered on the admirable. Eventually Selina had had to change her tactics to a more subtle approach in order to pull off the biggest heist of her career.

 

Without saying anything, Batman showed her, his tongue rapidly spelling out the letter C across her clit. Selina’s eyes widened to the point their green irises disappeared. Her firm back muscles spasmed, arching her spine until her teardrop C cups were pointing straight at the ceiling, and her the tight four pack of her tapered waist flexed hard enough to pop her back. Selina neared hyperventilation, visible ribs rising and falling at a dizzying rate and a high and wordless scream echoing from her mouth into the sound proofed walls of Wayne Manor’s master bedroom. Her thighs tightened around her husband’s head to the point she worried she might break his neck and her long nimble fingers grabbed his thick black hair tight.

 

The wave of pleasure went on and on and on, rolling until the athletic thirty year old collapsed to the side. Selina’s body was still twitching, her toes curled so tightly that she was afraid they might be broken, when Bruce entered her from behind.

 

“I was thinking of distracting you while I slipped the bonds,” he whispered in her ear, sliding a hand along her hard, muscular side before placing it gently on her clit.

 

 He was fairly large but kept the thrusts gentle, syncing them up with the pulses of her still rolling orgasm so that the sensation only added to it. Selina was deeply out of it, but not enough that she didn’t feel him come deep inside her. He laid next to her for a moment, half asleep, before sliding out.

 

“How...how do you always escape, Bruce?” Selina gasped, wishing for a smoke.

 

“Villains always turn their back at some point,” the billionaire told her, sliding his fingers gently down her back and touching that special spot between her shoulder blades that made her gasp again, “you just have to wait for it.”

 

“I’m just hoping that you don’t use the same move on all your villains,” the short haired woman moaned, letting the massage continue and pulling her legs up to her chest.

 

Selina could never pinpoint the spot when her plan had changed from “Kill Batman” to “Fuck Batman”. There’d always been some sexual tension between the two, two extremely fit people chasing each other while dressed in tight spandex and leather had to have that, and at one point it had just...popped into being. And then some more and more until they were less Batman and Catwoman and more Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle, two people with a very special understanding even though they were on different sides of the hero/villain line. About a year ago had come, well, a question that had made her decide to step over that line.

 

“It’s a special move for the really dangerous ones,” he told her, rising tiredly out of the four poster bed with a yawn.

Selina watched, looking at the defined muscles and the scratches she’d left on his back and not the constellations of bruises, scars and abrasions Bruce’s night time activity’s left him with. That there were continuous new ones left the ex-supervillain with an anxious unease, one that she wasn’t used to. For a little while after the short, private wedding they’d been partners in crime fighting but then had come a little talk about the future that had put that on hiatus.

 

“You’re getting up already? It’s eight in the morning, don’t you usually try and sleep until at least eleven?” Selina asked him, yawning herself, “I was hoping for some cuddles.”

 

“I would, trust me,” Bruce told her, looking back at Selina’s long, lean body on the bed, “but unfortunately I’ve got both a full set of morning meetings as Bruce Wayne and League duties as Batman this afternoon.”

 

“You’re burning the candle at both ends and the middle,” the retired Catwoman pointed out, trailing off at the end.

 

She was about to offer to help him, which wasn’t her usual method. Selina didn’t think of herself as a bad person but she’d been a criminal since she was fifteen. Becoming...nice was as hard a transition as moving from criminal underworld to high society. Was she really about to offer her tired husband some help in taking excess work off his plate?

 

“Let me try and help,” Selina found herself saying.

 

“I would, but I don’t think the League would appreciate you at the meeting. Retired or not, not everyone is as quick to forgive as me,” Bruce sighed.

 

“I gave Wonder Woman that Lasso back,” the thief pouted, “and if she wants to use it on me to test if I’m lying or not, she’s certainly welcome to.”

 

“I’m sure she would,” Bruce sighed again, “if you want to go back to the costumed life, I suppose that could be arranged.”

 

That brought a brief wince to Selina’s face. She wanted to go back to being Catwoman, to feel the wind on her face climbing a building, the rush of a chase, the thrill of a steal. But the reason for abandoning that was still there.

 

“I’ll zip back up next year,” Selina said, hand going to a resolutely flat stomach, “it takes lots of people our age more than just six months of trying.”

 

Working up to the conversation on children hadn’t taken that long. Bruce had already had far too many adopted ones in her opinion, especially as all of them had at one point or another interrupted a job she was on, but Selina had wanted one that was theirs, the best of both of them. And although they’d wanted more time together there hadn’t been a lot of time to wait, Selina was 33 and Bruce five years older. She might have a twenty year old’s body and libido but the Catwoman was getting up there in childbearing terms. But despite three or four sessions of love making a week over half a year there hadn’t been a positive result and a doctor’s appointment hadn’t found any reason for it.

 

Bruce smiled, slightly sadly, “Well, that’s true. But if it takes that much longer we should see a specialist.”

 

“Please, I’m not going on fertility meds. Gaining thirty pounds already is bad enough,” the lithe Wayne Matriarch pouted, “but those things blow you up like a balloon before that and I want to get back into my cat suit and not just be a fat housewife.”

 

Vanity was one of Selina’s sins. She was by any measure a gorgeous specimen: 5’10 and 130lbs of svelte curve. Fit and strong without being bulky, lean and slinky without being scrawny. Her legs were incredibly long and she had just the right flare of hip and fullness of chest to be a svelte hour glass. There was no reason at all her costume had ever needed to be skin tight and having her natural A cups boosted to Cs had only made her career as a thief harder, but she liked to show off her physique, luxuriating in the power it gave her over people. Lust from men and jealousy and/or lust from women as well.

 

“I doubt you’d ever be that and I was thinking some one more esoteric,” Bruce told her, idly scratching the sensitive spot where her fringe of black hair ended just behind the ear and making her purr, “but how about the morning meetings?”

 

That startled Selina out of the somewhat stereotypical scratching session, “You’d let me take the company? Not just be arm candy at parties but actually make deals and decisions?”

 

“I’d let you have company duties. We’re co-equal share holders aren’t we?” he reminded her, continuing scratching, “by all rights you should be on the board as an executive.”

 

Acting somewhat Cat-like was only a minor compulsion to Selina. Almost everyone in Gotham was crazy to some extent or another and it could have been a lot worse. Her kleptomania was far more annoying, especially when paired with near supernatural thievery skills.

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t have me sign a pre-nup,” she purred, “I could just divorce you and steal eighty billion dollars, you know that right? That this could all be a con?”

 

“Selina, don’t take me for a fool,” Bruce told her, “you’re an intelligent thief, you can make far more money running a megacorp than stealing from one.”

 

“And people called me a thief,” she smiled, standing up and sashaying towards the shower, “come now, I think this calls for another celebration.”

 

The Manor thankfully had excellent water heaters, enough that Selina was able to actually wash up when they were done. She near collapsed against the tiles as the water washed suds off of her, numbly realizing that Bruce had just gotten her to take on half of his daily responsibilities and had sex with her, all while making it seem like it was her idea. She’d be insulted if she wasn’t impressed by the cunning of it all.

 

“I was thinking, if I could ask you a favor,” he started from outside the shower glass, already drying off and getting dressed.

 

“Hmmm?” she hummed back, IQ currently around the level of tapioca after two backbreaking orgasms in half an hour.

 

“Maybe you could bring Cassandra with you today,” he asked her.

 

Selina’s eyes uncrossed and narrowed. She didn’t like the sole girl among the horde of adopted children she’d suddenly found herself mother too. Granted, most of them were thoroughly out of the house (very thankfully as the eldest was only five years her junior) and she didn’t have to deal with them. Cassandra was the only one who wasn’t, a girl born, bred and trained to be the perfect assassin at the expense of speech couldn't exactly ship off to college at 18 like normal. It was less any actual behavior Cassandra did around Selina that put her on Catwoman's shit list, apart from disgusting eating habits the girl was perfectly quiet, not that she had a choice, and Catwoman could go days without actually seeing her. Really it was because two years ago, on their very first interaction, the new Batgirl had handed Selina the very worst beating of her life, landing her with nine broken bones and a six month stay in a secure hospital wing before she’d manage to escape, lugging a cast behind her and with a flabby midsection from being unable to train while eating high carb hospital food. Her ankle still hurt when it rained after that and it had taken four months to get her abs back.

 

“Does your daughter actually want to go?” she asked him, “I’m sure she’d rather stay here, punch punching bags and scowl.”

 

“She’s lonely, it’ll do her good to leave the mansion not in a costume,” he suggested, his voice too reasonable to contradict.

 

“...Fine,” Selina sighed, “its not like she’ll make noise.”

 

….

 

Cassandra Cain was tired, cranky and bored.

 

The busy hum of Wayne Enterprises’ executive floor throbbed around her: phones and faxes and emails and typing and stepping and talking, talking, talking, talking. Worse was the far easier to understand, for her at least, body language: stress and tiredness and ambition and occasionally lust all showing clear as day to the body language reader.

 

It was distracting and tiring, pushing Batgirl to her edge of tolerance. She didn’t do well with crowds or noise, her abusive background and neurodivergent status making her want to flip out. Why she’d been dragged out of bed after an all night patrol at such an ungodly hour as 8:00 am was inexplicable to her and the short, thin girl wanted to do nothing more but curl under the covers and sleep until it was time to train.

 

The young half-asian woman  fidgeted in the office chair she’d appropriated, wishing that the waiting room to her adoptive fathers office had a couch. She wiped sleep from her eyes, her hand scared and callused from constant training and fighting, and tucked her dense, muscular legs up under the fold of her black hoody, pressing them against her jacked eight pack and small breasts so she could rest her chin on her knees. Batgirl debated just leaving, she counted twenty ways she could just leave the building without anyone knowing or any security cameras seeing her, but Batman had ordered her to be here for a reason.

 

What that reason was, Cassandra had no idea. She assumed it was to watch Catwoman, who she trusted about as far as she could throw the Batmobile. Selina’s every action radiated superiority and contempt and pride, Batgirl had to assume she was supposed to catch her stealing.

 

 But the mutish girl was loyal to the mission above anything else...not that she had anything else to be loyal to. Due to her rather unique and abusive upbringing the ex-assassins options were either crime fighting or crime and she was far too empathetic to do the later. Being able to read the pain you caused people made her restrict herself purely to those who deserved the beatings she could hand out, her surprising strength, endless martial arts training and ability to predict body language making her the best fighter in Gotham.

 

So despite being groggy and grouchy and bored, she’d stay here and just...watch.

 

She didn’t have long to watch, as the door to the waiting room opened and two supervillains strode in.

 

Cassandra’s honed reflexes engaged the moment she recognized Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn, legs shooting out of her jacket to let her stand. But just as quickly she discounted them as threats, while she’d beaten both to a pulp before, both were on the “safe” list of retired villains kept pacified and docile by Wayne produced psychiatrics. But then she started to notice the ...changes to each woman.

 

Ivy and Quinn had always been slim, the former lean and fatless save for her boobs while the later had been a thin girl with water balloons down the back of her pants. In the months since both had retired though they’d...well, ballooned. Batgirl stared at both of them, mouth agape inside her hoodie to see two of the most dangerous women in the city turned into plump piles of pudge.

Cassandra usually dealt with the more dangerous criminals, fit and lethal men and women one and all, and avoided wider society. So this was really her first time dealing with seeing a flabby pair of cankles propped up by 3’ heels or witnessing the cellulite of a chunky thigh through a run in a stocking. It was certainly the first time she’d dealt with an ass that was as big and soft as a pair of soccer balls inflated with sour cream before.  She watched the jiggles ripple up and down Quinn’s soft, decadent body, one that had been had and toned last year. Despite her flabby weakness, Quinn radiated confidence: her shoulders were thrust back to keep her plump fatgirl cleavage high and on display and she didn’t care at all that her squishy stomach was muffintoping over her skirt fiercely.

 

Batgirl felt her cheeks grow warm, overcome by a new emotion and only grew warmer as Ivy paraded by.

 

Unlike Quinn, Ivy projected exhaustion and envy. The legs emerging from Ivy’s dress were more flabby than bulky, but clearly couch bound, and the older woman shot a glare of envy at the vigilante’s firm stems as she lumbered past by. Ivy was moving strangely, back far too straight, like she was wearing body armor over her thick midsection. It took the inexperienced girl watching a minute to realize it was some sort of clothing to press in her stomach, a new and fascinating concept to the accidentally sheltered girl. And if Quinn had been busty, Ivy’s breasts were the size of her head, lime green giants that shook like jello with each halting step, the top two buttons of her grey dress hanging unfastened to let the mammoth melons breath. They were pushed up high, almost to touching Ivy's flabby additional chin.

 

Ivy announced herself with a deep breath to the secretary, Cassandra seeing the stitching on another button start to give way. The secretary waved just Ivy forwards, the redhead going down the hall and to the office. Cassandra watched her, noticing that her ass was completely flat and that Ivy gave a sneer to the new family portrait right before the door, the one that had Selina on it curled up next to her adoptive father.

 

Quinn shrugged to not be admitted and plopped her elephant buns into a chair opposite Batgirl. Then she unzipped her purse, pulling out a paper bag instead of the expected gun. In the bag was a doughnut that Quinn started eating...

[Batman76]

1 hour ago, CyrilFiggus said:

That was such a fun chapter. Loved the play between Bruce and Selina (that opening scene alone, man...), and having Cass be this sullen, bored child was adorable. Looking forward to seeing how this goes!

Thanks. I'm aiming to hit characterization hard in this.

 

And I'm looking forwards to your next chapter for regirth

[Batman76]

Chapter 3 is here and is a long, long doozy. But the massive weight gain will be beginning next chapter. Until then enjoy some gluttony and clothing damage.

Chapter 3: The Insult and the Awakening.

The difference between a villain and a supervillain, was all about presentation.

Selina’s skirt suit was custom made and jet black. The tiny skirt showed off a staggering length of firm leg, honed by daily jogs, yoga lessons and pilates sessions into the pinnacle of female perfection attainable for mortal women. Her blouse and jacket were made with the minimum of fabric, tapering tight to her toned tummy and cut low to show off her artfully crafted breasts. A pair of 4' stiletto heels only added to her honed calves and firm thighs, emerald earrings framed her lean face and complimented her gleaming jade eyes, while tasteful makeup hid her minimal signs of aging and ruby red lipstick drew the eye to her dazzling smile.

Checking herself in a hand mirror, Selina was happy with what she saw. Since retiring she'd been afraid of becoming a domesticated fat cat. She loved the power her tight, leggy body gave her over Batman (beloved husband he might be, but she still loved putting the Dark Knight in his place...between her hard thighs) and men in general.

She'd already gone through three previous cut throat corporate meetings, full of soft businessmen underestimating Wayne's bride as just leggy eye candy. Selina had metaphorically gutted them, using her power as a joint share holder to its fullest to run roughshod over them. She'd gotten what Bruce would have wanted in terms of what research to fund, but had done it in her rather brutal fashion that would make the board suck up to her better half all the more. Now there was only one left...

"Who's next?," Selina purred through the intercom to her secretary, looking at her black painted nails.

Selina found that she liked it, cutting down shitty old men who couldn't decide whether they wanted to look at her thighs or bristle at her harsh tone.

"A sales pitch from a start up," the secretary, Brittany not that it was important, said.

"Hmmm, sounds pathetic," the cat burglar sighed, twirling a pen she'd stolen from the same secretary without really meaning too, "any reason for me to not blow them off?"

And head home for a quickie before her next pilates session, she added to herself.

"Well, they're part of the Convict to CEO program, I know Mr. Wayne is very keen on that program being a success...," the secretary dragged out.

"Fine," Selina sighed, "who is it? And don't say Kite-Man."

"One Dr. Pamela Isley, she's a few minutes late though...she used to be Poison Ivy," the secretary whispered conspiratorially, "I can't believe someone that dangerous is let out and about. Can you believe a supervillain is gonna be in this office?"

Selina suppressed a snort, "I'm sure, send her in when she gets here."

Catwoman considered seeing another ex-villainess for the first time since going straight. Would Ivy judge her for leaving the life behind? She shouldn't, Ivy had taken a plea deal to go on the experimental anti-psychotics that ended her misanthropic impulses and neutered her powers. Selina had done the same, she'd just done it without having to go on pills and with considerably more sex. Sometimes she questioned if she'd ever really gone straight instead of just stealing half of Wayne Enterprises.

But Ivy...it wasn't that she hated Ivy. The supervillain game in Gotham was a old, evil boys club. If you were a costumed lunatic with a uterus you had to get help when you could. Selina, Ivy and even Harley had occasionally worked together, not a partnership like the clown and the dryad had, but the occasional team up. And the occasional...team up during a stint at Arkham when she and Ivy had been roommates.

Yet Ivy was still...vain. It wasn't that Selina wasn't vain herself, she didn't spend four hours a day working out just for her health, but Ivy pushed vanity to a truly ridiculous level. Sexy outfits were one thing, but some of Ivy's costumes had her be near nude. Selina had seduced her fair share of marks in her day, but Ivy often relied on mind controlling people (especially men) to a frankly unnecessary degree. Combined with the botanist being extraordinarily self righteous, always claiming what she was doing was for the good of the planet even if she was turning people into zombies with modified plants and making a jungle fortress out of Gotham's central park, and Selina often found Ivy more than a bit annoying.

"Ms. Wayne," the secretary chirped, interrupting Selina's thoughts, "security says that your next meeting just entered the front door. About your daughter..."

"She hasn't left has she?" the thief asked.

She really hoped that the silent vigilante was there. Cassandra might be a quiet weirdo in her opinion, but she was also one of the most frightening fighters on the planet and incredibly stealthy. Selina didn't want to have to go searching for her or have to drag her back, she'd only been able to get the kid into the Rolls-Royce because Bruce had directly asked the dangerous mute.

"No, she's just sitting there. Is it really safe for her to be here if there's...supervillains coming in?" the secretary asked quietly, "she seems so quiet.”

"I'm sure she's fine," Selina yawned, "as long as she doesn't touch anything."

"Oh...okay," the secretary stated, not knowing the drowsy young woman had the deadliest hands in the country, "should I get her anything, she looks miserable.”

"I don't know, get her a juice box, whatever it is kids like," the thief shrugged

“She’s a little old for juice boxes isn’t she?” the secretary replied.

“I don’t know, I’ll pick up parenting as I go along,” Selina shrugged, wondering if maybe she was really cut out for this parenting thing.

Maybe she should be nicer to Cassandra. Yes the girl had beaten the living shit out of her and was quiet and weird, but well...Selina had been a criminal. And from what she knew, the girl had plenty of issues some sympathy could help with. Ugh, maybe she was going soft.

Her musing was ended by the secretary's knock, the door opening to admit...

Selina's hand went over her mouth, threatening to smear her make up as she stifled a laugh. Bruce’s secretary nodded at her (then ducked away to a private listening spot) and in walked, almost waddled into Selina’s office, a woman who was unmistakably Poison Ivy. She knew of no one else who had pale green skin and permanent leaves in their red hair. But Ivy...

"Pam, you're looking...," Selina reached, lips curling into a smile, "prosperous."

....

Harley wasn't exactly in hog heaven.

That place, with its mountains of fried food and rivers of bubbling soda and trees groaning with piping hot snack cakes, wouldn't have had such a punishing long walk from the garage like Wayne Tower did. But this waiting room with its comfy chairs and this big bag of donuts ready to join the 750 calorie triple mocha latte and 900 calorie breakfast sandwich she'd eaten on the drive in would be a good substitution for a porcine afterlife. She slid a cream filled chocolate long john from the bag, licking her plump lips at the sight of the pastry and savoring the build up of desire that would come from biting into it.

"Lotta words to say a fatty was excited to over eat," the ex-psychotic whispered to where the narrator's voice was coming from.

Across the room from her, Cassandra's eyes were locked entirely on Quinn, the rest of the office building ceasing to exist for the former assassin. Cold sweat was forming on her forehead and her cheeks were burning red, while her mouth was going dry and butterflies were filling her rock hard stomach. Batgirl had been attracted to other people before, but this was something different...

"Probably don't need these calories," Harley mused to herself, "really its irresponsible to eat like this when I've already got so much butt blubber to drag around..."

Harley might miss aspects of her old life, like being fast and agile and dangerous. Knowing even the simplest of her old acrobatics was beneath her was a little humiliating, about as much as whenever she burst a button. But the thing was, Harley was coming to enjoy every extra bit of jiggle.

“I am?” the clown looked around, seeing if someone was going to answer her, but the only one visible in the room was the quiet girl staring at Quinn from across the palatial waiting room.

Quinn might be slow and clumsy and sedentary, but wasn’t she also round and curvaceous and busty? Every time she and Ivy were together it seemed like there were new squishy folds to dive into and fresh sensitive curves to explore, virgin ounces to bounce and newborn limits to stamina and flexibility to find. Getting fatter and lazier, just a bit more every day, was really turning her on, as much as Ivy’s own adiposal increase was appealing to her.

“But is it really?” the chubby Quinn asked, “I kinda liked being able to jump around and fight…”

And after a lifetime of being, at her largest a small B, the knowledge that her 34D bust had no where able to go but up would have made her over eat even if she hadn’t become a completely inactive glutton. Why if she moderated her diet, her mammary mountains might deflate in an instant!

“Geesh I get the point,” Harley said with an eye roll and a heft of one large boob through her blouse, “but I want at least an F cup by the time I hit the big 2-0-0.”

Quinn bit deep into a foot of fried heaven, cream squishing out against her lips. The rich blend of dough and powdered sugar and chocolate icing and whipped filling was delightful on her tongue, the doughnut starting to disappear like a magic trick. Every time she swallowed and her snug clothes got just a little bit tighter, the thread around the button on her skirt starting to stretch just a little bit more and the visible slit of pale belly fat between her blouse button widening just slightly, Quinn barely suppressed a sigh of arousal.

“Okay, gotta admit that I am getting just a bit damp from all this,” Harley admitted, licking frosting from her lips.

Every bite was making the ex-henchwoman heavier, slower, weaker, bigger and above all fatter. If she didn't have a whole pint of rich chocolate milk to wash it down with, Harley would worry about dehydration just from how wet her panties were getting at the thought of her climbing weight. She might occasionally complain about losing her gymnast figure, but every new ounce of bounce gained was driving Harley wild on the inside.

"You bet, a girl doesn't earn DD cups just eating salad, does she?," Quinn whispered, tugging on her increasingly snug bra, porcelain cleavage jiggling through the unbuttoned neckline. 

Across the room, Batgirl shivered, the emotions pouring off of Harley's body a flashing neon sign of lust and satisfaction complete with bells and sirens to a body language reader like herself. The blue eyes rolling in Quinn’s head, the tremble of her chubby thighs, the rapid rise and fall of her surprisingly large breasts...all of it was a wild and desperate satisfaction. Usually Cassandra just read fear and anger and hate off of criminals and their victims, never before had she seen someone so... happy. She'd seen people in love (her adopted father Bruce and Selina, her best friend Stephanie and step-brother Tim) but she'd never seen someone exude complete joy and inner peace so much before.

The Clown Princess of Crime crossed her chubby thighs, seams in her skirt sending warning groans, and pressed the doughy limbs tight to stimulate herself. She pulled a round jelly doughnut out of the bag and started going to town, messy icing and grape jelly squirting out around her lips as it disappeared. Quinn was breathing harder by the time she was done with it, belt getting uncomfortably tight.

“Sounds like I should give myself some more room,” Harley smiled, licking the jelly off her lips and undoing her belt, its holes all horribly stretched out from trying to contain her rapid gain.

Cassandra’s eyes bulged out at the same pace of Quinn’s stomach surging outwards. The well padded paunch stretched Harley’s red skirt even tighter, one of the four strings holding the button audibly snapping. Cassandra crossed her muscular legs, any thought but watching the gorging clown driven from her head. 

“Crap, this is the last skirt I could squeeze into,” Harley sighed, pressing in her swollen gut to get a look at the barely attached button, “oh well, I’m sure Ivy will get us a big contract that’ll let me size up. I’d hate to let these cake donuts go to waste…”

….

Pamela Isley, or as she preferred, Poison Ivy, wasn’t doing very well.

Her conditional release from Arkham had been predicated upon being dosed with truly horrible medication that left her feeling lazy, hungry and partly depowered. Mostly cut off from the Green, Ivy’s terrifying complete control over all plant life on earth had declined from being able to twist a dandelion into a building size plant-kaiju at whim down to being able to alter the size and shape of a plant’s fruit with a lot of effort. That she, avatar of poor abused Gaia, had to suffer such punishment just to fit into the society of destroying humanity would have driven her homicidal if the drugs weren’t dulling her anger.

Also, living off cheap, disgusting processed food was making her glorious body just a little bloated. The cheaply made, designed to be disposed of clothes she wore tended to shred at just the small pressure of her stomach, when it didn’t shrink down to a ridiculous extent when washed. Why, just to fit into this grey dress, Ivy had had to wrap herself into two layers of shapewear! If she hadn’t known better she’d have thought she was fat.

And all the salt in that food was making Poison Ivy dehydrated. That was the only explanation for why she was barely able to catch her breath following the mid-fifties secretary leading her to her meeting with that despicable dunce Bruce Wayne. Ivy suppressed a snarl of hatred at just thinking of the ecosphere destroying billionaire, knowing that his claims about working on green energy and oceanic plastic collection and rain forest restoration were surely fake. She sent scowls of hatred at the progressive portraits of the admittedly handsome aristocrat, who seemed to defy aging even as each portrait showed him with an ever accumulating amount of orphans. Gaia, the only one who collected brats like him was Batman!

Then in the last picture, just as sweat was starting to really pour off Ivy’s brow, the botanist saw Catwoman. Selina looked like a million bucks, designer clothes and jewelry worth at least that much clinging to an essentially perfect body. Tall and leggy and toned, why it set Ivy’s teeth on edge to think of how much photoshop Selina had probably insisted. Catwoman was so vain and obsessed with her own looks that Ivy had always been annoyed by her, even when the two had occasionally shared a bed. Surely marrying a billionaire and leaving the caped life behind had made her plump up like an aristocrats house cat, no matter how slim and smug she appeared in the picture.

Ivy shot one last glare at the photo and then activated one of the few powers available to her: a rush of pheramones from her skin that made any man who smelled it her slave. The drugs were supposed to eliminate this ability, but instead they’d just reduced it from turning small armies into semi-permanent zombies into charming a man blind for a few minutes. It would be enough to get a dunce like Bruce Wayne to fill her purse with grant money. Perhaps she’d even let Wayne experience an in shape woman instead of that assuredly lardass Selina…

The secretary knocked on the door and Ivy’s stomach did a metaphorical flip when a throaty, feminine voice bid them enter. Not that it could flip, for despite her shapewear layers Ivy was having to suck her stomach in so hard she was about to cry. She had just enough time to curse her own bloating as the door opened to show not that manipulatable moron Bruce Wayne, but his wife and the retired Catwoman Selina.

“Pam, you’re looking prosperous…,” Catwoman smirked, not quite hiding the smile on her slim face with one manicured hand.

Selina looked gorgeous. Every aspect of her appearance was flawless from her short black hair down her patrician features and slim neck, to her high (if fake) breasts, across her tiny waist and down her long, long and very toned legs. With her not dodging batarangs across roof tops, the other retired villain’s gym bill alone must be worth Ivy’s monthly rent. Her clothing was probably worth the entire building. Gaia, her shoes were worth Ivy’s car!

So shocked was Ivy that she forgot to suck in her stomach, a potbelly briefly bulging into being beneath her overloaded spanx. 

“The bio-technology start up life is clearly doing wonders for you,” Selina went on, “it doesn’t look like you’re having to cut back anywhere.”

Ivy’s pale green cheeks burned red in anger. What was Selina possibly implying?

“I… and you look...fine,” Ivy decided on saying, trying to find some sort of flaw and failing, “I didn’t really expect you to be here…”

“Oh, Brucie is just letting me take the old megacorp out for a spin,” the rich woman purred, looking down at the massive diamond on her wedding ring before picking up a file from the massive desk her toned derriere was sat upon, “but what about you Pam? I was told you were bringing me a business pitch of some sort. It looks like your little start up, IsleyQuinn is making...diet food.”

Selina looked up from the file, jade green eyes running over every inch of Ivy’s body.

“Seriously Ivy, you’re making diet food?” Selina snorted, “I can’t even believe that.”

“Its… a bit of a step down from trying to save the world I admit,” the redhead admitted, “but a laudable source of funding if you have to exist in a capitalist economy. I can assure you that the food is entirely effective, non habit forming and has no side effects.”

“Ivy, you don’t see the reason why that’s unbelievable?” Catwoman snorted, “I mean...you obviously crammed yourself into that dress this morning, probably using a shoe horn.”

“Just what are you implying?” Ivy asked her, anger in her voice.

“Ivy...you’re fat,” Catwoman giggled.

….

Cassandra’s immensely strong thighs were clenched tight under her hoodie, steel cable muscles standing out through her leggings. Her mouth was hanging open, a thin stream of drool going to her black, Bat symbol hoodie. Usually the vigilante was aware of even the smallest detail around herself but she was so wrapped up in watching Quinn finish her feast that a herd of elephants could have stampeded through the office.

Quinn’s stomach was so swollen that she looked ready to pop. Her skirt’s zipper was down as far as it could get, the button hanging on by a single thread. The blouse buttons across her stomach weren’t in a much better state, diamonds of pale flesh showing through the gaps, and her two jacket buttons looked like a faint breeze might pop them off.

“Oh boy, I might have overdone myself with that third breakfast,” Harley wheezed to herself, patting the temporarily rock hard dome of her gut, fat layer jiggling over the packed pastries, “why’d I eat so much again?”

She was having to take rapid, shallow breaths due to being so full. Due to this an endless earthquake of tit flesh was jiggling around in her bra, Harley’s suddenly ample breasts threatening to pop her top. If she kept this rate of over-eating up she’d need to size up to a DD that afternoon.

“Oh yeah, that’s the reason,” Harley groaned, wiping sweat off her forehead, “all worth it for the extra cups.”

Batgirl’s eyes were following the rising and falling cleavage with such intensity the vigilante was getting a headache. The sheer satisfaction with her gluttony pouring off the ex-villain was threatening to overwhelm the quiet girl. 

“Say, if I kept eating, how soon do you think I’d get an F cup?” the delusional Quinn asked, eyes going over to the cooler she’d lugged all the way from the car.

It would probably be a bad idea for Quinn to eat those muffins.

“Yeah, but like ya said, I’m a fat girl ain’t I?” Harley asked, licking her lips and thinking of the delicious baked goods.

Really, it would be a terrible idea for Harley to eat those muffins.

“But you want me to be so big and lazy and squishy, don’t ya?” Harley asked the invisible narrator, reaching towards the cooler while seams popped in her jacket’s arm pit, “A giant pile of vanilla dough that can’t do anything but stuff her face? With an ass so big I’ll need to hire a guy with a wheel barrow to keep it from dragging on the ground…”

That was biologically improbably and extremely arousing...but eating those muffins would be an awful idea given how full Harley was.

“Full? Please I’ve got plenty of room left?” the stuffed Quinn insisted, slapping the slope of her paunch.

A wince cut across Harley’s face, her sensitive skin screaming in pain at the slap. Her stuffed stomach rippled at the slap and the inevitable happened. Those horribly tight buttons popped off like a machine gun firing.

“Shit!” Harley squealed in surprise.

Batgirl was thirty feet away from Quinn and fully aware of her target. Dodging gunfire at that range was childs play for her, but the adopted Bat-kid was so wrapped up in the overpadded pear in front of her that she didn’t react to the projectiles. A thick, black blouse button smacked Cassandra right beneath her left eye, bringing a yelp of pain from her mouth and involuntary tears to her eyes.

“Shit shit,” Harley stammered, suddenly realizing that she wasn’t alone in the otherwise empty waiting room and had engaged in an embarrassing display of gluttony in front of someone, “Uh, you okay?”

A more than occasional murderer she might have been, but Harley didn’t think of herself as a bad person. Hurting someone on accident, when it wasn’t funny, was terrible in Quinn’s book. And as the heart beats stretched on and the girl didn’t do anything but wipe tears from her eye, her guilt made her squirm more than her lust had.

“Jeesh, laying it on thicker and thicker,” Harley grumbled to the narrator, “hey, you’re fine, right?”

Again the girl didn’t answer and Harley gulped nervously. Ivy had made it clear this was going to be their last shot and that Harley had better not fuck this shot up. She was to say nothing to anyone, do nothing but wait in the waiting room and certainly not blind some random girl waiting in front of Bruce Wayne’s office. Why some college age girl in shorts and a hoody was sitting in such a prestigious place baffled her, maybe it was the secretary’s kid, although the secretary had been black not Asian. Harley risked a look at the desk, eyes widening as she took in the immense framed portrait of the current Wayne Family.

There was that nice hunk Bruce Wayne and good old Selina, who was looking great. But right next to them, amid a small forest of identical looking adopted sons, was a short, muscular Asian girl with close cut hair.

“Oh shit I blinded Bruce Wayne’s daughter,” Harley gulped, trying to come up with some sort of idea to fix this.

….

An outside, omniscient observer could have heard a pin drop in the office.

“Did you…,” Ivy began, green face turning beat red, “did you just call me...fat?”

Selina hadn’t meant to call the redhead fat. But seeing the once svelte Ivy waddle into her room looking like a lime marshmallow was too funny to believe. Ivy’s nymphish facial features had bloated up, making her look dazed and bloated, especially with her red hair up in a bun. Her always large D cups had inflated into melons that looked fit to burst, while her waist was clearly being held in by a girdle or two given Ivy’s frankenstein gait. She couldn’t be sure, but Selina knew her old ‘friend’ had to have put on at least fifty pounds!

“Well, you are a little bit fat,” Selina giggled, “you’ve gone, dare I say it, to seed.”

“I am just a little bit bloated, from the horribly processed food of modern industrial society,” the plump plant woman insisted, rising higher as she spoke, “which the new varieties of fruit I’ve invented will shortly fix once it’s in production. Why, one ‘thin-berry’ muffin will vaccinate the person eating it for years!”

“You’re telling me you’re waddling around like that when you have a choice not to?” Selina laughed, “Why haven’t you eaten your super weight loss foods then?”

“Well...making the fruit has been a little bit difficult and expensive…,” Ivy admitted, metaphorically deflating a little bit, “I’d need some extra cash to get them into a mass production. I’ve been having a bit of trouble keeping them alive…”

“Oh, right. Those marvelous anti-psychotics you had to take to get out of jail,” Selina smiled, idly running one hand across her own lean hip, “it must be so hard for you not really being able to access your powers. I remember you bragging how great it was being able to wrap any plant to your will, how you could control your own metabolism to eat what you wanted and how you could brainwash any man. Tell me Pam, does that sting losing all that?”

Ivy’s face had been getting redder and redder, her eyes getting narrower and narrower as Selina piled on the jabs.

“That seems rather easy for you to say, sitting there like the cat who fell into the cream just because you managed to hide your real identity from the cops and had Batman vouch for you,,” Ivy snarled, the office plants twitching at the botanist’s anger, “tell me, does ‘Brucie’ even know who you really used to be? Does he know about your little roof top affairs with Batman? How much is it worth for him to not know?”

Selina had to stifle a real laugh, both at Ivy’s helpless anger and at how no one seemed to be able to put two and two together.

“Why Ivy, it drives him wild to think he’s gotten himself such an exotic specimen as me,” Selina grinned, stretching her lean body magnificently, “so, how big of a check will you want while you work on your little project? Five hundred thousand? A million? I wouldn’t want you to go hungry and waste away now…”

“I…,” Ivy kept glaring, her need for funds warring with her anger, “surely you want to see my samples…”

“Why, I don’t need them,” Selina shoveled in, patting her slim waist, “why quite the opposite, I’ve been over doing it with the exercise lately and getting a bit thin. The food at high society soirees is terrible. I really envy you, being able to pile weight on without having to care about people worrying how fat you’ve gotten. Especially as your pheromones, which I can smell by the way, couldn’t seduce a desperate virgin.”

The first part was a lie, Catwoman always worried about her weight and worked hard to keep it stable. But Ivy didn’t need to know that fact. Better to let the over-ripe tomato of an ex-supervillain stand there and fume while Selina painstakingly wrote out a check for a cool million.

“Here you go Ivy, we are so looking forward to your results,” Selina purred, “let’s hope you get that weight loss formula fixed before too long.”

The red faced Poison Ivy snatched the check from the near cackling Selina’s hand and waddled out the door.

….

“Shit shit shit,” Harley muttered in a panic, trying to figure out what the hell to do and coming up with nothing.

“Oh you’re a big help,” she muttered upwards, jostling herself up from her chair, rounded and exposed paunch hanging free in the air, “you put me into this you stupid narrator, now tell me how to get out of it!”

Comforting someone she’d hurt wasn’t one of Harley’s strengths. She was good at hurting people...well was good at hurting people. She pulled what remained of her old psychology training out from the musty pages of her memory, recalling that gifts were typically a good way to make up for accidents. 

“Gifts? Her step-dad’s like, richer than China and all I’ve got is some ruined fat girl clothes and some muffins…,” Harley’s eyes darted from the seemingly crying girl to the cooler, a light bulb forming over her head, “Idea!”

Pulling out one of the muffins, Harley waddled over to the muscular girl who was wiping her eye.

“Sorry about that kiddo, you know how it is when you get too chubby for your clothes,” Quinn said, realizing that this girl had so little fat on her she could easily cosplay as Batgirl.

“Weirdly specific reference,” Harley said, stretching out the muffin, “but hey, just...keep this between us, right?”

Thankfully the quiet kid took the muffin without a word, letting Quinn hitch up her ruined skirt and waddle back to her seat, inflated ass cheeks pulling the ruptured garment lower with every step. She’d just about gotten to her seat when Ivy burst back into the waiting room, a check in her hand and fury on her face. Harley had just enough time to pick up the cooler of muffins and hold them across her belly before Ivy got to her.

“Harley, let’s go,” Ivy snapped, nearly crying in anger and grabbing the former clown by her shoulder, dragging her to the elevator by pure will, where she finally noticed her girlfriend was hanging out of her clothes, “what happened to you?”

“I got a little snacky,” Quinn admitted, “hey, you got the check! That’s a lot of zeros!”

“You didn’t eat the muffins did you?” Isley asked, eyes narrowing, “its very important that no one eats those muffins.”

“Uh, no not at all,” Quinn smiled, hoping Bruce Wayne’s daughter counted as no one, “not a single bite. They are all present and accounted for.”

“Good,” Poison Ivy smiled, “because our line of research is going to drastically change and I wouldn’t want my little test subject to be immune to weight gain.”

“Oh good,” Harley smiled, before realizing she was the test subject, “hey what do you mean test subject?”

“I mean that you’re going to be piling on some weight Harley,” Ivy grinned ferally, “and so is that stuck up, soon to not be so skinny bitch Selina.”

…..

Back in the waiting room, Cassandra shrugged. Her eye smarted a little but she was totally unharmed, more unnerved by her own fascination with Quinn’s flabby body and gluttonous behavior. That anyone could enjoy eating so much confused and enticed her, leading the once homeless girl to shove the entire muffin into her mouth to replicate the feat of lust.

She didn’t get that, the muffin was bland and tasteless. But food was food and the tired vigilante swallowed it down and curled up to sleep on her chair, unable to get thoughts of over eating out of her head...

 

[Batman76]

9 hours ago, CyrilFiggus said:

God, that was good.  I can only imagine how confused Cassandra must feel after that display--you did such a great job with how she read Harley.  The back and forth with Ivy and Selina was great, and served as a wonderful catalyst for everything to come.  I see big things to come in Catwoman's future, if the original interactive is anything to go off of.

Thanks! These last twenty pages have all been build up. 

Now for some payoff and then more build up and more pay off and more characters.

[Batman76]

2 minutes ago, >_< 0_0 said:

The narrator trying to tell Harley that she enjoys overeating reminds me SO much of how AI Dungeon stories usually go down 😂 

Nice jab at how all the “Robins” look suspiciously similar.

Also, if the MacGuffin is a muffin, then should it be called a McMuffin? 

It should be, but I'd hate to get sued😅

[Batman76]

Generally just looking here or searching by user name.

 

Here's chapter 4, which is only 16 pages long. Its unfortunately double spaced due to uploading it to Deviant art first but its too long for me too fix.

 

Chapter 4: Tortures and Desperation

 

Harley Quinn's life had had plenty of torture: the endless, knee pounding practices to become an Olympic level gymnast, the pure hell of putting herself through med school, being literally tortured by the Joker into her current somewhat lunatic state and the often horrible therapies at Arkham.

 

But right now, Harley was more afraid than she'd been in her entire life.

 

"No more, no more. I'll do anything, just don't do it again," Harley moaned, vision blurred with sweat and heart pounding in her ears.

 

Her tormentor came forwards, arms quivering under the weight of the torture implement: three gallons of pudding and whipped cream.

 

"Not that, alright, not that," Harley panted, trying to stand up and failing, "damn it why am I stuck?"

 

The stomach sprawled across her thighs was part of her failure. Quinn was familiar with a lot of bloat, even when she'd had steely abs at her best her ravenous appetite had left her with a food baby three or four days a week, one big enough to see through her jester's suit or to make her short shorts unbuttonable. But after a month of being stuffed silly twenty four hours a day, Harley's stomach capacity had soared to frightening heights. On an empty stomach she could take three gallons easy and only be mildly full.

 

But her stomach hadn't been empty in weeks.

 

A gut worthy of a full term pregnancy with extra large triplets surged well past Quinn's naked DD cups. Enough baked goods, snacks and deserts to send a state champ track team to fat camp all summer gurgled within, making thick layers of fat jiggle and quiver. Under that layer of softness it was firmer than her abs had ever been, barely able to take anything more.

 

"See! Listen to the nice pervert narrating!" Harley begged, struggling against her stuffed stomach, "I'm already full, ready to pop even! You wouldn't want that! This isn't that kind of story at all, check the tags!"

 

Her tormentor sat the pudding down next to Harley, turning around to fetch an extra large ladle. Harley took a deep whiff of the delicious lemon pudding, mouth immediately watering. The quasi-anti heroine tried to stand up, undecided if she was going to run away or start eating, but even as she overcame the bulge of her gravid gut the blonde had to contend with the rest of her body.

 

"Come on, my ass ain't that big!" Harley snarled, trying to get the cheap chair off of her balloon buns, the basketballs of her hips wedged tight.

 

Skinny Harley had had a big butt, her glutes massive thanks to two decades of squats and jumps and twirls, while all her snacking had put a nice little fat layer on them to accentuate the bounciness. The muscle and fat ratio had more than switched, the now lazy Quinn's exercise routine of sitting on the couch playing video games making her award winning muscle's atrophy away while her career of over eating had seen the little fat layer thicken with inch after inch of lard. Harley's ass was about as soft and jiggly as the pudding, but not quite as smooth thanks to her ever spreading cellulite patches. Pale fat mushroomed through the spokes of the cheap chair, turning red due to the pressure.

 

"I'm not that fat yet, its only the fourth chapter!" Harley whined, trying to think how much she'd eaten since Ivy had gone deeper off the end and put all of her focus on making the most fattening food possible.

 

How long had it been? A week, a month? Enough for her to beat all of the Dark Souls Games and to go from too fat for any of her nice clothes to too fat for any of her shorts and sweat pants to so wide across the hips she hadn't worn panties for at least a week. And all that time, Ivy had been using her as a guinea pig for treats dosed with increasingly complicated formulas. Long enough that 170lbs seemed absolutely skinny now, what was she at 200lbs of pure butter? Maybe even more?

 

"220lbs isn't that big," Harley gulped as Ivy came back with the ladle, "why'd you have to give us such cheap ass chairs?"

 

"Harley, what are you doing and who are you talking to?" the dryad asked, one red eyebrow arcing, "you know that I've almost got the formula ready, we just need a little more testing."

 

"Um, no one Red just...I'm kinda full right now so how about we split the desert?" Harley asked with a nervous grin.

 

"Me? Eat deserts? Psah, you know I'm on a diet due to that horrible withdrawal bloating from those unnatural Wayne pharmaceuticals," Ivy boasted, licking whipped cream off of her mouth, "a few more days and the last of it will be gone, I don't want to jeopardize those results just because you have a tummy ache!"

 

Since getting a boat load of grant money, Ivy had gone off her legally required meds. Harley didn't see much difference beyond plants starting to stretch more towards their mistress as the drugs made their way out of her system, but her girlfriend wasn't changing much in behavior, be that denying reality or eating anything in front of her. For every pound Harley had gained, Ivy had gained one and a half.

 

Ivy flicked a strand of crimson hair off her shoulder, the hand puffy and the shoulder pillowy. She was wearing an F cup bra about to break apart at the seams, her lime green cleavage overflowing the cups top and bottom, and a "kiss the cook" apron of eco friendly hemp. The apron was two years old, from when they'd tried to kill Bruce Wayne's third adopted son only for Robin and Batgirl to somehow foil them, and fitted for an Ivy with a waspish waist. Love handles poured out the side of it, soft flab drooping over her mostly unchanged hips, and an immensely meaty gut distorted the apron's text. The string was just barely tied in the back, wedged into rolls of back fat and held on mostly by pressure.

 

"Yeah toots, I'm sure you'll be bikini ready by Friday," Quinn observed, sitting down with a sigh and a creak from the overloaded chair, "I've just got one question before we get started."

 

"Go on," Ivy said, spooning a massive mouthful of pudding and cream.

 

"What's with the handcuffs?" Harley asked, rattling the restraints holding her wrists to the furniture.

 

"Harley, you asked for them," Ivy said with a sigh, "Now think about how fat and jiggly and gross Selina will be once I've got my formula perfected..."

 

....

 

Cats are not patient creatures by nature, as anyone who owns one could tell you. Lazy they can be, but they aren't patient when denied what they want.

 

"Come on, come on," the stylish Selina muttered as she paced back and forth in one of the Manor's palatial bathrooms, "give me a plus, give me a plus you stupid piece of plastic."

 

It was early morning, when the Bats were mostly asleep. All of Selina's pleas were mostly directed at the pregnancy test in her hand, the minutes until it cleared passing like centuries for the lingerie clad woman. Externally Catwoman might look like she'd just left a photo shoot, wearing stylish black lace lingerie, but on the inside she was a mess.

 

Another month of screwing around at least once a day had passed since she'd lombasted Ivy and sent the wobbling hybrid off with a million dollar pocket change payment. While Selina had enjoyed her new place at Wayne Enterprises so much that she'd spent every morning there now, she still wasn't pregnant. At her last doctor's visit, the reproductive health specialist had suggested that Selina might want to try fertility treatments. Catwoman loathed that idea, those pills made you a lard ass before pregnancy and she was already frustrated in her appearance.

 

Somehow she'd gained three pounds in the last month, despite not changing her routine or diet at all. It didn't show anywhere on Selina's long, slender body and she blamed it on stress messing with her. But it didn't make her desire to go on pills notorious for weight gain one iota.

 

So when her monthly visitor was six days late she'd started hoping enough to try a test.

 

"Come on a plus, a plus," she insisted, staring at the shape resolving on the stick...a minus, "Damn it."

 

She tossed the thing into the trash, burying it deep to make sure that it didn't get found. Bruce had mentioned esoteric help but damned if Selina was going to let some Justice League magician or super scientist root around in her uterus. She was still Catwoman damn it and if she couldn't get pregnant the easy way...she'd find a way to steal her way into it.

 

Which she already had.

 

"You really want to do this, Cat?" she asked the leggy, svelte woman in the mirror, staring into her green eyes, "is it really smart to jeopardize everything just because you want to do it all on your own?...Of course it is."

 

Silent as a, well as a cat, Selina tip toed from the bathroom and got dressed in the early morning light coming through the window. Selina slid into some casual clothes, popped open her brief case and slid her real work suit into it. Bruce was still asleep, having just returned from a battle with Mr. Freeze the night before. She planted a kiss on his brow and slunk away, knowing that it would be worth it.

 

....

 

Trying to figure out a fetish is difficult.

 

Trying to figure out a fetish when you can't google it due to being mostly illiterate is nightmarish.

 

For Cassandra, the weeks since she'd seen the rotund Harley Quinn eat herself out of her clothes had been a time of sweaty confusion. Attraction was something she found difficult to work with at the best of times, attraction to something specific and weird though? Normally she found it hard to talk, the one time she'd tried to ask someone she felt comfortable around enough to ask she'd gone totally tongue tied. But the thought of overfed, squishy, feminine softness was still filling her mind, to the point that during the last night's fight with Mr. Freeze a mook had almost landed a punch on her.

 

Eating herself hadn't done anything. Cassandra regularly ate six or seven thousand calories a day and burned just as much thanks to her near compulsive training and crime fighting as Batgirl. Adding a few slices of chocolate cake a day to that hadn't even taken the shine off of her eight pack somehow. Not training might have helped but she was loathe to cut back on crime fighting though, her intense desire to save others and perfectionism not allowing Cassandra to let her skill level drop.

 

So, Batgirl had turned to softening other women in her life up.

 

The former assassin was incredibly stealthy, even in a family of stealthy vigilantes. She watched her step-mother like a hawk whenever possible, which made it easy to do things like add real sugar and cream to Selina's coffee instead of skim milk. Or swap out her zero cal dressing with full fat for Catwoman's salad.

 

As much as the little, subtle acts of sabotage had aroused and appeased the quiet vigilante, they weren't paying any visible results beyond making the new Wayne matriarch crankier. Apart from a tiny jiggle in her buns, Selina looked exactly the same. Given Cassandra's narrow social circle, that left only a few other women to feed.

 

Right now, a blonde girl wearing a Black Canaries t-shirt and a pair of purple panties was stretched out on Cassandra's bed. Stephanie Brown, or the Spoiler, was a budding vigilante in her own right, Tim's girlfriend and Cassandra's only friend. She was tall and leggy, with the narrow hips, small breasts and hard muscles typical of a stealth focused vigilante, while her face had an innocent, girl next door gorgeousness to it. Her stomach, normally flat, was swollen into a modest food baby from too much pizza consumed during a post battle girl's night before bed and kept full by a slow, careful drip of whip cream.

 

Batgirl slowly traced the swollen ball of her friend's belly, its turgid dome warm to the touch. Her hand shivered at the sensation, resisting the urge to make a firmer press lest she wake Spoiler up. All of her own splendid muscles were trembling from excitement, making the tiredness of not sleeping the past three hours since coming home vanish.

 

"Ssshup I know all the answers to that test," Stephanie Brown muttered to herself, having a quiet, early morning nightmare.

 

Cassandra withdrew her hand until Stephanie had stopped squirming, then slowly picked up the bottle of whipped cream. She quietly shook the canister, then pressed it to Steph's pink lips. The blonde coed's mouth wrapped around the nozzle, sucking on it as if it were a nipple and smiling faintly.

 

Batgirl's brown eyes widened at the sight, feeling herself grow aroused. Clad similar to Stephanie, her small nipples hardened to see the blonde swallow the decadent cream. She'd liked Steph since she'd met her, the blonde girl was funny and smart and bubbly and pretty, her long blonde hair, easy manner and having appreciable breasts making her catnip to the socialization starved Cassandra. The idea of her friend getting heavier, softer and rounder was driving her crazy. Cass knew she needed to do something about this, that she needed to talk to her mentor Barbara, the original Batgirl, to get these feelings out in the open before she exploded herself...

 

The groan of a door shook Batgirl from her focus. Doors shouldn't be opening in the manor this time of day, something had to be up and that something had to be Catwoman. Cass slid to her feet without a sound, silently opening the door to her bedroom and peeking out to see Selina going down the stairs at the end of the long hallway. Irritation and secrecy raidated off Selina's hunched shoulders, making Cass even more suspicious.

 

Cassandra glared. Catwoman was up to something, she had to be to be heading out at dawn. Fascinated with fattening her step mom up she might be, but Cass didn't trust the ex villain despite Selina and her adoptive father being so evidently in love. And she was going to prove why...

 

....

 

"Please, please, no more," Harley whined as the spoon was pulled from her mouth, "Red, I'm gonna pop."

 

Before, Harley had been an overfed fat girl tied to a chair. Now she was an immensely overfed fat girl about to pop and tied to a chair. She was sweating buckets and almost hyperventilating, her near E cup breasts bouncing hard enough to put her back out if she was standing. Once just large, her stomach was a turgid balloon sprawled across her lap, deep and angry rumblings coming from it. A new stretch mark was coming into being around the badly stretched skin, the clown looking ready to explode.

 

"Fuck yes I look ready to pop," Harley gasped, "please Ivy, please, let me up..."

 

Poison Ivy glared at her and then at the pudding, a third of which was still left.

 

"This should give you uncontrollable appetite and a near bottomless stomach," Ivy hissed, "the formula isn't perfected yet. Damn, how am I going to get Selina and all those superheroines with their perfect bodies fat?"

 

"Ugh, I don't know Red but could I have a belly rub please? My tummy's feeling like there's a blender on in there," Quinn gasped.

 

"Fine, but let me toss this pudding first," Ivy said with a defeated sigh, looking at the pudding with a fat girl's desire, "the thing is so tempting and I'm on a diet."

 

"Hey, waste not want not. Food waste isn't eco friendly is it?" Harley asked her, seeing an opportunity for her own kink, "besides, you're looking bony Red, you know I like a girl with some curves. I think you've lost a couple pounds too much. Why don't you kill two birds with one stone? Pour that puddin over me and then lick it off, it'll feel great on my skin..."

 

Harley didn't expect that to actually work.

 

"Hmmm," Ivy thought, her vanity and gluttony warring for a minute before deciding to compromise, "I suppose I have been looking a little thin lately. I'd hate to conform too much to corporate beauty standards, I need to stay at least 110 lbs."

 

The morbidly obese dryad hefted the large bowl up with a grunt, waddling over towards Quinn with it.

 

"Oh thank you narrator," Quinn smiled.

 

...

 

6 am isn't the best time to rob a museum. You might actually be seen in the early morning light by some curator getting to work early. And then would come 911 calls and police and chases and an awkward conversation with your billionaire husband.

 

"In and out in five minutes, no problems," Selina promised herself atop the Gotham City History Museum.

 

She'd been breaking into this museum since she was a teenager, she knew all of the security measures forwards and backwards. A scrambler on the security system and cameras, picking the lock on the skylight and a rope down to the exhibit of her choice: the gem of Hera.

 

"This is crazy and desperate and stupid," Selina hissed to herself as she slid down towards the Amazonian artifact, "but its a crazy and stupid world."

 

She'd seen the artifact few months before, when she'd been serving as Bruce's replacement during a gala. Then she hadn't given the strange little gem so much as a second thought, but as her infertility became more and more apparent, Selina's thoughts had turned to the object more and more. Specifically it had turned to the description on the display, that the gem had been loaned to Gotham city by the Amazons of Themyscira and any woman who possessed the gem would be quickly become the perfect mother.

 

"One Cat-Bat baby coming up," Selina smiled while deftly picking the lock of the display, sliding out the tiny emerald and replacing it with one taken from her own jewelry.

 

So satisfied was the jewel thief that she didn't even look at the second paragraph of the display, which claimed that the Gods of Olympus were overly fond of very literal punishments.

 

Selina slotted the gem into her own belly button ring. Immediately her stress seemed to vanish, her mood becoming gentler and happier. She'd go home and soon she and Bruce would have a little one of their own to love and cherish. Selina thought of bringing their surely adorable little baby to visit her husband at the office...

 

"No, wait. Its my office, what am I thinking," Catwoman shook her head, scrambling up the rope to the roof easily, "if this thing works then I'll have to get used to not being able to do that again."

 

She was realizing she should have said "For a while" when she heard a throat clear behind her.

 

"Selina," rasped across the museum roof, Catwoman turning to find her least favorite Bat waiting atop a gargoyle.

 

Cassandra was in her frightening get up, a tight suit of black armor with a full mask, its mouth crudely stitched up into a nightmare grin. The tight armor showed her step daughter's jacked muscles, making the girl seem even more dangerous. Selina had seen, and felt, the girl fight before and knew how dangerous a fighter she was.

 

She'd have to plan this fight well if she expected to triumph against Cassandra...her step-daughter...her precious...delightful...step daughter...

 

"Cassandra, dearie," Selina found her voice saying, voice dripping with sympathy, "Baby are you feeling alright? What are you even doing awake at this hour you poor thing? Oh look at you, you're positively wasting away..."

 

....

 

Ivy supposed that a little cheat day wasn't going to hurt her.

 

After all, what was a mere gallon of lemon pudding? Fourish thousand calories before one got to the special ingredients Ivy had mixed in? Practically nothing, she'd been so strict with her diet lately, having not had a cheat day since the quart of ice cream she'd chowed down on as a midnight snack six hours ago.

 

And she'd been exercising so hard recently baking all of this food and going to the store to get ingredients, walking three or even four thousand steps a day. Why Ivy's black Gotham U sweats were practically ripping off of all of the muscle mass she'd piled on recently. No wonder she couldn't get back to her old 110lbs with all of this unsightly bulk weighing her down. Really she needed to eat more, as the avatar of feminine Gaia she couldn't look bony or masculine.

 

"And I thought I was crazy," Harley giggled as the pudding poured across her breasts, spilling down her gut and thighs as a tide of cold delight, "don't forget the whipped cream Red!"

 

Ivy grabbed the horribly un-ecofriendly cannisters, spraying Harley with them and then tossing them aside. Her girlfriend was a big pile of delicious flab and the increasingly hungry and horny Ivy wasn't exactly practiced with self restraint, pausing only to undo her undersized apron and bra. She started high, bending to kiss speck of whipped cream of Harley's lips, her own over round stomach and pendulous honkers smacking into Harley's desert covered curves.

 

Ivy followed the curve of Harley's double chin, nibbling and sucking the calorie heavy goop off of her girlfriend's soft skin. She licked it from the hollows of her collar bone, the one place Harley hadn't gained weight, and the folds of her extra flabby biceps. Ivy's face went down the slopes of Harley's almost disturbingly pert DDs, the probing of her tongue making the hand cuffed blonde moan with pleasure before she hit the nipples. She spent some extra time there, making the sticky jester writhe and moan while getting some of the lemon flavored desert onto her own considerable curves. The apple shaped dryad finally went lower, gently licking and tickling the rockhard dome of Quinn's usually squishy stomach.

 

"Oh dammit but your are good with that tongue," Harley cooed, while Ivy slowly dragged her own paunch across Quinn's puffy knees to get at her thighs, feeling herself get fuller and slower.

 

A small lake of desert was gathered in the crevice of Quinn's jumbo thighs. Ivy slurped up the delicious yellow slime, Harley opening her legs to reveal a sopping wet pussy covered with sugary desert. Ivy was on her knees at that point, her arms holding up Harley's heavy, churning gut, while her own sagging belly and pendulous breasts hung down. Due to her minimal muscle mass, the plant hybrid's limbs were already trembling by the time she got to her girlfriend's clit. Luckily Harley was about to burst in more than one way, coming hard and fast as an earthquake, her thick, warm legs wrapping tight around Ivy's head and not giving her an option to pull back.

 

"Keep going, keep going, pop me like a grape you big green bitch!" Quinn gasped, wishing she could touch her nipples, "eat me like you eat ice cream!"

 

Ivy had plenty of access to her own nipples, one set of plump fingers almost involuntarily squeezing her breast while the other was hastily jammed to her own bud. The pair's plentiful house plants started to twitch in rhythm with Ivy's pleasure, their leaves darkening and stems growing. Ivy's green tinged skin, mistakeable for a minor stomach queasiness after the drugs, began to darken, going from lime juice to spring grass, while flowers started to appear in her hair.

 

Harley finished coming, muscles slack and body completely spent. All she could focus on was trying to breathe and uncross her eyes, sleep beckoning the exhausted woman into its warm embrace but soon felt a heavy weight pull itself onto her lap and a semi-soft bulge press into her sticky gut. She got her eyes uncrossed and saw Ivy, panting and trembling, spraying whipped cream onto her own pussy, having to lift up her bulging gut to do so.

 

"How lazy can you be?" the hybrid gasped, "you sit there while I do all the work and then start falling to sleep when its my turn?"

 

"Ooof, Red just drag me to bed and I'll get right on it," Harley whimpered, eyes bulging in alarm as Ivy crawled onto what little free space there was on her lap, semi-turgid gut slapping into Quinn's stuffed one, "Ivy, wait, don't this chair can't take it!"

 

"Please, this chair can easily take three hundred and fifty pounds. I'm a little bloated but I can't be more than 115lbs so there's plenty of safety margin," Ivy muttered, trying to get her heavy, bloated body up the slippery, sticky slope of Harley's body, "now shut up and eat! I'm wet as the rain forest in monsoon season and need to go!"

 

Ivy's small feet were jammed under Harley's doughy hips and the once graceful dryad ignored both cramps in her thighs and groans from the chair to shove her throbbing clit into her girlfriend's face. Harley ate as ordered, looking up at the under side of the gut resting on her forehead and hoping Ivy fell back when the inevitable happened. She didn't wait long, Ivy began to bounce up and down as she came and all four legs collapsed.

 

Quinn managed to not bite down as she fell but still groaned, sore from head to toe and with two hundred pounds of orgasming Poison Ivy collapsed across her face. Her girlfriend didn't seem to notice the fall, the stuffed redhead twitching and squirming head to toe for several minutes and only rolling off just before Quinn died of asphyxiation.

 

The obese pair of no longer quite reformed criminals lay panting on the floor for long minutes, out of shape bodies failing to regain their breathes after such strenuous exercise. The house plants had tripled in size, their leaves pulsing with Ivy's after shocks.

 

"Pretty good puddin," Harley muttered, "you're coming harder and harder now that you're off those pills..."

 

"Damnable pills," Ivy grunted, annoyed at being awake, "I hate those damn things, they made me so bloated and...Quinn that's it! The missing ingredient was in front of me all along!"

 

....

 

Batgirl might be unable to read text but she could read body language easier than eating pie.

 

When she'd seen Selina earlier at the manor, her step-mother had radiated irritation and secrecy. Those emotions from Catwoman hadn't changed after Cassandra had tailed her to the art museum, save for anger being added to the mix when Batgirl had announced herself. The young assassin had expected all that, fighting was her first language after all, and she knew that Catwoman was about to go for her whip with her right hand and throw some caltrops with her left.

 

Batgirl was just about to leap over the whip lash and plant a kick into Selina's solar plexus, when the older woman's body language suddenly changed. Her tense shoulders relaxed, her flexed leg muscles eased, she stood up straight from her fighting pose and her narrowed eyes took on a kindly openness. The secretiveness, irritation and dislike that Catwoman always showed towards her evaporated, replaced by a deep, bottomless love mixed with matronly worry.

 

"Cassandra, dearie," Selina, voice sugar sweet, "Baby are you feeling alright? What are you even doing awake at this hour you poor thing? Oh look at you, you're positively wasting away. Have you even eaten breakfast yet?"

 

"...No?" Cassandra managed, the word harder than normal due to her confusion.

 

This wasn't what Batgirl had expected, for once she was thrown for a loop, standing frozen as the leather clad woman with a model's body wrapped her in a hug worthy of a kindergarten teacher. Cassandra found her face pressed tight between Selina's fake C cups, the saline breasts warm and soft as a pillow. Confusion and arousal warred in the bisexual girl's head, only growing when Selina started stroking her back.

 

"Oh you poor thing! Your nothing but skin and bones, let's get you out of that horrible costume, off these dangerous streets and back to the manor," Selina cooed, "I'm going to cook you a big breakfast of eggs and bacon and pancakes and waffles and crepes and hashbrowns and sausage, just what a growing girl like you needs!"

[Batman76]

1 hour ago, >_< 0_0 said:

There’s so much brilliant stuff going on all at once! Ivy and Harley trying to perfect a weight gain formula (“It’s not that kind of story! Check the tabs!” 😂😂🤣🤣😵), the epiphany of how Ivy realizes the missing ingredient, the way ALL of them are slowly returning to their old ways...

Then there’s Cassandra thrown in, who doesn’t even know what’s going on around her or more importantly with herself.

So much weight gain factors! Ivy and Harley have stuffing fetishes, Catwoman is matronly, Cassandra is secretly feeding every woman she can find, Ivy’s making a weight gain formula, and the pills have side effects! This plots about to explode.

I'm going to shove a lot of kinks into this.

[Batman76]

2 hours ago, CyrilFiggus said:

So many beautiful things in this chapter: Ivy's deep, deep denial; Harley's reverse psychology on Ivy; Catwoman's accidentally cursing herself (with something that gives us an in with Wonder Woman, no less!); Cassandra's rebirth as a master feeder.  This was fantastic, and like Harley said, it's still only Chapter 4!

I plan on ivy bring in denial well after she's to big to physically stand up. And yeah, that's an in on wonder woman. I'm going to let this spread out after a couple more chapters...

[Batman76]

Oh yes, I do love making fit Amazons get soft and thick...

[Batman76]

37 minutes ago, CyrilFiggus said:

Nothing better than making the greatest warriors wide and wobbly!

Also, I was wondering something--will we see any heroes or villains that haven't been/played minor roles in your previous stories? Ladies like Vixen, Hawkgirl, or others that don't get nearly enough love.

Yes, to a degree in both of those two at least cameo wise. I've got firm plans for Lois lane, Artemis and several others. I might expand more the more comic I read during the shut down

[Batman76]

Oh god this is getting so long.

 

Chapter 5: Mother Knows Best

 

Atop the art museum, Cassandra found herself nodding along with Catwoman's suddenly kind words, surprised at herself.

 

It wasn't that Catwoman had been a criminal supervillain, Batgirl herself had been an involuntary assassin. But that Selina, through harsh words and sharper body language, radiated disdain, judgement and superiority. She was manipulative and selfish, enough to seemingly wrap Batman himself around her sharp nailed fingers. She might actually love Cass' adopted father, her body language and the occasional scream leaving the sound tight bedroom suggested it, but to Cassandra's view, Selina loved him like a possession and viewed Batgirl and her adopted siblings as distractions best removed.

 

But despite knowing a hundred different ways to break free of Catwoman's hug, the lethal vigilante let all of her steely muscles relax. Being raised by an abusive assassin without language had left Cass with more than just a speech impediment and a lot of scars, she was incredibly affection starved. And Selina's hug was so warm, so open, so comforting that the surprised Batgirl found her eyes moistening inside her mask, overcome with soppy emotion.

 

The shapely breasts pressing into her face didn't hurt either.

 

"There there, baby," Selina purred, "Momma's here. Let's get you home, put some breakfast into you and get you to bed. Do you want to hold my hand on the way back?"

 

Batgirl, terror of Gotham's underworld and the most dangerous person on earth without a meta-gene, found herself nodding. Hand in hand, Selina lead off the side of the museum via a fire escape and down to the parked Rolls Royce. Before she knew it, Cassandra was back in her room and changing into leggings and a crop top next to a snoring Stephanie. The quiet girl was nervous, something was certainly up with Catwoman, but all the motherly affection was overwhelming her to the point that she only spent a minute or two staring at Stephanie's considerable food baby before silently padding down stairs.

 

The manor was massive but downstairs Cass' sensitive nose picked up the smell of food frying. She followed it to one of the manor's many kitchens, entering to find a smorgashboard of fried breakfast food sizzling on three different stoves. Selina was even then flipping flap jacks with expert skill, piling a tall stack of fluffy pancakes onto a plate. She'd changed from her skin tight Catwoman suit, but not into something comfortable like Batgirl had. Instead Selina was wearing one of her stylish black dresses under an apron, a set of high heels and even pearls!

 

"Almost ready, but you can start on the pancakes sweety!" Selina said cheerfully, eyes widening in shock as she took the girl in, "Oh no no no, this won't do! Just look at your stomach girl!"

 

"My stomach?" she asked, looking down as Selina hurried over.

 

Cassandra might be increasingly obsessed with feminine softness but she was proud of her hard earned musculature. A perfectionist by nature she wanted to be as strong as possible. Batgirl might only weigh 130lbs but every ounce of it was rippling muscle, which was reflected best by her intimidating eight pack. Selina gently touched the steely abs, seemingly afraid she might injure the tough girl who owned them.

 

"Oh you're even thinner than I thought, you poor thing! Its a wonder you can even stand up you look so weak!" Selina cooed, hurrying Batgirl over to a chair, "I hope you can forgive me for letting you get so thin!"

 

In moments there was a large plate piled with greasy breakfast food in front of Cassandra: biscuits and gravy, toast and jam, sausage links, sausage patties, bacon, fried eggs, cinnamon rolls, hashbrowns, a stack of pancakes topped with syrup and butter and three waffles groaning under fruit topping and whipped cream. Batgirl was a big eater, her active life style and muscles needing the calories, but this would be a big meal even for her. Especially considering how Selina was sitting down enough more and more food on platters.

 

"Dig in dear, please you look like you'll blow away!" Selina smiled, filling up a plate of her own with artery clogging, thigh thickening fare and putting an entire cinnamon roll into her own mouth.

 

The younger woman was still confused. Catwoman was immensely vain yet now she was filling up a plate with whole food groups she'd refused to previously touch. What was going on? Even if she ate herself sick there was enough breakfast for three people here!

 

"Oh, I know what's happening here, momma can tell what her baby girl wants" Selina said, sugary frosting on her grinning lips, "alright, but just this once. You're getting to be a big girl after all and you'll have to feed yourself once your new baby brother or sister gets here."

 

"What?" Cass managed before Selina filled a fork with sausage and hashbrowns.

 

"Open the tunnel, here comes the choo-choo!" Catwoman smiled, gently plunging the fork into Batgirl's open mouth.

 

Cass' eyes closed, the food was surprisingly delicious. When had Selina learned to cook so well? She chewed and swallowed, opening her mouth again with a smile to receive more food and yet more. Bite by bite her plate emptied and soon her stomach began to feel full, the rippling muscle almost bulging. She found herself breathing harder than she would after a five mile run in mid summer.

 

"I hope its satisfactory my dear little Cassie, I'm sorry that there was so little time to make it, tomorrow I'll have a lot more ready for you," Selina promised, "now let me polish off my plate and I'll get you some another helping!"

 

....

 

Stephanie Brown woke up on an extremely comfy bed to a sunrise beaming through the window.

 

"Yawn, oh my god this bed is so soft. Wait a minute this isn't my bed and this isn't my apartment," the purple loving chatter box said to herself, "I'm at the manor, why am I at the manor? Okay this isn't Tim's room, Tim's out of town all week. Which is a shame as I'd really enjoy getting laid...and oh god why did I say that out loud?"

 

Fortunately there was no one to hear her, the blonde vigilante being completely alone. It took a second for the fuzz of sleep to wear off and her to recognize the Bruce Lee and Ballet posters of Cass' room. She stood up and stretched, her body feeling stiff and awkward.

 

"Okay, must have had a girl's night with my bestie. My quiet, too serious, all muscled on the outside and silly on the inside besty who needs to lighten up and maybe have a nice little drunk make out session or two with me and," Steph began, seeing the stacks of pizza boxes from the night before at the same time she noticed her considerably bloated stomach, "really needs to stop helping me pig out. I've put on like five pounds since the school year started and my costume's already getting tight and I'm never gonna get abs if I keep this up. Unlike her I don't have a billionaire step-dad so I can't sleep until noon and work out all day, I've gotta balance vigilantism with being a college student and oh shit I've got Dr. Gordon's class at 8:45 and it takes an hour to get from the manor to college when the traffic isn't bad and she doesn't take the excuse of "I was fighting crime all night" just because she could do it when she was in college but she's like a genius and..."

 

Trailing run on sentences and almost tripping over a whipped cream canister, Stephanie hurried into Cassandra's attached bathroom which was nearly the size of her entire apartment. She got a good look at herself in the mirror upon starting the shower, eyes bulging to see the size of her food baby.

 

"Oof, maybe skip having a breakfast bar, girl. You look like you found the freshman 15 overnight," the 19 year old winced, "really wearing skinny jeans over last night was a bad idea. You haven't had a bloat this bad since you found out you were lactose intolerant."

 

Stephanie traced the unhappy bulge while the shower warmed up, feeling the bloat gurgle. It looked so strange to have a bulging gut on her otherwise skinny body. If she sucked in she looked normal, a skinny bean pole with small B cups and slim muscles, but if she stuck it out the bulge extended enough to make her t shirt ride up past her belly button!

 

"Better be careful Spoiler," the blonde warned herself, pulling off her clothes and laying them aside, revealing her long, mostly slim body with its lean runner's muscles and girl next door curves, "You're gonna have a tummy like this for real if you don't watch it! Not that there's anything wrong with being a little chubby of course but I wanna keep my fat girl genetics in check until I hit thirty if I can."

 

The shower's blasts of steaming hot water felt incredibly good, especially on her swollen stomach. It was comfortable, relaxing and sensual for the blonde chatterbox, making her not talk for several minutes. Fortunately it also helped her bloating go down quite a bit so a few minutes later she was able to just get her size 2 skinny jeans closed without popping the button. Her belly was still visibly distended but she stole one of Cassandra's jackets, what were friends for otherwise right?, and hurried down stairs. She was almost at the door when she smelled coffee, the tired teen almost physically dragged towards the nearest kitchen by the scent.

 

"Can't fall asleep in class or driving in can I?" she asked herself, "just going to grab a cup and go and what the hell is going on here? Cass, are you okay?"

 

Cassandra was collapsed in a chair at the kitchen table, muscular arms hanging off the sides. A ring of grease was around her lips and low moan emitting from her mouth. Her enviably shredded midsection was far more bloated than Stephanie's temporary bulge, a set of food twins that had pushed Batgirl's leggings down and her shirt up. Cass' belly button had popped out and in her slumped position it was even with the surface of the table. Her eyes were rolled back into her head...and for some reason her nipples were visibly erect through her shirt.

 

She looked kinda cute really.

 

"Steph...run...," Batgirl moaned, before a hand suddenly rested on Stephanie's shoulder.

 

"Oh Stephanie dear I had no idea that you'd stayed the night!" a soft, motherly voice cooed, "You must think I'm a terrible hostess, please sit down and have a bite, those jeans are falling off of you!"

 

Stephanie almost recognized the voice, turning around slowly her hand bumped into a bulging stomach and she was eye to eye with who it was attached to: Selina Kyle.

 

"C-catwoman?" Stephanie managed, at a loss for words for once in her life.

 

Steph wasn't on unfamiliar terms with Selina. Catwoman had helped her out a bit at the start of her not-always so super vigilante career and while Selina had been on the opposite side of the law Stephanie preferred to be, she did admire the world's greatest thief. Steph might be able to kick butt, but she was a sweet girl and a people pleaser at heart who wore her emotions on her sleeve. Catwoman though, was cold and manipulative and sexy and badass, Steph might not want to be her but could sure as heck admire someone able to wrap Batman around her finger. And having a fitter body in her 30s than Steph could get at 19 didn't hurt the bicurious girl's admiration.

 

"Oh, call me Selina, please Stephanie. Those cape names are for the younger crowd," Selina smiled, leading Stephanie towards the table, setting a huge mug of creamy coffee in front of the blonde, "let's get you breakfast and you can talk to me all about your plans with my dear Timothy. I hope Robin is treating you like a lady!"

 

Steph was more than a little poleaxed by the sudden change in her once mentor. Catwoman was dolled up like a pinup of a 50s housewife, with heels and pearls, looking completely soft and domesticated.

 

And she had an immense food baby stretching out her sexy black dress to the very brim. She looked pregnant, her turgid gut stretching out far past her boobs. Steph realized she still had a hand on the dome, which was warm through the thin black fabric. So distracted was she, that Steph seemed to teleport into a chair, a plate of greasy breakfast fare.

 

"Plans?" the girl asked, as stunned as any 19 year old suddenly asked about plans with their significant other.

 

"Oh yes dear, you've been dating nearly two years. Has he put a ring on your finger yet? He better or he'll get a peace of my mind!" Selina smiled, "now get started eating while I get us some more food, we can't have a good conversation on just this little snack!"

 

Steph looked from the plate, which seemed large enough to put her straight into her period sweat pants, over to Selina trying to fit an apron's string around the sphere of her belly and over to her half conscious best friend.

 

"Cass, what's going on?" Stephanie whispered, trying to ignore the mouth watering aroma from her plate and the button already pinching into her stomach, "She's gone all June Cleaver on us!"

 

"Help me," Cass muttered, slumping ever lower in her chair, "can't...sit up..."

 

That put fear in her. Brown had seen her friend keep fighting after getting shot through the shoulder before, how full was she? Before Stephanie could say anything else, Catwoman sat a vast stack of waffles in front of her. Spoiler loved waffles, they were her favorite breakfast, lunch and dinner food, mouth watering golden waffers that were the main reason she'd never been able to get abs. She'd been skipping them lately in a vain effort to drop the five pounds she'd gained so mysteriously over the last few weeks and that made them smell extra delicious.

 

"Eat up sweety!" Selina cooed, sitting across from her and putting her own heavily laden plate down, "a girl as busy as you needs to stay well fed!"

 

"I'm, well I'm pretty full," Steph said, trying not to drool over the delicious waffles.

 

"Well then, dear, let's talk. How about a summer wedding for you two?" Catwoman smiled with a cheshire grin, through a mouthful of bacon, "you'll look so delightful in white!"

 

"Um," Stephanie panicked, going for the pile of waffles as fast as she could.

 

They tasted heavenly and the blonde was soon chowing down in earnest on the delicious waffles, ignoring the pressure at her waist until she had to finally had to undo her button.

 

....

 

An hour later and Selina was happily humming to herself as she scrubbed dishes clean, Cassandra and Stephanie having stumbled off in each other's arms.

 

The kitchen was already completely spotless, with no evidence of the great feast that had just occurred there. Even though she was having to stand sideways next to the sink due to her enormous food baby. Her spherical belly was so full of food that her knees were buckling under the weight and she'd had to undo the zipper to stop it from ripping off. Selina's feline instincts told her to go curl up in a sunbeam and nap but she figured that learning to do house work while heavily pregnant wold be good.

 

"After all I'm probably going to be spending the next decade pregnant," Selina cooed to herself, rubbing her stomach with slightly dishpanned hands, "no more running up buildings or sashaying around when I've got five or six little ones to watch after. And I'll never be able to parkour again with my big baby belly and my mommy hips having grown in nice and wide and what the living fuck is going on?"

 

The matronly haze around Catwoman's coldly manipulative mind faded away, her normal personality snapping back into control. She stumbled against the counter, barely believing that this gigantic ball attached to her waistline was her actual stomach. Calculations about how many days of exercising it would take to work this feast off shot through the thief's mind.

 

"What am I doing? I'd never eat like that!" the figure conscious Selina snapped, "what the hell is happening to me? I'm Catwoman, I don't feed my step daughter a big breakfast which a growing girl like her needs if she's going to get the cuddly figure a girl her age should have and what the fuck is wrong with me?"

 

Selina's heart was pounding with confusion and terror. Her very sense of self was teetering on the edge. What had caused this? Was she sick, insane? Was it...

 

'That jewel!" she hissed, pulling at her skirt to get to her stomach, wincing to see feel the fabric go over her tender skin and glaring when she saw the emerald gleaming on her popped belly button, catching the light as if it was glowing, "damn Amazon magical curses, how crazy was I to think I needed that sort of help? I better take off this stupid thing."

 

Her nimble fingers went to the piercing, easily plucking the gem out out. She held it up, glaring at the little rock and wishing all the pain and effort of her now more than necessary workouts into the emerald. In response the stone of Hera seemed to glow all the brighter.

 

"At least I got this out before anything permanent happened to me," Catwoman sighed, only for the little rock to glow painfully bright and then disappear in a flash of light.

 

Her stuffed stomach gave a gurgle before suddenly collapsing, shrinking in on itself to almost normal. A warm feeling suffused Selina's body from head to toe, like she'd fallen into a hot bath. Her bra grew tighter, artificial Cs transforming into very real Ds. The width of her thigh gap narrowed, soft new flesh almost touching. The muscle definition of her biceps and calves faded, a slight chubbiness forming on her limbs. Her stomach was no longer perfectly flat, a little ring of softness around the rim of her panties. Two cracks sounded, Selina's pelvis widened out by an inch and then her slim hips suddenly grew rounder with another layer of soft fat. Already snug panties grew incredibly tight, expanding buns gobbling them up.

 

Selina gaped down at herself, glaring at ten pounds of fat that had appeared on her body in impossible seconds.

 

"Fuck no, what did that do!? Fucking thing made me fat! It's gonna take weeks to lose this flab, God I can't even let Bruce see me until then! Fuck!" she hissed, only for her anger to suddenly dissipate, sneer turning into a passive smile on a suddenly blushing face, "Oh drat, look at me cursing again. Why I have to be a good role model, I better set up a swear jar, unless I start swearing in front of my b**s! Speaking of, I better get on conceiving them..."

 

She dried her hands and sashayed from the kitchen, heading towards the master bedroom at a sedate pace, feeling her nipples harden and vulva moisten. She felt immensely horny, horny as a school girl and knew she had to be ovulating mightily. The slightly softened Catwoman padded silently into the master bedroom, finding the scarred, muscular form of her husband still asleep as expected. Selina slid her stretched dress off, following it with her underwear and then pressed her lips to his.

 

Batman awoke with a start, twenty years of ninja training kicking in but relaxed when he saw the outline of his wife in front of him.

 

"Selina, what's wrong? Is there an emergency?" the tired vigilante asked, thoughts of costumed villains attacking his city going through his sleepy imagination, "has the Joker broken out of Arkham again?"

 

"No, the only emergency, love," Selina smiled, sliding into bed next to him, her soft curves pressing into his muscles, "is that I'm very ready for you to put a baby into me..."

 

....

 

"Cass, can you kill me?" Stephanie begged as the two stumbled back into Batgirl's room, arms over each other's shoulders, "I'd rather you do it than Dr. Gordon. Ugh, she won't take being too full as a reason to skip class."

 

"No," the technical pacifist moaned, "too full."

 

The two young vigilantes entered the bedroom significantly behind their food swollen stomachs, bellies dominating their normally svelte frames. Cass' tank top was pushed up to her breasts and her leggings were hanging off her her narrow hips. Steph fared no better: her jacket was undone, totally unzippable past the new bulge of her gut, and her unzipped jeans had fallen past her hips to reveal her butt.

 

The two flopped gently onto Cass' bed, exhaustion and over fullness dragging them towards sleep. Stephanie let out a little moan, fears of her fat girl genetics activating flitting through budding nightmares, while Cassandra smiled, feeling warm and safe and rather...aroused. She rolled over slightly, letting her own inflated belly press against Steph's. It shot a spark of comforting desire through the drowsy girl, making her picture her blonde friend growing from slender and fast to fat, heavy and slow...

 

Until a kick of indigestion made both of their eyes snap open at once.

 

"Oh god, where's the medicine cabinet in this place? I need pepto," Stephanie moaned, gently rubbing her enormous stomach, "I need pepto or I'm gonna die."

 

"Downstairs," Cass moaned, rubbing the dome of abs stretched over packed food.

 

"Ugh, that's way too far, its like five miles just to get too the stairs, I can barely walk," the blonde moaned, eyes going towards the nearby restroom, "hey, the shower felt pretty good earlier. Let's try that, you go first."

 

For a second the quiet girl was well, quiet, possibilities running through her mind, "Together."

 

By force of will Cass dragged herself up, pulling Stephanie after her into the bathroom. Batgirl started the shower while the blonde tried to talk.

 

"Hey girl, I love you like a sister and all but are you sure you wanna get all naked in the shower together like this?" Steph asked nervously, "Really two best girl friends start showering together and then people start thinking funny thoughts about them cause that could go somewhere and God but your chest is just jacked."

 

She watched her friend expose her small, muscular breasts, nipples fully erect and then slide down her leggings. The contrast between hard, lean limbs and growling, swollen stomach was extreme and strangely to Steph seemed extremely alluring.

 

"Coming?" her friend asked, stepping into the shower.

 

"Uh one sec," Steph breathed, pulling off her pants as the shower door steamed up, muttering to herself, "its not cheating on your boyfriend, you're just taking a naked shower with his hot sister. Not like anything is going to happen, is it? Maybe if I was a little bit tipsy but I'm not, am I? Its not like this is sexual at all, so its no problem at all to get into the shower with my cute friend."

 

She stepped into the shower, steam billowing outwards. The water was almost too hot to stand, but it felt perfect when it hit the pale skin of the blonde's bloated belly. She let out a soft sigh of relief, until she realized her stomach had bumped into Cass' own belly. Both stood with their backs to a wall, touching bellies being hit with the steamy water.

 

"There's a little more of us than normal, huh?" Steph asked nervously, before noticing that Cass was staring very intently at her chest, the pink nipples of her Steph's breasts hardening at the attention, "I've had a little growth spurt lately...do you want to touch them?"

 

The blonde couldn't believe she'd asked that, but the ex-assassin's scarred hands were immediately on Steph's chest. Cass cupped the breasts gently, barely putting pressure on them but making Spoiler's blue eyes close tight in arousal. Steph licked her lips, feeling her slim thighs tremble.

 

"You know, your mom must have put some bailey's into the coffee this morning because I'm feeling kinda tipsy," the chatterbox vigilante lied, "so uh, wanna make out?"

 

....

 

"Hey Red, I had a thought," Harley yelled from the couch of their shared apartment, pausing her latest video game and laying the controller onto a broad, pale thigh.

 

"Yes, Harley?" the top heavy botanist yelled from her lab/kitchen, an almost complete formula in front of her, "I'm in a tricky process here."

 

"You're working really hard on this weight gain formula to fatten up Selina and all those super heroines but, and bear with me here, what if they started gaining weight from other causes first? There's a lot of weird technology and magic out there and what if it was making people fat first? Wouldn't that have weird effects when they mixed? I mean, we got fat without your formula after all."

 

"First of all, I'm not fat, I'm just a little bloated," Ivy insisted, pulling her over tight shirt down over her stomach only for it to ride right back up, "and secondly that's entirely preposterous. What sort of world do you think this is?"

 

Harley shrugged, risking a glance at the ceiling, "Hey, I'm not the one writing it, weirdo."

[Batman76]

7 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

Sweet, matronly, motherly Catwoman was something I  ever knew I needed 🥰 and apparently Cassandra thinks the same way — she was no match for the power of cuddles! 
 

And that epic foreshadowing at the end! I thought this story would grow at a geometric rate... but my gut tells me it’s going to be exponential 😱

Yes, I love having her whip saw between cold femme fatale and soft, nurturing mom on a dime. It'll surely make Cassandra double up her secret feeding routine too.

 

3 hours ago, CyrilFiggus said:

Oh my god, June Cleaver Catwoman was hilarious, especially when she started switching back and forth between personas.  That's going to be a lot of fun as she grows bigger, I can already tell.

And chatterbox Steph was adorable!  I loved the chemistry between her and Cass, and I'm looking forward to where they go from here.

Thanks! I always liked the contrast between them in the comics. Unfortunately DC was always too afraid to admit to the blatant chemistry there, even now when gay characters are less of a tabboo.

 

So now I get too.

 

3 hours ago, incredibad said:

Hark, fellow readers, and rejoice in the lamentation of our community writers!

From my wrist to your brains

[Batman76]

And the next one. There'll probably be a decline in my pacing as these are long and oh god my wrists. But the gain is spreading out from here, but with other causes that Ivy's hijinks will only complicate.

Chapter 6: Elsegains and Otherweights

 

Undisclosed Location in the Middle East:

 

Jason Todd had thought his life would stop getting weirder after he'd seen the Batmobile parked in a Gotham slum at age ten and decided, might as well steal the tires.

 

Then he'd thought his life would stop getting weirder after becoming the second Robin and gone through a crash course in hand to hand fighting, criminology and various sciences.

 

Then he'd thought his life would stop getting weirder after he'd been beaten to death with a crowbar and blown up.

 

After coming back to life in a lazarus pit, Jason had stopped putting any sort of expectations on just how weird things could get and became the quasi-supervillain but actually a superhero even if the rest of the cape community treated him like shit, Red Hood.

 

Which was why being inside a cursed Egyptian Pyramid and lighting a horde of rasping mummies up with 10mm incendiary rounds didn't even perturb him. Undead Pharaoh after Undead Pharaoh went down beneath the burst of his submachine guns, but bullets were finite and lurching mummies seemed to be a hot commodity in this tomb. Pulling fresh clips from his leather jacket, the tall young man turned towards his partner.

 

"How's lifting those gates going, Art?" he asked, trying and failing not to take a peak at her ass, its tank-armor hard cheeks clear to see, "Kind of running out of ammo here!"

 

"Would you like to take over, little man?" she grunted, pushing the next hundred ton block of granite into the ceiling to reveal yet another granite block barring their path, "if you could get a cell signal and beg your father for money for bull dozers we just might get through one of them before you die of old age."

 

Jason was a big guy, but Artemis was a brick shit house of an Amazon. She was nearly two meters tall, with a crimson pony tail almost the same length. Her body was an unreal collection of muscular curves, the sinews standing out on her jacked biceps and triceps as she heaved the building size stone into its resting place in the ceiling and the hard planes of her quads and calf muscles threatening to break through the black leather of her tight pants. She was breathing hard, heaving breasts threatening to break through the red bronze of her hour glass breast plate.

 

"By Ra, are you going to keep mummies off of me or jack off?" Artemis snarled at him over her shoulder.

 

"I told you before, Batman isn't my dad!" Jason snapped, turning back to machine gun more undead, "any more than Wonder Woman is your sister."

 

"Wonder Woman is my sister," the red head snapped, hurling another giant stone into the ceiling, "and you still wear a Bat symbol on your chest!"

 

"I absolutely do...," Jason tried to deny before remembering he still had a bat symbol on the armor he'd stolen, "...so out of irony! What's your excuse for the W under your cleavage!?"

 

"Its an Amazonian symbol, idiot!" she said, roaring to move the last block of stone.

 

"Well excuse me for not speaking ancient greek!" he shot back, his last bullets going into nowhere near the last mummy, the rest of the horde advancing on him with bony fingers.

 

"I told you I'm Egyptian!" she declared, jumping forwards with a magical battle axe taller than Jason and turning the surviving mummies into bones, bandages and dust with two swings.

 

"Hey, I was going to handle those!" Jason lied as she brushed mummy dust out of her cleavage.

 

"With what, you're pathetic erection?" she asked, leering down at him and pulling off his face concelling armored mask

 

"Whore," the Red Hood growled at her, pulling off his jacket

 

"Pussy," the Amazon growled back, unzipping her pants.

 

Jason's armor took most of the impact when she slammed him against the wall, their weapons left on the floor and their mouths locked together. After a moment he started undoing the straps on her armor, revealing brown nippled C cups bouncing above a sweat polished six pack. Jason had just enough time to think about how she tasted like salt and cinnamon before they got each other's pants fully off and he was inside her. The combination of violence and insults had made him rock hard and her sopping wet, their joining together was delayed only by her pulling a condom from his jacket and shoving it over his member. Jason felt his dick get squeezed by her spasming pussy, while the back of his skull was grated by the rough stone of the tomb. He started gently turning a nipple then with a high scream, Artemis fell onto her back, ripping her pants in her hurry to get her legs around his back.

 

"Legs too weak to stand up?" he managed to jib her, pulling his mouth off of a hard nipple, another perk of dating a girl taller than you by five inches.

 

"Tired of waiting for you to get into me!" she insulted him back, back arching with a scream as he got a hand to her clit, "you tiny ...dicked...gurgg....fuck yes...fuck me!"

 

Jason's body armor was a titanium laced kevlar weave, so when Artemis' thigh muscles clenched like the rest of her orgasming body his ribs were only bruised. He came on the downslope of her long orgasm, a long gasp that matched his breathing with hers, and slowly started passing out atop her. The vigilante/occasional criminal mastermind woke up on the stone floor, seeing his partner was wearing just an incongruous pair of modern panties and his leather jacket against the wall, lighting up one of his cigarettes.

 

"Not bad...for a boy," the sweaty Amazon rasped, taking a long draw and exhaling smoke through her nose, "I broke another pair of pants."

 

"I guess you're not bad for an old lady," he grunted, sliding the condom off and stuffing his deflated dick back into his pants, "I'll buy you more when we get to a country with a plus size store. Can I have a puff of that?"

 

"Fuck you," the uber fit but extra large woman sneered, "and no. You're mortal, they'll kill you. And begrudgingly I'd prefer to have you around for a while."

 

"Ha, you do like me," Jason laughed, immediately wincing as pain shot from his abused ribs, "oh fuck my sides."

 

"Like a well used dildo," the other anti-hero shrugged, putting the cigarette out on a hieroglyphic, "buying another one would be time consuming. Let's see if the relic I wanted is here."

 

She stood up, giving Jason an excellent view of her rather large, literally ripped enough to be bullet proof ass hanging out of her lacy thong, until she stepped from view. The two outlaws had been going through insult driven fuck sessions for several weeks now, but Jason had known it had meant something when she'd started wearing lingerie under her armor. She was bitter, sarcastic and unbearable but somehow all of that only made her hotter. He wondered if they were going to get married or if she was going to kill him with her thighs first.

 

Jason picked up his smgs and followed her, walking quickly under the stone blocks she'd put into the ceiling to find a small chamber full of the dusty remnants of barrels older than most religions. Artemis was bent over, hands on her knees examining something and giving him an even better view of her rather bountiful buns. The skin on them was flawless, but she had a patch of freckles right on the right cheek in the shape of an arrow that he couldn't take his eyes off. Smacking her ass was a terrible idea (Artemis' ass really was bullet proof hard and Jason wasn't sure if he could survive another love making session now) but deciding not to took up enough time Jason walked right into her.

 

Artemis gave a yelp of surprise, bumped into the stone plinth in front of her and just managed to grab an ancient cow horn carved with hierogrlyphics before it hit the ground. The Amazon turned around with a lightning quick scowl, grabbing him by the lapel and effortlessly lifting him off the ground.

 

"You almost made me break the sacred drinking horn of Tjenenet, goddess of beer and bounty!" the Egyptian Amazon scowled, "and I had to grab it before I even began to decipher if it was cursed!"

 

"Sorry, your ass was so big its gravitational pull pulled me right into you," he gasped, "I couldn't escape something with that sort of mass."

 

Her green eyes stared at him, before she dropped him in a heap, "Not a bad one, for once. I'm going to go get my armor before the sight of my glorious body causes you to do something else suicidal. You finish reading the plinth!"

 

The gorgeous fighter stomped off, muscular buttocks bouncing, leaving Jason alone with the plinth. It was covered in engraving, showing an immensely obese, nude woman drinking from the same horn Artemis had just left with. His hieroglyphics were rusty and the practice sessions he'd had with Artemis kept turning into fuck sessions, but the Red Hood got through them before very long.

 

"Alright, sure let the guy who doesn't speak ancient egyptian read the curse, its not like you didn't know what bending over like that was gonna do to me,"Jason muttered before reading, "'Whoever first drinks from the horn of Tjenenet without first praying thrice to the goddess of beer, shall take on her image as they drink. Their appetite for beer, bread and sex shall be endless. If they drink in blissful ignorance then after a year and a day, their thirst will quench, their hunger end and their loins cool. But if they are told then permanent shall the curse be!" Oh shit, well its a good thing that she doesn't have anything to drink out of that..."

 

The crime fighter left the treasure chamber at a trot, finding Artemis with her armor in one hand and the horn in the other. He opened his mouth to say something, only to realize she was guzzling from the engraved horn with the rapacity of a frat boy the night after mid terms. The Amazon pulled it from her mouth, giving a mighty belch and wiping foam from her lips.

 

"So, were you able to find any curse on there or not?" she said, speech slightly slurred.

 

"No, not at all," Jason lied, "how exactly did you get beer in there?"

 

"The horn makes its own beer, Jason, the beer of the Amazons of Bar-Mighdal, which would fry your brain in your skull just to drink. After a few years of drinking the piss you mortals call alcohol, it was either finding this or killing myself," she said, taking another long sip, her stolen jacket falling open to reveal that her perfectly muscled midsection had lost a little definition on the two lowest abs, her underwear tightening around rounding hips, "which I still might after being reduced to mating with you...you miserable...scrawny...rapscallion..."

 

Jason was distracted from his girlfriend's sudden slight weight gain by her starting to drool as she looked him up and down.

 

"Artemis, are you feeling alright...," Jason started to say, before his back was against the wall again, "because you're a little..."

 

"Flush with victory, which a pathetic mortal like you couldn't understand," the Amazon said, pushing his face into her breasts and taking another long drink, "now start sucking."

 

Jason tried to say something else, but the red head's breasts surged up a cup size and into his mouth. The gun toting vigilante looked up at Artemis drinking again, the first sign of a double chin forming, and knew it was going to be a very long year.

 

....

 

NYC, 3,000 feet and falling

 

Wind whipping her black hair back as she fell towards the pavement three thousand feet below, Lois Lane pressed a button on her watch and took a moment to check over her notes:

 

*Enter the building at 2:03 for scheduled interview with Social Media CEO over accusations he's head of a Krypton worshipping death cult.

*Begin interview at 2:13, all bull shit.

*Steal keybadge during interview at 2:19

*End interview pleasantly at 3:04

*Sneak into off limits area at 3:06

*Take incriminating photos at 3:09

*Steal incriminating files at 3:18

*Get caught at 3:19

*Hear supervillain speech and get thrown off of building as it starts to fly into the air as an impromptu space ship.

 

"Come on Smallville, you're getting slow in your middle age," Lois sighed as the pavement approached, noticing in the reflection of a building's windows that the wind was blowing up her white skirt past her hips, clearly showing the shape wear that had been necessary since turning thirty five and gaining the twenty pounds she'd kept meaning to lose for the last five years, "damn it, I'm going to die looking chubby."

 

She pushed the skirt down to cover herself just as her downward velocity rapidly slowed, a strong arm under her knees and behind her shoulders. Lois gave a relieved sigh and turned to her husband for a kiss, instead finding the slender form of her husband's older/younger cousin flying her upwards.

 

"Sorry Aunt Lois, Clark was on a league thing over Greenland," the blonde alien explained too fast while flying upwards, "and I was getting some home work done after picking Jon up from school and the homework is hard given how slow the computers are here, when I heard the signal go off and I had to change and couldn't find my top and then..."

 

"Okay, I'm going to stop you right there kid," Lois sighed, slightly annoyed at the close call and more annoyed at the total smoothness of the girl's face, "thanks for the rescue but no first names in the field, alright Supergirl?"

 

The rookie heroine's face fell at the mention, upward momentum petering out. "Oh crap. I'm sorry its just there's so much to remember. Nobody on Krypton had a secret identity right and I'm still adjusting to having Superpowers and..."

 

Lois let out another sigh. She wasn't, despite reputation, a total bitch, especially with the 19 year old that she and her husband had adopted who just wanted to do good.

 

"Supergirl, its fine, just don't do it again," Lois said, noticing with alarm both that the blonde girl was crying and that they were starting to sink back towards the ground, "and keep flying us up if you would!"

 

"I'm sorry Aunt Lois, its just the powers are new and they're hard to remember how they work and if I feel bad about myself they stop working and then I just completely freak out and Istarttalkingreallyfastandhaveapanicattackand," Kara began, the two of them freefalling again.

 

Denied her powers at 3,000 feet, Kara let out a scream. Lois let out another sigh, preemptively holding her skirt down as the two started falling past a skyscraper, reflections showing in the mirrored windows to her dissatisfaction. At nineteen, Kara was 5'6 and would probably weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet. Her blonde hair gleamed, her heart shaped face was completely smooth and she had no fat on her. Her size zero red skirt and blue top hung off of her, her stomach was concave as a soup bowl and the gap between her thighs was wide enough for Lois' aging prius to easily pass through. The ace reporter's language was mostly figurative...but none the less true and all the more annoying because Kara lived off fast food and ice cream, her appetite almost a parody of a teenager's.

 

Lois on the other hand?

 

"Being the damsel in distress isn't as fun when you're 40," Lois admitted to herself.

 

For a forty year old mom with a chaotic work schedule she still looked pretty good. You could still tell that Lane had run track and swam competitively through college. She was in a lot better shape than most other pullitzer prize winners she knew of. And she didn't even have to dye her hair to keep the gray out of the lustrous black...yet.

 

And that was about as comforting to Lois as when her plastic surgeon had said she only needed the minimal amount of botox.

 

Her narrow face might still be very pretty, but her lips were thinner than they'd been, she had some laugh lines under her make up and that botox might need to be topped off given the crows feet she was seeing around her purple eyes. The face wasn't her main concern though, it was everything below the neck that troubled her. While an independent, career minded woman who didn't give a rats ass what people thought of her, Lois did enjoy being attractive, fit and hot. Categories she was starting to well, grow out of. Her body had declared a battle of the bulge around her thirty five birth day and Lois was, after a long, grudging battle, about to admit defeat and be shipped off to a POW camp in Piggytown.

 

Lois' trademark white miniskirt and purple blazer had been size fours when she was in her twenties, but were now a size ten. A size ten that she was spanxed to the max to even fit into and in desperate need of replacement, given how she'd had to shoe horn herself into the skirt. The near abs she'd had in college and determinedly earned back after being pregnant had turned into a pinch-able little pot belly that hung over her pink panties, while her runners thighs had cuddled together four years ago and refused to be separated. Lois once coin bouncing ass had turned into a soft mom-butt and her B cups had turned into Ds right around the time someone had turned up the gravity and made them increasingly bra dependent.

 

It wasn't that she ate like a pig or anything, not really. It was just that Lois was busy juggling responsibilities for her hectic job and didn't always have time to cook healthily or work out, manageable at thirty but not at forty. Nor was she huge, but she had to guess she was around 160lbs, forty over her starting weight.

 

But unlike her elevation's trajectory, she had nowhere to go but up weight wise.

 

"Ugh, well if I'm gonna die at least I can have a cheat day," she sighed, pulling a snickers from her purse and opening it, "not like the diet ever helped."

 

Lois' downwards momentum stopped again, a thicker steely arm wrapping around her shoulders. Given the warm, relentless pressure pushing onto the left side of her face, threatening to drown her, the intrepid girl reporter didn't even need to see who'd grabbed her this time.

 

"Hello Karen," Lois said, elevating her voice over Kara, who was still screaming despite being held up in Power Girl's other arm.

 

"Hey Lois, fancy seeing you two here," the other blonde Kryptonian observed, sweeping them upwards, "sorry for the wait, I was in a business meeting that just would not end."

 

Kara noticed she wasn't falling anymore, opened her eyes and wrapped her arms around her older self, so ecstatic her powers flicked back on and she burst out of Power Girl's arms.

 

"Oh thank Rao," Kara said to her otherself, "I really didn't want to wind up on a New York side walk, but sorry you had to save me."

 

"Consider it a self save," the bigger blonde said, rocketing towards the space ship, "So Lois, your interview go so badly the guy decided to leave the planet?"

 

The family Lois Lane had married into was to say the least, complicated. There was her husband Clark, the world's biggest boy scout who was also Kal-El, Superman, last son of krypton and the world's greatest superhero sent to earth as a baby. Then there was Supergirl, Kara Zor-El, who Clark and Lois had kind of adopted, who was Clark's technically older cousin sent here on a much slower space ship. Then, even more complicatedly, there was Power Girl, Kara Zor-L, who was the same person but from another dimension that had crossed over with there's at some point but was older and just, bigger...and it was easier to call her Karen at Thanksgiving.

 

"Something like that, but there's a lot of innocent people on that ship who didn't sign up to go die in space," Lois said, hardly the weirdest thing she'd ever explained, "its powered by some weird kryptonite generator on the thirtieth floor, so be careful."

 

"Kryptonite?" Kara asked nervously, falling again before Karen caught her again.

 

"Pfft, just kryptonite. I'm immune to Kryptonite from this dimension," Power Girl laughed, the reverberations threatening to give Lois a black eye, "Leave that to the forty year olds, kid. You get in front of the ship and keep it from hitting orbit."

 

They were going by the same building again, but upwards. Giving Lois a good look at the woman carrying her, wearing a white leotard that showed a lot of leg and bore a tit window. She had the same brilliant blonde hair and smooth tan face as Kara, almost exactly the same despite Karen's claim of 40 being accurate, Kryptonian's frustratingly stopping aging around 25. At 5'8, Lois was pretty tall, but Karen was 6' before one counted in the high heels of her blue boots. Lois had been pretty fit, but Karen had the type of ripped but slender hour glass frame that was only achievable via photoshop. And her boobs were not only bigger than Lois' head but had clearly never gotten the memo about gravity despite probably being H cups.

 

Lois had to stop herself from frowning with a reminder that it'd give her more wrinkles.

 

Supergirl shot off to get in front of the slowly rising building, halting its momentum with her fists. Evidentially, whoever was flying it wasn't skilled enough at flying a high jacked skyscraper to avoid her somewhat clumsy trajectory. Power Girl's eyes glowed briefly red with heat vision, cutting a two woman sized hole in the side of the building at the 30th floor.

 

"She's getting the hang of it, right?" Karen shrugged, boob again bouncing against Lois' head, "you wanna split that snickers?"

 

Pushing down twenty year old memories of college experimentation, Lois shook her head, face bouncing against the giant breast.

 

"You take it, I'm on a diet when I'm not plunging to my death," Lois said, handing over the snickers to the flawless blonde who's obliques were grating into Lois' side.

 

"Oh thank God, I'm starving," Karen groaned, taking the chocolate and munching it as they landed inside the hi-jacked building, "my favorite pizza place only had two supremes left at lunch, can you believe that?"

 

"You had...two supreme pizza slices for lunch?" Lois asked her, focus taking off the hermetically sealed doors in front of her and how the high altitude breeze whipping through the hole Karen had cut seemed determined to push her skirt up.

 

The last time Lois had eaten pizza she had gone up a pant size seemingly over night. Every time she was in the same room with it she could feel her clothes getting tighter. And it had been her absolute favorite when she was younger, the greasier and meatier the better.

 

"Slices? No, two pizzas!" Karen exclaimed, "If it wasn't for the super powers I'd pass out on just two slices!"

 

If it wasn't for the super powers you'd weight five hundred pounds, Lois thought to herself, not completely unfairly as Karen walked by finishing the snickers. Power Girl's appetite was so large it might be described as an eating disorder on anyone else. The wind gracefully blew away Power Girl's short cape, showing off a perfect bubble butt hanging out of her costume's thong back. Karen might be family but Lois hated her right now, she'd used to love wearing thongs but the last time she'd gone to a beach she hadn't taken off her shorts.

 

Power Girl ripped off the hermetically sealed doors, the same ones Lois had had to open with a stolen pass minutes earlier, to reveal several tech nerds dressed in black robes around a spinning sphere of lead surrounded by computers.

 

"Alright losers, one chance to turn this thing around without bruises," the brawling Superheroine smirked, popping her knuckles and flexing her considerable biceps.

 

"Shoot the heretics who seek to stop our sacred journey!" the cult leader/ceo squawked, a nerdy looking guy with far too much app money and far too little sense.

 

The programmer cultists raised assault weapons and fired, Karen quickly jumping in front of Lois. The reporter was grateful and used to supers blocking bullets for her, but hated how she reflexively sucked in her gut to be safely inside the slim heroine's silhouette. A few hundred bullets bounced off Karen, flattened against her invulnerable skin, before the guns clicked empty.

 

"A few of them always get inside my boobs," Power Girl sighed, flicking spent bullets out from between her boobs with a tantalizing bounce, "it never fails. Alright, time for the arrests."

 

A white/red blur sped by and an eye blink later, Power Girl was floating above a dozen cultists wrapped in a steel railing.

 

"Mr. Zickberg, any comment on being stopped from shooting a skyscraper into orbit?" Lois asked the struggling ex-billionaire, pulling out her note pad.

 

"And tell me how to turn these engines off so we can land this building," Power Girl asked, hovering over the controls with a groan, "this has to be the worst designed control interface I've ever seen."

 

"Once begun, the journey cannot be stopped!" the lunatic yelled, "my journey to Krypton cannot be stopped!"

 

"What is it with CEOs being crazy?" Lois asked, taking down the quotes in her note book.

 

"I resent that," Power Girl, who's secret identity was the CEO of a successful green energy start up, said, "looks like I'm stopping this the old fashioned way. Better stay back, most Kryptonite is harmless to humans but there could be a spray."

 

Lois had barely done as suggested when the Kryptonian ripped open a hatch on the top of the swirling lead sphere over the power core. Instead of an expected green glow, a pulsing red light emerged. The core was a red crystal marked with strange glyphs, spinning on its own. Power Girl stumbled back, legs limp and body stumbling.

 

"Okay...that's...red Kryptonite...from my ...dimension," the blonde power house wheezed, falling to the floor.

 

"The power of the sphere of Rao! Saved from destruction on Krypton-2 by our actions!" the cult leader yelled, "Praise it!"

 

Lois managed to grab her weakened before Power Girl gave herself a concussion, a static shock of electricity shooting into her as the heavy, muscular woman almost toppled her. The brunette yelped at the sharp shock, worse than touching a door knob in wool socks in winter, but didn't drop the blonde who drooled and passed out.

 

"Alright, up to me to stop it," Lois growled, picking up a discarded assault rifle and a spare mag from the ground.

 

Lois might be a liberal reporter, but her father was a 4-Star general and she could hit the bulls eye at a hundred yards since she was six. With a few controlled bursts she shattered the crystal, which stopped spinning and glowing. For a second gravity turned off, but before Lois could hit the ceiling the building stopped falling, signifying that Supergirl had caught the landmark. She closed the hatch, cutting off the red glow and causing Karen to shoot right back off.

 

"Ugh, tell me if I've turned blue or grown antlers," Power Girl said, looking down at herself and feeling her temples, "red kryptonite can have weird side effects. But good job on stopping them strange reporter I don't know."

 

"Part of the 4th estate's duties, mysterious blonde heroine I also don't know" Lois said, tossing aside the empty rifle and shooting an enviable glare at the flex of Karen's abs, given her own belly was flabby enough she had to suck in continuously or have her spanx cut painfully into herself, "but you seem as normal as you ever do."

 

She saw that she'd dropped her notebook in the commotion, bending over thoughtlessly to get it and hearing a faint rip behind her as a long suffering seam gave way to the pressure of Lois' mom butt. Lois' facial cheeks went red immediately at the horrible embarrassment.

 

"Good to know," Power Girl said, looking away and stiffling a smirk while Lois tied her jacket about her middle, "now I've got to take these losers off to federal, pound me in the ass prison on a bunch of murder, terrorism and grand theft building issues. Kindly have Supergirl, if she stops by, to put that Kryptonite somewhere safe."

 

By the time that Power Girl had the crooks booked, Supergirl had the building back on its foundations and Lois had her copy of the events sent in, it was evening. Goodbyes were said and the members of the Superfamily split up, Kara flying Lois back to the farmhouse the Kent's inhabited near Metropolis.

 

"Its always fun to get to hang out with her," Kara said as the landscape shot by.

 

"Uhuh," Lois said, trying to keep her skirt down.

 

"Lois, do you ever think, I mean I know we're not the same species, but do you think that when I'm her age...," Supergirl dithered on asking.

 

"Yes Kara, I'm sure your boobs will be just as big as hers," Lois said, sure her own would be on the ground by then, "maybe if you eat more."

 

"That's right...hey can we get pizza?" the irrepressible girl asked.

 

Lois knew she didn't need pizza. She was 40 years old and the middle aged spread was knocking on her door with a battering ram. She'd just popped out of the last size ten she'd owned, meaning the plus sizes were beckoning for her, Lois Lane, all state 400m silver medalist in 1999. If she didn't buckle down, cut out the fast food and the cheat days and start running like she kept saying she needed to, then Lois was going to get F-A-T, FAT.

 

But it had been a long, long day and Lois was tired.

 

"Yeah, sure," she sighed, thoughts turning to how Clark was going to react to her getting fat.

 

The worst part would be how understanding and kind and not judgemental about it he would be. He'd still love her exactly the same and never stray or even look at another woman, even when he was surrounded by eternally fit and sexy superheroines. It was enough to drive her batty.

 

Lois noticed that the farm land beneath them was getting lower, the town nearest the farm house approaching.

 

"Kara what are you doing?" Lois asked her adopted daughter.

 

"I was gonna get pizza...," Super girl said, pitifully, "what's wrong?"

 

"Ugh, Kara, you can't go in with Lois Lane as supergirl. Otherwise people put two and two together and good bye secret identities," Lois told her sternly.

 

"Oh," Kara blinked, long blonde hair suddenly trailing behind her as she fell.

 

Lois gave another sigh. Why was it she had to rely on these Kryptonian's who, despite their perfect bodies and their never aging and their eating whatever they wanted all the time, kept screwing up? God if she could fly...

 

Supergirl fell past her as for just a moment Lois floated in the air. She had just enough time to look down at herself, clearly hovering under her own power, before she started falling again. Luckily, for the third time that day, her fall was arrested but very strong arms.

 

"What's a city girl like you doing a thousand feet over a corn field?" her husband asked, billion watt smile on.

 

Lois' heart did that horrible pitter-patter it did whenever it looked at him, that always threatened to turn her from steely reporter to whatever her current weight in putty was, "Clark! I was...and then...oh crap Kara!"

 

"She'll be fine," Clark said assuredly, looking down to see the blonde's fall slow enough she only somewhat dented the corn before rising back up, "she'll learn to fly sometime."

 

"Well, I'd suppose you know," Lois admitted, "today's been hell. Take me home before I go crazy."

 

It took until Clark set her heels on their side walk for the slightly chubby reporter to notice she'd stopped sucking in her stomach during the fall. But strangely enough, the spanx didn't pinch nearly as much as she thought.

 

....

 

Meanwhile, back in New York, Power Girl was flying to her dark, lonely apartment after a very long, busy day of meetings and occasional super powered fights.

 

"Honey I'm home," the blonde said after sliding through her skylight, putting her cape on over the coat rack, "oh wait, I'm not married."

 

She felt jealous of Lois, who'd always have somebody waiting for her at home and guessed she should really start dating again at some point. But right now she was tired, netflix was beckoning her and she had the number of two or three new chinese places she wanted to order from tonight. The blonde kicked her blue boots off before she was greeted with a meow by her only roommate, a demanding orange cat named stinky.

 

"Oh hello to you to," Karen said, flying up to the cabinet to get the demanding cat food, "I can tell your love for me is motivated by nothing but food by the way. God I'm so damn lonely, look at me talking to a cat. I should call Atlee again and see if she wants to do something..."

 

Power Girl was just opening the tall cabinent when her ability to fly suddenly cut out. She fell hard, butt bouncing off the counter top and slamming tits first into the floor with a painful thump.

 

"Owww," Karen grunted from the floor, "and also, what the fuck?"

 

It'd been fifteen years since her powers had even quivered over her emotions, much less her normal nightly bitch session. She wondered if it was the Kryptonite from that morning depowering her but a slight push up had her 180lb body flying towards the ceiling. The tall blonde arrested her momentum before she broke the skylight, everything super normal once she wasn't moping.

 

"Geeze, am I that damn mopey?" Karen said, landing to feed her cat and start dialing take out to feed her normal, monstrous appetite.

 

The phone calls were made harder by her cat rubbing her ankles for more food and for her costume pinching. They shrank occasionally, she had a bad habit of washing the white leotards and drying them with heat vision too fast, so Karen didn't think anything of it as she ordered enough food for three people. Gaining weight was so alien to the alien that she'd never considered it, naturally feasting to her full gluttonous extent.

 

"Yes I hear you fatty," Power Girl said when she hung up, bending down to pick her cat up, feeling for the first time her tightly drawn red belt pinch against her belly and dismissing it as a garment issue, "look at this tummy you're getting Stinky. All that chow is catching up to you now!"

 

She put the cat on the couch and floated into her bedroom to change out of her super suit, peeling it off and pulling shorts and a tank top from her laundry. Due to the spectacular shelf of her cleavage, Karen didn't notice how her six pack had lost much of its definition, a sea of soft subcutaneous tummy fat starting to rise around the endangered muscle islands. She slid into the short shorts, tugging them over her bubble butt, and her tank top, massive jugs stretching it to the limit, just in time to get to the door for the delivery from three astonished delivery boys.

 

"Thank you all, here's a twenty each," Karen said, debating on if she was desperate enough to pretend she didn't have money and ask to pay in another way.

 

But unfortunately she wasn't that desperate and wanted companionship more than sex.

 

Putting the arm loads of chinese food on the coffee table, Karen pulled a six pack of beer from the fridge, put the top of a bottle between her breasts and flexed her pecs to pop the cap off. Plopping onto the couch, she started eating, chop sticks popping fried chicken in general tso's sauce into her mouth in between piles of crab Rangoon. Despite the food and a starting netflix show, Karen's reflexes were still super, so she stopped her cat from jumping onto the open container.

 

"God kitty, you'd turn into a lard ass if you ate all this," she sighed, putting the cat in her lap and taking a drink, "don't you know how fattening this stuff is?"

 

Stinky meowed again, but settled down onto Karen's thighs for the rest of the meal. As she finished her super fast gorge, Karen's six pack turned into a four pack, a small fupa forming for the first time. The cat meowed in discomfort at having his roomy perch disturbed, but Karen shushed him and bored by the show started playing video games.

 

Power Girl might have a jock's body but she was a geek at heart. She made a little progress in her current Dark Souls run, until an invading spirit attacked her in the poison swamp level. Super reflexes didn't help much when tied to a video game and the invader, a jester labelled "HQ+PI4EX6969" killed her frustratingly easily with a giant mallet. Dead, Karen decided it was time for bed.

 

"Probably some fat loser who sits on the couch all day," she grunted, finishing her evening routine and not noticing the partial loss of her abs.

 

Power Girl slid under the covers into the foetal position and hit the lights, the cat curling into his normal spot against her stomach. As she drifted off to sleep, a gurgle sounded, waking the cat up. A large food baby, if not one worth a mountain of chinese food, suddenly burst into being across Karen's normally flat waist for the first time. The heavy paunch startled the cat, who jumped off the bed with a yowl.

 

"What's his problem...," the sleepy and oblivious Kryptonian muttered, unconsciously rubbing her food baby.

[Batman76]

10 hours ago, CyrilFiggus said:

Oh man, so many wonderful directions to go in!  I love how you give each of the women their own unique builds, from Artemis's chiseled bodybuilder physique to Lois's softening soccer mom frame.  Add in the unique reasons for weight gain commencing, and this was a lovely chapter.

Yeah, I wanted to go for some diversity in shape here. Lois is a college hot girl after twenty years of an office job and a kid whos still putting in effort, Artemis is a cut body builder, power girl is a swimsuit model who got in really good shape for a shoot.

 

This also let's me dick around with subkinks like milf, slight aging and deaging, needification. Etc.

 

5 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

Soooooo many great gains going on, I can barely even begin to pick which one I want to see more! This just keeps getting better!

Your wrists! You need to ice them and make ready another! I’ll do whatever you want! I’ll gift you a sacrifice!

Goddess of Beer and Bounty, I offer for my first prayer of three,

A fattened doe, a feast for thee,

May wrists be healed and fingers flick,

We wish for gainz, don’t make us sick 😷 

Thank you. Monday I'll probably cut back to Gotham and then do another broad look at gains across DC

[Batman76]

And chapter 7, which is much, much shorter.

 

Chapter 7: The Start of Something Big

 

Eyes closed, Harleen took a deep breath, small breasts stretching her leotard's chest to the max while her hard muscled waist went completely concave beneath the black and gold Gotham University leotard. She took an experimental hop, the powerful muscles of her thighs popping her svelte body several inches into the hair before her slim feet landed onto the mat. Opening her eyes, the college freshman took in the cheering stadium around the mats.

 

"Harleen Quinzelle up for the Gotham University team here at the olympic trials," the announcer's voice boomed, "all she needs to do is not completely fuck this up and she'll make the Olympic Team, with a life of fame and fortune ahead of her. It should be easy, she's in the best shape of her life and has been practicing this for years. If not her mediocre grades as a psych major will ensure she can only get a job at a miserable and dangerous facility like Arkham Asylum, where she'll be horribly tortured into insanity."

 

"Okay, strangely specific claim," the freshman told herself, flexing her corded muscles, "but you can do this, this will be easy."

 

At the sound of the starting bell, Harleen dashed forwards on her nimble legs and jumped high into the air to perform a quadruple helix to oohs from the crowd. But Harley realized that each twist was having an unforseen effect: her breasts, shrank down to As by her intense routine, were popping up a cup size with each spin! When her toes hit the ground she was a DD cup at least, the head sized lumps of puppy fat pulling her into a slight stumble and threatening to pop out of her leotard.

 

"What the fuck!?" Harleen exclaimed, only for the mother of all wedgies to hit her.

 

Quinn's rock hard buns, heavy slopes of perfectly toned muscle, shot outwards. Pound after pound of fat appeared out of nowhere, basketball sized cheeks of lazy lard streaked with stretch marks and dotted with horrible cellulite. They far outweighed her new boobs, the suddenly pear shaped athlete pulled to the ground by her huge ass.

 

The bean bag cheeks rippled as she hit, the jiggle shooting outwards as the remnants of Quinn's athleticism failed. Slabs of back fat shot over the back of her leotard, thick rolls of lower belly fat ripped out the crotch of her leotard, her corded arms turned into bingo wings and shredded her sleeves and a mighty slap sounded as chiseled thighs inflated into lazy sacks of fat hanging over her knees. Fat kept spreading and spread, pinning Quinn to the ground and swallowing her limbs and face.

 

A loud buzz sounded as the judges put in scores, all of them 0s.

 

"And it looks like Quinn has completely fucked this up!" the announced boomed, "someone get that fatty some donuts while we get a forklift to move her off the mat!"

 

Fat swelling her eyes shut, the panicking Quinn smelled the delicious aroma of fresh donuts...

 

....

 

"Harley wake up," Ivy commanded, through a mouthful of doughnut, "I need you to do something for me."

 

Waking up crashed on the couch from one meal or another, Harley took in her apartment. Vines and flowers covered the walls, growing faster and thicker as Ivy's powers returned to her. Many of them were now bearing fruit, if steaming fresh baked goods hanging from vines and branches could be called fruit. Harley had no idea how Ivy had managed to grow full baked food from plants, but no one had ever accused her being that bright.

 

"Ugh, takes a dummy to know one ya putz," Harley grumbled at the narrator, bending forwards to grab doughnuts off of the coffee table and feeling her pot belly break into rolls.

 

"Harley, are you even awake? I actually need you to do something," Ivy said again through a full mouth.

 

Harley turned, taking in the obese green woman wearing a bikini woven from leaves sitting on the recliner across from her. Apart from a knee length fur coat, Ivy's new clothes sort of fit her, although the cut was for a woman who didn't have love handles that would ooze out of everything she owned, an apron belly hanging over her sex and boobs plunging under their own weight out of her bra. It would have shown off her problem areas a hundred pounds earlier and had no business being on a two hundred and fifty pounder.

 

"Oolala, does it involve eating a few gallons of pudding off them new curves?" Harley drooled, cheeks turning bright red, "cause just looking at you is making me work up an appetite."

 

Ivy blushed through her chlorophyll tinted skin, then bent to pick up yet another doughnut. Her rotund gut squished into rolls, surging towards her knees with the determination of the Red Army pushing towards Berlin, and a not so little fat girl grunt came from between her ruby lips as she had to lean her flabby body just a little off of her seat. Treat secured, Ivy let out a relaxed sigh as she sat back on her chair, taking a bite before speaking.

 

"Not just now, although I appreciate the compliment. Now that that bloating is going down my hour glass figure is really noticeable again," Ivy lied, the deeply in denial dryad tracing the convex blubber of her lovehandles like they were her old wasp waist, "but I need you to run an errand for me."

 

"R-run an errand?" Harley asked, shaken by the break of routine, "why leave the apartment Red? Can't I just stay in and we can Wayne-Flix and chill, have a few snacks and feed each other a bit..."

 

"Feed each other? Harley you know I'm on a diet still. Now that my powers are back I'm converting sunlight to sugar automatically, if I were to over indulge I'd balloon!," Ivy said with an eye roll, another bite of her doughnut and no trace of irony, "and we won't get our revenge on Selina and all those superheroines who think they can go around in those sultry little outfits destroying the planet by just sitting around in here will we?"

 

"Isn't the best revenge a life lived full?" Quinn asked as she finished her longjon, really not wanting to have to get up.

 

"No, of course not. Its to see every woman on this planet turned into giant balls of fat, a living carbon sink of lard too huge to even leave their homes or breed!" Ivy declared, green eyes going a little mad, "with these snacks I've created we'll wipe out all of humanity and they'll never even realize it!"

 

"Oh, I was just kinda hoping for some cuddles and maybe another doughnut or two...," Quinn said, as a vine snaked up the table and handed Ivy the last one currently available.

 

"Really Harley, I love you but you're so gluttonous sometimes," Ivy said, cream filling falling onto her cleavage, "now, you're going to make a delivery for me. So get up and get dressed, I ordered you some XXLs and laid them out on your bed during your last little fat girl nap."

 

In truth, Ivy hadn't budged all morning and had had her vines receive, sign for, open and lay the clothes out. But she counted it all as part of her strenuous workout sessions.

 

"Fine, I guess," Harley sighed, rocking to her feet.

 

Weeks of doing nothing but serving as Ivy's personal piglet had completely ruined Quinn's physique. Even the button bursting chubster who'd near blinded a girl in Bruce Wayne's waiting room was a paragon of fitness compared to someone who'd been gaining three pounds a day. It took a moment for the big titted jester to stand up, pushing up with her arms and rocking forwards to aid her pathetic leg muscles.

 

She stood up with a slap of thighs and a clap of ass cheeks, a large indention left on the couch and a sucking "vriipp" sounding as her pale skin lifted off the fake leather. Harley's inclination towards a pear shape had been evident as a fit college gymnast, as a 31 year old professional couch potato who tipped the scales at a whopping 260lbs of pure pudge, she appeared cartoonish. Her hips were four feet and more around, divoted door jammers that took up a whole love seat. The ex-criminal's bean bag buttocks made her old big buns seem tiny, flapping sacks of cottage cheese that formed a shelf behind her. Toss in thighs so thick they'd started forming their own rolls, and cankles that had started to sag and Harley's lower half looked like it belonged to a different person from her merely chubby upper half. The substantial and surprising growth of her perky E cups had given her a bit of balance, but Harley was still a clear and gigantic fatass.

 

"Haha, take a picture. Oh wait you can't draw," Quinn muttered at the narrator, grumbling when she felt her breasts shrink a cup size and got substantially floppier, "Go ahead and kick my while I'm down why don't ya..."

 

Hips brushing the hallway's walls, the award winning gymnast and terrifying combatant waddled to the bedroom, grumbling about authorial inconsistencies and grabbing a few donuts off of the walls to fuel her walk. At last she reached the now sadly undersized standard bed she and Ivy shared, their indentations clear on the badly abused mattress. A pair of black Gotham U leggings and a matching t-shirt were laying on the comforter, as well as a thong and a sports bra. They were big enough to have fit both Harley and Ivy when they'd been thin.

 

Getting dressed was more an issue of balance, Harley was still unused to being so big and given her weakness standing on one leg was a bad idea. The state gold medalist for the balance beam stepped into the panties, bent with a grunt and slowly slid them up her thighs. Although pleasingly tight across the vulva, Harley's chubby belly and back fat hid the rest of the upsized garment. Getting into the sports bra and t-shirt were easier, although the sports bra was loose due to the sudden decline in cup size and the t-shirt was very tight across her chubby upper arms.

 

"Fucking loser writer, one little crack and suddenly I lose a cup size," the clown mumbled, beginning to work the sweats up her legs.

 

Harley hadn't worn any sort of clothes in a month, after she'd gotten too fat for her last pair of fat pants, so the sensation was odd. Especially given the mental disconnect between what she thought her legs should look like, strong and slim, and their now elephantine size. The tent-like leggings slid snugly past her cankles and then became a slog to get up her thighs, sweat forming on her forehead. But that was just an appetiser for getting them up over her ass, the sagging bean bags of dough fighting like a whale against a harpoon to stay out of the leggings. The incredibly out of shape Quinn began to breathe hard, then pant and then gasp until she at last got them up over her ass.

 

Wheezing, the wobbling jester stood in front of the mirror and barely recognized the ball of lard staring back at her. Her legs were like sausages in far too small casings, the leggins stretched nearly transparent over the pale acres of thigh fat and ass lard. She'd be lucky if the garment lasted the day, it would probably rip off of her at the most inopportune time.

 

"Jeesh, you're gonna make me come with that kinda narration," Harley huffed, shoving her wider feet into much tighter than normal tennis shoes and waddling back to the living room.

 

Ivy, a ring of icing around her lips, had fallen to that natural predator of a comfortably full fat girl, a comfy couch. The plant hybrid chubster was flat on her back, giant gazongas and swollen stomach rising and falling with her chain-saw like snores. She looked cute as a button and Harley wished she was small enough to plop on top of her girlfriend without injuring her. Just to be able to perch on that big, beach ball belly and bury her face in those head sized gazongas, without having to worry about maneouvering her stiff, awkwardly heavy body...oh what a dream.

 

"Come on narrator, why don't you make me skinny again just for a nice skinny and fat sex scene," Harley whined, even though that would be extremely against the flow of the story so far and kind of confusing even if it would be incredibly arousing.

 

"Oof, you can't even keep it straight if I hate or enjoy being obese," Harley pointed out, "and you abandoned your attempts at my accent days ago. Come on, make me skinny again just for a sexy little romp with my chubster gf here and then I can go back to being fat."

 

Of course a girl like Harley would only be able to get thin again if she could go without fattening junk food. And the greedy jester was in an apartment that was ripping apart at the seams with food: grape vines of oreos, branches of donuts, bread stick flowers, fruit tart plants...all of it was so yummy, the smell of fresh food making Harley's nose twitch. She crossed her arms, bidding herself to stay strong

 

"Eashy-peashy," Harley boasted, realizing her mouth was full of oreos, "cheater."

 

Still obese, the clown bent down very slowly (ass fat springing out from the back of her pants) and planted a sweet little kiss on her obese girlfriend's lips. When she wasn't wound up Ivy was a cute, cuddlebug of a chubette and Harley hoped that once whatever craziness was out of Ivy's head was spent the two of them could go back to the important practices of massively overeating and having sex three times a day.

 

"Wakey wakey eggs and bakey," Harley cooed, patting the sphere of Ivy's stomach, "someone had a few too many donuts didn't you tubby tubby?"

 

The drowsy dryad groaned, stretching her doughy limbs, "I did...rub my belly..."

 

Ivy's eyes were closing by the time Harley's pudgy fingers touched her stomach, plunging deep into the layers of dough that coated the once nimble woman's gut. Exhausted by her hard day of getting out of bed, sending an email and eating until she fell asleep again, Ivy was far too tired to keep up her facade of pretending to be skinny. On the verge of sleep she was just a jiggly fat girl with far too full a belly.

 

"How about some hair of the dog that bit ya?" Harley grinned pulling a fresh longjon from a vine and putting it to Ivy's mouth, the hybrid's mouth flashing faster than thought to eat it down, "there ya go, how about another cream filled doughnut?"

 

"...cream?" the redhead snapped.

 

Ivy's green eyes flashed open, fury writ across her cherubic features. She tried to sit up and failed to consider the lifting power of her decayed muscles vs the gravitational pull of her G cup breasts and gravid gut. The first try only raised her head. The second only raised her shoulders and bunched her belly into rolls, when she flopped back down with a huff her vine and leaf bra broke, letting her massive boobs spill free. Finally, the over full supercriminal hauled herself up using both arms.

 

'You know *huff* how much I bloat with dairy!" Ivy groaned, taking in her enormous torso as if she hadn't been eagerly growing it for weeks now at an inhuman rate, "Oh Gaia, look at this. It'll take ...a very long time for this to go down Harley!"

 

Quinn rolled her eyes, happy to play along. Ivy after all allowed Harley's insanity, so she might as well indulge Ivy her own particular brand of lunacy.

 

"Yeah Red, it looks like your size 4s will pinch a bit," Quinn said to the obese botanist, "so, what did you need me to deliver?"

 

"Oh yes, my plan. My genius plan to triumph once and for all, go get that green vial off of the counter," Ivy smiled, forgetting her obesity for a moment, "so Harley, if we're to make every woman on earth fat, we can't have any super hero stopping us, can we? After all, you've gotten so fat you can hardly flip around and fight anymore can you? You'd be absolutely useless in a fight."

 

Harley glared, waddling to the counter and picking up a glass vial, "Oh, I guess I have put on a few pounds."

 

"Yes, you've totally let yourself go," Ivy said, thoughtlessly eating cookies from a vine that lifted itself to her lips, "so we're going to make a plague."

 

"...a plague? Ivy, ain't that a bit on the nose?" Quinn asked, eyes at the narrator, "I know you rough drafted this a while ago, but jeesh. I banged the Joker and I think that's a bit fucked up."

 

"Yes Harley a plague," Ivy cackled, "that skinny bitch Selina was right: no one will want diet food after you've let yourself go so badly, this society is too judgemental. So, we'll make one that will rewrite the preferences of anyone infected to like fat girls. It will create a society of chubby chasers world wide, every man and lesbian will like gaining girls and every girl will want to gain...except for those with a metagene. They'll be addicted to gaining but hate it. It'll work on aliens and demi gods and mutants, it'll be perfect!"

 

"Well, that's a bit extreme but okay," Harley shrugged, "so where am I delivering this fat girl plague too?"

 

"Why, we're going to the convention center Harley. Tonight is the big Gotham fashion show, all the world's top models will be there and we're going to turn everyone of them into a blob by year's end," Ivy grinned, "now help me up. You're far too fat to sneak inside, I'll seduce my way in with my returned powers."

 

Harley helped haul the redheaded tub of lard from her seat. To her eyes Ivy was looking shorter, her apple shape gain compressing her back to the very edge of 5'. The dryad fluffed her fur coat over her immense curves, not that it would close over her bulk, and started trying to get her feet into her shoes without being able to see her feet.

 

"Hey, if you're seducing your way in, how come I gotta go?" Harley yawned, grabbing another doughnut from the wall.

 

"I need a driver Harley," Ivy said, "I'm far too bloated to reach the wheel..."

[Batman76]

I can paint Warhammer minis not badly. That's the limit of my visual arts

[Batman76]

3 hours ago, CyrilFiggus said:

Oh come on, Pamela--put down the donuts and plans for world domination, and go rev your Harley!

That was delightful.  Ivy in denial is so much fun, and the back and forth with Harley and the narrator remains hilarious.

Harley just wants to enjoy being in a WG fic, everyone else had to ruin it with schemes.

[Batman76]

On 3/31/2020 at 6:19 AM, scl04 said:

Ivy sure is delusional to say the least, still her plan it's an interesting one and I'm curious as to how things will proceed.

Surely without a single hiccup.

[Batman76]

1 minute ago, >_< 0_0 said:

Haha. I'm only about 1/3rd fo the way done with the next chapter. I wanted to put another continuation in on Siren Feeder first.