Greer Nelson, aka "Tigra", was roughly frog-marched through the compound, a blindfold over her eyes.
Iron Man had given her a briefing: she was to infiltrate the new "Femizons and gather as much
intelligence as possible. She'd made it to the base, but she hadn't had a good look at too much of the
infrastructure before two tall, muscular women seized her.
They hustled her into a chamber and dropped her. "Hey!" she snarled, tearing off her blindfold. "What's
the big idea? I thought this organization WELCOMED women!"
"Women, yes," a voice purred. "Known superheroines... well, we shall see!"
Tigra gasped as she beheld the bloated bulk of womanhood before her, perched on a cushioned dais. The
woman looked even fatter than The Blob, if that were possible. A pair of titanic breasts settled on the
woman's belly which in turn collected in thick rolls atop her tree-trunk-like legs. Her blonde hair was piled up in plaits above her jowly face. Her body was wrapped in a gaudy white and red dress that clung to her in ways that Tigra wished it didn't.
Yet it seemed like the woman had both strength and grace beneath her layers of blubber.
The fur on the back of Tigra's neck rose as she saw the woman's expression. It was self-assured and wicked. She had power and she knew it. She was a spider at the centre of her web.
It made sense. Something about the bloated woman was compelling, as if she possessed a natural charisma. The two guards stepped back in unison, leaving Tigra at the feet of their leader.
"So it seems we have a cat prowling about," the woman rumbled. She waggled a sausage-like finger. "Naughty puss. You know what they say about cats and curiosity."
Tigra rolled her eyes and flicked her tail in annoyance. "Yes, I do. I've heard it a thousand times, miss...?"
"You may call me Superia," the blonde said imperiously. "And you are Tigra, also known as Greer Nelson, Avenger and policewoman. Tell me, have you come to attempt to sabotage the new order?"
"Well, no," Tigra replied. "I actually want to join."
"Call me skeptical, but I don't believe you," Superia frowned.
"I... it's true," Tigra said, letting some bitterness creep into her voice. "I've had it with men. If they're not treating me like a sex toy, they're treating me like cannon fodder. Iron Man wanted me to bring you down from the inside but to be honest..."
She got down on her knees. "I'm starting to agree with you."
Superia stroked her chins. Some thread of memory of Captain America's life tickled through her mind, about letting Tigra join her team... And the attraction she felt for the feline superheroine.
"Very well," Superia said carefully. "I shall allow you to join if you can survive a test."
"What kind of test?" Tigra asked, uncertain.
"Your mind may be ready, but is your body?" Superia said, stepping off the dais with ease. "In order to join the Femizons, you must be prepared physically." The two guards made to grab Tigra again, but Superia waved them off.
"Let me show you what I mean, Tigra," Superia said, gesturing her to follow. The guards took up the rear.
The feline heroine followed Superia, watching the fat woman walk with a hypnotic sway. She wondered if she could even penetrate that doughy skin with her claws. Her tail prickled as Superia looked back, catching Tigra staring at her body, and smiled.
Superia brought her to a lab and gestured for Tigra to take a seat on what looked like a dentist chair. The fat woman's expression brooked no objection, so Tigra climbed on.
"This may feel strange," Superia warned. A needle jabbed Tigra's neck and her eyes fluttered as she lost consciousness.
"She is ready to be processed," Superia informed her henchwomen. "Prepare to merge her with..."