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Everything posted by Batman76

  1. I"d love to see her try and dance now. Her face shape responded lovingly to the gain too.
  2. Batman76

    Milf Avenue

    Agreed on that, even as me.
  3. Batman76

    Milf Avenue

    Loved that stuffing scene, poor girl is gonna be the size of a house soon
  4. Wow, love this concept. Especially the fit mom, flabby kid contrast
  5. Batman76

    Milf Avenue

    This is glorious, the fit beauty already eating herself obese at the slightest excuse and claiming she'll work it off. Hopefully she'll get advised to get knocked up as a way to hold on to her hubby and really balloon. Any chance of a cameo from a no longer so athletic Chloe?
  6. Celtic Wonder Woman on its own is an awesome idea, loved the mythical references, but her mom turning into a Butterball milf through stress eating is to good to be true!
  7. Thanks, I've always liked the idea of a super Lois, her wg arc mixing with literal empowerment is also cat nip to me and a change from a lot of my stories where wg is tied to power loss. And yeah, Kryptonians are cannonically unrecognizable between identities, due to changing posture and speech, save for a handful of people like Cass Cain or people who really know them. Curvage always blanks baby, some filter thing. Oh yeah, as Lois rises, Karen falls. Weaker, older, more tired, flatter...in two places. And Atlee is going to watch while munching popcorn. Lois is one of my DC favs...and canon wise is incredibly thirsty.
  8. This wasn't supposed to be just about Lois Lane...but turned into one just about Lois Lane. Lois is getting a lot fatter and finding some strange effects going on. All power girl next week, who'll be having a much rougher time. Chapter 16: A well fed day in the expanding life of Lois Lane. The Lane-Kent Household, 8:50 am Lois Lane had a reputation. She was hard driving, ball busting and no nonsense. She didn't take excuses and she'd cut to the truth of a matter with a literal chainsaw if she had to. The journalist might commit daily atrocities against the common dictionary, but she always turned in investigative articles that were in depth, accurate, fact checked and most importantly, always brought the truth to light. Batman might be called the world's greatest detective, but no mystery from presidential corruption to Superman's secret identity was able to hold out for long from Lois Lane's attention. "Smallville, where's my ID badge? I swore I put the damn thing on my dresser last night but now its not anywhere and we're late!" Lois hissed as she strutted from their bed room and towards the kitchen on a Monday morning, glad the kids had already flown to school and feeling like she was in an Iron Maiden from head to toe. Although Lois had come to accept the continual thickening of her body, her clothing hadn't gotten the memo to take it easy. Her reputation meant that she only had to make rare trips to the office, especially the story she'd been working on lately which had kept her occupied at home on the phone most of the day. This had only super charged her gain, to the point that Lois' athleisure leggings and old rock band t-shirts were getting snug and a sudden need to be in the office made her realize just how big she was getting. Her pumps pinched her feet, her pantyhose squeezed her legs, her thong was flossing her ass while the waistband of her white skirt and belt tag teamed her waistline and her purple blouse/jacket combo pinched her whole torso from widening waistline to increasingly beefy upper arms. Even her wedding band, tipped with a rare Kryptonian diamond, was pinching her ring finger. Getting into the tight get up had been a fight in its own right that morning, even now the leggy brunette had to work on controlling her breathing to not blow out a seam. "Lois have you checked...uh," the Man of Steel began, turning from preparing his wife's extensive breakfast and filling up a travel mug of coffee and glimpsing his wife. Boiling hot coffee poured over the brim of the cup, harmlessly flowing over Clark's hand as he crumpled the steel cup. 220lbs of Pullitzer Prize winner had just strutted into the kitchen after all, a sight that never failed to take Superman's breath away. Tiny skirt and heels showed off the long curves of her smooth thighs, plump calves and thick thighs speaking of both strength and caloric excess, a faint jiggle shooting up them with every step she took. That same skirt was stretched so tight across her hips the pleats looked ready to blow, Lois looking rounder than a classic pin-up while her booty was swelling so thick Clark no longer needed x-ray vision to see it from the front. Fortunate patterns of fat accumulation meant Ms. Lane was still an hour glass, even though she had a button popping paunch hanging over her belt as a mushrooming muffin top. "Smallville, eyes up here!" Lois hissed, plump pointer-finger pointing at her piercing purple peepers, "I need my damn badge to get in the building, you know I can never remember my ID number." Clark took his eyes off his wife, thought of cold showers and baseball and after a moment to clear his throat said, "I was going to say Lois, its on your breast." "On my breast? Really Smallville, you didn't think I'd check there?" the mouth watering milf asked with a raised brow, the gesture not bringing up half the fine lines it would have months ago, "Because I'm looking and all I see is..." Lois looked down and realized that the only thing she could see was boob. Once moderately busty at her heaviest and merely modest when in shape, a strange, middle age second puberty had beat Lois black and blue with the titty stick. Immense, F cup tear drops shot out from her chest, pert zeppelins extending so far Lois hadn't noticed she was wearing one purple and one green shoe. The top two buttons on her blouse would never fasten again, separated by a staggering crevice of pert, pillowy cleavage turning sunkissed tan from her early autumnal layouts. A few deep breathes would cause #3 to join them, Lois could see the thread straining already, and as she breathed heard a faint warning groan from her blazer's top button. Neither the sizeable bulge of her stomach nor her toes could be glimpsed past the mammoth mammaries, the sensitive nipples of which were now visible through her shirt. "...Damn. Its hard to remember sometimes I'm that big anymore," Lois blinked in amazement, hands gently groping herself in a fumbling search for the badge, "until I look down or get dressed I barely notice them...but I still don't feel that damn badge." Clark gave one of his farm boy grins and extended a muscular arm to grab the badge clipped on the button-line of Lois' blouse, right beneath and between the eye popping cleavage, and pulled it out by the retractable lanyard. The photograph of Lois on the plastic rectangle was sixty pounds thinner and several years older, a middle aged woman bitterly losing the battle of the bulge, not the over curvy, over fed bomb shell who looked barely into her thirties in front of him. "That's not on my boob, that's beneath my boob," the prideful journalist pouted, crossing her arms under her cleavage, the soft mountains rising higher still, "you were just watching me fondle myself. I ought to put that in an expose, "Superman, ogling pervert". See what people think of you then.' Clark smirked back, "That'd be revealing my secret identity Lois, and you know I can't let you do that." "Really? What are you going to do about it?" Lois mock sneered, tongue popping out between her lavender painted lips, only for Clark to release his hold on the badge. The ID card and a collection of pens were snapped back on the clip's reel. They smacked into Lois mid-boob, and while she felt no pain the backwards jerk of her torso and gasp of shock caused her shoulders to pull back, her chest to angle forwards and a deep inhalation. She heard the blouse button rip off, her arm moving towards it by reflex. Lois had never been the most nimble person, but she caught it with ease between forefinger and thumb. "What the hell Smallville? Do I need to put a "contents under pressure" sign here for you to not mess with my chest?" she asked, eye brow cocked and half of her stupendous cleavage exposed, her grin the same cocky expression of glee she wore whenever she had Clark wrapped around her finger, "Or is your ancestral urge to milk cows too much to ignore around me?" "I was raised on a wheat farm, not a dairy farm Lois," Clark said in jesting seriousness, stepping forwards to kiss her, finding the distance strangely different but putting it down to how her heavy breasts bumping into his chest a bit before her gut met his abs instead of not having to look down as far, "although I notice you're not wearing a bra lately..." For a moment the farm house was quiet save for some passionate kissing and fondling and Lois was very glad that her son had flown himself to school and Kara had gone to the Fortress for the day to study. "Easy there hayseed, I've still got to get to the office on time. As for the boob covers, well, I went two weeks without them while I was home to find out that I've grown another cupsize," Lois said when she had to pull back for air, Clark's arms still around her, A couple of them ripped apart in my hands..." The bras had been strong, built for a top heavy woman. Yet Lois remembered that they'd ripped apart at slight tugs from her fingers...like a lot of her tight clothes had lately. "I can tell, you weren't this big when you were pregnant," Clark told her, eyes gleaming mischievously. "Yeah I know...and that counts for everywhere else too these are maternity clothes from my third trimester and they're on their last legs," Lois said leaning back slightly and patting her overshadowed but still globular gut, "tell me Clark, am I fat?" Superman blinked, his invulnerability and alien heritage no more help than any man had at that question. "Well, Lois, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and that's something that will never change to me," the Last Son of Krypton started to say, only for Lois to roll her eyes. "Clark, I can feel the size of the erection stabbing me in the gut," Lois rolled her eyes, while grabbing the engorged front of her husband's work slacks, "I know I'm hot alright, but what I asked is if I'm fat. Cause I kinda think I'm fat." "Fat? Well, you're very curaceous and womanly," Clark tried to say, only for a very nice and surprisingly tight squeeze on his shaft to cut him off. "Really, I don't look androgynous and flat with tits the size of my head?' Lois teased, wondering if she had the time to fuck him on the kitchen table and sadly deciding she didn't, "but I've gained...really I don't even know how much weight I've gained recently, my boobs block the scale. But when I bought this outfit I weighed 175 lbs and it fit fine, ten years later and I'll probably get sent to HR for indecency. It's just..." Ivy's virus had been programmed to have two different effects on women, depending on their natures. Women without super powers would happily gain weight while being barely aware of the changes, while those with powers would mark the rising scales with increasing misery. The vengeful botanist had never considered a woman shifting categories. "I love not watching what I eat and not working out and I've never looked this good. Hell, I didn't feel this good when I was in college but I've gotta admit I'm a big girl anymore," Lois decided eyes drifting to the three home cooked egg and sausage breakfast sandwiches Clark had prepared for her on the skillet,"I eat a lot, I added it up yesterday and its six thousand calories just at meals. I don't want to be any smaller than this but I don't want to get much bigger either, right? If I keep growing like I have been I'll wind up weighing five hundred pounds in a year or so. Can you imagine me that size? Just this chunky blob with tits that weigh forty pounds each and hips so wide they get stuck in door ways, I'd have so many chins my neck would disappear and if I could walk I'd have to kick my gut out of the way each step..." "That, uh, that would be...something to see," Clark managed to say, Lois having not relaxed her grip. "Yeah I'm sure you would like that," Lois smiled, feeling the growing, diamond hard erection in her hand, "I'm sure you're imagining me in a pair of daisy dukes big enough to use as a parachute, an immense farm wife who can barely even leave the house, doing nothing but cooking all day and popping out b**s..." "That, uh," Superman said, Lois hand sliding his zipper down. Lois was a practical woman. Headstrong she might be, but she cared about consequences. And thoughts of "you've already got two kids to put through college and hey, did you even take your pill this morning while you were getting into this get up?" whirred past her mind and were dismissed. Just the risk of doing it possibly unprotected was making her soak through. "Its 8:52, you can super speed us to the office in a few seconds but we've got to be there by 9 sharp and I want you to fix this button that popped off my shirt before we go," the brunette grinned, hopping up around her husband, thick strong legs wrapping around his waist, "so you've got seven minutes, Mr. Faster than a speeding bullet. Now rip my panties off and get started." .... The Daily Planet Office, 10:57 am "The Senator did not respund to requests for informetion," Lois finished typing, slamming her right ring finger down on the period button on the keyboard. Lois' posture was as bad as her spelling, her legs were propped up on the desk and said keyboard was perched atop the reporter's stomach and the motion sent a faint jiggle across the accumulating dome of fat. Lois cocked an eye at the dome in some sort of reproach, but knew she had no one to blame but herself for the size. Well, not quite just herself, she was pretty certain her husband was fattening her up. "Smallville, how many S's in requests?" the brunette asked her office mate. "Just two, Lois," Clark answered her, his desk immediately across from hers in the shared corner office, his fingers zipping at super speed across the keys as he dealt with a backlog caused by a typhoon and a moderate super villain attack. "Nah, I don't think that's right," Lois said and reached across her desk and picked up the fourth and last home made breakfast sandwich. The number of sandwiches Clark made for her every morning kept rising. First one as a breakfast at home, then two so she could have one on her commute when she didn't get flown in. Then three to tide her over till lunch when the gurgles of her stretched out stomach had started meeting his super hearing. Then four after she'd gotten used to that. "Can you start making me another of these in the morning? Lunch seems like it takes forever to get here," Lois asked, biting into the cold, greasy sandwich. Fried toast and bacon crunched, sausage squished and the poached egg ran, a faint moan escaping her lips and she could hear Clark's sharp intake of breath across from her as she ate. She made the sandwich disappear, watching his frozen fingers hovering over the keyboard, his eyes locked onto her mouth. As she licked her lips clean, she gave her stomach a gentle pat, pressing through the stretching button holes to rub the engorged abdomen and heard Clark swallow. "I think I have time to do that," Clark managed, not looking away from her. "Good, now hand me my compact and lip stick," Lois smiled coyly, "I've got to talk to our distinguished editor and would hate to look messy." Lois was in a pretty good mood, messing with Clark was always fun and endorphins from being stuffed pleasantly to the brim were mixing with the endorphins from the quick, riotous orgasm that had left their kitchen a mess. On the other hand, she was pretty sure she was going to pop if she ate one more bite and if she breathed wrong she was going to shred this outfit. However, she was horny as fuck and wanted to get at least some oral in before noon. Before she could grab her husband and steer him in for a better landing, a siren blared in the distance. Clark looked up immediately from her purse, duty written on his features. "Dang it. You won't believe this but a fire alarm just went off, this should only take a few minutes," he said, quickly handing over the compact and giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "Must be close if I can hear it. Well, I'll be in a meeting by then but I'm proud of you anyway," Lois sighed sourly as he left, flipping open her compact. The woman in the little mirror looked disappointed, but also younger, her crowsfeet and finelines smoothed out better than botox ever could, instead showing smooth, girlish features that just weight gain couldn't explain. And the weight gain was very apparent, Lois had full apple cheeks now and a full double chin from every angle, save for when she flattened her lips and had the start of a third. "Okay, this is a bit of a wake up call," Lois sighed, fondling the fresh flesh flap, "two is okay but three is getting out of hand." Indulging in power plays over her husband by turning him on via overeating was fun...but Lois couldn't escape the fact that she was getting big. She wasn't the only woman to be putting on a few lately and felt that almost every woman in the office bearing burgeoning hips and hefting heavier bellies looked good carrying them, but Lane was pretty sure she was the biggest. Certainly upstairs, she probably had three cupsizes on everyone else at the Daily Planet. "I better rein it in before I become the office fat girl. I'm lucky so much has gone to my chest," Lois said to herself, putting her most recent article onto a flash drive and standing up, only to find her chair was rising with her. Lane glance down at the lavender clad love handles hanging over her desk chair's arms and then at the thick saddle bag of hip fat under her white skirt hanging out under the arm. So focused had the reporter been on her heavy chest she'd forgotten that our glasses were equally wide at the bottom, her childbearing hips reminding her. She sighed and wiggled her butt, the chair going with it and was very glad the office was closed and sort of glad that Clark was gone. Teasing him over wanting to turn her into a fat cow was fun, but her actually being a fat cow would let him have the last laugh. And she couldn't have that happen. "Ugh, moo, paint me black and white and hook me up to a milk machine," Lois grunted, putting her hands on the chair's arms and tugging. Thick plastic and metal snapped at the slightest touch. Sans arms, the chair dropped to the floor with a thud, leaving Lane holding two bisected arm wrests. "...they must have been under a lot of stress," Lois said, looking at them in confusion. Smoothing her short skirt, which was barely decent, if anything it seemed to have shrunk in length as well as girth, she strode out of the room and into the main run of press cubicles. Lois had long maintained a distance eating professional strut, but she found herself going slower. Partly from her bigger thighs having to rub each other but also from the side to side shaking of her ass. Lane found herself swaying like a metronome, bloated backside knocking over several coffee cups and a coat hanger as she went to Perry's office. Attempts to stop it failed, Lois finding herself too wide in the backside not to sway. "Dear God, I'm walking like a cartoon," Lois said mentally as she got to the door, biting her tongue at realizing no woman in the office came within fifty pounds of her. She knocked and opened the door before White asked her to enter. Perry White, a journalistic veteran who'd investigated Nixon during Watergate, bristled at the interruption. Then saw an immense pair of knockers enter, then a substantial paunch and then relaxed on seeing Lois Lane was attached to them. He couldn't get angry at someone who'd earned the paper so many awards...even if she'd let herself get spectacularly fat recently. White was one of the incredibly rare individuals who were totally immune to Ivy's virus, the only person in the entire building not turned into a chubby chaser. He didn't think less of Lois for having ballooned up recently but was shocked at the change in the once slim brunette. There was some middle aged weight gain and then there was this. "Lois, to what do I owe the pleasure? And should I get some antiacids for when I call legal?" he asked as the investigative reporter placed a flash drive on his desk. "I would, a Lexcorp insider trading scandal and illegal arms dealing scam reaching through the Senate is sitting on your desk," Lois said, carefully lowering herself into an armless chair, "I'm guessing another Pulitzer and a lawsuit, probably a 5% bump in subscriptions. Already fact checked and ready to publish tomorrow." White rubbed his eyes. Lois had been nothing but trouble since she'd been hired right out of college...but the paper probably would have closed without her stories. "Fine, I'll put it through legal and have it on the front page," White sighed, "but given we're still winning the last lawsuit Lexcorp brought against us, I'm going to need a promise from you not to raise any trouble." "Me, raise trouble?" Lois laughed, "when have I ever done that?" There was a small wince in her smile, because Lane was pretty sure she was about to pop her top. She was supposed to go shopping with Kara this afternoon, her growing adopted girl was herself pouring out of her clothes, and to the dangerously plump Lane it couldn't come fast enough. "Only every day since I hired you," White said, "which is why, until the inevitable lawsuit is done, I'm reassigning you." "Sorry, I must be going deaf in my old age, did you say reassigning? I'm an investigative journalist at large," Lois said, instantly regretting the last word. "Well, yes, but you'll find your contract reads you can be reassigned in the case of litigation, something I've waived the last eighteen years but given we're already involved in another one before this," White sighed, "I think you've done enough for now. Given your immense, uh, skills, I'll give you a choice. Crime has an opening, as does business, because our food critic is going on early retirement and..." "Did you say food critic?" Lois asked, leaning forwards with a creak of seams, purple eyes alight. "...its a little beneath you," White said. This was moronic, she was an ace investigative reporter. She'd brought down billionaires and senators and cults and dictators, reporting on how good food was was beneath her. And not to mention she wasn't getting fat, she already was fat. Her ass knocked cups off other people's desks, her boobs blocked her view of her feet and her gut was ready to tear a maternity skirt. Her Kansan pervert husband was already feeding her the size of a farm animal and she enjoyed making him horny/eating too much to stop him, which was kind of good because the sex was the only exercise she got anymore. "Maybe that's just because no one of quality has ever been a food critic before," Lois said anyway, mouth watering at the thought of being paid to eat, of sampling the most succulent and expensive food in Metropolis while being able to "...if you insist, I will say that paper policy is food critics need to undergo a physical before starting," Perry sighed, sure Lane would find some sort of international cannibalism ring before the end of the week, "weight gain can be an...issue in the role." "Weight's just a number," Lane replied, finger running over her belt and finding it was on its last hole, "I really don't mind." "Fine then, you can start as soon as your cleared healthy," her boss said with a wave of his hand. .... Metropolis Mall, 12:43 pm Healthy, kept reverberating through Lois' mind. She'd considered herself healthy and never worried about it. She didn't smoke, she ran...or had run and was young...ish. In any event she considered it a miracle she was still alive given the number of times she'd been shot at, kidnapped and thrown towards orbit. But a physical was going to make her confront a lot of bad choices...like every meal in the past several months, including the five donuts she'd shoveled down in the break room on her way to the mall. Despite the watering in her mouth and the rumble in her tummy, Lois set a quick, resolute pace past the smells until a brief call from behind her brought her up. "Aunt Lois, hold, hold on a second," Kara panted, making Lois turn about to face her. It seemed like just a week ago that Kara had been a size zero tinker bell of a girl, with no fat on her besides a tiny little starter belly...because it had been a week ago. She'd come home from her little trip to Crete with Wonder Woman turned magically into a full blown chubster, her little starter fluff having blossomed into a full on buddha belly that sagged downwards towards chubby thighs. Her once lean face was the shape and color of a ripe tomato, sweat pouring off of her as she struggled to keep up. Lois doubted there was any muscle on her frame at all, the girl had jumped straight from rail thin to medically over weight without doing any work outs and staying largely shut up in her room. "Okay, kid, but we don't have forever," Lois said, tapping her toes in minor irritation as Supergirl caught up. Bereft of powers as she was, Kara was totally out of shape. She wheezed every few steps, pressing her fuller, sloppier and unsupported chest against the taut fabric of a far too small hoodie. That and the painted on black leggings weren't very weather appropriate, the late summer heat outside was nasty, but they were the only thing in Kara's wardrobe that would fit her, even as they pushed her into over heating. "Sorry, its just, a long walk from the parking lot," Kara panted, wiping sweat off of her brow. In contrast, Lois felt cool as a cucumber, even though she'd walked in wearing heels and and hadn't lifted a finger since she'd given up on her diet months ago. It was slightly strange, she hadn't felt this energized since she'd run track and swam, twenty years and too many pounds ago. She'd expected to eventually feel so shitty being a lazy fatty that she'd have to exercise just to have some energy, God knows that after Perry had told her about the physical she'd felt shitty...right until she'd met Clark for a very quick time in a closet and felt like a million bucks again. Maybe it was just endorphins but somehow she felt she was in the best shape of her life! "And its really hard to walk with all of ...this," the chubby girl grumbled at herself, making Lois feel bad. Kara was both obviously suffering and incredibly sensitive about becoming a legit big girl overnight. No one in the family had said anything bad of course, Lois for one thought the once scrawny girl looked better with meat on her bones. But, the extra 40lbs had knee capped the blonde's fragile self esteem, her developing power set flatlining until she had all the strength and speed of an out of shape, anxious couch potato. "Its a hot day kid, I was just in a hurry to get into the AC," Lois fibbed, "let's get something to cool down with and then get you some clothes that aren't suitable for the antartic." Frozen yogurt was probably a terrible idea, Lois had to admit. Her niece was, all things considered, big for her age and weight while she was enormous, a human cow living in a dream that would have to end this afternoon when the doctor said how she was ruining her body. But until the doctor inevitably said things like "hyper tension, cholesterol is off the charts and diabetes" it was time to live large. So despite both of them having eaten too much fast food on the ride over, Lois got each of them extra large cups, covered in toppings, and justified it due to the yoghurt being technically low fat. The walk towards the stores Lois had picked out for Kara was cool and pleasant, although both women grew increasingly bloated. Lois noticed a few looks at her, all from skinny women with strangely flat bellies and tiny breasts and only one chin. She almost laughed at them, them and their muscle tone and thigh gaps. Didn't they know they could eat whatever they wanted, get fat as hell being lazy as fuck and still fuck the man of steel twice a day? Well, probably not. Clark was hers and everyone would know it. Although Lois did begrudge them how little space they took up on the walkways. Kara stopped as Lois approached the store, blue eyes widening at the ads. "Lois, is this really a good store for us?" the anxious alien simpered, looking at a tall, stunning redhead with long hair and boobs the size of her head, "I'm kind of bigger than the girls in the ads." "Kara, the models are bigger than the ads. Those girls starve themselves for a week and then they edit them skinnier," Lois told her, turning to look at a stunningly svelte red head with fun bags big as her head and a six pack,"they all have eating disorders and half of them probably had to be hooked up on IVs right after they took the picture. Trust me, its a lot better to eat what you want and carry some extra pounds than be a skeleton. Besides, we're here for the bras, even though most of the models don't have boobs." Lois knew she was telling the truth, she'd covered enough fashion shows. And Kara needed to know it, Supergirl had been rubbing the thick sliver of belly fat hanging over her skin tight sweats the whole walk from the car. She was obviously self hating and miserable despite looking in Lois' estimation, cute as a button. Why skinny girls were the rage really didn't make sense from Lois, who wouldn't want a girl that was soft and cuddly, with a big belly to knead and heavy breasts to fondle? But, despite thinking that, Lois couldn't help but remember the times her thighs hadn't touched, her thick stems had been rubbing against each other the whole walk through the mall, making the once avid runner waddle. "I guess," Kara said, not fully convinced and with a hand still on her paunch. An hour of shopping followed, for bras at the more mainline store and for clothes at several plus size places nearby. Kara kept wanting to get loose clothes: sweats and hoodies that were baggy to the extreme to hide her changed physique. Lois sympathized, the longer she was around the slim ads the more she wanted to hide the sheer mass of herself, but knew that feeling had to be fought, turned into anger. So what if she was over weight and over forty, being hot was an attitude, down less to her gigantic breasts and heavenly hips and more about confidence. And her chunky, chubby ward wasn't going to improve power wise if she didn't have a good role model. Which was why Lois had pushed for tighter get ups: skinny jeans, short skirts, tank tops and a few cute dresses. They were the largest size the store sold but looked better on the alien blonde than the tents she'd wanted to hide in. She was still nervous looking in the store's mirrors, looking at the shorts/tank top combo that displayed her doubled breasts quite well but also brought attention to newly chubby legs and a rather prominent ** belly. "I'm not sure, I look...kinda heavy in this," Kara said, sucking her stomach in a little and tugging on the comfortably fitted jeans to try and cover herself up. Lois reminded herself that the kid had just lost her planet not long before a quick change in body type. So she gave the blonde a smile. "Good, you look a lot better bigger than you used to. Own that weight," Lois insisted, "before you looked like you were going to blow away. Now let's get some bras for you kid, you can't wear torpedoes like that out in public without covers on them. You'll poke an eye out." The little pep talk made the Supergirl smile, but bras proved to be a challenge. Not for Kara, DDs were big but the first, main stream store gave her plenty to choose from. Lois on the other hand, well, their bras topped out at Fs which fit her and not loosely, if she kept gaining, especially if she kept being dumb enough to have unprotected sex, she'd be popping out of them by the time the leaves changed. So she brought herself Gs, eyes bulging at the size of them, and knew she'd grow into them soon. Clothing in general for Lois was an issue. She'd been shopping plus size for a while now as the middle age spread took hold, but what did strike her was that she'd waddled in about to pop out of a size 16 maternity get up. The size 18s she tried were snug, she could get them on but she had to suck in mightily and knew that they'd be fraying in a few weeks. So, Lois had to go for size twenties, telling herself that it was good they were loose at least. Which was slightly annoying, it wouldn't show off her figure for a while yet. Although being bigger than several of the other shoppers grated a little, she still walked out in professional clothing that wasn't a sneeze from ripping off of her, a black pleated skirt and red blazer. The short skirt demonstrated the length and shape of her legs, aided by four inch heels, the low cut blazer the heft of breasts hefted even higher than normal by her other purchase, a slinky piece of size sixteen lacy black lingerie wrapped tightly around her tubby body. She was planning on having Clark feed her out of it that night. She was the size of a house, Lois knew, but she also knew she looked hot as hell. If she could just mediate herself a bit, stay at this weight and avoid unnecessary snacking...while being a food critic...and remember to take her birth control until she hit the change so she didn't get pregnant again from fucking Clark three times a day...maybe she'd have to cut back more than she'd thought... "Aunt Lois, do you think we could stop by the food court?" Kara asked, chubby arms trembling at the weight of clothes. Lois paused, her own considerable purchases swaying, and considered. She had a physical in a bit she was probably going to fail for being extremely fat. And she'd eaten like a pig that day. And she had a dinner date with Selina that evening. "Sure thing," Lois smiled. .... Pharmacy, 3:45 pm. Lois squirmed in her seat, immense hips pressing into the sides of her chair and tight skirt cutting into her gut. "Why did I eat that much?" Lois asked herself, feeling miserable, guilty and strangely horny at the first two. She and Kara had both eaten enough for two people, shoveling down cheap Mexican and Chinese with far too much grease to be anything but American. Clothes bought to be loose were as a result, extremely tight, Lois' belly sloshing with grease and soda. She alternated between cursing herself for being such a lardass and wishing Clark was there to plow her. She was on the first when the Pharmacy's Doctor called her in, making Lois feel everyone of the pounds she'd packed on as she got up and waddled. Everything jiggled and bulged, she could see the eyes of the much, much thinner woman bulged as she saw the immense reporter. Lois was slightly famous due to all of her articles and adventures and the Planet's picture of her could have used her current bra as a hammock. "Lois Lane?" the doctor asked, the redhead blinking repeatedly. "The one and only," Lois smiled coyly, waiting for the other woman to move aside so she could enter the small exam room, "so let's get started, I've got a meeting after this." With Selina Kyle, the slimmest, sexiest non-meta Lois had ever known. That thought was worsened when her immense ass knocked over a packet of gauze from the exam table. God but she'd let herself go. "I, well let's start with your weight," the doctor had said, blinking in amazement, "If you'll step up on the scale there, what do you weigh?" It was an old fashioned kind, the one with the display up at chest level. Lois still couldn't see it due to the spread of her chest. "Um, about 190lbs?" Lois winced as the doctor adjusted the scale and she slid out of her heels. "...let's start at 200," the red head said politely. When she stepped on the scale, the arm slammed up into the wrack so hard it almost broke. The doctor leaned past Lois to adjust it, having to stand on one leg. Lois bet she did pilates and felt fucking miserable, suddenly totally aware of just how her mammoth mammaries pulled on her shoulders. "So what do I weigh?" Lois said as the doctor started writing, the polite woman not mentioning it. "...243lbs," the doctor said, like that wasn't an absolutely enormous number, "I'm going to get your height now." Lois stood poleaxed as the shorter woman pulled out an attached measuring stick, bringing a hinged measure towards her scalp. Numbers flashed through her mind: 119 was what she'd competed at in college. 130 had been what she'd weighed when she got married. 170 when she gave birth. 160 when she'd been dispairing of turning into a middle aged doughball. She was obese, morbidly obese, a big flabby cream puff of fat! "5'10," the doctor said. Lois' eyebrow rose, like it did when she found a missed detail that blew open a story, "I'm sorry, I'm 5'8." "Well, according to this you're 5'10," the doctor shrugged, pen scribbling, "you must have been measuring wrong. That or you had a growth spurt at thirty." That at least brought a chuckle from Lois, despite the horrible news of her weight, "I think I'd have noticed it in the last eleven years." "Really? You're forty?" the much younger doctor said, "I'd have never guessed. Let's get your blood pressure." Lois was sure she was going to fail that, as she'd done nothing more athletic than reverse cowgirl for months. But the doctor's eyebrows shot up as the device read back to her. She took it twice more, then did her self before finally writing down the number. "98/60...do you exercise a lot?" the doctor asked in confusion, "because that's usually a level for atheltes in training." "Oh yeah, real fitness nut," Lois lied, feeling confused. "I'll just...put that in the notes," the doctor said, "how about a blood sugar and cholesterol test." Lois nodded and the doctor put a small hypodermic needle to her finger tip to get a drop for the test. It popped as expected from its sheath...and bent at a 90 degree angle. "That's...peculiar," the doctor blinked, replacing the needle, "I've never seen that..." The second needle snapped. "That device must be broken, I'll, just, uh, get another one from storage," her physician said, clearly flustered. Lois was left alone for a moment, looking at unharmed skin. "What the hell is happening to me?" she asked, pulling out a notebook and scrambling in her sloppy, mispelled hand writing: *Looking younger *gaining weight *growing? *huge boobs *horny AF *stronger *not feeling heat *jumping higher? *Hovering??? *needle proof? She looked down, seeing nothing but the taut swell of her breasts, tanner than she'd expected and made herself think...what did Clark call it? Upwards? Taking a deep breath, the tall and overfed brunette slid off the table... And didn't hit the floor. Suspended by nothing, Lois hung in mid air, stocking feet three inches from the tile. "Okay, how the hell do I get down?" she asked herself, mind spinning at being caught by the doctor. Okay, how did powers turn off? That she'd never asked, damn it she'd been living with/fucking Superman for fourteen years and had never asked how he stopped? What the hell sort of reporter was she? "How do they do that?" Lois asked, mind suddenly going to Kara's weeks of powerlessness following her massive weight gain, "I'm fat, I'm fat, I weigh 247lbs and am addicted to food and get off from my husband treating me like a milk cow!" Lois ignored her breast and envisaged her heavy, overfed gut and jiggly, cellulite covered butt. The fall took her by surprise, all of her weight suddenly laying across her body. Her legs gave out and her ass smacked onto the cold linolium just as the doctor opened the door. "Oh my God, are you okay?" the doctor asked, eyes wide. "Yeah, I was just...trying to get up but I'm not nearly as graceful and a lot heavier than I used to be," Lois said nervously, pushing herself up, feeling the weight of her swaying chest, "I used to run track but that was a lot of doughnuts ago, bet I'd just tear out of that uniform you know. Heh." "Okay," the doctor said in weirded out suspicion, holding up the needle again, "let's just...try this one more time." Lois made sure to think...fat thoughts. Thoughts about being slow and out of shape and obese and lazy. About shoving herself into a tiny g-string bikini she could barely tie and doing nothing but snack all afternoon. About signing up to be a food critic and eating, eating and eating until she got stuck in a booth. Of being so fat Clark had to move her around... "Yowch!" Lois hissed as the needle bit, drawing a small amount of blood. A moment later and the blood test was done, showing that Lois had better blood sugar and cholesterol levels than most 19 year olds. "I have to admit, apart from weight you're the healthiest person I've seen all day," the doctor said, "Its like you're a super woman." "Yeah...maybe it rubbed off," Lois said, searching for an explanation. "Oh I...I'm sorry I didn't mean to imply," the doctor said, blushing at having brought up a long suspected affair. It always made Lois laugh to think people thought she'd cheated on Clark with Superman. The sheer funniness of it all was baffling. How did no one see it? How had she taken so long to see it? "No, no, its fine," Lois said, "so I suppose I pass?" "Yes, but I'd recommend you decrease your caloric intake and increase your exercise," the doctor said perfunctorily. "I'll get right on that. Really should be a piece of cake to eat less," Lois said, putting her shoes on by feel. On her way out, she bought enough candy to give a dentist a fit and was finished with it by the time she got home. She loosened her new belt out a notch, wondering how long it would last, and got out, her boobs accidentally knocking the horn. None of her family were home, Clark and Jon were supering and Kara, re-energized after a pep talk from Lois, had decided to go make herself a new Supergirl costume of a more flattering cut at the fortress. She was eager to tell Clark, to tell someone about this but...hell, who could she tell? And how had this happened? Was it all of the sex? Had having a hybrid baby messed with her dna and it only took effect now? After decades of being the supportive voice at home, the damsel in distress, was she really...super? "Okay, let's see if I'm crazy or just...super," Lois said to herself, pulling out her phone and texting Selina, getting confirmation she was good for a meal that evening. She slid her phone back into her purse, shut the car door and jumped upwards...
  9. The trough was a great touch, as was the jelly fish descent into pathetic hick.
  10. Ivy can do about anything plant related, including growing a new body from a single flower and killing a green lantern with their own gut flora... except admit she's obese. And I spotted an error, the * by power girl towards the end should connect to a foot note reading thusly: Power girl did have abs...withered ones buried beneath a floppy, sloppy belly she was that very moment trying to fit into Spanx.
  11. Ivy released libido spores.
  12. I learned today that last year, Kate Beckinsale was in a movie where she played an overweight woman and had wanted to gain all of the weight for the role irl, but didn't have enough time to and had to wear a fat suit.

    We were robbed.

    1. goodgirlgrow


      She was one of the first women I was ever attracted to. What movie?

    2. Batman76


      "Farming" here's a pic: https://www.celebsfirst.com/kate-beckinsale-spotted-filming-intense-scene-farming-east-london/

      Its a good idea of what she'd look like without all the exercise.

    3. >_< 0_0

      >_< 0_0

      Awww, what a shame 😑 

  13. Yeah, I scatter waaaayyyy tooo many details around here. New chapter, finally. Its stupidly long. Chapter 15: Hero Night at the Ice Berg In a Vine Covered Apartment: Dr. Pamela Isley dreamed contentedly of a world at peace, of forests and jungles covering up ugly grey cities. From a hundred billion trees dangled endless amounts of heavy fruit, always ripe, always growing, always sucking foul human spewed green house gases from the atmosphere. Here and there animals waddled, enormously fat herbivores kept in check by their sheer girth, once graceful deer barely able to walk. Around a great pyramid of living wood were the last humans, a few hundred carefully trained priestesses and druids, their bodies drooping and sagging out of the leaves barely covering their genitals but still able to move, supervising a the feeding of the rest of the survivors: a few hundred thousand worshippers, each the size of a surburban house. They were living carbon sinks, so fat that mere things like limbs and shape had vanished, tiny heads on impossible bodies. An endless chain of Ivy's plant servitors kept them so immense, while special vitamins and purgatives in the fruit kept them both completely healthy and totally miserable. Selina was the very largest, tits the size of double decker buses sprawling in front of her cargo plane body. Tiny green eyes, barely open against the pull of her forehead fat and the swell of her cheeks, stared imploringly as she struggled to breath. In front of her, laying back on a throne made from the wobbling waterbed of a constantly gorging Harley Quinn, was Poison Ivy, Queen of a Reborn world. Slender as a willow reed, curvaceous as a conifer, as sexual as a fresh bloomed flower, the green skinned dryad imminated power. A few hundred brain washed super heroes waited in line to endlessly pleasure her, serving their queen for an eternity. "Yes, yes, yes, yes," the immortal Ivy gasped, grasping the perfect world she'd made, "yes, yes yes!" The blare of an alarm clock made Ivy's green eyes snap open and her body lurch up into a standing position...for a moment. Such speed made the lazy, pathetically out of shape botanist keep moving, inertia pulling her fat forwards despite the boyancy of the hot tub water. Ivy fell forwards, spherical gut slamming belly button first into the rim of the tub. Unable to take 370+ lbs falling on it, the rim snapped and a small flood of 99 degree water and one naked, lime green Ivy poured out of the hot tub. "Holy crap, my vidja games!" Harley stammered, lurching to her feet with a gasp to pluck her precious Waynestation to safety, not truly sure where the spill was coming from due to everything behind four feet being a vague blur, "and Red, are you alright!? I heard the narrator say ya broke the tub!" Having just broken a hot tub with her sheer bulk, the tub of lard that had once been the enticing specimen Poison Ivy took a moment to answer. "Yes, its just that this inferior hot tub, made to last mere weeks before its thrown away into a landfill to pollute the ground water shattered as it was designed to," Ivy reeled off from the floor, "if it wasn't beneath me I'd sue them, but that would merely distract from my real plans!" In fact, Ivy's plans ever since working herself into a relative frenzy to make her Virus had been to eat, sleep and have daily sex with Harley, sometimes all at once. And there was nothing beneath her but more Ivy and the apartment's soaked floor, a spreading pool of green tinted fat showing just how big Ivy had gotten. Already her vines were sprouting absorbant towels to clean up the mess and she congratulated herself on doing such a good job designing them. "All intentional on my part, just to demonstrate what an inferior product this was. Probably designed for planned obsolescence by greedy capitalist tyrants like Wayne who are raping the earth through creating cheap, *phew* dsiposable...land fill over filling...crap," the wound up Ivy puffed and huffed. "Okay...do ya need some help getting up? After this game maybe, I'm almost winning," Harley said into the blur around her, "I figured out I can see the screen really well when I put my face right up to it." "Me, need help? Please Harley, what do you take me as, some sort of fat girl?" Ivy snorted, rolling her eyes and taking a bite out of a thoughtful croissant a vine offered her, "to think I would need help getting up!" Now that she was 372 lbs on a 5' frame, this was not easy. Arms larger than most super hero's and softer than memory foam pushed and pushed and pushed, while she tried shoving her flabby, comparatively slim legs into a kneeling position. Ivy's back and shoulders complained of the effort, sending cramping pains into her, while her arms began shaking with effort. After a moment, the naked redhead had her arms fully extended, although their wobbling suggested this wouldn't last long. Both of Ivy's pendulous breasts hung towards the floor, nipples a single sheet of paper's thickness away from touching the tile and her apron belly was still spread solidly onto the linoleum, the multiple rolls forming into one sea of dough. An attempt to push herself up further brought more back pain, to the point that even the delusional Ivy knew this was dangerous. "I'm extremely sore from all the working out I've been doing though. I really need to cut back," the woman who's daily routine had about two hundred steps a day in it lied to herself. A dozen vines and then a dozen more wrapped around the fat Supervillain, carefully hauling her to her feet. Ivy immediately disliked that, a 72 bmi on what was supposed to be a petite frame by nature's design wasn't pleasant on her knees or ankles, the later of which immediately started to swell. Nor was balancing easy when her apron belly and drooping tits kept pulling her forwards. "I might hurt my joints from running too hard," Ivy said, stretching her back, pendulous breasts rising over the sphere of her gut to a symphony of cracking of vertebrae. "Yeah, I think you running hard would hurt yer joints," Harley said to the big green blur, "so we're still going to the club, right? After the last couple hours of playing I think my wrists are gonna kill me if I play another fucking game." Beneath thick, pale fat, Harley's compressed carpal tunnel's throbbed. Like they had been for the last two solid hours of gaming. They would have looked swollen if her chubby arms hadn't always been so puffy. "Of course we're going, if we don't soon you'll be too fat to go out at all," Ivy chuckled, waddling towards the bedroom, each step making her apron belly slap against her thighs, "we need to get you off the couch and onto the dance floor, and we must think of it as a celebration of stage one of my plan." "Uh, sure," the increasingly NEET Harley said, feeling her way to the bedroom, hips knocking over a few potted plants and lamps, "do you think I could go to the eye doctor first maybe? I realize putting my face so close to the tv screen is a bad idea..." Inside the bedroom, two branches each held a flowing tent. As Harley stumbled closer, she realized that they weren't tents at all, but costumes. One was Ivy's classic green boots, green tights and green leotard, while the other was her old costume, a black and red jester suit. Both seemed the size of flags outside a particularly patriotic gas station. "Ya know, I've been avoiding wearing the old jester costume for years now. Crop top and short shorts are more my speed," Harley huffed, waddling along at her max speed of 2 MPH "shows off the tuckus and thighs..." "Please Harley, we're going dressed as costumes of ourselves. Not us, its important no one thinks the real Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn are there," Ivy laughed, her four chins wobbling at the motion, as she sat onto the increasingly flat mattress and looked at her own garment, "Mine came out too big but yours might just fit, so I won't waste time and resources by having them remade. And help me put mine on, I'm so sore I can barely touch my toes..." Ivy watched what she could of Harley shove her just puffy and chubby feet and legs into her leggings and boots by feel. The blonde was so outrageously fat, her couch filling butt and door jammer hips wobbling back and forth while she knelt on impossibly thick legs. Harley's tights got up over her foot ball sized cankles and swollen knees, but got stuck on the first of her thigh rolls, catching up in the flap of lard. "A little help here Red?" Ivy panted, "My stems are a bit too thick for pants anymore. Really I should move to skirts..." "And away from potato chips maybe and sweets. Your addiction to processed foods has turned you into a joke Harl," Ivy said, licking her lips at how Harley's beach ball sized buns bounced, "just give me a minute, I pulled a muscle doing squats..." The rotund redhead rocked to her swollen ankles, taking an emergency chocolate bunny rabbit from a vine to pump up her blood sugar. Ivy squatted down, lowest belly slab hitting the ground and her pendulous boobs almost following, and started tugging, the swell of Harley's giant butt making her turn her head to her side. Each tug got the tights an inch higher, but made Ivy's floppy body wobble and heave, her back popping and eyes wincing. Half way up the bodacious buns the red head collapsed backwards, sweat pouring down a face red as a tomato and pooling in her droopy cleavage. "I'm just gonna...have the vines get us dressed...," Ivy puffed. On the top of a Hotel: "Gotham City is like herpes, you think its gone and then suddenly boom, there it is again," Jason Todd monologues to himself, scanning the ugly, gargoyle studded skyline of his home town. It had been the first time the once dead Robin had been "home" in a while. He and Bruce had never gotten along well due to the whole "you didn't avenge me by killing the Joker" thing and the cops and Batman didn't get along well with the Red Hood over his frequent use of gun violence, explosives and knives to terminally stop criminals. Or his habit of stealing whatever cash was lying around the dead bodies. He just hoped he could get in, do his heist and get out so no one could bring up just what Artemis looked like... "God if Dick or Tim see me with a fa-" Jason almost finished before the pan of his binoculars brought a valley of tan cleavage deep enough to drown in before his eyes. "See you with what? An actual woman instead of a blow up doll they might die from shock?" Artemis asked wryly, popping another bon bon into her mouth. "Uhh firstly, fuck you. Secondly I've had lots of dates like...fuck you and thirdly remember no fucking flying in Gotham," Jason ranted as the Amazon hovered up over the lip of the hotel roof, a basket ball sized hip knocking the binoculars from his hand, "this isn't metropolis or New York, people flip out when they see someone zooming around!" "I was hungry and needed a snack. This rabbit food the room service brings me couldn't feed a scarecrow," the overweight heroine boasted, patting the drooping FUPA hanging out from under her breast plate, "it was easier to fly than take the elevator and the stairs, besides I moved so fast no one saw me float up! And if they would, my Amazonian beauty would blind the mortals of such a benighted town as this." Jason wasn't sure on that, even though he'd strategically shot out the street lights near the rather shitty hotel overlooking the crime ridden Gotham park. Artemis had been faster than a speeding bullet before picking up her cursed drinking horn but now she was flying at about fifty MPH at best. He'd bet she was significantly weaker too, a lot of her muscle mass seemed to be gone and the Amazon hadn't even tried to exercise in weeks. Instead of a lean, chiseled warrior woman, Artemis had turned into buttery, shapeless fat girl with a big beer gut, saggy boobs and mommy hips. "I'm sure it would, not like this town's ever seen an ex-robin with a tall red head around," Jason muttered to himself, internally angry for accidentally stealing his brother's schtick. A glance at Artemis though showed she was unlikely to be mistaken for Starfire. Both alien and Amazon might have red hair to their ankles, but Artemis' crimson pony tail had a soccer ball's worth of butt fat hanging past the scarlet curls. She'd always had a big ass and thighs, but now Jason had to work overtime to keep her in black leather leggings that weren't ripping off her body. Not that that mattered, he couldn't replace the red and black bronze of her breast plate so easily and she hadn't noticed the flab hanging over her belt or the bingo wings drooping from her arms. Jesus Christ, but she'd gone from unrealistically athletic to a fat girl who might have worked out once, ten years ago. Between that, worrying about somehow saying the F-word and keeping her like this and Artemis' escalating sex drive, Jason was working himself to the bone. His armored suit was getting loose and if it wasn't for the weakening Amazon having gotten a lot softer he was sure she'd have broken his back. That and her getting more lusty were the only two bright sides of this nightmarish curse, but hopefully he'd be able to end that soon... "Ugh, nectar of the Gods at last," Artemis sighed behind him, chugging more magical beer from the drinking horn that had started all this, "it goes down so much better with potato chips." "...So this mission is simple, in and out, they won't know we're there till we're gone," Jason said, avoiding the easy insult to the constantly bulking, "Got it?" "I'm sure you have plenty of practice of going in and out without anyone noticing, I've got first hand experience on that," Artemis laughed, "besides, its a handful of mortals with guns. I'll just kick in the door and you shoot anything that gets behind me." Jason wanted to retort that she'd surely shred her pants if she kicked in the door, but bit his tongue, "Wow, with that tactical brilliance no wonder ancient egypt is still around. No, we do this stealthy. In and out without notice." "In and out huh?" Artemis asked a hand grabbing Jason's dick just as the leading edge of her gut jammed into his back, "I bet you that you can do it without notice..." "I'm sure we could do your strategy and just lie to them about having a head ache," he started, coming up short as she got behind him. Jason really wanted to say it wasn't the time, that they only had half an hour until the Ice Berg opened but Artemis was already ripping his pants open, her hand grabbing his shaft tight. She gave it a hard squeeze, sliding her hand up and down before spinning him around, using a bit more effort than she had before. "Come on dead boy, quite bitching and show me you're the one good thing about man's world," Artemis demanded after a hard kiss, slamming him onto the floor and almost breaking his back. Fuck but he'd never been good at self control. Artemis was wriggling out of her pants, belly jostling back and forth and the straps of her undersized breastplate threatening to snap. She got one meaty leg out of the pants and straddled him, pussy already sopping wet. A heart beat later and she was pulling the breast plate over head, floppy tits and surging gut demonstrating the seventy or eighty pounds she'd packed on in sixty some days. Jason didn't know if he should be relieved or ashamed his cock was still hard and if it wasn't for the curse he'd rub her face in it. She knelt over, gut brushing his knees and tits piling up on his thighs to start sucking. Red Hood's eyes crossed and his brain turned off for a moment until she was pulling herself on top of him. "C-c-condom!' he managed, the thought of having to deal with a hormonal, pregnant Artemis too much to bear. "Ugh, fine, like your mortal sperm would dare," she grunted, reaching towards the duffel bag atop the roof a few feet away and failing. Rather than get up, the rather lazy red head reached out a hand, "Mistress, attend me!" Her giant battle axe appeared in hand and she used the magical pole arm to haul the duffle bag over and pull a condom out. In a moment he was safely inside her, the spongy warrior woman bouncing up and down on him like he was a trampoline. The weight of her was making his pelvis creak, but her thighs were squeazing him hard enough to break his ribs at least. God this was like fucking a marshmallow! Jason might be accused of being a dick, but not a selfish dick. He made sure to keep a thumb on her clit and another moving gently between her flopping breasts. The setting sun made the red head's face look even redder, her breath coming in little gasps as she started going cross eyed. She pulled the stupid drinking horn out and started chugging it, boobs filling more and more of Jason's free hand and more ass bouncing off his thighs until she started coming. Compared to stronger days when just mild orgasms would leave her with a limp it wasn't much, but she apparently felt a lot. Spasming, rocking backet and forth, rising off the roof and slamming back down onto him, giving out muffled screams. It was enough to drive the air from his lungs and something else from his balls, Artemis rocking back and forth a few more times before she fell over him in a panting, sweaty mess that threatened to drown him in boob flesh. "See *huff* you just...*huff* can't...out *gasp* last me," the near hyperventilating Amazon boasted between gasps. On the Lounge's Dance Floor: Cassandra Cain had led a sheltered life. Literally she'd grown up in a bunker being trained to dodge bullets, read body language and punch, only beginning to learn to act like a human being instead of a weapon recently. So she really wasn't ready fro the flashing lights, screaming crowds, pulsating music and rampant sexual lust at the Ice Berg Lounge's superhero rave night. She danced somewhat awkwardly, wishing she could do something graceful like ballet instead of the strange grinding everyone else was. But there wasn't any room for that and even the small motions Cass could make kept pulling the fabric of her costume down past her small nipples. "Stay up," the quiet girl hissed, realizing her small breasts had popped out for the tenth time. Her Batgirl costume was tight, its armored fabric taut enough to show her eight pack beneath. But this Wonder Woman halloween get up she'd picked out back at the Clock Tower was far too snug, designed for a skinny coed and not a ripped vigilante with a rock hard bubble butt, big strong thighs and a tightly packed food baby. The undersized costume kept getting pulled down by Cass' temporary belly bulge, despite the utility belt she'd desperately snapped above the slope of her gut in a vain attempt to keep the costume up. "Yeah! We're just buzzed coeds at a rave! Looking to get drunker and get high and have sex to get back at our piece of shit parents who locked us in closets and shot us for martial arts training and that one time you got killed! Whoo!" Steph yelled into the ear piercing noise of the rave floor, most of the details of their backstories lost to the electro synth and screaming. Stephanie was jumping up and down enthusiastically, her much, much larger cleavage threatening to give herself or anyone close a black eye. Seeing the blonde's ever growing gazonga's bounce didn't help Cass' nerves. Cass might be fearless in the face of a heavy machine gun or a hundred ninjas, but so many people was sitting the life long loner's social anxiety off. Packed like sardines onto the dance floor, she was reading hundreds of people's emotions between eye blinks. And those emotions were a mix of lust, hunger and tiredness, Ivy's virus had ripped through Gotham's young and trendy, with Steph and Tim as unknowing subject zeros, leaving most club girls chubby at best. Everywhere Cass looked was a chubby girl: here a plump belly hanging out of a cheap super girl costume, there a Hawkgirl with plastic wings and a very large rear end in tight green pants and over there a costume of her own alterego, but stretched over a chubby red head instead of a ripped asian girl and about to make Cass pop with desire. All of it was making the real Batgirl squirm. She loved dancing, but was pressed in too tight by chubby, curvy bodies to do any ballet dancing, leading her nothing but awkward jumping and arm shuffling. And she loved chubby girls but so many of them were around her that she was about to orgasm, despite her own stuffing session and threesome earlier that afternoon. "Whoo! Just dancing and way over priced drinks! No undercover heroics, just endless dancing and loud music and I could really use a seat...," Steph panted, wiping sweat off her brow with a blue glove. Not helping was her chubby, bouncy, bosomy girlfriend. The Spoiler was packed into a seriously undersized Power Girl outfit that really showed off the weight her upper body was carrying. Engorged boobs threatened to pop from the boob window, a sea of peachy, sweaty cleavage that begged for Cass' face and her growing gut was stretching out the cheap plastic red belt, tears forming in the fabric. The soft jiggle of a FUPA were showing at the bottom of her costume, where once Steph's stomach could have been used as an ironing board, and the tight jock strap of the costume was giving her a blatant camel toe. The ex-assassin wasn't good at any sort of social rules and wondered if they'd get kicked out for having sex on the dance floor. "Cassie, you think we could go sit down maybe, OWW!" Steph yelped, as Cass put a rare foot wrong and stomped on her shoe, making the chubby blonde stumble. "Sorry," Cass said, snatching up Steph before she could get stomped on, "I was..." Steph's face was softer, her cheekbones rounder and her soft chin cuddly. Cass met her lips for a quick kiss, which turned into a long kiss, which turned into a brief make out session which turned into a longer make out session with some petting, Cass hand gracefully sliding across the blatantly exposed vulva of her girlfriend. "Whew, maybe not on a mission. We're supposed to be the back up for Bird boy and Oracle would hate it if we weren't listening and do you want to get a booth and something to eat?" Steph stammered after a few minutes, only to get knocked further into her girlfriend by a heavy blow from behind. The indomitable Stephanie Brown was sent slamming into Cass, nearly drowning her girlfriend with her boobs. Cass might be fiendishly strong but she was still getting hit with a lot of soft blonde and she just barely managed to catch her friend again, rolling them both to their feet to see a lime green behemoth of a woman force her way through the dance floor. In a sea of chubby girls she stood out, an incredibly fat and very short red head wider than she was tall, with F cup boobs pressed up to her many chins and a couch width belly smacking against her knees. A green one piece large enough for a sheet was wrapped around her globular body, rips forming in it from the rapid rise and fall of her fantastic chest. "Out of the way, stupid, Gen Z entitled losers. Dancing while the world burns, in my day *phew* college kids were out *puff* protesting...*huff* coal...plants...," Poison Ivy wheezed, forcing her way through a sea of clubbing young people with the undeniable force of her snow plow paunch, "Not *gasp* out dancing when *huff* the world is..." "Poison Ivy," Cass whispered, amazed at the near freakshow fat ex-villain. "A really fat cosplayer. I know I've put on a few pounds lately but dang, that girl is huge. Imagine if the real Ivy was that fat, it'd make our jobs a lot easier," Steph giggled, realizing that her boobs had indeed popped out of her costume and hurriedly pushing the pink tipped puppies back in, only for a small rip to sound as the cheap plastic belt ripped under the pressure of her well fed belly, letting peachy skin poke free around her midriff, "ah crap, guess this is a crop top now. I need to hit the powder room and check the damage." Cass felt a bit of unease at that, being surrounded by so many horny strangers was off putting without her friend here. But she didn't want Steph to feel tied to her, so she gave a nervous smile instead. "Okay, I'll go on guard," the assassin trained girl nodded, vanishing through the crowd, sliding between dancing couples to get to a quieter stairwell. Meanwhile, Poison Ivy was sweating buckets in an attempt to reach the tables against the wall. Weeks and weeks of keeping herself suspended in a hot tub and gaining over a hundred pounds had royally screwed over Ivy's already dropping stamina. The waddle from the apartment to the taxi had sent both super villains huffing and puffing but the long line into the Ice Berg had been torture, standing around on her own two feet with her gigantic boobs pulling on her shoulders had made Ivy ready to kill someone, and that was before she'd had to force her way through the dance floor, black spots dancing in her vision from sheer exertion. Her comparatively thin ankles were swelling up with the effort of keeping herself standing and she was practically wilting from all the sweat. "And you're all *wheeze* so chubby and *urf* flabby when you should *puff* be in the best shape of," Ivy kept rasping at the costumed, chubby dancers in her way, sweat pouring off of her face and down into the valley of her propped up boobs, "your lives..." Not helping was the redheaded botanist's hidden admittance that she was ten years older and almost three times the weight of the next oldest and heaviest woman in the room. Yes her virus had wreaked metabolic havoc upon the city's female population, as evidenced by the blonde dressed as Power Girl Ivy had just knocked over having a ** belly within spitting distance of catching her boobs and even the buff looking Asian Wonder Woman had a food baby, but deep inside Ivy had to admit that she'd let herself drastically go. There was chubby, and then there was what she was, so fat the smacks of her gut against her thighs was keeping tempo with the music. God, she needed to possibly mitigate her snacking a little bit. Maybe after a few meals, but to do that she'd have to get across the dance floor to the tables, pushing every step of the way. "Stupid *huff* college kids," Ivy gasped, forcing herself on wards, "right Harley. Harley?" She turned to see her friend, only to see a sort of chubby girl in a Harley Quinn costume grinding on a slightly plump girl in a Poison ivy Costume. Hundreds of pounds separated her from the real Ivy but the unintentional slight was enough to send the exhausted, hungry, miserable, more than a bit mad Ivy's body into an overdrive of rage. "Go out dressed as me while Chubby, I'll show her," Ivy snarled, flowers sprouting from her own long red hair, pollen and pheromones gushing from her... In a Dressing Room: "Dinah, you really gotta cut back on the snacking," the Black Canary sighed to herself, looking at her naked, increasingly chubby body in the mirror while eating a complimentary cookie in the lounge's dressing room. She put the rest of the cookie into her mouth and picked up her stomach...shocked she could do so. The disgusted blonde made the budding gut bounce up and down a bit before sucking in, looking for any sign of her once vaunted abs. But there was none, Dinah's once fit body had gone totally to seed. All those years of martial arts training had been near buzzed, the chubby Canary knew she was getting too slow, weak and easily winded to go out on patrols anymore. Hell, she could barely kick above her head! "It didn't even have the decency to go to my tits," Canary grumbled, patting her unchanged D cups before twisting around, side rolls forming, to look at her once perfect bubble butt. She'd gone from love chunks to love...hell, she didn't know. Slabs? But if she tried bouncing a quarter off her butt now it'd get stuck in the cellulite. Dinah sighed, promising herself that she'd get back to exercising hard every day and watching what she ate. She had a new tour for her band coming up and Justice League duties, she couldn't be fat for either! Tabloids were already salaciously pointing out the hit singer's expansion, although they still hadn't connected that the fattening lead singer of the Black Canary band was also the fattening Black Canary. Weird that the press never made connections like that, it was probably the domino mask she wore crime fighting. "Ugh, can't have a pity party all night," Dinah sighed, shoving three more cookies into her mouth and washing them down with cream, "I've got a show to put on." Canary shoved herself into her tights, the fishnets at least covering up her spider veins and cellulite, then her micro shorts and top. She zipped her leather jacket up to her boobs, using them to distract was an old tactic, and went on stage, trying to ignore the chaffing in her thighs. Her real band were at home, this was strictly a solo gig, but she gave a nod to the band that Cobblepot had paid to perform with her. They looked competent...although the drummer girl had quite the gut. What the hell was it with Gotham chicks? Almost all of them were blowing up in front of her eyes. Babs used to look like a super model but now she had a third chin coming in and a belly to her knees. Even her two mentees were puffing up, although Batgirl had just looked stuffed. Whatever, Canary had bigger things to focus on. Her job was to sing this crowd into a riot to cover up the infiltration mission, something she could easily do and the only reason she'd accepted the offer from a criminal creep like the Penguin to play at his club. "Raise the curtains, lets get this show on the road," she declared, taking in a deep breath as the curtain rose. A scene out of Hieronymous Bosch greeted Canary's blue eyes. Dinah saw hundreds of clubbers in super hero get up, all of the female ones she could see carrying a few extra pounds. A full blown orgy was minutes from happening, five hundred make out sessions were already taking place. There a chunky Hawkgirl making out with a chubby Batgirl, plump bellies pressed tight together and hands down the front of each other's pants, over there a fat butted Supergirl getting reamed by a frat boy dressed as a green lantern, most insultingly a slimmer version of Black Canary hanging from a chandelier by her arms while a very unmuscled, black Power Girl ate her out. There was a weird smell in the air, like walking through a garden in spring. For a second it made Dinah's mouth dry and she felt...incredibly horny. First ovulation at college while buzzed at a sorority party horny. Thick thighs squirmed and it was with effort she put her mind back to the performance. "What the hell is happening in this town," she muttered, then breathed so deep her tits almost popped out, "Gotham City, are you ready to rock!?" In the Clocktower: Click. Type. Slurp. Munch. Thus went Barbara Gordon's day, from slightly after dawn to slightly before dawn. Once it had just been "Click, type, slurp" but the caffeine addicted academic was now as deprived of exercise as she'd been of sleep and addicted to junk food as she was to coffee. She heard Canary's opening number in her ear piece and turned from hacking several LexCorp firewalls to that operation. "Come on bird boy, get me a feed," Oracle whispered, through a mouthful of chips, "get me a feed on that analog asshole." The Penguin was one of the nastiest gotham crooks still out and about. Unlike many costumed loonies he did his level best to appear clean, operating through a horde of middle men and keeping any records off-line, although he paid his taxes to avoid the IRS. His building's security were all so old they were unhackable even to Barbara, the camera feeds kept off the internet. "There's your distraction Bird Boy, come on," Barbara muttered as Dinah launched into the really loud part of the song, wheeling herself from the computer to her coffee **, hitting the lever that raised her to a standing height. It took the wheel chair a minute to comply and when it did, Babs' substantial gut was pressing into the counter, milk pale fat spiling over the granite. She grunted and leaned past it to refill her cup, then started adding a soda's worth of sugar before getting the cream from the fridge. The chair groaned when the tubby hacker plopped back into it. "Really need to upgrade this thing. Did they give me a kid's size at the medical supply store?," Babs said, balancing the cup between her drooping breast as she wheeled back to her monitors, seeing Tim's lean face on a feed, "and there's our Robin III, having hacked into the building's cameras, how's it going bird boy?" "Well, now i know what a TV dinner feels like," Tim grunted, dragging his skinny body through the tight air ducts. "Heh, nice Die Hard reference," Babs laughed, sucking down some coffee and another cookie, "I've got Cobblepots security camera's blinded with old footage, so you should be safe. Now, the schematics and power use shows the vault is too levels down, so get squeezing." "What's Die Hard?" the Gen Zer asked in earnest bafflement, squeezing forwards. It was a good thing Tim was short and light, Babs reflected. Stephanie or even the increasingly and worringly shredded Cass wouldn't have fit. The later girl really needed to put on a few pounds of healthy fat, it wasn't right for a girl her age to be so muscular. Her ex-Night Wing would have, but it would have been a squeeze of his chiseled muscles and perfect glutes through the tight, tight passage. Beads of sweat started rolling down Bab's forehead at that thought, so she changed the mental subject. Maybe Dinah could have before she'd sensibly put on a few much needed pounds, but it would have been snug due to Black Canary's big, taut rump. Now, after she'd grown into a lovely soft pear, Babs could see all that cellulite studded booty getting stuck taut... "Is it hot in here or is it just me," Babs waved at herself, suddenly quite warm and only kind of sure what thought it was coming from, "better add some more cream to this...and take a break...nothing will probably go wrong..." In the Ice-Berg's Vault: It was rare for Jason Todd to feel actually sorry for someone else. Okay, that was a lie. Deep down beneath his hardened exterior, the second Robin was a pretty empathetic person who still railed at his former mentor for not snapping the Joker's neck just to prevent all the damage the insane clown had caused after Jason's death. He didn't like to hurt people who didn't deserve it. "Hey, no customers. This areas off limits," one of Penguin's goons, dressed in a tux, snarled at the muscular young man as Jason stepped out of a stair well to find four guards in the private section of the Ice Berg. "Oh...hey, we were just trying to find a place to make out. Sorry about that man, didn't realize this was off limits," Jason said softly from inside his helmet, the mask reading a gun under each goon's arm. "Gods of Egypt, this stair well must go all the way to Tartarus," Artemis groaned as she stumbled through the door behind Jason, the red headed Amazon covered in sweat, "Why do mortals not have elevators or poles to slide down or something..." Far too much Amazonian fat had been crammed into a crappy Wonder Woman halloween costume hastily bought to get into the club's super hero night. Artemis' heavy gut had ripped through the cheap fabric, displaying a mighty muffin top jigglign with each breath. The snap of seams around her boobs could be heard, the tan tatas minutes away from exposure, and the long length of her thick thighs were red from chafing. Jason glanced at his increasingly exposed and out of shape girlfriend, knocking her combat efficiency down a few letter grades. "Sorry, we'll just be going but is this the fifth sub-basement or the fourth?" Jason asked, getting ready to draw. "Its the shut the fuck up and get out of here with your shitty Red Hood costume and drag your Wonder Woman knock off out before I put a bullet in her fa-urgh," the Guard was cut off before he could finish, a tranq round suddenly appearing before his eyes from Jason's smoking pistol. The other three drew fast, but Jason was much, much faster. They hit the ground before Artemis got her breath back, the sweaty Amazon waddling after him. "What...uhf, what was he trying to say?" the red head wheezed. "Uh, that he was going to shoot you in your...," Jason said, trying to come up with something that wasn't 'fat ass', "uh, fabulous knockers. Let's get this vault open and get out of here with Cobblepot's money." The vault wasn't too far away and Jason cracked his knuckles to loosen them up. He wasn't the best safe cracker but...Artemis pushed past him, grabbing the steel with both hands and straining. The massive door should have snapped off immediately but instead was just groaning at the puffing Egyptian's efforts. "Artemis, let me try and crack it," Jason said, watching a rip go from her mid back to most of the way down her ass. "No need, its so mighty it would stop your efforts," the hyper ventilating redhead groaned, her tits bouncing faster than the guitar on a speed metal song, "never have I faced so mighty a foe...." With a massive clank, the door's lock broke, letting it swing open. Artemis stumbled back against the wall, ass denting it, and fanned her tomato red face. Jason was about to do...something for her, what he didn't know, when he saw movement inside. He had his gun up, just as something sharp bounced off his helmet. Several mock bullets were dodged before Artemis leaped inside, her gut slamming someone into the wall of deposit boxes. "L-lucky, you had, *puff* me with you," Artemis wheezed, bent double to try and breath, "Oh Gods, why is it so hot? And what costumed creature is this?" She held up a lithely built young man in a Robin costume pressed against the wall, legs kicking at Artemis' gut while he fought against her somewhat trembling grip. "Oh shit its my sort of younger brother," Jason realized, one of his worst fears about operating in Gotham coming true, "listen...my shitty replacement, you idiot, what the hell are you doing here?" "Sting op with Oracle, what are you doing here?" the younger and never deceased Robin demanded, "And why are you with this-" He was going to say it, Jason realized. He was going to say "fat girl" and then all of the hundredish pounds of tonnage Artemis had packed on was going to stick and she was going to kick his ass. Quick as a snake, Jason put a dart into Tim's neck, the paralytic agent taking hold. "...gorgeous...," the drugged Robin slurred, eyes rolling back into his head. "What did you *huff* shoot him for? Is hearing your family rightfully *phew* praise me drive you to jealousy?" Artemis teased, dropping Tim in a heap. In the brief tussle, Artemis' cheap halloween costume had ripped down the front, all the way to her deep navel. A lot of stomach fat adn above that a lot of floppy boob flesh was hanging out, each breath bring the rip lower and letting more tit spill free. "Just making sure ....uh...he didn't...uh call for back up," Jason managed to finish, as his heavy set girlfriend pressed into him, squish pressing over his armor. "Really? Don't worry, I'll protect you. After you do something for me," the "A tinny voice from the ear piece could just be heard saying "Robin? Robin come in!? Batgirl, Spoiler get to the vault!" On the Dance Floor... Tight clothes weren't a new problem for Stephanie Brown. Coming across a stuffing fetish even before Ivy's virus rewired her brain meant the indomitable blonde was finding new pounds a plenty on her once trim frame. Demure breasts had doubled and were half way to doubling again, while her narrow waist had spread out by more than eight inches as she put on more than sixty pounds in a couple months, making her wardrobe for a svelte, athletic young woman sadly out grown. Relaxed fitted jeans, looser tops and forgiving athleisure wear had become the order of the day, with her purple spoiler costume altered to fit her new curves. Sadly the cheap Power Girl costume she was pouring out of hadn't gotten the memo, the thin fabric ripping away in the face of her beer gut, a belly window equaling the boob window. It looked incredibly sloppy to Steph, not the soft fat itself, thanks to Ivy's virus she knew the pudgy gut was pure sexiness. She might not be fast or light anymore but she was...slow and cautious and probably a lot stronger, right? She had to be, having tackled and pinned Cass for once and besides, she knew the extra weight looked incredibly good on her, but for some one who'd designed their own superhero costume loose thread and torn fabric were intolerable! "Okay, not a huge problem. Just a wardrobe failure and who hasn't had that happen to them a few times a month?" the plumpening blonde asked herself in the club's bathroom, music thumping through the walls, "I'm sure Power Girl probably had a bikini type costume at some point, right? All the invulnerable girls show their midriff off. Just need to cut a little bit of fabric off the back and sides..." Like all skilled crimefighters, Steph kept a few utility pockets on herself at all time even if she couldn't wear her belt. In her case they were stored inside her bra and popped out slightly sweaty. A flick of a finger saw her holding a razor sharp batarang which she began using to carefully trim off the cheap polyester. A slit here on an already strained side seam, a trim there to make a good bikini bottom, now to carefully remove the front... "Okay, almost there, almost there don't worry," Steph said to herself, trimming away the tear with machine like precision when the bathroom door kicked open. An immensely fat woman dressed like Harley Quinn waddled in, basketball hips momentarily getting jammed in the door with a yelp. The surprise made Steph jerk, thankfully not cutting any of her delicate flesh but removing the majority of the fabric between the already existing hole and her breasts, the tip of the batarang slicing her bra in half. Spoiler hurriedly covered herself, abundant breasts making a break for freedom and found herself with a secret identity breaking weapon in her hand. "Uh, its not what it looks like! My friend is a Batgirl and I had to borrow one to fix a wardrobe malfunction!" Stephanie stammered, words technically true, "And I uhm..." 'Red are you in here?" the obese woman wheezed, trying to force herself in, until a not at all small belly was hanging inside the door and mushrooms of hip fat were wedged into the door, every breath making stitches pop in her skintight jester outfit, "I can't see shit anymore. For a while I thought we were making out but it was just a house plant!" It took a second for Steph to realize that the other woman was squinting heavily. Waving the dangerous batarang in front of her face dind't even get a reaction, this lady was blind as a bat! "Hey I can still hear that! Probably think you're clever, damn narrator pervert," the heavily accented woman groaned, trying to pull herself out of a door not made for a woman with 50 plus inches of Hip measurement, tears ripping through the far too tight outfit as an ocean of fat bounce inside it, white, cellulite coated skin showing through the black and red, "hey, whoever's in there. You see a really fat woman with green skin and jugs the size of her head? I'm talking real watermelons here, she was probably ranting in between hyperventilating." "Yeah, there was a ...really curvy Poison Ivy cosplayer on the dance floor, I think she was heading to the booths and buffet," Stephanie said, "if you just follow the music..." "Thanks, you're a real one hundred percent lady," the massively fat woman grunted, trying to back up and going nowhere, "and could you, maybe give me just a little push? Some asshole thought it would be funny to make these doors narrower than my hips and I ain't exactly in the best shape." "Sure, let me just put up my make up," Steph said, knowing she didn't having much other option, the immense woman was filling the door and her own body wasn't lean enough for an air vent escape. The batarang went back into its pocket, all of those pockets shoved somewhat awkwardly into Steph's panties in lieu of anywhere else to put them. If she'd put them in her ruined bra they'd have fallen out, just as her shapely boobs now hung free. The peachy tits jiggled with every step, half their pink aerola's exposed. Steph almost longed for the days she'd barely filled a B-cup, but didn't fully commit. Being busty and thick was much better than being a twig. "Just let me shove you a little. Sorry if this hurts but I've never handled a woman your...size before but I've really been working out a lot lately," Steph said, taking in all of the fat girl in front of her and wondering just how someone got so big. Yeah, she'd gained a couple pounds recently but that was normal. Most girls got thick in college, it was weird not to, they called it the Freshman 15 for a reason. Steph, preferences and memories rewired, was already forgetting she'd been lean as an Olympic athlete just a few months ago, thinking she'd started filling out a few years earlier. Yes she was getting chubbier, but that was normal, it went thick freshman, curvy sophmore, voluptuous junior and plump senior. Who wasn't fat in their mid twenties? Look at Dr. Gordon or Selina, both heavy set and lazy. Getting as big as this tub of lard filling the door was surely years in the future though. Yeah, there was a soft, lazy beauty to this woman that was quite alluring, but Steph was in no danger of getting that big before graduation. That Steph's own rate of gain would see her eclipse this gigantic woman in a few months slipped by her. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that toots," the three hundred plus pounder said. Steph assumed the dim-eyed Harley was referring to her last sentence and not her thoughts, so she put her hands on the clown's hips. After a second of feeling the suet soft squish, and wishing her girlfriend's body was that big and jiggly, she started pushing...and found herself going nowhere despite the obese woman pushing herself back. Steph was growing muscle under her chub, but nowhere enough to move the obese Harley anywhere. Sweat broke out across the blonde's brow and her shoes skidded across the slick linoleum, trying to find purchase. The effort was making the impromptu bikini bottoms sink, showing off the tiny tuft of blonde hair Steph kept and half of her butt crack, while her beefy arms were starting to rip through the seams of the white sleeves. Her breasts had been hanging free the entire time. "Lady, you are wedged in there tight. Can you try and wriggle back a little harder?' Steph grunted, just as her ear piece buzzed. "Robin? Robin come in!?" Oracle's voice came over the radio link, "Batgirl, Spoiler, something's wrong, get to the vault!" "Crap," Steph snarled, her belly flip flopping at the thought of her boyfriend being in trouble and redoubling her efforts. .... Cass wasn't crass enough to breathe a sight of relief at being called to action. But she was close. A party was too much to her and after Steph had gone to the bathroom, the immensely fit Batgirl had fled to a stairwell. She'd rocked back and forth, knees to her chest and only moderately impinged by her stuffed stomach. A miserable torrent of mental self abuse poured around her head, was she such a broken, useless coward that she couldn't even be at a party without supervision? Just because every girl there had been curvy and soft and lustful and sexy... Thankfully Bab's order gave the mentally overwhelmed girl something else to think of. Having memorized the building's layout during the briefing, Cassandra hurried down the stairs, clicking open her utility belt as she did so. Steph, fashionista that she was, had claimed that Cass wearing her Batgirl utility belt ruined the Wonder Woman costume but the martial artist hadn't cared. She slid her mask over her face and shot down the stairs, dealing with a few alarmed goons of the Penguin with a couple of kicks. The bulge of her stomach barely got in her way, but it did annoy the hell out of her to have her form be only near perfect. How chubbier girls like Steph dealt with being soft and cuddly and plump was beyond Cass' guess. Ivy's virus had been blocked by Cass' accidental immunity from making the dangerous fighter want to get fat, leaving her perfectionist tendencies intact. Hurrying down a hallway, tearing through another pack of goons without missing a step, Batgirl found herself at the vault. She heard heavy breathing within and swung in, a lean and lethal shadow. She was surprised to see a very plump, out of shape but very tall red headed woman with a five foot pony tail in a disintegrating Wonder Woman costume, grinding a fit man in an excellent Red Hod outfit against the wall, while her and Steph's boyfriend was slumped unconscious in the corner. The sight of a quarter acre of butt fat hanging out of the red head's costume brought Cass up before she could land a silent blow, letting the pinned Red Hood see her. "Oh fucking shit, just what I need," Jason snarled as he recognized Batgirl by her mask, belt and delts, "listen, this isn't what it looks like, okay? No need to fight!" He fell to the ground with a thump a second later, his heavy set escort whipping around, mammoth tits almost spilling out, to sneer at the much smaller Batgirl, "Look at this scrawny thing, daring to wear a parody of an Amazon's war armor! I ought to rip that off of her before she defiles it with her tiny body!" Cass had almost forgotten about her own tight clubbing costume, but her own quietness and the gigantic tits in front of her held her mouth shut. Artemis took a step forwards, thighs chafing, and raised a meaty fist. "No, Artemis, don't! First she's family, second she's a lot more dangerous than," Jason tried to say, disabled by the pants around his ankles, only for the Amazon to swing. At her peak, Artemis would have flattened Batgirl, the redhead was Wonder Woman's physical rival after all. But the only peak the Amazon was at was that of her current weight. Her strength was failing, her speed was going, her stamina crumbling and even her toughness faltering as she neglected even the basic exercises that maintained her superhuman abilities in favor of beer and snacks. Her unpracticed blow might be strong enough to dent armor plate still, but it was was clumsy and it was slow, letting Batgirl easily dodge it. Cass responded with a forward jump, grabbing the Amazon's luxuriant red hair and swinging her powerful knee between Artemis' luxuriant green eyes. Artemis let out a grunt of surprise but two more knee strikes dropped her like a steer, pretend beer horns swirling around her head. "Drop it," Cass hissed at Jason, who'd managed to get his pants up and a gun in his hand. "I really don't want to shoot you kid," Jason said, somewhat surprised but also gladdened he wouldn't have to explain Artemis' size in ear shot, "let me grab my money and uh, size challenged girlfriend, you grab boy wonder over here and we call it even, okay?" "No," Cassandra said, getting ready to dodge. "Shit," Jason sighed, knowing his odds of hitting his adopted sister with just one semi-auto dart gun were a billion to one with her facing him, requiring a miracle to escape. A heavy thud and a lot of panting behind them caught both their attention. Stephanie Brown, covered in sweat and wearing her purple Spoiler hood/facemask above a disintegrating Power Girl costume had collapsed to her knees. The cheap fabric had fallen apart on her journey downstairs, leaving her basically a pair of sleeves and a barely fitting pair of panties, her torso exposed navel to collar bone. Perfect, heavy tear drop boobs hung free, sweat dripping off of them, while her plump belly sucked in and out as the out of shape girl tried to breathe. "Steph!" Cass yelped in alarm and surprise, only to feel a pinch on her taut ass. Looking down, the Batgirl saw a dart sticking from her muscled buns and everything got woozy. She went down like a sack of bricks, hard legs kicking above her head. Inside his helmet, Jason said a quick prayer to any God that might have heard him, before turning tranq pistol on the panting blonde, "Remembering Power Girl has abs*, I'm guessing your my little brother's girlfriend in ...some sort of disguise." Since Jason's resurrection and exile from the Batfamily over trying to kill a few measly prisons full of supervillains who completely deserved it in his mind, he hadn't exactly spent a lot of time with the ever expanding ranks and was only called in in an emergency. But why his adoptive father let a girl this chubby be on a team baffled him, he vaguely remembered the blonde as gorgeous and fit so she must have really porked up recently. Tim must be some sort of pervert, it was the only sane explanation. "Fuck *puff* you, Hood," Steph panted, barely able to breathe, "I'm gonna *whew* kick your ass when I catch my breath!" "Okay, we both know that isn't happening," Jason said, sliding rolls of hundreds into a duffle bag, "so here's the deal. I'm going to grab this money and this redhead and try to get out without breaking my back from either. You take my brother and sister and whatever evidence Oracle wants and we both call it a success, okay? Next time we see each other you can try and kick my ass, but for now you say you drove me off and get to look good in front of the old Batgirl and new one, okay?" "...Sure," the dangerously out of Spoiler wheezed, knowing that it would take a bit before she had the breath for a fight, "...let's go with that." In the Clock Tower Two hours later, Barbara Gordon was ripping through gigabytes of recovered data. A smile was firmly fixed to the tubby paraplegic's face as she scanned enough data to put the Penguin away in Black Gate forever. The grin was broken only by the occasional handful of potato chips and sips from her second cup of coffee of the day...technically the second given it was past midnight now. "Gotta admit those three didn't disappoint," the former Batgirl said to herself, "maybe I'm wrong about college kids." Granted, Steph was essentially naked, Tim was groggy and Cassandra had been asleep in the car still, but they'd brought back the physical data Oracle had needed. She couldn't complain about that. Although given how exhausted Steph had been, maybe it was time to move the increasingly plump blonde out of field duty. After all, it was rare for a woman over twenty to be able to keep fit enough to be Batgirl. Vague memories of having had a six pack before her career ending injury at 27 and of being rather thin even a few months ago briefly shot through the youngish Professor's head, before a call on her personal line came in. Seeing it was Dinah, Babs quickly answered. "Hey Babs, I've got a problem," the Black Canary said, her voice drawling, like she was barely holding it together and just as she got done speaking Babs heard the sound of chewing. "Dinah, are you okay?" the caffeine addict asked, "you didn't check in after the mission..." "No, there was an orgy at the club and I didn't get any," the bottom heavy blonde hissed, before taking another bite, "and I'm stress eating because I'm horny as fuck when I can barely fit into my tights anyway because I'm getting so fucking fat." 'Uh, okay...I...," Babs said, the rather scandalous thoughts from earlier about her friend going through her brain, "Its normal to get heavy as you get closer to thirty, I mean look at me..." "And because I need some exercise, I figured we could have sex," Canary said. "S-sex?" Babs stammered, part of her the nervous bookworm virgin she'd once been, despite being a former sex bomb vigilante for years. "You remember, just like Freshman Year," Canary said, "which is why I'm in your parking lot and I really need to go and if I don't I'm just going to sit here stuffing myself with all the junk food I bought on the drive over." "I'll get the door unlocked for you," the red head squeaked, knocking empty chip bags off the desk for the apartment's controls, "but bring the food, I'm starving...."
  14. This isn't it. Most of the audience is fat, you don't make your audience the butt of the joke.
  15. Oh man, love the mind changing, addicting bakery fare.
  16. Chrissy Teigan admitted to putting on at least ten pounds And Kate Upton might be rebounding a bit, I'm hoping that being locked up all day with Kate Upton leads Verlander putting one across home plate again on her. Part of me vindictively hopes that Kate beckinsale, without access to Botox or a personal trainer, comes out looking her actual age.
  17. Really loving what your doing with this story. I'm looking forwards to seeing the size of the other sorceresses.
  18. Love how she's an expert in making others lose weight but can't lose it herself.
  19. Not sure which characters these are expies of, but love the details, especially the returning accent
  20. Whew, finally. took a while to be happy with this: Chapter 14: Growing Girls in Gotham. A powerful German tank rumbled across the churned battlefield of World War Two. Its treads crushed cars and ripped up asphalt, pressing onward towards victory. The massive turret looked left for enemies, went forwards to get a shot and promptly slowed as it hit thick mud. Before it could right itself, the tank exploded, a battle replay showing it'd been sniped from across the map by a much smaller American tank destroyer hiding behind a building. "Too easy, geez ya'd think Kraut players would learn to look left," Harley yawned from where she was stretched out on the couch, thumbs rapidly pulling the joystick back to put her own tank into cover, "those fat, lardass tanks can't drive worth shit. Better luck next time to ya "PG, um, I think that's a K and maybe an S or a Z. Then a...4 or a 9 and maybe either a 0 or a Q, then a ...is that an M or a G?." What Harley had thought was a small blur on her screen turned out to be another tank, which easily exploded her thin-skinned tank destroyer. "Damn it, people shouldn't be able to blow ya with one shot. What am I not paying for this stupid game for?" the sort of unretired, rapidly expanding supervillainess muttered, smacking the respawn button hard and earning a pained "YEOWCH SON OF A BITCH!" as her wrist screamed at her. Harley's wrist felt like it was on fire, making her drop the Waynestation controller onto her stomach. The milk-pale blonde rubbed her poor, puffy wrist with her other hand's chubby fingers, but the joy stick was pressed straight ahead by a bunching fat roll. On screen, Harley's tank roared into a solid wall, the vibration sending jiggles across the clown's gut. It slid down the heavy belly and plopped hard onto the fraying panties stretched over Quinn's clit, forming an impromptu but very effective vibrator that made the very overweight woman squeal with joy. "Holy guacamole not the time pervert!" Harley gasped at the narrator, lurching up with a movement faster than she'd demonstrated in months, her sore muscles complaining at the effort. Sitting up just trapped the controller between two columnar thighs and an avalanche of belly fat. The vibration only got harder as in the game, shells began landing around Ivy's tank, someone with godawful aim trying to shoot her from long range. Gulping at the threat of her K/D ratio being ruined, Harley's unharmed hand plunged into the crease where gut met leg fat, another shell poinging off her tank's turret before she got chubby fingers around the controller. She pulled and tugged, but the heavy bulge of her FUPA and the sprawl of her thighs was holding it tight against her clit. "Come on, come on ya stupid thing," Harley cried, her 'good' hand beginning to complain, "this shouldn't be that hard!" The super villainess' frantic jerks served to do more than push the controller against herself, the pressure also pulled the controller's trigger, making the on screen tank fire. The shell sailed across the map, by freak chance going down the barrel of a digital German tank and exploding it from inside, just as its player lined up a shot on Harley's stuck vehicle. In New York City, a pajama clad Power Girl who'd opted to go work out "one game later" five hours ago snarled and chucked the controller through her wall at the sheer unfairness of it all. "Phew, saved by the bell, complete with weirdly talking to the audience," Harley moaned as the game ended, coming in in first place just as she finished coming, "probably a bit more perverted though." Quinn slumped back onto her back, pulling the sweat slick controller out with a sigh. She took long, hard breathes, seeing her naked tits and rather bloated belly rise and fall. One of Ivy's vines lowered itself next to her mouth, donut holes gleaming in front of her eyes. "I really shouldn't, jeeze louise, I'm so fat I got a controller stuck on my clit," Harley huffed, taking a bite anyway, "stupid narrator, putting me in a house full of pastries. No wonder I'm so fat, I used to be able to do a cartwheel across a whole foot ball field and then do a triple backflip, now look at me!" For the first time since the successful sabotage of the fashion show, Harley looked at herself. "Fuck, who knew sixteen hours of video games a day did a number on your physique," she moaned, rubbing one sore wrist with a hand that didn't hurt much less, "how much do I ever weigh anymore?" With a lurch and a grunt and a gasp, Harley got back into sitting position. Then with another lurch and another grunt and a swear as her wrists complained at pulling up her well marbeled body, Harley was back on her feet, her gut almost knocking over the TV which was only a few feet from the couch. Stiff, atrophied muscles complained, wishing they were plopped back on the comfy outline of the couch, but the bubble butted blonde made herself waddle to the bathroom despite not needing to go. Ivy's vine followed her, feeding donut holes to the now stress eating Harlequin, who swallowed as her hips pressed into the bathroom door frame. "How the fuck long has that been happening? What's that damn narrator doing to my beautiful body! I'm fucking blurry!" Harley snarled at the vague shape in the mirror. It took a moment for Quinn to realize that playing video games all day, every day for weeks on end wasn't good for her eye sight. Squinting and getting closer might get her an accurate assessment, until she could get to an eye doctor. "Fuck, fat and blind. Wonderful," Harley moaned, leaning forwards and then blanching at the bleary faced nerd who looked back, "oh fuck, oh fuck! I look like shit! Even for a fat girl I look like shit. What'd ya do to me?" Quinn's face was now totally round, her cheeks red and chubby from effort and a fourth chin starting to crease beneath her jaw. Her eyes were red from strain, while a few blotches from a very grease heavy diet marred her skin. She looked like a complete fat geek, some type of lazy lardass who sat around playing video games all day! "Oh ha ha, very funny," Quinn said, trying to take in the rest of her body. The C cups were holding up okay, a little more pendulous than Quinn liked but as for the rest of her... "Fuck I got a gut like a pregnant lady and an ass like a dump truck," Harley sighed, pressing a finger into her bread dough butt cheek in a vain attempt to find muscle, "I'm a pear shaped balloon, butt heavy as a pyramid, ass like a bowl of mashed potatoes, wide as a damn ....really wide thing... and my legs, my perfect gold medalist legs are all...er...kinda blurry... could use some help here perv." Quinn's once slim, strong legs were pressed so tight together they could be mistaken for a very well fed mermaid's tail. Her thighs defied belief, coated with cellulite and spider veins and folding over themselves into sinking fat rolls. Beneath buried knees, Harley's bloated cankles had about as much muscle to them as a bowl of ice cream. If she'd been able to see past her FUPA, the scales would have reported she weighed a whopping 305lbs. "Fuck, fuck fuck, what did I do to deserve this?" Quinn muttered, "and don't you dare say the murders! Sanctimonious prick." Harley looked at the blurry living room, where her big butt was parked all day every day. She tried to remember the last time she'd left the apartment and realized she hadn't left since the fashion show. Ivy's miracle plants provided everything for the pair of villains, her restored powers able to create a plant for everything. They grew snacks and hair care products and tooth paste, even Harley's underwear and they took care of all the chores too! "I don't even know what season it is outside!? What is it, September? December? Later in the chapter a college class gets mentioned so its not summer but...fuck," the milk white blonde moaned, "I'm like one of those Japanese stereotypes who aren't employed, educated or trained, what'ya call em, er, Saiyans? I've turned into a total shut in, a real loser, damn it I used to be hot! Well screw you loser, I'm not going to sit around here being fat and lazy just for your weird story. I'm gonna go out with my hot girly friend and be fat somewhere else!" Back straight and eyes ahead, Harley marched from the bathroom towards the green blob she assumed to be Ivy. "Ivy, get up, we've been sitting around for too long! We're gonna go out for a night on the town! We're gonna show that we're still young and hot and sexy!" Harley insisted, the wait for a reply going on and on, "Ivy. Red, hey Red wake up!" Harley reached out to shake her girlfriend, finding that she was cold to the touch and dry. "Ivy? Ivy are you okay? Red speak to me!" Quinn gasped, trying to find the mountainous boobs that signified her gf's chest. "Harley, what...what do you want...," Ivy' moaned from the other room, making the near blind Quinn realize she was trying to do CPR on a couch, "ugh, don't make so much noise at...1:30 PM." Realizing where it was coming from, Harley waddled carefully into the kitchen, finding the somewhat useless room now held an indoor hot tub. A mint green, island took up most of the bubbling water, Quinn having to get right up to it to realize it was Ivy. Her girlfriend was topless save for the long, curly red hair spilling across her chest, not quite long enough to cover her mammoth tits. "Red, look at me! I turned into a big fat nerd! I can barely see!" Harley moaned, "and my wrist hurts!" "You've got carpel tunnel Harley, I keep telling you to go running with me every morning but you're glued to that electricity wasting box," the obese redhead moaned over the bubbling of the hot tub, "really you've no one to blame but yourself, if you'd had my discipline you'd be thin and fit!" Ivy was of course nowhere near fit or thin. If Harley was huge, Ivy was stupefying, three hundred and fifty pounds of blubber and chlorophyll who spent most of her time suspended in warm water asleep. The gut bobbing in the water was big enough for her old self to jump on and use it as a bed. "Yeah, if only i had your work ethic, I think I hear the olympic committee coming up the stairs to ask you to run the marathon," Harley's eyes rolled, "but while I am pretty lazy, I'm turning into a fat loser here and I don't want that. Let's go do something outside!" "...Okay," the somnolent Ivy grunted, licking her lips as a vine started feeding her candied fruit. "I know its hard to get out of...wait you said yes?" Harley asked with a raised eyebrow. "Sure why not, I need to see how my plague is reshaping society anyway," Ivy said, jostling for a comfier position as she swallowed, "you're the shut in who's afraid of going outside. Let's go to the Ice Berg Lounge and bother Cobblepot, I'm looking forwards to being the thinnest woman there by a hundred pounds." "...well then, okay, er, I kinda thought you'd say no, what are we gonna wear?" the pear shaped clown asked, "my butt is kinda too big for everything I used to have..." "It's Friday Harley, friday's are costume nights at the lounge. You know Penguin gets his rocks off to orgies of people dressed as supers," Ivy yawned, "I'll make my silk plants whip us up some appropriate outfits. Wake me up at five, alright?" Some of the best friendships are based not just on mutual affection but on reciprocity: one friend helping the other, in a way unique to themselves, who helped the first friend in turn. For the friendship between Batgirl and Spoiler, one of those trades was based on fighting. The two were in the Batcave, in one of the great cavern's training areas covered in soft rubber mats. Cassandra was the uncrowned Queen of this little domain, having pinned, trapped and barred every active member of the family since joining, with her most frequent victim being her best friend. "Ready?" Cass asked, finishing her stretching by making one flexible leg easily raise straight up past her face. The quiet Asian girl was in tiny pair of black shorts and a black sports bra, that showed off an utterly jacked body. Years of precarious homelessness had left the girl stick thin when she'd been taken in by Barbara Gordon, the excellent nutrition and endless training since having made her hard, lean and ripped. Cass' ravenous appetite had only increased since picking up the feederism kink, Selina's unknowingly being cursed and her own infection with Ivy's virus, but with the accidental vaccination to fat gain she'd picked up, Cass was getting absolutely shredded instead of fat. Always taught leg muscles were becoming intimidatingly steely, her waist had increased an inch just due to how rippling her abs were and her sleeves were starting to pinch her biceps. She was still lean, but previously a loose pair of clothes could make her look skinny instead of hard, now the master martial artists was beginning to resemble an Amazon. "Yeah, ugh, just, getting my boobs settled back into my sports bra. I think they're growing again," Stephanie said from the changing area, "just, ugh, I think I need to go up another cup size." If the painfully skinny Batgirl had become dangerously ripped in the past weeks, then Spoiler's slim girl next door party had gone totally to seed. The blonde's once willowy legs were thick and meaty, pressing snugly together beneath her tight violet shorts and making her waddle a little bit. A considerable ** belly without a trace of tone hung out over her shorts, every step making it jiggle. Plump DD cups filled the Spoiler's sports bra to the bursting point, peachy boob flesh flowing out of it with every deep, rapid breath the blonde took. Three buttons were supposed to do the bra up, but the top was undone and the second was gapping. Even Steph's face was a little rounder, her cheekbones puffy and a double chin clear to see. And this was her body working out two hours a day, Steph having hit the cave's weight room without fail for weeks. Cassandra's marvelous heart skipped a beat just seeing her buttery friend. She could see the annoyance Steph's budding waddle was giving her, as well as the discomfort her over sized boobs were generating by pulling on her shoulders and swelling against her bra. The body reader was seeing in detail just how much slower all that weight was making Stephanie and it was driving her wild. "Let's get at it," Stephanie smiled, falling into a fighting stance, "I've been making some gains lately and I think I'm going to kick your butt finally." "Yeah...," the much, much fitter woman shook her head, "stretch first." "Fine, I see your trying to delay your well earned butt kicking," Steph joked, going through a series of stretches that made her belly break into rolls and her thighs wobble. Batgirl watched deeply, feeling suddenly dehydrated at her soft friend's jiggling. It had been a bit since Stephanie, Tim and she had had some 'fun' together, leading to a rise in the muscular girl's lust. But despite that feeling, she was also feeling some worry. Although Steph had been hitting the weight room plenty, she'd also been hitting the kitchen a lot more, the once agile girl losing a lot of her flexibility. Cass cared a lot about her friend and loved her increasing size, but she was realizing Spoiler wasn't exactly in vigilante shape. In terms of Steph's looks she approved, the blonde not being able to touch her toes was sexy as hell, but if Steph failed in the field she might wind up in the hospital or worse. "You okay?" Cass asked, watching Steph's beer gutt press into her thighs as she tried to touch her toes. "Uhf, yeah just a little sore from weight lifting," the blonde huffed, slowly rolling to her feet and breathing a little heavily already, before going into a fighting stance and sliding in a mouth guard, "alright Cass, prepare to go down!" Cass shrugged, putting her mouth guard in and her hands in front of her and the sparring match began. On one side was Spoiler, a young woman as well trained and ferocious as any MMA fighter who'd just set a personal record for the squat and bench. On the other was Batgirl, who could casually dodge bullets and viewed fighting whole SOCOM teams as a warmup. "No...no more...," Stephanie gasped after being thrown to the ground yet again, her entire body a 180lb ball of soreness, "I'm done...oh God, I've never been so tired..." "One more," Batgirl sighed, barely sweating even as she watched sweat pour off of the blonde's peachy gut. "No, no. Ugh, I think all of my muscles are going to cramp at once. I feel like I'm on fire. You threw me onto my ass so much it went flat," the blonde vigilante moaned, rolling over to show fairly meaty cheeks that contradicted her previous statement, "I need to go lay in a tub of ice..." Cass felt worried. She'd sparred with Steph three or four times a week for several years now and her friend had been making steady progress, but now the hefty blonde was backsliding. Her breathing was terrible, each inhalation constrained by her too tight bra, and all her attacks had been clumsy. Yes, Steph was a little stronger but her stamina was shot and she moved like she was inside jello. She couldn't go in the field like this, she'd get killed! How could Cass keep her safe? "Ice Cream," Cass insisted, a metaphorical light bulb popping on over her head. "...what?" the overheated Steph wheezed. "One last spar, loser gets stuffed with ice cream," Cass said, the long sentence harder than putting Steph on her ass thirty times. "No fair, we've got a mission tonight and you know how bad I bloat on that," the blonde said, patting a gloved hand to what had been a flat waist two months earlier, "I'm waiting on my upsized costume to come in, you know I can barely even squeeze into that old one. There's an important mission tonight and I won't be able to go otherwise!" Even better, Cass thought. Getting her too fat to go on patrol might take a while, getting her too fat to get into her costume for tonight though would keep her safe for another night. She just had to use the right bait. "You might win," Cass said, her soft brown eyes watching the panting bounce of her girlfriend's hooters, "I know you like to ...stuff me." Batgirl tapped her rippling abs, demonstrating the total lack of fat there. Lard's inability to stick to her muscles, no matter how much she ate, wasn't making the infected Stephanie jealous. It just drove her girlfriend to try and pack yet more food into the muscular Batgirl's stomach during stuffing sessions. "Sure, for the first time in, let me think, ever, I might actually pin you down after getting my butt kicked worse than I ever have," the plump vigilante shrugged, a seam popping in her bra, "but on the off chance you get hit by lightning in the next ten seconds, sure, I'll try. You need the calories anyway, you look like you're about to blow away." "First time for everything," the impressively fit combat expert shrugged, easily dodging out of the way of Stephanie's thrown punch instead of throwing her again. Cass wanted to help her friend (by stuffing her fat enough she'd never think about fighting Crime again) but that didn't mean she'd just put Spoiler down in one move. A perfectionist by nature, Cass wanted to show off. Spoiler was far from the best fighter in the Batfamily but she was still the equivalent of an MMA champ, even after she'd slowed down significantly due to the extra fat. Sparring and lifting had turned some of the calories into muscle, but one need look no further to her wobbling boobs to realize that less than a quarter of the pounds a day she'd been gaining the last two months had become muscle. She threw everything she could at Cass, punches and kicks, elbows and knees and didn't so much as disturbing the much thinner girl's hair. At the last second Cass would always dance away, actually throwing in a ballet move or two as Steph stumbled. "No, no, fair, you keep, whew, dodging instead of moving!" Steph wheezed, the previous two hours of working out really getting to her now. 'Fight's aren't fair," Cass smiled, piroutting out of the way, one leg raised high above her head as Steph stumbled past, smacking Spoiler on her plump rump. "Yeah, but you're toying with me, just so you can toy with me later, come on, treat this seriously!" the less skilled vigilante huffed, launching a kick at Cass' head, "I've foiled lots of crimes, treat me like I'm a threat!" "I am," Cass smiled, catching Steph's heel and pulling up, leaving the chubby blonde smack on the floor. "Come on, you're not pinned yet," the nimble Batgirl said, bending down to plant a kiss on Steph's surprised lips before spinning away. Steph slowly rose to her feet, belly bunching into rolls, playing for time and trying to find an advantage while also trying to keep her bra from breaking...which gave her an idea. A lot of people were stronger than her, increasingly a lot were faster than her and she'd never been a martial arts prodigy like her friend, she was just a normal girl who'd become a vigilante to screw over her crap supervillain dad. But when backs were against the wall few were better at finding solutions than Stephanie Brown. Especially when she knew her target. A flick of the wrists got her weapons ready and when she turned around, the bullet dodging Batgirl was hit with twin 34DDs at close range. The much fitter girl froze, the only movement her brown eyes widening, pathological need for tits frying her brain. Smiling, Steph launched herself into a flying tackle, boobs smacking her friend in the face! For the first time Cass found herself pinned onto the mat, butter soft boob flesh filling her vision. She'd read every move Steph was about to make, could have dodged or caught her at any point, but the bounce of the blubbery blonde's bosom had paralyzed her. She could with ease, flick the blonde away with any of a hundred motions, but couldn't on earth think of a reason why she'd want to. "So, tube feeding before or after the shower?" Steph wheezed with the elation of victory, more than slightly winded at the hard, bony shape that had driven into her gut. "Yes," Cass sighed into her cleavage. It wasn't like Steph was going to get any thinner and she was hungry. ... Tim Drake didn't always get relationships. Machines and crime were easy, but people could be weird and hard to predict. It wasn't that he hated people, he had plenty of friends and close relationships, but people could also defy any sort of plan or logic. For instance, he really hadn't expected either Steph or himself to develop a weight gain kink, she'd always worried about her weight their whole relationshpi, but there it was, almost as if it had been implanted in his head. What he really should have seen coming though was the whole situation with his sister. The third Robin pulled his car up in front of the Manor, slightly worried Steph hadn't answered his calls after he'd finished his afternoon college class. For some reason she wasn't, so the slightly impatient young man hurried up the massive house's stairs, the better to avoid having to think about the fact that he was almost fucking his sister. He really wasn't, he was fucking Steph while Steph was fucking his sister and anyway Cass wasn't really his sister because she'd been officially adopted by Bruce after they'd been friends for years and he was still technically a ward after his biological father had died but he was pretty sure anyone outside the three of them would be a little confused. He himself was a little confused, especially when he entered his room after the eighth unanswered text to see Cass tied up topless in his gaming chair. "Cass?" he blinked, lost for words. "Hi," the quiet Batgirl said cheerily, wearing only a smile. She'd clearly just come out of the shower by the way her short black hair glistened and had just finished exercising by the way her leg and shoulder muscles popped. Tim's preferences had shifted towards the softer side but the sight of the strongly built brunette bound up was a little invigorating. "Uh, can I ask what's going on?" he asked anyway, checking the corners to see if some sort of kidnapper had somehow gotten the drop on her. "I lost," Cass smiled cheerfully, just as Stephanie came back up from the manor's kitchen with a blender full of shake. "Oh hey Tim, great timing. Someone here has a quart to go and then I think we could both use a little extra stimulation from all of that," the blonde Spoiler said with a girl next door smile, handing him the blender, "if you know what I mean, right?" "Uh, I'd love to but we're supposed to be at the Clocktower at 6 and its 5:35 already...," Tim started, the slightly asocial young man's words drifting off as Steph pulled off her sports bra and let magnificent floppers bounce free, "uh, I guess we can go faster..." "Yeah let's take our time instead bird-boy," Steph said, shutting the door behind him, "go get the tube and funnel from your bathroom sink." "...Funnel?" the genius repeated, face reddening, "I'm not sure if I should..." "Well you have to do something," Steph pointed out, struggling out of her leggings, "you can't just stand there with your cock out. So its either feed her or start going down on her, but if you do the later I'm not exactly sure how you're going to fuck me from behind while I go down on her. I might have a strap in my gym bag for unrelated reasons but..." "Uh, how about I get the funnel," Tim swallowed. .... "Just be glad you never have to work with College Students, Dinah. I'm cursed to have them around me at all times and they are always, always late," Barbara Gordon said with a sigh, glancing at the watch strapped tight to her puffy wrist as she grabbed another banana, "vigilantes or not. Actually no, especially vigilantes." Bananas were a good healthy snack, with an excellent ratio of calories to vitamins. That Babs was eating twenty a day on top of a frightening amount of junk food didn't help though. "I'm sure, but then again so were you at that age," her friend said, a leggy blonde in a black leather jacket and fishnets, "you sure its just that you don't go anywhere anymore?" "Touche, Dinah, touche, I guess I have become something of a homebody really," the leader of the Birds of Prey yawned after swallowing, chins popping out at the motion, "can I offer you anything while we wait?" "Nah I really shouldn't, I've been snacking too much lately," Dinah Lance, the Black Canary shrugged, patting the front of her jacket, "this leotard is getting really tight..." Dinah album covers showed a slightly tall blonde with a muscular body, her thighs having an intimidating bulk that stretched her fishnets to the breaking point. Those legs were some of the best kickers on earth, Canary having turned her body into a living weapon to fight for the downtrodden and unfortunate to honor her the memory of her late mother. She and Babs had been friends for years, having fought crime together before Bab's paralysis and continuing after the wheel chair bound redhead had become Oracle. "Come on, you're waaayyy too skinny," Babs chuckled, picking up a half empty box of donuts from her desk and wiggling it in front of Dinah's chest "Really, its hard to look at you and think we used to be the same dress size. You know you want a few!" Dinah had also been infected with Ivy's virus by Superman at a Justice League meeting, by chance having avoided it until just a month ago rather than the initial burst of infections. Thirty pounds was making Canary look rather chunky, her thighs heavy as slabs of beef and her ass giving her a wedgie, a meaty fupa starting to edge out of her jacket. Because Canary was a metahuman, her Canary Cry able to stun people at a hundred yards, the virus had put her firmly into the "fat, unhappy about it but deeply self sabotaging and also attracted to fat girls if she was the slightest bit bicurious." "Really Babs, I don't need it. I'm popping out of this costume and my ass needs its own zip code, I can barely kick over my head anymore," Dinah grimaced, "why don't you have it? The weight looks a lot better on you." "Well thanks," the rolly polly Babs smiled, dimples showing in her chubby face, "let's split them, half and half, while we wait for the sidekicks, heh?" "I guess, fine. I'll have to work off 31lbs instead of 30," the metahuman blonde sighed, salivating over the sugary fried dough she pulled from the box. A minor buzz on one of her many alarm systems showing that the three younger Bats had finally arrived, to Bab's relief,"thank God, I'm gonna go grey if they don't start getting here faster." "Like we even really need them. The two of us could do it easy," Dinah suggested, "come on, when was the last time you went out and had fun at a club?" "Back before I had information for half the super hero world to gather," Babs said, gesturing at her bank of monitors, "besides, I'm not exactly in shape even if I could walk." "Yeah, wasn't gonna bring that up," Dinah said, leaving out her enjoyment at seeing her once modelesque friend blow up to near 200lbs, "you wanna do some work outs sometime? Maybe join me on a jog? God knows I need it, I'm getting lazy." "Maybe, but I've been using some free time to get some new therapies, stem cell stuff," Babs shrugged, the motion causing her T-shirt to ride up to her bra, "If I'm gonna kick some butt personally again I'd prefer to be in a suit." Like the other female heroines and anti-heroines infected shortly after the fashion show weeks ago, Barbara had been constantly eating. But where Cass was both exercising heavily and unwittingly vaccinated, Steph was at least exercising enough that there was some strength under the chub and even Selina was moving around some, the complete shut in Barbara was barely burning anything every day. As a result, the master hacker and information broker was ballooning, a large paunch splashing across her sausage thick thighs, while an expanding derriere was making her rise out of her seat. Even her face had gotten fat, making the red headed academic look rather rotund. Even if she'd never been paralyzed, Babs looked far from capable of kicking butt. "Really? How's that going?" Canary asked, trying to navigate elephants in the room. "I can sort of wiggle my toes if I focus, so better than anything else. The doctors want to try out some experimental braces later," Babs said, patting her chunky legs through the skin tight sweat pants, "for some reason they said they didn't have em in my size." "Weird, I know exactly what you mean. Its like, you hit size ten and you can't find any good fishnets," the only chubby Dinah said, not bringing up how thick Bab's legs were. The three younger heroes came in just a second later. "Hi!" Cass said, entering just after the food baby erupting from her cut off shirt, the fit young woman looking like she'd just been stuffed with a half gallon of ice cream. "Hi Cass, its good to see you," Barbara said, "finally. Where's your partners in crime?" "Slow," Cass smiled, already fixing Barbara a coffee with enough cream and sugar to turn it slightly tan in the kitchenette, "Steph's thighs are thick, Tim likes watching her butt. Hi, Canary." "Hey Cass," Dinah said to the only non-super powered sparring partner able to always thrash her, the immense food baby on a normally flat waist shocking the singer, then turned back to Babs with a whisper, "Babs, tell me we aren't bringing a pregnant girl in on this. Why didn't you tell me she was knocked up?" "What? No, she's just stuffed, kid's so shy out of the Batgirl suit she'd probably blush to death if she tried having sex," Babs chuckled quietly. "Then should we really be using her in a sting op at the Iceberg Lounge? That place is an orgy even when I'm not singing there," Dinah pointed out. "She'll be going in through the air vents in costume, don't worry. I know my team," Barbara rolled her eyes, "really Dinah, don't worry." "With a food baby like that? I know the rest of her is skinny but it'll be a tight squeeze," Canary pointed out. "Well...it'll probably fade, huh," Babs said, mind slightly realizing that a heavily full stomach would be a problem for crime fighting, "on second thought maybe Steph should go through the air vents and Cass should go in with Tim." The door to the stairs clicked open again, admitting a somewhat sheepish Tim and then a rather sweaty Stephanie, her purple t-shirt so dark with sweat it was black. The younger blonde's heavy tits put Canary's nice set to shame, as did the belly beneath it. "You really, really gotta fix that elevator Dr. Gordon. Not that I really need it and oh man, I'm not trying to bring that up, but those stairs are steep!" Stephanie huffed, wiping sweat from her brow and letting her t-shirt ride up past her belly button. "Third thought, Tim goes in and the girls are in the crowd," Dinah suggested, "just a feeling he'll do better in the vents than either of those two."
  21. Batman76

    Kate Upton

    Yeah, Kate took a while to lose her baby weight. She's never quite got back to her pre-pregnancy peak fitness, I suspect she had a caesarian section that prevented that, and seems to have slid back further in quarantine.
  22. I can tell it's translated, but you have a good way with descriptions and scenarios
  23. Yup, needed some one vain to take a gain and Z's number was up. Good choices. Some times comics can be great, other times...me having a bunch of heroines becoming gluttons doesn't even compare
  24. And following. Absolutely stoked to see more Witcher stories. Love the premise of wl spells no longer working, especially with such vain protagonists.
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