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  1. Trying something new I've had on my mind for awhile - a superheroine weight gain story. We'll see how this goes. Part 1 Wonder Woman awoke to a giant crash. Her vision, still blurry, was even more obstructed by the cloud of smoke that filled the room. Her instincts were to fight, but she felt her wrists bound at the gauntlets by an unbreakable rope, fastened around her waist and an anchor on the cold steel wall. In the ensuing melee, Wonder Woman could make out the voices of Giganta, Cheetah, and even Circe. She could make out what could only be described as a warm, blue and white blur, moving at unimaginable speeds. Suddenly, she heard a familiar voice. “Diana, it’s Bruce,” whispered the familiar voice, “we’re here to get you the hell out of here.” Diana woke up again, in what felt like weeks later. However, only a few hours had passed by. She was back safely in Justice League Headquarters. Bruce Wayne sat by foot of her bed, watching The Man of Steel give a press conference on the television. “Wonder Woman fought valiantly today. The lives that she saved from the attack on Metropolis were innumerable. We all owe her an incredible debt of gratitude,” said Superman. “Superman! Superman! Lois Lane of the Daily Planet!!! I have to ask, where were you and the rest of the League in all of this?” “I received a distress call from a space probe that I needed to attend to. I rushed back as soon as I received word from Batman. I am very grateful I was able to get back in time in order to assist Batman in his rescue efforts.” “What about the state of the city? The damage done during this battle was incalculable. This is the fourth battle in the last 18 months of its size. Would your presence have ended the conflict quicker? And what of Batman? His greatness is far more rooted in his skills as detective than that of a physical specim…” Superman cut her off, “We never know when these catastrophic events can occur. I’m just thankful Wonder Woman was available and on the scene. Without her, there’s no telling how many lives would have been lost. As for Batman, he may be our most important asset!” “What of Wonder Woman and her condition, Superman?” “She’s fine. No further questions!” Bruce shut the television off. “I think you’re quite the physical specimen, Bruce,” said Diana. Bruce ignored her musings. “How are you feeling, Diana?” “I’m a little tired, but I feel fine. Looks like Cheetah left quite a gash on my left arm… I think.” “Do you remember anything?” “No, and that’s what’s most frightening.” “No matter, you fought valiantly. Do you remember how you ended up bounded in that bunker?” Diana grimaced, whether it was from pain or embarrassment was undeterminable. She looked at the dressing on her arm. “… All I know is that it’s embarrassing that I was bound up in my own lasso. No word of this to the others, okay?” Bruce smiled. “They’re off on another world mission anyway. And not a word… Princess.” Diana felt a strange feeling. Exhaustion. She looked at Bruce sternly. “I’m serious.” “And I’m serious, it’s time for you to get some rest. I must return to Gotham now. I’ll check in on you in a few days.” ********* Bruce sat in the Batcave, reviewing the footage available from the battle a few days prior. “Master Bruce, your lunch, as requested. And this morning’s edition of the Daily Planet.” JUSTICE LEAGUE: DEFENDERS OR DESTROYERS? THE CITY REBUILDS “Thank you, Alfred.” “No a great headline, is it, Master Bruce?” “I think not, Alfred. But without us, what are they?” Alfred did not reply. He watched the video of the battle as Bruce played it back. “She fights with such passion and intensity, doesn’t she, Master Bruce?” “She does Alfred. And selflessly, without any regard for herself.” “And according to this headline, city property.” Bruce smiled, “you can’t rebuild lives, Alfred.” “But property, sir?” “Property, Alfred.” “Shall I have another check drafted and sent in for the rebuild, sir?” “Anonymously.” “Of course, sir. We wouldn’t, after-all, want a tax reimbursement now would we?” Alfred reply, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “That will be all, Alfred.” ********* “Diana, Bruce and I talked about it. We think some time off is what’s needed right now. It’s only been a couple of days. We need to lay low for a little bit while some of the press blows over. Besides, those three aren’t going to see the light of day for a long time,” said Superman. “I don’t understand why we’re so afraid of the press,” said Diana, angrily. “We’re an official organization and believe it or not, we need to be mindful of our PR. It all comes with the territory.” Diana shook her head, “fine, I’ll head back to the island then and be with my people.” “No need. Bruce has something setup for you in Gotham. It’s low profile, but it’ll enable us to keep an eye on you while you recover.” “No thank you, I’m fine,” said Diana, as she struggled to sit up in bed. She still hadn’t fully recovered from the battle a few days earlier. She felt strangely fatigued. “Look, we have no idea what those three did to you while you were held captive. Consider it precautionary. I’ll stand watch in the meantime. Besides, a little relaxation might do you well.” Diana scowled. He was right. “Alright, we’ll arrange transportation immediately.” Diana gave in, which is something she never did. For once, she put her indomitable will aside and acquiesced. Vacation sounded good.
  2. So I noticed that there's basically no Weight Gain stories focusing on Power Girl, which seemed odd to me as she's got an enormous rack which tends to turn FAs on and is actually kinda stalky for a girl in comics. So I decided to write one. Fattening Heroines Pt 1 of 3 Based on DC characters acting wildly out of character to laughable extremes. Chapter 1: The Amazon's Jealous Lust The super heroine Power Girl, Karen to her friends, flew over the streets of Metropolis, a red cape fluttering behind her like a banner and leaving thoughts of lust in her wake to overwhelm the fear people had of an imminent alien invasion. Modesty had little thought on her dress: A skintight white leotard was stretched over a hyper-athletic frame, despite her thinness straining to cover her torso. Circled by a metallic belt, her belly was flat as a washboard, abdominals and obliques hyper defined to the edge of bulkiness. The leotard narrowed suddenly between the flair of womanly hips, her ass full and rounded yet with hard with muscle that could only come with lucky genetics and huge amounts of squats. Like her glutes, her long legs showed evidence of dedicated strength training, long thigh muscles rippling over the tops of high blue leather boots. More muscle was on her defined biceps and shoulders, arms that would be able to knock someone out with one punch even without the super powered strength in them. The athletic body came with bronzed skin, matched by a short bob of butter blonde hair and an appealing heart shaped face often marked with a sarcastic smile. Most people wouldn’t notice these appealing features though, male and female gazes alike stuck on the woman’s two most prominent assets. Call them boobs, breasts, love lumps, tatas, jugs or front meat, PG had them in hyper ample quantity. Two swollen tan spheres, F cups at least, were pressed up and together through a strategically cut boob window, drawing the eye like magnets draw iron. Even the slightest motion made them jiggle and bounce like mad, their wobbling bulk straining seems of hyperstrong alien fabric to the breaking point and no doubt snapping mundane bras daily. They were impossibly perky despite their mammoth size, superhuman strength and flight powers bringing the cleavage almost up to her sharp chin. That people lusted after the Kryptonian was obvious, even a straight Nun would be aroused by her looks, and the outfit was designed to only enhance those feelings. Her boob window was packed so tightly with mammary meat that it looked like a nipple slip could happen at any time, while the tiny crotch of her leotard looked seconds away from showing off the goods. However, there was a slight difference today as one person was looking at Power Girl for very different reasons. She didn’t look it to the casual observer, but she had the perfect body type for weight gain. There wasn’t a hint of laziness about her, no inch to pinch at her belly, no softness in her thighs or even the faintest bulge under her chin, but an expert could tell that this was a woman destined to balloon. Though her body might now be so hard and perfectly chiseled as to be cut from solid marble, but a master ‘pushing’ the right buttons would see her covered with more rapidly accumulating amount of adipose than even her alien metabolism couldn’t handle. This master, or rather mistress, watching her was herself flying not too far behind, blue eyes locked on the blonde’s body as thoughts of stuffing, feeding and fattening filled her amazon head. This superheroine’s was called Wonder Woman to the public and Diana to her friends, and with her modelesque figure was the object of plenty of lust herself. The buxom Amazon was just as chiseled as Power Girl if a little leaner, and until the impossibly stacked Kryptonian had shown up a few years ago WW’s borderline Es had been the pride of the superheroine community. Ever since the two had regularly tied in the ‘Hottest Superheroine’ polls conducted by men’s magazines, but this year Power Girl had pulled slightly ahead in the ratings, sending a wave of jealousy down Diana’s spine. You wouldn’t think that Diana, an avowed feminist from an island of immortal female warriors who cared little for popular opinion would even be aware of the polls, but she had followed them with interest ever since coming to Man’s World. That she was admired or lusted after wasn’t that important, but that she was considered better than every other woman was of paramount importance. She had been the best on Paradise Island and for several years had obviously been the best woman in Man’s World as well. Until Power Girl had shown up and spoiled it. Superman’s alternate dimensional cousin, it was a weird world, was slightly stronger than Wonder Woman, slightly faster, slightly more indestructible and nearly two cup sizes bigger. That she was in many ways undeniably better grated heavily on the Amazon’s nerves, as did the tingle between her silky legs whenever she saw her fellow heroine. Lesbianism didn’t run wild on Paradise Island, it practically sprinted crazily and Diana was at least heavily bisexual, forgetting any masculine fueled desire whenever shapely legs, a wobbling bosom or a feminine set of hips came into view. That PG made her lose control of her thoughts was yet another silent grudge WW held against her buxom colleague. Both heroines and several other heroes of the Justice league were busy that afternoon battling the year’s umpteenth alien invasion and as Diana idly knocked thirty ton warmachines about, a mix of lustful and vengeful thoughts filtered beneath her mane of silky black hair. She didn’t want PG hurt or dead, despite her petty jealous Wonder Woman was a hero after all. Diana didn’t even want her out of the way, just a little slower, weaker and to the eyes of the world a little less attractive. And the Amazon thought as she kicked an alien tank into low orbit, she had just the way to do it while stroking her own sexual satisfaction: She’d make Power Girl fat. Not that it would be easy: Kryptonian metabolisms were hard to defeat by any means and Power Girl was certainly quite active, actually exercising under red sun lamps to get her muscular look. Nor could age or children be counted on to eventually fatten up Karen as would inevitably happen to Diana’s mortal counter parts, for under a yellow sun PG would stay in her twenties permanently. But despite this Diana had ways to see the muscular rival turn into a quivering blimp, her own legs going weak at the thought of that white leotard ripping under the soft, constant pressure of belly rolls as the normally strong willed heroine begged for more food. It might be surprising that such an impossibly athletic specimen as Diana had feeder tendencies, but it was common amongst the Amazons of Paradise Island. Games of kinky dominance and submission were how the island’s beauties passed eternity: catfights might determin which woman would be dominant for an afternoon of bondage and eroticism, but more ceremonial fights every newyear determined more permanent results. Two of the island’s best champions would enter the island’s training arena’s with athletic legs, rockhard abs and perky breasts, but the first one knocked on her back would spend an entire year of public humiliation as the victor’s hand fed pet. Denied customary exercise and fed on obscene amounts of magically enriched foods at public banquets, the losing athlete would grow soft and flabby, losing her lean looks and super human abilities as the pounds accumulated. At the new year the loser could run a one minute mile, fly like the wind or lift a tank, but with the special food she’d gain thirty pounds a month. By midsummer she would be sweating under one hundred eighty pounds of adipose, her powers of flight reduced to lifting her corpulent bulk barely an inch off the ground and would burst into sweat at the mere sight of stairs. At the end of the year, the 400 + lb losing champion would be lucky if she could waddle into the arena to watch the next winner and loser be determined. Of course, a return to Amazonian exercise regimes and normal diet would see the unfortunate woman athletic and lovely again by the following autumn, but the year of humiliating obesity would never be forgotten. Growing up, Diana had fought in the ceremonial fights, never coming losing and bulking up a half dozen spritely Amazons into flabby hulks. Memories of pert breasts growing huge and sagging towards fat roll encased bellies started making Diana wet, almost letting an alien war suit land a blow. But her peerless reactions let her dodge aside and knock it out with ease, just as the battle started finishing. The clean up wouldn’t take long with numerous heroes assisting, but it would give her just enough time to start putting her plans into motion. If she played things right, her rival would be soft in a few weeks, fat in a few months and obese by the new year. Putting her thoughts in order as she lifted rubble and piled destroyed alien robots, the Amazon gracefully flew over to her target, forcing herself to make her evil grin friendlier. 'Say Karen, have I ever invited you to Paradise Island?'
  3. [I'm planning to upload this story to Curvage in chunks, but the rest can be read here: https://www.deviantart.com/weapona] Chapter 1 From the time she could walk, Cassandra Cain (aka Batgirl) had moved like a gazelle: hyper-alert, effortlessly sure-footed, and astonishingly quick. Perhaps it was genetics. Her mother was similarly gifted. That being said, Lady Shiva’s was the methodical grace of an apex predator. She was more experienced, knowing precisely what she was capable of (which was a good deal) and recognizing her limits (which comprised a much shorter list). Unstoppable, glacial floes of ice – not fire – pumped through her veins. Cass was younger, though, and blazing with untapped potential. She was still improving, still testing boundaries. If she was ever going to find her limits, she’d surely do it the hard way. She was too reckless, too stubborn – too hungry – for anything else. There was something more than genetics to her, then. Perhaps it was upbringing. In some ways, Cass had been raised like a gazelle by her father, the assassin David Cain: constantly surrounded by lions. The slightest moment of weakness could be a death sentence. The softest, padding footstep, the faintest rustle in the tall grass… She had learned to see and hear everything and to respond with the speed of lightning and the precision of a tornado that could snatch up a carton of eggs and set it down, unscathed, a hundred miles away. That, though, was something no one had taught her, something that made Cassandra neither predator nor prey. Just Cass. Just Batgirl. In spite of her mother, she was merciful. In spite of her father, she was unafraid. For someone who had only ever known violence, she could be surprisingly gentle, which was just as well for her friend Stephanie. “Aaaaugh…” Stephanie Brown (also aka Batgirl) had taught the formerly mute and illiterate Cassandra more words than anyone except perhaps her mentor Barbara Gordon. She even seemed to invent a few new ones every time the two of them sparred, a verbose series of grunts and groans that were unfamiliar to even Cass, who had punched more people than she had spoken to. Unlike Cassandra’s father, Stephanie’s hadn’t taught her to be silent – he hadn’t taught her much of anything, for that matter. She had learned to make her own way in the world, to voice her opinions freely and without apology, almost as if to prove to herself and everyone else that she was, in fact, present and worth paying attention to. People like her father ignored her at their own risk, but not Cass. She truly enjoyed listening to Steph talk. Not that she was doing much of that at the moment, lying on her face with her purple cape splayed to one side. “Uuuuugh…” When compared to most people, Stephanie was an excellent fighter: resilient, quick on her feet, and willing to fight dirty. Cass, on the other hand, found her style slow and clumsy, to put it generously. At least she was learning to fall pretty gracefully, but perhaps that was to be expected. She’d gotten a lot of practice during their weekly sparring sessions, with the rocky cave floor leaving more than a few tears in her old Spoiler costume (which she’d been forced to don while some quick repairs were made to her new, Batgirl suit – similarly mangled, courtesy of the floor). Not even breathing heavily, Cass pulled up her cowl, allowing her small mop of messy black hair to flop forward before she shook most of it out of her face. She leaned forward, flicking through the pockets of Steph’s utility belt until she found her phone and jabbed in the password ($p*!l#r@l#rt!). A moment later, Cass found what she was looking for: a small app labeled with large red letters. Big Belly Burger. “All right, Cheater.” Stephanie grumbled, propping herself up on her elbows and squinting up at Cass. “What am I getting you today?” Cass held out the phone so she could see. “Four quarter-pounders, 2 XL fries, and 2 chocolate milkshakes…” It was an obscene amount of food for a girl who weighed 110 pounds, but Steph’s eyes slid past the alarming calorie counts to the only number that truly concerned her. It, too, amounted to a shockingly high total. “Really, Cassie? A 50% tip?” Cass shrugged. “I need to see if a billionaire will adopt me sometime,” the blonde Batgirl sighed. “Or win sometime.” Cass shrugged again. Steph glared at her through watery, bloodshot eyes. “I don’t know what you’ve more completely destroyed… my body… my soul… or my bank account…” “Want food?” “Not fair, Cass. My wallet… is empty… My stomach… is halfway across the room…” “I’ll have Alfred make tea.” “Thank you. None of that stuff your Mom makes, though!” “It’s good for you. Strong.” Cass flashed a disapproving frown. “Less sugar.” “Don’t talk to me about sugar, Cassie. You drink milkshakes the size of your own freaking torso!” Cass glanced down at her lean, powerful body, patting her rippling abs appraisingly. “Small milkshake, then,” she pronounced happily, turning and walking toward the stairs that wound upward from the Batcave to Wayne Manor. She thrust her tiny but powerful fist defiantly into the air, causing her black cape to flutter behind her. “Need fuel!” “Were you low on fuel before?! Now, there’s a scary thought…” Stephanie managed to sit up, then thought about standing. She thought about it for some time. In fact, she was still thinking about it when Cass returned with her order, which practically overflowed her slender, gauntleted arms. She took the steps two at a time despite the fact that she had a mug balanced on her head – the white one with the tiny Nightwing (Alfred was a collector). Cass dropped the bags full of food on the cave floor, then crouched in front of Steph. “Ooh, yes… Gimme caffeine,” Stephanie moaned, opening and closing her hands. Cass smirked at her and subtly shook her head. The mug hardly wavered. “Brat.” Steph struggled to sit up, reaching feebly, only for her tormentor to hop lightly backward like a little gremlin. This time, the tea spilled a little, a drop trickling down the side of Cass’s face and connecting with her impish smile. “Mm. Sweet.” Stephanie’s eyes flashed. “Oh yeah? Let’s see how you like it—” She tried to grab the greasy fast food bags, but Cass scooped them up before she could so much as blink. Still, she’d made her point, and Cass leaned forward so Steph could retrieve the mug. Then, she hauled Stephanie upright, allowing the still-exhausted girl to lean against her appreciatively. While Stephanie sipped her tea, Cass inspected her own spoils of war, tearing through the paper bags like a wild animal. In addition to everything she’d ordered, Cass had apparently received enough barbecue sauce to fill a small pond. The perks of a 50% tip, presumably. She wasted no time drenching her burgers in the stuff, and even her fries, and a fair amount spilled on her sleek black bodysuit as well. Stephanie laughed. “You might want to go a little easy on the fuel, Cass, before you start to resemble a storage tank. Even your metabolism has its limits!” Cass stared at her for a moment, cheeks puffed out with her mouth full to bursting, then shrugged and returned to her burger before she had even had the chance to swallow. Steph stifled a giggle. Her fellow Batgirl had learned to fight from the greatest warriors on earth, but clearly, none of them had taught her how to eat. Cassandra Cain moved like a gazelle, but she chewed like a hippopotamus. ***** “Yesyesyesyes!” Stephanie jumped off the couch, waving a letter printed in very small type on red-and-gold paper. “Wha[t] i[s] i[t]?” Cass asked through a mouthful of breakfast. “Ivy University.” Her friend grinned widely, her pretty face outshining even her flow of bright, golden hair. “I got the scholarship!” She ran over to the table, giving Cass a fierce hug. Cassandra laughed. “Goo[d] jo[b]!” She swallowed with some difficulty, then swiveled in her seat to properly face Steph, who was practically vibrating. “You’re coming too, right?” Steph demanded. “To Ivy?” Cass hesitated. “What if they need me here?” “Well, gee, I dunno. If only we knew someone who owned a billion private jets, planes, cars, and Bat-boats.” Steph rolled her eyes. “Come on! Ivy Town needs us, Cassie.” Cass scoffed, returning to her small mountain of syrup-soaked, buttery pancakes. “They [s]ay i[t’s] the [s]afe[st] pla[ce] on ear[th].” “Don’t believe everything you see on commercials. Sure, the crime rates are low, but maybe their businesses are secretly in decline. You can save the local economy with your love of breakfast!” It was Cass’s turn to roll her eyes, chugging some freshly squeezed orange juice to wash down Alfred’s world-famous flapjacks. “What about dinner?” “I’m sure they’ve also got plenty of Big Belly Burgers for you to put in your big belly,” Steph quipped, patting Cassandra’s stomach, which was indeed looking a little rounder that morning. “I’m just a little full!” “Well, I guess four plates of pancakes will do that to you, not to mention that…” Stephanie laughed, grabbing a napkin to wipe off some of the syrup covering Cass’s slightly reddened cheeks. “Maybe I shouldn’t count on you getting accepted in the first place, Miss Piggy. A prestigious university may not want to admit such a slob.” “I’ll get in.” Cass smirked. “I’ve got good grades.” “Oh, yeah. I’m sure all those acceptance letters are because of your grades and have nothing to do with every school in the country wanting Bruce Wayne’s daughter as an alumnus…” Cass hummed a little, picking up her fork again but pausing a few inches from the plate. “You think it will be good? School?” “Absolutely. One hundred percent.” “But what if—” “Hey!” Steph slugged her shoulder. “Don’t wimp out on me now. We said we’d get our degrees together. Ivy’s got a great dance program, and given how much your reading has improved, I doubt you’ll even need my help with the other classes.” Cass frowned but then nodded slowly. “Okay. We can try i—” Stephanie hugged her again, laughing and rocking from side to side. Cass could feel her pulse with excitement and smiled a little in spite of herself. Glancing at the brochure Steph had dropped on the table, she saw big buildings with classical architecture… spotless dorm rooms and pearly smiles… cloudless skies and freshly cut grass. It all made Cassandra a little uneasy, though. In a place like that, what could go wrong? ***** “I’m bored…” Cassandra fell lightly on her back, sprawling with effortless, haphazard grace across a massive blue couch with her small booted feet dangling over an armrest. Her left arm drooped toward the floor, gloved fingers picking restlessly at the carpet. Stephanie glanced up from the loose papers spread around her desk. “Oh, hey. Didn’t hear you come in.” “I can’t hear anything either,” Cass grumbled. “You know, most people see the lack of crime as a good thing.” “It is good,” she conceded. “But I know there must be criminals somewhere, and that’s where I should be.” “You should be in class. Maybe you wouldn’t be so bored if you didn’t sleep all morning, mope around all afternoon, and stay up till a quarter to five roaming the streets.” “It’s so quiet,” Cass insisted, frowning. “I must be missing something. No place is this quiet.” “Trust me, compared to Gotham, most places are going to seem boring, but if you’re willing to look around, you might be surprised what you uncover.” “I have been looking—” “Cass, I mean at school.” Stephanie crossed her arms. “Join a club or something. The other students won’t bite. Much. Probably.” Cass tilted her head. “What does that mean?” Steph hesitated. “Just that you’re not around much, and when you are, you’re very… quiet. People think you’re judging them. Or planning to kill them. Or planning to kill and eat them. You should try blinking more.” “Hmm.” Cass pursed her lips. She couldn’t really deny what Stephanie was saying – she could read body language better than most, and she could acknowledge that her own was not always the most casual or friendly. “Or you know…” “What?” Cass stared. Steph looked at her for a moment. Then, slowly, the corners of her mouth turned up and pulled back. “No.” “Why not?” she sighed. “I smile when I’m happy. When I’m at school, I’m bored. All the time.” Stephanie frowned, then abruptly stood up. “No. Not all the time.” She was grinning again. Cass blinked up at her. “What?” “I know something that makes you smile…” “Yeah?” “Food!” “Oh. How does that—” “You could join the Baking Club!” Steph suggested. “There’s a club for that?” “There’s a club for everything.” “But I can’t cook.” “I’ll give ya some pointers. They’ll never be able to tell.” “Steph, you can’t cook either. Why do you think we order out all the time?” Stephanie scowled. “Hey, that’s on you and that garbage disposal you call a stomach.” Cass shrugged. “Try winning.” “How about you try a freaking vegetable?!” “No.” Cass swung her legs up, flipping gracefully backward onto her feet and stretching, her cape sliding off of the couch and flowing smoothly around her petite but muscular frame as she twisted around. “Bedtime.” “I’m forging your signature on the sign-up sheet tomorrow,” Stephanie warned. Cassandra yawned. “If they want me, I’ll be in my bed.” She started to walk away, then stopped, halted in her tracks by a familiar gurgling. “Snack first,” she muttered. “Can I borrow your phone?” “You know, you have one too.” “Don’t know where it is.” “Probably on a rooftop somewhere… Fine, I guess, but make sure that you get—” Steph broke off. “Actually. On second thought.” Cass crossed her arms. She was getting that look again… “Steph.” “Oh, yesss…?” “What is it.” “I just remembered a little something I left in the fridge.” Steph jogged over to the kitchen. “C’mon. Give it a try!” Cass followed, mildly intrigued. “Give what a try?” “A bunch of clubs had tables set up in the common area, and the Baking Club was giving out samples.” “What kind?” “Cupcakes!” Stephanie grinned before sliding smoothly in front of the container to carefully conceal its Walmart packaging. She grabbed a couple of cupcakes and turned, waving them invitingly. Cass smiled slightly. “Okay, fine.” She took one cupcake, peeled off the wrapper, and popped the treat into her mouth. She chewed for a bit, pupils dilating subtly, then reached for the other one. A moment later, it too was stuffed into her mouth, and she began chewing loudly. “Pretty good, right?” Steph crossed her arms. “Mmm… Mhm…” Cass nodded, her ballooning cheeks wobbling ever so slightly. “So, forget about the cooking. Stick around for the eating. Here, have some more cupcakes!” “Mmm, mm-mmm…” “So, will you sign up tomorrow? Just to give it a try?” “Mmm… Mm-mm.” “Great! Here’s another to celebrate.” (Steph might have bought way too many cupcakes…) ***** The next morning, Cass and Steph headed down to the common room, wandering between tables advertising various student groups. “Ooh, look – gymnastics.” Stephanie nudged her taciturn friend. “You should try out. You’d be great at it!” “No thanks.” Cass shook her head. “Too many people watching.” “Like that’s ever stopped you before, Odette…” Cass flushed. “Ballet is different. When the music starts… No one else is there.” “Fair enough. When are practices, by the way?” “At night.” She scowled. “Great! Less time for sulking around street corners.” “Hnh.” “Don’t worry. I’ll pick up the slack, run around in the dark…” Steph yawned. “I could definitely use the exercise if I want to skip the Freshman 15. Gotta watch my figure.” “All of us have to.” Cass flashed a mischievous smile, nodding pointedly at Steph’s backside, which was by no means large but was undeniably broader and flatter than Cassandra’s small but perfectly sculpted curves. “Have to make room.” “Oh yeah? Are you calling me fat, you little—” Stephanie tried to smack Cass’s shoulder, only to swat a handful of air. “Not fat, just slow.” Cass leaned against a pillar several yards away and smirked. Her smile faded slightly, though, when she realized that half the room was staring at her. “What did I do?” she hissed to Steph. “Won some fans, probably,” Stephanie whispered back. “Half of these tables are for groups of athletes, and you’re the only girl here with a six-pack, dancing around like Muhammad freakin’ Ali. You look like you’d have an easier time breaking the sound barrier than a sweat.” “They should blink more,” Cassandra muttered. Then, her nose twitched, and she barrelled over to one of the tables as if intent on knocking it over. “You make cupcakes?” The girl sitting at the table blinked. “Sometimes.” “Where do I put my name?” “Uh, the clipboard?” “No gymnastics… no soccer… no track,” Cassie declared, scribbling furiously on the paper, then brandishing the pen like a sword. “I am with the Baking Club!” “Bon appétit.” Steph twirled a lock of her hair, wandering over. She glanced down at the slightly rumpled sheet, then up at the girl. “Uh, her name’s Cass. Cass Wayne.” Cass had gotten pretty good when it came to the movements of handwriting and the shape of letters, but unfortunately, she would sometimes put five or six of those shapes in a space only a few millimeters wide, especially when she got excited. “Oh.” The girl nodded. “Okay. Email address?” Stephanie shifted over and picked up the pen. “Cass, do you want me to…?” Cass had already moved on to inspecting the plates of samples, which Stephanie decided to take as a “yes.” “I’m Stephanie, by the way,” she chirped while jotting Cass’s email down. “Nice to meet you. I’m Adrianna.” Adrianna was a pale, brunette girl with a thin face that seemed inclined to frown. She frowned now, glancing from Stephanie to Cassandra with a mildly curious expression. The two didn’t look much alike, nor act much alike. Stephanie seemed upbeat and laidback, a bright personality with a colorful flair. She was a little on the tall side and in good shape. Her hair was long, straight, and blonde, and her lightly freckled features were a touch soft but well-defined. She seemed quick to smile and carried herself casually, wearing roomy, high-waisted jeans that flattered her curvy, borderline buxom figure and perfectly matched her pink sweater. Cassandra didn’t wear much pink. She seemed a bit uneasy in the crowded area, slouching a bit with her hands held close to her body. Her face was small and round, with a similarly small, round nose and big brown eyes. Her hair was short and messy – clean, but sloppily maintained. The look suited her, though, partly because apart from her clothes (a baggy crop top and a pair of black shorts that sagged slightly at the waist), there wasn’t much else that was sloppy about her. She looked like an Olympic gymnast, barely five feet tall but with legs thicker than her waist. Her arms were slender but tightly muscled, and her expression alone would have been compelling evidence that she packed more of a wallop than most people twice her size. “She doesn’t look like she’d be that much into food,” Adrianna remarked slowly. Steph chuckled. “Oh, you’d be surprised. She’s a ballerina.” And also a crime-fighting super-ninja… Adrianna’s eyes bugged. “What?” Steph laughed. The other girl chuckled weakly. “Oh, uh, nothing. That just, um… explains it. Our Club’s president is a ballerina, too, and she eats as much as a football player. Skinny as a twig, though.” “Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure that Cass here eats as much as a football team… Isn’t that right, Cassie?” “Hm?” “You know, you probably shouldn’t sample everything, Champ.” “It’s fine.” Adrianna sighed. “This is our last day out here, and Lesley said that I have to eat any leftovers to keep them from going stale.” “Oh. Is Lesley—” “The president, yeah. She was annoyed because I kept coming up with excuses to skip working these recruitment tables, so today, I’m doing it all myself…” “Nice.” Stephanie snorted. “I mean, she sometimes is.” Adrianna bit her lip. “She’s just been in an especially bad mood lately because some new rich kid came in and stole the—” She broke off, glancing at Cassandra and clearly doing some quick mental arithmetic. Stephanie put the pieces together even more quickly. She laughed nervously. “You know, could we take that name off the list…?” “Why?” Cass interjected, seeming to have noticed the change in Steph’s demeanor. “What’s wrong?” “Well, um, it sounds like the Baking Club’s president might, you know…” Stephanie flashed a forced, apologetic grin. “…hate you.” Cass paused. “Why? Too much staring?” “Too much starring, actually. I guess you’re just too much of a prima ballerina, Champ!” “She’s mad I got the lead?” “Uh, yeah. You’re new here, so people who have been here a while might feel like they’ve done more to earn the top spot, even though you undoubtedly, completely deserve it, and if I hear even one clown say ‘nepotism—’” “Nepo…” “Nepotism. It’s when… um… when people get extra opportunities just because of who’s in their family, which totally isn’t—” Cass straightened. “They don’t think I’m good enough?” “Aw, who cares what they think?” Stephanie waved dismissively. “I just thought maybe you could, like, make sure to avoid this Lesley person at all costs.” “Why? I’m not scared of her!” “Of course not, but I’m trying to—” “When’s the first meeting?” Cass leaned toward Adrianna, who had begun to gather the remaining plates of food. “Tuesday at 9:30.” Steph perked up at this glimmer of hope. “Cass, when’s ballet?” “Six-thirty to nine.” “Oh. Right.” Steph supposed that this shouldn’t have come as a surprise. When one was president of the Baking Club, one could make sure meetings weren’t until after one’s other stuff… Worse, this Lesley had to be pretty deranged to schedule something at such a late hour on a school night… “Are you gonna eat all of that?” Cass asked Adrianna. “Unless someone rescues me.” “I can take that. And that. And—” “Do you want the tablecloth, too, while you’re at it?” “Be careful what you suggest. She’d probably eat the chairs if they were frosted.” Stephanie rolled her eyes. She placed her hands on Cass’s shoulders, steering her away from the table. “C’mon. We’ve got class. You might have all the snacks your greedy heart desires, but I intend to feast my eyes on that TA with the nice…” Her voice slowly faded in the distance. The brown-haired girl watched them go, then sat in silence for a very long moment before quietly standing and gathering up the corners of the tablecloth. She pulled them together, drawing up the few remaining plates of snacks into a tightly packed bundle. Then, she began humming as she wandered over to the nearest trash can, dropping it all inside without a second thought for the discarded food – not even the most resilient of the bunch, a tray of cherry jigglers that collapsed into a gelatinous heap at the bottom of the trash can and wobbled feebly for several moments as if trying to escape.
  4. First chapter in a new, long story set in the DC comics universe: Chapter 1: Ordering Barnaby’s Buffet Barn was slow when the meeting started. A big restaurant filled with booths and tables, it was almost empty due to the lunch crowd having filed out two hours before and the dinner crowd being three hours away. Only a few retirees were really there, but store policy was to have food out regardless. In the Asian section, sauce heavy General Tso’s chicken glistened next to pyramids of cream cheese stuffed wontons, while across the aisle in the American Section mountains of French fries steamed beside thick slices of roast beef. An entire wall of Soder Soda fountains of every possible flavor and type stood empty, next to several soft serve ice cream machines and a make your own milk shake stand. To save money, management only had a few employees there, most of them cooks prepping fresh food in the back and leaving the front under one worker’s bored eyes. Steve was a college sophomore working his way to a psychology degree. He was immensely bored, having already swept the aisles twice and made sure the buffet was spic and span before returning to the front door and waiting for anyone to come in while wrestling with deciding whether to get on his phone or not. In general he didn’t mind getting paid for essentially nothing, but Steve’s girl friend had dumped him two days ago, the long distance hadn’t done them favors, and although it wasn’t in too bad of terms he could use a distraction, preferably one in the form of a cute co-ed to flirt with. Right now the only customers he had to focus on were a few overweight grannies playing bridge in a far corner, not exactly ideal flirting material. He sighed, propping his head on his hand and looking down at his phone, debating whether or not to text his now ex-girlfriend. ‘Hey Sugar, got any tables open in this joint?’ a sultry voice asked him, ‘I could use a big one.’ Steve’s eyes darted up and widened. If not for his hand already holding up his chin it would have gone slack and he was immensely glad for the front desk hiding his crotch. In front of him was a knock out. The girl, no woman, looked to be in her mid, maybe late twenties and was in spectacular shape. In an America where being only ten pounds over weight made you average, this lady was a stunner. She wasn’t very tall, maybe 5’4, but fish net tights cradled shapely legs that seemed very long below a short, skin tight black skirt around her broad hips. A white tee with a winking black cat in a witch's hat on it cradled a flat belly, showing a sliver of tan flesh, and gorgeously pert tits, either a big C or a firm D by Steve’s not exactly practiced judgement. ‘Cat got your tongue?’ she said amused and he looked up to see her gorgeous oval face, a friendly grin on her red lips and one plucked black eye brow over dark brown eyes. She was for some reason, wearing a small top hat affixed by a pin to her shoulder length black hair which was in a pony tail and carried a small black leather purse. ‘Um…yes…I mean…no…I mean…we’ve got plenty of room,’ Steve stammered, brain desperately trying to pull blood from his dick, ‘table for one?’ ‘Make that five,’ she told him with a grin, turning around to look out the window at the parking lot and giving Steve an impossible to resist look at a stunning badonka donk, each perfectly round cheek the result of so many lunges and squats it looked ready to pop out of the skirt seams, ‘although I don’t think any of them have got here yet.’ ‘Uhhh,’ Steve said, quickly sliding a menu in front of his waist as he stepped from out behind the register, ‘how will I know them?’ ‘Trust me, I’m sure you’ll recognize them when they arrive,’ she said with a wink, ‘can you give me a more private room? We girls can get a little bit…emotive when we eat.’ ‘Oh yeah…yeah…uh…we’ve got a party room in the back,’ he said, struggling against oxygen deprivation as the woman stepped by him, hips swaying, ‘it’s a bit far from the buffet though…’ ‘Trust me, it won’t be much of an issue to us…yet,’ she winked. The lady sat in the party room, a room that could easily fit thirty and equipped with its own ice cream machine and soda fountains, and looked up at the waiter as he plopped a plastic soda cup on her table. ‘Sorry to seem lazy, but I just sat down and could you do me a favor?’ she cooed, a bit of cleavage showing on her shirt, ‘Get me a big glass of root beer, just a little bit of ice? No bra today, so if its too cold…’ Her shoulders shrugged in demonstration and Steve almost fell over. She wasn’t wearing a bra. She wasn’t wearing a bra. She wasn’t wearing a bra. ‘Sure! Sure!’ he said, quickly pouring the drink, almost spilling it and putting it down, placing a straw in it as he did. The woman took a long, deep sip, lips sucking hard enough he almost fell over. ‘That’s great sugar, get me another after a while will you? By the way, put Z on the check.’ Steve swallowed, brain having run out of words by that point. He walked out, stride somewhat out of whack, and slid gently into his chair behind the register, trying to force down his raging hard on. As blood slowly came back up he started desperately formulating a strategy to get this lady’s number. It was going to be hard, pardoning the pun. He wasn’t bad looking by any means but not working out much due to both work and study wasn’t doing his formerly hard bod any favors and he wished he’d shaved this week. Even if he’d lived in a gym the last decade and been a hell of a lot more suave and rich this woman was out of his league. She was stupidly hot and impossibly sexual…but she was giving off every possible signal she wanted to screw with him. But did she want to screw him or screw with him? Did he care? ‘Hi!’ a chipper voice said eagerly in front of him, ‘Are you busy? Oh geez, I hope you’re not busy. Should I seat myself?’ Steve’s eyes darted up and saw against all odds the second hotty to walk into the room within ten minutes. What he noted first was blonde. Long blonde hair, almost down to her waist framed a diamond face with big blue eyes behind cute, hipster glasses. Very white teeth were nipping soft pink lips in a worried expression. A long, loose red skirt went down to her knees, while she had long ugg boots around her calves. She had in contrast a tight yellow T with a peace sign in between what were assuredly firm b cups. Unlike her friend, surely this was one of the four the gorgeous brunette was waiting on, she lacked a lot of curves, but she had an earnest, kind girl next door sort of vibe if the girl next door had a runway model’s body under her clothes. She couldn’t have been twenty yet and everything about her screamed college coed, hell, was she in his college? Surely he’d have noticed but she looked really familiar. ‘Uhh…no! I’m not busy! Not at all,’ he said a little bit more focused. Sure she was utterly gorgeous, but not quite the same level of urgent sexiness that shut down his mind. Granted, there was some hardening but this was a type of hot that he was familiar with. ‘Oh great! Can you help me find my friend?’ she asked eagerly, looking around even though the only other people insight were at least forty years older than the sultry first woman. ‘Oh sure. Yeah, she’s…hey are you in Professor Swinton’s class? I could have sworn I’d seen you before?’ he asked, noticing she seemed strangely familiar. ‘Yeah…that must be it!’ she said, slightly nervously, ‘Oh hey, there’s my friend! Gotta go!’ She hurried off, skirt swishing, despite the first woman not being anywhere in sight. Even though the party room’s door was shut and unmarked she found it easily and opened it up. Steve sighed, wondering if he’d put off a too desperate vibe. ‘Hello! Are you the water? Or is it the mater-dee?’ a third voice interrupted his wondering, touching some sort of mental third rail that had him hard before he turned to face her. This lady was tall, five ten at least and somehow all of it seemed to be made out of leg. Really tan skin over really long shapely thighs showed under very very short, very very tight purple shorts that clung tight to gorgeous hips that made Steve’s brain scream ‘PUT A BABY IN HER NOW!’. A far too short crop top exposed several inches of toned belly and the ensemble was so skimpy the outline of her pelvis was visible along with her lower ribs. His eyes started twitching when he got to her boobs, assuredly double D’s that defied gravity with their pertness and given the nipple outlines jutting through the purple fabric not in a bra. He barely noticed her knee length fire red hair or her vivid green eyes, the green covering far more than would be normal. ‘Uhhhh,’ he said, mental processes threatening to shut off, ‘Hi.’ ‘Oh hello! I am here to meet some friends! Girlfriends!,’ she started again, her words strangely accented somewhere between australian and Russian, ‘Friends that are girls! We are not that kind of girlfriends unfortunately, I’ve asked though and maybe one day we will be.’ ‘That’s very nice,’ Steven said, his IQ plummeting by the moment as what mental capacity still existed was taken up with this impossible arrival and the two women already in the room. ‘Your re-star-ra-unt is very nice!’ the red head continued, mouth going a mile a minute despite butchering many of the words, ‘The amount of food here is very enticing! Is it a bu-fat then?’ ‘Yeah….all you can eat,’ Steven said, wobbling. ‘Oh good! I am very the hungry and could eat like a the pig,’ she said smiling, ‘All of the food I’ve eaten here is so delicious, every meal is great! Where I am from everyone is so thin, but here people are lucky they can be fat. My friend Raven though says that I deserve to be a ‘fat-ass’ I eat so much but it remains hard no matter what! I’ve been eating a lot though lately, can you tell me if I look ‘fat-ass?’ She turned around, showing off and sticking out an ass that made the first woman’s pert rear look both flat and flabby. Steven couldn’t say anything at this point. ‘Oh no! Look at me doing talking! I am supposed to meet friends.’ ‘Ummmmm.’ ‘You seem very nice Stev-en!’ she said reading his name tag badly, ‘I would give you my number, but I don’t know what it is yet! Your food here smells very nice though! I will come back many times even though I might become a fat ass! Can you tell me if my friends are here?’ Steven raised his hand, pointing at the party room’s door and almost falling over. ‘Oh thank you!’ she said, wrapping him in an incredibly strong hug, breasts driving the wind out of him, ‘I will get some food and go in!’ The waiter was so numbed mentally that he didn’t notice the red head grabbing a plate of soft serve ice cream covered in yellow mustard before entering the party room. His vision wavered, breathing heavy until the door opened again with a soft bell chime. It would have been impossible to not be attracted to the third woman (not that many would turn away the other two though), even gay guys who liked fat old people would pop boners at her and the next one in line wasn't any exception. But for the first time Steven felt guilty about being attracted. Woman number four was very tall. Steven was at six one and this lady had an inch at least on him without the high heels. Elegance gleamed off her, from her black pinstripe slacks to matching jacket and tight white blouse. Maybe she was older than any of the other ladies, but she had a timeless look that Steven would have believed her to be anything between a mature nineteen and spectacularly well preserved forty five if she said it. Steven’s exhausted hard on wanted to whimper looking at her, like he was sinning just by being in the same room as this perfect woman. Her legs, impossibly long, must have been spectacular beneath those slacks and the bulge at her chest was just as large as the chatter box red head. Her olive skinned face was disturbingly symmetrical, lips too firm, her eyes were almost too blue, skin too smooth. She wasn’t wearing makeup and she wouldn’t need to, it would be like putting paint onto of Renaissance statues. Her jet black hair was in a tight bun and star earring gleamed on her ears. Steven blinked at her. ‘I’m looking for some friends of mine,’ she said, looking at Steven who didn’t know whether to respond or fall on his knees, in a voice that on its own seemed strong enough to dead lift a tank. ‘I can see that,’ he said, wilting in shame. ‘They're here I can assume by your …posture,’ she said, looking around at the temple of gluttony, ‘although I’m not sure why she chose this place to meet. She’s in a private room?’ ‘Just past the oldsters,’ he replied, finding staring at her too hard. ‘Those are not oldsters. They’re people, they’re women, ones who’ve worked their entire lives to please others,’ the tall woman said, leaning in, a flash of a silver bracelet on her wrist as she put her hand on the desk and pulled Steven towards her, ‘they deserve your respect, no matter their age. Would you have people call your mother oldster? When you too grow grey would you like to be insulted? If some woman decides to be with you, will you desert her when she is no longer comely? Your disrespect disgusts me.’ She turned and Steven didn’t dare turn to look at her no doubt perfect ass. Instead he shivered and whimpered, mind practically in a blender. ‘Diana already here then?’ another voice asked as the bell chimed again. Guest number five looked at him with a raised blonde eye brow above a bright blue eye, while her lips sucked on the straw of a whip cream heavy Frappuccino. Technically, she was very tall, six feet at least. Technically, she was in spectacular shape, her hard biceps bulging even as she sucked the fatty treat and her powerfully muscled legs bulging at white leggings. Technically, she looked like the second girls more ripped, shorter haired, taller and tanner big sister, twenty five to girl number twos nineteen. This was all technical to Steven though as he couldn’t look away from her tits. F cups. F cups at the minimum. Huge, gigantic, hooters that had to cause car accidents every day. They surged at the bra and workout shirt as the woman walked in, jostling against the cups with the occasional sigh of a stitch. No, F cups were too small. This lady was big in the shoulders and these things still looked disproportionately huge. G cups? Holy shit, maybe Hs? He could drown in cleavage like that. Hell, he’d like to drown in them. He’d be proud to have it on his tomb stone, ‘Here lies Steven, died in epic tits.’ ‘Eyes up here buddy,’ she said, finishing off the coffee drink and lifting his chin up with a finger so he looked her in the eyes. ‘I’m sorry!’ he said, feeling like a five year old with his hand in the cookie jar. ‘Trust me, its not the first time its happened, just have a thought. Not everyone has skin that’s as thick as mine. You’re more likely to get laid if you think about what’s behind the rack. You know, how I"m a person too.’ ‘You’re right…I’m…I’m really sorry,’ he said, forcing his eyes up, ‘its been a weird day and I should be better.’ ‘Kori already here then?’ she said looking down at his crotch. Steven followed her gaze, eyes just briefly brushing over her cleavage to see with horror a small wet stain at his crotch, just to the side of his still rock hard member, both clear in the khaki pants. ‘Oh shit. Oh shit,’ he muttered. ‘Hey, it happens. You’re not a monster or evil or even a dick for getting turned on when five of the hottest women you’ve ever seen walk by, especially if Kori is one of them. You’re just a horny guy, its biology. Its only if you hate us for not automatically fucking you for good service or try stalking us or eye fuck us or cat call or overlook other customers for us that you’re a dick. Also don’t try stalking us, it won’t end well.’ ‘You give really good advice. I’m sorry about all this, it is a bit weird,’ he said, ‘we don’t usually get women who…well. Oh shit, that would be a dick thing to imply, um…you’re friends are in the party room for privacy. The door past the two old er, I mean, senior urrr, other customers playing bridge.’ ‘Thanks Steve,’ the last woman said, ‘I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other. A lot more really.’ ‘Well, in that case,’ he said, this last woman’s easy demeanor and open honesty raising up some hopes, ‘I’m off in a few-‘ ‘I’m a lesbian. Kind of. Its complicated,’ she said, ‘Honestly. Big dyke, like sixty percent of the time, even if I have time for it…but if you can control yourself around my ginger friend, you can probably get laid every night this week provided you don’t die or mind sharing.’ ‘What…really?’ ‘Oh yeah. Huge slut, super friendly, very well, let's say foreign ideas of propriety. When we’re done she’ll probably 69 you in your car if you can talk to her for a few minutes. But seriously though, you wouldn’t be her main squeeze or even a side guy. You’d be like a cup of coffee after six course dinner. Trust me though, it’ll be the time of your life getting drunk. I’m Karen by the way, bring me all the checks and I’ll give you some other tips.’ She turned and left the waiter behind. The muscular blonde didn’t really liked being oggled, but she also understood basic biology and how one of her friends might fry someone’s brain, let alone five of them one after another. The guy was sexually shell shocked and then probably terrified by Dianna too. It was an easy pace to the party room and it slid open easily, not that she was even trying. She could have crossed the long restaurant in a heartbeat and kicked the door to Canada without even trying. Four women turned and looked at her as she came in. ‘You’re looking very well Karen,’ Dianna said, her eyes not exactly pleased, ‘although you don’t need to show it all off.’ ‘Well, let’s just say I’m proud of what the goddesses gave me to work with while I can work with it. Maybe you should do the same in civvie clothes,’ the new entrant said, walking over to the soda machine and fixing herself a suicide of half a dozen flavors before topping it with a big blob of vanilla ice cream, ‘I’m not sure that’s a good outfit for what we’re doing though. You’re professional wear would be better, although the belt would probably pinch after a bit.’ ‘Hi Karen. I’m glad that we’re doing this together,’ the skinny blonde girl pipped up, ‘well, not that we’re doing this. Its kind of weird and I’m not really looking forward to it, but I’m glad you’re here too. Oh god, not that I mean you’re going to have it happen to you too!’ ‘Its nice to see you to Kara,’ the taller blonde smiled, coming back to the table, ‘although the circumstances could be better. We should hang out more, talk about your classes.’ ‘Kar-umph-en!’ the red head said through a mouthful of melting ice cream and mustard, ‘You, urp, look great. Who’s gribnocks do you think will be biggest at the end?’ ‘We’ll just have to find out won’t we Kori, although I’ve got a bit of a start I wouldn't mind getting together and comparing some time,’ Karen said, sitting down into the chair and looking at the so far silent first woman, who sat at the end of the table, trying not to smile. ‘So Zatanna,’ she said to the brunette, ‘we’re all here. Enough super powered might to level a planet and cheese cake to put playboy out of business if we started up our own Instagram.’ ‘As if,’ Diana said with a huff. ‘You say that, but your costume covers less than mine,’ the curvy blonde laughed, ‘and since you’re here its going to cover a lot less.’ ‘Oh! We should check!’ Kori laughed, finishing off her mustard and ice cream, ‘Before and after!’ Diana frowned at her, eyes blazing before rolling them, ‘Alright, fine my costume is skimpy, but I didn’t design it that way. You however, put that hole in your own leotard.’ ‘I didn’t know I was gonna get that big then,’ Karen huffed, sucking up ice cream and sugar, ‘I was an itty bitty, skinny little 5'2 b cup who felt self conscious around your big rack and then I went up seven cup sizes in a year, grew a foot and got ripped. Alright, we’re getting off topic. So Z, you’ve got us all here. Power Girl, Super Girl, Star Fire and Wonder Woman. A lot of power and a lot of well, feminine charm it just so happens as well which can't be a coincidence. So tell me, remind me again before we set off on all this: why did we all agree to get fat?’
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