Chapter 11 : Titanic trouble
The double doors to the main living area of Titans Tower slid open with a hiss, but the sound was lost under the cacophony of crinkling paper bags, rustling boxes, and a loud crunch as Wally West bit into a fry before they even entered the room. Donna Troy, Nightwing, and Wally shuffled in, carrying an overwhelming amount of food. The smell of burgers, pizza, fries, and sugary milkshakes filled the space almost instantly.
“Alright, Titans,” Wally said, voice muffled by a half-eaten burger. “Your hero has arrived—with provisions!” He proudly held up a bag, grease seeping through its bottom.
Donna smirked, nudging him with her hip. “You’re not fooling anyone, Wally. We all know half of that’s for you.”
“More like most of it,” Nightwing muttered, struggling to balance his share of the haul as his belly brushed against the table edge.
Donna set down her food with a huff and stretched, her starry costume straining across her figure. Her silver belt visibly struggled to stay in place, her chest practically spilling out of her top with each heavy breath. “It’s for all of us,” she insisted, though she immediately snagged a box of fries and a burger, her tone more playful than defensive.
“Not the best way to lead by example, Wonder Girl,” came Raven’s sharp voice from across the room. She stood with her arms crossed, watching the trio like an exasperated babysitter.
Nightwing dropped onto the couch with a loud thump, his widened hips spilling over the sides. He groaned and rubbed his back theatrically. “Ugh, Rae, could you not?”
“Could you not?” Raven’s eyes flared briefly with dark energy. “Don’t even start with me, Dick. You got stuck in the elevator last week, and I had to practically reshape reality to pull you out!” She then whirled on Donna. “And you, your boobs popped out of your costume during the last mission! In front of reporters!”
Donna at least had the grace to look embarrassed. “That… wasn’t entirely my fault…”
“Wasn’t it?” Raven snapped. “You insisted on squeezing into that top, even though you knew it couldn’t handle all this.” She gestured broadly at Donna’s figure, particularly her chest.
“Okay, okay, we get it,” Nightwing interjected, holding up a burger in surrender. “Mistakes were made. But in my defense, that elevator was already old—”
“It wasn’t the elevator,” Raven interrupted icily. “It was you and your… cargo.” She gestured pointedly at his massive belly and even larger backside.
“Cargo?” Nightwing feigned offense, leaning back and patting his stomach. “I’ll have you know, this is tactical weight. Keeps me grounded during a fight.”
“Grounded? You couldn't even do a flip last mission!”
Wally burst out laughing, spraying crumbs everywhere. “She’s got a point, dude. Remember when you tried to swing on that chandelier and it snapped?”
“Yeah? Well, at least I don’t eat like the Tasmanian Devil,” Nightwing shot back. “Pretty sure I saw you scarf down six pizzas by yourself last night.”
“Seven,” Wally corrected smugly, polishing off his fries. “And I regret nothing.”
Raven groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “How is this my life? You’re all supposed to be superheroes.”
Starfire, who had been silently observing the argument, tilted her head curiously. “Friend Raven, perhaps they are simply… evolving? On Tamaran, increased size often signifies strength and status.”
“Yeah, no, that’s not what’s happening here,” Raven deadpanned.
Donna finally spoke up, her tone calm but firm. “Raven, I get it. You’re frustrated. But we’ve been through worse than this before. We’re still the Titans, weight or no weight.”
Raven raised an eyebrow. “Are you really trying to give me a motivational speech with a slice of pizza in one hand and fries in the other?”
Donna blinked, then looked down at her hands sheepishly. “Uh… maybe?”
“This is ridiculous,” Raven muttered, throwing her hands up. “You’re supposed to be role models, but instead you’re acting like gluttons at a buffet.”
“Hey, I resemble that remark,” Wally said, shoving another handful of fries into his mouth.
“Wally, stop talking,” Raven hissed.
Nightwing chuckled, leaning back into the couch as much as his bulk would allow. “Come on, Rae. You gotta admit, we’re still pretty awesome. Just, you know… bigger.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.
Raven glared. “If by ‘awesome’ you mean ‘utterly useless,’ then sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Dick.”
Starfire finally stepped forward. “Perhaps we should focus less on our appearance and more on our teamwork,” she said gently.
“Thank you, Kory,” Raven said with a sigh of relief. “Finally, some sense.”
“Although,” Starfire continued, her tone thoughtful, “it is fascinating how much larger Richard’s posterior has become. It is quite… impressive.”
“Not helping, Star,” Raven muttered, facepalming.
Nightwing, however, grinned. “See, Rae? Star gets it. This is peak form.”
Raven sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping. “If any of you get stuck in another elevator—or anywhere else—don’t call me. I’m done.”
“Noted,” Wally said, already unwrapping another burger.
“Good,” Raven replied flatly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do.” She turned and stormed off, muttering something about finding new teammates.
As Raven and Starfire left, the trio exchanged amused looks, then dove back into their food with renewed enthusiasm.
“Think she’ll ever lighten up?” Wally asked through a mouthful of fries.
“Doubt it,” Donna said, reaching for another slice of pizza.
“Eh, her loss,” Nightwing added with a shrug, patting his belly contentedly. “More for us.”
2024-12-06 12:13:55 +0000 UTC
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Got one more image piece for chapter 13 on the way then after that its the epilogue
2024-12-05 00:49:18 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 10 : Justice and Indulgence
Barry Allen stood in front of a reflective surface in the speed lab, admiring his newly conjured suit made from speedforce energy. The shimmering energy stretched perfectly over his bulkier frame, hugging his expanded stomach and thighs without any discomfort. It wasn’t his classic suit, but it would do.
“Thanks for this, Wally,” Barry said, turning to his protégé, who was lounging on the couch with a half-eaten burger in hand. Barry flexed his arms slightly testing the suit’s stretch. “This is way better than waddling around half-dressed. I’d probably still be running around shirtless if it wasn’t for you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Wally replied, casually brushing crumbs off his lap. His own suit gleamed faintly, though it did little to hide his growing figure. “Try not rip another one, okay? Not sure I can handle the mental image of you bursting out of that thing.”
Barry chuckled, patting his gut. “I’ll try to keep it together. Though, knowing my luck lately, that might not last long.”
Wally polished off the rest of his burger, “so where are you off to now? Wanna grab something to eat? Im starving.”
“Sorry Wal, I’ve got a Justice League meeting,” Barry replied. “And, uh, I'm stopping off at Big Belly Burger. I’m meeting Hal there beforehand.”
Wally raised an eyebrow. “Preloading on food before a League meeting? Bold move.”
Barry shrugged, smirking. “Gotta keep the metabolism running, right?”
Barry arrived at Big Belly Burger to find Hal Jordan already wedged in at a corner booth, a tray stacked high with burgers, fries, and milkshakes in front of him. The Green Lantern was halfway through a double cheeseburger, his ring faintly glowing as it floated a large soda to his lips.
“About time you showed up,” Hal said, gesturing for Barry to sit. “ Thought there was gonna be none left for you.”
Barry squeezed into the booth, his stomach growling at the sight of the feast. “Good thing I came—otherwise you’d be in trouble.”
Hal grinned. “Dig in, Scarlet Speedster. We’ve got a meeting to crush soon and stomachs to fill.”
The two heroes wasted no time, their conversation punctuated by the sound of wrappers crinkling and straws slurping. By the time they finished their first round, Barry leaned back, rubbing his gut with a satisfied groan.
“We should probably slow down and save some of the food,” Barry said, glancing at the clock. “Theres no way I'm sitting through a whole Justice League meeting with nothing to eat.”
Hal chuckled, summoning a fresh tray with his ring. “Good call Allen, I'm with you there. I can't think of anything worse than having to listen to Bruce ramble about stats on an empty stomach. ”
The Watchtower was quiet when Barry and Hal arrived, their arms laden with bags of food. They set the boxes on the table, the aroma of burgers and donuts filling the room.
Barry plopped into a chair, his suit stretching effortlessly around his bulk. “Think they'll care if we snack during the meeting?”
Hal smirked, unwrapping a burger. “If they do, that’s their problem.”
“This might actually go smoothly,” Hal said, taking a sip. “We’re early for once.”
Barry chuckled, reaching for a burger. “Don’t jinx it.”
Moments later, the heavy double doors slid open, and the conversation died immediately. Batman, Wonder Woman, and Superman entered the room, their expressions shifting from neutral to outright disbelief as they took in the scene. Barry and Hal, mid-bite, froze like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
“Allen. Jordan,” Batman said, his tone cold and sharp. “Care to explain?”
Barry froze mid-bite, his cheeks puffed with food. He swallowed quickly, trying to play it off. “Uh… explain what?”
“This,” Batman snapped, gesturing at the food, at their bodies. “Do you think this is acceptable?”
Hal raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “What, eating before a meeting? Since when is that a crime?”
Barry winced, tugging at his suit. “Look, I know we’ve… changed. But it’s not like we’re not still doing our jobs.”
“Really?” Batman’s voice was razor-sharp. “Because last week, when I called you both for a mission, Hal told me you were ‘too busy.’” He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “So this is what you were busy with? Stuffing yourselves at Big Belly Burger?”
Hal shrugged, unfazed. “We needed a break. Even heroes have to eat, Bruce.”
“Eating isn’t the issue,” Wonder Woman interjected, her tone firm but less accusatory. “It’s how you’ve let this spiral out of control. You’re not just jeopardizing yourselves—you’re jeopardizing the League.”
Barry looked down at the table, guilt etched on his face. “We didn’t mean for it to get this bad.”
“Intent doesn’t matter,” Batman said harshly. “Perception does. The world is watching us. If they see this, they’ll lose faith in everything we stand for.”
Hal smirked, crossing his arms. “Oh, come on. You think the public cares if I’ve packed on a few pounds?”
“They will,” Batman shot back. “When they start questioning whether you can even fit into your cockpit, let alone fight in a battle.”
Barry flinched, his face reddening. Hal’s smirk faltered, replaced by a scowl. “You’ve got a real talent for motivational speeches, you know that?”
“Enough,” Wonder Woman said, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. She turned to Barry and Hal, her expression softening slightly. “We’re not trying to humiliate you. We’re trying to help. But you need to take this seriously. The League is more than just a group of heroes—it’s a symbol. And right now, you’re tarnishing that symbol.”
Superman leaned forward, his tone gentler. “Barry, Hal, we’re here for you. But you need to meet us halfway. Whatever’s happening to you, it’s not just physical. It’s affecting your judgment, your discipline. If you don’t address it, it’s going to cost us big time.
Barry nodded slowly, his shoulders slumping. “We’ll… we’ll do better. I promise.”
Hal hesitated, then muttered under his breath, “Yeah, fine. Whatever.”
Batman’s glare didn’t soften as he turned toward the door. “You’d better. Because if this continues, you'll be off the team.”
The three founders left the room, leaving Barry and Hal in tense silence. Hal grabbed another donut from the box, popping it into his mouth.
“Well,” he said, smirking again, “that went about as well as I expected.”
Barry sighed, burying his face in his hands. “We’re so screwed.”
2024-11-26 06:05:08 +0000 UTC
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The next 3 images after this will all be to conclude the first arc, and the next 4 images after that will be apart of the epilogue teasing what will come in the 2nd arc
2024-11-13 03:57:03 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 9 : The weight of leadership
The fluorescent lights of Titans Tower cast a steady glow as Donna Troy, Starfire, and Raven gathered in the common room. A wall monitor displayed recent mission updates and intel feeds, but the three women weren’t focused on that just yet. Instead, their attention was fixed on Roy and Garth’s upcoming return from an overseas mission, and the next tasks the Titans would need to address.
"Roy and Garth should be back any day now," Donna said, arms crossed as she studied the monitor. "Once they’re here, we’ll have a full team again. But where are Dick and Wally? They’ve been completely MIA. This isn’t like them."
Starfire, hovering just off the ground with her usual grace, frowned slightly. "Richard and Wally… I have not seen them much lately. It is strange—they are usually so diligent."
Raven’s hooded figure stood by the window, her gaze directed toward the skyline. “Maybe they’re taking a break,” she said dryly, though her expression showed a hint of doubt. “But Dick is supposed to be the leader. Hard to lead when he’s nowhere to be found.”
Donna’s brow furrowed in frustration. “This is ridiculous. They can’t just disappear when we have work to do. We need Dick’s direction on these upcoming missions. I don’t know what’s gotten into them.”
Just then, the elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and Donna turned, her frustration ready to be directed at her absent teammates—only to find herself momentarily speechless.
Out stepped Wally West, stuffing a half-eaten donut into his mouth, followed closely by Nightwing, who was working on a slice of pizza, his cheeks full as he took another bite. They were… different. Very different. Donna blinked, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.
Wally’s once lean frame had expanded dramatically, his red suit stretched tight across his belly, which now hung heavily over his waistband. His thighs were thick, the fabric of his costume visibly straining with each step, and his face was rounder, his jawline softened with a layer of fat that hadn’t been there before. In his hands, he clutched several bags filled with various fast-food items, as if he hadn’t had enough with the donut he was devouring.
And Dick, her once-athletic, acrobatic partner—had undergone an even more startling transformation. His black and blue suit barely contained his bulk, which was distributed heavily across his middle and thighs. His stomach was round and prominent, pressing insistently against his suit, while his hips and backside had filled out to a surprising degree, giving him an almost pear-like shape. His face, usually sharp and defined, now held a softer look, his cheeks rounder, making him almost unrecognizable.
“Ladies,” Wally greeted, his tone casual as he sauntered past them with an armful of junk food. He didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed by his transformation, his grin wide as he offered them a mock salute.
Nightwing followed suit, muttering a muffled, “Hey, guys,” through a mouthful of pizza, barely even looking up as he strolled into the room. His ass and thighs jiggled with each step, and he seemed completely oblivious to the stunned looks on his teammates' faces.
Donna was the first to break the silence. "Dick… what the hell happened to you two?"
Nightwing paused mid-bite, glancing down at himself as if only now realizing the extent of his condition. He let out a small, awkward chuckle, trying to brush it off. “Oh, you know… things have been… busy.”
“Busy eating, clearly,” Raven muttered, crossing her arms. Her deadpan expression barely shifted as she gave him a once-over.
Starfire floated closer, her eyes wide as she took in Nightwing’s softened form. “Richard… you appear… softer,” she observed, a slight note of confusion in her voice. Her gaze drifted down, lingering on the way his suit struggled to contain the generous curve of his backside. “And your… rear has become quite large.”
Raven’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “ I think we noticed Star,” she said dryly.
Donna shook her head, snapping out of her shock as she refocused on the mission. "Dick, seriously. We’ve got missions piling up, and we need you to lead. You’re the head of this team, not… whatever this is.”
Wally shrugged, plopping down on one of the couches as he took a seat with a dramatic sigh. The couch creaked under his weight, and he grinned, patting his belly as he settled in. “Relax, Donna. It’s not the end of the world. Besides, maybe you should try some of this yourself—it’s good stuff.” He reached into a bag and started munching on a handful of fries, entirely unbothered by her concerns.
Nightwing took a seat next to Wally, his bulk settling into the couch with a slight bounce. His stomach pressed outward as he leaned back, one hand holding a box of donuts while the other held a partially finished slice of pizza. “Donna, we’re fine,” he said, waving off her concerns. “Just taking a… little break.”
Donna’s eyes narrowed, her jaw set with determination. “Dick, enough with the excuses. You’re coming with me, and we’re going to get you back on track. We can’t keep doing this without a proper leader.”
Nightwing sighed, the weight of responsibility seemingly pressing down on him. “Fine,” he muttered, “Fine, I’ll… I’ll get up.” He shifted in his seat, then paused, looking slightly embarrassed. “Uh… could you give me a hand? I’m… kinda stuck here.”
Donna raised an eyebrow but stepped forward, gripping his arm and giving it a firm tug. As she pulled him up, his entire body seemed to jiggle in response, his stomach wobbling and his enlarged backside quivering as he found his footing. The sheer heft of him took her by surprise; even with her Amazonian strength, it was clear that Nightwing had put on an impressive amount of weight.
“There,” she said, slightly out of breath. “Now, about the mission—” But as she spoke, she caught a whiff of the food Wally was holding, and a strange pang of hunger hit her. She blinked, feeling an odd craving. “Wally, do you mind if I… have one of those?”
Wally raised an eyebrow, grinning as he held out the bag. “Go for it. They’re good, right?”
Donna hesitated only a second before reaching in and grabbing a donut. She took a bite, the sugary taste satisfying some unspoken need, and before she knew it, she was reaching for another.
Raven watched with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “Donna… what are you doing? You were just telling them to get it together.”
“It’s fine,” Donna replied, waving her off as she bit into a second donut. “I just haven’t eaten all day.”
Starfire floated a little closer, her brows furrowed in confusion. “But… what about the mission, Donna? We were going to discuss the details.”
Donna glanced back at her, finishing off the donut as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “The mission can wait until Roy and Garth get back,” she said, her earlier determination melting away as her gaze lingered on the spread of food Wally had brought.
Nightwing let out a relieved sigh, sinking back into his seat as he picked up a donut himself. “So… does this mean I can finish these?” he asked, giving Donna a hopeful look as he held up a box of donuts.
Donna nodded absentmindedly, already reaching for a bag of chips Wally had left on the table. “Yeah… go ahead. No rush, right?”
Wally chuckled, watching her with a satisfied grin. “That’s the spirit, Donna!”
Raven sighed, her eyes narrowing as she watched her teammates succumb one by one to their newfound appetites. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered, exasperated.
Starfire, still looking bewildered, watched as Donna reached for another donut. “But… what of our responsibilities?” she asked, torn between her loyalty to the team and her concern for her friends.
Nightwing merely shrugged, popping another piece of pizza into his mouth. “Responsibilities can wait,” he said, muffled through a mouthful of cheese and crust.
With a reluctant nod, Donna stood up, gesturing for Wally and Nightwing to follow. “Alright then. Since we’re all here, let’s get something real to eat. Big Belly Burger?”
Nightwing’s face lit up, a spark of his old energy returning as he got to his feet. “Now you’re talking, Donna.”
As they left the tower, headed for yet another indulgent meal, the thought of missions, responsibilities, and leadership drifted further and further from their minds, buried beneath layers of newfound cravings and unquenchable appetites. And as they walked out together, Donna couldn’t shake the odd satisfaction filling her with each bite, wondering why she’d ever been so insistent on taking charge in the first place.
2024-11-11 11:33:15 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 8: Squeezing into Trouble
Barry Allen had never felt more frustrated. Just months ago, his suit slid over his toned, muscular body like a second skin, perfectly form-fitting, ready to absorb every ounce of speed the Speed Force granted him. But now, things were different. Barry’s physique had taken a significant turn—his once lean muscles were buried under layers of soft, ever-expanding fat. His metabolism, which used to work in overdrive, now seemed to only work on finding ways to add inches to his waistline.
And now, standing in front of the full-length mirror in his and Iris’s bedroom, Barry struggled to fit into what had once been his fitted Flash suit. Now the red fabric was strained to the breaking point, stretched across his massive belly. He had tried pulling it on himself, but it became evident that he needed help—lots of it.
“Iris!” Barry called, a note of embarrassment creeping into his voice. He gave one last tug on the fabric before letting out a sigh of frustration. “I need some help here!”
Iris West, who had been in the bathroom trying to get herself ready, waddled into the room, donut in hand. She took a moment to look Barry over before taking a bite of the pastry, her own outfit struggling to contain her curvier figure. Iris had been experiencing her own transformation over the past few weeks, and her favorite blouse now clung desperately to her widened hips and belly. The buttons down the front strained, one even having popped off a few days ago, leaving a gap that exposed the soft curve of her belly.
With her cheeks puffed out from the donut, she muffled, “Hang on, I’ll help in a sec,” as she swallowed the bite. She crammed the rest of the donut in her mouth to free up her hands. Her fingers, sticky with icing, left small marks on her blouse as she wiped them on her pants, ready to assess how bad Barry’s situation was.
“You’re still trying to squeeze into that?” she teased, waddling up behind him, her wider hips swaying with every step. "Barry, you’ve gotta stop eating before suiting up," she teased, though her voice was strained from the effort of pulling. The waistband wouldn’t budge, and her own jeans were digging into her hips as she bent down to help him. "I mean, I know you’re fast, but you’ve been way too fast at grabbing those snacks."
Barry shot a sheepish glance at Iris in the mirror. His large belly hung out over the top of his suit’s pants. His formerly powerful legs were now soft and thick, and his thighs chafed with every movement and made it extremely hard to get his suit up any higher.
"Iris," Barry sighed, "I think this might be a lost cause." His voice was a mixture of embarrassment and helplessness. "I’m supposed to be the Fastest Man Alive, but I can’t even get my pants on."
Iris smirked around the donut in her mouth and gave his waistband one last futile tug. "At this point, I think I’m better off getting a shoehorn," she joked before taking another bite of her donut, her plump fingers making it disappear faster than she intended.
Barry's hands rested on the growing curve of his stomach, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh. He gave his belly a half-hearted jiggle, sighing at how unrecognizable his body had become. The irony of being a speedster cursed with such rapid weight gain wasn’t lost on him.
Iris, who had finally let go of his waistband, came around to stand in front of him. She wiped her hands once again on her now too-tight blouse and looked at him with a mix of concern and affection. "We’ll figure it out, Barry," she said, her tone softening. "I mean, I can barely fit into my own clothes anymore as well. I’ve had to buy new clothes twice already, and It doesn't seem to be slowing down either". She patted her own belly for emphasis. "We’re in this together." She reached out and gave his belly a playful pat, though her fingers sank deeper than she anticipated.
Barry looked down at her, feeling the warmth of her hand against his skin. He hugged her, placing his hand on her back, noticing how her blouse pulled taut across her hips. For a moment, he felt the slightest bit of relief—they were in this together. But the growing weight of the situation, both literally and figuratively, lingered.
Suddenly, there was a loud rip as Barry’s pants split at the seam in the back, unable to take the strain of his bulging rear any longer. Iris’s eyes widened, and then she burst into laughter, covering her mouth as she giggled uncontrollably.
Barry turned beet red. "Okay," he said, his voice flat. "That’s it. I’m officially out of costume options."
Still laughing, Iris wiped a tear from her eye. "Oh, Barry. I think we’re going to need to make some calls. Maybe see if someone on the league can invent some new 'stretch tech' or something."
Barry’s lips twitched as he tried to suppress a smile. "That’s not a bad idea, actually."
Just then, conveniently, Barry’s communicator went off. It was a League alert. Barry groaned as he glanced at the flashing device on the bedside table.
Iris raised an eyebrow. "You think they’re going to be okay with you showing up like this?"
Barry shook his head. " I'll have to see if wally can teach me that trick creating a suit with the speedforce. But trust me, Iris, no one is going to want to see this right now."
She laughed again and kissed him on the cheek. "Good luck, Fastest Man Alive."
With his torn pants barely hanging on and his belly still out in full display, Barry made his way toward the door, trying his best to not think about how the League or Wally was going to react to his... current form. As he left, Iris leaned back against the wall, finishing her donut and absentmindedly picking up another from the box.
She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her stomach, round and soft, pressed against the fabric of her pants, which were digging into her hips.
"Well," she mused, patting her belly, "looks like I’m going to need a new wardrobe too."
2024-10-31 11:30:14 +0000 UTC
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Things are starting to ramp up
2024-10-24 02:35:40 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 7: Wally’s New Normal
Wally West lay sprawled out on the worn couch in Titans Tower, a half-empty pizza box balancing on his gut. He sank deeper into the cushions, letting out a lazy sigh, surrounded by the wreckage of his recent indulgences. Wrappers, empty cans, crumpled napkins, and pizza boxes littered the floor. His red speedster suit, once a sleek second skin, now struggled to contain his growing bulk. His belly rose and fell with every breath, spilling over his waistband and pressing into his thighs.
He rubbed the back of his neck and stifled a belch. His stomach groaned, not in protest, but in hunger. No matter how much he ate, the gnawing hunger never left—it was constant, like a black hole inside him, demanding more. He reached lazily for another slice, his fingers greasy from the pizza he'd already inhaled.
His once-athletic frame had morphed significantly over the past few days. Where lean muscle used to stretch over his abs and legs, now soft rolls of fat had taken up residence. His thighs had thickened into heavy trunks, rubbing together beneath the tight material of his suit, and his rear had grown fuller, making every seat feel smaller. Even his face had softened, the sharp angles of his cheekbones blunted by a rounding fullness that made him look far too relaxed for a man with super-speed.
He was halfway through demolishing another slice when Nightwing strolled in. As always, the former Boy Wonder moved with an effortless grace, hands on his hips, a playful smirk already tugging at the corner of his lips.
“West! Geez, what the hell happened to you?” Nightwing quipped, eyeing the mess and Wally’s swollen frame. “Did you race into a bakery and just... never leave?”
Wally grinned around a mouthful of pizza, swallowing it down with a loud gulp. “What can I say? I’ve developed a... new hobby.”
Nightwing shook his head, amused, and without skipping a beat, extended his fist. “Well, if you're still alive enough to joke about it, I guess you're doing alright.”
With some effort, Wally leaned forward, his belly folding as he reached to return the gesture. Their fists met with a dull smack, the simple camaraderie shared between old friends—but what neither of them noticed was the unseen, subtle exchange. The moment their hands touched, the insatiable hunger that had plagued Wally for days latched onto Nightwing, the virus transferring to its next victim.
Nightwing let his hand linger for a second, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at the grease-covered glove now pressed against his own. "You know, you might wanna try washing up every now and then."
“Yeah, yeah. Just keeping it authentic,” Wally shot back, easing himself back into the couch with a heavy sigh, the effort causing the pizza box balanced on his stomach to tilt dangerously to the side.
Nightwing gave the room another once-over, taking in the clutter and the sheer amount of food Wally must’ve gone through. “Seriously though, you’ve really let yourself go. When was the last time you even went for a run?”
“Yesterday,” Wally said defensively, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his laziness. “To the fridge and back.”
Nightwing snorted. “Right. Well, if you're this far gone, I gotta at least stick around and make sure you don’t pass out from a food coma.” He gave the pizza box a nudge with his boot. “Y'know im actually feeling kinda hungry myself. You got anything left in there, or should we order some more?”
Wally’s eyes lit up, and he pushed himself up slightly—enough to grab his phone from between the couch cushions. “More. Definitely more.”
“Good call,” Nightwing said, plopping down on the opposite side of the couch, his lean frame looking out of place beside Wally’s increasingly bloated one.
Wally snickered as he navigated the delivery app. “You eating junk food? I thought you lived off protein shakes and crime-fighting adrenaline.”
Nightwing leaned back, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “Yeah, well... I guess hanging out with you has me in the mood to indulge.” His stomach gave a low grumble, almost as if on cue, and he rubbed it absentmindedly. “Man, I didn’t realize I was this hungry.”
They placed an order big enough to feed a small party—several pizzas, wings, fries, burgers, and even a couple of milkshakes. Wally had become something of an expert on takeout recently and knew exactly what to get.
While they waited for the food, Nightwing with hunger growing more prevalent, reached for a leftover crust sitting atop a greasy napkin. “You gonna finish this?” he asked casually.
Wally gave a lazy shrug. “All yours, man.”
Nightwing popped the crust into his mouth without hesitation. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to spark something inside him. The moment the food hit his stomach, the hunger intensified—a need that hadn’t been there before. His appetite was usually pretty controlled, but now it felt like a switch had flipped, and suddenly, *everything* sounded good.
Just as the doorbell rang, the two heroes exchanged glances. They could already taste the food, and the excitement of diving into the next meal washed away any lingering concerns.
When the delivery guy left, the two friends tore into the food like ravenous beasts. Wings were devoured, burgers disappeared within moments, and fries vanished by the handful.
Wally, wiping sauce off his chin, nudged Nightwing with his elbow. “Man. This is the life.”
Nightwing, chewing on a slice of pizza, gave a lazy smirk. “Yeah, no kidding.”
Nightwing shifted on the couch, tugging at the fabric of his suit. It felt... tighter than usual, especially around his thighs. At first, he thought it was just the usual discomfort that came with sitting down after a long day, but as he adjusted, he realized that wasn’t it. The material was pressing against him differently, clinging to his legs and rear like it was a size too small.
Nightwing stretched his legs out, crossing his ankles as he gave himself a quick once-over. His thighs definitely looked thicker, filling out the sleek black material of his suit in a way that hadn’t been there earlier. His backside, too, felt heavier against the couch—his glutes softening slightly as they began to press more against the cushion. But the thought drifted out of his mind just as quickly as it had entered, overtaken by the growing rumble of hunger gnawing at his insides.
Nightwing, normally so disciplined, ate with reckless abandon. Now joining Wally stuck in an endless cycle of hunger and gluttony.
2024-10-17 11:03:59 +0000 UTC
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Hey everyone! So grateful for your support to help fund this series. I just thought I'd take the time now that I've got a few people on here to ask what are some things you're looking forward to in the series? Or things that you'd like to see happen? Is there any improvements you'd like to see?
Thanks so much again for the support.
2024-10-14 09:25:43 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 6: The Heroes' Descent
The diner buzzed with low chatter, but Barry Allen and Hal Jordan sat quietly, engrossed in their own world of food. Their favorite booth in Big Belly Burger had become a frequent stop, maybe a little too frequent. But no one in the fast food joint was brave enough to comment on how often the two heroes now filled it. Or, more notably, how much larger they had both gotten.
Barry’s Flash suit, once a skin-tight second skin molded to his powerful frame, was now stretched and strained. His massive belly jutted out, pressing down against his thighs. His once-athletic legs were now tree trunks, thick and unyielding, his gut hanging heavily over them as he sat hunched forward. Sweat gathered at his temples, his face puffier than anyone could have imagined, his double chin becoming more prominent with each bite of food.
Across from him, Hal Jordan wasn’t faring much better. His Green Lantern uniform had long since given up trying to contain his bloated form. The black and green fabric dug into the folds of his body, his gut bulging against the edge of the table. His arms, once chiseled and sculpted from years of rigorous training, were now thick with soft, sagging fat. Even his fingers had swollen, and his power ring looked like it might pop off at any moment.
And yet, neither hero seemed particularly bothered by their condition. Their hands were busy, shoveling in food at an alarming rate. Plates of burgers, fries, and shakes piled up in front of them, with no sign of slowing down. The more they ate, the more they seemed to crave, their movements growing sluggish from both the overeating and their expanded forms.
Barry took a break long enough to suck down a milkshake in one breath, his cheeks bulging with the cold, creamy drink. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his gloved hand and groaned. "I dunno, Hal... something feels off. I’m fast, but I can’t seem to outrun this hunger.”
Hal leaned back, his arm resting lazily across his growing belly. He eyed Barry, his mouth full of fries. "Tell me about it. It's like a black hole in my stomach, and not the good kind. We’ve gone on missions with less fuel than this, and I still can’t stop eating."
Barry took another bite of his burger, chewing slowly, thoughtfully. “Maybe—just maybe—we should think about slowing down. We’re superheroes, after all...”
Hal chuckled, his laugh coming out in a wheeze as he stuffed another handful of fries into his mouth. “Slowing down? Barry, look at us. We’re already moving slower than snails. Besides...” He tapped his overstuffed stomach proudly. “I’m not seeing a real downside here, except maybe having to fly with more... *baggage*.”
"Yeah, well," Barry said through a mouthful of fries, his cheeks bulging, "you're used to carrying weight in space. This is different." He sighed, picking up yet another burger and biting into it greedily, the juices dribbling down his chin.
Their gorging was relentless, their stomachs expanding more with each bite, yet still, the hunger gnawed at them. It wasn’t just food at this point—it was like their bodies craved it on a level that neither of them could understand. Barry’s fingers trembled as he reached for his third milkshake, he slurped the sweet concoction in long gulps.
Hal, meanwhile, had polished off a mountain of burgers and now turned his attention to the dessert tray the waitress had brought over—a tray that neither of them had ordered but seemed to have appeared as if the restaurant itself was eager to see how far they’d go. Hal unwrapped the first dessert, a giant sundae topped with whipped cream, nuts, and cherries. He dug into it, his once-sharp jawline now padded with layers of fat as he chewed slowly, savoring the taste.
Barry, in the middle of chewing a chili dog, watched Hal with something like envy. "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I might need to switch it up. Something sweet... that’s gotta help, right?"
Before Hal could respond, their communicators buzzed to life, crackling with the unmistakable tone of Bruce Wayne—Batman’s voice.
“Flash, Lantern. There’s been a—”
“Can’t talk right now, Bats,” Hal interrupted, waving his hand dismissively, his voice muffled by a mouthful of fries.
“Busy,” Barry added quickly, leaning forward to shove the last half of his milkshake-stuffed burger into his mouth.
There was a long, exasperated silence on the other end of the line. Finally, Batman spoke, his tone hard as steel. “Busy? What could possibly be more important than—”
Hal cut him off again, this time reaching for a new mountain of fries. “Trust me, we’re... in the middle of something important here.”
A brief pause followed before the line went dead. Barry raised an eyebrow at Hal, guilt flashing briefly across his face. “You think that was a good idea, man? Bruce isn’t exactly the type to take a rain check.”
Hal shrugged, still chewing. “Eh, he’ll get over it. I’m sure he’s fine without us for one day.”
Barry, mid-bite, looked down at the absurd amount of food surrounding them, his belly pressing even tighter against the table. “Maybe... we really should... cut back. Just a little.”
Hal let out a small chuckle, licking his fingers clean. “Right after this meal, Allen. Right after this meal.”
They continued to eat in silence, the guilt of ignoring Batman quickly drowned out by the sheer volume of food they consumed. Hal finished his sundae and immediately started on the next, while Barry switched to dessert, lapping up sundaes with an almost desperate hunger.
As the two heroes stuffed themselves, their bodies continued to swell, the fabric of their suits pulling tighter by the minute. Barry’s gut pushed further out, resting against the edge of the table, his moobs sagging slightly as his belly rose and fell with every labored breath. Hal’s uniform fared no better, his stomach rounding out even further as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the Green Lantern emblem almost completely swallowed by the bulk of his torso.
Neither of them spoke for a long while, too focused on their gorging to even acknowledge their surroundings. They were once all—powerful... and now they are completely at the mercy of their own gluttony.
2024-10-12 07:58:16 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 5 : The Slowpoke
Barry Allen stood on the sidewalk, his eyes fixed on the Central City Bank in front of him. The blaring alarm echoed through the streets, but he wasn’t responding with his usual swift reflexes. For a long time, stopping a bank robbery would’ve been a routine task—a quick job for the Flash. A blur of red would enter the bank, subdue the criminals, and be gone before anyone realized what happened. But today was different. Today, Barry felt anything but fast.
His body, once sleek and muscular, was now heavy and sluggish. His bright red suit, once snug in all the right places, was now stretched awkwardly over his bloated form. His gut sagged, overhanging his crotch area and swaying with every labored movement. His chest, softened by layers of fat, pressed tightly against the suit’s lightning bolt emblem, warping the iconic symbol of speed. Even his legs, thick and unwieldy, felt foreign to him—each step a reminder of how much weight he had put on in such a short period of time.
Barry took a deep breath, but even that simple act felt like a challenge. The suit pinched at his sides, and his breath came in ragged gasps, his body already tired before the real work had even begun.
“You’ve got this,” he muttered to himself, trying to summon the confidence he once had. But there was doubt in his voice, and he knew he wasn’t ready. Still, he couldn’t just stand by and let the city suffer.
Summoning every ounce of determination he had, Barry activated his speed, his feet buzzing with energy as he tried to break into a run. But it was no use. His movements were slow, clumsy, and awkward. The added weight dragged him down, each stride feeling like he was trudging through thick mud. Sweat poured down his face as his belly jiggled with each labored step.
By the time he reached the bank, Barry was already out of breath. His lungs burned as he leaned against the wall, his hands resting on his knees. His gut pressed uncomfortably against his thighs, and the once-second nature of running at lightning speeds now felt foreign and exhausting.
Inside the bank, the shouts of the robbers filled the air, punctuated by the sharp sound of gunfire. Normally, he would’ve been inside in seconds, disarming the robbers and saving the day. But today, he wasn’t sure he had it in him. With a groan, Barry pushed himself off the wall and made his way toward the entrance, his oversized body awkwardly bumping into the doorframe as he squeezed through.
The robbers turned at the sound, their guns raised in anticipation of facing the Flash. But instead of the lean, athletic hero they were expecting, they were met with a bloated, red-suited figure, panting and dripping with sweat. Their expressions shifted from fear to bewilderment.
“What the hell?” one of the robbers said, lowering his weapon slightly as he took in the sight. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Barry straightened up, trying to gather himself. But his body wasn’t cooperating. His limbs felt heavy, his movements sluggish. He tried to dodge the robbers' shots, but his bulk made it hard to move quickly. His belly wobbled with every attempt, and the robbers—who should have been intimidated—looked more confused than anything.
Just when things seemed to be falling apart, a blur of red and silver zipped through the room, disarming the robbers in an instant. The next thing Barry knew, the robbers were sprawled out on the ground, groaning in pain as their weapons clattered across the floor.
Barry looked up, still panting heavily, to see none other than Wally West standing in front of him, hands on his hips, an amused grin plastered on his face.
"Well, it took you long enough to get here old man," Wally teased, glancing over his shoulder at Barry. "I was starting to think you’d decided to walk."
Barry managed a weak smile, but he was struggling to catch his breath. His hand shot out, grabbing Wally’s shoulder for support as he bent over, his gut pressing against his legs. In that brief contact, neither of them noticed the faint, tingling sensation passing between them—the virus now infecting Wally. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there. He wiped the sweat from his brow, gasping. "Thanks, Wally… I… I guess I’m not as fast as I used to be."
Wally’s teasing grin faltered as he looked Barry up and down, truly taking in his mentor’s appearance for the first time. His eyes widened as he saw the thick rolls of fat spilling out from Barry’s suit, the once muscular physique buried beneath layers of weight.
"No kidding," Wally said, his tone a mix of shock and concern. "What happened to you?"
Barry, still using Wally’s shoulder for support, tried to shrug it off, but the embarrassment was clear on his face. "It’s… complicated," Barry admitted, his voice low. "I’ve just… been eating a lot lately."
Wally blinked, taking a step back to fully take in the sight. "Eating a lot?" he repeated, his brow furrowed. "Barry, you’ve gained… a lot of weight."
Barry sighed, letting go of Wally’s shoulder as he stood upright, his massive belly straining against his suit. "Yeah, I know," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "It’s been… rough."
Wally hesitated for a moment, then placed a hand on Barry’s shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile. "You sure you’re okay? This doesn’t seem like you Barry."
Barry nodded, though he couldn’t meet Wally’s eyes. "I’m fine," he lied, though it was clear he didn’t believe his own words. "Just… out of shape."
"Well, whatever it is, take it easy," Wally said, trying to be supportive. "I can handle things for a bit if you need a break."
Barry smiled weakly, appreciating the sentiment. "Thanks, Wally. I’ll… I’ll be fine."
With that, Wally gave Barry one last pat on the back before speeding off, his body disappearing in a flash of red and silver. But as Wally ran, he suddenly felt a strange twinge of hunger. He usually had a massive appetite but this... It felt like something else. And it somehow was leading him to find himself in a direct beeline to the nearest Big Belly Burger.
As Barry watched Wally disappear into the distance, he leaned against the wall, his stomach growling loudly. He pulled out his phone, already searching for the nearest diner. Stopping a robbery was one thing, but satisfying his ever-growing hunger was a battle he was losing day by day.
2024-10-01 10:03:50 +0000 UTC
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2024-10-01 09:45:38 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 4: Iris's Sweet Obsession
Iris West had always been the kind of woman who lived by order and discipline. Her quick thinking, sharp instincts, and strict work ethic made her one of Central City’s most respected reporters. But today, something was wrong. As she sat at her desk in the bustling office of the Central City Picture News, her attention wasn’t on her latest story. It was on food.
Her once-organized desk was now littered with a chaotic array of snack wrappers, empty cups, and crumbs. A box of doughnuts sat open next to her, each doughnut half-eaten or demolished completely. Iris barely registered the mess she was making, her fingers sticky with frosting and her lips powdered with sugar. She reached for another bite without a second thought, her other hand holding a sandwich she had picked up from the breakroom minutes earlier.
Iris was dressed casually in a yellow button-up shirt and green pants, but even these more relaxed clothes were becoming uncomfortable. The buttons on her shirt strained against her chest and stomach, the fabric pulling taut with each bite she took. Her stomach spilled slightly over the waistband of her pants, which now dug painfully into her sides as she sat hunched over in her chair.
It had been a steady, almost unconscious change. First, there were the small snacks between meals. But today, Iris was eating with a desperation that was starting to scare her. Each bite was filled with satisfaction, yet her hunger never waned. She wasn’t sure when it had begun, but since the night before, she had felt an insatiable need to eat constantly. The only time she had stopped was to answer a text from Barry asking how her day was going.
In a brief moment of clarity, she glanced down at her bulging midsection and realized how far she'd let herself go in just a short span of time. Her belly pressed heavily against the desk, her green pants visibly stretched to their limits, her button unable to be done up. With her free hand, she gingerly touched her soft midsection, feeling the new weight there. Her fingers sank into the plushness of her belly, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment.
"God, I can't believe this is me," she muttered to herself, yet the pang of hunger was impossible to ignore.
She leaned back in her chair, feeling the tightness of her pants as they dug into her sides. Her thighs, once toned and slim, were now thick and soft, the fabric of her pants outlining every curve. She shifted in her seat, feeling her thighs rub together as she tried to get comfortable. The sensation was unfamiliar, but she pushed the thought aside.
Her mind wandered back to food, the sweet taste still lingering on her tongue. Her hand instinctively reached for another doughnut, and before she knew it, she had devoured it in just a few bites. The rush of sugar gave her a fleeting sense of satisfaction, but it wasn’t enough. Her stomach rumbled again, louder this time, demanding more.
"Maybe just one more," she whispered.
Despite the clear evidenceof her expanding figure, Iris couldn’t seem to stop. She had ordered some fast food to be delivered to her office. The hunger was all-consuming, and the more she ate, the more her body swelled to accommodate her cravings. Her once-defined jawline was now softened by the extra weight she had packed on, and her face had taken on a rounder, fuller appearance.
Her coworkers passed by, casting curious glances in her direction, but Iris was too absorbed in her gluttony to care. The thought of writing her article was distant now, her mind clouded by thoughts of what she could eat next. She wiped her hands on a napkin, only to quickly grab another snack.
"I'll focus after this," she lied to herself, but even she wasn’t sure how long she could keep pretending everything was normal.
Iris was spiraling deeper into an overwhelming cycle of hunger and indulgence, and as the afternoon wore on, it became harder and harder to resist the pull of her cravings. She kept telling herself she'd stop, but as the day passed, it became clearer that her body was changing in ways she couldn’t control.
2024-09-18 22:02:11 +0000 UTC
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2024-09-12 02:52:47 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 3: Iris' Discovery
Back at home, Barry stood in front of his bedroom mirror, frozen as he took in the reflection staring back at him. It was almost as if the man in the mirror was someone else entirely. His once-athletic body, sculpted by years of racing through the streets of Central City, had transformed into something unrecognizable in just a short span of time.
His cheeks had filled out, rounding and softening, blurring the sharp angles of his jawline. His chiseled chest had gone soft, sagging slightly over the massive round gut that jutted forward, defying any attempt to suck it in. The belly, once flat and toned, now rested heavily in his hands as he touched it, feeling the unfamiliar layer of fat beneath his fingers. His thighs and arms had grown thick, the muscle hidden somewhere deep beneath this new bulk.
His crimson Flash suit, which used to fit snugly like a second skin, was now stretched tight across his body, struggling to contain his growing form. The lightning bolt emblem was distorted by the swell of his belly, and the seams groaned as if they might tear at any moment.
He sighed deeply, trying to process the changes. The hunger that gripped him day and night was relentless, gnawing at him no matter how much he ate. It felt like his body was no longer under his control, the constant need for food driving him to consume far beyond what he thought was humanly possible.
As he stood there, lost in thought, the sound of the front door opening snapped him back to reality. Iris had arrived home from work.
"Barry? You here?" Iris called out from the living room.
Barry froze, panic surging through him. He wasn’t ready for her to see him like this—not yet. But he knew he couldn’t hide forever. Taking a deep breath, he called out, "Uh yeah in the bedroom, honey" doing his best to keep his voice steady.
A moment later, Iris stepped into the doorway, and the moment her eyes landed on him, she stopped in her tracks, her expression shifting to one of shock. She stared at him, mouth agape, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.
"Barry..." she began, her voice faltering slightly, "what... on earth happened!?"
Barry grimaced, trying to smile through his embarrassment. "I don’t really know, Iris. I just... I can't stop eating. It's like I’m starving all the time, no matter what I do." He placed a hand on his swollen belly, giving it a light, self-conscious pat.
Iris walked closer, her eyes scanning the dramatic changes in his body. She could hardly believe what she was seeing. Barry, the lean and fit speedster who had always been so confident in his physique, was now... huge. His gut protruded in front of him, pressing hard against his suit, which seemed like it was about to burst at any moment. His arms and legs were thick, straining against the fabric, and his face was fuller, softer, with his cheekbones barely visible beneath the extra flesh.
Her eyes fell to his bloated stomach. Without thinking, she reached out, her fingers brushing against the taut fabric stretched over his midsection. She hesitated for a moment, then gave his belly a light squeeze, her hand sinking slightly into the soft flesh.
"You’ve really gotten big havent you" she said, her tone a strange mix of teasing and concern. The words hung in the air between them as she glanced up at him, trying to gauge his reaction.
Barry flinched at her touch, clearly embarrassed. "I know," he muttered. " I don’t know what's going on. It’s like my body is out of control."
Iris looked up at him, her expression shifting from playful to serious. "Maybe you should see someone about this. It doesn't seem right, Barry."
He nodded, frustration flickering in his eyes. "I will, I just... I don't even know where to start."
She gave his belly one last pat before letting go, her fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "Well," she said with a soft smile, "we’ll figure it out together."
As she spoke those words, something odd flickered across her mind, a sensation so subtle she almost didn’t notice it. But then, it hit her—a sudden, sharp pang of hunger that gripped her stomach, as if she hadn’t eaten in days. It was strange, unsettling, but she dismissed it quickly, focusing on Barry and the conversation at hand.
"Come on," she said, taking his hand gently. "Let’s sit down and talk this through."
Barry followed her into the living room, grateful for her support. They settled onto the couch, the plush cushions sinking under Barry’s added weight. Iris tried to focus, tried to think of ways to help Barry, but the gnawing hunger in her stomach was becoming more difficult to ignore.
She shifted slightly in her seat, placing a hand over her belly. The hunger was growing, almost as if it had a mind of its own. She hadn’t felt like this before—not even after skipping meals. It was an all-consuming craving, and it was getting harder to push aside.
But Iris kept her concerns to herself, for now. She didn’t want to worry Barry—not yet. As they sat together, her hand resting on her belly, she silently vowed to help him through this. Little did she know that whatever had caused Barry’s rapid transformation was now spreading to her, quietly and insidiously.
2024-09-12 02:48:05 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 2 : Hal Jordan's Curiosity
The morning sun bathed Central City in a golden glow, the hustle and bustle of the waking city in full swing. Up in the skies, Hal Jordan, the Green Lantern of Sector 2814, soared through the crisp air, his mind preoccupied with the absence of his friend, Barry Allen. The Flash had failed to show up for their usual patrol last night—a rare occurrence that left Hal more than a little uneasy.
Hovering outside Barry’s apartment, Hal rapped his knuckles against the door for the third time, but there was still no answer. His instincts kicked in, and with a slight flick of his wrist, Hal used his ring to scan for any sign of Barry. It wasn’t long before the ring pulsed, locking onto a signal from a nearby Big Belly Burger.
Hal furrowed his brow in confusion. “Big Belly Burger? At this hour?” he muttered. With a faint green streak, Hal shot into the sky, heading straight for the location.
When he stepped into the fast food joint, he scanned the room, and there, in the corner, was Barry—or at least, someone who resembled him. Hal's eyes widened in disbelief as he took in the sight. Barry sat at a booth, surrounded by an obscene number of plates, his once slim frame now alarmingly bulky. His stomach pressed firmly against the edge of the table, the red of his suit pulled tight over his protruding belly. Barry's cheeks were rounder, his face fuller, and his once lean arms appeared thicker as they moved food toward his mouth with methodical precision.
“Barry?” Hal called out in shock as he approached the booth.
Barry glanced up from the mountain of food in front of him, momentarily startled but quickly returning his focus to the burger in his hands. “Oh, hey, Hal,” he mumbled through a full mouth, giving a sheepish smile before swallowing hard. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Hal slid into the booth across from him, his eyes darting between Barry’s bloated stomach and the empty plates that littered the table. “What the hell happened to you, man? You look... different.”
Barry paused briefly, glancing down at his gut that was practically wedged against the table. His brow furrowed, but he gave a nonchalant shrug. “Yeah, I know... I’ve been... really hungry lately,” he muttered, before taking another bite. It was as if he couldn't stop himself, the food calling to him as though it held some power over him.
Hal stared at him, his concern deepening. “Hungry? Barry, you’ve put on a lot of weight in... what, just a few days? This isn’t normal.”
Barry gave a dismissive grunt, his attention already drifting back to the burger in his hand. “Yeah, I’ve noticed,” he said, though it sounded as though the words were an afterthought, eclipsed by his insatiable need to keep eating. “I don’t know, I just can’t stop. I’m hungry all the time. Like, no matter what I eat, it’s not enough.”
Hal reached across the table, placing a hand on Barry’s shoulder, his tone softening. “Barry, something’s wrong. You’ve got to get this checked out. This isn’t just overeating.”
As his hand touched Barry’s shoulder, Hal felt a faint tingling sensation pass through him, a momentary flicker of something strange, but it was so subtle he hardly gave it a second thought. Barry, for his part, barely registered the contact, his focus entirely consumed by the next burger on his plate.
“Yeah, yeah... I’ll look into it,” Barry mumbled, but there was no conviction in his voice. He didn’t even lift his head from his food, his hands moving with a mechanical rhythm, as though eating had become his primary function.
Hal sighed, preparing to push the issue further, when a sudden wave of hunger hit him like a punch to the gut. His stomach growled, loud and insistent, and he blinked in confusion. He hadn’t eaten since the night before, but this hunger was different. It was sharp, gnawing, and all-consuming. He glanced down at the menu absentmindedly, his mind fixated on food.
"Actually, maybe I could use a bite too," he muttered, as if to himself, before flagging down the waitress. He ordered a large combo meal, figuring it would be enough to stave off whatever was gnawing at him.
But as his food arrived, something in Hal shifted. The first bite tasted incredible, and he found himself reaching for another before he even finished chewing. He tried to pace himself, to eat normally, but soon the food became like a drug—each bite only seemed to heighten his hunger. He devoured the fries, then the milkshake, and then moved on to the burger with alarming speed, more combo meals piling up in front of him.
Across the table, Barry didn’t notice. His eyes were glued to his own meal, his focus completely absorbed by the act of eating.
Hal, however, began to feel the changes in his body almost immediately. His uniform, usually sleek and perfectly fitted, started to pull tight against his chest and midsection. His ring felt snug on his finger as his hand swelled slightly, the emerald light adjusting to accommodate his expanding body. Glancing down, Hal noticed that his stomach was beginning to bulge against the table, the once flat plane of his abdomen rounding out into a small, but growing paunch.
"What the...?" Hal muttered under his breath, pausing momentarily as he felt his belly push against the waistband of his pants. His thighs spread wider, pressing against the edges of the booth as his uniform strained to contain his growing body.
For a moment, Hal was alarmed, the reality of his rapid weight gain creeping into his mind. But the gnawing hunger quickly overpowered his concern. He couldn’t stop—he needed more food. His mind rationalized it as he tore through another plate of pancakes, brushing aside the obvious signs of his expanding figure.
“It’s probably nothing,” he told himself, though the tightness of his suit said otherwise.
Box after box disappeared in front of him, and with each bite, Hal's body continued to swell. His chest broadened, the green emblem on his suit stretched awkwardly across his expanding torso. His arms grew thicker, his once chiseled muscles now softened by the layer of fat that seemed to appear out of nowhere. And yet, he couldn’t stop. The food was too good, too irresistible.
The two heroes sat across from one another, neither fully aware of what was happening to them. Barry, too engrossed in his own meal to notice Hal’s transformation, and Hal, too overwhelmed by his newfound hunger to care.
Unbeknownst to them both, the virus that had first infected Barry was now taking root in Hal’s body, passed on through their brief touch. The same insatiable hunger that had consumed Barry was spreading rapidly through Hal, altering him in ways neither of them could yet comprehend.
As the food continued to pile up, and their bodies continued to expand, the city outside carried on, oblivious to the strange transformation happening within the walls of the Big Belly Burger.
2024-09-12 02:35:33 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 1: The Speedster's Appetite
Barry Allen, the Flash, zipped through the bustling streets of Central City, a streak of crimson cutting through the fading light of dusk. It had been a routine day—putting away petty criminals, zipping between forensic cases, and maintaining order in a city that never seemed to rest. As evening descended, a strange report from the outskirts of town caught his attention.
An anonymous tip had come in about unusual activity near an abandoned warehouse. Normally, this wouldn’t have concerned Barry too much—probably some low-level thugs or remnants from a past rogue. But something about the tip, the odd details, compelled him to investigate.
Within seconds, he was at the warehouse, phasing through its rusty, broken-down walls. The moment he stepped inside, an unfamiliar scent hit him, lingering in the musty air—a sickly-sweet odor that was almost intoxicating. Barry’s senses heightened as his eyes scanned the area, quickly noticing the strange greenish mist hovering just above the floor. It drifted lazily in the stale air, as if it had settled there for hours.
In the center of the room, Barry spotted a cracked, rusted metallic canister, slowly leaking the strange mist. A faint hissing sound echoed off the walls as more of the gas seeped out. His initial reaction was caution, but nothing about the situation screamed danger. No armed men, no ticking bombs—just this odd gas.
His stomach growled.
Barry paused, frowning. He had eaten a decent meal not too long ago, but suddenly, an overwhelming pang of hunger twisted his insides. Strange. Shaking it off, Barry considered leaving to grab a quick bite. But then he heard his stomach rumble again, louder this time, as if it had been days since he last ate.
Dismissing the sensation as stress from the day's work, he decided to leave the scene. The canister didn't seem to pose an immediate threat, and the rest of the warehouse was eerily quiet. He’d have to follow up later. Right now, he needed food—desperately.
Minutes later, Barry found himself sitting in his favorite booth at *Big Belly Burger*. Normally, he’d grab a quick bite, something light to keep his energy levels high. But tonight was different. His appetite was insatiable. He ordered tray after tray of food: double cheeseburgers, onion rings, large fries, and milkshakes—everything on the menu, it seemed.
As soon as the food hit the table, Barry dove in. His hands blurred, moving at superhuman speed as he devoured the burgers, fries, and shakes. Each bite was more frantic than the last. No matter how much he ate, the hunger didn’t diminish—it only grew stronger, gnawing at him from the inside. He had eaten meals like this before, sure, but this was different. It felt like his body was a bottomless pit, demanding more and more without ever being satisfied.
His stomach stretched uncomfortably, but still, the need to consume overtook every other thought. He didn’t notice the concerned looks from the restaurant staff as he ordered more food, his once-fit figure now straining against his suit.
Hours passed, and finally, he left the diner. Barry’s stomach was distended, his suit stretched tight across his now-bulging midsection. He placed a hand on his belly, feeling the unfamiliar weight pressing against the fabric.
"That was... too much," he muttered, slowing his pace as he made his way home. His once sleek, athletic frame had softened noticeably, and he felt it in every step. The suit, which had always clung to him like a second skin, now pinched uncomfortably at his waist.
Barry's mind raced. His metabolism should have burned through those calories in seconds. Why was his body reacting this way? He pushed the thoughts aside, deciding to chalk it up to a particularly bad day.
Back at home, Barry stood in front of his mirror, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. He tugged at his costume, feeling the stretch in the fabric as it wrapped awkwardly around his newly formed gut. It hadn’t been there this morning—that was for sure. His abs, once prominent, were now buried beneath a layer of soft flesh. His reflection showed a man who had indulged far more than usual, but his body wasn’t bouncing back like it should have.
He sighed, running his hand over the new curve of his belly, trying to pull the waistband of his suit higher to no avail. The red fabric stretched taut, highlighting the sudden weight gain he couldn’t ignore.
But there was something else. He wasn’t just heavier. He felt... different. The hunger that had consumed him still lingered faintly, like an itch that refused to go away. And despite the massive amount of food he had eaten, he could already feel the stirrings of another pang of hunger, deep inside his gut.
Barry had no idea that the gas from the warehouse had infected him with something far worse than he could have imagined. It wasn’t just hunger—it was an incurable virus, something that would rapidly alter his body in ways he couldn’t comprehend. Worse yet, the virus spread by touch, and Barry was completely unaware of the danger he now posed to others.
But for now, he turned away from the mirror, deciding to sleep it off. This was just an off day. Nothing more.
As he left the room, his reflection in the mirror showed a Flash who no longer resembled the lean, heroic figure he had been just hours ago.
2024-09-12 02:20:48 +0000 UTC
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