DC : Crisis of infinite hunger : Chapter 15

Arc 2 Chapter 1 : The fall of the League

The Watchtower’s conference room, once a place of discipline and strategy, now felt more like the aftermath of a feast.

Barry and Hal lounged on the reinforced seats, both too large for standard chairs now, their stomachs pushing against the table as they absentmindedly stuffed their faces. Half empty donut boxes and burger wrappers surrounded them, a graveyard of indulgence, but they showed no signs of slowing down.

Barry Allen slouched lazily in his seat, his red costume stretched taut over his expansive gut, which pooled into his lap. He absentmindedly reached for another burger from the nearby bag, his gloved fingers already slick with grease.

Across from him, Hal Jordan leaned back, his Green Lantern uniform barely containing the sheer size of him. His gut pressed heavily against the table's edge, and his once-defined arms were now thick and meaty, his ring-bearing hand sluggishly bringing a donut towards his mouth. The former test pilot let out a slow, contented sigh.

"Y'know," Hal said, voice muffled through a mouthful of food, "if the Guardians saw me like this, they'd probably revoke my ring."

Barry chuckled lazily, licking ketchup from his fingers. "Yeah, well, if I still had my usual metabolism, I'd be running laps around you instead of—" He gestured vaguely to his bloated form, the motion making his belly wobble. "—this."

Before Hal could respond, the doors hissed open.

A heavy, deliberate step echoed through the room.

Batman entered, his black cape draped over his form as usual, but something was off.

Hal groaned. "Oh, great. Here comes the lecture."

Barry swallowed his latest bite and straightened up, blinking in slight confusion. Even in the dim lighting, something about Bruce looked... different.

Then Batman moved closer, and the illusion of his usual silhouette wavered.

His cape, typically sleek and controlled, now hung awkwardly, bulging in places it never had before. His footfalls were heavier, more weighted.

And then—

Without a word, Batman reached down and plucked a donut from the box between them.

Barry and Hal both froze mid-bite.

Hal’s eye twitched. "Excuse me?"

Bruce didn’t answer. He just took a slow, deliberate bite.

Hal smirked. “Bats?” He gestured vaguely toward Bruce’s midsection. “You been hitting the Bat-snacks a little too hard?”

Barry groaned. “Dude.”

Hal held up a hand. “What? It’s a valid question!”

Batman’s jaw tensed. “We have more important matters to discuss.”

His voice was as sharp as ever, but Barry caught the way Bruce’s fingers subtly clenched beneath the folds of his cape.

Hal snorted. “Uh-huh. ‘More important matters.’ Sure.” He created a finger shaped construct that he used to prod Bruce’s gut. “You wanna explain this first?”

Bruce took a step closer, eyes narrowing. “Your lack of discipline is unacceptable.” His gaze flickered between them, the disgust in his voice unmistakable. “You’ve let yourselves go, even more than the last meeting.”

Barry stiffened. “Hey, that’s—”

“This is a pattern,” Bruce continued, his voice low and clipped. “First, you ignore my calls when I requested backup. Then you show up looking like this—bloated, sluggish, undisciplined. And now it's continuing to get worse. Have you two even tried to figure out why this is happening?”

Hal’s smirk faltered. “We, uh… might’ve been a little distracted.”

Bruce scoffed. “You think this is funny?” His gloved hand gestured at their softened forms. “This isn’t some game. You’re compromised.”

Barry frowned. “Okay, wow, rude.”

Hal scowled. “Oh, you have to be kidding me. You're really gonna barge in here like you always do, act all high and mighty—while eating our food?"

Batman didn't react. He chewed on the donut, slow and methodical.

Hal threw up a hand. “Oh, no. No, no, no. You don’t get to judge us anymore, Bats. We’ve been getting crap from you for months about this, and now you’re standing there stuffing your cowl like you’re one of us?”

Bruce finally looked up, his piercing glare meeting Hal’s. “I’m not one of you.”

Hal scoffed, waving at him. “Oh, sure. Nothing to see here. Batman’s just enjoying a single donut. Just one.”

Barry narrowed his eyes. “Bruce, you’re—" He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "—looking kinda... full.”

Before Batman could answer, the doors slid open once more.

Superman and Wonder Woman entered.

Clark stood tall, his cape billowing slightly behind him, but his normally warm expression was taut with concern. Beside him, Diana walked with a warrior’s grace, but as her sharp eyes landed on the scene before her, they narrowed in immediate disapproval.

Her gaze flicked to Barry and Hal first, and her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Great Hera," she murmured. "You've both grown even larger since our last meeting. It's a wonder you can still stand."

Barry shifted uncomfortably, his swollen frame making the motion awkward. "Uh, still pretty fast, actually."

Hal smirked. "Yeah. Just, y'know, not get-up-and-run fast."

Diana ignored them, her attention shifting to Batman.

"Bruce," she said, her tone heavy with expectation. "Do you have anything to add?"

Batman remained silent.

Diana's brows furrowed. Her eyes scanned him, taking in the way his cape draped oddly, the slight puffiness around his jawline, the way his belt sat just a little higher than usual.

Something in her hardened. “No.” She shook her head. “Not you too.”

Superman was frowning now, his gaze sharper. His enhanced vision traced every slight difference—how Bruce's once-imposing frame had softened, how the rigid precision of his armor now strained in places.

Clark took a step forward, voice lowering. “Bruce,” he said, gently. “What’s going on?”

"I'm fine."

Clark studied him for a long moment before stepping even closer. Then, slowly, he placed a reassuring hand on Batman’s shoulder.

It was meant to be grounding. An offer of support.

But the moment contact was made—

Something shifted.

A slow, creeping warmth spread through Clark’s body, deep within his Kryptonian physiology.

His muscles, honed to perfection, felt—off. Not weak, but heavy. Full.

His suit, always form-fitting, felt just a little snugger across his torso. His belt pressed subtly against his now softening abs.

Clark pulled his hand back instinctively, but the sensation lingered. His stomach gave an unfamiliar churn—not of sickness, but of... hunger.

Diana’s gaze snapped toward him. “Clark?”

He forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

Diana, still observing, exhaled sharply. She turned to Bruce. "You are supposed to be the League’s discipline. The one who holds the line when others falter. And yet, here you stand, swollen like the rest of them, pretending as if nothing is wrong."

Bruce’s jaw clenched. "I don't need a lecture."

"No," Diana said, eyes narrowing. "You need help."

Batman stiffened. The word—help—hung in the air like an accusation.

Bruce turned away. “This meeting is over.”

Diana’s eyes narrowed. “Bruce—”

He strode past them, disappearing into the shadows as swiftly as he had arrived.

Diana lingered, gaze still fixed on the spot where he had stood..

“…Fools” she muttered.

Clark swallowed. His stomach ached.

“I need to go,” Diana said finally. She cast one last look at Clark before turning on her heel. “Kal, I trust you'll handle this.”

The doors slid shut behind her.

Silence lingered in the room.

Superman stood still, his expression unreadable. But beneath the surface, something was happening.

His stomach growled.

Loudly.

Barry and Hal exchanged a knowing glance.

Clark exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to his midsection. His fingers traced along the fabric—he wasn’t imagining it. He felt fuller.

The table, still cluttered with food, caught his attention. The scent of grease and sugar lingered in the air.

He swallowed. “Do you guys mind if I…?” He gestured vaguely at the spread.

Hal waved a heavy hand. “Hey, man, knock yourself out.”

Barry grinned lazily. “Plenty to go around.”

Clark hesitated only a moment longer.

Then, he stepped forward.

He reached for a donut—just one.

But as soon as he took the first bite, his resolve crumbled.

The rush of flavor hit him like a freight train. Sweet. Rich. Perfect.

His hands moved on their own, grabbing another. And another.

His body beginning to soften more with each bite shoveled into his mouth.