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Unsurprisingly, the MegaMask returns to Earth. It is not the sole Midgard, but-- for similar reasons to the question of when the day starts-- it is, and perhaps has always been, the center of Midgard, and the seat of the MegaMask's power.

It's also where she keeps most of her stuff. Laughing, the enormous titan stepped down in the middle of of one of her green-fire curlicues. This one was looking far too close to the Riddler's Question Mark self-inflicted tats, and who wanted to be too like that skinny dweeb?

She inhales deeply; instead of inflating her entire upper half like it usually might, her colossal breasts grow to building size, and she almost laughs, ruining the effect. But she's got more control than that. She locks on to some mighty complicated transreal formulae, ignores them, and goes with the formula of fun:

Just do it. Simone exhales with a mighty WHOOSH! complete with sound effects, curly holographs, and the word "WHOOSH!" travelling on the trail she took. All along the green fire, objects are spun around, clothing is disheveled-- or removed, if she thinks the clothes-wearers are cute or funny naked-- and other strange happenstances

Just to fuck with anyone who might be trying to track down where the green fire came from-- and you'd better believe those Nosey Parkers end up starkers, though one of them, a college friend who really was a stand-up dude, ends up with wind powers and a bitchin' new body. The Swolenado, he'd be called, to his great confusion. Some powers she took from people, some others were blessed, and some people, like the ones who made that poor bastard that fought her because he was constantly in agony, got not simply pantsied, but atomic wedgied.

By the wind. Wait, where were we? Oh, right, fucking with people.

Just to fuck with anyone who might be trying to track down from where the green fire came, every time the WHOOSH! traveled over a nexus it split, radiating out upon all possible directions. Not only did this speed the cleanup, it left a myriad number of possible starting points. None of which were Simone's home; she'd crossed over that enough just revving up to mister Naval Medic's home.

It's my world now, Simone realizes. Instantly she dispenses with questions of whether or not it always was. It doesn't matter. It's mine now.

She flexes, slowly. It's... a good feeling, to say the least. Enormous power ripples over enormous ridges and prominences, travelling up and down over her body. A new gust of wind follows, whirling and swirling over the mountains and valleys in not-so-miniature on her mega-amazonian body.

Far off, Simone sees a storm coming. Not a fun kinda April showers sort, either. A full-out, flash-flooding, death and destruction everywhere sort of flood. Over an area that's been in a drought, just to make it extra cruel and extra mudslidey.

And it trails right back to her. To the way her left delt is rolling like an avalanche onto her left arm, squeezing and clenching in the way that, well, boulders, don't. Without think, she pushes her right palm up; feels a sudden resistance that wasn't there before.

It's nice. A bit of a sense of heft, but she wouldn't really even break a sweat if she wasn't using her whole hand. Like picking up a cellphone. She pushes, just a bit...

The storm never happens. Never will. It's been broken up into a series of light local rainfalls over a broader area. The entire area will have a better cycle, provided the inhabitants are even moderately self-interestedly.

I can hold onto the atmosphere, Simone realizes in a flash. Everything. If I pushed a bit more... I'd have whole earth too.

A big smile strokes over her face as she raises huge arms like the sides of a bridge, turning what was flush into an even more dramatic posturing. Her elbows rise to parallel with her shoulders; her regimented abs twist just so, the long, rugged bulges of her legs clench and squeeze as they're swept out in a long, angled "step," and bam.

Pumping up her huge fists, Simone puts on a gun show that puts her old closet-full-of-guns gag to shame. In fact, "tattooed" on both enormous peaks is her old, "merely" super-amazonian body, checking the sky through as many different weapons as she could consider. She looks left, and looks right; blows a kiss to each heavy, sculpted, HUGE mountain o' meat.

That her pseudotats blow kisses back is, perhaps, to be expected.

From there, the rest of the day is a blur. Though she manages to avoid jetting great walls of green flame here and there, she runs across the planet showing off here, rescuing people there, maybe making a little trouble in that guy's home beat...

It's a good day. The problem is...

Simone isn't sure how she's getting back into her house.

---

"This can't be happening!"

Sanjay's stomach rumbles. It's bad enough the bus is delayed, he thinks. But I really wish they didn't keep making lunches shorter.

"Uh... Um. Oh. Er. Whoa."

Biting his lip, he shakes his head, and checks the time on his cellphone in his front right pocket. Still nowhere near time. His neck stifftens, and his eyes widen, but he stares at the bus sign.

"Holy She-Mask-Oly! GO SHE-MASK!"

The nice, safe, solid bus sign.

"I'm gonna die. She's gonna squeeze my head right off with those gams. I'm gonna die."

The nice, safe, solid, boring bus sign.

"HEY! HEY THERE, GOOD BYSTANDER-CITIZEN NORMIES!"

Sanjay has to think about the bus sign. Its straightness. Its stiffness, even, though that makes him feel a bit uncomfortable in the pants region again. But if he doesn't...

He'll think about curves. And if he thinks about the stiffness too much...

He'll think about hardness.

"YO-- HEY, LOOK..."

And if Sanjay thinks about her curves and her hardness...

He won't be the one looking away any more.

He'll be the one on his knees. Worshiping the great multibarrel thighs. Begging, crawling across a usually busy street to whimper for the chance to worship those spectacularly hyper-developed calves. Shaking, shuddering, gasping.

All for her. Everything that Sanjay is, swallowed up in pecs like engine blocks and arms that have tricep than he has torso. Caught in the infinite grooves. Pulled into the clenching, squeezing bulges. Devoured by the rolling smash of powerful muscle into powerful muscle.

Oh, God! I can't stop it! I can't stop it anymore! I have to--

"ANY OF YOU SEEN MY KEYS?"

That's when his head turned.

That's when Sanjay saw what the green-headed giantess was holding up. Definitely. Not in his peripheral vision, not fleetingly and then hastily turned away.

He saw it all.

Worship was the most sensible response.

---

Simone, you didn't take your keys with you. You can just, like, lift up the walls and shit. You can vibrate through them if not.

Come on. Simone! They don't know where your--

Oh, well, she's not listening. Maybe the fantastic knows the best way to get her attention. #5 in the 8-part series they commissioned. But what IS she holding?

(No spoilers, Discordians, please. I'd appreciate it.)

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Description
Unsurprisingly, the MegaMask returns to Earth. It is not the sole Midgard, but-- for similar reasons to the question of when the day starts-- it is, and perhaps has always been, the center of Midgard, and the seat of the MegaMask's power.

It's also where she keeps most of her stuff. Laughing, the enormous titan stepped down in the middle of of one of her green-fire curlicues. This one was looking far too close to the Riddler's Question Mark self-inflicted tats, and who wanted to be too like that skinny dweeb?

She inhales deeply; instead of inflating her entire upper half like it usually might, her colossal breasts grow to building size, and she almost laughs, ruining the effect. But she's got more control than that. She locks on to some mighty complicated transreal formulae, ignores them, and goes with the formula of fun:

Just do it. Simone exhales with a mighty WHOOSH! complete with sound effects, curly holographs, and the word "WHOOSH!" travelling on the trail she took. All along the green fire, objects are spun around, clothing is disheveled-- or removed, if she thinks the clothes-wearers are cute or funny naked-- and other strange happenstances

Just to fuck with anyone who might be trying to track down where the green fire came from-- and you'd better believe those Nosey Parkers end up starkers, though one of them, a college friend who really was a stand-up dude, ends up with wind powers and a bitchin' new body. The Swolenado, he'd be called, to his great confusion. Some powers she took from people, some others were blessed, and some people, like the ones who made that poor bastard that fought her because he was constantly in agony, got not simply pantsied, but atomic wedgied.

By the wind. Wait, where were we? Oh, right, fucking with people.

Just to fuck with anyone who might be trying to track down from where the green fire came, every time the WHOOSH! traveled over a nexus it split, radiating out upon all possible directions. Not only did this speed the cleanup, it left a myriad number of possible starting points. None of which were Simone's home; she'd crossed over that enough just revving up to mister Naval Medic's home.

It's my world now, Simone realizes. Instantly she dispenses with questions of whether or not it always was. It doesn't matter. It's mine now.

She flexes, slowly. It's... a good feeling, to say the least. Enormous power ripples over enormous ridges and prominences, travelling up and down over her body. A new gust of wind follows, whirling and swirling over the mountains and valleys in not-so-miniature on her mega-amazonian body.

Far off, Simone sees a storm coming. Not a fun kinda April showers sort, either. A full-out, flash-flooding, death and destruction everywhere sort of flood. Over an area that's been in a drought, just to make it extra cruel and extra mudslidey.

And it trails right back to her. To the way her left delt is rolling like an avalanche onto her left arm, squeezing and clenching in the way that, well, boulders, don't. Without think, she pushes her right palm up; feels a sudden resistance that wasn't there before.

It's nice. A bit of a sense of heft, but she wouldn't really even break a sweat if she wasn't using her whole hand. Like picking up a cellphone. She pushes, just a bit...

The storm never happens. Never will. It's been broken up into a series of light local rainfalls over a broader area. The entire area will have a better cycle, provided the inhabitants are even moderately self-interestedly.

I can hold onto the atmosphere, Simone realizes in a flash. Everything. If I pushed a bit more... I'd have whole earth too.

A big smile strokes over her face as she raises huge arms like the sides of a bridge, turning what was flush into an even more dramatic posturing. Her elbows rise to parallel with her shoulders; her regimented abs twist just so, the long, rugged bulges of her legs clench and squeeze as they're swept out in a long, angled "step," and bam.

Pumping up her huge fists, Simone puts on a gun show that puts her old closet-full-of-guns gag to shame. In fact, "tattooed" on both enormous peaks is her old, "merely" super-amazonian body, checking the sky through as many different weapons as she could consider. She looks left, and looks right; blows a kiss to each heavy, sculpted, HUGE mountain o' meat.

That her pseudotats blow kisses back is, perhaps, to be expected.

From there, the rest of the day is a blur. Though she manages to avoid jetting great walls of green flame here and there, she runs across the planet showing off here, rescuing people there, maybe making a little trouble in that guy's home beat...

It's a good day. The problem is...

Simone isn't sure how she's getting back into her house.

---

"This can't be happening!"

Sanjay's stomach rumbles. It's bad enough the bus is delayed, he thinks. But I really wish they didn't keep making lunches shorter.

"Uh... Um. Oh. Er. Whoa."

Biting his lip, he shakes his head, and checks the time on his cellphone in his front right pocket. Still nowhere near time. His neck stifftens, and his eyes widen, but he stares at the bus sign.

"Holy She-Mask-Oly! GO SHE-MASK!"

The nice, safe, solid bus sign.

"I'm gonna die. She's gonna squeeze my head right off with those gams. I'm gonna die."

The nice, safe, solid, boring bus sign.

"HEY! HEY THERE, GOOD BYSTANDER-CITIZEN NORMIES!"

Sanjay has to think about the bus sign. Its straightness. Its stiffness, even, though that makes him feel a bit uncomfortable in the pants region again. But if he doesn't...

He'll think about curves. And if he thinks about the stiffness too much...

He'll think about hardness.

"YO-- HEY, LOOK..."

And if Sanjay thinks about her curves and her hardness...

He won't be the one looking away any more.

He'll be the one on his knees. Worshiping the great multibarrel thighs. Begging, crawling across a usually busy street to whimper for the chance to worship those spectacularly hyper-developed calves. Shaking, shuddering, gasping.

All for her. Everything that Sanjay is, swallowed up in pecs like engine blocks and arms that have tricep than he has torso. Caught in the infinite grooves. Pulled into the clenching, squeezing bulges. Devoured by the rolling smash of powerful muscle into powerful muscle.

Oh, God! I can't stop it! I can't stop it anymore! I have to--

"ANY OF YOU SEEN MY KEYS?"

That's when his head turned.

That's when Sanjay saw what the green-headed giantess was holding up. Definitely. Not in his peripheral vision, not fleetingly and then hastily turned away.

He saw it all.

Worship was the most sensible response.

---

Simone, you didn't take your keys with you. You can just, like, lift up the walls and shit. You can vibrate through them if not.

Come on. Simone! They don't know where your--

Oh, well, she's not listening. Maybe the fantastic knows the best way to get her attention. #5 in the 8-part series they commissioned. But what IS she holding?

(No spoilers, Discordians, please. I'd appreciate it.)

Prev
Next