DC : Crisis of infinite hunger : Chapter 16

Apologies for the wait, life is finally getting back to normal after countless setbacks. Arc 2 : Chapter 2 : A Heavier Burden Lois Lane ha

Apologies for the wait, life is finally getting back to normal after countless setbacks.

Arc 2 : Chapter 2 : A Heavier Burden

Lois Lane had spent the last week in Markovia, covering yet another political summit for the Daily Planet. In her absence, Clark Kent had quickly discovered just how fragile his self-control really was. Ever since that indulgent evening at the Watchtower with Barry and Hal, Clark had spiraled hopelessly into constant overeating.

He had faced Doomsday, stood defiantly before cosmic threats—yet resisting a midnight pizza or a triple-burger combo from Big Belly seemed suddenly impossible. Each day his cravings grew stronger, and the meals larger. What began as subtle snacking had become outright gluttony.

Standing in the elevator of the Daily Planet one morning after yet another night of binging, Clark barely recognized the reflection staring back at him. His formerly crisp white shirt strained tightly against his chest, buttons pulling apart enough to expose vivid slivers of his Superman suit beneath. Embarrassment burned in his cheeks as he tugged at his collar, feeling it bite into the softening flesh of his neck. His gut curved outward significantly, forming a rounded dome beneath his strained belt, while his thighs filled his slacks entirely, fabric outlining every softened curve vividly. His moobs shifted slightly with each breath, jiggling under the shirt like they were fighting for room.

The elevator dinged.

When the doors slid open, Clark stepped out—and stopped.

It was like stepping into a parody of the Daily Planet. Desks were littered with donut boxes and fast food wrappers. Empty soda cups and sauce-stained napkins were piled like paperwork. The usual chaos of ringing phones and typing was dulled, replaced by the hum of sluggish chewing and the occasional wheeze between bites.

Everyone had changed.

Janice from layout was hunched over her desk, a hoagie in one hand and a glazed donut in the other, her belly pressing visibly against the drawer. Steve from sports had ballooned into his chair, arms jiggling with each lazy movement.

And then there was Jimmy.

“Clark!” Jimmy Olsen beamed, cheeks full, his words half-muffled by the burger in his mouth. Clark’s jaw dropped as he took in the size of him—Jimmy had ballooned to a size Clark hadn’t thought possible in just a week. Easily five hundred pounds, maybe more. His suspenders were lost in folds of fat, his gut resting heavily across his thighs like a giant mound of dough.

Clark smiled awkwardly, approaching Jimmy's desk. "Hey, Jimmy. How's it going?"

"Living the dream," Jimmy laughed, lifting a half-eaten donut-burger dripping with sauce. "You gotta try these. Seriously, CK, they're a masterpiece."

Clark shook his head weakly. "I don't think that's a good idea, Jimmy..."

Jimmy grinned, shoving a wrapped one in Clark’s direction. “Come on, CK. Just one bite won’t kill ya. Consider it breakfast. Or... second breakfast?”

Clark’s stomach betrayed him with a loud gurgle. He glanced down at it—rounded, tight, aching to be filled again. “Alright,” he sighed. “One bite.”

He took it. One bite turned into two, then three. Rich, sweet, savory. It was everything his body craved. Jimmy laughed, giving Clark a knowing nod.

“See? It’s got that villain-level hold on you. I swear this stuff should be illegal.”

Clark, cheeks full, tried to reply. “Ith’s really good…”

"Told ya," Jimmy chuckled.

Clark flushed and backed away, smiling awkwardly.

Across from Jimmy, Cat Grant practically held court. She had grown even larger than Jimmy—if that were possible. Easily in the five-hundred-pound range herself, Cat lounged in her chair like royalty, her stomach taking up most of the seat. Her blouse was sheer from the strain, riding high on her belly. A towering milkshake nestled comfortably in the crevice of her cleavage, the straw bent awkwardly toward her mouth.

“Clark, darling,” she purred, eyes on her phone. “Be a sweetheart and get me something really chocolatey. Lava muffin. Extra cream. You know the drill.”

Clark nodded faintly, trying not to stare. “Sure, Cat.”

On his way to his desk, Clark detoured to the breakroom and grabbed a lava muffin with extra cream, returning to place it gently beside her.

She smiled lazily, not looking up. “Thanks, sweetie. What would I do without you?”

Clark gave a quick nod and moved on, finally reaching his desk. He sat down carefully. The chair gave a loud groan beneath him. He winced, adjusting awkwardly as his belly pressed against the desk, the edge of it digging into the soft swell.

He opened his drawer. Notes. Headlines. Useless.

Then—

The smell hit him. Warm. Sweet. Dangerous.

There it was.

A full box of donuts. Just sitting there like a trap. Still warm. Perfectly glazed.

He stared.

Then gave in.

The first bite melted on his tongue. The second was gone before he realized it. Soon, powdered sugar dusted his lips and crumbs speckled his shirt.

He was halfway through his third when—

“Well, Smallville—looks like you’ve been busy.”

Clark choked, twisting in his seat, donut still in hand.

“Lmphs!” he managed, mouth full. “L-Loish?!” Clark hastily swallowed. “You’re… you’re back early?”

“Clearly,” she said, walking toward him. “Markovia’s talks fell apart. Apparently, the delegates were more focused on the dessert table than the treaty table. I figured I’d come home before I needed a forklift to get around.”

She stopped beside him, hands on hips, taking in the view. Her expression softened into something playful—and a little concerned.

“Wow. When I said ‘don’t starve without me,’ I didn’t mean eat the entire city.”

Clark gave her a sheepish smile. “It’s... been a weird week.”

Lois grinned, amusement still in her eyes. She reached out slowly, trailing a playful finger down his taut shirt buttons.

"These buttons deserve medals for bravery."

Clark blushed fiercely, heart racing. “Lois—”

She stepped closer, leaning in until her lips brushed his ear. “How exactly are we supposed to work around this new figure of yours? I’ve never dated a plus-sized guy before. Or would you say SUPER plus-sized?”

Clark turned bright red. “Lois—really? Here?”

She laughed, reaching down and giving one of his moobs a gentle squeeze. “Oh please. Everyone’s too busy face-first in pastries to notice.”

Then she hesitated.

Her gaze drifted around the newsroom again. “Actually… that is weird, isn’t it?”

Clark blinked. “What is?”

“This,” she gestured to the office. “Everyone. They’re huge, Clark. I’ve been gone just over a week and it’s like Metropolis got hit by a food-based weather event. Is this the new supervillain of the week or something? Because if so, I think they’ve already won.”

Clark frowned. “I don’t know. But you’re not wrong.”

Lois tilted her head, rubbing her stomach absently. “Strangest part? I skipped breakfast and now I can’t stop thinking about food.”

She caught herself tugging at her waistband. It felt snugger than it had a few days ago. Her slacks clung tighter around her hips. She adjusted again.

Her gaze softened, concern edging back into her playful tone.

"Clark, honestly, I'm starting to worry. This isn't like you."

He lowered his eyes, genuinely embarrassed. “I know, Lois. I don't know what's gotten into me.”

She squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “We'll figure it out. But seriously,” she smirked again, “if this keeps up, we’ll need a reinforced bed frame.”

Clark laughed weakly, desperately searching for an excuse to not have this conversation. “I, uh, I've got this urgent lead. Down by the docks.”

Lois raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Urgent, huh? Let me guess—glazed or chocolate-filled docks?”

Clark stood awkwardly, belly wobbling notably. “I’ll, uh, I’ll be back soon.”

“Sure,” Lois called after him fondly, chuckling as he hastily retreated.

Her stomach gave a low, hungry growl.

She turned back toward Clark’s desk, eyes falling on the last donut in the box. Her brow furrowed slightly.

“One donut can’t hurt,” she muttered, reaching for it. “Not like he needs it.”

She took a bite.

Sweet. Warm. Ridiculously good.

Her lips curled slowly as she chewed, eyes drifting toward the breakroom. A new, nagging hunger curled in her belly.

She brushed powdered sugar from her pants, then paused.

Her hand settled on her waist.

She could feel it. A faint softness where there wasn’t one before. Her waistband pressed ever so slightly tighter against her stomach, a subtle discomfort she hadn’t noticed earlier.

Another rumble from her stomach.

She licked her fingers, savoring the sugar.

She took a few more slow steps toward the breakroom, eyes glazing with temptation.

“Just... going to check what else they’ve got,” she mumbled to no one, her hand subconsciously resting over the gentle swell forming at her belly.

She glanced once toward the hallway Clark had left through—then turned fully toward the breakroom.

Lois Lane, award-winning journalist, begun to follow in her partner’s heavy footsteps…