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DC Universe Overweight

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Batman can only write when he isn’t patrolling Gotham at night... but then again, my personal theory is that he is actually Alfred because what else is a butler going to do unless Batman asks for something in particular? Explains the polished prose nicely

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Actually Alfred documenting everything and getting Bruce caught would be a very interesting bat-cannon. And also, yes in the weight gain fiction universe too. Sorry pudge obsessed Batman, crime fighting Batman was in my life first. Of course, he WAS Adam West....

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Gotta follow your passion and paycheck-- always check back in on this thread when I'm online, really one of my favorite WG stories I've read. The fast and loose tone you've cultivated while turning an entire universe into a horny playground is SO much fun. Best wishes to whatever you're working on now!

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On 4/22/2021 at 1:45 AM, barrybondstwerk said:

Gotta follow your passion and paycheck-- always check back in on this thread when I'm online, really one of my favorite WG stories I've read. The fast and loose tone you've cultivated while turning an entire universe into a horny playground is SO much fun. Best wishes to whatever you're working on now!

Thanks, right now I need to update my coop with @SilverPathfinder (about 99 percent done...), Then finish the calling, then do a dc story for five hundred DA followers.



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9 hours ago, Batman76 said:

I honestly don't remember what I'd started with miss martian, lol.


But I am planning a new chapter for this as early as next weekend.

If i remember correctly, after starfire made raven fat, miss martian came to the tower and raven made her eat a bunch from her fridge as a "lesson" to make her psychic powers stronger? But the chapter ended without anything really. But i'd rather see where the story with shiva goes. 

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On 6/2/2021 at 6:59 PM, Batman76 said:

I honestly don't remember what I'd started with miss martian, lol.


But I am planning a new chapter for this as early as next weekend.

Heck, man, this is awesome news, I'm glad the itch found you back this way again!

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4 hours ago, barrybondstwerk said:

Heck, man, this is awesome news, I'm glad the itch found you back this way again!

Oh yeah I'm having some ideas percolating...

Chapter 37:


Chapter 37: Every Mission is a Suicide Mission


Soft warm sleep was interrupted by a the blaring shriek of an alarm clock.


“Ugh, why is 6:00 am so early,” Harleen groaned, fumbling with the alarm clock in the early morning darkness.


“Because you have to take the ferry to Arkham, Harl,” her wife muttered beside her, “Ugh, I don’t have to be in until 9, you can get started on breakfast without me.”


Harleen yawned again, rolling out of bed with a groan of joints. Toes and ankles popped with relief, but her left knee didn’t stop twinging. The psychiatrist leaned into it a bit, feeling her stomach rolls fold over each other but not getting a satisfying pop. Sighing that this was going to be another bad knee day, the blonde waddled around the bed, pulling her underwear out from between her hefty cheeks.


“You won’t be able to sleep in when that baby comes, Pammy,” Harly yawned, waddling past Pamela’s side of the bed and bending to kiss the soft bulge showing through the sheets.


“Yes and you’re not letting me store up any now. We won’t be staying up until midnight having sex either,” her wife yawned, new third chin folding under her jaw, “now let me sleep in while you get ready.”


Harley chuckled and padded as quietly around the bedroom as she could. Which wasn’t that quiet, the old brownstone’s floor board’s creaked heavily under her 280lb bulk, and to avoid waking her wife the blonde pulled on a snug bed robe and waddled down stairs. The stairs were an adventure themselves, they were fairly narrow and Harley was extremely wide with her left knee always paining her.


“Come on, I was on a wheaties box and I can’t go down the stairs?” the obese ex-athlete muttered as she got to the bottom with a sigh.


But of course, many years separated the morbidly obese pear from the rail thin, ultra muscled gymnast she’d been. Teen years full of athletic excellence had made Harley one of the fittest women in the world by the time she hit 18, skill earning two golds and a silver in ‘08 while her say it like it is attitude, tight butt and perfect legs had earned her America’s love and lust. But a knee injury training later had turned Quinzel into a regular person with an olympian’s appetite and access to several lifetime supplies of sponsored junk food. Between when she’d entered college and when she’d gotten her psych doctorate seven years later she’d put on over a hundred pounds, burying that fit athlete under layers of lazy blubber.


“But you know what, I’m happy for her sleeping in,” the chief psychiatrist at the world renowned Arkham Asylum yawned as she got into the kitchen, the room between door frame and her hips scant indeed, “Pam’s gonna win the nobel for her work with bio fuels, we’re gonna have a baby and she is looking so cute chunky!”


Harley had been obese when the two had met on a niche dating service for bi-PhDs, an odd match for Pamela Isley who’d had a model’s curves on her dainty 5’1 frame. Of course, Pam also had a bit of a fat fetish that saw Harley’s already heavy set 250lb bulk rise up to an obscene 375 by the time they got pregnant. Harley’s knee had hurt pretty bad, enough she’d seriously looked into a walker and to make her need insulin.


But Isley hadn’t stayed slim for long. Living in the fat trap of Harley’s life had given the already busty redhead Power Girl levels of cleavage and a bit of a gut by the time she was shoe horned into her wedding dress. Despite always talking about going on a diet, Pamela had only gotten heavier since, a short stacked, thick thighed and heavy bellied 200 by the time they decided to get knocked up. As Harley was much too fat and diabetic to easily carry to term, Pam had undergone IV and as a result Harley was now the skinny one in the relationship.


“I bet I can get her heavier than me by the time she pops,” Harley grinned, putting a stick of butter into a frying pan for the eggs, getting the soy bacon sizzling, the four bagels fried and the coffee added to the cream, “meanwhile I gotta drop a few pounds…”


Keeping Pamela obese took a fair amount of time and effort, meaning that for the first time in yearshe hefty blonde was down below 300lbs again. It took twelve trips from kitchen to dining room to fill the wood table with her wife’s vegetarian but very high fat breakfast when she heard heavy foot steps above and the shower start. Frowning, and cramming a fist full of bacon into her mouth, the ex-gymnast waddled back to the foot of the stairs.


“Pammy, I got breakfast for ya. If you eat it cold you won’t get as thick!” Harley called.


“Harl, ohhhh, Harl come quick. The pregnancy, I’m so fucking horny….,” the botanist moaned from the shower, “I need you bad….”


Harley gulped. Their sex life was only getting better thanks to how horny the hormones made her huge boobed wife, but the stairs were a hell of a thing. 


“Come on ya pussy,” the psych told herself, “you’re not so much of a bitch you’re gonna let stairs separate you from the sexiest ginger snatch in three states?”


Cursing her thirties and being a very heavy set woman despite her loss, Harley hauled herself up the stairs. She knew it was pretty pathetic she was so fat and in another way knew that her quiet life of married, obese bliss in suburbia was far too bougie as it was. But it was sweet and she loved it, even if she supposed some cardio might be called for, besides what else would she have done, become a super villain like the poor saps she treated?

“Whew, oh boy, puff, I guess...oh god...gasp,” Harley wheezed, squeezing herself into the bathroom, hands on her knees, “I think, ugh, my doc might not have been joking when he said I need to drop blood pressure.”

“Ohhh, ohhhhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhhhh fuck fuck fuck,” her wife moaned from the big walk in shower.


Given their sex drives and ever increasing size, the shower was a necessity. Harley could see the outline of her drop dead gorgeous spouse: shadowy boobs the size of melons that had started leaking milk a few weeks ago, a gut so padded and heavy with fat it didn’t really show yet and such ripe, fertile hips. Sucking in air, Dr. Harleen Quinzel threw open the door expecting hot water and a warm, soft wife…


And instead was hit in the face with a bucket of cold water, waking up on a hard chair.


“ *PHEW* what the fuck?” Harley Quinn gasped as she started awake.


By reflex, Harley’s hardened gymnast muscles tried to haul her up. But she was bound to a hard metal chair, the zip ties cutting into the still thick layer of fat over her strong physique. So the still business suit wearing super villain fell flat on her back.


“Okay, I love the kinky stuff but if I’m not given a sexy ginger dryad with tits the size of water melons and a gut big enough to use as a coach inside of five minutes I am going to kick a lot of people’s asses!” Quinn snarled in her thick gotham accent, blinking at the bright fluorescent lights.


“That’s going to be difficult with your head blown off, Dr. Quinzel,” a harsh, familiar voice told her, “Katanna get her up.”


“Oh shit, oh fuck, No Waller! No, fuck no I’ve been good! I did my time and wiped my slate clean!” the strong fat clown moaned, trying to roll away and doing nothing but making her narrative engorged tits pop blouse buttons,”I ain’t gonna be on no suicide squad again! Look at me, I’m a fat lazy office worker, I ain’t got no super villain skills to use no more!”


A woman with a soft sneer on her rounded face blocked the light. Harley blinked a minute, recognizing the anti-heroine Katanna more by her soul slaying sword than her once athletic physique. As Harley had expected, the Japanese swordswoman had clearly been indulging like the rest of the female population, her fit, muscular 140lb body at least doubling in size. The black body suit she wore was stretched over hips bigger than the pear shaped Harley’s and a gut that folded into dozens of rolls.


“Quiet, you knew you’d screw up your parole again,” Katanna grunted as her belly pressed into her thighs.


But despite her rounded face, the swordswoman lifted the 250lb Harley up like she was a kitten. Those massive legs might have cankles and her triceps had bingo wings but the obese Katanna clearly hadn’t dropped her strength training.


“Deal with your guilt later, for now listen,” the swordswoman said, tugging at her swords belt to get it sat properly among her fat rolls.


The obese Katana stepped away, letting Harley see the rest of the room.


To her left was a icily pale woman with short, platinum blonde hair, unlike Harley not chained to her chair. Like just about every woman Harley had seen in the last year she was fat: face round as a ball, the fat of her underarms hanging like limp flags, boobs bigger than her head and gut filling her lap. She was wearing black leggings stretched transparent, and a black T-shirt with a white snow flake, her gut pressing it up into more of a bra than shirt.


“Frosty!” the damp Harley smiled her own plight forgotten as her ADHD bounded off , “Looking like you’re doing well! Did ya figure out how to make ice cream with them ice powers yet?”


The quasi reformed cryo killer named, coincidentally, Caitlyn Snow and known as Killer Frost glared at Quinn, snorting out a long stream of frosty breath, “Quinn, do you have to be so predictable as to bring up weight the first time we meet? I retired from villain and put on some pounds, it happens and isn’t worth bringing up. This isn’t some sort of fetish porno.”


“Ahhh, but...did you figure out how to make ice cream?” Harley asked, smiling hugely.


“...Yes, yes I did,” Frost sighed, crossing her arms and looking away.


“Oh wow! No wonder you’re looking so cuddly, say if we don’t die I got a job offer for a gal like you!” Harley grinned, as another bucket of water was thrown over her head, “Hey what the fuck!”


“Quinn, you might have put on a hundred pounds but you never change do you?” CIA chief of META operations Amanda Waller sighed, “You had to leave Gotham for NY and break parole, didn’t you? Well its good you did, your crimes give your country cause to use you.”


“Yeah well I...uh…,” Harley squinted at the bizarre sight before her, “Waller, how come you’re more like...a post now?”


Quinn had unfortunately known the ruthless head of the suicide squad for years. Waller was pragmatic, tough, willing to kill but not to waste...and also one of the fattest women Harley knew. In a world of rail thin, ultra fit and usually under 40 super heroines and villains, Waller had unashamedly been a grossly overweight woman in middle age, a professional not a vigilante.


“Gastric bypass and crossfit Quinn, you should try it,” Waller told her with a glare.


The “Wall” had truly collapsed in on itself. Harley had lost hundreds of pounds thanks to a deal with the narrator but now that she looked at a slender woman like Amanda, well, she felt actually fat again! The CIA chief looked years younger, wearing a stylish skirt suit that showed off her muscular legs and tight waist. Harley would have said that the black woman looked like a model if she hadn’t personally infected the modeling world with a weight gain plague months earlier.


“But while related we need to get the briefing done,” Waller coughed, turning on a projector that showed huge amounts of graphs, “as you can easily tell, the world is getting rapidly fatter. Only women are being infected and its having disastrous effects: 75% of women are now obese regardless of age group, cholesterol meds are outselling birth control pills, mobility scooters are selling higher than cars and the number of active female super heroes has fallen by 80%, with many losing their powers. Its clearly unnatural and we believe we’ve found the culprit…”


Harley gulped, cringing in her seat. She’d always feared that Pam’s plans would wind up with her in jail again, but as success had followed success the possible consequences had only gotten higher. They’d turned Power Girl obese and black mailed her to take over her company to fatten up other people and unleashed a weight gain plague! She’d be in jail forever and angry villainesses were gonna beat her fat butt to a pulp! And she wasn’t gonna get to fuck Pam! Surely this was why the suddenly svelte Waller had arrested her!


“The Oil Rich Middle Eastern Nation of Bialia,” Waller explained, “and its ruthless, anti-American leader Queen Bee.”


“Wait, hold on...err...uhhh of course!” Harley coughed, thanking whatever narrator or God controlled her fate that she hadn’t been blamed, “but how did you know?”


“Well apart from her current weight gain, one preceding the current epidemic?” Waller asked.


Waller hit another button, showing a slender and elegant brunette woman in a chic dress on one side and then a lightly brown balloon in a still chic but now tent-sized dress on the other. The old Queen Bee had been regal and elegant, the new one was wider than she was tall with so many chins she didn’t have a neck and arms as thick as Harley’s current waist. Harley was a fan of big boobies but this woman made Power Girl look like the head of the itty bitty titty committee and the clown meant the fat and pregnancy swollen melons of the current Pg, not the mere Gs of the old toned one. Queen Bee’s tatas were past the size of any produce, a cleavage canyon that could be used to bathe in.


“Can you drown in titty sweat?” Harley drooled, jaw hanging open, “cause now I want to go out like that.”


“Queen Bee’s a powerful telepath, she can mind control anything with a Y chromosome within five hundred miles of her and keep them that way for weeks. Its how she took power and why she was never over thrown despite her large oil res-I mean her backing several super villain organizations,” Waller coughed, “Queen Bee’s weight gain is fueling her powers, not only can she control all men within a thousand mile radius now but she can now control women who weigh over 300lbs. Which given the rapidly increasing size of the female population means almost all women, including ones that still have super powers.”


“Oh shit,” Killer Frost muttered, hefting her rotund gut, “I’m going to be in that category soon…”


“This threat is dangerous enough I’d normally call in the League, but now I don’t dare to send in even the few active female heroes they have. Someone like Wonder Woman would be immediately under her control and more dangerous than the nuclear weapons that Bialia almost certainly also has,” Waller insisted, “which is where you three come in…”


“Are we going to parachute into Bialia and storm her palace?” Quinn asked, eyes shining.


“No Harley, of course not. Queen Bee’s army would shoot you if you even managed it. Katana can’t run faster than five miles an hour, Dr. Snow’s cholesterol is off the charts and given how high your blood sugar is I’m surprised you aren’t a hundred and fifty pounds fatter,” Waller said, throwing up more charts of the three agents' terrible physical condition, “Lucky for us, Bee is going incognito for her own vacation…”


Another button, this time bringing up a massive ship.


“The SS Cheese-Cake, the world’s most decadent, overfed cruise designed for “real women”. Its the heart of a new project by Wayne Enterprizes CEO for female projects, Selina Kyle,” Waller said, showing a picture of the chunky Milf to be, “and its our only chance to…”


“Are you gonna have Katanna cut her head off?” Harley asked.


“...No,” Waller sighed.


“Oh, you’re gonna have Frosty turn her into a the world’s biggest snow cone!” Quinn pressed.


“My powers don’t do that,” Killer Frost sighed.


“So you’re gonna have me smash her with a hammer?” Harley grinned.


“No, you’re going to seduce her and inject her with a drug that’ll take away her power to control women,” Waller sighed, “despite my reputation, I’m not a monster.”


“Or the narrator’s getting…,” harley began, before quickly glancing at her drastically slimmed down thighs and enhanced bust since making a deal with the narrator, “increasingly smart and handsome!”


There was a loud pop as Quinn’s handfilling E cups turned into ludicrously pert F cup torpedoes and shredded her bra. The other women in the room didn’t notice anything changing.

“Ha, sucker,” Quinn giggled at her even larger breasts, “with good tastes!”


“Katanna, make sure you remind her there’s a bomb in her head,” Waller sighed, “why couldn’t we just recruit Navy Seals for this I don’t know.”

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10 hours ago, Batman76 said:

The SS Cheese-Cake, the world’s most decadent, overfed cruise designed for “real women”.

I laughed out loud at this. It's a genius setup - a cruise ship dedicated to ultra fat girls. I hope one or two of the super-heroines will happen to be aboard!

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“Her name’s KaTAna! She’s got a SWORD that steals SOULS! One look and she’ll EAT yours.” 🤨

The dream at the beginning threw me off for a second, but then all became crystal clear. Of course the suicide squad would be sent in the wrong direction. I wonder how Harley’s going to explain this one to Ivy?

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On 6/6/2021 at 12:48 AM, barrybondstwerk said:

You beautiful bastard, taking dream fantasies and fat reboots and serving them up so fast and fresh. God bless ya.

Ha, thank you! Dreams of this have been bouncing around my head, this and other characters too.


On 6/6/2021 at 5:58 AM, flyer33 said:

I laughed out loud at this. It's a genius setup - a cruise ship dedicated to ultra fat girls. I hope one or two of the super-heroines will happen to be aboard!

Perhaps several...and someone far more dangerous than Harley...

6 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

“Her name’s KaTAna! She’s got a SWORD that steals SOULS! One look and she’ll EAT yours.” 🤨

The dream at the beginning threw me off for a second, but then all became crystal clear. Of course the suicide squad would be sent in the wrong direction. I wonder how Harley’s going to explain this one to Ivy?

Oh yeah, in a perfect world whre they weren't criminals ivy and harley would still be fat. And Katanna is criminally underused, especially in the movie.


anyway part 2:

Pt 2: Heavy Seas


The quasi reformed supervillainess was caught in a dilemma.


On the one hand, Harley was worried. Her poor, delicate flower Ivy was trapped all alone in a penthouse apartment without a phone or internet to call for help. Granted, Harley had intentionally disconnected them so Ivy couldn’t order more food in an attempt to get the jolly green shortstack at least semi mobile again but given her spherical state, Ivy was in no condition to help herself. Nor was there any chance that without Quinn’s motivations Ivy would even attempt any form of exercise and without Harley and her machete keeping the house plants at bay, Ivy was going to be subconsciously force feeding herself with her junk food growing vines. There was a real danger there’d be so much green blubber inside the pent house Harley wouldn’t be able to push the door open and she despaired of ever doing cute couple things again like short walks on the beach or getting stuck in a restaurant booth.


But on the other hand, she was going on an all expenses paid cruise full of fat girls!


Harley had always known she’d liked girls with a bit of bounce to their ounce since she was pretty young. If she’d stayed purely on that track it would have served her better than any heteronormative choice she’d made. And such a choice would have been much easier if the dating market was like the line of passengers waiting to board the SS Cheesecake.


“Holy Smackaronies, talk about a pod of whales!” Quinn exclaimed as the government black SUV pulled the two supervillainesses and anti-heroine handler to the line, “A veritable bloat of hippos, a sounder of swine, a drove of heifers and a bamboo of pandas! To wit, a big group of fat girls!”


Ivy’s virus had ripped through Gotham’s high society first, turning elegantly lean and cooly fit socialites with enough money to afford the best personal trainers and dieticians into gluttonous butter balls. Portion control was out the window and exercise abhorred as the new plague turned every man chubby chaser and every woman into a determined feedee. Through her contacts, Harley’s blue eyes glimpsed a cavalcade of East Coast upper society who’s who’s carrying far too much fat.


There the ginger Gotham Gazette reporter Vicky Vale, her voluptuous bod having grown more voluminous by the day since the fashion show. She was dressed in a pink skirt suit big enough to camp in and ready to bust off of her frame. The suit jacke would never button over her bulky torso again, while hefty arms threatened to pop its seams. Bowling ball boobs and a beach ball gut stretched every button on her button up shirt to the breaking point, while wide hips and yoga ball buns hung out of a mini skirt held together with multiple rubber bands and paper clips.


Behind her was the socialite Kate Kane, another tall and ivory skinned ginger. The ex-special forces soldier had recently retired from the vigilante life as Batwoman when her gut kept popping utility belts. Without any activity since then, the once formidable woman’s gain had rapidly accelerated, a high sugar and carb diet loading pound after pound to her body to replace vanishing muscle. She was wearing a sports bra to support a nice pair of D cups and nothing else bar a pair of fashionable spandex shorts. They showed off her flattened, saggy butt’s cellulite folds and her soft thigh’s plump contours but all eyes would be on her double folded apron belly hanging down over her thighs. Accompanying Kane was her pair of on again off again girlfriends Renee Montoya and Maggie Sawyer. Both police officer Lesbians had had complimentary gains, Montoya’s latina genes ensuring a heavy pair shape with plenty of cellulite hanging from her pair of daisy dukes, while the blonde sawyer’s three chins were complimenting her pendulous breasts threatening to pop her crop top with any breath.


Next in line was the metropolis based fashion icon Lana Lang, three porters helping her out of a limo. Once her lean curves had dazzled multiple covers but after retiring to manage her own clothing brand, Lana’s corn fed Kansas genes had begun to pad her out, making her avoid bikinis for more size hiding ensembles. She’d abandoned hiding for blatantly flaunting, her quarter ton curves less moving from the limo than flowing out. At first Harley thought the fashion mogul was bare but instead she was in dental floss bikini, cups barely enough to cover the tea saucer nipples of her water melon boobs and panties lost in her collection of drooping love handles, knee covering gut and back fat canyons. Once out of the limo it’s shocks sprang back up, while the mobility scooter Lane was sat upon groaned beneath her, barely puttering along. Vale was clearly the fattest woman in sight, not that any was less than obese, and currently attempting to gorge herself immobile for her swimsuit issue return, goal nearly in sight as a 32 oz shake was placed in her sausage fingers, Vicky using her mammoth cleavage as a cup holder.


“Ugh, makes me feel thin,” Frost muttered from next to Harley, the rotund cryomancer trying to get her seat belt undone.


As a woman with powers, Frost was one of the few who was programmed to dislike their gain by Ivy’s plague. Not that the once lithe woman could do anything about her gain, despite grumbling about her hefty gut and boobs the whole ride over she’d demolished a Big Belly Burger special order that left her icy pale gut hanging over her unbuttoned skirt.


“I know, like, I’m glad I can go up the stairs without blacking out again but dear God we’re gonna be on that boat with all that blubber! Thank God Ivy wanted an open relationship!” the artificially slimmed and quite fit Harley squealed, overly stuffed tits wobbling in excitement while her somewhat fitting shorts pinched comfortably.


“Keep your eyes on the prize,” Katana growled from the front seat, the once nimble swords woman taking a long slurp of her near empty 48 oz soda and burping, making a seam pop on her skin tight cut offs, “we find Queen Bee, seduce her, inject her and leave before we get into the size range of her powers.”


“So what, all in like two days for you two?” Harley giggled.


“I’m not that fat, and I’m trying to lose weight,” Frost glowered, rolling out of the car with a grunt after getting her seat belt freed from her boobs, “and you’re looking a little chunky yourself clown.”


“Weight is just a number,” Katana agreed, rolling herself from the seat.


The wandering Ronin was still immensely strong, weight lifting having built serious muscle power under her blubber. But Harley could also tell by her breathing she got in no cardio anymore and would be quite slow in a fight. And when her fitness regimen inevitably slacked off, the “strong” in her strong fat build would quickly go. 


“Yeah, one rising up for every body,” Harley giggled, hoping she’d be there to see Katana realize her strength was gone, “oh what a beautiful world!”


Thanks to ridiculous narrator intervention Quinn was positively slender, a curvy 240lbs well balanced between a firm donk and huge boobs. Her gymnasts muscles had been miraculously restored under the curves, giving her a surprising strength, flexibility and endurance unmatched by most of the other women on the continent. The three relatively thin Squad mates drew plenty of glares, especially the ‘lean’ Quinn. Obesity was in and none of the panting heifers in line for the decadent cruise wanted a reminder of the change from skinny, even if Harley was obese.


Getting in line for the cruise ship proved a long wait, made tolerable by waiters rapidly serving the bloated guests frequent drinks. Harley’s eyes practically lit up when she tasted the booze and weight gain powder in the heavenly chocolate, sucking it up with glee. By the end of the line and three of the booze heavy shakes, the curvy blonde was feeling more than a little tipsy and more than a little bloated, having lost the button of her pants along with her sobriety. 


She pretty dimly sat through the orientation in the palatial main dining room, safety briefings barely heard over heavy eating. Quin tasted the miracle food from Starrware as she stuffed some wafers down her mouth and although she knew it was dangerous to eat her own product, kept guzzling knowing she was filling her own product. Her belly was bloated out to her boobs again between the food and booze, jean shorts held up purely by friction. Harley had been blessed with weight gain immunity but the pleasant agony of being ready to pop was damned nice, she still had a desire to be the skinny girl in a room of fatties but eating like a lardass sure was nice!


Half **, Quinn cast her eyes around the room.


Next to her, Katana and Frost were eating like pigs. The cryomancer had burst her bra, hefty tits nearly hanging from her shirt, while the swords woman had long vertical rips running her leggings. Given that this was Anonymous food they’d soon be over 300lbs.


Looking for her target, Harley glanced over the great and gluttonous of the east coast. Lana Lang’s scooter had crapped out before she’d gotten to her table, leaving waiters to hand feed the immense ginger. Kathy Kane and her girlfriends were busy feeding each other, stuffed and bloated bellies starting to get in the way of the femme fatales who were breathing heavily. Vicky Vale had burst all the buttons of her clothes, only her bra holding on.


“Come on, looking for a fatgirl in a fat girl stack,” Quinn hiccuped.


She glanced at a table where an immense redhead and a hip heavy blonde were sat. The redhead was wearing glasses and sat in a wheel chair that her hips were almost out growing. She had on unbuttoned slacks and an outgrown sweater that gave her a smart professor vibe, while the blonde next to her was wearing an elegant black dress. The blonde was an extreme pear, buns resting on two different chairs and seemed a bit sheepish about being so fat a blush going down her three chins. Harley marked her as a meta and wasn’t surprised when the Captain announced her as Dinah Lance, headliner for the Black Canaries and the on ship entertainment. She stood up with a grunt and raised a flabby arm to wave, clearly embarrassed her skin tight dress chose that moment for the zipper to rip.


“Huh, bet she aint’ *belch* hitting the high notes with jowls like that,” Harley mused, filling up on some more empty calorie cookies.


Behind the Black Canary were another pair of well dressed fatties. A dark skinned brunette in purple flaunting a trifold belly in a crop top and mini skirt, the fat a cocoa water fall to her dimpled knees. Harley recognized her as Helena Bertinelli by her relatively unchanged face, meaning that she was the ab showing vigilante known as the Huntress. Next to her was a hyper curvaceous blonde wearing an elegant, 40’s style ball gown. She was only heavily thick, barely even obese, a 230lb hour glass with epic boobs and a drumset ass. Harley recognized her by the hair as the time displaced Lady Blackhawk, who’s 40’s metabolism was slowing her gain down to nearly realistic levels.


“Crap, all the birds of prey are here. Don’t want capes getting involved, even if they are all obese,” Harley hiccuped, eyes still scanning, “but if they’re here then Queen B must be...fucking huge.”


There were a lot of fat women in the room and Harley had thought that the quarter ton Lana Lang was the biggest by a hundred pounds. Apparently the blonde clown hadn’t been looking hard enough, as an absolutely massive woman was entering into the room. She was wearing an inconspicuous pair of skin tight sweat pants and a XXXL t-shirt that didn’t hit her belly button, showing plenty of cinnamon skin. Harley had gotten pretty good at weight guessing and pegged the buttery brunette at midway through the 700s, an absolute water balloon about twice the size of any of the Birds of Prey. Somehow she was walking, a ludicrous violation of physics as the jiggling beauty huffed and wheezed to her seat: a customized couch.


A monsoon of sweat was pouring off the mind controlling mid eastern monarch, turning her grey clothing black. There was no shape to her, Bee having swollen hundreds of pounds past the already obese picture Waller had shown her. Proud, austere features had given way to a face so fat she had no neck, a lumpy, wobbling slab of chin fat big as one of Harley’s plump boobs. Near vestigial arms as thick as the 250lb Harley’s stuffed waist were elevated to a near t-pose by the press of their bingo wings and boobs big as a linebacker. Although Bee wasn’t wearing any of her royal regalia, Quinn recognized a high tech weapon’s bracelet mostly buried by wrist fat near Bee’s swollen hand. The Queen’s gut was a hanging slab that was inches from hitting the floor, covering up cankles swollen and sore from hauling her vast girth around. Two svelte Body guards in suits flanked her, the monarch of Bialyia so fucking fat it took Quinn a minute to realize they were 300lb blobs of fat and muscle.


“Target is in my sites, girls,” Quinn smiled to her allies, “this mission is gonna be easy as robbing a bank in daytime….girls?”


Both Frost and Katanna had lost themselves in the throws of gluttony. The long rips in Katana’s leggings had gone all the way to her waist band, letting her multi rolled belly surge out as she stuffed her self with handfuls of pop corn shrimp. Next to her Killer Frost was shot gunning sundaes, bloating belly slowly tilting her chair back as she broke her hour old promise to lose weight.


“Okay, both of ya are lost in a fatty feast. I get it, I’ve been there,” Harley sighed, rolling to her feet and tugging at her shorts to get them out of her ass, “I’ll do the seducing myself!”


The half ** Harley waddled off, ensuring she looked her best. A tug at her bra to make sure her increasingly zeppelin like boobs were on display, a pull down of her shorts to show the pink thong digging into her porcelain skin and putting a bit more of a seductive sway into her waddle. Her thick, curvy frame with its hint of underlying strength was to die for, granted she liked near immobile short stack gingers more but Harley was certain as she sashayed up to Queen Bee’s table she’d get an invite to her room. Ivy’s virus had rippled around the world and turned everyone into a fat lover and given the high levels of bisexuality in super villains, she was certain that she was irresistible. 


“Hi gorgeous, you look like you could use some company. Maybe a feeder to let you relax at the table,” Harley cooed at the vast monarch, bending down to show her cleavage.


Bee’s piggish eyes glimpsed up from her meal and she snorted, “Too chubby. Leave.”


Harley could only blink. She was the thinnest woman in the room by fifty pounds, a hundred pounds smaller than average and this nutter thought she was chubby? What the fuck?


“Uh, you sure you don’t like curvy girls? Ones with thick muscle under their flab?” Harley asked, “great big hooters?”


The spherical Queen snorted, “No. Your gluttony is disgusting. And I have a feeder on standby. You are in her way.”


“Exactly, now please move or I’ll move you myself,” a firm voice said behind Harley’s back, someone daring to put a hand on Harley’s shoulder.


Harley turned, seeing a tall and actually slender asian woman. She was well muscled and athletic, without a trace of spare fat save for generous breasts. She could have been thirty or fifty, face smooth and hair dark but when Quinn saw her eyes she realized how fucked she was.


“Hey, hands off of the...oh...fuck me,” Harley said, voice going pathetically small, “I’ll just be uh, Shiving...uh...ladying err...going now!”


“Oh, I think you will,” the world’s greatest assassin smiled, “after all, I’ve got an appointment.”

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Good chapter, maybe it's something that was referenced in the past but I'm not sure if I was supposed to know that Shiva was going to be in the cruise or not. Regardless it was quite the surprise and definitely a complication for Harley and the two piglets to proceed with their mission, I wonder if the assassin is on her own or if her new "partners" are involved in any of this (I sure wouldn't mind reading about Circe 😉).

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Harley vs Shiva! Boobs vs brawn! The showdown we’ve been waiting for! Who will win? Who will lose? How big will they get!? The next chapter’s going to be huge.

Edited by >_< 0_0
Like mother like daughter. I mix them up in my head.

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5 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

Harley vs Shiva! Boobs vs brawn! The showdown we’ve been waiting for! Who will win? Who will lose? How big will they get!? The next chapter’s going to be huge.


Well, its actually a short chapter...


Quinn had gotten into pretty good and entirely unearned shape these past couple months. She thanked God for that, because she’d have probably had a coronary on the spot if she’d still been truly obese. The short sighted clown tumbled out of the dining room in a cold sweat at the brush with death.


“Jeeze louise, I fight loonies dressed as Bats and my ex, the genocidal clown. Fight freak assassin broads are not in my paygrade!” Harley hyper ventilated, “And how the hell is she so skinny? I’m thinner than 70% of the Northern Hemisphere and she’s gotta lot of nerve calling me fat!”


Harley grabbed a tray of cupcakes from a passing waiter, shoveling them into her mouth in a show of unneeded stress eating. The Master Assassin Lady Shiva rarely came to Gotham but all save the truly nuts knew to stay away when she did, the lady could read intentions too fast and dodge bullets too easy. Harley ran some options in her head on how to deal with the hyper fit martial artist, each of them coming up short.


“Artillery? No, not on the same boat as me,” Harley muttered through her third cupcake, “Same with *munch* explosives. Poison? Not reliable enough. Calling in a favor with a first rate meta human? Well, let’s see, I know Red who’d need a forklift to get here and Power Girl, who hates me now because I manipulated her into an emotional breakdown and she’ll need five years of therapy before she can even use her powers again and by that time she’ll be a middle aged milf in a wheel chair and Waller will have blown my head off and its not my fault, that scary bitch wasn’t supposed to be here and its not like the two fatties on my team are any...wait I gotta team!”


Shoving the last five cupcakes into her bulging cheeks, Harley waddled off at speed. She’d swallowed most of the confectionary mass by the time she got to the table, thighs making smacking noises as she hurried through the over stuffed cruise goers. Almost all of these women were stuffed to the gills, collapsed back in their chairs and heavily sweating as their engorged stomachs gurgled and groaned. This included Katanna and Frost, who’s hefty bodies had already burst their clothes and pushed the out of shape anti-heroines towards a nap.


“Girls, big problem!” Harley gasped, swallowing the last of the cupcakes and grinning as a waiter dropped off more, “Queen Bee has some major body issues that culminate in an absurd lipophobia, meaning she rejected even my svelte self!”


A seam gave way on Quinn’s thick thigh as her stomach kept bloating, letting pale fat squish its way free.


“Ugghhhh, you’re not exactly *urp* lean Quinn,” Frost groaned, her sweat frozen on her skin and her light blue face looking a tad green as she struggled to digest twelve thousand calories, “you probably *hic* gained twelve pounds from today.”


“Oh excuse me, X-Large Frosty with a side of fries,” Harley said, crossing her plump arms over her torpedo shaped breasts, “for being a bit curvy. Why don’t you go impress her with your fifty inch waist line and chaffed thighs?”


The significantly stronger Katana was a bit better, but only just. She leaned forwards to grab a roll that was mostly butter and a small pop sounded, a pair of lacy panties going under the pressure of her swollen gut. One hand munching and gut pressed to the table, the Japanese woman reached out her free hand to poke Harley’s rather meaty backside.


“Harley, you’re fat, accept it. I did. Now, how do we continue the mission?” the sumo sized samurai mused.


“Give me three months and I’ll be back to a size four,” Harley muttered, knowing that due to her deal with the narrator this feast would leave her thinner than she’d started, “but Waller told us to seduce her and if we’re competing against Shiva, we’re screwed!”


Harley took a glance across the room where the lithe assassin was already feeding the rotund Queen. Shiva’s lean, muscular build was perfectly shown by a beautiful, figure hugging red dress that made her seem a different species compared to the sweating, groaning tubbos filling the room. The assassin was slowly feeding the gigantic Queen Bee, her nimble hands oh so slowly dipping onion rings and mozzarella sticks into tangy sauces and oh so slowly feeding them one at a time into the Queen’s mouth. Instead of the uncontrolled cavalcade of the rest of the room, Bee was only eating a hundred calories per minute and looking ready to come from it. Shiva was whispering low, subtle insults to the Queen’s ruined figure while her free hand massaged her stomach under the table, making Bee’s piggish eyes roll back into her head and her whole acre of tan lard wobble.


“She can’t be *urp* that tough,” Frost grunted, “I can kill her, I’m fat but I still have my *urp* powers.”


To demonstrate, the meta human put her hand on an emptied martini glass. Instantly it frosted...and then filled with a hot fudge sundae, complete with whip cream, sprinkles and cherry. Harley seized it before anyone else could and started chowing down.


“Yeah and I still got my psych degree. Let me guess, you’ve got major mental hang ups over getting fat so you subconsciously altered your powers into only being able to create baked goods?” Harley hiccuped over the pop of another seam, “Forget fighting, for you that ran out of style along with running and societal standards of modesty. We gotta *urp* use our, ugh heads...ugh, I’ve got an ice cream headache!”


Sitting down to guzzle a freshly deposited cappuccino, Harley considered her options...which mostly meant drinking more fattening coffee and cream.


“Combat is likely ineffective and our mission has changed,” the wandering Katana said with a slight hiccup, “Frost and I will take over getting to Queen Bee. Harley, your job is to seduce Shiva.”


Harley was just starting up on a large platter of brie melted over bread. The tubby blonde ex-psych looked up and swallowed from this latest part of her feast.


“Me? How am I gonna convince her to fatten up?” Harley said through a full mouth, “I usually work with people who already have eating disorders!”

Katana sighed, shaking her rounded face, “You won’t be feeding her, she’ll be feeding you.”

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1 hour ago, >_< 0_0 said:

Uh oh, the narrator deal has a loophole 😆

OOps for harley's sake...


Pt 4: Working up an appetite


“Ugh, why do I have to be the one who exercises?” Harley whined as she shimmed some spandex up her thick, sturdy thighs, “I”m on a fat girl cruise, why the hell am I working out?”


The three Suicide Squad members had worked out the plan during dinner, a late night snack and then a heavy breakfast. Well, Harley and Katana had worked on the plan while a grossly over stuffed Killer Frost laid back and moaned at the state of her massively stuffed gut. Okay, to be actually true, Katana had done all of the work while Harley had continuously stuffed herself, the strong abdominal muscles under her belly flab giving her a ridiculous stomach capacity.


“Hell yes I do, these b**s are back up to the 500 crunches a day I did in college. I imagine anyway, there’s still some fat under there...and some bloat,” Harley chuckled patting her porcelain pale and spherical gut, “just gotta get the damn panties up first…”


Katana’s plan was relatively simple. Lady Shiva might be a martial artist freak able to dodge gunfire but she was just human, so her body required a lot of physical maintenance. Meaning she’d be one of the few people in the ship’s gym, probably after breakfast when Shiva’s feedee Queen Bee was sleeping off her latest 10K calories.


Harley had argued against having to be the one in the gym, but she’d been argued down. Shiva would recognize Katana, having fought with and against her enough, and no one would believe a butter blob like Killer Frost would ever set foot in a gym. Meaning Harley was going to have to face that worst of fates: exercising.


“Of course, I knew all of that ya dumb narrator….who’s a magnificent specimen of a man,” Harley coughed, remembering how her altered metabolism and heavy tatas depended on the narrator’s good will, “why don’t you talk about how damn hot my thick ass looks in this skimpy work out gear?”


The SS Cheese Cake had a gym on board to meet some archaic federal guidelines, but it and its gift shop were essentially abandoned. Harley had nabbed some dusty spandex in the biggest size offered from before Ivy’s pandemic when a girl like her was counted as dangerously overweight and not among the fittest women in the states. The tight pink sports bra and black spandex short shorts were meant for a just thick woman of about a size 14 and while Harley had dropped well over a hundred pounds via narrative fiat, she was still far too thick for them.


“Yeah that’s it, talk about how fucking thick I am…,” Harley grinned.


Quinn’s thighs were at the mid point between the knee over hanging tree trunks they’d been and the svelte, perfectly toned quads they might be. Her muscle was covered up by a thick layer of fat still and her inner thighs touched half way to the knee, but their thickness clearly had some power. Lower down her cankles were in retreat, calves and ankles starting to separate once again. Higher up and the panties were still having plenty of trouble with Harley’s hips and ass.


A natural pear, Harley’s butt had been a sagging flap of cellulite at her very biggest. But now that she’d slimmed down and toned up, the clown’s buns were two firm, juicy, bouncy hemispheres hanging out of her shorts. She gave her self a slap and a squeeze, pleased by the firm bounciness that was only lightly dusted with cellulite. Between the big round buns and the girthy, still matronly hips the spandex was stretched near transparent, the backside turned into a thong and the front half hidden under Harley’s belly, while the side straps dug deep into her love handles.


“Nothing wrong with a big ass, although I’ll miss getting stuck in chairs. That was kinda hot,” the slimming villainess grinned.


Harley’s gut was still pretty soft and currently distended from an immense and probably unwise breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage, gravy and biscuits with enough creamy coffee to make the ADD woman’s belly slosh. She looked a little pregnant with all the softness stretched taut.


“Ha, not me. I’m gonna convince Pam’s fat gut to have a kid though. She’ll look cute all preggo and leaking, you perv---perfect narrator,” Harley saved, tugging at her chest to make sure the fabulous F cups didn’t shrink.


Taut and turgid titty torpedoes stretched the sports bra well past its capacity. The once flat Harley was as busty as busty got, bearing Power Girl level cleavage and looking more like Power Girl than the actual Karen Starr.


“Hey, most of that is your fault, its your story! I mean, I did kinda help with convincing her into bdsm knowing her tough attitude just hid emotional fragility and a need to be dominated but I mean its totally not something I feel bad about,” Harley lied, guilt welling in her chest.


Ignoring the feeling, the over curvy clown waddle/sashayed into the dusty gym, searching for the equipment that had been recently used. She found a treadmill that was dust free and hopped on the eliptical in front of it, trusting to her increased fitness to deal with unfamiliar exercise. Despite that, it was the first strenuous activity Harley had done in two years and she soon felt sick, waddling along at barely 2 miles an hour as the quart of whipped cream she’d had at breakfast threatened to come up, as well as hearing the clap.


*Clap-Clap-Clap-Clap-Clap” filled the gym, the sounds of Harley’s thighs and buns jostling against each other as she puttered along.


“Okay, my butt isn’t that fat…, is it?” Harley gulped, feeling a bit turned on by the embarrassment.


Behind her, the press ganged villainess heard a door open and quieted herself, trying to look sane and anonymous as she began heavily sweating. The mirrored wall gave Harley a good look at her portly, somewhat strong fit frame jiggling and wobbling, as well as the lithe bombshell who’d just entered the room.


Shiva was about as old as a villainess got without super powers or cashing out like Catwoman did, easily in her mid forties. But the absolutely gorgeous stunner could have passed for a college athlete, the toned and agile physique showed off by her skin tight spandex without a hint of age or extra fat on her. Her abs were firm enough and her thighs jacked enough that Harley felt an involuntary fear in her chest, one that was tinted by horny when the busty assassin raised her firm arms to tie her hair behind her head. Quinn wasn’t certain if those tits were real but holy shit did she want to find out. She hadn’t been into skinny girls for a while but damn did Shiva make thin look good.


“Funny how she’s still thin, guess this chapter is gonna be all about her downfall,” Harley wondered mentally, trying not to fall off the elliptical, “which is funny as she’s got “final boss” energy all over her...unless...oh boy…I mean, wait a minute the narrator gave me this sexy fitness and let me lose weight, its not like I’d just...start gaining again…after spending this whole chapter flaunting how skinny I was getting...oh fuck.”


Quinn’s unsteady sanity gave her an excellent grasp of narrative drift. She was inside a weight gain story and had just spent quite a while flaunting her weight loss. Therefore, in accordance with ancient fat fiction laws, a karmic come uppance was in order.


“Oh come on, I’m his fave. I’ve got more chapters than anyone else,” Harley sweated, “maybe he’ll be nice…”


“I must say,” a cold, cultured voice from behind her purred, “Its so odd to see someone else working out here, this is a ship for decadence and yet here you are trying to erase all your enjoyment…”


Quinn glanced behind her, seeing Shiva smiling and feeling like a gazelle with a broken leg and lions all around. The assassin was on the treadmill’s maximum speed and incline, sprinting easily and not even breathing hard.


“Oh uh just trying to um, control my gain ya know. Wanna get some muscle under the blubber, so I don’t wind up immobile by 35!” the hip heavy Harley tried to explain.


“Oh what a shame, you see, looking at you I can see how you just loathe exercise. The tilt of the shoulder, the narrowing of the hip,” the assassin observed, “just moving brings back childhood memories of forced practices when all you wanted to do was eat ice cream and play video games.”


“How the fuck did you- I mean, yeah I always hated exercising but you know gotta stay thin...until like a year or so again when I just started gaining,” Harley gasped, terrified of being psychoanalyzed, “Just uh, like everyone else...but you…”

“Yes, how odd but how do you feel about gaining weight? You seem like you want to just give into the decadence, to gorge and gorge and grow,” Shiva went on as she passed the two mile mark, “you desire a life of laziness and weakness despite what society tells you about wanting strength…”


“I *puff* er, okay I’m...getting a little wet from all of this, but really I just want to be a skinny mini again,” Harley gulped, panties starting to sop as her inner desires were so accurately described, “but you know, hard to stop eating…”


“Yes, you clearly have no control over yourself. And you like it that way, because you feel…,” the fit assassin observed, reading Harely’s emotions like a book, “like you deserve to be fat.”


“I don’t, well maybe I do but like...just cause I eat a bunch and kinda ain’t got a clean slate doesn’t mean I don’t, erm,” Harley swallowed, realizing what was about to happen.


“You want to be fat and deserve to be fat, say it,” Shiva ordered.


“I...oh that fucking narrator abusing his own story rules,” Harley huffed and swallowed, “I want to be fat and deserve to be fat…”


As she said the words, Harley somehow felt the metabolism she’d been gifted with...slow down.


“Of course you do,” Shiva grinned, easily hopping over the treadmill and Harley’s head to perch on the blonde’s elpitical, “which is why you are going to cease exercising immediately. Sit and watch me.”


Gulping, Harley obeyed, waddling off the elliptical and planting her wide buns onto a chair. She watched Shiva finish her six mile run and start on weights. Every perfect muscle in the assassin’s lithe body flexing and showing as she dead lifted nearly a quarter ton. The exercise dragged on, Shiva squatting and lunging with heavy barbells on her shoulder. Harley felt confused by it...until she started feeling hungry. By now it had been more than half an hour since she’d eaten, the longest time she’d gone without eating awake in months.


“There’s my first workout done for today,” Shiva smiled, a light sheen of sweat covering her body, “now follow me piglet, we’re going to bring out the real you…”


“Oh, oh joy,” Harley gulped dragged onwards and stomach rumbling, “who could have foreseen this?”

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Well it seems like things are about to get HEAVY for Harley after all, unfortunately for her and fortunately for us of course. Also Shiva really knows how to "dominate" for sure, she seems to have the clown on the palm of her hand and I'm all up for it (still wondering if she's the only one of her "team" in the cruise by the way).

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I absolutely love Harley’s meta character development in this story. The way she sort of instigated this plot line by making a deal with the devil-narrator, which backfired on her, until she starts losing weight and gaining curves... wait, did you trick me into getting into weight loss? 🤨 What are these feelings welling up within me? For so long I have been ensnared in the dark side I had forgotten what it means to enjoy the feeling of flexing muscles, the exhilaration of working out with your lover, side by side, skin gleaming with sweat as we bring out the best qualities out of each other, followed by hot showers and watching Netflix while we snack on collagen-infused protein shakes and meal-prep. Is this a new kink? Is this... female muscle admiration? 

Oh, wait. Harley’s getting fat again. Never mind. 😖

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48 minutes ago, >_< 0_0 said:

I absolutely love Harley’s meta character development in this story. The way she sort of instigated this plot line by making a deal with the devil-narrator, which backfired on her, until she starts losing weight and gaining curves... wait, did you trick me into getting into weight loss? 🤨 What are these feelings welling up within me? For so long I have been ensnared in the dark side I had forgotten what it means to enjoy the feeling of flexing muscles, the exhilaration of working out with your lover, side by side, skin gleaming with sweat as we bring out the best qualities out of each other, followed by hot showers and watching Netflix while we snack on collagen-infused protein shakes and meal-prep. Is this a new kink? Is this... female muscle admiration? 

Oh, wait. Harley’s getting fat again. Never mind. 😖

I'll have a chapter on cass getting buff to keep you confused next month.

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