Super Size
Prologue:
The yellow banner, attached to one of the spires of the ornate marble palace, fluttered in the strong wind. The large letters adorned on it, though, were unmistakable. The SHA, or Super Heroines Alliance, would be hosting luminaries for its annual conference arriving by flight, teleportation, and other unconventional travel methods, so it was a good thing that they could be spotted from a distance.
The SHA included a wide variety of women. Though they sported highly varied costumes, hairstyles, and personas, almost all were similar in a few important respects. Nearly all were tall and quite thin, or thin with a modest to moderate amount of muscle tone. Their beauty was so blinding that most of them probably could have doubled as models. A few of them, including Vixen, had actually been full time models before discovering their super powers.
Another attribute that this group of women tended to have in common was their personalities. These were women that, by and large, were quite confident. One had to be to accept the super-hero lifestyle. But more than that, they were aware of how different they were than ordinary women. This awareness was on display right from the beginning of their meeting. All of the women were gathered around a large, circular white table. Dinner had just been served, but nobody had taken the first bite yet.
“I would like to propose a toast,” Wonder Woman began, “To the bravest and most disciplined women in the galaxy, all of us, of course.” A chuckle and a murmur of agreement made its way around the large circle of women.
“And the most elegant,” Emma Frost added. A few shouts of affirmation followed.
“And the most civilized and cultured,” Vixen offered. More noises agreement ensued.
“And, let’s not forget. The most in shape and…the most beautiful!” Black Widow shouted out. At this suggestion, there was a near-deafening chorus of cheers.
On the one hand, who could blame them? There was very little evidence anyone could bring to bear for a conflicting point of view. By the standards of the societies they represented, they certainly were the most beautiful women.
On the other hand, though, fate abhors a braggart.
Chapter One:
When Natasha arrived home, she was feeling a bit on edge. A disciplined woman of routine, she disliked how the convention had disturbed her ordinary schedule.
The SHA had been enjoyable, in its way, but she was glad it was over.
Natasha changed out of her Black Widow costume and looked at herself in the mirror. Her flowing red hair, beautiful visage and flawless figure were certainly worthy of her boast at the conference. She knew, though, while lesser women might look up to her as a Goddess, she wasn’t beautiful because of a divine gift. Her looks needed constant maintenance.
With that thought in mind, she donned a black spandex outfit and headed down to the lower level of her spacious home. With her busy schedule and super hero identity, she couldn’t very well expect to regularly work out at a gym, so she had an extensive fitness room. Rows of blue mats contained weight machines, barbells, hula hoops, treadmills, and strange looking machines that even a personal trainer might not recognize. One side of the room had a long mirror, while the other had corporate promotional posters, which was a holdover from when she had invited cameras into her home for a few TV shows, and wanted sponsorships. Strangely, now that she gazed at the wall, she noticed quite a few that she didn’t recognize. They advertised restaurants, like ‘Fatburger,’ ‘Chubby’s,’ and ‘Blimpy’s.’” She shrugged it off and headed towards the equipment.
She liked to work out for at least a while every day, but thanks to the travel time getting to and from the SHA, it had been nearly three since she had the opportunity to exercise. As she could put it, she needed to “maintain perfect.” She walked over to her stereo, turned on the radio, and proceeded to enter her private gym.
Natasha walked up to one of the leg strength resistance machines, and as she slid herself onto the hard seat, wondered why other women seemed to dread a good workout. To her it was not only necessary, but also enjoyable. The burning in her muscles, the bead of sweat that always made it down the left side of her forehead...it was all very satisfying, considering that she knew every bit of energy spent was keeping her fit and trim.
She closed her eyes, and performed a few repetitions. The familiar feel of her toned legs pressing against the resistance pads was oddly soothing, though she began to feel tired and sore far faster than she was expecting.
Winded, Natasha opened her eyes and gazed down. Was it her imagination, or did her legs look a little husky? She had always had long, thin legs, the kind that jealous women described as spidery. Now, though, it looked like they had been coated with just the slightest amount of flab.
She groaned, and then said out loud, “This is what you get for skipping three days.” Natasha felt determined to press on and make up for lost time, and forced her tired legs to do a few more reps. They burned, and each one seemed significantly more difficult than the last.
Defeated, Natasha rolled off of the machine, too tired to stand. She rubbed her achy legs, but pulled her hands way upon feeling their soft squishy texture. Determined to keep working out, she moved on to another machine, a butterfly unit that strengthened her shoulders and torso.
It felt good to sit down and give her legs a rest. She performed a few butterfly contractions with her arms, and felt much better. No burn, but surprisingly, after a few repetitions, the machine seemed to be pressing against her a little too closely. She scooted back into her chair and tried again, but soon the machine was pressing against her chest even more.
Natasha squeezed herself out of the machine’s tight grip, and looked down to try to find the problem. Instead, she found she couldn’t look down! Her breasts seemed significantly bigger than she was used to. They were always a good size, but now they seemed almost “lingerie model” size. She had remembered reading that doing “bust” exercises can improve a girl’s cup size, but this was ridiculous. Wasn’t it?
She scratched her head, trying to come up with a rational explanation. Maybe she just hadn’t taken that good of a look at herself earlier. Maybe her boobs were this big before. In any case, why should she complain? Most women had to have surgery to increase their bust size, and she seemed to have had the good fortune to stumble upon it accidentally.
Natasha was content with this explanation, until she gazed at herself in the full wall mirror. Her spandex top was indeed tighter, but not just against her thighs and her bust. Her shoulders seemed a bit puffier too. She couldn’t see her collar bone sticking out anymore.
Whatever was going it, it wasn’t making any sense. She tried to put it out of her mind and moved on to a glut machine. She was proud of her toned butt, and didn’t want to let that go to pot, too.
Natasha tried as hard as she could to get comfortable on the machine, but every rep seemed to make her feel like she was sitting on it wrong. Her butt seemed placed in just the wrong spot every time. Biting her lower lip, she vowed not to let any excuses get in the way this time. Ignoring the uncomfortable seat and her increasingly tired muscles, she plowed on, doing as many reps as she could.
When she stopped, she realized she had missed the single bead of sweat that always made its way down her face. Instead, both of her temples were wet with sweat. Her face was covered in it. As she whipped it down with her forearm, she felt salty and gross. Her uniform felt sweaty as well, and almost stuck to the machine pad.
Getting up was much more challenging than she was expecting, but she finally hoisted herself up from her seat and landed on her feet, wobbling slightly. Her spandex outfit seemed to fit less well than ever, riding up in the back.
She looked back at herself in the mirror and screamed. Her butt was huge! There was no denying it now, something had clearly changed. Before she had a nice, tight, small butt, but now it stuck out like a shelf. She shook her hips out of a mixture of curiosity and horror, and watched in disbelief as the flesh shook like jell-o.
“This can’t be happening,” she mumbled to herself. Refusing to accept reality, she lay down and lifted her feet into the air.
“I never give up, I never let fat win,” she said. “This can’t be who I am.” Natasha put her elbows behind her legs and started to do crunches, keeping an eye on her flat, toned tummy – the crown jewel of her figure. With each difficult crunch, she saw the tone, hard earned muscles disappear under a layer of flab. After they were gone, each one seemed to puff out her tummy more and more. Soon, she looked as though she had just finished gorging on a massive Thanksgiving Day dinner. She turned away, not wanting to look, but as looked at her arms, even they looked huskier. Natasha closed her eyes and forced herself to do a few more crunches.
When she finally stopped and opened her eyes, she found that her tummy and grown even more! Now, it stuck out in front of her like she was in the advanced stages of pregnancy. She squeezed her new flesh, and found that it was soft, warm and doughy. Natasha struggled to stand, finding her new centers of gravity, and looked into her mirror. Her face was still gorgeous, and her hair was still lustrous, but her body bore no resemblance to her former self. Her arms were thick, her big breasts dangerously pressed against her spandex top, and her thighs were thick and juicy. Her big behind stuck out behind her in a massive way, but nothing compared to her new big gut. It was large, round, and showed off a newly deepened bellybutton. She knew that she no longer could fit into a single item of clothing she owned. Fat would pour out of it from every angle. Even worse, simple acrobatics now appeared ridiculous. She tried a running jump, and every flabby part of her body jiggled violently. Her massive breasts fell out from their spandex top as well, hanging over her swollen tummy.
“What am I going to do?” Natasha asked the empty room.
Chapter Two:
Diana arrived home after the SHA feeling exhausted. Long flights, of course, weren’t effortless as Wonder Woman, but she felt more drained than usual.
She couldn’t think of a reason why, though. The annual effect had gone as well as she had expected. Nothing in particular was worrying her. Yet, she felt run down…and quite hungry. Her stomach was growling, but Diana tried her best to ignore it. It was late, and she tried to make it rule not to eat except at meal times.
Diana cast a reluctant look at her refrigerator, and then walked towards her bedroom. She quickly changed out of her Wonder Woman costume and put on some fuzzy pajamas, perfect for much needed rest. As she changed, she got a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her thin body was very toned and in a few places rippled with some muscle tone. She sported a flat tummy with some strong abs, an hourglass shape with the slightest amount of flare at her hips, and breasts that were big enough to be noticed, but not big enough to be a problem with her uniform or with the forces of gravity. Her hair, despite the flight, was gorgeous too, flowing and full. She was every bit the image of beauty she had boasted about with her fellow heroines at the SHA.
She gave her reflection a wink as she finished changing. Her stomach hadn’t stopped growling, though, so she headed back into the kitchen, intending to munch on a celery stick or two, perhaps dipped in a glass of tomato juice.
When Diana opened the refrigerator, though, her eyes went wide. The healthy, low calorie foods she was used to eating were gone. Her tomato juice, stalks of celery, carrots, and nonfat yogurt were conspicuously absent. Even more startling, foodstuffs she couldn’t remember buying had taken their places. Whole milk replaced her V8, while pumpkin pie and ice cream had replaced her celery stalks and vegetables.
Diana frowned, reaching for a yogurt, the only thing in the refrigerator that still looked familiar. Little did she know that it was no longer her nonfat, diet variety.
She pulled off the foil lid, took out a silver spoon, and dipped it in. The yogurt was so rich and creamy that it had a skin of pure cream at the top. From the moment it touched her lips, she felt a lighting bolt of pleasure. It was easily the best yogurt she had ever tasted. In the next few moments she quickly wolfed the rest of it down, slightly smearing some of the cream on the edges of her lips in the process.
When Diana put the container down, she noticed it had a different logo than her diet yogurt.
“Big Cow Yogurt?” She said aloud, incredulously. “Oh great, no wonder it tasted so good.” Her stomach growled, demanding more food.
“I really shouldn’t,” she murmured. But as she casually licked her lips, she got one last taste of the rich yogurt and changed her mind. “What the heck, as long as this food is here…what am I going to do, throw it away?”
Having psychologically committed herself to the idea, she began to pull things out of the fridge at lightning speed. Before long, she had assembled a trough of pie ala mode, cottage cheese, and two tall glasses of milk. She opened her cabinets as well, and found some gummy bears and red licorice to add to her tray.
She began to nibble slightly on a candy licorice, but felt strange munching in front of an empty fridge. Instead, she took her tray of food over to the TV. Eating in front of it wasn’t a habit for her, but as she flopped down on her couch, it felt oddly natural.
Diana channel surfed as she absentmindedly munched on her high fat treats and junk food. In the past, it might have occurred to her to try to find out why her food had been swapped with such fattening alternatives, or who might be behind such an effort, but strangely, she just didn’t care. The food was delicious, she was enjoying it, and that was enough for her.
As she guzzled down one of her milk glasses, she felt some tightness on the bands of her pajamas. She reached her hand down and undid the ties of her pajamas, allowing her puffy tummy to peek out. Normally, the sight of anything but a flat tummy would cause her to panic, but she felt nonchalant.
“Probably just because I’m having a big snack,” she said with a shrug, and continued to eat. She stuffed her face with pumpkin pie and ate ice cream right from the carton. The more she ate, the more she felt like it didn’t matter if she was a little uncouth or even sloppy about it. And the more food she had, the better she felt about her binge. At first, she had felt guilty. After eating some more, her guilt had shifted to indifference.
As she polished off the last of the pie, that indifference had changed to delight. She was happy to stuff herself – if she enjoyed it, why not?
“Life’s too short to skip dessert ought to be my motto,” she said with a small burp, and started shoving gummy bears into her mouth.
After a while, she groaned, and felt her tummy pushing up against her shirt again. It was bigger this time, large, puffy, with some rolls and love handles. Looking down to see it was difficult, as her breasts seemed bigger too and blocked out part of her view.
Even her pajama legs eventually gave her some trouble, and she elected to pull them off completely. Her butt was now much larger and strained her underwear, but that didn’t seem to upset her. She was a woman who liked to indulge and eat, after all. Why shouldn’t she have a curvy, womanly body?
For a brief moment, a quiet thought flitted across her mind. It was quite unusual, as if it had originated from another person, far away. Like the dying gasp of a soldier on the battlefield, though, it seemed burned on her mind with a grim resonance.
The thought was this: didn’t she used to be much thinner, much more recently? How had she gained weight so quickly? Did her food have something to do with it?
Diana pondered the thought for a while, feeling more curiosity than fear. Try as she might, she didn’t see why the food would have this effect, yet she clearly did remember being thinner that very evening.
There was only one way to tell for sure: an experiment. She lifted a carton of cottage cheese, and dug in. The creamy curds were delicious, and Diana swallowed them down eagerly. While she did, though, her eyes were glued to her thighs. With each swallow, they seemed to grow a little wider, a little thicker, a little juicer. With some amusement, she noticed that they even gained some cellulite, looking a little like the cottage cheese she was wolfing down. This knowledge, though, didn’t stop her from finishing off the carton and then licking the lid.
When the last of the food was gone, Diana smiled contentedly to herself and gazed down at her body. Her breasts were riding up on her top, and looked large, but very soft. Her tummy was quite enormous, and hung over her lap. She didn’t mind, though. Her fat and her flab seemed so natural. How could she ever have looked any other way? Fat and happy, she settled into a deep, full-tummy induced sleep.
Chapter Three:
Emma Frost returned home feeling dirty and uncomfortable. She liked to describe herself using terms like “fastidious,” and “hygienic,” but in truth, she was an old fashioned clean freak. Emma was obsessed with order, control, and cleanliness in all aspects of her life. Going more than 24 hours without bathing always made her feel extremely anxious, and thanks to the SHA conference, it had been longer than that.
When she arrived at her house, she wasted no time heading directly to her bathroom. She quickly disrobed, and headed for the shower. She hesitated before hopping in, and opted instead for a bath. She needed a thorough cleansing.
While she waited for the tub to fill, she gave herself a look over in the mirror. She was certainly a beauty. Not many women could combine brawns with her stunning good looks, but she had the best of both worlds, and she knew it. Her flowing, golden locks were a wonder to behold, and her slender shoulders, narrow hips and waist, and long legs were an inspiration. She carefully regimented everything she ate, and would never be one to allow junk food to corrupt her figure.
Emma stepped into the steaming hot tub and moaned with satisfaction. The warm water lapped up at her skin with a wonderful tingling. She closed her eyes and slid in completely, the warm water enveloping her thin body like a blanket on a cold winter day.
She reached for some bubble bath, but didn’t find her usual bottle on the bathtub shelf. Instead, she found something called ‘Ancient Beauty.’ Emma recognized that the odd shape of the bottle was representing the Venus of Willendorf, which is a depiction of a fat woman and the world’s oldest known statue. She didn’t remember buying it, but didn’t mind the chance to try out something so new and exotic.
Emma picked up the woman-shaped bottle, turned it upside down, and gave the plump tummy a firm squeeze. She emptied a generous portion of the sudsy mix into her bath, and was greeted almost instantly with results. A heavenly aroma of spice cakes and cinnamon roles filled the air, while the bath became enriched by swaths of bubbles. She shifted her weight slightly, and the bubbles followed the water like foam on waves.
She felt the edges of her soapy body press up against the bath deliciously and smiled. Emma picked up a sponge, and started lathering up and washing herself. She could feel the stress of her trip melting away, and could not remember when she had felt more content or relaxed.
When Emma opened her eyes, she saw the water had risen higher than it was when she began her bath. She turned around, assuming that she must have forgotten to turn off the spigot, but no new water was entering the tub. So why had the water risen higher?
It might be the fact that she shifted position a few times and submerged slightly more of herself under the water, she thought. Or it could be the bubbles were making the water look higher than it really was, she mentally conjectured.
Emma continued to rub the sponge across her body vigorously, and as she did so, she noticed the water rising higher and higher. She thought she might be imagining things, but that was shattered when the water finally had risen so high that a tad sloshed over the side.
The bubble bath mix made seeing through the water impossible, so she couldn’t identify the source of the problem. The drain switch was on the other side, so she tried to stand to turn it on and let out some of the water.
Standing up, however, took a great deal more effort than she was expecting. She kept trying to get her footing, but the bubble bath made it hard to get a push off without slipping. She finally had to grab the shower bar, but even then, hoisting herself up felt far more challenging than it ought to be.
When she finally managed to lift herself up, she was immediately made aware of the problem. Her body had grown in size. Water was rising because she was displacing it with her increased mass. The realization was so startling that before she could get a good look at herself, she let go of the shower bar and slipped and fell back into the bath.
She expected pain as she landed, but her butt seemed much more cushioned than she was used to. With effort, Emma hoisted herself up again, wiped the suds off of her body, and got a good luck.
Somehow, she had gained weight, there was no doubt about that. Her arm and legs were noticeably thicker, and her wasp-like waist had thickened. Her breasts looked bigger too, but sagged slightly on her torso.
As Emma looked down at her transformed body, she felt consumed with disgust. This wasn’t her. She was a very thin woman. She had taken great pains to remain that way, even resorting to surgery a few times when diet hadn’t been enough. How could something like this happen? She felt unclean, and needed to cleanse herself.
Emma grabbed the sponge, and proceeded to scrub herself with wanton abandon, as if she could exfoliate the extra pounds. Still wet with the bubble bath-y water, it lathered up nicely. She focused on her upper arms first – how could she be a super hero with flabby, old lady arms? Scrubbing, through, didn’t seem to be cutting it.
In fact…no, it couldn’t be. Emma looked at her left arm carefully after a few moments of continued scrubbing, but it looked even bigger and fleshier than it had just a few moments ago. She did the same to her right arm and saw the same result. She looked across the room to the mirror, which had fogged up slightly from the bath but still produced a reflection, and waived at herself. Her upper arm jiggled violently as a result.
Though she was horrified, Emma could think of no way to deal with the situation. Cleaning was so natural to her. How could it possibly cause something like weight gain? It just didn’t make sense. The entire situation seemed so surreal, so utterly bizarre. She felt her emotions quickly rising out of control, and felt the compulsion to clean herself again. She scrubbed her legs, and they became wider and thicker, and started to touch each other. She rubbed her sponge against her once perfect rack, and saw her breasts grow soapier and bigger. They grew larger and wider, taking up a bigger portion of her torso. Now, she was one of those women who’s breasts seemed to start from the side of her body. They looked massive, but also soft, and they sagged lower and lower the heavier they got. Even her nipples and areolas seemed bigger.
Lastly, she scrubbed her tummy. Her ribs disappeared under a layer of fat and soap. Each hard up and down thrust of her hand with the sponge made her fat jiggle more and more. Her stomach became very large and puffy, lined with rolls and bounced up and down. She certainly had the “bowl full of jelly” look to her midsection now. Little love handles formed near the side of her tummy, followed by a side of widened hips. Eventually, she gave up with the sponge, throwing it across the room, and squeezed and kneaded her new tummy fat with her sudsy fingers. With each squeeze, she could feel that there was slightly more there. The soft, soapy, warm flesh actually felt somewhat pleasant to touch, which only made her feel more disgusted with herself.
Eventually, she collapsed from emotional exhaustion and slid back into the bath. Her newly enlarged body displaced far more water this time, causing a veritable tidal wave to break over the edge of the tub and make its way across the bathroom. It completely soaked the clothes that were lying there, which Emma knew she could never fit into again.
Chapter Four:
When Vixen returned to her apartment, there was nothing about it that looked out of the ordinary. Still, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was amiss. It had hit her as soon as she walked in the door, but there was nothing in particular for her to blame.
A thorough search of living spaces revealed nothing, so Vixen moved on to the upper level of her apartment, what she called her “gallery.” She had been a model until recently, and kept copies of her magazine covers and ads in glass cases. She also kept rare gifts from admirers and memorabilia from important heroic challenges she had endured.
At the center of the room was her most prized possession, the Tantu Totem. From her homeland of Africa, it had endowed her with the power of fearsome beasts.
The Totem was a golden necklace, with a pendant in the shape a great cat’s face. Or at least, it was supposed to be. It was when Vixen carefully studied the Totem that she finally noticed what was amiss in the room. The Totem’s shape had changed. Now it bore round ears, a rounder face, and an upturned, porcine nose, like a pig.
Curiosity overwhelmed her, and Vixen picked the object up, eager to examine it for the source of the change. Nothing, those, seemed to give her a clue. She didn’t know what would happen, but she suddenly felt a primal need to try the amulet on. She just had to slake her curiosity, and find out if the change had affected her powers.
She clicked the amulet into place, and it began to glow faintly. As it did, she felt her skin tingle and her heart start pounding. This was very different from when she transformed and gained the power of a lion or a tiger. It felt far more animalistic and out of her control.
Vixen felt her arms and legs itch, and to her horror, looked down to see small hairs sprouting from her skin. Her arms felt heavier, and she rested them on the ground. She could feel her face contorting and stretching, and her bones ached and creaked. Worse, she felt her mental control rapidly fading. She felt angry, hungry, and trapped. She needed to move, but found herself unable to stand. Her spine and shifted, and now standing upright was impossible.
She tried to lean on one of her display case columns to stand, but as she leaned into it, the case toppled and the glass shattered on the floor. She reluctantly waddled over on all fours to see what had perished in the fall. What she found gave her the shock of her life, for in the reflection of the shattered glass, though, she could see her face.
Her brows were much more pronounced, and her ears had shifted position higher up on her head. They were bigger and floppier. Her eyes seemed more recessed into her face, and her cheeks were far puffier. Her nose had changed the most. It protruded in front of her like a giant snout, complete with two large nostrils. She looked like a pig, just like the amulet. Vixen tried to undo the clasp, but her fingers seemed to be fused together and she could get a grip on it. Before, she had only taken the power of an animal, not become one. Something had gone horribly wrong.
She twisted and turned her head in vain to get the Totem removed. In doing so, Vixen finally saw what the shattered display case had held. One of her old magazine covers in the floor. The glass had scratched it, but it was otherwise unharmed.
What was most startling about the image was the contrast to her reflection. In the magazine cover, she was the image of beauty, a model. A cover-girl. She had powerful muscle, but also an undeniable feminine grace that permeated her very being. Now, she looked like a half-pig monstrosity. The rage overwhelmed her, and she charged forward, smashing her head against the next display column and causing it to tumble and shatter as well.
In her fury, Vixen aimed to destroy any mementos of what she had looked like, any reminder of what she had lost. She roared like a beast and galloped on, knocking over every single case in the room. When this was completed, she waddled over to the magazines themselves and tried to rip them up. When the non-functionality of her fingers prevented her from doing so, she resorted to tearing them up with her teeth, which had become larger, more prominent, and sharper.
No sense of peace came when this was finished, and Vixen felt herself called downstairs. With some difficulty, she descended down the flight of stairs and walked up to her refrigerator. She tried to resist the idea of eating, but it was no use. She was hungry, and her baser instincts were in complete control.
Unable to open the door in the traditional way, she nudged it open with her snout. With wanton abandon, she went at any food she could find. She eagerly gobbled up fruits and vegetables, whole sticks of butter, and even raw eggs. When she encountered a jar of mayonnaise, she tore off the lid and eagerly licked at the inside of the jar with her newly elongated tongue. She slurped down ketchup from the container the way a baby would drink from bottle.
When the fridge had been emptied, she devoured the contents of the freezer, consuming ice cream and wolfing down frozen meals unthawed. Her jaw ached with the pain of the endless chewing, but the pit in her stomach demanded to be filled. When at last there was nothing to eat, she waddled towards her bedroom on all fours, her overstuffed tummy dragging across the ground. She tried to get comfortable rolling around on her bed, but couldn’t, so she shredded her blankets and pillows. She rooted around in the mess of feathers for a while, like a pig looking for truffles. Eventually, the feathers and fabric settled into a big pile, similar to a pile of hay that an animal might find a suitable bed. Vixen leaned into it and slept.
When she awoke, she had a splitting headache. She was herself again, she knew that from one glance at her normal human fingers. Getting herself out of her ruined bed was quite the task, but somehow she managed. She had some memory of what had happened the night before, but it all seemed too surreal to be reality. Had she really devoured the contents of her entire refrigerator? A quick glace at the kitchen, and the monstrous mess that sat there, confirmed that she had indeed.
When she made her way to the bathroom, she gasped at her reflection. Though she was human again, apparently she had paid for her binge last night in spades. She had gained a massive amount of weight.
Her breasts, no longer high and firm on her muscles, were large, long, and sunk low on her chest. Her belly hung over her groin like an apron, and her thighs were so thick that her knees were buried in flab. Even her face looked different, with a double chin and a wider, more snout like nose that she knew made any return to modeling impossible.
Her butt had been hit the hardest. It stuck out behind her, and shook like jell-o whenever she shifted her weight. She touched it, and it the flesh was exceedingly soft and flabby, and it quivered just from poking it with her finger. What was left of her costume was shredded and barely covered her body. It served only to highlight and expose every errant piece of flab and fat that pressed itself out. Even her trademark muscular arms seemed buried under a thick layer of oozing fat.
Taking off the Totem necklace proved no problem, but that didn’t seem to solve her problem. Was this who she was now, forever?
Epilogue:
A few days later, an emergency meeting was called for the SHA. A few of the heroines did not show up, perhaps too embarrassed. But most of them made it, out of desperation for understanding. The same thing had happened to them all, and they needed to know why.
The sight in the hall was like nothing that had ever taken place in the building before. Fat women, each with slightly different flabby shapes, were everywhere. Some of them wore sweatpants and big bulky jackets to hide their fat, but most simply wore their regular costumes, or at least what was left of them.
Fat oozed out from these much too skimpy uniforms. Breasts dangerously hung out of too small bras, sometimes obscenely, as was the case with Emma Frost. Tummy bulges and big guts strained against the spandex of the Black Widow. The lines one particular butt crack was visible, as the too-small pants clung to every curve on Vixen. Wonder Woman’s uniform was partially covered, as her entire body seemed to ooze over with fat, like a giant muffin top. They, along with other women with equally fat bodies, finally made their way to the large table to discuss the situation.
Each of them had tried to research some rational cause, but none had any luck. When the entire group shared their similarly fruitless efforts in the realm of science, a grim consensus seemed to hang in the air.
“I suppose,” Emma Frost said at last, “That what we must learn from this is the lesson of humility.”
“Speak for yourself,” Vixen added, “What happened to me...to us, was unconscionable. Nobody deserved it.”
“We should look on the bright side, and allow ourselves to embrace our humanity, to relax and have fun, not pretend we can be ‘super’ all the time,” Wonder Woman opined.
"This is an insult to our dignity," The Black Widow said. "How can we look on the bright side?"
"What else can we do?" Wonder Woman replied. An awkward silence filled the air.
“How about a toast,” someone finally shouted out. “To the SHA, the Super Heroine Alliance,” another added.
“More like the Super Huge Asses, now!” someone shouted out.
For a moment there was silence, but then everyone let out a long overdue laugh.
~
The yellow banner, attached to one of the spires of the ornate marble palace, fluttered in the strong wind. The large letters adorned on it, though, were unmistakable. The SHA, or Super Heroines Alliance, would be hosting luminaries for its annual conference arriving by flight, teleportation, and other unconventional travel methods, so it was a good thing that they could be spotted from a distance.
The SHA included a wide variety of women. Though they sported highly varied costumes, hairstyles, and personas, almost all were similar in a few important respects. Nearly all were tall and quite thin, or thin with a modest to moderate amount of muscle tone. Their beauty was so blinding that most of them probably could have doubled as models. A few of them, including Vixen, had actually been full time models before discovering their super powers.
Another attribute that this group of women tended to have in common was their personalities. These were women that, by and large, were quite confident. One had to be to accept the super-hero lifestyle. But more than that, they were aware of how different they were than ordinary women. This awareness was on display right from the beginning of their meeting. All of the women were gathered around a large, circular white table. Dinner had just been served, but nobody had taken the first bite yet.
“I would like to propose a toast,” Wonder Woman began, “To the bravest and most disciplined women in the galaxy, all of us, of course.” A chuckle and a murmur of agreement made its way around the large circle of women.
“And the most elegant,” Emma Frost added. A few shouts of affirmation followed.
“And the most civilized and cultured,” Vixen offered. More noises agreement ensued.
“And, let’s not forget. The most in shape and…the most beautiful!” Black Widow shouted out. At this suggestion, there was a near-deafening chorus of cheers.
On the one hand, who could blame them? There was very little evidence anyone could bring to bear for a conflicting point of view. By the standards of the societies they represented, they certainly were the most beautiful women.
On the other hand, though, fate abhors a braggart.
Chapter One:
When Natasha arrived home, she was feeling a bit on edge. A disciplined woman of routine, she disliked how the convention had disturbed her ordinary schedule.
The SHA had been enjoyable, in its way, but she was glad it was over.
Natasha changed out of her Black Widow costume and looked at herself in the mirror. Her flowing red hair, beautiful visage and flawless figure were certainly worthy of her boast at the conference. She knew, though, while lesser women might look up to her as a Goddess, she wasn’t beautiful because of a divine gift. Her looks needed constant maintenance.
With that thought in mind, she donned a black spandex outfit and headed down to the lower level of her spacious home. With her busy schedule and super hero identity, she couldn’t very well expect to regularly work out at a gym, so she had an extensive fitness room. Rows of blue mats contained weight machines, barbells, hula hoops, treadmills, and strange looking machines that even a personal trainer might not recognize. One side of the room had a long mirror, while the other had corporate promotional posters, which was a holdover from when she had invited cameras into her home for a few TV shows, and wanted sponsorships. Strangely, now that she gazed at the wall, she noticed quite a few that she didn’t recognize. They advertised restaurants, like ‘Fatburger,’ ‘Chubby’s,’ and ‘Blimpy’s.’” She shrugged it off and headed towards the equipment.
She liked to work out for at least a while every day, but thanks to the travel time getting to and from the SHA, it had been nearly three since she had the opportunity to exercise. As she could put it, she needed to “maintain perfect.” She walked over to her stereo, turned on the radio, and proceeded to enter her private gym.
Natasha walked up to one of the leg strength resistance machines, and as she slid herself onto the hard seat, wondered why other women seemed to dread a good workout. To her it was not only necessary, but also enjoyable. The burning in her muscles, the bead of sweat that always made it down the left side of her forehead...it was all very satisfying, considering that she knew every bit of energy spent was keeping her fit and trim.
She closed her eyes, and performed a few repetitions. The familiar feel of her toned legs pressing against the resistance pads was oddly soothing, though she began to feel tired and sore far faster than she was expecting.
Winded, Natasha opened her eyes and gazed down. Was it her imagination, or did her legs look a little husky? She had always had long, thin legs, the kind that jealous women described as spidery. Now, though, it looked like they had been coated with just the slightest amount of flab.
She groaned, and then said out loud, “This is what you get for skipping three days.” Natasha felt determined to press on and make up for lost time, and forced her tired legs to do a few more reps. They burned, and each one seemed significantly more difficult than the last.
Defeated, Natasha rolled off of the machine, too tired to stand. She rubbed her achy legs, but pulled her hands way upon feeling their soft squishy texture. Determined to keep working out, she moved on to another machine, a butterfly unit that strengthened her shoulders and torso.
It felt good to sit down and give her legs a rest. She performed a few butterfly contractions with her arms, and felt much better. No burn, but surprisingly, after a few repetitions, the machine seemed to be pressing against her a little too closely. She scooted back into her chair and tried again, but soon the machine was pressing against her chest even more.
Natasha squeezed herself out of the machine’s tight grip, and looked down to try to find the problem. Instead, she found she couldn’t look down! Her breasts seemed significantly bigger than she was used to. They were always a good size, but now they seemed almost “lingerie model” size. She had remembered reading that doing “bust” exercises can improve a girl’s cup size, but this was ridiculous. Wasn’t it?
She scratched her head, trying to come up with a rational explanation. Maybe she just hadn’t taken that good of a look at herself earlier. Maybe her boobs were this big before. In any case, why should she complain? Most women had to have surgery to increase their bust size, and she seemed to have had the good fortune to stumble upon it accidentally.
Natasha was content with this explanation, until she gazed at herself in the full wall mirror. Her spandex top was indeed tighter, but not just against her thighs and her bust. Her shoulders seemed a bit puffier too. She couldn’t see her collar bone sticking out anymore.
Whatever was going it, it wasn’t making any sense. She tried to put it out of her mind and moved on to a glut machine. She was proud of her toned butt, and didn’t want to let that go to pot, too.
Natasha tried as hard as she could to get comfortable on the machine, but every rep seemed to make her feel like she was sitting on it wrong. Her butt seemed placed in just the wrong spot every time. Biting her lower lip, she vowed not to let any excuses get in the way this time. Ignoring the uncomfortable seat and her increasingly tired muscles, she plowed on, doing as many reps as she could.
When she stopped, she realized she had missed the single bead of sweat that always made its way down her face. Instead, both of her temples were wet with sweat. Her face was covered in it. As she whipped it down with her forearm, she felt salty and gross. Her uniform felt sweaty as well, and almost stuck to the machine pad.
Getting up was much more challenging than she was expecting, but she finally hoisted herself up from her seat and landed on her feet, wobbling slightly. Her spandex outfit seemed to fit less well than ever, riding up in the back.
She looked back at herself in the mirror and screamed. Her butt was huge! There was no denying it now, something had clearly changed. Before she had a nice, tight, small butt, but now it stuck out like a shelf. She shook her hips out of a mixture of curiosity and horror, and watched in disbelief as the flesh shook like jell-o.
“This can’t be happening,” she mumbled to herself. Refusing to accept reality, she lay down and lifted her feet into the air.
“I never give up, I never let fat win,” she said. “This can’t be who I am.” Natasha put her elbows behind her legs and started to do crunches, keeping an eye on her flat, toned tummy – the crown jewel of her figure. With each difficult crunch, she saw the tone, hard earned muscles disappear under a layer of flab. After they were gone, each one seemed to puff out her tummy more and more. Soon, she looked as though she had just finished gorging on a massive Thanksgiving Day dinner. She turned away, not wanting to look, but as looked at her arms, even they looked huskier. Natasha closed her eyes and forced herself to do a few more crunches.
When she finally stopped and opened her eyes, she found that her tummy and grown even more! Now, it stuck out in front of her like she was in the advanced stages of pregnancy. She squeezed her new flesh, and found that it was soft, warm and doughy. Natasha struggled to stand, finding her new centers of gravity, and looked into her mirror. Her face was still gorgeous, and her hair was still lustrous, but her body bore no resemblance to her former self. Her arms were thick, her big breasts dangerously pressed against her spandex top, and her thighs were thick and juicy. Her big behind stuck out behind her in a massive way, but nothing compared to her new big gut. It was large, round, and showed off a newly deepened bellybutton. She knew that she no longer could fit into a single item of clothing she owned. Fat would pour out of it from every angle. Even worse, simple acrobatics now appeared ridiculous. She tried a running jump, and every flabby part of her body jiggled violently. Her massive breasts fell out from their spandex top as well, hanging over her swollen tummy.
“What am I going to do?” Natasha asked the empty room.
Chapter Two:
Diana arrived home after the SHA feeling exhausted. Long flights, of course, weren’t effortless as Wonder Woman, but she felt more drained than usual.
She couldn’t think of a reason why, though. The annual effect had gone as well as she had expected. Nothing in particular was worrying her. Yet, she felt run down…and quite hungry. Her stomach was growling, but Diana tried her best to ignore it. It was late, and she tried to make it rule not to eat except at meal times.
Diana cast a reluctant look at her refrigerator, and then walked towards her bedroom. She quickly changed out of her Wonder Woman costume and put on some fuzzy pajamas, perfect for much needed rest. As she changed, she got a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her thin body was very toned and in a few places rippled with some muscle tone. She sported a flat tummy with some strong abs, an hourglass shape with the slightest amount of flare at her hips, and breasts that were big enough to be noticed, but not big enough to be a problem with her uniform or with the forces of gravity. Her hair, despite the flight, was gorgeous too, flowing and full. She was every bit the image of beauty she had boasted about with her fellow heroines at the SHA.
She gave her reflection a wink as she finished changing. Her stomach hadn’t stopped growling, though, so she headed back into the kitchen, intending to munch on a celery stick or two, perhaps dipped in a glass of tomato juice.
When Diana opened the refrigerator, though, her eyes went wide. The healthy, low calorie foods she was used to eating were gone. Her tomato juice, stalks of celery, carrots, and nonfat yogurt were conspicuously absent. Even more startling, foodstuffs she couldn’t remember buying had taken their places. Whole milk replaced her V8, while pumpkin pie and ice cream had replaced her celery stalks and vegetables.
Diana frowned, reaching for a yogurt, the only thing in the refrigerator that still looked familiar. Little did she know that it was no longer her nonfat, diet variety.
She pulled off the foil lid, took out a silver spoon, and dipped it in. The yogurt was so rich and creamy that it had a skin of pure cream at the top. From the moment it touched her lips, she felt a lighting bolt of pleasure. It was easily the best yogurt she had ever tasted. In the next few moments she quickly wolfed the rest of it down, slightly smearing some of the cream on the edges of her lips in the process.
When Diana put the container down, she noticed it had a different logo than her diet yogurt.
“Big Cow Yogurt?” She said aloud, incredulously. “Oh great, no wonder it tasted so good.” Her stomach growled, demanding more food.
“I really shouldn’t,” she murmured. But as she casually licked her lips, she got one last taste of the rich yogurt and changed her mind. “What the heck, as long as this food is here…what am I going to do, throw it away?”
Having psychologically committed herself to the idea, she began to pull things out of the fridge at lightning speed. Before long, she had assembled a trough of pie ala mode, cottage cheese, and two tall glasses of milk. She opened her cabinets as well, and found some gummy bears and red licorice to add to her tray.
She began to nibble slightly on a candy licorice, but felt strange munching in front of an empty fridge. Instead, she took her tray of food over to the TV. Eating in front of it wasn’t a habit for her, but as she flopped down on her couch, it felt oddly natural.
Diana channel surfed as she absentmindedly munched on her high fat treats and junk food. In the past, it might have occurred to her to try to find out why her food had been swapped with such fattening alternatives, or who might be behind such an effort, but strangely, she just didn’t care. The food was delicious, she was enjoying it, and that was enough for her.
As she guzzled down one of her milk glasses, she felt some tightness on the bands of her pajamas. She reached her hand down and undid the ties of her pajamas, allowing her puffy tummy to peek out. Normally, the sight of anything but a flat tummy would cause her to panic, but she felt nonchalant.
“Probably just because I’m having a big snack,” she said with a shrug, and continued to eat. She stuffed her face with pumpkin pie and ate ice cream right from the carton. The more she ate, the more she felt like it didn’t matter if she was a little uncouth or even sloppy about it. And the more food she had, the better she felt about her binge. At first, she had felt guilty. After eating some more, her guilt had shifted to indifference.
As she polished off the last of the pie, that indifference had changed to delight. She was happy to stuff herself – if she enjoyed it, why not?
“Life’s too short to skip dessert ought to be my motto,” she said with a small burp, and started shoving gummy bears into her mouth.
After a while, she groaned, and felt her tummy pushing up against her shirt again. It was bigger this time, large, puffy, with some rolls and love handles. Looking down to see it was difficult, as her breasts seemed bigger too and blocked out part of her view.
Even her pajama legs eventually gave her some trouble, and she elected to pull them off completely. Her butt was now much larger and strained her underwear, but that didn’t seem to upset her. She was a woman who liked to indulge and eat, after all. Why shouldn’t she have a curvy, womanly body?
For a brief moment, a quiet thought flitted across her mind. It was quite unusual, as if it had originated from another person, far away. Like the dying gasp of a soldier on the battlefield, though, it seemed burned on her mind with a grim resonance.
The thought was this: didn’t she used to be much thinner, much more recently? How had she gained weight so quickly? Did her food have something to do with it?
Diana pondered the thought for a while, feeling more curiosity than fear. Try as she might, she didn’t see why the food would have this effect, yet she clearly did remember being thinner that very evening.
There was only one way to tell for sure: an experiment. She lifted a carton of cottage cheese, and dug in. The creamy curds were delicious, and Diana swallowed them down eagerly. While she did, though, her eyes were glued to her thighs. With each swallow, they seemed to grow a little wider, a little thicker, a little juicer. With some amusement, she noticed that they even gained some cellulite, looking a little like the cottage cheese she was wolfing down. This knowledge, though, didn’t stop her from finishing off the carton and then licking the lid.
When the last of the food was gone, Diana smiled contentedly to herself and gazed down at her body. Her breasts were riding up on her top, and looked large, but very soft. Her tummy was quite enormous, and hung over her lap. She didn’t mind, though. Her fat and her flab seemed so natural. How could she ever have looked any other way? Fat and happy, she settled into a deep, full-tummy induced sleep.
Chapter Three:
Emma Frost returned home feeling dirty and uncomfortable. She liked to describe herself using terms like “fastidious,” and “hygienic,” but in truth, she was an old fashioned clean freak. Emma was obsessed with order, control, and cleanliness in all aspects of her life. Going more than 24 hours without bathing always made her feel extremely anxious, and thanks to the SHA conference, it had been longer than that.
When she arrived at her house, she wasted no time heading directly to her bathroom. She quickly disrobed, and headed for the shower. She hesitated before hopping in, and opted instead for a bath. She needed a thorough cleansing.
While she waited for the tub to fill, she gave herself a look over in the mirror. She was certainly a beauty. Not many women could combine brawns with her stunning good looks, but she had the best of both worlds, and she knew it. Her flowing, golden locks were a wonder to behold, and her slender shoulders, narrow hips and waist, and long legs were an inspiration. She carefully regimented everything she ate, and would never be one to allow junk food to corrupt her figure.
Emma stepped into the steaming hot tub and moaned with satisfaction. The warm water lapped up at her skin with a wonderful tingling. She closed her eyes and slid in completely, the warm water enveloping her thin body like a blanket on a cold winter day.
She reached for some bubble bath, but didn’t find her usual bottle on the bathtub shelf. Instead, she found something called ‘Ancient Beauty.’ Emma recognized that the odd shape of the bottle was representing the Venus of Willendorf, which is a depiction of a fat woman and the world’s oldest known statue. She didn’t remember buying it, but didn’t mind the chance to try out something so new and exotic.
Emma picked up the woman-shaped bottle, turned it upside down, and gave the plump tummy a firm squeeze. She emptied a generous portion of the sudsy mix into her bath, and was greeted almost instantly with results. A heavenly aroma of spice cakes and cinnamon roles filled the air, while the bath became enriched by swaths of bubbles. She shifted her weight slightly, and the bubbles followed the water like foam on waves.
She felt the edges of her soapy body press up against the bath deliciously and smiled. Emma picked up a sponge, and started lathering up and washing herself. She could feel the stress of her trip melting away, and could not remember when she had felt more content or relaxed.
When Emma opened her eyes, she saw the water had risen higher than it was when she began her bath. She turned around, assuming that she must have forgotten to turn off the spigot, but no new water was entering the tub. So why had the water risen higher?
It might be the fact that she shifted position a few times and submerged slightly more of herself under the water, she thought. Or it could be the bubbles were making the water look higher than it really was, she mentally conjectured.
Emma continued to rub the sponge across her body vigorously, and as she did so, she noticed the water rising higher and higher. She thought she might be imagining things, but that was shattered when the water finally had risen so high that a tad sloshed over the side.
The bubble bath mix made seeing through the water impossible, so she couldn’t identify the source of the problem. The drain switch was on the other side, so she tried to stand to turn it on and let out some of the water.
Standing up, however, took a great deal more effort than she was expecting. She kept trying to get her footing, but the bubble bath made it hard to get a push off without slipping. She finally had to grab the shower bar, but even then, hoisting herself up felt far more challenging than it ought to be.
When she finally managed to lift herself up, she was immediately made aware of the problem. Her body had grown in size. Water was rising because she was displacing it with her increased mass. The realization was so startling that before she could get a good look at herself, she let go of the shower bar and slipped and fell back into the bath.
She expected pain as she landed, but her butt seemed much more cushioned than she was used to. With effort, Emma hoisted herself up again, wiped the suds off of her body, and got a good luck.
Somehow, she had gained weight, there was no doubt about that. Her arm and legs were noticeably thicker, and her wasp-like waist had thickened. Her breasts looked bigger too, but sagged slightly on her torso.
As Emma looked down at her transformed body, she felt consumed with disgust. This wasn’t her. She was a very thin woman. She had taken great pains to remain that way, even resorting to surgery a few times when diet hadn’t been enough. How could something like this happen? She felt unclean, and needed to cleanse herself.
Emma grabbed the sponge, and proceeded to scrub herself with wanton abandon, as if she could exfoliate the extra pounds. Still wet with the bubble bath-y water, it lathered up nicely. She focused on her upper arms first – how could she be a super hero with flabby, old lady arms? Scrubbing, through, didn’t seem to be cutting it.
In fact…no, it couldn’t be. Emma looked at her left arm carefully after a few moments of continued scrubbing, but it looked even bigger and fleshier than it had just a few moments ago. She did the same to her right arm and saw the same result. She looked across the room to the mirror, which had fogged up slightly from the bath but still produced a reflection, and waived at herself. Her upper arm jiggled violently as a result.
Though she was horrified, Emma could think of no way to deal with the situation. Cleaning was so natural to her. How could it possibly cause something like weight gain? It just didn’t make sense. The entire situation seemed so surreal, so utterly bizarre. She felt her emotions quickly rising out of control, and felt the compulsion to clean herself again. She scrubbed her legs, and they became wider and thicker, and started to touch each other. She rubbed her sponge against her once perfect rack, and saw her breasts grow soapier and bigger. They grew larger and wider, taking up a bigger portion of her torso. Now, she was one of those women who’s breasts seemed to start from the side of her body. They looked massive, but also soft, and they sagged lower and lower the heavier they got. Even her nipples and areolas seemed bigger.
Lastly, she scrubbed her tummy. Her ribs disappeared under a layer of fat and soap. Each hard up and down thrust of her hand with the sponge made her fat jiggle more and more. Her stomach became very large and puffy, lined with rolls and bounced up and down. She certainly had the “bowl full of jelly” look to her midsection now. Little love handles formed near the side of her tummy, followed by a side of widened hips. Eventually, she gave up with the sponge, throwing it across the room, and squeezed and kneaded her new tummy fat with her sudsy fingers. With each squeeze, she could feel that there was slightly more there. The soft, soapy, warm flesh actually felt somewhat pleasant to touch, which only made her feel more disgusted with herself.
Eventually, she collapsed from emotional exhaustion and slid back into the bath. Her newly enlarged body displaced far more water this time, causing a veritable tidal wave to break over the edge of the tub and make its way across the bathroom. It completely soaked the clothes that were lying there, which Emma knew she could never fit into again.
Chapter Four:
When Vixen returned to her apartment, there was nothing about it that looked out of the ordinary. Still, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was amiss. It had hit her as soon as she walked in the door, but there was nothing in particular for her to blame.
A thorough search of living spaces revealed nothing, so Vixen moved on to the upper level of her apartment, what she called her “gallery.” She had been a model until recently, and kept copies of her magazine covers and ads in glass cases. She also kept rare gifts from admirers and memorabilia from important heroic challenges she had endured.
At the center of the room was her most prized possession, the Tantu Totem. From her homeland of Africa, it had endowed her with the power of fearsome beasts.
The Totem was a golden necklace, with a pendant in the shape a great cat’s face. Or at least, it was supposed to be. It was when Vixen carefully studied the Totem that she finally noticed what was amiss in the room. The Totem’s shape had changed. Now it bore round ears, a rounder face, and an upturned, porcine nose, like a pig.
Curiosity overwhelmed her, and Vixen picked the object up, eager to examine it for the source of the change. Nothing, those, seemed to give her a clue. She didn’t know what would happen, but she suddenly felt a primal need to try the amulet on. She just had to slake her curiosity, and find out if the change had affected her powers.
She clicked the amulet into place, and it began to glow faintly. As it did, she felt her skin tingle and her heart start pounding. This was very different from when she transformed and gained the power of a lion or a tiger. It felt far more animalistic and out of her control.
Vixen felt her arms and legs itch, and to her horror, looked down to see small hairs sprouting from her skin. Her arms felt heavier, and she rested them on the ground. She could feel her face contorting and stretching, and her bones ached and creaked. Worse, she felt her mental control rapidly fading. She felt angry, hungry, and trapped. She needed to move, but found herself unable to stand. Her spine and shifted, and now standing upright was impossible.
She tried to lean on one of her display case columns to stand, but as she leaned into it, the case toppled and the glass shattered on the floor. She reluctantly waddled over on all fours to see what had perished in the fall. What she found gave her the shock of her life, for in the reflection of the shattered glass, though, she could see her face.
Her brows were much more pronounced, and her ears had shifted position higher up on her head. They were bigger and floppier. Her eyes seemed more recessed into her face, and her cheeks were far puffier. Her nose had changed the most. It protruded in front of her like a giant snout, complete with two large nostrils. She looked like a pig, just like the amulet. Vixen tried to undo the clasp, but her fingers seemed to be fused together and she could get a grip on it. Before, she had only taken the power of an animal, not become one. Something had gone horribly wrong.
She twisted and turned her head in vain to get the Totem removed. In doing so, Vixen finally saw what the shattered display case had held. One of her old magazine covers in the floor. The glass had scratched it, but it was otherwise unharmed.
What was most startling about the image was the contrast to her reflection. In the magazine cover, she was the image of beauty, a model. A cover-girl. She had powerful muscle, but also an undeniable feminine grace that permeated her very being. Now, she looked like a half-pig monstrosity. The rage overwhelmed her, and she charged forward, smashing her head against the next display column and causing it to tumble and shatter as well.
In her fury, Vixen aimed to destroy any mementos of what she had looked like, any reminder of what she had lost. She roared like a beast and galloped on, knocking over every single case in the room. When this was completed, she waddled over to the magazines themselves and tried to rip them up. When the non-functionality of her fingers prevented her from doing so, she resorted to tearing them up with her teeth, which had become larger, more prominent, and sharper.
No sense of peace came when this was finished, and Vixen felt herself called downstairs. With some difficulty, she descended down the flight of stairs and walked up to her refrigerator. She tried to resist the idea of eating, but it was no use. She was hungry, and her baser instincts were in complete control.
Unable to open the door in the traditional way, she nudged it open with her snout. With wanton abandon, she went at any food she could find. She eagerly gobbled up fruits and vegetables, whole sticks of butter, and even raw eggs. When she encountered a jar of mayonnaise, she tore off the lid and eagerly licked at the inside of the jar with her newly elongated tongue. She slurped down ketchup from the container the way a baby would drink from bottle.
When the fridge had been emptied, she devoured the contents of the freezer, consuming ice cream and wolfing down frozen meals unthawed. Her jaw ached with the pain of the endless chewing, but the pit in her stomach demanded to be filled. When at last there was nothing to eat, she waddled towards her bedroom on all fours, her overstuffed tummy dragging across the ground. She tried to get comfortable rolling around on her bed, but couldn’t, so she shredded her blankets and pillows. She rooted around in the mess of feathers for a while, like a pig looking for truffles. Eventually, the feathers and fabric settled into a big pile, similar to a pile of hay that an animal might find a suitable bed. Vixen leaned into it and slept.
When she awoke, she had a splitting headache. She was herself again, she knew that from one glance at her normal human fingers. Getting herself out of her ruined bed was quite the task, but somehow she managed. She had some memory of what had happened the night before, but it all seemed too surreal to be reality. Had she really devoured the contents of her entire refrigerator? A quick glace at the kitchen, and the monstrous mess that sat there, confirmed that she had indeed.
When she made her way to the bathroom, she gasped at her reflection. Though she was human again, apparently she had paid for her binge last night in spades. She had gained a massive amount of weight.
Her breasts, no longer high and firm on her muscles, were large, long, and sunk low on her chest. Her belly hung over her groin like an apron, and her thighs were so thick that her knees were buried in flab. Even her face looked different, with a double chin and a wider, more snout like nose that she knew made any return to modeling impossible.
Her butt had been hit the hardest. It stuck out behind her, and shook like jell-o whenever she shifted her weight. She touched it, and it the flesh was exceedingly soft and flabby, and it quivered just from poking it with her finger. What was left of her costume was shredded and barely covered her body. It served only to highlight and expose every errant piece of flab and fat that pressed itself out. Even her trademark muscular arms seemed buried under a thick layer of oozing fat.
Taking off the Totem necklace proved no problem, but that didn’t seem to solve her problem. Was this who she was now, forever?
Epilogue:
A few days later, an emergency meeting was called for the SHA. A few of the heroines did not show up, perhaps too embarrassed. But most of them made it, out of desperation for understanding. The same thing had happened to them all, and they needed to know why.
The sight in the hall was like nothing that had ever taken place in the building before. Fat women, each with slightly different flabby shapes, were everywhere. Some of them wore sweatpants and big bulky jackets to hide their fat, but most simply wore their regular costumes, or at least what was left of them.
Fat oozed out from these much too skimpy uniforms. Breasts dangerously hung out of too small bras, sometimes obscenely, as was the case with Emma Frost. Tummy bulges and big guts strained against the spandex of the Black Widow. The lines one particular butt crack was visible, as the too-small pants clung to every curve on Vixen. Wonder Woman’s uniform was partially covered, as her entire body seemed to ooze over with fat, like a giant muffin top. They, along with other women with equally fat bodies, finally made their way to the large table to discuss the situation.
Each of them had tried to research some rational cause, but none had any luck. When the entire group shared their similarly fruitless efforts in the realm of science, a grim consensus seemed to hang in the air.
“I suppose,” Emma Frost said at last, “That what we must learn from this is the lesson of humility.”
“Speak for yourself,” Vixen added, “What happened to me...to us, was unconscionable. Nobody deserved it.”
“We should look on the bright side, and allow ourselves to embrace our humanity, to relax and have fun, not pretend we can be ‘super’ all the time,” Wonder Woman opined.
"This is an insult to our dignity," The Black Widow said. "How can we look on the bright side?"
"What else can we do?" Wonder Woman replied. An awkward silence filled the air.
“How about a toast,” someone finally shouted out. “To the SHA, the Super Heroine Alliance,” another added.
“More like the Super Huge Asses, now!” someone shouted out.
For a moment there was silence, but then everyone let out a long overdue laugh.
~