The flash of violet light was blinding—searing the air with the scent of ozone and perfume-like incense. Blue Boxer staggered back, raising his gloves too late.
“What did you just—” he began.
Then came the tingle. It started in his gut—a ticklish, fizzy sensation like soda bubbling up from deep within. His abs twitched. His belt strained. The seams of his tactical pants groaned audibly. “Oh no,” he whispered.
“Oh yes,” the Mad Magician cooed, making a slow, theatrical spiral with his finger as the spell took hold. “Time for a little… expansion of character.”
With a sudden BWOOMP, Boxer’s torso swelled outward in every direction. His defined six-pack vanished beneath a doughy belly that inflated like a beach ball. His pecs poofed into squishy moobs. His arms thickened with puffy softness, ballooning within his sleeveless shirt until—RIPPPP!—his uniform exploded at the seams, buttons pinging off into the night.
“Wh—what the—hnngh!” Boxer grunted, stumbling as his legs thickened, thighs pressing together, his once-taut glutes puffing out into twin, jiggling orbs. His utility belt snapped off with a TWANG, flying over the ledge.
His blue boxing gloves popped clean off his swelling hands, leaving pudgy, sausage-like fingers wobbling in the air. His boots finally gave a loud POP! as his feet bloated out of them, leaving him waddling barefoot on the rooftop, soft and enormous and nearly naked.
His belly was a smooth, shiny dome now—round as a yoga ball—his entire body transformed into a jiggling, overstuffed balloon of himself.
“I… I’m huge!” he gasped, arms flailing clumsily as he tried to cover himself with the shredded scraps of his shirt, but his stubby limbs could barely reach over his bloated body. “What did you do to me?!”
The Mad Magician grinned with devilish delight, tapping his wand lightly against his chin. “Oh, nothing too dramatic. Just a simple Inflatus Maximus Humiliatum spell. Designed to make the mighty... marshmallowy.”
Blue Boxer stumbled forward with a waddle-squish, his bloated form jiggling with every step. “Undo it. Right now.”
“Aww, but you’re so cute like this,” Magician teased, circling him slowly like a cat around a toppled bird. “Look at you. Grit City’s hardened brawler, reduced to a puffed-up parade float. You’re like a novelty balloon at a hero-themed Thanksgiving Day parade. I should be holding you down with ropes.”
Blue Boxer blushed furiously, his cheeks as round and red as cherries. “I swear, if you—ooof!” He tripped over his own over-inflated feet, landing on his bottom with a comedic bounce. He rolled helplessly, stubby limbs wobbling uselessly.
The Mad Magician burst into a fit of laughter. “Hahahaha! Oh, this is better than I imagined! You bounce!”
“This is low, even for you,” Boxer growled, struggling to sit up, only to wobble and tip onto his side. “You tricked me into a date just to turn me into a balloon?!”
“Well, technically, I tricked you into a date so I could emotionally devastate you. The balloon part is just a delightful bonus.” The magician leaned in close, booping Boxer’s round belly with one finger. Boing! He slapped his hands on Boxer's bloated form and rocked him back and forth, rubbed his round belly. “Now… let’s talk about next steps,” he whispered. “You’re not really in fighting shape anymore, are you? What say I roll you down into the heart of Grit City… and let the public get a good look at their puffed-up protector? A little spectacle. A little humiliation.”
Boxer glared up at him, lips pursed. “You’re not gonna get away with this.”
“I already have,” Magician said with a wicked grin. He snapped his fingers again.
Blue Boxer’s body lifted slightly, hovering inches off the rooftop as his round form bobbed gently like a helium-filled blimp. Every inch of him was round, bloated, and quivering with embarrassment. His cheeks burned hot, his arms stuck out to his sides like stubby sausage links, and his once-impressive physique had vanished beneath layers of magically induced pudge.
“Don’t you dare—!” he bellowed, squirming in midair as his inflated body gave a lazy wobble-wobble in the night breeze.
The Mad Magician flicked his wand with a flourish. “Too late, my bouncy blue beach ball. Inflatus Ultimatum!”
A final surge of magic crackled through the air.
Blue Boxer ballooned even further with a dramatic BWOOMPF! His belly stretched outward until it looked like it had swallowed a weather balloon. His limbs puffed thicker, fingers curling adorably into soft, squishy fists. His face rounded into a cherubic pout, his jawline vanishing beneath a pair of dimpled cheeks. His domino mask popped off and fluttered to the ground.
And then—whoosh—the wind caught him.
“WAAAAHH—!” he yelped, soaring up from the rooftop like a rogue parade float. His swollen arms flailed uselessly as he drifted over the skyline of Grit City, bobbing like a helium balloon with nowhere to go but wherever the wind pleased. His insignia and name was stretched and written across the waistband of his straining blue boxer briefs.
Far below, the lights of the city twinkled like stars. Horns honked. Pedestrians gasped and pointed.
“Look! It’s—uh… some kind of superhero balloon?”
“Is that the Blue Boxer?!”
“I thought this year’s parade got canceled!”
Boxer groaned. His body swayed and spun lazily in midair, casting a ridiculous shadow on the streets below.
“This is a nightmare,” he muttered, cheeks puffing out even more as a gust of wind sent him gently cartwheeling past a billboard of himself in his actual heroic form—gritty, gloved, glorious.
The Mad Magician’s voice echoed in his ears, magically projected like a smug sports commentator:
“Citizens of Grit City! Feast your eyes upon your mighty protector, now airborne and absurd! Behold: The BIG Blue Blimp!”
Boxer sputtered. “I’m gonna… I swear, Magician, when I get down—!”
“Oh, I doubt that’ll be anytime soon,” came the floating voice. “Unless you’d like me to tie you down to the mayor’s office? Or perhaps dangle you above the police precinct like a very heroic pińata?”
A flock of pigeons flew past, startled by the sight of the rotund hero gently bobbing above them.
“Get away—shoo! Shoo!” Boxer swatted with his pudgy hands, spinning slowly in place like an off-kilter balloon animal.
A few kids on a rooftop screamed with laughter and pointed skyward.
“BLUE BOXER’S A BALLOON NOW!”
“HE’S FLYING IN HIS UNDERWEAR!”
Boxer looked down—his uniform was completely gone save for a stretched pair of blue boxer briefs barely clinging to his inflated rear.
“This isn’t over!” he called out to the wind. “You hear me, Magician?! I’ll—oof—I’ll float back and punch you in the teeth!”
A gust sent him twirling off over downtown.
“Sure you will, my balloon-headed beefcake,” the Mad Magician purred from afar, reclining on the rooftop, sipping from a floating teacup. “Once you figure out how to land without bouncing.”