Erica's day would be one of the worst ones she'd had in years.
But it started off fine, good even.
Waking up early like a good baker should, the happily married woman had carefully, gingerly woken up her husband for the very slow, very quiet sex preferred by a pair over a certain age who were very very very much over a certain weight when combined. Washing up in the shower quickly, she'd gotten dressed in a snug pair of khakis and a branded polo showing her bakery's "Miss Whipped" MW logo and headed downstairs. She and her family lived in a large apartment over her busy bakery, in the kind of smart, walkable neighborhood that was illegal to build now, so after grabbing herself a granola bar and setting out some yogurt for her husband (who was still slowly stirring, a man his size doing nothing fast), she headed down to her bakery.
Coffee was started, the last night's dough put into the ovens and fresh donuts, bagels and tarts were piping out and ready for the first customers before her employees, Kate, Kelly and Alicia got in from a morning run. The first two were her own daughters, two tall blondes who were earning money for their first semester of college. It seemed like yesterday that Erica had first held them and it amazed her that the willowy runners were somehow hers! She'd do absolutely anything for the pair, the twins having her wrapped around their fingers since birth. Alicia was one of their friends for years, a girl that Erica thought was a bad influence but a hard enough worker.
No, the morning was fine. Regular customers waddling in, licking their lips as they stuggled to pull wallets from their far too tight pants. Old timers who wheezed and huffed on slowly dying electric scooters struggling under their gelatinous bulks. More recent buyers who's normal sized clothes were straining under new muffin tops and sized up breasts. And a few brand new clients drawn with curious confusion at the sight of so many fat people lining up for sugary, fried breakfasts, unaware that just by making contact with Erica's warm brown eyes they'd bought a one way ticket to piggy town!
Because Erica was one of the most powerful hypnotists who'd ever lived, able to manipulate with a glance and with prolonged eye contact totally rewrite not only a person's mind but almost reality itself!
It wasn't until 11 am, when her daughter's half shift was up and the pair of dedicated athletes went on their afternoon jog, that things started souring and quickly.
First off, the back oven was running a little too hot as usual. It opened with a hiss of steam, fogging up Erica's new glasses and making her stagger back from some charred ginger bread men/women (all very round at the waist). She wasn't hurt, but as she stepped back, her butt hit her own cup of coffee. The "World's Median Okay Therapist" fell off the shining counter from the contact and shattered, thankfully empty otherwise.
"Ugh, damn it all. Alicia, can you get the burned cookies out of there? They were for my therapy practice next door at least, so customers won't be hurt. I'll clean this up," Erica sighed.
A broom handled most of the shards, but a couple were in an odd spot between sink and counter. Erica bent down, her snug khakis biting tight into her full thighs, wide hips and pampered fupa. She tried ignoring it, reaching father and feeling the bite more and more, until...
"RIP" sounded and warm air from the oven hit a sensitive crack.
Mortified, Erica stood up far too fast. The effort was enough the already snug button on her khakis popped off, her pudgy gut bulging out with a speed the vanished hero Streak would have envied. It landed on the tray of burned gingerbread men that Alicia carried, making the brunette girl give a snort and look aside.
Bulging out of her ruined size 16 pants, Erica felt mortified. She'd spent her childhood in the poorly funded St. Anne's orphanage, as a result winding up painfully thin before aging out, her eerie stare pushing away several possible adoptive parents. Her only friend had been a fellow orphan named Sven, a boy she'd had a huge crush on despite his bottomless appetite, giving him any food she did have. As a young woman, she'd been painfully thin, having almost no desire for food until she'd gotten pregnant after marrying Sven.
"Is...something funny, Alicia?" the furious baker asked.
"Uh, no Mrs Skinner. Just uh...maybe you shouldn't eat so much of your own product," the dark haired runner giggled, "sorry, I didn't mean to insult you. Its just...crazy to think of how fat everyone who eats here is! Like, you had to notice how tight those pants were, right?"
A normal middle age woman, receiving a sharp reminder that she'd grown visibly fat, might have vowed to go on a diet. Especially as she'd thought the size sixteens had shrank in the drier, been tight from bloating...like everything size since she'd failed to lose one ounce of baby weight. And maybe Erica would...but unfortunately, she was also a supervillain. Never one to hog the lime light and quite retired but she was still a woman of terrifying wrath. And had a coed half her size and age in front of her to work out her anger on!
"...No. No I didn't notice," she scowled, making eye contact with Alicia, "but you...you're going to notice."
Alicia's eyes went wide, Erica's vast and terrible power filling her.
"Middle age spread hits us all, Alicia. And you already got a little start I noticed," Erica said, poking the brunette in her flat hard midriff shown above loose size four jeans, "don't think I didn't notice you snacking on my inventory at every opportunity, while skipping runs with my daughters! You put on the freshman fifteen before the semester even started!"
Alicia's flat stomach bulged outwards with an extra fifteen pounds of softness, while her athlete's muscles withered. A small pooch formed, muffin topping over now snug jeans. In seconds, her memories were overwritten, any thought of exercising since graduation vanishing and focusing only on enjoying herself. Surely she could lose it all once she got to college and started training in earnest...
Erica smiled, feeling that old rush of power that had made her so so so dangerous as a villain push in. If Alicia wasn't her daughters' friend she'd be dead. Otherwise, well, just a minor eating issue seemed suitable...
"Not that you care, you decided to drop cross country anyway," Erica said snidely, turning around, "I've got to go get ready for this afternoon. You're fine with overtime for the next...month or three right? You can have a treat every hour on the hour..."
"Y-yes Mrs...Skinner," the dazed, now thicker brunette blinked.
"Good, I'll be very busy..." Erica began
Seeing some old friends: Erica's old team, the Moxy City Sirens are out of jail and looking for fun
Dealing with a client : Erica has a hero for a client...but who! And what's in store for them?
Taking an afternoon off! Erica has a rare afternoon off, surely the debut of two new heroines won't interrupt it!
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