(Female Weight Gain/Expansion)
“N-non!” The blue-skinned woman breathed, distaste on her face as her belly gurgled. “Give me the antidote to this, immediately.” She looked down to her communicator, eyes narrowed to the redhead on the screen.
Her voice held a degree of authority to it, which drew a wider smile from her agency’s resident mad scientist. “Sorry,” Moira began, her tone implying she was anything but, “but once the change has begun, it cannot be stopped. I did warn you not to try using that serum on yourself.”
“And I told you, I personally try every venom on myself to build an immunity.” Widowmaker replied curtly, before sending a dubious look down to her body. “You had promised that there was a cure to its effects.”
“I did no such thing.” Moira seemed to be genuinely surprised by this. “Was it over e-mail?”
Widowmaker’s belly gurgled again, and she looked to her stomach with a growing frown. “Yes… More to the point, what does this brand of venom do to the victim? Should I check myself into the medical facility?”
“Less that, more the gym.” Moira sighed.
“To the gym?”
Moira continued as though she didn’t hear her associate. “As far as our ‘correspondence’ goes, I’d imagine that to be the work of our resident mischief-maker. I’ll need to have words with her.”
The screen went dark, and Widowmaker sent a foul look towards her communicator’s screen. “What? No, get back online, you didn’t even explain yourself! Why would I need to visit a gym-”
Whatever she was about to say next was interrupted as her belly puffed out, bulging out in a sudden increase in weight. Her new paunch jiggled slightly from the suddenness of the motion, and her golden eyes widened in shock. She’d never been fat before, and so was singularly unprepared for the feeling of tightness to her clothing.
“Oh my!” She groaned, pressing her hands to her belly. She could feel them sink into the soft flab of her new stomach, and her scowl only deepened. “What form of venom is this? Is this what Moira was busy draining our funds for?”
As if in response to her question, her ass jiggled. She looked back to it in horror, opening her mouth to let out a curse. Before so much as a single word could come to mind, it bulged and wobbled with growth, puffing up larger and larger to the point where she had to lean forward to offset its weight. She dug her fingers deeply into the soft flab, a whimper of distress escaping her parted azure lips.
She could feel something still gurgling beneath her fingers, and she held her plump posterior harder, struggling to keep it from swelling further. Of course, the motion was as useful as spitting in the face of a storm. Widowmaker’s bottom swelled further and further still, forcing her fingers and hands apart. With its increased size came an increased weight, upsetting her balance.
The former ballerina took a wobbling step forwards, then another. She hated how her once-delicate gait was reduced to a slow waddle, but felt that she had to try to move. It was only natural to her: all her life she’d exercised to stay in shape. Unfortunately, her current shape had no taste for exercise, of any variety. A few steps in and her hindquarters were too swollen to make any forward progress. Worse, her engorged cheeks were actually dragging her back, pulling her
“Non, mercy!” With a heavily accented cry, she fell onto the plush cushion of her ass. The second the blue skin of her bottom met with the floor, her belly puffed up further, as though the flab was jealous of her butt’s jiggling. Her belly shook as it tripled in heft, puffing up further and eliciting a loud groan of discomfort from her lips.
She looked to her corpulent frame, her cheeks puffing slightly as even they swelled with chub. The woman looked to her door and wiggled her arms towards it. She couldn’t even move her legs, they were trapped between her cushiony ass and her engorged gut. “Someone, get Moira here to fix me!” She cried loudly, pounding her hands against her massive belly in a tantrum.