xXWWhiteXx

I hear what you're saying, @riptoryx, and since I don't want to clog this thread up, I'll keep it brief.  While I do occasionally go for those sorts of stories, I don't like to have them applied to heroic characters that we are meant to root for, much less for the effects to be absolutely permanent.  On top of that, for a non-WG reason, I hate the modern idea of Batman as a paranoid bastard who will readily destroy people he's meant to be friends and partners with.  So, for me, it was a shame on those two fronts.
I'm not saying that every story on here or elsewhere on the Internet should have a happy ending; I'm just saying that I was not satisfied by how that particular story ended.  If it works for you, fantastic; you do you.  I'll read and write the stuff that I prefer to see.

Chapter 5: Over the Edge
NYC, Day 59
'Ms. Starr?' Came the voice of Power Girl's secretary Sarah, calling from the waiting room outside her office.
There was a brief swallowing sound followed by a, 'yeah?'
'Your yearly physical is scheduled in fifteen minutes,' came the reply.
Karen's eyes widened, the unexpected appointment such a shock that the Reese's piece she'd tossed up to catch smacked her between her eyes. Her tongue of course snagged it as it slid down her face when she sat up quickly, or what passed for quickly. Invulnerable she might be, but the Kryptonian heroine had to sit up very, very slowly from the couch she'd had installed in her office. Part of it was that her once hyper defined abs had atrophied away to nothing and that while she maintained her super strength, due to the spell placed on her, Karen was at the mercy of her own weight. She'd ballooned in the past few weeks, her expanding figure growing to such an extent that it seemed her previous rapid gain had merely been a few vanity pounds, and the thick roll of her gut threatened to keep her from getting up.
Another reason was because it was one thirty and at noon, Karen had eaten what was effectively a three person Chinese take out of General Tso's chicken, fried rice and twelve pieces of crab Rangoon for lunch by herself. The heroine's belly had been upset by the grease, so she'd started munching on candy to calm it, raiding the three pound bags that she refilled her desk drawers with every week. A near empty bag fell to the side as she slowly sat up, one that had been unopened when Karen's fingers had grabbed it an hour earlier.
'Uff, did you say, did you say a physical?' The head of Starr Ware asked, her voice nearly a whine, 'I'm not sure I want a physical...'
The Kryptonian looked down at her bloated physique. Gone were the days of physical perfection, of being an impossible mixture of lean muscle and womanly curve. Heck, gone were the days of being out of shape and plump. Since the incident in Gotham a further deepening of Karen's already voracious appetite had taken place, going merely from being usually hungry to constantly hungry. The heroine ate constantly now, her stomach consistently hurting from over consumption of the fattiest, sugary and greasiest food she could put in it from dawn to dusk.
As a result, the already increasingly hefty Karen Starr had ballooned and all of it was unflattering. Her once strong face had lost her confident jaw and high cheek bones, gaining unflatteringly round cheeks and a heavy second chin. An underwire I cup supported her breasts, which sagged like a forty year old with three kids and even as she sat up sent a twinge of pain into her lower back. Her waist had gone from a paunch to a volley ball of adipose that threatened to burst the button on her size twenty skirt and caused significant gaping in the buttons of her blouses. Worst of all, her ass had nearly literally exploded, becoming her dominant feature as the gluttonous woman became a pear. 
Once taut round cheeks had deflated as their muscles atrophied away, the cellulite coated globes that replaced them hanging like partly deflated basketballs. Her hips had widened and widened, until she'd had to remove the arms of her chair. Fat had attached to her legs like iron files to a magnet, the once shapely, muscular stems inflating into to less, flabby, weak tree trunks that gave Power Girl a humiliating waddle.
'Company policy, you put it in the rules that no one could miss!' Her secretary chirped.
'Stupid skinny Karen,' the heavy woman sighed, looking down at the sprawl of herself, really not wanting to know how much it weighed and cursing the confidently lean version of herself from six months ago.
the Kryptonian floated to her feet, even with super strength she felt every ounce of herself and hated the heavy strain rising put on her, and stood. Her legs wobbled for a moment, they could theoretically hold up a mountain range but for a moment struggled with their owner's tubby weight. Sliding into her shoes was difficult, Karen's feet had gotten fatter and her gut got in the way of seeing.
Five of the fifteen minutes had passed before the CEO, who could outrun a speeding bullet, waddled to her secretary, a faint sheen of sweat on her brow. Sarah was a bubbly girl, increasingly so as like most women in North America her weight took off. Karen reflected that she'd been skinny when hired, but now had fat girl cleavage pushing at her shirt and an office paunch straining her waistband. A half empty donut box, of the same brand she'd destroyed an errant monster from, sat near the plump secretary like a murder weapon at a crime scene.
'Which company Doctor, Sarah?' Her boss asked, tearing her eyes away from the donught. 
'A new one, Dr. Porci,' the chubby young woman said, 'she recommended me this great diet plan!'
'A diet plan?' Karen asked, one eye brow raised over a perfect blue eye.
'Oh yeah, it turns out your body gets addicted to junk food,' the secretary chirped, taking up a doughnut, 'So you have to hit rock bottom by eating nothing but junk food! Then it'll recognize how much food you really need and burn off anything excess!'
Karen had become an expert on excess and even before that had had all the biology education krypton's science computers could cram into her infant brain twenty seven years earlier, so there was skepticism in her voice, 'How long does it take?'
'Oh, it's hard to say. but I've got to stick with it!' Sarah chirped, taking another bite and getting custard on her face.
Power Girl turned away from the interesting sight, a demanding rumble from her over pampered gut echoing the slap of her heels. Walking down the hallways she had trouble recognizing her employees. Mostly this was because Starwarre was at last taking off, it's profitability and size exploding by leaps and bounds. Karen was happy about that, and finding it strange that she had less and less work to do as her company increased, but was struck that all of her employees were on the plump side. Most of them had been slim young professionals either her own age or a bit younger, but now all of them were coated with the type of flab usually developed in middle age. Spare tires pressing against the last holes on belts, doughy office asses straining the seams of dress pants that should have been retired, second chins jiggling as they munched omnipresent pastries.
She should have been spooked, but was mostly annoyed that despite the cornucopia of fatties around her, Karen was still by far the biggest woman in sight. 
Karen's breath came heavy and there was a faint sheen of sweat around her face as she got into the company doctor's office. Her super strength and speed remained, but her stamina when it came to hauling her own fat ass around had certainly dropped like a lead balloon. She found herself greatful that the number of supervillain or alien attacks the last few months had dropped away to almost nothing. She was so immensely out of shape she had no idea how'd she handle in a fight. hell, she had a goddess to fight in a couple months, Zatanna's claim that fat was the way to beat it better be right.
'Dr. Porci?' Karen asked the woman across the desk from her, who looked very strange.
For one, she had purple hair, albeit pulled back in a bun. There was also the fact that she was skinny, curvaceously skinny but skinny. Apart from a few other heroines, this woman was as lean as Karen had seen in several weeks. A smile split her pretty face as she eyed the CEO up and down.
'That's me, you'd be Ms. Starr, correct?' The woman asked, vivid green eyes blazing.
She looked very familiar, but Karen was too caught up at looking at how slim she was to put a finger on it.
'Yes...all of me,' she said, 'I hope I'm not late.'
'Of course not, if you'd take off your shoes and step on the scale,' the skinny Doctor gestured at a device like a medieval torture rack.
Gulping, Karen slid off her shoes and walked like a condemned prisoner. Various racks and slides clicked and whirled as she stood, realizing she was subconsciously sucking in her gut like it would help.
'Two hundred and fifty pounds,' Porci announced crisply, "eighty pounds since last year."
karens mouth fell open. Eighty pounds. Eighty pounds in less than three months, half of that in twenty days. Two pounds a day.That was crazy, flat out insane. 
"Let's get a height for BMI," the doctor hummed, taking another measurement, "ah, 5'10."
"What?" Karen blanched, "I'm 6'0!"
"Large weight gain can cause spinal compression," Porci smiled, "let's see, putting these in the calculator. A BMI of 35.9, you're obese. Let's get your blood pressure."
Power Girl stood stunned, letting the doctor run her through a few other tests. She was obese. Obese. OBESE. Yeah, she'd expected to get fat, but now that she was jiggling in a doctor's office it drove it home.
"Your blood pressure is on the high side of normal," the doctor was saying, "but it's elevated compared to before. Im going to put you on a diet and exercise regime."
Karen sat stunned. She'd been put on a diet. She was so fat she'd been put on a diet.
But wait, she couldn't lose weight. Well, she probably literally couldn't but she needed to keep the fat until Zatanna's ancient gluttony goddess was beaten.
"I need to lose weight?" Power girl asked, voice timid as a mouse.
"Oh, don't think of it like that," the doctor said, patting her belly, "we just want you to be as healthy as you can at any weight."
Karen exhaled, a bit relieved.
"Besides," the doctor continued, "once someone reaches your weight, it almost never comes off."
The disguised Cersi watched with glee as her victim waddled away, caught fully in her trap.
 
 
 

Chapter 3: The Chubby Cleric

Narala waddled out of her newest worshipper’s tent. In truth she didn’t need to waddle, although her thighs brushed together yes, she could still easily manage a good stride. But the goddess was enjoying the feeling of soft leg fat rubbing together and exaggerated the effect, not that any could see her.

‘Two worshipers down in one evening,’ the long dormant Queen of the Harvest said to herself, running plump fingers over her round belly, pinching and fondling it, ‘and the magic that one had…a very nice effect on me. I’ll need to have a legion of arcane worshipers when my temple is cleansed, although I’m still a stick in comparison to what it was.’

Narala’s mind viewed a possible future, one where her temple shined once more. Tall, stocky women guarded it, their tree trunk legs and beefy arms hiding powerful muscles, big pot bellies stretching scale armor while supportive steel breast plates held up their hefty breasts. Cadres of sorceresses blessed with Her divine touch traveled the land as heralds and diplomats, their gleaming eyes and bulging paunches convincing kings and emperors to send great sacrifices to the Grand Feaster.

‘I can’t get too carried away,’ the borderline fat goddess hummed, walking past the dying fire and towards the second tent, ‘I have a captain of the guard and an envoy, I’ll need a high priestess next.’

Stretching her divine power, Narala examined the sleeping cleric within. As she assumed, the woman was a fae, one of the wild races and more than that a nymph. Narala liked nymphs, they liked harvest time, festivals and most importantly could go years without moving. This woman of the woods was different though, a wanderlust was in her, a desire to see all that there was to see. Narala had felt that as an angel, defending the divine and mortal realms against the infernal, and weak as she still was could sympathize. All the more so because unlike Jayli’s selfish inclinations, this woman radiated kindness and selflessness.

‘Good, I like seeing people happy,’ Narala smiled, reaching out to touch the nymphs mind, ‘and we’ll make them happy together.’

For a moment she paused. The nymph was a cleric, by the symbols of the Nature Goddess Cessana. Cessana was practically family to Narala, but it had been a few millennium since she’d seen her. Would she be angry?

‘Probably not, its just one,’ Narala guessed, ‘and we can always share. It’s the girl’s choice anyway.’

She entered the tent, passing through clerical wards without tripping them. Two women lay snuggled together inside several blankets, the taller spooning the smaller. Both had soft smiles on their faces, smiles of those close by the ones they loved.

‘Sweet as sugar the two of them,’ the goddess said with a smile of her own, ‘I’m sure the paladin will follow. Although this reminds me, I’ll need a consort.’

Close, she could see the nymph in detail. With her pointed ears and graceful limbs, she could be mistaken for an elf maid, save that no elf had ever had a bust that big, a plump pair of perfect melons with soft pink nipples. With her full chest and matching hips she could be thought of as a perfectly curvaceous human woman, save that not even the most agile dancers had ever had a pair of legs that perfect or a face that breathtaking.

 Even to a goddess the fae was heartbreakingly pretty. Volumous blonde curls framed a face that was a perfect oval, her eyes very big, her nose up turned above pert lips. Her age was hard to guess, there was no flaw or wrinkle and apart from her pointed ears could be mistaken for an elf, save for the exact ratios of the features could drive a mortal to madness and even Narala paused for a second before continuing her investigation to marvel at them.

‘Fate sent me a powerful servant,’ she smiled, ‘and one who loves her food. For a nymph you’re a plump one already.’

Nymphs waxed and waned with the year, growing lean in winter and then plumper during autumn as harvest times approached. And this nymph had truly waxed, for all her grace and perfection she was soft and untoned. Her legs were perfectly shapely, but that shapeliness was a little too round, especially in her delicately full ankles and plump thighs. An hour glass figure was maintained solely by the breadth of her childbearing hips and plump bust, the fae woman’s waist was a touch thick and instead of flat even had a little bit of a belly.

‘I’m bad at measurements, but I’d say that you’re what, 5’6 and 150?’ the goddess asked the sleeping woman, ‘and your paramor doesn’t seem to mind, does she?’

Indeed, the paladin woman had one strong hand across the nymph’s budding paunch, gripping the soft bulge protectively.

‘I think you’ll enjoy serving me,’ the goddess smiled, ‘It’ll be very rewarding to serve...’


 
‘Narala,’ Ayla yawned as she woke up, sitting up from under the pile of blankets.

The nymph stretched, an instant sense that something was off in her mind. For one, Cala was gone and hadn’t at least poked her in the side suggesting she join her on a run. She’d felt the paladin’s sinewy finger in her rump every day since her hips had started spreading despite never once getting up with her. For seconds, as she looked around, Ayla realized that instead of being in her tent she was home.

‘My shrine…,’ the cleric gasped at the familiar surroundings, finding herself back at the well lit cave behind the water fall in the limitless depths of the Verdant Forest, ‘but I haven’t been here in years…’

Ayla sat up in the bed of leaves, instantly awake. She hadn’t been in this shrine for over ten years, since she’d found Cala injured out in the woods and nursed the Paladin back to health. Yet everything was as she’d left it: her cloak hung on its knob of wood, her dresses sat folded on a shelf of dead wood, her bow was by the entrance and the carved holy symbol of great Cessana, a sheaf of wheat. So little had changed and it seemed so real that it felt the last ten years of wandering was the dream.

‘Its like I’ve never left,’ the Nymph trailed off, rising from her bed, finding her hands on her waist, ‘except of course I didn’t look like this here.’

Ayla remained unquestionably perfect, possessing a beauty that mortals could not comprehend, much less match. Her face and body were completely symmetrical down to the number of freckles on her apple cheeks, her honey blonde curls never tangled, snagged or split, not a speck of hair grew beneath her long eye lashes and her eyes were a shade of green that no human had ever possessed. Whenever she was in a town, Ayla had to wear a hood lest she accidentally blind someone.

But that didn’t mean she was still as thin as the wasp waisted fae who had never left this forest. Ten years of traveling among civilized mortals, tasting bread and butter and milk and cream had left their impact and it had come in the form of thirty five pounds across her once willow frame.

‘I know not what watches me,’ Ayla said to whatever being had authored this vision, ‘but I sense no harm in you. I will speak to you, but first I must complete my daily worship. Great Cessana, I thank you all mother, for your boundless generosity, for the great world you have given your children and for the beauty you have poured with in me. May I use it well.’

The nymph bowed low to the holy symbol on the wall, crossing one soft arm across the wide pink nipples that tipped the ends of her completely identical breasts and tilting so low that her hair draped across the stone floor. Ayla felt a roll form across her belly and felt the tug of the earth on her heavy breasts, feelings that she’d not felt before living among humans, but held her bow for a full half minute while she began to sing a wordless hymn of praise.

Then the nymph’s long legs coiled and sprang, their softness belying a dexterous power. Ayla did a perfect back flip, landing on her small toes and sliding down on the polished stone floor into a split. She vaulted upwards nearly six feet, clapping at the apex of her leap, and then tumbled as she fell, rolling on her shoulders and springing back up. She spun, she summersaulted and pirouetted, all while singing in a daily performance that mortal ballerinas would have practiced for years just to do once at the height of their abilities.

After a full minute, Ayla stopped, breathing a bit heavily, the first signs of perspiration on her forehead and chest, and bowed low again. A faint tremble went across her tan thighs, long, smooth and shapely but also soft and starting to brush at the top, as she held the pose. The cleric had done the dance to honor the earth goddess for a hundred years without a mistake, but the sweat, faint panting and trembling had only began six months ago. Womanly her figure might be, but there were muscles underneath her broad hips and nascent tummy and only now were they starting to feel the strain of her extra weight.

‘I will either need to jump a shorter distance or eat less cream soon,’ the Nymph said to herself, rubbing a stomach that was starting to groan with hunger as an attempt to playcate it, ‘Every other nymph gets by on a handful of berries a day, but once I started giving you buttered toast and cream you’ve eaten me round.’

‘Nalara…’ came a whisper from the shrine’s entrance, bouncing off the walls.

It wasn’t threatening, but it was insistent so the nymph began getting dressed. Many of her race preferred going naked and while she wasn’t modest, the cleric did feel a certain style needed to be kept. Ayla slid her feet into the high boots by the door. A skirt was next, a bustle slit up the sides all the way to her hips, and then a low sleeveless blouse. All of the clothes had been gifts, offerings left either by artists looking for a muse or farmers looking to have a field blessed or a cow cured. None of it fit very well.

The nymph’s impossibly delicate ankles had gotten a bit thicker and her calves had rounded out, making the boots quite tight. The skirt didn’t bother her thighs at all, but that was because it hadn’t touched her plump legs and she could barely get its buttons done. Back when she’d lived on berries and wondered twenty miles a day, the fae woman had had very narrow hips for her species but the extra calories from her more mortal diet had caused her hips to spread and spread, rounding out into child bearers. Her once tiny waist had also expanded greatly, the waistline narrowing and migrating north. Fat formed a golden tan muffin top around the rim of the skirt where it failed to meet Ayla’s shirt, and she retained a claim to an hour glass figure only because her chest and hips had also taken up a fair share of excess. The shirt itself didn’t fit well, its sleeves pinched her soft arms and when she’d been fitted for it, Ayla had had a small chest.

Those days were long over. Dairy had performed a miracle on her maidenly B cups, transforming them into a pair of ripe melons. Although exactly the same size and shape, they didn’t defy gravity and had a heft to them. They pressed hard against the fabric of the blouse and Ayla missed the supportive bra she’d started wearing as she’d grown.

‘I can’t believe I used to be so tiny,’ the Nymph sighed, finally getting the skirt fastened on the last of six buttons, letting her gut out and feeling it be pinched along its whole circumference, ‘If I’d only started eating more sooner.’

Ayla left the cave, taking her bow and quiver with her. She was a pacifist against things that weren’t directly evil and preferred praying to direct fighting, but was a deadly shot when needed. Of course her chest was starting to get in the way a little bit, but that couldn’t be helped.

Leaving the cave, the Nymph found its entrance much changed. Instead of a water fall, a thick white substance poured over the rocks and into her pool. She reached out a finger and touched it, not surprised to find it was buttermilk.

‘My favorite,’ the Nymph smiled, cupping a handful and drinking it, ‘Oh my, Cala said I was going to get fat drinking this, but I never thought she meant this quickly.’

Ayla had felt herself gain weight, only a few pounds but she felt her clothes tighten. The blouse ripped under her arm slightly  and the gap between skirt and shirt lengthened as . She smiled, undoing the skirt and stepping out of it while tearing away the shirt. The nymph showed no signs of alarm at another five pounds making their home on her body and looked around the reproduction of her grove, noting every tree in bloom with fruit.

‘I feel tempted, I do,’ Ayla said, hand going unconsciously to her belly, ‘but I would see my temptress.’

‘Then turn noble one and let us speak,’ a voice said softly behind her.

Ayla saw another woman sitting behind a stone table. First she noticed the tall glasses of butter milk and the pile of fresh biscuits, along with the large crock of butter, the bowls of blue berries and strawberries and preserved apples and plums. Then Ayla noticed the woman on the other side of the table was fat.

Unlike the nymph who sat on the line between curvy and plump, this woman was between very plump and down right fat. Her hefty breasts sagged noticeably, their tops resting on a thick gut that had no waist line. Her face was soft in several ways, the hint of noble cheek bones visible over puffy cheeks and the start of a third chin. Ayla felt she was beautiful in a matronly way, feeling the concern radiating off her. She didn’t seem human, but was no elf or nymph either, her white gown was of a very old style and her pinned hair was not of this century.

‘You provide a generous spread,’ the Nymph observed, sitting on the other side and crossing her legs, ‘Yet what is its price?’

‘One of service,’ the fat lady said, making a sandwich of bread, fruit and butter that she devoured with much enjoyment, ‘clearing my temple of foul invaders.’

‘Thus speaks a goddess or one who’d be one,’ Ayla said evenly, ignoring the food despite the protests of her stomach, ‘what is your name and who are these invaders?’

‘I am Narala, Queen of the Harvest and Goddess of the Full Table,’ the heavy woman said, ‘I am in need of worshippers to drive away evil dark elves and their servants.’

‘I see, you are an old name, one near forgotten but my mother spoke of you when I was small,’ Ayla said, recalling memories from her distant child hood, ‘You had many worshippers but few believers as the years went on. The rich got fatter and the poor thinner to serve them, until they could bear it no more. You were proscribed, outlawed by a kingdom long dead. Why should I serve you? I can grow fat on my own and I serve a goddess already.’

Narala was taken aback. Was that how it had happened? Had she let herself be corrupt? Even if it was true, she’d press on.

‘That may be true,’ the Goddess said with a shrug that sent fat rippling, ‘it probably is, my memory is dim. But I seek to rebuild, to the truth of what I was. I want everyone to be happy and need a high priestess, one of vision, ambition and …’

Her eyes looked at Ayla’s stomach, its slope starting to brush her thighs, ‘great compassion. She would shape my worship for many centuries to come, particularly if she is herself long lived.’

‘I see,’ the nymph said, leaning back on her hands, flicking curls over her shoulder in a display that would leave many mortal men dead before they noticed her breasts, ‘And the fact that I am probably already the plumpest nymph on this continent has, what to do with that?’

‘Like I said, I want everyone to be happy and in my experience, a full belly only adds to that,’ Narala told her, ‘But I slept until this very evening. Your physique is your own and I can only enhance what you do of your own free will. Nor would I object to you keeping up worship of dear Cessana. She was a friend long ago and I am glad she did not perish as I did.’

‘In that case, then, I will help you,’ the Nymph said, taking a glass of butter milk and looking at it, ‘I will be heavier in the mortal world if I drink this, will I not?’

‘Much heavier, but it will suit you,’ the Goddess promised.

‘I am a nymph, of course I’ll look good,’ the adventurer laughed, ‘but I’ll need to be able to fight. I may be the party’s healer but if I’m lagging behind them fifty paces because I waddle I won’t be much help to you. Would it not be better to fatten me up after I’ve cleared your temple?’

Narala hadn’t thought about that. In truth, her three new worshippers would probably do a much better job without the weight she’d put on them. The old muscular angel she’d been would have known that, but she’d spent so long as a fat goddess of the harvest she’d forgotten where her sword even was, much less battle tactics.

‘I know that it will work out,’ she smiled, ‘nor will you lag behind your companions.’

‘Ah, you’ve converted the barbarian and the sorceress then?’ Ayla laughed, taking a long gulp that drained the glass.

The nymph had a second chin now that perfectly complimented her facial lines. Her breasts had bulged out, the nipples stretched wider and her little belly had not only grown into a full paunch, but had gained some friends in the form of love handles that led down to very generous thighs.

‘Jayli won’t like being fat, she’s too vain and Shega is like to go berserk if she can’t run for more than an hour full out,’ Ayla continued, taking up a muffin and dipping it in creamy butter, ‘she counts her abs every day.’

‘My new guard captain has been convinced of the need for a more robust physique and my envoy will learn to enjoy it,’ Narala said, watching as the Nymph’s hips widened even further, breaking the forty inch mark and going on, ‘You don’t seem to mind at all.’

‘My love likes me plump,’ the Nymph laughed, the sound of a water fall going over rocks in a virgin wood, ‘She liked me thin too, but she likes me plump better. She likes to criticize in public and in private pinches and fondles me, calls me the ripest berry in the woods and then puts her face between my thighs.’

‘I see, that will make her easier to convert then,’ the Goddess said, watching the beautiful woman expand further with every bite, her softening stomach forming a roll as it progressed into her lap.

‘Oh no, you won’t get Cala,’ the nymph insisted, dunking the last biscuit into the butter with fingers that didn’t look stubby or indelicate despite being plump, ‘my half elf loves to exercise and loves her war goddess. She likes me being fat, but you won’t put an ounce on that paladin.’

‘You of little faith,’ Narala laughed, heavy body jiggling, she’d grown obese while Ayla had grown fat.

‘I’m serious, her mind is like a steel trap,’ Ayla told her new patron, standing gracefully and evenly, but slowly, ‘nothing will break her will. Oh…I will need a new dance to worship you.’

Ayla had hit two hundred pounds during the conversation. Her little belly now sagged as a hefty paunch that wasn’t far from a standing roll, her thighs clung softly together and her breasts had grown undeniably heavy, like a pretty matron. She was graceful still, but it was of a slow moving, precise grace instead of a quick one.

‘You will think of something I’m sure,’ Narala assured her, not bothering to point out the strangeness of worshipping a goddess of ease by vigorous movement, ‘but for now, I must see your lover.’

Chapter 8 conclusion

Redressing, they were escorted into a large chamber. Once their eyes became accustomed to the low light; they could see the room was full of women and the armed guards. They were all of North American or European extraction, and also all very fat, but not as fat as the newest arrivals. The ones they could understand had questions regarding the outside world. It was apparent that some had been here for years. They brought a large trolley of fattening foods, and despite their fear, the two women ate every morsel. The resident women even hand fed them the last, giggling at their capacity and enthusiasm. One women, who looked to be about three hundred pounds, said it took her a year to be able to eat that much.

They were shown to their bedchamber and curled up together for their last night, while the guards watched their every move for signs of impropriety.

While they were cuddled up Tracy looked up and said, “Is anyone watching?” 

“No.” was the reply. 

“Good” she said and reached into her mouth. She appeared to pull out one of her teeth. She then crushed it in her mouth and swallowed the fragments. 

“Tomorrow is the day!” she said.” No matter what, stay with me!”

Dawn rose and Christie became acutely depressed. She would be leaving in a matter of hours and would never see Tracy again.

She needed to talk to her. “Tracy, I know what you did was horrible. I also know you did it to save your brother. You need to know I forgive you. If you had asked me to do this voluntarily I would do it. You were right about me.  I do love you and will never forget you.”

“Play your cards right and you may not have to. No time to explain. Just follow my lead.”

Just then breakfast arrived. It was even more food than the night before. Just as then, the recent arrivals were pampered and hand fed every morsel. Fully sated; the two women were led to a bath chamber, where they were gently bathed and rubbed with scented oils and sprinkled with perfume. Tracy said, “If it wasn’t for what was to follow, I could get used to this.”

Christie agreed. She was lying on her massive stomach, getting a massage and nearly asleep, purring in contentment. The women treated her to a few henna tattoos, and wound some gold braid and jewels into her hair. A few rings adorned her toes and fingers as well. Ankle and wrist bracelets completed the accessories. As a finishing touch, they sprinkled her with a gold-flecked powder. She suspected it contained real gold. It seems they regarded her as a special treat, which in fact she was.

Reality came in the form of their new clothing, a complete set of harem garb for each.

“Could this get any more cliché?” Tracy laughed, scornfully.

It was a struggle to get the huge women into the costumes. Tracy’s fit ok, but she needed help to do up all the fasteners. Once inside, she looked at herself. The heavy bra, cut just above the nipples, emphasized her massive bosom, lifting it up and out, revealing a huge cleavage. The bottoms flattered her growing posterior, just barely hidden by the sheer overpants. 

Christie giggled, “You look like Barbara Eden in I Dream of Genie”.

Tracy looked over replying sarcastically, “Really? Well, look at yourself dear. You look like you ate I Dream of Genie, and Major Healy and Tony as well”

Christie had needed help to squeeze into the tiny outfit. Getting the bra on had required two women to lift each breast into position, and two to fasten the strap. She couldn’t balance on one leg anymore, so she had stood with legs apart, while the women wrapped the pants and overpants under her crotch and around her lower half.

The ensemble was a bit too small, understandable, considering how little time Ali had to gather everything. Despite the fact that the bottoms were full cut, they stretched tight across her massive derriere, and only covered about ¼ of each cheek. It looked more like a thong! She had gone braless for weeks now, and the bra top made a profound change in her silhouette. The heavily reinforced garment heaved her massive bosoms up and outward, revealing all above, except the nipples. Undisguised by her breasts, her engorged belly now stood out for all to see. The over pants were so tight, the slits down the side allowed her massive thighs to escape in spots. The women wrapped a long sheer shawl over her shoulders and around her arms. They used the ends to help lead her outside. As she walked; ponderously putting one foot carefully in front of the other, the globes of her ass jiggled like jelly and moved side to side. Her huge belly wiggled up and down in rhythm and the tops of her breasts threatened to burst out of the ill-fitting top. It was a magnificent spectacle! 

They were led onto the beach, as a large yacht approached. It stopped offshore and a small launch headed inland. It was about 2 miles off shore, when suddenly; both it and the yacht erupted in sheets of flame. Within seconds, both were smoldering and sinking ruins.

Everyone stood transfixed, and Tracy said “Get down!” They hit the sand as fast as their bulk allowed.

“What is happening?” Christie inquired. 

“Just wait.” was the only reply.

Suddenly the shallow water on the beach flanks erupted with men. Obviously, Navy SEALs had been skulking in the water, waiting for the signal. Two or three of the guards put up a fight, with fatal consequences to them. In less than a minute it was all over. The soldiers ran over the immediate area rounding up everyone, male and female. The men were herded off toward the water’s edge to await helicopters; now coming over the horizon.

An officer came running towards them and looked both women over. “Tracy?” he asked, “Is that really you? I didn’t recognize you. What happened? This wasn’t in the plan.”

“Long story”, she said still lying on the sand.

 He pulled off his ski mask and Christie recognized the man as Franco. Before she could ask, Tracy said, “Yes he really is my brother. He is actually the one who cooked up this elaborate scheme.”

Christie was confused again. “What…I think I need a moment to collect myself. This is all too much for me.”

“Okay” Franco said. “The plot to catch Ali was just a ruse. We were on to him months ago. By the way, we caught up to him this morning. You won’t hear from him again.”

“He won’t be missed, I imagine,” said Christie. “So what was this all about, then?” 

“We were after his customer. He had very specific tastes, and you fit the bill nicely.” 

“Sorry, but you were the bait in a double trap. I imagine Tracy played along with Ali, letting him think he had won, despite the fact he had sprung the trap early.” This was confirmed by Tracy’s nod of agreement.

Tracy said, "I know I lied to you, but once they took us, I was committed. I had to make the act look believable. These people are ruthless. If they thought for a moment we were on to them and that Ali's customer was in danger; we would have just disappeared without a trace."

“But how did you locate us?” Christie inquired.

“That was easy”, said Franco. “We’ve known every second where you were since day one, in case you had second thoughts and tried to escape. Remember that needle in the butt? It wasn’t a malaria shot. It was a microchip.”

“A tracking device?” asked Christie.

“Yep. We knew where you were, but needed to know when and where to spring the trap.”

“Oh I get it now.” Christie remembered the events from last evening. “Tracy’s tooth!” 

“That’s it. It sent out a signal last night that we were at the expected rendezvous.”

“All we needed to do then; was set up the aircraft to drop guided munitions on our friends out there.”

“So who was that?” Christie asked.

“Don’t know myself”, he said. “Whole thing is very hush-hush. Rumor has is he was in the top ten of Al-Qaeda’s most wanted. Anyway, the guards and administration will have lots to tell us if they want to live.”

Franco looked at his sister and said, “I have something else to tell you. You won’t like it. You and your friends will have to hide out for awhile. Maybe a year. If word of this got out to the media, during an election campaign, there would be hell to pay. We can take you just about anywhere, except the US. Where would you like to go?”

“Give me a moment. Help me up, please”, Christie said. Once they pulled her to her feet, she went over to the twenty odd girls huddled together on the beach and had a short conversation. They all nodded in unison.

She questioned, "If you can get some reliable people here to provide for our needs and security, can we stay here? We would need proper food as well and plenty of it. Once the coast is clear, you get us all home."

“Deal!” said Franco. “How about you sis?” 

“We are together, she stays I stay.” She reached over, took Christie’s hands and gave her a passionate kiss on the lips-hard.

“Only, one more thing. Do you thing you could get mom to come for a visit? Tell her to bring her appetite, pack light and keep an open mind.”

Rubbing her rumbling belly, Christie added, “Come on handsome! Help me find the kitchen. I haven’t eaten for over an hour, and I’m starving!”


The end

And it arises from the dead!
Chapter 4 pt 3, Batgirl’s House, day 51, Late Night.

Barbara Gordon had to admit to herself that she was addicted.

Batgirl’s face was shoved deep between a pair of long, pillowy soft and well tanned thighs that pressed warmly against her blushing cheeks. Her pale forehead pressed a plush lower tummy roll that spilled part way onto her red curls. Her strong martial artists hands were clinging to a round, heavy cheek that felt like memory foam between her fingers. Her tongue licked up and down on a hairless pink pussy that tasted like a surprisingly wonderful combination of pineapples, roast beef and mustard. Her blue eyes crossed at the pleasure she got from chowing down on the plump heaven in front of her, barely even noticing her boyfriend’s dick plunging deep into her own pussy.

Babs risked a look up, seeing the round paunch of her girlfriend hovering above her, the heavy downslopes of her chest hanging over it, all of them bouncing and throbbing with every breath. Another tremor of desire flushed through her, athlete’s muscles trembling at the sheer joy of the fat laden landscape before her. From her plump gut, to her heavy breasts to double chinned face, the alien princess had swelled from model like perfection into a over indulged curves.

The alien moved slower now and was certainly a much bigger target, yet remained the most powerful member of Barbara’s team. Her superstrength and starbolts remained dangerously effective, even though one hand was always stuffing her face. When not moaning with pleasure or gorging she retained her hyper active personality, floating and flitting around like an increasingly wide fairy.

Exactly how big the gorgeous alien was remained a question. Barbara hadn’t asked when the other red head was lean, she was afraid the number on the scale would be smaller than her own. But now, with the blubbery Kori’s paunch resting on her thighs sitting or standing, she desperately wanted to know. She guessed maybe 180 lbs, maybe higher given how everything was sagging.

Maybe it was the thrill of her rival having gained at least sixty pounds in a little less than two months. Maybe it was the incomparable feeling of butter soft thighs against her face activating some long hidden fetish. Maybe it was some sort of alien mind control pheromone making her be attracted to this strange woman no matter how she looked.

But no matter the reason, Barbara had to admit she was addicted.

Themyscyran Embassy, day 51, morning.

‘I’m doomed,’ Diana said to herself, staring at the heavy reflection in the mirror.

The tall sculpted warrior she was used to seeing had vanished day by day since she decided to help Zatanna. As she felt her limbs soften and her belly expand, the Amazon had taken to avoiding  mirrors, dreading to see the result of her magical gorging. But now, with an official return to Themyscyra ordered she couldn’t avoid it, making herself have to confront the obese monster in the mirror with naught but underwear to cover herself, for she’d even outgrown her once loose formal robes and a new set was being stitched for her.

Diana’s sharp face had bulged outwards, striking features becoming round, dull and heavy. Even her big blue eyes seemed piggish. Her narrow waist had exploded outwards into love handles and a heavy tummy roll, rapidly becoming her widest measurement even as silvery striations covered it. All the perk had gone out of her now matronly breasts, which hung inside an underwire bra grabbed from a plus sized store, fat mushrooming along the rim and armpits of the G cup.

Once, the Amazon’s arms had created terror in any villain that had seen them, the muscles on them bulging with barely contained power. Now they were so swollen with fat her trademark bracelets wouldn’t close around her puff forearms. Her long fingers had gotten chubby, even as her hard earned warrior calluses had faded away to nothing. Fat had coated her triceps, which bulged like a woman much older.

Wonder Woman’s black granny panties clung overtight to her ultra wide hips, which had lost their athletic prowess in exchange for unrivaled talent for sitting around. Not long ago, a bullet fired at her flawless ass would have bounced off with a clang. Now any gunshot would have gotten lost in a fold of lard or patch of cellulite. She was wearing an XL sized pair but still half of her bloated backside hung out of it, a bulging shelf.

Several despicable tabloids had voted the Amazon’s legs the sexiest on earth, which had been near unarguable so sculpted and lean were they. But two months of indolence and gluttony had made them thick and columnular. Her graceful ankles and muscular calves had swollen down and up, meeting into one thick cankle. The hyper defined muscles of her thighs had been lost to atrophy, replaced with useless fat that touched at the top.

Apart from her height, Diana didn’t look like the Warrior Princess of the Amazons, but like a typical American housewife who would be seen waddling about Wal-mart pushing a cart laden with processed foods. Her mother was going to be furious, no matter her good intentions. Nervous, she picked up a chocolate bar from an ever present tray and started munching on it

‘Are you sure about this?’ her niece asked, Cassandra looking particularly fit in comparison.

The younger heroine was wearing Diana’s breast plate, which had been modified to fit her smaller frame.

‘I am…not able to continue as Wonder Woman,’ Diana said nervously between bites, ‘I am…my duties in aiding my allies take up too much of my time.’

In truth, not a single part of Diana’s uniform could hope to fit around her over stuffed frame and she hadn’t tried for a month. She’d ballooned far more than she could have feared, having piled on seventy pounds of blubber in the last fifty days. Her appetite was out of control and to make matters worse, the Amazons on the embassy staff had decided that aiding her in her mission was their chosen duty. They cooked meals and constantly pampered her, swelling her up by more than a pound a day. In the maddening period of powerless gorging that Zatanna’s spell had inflicted on her three weeks ago, they’d kept their Princess eating constantly for an entire day of magically enhanced gluttony. The feeling, of being utterly helpless and totally out of control had stayed with her ever since. She hadn’t even tried to use any of her array of powers, bar her customary speed which allowed ever faster eating.

Diana had stopped working out after that and had started gaining an unbelievable two pounds a day as consequence. She hadn’t gone to official meetings or fought any evil doers, leaving it to her former side kick, who out of Diana’s expanding shadow was blooming into a powerful heroine in her own right.

‘You will act in my stead until I can return,’ Diana said, ‘that is…if I can return.’

‘Di, I’m sure you can lose this,’ the younger heroine insisted, standing closer and presenting a contrast of youthful fitness and swollen obesity, ‘why a few months without the curse…’

‘I’m not talking about the curse,’ the obese Amazon sighed, pinching the deep layer of fat over her waist, ‘I’m talking about what my mother will do when she sees all of me.’

….

Farmhouse in Hamilton County, Outside Metropolis

Kara Zor-El’s sneakered feet sat down softly onto the porch of a well maintained farm house. There was a soft groan despite the Kryptonian girl’s intentions, she hadn’t gotten use to flying at her new size with powers. A year of being ethereally slim and willowy had been replaced with a brief month of eye catching curves as her skinny body had filled out into a gorgeous woman’s.

‘One, two, three here goes nothing,’ the freshman heroine said to herself raising up a hand to knock and feeling the hem of her sweater rise up as it did.

Rolling her blue eyes, Kara adjusted it, pulling her very tight leggings up a little bit. She needed another Starware funded shopping spree with her ever increasing gain, but didn’t want to be the first to admit she’d gotten too fat by calling her doppleganger, resulting in a cold war of straining blouse buttons and pinching waistbands. But she really didn’t want to see her aunt Lois with her tummy poking out. Sucking in her stomach a bit, Kara rapped on the door, making sure to not accidentally knock it off its hinges.

A moment later the door opened, revealing the stunning form of Lois Lane-Kent. The ace reporter was easily twice Kara’s age, yet boasted long coal black hair, smouldering purple eyes in a determined square face, a jaw dropping 36-24-36 figure in tight purple blouse and long, athletic legs in a short white skirt. Her aunt had a confused look for a moment as she viewed the girl on her porch, barely recognizing her.

‘…Kara?’ asked Lois.

‘Yeah, long time no see, huh Lois?’ the overweigh coed said shyly.

Lois was more than a little bit shocked by the transformation. She’d tried to form a relationship with the teen refuge, but her own overbearing nature and Kara’s skittishness had prevented it. Still, seeing an inflated version of the once willowy Maid of Might was an enormous shock.

Kara’s leggy, model figure had grown dumpy and pear shaped. Her legs had gotten thick and toneless, straining her black leggings to the point of breaking, making her thighs touch all the way down. Her girlish hips were enormously wide, easily having expanded into the forties, and almost comedically round. The girl’s once tiny waist was a hefty dome of fat split in two by the tight hem of her stomach, which whilst dwarfed by her hips was startlingly large. Her small breasts hadn’t grown much since their earlier spirt and were now dwarfed by the rest of her ballooned body. Her lean face had turned round and puffy, making her barely recognizable.

‘You could say that,’ the shocked woman said, ‘you uh….’

‘Freshman fifteen,’ the Kryptonian said, not explaining where the other forty five pounds had come from, ‘hit me like a ton of bricks. Well, a ton of bricks wouldn’t actually do anything so…’

‘It looks…good on you,’ Lois said softly, lost for words for once, ‘um…so I’ll be back tomorrow morning at lunch.’

‘Great! It’ll give me tons of time to spend with my little cousin,’ the plump girl said, not adding it would give her time away from her infuriatingly skinny room mate cassie.

As Kara ballooned, Cassie was getting ripped, to the point that with a dark wig she’d have been a doppleganger for her mentor prior to Wonder Woman turning into a blob. She tended to flaunt her increasingly hard physique in very tight work out attire, while Kara was finding she could barely keep her ever expanding rolls contained. Nor did Kara like the way the taller girl’s eyes lit up when they glanced on the Kryptonian’s softening physique. A little bit away would do her good.

‘Oh, Jon’s off with his father. You’ll have the house to yourself’ the MILF reporter went on, trying not to look at the various bulges that her niece now consisted of, ‘there’s a fridge full of food for tomorrow and a booklet of coupons and fifty bucks for pizza.’

‘Pizza sounds great,’ Kara said, aware it was something a fat girl would say and that she’d had a full meal before leaving college.

‘Just a few chores you shouldn’t have any trouble doing,’ Lois said, handing her a list and walking to her car, ‘Take care!’

‘Yeah,’ Kara said as the new Starware electric drove off, ‘how hard can it be to house sit an empty house?”

….

Barbara Gordon’s House, Day 52, early morning.

‘Babs are you the allright?’ Korri was asking.

Barbara’s blue eyes opened blearily, she felt as if she’d gone twelve rounds with Killer Crock. She looked up to see Star Fire standing over her, a concerned look on her face and a plate of cookies in her hand. The orange alien looked very concerned, but it didn’t stop her eating another baked good, not that anything did.

The bomb shell body Barbara had been jealous of had faded away, a slim sand castle worn down by relentless tides of junk food. Somehow she was still relatively hour glass, but so much fat had stuck to her body that that was becoming academic. Her skimpy costume had had to be retired, as there was simply too much tamaranean to fit into it.

Even wearing one of Dick’s T shirts and a pair of Barbara’s athletic shorts the red head was nothing short of obscene. Several inches of delicate orange gut poked out around the top of her shorts where the shirt failed to meet it, a doughy spare tire of a muffin top that went all the way around. Between wide hips and a bulging fupa, the shorts themselves were near ripping. As she looked up, Barbara was treated to a sight of her roommate’s camel toe.


 
Star Fire’s once perfect legs had ballooned out, flabby thighs meeting all the way to her knee. Part of it was from constant over eating, part of it surely was from Koriander almost never walking anymore, preferring to instead float from couch to fridge and back. At the rate her muscles were atrophying and her weight accumulating, Barbara wasn’t sure Koriander would be able to walk the next year. Although she was still somehow the most dangerous member of Barbara’s team, her star bolts and flight making her dangerous despite being the size of a pig.

‘You look like you’re doing the dozing,’ Starfire said again, prodding her gently with her toe in the belly.

Somehow that hurt, badly.

‘What happened?’ Barbara asked, sitting up and finding her stomach groaning in protest.

‘Oh, I think I left this magnet on,’ Starfire said as she picked an evil looking pig magnet off the fridge, ‘That was a bad idea, Zatanna said it wouldn’t be good for a normal human to eat from it.’

Barbara tore her eyes off the slightly sagging F cup breasts stretching out Starfire’s t shirt. Every soft pounded added to the alien was making her more and more attractive to Bab’s eyes and as a consequence she was more easily distracted.

‘Eat from what?’ Barbara asked, one red eyebrow raised.

‘Oh, the fridge when the magnet of pig is on it!’ Starfire explained, ‘Without it, the fridge is like this!’

Star opened the door, revealing a fridge full of healthy vegetables and low fat salad dressing. She shut it and put the pig magnet back on to it. The magnet oinked at the alien.

‘Two more piggies coming back to the troth, should have known that fatasses spread!’ the magnet hissed and when Kori opened it, the door held several meals full of takeout Chinese food, several pizzas and platters of cookies and brownies, as well as several twelve packs of soda. Koriander finished her cookies and pulled out a pizza, opening it to reveal a steaming hot meat lovers.

‘Magic is amazing is it not!’ Kori laughed, taking a huge bite, ‘Would you want some more?’

‘No way,’ Barbara said in horror, ‘There’s no way I want anything like that!...What do you mean more?’

Batgirl looked down, expecting to find her carefully toned gymnast physique, displayed in a skimpy pair of panties and bra. That gymnast physique was still there alright: high bust, slim legs, narrow hips, but her muscular waist bulged out like a woman ready to give birth. All around her were discarded wrappers of her favorite junk foods, stuff she almost never touched but had gorged on weeks worth in one sitting. Her belly gurgled and Babs swore she could feel herself get fatter, expanding ass cheeks swallowing her panties, softening thighs spreading together growing breasts over flowing her cups.

‘This meat lovers is quite good! I haven’t found the addicting part though,’ Kori continued, ‘I’m still not sure what that means. Do you know?’

Barbara licked her lips, suddenly picking up the smell of the pizza, ‘I’m not sure…but I could help you look for it.’

 

I've been writing FA fiction on and off for a little under a year now (more off than on lately), and I thought I'd share some of the pieces I've done/am working on right now.  I've only got one finished story, which some of you may recognize from Fantasy Feeder, but I'm getting back into the swing of writing now.  Hopefully, I'll have some other things to show in the near future.
In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the first installment of Capes and Cuisines!


Capes and Cuisines: Too Many Sweets for the Sweet!



Part 1: When A Fool Calls
In which we meet our heroes, our villain, and the plot grows as thick as Ultragirl's waist!

Winggirl was not a fan of Metroville: it was too bright, too cheerful, and most of all, too open. Whenever she went there, she always felt exposed; there were no gargoyles for her to hide behind or dark alleys to duck into. She hated how everyone brought attention to her, even if she was trying to be stealthy and take down a villain while unseen. But probably the worst part of the city was its protector, Ultragirl.
Ultragirl was the cousin of Ultraman, the greatest hero on the planet, and whenever he was off-planet, he would leave the blond brat in charge of Metroville. To be fair, Ultragirl was not the worst hero ever, but she still had a lot to learn about the job. She was too brash and bold when it came to fighting the bad guys, which meant even more destruction than usual, plus she did such a terrible job with clean-up and repair that the city had told her to stop trying to fix everything. And while she might have been nigh invulnerable, she still underestimated her enemies, which often meant that someone (Winggirl) would have to save her.
Why was it Winggirl's responsibility to save this naïve sidekick? For starters, they were both teammates on the Teen Defenders, and with the rising mortality rate among teen heroes, they all had to watch out for each other. Second, they were both apprentices of the world's greatest heroes, who in turn were close friends, so she feared the retribution of a vengeful Ultraman. Above all else, Winggirl was the first human Ultragirl had formed a bond with: when she arrived a few years back, the poor girl had mistaken Wingman's sidekick for a former friend on Argon; even after they cleared up her misunderstanding, Ultragirl clung to Winggirl like glue. Much as she hated it, she was stuck taking care of the girl.
Which brings us to her latest visit to the city. Last night, as she was pursuing the Clown, Winggirl received a call from Ultragirl, who told her about the most amazing bakery that had opened in Metroville. She went on and on about the place, praising their donuts and cheering their éclairs, and just before Winggirl could hang up, Ultragirl asked her to come visit on the weekend and try the store out.
"Mara," Winggirl had said, "I've got a very busy weekend ahead of me; I'm still trying to find the Puzzler. Can't you get Titania to go with you?"
"She's out visiting her uncle this weekend. Come on, Brenda, it'll be fun! We can munch on sweets, talk about cute boys, and tell jokes about procreation, just like in the movies. It'll be a blast!"
Winggirl rolled her eyes. That was another problem she had with Ultragirl; she was still trying to learn the English tongue, so whenever they spoke, it came out rough.
"I'll see what I can do. Got to go: the Clown just let out laughing gas!"
She clicked her phone off and pursued the villain of the evening, putting Ultragirl's request at the back of her mind. By the time she had returned to the Aerie, it was all but forgotten until she got another call, again from Ultragirl.
Frustrated after failing to catch the Clown, Winggirl took the call and barked, "What do you want, Mara?!"
"That's not way to talk to a friend," came a slithery voice on the other end. Winggirl recognized it right away: the Fool.
The Fool was one of the Man of Might's oldest enemies and one of the least respected. She started out when Ultraman was still developing his powers, back when he was still only leaping tall buildings and moving faster than a bullet. Having no powers of her own, the Fool relied on jokes and tricks to confuse the mighty hero so that she could commit crimes without him knowing. It was all a game to her and for a while, she was considered a worthy adversary of Ultraman, but that changed as time went on.
When Ultraman learned how to fly and shoot lasers from his eyes, villains like the Fool or the Dollmaker were not worthy of his attention; all it took was a stern look to send the normal crooks running. After calls stopped coming in for their help, Dollmaker retired from the business and made toys for charity, but the Fool never gave up. She was determined to keep playing tricks on the Man of Might whether she profited from them or not; she lived for the thrill of the gag, not the reward. And when Ultragirl moved into town, she found herself a new rube to mess with, giving the poor, misunderstanding girl a hard time any chance she could. It seemed that she was up to something yet again; Ultragirl was hardly ever without her phone.
"How did you get this phone?" asked Winggirl. "Only Ultragirl can activate it."
"I asked her for it," the Fool replied, acting as if it was so obvious. "You know how she can be, so very trusting and naïve. She really should know better than to let any stranger play with her toys."
"Where is she?"
"In a chair. A comfy one, not like those awful things your rogues use in Arcane City. She's just putting her feet up while I give her a home-cooked meal."
Winggirl had no idea what the Fool meant by that, but nothing she said or did made sense, so she waited for the inevitable explanation. Sure enough, like any good villain, the Fool was happy to elaborate.
"Here," she said, fumbling with the phone, "let me turn on the camera for you."
When Winggirl held her phone before her, she could not believe what she saw. Ultragirl was seated in a recliner, one that could easily fit a sumo wrestler, and she was bathed in blue light. What made the scene so surreal was that Ultragirl looked to be about fifty pounds heavier than when she last saw her. Everything about her was so much bigger: her breasts were the size of grapefruits, her stomach was the size of a hefty pumpkin, and what little of her legs looked beefier; even her face was rounder and softer, which showed against the metal contraption attached to her head. Four clamps ran from the back of her head and into her mouth, prompting her to chew despite her signs of protest. What was she chewing? Chocolate pies, and plenty of them.
The Fool, giggling all the while, panned the camera across to show a conveyor belt leading from a large pile of sweets to Ultragirl's controlled mouth. Every time she finished chewing, a new sweet came up to her and the poor girl was forced to consume another treat. Dollops of cream and sauce covered her red top and most of her 'U' logo, but she had more pressing things to worry about. As she ate and ate, the Fool brought the camera back around to show her narrow, angular face.
"I'll bet you're wondering what happened, Wing-Thing," the wiry woman said, running a hand through her hair. "Well, it's all very simple. I set up a shop in Metroville and pretended to be an enthusiastic baker, one who loved sharing her sweets with all good people. One hit of the stuff was enough to bring Ultra-bimbo around for more, and after a day or two, she was hooked. I told her about a special treat I was making in honor of her and her cousin and that I wanted her to get a peek at it, so she followed me to my backroom where I bombarded her with blue Argonite rays and stripped her of her powers. I then strapped her into my comfiest chair and hooked up an eating mechanism to her face so that no matter how hard she tries, she won't be able to stop eating."
"How did you manage to make her so big?" Winggirl asked, snapping out of her daze. "I saw her yesterday and she was skinny as a rail."
"Oh, that was easy. Meg Mexlor owed me a favor, so I asked her to make me a chemical that could turn calories instantly into fat. I just mixed it into the pies and voila, Ultragirl becomes Ultra-blimp!"
Winggirl glared at the grinning fiend. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I have a challenge for you, Winggirl," the Fool chuckled. "My hideout is lined with lead, so there's no way Ultraman can look inside and see me. I want to see how one of her little friends does in trying to save her. I've laid out an array of traps, traps that will leave you like Ultra-pig here, and you need to avoid them and get your friend out. Think you can handle that?"
If she could, Winggirl would have reached through the screen and punched the smirking prankster in the face. She growled and said, "I hope you realize what a big mistake you've made, Fool. When I get there, I am going to make you wish you'd retired with the rest of the has-beens."
At that taunt, the Fool scowled. She fixed her green jacket and huffed. "Challenge accepted. Just so you know, that little jab of yours just earned your friend another hundred pies."
Ultragirl's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and she let out muffled pleas for help before the Fool shut off the video. Winggirl stowed her phone away and raced to the Wing, Wingman's flying machine. It was the quickest way to Metroville, and in light of the circumstances, her mentor would not mind her borrowing it.
Winggirl hated going to Metroville. She hated the odd villains, the chipper people, and their all-too-naïve protectors. Ultragirl was annoying, frustrating, and more than a little clingy, but no one was going to mess with her except for Winggirl.

The Expansion of Emily: Part 2
What are you smiling about Em? Cara asked as she passed the tray of a double Big Mac order up to Emily. I swear you've just been grinning ear to ear all day.''
'Óh nothing much.' Emily smiled. ''Nothing apart from the man I love  telling me he wants to spend the rest of his life with me.''
Cara gasped and cupped her hands over her mouth. 'Girrrl, that's awesome! Let me tell you, you've got yourself a keeper there with Travis.'
Emily laughed. 'Thanks. Trav's just a dream come true, I really couldn't ask for anything more.''  
'Hey, you ditzes done yet or am I gonna have to come around there and get my food myself? The irate woman at the counter demanded.
Emily gasped as she whirled around, her thick ponytail flicking from side to side. 'Oh, Í'm so sorry! I guess I just got a little carried away there for a minute!
The customer shook her head as Emily handed her the tray. 'Whatever, just don't let it happen again. I'm starving here.'
This amused Emily, considering the woman looked to be teetering around the 300 pound threshold.
'Damn, how do you get that big? Emily thought as the woman waddled towards a table, her sweatpant-encased ass rippling violently behind her. 'How would it even feel lugging all that extra weight around? She pondered this not in disgust but more of mild curiosity. The world of fatness was an entirely alien realm to her, and over the two years Emily had worked at McDonalds's she had had plenty of opportunity to observe and study fat people in their natural habitat. She didn't know where this fascination of fat people came from, except that she just got a massive kick out of watching them. The woman was the last order of her shift, and Emily made her way into the kitchen to meet Cara.
'So what did he say? Cara asked.
Emily broke out into a wide dimpled grin. 'Oh, just that he wanted to whisk me away in his Maserati and make a bunch of b**s together, and that I'm the only girl in the world for him.'
'Aww, Emily that's soo cute!!
Their excited voices carried across the other end of the kitchen where two 20-year old co-workers, Steve Johnson and Derek Davison, watched the two girls.
'Ugh, I would tap that so hard.' Derek said, admiring the toned curves of Emily's lower body through her tight workpants. 'But looks like we all missed the boat on that one, from the sounds of it.'
Steve watched her gloomily as she left the kitchen to get changed. He had known and admired Emily all throughout high school, always friendly but never confident enough to ask her out. While Steve was generally attracted to girls on the slightly chunkier end of the spectrum, Emily was the rare exception. Facially, she was Steve's idea of perfection. She had a  beautiful heart shaped face framed by long dark brown hair, high cheekbones and a slight overbite which appeared whenever she gave that dimple-ridden smile. She kept fit and clearly looked after herself, as evidenced by her slim physique, although she possessed a naturally wide set of hips that Steve's grandmother would've referred to as 'Ripe for childrearing'. Wedged between these hips was a firm ass supported by sturdy and subtly muscular thighs, strengthened by many hours of lower cardio training. As far as Steve was concerned, the girl had a body type custom made to carry a few extra pounds, and this fantasy was a frequent invader of his daydreams. He would take Emily at any size, but he couldn't help but constantly imagine how hot a softer and thicker Emily Shaw would be.
'I mean that ass is just perfection.' Derek groaned. ''Just perfection.'
'I know.' Steve said. 'But just imagine what it would look like if she put on an extra 20 to 30 pounds.'
Derek burst out laughing. 'Óh yeah, I forgot, you like them thicker don't you?
Steve nodded, a big grin on his face. 'Hell yeah buddy. I mean, I'm not into super fat chicks or anything, but I can certainly appreciate a woman's curves. I personally think our Emily would look stunning with a few extra pounds, and her lower body looks like it'll just explode if she gains.'
Derek shook his head. 'Í don't know about that man, I think she looks pretty hot as is. I prefer girls to actually have a gap between their thighs like normal, healthy people, for one thing, just like our Emily does now.'
Steve raised his eyebrows. 'So you're telling me you don't like seeing a girl's ass and thighs jiggle when they walk?
'Well, certainly not when the ass and thighs in question are swaddled with thick, gelatinous blubber because she spent one too many days at the all-you-can-buffet.' Derek said.
Steve shook his head. 'Wow dude, just wow. Seriously, what's there to like in a skinny, boney ass? I remember you were dating one of those volleyball girls back in school and she was skinny as a twig.'
Derek rolled his eyes. 'Steve, she wasn't 'skinny as a twig'', she was healthy. And you can actually do fun things with thin girls, unlike the fatties you like. I've seen how slow and out of shape those girls get. It's just pathetic, you can't do anything fun.'' '
Álright, but can I ask, was it fun cuddling a skeleton? Steve said. 'Because I can speak from personal experience that it's extremely comfortable to cuddle and fuck chubbier chicks.'
'Really? For what, the 10 seconds you'd be able to get out of it before she gets winded because she's too fat? Derek shot back.
The two friends' bickering continued until Emily strode confidently out of the changeroom in a figure hugging miniskirt and tank top. Steve presumed she had some kind of date with Travis, judging from the carefully applied eyeliner and makeup. He and Derek had been hanging out in the corner right next to the exit door and as Emily strode towards him he whipped open the door and held it for her.
''After you m'aam.' Steve said in a mock formal voice. Emily clasped her hand to her chest and gasped like a princess, peering up at him with her great big doe eyes. 'Well, chivalry still exists apparently! Thank you Steve.'
'Anytime madam'. Steve said, tipping an invisible hat. Behind her, Derek feigned vomitting. Since Emily stood around 5 foot 3 inches compared to Steve's 5 foot 11, he managed to sneak a look at her generous cleavage. She had great tits as well, full, round and perky beneath her black tank top. Steve could even see the pink lace edges of her bra, and he began to fantasize about squeezing and kissing those glorious mammaries.
'See you Monday Steve'. Emily said as she exited the building. 'Yeah, see you.' Steve replied, watching the alluring swing of her hips under her tight miniskirt. As she walked away, Emily couldn't help but blush.
The following week, Emily still hadn't made a decision on what do for her yearly project for 'Introduction to Human Anatomy and Psychology.' The project had been gnawing at her psyche relentlessly for the past week, as her habit of starting assignments almost as soon as she received them appeared to have been broken. 'What's up babe? Travis asked her as they strolled through the open cafe area of the university. 'You've been a little distant for the past week.'
'Oh nothing.' Emily said. 'Just some stupid project for one of my classes. It's like a year long thing.'
Travis raised his eyebrows. 'Goddamn, what class are you in?
'Something called 'Introduction to Human Anatomy and Psychology'. I think it's part of the Health or Humanities unit. It sounds like it could be interesting.'
'Hey, there's Allison.' Travis said, his focus abruptly shifting. He pointed across the outdoor seating area and sure enough, there was Emily's best friend Allison Matthews, sitting by herself with her nose in a textbook, her long blonde hair tumbling down to the pages .
'Let's go say hi.' Travis said. 'Girl looks like she could use some company.'
'Yeah, no kidding.' Emily smirked. Allison peered up from her book and smiled up at them, her blue eyes comically magnified from her reading glasses .
'Well, well, well, look who decided to show up, none other than Palm Cove's hottest couple.'
'Oh shut up, you're making me blush.' Emily laughed as she embraced her friend, each girl giving the other a quick peck on each cheek.
'Heyyy, where's the love for me? Travis said in mock indignation, spreading his arms.
'Oh, I was just about to start with you handsome.' Allison laughed as she allowed herself to be swallowed by Travis's muscle-clad frame.
'Whoa bitch, you step away from my man.' Emily said sarcastically as Allison gave him a quick peck and stepped back, tearing off her reading glasses. 'God, I hate those dorky things. So what are you guys up to? You in a free period too?
At this question, Travis's eyes bulged. 'Oh shit, I've gotta run. I think I'm late.'
'Travis, what the hell? Emily gasped in amusement and disbelief. 'Don't tell me you forgot your timetable again.'
'Uh well, I think I, uh, kinda did.' Travis said as he gave Emily and Allison quick goodbye kisses and took off towards the main building. 'I'll see you guys later! he yelled. Allison and Emily watched him go in disbelief.
'Only Travis.' Emily said, shaking her head. 'Only Travis.'
'Yeah, he should really get himself organised.' Allison said as the two girls sat down at the table together. 'He's not gonna last too much longer here if he doesn't.' 'Yeah well, he's not the only one.' Emily said as she ran a hand a hand through her thick dark hair. 'I've got some stupid year-long project I have to start and I have absolutely no idea where to begin.'
'What project might this be? Allison asked as she opened up a small container of fat-free yoghurt, a morsel entirely unnecessary to her nearly fat-free body.
'What subject is it for?
'Introduction to Human Anatomy and Psychology.' Emily said. 'What I can grasp so far is that it's focussed on the health correlations between the mental and physical aspects of the human experience, and how they relate to one another.
'Mmm'. Allison mumbled as she finished off a spoonful of her meal. 'So for example, if someone was unhealthy physically then would they still be healthy mentally? Is that kinda the gist of it?
'Yeah, that sounds about right.' Emily said. 'And vice-versa I guess.'
'Gotcha.' Allison said. 'So you have to do a year-long research project focussing on a question relating to something along those lines then, right?
'Yep. Emily said. 'Got any ideas? You'd be a lifesaver if you do.'
'Let me think about it.' Allison muttered, her sharp blue eyes lost in thought. 'Tell you what, how about you come over to the country club tonight and we'll hang out and figure this thing out together. I guarantee you I'll have an A+ idea figured out before the day's out.'
'Now that is an offer I can't refuse.' Emily laughed as she and her friend got up from the table. 'Oh you're such a lifesaver Allison, I don't know what I'd do without you! 'Don't mention it Em, you know I'll always have your back.' Allison said as Emily embraced her, causing her round and perky tits to squish against Allison's comparatively flatter ones. The two girls finally broke up after about ten seconds, the sweet scent of Emily's Victoria's Secret perfume lingering over Allison's body. ' 'I should get going and leave you alone now so you can concentrate, but I'll see you tonight! Emily said as she began to stride off. 'Love you babe! 
'Great! Love you too babe! Allison said. 'I'll see you at 6.'
She continued to watch her friend as she strode across the field towards the main building, her butt clad in ultra short and ultra tight jean shorts. Her smooth, tanned legs and seductive sway of her hips generated appreciative glances from seemingly every straight male in the vicinity. Allison watched her until she disappeared from her view, a thoughtful expression frozen across her face.
 

PG's weight being 180 makes sense when you consider that she's got frighteningly ripped arms and legs aside from the big rack/hips being about six feet tall. A lot of issues in her solo series had her over eating: in a Wonder Woman cross over its revealed she eats multiple foot long hot dogs for lunch every day, in a Harley Quinn crossover the two eat a meal from every restaraunt in a mall food court. In an event comic, action comics convergence, she was depowered for a year and depressed she had to exercise and eat right and was still gaining weight (15 pounds I think). Unfortunately the art had her still being skinny and ripped, although there was a nice panel of her freaking out at seeing the scale. It was a real missed opportunity for both a bigger gain (I'd say thirty or forty) , a chubby PG huffing and falling behind an aerobics class and her struggling into her costume when her powers came back. There was also a Justice league international where PG, then the writers idea of a feminist, was complaining constantly of having to drink diet soda to stay thin so she'd look good for men, entered into a weight loss contest despite having no excess fat bar her boobs. Given shed complained that her muscles had scared off guys, her gaining weight instead would be better.. We'll have to wait for anything else, currently she's not in any comics but I've got hopes for JLA rebirth. 
beyond comics and into books, the Malazan book of the fallen had a pretty nice selection of plump and obese female mages. My favorite was Rucket, a rail thin and super hot thief/Mage who uses sexuality to throw people off. When her city is occupied, she disguises herself with a spell that makes her look and feel like she weighs six hundred pounds that are lovingly described. Rucket really enjoys the attention being fat gets her and debates blowing up for real in her last scene.

@Batman76, I appreciate how you strive for adherence to the lore, character mannerisms, and overall "feel" of the various fantasy settings you adapt for weight gain fiction. I think that's a big part of what makes any kind of derivative or fan fiction work. You do it with sufficient skill and appreciation for detail that I'm always eager to read your take on kinking up these kinds of well-established properties via vaguely in-universe-plausible means.

So this is kind of a sequel to my Emperor Basil the Fattener story, which had too much continuity and too many characters for me to keep track of. This is going to be more sequential and is a bit more inspired by older pulp stories, but with a weight gain bent.
Queen of the Fat-Coast:
Chapter 1: Her Weight in Gold
Wind-Ripper, terror of the Creame islands was running for its life. It didn’t matter that it was a galleon two hundred feet long from stern to bow and a hundred and fifty feet from stern to keel, with hundreds of blood thirsty crew laboring beneath its black masts or that its reputation was as the fiercest pirate vessel in all the seas. The great ship was running fast, with every inch of sail straining in the wind to escape its foe.
And it was losing.
Captain Jessene Ravanche, a fierce and hateful female swashbuckler in her late twenties stood behind the ship’s wheel, her green eye affixed to a spyglass locked on her persuer. Her wiry body was taut, its lean musculature earned from a lifetime of work with blade and boat was quivering with pent up rage. The Captain’s crew avoided her in these moods, for even the slightest intrusion upon the fire haired corsair’s inner thoughts would see the well used saber strapped just above the rolled tops of her thigh high leather boots flash out.
‘Give me more sail you scurvy dogs!’ Ravanche demanded of her crew with a snarl, the nearest sailors cringing away from her order.
‘Captain, every scrap is put up!’ her first mate pleaded, before the saber’s hooked blade opened a painful slash across his face. That the two had been lovers for years gave him no protection.
‘I want speed not excuses!’ Ravanche demanded, as the frigate behind her came ever closer, its white sails looming dangerously near. The crew immediately began trying to increase speed, despite knowing it was impossible. All of them were murderers born and old hands at slaughter, but they went in mortal terror of their short, slight Captain. The slightest disobedience would set the green eye in her pretty face wide with madness and then all that was left of their life would be the swoosh of her long coat, the flash of her blade and their mutilated face hitting the deck.
‘Perhaps if we drop some of our cargo?’ Ravanche’s second mate, a tan skinned, plumpish woman suggested, ‘Our strong hold is bursting with loot enough already and the Princess is certainly worth more than the gold and silk we took off the Arbasid ship.’
‘Give up our loot!’ Ravanche shrieked, ‘I’d sooner cut down the masts, Ms. Shakra! We'd agreed to kill this accursed pirate hunter anyway, so get me more wind that we may come about! Where's the Mage!?'
‘He's exhausted from taking down the Arbasid dhow. We can cut more speed if we lose some excess weight,’ the second mate began, stopping herself only when she realized that the captain’s eye had gone wide with insanity.
As she was hurled into the sea, Second Mate Shakra reflected that talking about dropping excess weight wasn’t a good idea when you have an over filled belly hanging over your belt, tree trunk thighs straining your pants and heavy breasts always threatening to burst your top. The splash she made was particularly loud, more than enough to cover up her strained garments ripping to shreds at the impact on the water. Luckily she found herself floating rather well due to her buoyant physique.
Back aboard Wind-Ripper, another pair of eyes watched the scene with a mix of hope and fear. Princess Seserachad stood within a cage upon the galleon’s deck, locked inside to both protect her from the advances of the crew and to humiliate her. This girl was the very definition of elegant beauty: her tan skin was soft and smooth, with nary a blemish and her silky, waist length hair dark as midnight. Her body was slim and straight, yet soft as butter from a life spent without ever having to lift a finger for herself. Just a hint of softness clung to her supple limbs and pretty face, while the breadth of her hips and the full heft of her bosom hinted at future roundness.
Only hours ago, Seserachad’s immense ship had been leisurely carrying her from a life of luxury in the Arbasid Empire to a slightly different life of luxury as the betrothed bride of one of the desert kingdom’s client despots. The large ship’s crew had been overwhelmed by the fierce pirates, its cargo of silk and gold captured and the stunning princess caged after her silk dress had been ripped away. Thus she had been tossed into the cage, her long slim legs crossed to give herself some form of modesty while her hands tried to cover her pert breasts. Ravanche had promised that she wouldn’t be harmed provided a ransom was paid, but Seserachad doubted the raving pirate woman was in a mood to keep her promises at the moment.
Only hope that the white frigate would bring her rescue, as opposed to a worse captivity, supported her now.
There was a brief flurry of magic as Ravanche’s hired mage attempted to duel with the sorceress upon the other ship. Although the pirate mage seemed stronger, an errant roll of the deck cost him his footing and his life. Magically defenseless, the ship’s sails were knocked into the sea with a flurry of inaccurate lightning. The entire galleon lurched as the frigate rammed into it, a spiked boarding ramp falling onto the deck to let a small army of mailed fighters invade. At their head was a terrifying figure in form fitting plate, tall, curvaceous and unmistakably feminine, she crashed her way through the pirate ranks with ease. Her mace shattered Captain Ravanche’s saber and a kick to the head put the pirate captain on her back. Within minutes it was over, the Wind-Ripper’s long career of infamy brought to an end as her remaining crew surrendered.
The second mate Ms. Shakra was hauled up from the water by the conquerors, her big breasts hanging free with their nipples engorged. She was furious at her treatment and helped the victorious crew identify captured leaders, not caring that her pants had split in a dozen places to reveal much of her plentiful backside and chubby legs. The new crew Shakra had joined giggled at every flabby shake and Seserachad noted that they almost instantly began fetching the fat ex-pirate food and drink.
Princess Seserachad noted that almost all of the invading crew were women, tan and lean young beauties who watched looked up to their leader like she was a goddess. Seserachad was a bit shocked to see women not only carrying weapons, but using them with skill. The Princess herself lived a life of pacifist ease inside palace walls never seeing or dreaming of violence, yet these girls were laughing at their near brush with death and were already stripping Wind-Runner bare of loot. Raised to be modest, Seserachad was shocked as the maidens stripped off their hot, stained armor to reveal their sweaty, nubile bodies.
Their limbs were supple and strong and their bellies flat, although there was plenty of feminine softness in their hips and chests. Any man would be happy to spend an afternoon or a night with one of these maidens, to the point that the caged princess felt a bit unconscious of her untoned limbs and slightly soft belly. Where Seserachad never lifted a finger but watched what she ate strictly, giving her a body that was slender but soft, these girls were quite the opposite. The past few minutes had demonstrated that they must spend hours a day at sword drill, but even now many of them were guzzling rum or partaking in looted foodstuff, practically hand feeding each other. If she had eaten like these girls, then Seserachad would find her hips getting wedged in doors before the year was out, but the crew women obviously worked out enough to keep most of it off.
The woman that these fearsome beauties answered to was herself just as terrifying to Seserachad as Ravanche had been, if in a different way than the defeated pirate. Ravanche had been constantly moving, wiry and near to burst with energy and paranoia. Short, slight and flat chested, her clothes had been little more than high boots, heeled for height, an extremely short shirt and a long black frock coat.
Her new captor, if captor she was, was remarkably different. This woman was markably tall, easily over six feet even without high heeled boots and with an athlete’s well defined muscles. Despite this she was remarkably, nay, strikingly feminine. After the last enemy surrendered, the winged great helm was removed to let honey blonde curls fall to firm shoulders, revealing a stunning heart shaped face with shining blue eyes, straight, shining white teeth and plump, pillowy lips. Likewise, once her long scale mail coat was doffed and her chain mail chausses taken away, a wonderland of tanned feminity was on display, only a tiny leather thong and knee high leather boots left behind. It lasted only a moment as a servant girl quickly replaced the heavy mail with tight leggings and a vest, but it stayed in the mind of everyone there.
Every eye locked onto a pair of nigh perfect breasts, high and firm Es with plenty of bounce and jiggle, as well as a youthful perkiness that belied their large size. Both large nipples sat high and pointed upwards, a timely cool ocean breeze making them grow pointy. Her belly was flat as a board and studded with firm abdominals, merging with wide, shapely feminine hips. The near totally bared ass was large, round and pert, the cheeks of a woman who had done an immense number of squats and lunges. Her legs were long and firm, those of a well practiced long distance runner.
‘Who’s the girl in the cage?’ the new comer asked of the traitorous second mate, a jerk of her pretty head indicated Seserachad. The woman’s voice was sultry and smooth, every syllable having a hint of mockery in it.
The caged princess felt a strange thrill, part fear and part lust, run up her spine as the stranger’s icy blue eyes ate her up, moving up and down her long legs and flat belly. Unfamiliar thoughts of having her head buried within those heaving breasts flashed before her, even as she felt she was being weighed like a cow at sale. The woman was eying her like a cat toying with a mouse, thinking of whether it should swallow her down or play with her first.
‘Princess Seserachad of the Serican Empire,’ the second mate replied, only after the flush of vengeance had passed realizing how scanty her own clothes had become, ‘Captain Ravanche was going to ransom her for her weight in gold. Say, er, could I get some new clothes by any chance?’
‘Ones that will fit you for a short time can be found later,’ the new Captain replied, ‘for now find me your old captain, you said that she’s skinny and mean correct?’
‘As skinny as a twig and meaner than a shark with a toothache Captain,’ the first mate responded, already bending her fat body to get a glimpse at the faces of downed pirates.
‘But pretty yes?’
‘I suppose if you like skinny little hellions,’ the first mate admitted.
‘Well she won’t stay skinny long,’ the newcomer said, turning away from the heavy set traitor, ‘Now where is my mage? Bethany, I need your attendance!’
As the tubby ex-pirate began searching the piles of captured corsairs, another woman emerged from the victorious ship, a dirty blonde who began sauntering lazily over the boarding plank. Seserachad could tell that this woman was thin, or rather more accurately that she had been thin not too long ago. The Princess was a lean girl, but she would have had to suck in her tummy to get those tight leather pants on. This woman had neither the right nor ability to even fit into her clothes, much less fasten them.
Skin tight, practically painted on black leather pants left nothing to the imagination, neither the state of growing thighs or that this woman wasn’t wearing any underware. None of the three snaps that fastened the pants were anywhere close to being closed, a bulge of soft chub preventing their meeting. The pants were held on purely by tightness, being stretched by jiggly thighs and plump cheeks they had not the spare fabric to fall down, even though a doughy muffin top pushed down their top.
A similarly overwhelmed vest failed to cover the moderate bulge of her tummy or love handles, only two of its five buttons being closed. While her commander’s firm belly rippled with muscle, this woman’s jelly belly wobbled and heaved with every step, lacking even rudimentary muscle tone. Tables of sweets and small streams of ale had gone into crafting this flabby muffin top, as had a complete disregard for exercise. The breasts that jostled and fought for whatever miniscule space was available inside the top had almost all of her mistress’ stunning size and a third of their perk, sagging even within the confines of the vest. A thick valley of plunging cleavage was displayed, attempting to make up with overfed quantity what they lacked in pert quality. Her face may have once had stunning cheekbones and a sharp chin, but now her cheeks were beginning to bulge and a definite double chin bulged beneath.
‘Yes my Queen Rachel, what need has the Lady of the Black Coast of her mighty mage?’ the woman asked with an indolent tone, one plump hand plunging into a silken bag to pull out a sugary fruit which was popped easily in between her lips.
‘Bethany, I had wanted you in the assault,’ the towering captain chided, ‘where were you at, stuffing yourself in the galley again?’
‘You wound me my fearless leader,’ the pudgy woman said in mock agony, placing a soft hand up against a softer breast, ‘I was merely recharging my repertoire of magical spells. Calling up a wind and breaking the enemy mage took a great deal out of me today.’
‘You tire quite easily since we began our adventures in these climes,’ her commander observed, walking over to her underling with hard hands on her athletic hips, at least twice as fast as the out of shape Bethany. Her index finger plunged deep into the magic user’s deep navel while her thumb hooked under a soft roll of flab and shook the wizard’s tubby gut, the entire belly bouncing like a bowl of jelly.
‘I remember that only a few months ago you could power our ship for days without taxing your reserves,’ the tall blonde teased, ‘and back then your belly was flat as a board. I’d say you’ve gained a pound a day these past six weeks and your spells have grown as soft as your ass.’
‘How dare you!’ the mage snapped, her mouth forming an outraged O that put her extra chin on full display, ‘I’m still fit as a fiddle!’
‘More like a cello I’d say,’ Rachel teased, her strong hand pinching the mage’s low hanging buns to elicit a sound half way between outraged shriek and a horny giggle.
‘I…I…,’ the magician stammered, angry at the obvious being pointed out, ‘you’re just saying it because you’re jealous, you scrawny string bean!’
Rachel laughed, her bulging chest bouncing along with her melodious voice, ‘Jealous of what my tubby sorceress, your ability to go from fit to flabby in forty days? That that behind of yours is getting so big we could use you as an anchor? Or maybe I’m jealous that you’re so out of shape I doubt you could cast another spell for months?’
‘Bah! I could incinerate this entire ship if I wanted to!’ the plump mage claimed, despite the fact that she was starting to get red in the face just from her emotional outburst.
‘Really?’ asked Rachel, crossing her corded arms across her generous breasts and trying to hide a smirk, ‘how about a lower target, turn the cage holding our dear rescued princess over there into something easier to break. Peppermint looks about as hard as you can manage.’
Rachel’s crew-women began nudging and betting amongst themselves already.
‘Ha, you wager too easy my captain! If I fail then you’ll have to stuff your gullet until your belly hides your feet from you! You won’t be so smug with an apron belly and five chins!’
‘I haven’t seen my feet since puberty Bethany,’ Rachel teased, jostling her own immense bosom for emphasis, hard enough that the heavy globes of mammary meat threatened to burst her vest, ‘but if you do manage to turn that cage into peppermint I’ll eat till my stomach pops out past them! But if you fail…well, you’re going to need some new clothes.’
Seserachad had been following the debate in some alarm as it became clear they were going to cast magic on her cage. She squealed with shock and fell to her knees, closing her eyes tight as Bethany raised her hands and began chanting a spell. Something white and sandy fell across her soft shoulders and the Princess opened her eyes to find a pile of fine powder around her on the deck. Looking closer, she realized it seemed familiar.
‘That doesn’t look like peppermint Bethany,’ Rachel said dismissively, long legs carrying her to the diminutive Seserachad in seconds. The Princess saw that she moved like a predatory cat even at risk and felt a mixture of fear at her power and lust at her obvious strength.
‘It could *huff* be powdered *puff* peppermint,’ the mage panted, soft hands resting on her plump knees as she was bent over. Her cheeks were bright red with effort and she sweated like she had run a foot race.
In response the captain rolled her eyes and dipped one hand into the pile of sugar. Rising slowly, she sucked the grains off each of fingers with exaggerated slowness, sending a confusing thrill through the no longer quite a captive Princess’ loins.
‘Sugar Bethany, its nothing but powdered sugar,’ the amazonian Rachel laughed, ‘not a trace of peppermint in it. Looks like my belly is staying flat, get back to your quarters honored sorceress, you’ve lost your bet. Whether I make you sweat or stuff you silly will depend on my mood in the morrow.’
The dejected mage began hurrying back to the other ship, as fast as her tubby legs could take her. She kept popping the sugared fruits into her mouth, as if each one might be her last or might soon become poison. Seserachad didn’t know whether to envy her or pity her.
‘So, now I come at last to you Princess Seserachad. Let me look at you, let’s see a flat belly but no tone. I’m going to guess skinny but lazy, probably with some older woman appointed to watch your food. You’ll be a slim young thing until your married, but I reckon that you’ll be fat as a sow after your first child. But that’s ephemeral How will you and your rich father thank your liberator?’ asked ‘Queen’ Rachel of her captive, standing over the still naked young woman with one eyebrow raised in mock appraisal.
‘Please don’t harm me, the Caliph will pay greatly for my return,’ Seserachad begged, ‘I’m his favorite daughter. He’ll pay my weight in gold!’
Something wild flickered in Rachel’s eyes, not as mad as captain Ravanche’s lunatic outburst but a pure sexual thrill that nothing could hide.
‘Have no fear Princess, I’d never touch a hair on your pretty head,’ the muscular Rachel teased, ‘you’ll need to eat after your ordeal. Girls, take her over to the Belt Burster. She’ll need a heavy meal to recover and find her some clothes, make sure it’s nothing constrictive. I feel she’ll need a lot of recovery.’

"The Weight Watcher" by Maverick was, I believe, written with the intent of being a combination of horror and weight gain erotica. 
For some reason only the first two parts of the story are posted on Maverick's deviantart site, but you can find the complete text at The Changing Mirror here:
http://thechangingmirror.com/phpbb/viewtopic.php?f=33&t=161

Body by pizza.

Two hours later and a sweat soaked, panting Yennefer found herself near the top of Lynx Crag. Soft hands were on her soft knees, she was bent over, greedily sucking in air and ignoring how her belt cut into her toneless waistline and how her tights pulled at her ass. There were dark spots in the fat woman's vision and she sucked in the last of her water, throwing the bottle away with only a hundred or so feet between her and the cabin at the top.
'You can do this Yennefer,' the sorceress huffed, taking a deep breathe and at last summoning magic.
The levitation spell hurtled her up, Yennefer rocketing like a very soft missile. As she arced up, the mage activated shields and prepared bolts of telekinetic force, ready for an imminent combat. Instead she found herself assaulted by the aroma of a feast.
Before the cabin, a long trestle table was laid out: goblets full of wine, deep stone bowls of whipped potatoes so heavy with butter they were practically liquid, long trays of rolls gleaming with butter, at least four roast pigs and one huge cake, nearly six feet of thick white icing. Yennefer hadn't eaten since she'd teleported from the tailor and after so much activity, her poorly conditioned body screamed for sustenance. She hung in the air, stunned more thoroughly as if pole axed.
'What in the world?' Yennefer asked, 'By the power, is this some sort of joke?'
The door slid open, revealing a tall, elegant woman that Yennefer instantly knew as a sorceress. Magical power flowed off of her, the kind that needed centuries to accumulate, far more than Yennefer, a youthful 100 possessed. She had shoulder length auburn hair and hazel eyes surrounded by dark eye shadow, framing a lean diamond face, not girlish like Yennefer's increasingly cherubic features but a mature late twenties, maybe even thirty. Yennefer balked at seeing the faint signs of aging on the witch's face, a sorceress old enough for potions to only keep her thirty must have nearly five hundred years of experience. Her body was impressive, the dress was skin tight and showed that the woman beneath it wasn't just lean and athletic, but jacked. Her biceps bulged and she probably had six pack abs going by how the tight dress hung tight.
'Ah, I see you've arrived at last,' the tall woman said dismissively, putting down a tray of iced drinks, 'I thought you might try to approach stealthily, but I have wards miles away from here for someone of your...magnitude.'
'You expected me then?' Yennefer asked, slowly floating to earth.
It wasn't that levitating herself was that hard, Yennefer indeed found her reserves far higher than usual, but she didn't want the other mage to know she could hang so easily.  And she wanted to be lower to the ground, nearer that food.
'Since you started dwelling in Beauclair,' the other mage said, 'I knew eventually you'd come all the way out here, although I'm surprised it didn't take longer?'
'Why would you be surprised?' Yennefer asked, only six feet above the table, hair swirling in the currents of her own power.
'Because you seemed to be enjoying beauclair so much,' the witch laughed, 'I thought you'd be well over three hundred pounds before you got here!'
Yennefer snarled, casting a bolt of lightning at the red headed witch. Its size surprised her, easily it was one of the most powerful spells she'd ever cast and the other sorceress barely caught it. What she didn't notice was that her pants suddenly loosened, three pounds of excess suddenly vanishing. Her arms trembled, holding the giant bolt and barely throwing it to the side and then launched a counter attack, hurling a fireball at Yennefer's face. The raven haired woman raised up her hands and caught it as if it was made out of paper. For a moment time seemed to freeze, Yennefer seeing the very mana of the spell, enough energy to light every candle in beauclair for a year. By reflex, Yennefer inhaled, the fireball merging into her body.
The short sorceress felt warm, a pleasant warmth like a post orgasm or a hot bath. She also felt her body swell up: the string on her button hole snapped in concert with three other buttons as her puffy paunch bulged outwards, six inches of seams ripped open along her back side showing cellulite coated ass cheeks, a strap tore with a rip as her breasts mushrooming over her bra, breaking more buttons, and her second chin bulged further. The once petite sorceress hung heavy, swollen with both power and fat, weighing in at nearly a hundred and eighty pounds.
'Was that the best you've got?' Yennefer asked coyly, floating down over the table.
'Try this, you bloated pig!' the witch yelled.
More spells came at the pale skinned beauty, who either blocked or absorbed them. Yennfer felt herself thicken and bulge with every fireball, feeling the warmth of her thighs spreading into each other, the heavy sag of her stomach pulling down, the rip of her seams, but she felt her power grow too, when she crested two hundred pounds she had more manna at her finger tips than any woman in the entire lodge of sorceresses had ever possessed. The witch, exhausted and panting, tried throwing another spell only for not even a spark of magic to go forth. Yennefer smiled and with a finger levitated her opponent up to her level, helpless.
The sorceress exulted. She was stronger than she'd ever been and had humilated an opponent she had been afraid of. Yes, she was weighing in at two hundred pounds now but that was just a detail when she had extreme sorceress might.
'I tried it and I liked it,' the dark haired woman laughed tapping the slim witch on the nose, 'and I'm ready for anything else you have for desert. Your little trap here failed, now I've got all the power and you've got nothing. Let's see how this goes.'
The witch pulled something from her pocket and threw it at the ground. It exploded into a green cloud of crackling lightning, a dimeretium bomb. Yennefer felt her connection to the power vanish in a heartbeat, going from the world's most powerful mage to a powerless fat girl who was floating three feet above the ground. Both women fell like stones.
With athletic grace, the fit witch fell into a three point stance. Yennefer thumped right down onto her heavy ass with enough impact for her belt to pop off. She felt every ounce that had just gathered to her flesh falter away, leaving her bloated, winded and stunned.
'Now you're just a two hundred pound blob,' the witch of Lynx Crag sneered, 'and I'm in the best shape of my life. Let's see how this goes.'

Yennifer prowled through the dark pine woods of Lynx Crag, silent and graceful as a panther.
A panther that has spent its life lying on a cushion being hand fed sweet meats and never having to hunt a single day that is. A faint sheen of sweat covered the full figured sorceress despite the cool of the mountainous crag, her heart was beating strong and her breathing was of a woman who’d run for her life for a considerable distance, large breasts rising and falling with each breath. It made sense, as one mile uphill from the portal she’d cast to this spot on the mountain was indeed a significant distance for a woman of her condition. She stopped, leaning up against a tree and slowly, taking a long pull from her canteen, careful to not accidentally turn it into sugary lemonade or sweet wine.
‘If this isn’t motivation,’ Yennefer gasped softly to herself, sticking the canteen onto the broad belt that hung around her thickening mid section, ‘I don’t know what is.’
The sorceress was wearing what was once her usual attire: high black boots, skin tight black leggings and a relatively loose white and black blouse. When Yen had been a rail thin stunner, tights had framed perfectly slim legs and an ass so tight an oren would bounce off of it. Now, the plus sized fabric was pulled around two thick, lazy legs that quivered with muscle pain from hauling her 160lb body up hill, used as they were only to exercising on flat terrain. Yen’s ass, wide and low, bulged out against the fabric, giving her a permanent wedgie. Before she set back on her path, she paused to gingerly remove it and to adjust her belt, a new one broad enough to act as an impromptu corset that kept her buttersoft paunch from hanging over her waist as a muffin top. A knot of string kept her pants together, her waist too thick for the pants to button around.
‘It’s a bit snug, but at least I’m still in the petite sizes,’ Yennefer said, ‘I’m still a…chubette.’
Slumping down on a rock, Yennefer thought back to earlier that morning. Then the Sorceress, in the very sundress that had let her puff up to such a state, had gone to the tailor, she’d been recommended to a specialist shop. The Round Belle was an establishment that catered to a particular clientele, noble women whose figures had through pregnancy or gluttony grown beyond the hour glass physique most tailors cut too. Its owner, a statuesque Elvish woman named Rosette, had proven to be a veritable connoisseur of the expanding female figure.
It hadn’t taken a moment from Yennefer’s entry for Rosette to realize she was dealing with a beauty who was rapidly ballooning. The awkward waddle of newly thickened thighs, the still good posture of shoulders unused to carrying a chest above a C and the way the garment was strained around its wearer’s stomach and hips instead of drawing attention to the chest all pointed to a slender woman rendered hefty in only a few months. Better, the vivid purple eyes combined with a girlish face, access to serious wealth and a complete and utter lack of stretch marks made the elf certain she was dealing with a sorceress, who despite having powers to reshape herself, had eaten herself into the thick thighed girl in front of her. Rosette had to suppress a shudder, for the thought of the shame such an arrogant beauty must feel every moment spent plump and jiggly was like sexual catnip to the gorgeous elf.
Yennefer had planned to imperiously give over her measurements and then pick the garments up in the morning, but Rosette had swept the sorceress off her feet (metaphorically of course, the svelte elven redhead had no hope of lifting a plump mage fifty pounds her heavier). In a moment the sundress had been discarded and Yennefer had stood in too tight undies, every vulnerable inch being measured, poked and proded by the stacked Rosette who reminded her uncomfortably of Triss.
‘This Beauclair food, it is frightful what it does onto your figure!’ Rosette said, grinning as she saw the 31 around Yennefer’s belly, ‘How long did it take dear?’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ the mage answered, eyes locked onto a tray of lemon cookies drizzled with chocolate, each of which contained four hundred calories of butter, cream and sugar.
‘Your weight, my little northern accented beauty!’ Rosette said, bringing the measuring tape around Yennefer’s wide hips, ‘You have the bone structure and posture of a prima donna ballerina, once not long ago you could have passed for one I’d say! How long, two years since you started gaining?’
‘Well…I’d say about two, yes,’ Yennefer said, technically true if one added ‘month’ instead of year, mouth salivating at the sight of the cookies, it had been hours since she’d eaten…
‘And you’re only what, nineteen?’ Rosette said, knowing the answer was going to be a lie, ‘my my, to see your figure go so quickly and not even a baby to make you round out.’
‘Its quite a shock to realize,’ Yennefer said, IQ dropping every second the platter was in front of her and not in her mouth.
‘Its usual for your metabolism to fall once you get to a certain age, but do not worry! Many girls are only big for a little while, some can slim down with heavy exercise and careful diet,’ the tailor went on, lifting the lid off the cookies and letting Yennefer smell their heavenly aroma.
EAT. COOKIES. Yennefer’s brain screamed to her, a low growl coming from her stomach.
‘And others, if they’ve the wealth can find a sorceress,’ Rosette said, going dangerously close, ‘I hear there’s a very good one living nearby, one who could melt the fat right off you in a moment.’
‘Really?’ asked Yennefer, hope knocking away hunger even as her hand reached for the tray.
‘She’s a northerner…Jennifer or Yennefer,’ the elf teased, silently scooting the cooking tray until it was just beneath Yennefer’s soft fingers, ‘thin as a rail, so I’ve never seen her.’
‘I’ll…have to look her up,’ the disguised mage said, realizing she was holding three of the cookies.
‘Oh, don’t worry dear, they’re zero calorie, its like eating a cloud!’ Rosette lied, although a cloud of butter wasn’t far off the mark.
Yennefer didn’t really believe they were zero calorie cookies but rapidly ate one with machine like intensity. Another swiftly followed it and Rosette grinned.
‘I eat two dozen a day just to stay full,’ the tailor continued lying, running a graceful hand over the green skirt that lay flat against her washboard belly, ‘and its like magic. I’ll make sure your chef gets the recipe.’
‘That would be lovely,’ said the sorceress, on her fifth cookie, a decent meal forming in her belly.
Leaving out fattening food and claiming it had no ill effects was a blatant lie on Rosette’s part. But a full customer is a happy customer and her measurements were more accurate when going around a belly stuffed with sweets, given it was her clientele’s natural state. Better yet, it insured repeat services as waists continued to expand. She smiled at the hefty mage, knowing exactly what she’d be thinking of later that night, and began looking at her measurements.
‘Good news is that you’re probably at a plateau in your weight,’ Rosette said, continuing to lie, ‘a skinny girl like you, these curves are just temporary until your body adjusts to new surroundings. Once you adjust to living here rather than in the north, your appetite will shrink and your metabolic rate will recover, all of this will just melt off. Think of the clothes you’re getting today as a souveneir from your temporary stay in a softer country.’
Yennefer wasn’t stupid. She knew every word Rosette was saying was bull shit, her gaining fifty pounds immune to weight loss spells was not some precursor to a phoenix like rebirth of her figure. But the damnably slender and high breasted tailor had promised the clothes to her today and she needed those before venturing out to Lynx Crag.
‘Why, how very kind of you,’ she said with a raised eyebrow, ‘I’m sure that the weight will melt off, especially with food like you have out. And you say you can have a suit of clothes for me today?’
‘Of course, a nice empire waist dress to show off your bosom and some loose pantaloons for long evenings by the fire,’ the elf said.
‘I would prefer some more …active wear, tights and a bodice suitable for riding horses and walking long distance. Not long ago I was quite active, before I started…getting soft,’ Yennefer said, pinching a soft roll of blubber at her waist, ’returning to that might help reduce some of my current weight.’
‘Oh, but of course it will,’ Rosette said, taking in the utter lack of muscle tone and the seventh cookie her client was eating, ‘it’s a good thing you’re only in the petite range, that will be easy to cut some pants for.’
She didn’t tell Yennefer that the store’s size range was designed solely to salve her customer’s egos. Rosette knew quite well that Petite meant a size twelve in more specific terms, left a bit tight in the waist because the customer was vain enough to hope the pants would fit for more than a month  and wouldn’t complain they were too tight. This sorceress, who cold only be the famed Yennefer of Vengerburg carrying an extra fifty pounds, would probably be solidly into the Duchess sized range by her next visit.
It only took an hour of sewing and stitching, the Elf altering some stock garments she had while Yennefer polished off the last of the treats and took a brief fatty nap on a soft arm chair, surrounded by paintings and statues of women that were all decidedly rubenesque. Throughout, Rosette gossiped about this noble woman or that who had, in her long career the wealth and no longer so slim, found themselves fattening up. A long list of current favorites for the Queen of Love at the next tournament were suddenly out of the running due to rapid expansions in size. Yennefer filed that away as the last and thirteenth tart went down her throat and Rosette finished the clothes. The pants went up Yennefer’s soft thighs easily, and the loose blouse and vest did as well, cradling the sorceress’ full chest but getting tighter as they went down her swollen tummy. But when it came time to button it, not even a rock troll could get the pants to close around Yennefer’s stomach.
‘Its…its too tight,’ a red faced sorceress admitted after twenty minutes of jiggling struggle, ‘you’ll have to let it out.’
‘Oh, no, its perfectly fitted to you,’ Rosette said, ‘you’ve just…eaten a few too many cookies. Eyes a bit bigger than your stomach, no?’
There had been a bakers dozen of the treats, more like scones or tarts than cookies. And all of them were in Yennefer’s belly right now, adding several extra inches to it. Rosette, her face hidden beneath the swell of paunch, smiled. She’d never had a client eat that many lemon tarts.
‘Well, I suppose that’s true,’ the hefty Yennefer said, feeling sluggish with several thousand calories in her.
‘Here, I’ll show you a trick that heavier women sometimes need,’ the tailor said, running a strong thread through the pant’s button hole and then tieing them around the metal button. The arrangement kept Yennefer’s pants pulled together, but anyone could see how the garment was held on.
‘Pardon, but that’s a bit of a, well a fat girl’s trick isn’t it?’ asked Yennefer hesitantly, not wanting to admit that she needed it.
‘No, it is…a tactic for girls who are temporarily disadvantaged by their size,’ Rosette said, patting the tummy softly, ‘We’ll put a nice broad belt over it to hide it and give your belly some support while its swollen. Now, I’ll have three or four dresses ready for you by the end of the week. All cut to flatter your current size…will you be paying in Orens or check?’
It was at that point, that Yennefer realized she had forgotten her purse back at the vineyard. She fumed at herself, for she’d been too focused on avoiding the tantalizing smells that continuously came out of the Villa’s kitchen no matter what spell she casted on the increasingly youthful chef. Sighing, she held up a hand, soft fingers opening a portal. A golden hole opened in the air above her palm, the purse falling into it with a clink.
‘Oh my, I had not realized that you were a mage!’ the svelte tailor said with a curtsy, ‘I’ll be sure your identity is held in the strictest confidentiality!’
‘Oh yes, I’m sure you’ll only gossip about how I’m so gluttonous I ate myself out of pants I was measured for an hour earlier,’ Yennefer said with a huff, pouring a stream of gold onto the table, ‘that should be sufficient Rosette, know that I won’t be coming back after I receive my delivery!’
Yennefer saw the anger in the elf’s eyes, her pale skin, green eyes, red hair and full bosom reminding her of Triss. That was when the sorceress did an evil thing.
‘Imperatit!’ Yennefer said, instantly putting the gorgeous elf into a suggestive state, ‘You’re going to forget what I just said, and that I’m a mage. As far as you know, I’m just a rich merchant’s daughter who’s getting fat. But you won’t be looking down that pretty nose at me much longer! That bakers dozen of tarts I just ate? You’ll be eating one every breakfast! In fact! You now have no will power around food whatsoever! I saw the way you were looking at me, Ms. Fat Fetish and so from now on you’re on a see-food diet! You see food, you buy and eat it! By this time next year, you just won’t be the owner of the shop, you’ll be its biggest client!’
Yennefer snapped her fingers, the white haze around Rosette fading.
‘I’m sorry Miss, did you say something?’
‘Only that your tarts were amazing,’ Yennefer said, ‘make sure you have plenty around. Even when I’m skinny again I may drop in and have some, they’re very good.’
‘Yes…,’ Rosette said, putting a hand on a suddenly starving tummy, ‘say, what did you say your name was again?’
‘Merigold,’ Yennefer said, ‘Triss Merigold.’
 
‘Maybe that was mean,’ Yennefer thought as she cut the memory off, rising up from the rock with a huff, ‘I mean, making her fat is one thing. If I lose my figure, there's no reason someone else should keep their's...but taking Triss’ name though...’
She thought of her last vision of Triss. Long, lean, athletic and with a gravity defying rack, compared to herself, short, wide, lazy and increasingly saggy.
‘Eah, she could use a few pounds too,’ Yennfer said, looking up at Lynx Crag, not knowing that Triss was matching her pound for pound.
It was a dark, foreboding peak with an eerie cabin standing upon its summit. There was a trail leading up, a very narrow, steep trail. Yennefer thought about levitating her way up, her raw magical power was at least growing in sync with her hips, but it would leave her vulnerable to a magical attack from a mage rumored to be incredibly powerful.
‘Onwards and upwards then…’ the sorceress groaned, walking onwards on sore feet and trying not to admit she had a bit of a waddle.
 

I laughed for my life.

Ok, so this is my first attempt at a WG story. This will be a slow-burn, realistic (in regards to weight description) gain story centred
around a beautiful brunette 20 year old university student named Emily. As this is only part 1 of an intended multi-part series, there won't be any weight gain yet.
This first entry is dedicated to introducing a couple of core characters and establishing the general backdrop of the story.
Feedback and Discussion is very encouraged, as I'm eager to know what any of you out there think, and it will motivate me to write more frequently
 
The Expansion of Emily: Part 1
'Ok class, settle down'. Professor Craven said, waving his arms. 'Hush, hush.' As soon as he was sure he had the class's full attention he cleared his throat. 
'Now that you've all acquainted yourselves with each other I would like to, unfortunately, remind you of why you're here.'
After a quick survey of the downbeat expressions of his students, a hint of a smirk crept across his lips.
'As Professor Stevens mentioned in the lecture earlier this week you are all going to have to complete an in-depth research project which will be conducted throughout the entire school year.' 
Groans erupted from several class members, but none of which came from Emily Shaw, who perked up considerably at this tidbit of information . She was a slim, effortlessly beautiful 20 year old with long dark brown hair, which today was tied back in a high ponytail. She had played volleyball competitively for the girls team throughout high school  and had continued to keep in shape by regularly attending the Palm Cove Fitness Centre. Her skin was lightly tanned from the California summer and, fittingly, she wore nothing but shorts and a pink tank top.
Emily was a bright and perky girl who, despite being popular in high school, would occasionally be accused of being a 'teachers pet' due to her relentless commitment to achieve the highest grades possible in the classroom. Emily thought this was due to her looking like a California beach babe that they were shocked that she actually had a brain, not to mention educational aspirations. She was in her first year at the University of California (Palm Cove Campus) and was currently enrolled in a general arts degree. Emily still wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to do, so she appreciated that she could take a variety of classes across different areas of study to get a grasp for what she liked. 
At the moment, she was sitting in Professor Donald Craven's 'Introduction to Human Anatomy and Psychology' class. From the course outline, the class was apparently going to be focussed on studying the relationship between the body and mind, and how the health of the two correlated. Emily thought the class had sounded dull when selecting her first-year classes, but since a maths class was a big no-no, she had enrolled into this one hoping it would be a breeze. 
However, the mention of a year-long research project had dampened her optimistic attitude. She was now 100% tuned in to Professor Craven, intent on absorbing every last little detail of it so she could perform as well as she could. 
'Now this project.' Professor Craven said, waggling his finger for emphasis as he strutted around the room.
'This project will be dedicated to exploring the core curricular requirements at the heart of  this class. One, to what extent does the physical impact on the mental? Two, to what degree does the mental impact on the physical? And three, can one still retain a healthy mind within an unhealthy body, and vice versa?
Craven paused before slapping his hands together theatrically, startling 90% of the class from a deep slumber.
'Using these core questions, and the assessment rubric available to you on the course site, you will need to develop a hypothesis and carry out research of this question in any format that you wish, essay, film, science experiment, whatever. Just be clear that your question must relate directly to the course material, and that you have until December to submit.'
He glanced at the clock, which read 2 o'clock on the dot, signalling the end of class. 'Any questions?
The class answered promptly with the rapid sounds of scraping chairs and zipping bags, which included Emily.
'God, what am I even going to do this on? She thought to herself as she strode down the hallway. The enticing swing of her trim hips and bum generated appreciative glances from the local male cohort as per usual. Emily didn't mind one bit. In fact, constantly being the object of male lust was an oddly empowering feeling. Just the fact that she had the ability to control so many men with nothing but her raw sexuality was something which often brought a self-satisfied smile to her face. They could all dream, because at the end of the day there could only be one guy for her, and at the moment that guy was named Travis.
She found her boyfriend of 16 months leaning against the fountain in the university courtyard, right where he said he'd meet her. Travis stood 6 ft 1, with the body of a man who seldom left the weightlifting room at the local gym. He had closely cut blonde hair which was usually covered by a baseball cap, and today it was the Red Sox.
Travis had no favourite team, he just liked collecting baseball caps. 
'Such a goofball.' Emily thought as she ran across  the grass towards him, her ponytail bobbing behind her. 'But he's my goofball.'
Travis turned just in time to catch her as she leaped into his chest, her arms and legs wrapping around his muscular body.
'There's my gal.' He said as he grabbed her smooth, firm buttocks to hold her up.
Emily smiled and pressed her face against his. 'I've missed you big boy. You got something to say to me?
'Hell's yeah I do.' Travis said and began passionately kissing her, a gesture she returned with equal intensity.
'I've got a surprise waiting around the corner.' Travis said in between smooches. 'Should we go check it out?
'Fine with me boss'. Emily purred as she ran her hands across his muscly body.
The couple continued to kiss off and on as Travis carried her to the parking lot. He set her down on the pavement and covered her eyes.
'Feast your eyes on the beginning of our lives'. Travis said as he unveiled Emily's eyes to the sight of his new Maserati,sleek and shiny as could be.
Emily gasped. 'Travis! This, this is amazing! She ran over to inspect the new ride, while Travis  inspected her cute little ass.
'Picked her up today, new as can be.' Travis said as he ran his hand over the chrome.  'Like it?
'You kidding? Emily exclaimed from behind the wheel. 'Trav, I love it! How could you afford-' .
She stopped herself, having momentarily forgotten that Travis was the son of multi-millionaires.
Travis awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. 'Well, my parents did help a little.' He said flatly.
This wasn't the first time Travis had expressed embarrassment about his privileged upbringing, and Emily still didn't even know what his parents did for a living.
After an awkward silence, Travis leaped into the passenger seat and put his arm around Emily. She rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying the hilltop view of the university parking lot. The warm California sun beamed down on them and Emily felt pretty damn close to being in paradise.
'Here's my plan.' Travis said. 'One day we just hop in this bad boy and we drive. We drive and drive until we get to somewhere far away from here. Could be Mexico, or New York, or Canada, or hell, even fucking South America. And we find somewhere quiet, away from the hustle and bustle, because none of this shit even matters, none of it. All that matters is the special person you share your life with and Em, after knowing you for the past year or so, I can safely say I've found that ideal person.'
'Aww Trav.' Emily said as she gave him a kiss. 'I'm touched. Really'.
'So how about it Em? Travis asked. 'Want to disappear in this Maserati and make a bunch of beautiful children with me?
Emily burst out laughing. 'Yes Travis, I do, but not now. We're both 20 years old for Christ's sake.'
Travis rolled his eyes. Obviously. Babe, I just want you to know, from the bottom of my heart, that I'm in this for the long haul. As long as your around, there's no other girls for me.'
Emily looked up at him, her blue eyes misty. 'You mean it? 
'I do.' 
'Promise.' 
'Ok. What do you want me to say? 
'Promise that you'll love me no matter what.' 
'Emily Elizabeth Shaw, I promise I'll love you no matter what.'
Emily smiled. 'I can live with that.' 
And they embraced.
 
To be Continued...


 

Ruler of an empire. Unrestricted magical power. Held to the highest regard imaginable by countless loyal subjects. Full legions of powerful warriors, both male and female, at your disposal. Unimaginable wealth. These were the rights provided to she whom the throne deemed worthy of ruling the new empire, a right only the greatest female warriors were able to earn.

It had been a tradition for over a millenia, spawning out of a blessing in the disguise of a curse, that had led the empire to such perfect rulers. A bitter witch, once the lover of a king until his interests went to a prettier and younger woman who became his queen instead of the witch, sought a way to ruin him and his perfect wife. Sneaking into the throne room during court one evening, she stood in front of the king, shouting curses until she was able to channel her energy and the stolen energy of all those wizards and witches around her, a forbidden magic, to blast the king and curse his queen by ruining her beautiful figure and making her unrecognizable as the former queen.

What the witch had not accounted for, aside from draining herself dry of life energy in her rage filled blast, was that she had ultimately blasted the queen’s throne instead of directly hitting the queen. Made of ancient stone and powerful gems, the witch’s magic had been mostly absorbed and was rapidly morphing the powers shot into it. The now corpulent queen, standing in front of what remained of the mostly drained and slain court, drowned in complete shock and sorrow, mistakenly extended her plush body onto the throne to help calm herself, not recognizing the unsettled magic that erupted as she sat down.
 
The immediate aftermath of that moment remains unclear, but it is said that the queen was absorbed into the throne and all of the gems and crystals shattered into a million pieces, only to be reformed as the throne warped itself expanding outward and gathering all of the shattered material into one magical stone: the empress stone. It was a gem of incredible beauty and with an eerie glow that hinted at its magical capabilities, resting at the top of the now larger and wider throne in a simple adornment.
 
It is unclear how the power of the throne came to be known, but over the millennia, the rules of the throne became quickly apparent, and with it, the power to rule and lead an empire. The throne sought out only the greatest female warriors, the most level headed and courageous, granting them unimaginable power and the right to lead an empire...at the cost of their fit figures. The only natural explanation for this toll was that the throne, in its absorption of the queen, had determined that was the ideal figure of a ruler, but that the other traits were necessary to identify who should be the next leader. It was, in a way, the ultimately selection process with no messy democracy watering down results and no blood lineage leading to incest or jealousy over rulers. It was an emotionless, yet effective process of selecting the next ruler, transpiring at the passing of each empress.
 
Regardless of the how, the impact of that initially disastrous impact on the kingdom had spawned generations of level headed, powerful empresses who quickly and successfully expanded the kingdom’s domain, as well as its prosperity, and led the people to a state none could have dreamed of. The rights and powers of the empress were without question, but the continued success of previous empresses had lead to a problem that none would have predicted, too much success. The empire had grown so vast, so wealthy, and effective at continuing to do so, that ruling it all was quickly becoming difficult for one powerful being to do, even with support. That would be the new pressure for the next empress to solve.
 
Arolyn, of course, was not concerned with any of the history of the throne, but rather, whether or not she would become the new ruler of this vast and expanding empire. Assembled in the throne room were the ten most successful female warriors, generals and leaders of the vast empire, each one, a potential candidate for the throne.

A quick glance up and down the line and it would be all too clear that these were not women whose blade you wanted to be on the wrong side of. Varying degrees of lean athletic builds with impressive amounts of muscle tone, over 60 clearly defined abdominal bumps on full display, none of the woman lacking in fitness, not to mention their impressive glutes from hours of combat training. Every one of these women was clearly an impressive warrior, but almost coincidentally were equally stunningly beautiful. Cascades of blonde, brown, black, and red hair could be seen across the line, framing sharp faces crafted from the countless calories they had burned in exercise and wonderful symmetry, enhancing their beauty. Not a single one had a significant scratch that would tamper with their stunning beauty. In another realm, their faces would lead to slender, softer, more seductive figures, but these women were warriors first and beautiful second.
 
In truth, there was only one area where most of these warrior women fell short, aside from hardly any of them exceeding a height of 1.66 meters (5’6). Not that it mattered to the throne, but most of these stunning young women were lacking in one area from a sexual lens: their chest. All of their hard work and constant combat had whittled away anything resembling a hearty breast and it was here that only Arolyn and the shortest of her new rivals seemed to exceed the others, their natural perkiness pushing the loose fitting robe they wore outward.
 
Standing at nearly 1.78 meters (5’10), Arolyn’s amber brown hair cascaded down right to her plunging neckline of her hearty grapefruit sized chest. With nearly each and every muscle of her body visible or rippling just beneath the surface, she was practically the image of perfection physically. The throne, however, considered many different traits for its next ruler, and there was just as likely a chance of her being selected as anyone else.  
 
The ceremony was nothing formal, with the current candidates each standing in a line after stripping down naked, their perfectly fit bodies on full display for the full chamber of exclusively women to see. Long ago it had been deemed that since a man had been at fault for this situation, men should never be privileged to see the empress selection, nor her elite servants, for that was the cost of losing the throne. Each woman would sit on the throne twice, the first time for the throne to evaluate each and every woman vying for the title of empress, and the second to magically receive either the crystal crown or a crystal necklace, signifying your undying loyalty to the new empress and your sworn duty to protect her. It also prevented them from ever scheming against the empress, as there was no way to remove the magical necklace and the throne continually monitored the intentions of each wearer. A brilliant addition that the throne, in its processing of the old enchantment, had added to ensure it effectively selected the ruler without immediate competition from those most likely to deem themselves worthy.
 
At long last, the stone atop the throne burst to life and a faint blue aura seemed to settle upon the stone, sending a way of nerves through each of the ten women as their moment of reckoning had arrived. While emotionless on the surface, a skill they had all learned in that moment before a battle, subtle hints displayed their unease at potentially losing the crown. While the power and magic that came with it was a dream so close to these women, the stirpping of all of their earned might to serve a plump empress while their former colleagues fought and conquered was generally viewed as enslavement, a complete loss of power, despite the externally perceived honor of making up a portion of the guard.
 
All of these thoughts and more raced through each woman as they proceeded in a line, sitting their toned derrieres down on the large stone throne, quadricep muscle flexing beneath the surface as they all gracefully settled down momentarily, as if beckoned by the throned. Without any visible queue from the throne, each one would then rise and then return back to where they previously stood. The tension in the air practically electric, each woman unsure as to whether or not there would be any clues from the throne as to who would be selected.
 
After all ten women had been through the procession and submitted their candidacy to the throne, the second step in the process began. The throne, having instantly made its decision, simply did this to allow the humans time to process its decision. In truth, the second sitting down process was not even necessary, for the throne and the witch’s magic could have placed the necessary materials upon each woman before instilling the magic and fat into the new empress, but that wasn’t fun and the throne only had one occasion to play every couple of decades.
 
Each woman, previously radiating, looked as if they had come under a sickness, their once warm flushes seemingly drained from their skin as the moment that would determine the rest of their lives was close at hand. Arolyn felt as if she were practically going to vomit, the nerves so unsettling and the adrenaline pumping so greatly. Her entire future was about to be decided.
 
All eyes were glued to the tight derriere of the first, and shortest, of the warriors as she effortlessly glided up and sat down in the throne, potentially her last seconds as the thin, svelte, sexy fit woman before them. For a moment, nothing happened, but then a faint blue glow appeared around her neck and suddenly a beautiful stone, coupled with blue ribbon that was magically enhanced, settled around her neck. In the aftermath of the necklace, you would have thought the woman believed she was going to die, then her former training and leadership skills kicked in. With a dignified air, she raised her head and walked back in line, forced to stand and watch the future empress be chosen in front of her eyes.
 
One down, meant only nine remained, and Arolyn was seventh in the order to approach the throne. A new sense of energy seemed to bustle throughout the room, each woman wrecked by nerves, but a glimmer of hope was blossoming within them. At least until the next woman sat down.
 
Slowly, but surely, the next five, much to Arolyn’s own surprise, fell prey to servitude instead of ultimate power of becoming the empress. Some of the most impressive women she had ever heard of, some she even considered to be her own superiors in the realm of battle and strategy. But the throne had never been wrong in its history, so she had to place her own blind faith in the throne.

Finally, her moment had arrived, her body going partially numb as the adrenaline pumped through her, swirling inside her body with her nerves. Taking that first step, her muscular legs rippled gently to highlight the iron coils of her quadriceps, the rest of her body practically motionless as all her muscles worked to control her movement. It was a challenge not to reveal her nerves in her walk, for she knew the throne would only take the bravest, most courageous, and powerful, but her body shook ever to subtly.
 
Approaching the throne, she turned around, her pert butt hardly jiggling with all of the muscle, but still quite hearty and shapely. Straining her quadriceps one final time, Arolyn lowered her glute and naked frame onto the wide cold throne, letting destiny choose her fate.
 
From a neutral perspective, she certainly looked the most regal to adorn the throne. Her lengthy torso displaying her immaculate abdominals on display with just the slight shadow of her perky breasts protruding outwards in defiance of gravity. The subtle flaring of her hips, accented by the cloak of long her mane, helped to frame her powerful physique as her arms flexed their sinewy muscles towards the arm rests. She was the spitting image of a goddess, powerful yet beautiful.
 
In a flash, that image was gone forever. Arolyn couldn’t help but grin in pure pleasure as a sudden warmth encapsulated her perfect body, her every nerve seeming to come alive. The throne had made its decision, and she was the fortunate recipient of this incredible blessing.
 
Even as her lips spread into a smile, her flesh seemed to come alive as the witches spell began expanding her figure. That once chiseled jawline quickly vanished underneath two additional chins as the fat quickly encased and rounded her beautiful face. The beauty that had previously resided was still there and the sharp intellect of her hazel brown eyes left little doubt as to her intelligence, but there was new softness to her.
 
Accompanying her facial growth, the rest of her body rapidly expanded as well. Her once impressive and gravity defying grapefruits quickly strained the muscles of her back which were rapidly being buried underneath thick layers of fat. Quickly expanding, her once healthy chest continued to inflate and swell, gravity greedily pulling down her practically watermelon sized breasts before her growth seemed to stop. Gravity, however, would not have the honor of ultimately aiding in the holding of her mammoth melons, for her highly defined abdominal muscles suddenly fell victim to an avalanche of fat as her monstrous belly inflated outwards, encompassing her thickening thighs and expanding hips. Roll after roll seemed to form, her entire body thickening in a magical movement as her face grew rounder.
 
As suddenly as her expansion had commenced, suddenly her body stopped moving except for violent jiggling of her newly developed fat. Arolyn could only look down in a mixture of horror and pleasure at her corpulent figure hidden by her expansive canyon of cleavage and the sudden power she felt residing within her body.
 
Sitting there naked on a throne she now just barely fit into, breasts sagging to each side of her gargantuan belly with several smooth rolls cresting on top of each other, her thick legs barely visible as they extender beyond her giant belly, it was impossible to believe moments earlier she would have represented the epitome of fitness.
 
Standing in front of her, the nine candidates, all now wearing magical necklaces to prevent any uprising, knelt before the new empress. While many tried to mask their emotions, several continued to look up at the simply gargantuan woman who sat in front of them. Arolyn, without a doubt, was the largest and heaviest of the empresses any of them had ever seen, based on their artwork of former rules.

As a flood of knowledge seemed to suddenly settle into her mind, the knowledge of powerful magic, strategies, leadership, and secrets of the throne, it struck Arolyn as odd that there she sat, the most powerful woman in an empire that was expanding faster than she just had, and no effective means to control its various divisions and regions. The answer, she quickly determined, was kneeling right in front of her. Nine of the most talented, fiercely intelligent woman in the entirety of the empire, with their chiseled abdominals, toned and rippling muscles, strong glutes and intimidating beauty.
 
Arolyn was grateful for the thrones foresight to have some control over her most direct rivals, for each of these women was fiercely intimidating and bright. What the throne has failed to calculate, however, she realized, was the value of using these women as more than slaves or physical servants to the throne. They, much like the many women who had come before them, were nearly as worthy as she had been to wield such power, and it seemed such a waste of talent for the empire.
 
Finally, the spell suddenly fell into place in her mind and Arolyn made her decision. Channeling her sudden well of energy, Arolyn reached out through the space towards each of the women, warmth flooding her body and filling the space around her as she suddenly felt the hard curvature of each women. Their natural life energy was incredible to feel, to taste, to soak up, but Arolyn needed them for a different purpose. Having secured each of their bodies, she shot an incredible wave of magic through to each woman, channeling additional energy from the thrones seemingly bottomless well of power to reinforce her own natural energy.
 
Before her eyes, nine of the fittest women on the planet sprouted heavier breasts, burgeoning bellies, rounder faces, thick thighs, widening hips and hearty derrieres. Each woman developed differently, but not a single one would be recognized for their former selves now that their bellies sagged along with their newly developed chests, and jiggling fat erupted all over their bodies at the slightest movement. The transformation had been incredible to watch as it transpired so effortlessly and instantaneously, but the feeling of magical power in the room was more impressive.
 
While none possessed anything resembling the knowledge or power that the empress now had, she had instilled an incredible gift in each of these strong women that would help them rule their respectively assigned portions of the empire justly and fairly. Each would be able to help Arolyn rule and ensure that their empire continued to expand with proper guidance moving forward.
 
“Go forth my new leaders of the empire, help us continue to prosper onward!” Arolyn said with a smile, slightly out of breathe at her own remark. In the back of her mind, it concerned her deeply how suddenly out of shape she felt, but then the energy of the throne pulsed through her, serving as a reminder that she was potentially the most powerful being in existence. With great pleasure, she watched the room full of formerly spartan-esque woman waddle out of the room to the certain shock of the serving staff, their jiggling and wobbling thoroughly amusing to her as she satisfied her last bit of vanity before becoming a proper ruler. None of those woman would ever lift another sword, and more importantly, never make their impress look even fatter with their thin, lithe bodies.
 
“Guard, please bring in the snack bowl, your empress is hungry.”
---
Not my finest piece of writing or probably my easiest to read, but this was just a fun little idea I had been bouncing around. Hope you all enjoy! 

Soon, I hope to be able to add more chapters.

That was great! A little more detail on her body is my preference. How thick are her thighs? Are her boobs sagging? Is she getting a double chin?

((Back by popular-ish demand!  Enjoy this steaming fresh chapter, straight out of the oven!))

Bulleteer careened through the ghost town with all the grace of a bouncy ball.  While her helmet did allow her to fly, but it could only fly in a perfect line; if she wanted to turn and go in a different direction, she had to ricochet off a surface.  It worked perfectly in conjunction with her metal skin, but she did not enjoy bouncing around like a pinball any time she went for a fly.  Maybe she could get some tech wizard to take a look at it and give it some improvements.  Better yet, she would have liked to ask the original Bulletman and Bulletgirl, but they had long since passed away.  Though, given the revolving door that was the afterlife, she might very well see them in a week or two.
Yet another thing that took adjusting to in her new life.  Ever since her cheating scumbag of a husband had accidentally turned her skin to steel, the former teacher had seen her life spiral out of control.  First, she got wrapped up in the Sheeda Invasion of New York, then the Battle of Metropolis during the Infinite Crisis, the Total Eclipso debacle, and then the world-warping events of the Flashpoint Convergence.  And those were just the major moments in her career; there were so many other, bizarre happenings that occurred almost every day.
To make matters easier for herself, she had tried to ally herself with more experienced heroes, but these team-ups always ended after a few weeks.  Her partnership with Grace Choi was the longest she’d been partnered with another superhero, but she was sure that would only last so long before things went south.  It was the ‘Harrower Luck’, as her grandfather had put it.
After bounding around the town, the chrome crusader crashed down outside a modest building with a dilapidated sign out front.  Like many other businesses in Cooke, it was an older Victorian home that had been converted into something else; in this case, an art gallery.  It was a weathered house that had lost most of the paint that had been there previously, and the windows were all boarded up with plywood.  For most, it was probably a sad sight, but for the impatient heroine, it was just a building, and she had a job to do.
“So this is an art gallery,” Bulleteer mused as she read the ivy-encased sign. “Wonder what this god thing has cooked up here?”
She hopped up the creaky, rotted steps and walked straight through the heavy doors as though they were tissue paper.  Once inside, she found it to be surprisingly pristine, with nary a speck of dust in sight.  The foyer was well lit and welcoming, and the soft colors of the wallpaper almost put the metal maiden at ease.  Almost, because she saw a table sitting in the center of the entry way with a sign that said ‘Take One’.
When she approached, she found there to be several tape recorders and ear phones, the kind that might be used at museums for audio tours.  Bulleteer glanced around the house to see if she could spot anybody, but there was not a soul in sight.  She sighed as she reached down and picked up one of the innocuous devices.
“I just know I’m going to regret this,” she muttered as she slid the ear phones on and pressed Play on the recorder.
Light melodies filled her ears, as if this was something a therapist might use, until a deep voice split the pleasant sounds.  It said to her, “Greetings, Bulleteer.  I am pleased to meet another legacy of my first foes.”
“Gluttox,” the woman cursed.
“Precisely.  I must say that I like the change you’ve given to the Bullet design; the chrome skin is chic, and the pants are quite sleek and striking.  Quite the improvement over your predecessor, who came in wearing hot pants and a polo.”
“I’m not here for compliments, creep; I’m here to shut you down.  So go ahead and tell me about the rules of your stupid trap or whatever.”
The voice in her ear sighed. “No manners though; not at all like Bulletgirl.  She was quite chipper when I met her, and she even stayed perky as I fattened her into a balloon.  She went from being a .22 sub-sonic to a 12 gauge, 3” magnum slug.”
She ignored the machine’s lame attempt at humor and told it, “Get on with it, or I’m tearing this house down around you.  You going to strap me to a chair and force feed me donuts?  Maybe release some kind of fattening gas from the ceiling?”
“You have quite the imagination, but no.  All you have to do is go through a tour of this gallery, and if you can make it to the end, I will self-destruct.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Fine, but if that doesn’t suit your fancy, I can always make this difficult for you.  Would you rather I bind you and stuff you like a goose?”
Bulleteer scrunched up her face in disgust. “All right, I’ll take your damn tour.”
“Excellent.  Now, just follow the signs, and we’ll get this show on the road!”
The frustrated heroine shook her head and followed a large arrow next to the stand.  The path down the hall led her past various still life paintings of varying cuisines.  It reminded her of friends sharing their meals on MyBook, only a much higher quality.  Juicy fruits, succulent steaks, tantalizing turkeys, and so many more graced the fine walls of the hallway.  It was all so vibrant, so realistic, that she could practically taste the food on her tongue.
“Welcome to the Gluttox Gallery, home to some of the most wonderful yet overlooked art in the world.  As a little appetizer, we have arranged a collection of still life oil paintings done by students of the Satsu Rou School of Art.  Each painting has been painstakingly done to portray even the slightest detail on the food, right down to the texture.  They are so realistic, one might reach out and try to take a bite.  That would be foolish, of course, as these are done with quite inedible paint and canvas.”
As the voice of the New God droned on, Bulleteer reached the end of the hall and paused to study another sign.  The delicious flavors in her mouth faded away, but they did leave something behind.  A thin layer of fat now covered her body: the angles softened, the tone vanished, and a slight pooch was visible in her stomach.  Nowhere near enough for her to notice, especially when she had the chub’s source talking in her ear.
At the end of the hall was a large painting in a golden frame.  The piece depicted a stout dwarven man serving food to a table of elven women, all of whom were of different sizes.  One was gaunt and lean, one was tall and corn-fed, and the last was positively massive.  The blonde beauty was almost as wide as she was tall, which was quite remarkable, given her considerable height.  Her belly was like a bean bag chair in size, and its girth forced her to eat with her plates atop her gut since she could no longer reach in front of her while sitting.  Breasts the size of pumpkins were pushed up to her doughy chin, and her backside spread out enough to fill a bench meant for three.  Yet all the same, she was consuming an amazing quantity of food.
Gluttox elaborated on the artwork. “What we have here is a fantastical piece done by the artist Raymond Norr in 1745. ‘Beauteous Bounty’ was actually one of a series he did, all of which featured these same characters in various stages of growth.  Ilya, the most prominent in the painting, is an example of Norr’s vision of beauty: a woman round, radiant, and always hungry, all of which is captured here perfectly.”
Bulleteer shook her head and moved on.  She could certainly appreciate the effort that went into the painting, and the artist did manage to make the obese elves look quite stunning, but she had no time to stop and admire the work.  There was a job to do, and she was going to do it before something fattened her up.  Of course, what she did not know was that she was being fattened up regardless.
After soaking in the atmosphere of the painting, the chrome crusader had put on a few more pounds that were quite noticeable to all but her.  Her fit physique had vanished completely, and had been replaced by one more befitting a sedentary secretary.  Trim arms and legs had softened up, and her calves and thighs looked like sausages fit to burst out of her white jodhpurs.  A plump potbelly swelled out from her body, though it was outmatched by her voluptuous curves.  Her behind had grown into a nice, round globe, but most impressive of all were her breasts.  Once modest, they had accumulated enough adipose that she could match most of the heroines on the team, and was on the fast track to matching Power Girl.
Thanks to the hypnotic tone of Gluttox’s voice, the hard-headed heroine missed the continued growth of her body as she walked down the hall.  More and more still life paintings lined the walls, and by the time she had reached the end, she felt as though she had eaten a full meal, and her belly took on a stuffed appearance for a moment.
She stopped in front of a portrait done in indigo and white.  It showed an Asian woman bending over her sink to look in a mirror as she applied lipstick.  She wore a tight, sparkling dress reminiscent of a flapper’s outfit.  And as was the theme of the gallery, she was considerably chubby: breasts as big as cantaloupes, legs like ham hocks, and a belly as big as a pumpkin.  In fact, her gut was so large that it was eating up the sink as she leaned over it.
“Next on our tour,” droned Gluttox, “is a timeless piece from the Roaring ‘20s in America. ‘The Flapper’, done in subdued colors by the incomparable Kasper Temel, was his interpretation of the showy, daring young women who went against the norms of society at the time.  Here, the flapper applies some make up for a night on the town, though she might have wanted to find a dress that fit better.  If she did the Charleston in that, she might pop a seam or two!”
Bulleteer rolled her eyes at the lame joke, yet her gaze still lingered on the work.  It seemed so simple, but the amount of attention and care that went into it was conveyed if the viewer were to pay attention.  She had never been an art person, opting instead for a good movie, but she still found herself admiring the artwork all the same.  Maybe under different circumstances, she could have enjoyed it.
Unfortunately, the longer her eyes lingered on the picture, the more she grew from its strange power.  By the time she had torn her gaze away, she was just about as big as the flapper in the painting, though in different places.  While her limbs grew rounder with pudge, her belly remained relatively small; this just meant that her curves took the brunt of the effect.  Behind her was a rump that had swollen out and around, to the point that she was quite wide in the hips.  Up top, her breasts plumped up to the size of modest watermelons.  She was a far cry from the toned titanium woman that had entered Cooke that morning; she looked someone had stuck a hose in her and turned the water on.
The zaftig Bulleteer followed the signs through the wing, admiring other, more mundane pictures as she went.  None had the captivating power of the previous two, yet just an eyeful was enough for her body to soak in a pound or two.  Before long, her thighs were rubbing against one another and her breasts bounced around in a battle for freedom from her confining top.  She paid no mind to these as she rounded a corner and entered the Cartoon Wing.
Here, the pictures took on a unique appearance.  Gone was the finely detailed work from the last couple of halls, and in their place were wacky, wild, and weird fixtures.  Cartoon animals, outrageously voluptuous women, and many more extravagant characters lined the walls in framed strips and ornate pin-ups.
“Ran out of options that quick, huh?” Bulleteer asked Gluttox as she scanned the walls. “What’s next, the Comic Book Wing?”
“Don’t spoil the surprise,” the voice in her ear retorted.  Instead, focus your attention on the wall to your left.”
She begrudgingly followed the instruction and was met by a display of cartoons focused on a rotund raccoon and a bulbous queen bee.  The two were getting into various misadventures and escapades, yet there was a touch of realism to their proportions; they were not so bizarre in design as to be abstract.
“This is our selection of work from Ronald J. Sandwich, a prominent cartoonist from the 1950s who specialized in subverting the Funny Animal tropes of the day.  Perhaps the most unique change is that the women in his strip are not out of proportion with their male counterparts.  They have a realism to them that other creators of the day would not match.”
As she browsed the material available, Bulleteer found herself smiling, even chuckling a little at the jokes made by the characters.  She vaguely remembered seeing these characters in re-runs on Saturday mornings, but they seemed to be one of the many forgotten cartoons of the past.
“And now, the right wall, if you please.”
Slowly and wobbly, the chrome chubster turned and waddled over to the right wall.  Up a short ways was another wall of cartoons, but these were much different from the works of Mr. Sandwich.  The characters here had exaggerated figures and a very loose style that, while retaining some structure, seemed to change with every panel.  It was not bad by any stretch of the imagination, but it was like jumping from Felix the Cat to Krazy Kat in terms of style.
“Over here is our collection of strips and illustrations from Rex Agouti, a contemporary and sometimes collaborator of Sandwich.  Agouti is known for his avant-garde style that straddles the line between structured and chaotic, but there is something to be said for how expressive his characters are in design.  Not only was his art unique, but Agouti was known for his satire and parody, breaking the fourth wall between the cartoon and the readers quite often.  He lampooned the tropes of the day as few people could, and for that, he has earned his place here.”
Though she did not understand much of the satire, she could appreciate someone poking fun at their field.  Yet as the woman examined the wall of cartoons, she had no idea that her body was growing bigger and more zaftig, to the point that she could have resembled one of the caricatures on display.  Her belly remained relatively small in comparison to the rest of her, reaching to the size of a beach ball.  Below her burgeoning belly were hips as wide as a tire and a rump that jutted out enough to form a thick shelf behind her.  Her thighs and saddlebags were eating up as much room as they possibly could in her pants, and they clashed against each other with every step she took.  Perhaps biggest of all were her breasts, which were now like massive water balloons hanging from her body.  It was only through the miraculous make of her costume that they remained perky in appearance, yet it was losing the fight to contain them.  The slightest motion made them wobble like gelatin; one errant, sudden movement could send them flying free.
Despite how big she had grown in the short time she had explored the museum, Bulleteer was too engrossed and distracted to notice her massive gain.  The most she could feel was how sluggish she was, which she chalked up to other things.
“Could just be me flying all the way out here,” she muttered as she waddled along the hall. “Didn’t eat much breakfast, for that matter.  Stupid Faith, getting in my head and making me worry about this stupid mission.”
The voice on the headset droned on about little factoids on this subject and that topic while she walked, but when she reached the end, it said, “We’ve come to the last leg of our journey.  This last room features a work still in progress, but it is widely being regarded as a modern masterpiece.”
“I have a hard time believing that,” Bulleteer snipped at the machine.  When she got to the doorway, she found she had a hard time getting through it.  She struggled for a moment before shifting around and sliding in, but just barely. “Man, what is it with some of these old places?  It’s like they built them for hobbits.”
When she finally crossed the threshold, she immediately wished she had not.  Her eyes were wide as dinner plates as she scanned the modest room she found herself in.  Lining the walls were thirteen frames, seven of which had pictures in them, five of which did not, and one that was already in progress.  The seven were of various members of the rag-tag team: Cyclone gobbling up treats provided to her by fairies; Jesse Quick crawling across a cafeteria floor; Judomaster crushing giant gingerbread men; Spoiler hiding from aliens; Firehawk gorging herself on oodles of food; Dolphin escaping from an underwater dome; and Grace engaging in a hearty feast.  The distressing part was that all of them were wildly obese, some to the point of ravaging their costumes.
There was something about the painting in progress that caught her attention, if only to make her heart sink.  It featured a ludicrously voluptuous woman waddling down a hallway, paintings attracting her gaze as she went.  Though there was no color, she could make out what the woman was wearing; it was the same outfit she had, albeit stretched to the point of absurdity.
“When the hell did this happen?!” Bulleteer screamed as she looked down at herself.  Well, as best as she could, considering that her breasts stuck out far enough to block the view of anything at her feet.
Her gloved hands frantically explored her body, gauging and measuring how fat she had allowed herself to become.  She pinched at her thick arms and thighs, jiggled her belly, squeezed her behind, and weighed her breasts in her palms.  What was a sensual sight for many was a frightening sensation for her, and the chrome crusader stood with her mouth open in shock.  She had let herself fall prey to this machine in spite of everything she had done.  Why, she was no better than the women in the portraits; she had walked right into Gluttox’s trap.
“Listen here, you miserable pile of scrap!” the widened woman barked as she spun on her heels to get a good view of the room. “I don’t know how you managed to make me so fat, but it’s over!  I’m coming for you, and you’d better be ready for a whupping!”
The robotic voice in her ear chuckled. “Really?  And how do you plan on doing that, Bulbous-teer?  For all you know, I could be upstairs, and given your new weight in the three hundred range, I don’t think you’d make it.”
She glowered at the insulting name and took another look at her body.  In between thoughts of violent rage and self-pity, she had a morbid curiosity for how the evil machine had managed to fatten her up.  Was it some gas in the air?  It seemed the most plausible, but then, she had learned that nothing is ever that easy in this business.
“How did you do it?  You didn’t put me in any of those scenarios up there, so how?” she asked to thin air.
“It was a simple matter, chubby.  This whole time, I have been feeding you knowledge, and plenty of it,” the machine explained. “Every painting, every display…you ate it all up, every last word.  And now that you’re too big to fit through a door so easily, I think it’s time to educate you some more.”
Bulleteer broke out in a cold sweat as she heard Gluttox talk about something else, perhaps another fictional work, but she did not hear it.  Her desperate mind searched for an answer, anything that would help her escape this madness before she got too big to leave.  The gears in her mind were working hard to make it happen, and finally, as the first stitches started to pop, it came to her.
She reached down to her side with some effort, considering how wide she now was, and found the tape player.  When she had her chubby fingers wrapped around it, she yanked it off, taking the earpiece with it.  Then she threw it on the ground and thought of something cool to say.  That was what everyone did, right?
“Ah, screw it,” she muttered as she stomped the player into dust.  Her fat foot ground the machine up underneath her toe, and for the first time since she stepped into Cooke, she felt a sense of relief.  Her part of this was over, which meant it was time to reconvene with the others and see if they were okay.
Bulleteer smashed through the doorway with ease now that she was no longer distracted, and wobbled her way down the hall.  She wiped sweat from her brow and huffed, “This is the last time I let Grace talk me into a job…”

Chapter 3
Ren sat, cross-legged in the bed where they and Penny had made love just a few hours earlier, and centered themself. They emptied their mind, and focused on the sensations of their body. Once they felt relaxed, they raised Penny’s pillow to their face and inhaled deeply.
Penny’s smell washed over Ren like a wave, and as it passed, Ren felt that familiar sensation rise up within their throat: thirst. “Thirst” didn’t do it justice; Ren remembered regular thirst from before they turned as a sensation mostly taking place in the mouth. This, however, rose up from the stomach, or deeper, like a rumble of hunger that intensified as it echoed up through the chest and into the throat. But it had an additional element to it, the thing that made the pang energizing instead of enervating; a sort of lust, arousal, crackling from their toes to their scalp. Ren’s fangs tingled and began to descend at the thought of Penny, and her delicious scent. Now it was time for the hard part.
Ren focused on all the sensations associated with their thirst, and focused them inward, trying to concentrate and contain them like they had earlier at the kitchen table. At first it seemed all in vain; acknowledging the sensations made them intensify, and Ren’s breathing quickened as their body craved something to sate itself. They furrowed their brow and focused harder, this time visualizing pulling the thirst inwards instead of compressing it from the outside. The sensations crystallized, and suddenly they were observing it from the outside. Their body relaxed, and they held the idea of their thirst in their mind, like a hot stone. They imagined locking eyes with Penny again, and sending this gem of hunger to her, communicating this feeling with her. But Penny wasn't there, and Ren lost their hold on it after only a few short moments. The sensation of thirst crashed over them like a tidal wave, and they collapsed forward and screamed into the pillow.
Over the next week, they would practice isolating and focusing their thirst on command. This ability alone helped them handle their urges tremendously, but Ren needed to know if it was just their imagination, or if they really had the power to affect Penny’s appetite. Ren chose a night when they hadn’t had time to make dinner, and so had ordered a massive quantity of pad thai for Penny. One huge serving of the sticky, carb-packed noodles had disappeared into Penny’s taut belly when she started to pause between bites. “Do you...want to eat any more?” Ren asked.
Penny made a slight grimace and leaned back in her chair. “I’m not sure if I can.” Her stomach hadn’t gotten noticeably fatter, but it was visibly packed full. The sight of Penny’s over-indulgence, as always, fiercely stirred up Ren’s thirst. They desperately wanted to experience that feeling of fullness, of satiety, that emanated from their girlfriend. They slid their chair next to Penny’s.
“I know you feel like you can’t, but...do you want to?”
“I would if I could babe, you know that.”
That was the opening Ren was waiting for. “Will you let me try something?”
Penny looked at them skeptically. “You’re not gonna try to force feed me are you? I’ll gain weight, but I draw the line at being foie gras for you.”
“No no, nothing like that,” Ren shifted awkwardly in their chair, not ready to make eye contact. Penny’s scent was even more arousing now that they were close to her, and their fangs were practically throbbing in their skull. If they were going to pull this off, they needed to do it soon.
“I just...I wanted tell you how much it means to me that you’re doing this, for me, but also…” Ren stoked their thirst like a fire, tending it into a red-hot little ball as they spoke, “I need you to know just how much it’s making me fucking want you.”
Ren shot their eyes up, catching Penny’s gaze. Penny felt a jolt as they locked eyes with their partner. There was more than a glint in their eyes this time, there was a fire. It felt like her brain was lighting up with pleasure and electricity.
“...and I think I’ve figured out how to make you understand how hungry I am for you.” Ren was a bit surprised by their own words, but it was too late to abort now; they let their lust guide them. They rose to their feet, put their hands on the back rest of Penny’s chair, and effortlessly spun her to face them directly. Penny gulped. She loved when Ren’s dominant side awakened, but this was something new.
They were staring directly into Penny’s eyes, letting the full extent of their hunger show, fangs and all. “So...do you feel it?”
Usually a tense excitement gripped her when Ren’s desire peaked, like being caught in a spotlight. This felt like grabbing a live wire—like a transmission. The pleasant, buzzing heat of their connection gave way to a rumbling, burning ache, and beneath it, twisting below the surface, a feeling of intense arousal. Penny’s stomach still felt full and heavy, but it didn’t matter; she had to have more.
Heart pounding, she answered: “I feel it.”
The intensity of Ren’s eyes faded, and they blinked. Their fangs slowly retracted and they sat back in their seat. Whatever feeling they had induced in Penny, it did not work the other way around. They felt no fullness, no satisfaction, but they did feel a sort of relief, as if the edge had been taken off their thirst by sharing it. With the connection between them severed, Ren could now only watch Penny’s reaction.
Penny grabbed the extra order of pad thai off of the table and began shovelling it into her mouth, furiously. This hunger wasn’t physical, or it was, but...she didn’t know how to describe it. Parts of her that weren’t her stomach ached to be filled, but all she could do was keep stuffing food into her packed belly. She made it halfway through the second serving before letting out an exasperated moan, then forcefully shoved the container at Ren.
“What? Are you-”
“Just feed it to me. I have to—” she panted, and let out a groan, “I have to concentrate on chewing and swallowing.” Penny grabbed the bottom of her t shirt with both hands and pulled it off over her head in a swift movement, then popped the button on her shorts open. “Just feed me the rest.”
Ren dutifully lifted forkful after forkful to her lips. Penny furrowed her brow in determination, and let out intermittent grunts from effort. At last, the fork scraped the bottom of the container. Ren placed the empty box on the table, and surveyed the damage; Penny sat leaning slightly back, legs spread apart, hands resting on her hips, with her bulging, bare belly thrust out in front of her. Her hair was slicked to her forehead and neck with sweat, her face flush with exertion. She measured her breaths carefully; shallow but paced out, laced with occasional groans as she stared off into the middle distance.
The feelings of desperate mania to eat had ebbed, leaving Penny with an aching, all encompassing feeling of fullness in her stomach, and a morbid sense of accomplishment. She ran her hands over her tight belly, pressing against its dome-shaped surface, but she was already mostly undressed and there was nothing she could do to find relief at this point; she was stuck like this for a few hours at least, and she knew it. She focused her eyes, not without some effort, on Ren.
“Ren—*pant*—you have to promise me—*pant*—something.” Ren nodded, and Penny winced, then continued. “Promise me...that you won’t do that again...without telling me first—without asking me first, okay?”
“I promise,” Ren said with utmost sincerity, before a sly grin crossed their face. “But...I can do it again, sometime?”
Penny grinned back, looking somewhat pained. “You maniac. You need to let me fuckin’ recover first, you understand? And I want a full explanation of just what that was,” Penny arched her back and slipped her hands under the swell of her belly, “and why I feel so turned on right now.”
“Wait, for real?”
“Ren, I feel like I’m going to pop if I try to move, but if you can eat me out right now without making me barf, I will let you do this to me again any day of the week.” Penny tried to wriggle her denim shorts off without bending at the waist or lifting her ass from the seat, but couldn’t make much progress. Ren pulled them free in a single pull, taking Penny’s damp panties with them. Penny’s wouldn’t be the only marathon eating session that night.
 
From that point on, Ren would continue to ensure large quantities of high-calorie food were available to their girlfriend, while also anxiously looking for openings to boost Penny’s appetite. When they weren’t working from home or practicing their meditation, they were reacquainting themself with the kitchen. They started simple, but not small: huge bowls of pasta, first with red sauce, eventually working up to rich, heavy alfredo sauces. They made triple cheese grilled-cheese sandwiches, and segued to potato croquettes, then fried chicken. When they didn’t know what to make for dinner, they would just try a new dessert recipe. Not everything was a success—Ren’s sense of human taste wasn’t what it used to be—but no matter what they made, Penny was eager to try it. And if Penny liked it, Ren would take a seat across the table to watch her eat, waiting for her to inevitably slow her pace as she approached her limit. Ren would take this time to practice keeping their thirst focused and under control, like a hot little flame; but occasionally when they and Penny made eye contact, they thought they could feel tiny little sparks of it escape and leap between them.
It was awkward at first, having to ask for permission, but it soon became routine. After Penny’s first helping or so, Ren would try to gauge her openness. Sometimes Penny would demure, putting her foot down that she was stuffed to capacity, or not in the mood; other times Ren would ask, their thirst starting to build, and Penny would agree but put a limit on how much she would eat under Ren’s influence. But many times, and more frequently as the practice continued, Penny would instigate, meeting Ren’s gaze, glancing at her empty plate, then slowly reaching down to unbutton or remove whatever she was wearing. She would look back at Ren and feel the burning thirst in their eyes, and the next thing she knew she was consumed by a fresh wave of hunger for the food before her. And then she would eat.
The changes in Penny’s physique were dramatic. After weeks of slow, touch-and-go weight gain, her body started to consistently expand under this new regimen. Those ten new pounds grew into fifteen, then into twenty, then into twenty-five. Since it was still late summer, she had taken to wandering around the house in just her cotton running shorts. The drawstring was no longer necessary, as they now fit her as tightly as a pair of skin-tight boy shorts. This allowed Ren to observe as Penny’s ass progressed from skinny, to full, to developing a delightful jiggle as she padded around the kitchen or up the stairs. When they were home, Penny’s chest remained bare; she claimed because it was hot, but Ren knew that it was because all of Penny’s bras had gotten too small in both the cups and strap. It was mesmerizing to watch her sit across the table or on the couch, cheerfully stuffing her face while her naked breasts jostled and bounced like they never had back when she was 120 pounds. When it was time for work, she would struggle into an undersized bra and white blouse, tight around her newly thickened arms, buttons straining across the chest. But this wasn’t even her most pressing wardrobe concern.
As Penny softened and thickened all over, her belly had set the pace. Ren kept their girlfriend so thoroughly laden with food that it was easy to imagine Penny’s belly was the result of a constant food-baby, but when she rolled out of bed in the morning or came home from work complaining that she was starving, she exhibited the telltale signs of a permanent pot belly. There was a clear demarcation where her growing belly suddenly swelled out over her waistband, wrapping around her hips in a thick pair of beginner’s lovehandles. Penny’s hands frequently found their way to her new belly, idly playing with her belly button piercing or just placing a hand against her growing middle as she went about topless at home. Ren caught her squeezing or pinching the new flab from time to time, most recently while she was eating. What surprised Ren the most was how irresistible this was.
They knew that Penny’s impressive gain served one purpose: to enable Ren to drink safely from her once she outweighed Ren significantly. And Ren was not surprised that they found sexual pleasure in Penny’s bust and ass becoming more plush; but somehow it was Penny’s belly, whether stuffed taut with rich food or soft and jiggly and empty, that drove Ren wild. Its continued growth meant Ren was getting closer to slaking their thirst once again, true, but it also ignited an intense lust. The day that Penny finally admitted that her work khakis were hopelessly too small to fasten around her enlarged waist, Ren had gleefully torn them off her and carried her to bed.
For Penny’s part, the sudden changes to her body triggered no small amount of anxiety. She was trying to save money, and hadn’t fully realized how much thirty pounds would devastate her wardrobe. T-shirts and tank tops now clung around her stomach and hips where they used to hang loose from her chest, the inner thighs of her jeans rubbed and blew out from her new chubby legs, and all manner of underwear had begun to dig into her flesh uncomfortably. But Penny wanted to wait until her weight had stabilized before committing to new clothes; and also she had a surprise in mind for Ren, but that would come later. Her most unforgiving item of clothing had turned out to be her work pants, and she was forced to upgrade those in order to meet dress code.
Ren seemed extremely enthusiastic about Penny’s new shape, especially outgrowing her pants, but Penny was having a harder time adapting. Thirty pounds, she realized, was a significant amount of weight to gain for a 120 pound person, especially as rapidly as she had put it on. Going up and down the stairs in their apartment now left her winded, and trudging across the parking lot to work left her a sweaty, panting mess. She felt her co-workers’ stares when she came in disheveled and struggling to tuck her undersized blouse back into her pants, but none of them mentioned her weight, not within her earshot anyway. As a former cosmetology student, Penny was very image-conscious, but she’d never had to worry about her weight before. She’d done some athletics throughout high school and maintained her slim figure since graduating through luck and youthful metabolism, she supposed. Now for the first time in her life, her waist swelled out wider than her ribs, her thighs rubbed, she had rolls forming on her back, and her round face was becoming fuller by the day. Skinny Penny was gone, and in her place, was someone...average, bordering on chubby.
All of this would have probably made her miserable and insecure, were it not for two things: one, Penny knew that her goal was in sight, and soon she’d be ready to try and let Ren drink from her again. The second thing was that the attention and affection Ren had been lavishing on her during this period was unlike anything she had experienced before. At first she blamed the hemoboost supplements for making her hormones turn her into vampire catnip, but Ren’s sexual appetite had eclipsed their thirst. Ren filled Penny’s days with food, foreplay, and fucking, often in that order. The result was that she spent a lot of time pleasantly exhausted, and made little to no effort to resist her fattening routine. She was constantly hungry now, a phenomenon she attributed to the supplements, being fed increasingly larger meals at the hands of her partner, and lingering effects of Ren’s weird vampiric powers. All told, she felt lulled into this life of decadent pampering, except in the moments where the real world interrupted and made her put on pants. Her mind resisted it, but she was unable to deny the realization: getting fat for Ren felt really good. Maybe too good.
The reality of the situation hit her while in the doctor’s office. She had suspected that her weight was sufficient for her and Ren to try the B.I.T.E. kit again, but had to guess since they didn’t own a scale. She wanted to get a check-up before they attempted it not only to make sure she was healthy enough for it, but also to learn her actual weight. She was excited to learn whether she’d hit the mark, but was dreading the lecture from the doctor over her weight gain.
Having finally outgrown all her pants and shorts, Penny was wearing some stretchy workout tights and a formerly-loose hoodie over a skin-tight tank top. It was early September now and still quite warm, so the hoodie was more for modesty than comfort. The nurse had her get on the scale on the way to examination room.
“Okay...167.2 pounds. Now follow me, we’ll seat you right in…”
“I’m sorry, what?!” Penny looked down at the digital display in shock. Plain as day, it said 167.2. Assuming that she had actually been 120 when this had started, Penny had gained 47 pounds over the summer.
“Does that seem off?” the nurse asked, flipping back through Penny’s file. “Last time you were in you weighed...oh. Well, you’ll be able to ask Dr. Carroll about it.”
Penny sat on the exam table, face white with shock. 167 pounds...she was officially chubby, if not fat. In her tight, spandex tights and clingy tank top, she felt like she could suddenly feel every new ounce of fat. Her butt squished and spread across the crinkly paper covering the exam table, her breasts strained against the zipped-up hoodie, and her round stomach bulged over the waistband of her tights and rested on top of her thighs. Her hands grabbed hold of her thick stomach roll through her sweatshirt. You’re FAT, Penny, she thought to herself, You let yourself get fat and now you’re FAAAAAAAT.
“I’m…” she whispered to herself out loud in the cold exam room, “I’m f-”
She was interrupted by a knock at the door and Dr. Carroll entering. “Penny! How we doing today!”
Penny honestly couldn’t remember what he asked her about or what responses she gave him. She remained lost in her thoughts until he asked her to remove her sweatshirt so he could check her blood pressure. Removing her outer layer, there was now nothing to hide her fattened torso and belly from view. Her face reddened, but Dr. Carroll remained professional as he checked her blood pressure as okay, and listened to her lungs with the stethoscope.
“Deep breaths.” She realized she had been sucking in her stomach the whole time. She relaxed, letting it bulge forward fully, and took a deep breath. Penny began to calm down; doctors see fat people all the time, she thought. Now...now I’m one of them.
Dr. Carroll sat back down and added his notes to Penny’s file, then said, “So Penny…” She gulped. Here it comes, she thought. “Last time you were in, about 10 months ago, looks like we had you at 119 pounds, so...you’ve put on a bit of weight.”
“Yeah I uh…”
“Any lifestyle changes or medications that you think may have caused it? Or should we be looking for underlying causes?”
Lifestyle changes? She was fattening herself up on purpose to feed her vampire lover, that was one. “No, I think I know what’s been behind it. Just um...been eating out a lot lately, been stressed, you know.”
“Lately? Was this a recent change?”
Recent? Would he consider 47 pounds in 3 months a “recent” change?
“No, it’s been...the spring was my last semester at school, and I got a new job, so it’s been like... 8 months?” she lied.
“Well,” he replied, “Everything else looks good! We can get you in to see a nutritionist if you want, but if you’re not worried, I’m not worried. But if you do notice any sudden, unexplained weight changes, you come back in okay?”
The tension that had gripped Penny since she had entered the office washed away. “Sure thing!”
Penny walked out of the office:167 pounds and a clean bill of health. She had heard everything she had wanted to hear, she realized. She had done it; she was ready.
Or nearly ready, anyway. She texted Ren, gonna run some errands, be back in an hour or 2
doctor went ok?
Penny grinned. doctor went great, she texted back.
what about, you know. what did the scale say? Ren replied.
scale says your girlfriend got fat
Penny saw Ren beginning to reply and quickly sent, and she needs you to cook her a big special dinner tonight
Penny saw Ren begin typing a message, then stop, then start again. Penny loved making them flustered like this.
Finally Ren replied: like, big enough for 2?
Yes. Love you, gotta go. Penny hit send and shoved the phone in her pocket as she got in the car. She wanted Ren hot and bothered, and flirty texts and exercise clothes weren’t going to cut it. She was going shopping.
_________________________________________________________________________________________
When Penny scooted in through the front door of their apartment, a shopping bag on each arm, she saw Ren hustling around the kitchen at work on what looked to be an epic dinner.
“Oh! Shit, dinner’s gonna be like...another 45 minutes,” they apologized, “I got too ambitious, I thought I’d have more time…”
The smell from the kitchen was intense; it smelled like alfredo sauce, one of Ren’s specialties, and Penny’s favorites, along with another, mouth-watering smell that Penny recognized but couldn’t place. Penny set down her bags and went to give Ren a kiss. As she got close to Ren she saw their face was smeared with some sort of black substance and their eyes were bloodshot and dark.
Ren wiped their eyes and sniffled. “I…wanted to make garlic bread for you. I’m having ah, a bit of a reaction to it.”
“Ren!”
“The recipe called for it, and you said this was special!” Penny began fussing with Ren’s face, wiping away the sooty grey tears streaking from their eyes. “Pfft, cut it out, I’m fine. It’s already starting to clear up. I’m making you get it out of the oven, though.”
Penny planted a heavy, warm kiss on Ren’s lips. “Are we really gonna try again tonight?” Ren asked.
Penny bit her lip and nodded. Ren kissed her back and held her close. A hissing sizzle drew their attention back to the stove as a pot began to boil over. Ren sprang across the kitchen with supernatural speed, and Penny took the opportunity to sneak off upstairs with her bags.
She stripped out of her unflattering athletic-wear and went to the bathroom to freshen herself up. She let her hair down and leaned over to let it hang straight down from her head, then smoothed it out with the blow dryer to give it a little volume. She applied her makeup, choosing smoky eyeshadow and dark burgundy lipstick. She completed the look with some winged eyeliner; might as well go dramatic, she figured, since she was about to have dinner with—and then be dinner for—a vampire. She reached for her favorite perfume, then thought better of it. Tonight was for Ren, and Ren liked her natural scent, whatever that was.
Out of the first shopping bag she pulled a matching red lace bralette and panty set. She had been eyeing this for quite some time, but had been saving her money for it, while also waiting to see what size she would grow into. When they had fitted her at the store, she discovered she was already in need of the largest size they carried, meaning anything beyond this weight would require plus sizes. For now, these fit like a glove, a far cry from her outgrown, everyday underwear. She posed in front the mirror, appraising herself from different angles. She took Ren at their word that they still found her attractive at this new size, and their enthusiasm for her had never been greater, but it was still a lot to take in. From the neck down, she could barely recognize the body in the mirror as her own. She puffed out a sigh, realizing that she was psyching herself out when she was supposed be getting in the mood. She approached the mirror to make sure her makeup was right; her face was fuller and softer, but she knew how to work with it, and she liked what she saw. She hoped this would give her the confidence she needed as she went for the other shopping bag.
Downstairs, Ren popped open the cork on a bottle of wine to let it breathe. They glanced around the kitchen to make sure all the burners were turned off; everything was ready, they were just waiting for Penny. Ren went into the downstairs bathroom to check on their hair and cursed as they saw their face was still smeared with black tear stains from their exposure to garlic earlier. They washed their face and slicked their hair back into a proper coif, then glanced at their own outfit. They weren’t nearly as fashionable as their girlfriend, and had fewer occasions to dress up and go out. Ren had a strong preference for black clothing even before turning vampiric, and the turn had done nothing to liven up their wardrobe. Right now they were wearing a slim-fitting black dress shirt over their usual black binder, and a pair of black jeans. They decided to tuck the shirt in.
They went to call upstairs for Penny and gasped as they saw her descending the stairs. She had put on a pair of low heels and was taking each step carefully, letting Ren take in her whole outfit. She was wearing a skin-tight, red, strapless bodycon dress that came down to mid thigh. The crimson fabric hugged her curves, revealing every new inch on her widened frame. The dress zipped up in the front, the zipper set in a black stripe about as wide as a thumb, that ran straight down the middle. The stripe, probably intended to provide a slimming vertical element to the garment, served only to emphasize the new roundness of her belly as she swivelled from side to side with each step. Her once-skinny hips flared dramatically, cutting a luscious silhouette against the stairs, and the bottom hem was beginning to ride up her soft thighs as she reached the bottom. Ren’s gaze rose to Penny’s luscious cleavage, which filled out the bust of the snug dress and swelled up into softened shoulders and thickened arms wrapped in short, off the shoulder sleeves. Penny’s face—damn, she was beautiful tonight—had a nervous smile on it as she reached the bottom step and stopped. Ren noticed that it wasn’t blush Penny was wearing, she was actually turning red from embarrassment.
Ren reached out for Penny’s hand, and held it as she stepped down onto the floor. They drew her in close and whispered breathily in her ear, “You look...incredible.”
“You’re just saying that because I look like a big juicy hamburger to you now,” Penny objected, still blushing. “I underestimated how form-fitting this dress was, it’s...pretty unforgiving.”
Ren’s hands slid down the taut, smooth curves of Penny’s back and hips, then squeezed her round ass. Penny grinned in spite of herself and pressed her belly and chest into Ren. She leaned up and whispered into their ear, “This is all for you, baby.” She could practically feel the goosebumps run up Ren’s neck. “Feed your girl so she can take care of you tonight.”
Ren led Penny to one of the dining chairs and poured her a generous glass of wine, then plated up a helping of pasta befitting a marathon runner. She dug in, unfazed, and dutifully worked to clear her plate. Ren didn’t focus on trying to coax Penny to gorge for once, instead just refilling her wine and making pleasant dinner conversation. They let their thirst stir and fill them without resistance, taking in the sights and smells of their girlfriend as she grew full and sated. The flush of embarrassment had long since left Penny’s cheeks, but it had been replaced by the warm glow from the wine and rich food. Ren had inched closer and closer to her as she ate, eventually sitting right next to her and gently stroking her arm.
The sun had set and their small kitchen seemed especially cozy when at last Penny’s fork clinked against an empty plate. She looked at Ren with sultry eyes, and leaned back in her chair revealing her severely bloated stomach stretching the fabric of her dress. Ren’s eyes fell to Penny’s belly immediately, causing Penny to glance down herself. “Oh my god,” she laughed. “I look pregnant. I wanted to show off my curves for you, but…” she saw Ren’s eyes drinking her in, enraptured with her even as she sat there, swollen and heavy with carbs and rich sauce. She took Ren’s hand in hers and placed it on her belly. The wine was making her feel bold. “You like this, don’t you?”
Ren said nothing, but let their fingers press into Penny’s soft flesh. They massaged the bulge of her stuffed stomach, then traced the squishy indentation of her belly button with her thumb, and finally reached with their fingers underneath where Penny’s belly now rested on her thighs. Ren squeezed lightly, and lifted, like they were weighing it in their hand. Penny’s expression faltered for a moment. “Is it...too much?” she asked.
“No.” Ren answered, barely above a whisper. Their mouth was beginning to water and their fangs had started to slide down.
Penny’s smile returned and she put her arms around Ren. “You did a good job feeding me,” she cooed, “a REALLY good job.”
“Oh shit,” Ren pulled away from Penny’s grasp, “I totally forgot about the garlic bread.” They started to get up, but Penny grabbed their hand.
“It can wait. I want you to drink from me first.”
Penny rose to her feet, leaning on the table a little for balance. “But I don’t want to risk getting anything on my new dress.” She lifted Ren’s hand to her chest, where the zipper pull sat atop her bosom. As Ren carefully pulled the zipper down, the tight dress eagerly separated, freeing Penny’s heavy breasts that filled out her new bralette, followed by her round pot belly and thick waist that were swollen with food and new pounds, then finally her wide thighs that squished together as she shifted her weight from leg to leg. Penny slid the sleeves off and carefully draped the dress over a chair, then sashayed over to the cabinet where Ren kept their various vampire supplies. Ren got to appreciate just how thick she had become, her ample backside hugged by the wide, lacy panties, her waist topped with a thick set of back rolls. Penny returned to the table with a B.I.T.E. pack in hand; her full, protruding belly led the way as she walked, it almost seemed to Ren like she was walking exaggeratedly, like a pregnant woman, to emphasize her size. She walked straight into Ren, belly first, and kissed them deeply, her mouth still tart with wine.
“I know what you’re gonna ask: yes I’m sure. I’m ready. I took a full dose of my supplements today, I’m full of food, and,” she put her mouth close to Ren’s ear. “I weighed 167 fucking pounds at the doctor’s office today.” Ren sat down in a chair in shock. Penny put the B.I.T.E. pack in their hands, then placed both hands on her belly and gave it a slight bounce. “I’m probably 170 after that meal. So if I’m not ready now, I’ll never be.”
Ren opened the kit while Penny cleaned her wrist at the sink. She sauntered back to Ren and sat sideways across their lap. “I don’t think it’ll happen, but I know you’ll catch me if I black out,” she said.
“I’m not going to take my eyes off of you this time,” Ren said as they popped the cap off the needle. “Look into my eyes, okay?”
Penny gazed into Ren’s eyes and felt the magnetic pull of their gaze. In spite of her projected confidence, Penny’s heart was actually racing. She wasn’t fearful, but she was nervous; afraid to fail. But as she stared into her partner’s eyes, she felt a wave of warmth and comfort pass through her body, like a strong embrace or a heavy blanket. She relaxed, and felt an overwhelming rush of affection in her heart. Then she saw Ren raise the full tubing to their lips, and realized the stick had already happened.
Ren had been able to easily feel Penny’s pounding pulse with their thumb, and worked to ease their partner into a calm state just before inserting the needle. This time, there was no need to check; they knew their partner, their body, their pulse, and they felt in control enough to trust themselves this time. All that was left was to drink.
Ren’s previous experience drinking from Penny did not prepare them for what they tasted that night. In addition to the satisfaction of receiving nourishment from their love, they could taste the richness of the meal they had spent all afternoon preparing, and the buzz of the wine in Penny’s blood. It had been years since Ren had been able to taste and appreciate regular human food, but it was all here, on their tongue. And beneath that, beneath the flavor of the food and the taste of Penny, there was a new sort of...body to the flavor. Ren didn’t know if it was an effect of the supplements Penny had been taking or if it was from how much heavier she had gotten, but it was glorious. Ren could not remember a time they had felt so satisfied in their life.
Ren lost themselves in reverie for just a moment before fixing their attention back on Penny. They made sure they drank gently, savoring each mouthful, while sensing for any signs that Penny was at her limit. After a minute or so, the complexion of her forehead turned a fraction of a shade whiter, the pulse through her body grew a tiny bit weaker, and Ren’s senses told them it was time to stop. They slipped the needle cleanly out Penny’s arm and applied light pressure with their thumb, then drew the last of the blood through the tubing into their mouth. Penny slumped against Ren’s body and for a second they feared they’d misread her and she was blacking out. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Ren’s neck and kissed their head. They both began laughing, neither quite sure why.
Ren scooped their arms under Penny’s legs and back and stood up, easily lifting her 167 pound body, and twirled her around. Penny’s knees buckled as Ren returned her to the ground, and she hung from their neck before steadying themselves. “I’m...I’m okay, just a little light headed.” Ren sat her down in a chair and went to the sink to get her a glass of water. Penny saw a springiness and energy in Ren’s movement they had never seen before. The smile on Ren’s face when they returned to her side made her heart nearly burst. She drained the glass while Ren watched her closely. “You’re gonna be a little dehydrated, let me get you another-”
“Ren, hold on.” Penny turned her body to face Ren. “I have to ask you something, before...before I lose my nerve.” She swallowed nervously. “I...okay, so I wanted this, for you to be able to drink from me, for us to have this partnership and to keep you healthy, and I, I gained all this weight,” she clapped her hands on her soft sides for emphasis, “so this could work, but I need to know if it’s more than that now.”
Ren’s mouth opened, but they couldn’t find words. Penny didn’t seem angry, but she was putting Ren on the spot.
“Just tell me: are you attracted me this way because it means you can drink from me, or does this...turn you on? You can tell me either way, but I need to know.”
Ren approached Penny’s seated body and kneeled on the floor in front of her, placing their hands on her smooth legs. They took in Penny’s softened form, recalling the skinny girl they had fallen for during their early days of being a vampire. They were, maybe for the first time since turning, fully sated and free of thirst, and yet...they still hungered for Penny. Ren the vampire was satisfied, but Ren the sexual being craved Penny’s plump, growing body like a drug.
Ren tightened their grip on Penny’s legs and leaned forward, meeting Penny’s waiting mouth with a deep, rough kiss. Their hands flew down to Penny’s ass and squeezed, and without thinking they lifted her up and sat her on the table so they could kiss her easier.
“Mmmmf, Ren, that’s not an answer!” Penny gripped Ren’s shoulders and pushed them away. “Or maybe it is, but I need to hear you say it.”
Ren stared into Penny’s eyes, still trying to find the words for what they were feeling, what they wanted. What was stopping them? Here they were, a literal vampire, having just drank from a willing partner with whom they shared their life, and getting turned on by weight gain was the thing they were afraid would be too much?
“I...I really like it and I don’t know why, and I’m sorry..” words began to tumble out of Ren’s mouth like a burst dam. “It didn’t start that way, it started with just, me being thirsty, or you know, hungry, whatever, but it’s all” —they twirled a finger in the air— “it’s all intertwined, for me. And now I get so fucking hot and bothered whenever I see you overeat, or outgrow your clothes, or jiggle up the stairs—”
Penny let out a small gasp. “...Do I really jiggle going up the stairs?” she asked quietly.
Ren bit their bottom lip and nodded emphatically, an expression of agonized lust on their face.
Penny pursed her lips. “The thing is, I really like it too. I like you cooking for me, but also, you know...feeding me. I mean, it sucks, outgrowing my pants and getting funny looks at work, and just, worrying that I was going to get fat and maybe still not be able to give you blood, and then I’d just be...fat, for nothing. But if we can do this, and you like me getting bigger…” she rubbed her hands over her stomach. “I guess what I’m saying is...I kept the tags and the receipt for that dress, so I could get a bigger size...and I still want that garlic bread.” She gave Ren a mischievous smile.
Ren grinned back: “I heard that bread makes you fat.”
“It better.”

I'm actually part way through another chapter...

The Warden alone sat in the room, embracing the sight of her prized test subject on the monitor. The world renowned thief now slept on the couch exposed for her true self. With her clothes thrown to the floor, she wore a black bra overflowing with her flesh and a matching pair of black underwear digging into her flabby body. In Selina's mind she was still the naught little vixen putting of a show for her watchers. In reality she was an out of shape porker pushing the scale into the mid 170s. No longer did she sit on the couch with her catty like pose and crossed legs. Instead, she would meet the couch with a slight thud, and then proceed readjusting her ill fitted underwear. 

The sandwiches, oatmeals, and chicken dinners were quickly rotated out for meals such as pancakes, pizza and tacos. Selina hardly noticed this as her attention was now glued to the TV all the time. Her eyes wouldn't leave the TV even during her meals, as she just shoveled it in till it was gone. This would always be meet with regret, as she sank into the couch feeling stuffed. That never stopped her from opening a bag of snacks soon after. It almost felt wrong to her if she wasn't eating something while watching TV. She would lay there slouched on the couch as she slowly starts munching away and as the pounds began to pile onto the poker.

The Warden eagerly awaited to wake the eating machine she created, but she had to be patience. Four to five hours was the target amount sleep for the subject to function properly but remain vulnerable to the subliminal messages. For today was a special day that the Warden wanted to witness herself. She left a little trigger in the fridge, hoping to see if extending phase 1 by two weeks would pay off.



Beeeeeeeeeeeep

"Hu h." A slumbering villain awoke with a startle. 'Ugh, I can't believe I feel asleep during the finale.' It took a while before Selina decided to actually get up, obeying the cries from her stomach. But eventually she found herself walking to the newly restocked fridge. Even her posture told the story of her newly acquired lifestyle, as she slouches forward let her stomach spill over her waistband more easily. A slight smile appeared on her face as she opened the fridge. 'Now lets see what do I want toda.....' Her eyes were quickly drawn to the white bakery box with a note on it. 'Oooh, come to mama.' She greedily grabbed the box and placed it on the counter.

Here is your cake.
-Warden

'Well it is about damn time. I was getting ready to bust out of here any day now.' Within the moment she had a mouth full of the cheesecake, slowly enjoying the taste. It was hard for her to describe the feeling, it just simply satisfied her. It was like she had another stomach in her just for this cake, as she couldn't seem to get enough of it now. She savored the creamy texture in her mouth along with the overwhelming flavor. It seemed to taste even better now than what she remembered. 'You did well little miss warden, I need to find out where you buy these form. I'll be sure to pay you a visit on my way out.' She just stared at the note for a few seconds before it finally hit her. 'Huh, now the I think about I've never actually seen her.' She slowly shoved another fork full into her mouth as she tried to piece together the Warden. 'I wouldn't be surprised if she looked like that nut job Hugo Strange, that guy gave me the creeps.' Just thinking about him gave her the shutters. 'Still, I gotta teach this new girl a lesson for putting me in solitary confinement so soon. I will be sure to make it quick, it is not like she'll put up much of a fight for someone like me.' All of a sudden her heart began to beat faster as the idea of losing entered her head. 'Sure I just lost to that brat Robin, but that is because Nightwing and Batman trained him. Then there is the bitch Tali and even Harley got the best of me a couple of times....' Her confidence began to fade as she continued thinking of her failures. Her shoulders lowered and stance weaken, leaning more and more onto the counter, causing her belly to push against the surface. A sudden wave of heat seem to hit her. Sweat formed on her forehead and body, with heavy breathing right after. Her heart began to beat faster and faster as her doubt began to grow. Facing the Warden suddenly felt like taking on Superman himself. Her image of the Warden transformed into a black shadowy figure lurking over her. Another forkful of cake flew into mouth to try to break the image, but to no avail. Her nerves got to her as she quickly went in for another, stuffing her mouth and cheeks to the brim. She found the sensation of having her mouth full like that giving her great pleasure, letting out a drawn out moan and releasing her from the stress. Her heart began to settle and confidence returning as she headed back to the couch, cheesecake in hand. 'I mean the Warden can't put up a fight if she doesn't see it coming, I hope...'

The Warden's excitement grew as she just witnessed Catwoman's little episode. Maybe to anyone else it wouldn't of looked like much from the monitor, but that was because they didn't know what to look for. As it was the fear in Selina's eyes that told the whole story. It was now the Warden's job to continue growing that fear and break Selina's invincible mindset. Soon she wouldn't feel like she is above the law, and discover that the world is a harsh and dangerous place. The once feared villain of Gotham would soon feel her heart sink at just the sight of the Joker on TV. The adrenaline and rush when stealing a crown jewel would soon be a thing of the past. The only adrenaline and rush she would get is from sneaking out a donut or two during her diet, as shame and embarrassment would follow right after. All of this was in the Warden's grasp, she just had to be patience. 

"One more week..." She mumbled to herself as she got up. "One more week until phase 2."

Chapter 4:

‘Now girls,’ Margarita Laux-Antlle lectured in Yennefer’s nightmare, the Rector of the Magic School stalking across the floor of the Aretuza’s lecture hall with a swish of green silk, ‘appearance can be everything in magic. No client will work with a sorceress who cannot perform the simple task of keeping up her appearance. To that order, two examples are before you: a beautiful sorceress and a bad sorceress. Let us compare and contrast.’

The gorgeous blonde woman was flanked by two doors. She turned to the one on her left and opened it with a minor spell. A woman strolled in with a confident strut, the only sound the click of her heels. In the strange logic of dreams, Yennefer realized it was Triss Merigold and that her rival stood cool and calm wearing naught but a pair of high heels and a grin.

‘Start here, what is positive about this sorceress?’ asked Margarita.

‘Her face is lean!’ one girl yelled, ‘It shows her intelligence and beauty, unhidden by fat!’

‘Good! What else!’ Margarita yelled.

‘Her good looks are timeless,’ another answered, ‘she could be twenty or two hundred and none could tell! As such, she must be a powerful and experienced caster!’

‘Very good!’ agreed the Rector, ‘Let us move further south. What about her breasts?’

She gently thrust the wand under one pink nippled tit, making it rise.

‘Big as small melons! Yet without a trace of sagging!’ some girl in the amorphous crowd of the lecture hall noted, ‘Only a girl before her twentieth year or a sorceress could have ones like that!’

Triss smiled deeper and shook her shoulders, giving her high, firm tits a bounce.

‘And what does this mean for her career?’

‘That men will want her and women want to look like her!’

‘Good, continue moving down,’ Margarita insisted, thrusting the wand into Triss’ flat, narrow waist and finding no give, ‘Why should you have a flat belly?’

‘It says we have discipline!’ someone in the lecture hall answered, ‘That we can avoid temptation.’

‘Good, good,’ Margarta answered, ‘you girls have studied! And her hip region, what about that?’

‘Broad but lean! Unmistakably feminine with no trace of excess!’

Triss turned, offering a pert backside for contemplation.

‘No sign of cellulite! Smooth as polished marble and tight enough to bounce a sovereign off of!’

The red haired sorceress turned again, Margarita pointing to her tight, pink pussy.

‘Smooth and clean! Tight and firm!’

‘Excellent and her legs!’

‘Long, lean and athletic! There’s a gap between them and every man and woman who sees their ivory length can’t help but want them around their waist!’

‘Perfect job girls!’ Margarita said, ‘Triss here is indeed an excellent specimen of sorceress. Anything to say Triss?’

‘Remember girls, to get a body like this,’ the red head said, running her hands laviciously up her curves, ‘all you need is magic!’

‘Very true, but now for the bad,’ Margarita agreed, ‘Yennefer, please enter!’

The other door groaned open. For a moment no one was there, but then Yennefer waddled in, naked as Triss was but for shoes. Her gargantuan hips brushed the doorframe, her pace was as unsteady as a newborn calf, her flabby chest heaved with exertion and she was coated in sweat. She stood next to her rival, a foot shorter and two hundred pounds heavier, having lost several inches in height and found them many times over in girth.

‘I’m sorry,’ the obese mage groaned, ‘there were so many stairs…’

‘Fat girls speak when spoken too!’ Margarita snapped, ‘and they’re never spoken too!’

A blush hit Yennefer’s acne studded cheeks as the Rector continued, ‘Now girls, point out her flaws.’

‘Her face makes her look like a pig, greedy and stupid!’

‘Her acne makes her look like a teenager, any sorceress who can’t manage her skin must be a rank novice or extreme incompetent!’

‘She’s got food around her mouth and on her chins! She can’t even clean herself!’

‘Her tits are like a cows’! They point straight down and sag onto her belly!’

‘Her gut is so big it hangs down in front of her pussy! And its covered in stretch marks!’

‘Indeed girls, indeed,’ the Rector agreed, ‘lets take a look at that pussy!’

Yennefer’s apron gut was raised up, exposing a black tangle of ungroomed pubic hair. The girls in the audience laughed at the dark patch and the plump pussy.

‘Look! She can’t even clean herself!’

‘Indeed, she’s become a complete slob,’ Margarita agreed, ‘now, turn around cow, if you can.’

Sniffling, the dark haired blob of a woman turned with a jiggle, exposing several rolls of back fat and a cellulite coated ass more suited for a brewery horse than a famed beauty.

‘How can she actually stand carrying that around!’

‘It’s wider than she is!’

‘It looks like the moon!’

Yennefer blushed, her cheeks reddening as she began crying. Margarita smacked her across the ass hard with the wand, the crack and pain making her jump up in the air. Everything jiggled as she leapt and her weak legs gave out as she fell, causing her to spill onto the ground. Struggling, grunting, Yennefer tried to stand up, arms and legs too weak to support her pale blob of a body.

‘Crying is for pigs!’ the lithe blonde yelled, ‘does she look like a pig girls?’

‘Yes!’

‘A complete swine!’

‘A total hog!’

‘No!’ Yennefer sobbed, ‘I’m not a pig!’

‘Why, yes you are,’ Triss laughed, the spectacular red head stalking over on her long legs, ‘and you should eat like one!’

With a snap of Triss’ fingers, a wooden trough piled high with cupcakes and cookies appeared on the ground. Yennefer began drooling involuntarily and tried to fight her desire to plunge her face into the pile of confections. For a moment her old pride and discipline held, but then her trembling forearms gave out and she fell into the pile, spilling into the trough and knocking it over. Dough and icing was smashed into the soft rolls of her quivering rolls and her cry of pain let a doughnut fall into her mouth. Fat and sugar overwhelmed her and she began devouring them by the handful, icing getting all over her face and into her hair. She started expanding with every bite, her trembling body spilling over the ground.

‘This is the real you Yen,’ Triss laughed, flaunting her perfect body in front of her, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Geralt is taken care of.’

Yennefer’s eyes snapped open.

The sorceress found herself in a dark room, just as in her dream. Sweatness was on her lips and she licked them, finding them coated in icing. As her purple eyes adjusted, she found herself not being humiliated at her Alma-Matter, but laying on the floor of the Villa’s kitchen. Her plump body was curled around a vast platter that had been filled with cupcakes before her sleeping form had gotten to them, while counters had several other similarly devastated platters.

‘Not…’ Yennefer gasped as she stood up, ‘not again.’

Standing was awkward, her belly was immensely full and as she rose, she realized the pale dome stuck out well past her breasts. Every morn for the last week she’d awoken from one erotic nightmare or another about her weight to find herself in this lair of obesity, finding herself having eaten a weeks worth of confectionaries over the night. Her near demonic tormentor Marlene seemed utterly impressed to find the devastation every morning, cooing as if it was adorable and then baking throughout the day.

‘This isn’t my fault…’ the sorceress gasped, ‘this isn’t my fault.’

You could brainwash the old woman into not baking anything, her mind reminded her. You could find a way of restraining yourself at night. You could buy a home in the city. You could stop waking up soaking wet between the legs at the dreams of yourself being stuffed, teased and humiliated.

As she stood up, Yen noticed that she’d removed her weight loss charm during the nightly feeding frenzy. Rolling her eyes, the thing was clearly useless but she wanted it on her anyway in case it was somehow slowing her growth rate, she bent to retrieve it. It was difficult, she was painfully full and her sore muscles, the sole seeming result of her exercise program, protested. She didn’t even wince at her fatty grunt as her over full gut slid against her thick thighs, but she stood up quickly at the loud *RIP* that split the kitchen. Eyes wide, she froze, left hand on her knee and right grasping towards the necklace, feeling the cool breeze touch her bare cheeks.

Ten days straight of waking up in the kitchen and having to tiptoe back through the large house had convinced Yennefer of the need to no longer sleep naked. She had closets worth of scanty lingerie, but they had been made for a woman with a slinky figure and sky high self confidence, not a woman with an ever doughier body and an increasingly meek personality. So, she’d taken out a pair of black silk pajamas, the pants and jacket loose enough to fit even her expanded form.

Until now it seemed, when days and nights of gorging had grown her out of even that.

Marlene murmured in her sleep, turning over but not getting up. Yennefer bent over, the sigh of a few seams in her ears, and snagged the necklace. She slipped it over her head, the silver pentagram turning into a bright 158 for a moment, and then tip toed out of the kitchen.

Passing through the main room of the ground floor, Yennefer caught sight of a figure on her left and jumped, stifling a scream. A short young woman stood there, barely out of her teens, with a terrified look on her soft face, puffy fingers over her mouth, a look of shame, guilt and terror on her face. Her face, hair and clothes were dirty, smeared with crumbs and icing. Her flabby, heavy body was very wide on the bottom, it was built for lazy afternoons reading about the romances and adventures other people had whilst transferring bon bons from a tray to her mouth. The three bottom buttons on her pajama shirt had come undone, a pale moon of a belly hanging over the rim of them, a few red stretch marks bordering her belly button. Once loose, the pajama pants were stretched tight around her thickened thighs. If Yennefer had seen this girl in the halls of Aretuza, she’d have assumed it was an overweight novice too young to cast a single charm sneaking out to the kitchens to gorge herself and sentenced her to weeks of humiliating work.

But it wasn’t a novice seeking a midnight snack, it was herself, having ballooned up to 158 pounds, the very edge of obesity. When she was skinny, and often in high heels, Yennefer’s shortness hadn’t even been noticeable, but now with an extra half of her body weight rounding her out, barefoot and in her pajamas, she looked childish. If anyone had seen her she’d be humiliated and her legs tingled with the mad hope they would.

‘What the hell happened to you Yen?’ the sorceress asked herself, heart thudding in her chest, ‘You’ve…you’ve got to take control of yourself. Yes you’re fat, no doubt about that, but this…this is crazy. You’re turning into someone else and its someone you don’t want to be.’

She stood up straighter, raised her chin so that there were only two of them and looked herself in the eyes.

‘You’re Yennefer of Vengerberg and you’re in control here,’ she said softly and firmly, ‘are you fat? Yes, but that’s no excuse. You’re going to take control of this and yourself, not lay around feeling sorry for yourself. You  are gaining a pound a day eating shit. Now chins up, you’re going to clean up, you’re going to get out of this lard trap, you’re going to help your client and you’re going to get skinny again.’

She looked at herself in the mirror, with one charm cleaning away the acne, cleaning her face and brushing her hair until it shown. Another got rid of the stretch marks on her belly and a third made the over tight pajamas stretch out so as to not pinch at her softened waist. She stood up straight, sucked in her belly, took a flattering pose and looked at her self and smiled, yes she was fifty pounds over her fighting weight, yes her appetite was out of control and yes she had no idea how to stop it, but cleaned up and with the right cut she looked like a woman, a well fed and soft bodied one, but one who looked pretty and well kept, providing you liked women with some heft to them.

Head held high, the sorceress stalked back to her chambers. She ignored the slight waddle demanded of her brushing thighs, the jiggling each step up the stairs sent up her thick legs, through her soft belly, across her heavy breasts and into her soft cheeks and the cold air biting against the expanse of her exposed ass.
Entering her room and lighting the candles with a snap, the sorceress summoned hot water into the bath. Turning towards her desk, and avoiding looking at the heavy woman in the black pajamas who lived in her mirror, she went over her notes.

‘The witch of lynx crag has been a legend in Touissant for centuries,’ she read from her own notes, ‘a terrible temptress who has seduced many brave knights sent to defeat her and cursed many peasants who strayed onto her land. Her true identity is unknown, but she is believed to be a sorceress of some great power who jealously guards her territory.’ Certainly sounds like a likely candidate for the caster of the curse, now I just need to confront her.’

Yennefer looked up at herself. Barefoot, she seemed very short and very wide. Her soft pajamas fit better thanks to her magical alterations, but they were still…clearly cut to favor a wasp waisted stunner, not a near obese woman. Where her waist was supposed to taper, it bulged, where the slacks were supposed to hang loose they were tight.

‘In new clothes,’ she admitted to herself and dematerialized the fabric, seeing herself looking swollen and pale, ‘In new, flatteringly cut clothes.’


 Nude, she looked over herself, unsure of how she felt. She'd been working out every morning for an hour, walking and jogging several miles and using some handweights to try and coax some tone into her soft arms. Yennefer's hard work had been rewarded by balooning up another thirteen pounds: widening her hips until they brushed her chair arms, thickening her thighs until they brushed with every step
, growing her paunch out onto her lap, fluffing her breasts up into E cups and making her double chin permanent from each angle. Her wind hadn't improved and she was in terrible shape, but she didn't seem to be getting into worse shape at least. And given how fat she was getting and with no signs of stopping, trying to at least slow her physical decline was good. 'How big am I going to get?' Yennefer asked herself, sinking into the tub with an unnoticed fat girl grunt and a splosh of displaced water, 'Two hundred pounds? Three hundred pounds?'
She sat back, hands on her swollen gut, 'Will I keep going until I can't go up the stairs? Until I can't see my feet? Until I can't walk?'
The raven haired beauty felt a tingle between her legs and blushed at the thought of herself so huge as to be trapped on a bed. She thought of her enormous stomach hanging to the ground, a cascade of fat rolls deep enough to lose a hand in, as her hand wandered down the slope of her belly to her pink pussy and gently rubbed her clit with two fingers. Her mind turned to breasts bigger than her head hanging heavily, the nipples like saucers and her free hand touched her current impressive chest, pinching with zeal. She ran her tongue over her lips at the thought of a life devoted solely to gorging, to growing ever bigger, a soft moan escaping her lips.
'How much can I eat?' she asked between pants, 'How big can I get?'
She moaned and groaned, limbs spasming as she neared climax. Yennefer's mind raced with expanding inches and rising numbers, of  slow waddling and quick eating, of heaving breasts and surging stomachs. With a final lurch of pleasure she came, limbs tingling and magic firing as her mind released itself. Numbed, the woman slumped into the tub, letting herself float for a moment with a dreamy smile. A strange, niggling worry entered her head after a moment, growing faster and faster.
'What the hell did I just do?' she snapped at herself, sitting up with a splash, fat rolls forming on her belly, 'Did I ...did I just masturbate to how fat I'm going to get?'
Yennefer shook her damp curls, 'I need to do something about this...what I don't know...but...I have to do something.'
She stuck out a hand, making her shampoo levitate towards her. However, when she caught it a surge of magic turned it into another cupcake. Not watching, the sorceress bit into it, frosting dancing on her tongue. After several mouthfuls, she looked at what she was holding and threw it across the room.
'And I need to do it quickly,' she reminded herself.
 

 

Any chance this gets continued?