A bit behind on posting here! Here's my OC, Ógh, wearing her swimsuit with her updated design!

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Keni
Cosmic Funnies
trying on a metaphor
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
almost home

Kiana Khansmith

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

Discoholic 🪩
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wallacepolsom

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Mike Driver

#extradirty
One Nice Bug Per Day

Origami Around
h
Not today Justin
Stranger Things

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malta

seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Norway
seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia

seen from Türkiye

seen from Malaysia

seen from T1
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
@cobaltscribbler
A bit behind on posting here! Here's my OC, Ógh, wearing her swimsuit with her updated design!
Ngl I completely forgot about my tumblr so I have shit I need to start sharing
I've had a bit of writers and art block the past couple weeks, so I'm going through some sketches by artists I love to line and color either for inspiration or to pass the time.
This lovely expectant Vicki Vale done originally by @sapphicbump!
Now that I'm able to sign back into Tumblr (no idea why I was having issues for so long), here are the sketches I completed over the course of Mayternity! Super late, I know, but I'm not sure why I was only able to log in now!
Oh hey I'm kinda-ish back from an unannounced hiatus.
Sooooo I'm currently on semi-hiatus. Hopefully I don't have to come to a screeching halt on creativity, but it's definitely taken a backseat to some stuff I have going on IRL. That said, enjoy a blend of comic and Marvel Rivals Emma Frost actually pregnant with them quintuplets she mothered via comic book shenanigans.
Radiance: Issue #3
—
HILLIARD, OHIO
THE FOLLOWING MORNING
—
With plenty of fuel, Amy flies west, carrying a small suitcase slung over her shoulder. Flying directly in front of the sun rising behind her to the east, the blonde takes advantage of the cover, managing to fly out of the city and into the western suburb unnoticed by morning commuters. Finding the neighborhood she grew up in, Amy descends into the backyard. Looking over the wooden fence, she spots no one around. With a brief envelopment of green, she leaps over the wooden fence into the side yard, the glow quickly fading after she lands on the ground.
Wearing a white spaghetti strap tank top, it narrowly manages to cover the skin of her belly, though it hugs the round shape tightly, leaving little to the imagination as her belly button pokes through the fabric. Using a hair tie to fasten her blue jeans underneath her bump, she tucks them into a pair of knee-high white pull-up boots. To stay warm, she wears a puffy black jacket, though her belly makes it nigh impossible to zip up. Despite the flight, her elegantly styled hair remains lush, shiny, and voluminous, “Does your pink aura keep my hair intact while we fly?” She asks the creature in her womb as she steps through the backyard.
Stepping through the snowy yard, she kicks the snowflakes, obscuring her footprints, though still leaving an obvious trail. Amy continues this up to the clear sidewalk in front of the house, hoping to pass it off as a dog wandering onto her parents’ yard, before walking up the driveway and onto the sidewalk leading to the porch, opposite the side of the house she walked up. With the garage door closed and no car on the driveway, it's certain to be empty.
Reaching into the bag, the blonde pulls out a key, walking up to the front door, inserting it. However, as the key turns, there is a lack of resistance, pausing the young woman's hand. Tilting her head, she eases her palm onto the doorknob, giving it a twist.
The entryway starts to pull into the house.
Raising an eyebrow, Amy briefly clenches her fist as she grips the strap of the small suitcase. However, something catches her eye: the hand gripping the doorknob starts to turn yellow. Tucking her hand into her jacket pocket, she uses her elbow to nudge the door open, immediately seeing a teenage boy with shaggy light brown hair sitting on the couch, covering his mouth with his fist as his elbows prop onto his knees.
“Keith?” Pushing the door open firmly, she leaves it open as she steps into the living room, seeing a girl about the same age as the boy sitting next to him, her black hair resting on top of her shoulders in her black jacket. “Keith, who is this, and why aren't you… in… school…?”
She steps further into the living room, finding other kids about high school-aged sitting in the living room, staring quietly at each other. Eventually, the first boy stands up, walking past Amy to shut the door.
“Amy, do you know what's going on?!” The boy asks, immediately backing away to lean against the wall, careful not to knock an array of framed pictures off.
“What ‘what's going on?’ Keith, why aren't you in school– actually, why aren't any of you in school?!” Amy gazes across the room, counting six additional teenagers sitting in her parents’ living room.
One girl stifles a gasp, flinching as Amy speaks oddly loud. Keith looks at his rounded sister, “Some guy called our school and told them to clear out ‘or else.’ We were all sent home immediately and were told not to leave unless the police tell us it's safe.” He looks to the other kids in the living room, “Everyone's really scared, so I said they could hide out at my place until we figure out what's going on.”
“Jesus Christ… have you called mom and dad?” Amy asks, shoving her hand deeper into her coat pocket, hoping to obscure the glow.
“I got a hold of dad. Mom's in trial, but I called her office and told the paralegals what's happening, so hopefully the judge will let her leave early. Dad's on his way, but it's still rush hour… and I imagine getting in and out of Hilliard's going to be a nightmare.” His blue eyes spot Amy's arm shoving itself deeper in her pocket. He quietly nods his head in the direction of the kitchen, and she follows him, stepping around a couple teenagers sitting on the floor due to the remaining seats being taken.
Standing by themselves in the kitchen, their voices lower into whispers, Keith's coming out first, “You still can't control the glow?”
“You try hiding all the energy I'm soaking from a bunch of kids who were given a bomb threat!” She narrowly hisses, before opening up the shoulder-carry suitcase she brought, “Listen, I came to bring your boots. I know your friends are pretty scared right now, but I imagine someone's gonna snap out of the terror and wonder where I went, so I need you to cover for me where I went. Open and close the garage door to make it sound like I went out that way while they're stared stiff.” Rummaging through the bag, she eventually pulls out a pair of tan leather boots, a couple singes in the strings and leather, and gives them to the boy.
“Okay, I'll try to think of what I saw on the way back, if that helps… only thing I saw was a guy sitting in a pickup truck near the school, and… my timbs!” Keith struggles to retain a whisper upon seeing his boots, “What did you do to my timbs?!”
“Saved an old lady and a firefighter from the second floor of a burning and falling house, you're welcome. Now, that guy in the truck?” Partially zipping the bag, Amy pulls it off the countertop, hanging it by her side.
“...” With a defeated sigh, the young man looks at his sister, “He was wearing a denim vest or something. I know his truck was probably warm, but it's still winter. Probably acting tough. Looked like a pretty basic white guy: brown hair, beard, tattoo on his arm.”
Recalling Ricky's last night, the image of the bicep tattoo on the second robber pops into the blonde's mind, “...did it look kind of like a W with a circle on the side?”
The teenager goes silent for a second, his brow furrowing, before his face returns to normal, “...now that you say that, yeah, I think that's what it looked like. Something tells me you saw that tattoo on someone yesterday.”
A forceful jab from within Amy prompts her free hand to rub the side of her stomach with a small wince, “Yeah… matching gang tattoos, from the sounds of it. Great.”
“You know mom and dad are gonna be mad if they figure out that you're Radiance, right?”
“Well, guess what, Keith? The only other people who can do what I do are out in Chicago, Los Angeles, New York, London, Tokyo, Paris, space… you know, not here? Someone has to make sure no one else gets hurt, and it has to be me.” Taking a step sideways to the white-painted door, Amy pauses briefly as she hears a knuckle tap on the countertop.
“Amy… you know I approve of what you're doing, but none of us blame you for what happened.”
“...either way, I have a responsibility, Keith.” Turning around, the blonde partially lifts the hem of her tank top, revealing the underside of her midriff, “If mom and dad are really so bothered that I have to do it, they can take it up with this thing inside me and ask it to go to someone else.”
Taking a step back, the teenage boy's mouth opens, only to slowly shut in silence, his eyes cascading to the floor as he leans back against the fridge, folding his arms together.
Shoving the hem of her top back down, Amy spins to face the microwave, looking at the faint reflection in the tinted glass, running her fingers through her hair. Pulling on the styled hair, she knocks strands here and there, roughing up the appearance.
“...what are you doing?” Keith stares at the back of his sister's head as the hair atop starts shifting with each stroke of her fingers.
“I can't get a domino mask to stay on when I fly, so this is how I get ‘Radiance’ to look different from ‘Amelia Alison.’” Reaching over to the countertop, the blonde pops a paper towel off of the roll on a stand, shoving it on her mouth, pulling off much of her lipstick.
“...I somehow doubt people are going to be looking at your face.”
Pivoting on her heels, the young woman finds her brother extending a hand, his index finger pointing… at her midriff. Gazing at her own distended body for a brief moment, the blonde scowls, raising the back of her hand as it glows green.
Raising his hands, the teenager stands up straight, “No fair, I don't have superpowers.” Lowering his arms, he looks at his sister's, “Speaking of, have you figured out how long you can hold onto your… uhh… ‘charges’ for?”
Shaking her hand with a sigh, the green glow dissipates, “No idea. If I have any juice left from a given emotion left, I typically spend it the next day and replenish it soon after. I am figuring out the nuances of what charges each power, though, and what cancels what. People get mad, I can't fly. People get sad, I can't punch. People get lovey-dovey or admire someone, I can't shoot the beams. People get happy, I can't heal. Nothing seems to cancel out when people get scared, though.”
“Are you able to use your own emotions?”
Shaking her head, the blonde opens the zipper of her bag, “No idea if I can use two at the same time, either. Then again, it's only been three months. If this thing is in it for the long haul, hopefully I can at least use them closer together on command, and not just in a really tight pinch. Also, it'd be nice to figure out how to control the glowing while I'm not in costume, but that's a bridge I have no idea when I'll cross, if ever.” With a sigh, she looks up at the ceiling, “I wonder how long it took Twilight to learn how to handle her powers.” The blonde resumes stepping toward the doorway.
“Could always ask her at the Paragon tryouts.”
“The Paragons have tryouts?” Raising an eyebrow, Amy stops dead in her tracks, facing her brother to find him holding his hand over his mouth, his shoulders rapidly jumping in stifled laughter. “...I hate you.”
“Yeah, well, I'll be here all night. Not much of a choice, really.” Revolving himself, the boy opens the refrigerator door, pulling a number of water bottles off one of the shelves on the other side. Clutching the drinks against his chest, Keith uses his knee to shut the fridge, “What about work? I know your last gig paid a lot, but I'm pretty sure you can only live off that paycheck for so long.”
Sighing, the platinum blonde looks at the door, her blue eyes falling on the handle, “I… came up with a bit of a cover story. I think I have a few months to figure out how to explain why I'm still so huge, but I should be covered for a little while.” Amy circumvolves as her middle tenses up, the creature within contorting itself. “Luckily, this thing– this… uhh… it- uhh… they are able to help play along. I'm not sure how, but it at least can make me look like I'm… what is this, six months pregnant?” The blonde shows off her shrunken midriff, parting the panels of her coat. “I told my neighbor I'm a surrogate for a photographer.”
Sighing, the boy sets the bottles on the kitchen island, opening a drawer and pulling out a notepad. He fetches a pen nearby, starting to scribble something on the top page, “Lemme guess: gay photographer from New York?”
“I didn't say New York, but yeah.”
“Gimme a bit to come up with their names.” Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Keith hides the notepad and pen in the drawer as his sister finally starts to turn the doorknob, “I'll text you if anything comes up and cross my fingers mom and dad don't want to read my message history with you.”
“Don't open the door.” The blonde says as she opens it, revealing a dark, empty garage. She reaches in the darkness, flicking a light switch, illuminating the space.
“After the Disney World trip, I think I'd rather jump in an active volcano than open another door I know you're behind.”
“Oh, it wasn't even that big a deal.” Huffing, Amy shuts the door behind herself, tossing the small suitcase to a corner of the garage, next to a plastic storage container holding wound up Christmas lights and tinsel garlands.
Shedding her coat, she quickly sheds her jeans as she kicks away her slip-on shoes, ripping the thin tank top off her torso, leaving her in just a white sports bra and accompanying panties. Hurriedly folding the clothes, she quickly pulls out her costume, shoving her legs through the neck hole. Pulling the unitard up, it quickly clings to the tautness of her round belly as her hands travel through the sleeves, before her fingers make their way through the attached fingerless gloves. Pulling out the carefully rolled boots she prepared, she eases her legs into them, pulling the boots higher and higher up her legs, before they eventually come to her thighs. “Alright, I think this looks complete, now.”
Patting her legs as she smooths out the boots, she pulls the leather jacket out of the bag and hides her clothes inside, zipping it shut and putting the jacket on. Hurrying to the garage door, she crouches, gripping the bottom, and lifts it up. Peeking from underneath, she spots no drivers or pedestrians nearby. Glowing green for a faint moment, she bends low to the ground, slipping quickly under the door as it falls back to the ground. Standing upright, the green shifts to pink.
“Radiance, fly!” She whispers to herself as she launches herself in the air, leaving a pink trail in her wake. As she flies east, she quickly spots the roof of her old high school, McFarlane High School, squinting as she talks to herself, “...okay, maybe don't say that out loud if people are nearby.”
Sighing to herself, she looks across the campus before spotting movement outside the front of one of the side doors. Moving slowly, she lowers herself slightly, squinting at the sight. She spots a man running out of the building, holding something. With the parking lot empty, the heroine puts a finger to her chin, “...where are the cops?”
As the man gets closer to her, Radiance spots the object in his hands: a stack of papers. Raising an eyebrow, she raises herself higher in the air as she looks at his trajectory, spotting a black truck across the street from the school with lifted tires.
The creature stirs in Radiance's belly, making her gasp softly as she rubs the side of her womb, “I know they say ‘gut feeling’ a lot, but you're making it quite literal, you know.” It presses out against her popped out navel, “Yeah, I don't think there's an actual bomb. They wanted easy access to whatever that stack of papers is.” The blonde presses her knuckles to her back, her hair flowing in the wind as the creature swipes across her middle, “Yeah. We should follow. Fingers crossed the sun will keep us hidden.”
Radiance witnesses the sprinting form jump across the hood of the pickup, raising an eyebrow as the passenger door opens and he leaps inside. The engine roars as the truck suddenly jerks up to the speed limit.
“‘Ooh, look at me, Radiance. Come chase me.’ Either they're stupid-” Radiance rolls her eyes just before another movement against her navel, “-or this may be a trap.”
The pink trail forms in the sky as Radiance gives chase, remaining high in the sky as she follows above the vehicle. Her blue eyes watch the pickup, observing a compliance with traffic laws as it drives away from the neighborhood. As she looks out, she sees Main Street. “...are you staying here, or are you hopping on the Outerbelt?”
Grunting, Radiances tenses her feet up, causing the pink trail to thicken around her legs as she accelerates. Holding her breath, her face turns red as she starts to fly a bit past the truck, before finally exhaling, the trail thinning as she decelerates. “I'm gonna be screwed if they go for the highway…”
The truck makes a turn onto Main Street, turning in the direction of roundabouts, “...damn it, you just have to drive in the direction of the I-Two-Seventy exit, don't you?”
Squinting her eyes, Radiance looks ahead, finding the houses starting to give way to restaurants and retailers as Main Street turns to Hilliard-Rome Road. With traffic rapidly thickening, she gradually lowers her altitude, keeping her eyes locked on the black pickup. It gets into a left turn lane for Roberts Road, prompting her to look in that direction, “Damn it, you are headed for the exit! Grr, if only I had trackers like the Viridian Strike!”
Huffing, she starts to preemptively fly down Roberts as the left turn arrow turns green, ignoring the smell of fried chicken as she embarks on her path. Looking beneath herself, she spots the truck veering into the right land, only to stop in her tracks as it makes a right turn, the Outerbelt exit still too far to be in the driver's sight, “...where are you going?”
Course correcting, Radiance flies to the side road, glances at a myriad of warehouses past a number of other businesses lodged between the busy road and a housing complex. “A warehouse, huh?” Smacking herself in the forehead, the blonde rolls her eyes as the creature within stirs, “Come on, it was too obvious.”
Groaning, she flies on, watching the truck pull up to an unmarked warehouse, one previously thought to be collecting dust, “...something tells me you people moved in.” The heroine flies up to the roof, lowering herself gently as she finds a skylight. However, she has to press her weight upward more than she expected. Looking at her hands, she notices a red glow start to come about, “...and there goes my ride.”
Crawling along the flat metal rooftop, the blonde moves slowly as she approaches the skylight, hoping to avoid any obvious creaking. Nearing the skylight, she peers in, finding a number of men walking around, some carrying boxes, others standing dallying, a few with a pistol tucked in their pants. With no one on the seemingly empty second floor, Radiance's limbs glow green as her muscles tense, her unitard growing tighter as her biceps and thighs expand. Lifting on the hatch, she slips her body through the opened skylight, quickly nudging it shut as quietly as she can as she involuntarily flips.
Stifling a yell, Radiance lands on the tips of her toes, moving her weight forward and bending her knees. Her fingertips catch her fall, miraculously making no sound as they touch the floor of the scaffolding. Hurriedly crawling along, she finds a solid wall in the middle of the railing. Placing herself behind it, her limbs shrink back to their normal circumference, and she lets out a silent exhale.
Pressing her ear along the edge of the wall, Radiance listens in, hearing a few men just below her, seemingly oblivious to her presence. The door to the warehouse opens and closes as the lifted black pickup drives through.
“You get the list?” The blonde hears footsteps walk a bit away from her, before coming to a stop.
“Yeah, got it right here. Went looking through it on the way here.” The sound of paper flapping catches her attention, “Got your obvious ones: Chen, Patel, Kim. There are some I'm not so sure about, but I think I deduced a few clean ones: Alison, Murphy, Martin.”
Raising an eyebrow, Radiance slowly peers beside the wall, spotting a familiar logo on a few boxes scattered about: the W with a small circle in the top-right corner.
“You still want to make sure.” She watches a man with salt-and-pepper hair take the stack of papers, briefly going through the first few pages, “Keith Alison… you sure you couldn't print a god-damn photo in this directory?”
Choking back a gasp, the blonde bites her lip, furrowing her brow as she looks across the room. A number of men are wearing sleeveless shirts and vests, all bearing the same tattoo on their biceps. Her eyes widen as she looks at the boxes, finding a few guns in an open crate.
“This isn't just a bunch of random guys… this is the American Liberation Front! Why the fuck are they here?!” Radiance thinks to herself as she watches who she guesses is the local leader reading the page.
“Look, when Patriot says we gotta keep our neighborhoods clean, we can't leave no stone unturned before we start working the other neighborhoods. Even if this kid's one of us, we still gotta make sure we don't have families propping up useless eaters–”
With her thighs and calves rapidly expanding, Radiance leaps over the wall of the railing, her biceps growing as she rapidly descends to the ground.
Just as a few men look to see green in their periphery, they are slow to gasp as two men find themselves under Radiance's feet, collapsing to the ground. Wasting no time, the blonde removes her foot from the man below her on the right, crouching down and gripping his gray collar. Her arms leave a green afterimage as they swing up, throwing the blond man headfirst into a brown-haired man's collarbone, knocking the latter to the ground immediately.
“How the hell is she so fast-” A bald man starts to yell, before the remaining man below Radiance is thrown into his sternum, forcing air out of his lungs as he collapses in a hurdle.
“I'M GIVING YOU INBREDS ONE CHANCE TO GO BACK TO HELL WHERE YOU CAME FROM!” Radiance shrieks as the green afterimage of her pregnant body remains still for a moment. It gives way as the heroine appears suddenly next to a crate nearly as wide as she is tall, gripping the top edges with her tensing fingers.
“Don't just stand there, dipshits, kill that race traitor!” The seeming leader calls out, pulling his black Glock from his bluejeans and taking aim. However, as he fires a shot, the wooden crate and its contents eat the round, and flies straight at him. The crate hits the ground just in front of the man, shattering into several broken planks, a number striking the man and the two others that emerged from the truck.
“WHO'S NEXT?!” The pregnant woman cries out, her muscles shrinking as she extends the index and middle fingers of her right hand, looking around. Spotting three men huddled behind a wide support beam, a bolt of red light flies from her fingertips, slamming against the beam. It strikes the steel, leaving a small dent.
“Damn, that's hot!”
“She's the bitch who got Jerod and Chandler arrested!” A redheaded man jumps from behind the beam, firing randomly at Radiance. The heroine turns orange, her body swaying to the side as the round grazes her forearm, cutting through the fabric of the unitard and breaking the outer layer of skin. A small streak of blood forms on the woman's left arm as her right resumes aim, blasting a bolt of red light at the redheaded man, striking him square in the chest.
As the man tumbles, Radiance grunts loudly as she fires another round of light above his body, striking an exposed man as her right side hits the ground. Coughing loudly, she gasps as her belly smacks into the concrete, clutching her middle with her left hand as the creature writhes within. Aiming her right hand back at the pillar, Radiance feels nothing in her fingertips, her fingers simply pointing at the support beam.
“What… what's going on…?” She grunts, feeling the creature kick harshly against her left flank and above her navel. The blonde coughs again as the creature strikes against her diaphragm, as if desperate to escape her.
“We're going to make an example out of you, you stupid bitch!” The last man standing stomps around the support beam, aiming his pistol at Radiance. His shiny boots slap on the concrete floor with each step, his teeth grinding as he approaches.
Staring at her middle, Radiance clutches her left palm against her belly as she struggles to push herself up with her right. Suddenly, a small yellow circle spawns out of thin air as the man pulls the trigger, eliciting a scream from the prone woman. Absorbing the bullet, the yellow shape shimmers as Radiance's belly writhes uncontrollably.
“You… did that?” She grunts, struggling to stand up with the internal barrage. A click gets her attention. Blue eyes fall upon the gun, finding the slide stuck in an awkward position, a round sticking out partially.
“God damn it!” Throwing the piece aside, he starts to stare the woman down as he approaches, only to inhale suddenly and sharply, falling to his right side.
A thin metal baton flies away from the man, flying straight up to the scaffolding above, unseen when initially thrown. Black with green tips, it stops almost in midair, its path interrupted by a hand clasping it. Gripping the railing with great swiftness, the hand twists along the railing as the attached body flips in front of the railing.
Something enters Radiance's personal space. As she looks up, the silhouette in the skylight is covered from the neck down in black. Blue eyes make out a green arrow pointing down from the middle of the man's chest, flowing from green trim that runs across his shoulders and arms. Before she can even think, Radiance gasps as a hand slides under her right arm from behind, feeling another hold onto her left hand as her body weight is lifted for her.
Platinum blonde hair lifts from the ground, hanging low as the woman's head turns, vision less obscured by the skylight. Strong, firm hands slowly rotate her body, repositioning the woman to look straight up. Radiance's eyes grow wide as she makes out the man's chiseled jawline, his black domino mask hiding the color of his eyes, though his tousled black hair clues her in.
“Are you alright, ma'am?” A baritone voice asks Radiance as his arms effortlessly help the heroine onto her feet, though the hands continue to hold her, backing her up. The blonde quietly nods as she gazes at the man's face, failing to notice her left hand being held.
“You’re… You’re the Viridian Strike.”
Radiance: Issue #2
CW: Alien pregnancy, unbirth
—
SHORT NORTH, COLUMBUS, OHIO
—
A pink trail flies through the sky, gliding just above the rooftops of various apartment buildings. Blonde hair flaps in the wind, flowing above a cropped gray leather jacket. The flight comes to a sudden halt over a particular rooftop, the pink trail quickly catching up and fading into a young woman. Slowly descending to the floor, the young woman lets out a breath of air, resting a hand on her heavily rounded middle. Her deep blue eyes gaze around the scenery, finding no one immediately around.
With the coast clear, she walks over to the ledge facing High Street, resting her hands on the concrete edge, gazing out at the neighborhood. “What a day…” Without a cloud in the sky, the city lights mask the stars, although the snow makes the city glow brighter. Under the northern corner facing the street, a small bag is tucked neatly, hidden from view of those on the street and any curious residents touring the roof. Walking over to the bag, Radiance crouches down, opening the backpack, revealing a rolled up purple sweater and a pair of blue jeans, a pair of slip-on skater shoes underneath.
Pulling off her leather jacket, Radiance folds it and places it on the floor next to the bag, before unrolling the sweater, pulling it over her head. The sweater was obviously made for a man built like a basketball player, almost hiding her rounded belly under the thick material. Standing up, she kicks off the tan boots and pulls the jeans over her legs, using a hair tie to fasten the button through the loop, hugging the pants under her belly. Finally, she slips the shoes on, and tucks the singed boots and jacket in the bag, zipping it shut and ignoring the damage to the footwear.
Standing up straight, the blonde slings the bag over her shoulder, and presses a hand to her back, the other resting atop her belly as she walks over to the door on the roof. Opening the door, she looks down at the staircase, giving a gentle sigh before beginning her descent. “At least we're going down. Doesn't make you press into my lungs.” Patting the top of her belly, she looks around her bump, slowly descending the flights of stairs. After going down a single story, she pulls out another hair tie, pulling the longest strands of hair into a loose ponytail while leaving a few stray locks in front of her face. Opening the door designating the fifth floor, she stops for a moment as she makes eye contact with a woman down the hall.
“Amy?” The woman asks, her dreadlocks swaying as she tilts her head, the tips swinging under her jawline.
“Oh- uhh… hi, Halle, long time, no see.” Rubbing the back of her neck, the blonde tries to keep a straight face as she feels a sudden shift in her belly. The fabric of her sweater has a bit more unanticipated flow. Taking a few cautious steps forward, she looks at her neighbor.
With a leopard print skirt, Halle slowly starts walking down the hall toward Amy, her white high heels clicking against the stained hardwood floor. Wearing a black leather coat over a deep V-neck white crop top, the woman, about a few years older than Amy, looks her neighbor in the eye, her choice of shoes making her eye level with the taller woman.
“I haven't seen you in, what, three months? I thought you skipped town.” Halle's dark brown eyes look the platinum blonde up and down, studying her attire, “…last I knew, you'd never be caught dead in an oversized sweater like that.”
“O-Oh! Uhh…” Looking down at herself, Amy notices the front of her bump is not as prominent as when she was on the roof, as if attempting to hide from the other woman. “I, uhh… I've been… going through some things…”
Halle looks down at the bottom of Amy's sweater, before her eyes go wide, “O-Oh… I see…” Clearing her throat, she shifts her weight onto her left leg, using her right hand to adjust the locks framing her face, “Is he… err… in the picture?”
“Who's ‘he?’” Amy asks, trying to stay perfectly still and not put herself on the physical back foot as well.
“The father. He didn't just up and bolt, did he?”
For a brief moment, Amy stops feeling her heart beat in her chest as it sinks into her stomach. With her mouth drying quickly, she stumbles to even open her jaw.
“O-Oh! N-No! No, I don't mean– look, it's not like that-- she isn't mine!” The blonde woman stammers, unconsciously resting her hands atop her contracted middle, letting the shape come through more under the thick cloth of her sweater.
“…what? Isn't yours?” Halle raises an eyebrow, her eyes not leaving Amy's bump.
“I, uhh… did something stupid…” Amy gulps, looking for a solid hole to put her hand or foot in to climb, “I, uhh… there's this photographer I was working with. He and his husband were wanting to have a baby, and I said I'd do it.”
“…you regret being a surrogate?”
“What? No! No! I just… disappeared from the industry without a word… when I really should have told my agent what was going on.” With a sigh, Amy moves one of her hands to her back.
“Wait, you just… vanished on people? Girl, you gotta call them! Hopefully no one thinks you were kidnapped by those people the Paragons are always fighting.” Halle puts her hands on her hips, hanging her head as she listens to Amy's explanation.
“I know, I know… hopefully, if they're not too mad, I can model maternity wear for the rest of this pregnancy.” Now openly rubbing her belly, Amy looks her neighbor up and down, “Uhh… why are you dressed like the nineties?”
“Oh, it's Nineties Night at Tommy's up the block. When I first saw you, I was gonna offer an invite since you look like you need to unwind, but… I'm gonna guess the IPs don't want you dancing while carrying their baby.” Halle observes the blonde cracking her lower back, before the latter gives her a confused look. “The intended parents. I know some surrogates get confused when others know the lingo, but my oldest sister was actually a surrogate last year, so I'm a bit in-the-know about these things.”
“Oh, really?” Amy asks, forcing her breath to steady by swallowing her tongue.
“Yeah. Listen, go and give your agent a call, I imagine he's worried sick that your photos are all over Macy’s, and you’re nowhere to follow up on them. It's good to finally see you again, Amy.” Halle walks up to Amy, giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder, before walking behind the blonde over to the door.
“Y-Yeah. See you around.” Turning around briefly, Amy watches Halle open the door, before the door closes behind her. With a sigh and slump of her shoulders, she hurriedly walks a few doors down, before finding her own to her right. Pulling out her key, she unlocks the door, and slips through it. Shutting the door behind her, she lifts her sweater, revealing her costume-covered belly as it relaxes, regaining its large, round shape. “Holy shit… I come up with that cover story on the fly, and the very first person I tell knows more about it than I do.”
Dropping the backpack on the kitchen counter next to her, she locks the front door, kicking off her slip-on shoes. “I think I just trapped myself in a lie…” Grabbing the backpack, she walks past the kitchen, soon hanging a left to open her bedroom door. With a plush queen-sized bed resting in a cherry sleigh frame, Amy collapses onto the mattress, lying flat on her back, her round middle towering over her. Reaching down to remove the hair tie from her jeans, she lazily kicks then off as she pulls the sweater off over her head.
Eventually sitting up in her costume, she starts to peel the sleeves off her arms, her fingers disappearing under the attached fingerless gloves. Eventually pulling her hands and arms free through the neck hole, she slowly peels the fabric off her pregnant body, revealing only a white sports bra and cheeky panties underneath. “I need a bath…” She says, patting the top of her now exposed midriff as the life within gives a gentle nudge a few inches beside her navel. “And this belly is all sweaty. And smells like smoke.”
With a huff, she pushes herself off the bed, wandering over to the cherry wood wardrobe, pulling out a pair of towels, before waddling through another door to the attached bathroom, closing the door behind herself. Pulling the sports bra over her head, she sighs to herself as she drops her white panties to the floor, her swollen breasts bare and resting atop her rounded abdomen. Cupping the bottom of her breasts, the blonde feels the enhanced weight, though her fingers dare not get too close to her pink nipples, “…what are you filling them with?”
Slowly leaning over, her womb pressing into her thighs, she turns the handle above the faucet, water rapidly rushing into the bathtub. Stepping over to the vanity, the naked Amy lays her palm under the handle of a pump, gently squeezing facial cleanser onto her hand. Spreading the solution over her face, she looks over to the bath, which is halfway full. Knowing her expanded size will displace the water even more than before her condition started, she waits a couple more moments, before turning the faucet again.
Stepping into the bath, she coos as the warmth embraces her feet. Crouching slowly, her naked belly grazing against her thighs, she eventually grips the sides of the porcelain-enameled tub, slowly easing herself into the warm water. The heat embraces her tired body like a tender lover, melting the blonde into its inviting warmth.
Looking down, despite the deep bath accommodating her height, the apex of her belly still breaches the surface of the water, her popped out belly button standing proud as queen of the hill. A few gentle nudges against her navel draw a sigh from the woman, “I know it's not as warm there, but you're too big to fit under the water all the way.”
Resting both hands on top of her middle, she rubs tiny, tender circles near either side of her navel, staring up at the ceiling, “Just what are you doing in there…?”
—
THREE MONTHS AGO
—
“Chris, look, I just got home, I don't want to talk about the shoot right now.” Tapping her heeled shoes on the sidewalk in front of her apartment, a much thinner Amy stands outside, leaning against the raised handle of her tough suitcase. Her knuckles turn white as she grips her phone next to her right cheek, her left hand gripping the suitcase handle. “Chris-- these dicks just won't listen to me about the damn flashing! It ruins the lighting, and it gives me a god-damn headache!”
She faces the street, her brow furrowed as she keeps talking at her phone. Behind her, a faint rustle in a bush next to the weathered brick corner of the building goes unnoticed.
“Look, I just got home after forever. A tiny meteor landed in the river, and everyone was acting like they needed the Paragons to save them from an alien invasion!”
From the bush, a small, gray gelatinous mass slowly creeps forth, extending temporary limps to drag itself forward on the concrete. It grabs hold of the side of the hard plastic suitcase, suddenly going still as the case tilts and rolls.
“We'll talk about this later. Bye.” Groaning loudly, the blonde opens the door to the lobby of the apartment building, oblivious to a gentle red glow on the back of her suitcase she drags behind her. Stomping up to an elevator, she parks the suitcase next to her as she presses a button, tapping her foot as she stares at the closed metal doors. Her jeans hug the flesh of her legs tightly, resting low on her midriff as they cling to the curve of her derrière. Her button-down blouse leaves a couple bottom buttons unfastened, allowing her innie navel to be exposed fashionably.
With a ding, the metal doors part, allowing the blonde inside. Pulling the suitcase into the elevator, she props it upright on its base as she reaches over, pressing the button to the top floor.
As the doors shut, she sighs, leaning against the elevator wall, tears forming in her eyes. “Am I even talking? Am I even real?” She chokes, rubbing her forehead as she looks at the distorted floor.
The mass shifts on the suitcase, remaining opposite of Amy, though the red glow slowly starts shifting purple, before eventually leaning blue.
Wiping away a descending tear, Amy looks down at the back of her hand, finding a black smudge on her knuckle. “Great, my mascara's running…”
With a ding, the elevator doors part. Stepping into the hall, Amy resumes dragging the suitcase behind her, the glow undisturbed in the otherwise empty hallway. Eventually reaching her door, Amy sluggishly pulls her key out, sticking it in the lock and twisting.
Entering her home, Amy lets a lazy foot move behind her, shutting the door. Leaving the suitcase next to the kitchen, she immediately steps left, entering her bathroom as her heels fall off her feet. Turning the light on, she's immediately greeted by the sight of mascara trails along her cheeks. “Great…”
Turning the handle over her bathtub, the blonde leaves the water to accumulate, unbuttoning her blouse and tossing it in the hamper, before letting her jeans fall to the floor. Grabbing a couple towels, she walks back into the bathroom, dropping the towels on the back of the toilet. Unfastening the clasp of her white bra, she lets it hit the floor with her underwear, and steps into the bath as she turns the handle.
Sobs echo into the kitchen from the bathroom. The mass starts glowing an intense blue, before the glow eventually ceases. Back to its original gray color, the mass detaches from the suitcase, starting to roll along the finished wood flooring. Slipping underneath the partially ajar door, it follows the source of the sound.
With her head resting on the back of the tub, Amy simply stares at the ceiling, her entire body below her neck submerged. Seconds, minutes, hours have passed for as long as she knows. Either way, the heat from the water is starting to dissipate, and the waterworks coming from her eyes has come to an end, alarming the blonde to the passage of time.
Splash.
Bolting up against the back of the tub, the blonde gasps, looking around, before her eyes go to the faucet and handle, looking around. “What…? What was–”
A shriek escapes her lungs, something grazed her ankles. Attempting to push herself further back in the tub, Amy lets out a scream as a strange, gray blob suddenly jumps out from the bathwater. It twists and contorts itself as it hovers above her for what feels to be an eternity.
“Oh my god, is that…?!” Her hands slip on the wet edges of the porcelain, the rest of her body falling back into the water below the strange mass. “Is that an alien?!”
The mass falls back into the water, immediately brushing against her thighs, traveling up closer to her. She lets out a sharp gasp as she feels a gooey tendril brush her labia, before eventually starting to push its way into her vulva. Before she can react, Amy feels her vagina flood with the alien organism. Throwing her head back, she chokes on a gasp, feeling intense pressure on her cervix. “Oh… Oh, god!”
Sharply breathing, Amy finally jabs her chin into her collarbone, looking down. Brushing her left hand along her midriff, she feels something on the outside that's more definitive than the pressure building inside her body: swelling. The rest of the gray mass slowly travels further up her thighs, brushing against her smooth skin. Though she can't see it, she can certainly feel it pull more of itself in her vagina, slipping past her cervix and into her uterus. The swelling flesh of her abdomen distorts further, little fingers and tendrils pushing further out against her skin.
Her big toe catches on the chain of the tub plug, pulling it out and letting the water rapidly drain. However, as the water descends, the mass simply pushes itself deeper and deeper into Amy. The water eventually reveals her growing abdomen, and she grips either side of her expanding middle.
“Oh… Oh, god…!” She cries out again, breathing intensely. Her thighs are eventually uncovered, revealing the disappearing mass.
“Oh, god…” Amy repeats through gritted teeth, yet the creature continues without pause. Her blue eyes look down at her navel, watching it push out from the pressure building in her womb. The small indentation starts to convex, pushing itself flat along the stretching skin of her torso, before eventually starting to round outward. The tiny creases and folds smooth out, the skin of her umbilicus forming half of a golf ball atop her inflating belly.
With one last inhale, her body suddenly relaxes, her eyes closing. Her breathing relaxes as her head rests against the back of the top. Eventually, the final tip of the mass disappears through her labia, pulling itself deeper into her vagina, before finally easing through her cervix. A gentle blue glow briefly emerges from her vaginal lips, before eventually fading.
Seconds blur into minutes… into hours. Blue eyes gently flutter open, seeing the same lighting in the bathroom, a dull ache in the back of the head. Her skin feels dry, as if the air had done the job of her towels… had she fallen asleep in the tub after it drained?
Groaning, Amy attempts to sit upright, though she immediately feels resistance, a weight on her thighs… and something pushing into her chest. Looking down, the naked woman gasps loudly, her eyes glued to the distended mass before her… a part of her.
“What… What…?” A shaky hand slowly reaches out, floating just above the taut skin, before retracting as the tip of her middle finger grazes the surface for a millisecond. Yelping, the blonde stares at the mound before her, choking back a potentially louder scream as something within pushes back.
Her eyes dart around the bathroom, finding spilled water on the floor near the tub, her towels still folded on the back of the toilet. It was no strange dream… some alien lifeform truly had crawled into her body!
Grunting loudly, the blonde musters all of her strength, her biceps screaming as she pushes herself up, feeling a foreign weight giving her muscles an unprecedented challenge. Her elbows quake from the weight, barely holding through as her knees finally bend enough to move her feet beneath herself. Her right leg lifts, moving over the edge of the tub, though her hand slips, causing her back to hit the rim of the tub, though luck nudged her over to the floor, rather than back in the tub.
“Ow, damn it…!” Lying in the spilled water from the creature's implantation, Amy rolls over to her side, her distended middle resting on the floor as she rubs her aching back. Moving her hands to the toilet, she pulls herself upright back into a sitting position, leaning back against the side of the bathtub.
“Get… get out, please…” Looking down at her swollen belly, she watches the round surface for some kind of response, only to get nothing.
“Come on…” Spreading her legs apart, she bends her knees, bringing her feet closer to herself, and grabs onto her kneecaps. Taking a deep breath, Amy leans forward, attempting to bear down, putting pressure in places she had no idea were in her stomach… only to achieve nothing.
“I… just gotta push, right…? Something I've never done before, but I should be able to do… right?”
Not so simple.
After a few moments of awkward attempts at pushing, she suddenly shoves her calves into the floor, closing her legs, “…what am I even doing? I should probably wait for the Paragons to come into town.” Amy looks down at her belly, “This is part of an alien invasion, right? Or did you crawl out of a secret lab?”
Shifting her hands behind herself, she grips the edge of the bathtub behind her, her biceps bulging as she pushes herself up in coordination with her legs. Eventually, after several moments, she turns around, finally able to push herself upright. However, she reaches behind herself, stifling a scream as she grips the vanity, nearly falling backwards. Her center of gravity is gone… well, not gone, but not where it should be.
A minute passes, her knuckles turn white. With a deep breath, the blonde takes a cautious step back toward the toilet, slowly reaching out for a towel to wrap around herself, now that she's somewhat wet again. Unfolding the towel, she wraps it around herself normally… only for her belly to part the edges like a curtain, exposing her crotch.
“…please tell me this will be over soon.”
With a sigh, she simply drops the other towel to the floor, pushing it with her foot to mop up whatever liquid she sees. A slight pressure in her pelvis adjusts her stance, whether she likes it or not, adding a wider gap between her footsteps as she finally enters her bedroom. Trying to find some vague sense of normalcy, she fetches a random bra and a pair of panties… only to feel an unfamiliar tightness in her chest.
Looking down at herself, she tugs on the bra, realizing it's digging into her flesh. Her reflection shows her breasts already spilling out over the cups of her bra, as if threatening to tear the bra itself asunder, “…how long was I out that you already did this to my boobs?”
Turning around, Amy gasps as she examines the backside of her reflection, “No way… these panties were a little cheeky, but this just looks like a G-string! What the hell is going on?!” Running a hand over her buttocks, she learns the truth: her assets have indeed grown further, with a slight give, but also a bit of firmness. Her thighs have also taken up a bit more circumference, though they are significantly firmer than her glutes, having a fair amount of definition in the front and sides.
A rumble emits from deep within her belly. “…am I really about to eat for two?” Sighing to herself, she walks over to her dresser, pulling out a pair of purple silk pajamas. Pulling the bottoms up, she finds the waistband making no attempt to make any progress on her underbelly. With a defeated sigh, she pulls the sleeves of the top over her arms, fastening the top two buttons… only for the third to be totally impossible to fasten, lest she simply bunch it under the second.
“…no way…” Part of her wants to cry, yet the well is dry as she stares at her reflection. She sees a heavily pregnant Amy, yet, it's not totally her… Maybe how she imagined herself if she ever did have a baby, but nothing in her wildest fantasies ever braced her for waking up in the bathroom looking ready to give birth.
Grooooaaaaaaan.
“Grr… alright, fine! I'll eat something!”
Huffing to the creature occupying her body, she leaves her bedroom, finding her phone on the kitchen counter. Pressing her thumb to the bottom of the screen, the speaker lets out a tiny click as the screen comes to life, her fingertip smacking the little circle of red, yellow, green, and blue. Her thumbs fly across the keyboard, typing “columbus ohio aliens,” only to find the AI summary first:
“Despite several claims by fringe independent websites, no authorities have ever verified the visitation of extraterrestrial beings in Columbus, Ohio. While individual extraterrestrials have come to Earth, they have either visited or permanently resided in major cities along the East and West Coasts, predominantly New York City, Washington D.C., and Los Angeles in the United States.”
“…”
Thumbs smack around the virtual keyboard again, “columbus ohio lab accident.” No AI summary, but years old articles of accidents in campus labs at the Ohio State University or a few businesses in Dublin or New Albany or other surrounding suburbs, yet nothing from today. Looking at the window, Amy spots the sun significantly lower than when she returned; it’s already about to set.
“I've been out for hours… and no news?” Looking down at her belly, Amy flinches as the thing pushes out against her pushed out navel, “Oh god, don't tell me I'm about to explode…” The movement recedes, returning her belly to its smooth, round shape, “…thank you for at least not giving me stretch marks.”
Sighing, she walks over to the countertop, gasping as the bottom of her navel grazes along the marble surface, her feet stumbling back. Clutching as far forward as she can possibly reach, she rubs a gentle circle near her navel, “God, that's freezing!”
Side-stepping back to the counter, she reaches with one arm to move the bamboo cutting board closer to herself, pulling a chef's knife from the knife rack. Setting the blade down next to the cutting board, she waddles over to the fridge, opening it, the door bumping against the front of her belly.
Grunting to herself, she turns around, opening the refrigerator door the rest of the way. Reaching with her right hand, she pulls out an unopened package of bacon and lays it atop a carton of eggs, using her heel to close the door as she steps away with the goods. Eyeing a tall glass jar housing dried spaghetti, she stares at the carbs incarnate, before shaking her head, “No, no, this is just going to go straight to my thighs-”
Groooooooowwwwwwl….
Looking at the package of bacon under her thumb, her mouth starts watering uncontrollably, imagining the smell of pasta carbonara… “…this better go straight to you and not me!”
Setting the bacon and eggs down on the counter, she crouches down to the cupboards below, her eyes widening that she managed to achieve such a feat, “…huh, I guess crouching isn't so bad.” Reaching her hands in, she pulls out a small frying pan and a tall pot, placing them on the counter above her. “…oh, getting back up… right…”
Groaning loudly, she presses her hands into her knees, pushing into the joints hard. Her face turns red, her body trying to stay upright as a force tries pulling it down in front, “Come on…”
Eventually, her legs pull the job off, though she breathes heavily, the bottom of her belly brushing into the countertop for a brief moment with each inhalation. “You're really heavy, you know…”
After a brief rest, she walks the pan over to the stove top, and returns to the cutting board, slicing the plastic housing the bacon open. Turning her head as her hand pulls out half of the uncooked meat, her eyes twitch as her fingertips take in the unrendered lard. “Hey, Siri…” She says slapping the half pound on the cutting board, affirming her grip on the knife, “Give me news from today about the Paragons in Columbus, Ohio.”
After a brief moment as the knife glides across the board, starting to cube the bacon, the automated voice responds, “I'm sorry, there are no news articles about the Paragons arriving in Columbus, Ohio today. Would you like news on a different event-”
Amy turns her head to her phone, her brow furrowing in a scowl, “What do you mean– AH!” recoiling her left hand, the right drops the knife on the countertop. Gripping her left index finger, the young woman watches red immediately start pouring out of a cut, “Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it!”
Blood quickly pours down her finger and onto her palm. As she steps along the counter, her eyes, locked on the roll of paper towels, the color blue fills her periphery as her hand starts getting abnormally warm… both hands, actually.
A gasp escapes her as her eyes trail down, finding a blue glow coming from her right palm. Pulling her right hand close to her chest, her left hand flies away, a spatter of blood flicking into her sink. However, as she slowly turns her shaky left hand back to her, she goes silent and pale, bringing her hand closer to herself…
The cut is gone! Blood clings to her hand, yet the wound is gone. The blood was bled before the glow. “What… what… how did I…. What?!”
A sharp movement to the left of her belly makes Amy flinch, causing her to rub the right side of her dry hand, “Did… did you do that…?”
…is it just her, or does the skin of her midriff have the slightest blue hue? The blonde lets out another gasp, as her skin definitely returns to its warm color before her eyes… it definitely had a slight blue tint just a moment ago!
“…oh god, you're not an alien invader, are you…?” Reaching awkwardly, she turns the handles surrounding the faucet, quickly washing the blood from her left hand, flicking her hands dry. Both hands rest atop her swollen middle, “That didn't scar, either… you healed me using my hands!”
A much gentler nudge against her left hand responds, Initially recoiling, the blonde slowly returns her hand to her swollen belly, “…couldn't you have just wrapped around my skin or something?! Why did you have to go inside me?!” She growls, before letting out a defeated sigh as she feels a shift she couldn't quite see with her eyes, “…you're one of those things that survives inside another living being, aren't you?”
A small movement ripples along the top of her swollen belly, disappearing as it approaches her sternum. Amy's hands fall to her sides as her shoulders slump, “…why me? I look like I'm about to give birth!”
---
PRESENT DAY
---
“…why do I feel like half of the Paragons have a more messed up story of how they got their powers?” Amy asks, holding up a hand over the apex of her middle, watching water droplets fall onto her outie. “Are you here to stay in my uterus, or are you gonna make like a horror movie and leave me like an overfilled water balloon?”
Her middle remains silent.
“Not sure why I bother talking to you. It's not like you can hold a conversation in my belly.”
With recent practice, Amy grips the chain of the tub plug with her big toe against the ball of her foot, and lifts her foot, opening the drain. Gently pushing herself up, she leans over, grabbing one of the towels, wrapping it around her torso, managing to cover her belly and retain her dignity. Grabbing the other towel, she wraps it around her hair. Stepping onto the plush pink bath mat, she loosens the towel around her body, pushing it against her silky smooth skin, before tightening it back around her torso as her legs dry up.
Walking out to her bedroom, she looks at the dresser, staring at her reflection in the attached mirror for a brief moment, before looking down, opening the top left drawer. Pulling out a pair of black panties, she rummages the top right drawer for the matching bra. Fetching what she wants, she gently folds her body towel back up, placing it on a stand next to the door linking her bedroom and bathroom. Putting on her bra and underwear, she removes the towel from her head, folding it to match the body towel, resting it on top of that.
Stepping out of her bedroom on her toes, she glides her fingertips along the walls, giving a brief twirl as she hangs a left to her living room. Relaxed muscles let her sink into the soft fabric of her pillowy couch with a gentle sigh, “Oh, nothing like a bath to take away the daily struggles of being pregnant with… whatever you are.” Gently patting her middle, Amy takes in the aroma of the plug-in scent, the smell of clean linen easing her mind.
“Not sure if it's the bath or going out and using your powers to help people, but I've come to enjoy your company in there.” A gentle chuckle escapes her closed lips as her eyes remain closed. Eventually, she opens her eyes back up as she gets off the couch, continuing to graze her fingertips along her furniture and walls. “Maybe Halle's right. I probably should give Chris a call… I should probably make sure my story's straight, though. Halle would definitely catch on if I used the wrong words.”
Wandering back into her bedroom, she steps tip-toed into her walk-in closet, pulling a black satin robe off of its hanger. Easing her arms through the sleeves, she pulls it up to her shoulders, leaving it unfastened, partly due to forgetting where she placed the belt, partly due to the belt being practically useless at her size. Stepping out of the walk-in closet, she catches her reflection in the dresser mirror, stopping to look at the sight. Placing her hands on her back, she bends a knee, before placing her foot on the edge of the bed.
“Hmm… a bit out of practice. I guess if I try to get back at it, I could probably do a shoot like this… though I have no idea how much I'd get paid, though. Still, if I style my hair and do my makeup, I probably could pull something off that even I'd want framed.” Gripping the satin robe, she pulls it to her left side, turning to her right to examine the backside of her reflection, finding her enlarged butt swallowing her underwear, “Boy, am I glad I'm alive now and not when they'd demand I get this lipo'd out.” Chuckling quietly to herself, Amy grabs her discarded costume, folding it into a neat square, before walking into her walk-in closet, placing it gently on a shelf. Below that shelf are a pair of thigh-high boots, matching the costume in color and trim.
“… I might just be able to finish those tonight.”
Grabbing the boots, she steps out into her bedroom, looking at a small box of needles, thread, scissors, and other supplies. “Probably should go ahead and give Keith his boots back… though maybe I should warn him about the burn marks?” Moving her boots and supplies to her living room, she sets them down gently on the end of the couch, before gingerly positioning the robe behind her as she rests her supple bottom on the soft cushions. Resting the length of the left boot atop her belly, she reaches over for the needles, preparing to resume work on the trim.
Radiance: Issue #1
—
DOWNTOWN, COLUMBUS, OHIO
—
Basil. Oregano. Mozzarella cheese, browned and stretched. Pepperoni cups, curled, holding parmesan flakes and hot sauce. Mushrooms and roasted garlic. Crust, with solid leopard spots underneath. The aroma fills the brick-walled dining room, its patrons observed by the Last Supper, never mind the unique addition of a slice of pepperoni pizza in Christ's right hand as Matthew and Jude Thaddeus argue with Simon the Zealot over whether pineapple belongs on pizza. Never mind Judas Iscariot pestering John the Apostle (not Mary Magdalene) and ruining a perfect meal. No, along the opposite wall are booths with faux leather cushions, patrons seated in each one, savoring the slices in their mouths.
Some college students wander about with jello shots in hand, while hungry patrons from the 8-Bit Bar next door pour in, hungry and severely inebriated. Everyone walking in the front door of Ricky's Late Night Slice is demanding a slice of pie, and who is the cashier to deny the city of Columbus a slice of pizza- never mind the four other locations downtown and near campus, while three more locations serve the suburbs of Franklin County? No, this is a special place of food and drink, one that everyone wants to succeed.
Well, almost everyone.
Beeps ring from the point of sale system as a chip fails to register, the cashier's dark braids swaying to her side as she hunches over the counter to look at the screen facing the customer. The cashier squints as the customer keeps pressing the blue card to the screen, prompting more beeps with no resolution, his fingers gripping the card tighter and tighter with each beep.
Sitting alone, a young woman rests her elbows on the tabletop, her deep blue eyes staring down at the half-eaten slice of roasted garlic and mushroom pizza held in her left hand. Folding the slice neatly in half, she brings it back up to her mouth, carefully avoiding touching the pizza to her neatly red-stained lips, her platinum blonde hair resting on her shoulders and falling a bit past her shoulder blades. Her lilac bodysuit goes from ankle to collarbone, the sleeves extending all the way to her hands, operating as attached fingerless gloves with a violet trim. The trim travels up the arms to the collar, descending down to a valentine on her chest, before resuming its stripe traveling down her midriff until it reaches her pelvis. To top it off, a cropped dark gray leather jacket rests open, the sleeves rolled up to reveal some of the trim on her forearms. The stripe, however, stretches wider on her abdomen than the rest of the stripes on her costume, the fabric being pulled by the distended flesh of her womb, her popped out belly button poking through the purple bodysuit.
Her painted purple fingernails start to lose some blue, a slight red glowing coming through, catching her attention as she chews her slice of pizza.
“Hmm?”
Putting down the pizza on a paper plate, the costumed woman looks at her fingertips, seeing the red glow in her fingertips as they start tingling. Her eyes, slightly tilting to purple, look at the counter, studying the visibly annoyed customer and cashier.
“There's no way someone can be that annoyed-”
Swinging open, the glass cracks on the front door as it slams into its own hinges, three men suddenly storming in, brandishing pistols. The man in the front rushes forward, a few hairs from a light brown beard visible in the mouth hole of his ski mask, shoving his elbow into the customer in front of the counter, immediately shoving his handgun in the cashier's face.
“Register. Now.”
The cashier takes a cautious step back, throwing her hands up to the sky, “P-Please! We're cashless!”
“If you don't give us everything you–”
The gunman is suddenly cut off, a surge of red light clocking him in the jaw, throwing him into the cracked glass of the front door, shattering and falling down on him.
Trailing the opposite direction of the trajectory, the other two gunmen immediately point their firearms at the young woman sitting by herself as she drops her pizza crust onto her paper plate with her left hand, her right pointed at the front door, her index and middle fingers extended and glowing red.
“I know I'm supposed to let you finish your threat and tell you to surrender, but my ankles are a bit swollen right now, my back is killing me, and you're interrupting my dinner.” Her brow furrows as she aims her right hand at the other two gunmen, glaring at the robbers. Briefly gazing down at her left hand, she notices a yellow glow forming in her palm, “Damn it…” Her voice echoes in her mind as she looks across the dining room, finding patrons throwing their hands up and hiding under tables.
“You bitch! I'll kill you-”
Another bolt of red light flies across the dining room, slamming the yelling mugger in the left shoulder, forcing a wheeze out of the man as he falls back, his denim jacket incinerated at the impact point.
The other masked man immediately opens fire as a yellow square suddenly materializes in front of him, dissolving the bullet in midair. Screams grow louder in the dining room as he repeatedly pulls the trigger, each round disappearing into the yellow square.
The young woman steps out of the booth with her left hand raised, glowing with intense yellow light as her ill-fitting tan boots clap on the roughed up wooden floor, her bump swaying as she takes slow, cautious steps forward. A myriad of civilians hunker beneath tables and counters, slinking away from the gunman in a futile effort to distance themselves from danger. With every scream, the yellow square in front of the gunman grows brighter and more intense, the color growing more bold with each shot.
The slide on the pistol eventually catches on the stop after the eighth and final shot, empty clicking filling the air as the gunman lays into the trigger for nothing. Growling loudly, he starts to run around the yellow square as the gravid woman gets closer and closer, “I'm gonna kill you!”
Swinging his arm back, he throws the pistol to the side of the square, the gun rotating in midair as it travels for the purple-clad lady. However, her entire body is engulfed in orange, leaving a brief trail as she suddenly leaps onto a tabletop with unseen swiftness. Grunting loudly, she propels herself off the tabletop, extending her leg in front of her, the heel of the boot landing square on the gunman's nose. The robber falls back, the woman landing on top of him in a kneeling position, her left foot on his face, her right knee jabbing his ribs as she sandwiches him between herself and the hardwood floor.
Breathing heavily, the woman looks down past her rounded, heavily pregnant belly, seeing the man not moving under her boot or making sound, yet she still feels his chest rising and falling with breath. She looks over to the man she burned, noticing the redness of his fair skin, as well as a tattoo on his left bicep. She tilts her head curiously at the strange design, a large circle hanging off the top-right of a W.
Flash. Flash. Click. Click.
Blinking, the woman turns around, spotting people coming out from under the tables, a number of them holding their phones, some of which flash with audible clicks. Pictures, something she'd grown quite accustomed to.
Needing to say something, the platinum blonde looks around, so far not observing anyone hurt… well, no one worth protecting, at least. “Is anybody hurt?” She breathes heavily, resting a hand on top of her round belly as she slowly stands up.
No one seems to respond, before the cashier slowly rises up from behind the counter, “You're… you're Radiance, aren't you?” More employees start pouring out from the back, “I thought the costume was weird since there's no anime or comic thing at the convention center, but… you're really her?”
Flinching at the constant flashes, Radiance covers her eyes with her right hand, her left pressing into her lower back, “That's what everyone's been calling me… also, you can all turn the flash off. The lighting in here would be better by itself, if you really want the pictures.” She turns around to the rest of the civilians, and promptly notices the flashes rapidly slowing down, before eventually coming to a halt entirely, yet the clicks resume. Smiling now, she brings her right hand back to the top of her distended belly as she stands up, her right foot flat on the ground while her left remains on top of the third robber. Her left leg is bent slightly, a true huntress posing with her big game prey. Meanwhile, her entire body starts to envelope in a gentle pink glow, and she takes a deep breath in.
A young man adjusts his glasses, using his fingers to brush his shaggy black hair out of his face as he crawls out of cover. As he rises to his feet, he looks down at the second robber's tattoo, “Wait, isn't this-”
Sirens erupt outside, catching everyone's attention, especially Radiance.
“Sorry, everyone, I'm kinda not supposed to be doing… this… without a license or whatever they give out.” Her tan boots clap on the ground as she hurriedly waddles out of the pizzeria, initially looking at the sign for the 8-Bit Bar as she steps outside. The pink glow intensifies, and her heels slowly lift from the ground, before her toes eventually pull away, her entire body moving up. The pink aura remains behind, slowly fading with distance as she levitates higher and higher into the air, drawing crowds onto the sidewalk. Spotting flashing red and blue lights approaching, she immediately bolts westward, flying over downtown Columbus with her hands at her side, twirling in midair as she passes over the Statehouse. Her flight takes her westward, laughing as she crosses the Scioto River.
Flying along West Broad Street, she resumes, taking in the city air, before noticing an orange glow a mile away. “Is that a fire?” Clicking her heels together, she tries to kick herself into gear, flying toward a neighborhood. Huffing, she looks back at her feet and the fading trail she leaves behind, “Agh, I gotta figure out how to get moving…” Her eyes move to her belly as she flies on, “I swear, you're slowing me down, even if you're why I can even do this to begin with.” The pink trail disappears into the neighborhood, flying into a rising tower of black smoke.
—
HILLTOP
—
A crowd gathers around a burning house, phones filming and streaming firefighters spraying the house with their hoses. A young boy struggles against the arms of a firefighter, tears streaming down his soot-stained cheeks, “GRANDMA!”
“Hang in there, kid, we'll have her outta there!” The firefighter keeps his grip firm on the child, preventing him from endangering himself further.
The heat melts the surrounding snow, the cruel flames keeping onlookers warm in the winter night. Everyone is cascaded in the orange glow of the flames.
“HEY! IT'S KAYODE! THE STAIRS COLLAPSED! HE'S STILL UP THERE!” Another firefighter shouts as he rushes out of the front door, motioning his arms to the firetruck, “MOVE THE TRUCK! GET THE LADDER TO A WINDOW!”
“YOU HEARD THE CAPTAIN, PEOPLE! CLEAR OUT, NOW!” A different firefighter rips his protective mask off, spreading his arms and walking at the crowd, “MOVE!”
Yet a man cannot command an ocean.
Suddenly, in the smoky air, a pink beam rushes toward the house, suddenly dissipating as a young woman with platinum blonde hair in a lilac costume stands in front of the house, her gravid silhouette obvious in the flames. She looks around, before stepping up to the recently unmasked firefighter.
“Is anyone still in there?” Radiance asks, a bead of sweat already forming on her brow from the heat.
The firefighter looks down at the woman, unable to make the crowd budge despite his towering stature, “Look, I, uhh… I don't think I'm supposed to-”
“Sir, please, is anyone in there?” She puts her hands on her hips as she looks at the house, “I'm guessing there is since you didn't immediately say no.”
“Ma'am, you can't be here.” The captain walks up, taking off his protective oxygen mask, “I'm not handing you over to the police, but I ethically cannot let a civilian inside.”
Radiance observes the man's badge, quickly deducing he's the captain, “Captain Gordon, sir, just one glance at this situation, and I can tell something's wrong-”
Glass shatters, letting flames burst out of a window on the first floor.
“Kayode's trapped upstairs trying to rescue the woman who lives here.” The tall firefighter blurts out, drawing the captain's wrath.
“Menendez, what the hell are you doing?!” The captain shouts.
Looking to the crowd, Radiance spots a crying child, wailing and flailing as he tries in vain to rush to the burning house. Before anyone can touch her, a pink glow envelopes her body, and she propels to the house.
“MA'AM, STAY OUT OF THERE!” Captain Gordon gives chase to no avail- the pink swiftly disappears through the front door, disappearing behind the leaking smoke.
The walls are engulfed in flames, though the collapsed staircase just to the right of the front door immediately gives the glowing woman her cue.
“Anh!” Wincing, Radiance clenches her middle with her left hand, using her right to grip her thigh and stabilize her balance. A sharp movement juts ever so slightly to the side of her middle, swiping hard along her side before disappearing into her flesh. “Yeah, yeah, I know it's hot, just bear with me.”
The pink aura pushes her up the ruined staircase, before eventually fading, causing her to stumble to her feet as she lands on the second floor. “No, no, no…! Damn it!” The pink aura briefly blinks back into existence, before totally fading. “Okay, if they're still okay, hopefully they're scared enough for me to use.”
Covering her face with her arms, she moves across the hall, spotting framed photos ablaze on the floor, cracked glass surrounding them. With the wooden floor having few safe spots to step, the blonde eventually wanders into a room, the flames roaring in her ears as she spots a firefighter weakly attempting to pry a window open, spotting a gash in the tube of his oxygen supply. Next to him is an elderly woman, her wiry white hair stained in ash as she hacks her lungs out on the floor.
“This is gonna hurt if they aren't worried…” Radiance mutters to herself, before rushing across the room as a green aura envelopes her body, her thighs and biceps growing in circumference, the cropped leather jacket tightening around her shoulders. Approaching the outer wall, she extends a foot out, which makes contact, instantly shattering a hole as wide and tall as she in the wood.
“Here!” Summoning the yellow square from the pizzeria, she angles it flat, gently trying to nudge the old woman with her spare right hand onto the makeshift platform outside the house. The woman, tapping out the singed hem of her bathrobe, narrowly crawls onto the yellow projection, before the firefighter hops on unprompted, causing Radiance's left fist to clench. Stepping on the platform herself, Radiance’s face turns bright red as she holds her breath, her body quivering as the yellow square gently lowers to the drying grass below.
The square starts to tremble beneath their feet as it descends a yard every five or so seconds, before eventually giving out with just a couple feet left, the woman and firefighter collapsing onto the ground.
“Crap! Are you two alright?!” Radiance yells, crouching awkwardly to help the elderly woman to her feet.
Coughing loudly, the elder eventually looks up, her dark brown eyes slowly clearing to find Radiance next to her burning house, looking for a solid moment at the blonde's swollen belly. “This isn't good for your baby, honey…” She hacks her lungs out.
“Trust me, my baby's okay.” Radiance says, before looking at the firefighter as he rips his protective mask off. He breathes heavily, with his name badge singed quite heavily, yet Radiance can still make out the first few letters: KAY.
“How… how did you get up there?” Kayode asks with a thick accent, sitting down on the grass and staring up at the burning house.
“Being able to fly helps.” Radiance says as she attempts to escort the elderly woman to the fire engines and ambulances in front of her house, but she loses the need to as a swarm of firefighters notice the side of the house, rushing over to help Kayode to his feet and take the elderly woman from Radiance.
Captain Gordon marches up, finding Radiance standing there, her hands in the pockets of her jacket. His hazel eyes scan the woman just an inch below eye level with him, “You know you're endangering your baby, right, ma'am?”
Radiance forces a smile as she pulls out a hand to tap the side of her bump, “Super secrets, but he’s just fine in there.”
“Look, I'm supposed to turn you over to the police since you're not a member of the Paragons, but…” He looks around, seeing only other firefighters and EMTs nearby, and sees the young boy rushing up to the elderly woman, “since you saved one of Fire Station Ten's own, the least we can do is turn a blind eye when you rescue people in our turf. I should probably ask that you weren't sent by the villains’ league or something from Ann Arbor, were you?”
“Nope, can't say I've ever been to Ann Arbor in my life.” The blonde fibs, before looking up at the house as the firefighters resume their damage control, “Sucks that this happened. I know this isn't the most prosperous neighborhood; was it an electrical fire?”
The young boy, overhearing the heroine's conversation with the captain, calls out, “Someone threw a bottle through the door! The stairs caught fire!”
“What?!” Captain Gordon looks over to the young boy, “Are you sure, son?”
The boy simply nods his head.
“Great…” The captain mutters to himself, before looking back to Radiance, “Listen, I have to radio the police if this is an arson. I'll give you a moment to clear out of here and get the ambulance rolling out of here.”
The pink aura builds at the bottom of Radiance's feet once more, prompting a smile from her as she looks at the firefighters resuming their work, “I'm probably overstaying my welcome, anyway.”
With a small hop, the blonde severs her connection to the earth, leaving the pink trail behind her once again as she floats over to the crowd. As phones spot her and fingers start pointing at her, she clenches her fists as her sides, digging her wrists into her hips as the pink glows brighter. After a few moments, she bolts up into the sky, flying east.
As her body flies on, she looks down at the city beneath her, and further down to her rounded middle, coming to a brief stop in midair, the pink wake slowly fading and catching back up to her. “Seriously, you don't have to kick so hard when I jump into burning buildings.”
A small, gentle swipe at the top of her middle responds.
“Does it get too toasty in my belly? I figured you'd like the warmth.”
A small, gentle swipe at her right side glides over her belly button, before sinking into her left side.
“Alright, alright, I'll give you a heads up next time I'm going somewhere hot.”
A small poke against her navel.
“It's almost gotten cute when you poke at my belly button.” With a gentle sigh, her flight resumes, “I don't know about you, but I am in need of a bath…”
—
UPTOWN DISTRICT
—
“You have to admit, Mr. Duke, our city is beautiful at night.” A woman stands next to a wall of windows, the only thing stopping her from falling is endless glass. Swirling a small glass of red wine, she takes a gentle whiff of the aroma, before bringing the glass to her pristine, red-stained lips, her sharp green eyes looking around the other skyscrapers nearby, before settling on the convention center. With fair skin and dark brown hair, she stands vigilant, her neatly pressed purple buttoned blouse tucking smoothly into her blue pencil skirt, her cognac heels clicking against the marble flooring with a tiny shift in her center of gravity.
“With all due respect, Ms. Landon, I didn't come here to talk about skylines.”
A massive mahogany table sits in the middle of the conference room, a few telephones aligned neatly with ten chairs on each long side, and one chair on each short side. The chairs are dark brown leather, freshly built and delivered, only a couple having been sat in yet.
In one chair is a man, his gray suit standing out against the back of his chair, with his white shirt popping out even more, letting his dark red tie stand out more. His dark brown starts to gray in his sideburns, before turning back to the darker color, his blue eyes studying the woman at the windows, enhancing his wrinkles beside his eyes. His hands fold together atop the polished wood table.
“Right, right, of course. So, what brings you all this way to snowy Ohio, Mr. Duke?” Turning back to the conference room, Ms. Landon gently sets her glass down next to the ice-filled bucket, alongside the empty, unused glass.
“That abandoned property, west-something… whatever it's called.” Mr. Duke leans in, bringing a hand to his chin, stroking his beard.
“The Westland Mall? My inspection crew loves the Beatz convenience store that opened up in front of the historic place. They can't get enough of the hot chocolate. Why do you ask?” Taking a seat parallel to Mr. Duke, Ms. Landon folds her legs as she sits, placing her fingertips together as her elbows rest on the tabletop.
“Westland, right. When were you planning on demolishing it?”
“Well, now, it sounds like you found a use for it. I can postpone demolition at your convenience, Mr. Duke.” Smiling, Ms. Landon leans back slightly, before reaching for her wine glass.
“Another thing, the Great Man. You still haven't told me a whole lot, and it's been three months, Ms. Landon.” He places his hands down on the table, tapping on the wooden surface.
“Oh, right. Forgive me, Dr. Carter says that it's a rather delicate process. She's so far isolated and eradicated hindrances in the process, so we should expect a milestone in progress soon.” Gently finishing the glass of wine, Ms. Landon sets it down without a sound, her blue eyes watching the suited man across from her.
“...” Sighing, Mr. Duke stands up, turning away from the woman, “...thank you, Ms. Landon.” He bolts for the door, walking briskly as he turns the handle and swings the heavy oak door open, leaving the businesswoman by herself.
“...hick.” Ms. Landon's smile fades, hissing to herself with a scowl. She winces, before gently rubbing her stomach, feeling her bloated midriff feel a bit firm underneath her fingertips, “Well, now, Dr. Carter, what on earth have you done to me…?” A small pinch in her side and stomach hold her attention for a moment.
Standing up slowly with a deep breath, she steps around the table, heading for the door Mr. Duke scurried out of. Slowly pulling the door open, she briefly looks around, finding the hall empty. Stepping into the sterile hall, she walks down, the clicks of her heels echoing as she steps to the elevator. Pressing the button down, she looks at the floor counter, finding it fifty-six floors below her.
“Well, well, too lazy for the stairs, Mr. Duke?”
Eventually, the elevator arrives. Turning around in the neat, pristine mahogany environment, she presses the button for the forty-eighth floor, descending rapidly. Stepping out, she walks into the familiar, sterile hallway, the air thick with the scent of lemon-scented cleaner. Passing a few doors, she comes to a stop in front of one, a solid oak door with a frosted window with a name in serif font: “Carolyn Carter, Sc.D”
Raising the back of her hand to the wood next to the window, Ms. Landon gently taps with the knuckle of her index finger. “Dr. Carter, it's Linda.”
“Come in.” The businesswoman hears a muffled voice through the door, and twists the door handle, slowly pushing the door open.
“Well, now, how is the head of Research and Development?” Linda asks, slowly closing the door behind her. Unlike the conference room, the room is devoid of windows, instead being made entirely of solid wood construction, everything perfectly lacquered and polished. At the center of the room is a solid mahogany desk, with a branch off holding a monitor and a phone, the core desk having some files neatly laid out.
Behind the desk is a dark brown leather chair, its occupant leaning back gently, her ginger hair in a loose bun that rests low behind her head. She coos gently to herself, her green eyes looking down at herself. She wears a pristine white labcoat over a dark green turtleneck, with a crisp pair of khakis, and dark brown flats. Her turtleneck is pulled up, exposing a large, rounded pregnant belly, her navel pushed out into an outie.
“He's kicking.” Dr. Carter chuckles quietly to herself.
Sitting on the desk next to her is a transducer and a bottle of gel, though her belly is dry. The sitting woman looks up at Linda, turning around, “This isn't a normal time for you to come to my office, Ms. Landon. I take it you're wondering about the Great Man Project.” Her fingertips gently graze the sides of her distended midriff.
“Mostly. Dick- I mean Richard- came in. I still haven't told him anything, but it seems he's seeking permission to move his Uncle Dad and his brother-cousins into Westland… not like permission was stopping him before now.” Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Linda walks around the desk, standing next to the seated gravid woman.
“I still find it fascinating you keep your business partners in the dark-” Dr. Carter coos as a sharp movement next to her navel catches Linda's attention, “Even in utero, he's displaying much physical strength.”
Linda's blue eyes look down at the files on the desk, before finding a calendar, her gaze wandering to the current date, finding “Day 91.” “You look ready to burst, Dr. Carter. I take it the Great Man will be fully grown in… oh, six years, if my math is right?”
“This current specimen is maturing at a rate three times faster than a normal human, yes, Ms. Landon.” With a smirk, Dr. Carter gently grabs the bottle of gel, holding it up to Linda, “Would you like to do the honors, this time?”
“I can't believe we're handing something like this over to him of all people.” With a small sigh, Linda gently takes the bottle, turning it upside down over Dr. Carter's womb, gently squirting a small pile on the surface of the scientist's skin as the latter strokes a few keys on her keyboard, displaying a program on the monitor.
“You know I can build artificial wombs for you to use after this prototype is done, Carolyn.” Putting the bottle down on the desk, the businesswoman grabs the ultrasound wand, immediately sticking the business end into the gel on the scientist's stomach.
Immediately, the warbled sound of a fast heartbeat fills the room. The two woman look at the monitor, finding the fetus being displayed in an awkward position.
"Just a bit more to your left on my belly, Ms. Landon.” Dr. Carter doesn't take her eyes off the screen, “And position it below my navel, if you would.”
Linda repositions the transducer as expected, filling the room with the even louder heartbeat as she moves beneath the round scientist's popped out belly button.
“And about the artificial wombs, Ms. Landon: I've already attempted something similar at UrbCorp, but no embryo made it to the fetal stage. I suspect life needs a real uterus to grow and flourish. I suppose there is a reason you and I came from our respective mothers’ bellies, Ms. Landon. Perhaps the forces that let Vittoria and Queen Ariel be simply force it so.”
The business woman simply moves the transducer around slightly, not straying too far from the instructed position. The monitor shows a perfectly healthy fetus, one Dr. Carter fails to notice any abnormalities.
“I suspect I'll be going into labor in the next couple days.” The scientist says abruptly, rest a hand on a dry spot of her middle.
“Being the size of a house clue you in on that?” Linda pulls the transducer off Dr. Carter's skin, grabbing a nearby towel and drying it off.
“The Great Man fetus is equally developed to a normal human fetus at forty weeks, Ms. Landon. Perfectly developed. If I were to be overdue, I suspect placental failure would occur in about five days time… though I doubt it'll come to that.” The scientist flinches as a sharp kick juts out from the top of her rounded belly. “A normal fetus can't rupture the amniotic sac… though I'm starting to wonder if the Great Man fetus is capable of doing such… even then, I have had a few sporadic contractions today. None of which resolves by getting or sitting down.”
Grabbing the towel and drying herself off with her left hand, Dr. Carter's right grabs the mouse, clicking around and opening some digital notes, “With the next specimen, I believe I can further shorten gestation by at minimum one month, possibly up to two months. That will be up to nine times faster maturation than a normal human.”
“Incredible…” Linda looks over the scientist's shoulder, her right hand resting on top of the chair, while her left slowly moves to touch Dr. Carter's midriff.
Dr. Carter's left hand guides Linda's hand to the top left spot of her belly, gently pushing the businesswoman's hand into her flesh to provoke a response. Then, a sharp kick, causing Linda to yell out as she pulls her hand back. Holding her fingers, Linda looks down at the pregnant scientist, “Jesus… it felt like I just had my hand punched by a heavyweight boxer! If you can get the next specimen to this degree in just a month, then that redneck can have this one! This one shouldn't be a problem after long… and Uncle Sam will come calling, asking for more!”
“If I may, Ms. Landon, I do not have superpowers.” The scientist turns around, motioning her hand around her still-exposed midriff, “I'd only be able to deliver so many specimens so quickly, and I’m not sure I'd like to delve into twin or triplet pregnancies of Great Men.”
“We can find others to carry them, Carolyn, don't be ridiculous. We'll just promise an extra bonus to whatever secretaries are sitting around and pretending to work.”
“With all due respect, Ms. Landon, I will not let my life's work risk being miscarried by some random simpleton who wants to back out and drinks the fetus to death-” Dr. Carter gasps loudly as the unborn Great Man starts kicking wildly inside of her, “Ooh… don't worry, you'll get to achieve your potential soon…” The redhead coos to her midriff, and the business woman takes a step back, adding more of the desk's corner between the two of them.
“Right… one last thing…” Linda motions to her own stomach, pointing out the slight paunch under her pencil skirt, “You didn't do anything to me, did you?”
“Either the Great Man is capable of somehow triggering spontaneous pregnancy in others before he's even born, or you've come down with a case of Couvade Syndrome, Ms. Landon. Those are the only two answers I have for you.”
Rolling her eyes, Linda turns around, opening the door to Dr. Carter's office, “Alright. Give me a call tonight if your water breaks.”
“Of course, Ms. Landon.”
The door closes, leaving the ginger scientist alone. Stroking the taut surface of her belly, Dr. Carter chuckles to herself, “The next Great Man specimen… in just a month's time…. and it'll grow in my womb.” Pulling on the sleeve of her green turtleneck, the scientist strokes the silky skin of her forearm, before kicking off her flats, looking around her belly to her feet, which remain unswollen, despite her late pregnancy. “My perfect hands… my perfect feet… my perfect neck… my perfect belly… my perfect body… with the blood I share with the Great Men to grow in my womb, perhaps I can ascend above human perfection…” Dr. Carter chuckles to herself, rubbing her belly without a flinch as it suddenly tightens and shrinks, pushing into her body.
Outside in the hall, Linda stops in front of a window, looking out at the city, though with less elevation in the conference room. Then, in the corner of her eyes, she spots it, a pink trail, growing brighter and brighter as it draws closer. Holding her hands behind her back, she stares at the flying color, “Just what are you… in Columbus, of all cities?”
It only grows brighter and closer, which she realizes that it'll be flying right past her. Inching closer to the window, the businesswoman waits, before she finally sees it.
For the briefest moment, she sees a woman flying, with a large, rounded belly, just as big as Dr. Carter's. Eyes widening, Linda takes a step back as the flying woman passes by, leaving the fading pink trail in her wake. Looking down, Linda Landon strokes her hand on her lower abdomen, “...maybe it really is contagious…”
It's finally here, Issue 1 to the story that's been stuck in development hell! Huge thank you to @sapphicbump for the lovely art of Radiance!
Radiance (One Hour Writing Challenge)
Basil. Oregano. Mozzarella cheese, browned and stretched. Pepperoni cups, curled, holding parmesan flakes and hot sauce. Mushrooms and roasted garlic. Crust, with solid leopard spots underneath. The aroma fills the brick-walled dining room, its patrons observed by the Last Supper, never mind the unique addition of a slice of pepperoni pizza in Christ's right hand as Matthew and Jude Thaddeus argue with Simon the Zealot over whether pineapple belongs on pizza. Never mind Judas Iscariot pestering John the Apostle (not Mary Magdalene) and ruining a perfect meal. No, along the opposite wall are booths with faux leather cushions, patrons seated in each one, savoring the slices in their mouths.
Some college students wander about with jello shots in hand, while hungry patrons from the 8-Bit Arcade next door pour in, hungry and severely inebriated. Everyone walking in the front door of Ricky's Late Night Slice is demanding a slice of pie, and who is the cashier to deny the city of Columbus a slice of pizza- never mind the four other locations downtown and near campus, while three more locations serve the suburbs of Franklin County? No, this is a special place of food and drink, one that everyone wants to succeed.
Well, almost everyone.
Beeps ring from the point of sale system as a chip fails to register, the cashier's dark braids swaying to her side as she hunches over the counter to look at the screen facing the customer. The cashier squints as the customer keeps pressing the blue card to the screen, prompting more beeps with no resolution, his fingers gripping the card tighter and tighter with each beep.
Sitting alone, a young woman rests her elbows on the tabletop, her deep blue eyes staring down at the half-eaten slice of roasted garlic and mushroom pizza held in her left hand. Folding the slice neatly in half, she brings it back up to her mouth, carefully avoiding touching the pizza to her neatly red-stained lips, her platinum blonde hair resting on her shoulders and falling a bit past her shoulder blades. Her lilac bodysuit goes from ankle to collarbone, the sleeves extending all the way to her hands, operating as attached fingerless gloves with a violet trim. The trim travels up the arms to the collar, descending down to a valentine on her chest, before resuming its stripe traveling down her midriff until it reaches her pelvis. To top it off, a cropped dark gray leather jacket rests open, the sleeves rolled up to reveal some of the trim on her forearms. The stripe, however, stretches wider on her abdomen than the rest of the stripes on her costume, the fabric being pulled by the distended flesh of her womb, her popped out belly button poking through the purple bodysuit.
Her painted purple fingernails start to lose some blue, a slight red glowing coming through, catching her attention as she chews her slice of pizza.
“Hmm?”
Putting down the pizza on a paper plate, the costumed woman looks at her fingertips, seeing the red glow in her fingertips as they start tingling. Her eyes, slightly tilting to purple, look at the counter, studying the visibly annoyed customer and cashier.
“There's no way someone can be that annoyed-”
Swinging open, the glass cracks on the front door as it slams into its own hinges, three men suddenly storming in, brandishing pistols. The man in the front rushes forward, a few hairs from a light brown beard visible in the mouth hole of his ski mask, shoving his elbow into the customer in front of the counter, immediately shoving his handgun in the cashier's face.
“Register. Now.”
The cashier takes a cautious step back, throwing her hands up to the sky, “P-Please! We're cashless!”
“If you don't give us everything you–”
The gunman is suddenly cut off, a surge of red light clocking him in the jaw, throwing him into the cracked glass of the front door, shattering and falling down on him.
Trailing the opposite direction of the trajectory, the other two gunmen immediately point their firearms at the young woman sitting by herself as she drops her pizza crust onto her paper plate with her left hand, her right pointed at the front door, her index and middle fingers extended and glowing red.
“I know I'm supposed to let you finish your threat and tell you to surrender, but my ankles are a bit swollen right now, my back is killing me, and you're interrupting my dinner.” Her brow furrows as she aims her right hand at the other two gunmen, glaring at the robbers. Briefly gazing down at her left hand, she notices a yellow glow forming in her palm, “Damn it…” Her voice echoes in her mind as she looks across the dining room, finding patrons throwing their hands up and hiding under tables.
“You bitch! I'll kill you-”
Another bolt of red light flies across the dining room, slamming the yelling mugger in the left shoulder, forcing a wheeze out of the man as he falls back, his denim jacket incinerated at the impact point.
The other masked man immediately opens fire as a yellow square suddenly materializes in front of him, dissolving the bullet in midair. Screams grow louder in the dining room as he repeatedly pulls the trigger, each round disappearing into the yellow square.
The young woman steps out of the booth with her left hand raised, glowing with intense yellow light as her ill-fitting tan boots clap on the roughed up wooden floor, her bump swaying as she takes slow, cautious steps forward. A myriad of civilians hunker beneath tables and counters, slinking away from the gunman in a futile effort to distance themselves from danger. With every scream, the yellow square in front of the gunman grows brighter and more intense, the color growing more bold with each shot.
The slide on the pistol eventually catches on the stop after the eighth and final shot, empty clicking filling the air as the gunman lays into the trigger for nothing. Growling loudly, he starts to run around the yellow square as the gravid woman gets closer and closer, “I'm gonna kill you!”
Swinging his arm back, he throws the pistol to the side of the square, the gun rotating in midair as it travels for the purple-clad lady. However, her entire body is engulfed in orange, leaving a brief trail as she suddenly leaps onto a tabletop with unseen swiftness. Grunting loudly, she propels herself off the tabletop, extending her leg in front of her, the heel of the boot landing square on the gunman's nose. The robber falls back, the woman landing on top of him in a kneeling position, her left foot on his face, her right knee jabbing his ribs as she sandwiches him between herself and the hardwood floor.
Breathing heavily, the woman looks down past her rounded, heavily pregnant belly, seeing the man not moving under her boot or making sound, yet she still feels his chest rising and falling with breath. She looks over to the man she burned, noticing the redness of his fair skin, as well as a tattoo on his left bicep. She tilts her head curiously at the strange design, a large circle hanging off the top-right of a W.
Flash. Flash. Click. Click.
Blinking, the woman turns around, spotting people coming out from under the tables, a number of them holding their phones, some of which flash with audible clicks. Pictures, something she'd grown quite accustomed to.
Needing to say something, the platinum blonde looks around, so far not observing anyone hurt… well, no one worth protecting, at least. “Is anybody hurt?” She breathes heavily, resting a hand on top of her round belly as she slowly stands up.
No one seems to respond, before the cashier slowly rises up from behind the counter, “You're… you're Radiance, aren't you?” More employees start pouring out from the back, “I thought the costume was weird since there's no anime or comic thing at the convention center, but… you're really her?”
Flinching at the constant flashes, Radiance covers her eyes with her right hand, her left pressing into her lower back, “That's what everyone's been calling me… also, you can all turn the flash off. The lighting in here would be better by itself, if you really want the pictures.” She turns around to the rest of the civilians, and promptly notices the flashes rapidly slowing down, before eventually coming to a halt entirely, yet the clicks resume. Smiling now, she brings her right hand back to the top of her distended belly as she stands up, her right foot flat on the ground while her left remains on top of the third robber. Her left leg is bent slightly, a true huntress posing with her big game prey. Meanwhile, her entire body starts to envelope in a gentle pink glow, and she takes a deep breath in.
A young man adjusts his glasses, using his fingers to brush his shaggy black hair out of his face as he crawls out of cover. As he rises to his feet, he looks down at the second robber's tattoo, “Wait, isn't this-”
Sirens erupt outside, catching everyone's attention, especially Radiance.
“Sorry, everyone, I'm kinda not supposed to be doing… this… without a license or whatever they give out.” Her tan boots clap on the ground as she hurriedly waddles out of the pizzaria, initially looking at the sign for the 8-Bit Bar as she steps outside. The pink glow intensifies, and her heels slowly lift from the ground, before her toes eventually pull away, her entire body moving up. The pink aura remains behind, slowly fading with distance as she levitates higher and higher into the air, drawing crowds onto the sidewalk. Spotting flashing red and blue lights approaching, she immediately bolts westward, flying over downtown Columbus with her hands at her side, twirling in midair as she passes over the Statehouse. Her flight takes her westward, laughing as she crosses the Scioto River.
Flying along West Broad Street, she resumes, taking in the city air, before noticing an orange glow a mile away. “Is that a fire?” Clicking her heels together, she tries to kick herself into gear, flying toward a neighborhood. Huffing, she looks back at her feet and the fading trail she leaves behind, “Agh, I gotta figure out how to get moving…” Her eyes move to her belly as she flies on, “I swear, you're slowing me down, even if you're why I can even do this to begin with.” The pink trail disappears into the neighborhood, flying into a rising tower of black smoke.
So... I have art block right now. Buuuuut..... my writer's block just... lifted. I also have a character I've been sitting on for MONTHS, and I've just been struggling to introduce her to everyone. Well, here she is now!
I do plan on expanding this to include more stuff, but here's my little introduction to the world of Radiance, a gravid superheroine!
P.S., if you're living in or are from the Columbus, Ohio area, like me, then hopefully what I have planned for Radiance should turn out to be a bunch of goodies for you!
Wanted to wish you all a Happy New Year! With 2024 drawing to a close (and it probably having my biggest output of art since 2019, if not ever), I wanted to celebrate by sharing my 10 favorite works from this year!
So my tablet crashed 3 times trying to work on the background. It wasn't even all that complicated lol
And here's the pollwinner decided by members of my Discord! Planning another here soon, so if you wanna participate in that, be sure to join my Discord through my bio!
Probably the cutest and most wholesome thing I've drawn in a long time. I saw a couple maternity videos on youtube and felt the inspiration flow!
Listen, all I'm saying is if you're gonna draw nsfw art of anyone from Naruto, draw them in their Boruto era when they're all a bunch of hot parents and solidly in their 30s.
Also I think this is the first time I've drawn nudity since 2020 lol
So while I was hunting for references to draw Rogue after she won my Discord poll, I wound up stumbling across her upcoming comic in January called Rogue: The Savage Land, and got inspired for an alt version! I'm not really a Marvel reader outside of Spider-Verse, but I do think Rogue has cool designs, so maybe I'll try checking out her solo material that's separate from X-Men since I couldn't get into them.
If you want to vote in the next poll I hold, be sure to join my Discord!
Check out the Cob's House of Blues community on Discord - hang out with 108 other members and enjoy free voice and text chat.
So I held a mini poll over on my Discord to help me pick a character who'd best fit the vibe for this pose, and my followers helped pick Rogue! I don't monetize my content outside of the occasional commission, and I'm not consistently active enough to warrant opening a Patreon, so while these polls are admittedly kinda sporadic, they are free to participate in! All you need is to join my Discord to participate in the next poll:
Check out the Cob's House of Blues community on Discord - hang out with 106 other members and enjoy free voice and text chat.
And here is the second pollwinner, Gwenpool!
Believe it or not, I tried to make her a bit smaller, but the vibes just weren't there, so... just a bit bigger and bigger she got, until we got here 🤯
If you want to participate in polls when I have them, be sure to join my Discord!
Check out the Cob's House of Blues community on Discord - hang out with 107 other members and enjoy free voice and text chat.