The Plain’s City fashion show was a buzz of high fashion and low morals, loose tongues and tight bodies.
Word had come down from the event board that the models had to be a size 4 to even see the catwalk, with strictly enforced measures and scales on hand. Normally this wouldn't be hard for professionally thin women at the peak of their health, but even the sveltest women in the city were finding it hard to keep the weight off of late with the recent elimination of healthy foods and lifestyles. Strangely, those models signed with Lord Industries seemed immune to the increasingly common Plain’s City poundage, while those with the opposing Hunt Co were rejected for outsizing their limits with regularity as the measuring tape and scale told of past limits pudge. Crash diets, dangerous dehydration methods and extreme exercise programs had been necessary to get almost every Hunt signed model into their swimsuits and lingerie, which still pinched on with worrying snugness.
In such a fat phobic environment, Andi Korin was able to navigate without a second glance, the lard pouring out of her jean cutoffs and crop tops good as a billion dollar black budget stealth suit. The current crop of catwalk starlets didn't do much as glance at the former supermodel, lest her obesity catch. Tubby thighs and folded fupa, sprawling hips and bulging buns, jostling jowls and ample arms combined to give the depowered super villain a new ability, invisibility! After helping the down in the dumps Dahlia Drake into her runway outfit/gut-hiding girdle, Andi had soon found herself gorging at a nearby craft services table.
“Meu deus,” the Brazilian woman muttered to herself as she loaded up a plate, “I should really cut back, I’ve got to fit into a wedding dress in six months…but chocolate covered strawberries and toasted ravioli in one place?”
Andi had been on multiple strict diets ever since losing her ultra tight body in the Model Wars…and every day of that had been a cheat day. As the super villain Fogo Verde, Andi had been able to eat whatever she’d wanted while staying a size 4 without effort but after her girlfriend Helena Hunt, Lady Shade, had stolen her power granting amulet, had had to diet to keep her cover girl body.
But the few months of feedism and hypnosis Andi had "endured" at the hands of Lord Corp employed ‘trainers’ and ‘nutritionists’ had thoroughly broken her self control and discipline. When she saw food she ate it, her metabolism was in the gutter and her muscles were mush. Giving no thought to how she was fifty pounds fatter than the last time she'd walked the catwalk, and had been shockingly flabby then, Andi didn't bother filling plates. She began glutting herself right there at the table, thoughts about how much Brazilian butt was hanging out of her shorts going by the wayside as chocolate covered fruit and fried pastry went down the hatch.
It wasn’t that the dumpy derriere Andi wanted to get fatter, but if she saw food, she just had to eat it! The feast she feted upon would have been enough to turn most of the barely slim enough models unacceptably healthy, but for Andi was just enough to make her tug at the strained button of her skin tight size 18 cut offs. She'd had to shoe horn the pants up her lumpy thighs, saggy butt and bulging belly that morning and going by the groaning seams, straining button and breaking zipper, would never fit into them again!
“Ay caramba, but that’s good,” Andi belched slightly, fanning her much fuller face, “but so salty I need…ohhh, an energy drink!”
A pop of a tab and Andi was guzzling the drink down. So focused was she on the refreshing taste, that she didn’t notice a further inch of cellulite coated lard pour out of her straining cut offs, already 40 inch butt making another determined step towards a 4 foot girth! Despite making a public spectacle of herself, the near anonymous Andi was drawing glances almost entirely of animosity, as models who were starving themselves felt both detestation and jealousy at the former catwalk queen…but it was only almost…
“Keep that up, Andi, and we’ll have to wheel you down the aisle of Plain’s City Cathedral,” a posh accented voice whispered in Andi’s ear, “...I’ll have to steal Lord Corp’s formula just to make sure you keep getting rounder and chunkier and warmer…”
The obese model sputtered, almost ** in surprise! Partly from the strong hand squeezing her meaty rump and partly because her fiance had appeared right at her side from nowhere! Helena was dressed in her super hero armor: tight fitting black kevlar and spandex, festooned with bandoliers of gadgets and grapple guns, with a set of swords on her back and a skull-faced helmet. It was a sight made to terrify any criminal, super or otherwise, and the bronzed Brazilian paled in shock at seeing it again.
“Shade Girl,” Andi hissed in shock, an instinctual response from her supervillain days at seeing the dangerous ninja who’d foiled her plans time and time again, only to soften herself at recalling just who was on the other side of the mask, “Helena, what are you doing out here? Dressed like that! In your condition.”
“Lady Shade,” Helena insisted sternly, “and protecting the city, it's what I do, Andi. It's what I’ve done for years. Calorie Girl and Might Girl are still green as grass, they can barely pass training, it hasn’t even occurred to them to sweep the building and guests yet. I'm just making sure there's no surprise guests before the big show. I have plenty of power still, so I don’t see why you’re worrying, Andi…”
“Hel, you’re not…at your best,” Andi gulped, “Dios Mio, you haven’t worn that armor in a while, does it still…”
Even as a super villain, Andi had been kind. Never killing and using her techno mystic amulet to inspire plant growth as much as she incinerated polluting industries or fed the hungry. It was why the theoretically weaker Shade Girl had bested her for good…and why she couldn’t quite bring herself to say the F word around her fiance.
“The stealth field works fine, but it's only for emergencies. I’m still quite capable of stepping between shadows and disappearing from view or meditating to only appear to those looking for me. All the models sashaying around, trying not to stare at their ghost of Christmas future can’t even see me,” Helena sniffed, touchy as ever at the reminder that her fearsome strength was declining as her boosted genetics reset, bringing up her expertise in pride, “but I have months of some power left by my calculations….”
Helena’s black gauntlet snagged a greasy onion ring, dunking it in ranch and tossing it into her mouth, “I’m still fighting fit.”
That was…very untrue. Helena’s costume had to have been upsized at some point, but she was still pouring out of it, the seventy plus pounds she’d gained since starting to lose her powers showing vibrantly. She’d been skinny, almost shapelessly willowy despite her strength, but was now revealed to be thick as a brick, chubby thunder thighs stretched her black leggings half transparent, running in their future. Her armored grieves were loose due to new cankle fat bulking up her lower legs. No room remained for Helena’s ass in the armor, Andi leaning over to look at how bottom heavy her finance pants. Swallowing in her own lust, she took in just how toneless Helena’s ass was, her thong clearly visible as butt fat overflowed the asian woman’s whiskered pants.
Despite her armored jacket being formed fitting, Helena didn’t show skin or curve…seventy pounds ago. Now the jacket was hanging open, showing that part of her body was spared by her increasing weight gain, especially not once taut abdominals. Six lattes a day, with extra whipped cream, had put quite the squishy gut on the once rail thin heiress. Her belly sagged over her pants, meaty fupa mushrooming around her utility belt. Several new holsters and sheaths had been put on Helena’s belt to get it around her chubby waistline, squishing the fat in but visibly straining.
“Yes, but…you’re, well…you said you’d wanted us to get pregnant, my xuxuzino,” Andi replied, using the Brazilian term for sweet pumpkin, which her lover increasingly reassembled, “I just don’t want you hurt…the drugs are ah, showing…”
“I haven’t even found a suitable donor yet, much less been bred” Helena huffed, another appetizer disappearing between her lips, “and while the drugs are…annoying I can zip up if danger calls. My girls need airing out…”
Helena had always been flat as a board, as a skinny young vigilante only having A cups. Andi, a natural DD, knew her fiance had been jealous of curvier heroines (back before most had retired through strange, power draining accidents), a jealousy she’d continued showing towards the models who worked for her. Even after getting fat, a fact Helena refused to engage with, she’d been a B cup…before unexpectedly starting fertility drugs.
Andi didn’t know where her domineering fiancee’s decision to go down the aisle pregnant had come from, but the drugs she was taking to insure it had turned the fat girl from flat to stacked in barely two weeks. A pink sports bra, Helena’s favorite color, strained around her engorged chest, DDs crammed into a C that had fit a week before. Hormonal surges were directing much of Helena’s high calorie diet upwards, fueling a cup size of growth every three days. Jiggling at the smallest breath and ready to escape as soon as possible, skin shiny with new growth. Helena had at last engaged with this gain, beaming with pride with it and wearing as exposing clothes as possible!
“Si, you are practically Might Woman come back,” Andii sighed, knowing how stubborn her lover was, “and I want those seio’s safe and sound, so why don’t you go take your suit off and be safe…”
There were a lot of reasons Andi had won Helena’s heart. Even as a super villain she’d avoided civilian casualties, having a kind and caring soul to go with her world class looks. And while her graceful model’s body had softened into middle age excess, her inner kindness had only grown as well. Andi wanted her lover to be safe, off the streets at home…
“Andi, please. I’m still going to be the hardest, toughest fighter in this city for a while longer. Six more months to get the rookies in shape and then, we get married. I take the suit off, put the dress on, get a bun in the oven,” Helena insisted, picking up a spicy chicken tender and popping it into Andi’s mouth to silence any objections, “and we retire to somewhere sunny and sandy, to matrimonial bliss. Although, looking at you now…”
Helena leaned over, looking at the backside width of her fiancee’s dump derriere.
“We might need to widen the private jet's door! You’ve always been big on the backside darling, but you are really blowing up,” Helena mused to herself, “you’re getting softer and squishier by the bounce, fuller and rounder and lazier, bigger and flabbier and sprawling out…you've a new chin coming in and your cellulite has gone wild!”
There were several surprising things about fashion tycoon and media mogul Helena Hunt.
“Lover, I’m on a diet,” the model tried to mutter, only for the tender to be replaced with a donut.
One of them was that the normally uptight and professional woman was a complete and total pervert. She’d had a reputation as a party girl before her father’s death and inheriting the company, but that had been the reputation of a fairly vanilla rich girl slut. In truth, sex absolutely fascinated Helena, all the ways pleasure could be drawn out, inflicted, nurtured, grown and generally enjoyed. Whips and clips, boys and toys, pumps and cuffs, swings and slings, drugs and chains! As always when looking at her fiance, Helena had to fight to restrain herself but with no one else around, all the models avoided the craft services table…why not indulge…
“Andi, Andi, Andi, you’ve been on a diet for a year…and getting fatter by the day the whole time,” Helena insisted, shoving another pastry with one hand while setting her thumb into Andi’s navel, pinching the model’s beefy fat roll, “look at you. Every big cover you wanted, headlining my lingerie team, top numbers on social media, any movie that needed a famous pair of boobs and an ass in it…but you were a weak, lazy fatty all along…”
Helena’s mask shifted, exposing her pink painted lips. She kissed Andi deeply, slipping in tongue, while her hand slid lower, popping open the redhead’s taut jeans and sliding in.
“Even back in the old days, when you were an established villain, burning petro companies and flying off, I was just a little rookie ninja girl. I saw it, the weakness that was inside you,” Helena went on, right hand feeding and left to have caressing, “the desire for your true self, nothing but soft warmth and kind love. All I had to do was nurture it, and you’d gorge and sprawl into this. An ass lumpy as mashed potatoes, a gut hanging over itself, jowls hanging for your tits. Look at you now! The only cover you'd get is on a tabloid talking about your third chin, the only way you'd get onto a cat walk is if you were hired to clean it! You're lumpy and dumpy, by God you look ten years older!…I love it all, you’re mine, no one else’s…”
Helena stuffed a cup cake in after the donut, “So eat up lover. My weak and helpless little per! My lazy concubine, my out of shape dependent! Because you’re mine, all mine and only mine…"
"H-h-hell…," Andi huffed impossibly turned on, eyes crossing as Lady Shades' nimble fingers found the very sensitive spot.
"Oh don't worry. It's just one cheat day, you'll surely get back in shape…eventually," Helena smiled, pulling away, "but for now…finish the rest of this table. Then go pour yourself into a dress and meet me in the private booth. I'd hate to see Leandra Lord alone…"