The locker room smelled faintly of eucalyptus, sweat, and old gym socks. The air was thick with steam and the groaning of two winded heavyweight heroes parked on a strained wooden bench.
Blue Boxer sat with his belly sprawled across his thighs like a sloshing duffel bag full of pudding, one gloved hand resting on his gut while the other wiped sweat from his flushed brow. Beside him, Lumberjack, similarly bloated and red-faced, leaned back with a huff, his once-proud abs buried under a thick, hairy mound of belly that jiggled with each breath.
“Well,” Blue Boxer said, staring at the ceiling, “I guess we’re officially the Hefty Heroes now.”
Lumberjack snorted and gave his belly a pat, the slap echoing in the tiled chamber.
“Speak for yourself, Boxer. I still got some core strength under here. This is... tactical insulation.”
“Tactical insulation?” Boxer grinned, his cheeks dimpling. “You’re one jelly donut away from needing a forklift.”
Lumberjack grinned back.
“Says the guy wrapped in a towel like a sumo wrestler on laundry day.”
Boxer glanced down at the knot barely holding his towel in place and chuckled.
“Touché.”
For a long moment, the two of them just sat there—shoulders touching, bellies pressing, breathing. The locker room hummed with the distant buzz of overhead lights and the occasional drip-drip from a leaky faucet.
“Y'know,” said Lumberjack after a beat, his voice quieter now, “it’s weird, but I’m kinda glad this happened to both of us.”
Boxer raised a brow.
“Because misery loves company?”
Lumberjack shook his head slowly.
“Nah. Because being a hero in this city? It’s lonely work. Even with all the gadgets and sidekicks and newspaper headlines… you still end up eating takeout alone in the dark half the time. But now?” He gave a soft chuckle, his big belly wobbling. “Now I’ve got a partner who waddles when he walks and knows exactly how it feels to pop out of his spandex.”
Boxer laughed—really laughed—and then clutched his middle as it jiggled violently.
“Oof! Don’t make me laugh, I can feel my lunch bouncing around in there.”
They both wheezed, shaking with laughter, red-faced and sweating, but somehow happy. It was absurd. It was ridiculous. But it was real.
“You’re right, man,” Boxer said, nudging him with his elbow. “It’s not the abs or the armor that makes the hero—it’s the guy who shows up when your belt won’t close and your knees are crying for mercy.”
“Damn right,” Lumberjack said, grinning. “So what now, partner?”
Boxer leaned back with a groan, patting his belly with a soft slap. “Guess we should find that fat cowboy, get that magic six-shooter, and maybe squeeze into some plus-size costumes.”
Lumberjack nodded, shrugged. Then he reached over and rubbed Boxer's belly. "Just not what I'm feeling right now."
Boxer's heart pounded under his hefty frame. He'd always carried an unspoken crush on Jack, but he'd never expected this feeling of closeness. This strange affection. And somehow, Jack carried all that extra weight well. He seemed even manlier. More powerful than before. He reached over and squeezed his pal's thigh. Both hefty heroes felt a surge of excitement. Their meaty fat guy dongs sproinged to attention. Lumberjack chuckled. "Guess we're feeling the same thing, huh? Think it's part of the spell?"
"Oh man, I don't know," Boxer's tubby voice was barely a whisper. "But whatever it is, I'm not sure I can fight it." He wrapped his pudgy arm around his thick, hairy, meaty pal, squeezed his beefy shoulder. Jack smiled, reached down and took his thick sausage of a member into his hand, and Boxer did the same. Slowly the two hefty heroes began to stroke themselves, enjoying the simple pleasure of being two lazy mounds of men, fondling themselves. Feeling close and sweaty. One hand gripping their manhood, the other rubbing up and down and all around the big beefy body of their best bud.
"Can't believe we've never done this before," Boxer said, sighing with pleasure.
"Never would have had the guts, but man, somehow for some reason," Lumberjack moaned, "seeing you like this, heavy and vulnerable. It's just driving me wild. I mean I admit I always had a little thing for you pal, but you're usually so series. It's like suddenly, we have no choice. We're too slow to chase down crooks. Might as well just . . ."
"Just give into it. Give into being fat tubs of lard."
The two heroes moaned and stroked and explored one another's bodies. Meanwhile Sheriff Yee Haw observed from his tiny camera drone which had followed Blue Boxer back to his secret headquarters. The plan was going perfectly. Not only had Blue Boxer transferred the transformation energy to another superhero--a newly minted super lardo--but the spell of affection was completely distracting them, making it so they no longer even cared about crime fighting. Soon they'd just be a pair of big fat lovers, indifferent to anything but exploring one anothers' fat bodies.